thatchickwiththecamera

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Bad Omens M.C. | Chapter 2

Pairing: Nick Folio x OFC

Warnings: death, murder, attempted murder, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, physical assault, alcohol use, smoking, swearing/foul language, smut, torture.

Summary: When Charlie Parker witnesses a high-stakes deal gone wrong between the notorious Bad Omens M.C. and a rival organization, her life takes a dramatic turn. Now a target, she is forced to seek out protection only the club can provide and is introduced to the gritty, high-octane world of the SoCal criminal underground.

THE MEMBERS OF BAD OMENS M.C.

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Tag List: @foliosgirl, @moonsleep, @jilliemiw86, @dsireland86, @collidewiththesavannah, @alwaysfightforwhoyouare, @klutzy-kay24, @lacy1986, @pullfromtheghostx, @tosoundlessdarkistare, @xmads-omensx, @dontwantthemoney, @heyyoplayer, @shayeanna-ashlie,

The next morning, Charlie woke to the sound of knocking on her door. This time a different face peaked its way into the room. This face had cool blue eyes and long black hair tied back into a bun. His ears were stretched with a gauge plugged into each lobe. She took notice of the moon phases tattooed on each of his fingers as he held out a cup of coffee and a small paper bag toward her.

"Morning…Prez said you might need these," he said softly, handing her the items.

"Did he?” Charlie murmured, surprised, but gratefully accepted the offerings.

“Thanks.”

The coffee smelled strong and invigorating, and it made her realize just how tired she actually was after last night.

“I have orders to take you to where you live so you can change and pack a bag.” he informed her, eyeing her with a mixture of curiosity and guarded reserve. “Then we’ll head to the shop.”

Charlie stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes ash she let out a deep audible breath before standing up from the bed.

“So just like that, I’m really stuck living here?” She inquired, following him through the winding corridors.

“It’s just until the initial smoke from last night blows over.” He replied, before continuing. “You’ll be allowed to go wherever you need to, but you’ll have an escort any time you’re off club property.”

As they passed through the main room, a few club members glanced at her with neutral expressions. The tension from last night seemed to have dissipated somewhat, replaced by an atmosphere of cautious acceptance.

“So a babysitter?” she mused, looking at him.

“No.” He corrected her, pausing to look at her form behind him. “Protection.”

Outside, the morning sunlight was harsh and unforgiving, casting long shadows across the compound. A few motorcycles rumbled to life as they made their way over to a dark blue pickup truck parked across the lot.

The biker, who eventually introduced himself as Nicholas or Nick, because only his mother called him Nicholas, held the passenger door open for her and she felt a strange mix of relief and trepidation as she climbed inside.

She stared out the window, taking in the familiar sights with a new sense of detachment. The drive was mainly silent save for the occasional direction she had to give as they made their way across town.

When they arrived at her apartment building, she hesitated before unlocking the door. Everything was exactly the same as she left it prior to her shift last night, yet somehow, it felt foreign to her now.

"Take all the time you need," he said. "I’ll wait here."

Charlie nodded, grateful for the chance to gather her thoughts and her belongings. She quietly shut her bedroom door and let out a deep breath. She wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and curl up under her comforter. But opted for the comfort of a clean set of clothes instead.

She pulled her hair back and secured it with a claw clip before quickly getting to work. She grabbed a couple weeks worth of clothing items she could mix and match before grabbing her toiletries and any other items she thought would be necessary.

She stuffed everything into a large duffel bag she got from the military surplus store on Baker Street not long after she moved in. She didn’t know when exactly she would be back. Thank God all of her bills were handled online.

Once she was ready, Charlie slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and headed back out into the living room.

"I'm done." She announced.

Nick nodded, reaching out to take the bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

Wow, an outlaw biker and a gentleman, she thought.

The ride back to the clubhouse wasn’t as quiet. On the way she learned that Nick was the club's Sergeant-At-Arms and was essentially responsible for protecting the club’s members and maintaining order within the club among other things that he wouldn’t really elaborate on. From how he spoke, she could tell that it was a job he took very seriously.

When they walked back into the club house there were several members gathered around a table in the main room. The same table she initially sat at last night.

Matt looked up from his spot and sent her an amused wink before turning back to his conversation. She rolled her eyes in response.

Her eyes briefly swept over the other men that filled the remaining chairs and studied the mixture of characters and personalities that made up the Bad Omens brotherhood.

She wasn’t the only one studying.

Folio’s face remained stoic as he observed Charlie from his seat. Her eyes connected with his for a moment.

“Just meet me out here after you get unpacked and we’ll head over to the shop.” Nick instructed.

She broke eye contact with Folio and acknowledged what Nick had said with a nod.

Folio gaze lingered on her retreating form as she disappeared down the hallway.

“Think she’s going to cause any problems?” He asked Nick.

“For you maybe,” The older man joked. “But for the club? Nah. She’s too smart.”

Folio cut him a glance that Nick met with an amused grin.

“Matt, what’d you find out?” He turned to Matt who sat across the table typing away at his laptop.

He had a knack for finding info and naturally knew his way around a computer like it was ingrained into his genetic makeup. Which is exactly why he was the club's intelligence officer.

“Full name is Charlotte Elizabeth Parker, 28 years old, Military Brat, raised by a single dad who served in the Air Force, longest listed residence is a town in northwest Louisiana. Bachelor’s degree in health science from LSU, moved to California about three years ago for a medical job that ended up falling through. Guess she decided to use it as a reason to start fresh. Been working for Marty at the Spur ever since. No known living relatives, dad died when she was 20, no priors, not even a speeding ticket — girl’s clean.”

“My favorite ice cream is strawberry – you missed that one. That one’s really important.”

The attention of the men at the table snapped toward the entrance to the hallway where Charlie stood leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest.

The room went silent as the men processed Charlie’s unexpected entrance. Matt’s fingers paused over his laptop, and Nick straightened up, his expression shifting from amusement to mild discomfort.

Folio, however, couldn’t suppress a grin, obviously entertained by Charlie’s sharpness.

“Interesting, I took you as more of a vanilla kind of girl.” He quipped.

“Honey, there ain't a damn thing about me that’s vanilla.” She shot back, hints of a southern drawl biting through as she spoke.

Nick shot a knowing look at his president.

“Shut up” he mumbled in response.

“I'm done unpacking.” She stated, still not happy about hearing her life’s story condensed into an intelligence report.

"Alright then," Nick quickly exclaimed before pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. "Let’s head to the shop.”

Charlie followed Nick across the back lot of the compound. As they approached Sumerian Automotive, she noticed the sign hanging above the entrance. It was weathered and rusted but still proudly displaying its name in bright blue paint.

Nick held the door open for her, and she stepped inside cautiously.

The shop smelled of grease and oil. Tools clinked and a radio hummed out the familiar sound of Slipknot as mechanics worked on various vehicles scattered throughout the garage.

The tall man with the tattoos covering his arms and neck looked up from under the hood of the Ford Mustang he was working on and nodded at Nick.

"Morning," he grunted, wiping his hands on a rag.

His gaze shifted to Charlie, curiosity evident in his eyes. He looked different without his kutte on, now dressed in an unbuttoned gray mechanic shirt with a Sumerian Automotive patch on one side of the front and the name ‘Noah’ embroidered on the other. He wore a white tank top underneath and a pair of black Dickie work pants.

Nick led her through the service bays to a small office tucked away in the back corner. It was sparse. A desk sat pushed up next to a wall underneath one window. It was cluttered with various stacks of paperwork and a worn leather chair was pushed in behind it.

The office had two windows. The one by the door in front of the desk looked out into the service bays and the second, on the wall the desk was pushed up against, showed a view of the majority of the backlot including the clubhouse.

"This'll be your space," he said, gesturing around. "You'll manage the office here, handle invoices, scheduling, that sort of thing."

Charlie nodded slowly, taking it all in. The responsibility felt overwhelming, but she knew she had no choice but to adapt.

"Okay," she replied softly.

"We'll get you set up with everything you need, feel free to decorate the office however you’d like," Nick assured her, pulling out the desk chair and motioning for her to sit. "Folio wants things running smoothly."

She nodded again, grateful for his straightforward manner. As he outlined some basic tasks she'd be handling, Charlie found herself focusing on the details, clinging to the practicalities of her new role as a lifeline in unfamiliar waters.

A couple hours passed as Nick familiarized her with the operations of the shop. He introduced her to a few of the mechanics and explained the intricacies of the club's business dealings that could possibly intersect with the automotive side and who in the club to pass it on to if anything came up.

Despite her initial apprehension, she began to see a semblance of order in the chaos, a routine she could potentially settle into. By early-afternoon, she felt a sense of weary accomplishment.

Nick stepped out briefly to handle club business, leaving her to organize her new workspace. As she sifted through paperwork, the large desktop calendar slowly became visible. After an hour or so, a large red circle surrounding one of the dates caught her eye. It was for this Saturday.

Nick eventually returned with a coffee in hand, breaking her reverie. He offered it to her with a slight smile.

"Thanks," she murmured, accepting it gratefully.

He noticed her staring at the calendar.

“About every month or so the club throws a party. Next one is Saturday. Don't worry, it's not as intimidating as it might sound, just us and maybe a few guys from the affiliate clubs if they make the trip down." he explained.

“You won’t be the only woman. Noah’s wife Haze usually keeps an eye on things and makes sure the boys don’t do something stupid like run off to Vegas with a sweetbutt.”

“Okay, what the fuck is a sweetbutt?” Charlie asked, laughing at the ridiculous name.

“Kinda like groupies,” he stated. “They hang around hoping to take a roll in the sheets with members of the club.”

She smirked, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I have slept with a few.” He said, “Don’t fucking judge me.”

“No judgment here.” She defended with a laugh throwing her hands up jokingly. “Good for you.”

Nick simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Anyway, you’ll get used to the parties. It’s just part of the whole thing. Not as bad as it sounds."

Charlie set the coffee down, glancing around the shop again, her thoughts starting to settle on the work ahead.

“I’m sure it’s fine. I’m more focused on figuring out what I’m doing here. Running this place, handling invoices… feels like a lot to take on.”

“It’ll come easy. You’re smart, you’ll catch on fast. The guys respect competence. Plus, it seems like you’ve got a knack for handling your own.” He offered a small grin.

“The rest of the guys will come around,” he said. “Just give it time.”

They fell into a brief, comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of a mechanic’s tools clanking in the background. Nick glanced down at his watch, then back to her.

“Alright, we’ve got a few things to do before we call it a day. Wanna take a walk around the lot? I’ll show you where everything is.”

Charlie stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

"Lead the way, Womanizer."

Nick snorted at the nickname but didn’t comment. He motioned for her to follow as they headed outside. The sun had made its way across the western sky and now cast a large shadow behind the rundown shop.

As they walked, Charlie noticed the different bikes parked around the lot, each with its own personality, a reflection of each man that owned it. Some were sleek and polished, while others were blacked out and low profile.

Nick pointed out various areas around the outside of the shop as they passed, explaining the specifics of the work they did and what each section stored.

"We get a lot of custom orders on top of the regular services on the automotive side. The club’s involved in a few other businesses too, but that’s not for you to worry about right now."

Charlie nodded, taking it all in.

"Is it something I’m going to have to eventually worry about?" she asked.

“That will depend on Folio,” he said, glancing over at her. "Just don’t get too wrapped up in everything else. The less you know right now, the better.”

Charlie was still mulling over Nick’s words when they reached the far end of the lot, where next the clubhouse she saw where a few benches were placed around a wooden table underneath the shade of an old oak tree. Nick motioned for her to sit, and without hesitation, she dropped onto the bench closest to the trunk of the tree, feeling the weight of the day settling deeper into her bones.

The tension of the last few hours, all the new information and the overwhelming reality of her situation, hit her like a wave. She was still adjusting, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that she was now a part of this world—whether she wanted to be or not.

Nick took a seat beside her, leaning back against the trunk with his arms crossed, his gaze wandering to the distant horizon. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lot.

“Let me guess,” she broke the silence, her voice light but edged with curiosity. “You’re gonna hit me with more cryptic warnings?”

Nick chuckled, the sound deep and easy.

“No warnings. Just reality. Things around here? They can get messy. But that’s why we’ve got each other’s backs. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him. “It's gonna take some time to get used to all this I guess.”

Charlie watched as Nick stood up, stretching his arms above his head before grabbing his empty coffee cup and tossing it into the nearby trash can.

“Well…I lost a bet at the last party and have to help the prospect clean up the damn clubhouse.” Nick said shooting her a quick gun. “I’ll catch you later.”

His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief, and then turned to walk back toward the clubhouse. She couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the thought of Nick losing a bet and having to do cleanup duty.

With a deep breath, she leaned back on the bench, trying to let the warm evening breeze settle over her. That same breeze shuffled the leaves of the oak tree above, and the distant hum of activity in the shop closing for the day made her finally relax.

But that little morsel of peace was fleeting.

Bass thumped through the walls of the clubhouse on Saturday evening as Charlie emerged from her room. The heavy scent of leather, liquor, sweat, and cigarettes enveloped her as she scanned the main room.

Nick spotted her and headed over to where she was, clad in his usual kutte adorned with patches and insignia that spoke of his role within the club. He gave her a reassuring nod, sensing her unease.

"You look great. Just relax and follow my lead," he said quietly, before guiding her through the crowd toward the bar on the opposite side of the room.

The main room of the clubhouse had been transformed. Soft lighting cast a warm glow over the space, and the air was filled with the hum of conversation and laughter.

She recognized the now familiar faces of various club members. Many were cozied up in corners with women in their laps dressed in outfits that left little to the imagination while others interacted with visiting members of affiliated clubs. Rock music blended seamlessly with the occasional roar of an arriving motorcycle outside.

As they neared the bar she spotted Noah occupying one of the stools, chatting with a blonde haired woman standing behind the bar.

“Haze! I have someone you need to meet!” Nick called out, catching said woman’s attention.

He motioned for Charlie to follow him behind the bar where the woman stood.

“Charlotte Parker….Hazel Sebastian,” he made introductions. “Haze, this is Charlie.”

Haze turned from her conversation with Noah and flashed a bright smile at Charlie. Her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, complementing her vibrant, welcoming energy.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! I’ve heard a lot about you.” She extended a hand, and Charlie shook it firmly, appreciating the warmth in her touch.

Nick leaned against the bar, observing the scene with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

“Haze, why don’t you show Charlie around the bar? She used to bartend for Monty down at the Spur. I’m sure she’d love to get acquainted with your setup,” he suggested, giving Haze a knowing glance.

“Sure!” She responded with enthusiasm, gesturing for Charlie to follow her, guiding her through the array of bottles and mixers that lined the shelves.

“So, how’s everything at the shop going?” Haze asked, pouring a drink for a nearby club member. “Noah said Folio enlisted you as the new office manager?”

“A lot to get used to in a short amount of time, but I’m getting the hang of it,” Charlie admitted, grabbing a couple beers out of the beverage tub, popping the tops, and handing them to the waiting members over the bar.

“Speaking of Folio, I heard you two have been butting heads.” The woman inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Charlie’s smile tightened at Haze’s question. She could tell the woman wasn’t prying but rather trying to gauge the situation with genuine curiosity. She let out a small, resigned laugh.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Charlie said, leaning on the bar. “We’ve definitely had our share of… disagreements.”

Haze nodded sympathetically mixing the drink in front of her with practiced ease.

“Folio’s a bit of a hardass, but he’s got his reasons. He’s really protective of the club, and sometimes that means he’s a raging asshole.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Plus you’re hot and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially him.” She replies with a laugh. “The man is used to sweetbutts falling over themselves hoping for a chance to suck his dick.”

Charlie couldnt help the laugh that escaped

"Yeah, well I’m definitely not interested."

She took a sip of her drink, feeling a bit more at ease as Haze’s easy-going demeanor worked its magic.

She turned to look at the woman, her hazel eyes sparkled as she gave Charlie a knowing look.

“What?” She inquired.

“Oh, nothing.” She replied with a grin.

Charlie changed the subject.

“So what’s the deal with the party? Is it always this… festive?”

Haze chuckled.

“Yeah, we like to let loose. But it’s not just about the party. It’s about bonding, maintaining relationships, and ensuring partnerships with other clubs,” She shot Noah a playful wink. “Plus it’s a good chance to blow off steam…and celebrate anything from new bikes to…just surviving another month.”

“To surviving another month.” Charlie said, raising her glass.

“To Bad Fucking Omens!” Haze yelled loud enough for the portion of the room closest to the bar to hear.

“BAD FUCKING OMENS!!!” A chorus of drunken voices responded followed by the sound of glasses and beer bottles clinking together.

Folio watched Charlie closely as she exchanged pleasantries with Haze. Her brown hair was worn down and straightened and he could help but notice how the dark denim of her jeans hugged her ass and thighs. He wore a hint of a smile as he observed her interaction with the club’s unofficial matriarch and raised his own glass in celebration as she joined in the toast before downing the last of her beer.

As the night wore on, Charlie found herself navigating the loud and boisterous crowd with increasing ease. She and Haze had continued to chat, and she had begun to enjoy the lively atmosphere and the friendly banter. The warm glow of the clubhouse and the camaraderie of the people around her had started to wash away her earlier sense of unease.

She excused herself to use the restroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, the once cheerful and intoxicating ambiance seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive, as she stepped through the doorway and into the narrow hallway leading back to the main room.

A large figure emerged from the shadows – their movements were unsteady and their eyes were glazed over with inebriation. The man was clad in a faded leather kutte. The back of it bore the insignia of the Sand Vipers, an affiliated club passing through Caine Valley on their way to a rally in the peninsula. His unkempt appearance suggested he had been drinking heavily for quite some time.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he slurred, stepping into her path with a swagger that reeked of overconfidence. His breath heavy with the stench of whiskey.

"You lookin' for some fun?"

Charlie recoiled slightly, her initial reaction one of surprise and discomfort.

"Nope, I'm just heading back to the bar," she said, trying to sidestep him.

But he moved with her, his hand reaching out to touch her arm in a way that was both presumptuous and invasive.

"Come on, don't be like that. Let's have a drink together.”

“No, thank you, now move.” She commanded.

“C’mon. I think we could have a good time together." he said, blocking her path once more.

“I said no, now fuck off!” she said, moving to push her way past him.

“Listen here you little bitch!” he said, moving to grab her.

Before Charlie could respond, a deep, authoritative voice cut through the haze of the man’s drunken advances.

"Booker! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?"

The man immediately straightened up, his bravado evaporating as he recognized the voice.

Folio stood at the end of the hallway, his imposing figure accentuated by the dim light that barely reached this part of the clubhouse. His eyes were cold, and his expression was a mask of steely resolve. He was a sight to behold, every inch of his demeanor radiating a sense of controlled power.

"I-I was just—" Booker stuttered.

"I don’t give a shit," Folio interrupted with a warning, his voice leaving no room for argument. "She said no. So you’re gonna walk the fuck away, now!"

Booker, suddenly sobered, muttering a hasty apology before stumbling off, his steps hurried and awkward. Folio’s eyes followed him until he disappeared into the crowd.

He turned his attention back to Charlie, his gaze softening just a fraction. He stepped closer, their proximity now charged with a palpable tension.

"You okay?" he asked.

Charlie nodded, though her heart was racing from the sudden confrontation.

His eyes scanned her face, unconvinced, before they locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks."

For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in a space that felt intimate and electric.

"I’ll make sure he’s dealt with," Folio said, his voice barely above a whisper but still firm. There was something in his tone, a raw edge of emotion that seemed to bridge the gap between them.

Charlie’s heart pounded, her gaze drifting from his dark brown eyes to his lips now set in a soft line and back up again.

Before either of them could say anything else, the moment was abruptly shattered by the sound of laughter barreling in from the main room. Charlie blinked, suddenly aware of where they were and how close they were standing.

“Uh-I… I should get back,” she said, her voice a bit unsteady as she took a step back. She tried to regain her composure, though her cheeks were flushed and her pulse still quickened.

Folio nodded, a flicker of disappointment—or was it something else?—passing across his face.

“Yeah, go ahead. I have some business to take care of.” he said, eyes flickering in the direction Booker had just disappeared.

Charlie offered him a small, appreciative smile before turning on her heel and making her way back to the bar. She found Haze waiting for her with a knowing look.

“Everything okay?” Haze asked, her tone light but with an edge of concern.

Charlie nodded, trying to sound casual as she slid back onto the stool.

“Yeah, just had a little... detour. But it’s fine.”

After a while, the bonfire outside the clubhouse beckoned. She had been replaying the interaction with Booker and the moment with Folio in her head for the last hour.

The crackle and pop of the fire mixed with the sound of laughter as she exited the clubhouse. The fire’s flickering light danced across the faces of the various people sat lounging around it on a mixed matched collection of tires, milk crates, and lawn chairs.

Charlie found a spot next to Kara and Noah on a bench fashioned from an old power pole near the fire and settled in. She spotted Nick sitting in a camping chair across the way with a beautiful woman draped across his lap. She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow before lifting her drink in his direction with a smile. He raised his in return with a nod before turning his attention back to the woman.

The warmth of the fire mixed with the whiskey she nursed in her rocks glass. She glanced around taking in the scene. Her eyes caught sight of Folio emerging from the bowels of the clubhouse.

He was deep in conversation with a older man wearing a Sand Vipers kutte and they shared a handshake and a nod before the man took his leave. Folio let his gaze drift across the crowd in front of him, eyes eventually connecting with hers.

There was something about his gaze that pulled at her. Neither of them dared to look away. A mixture of curiosity and something softer, more introspective lingered. There was something about the man that drove her absolutely crazy and intrigued her all at the same time.

He gave her a nod before slipping back inside. He had taken care of it.

As the night deepened, the crowd around the fire began to disperse. Some headed back inside for another round of drinks while others retreated to their respective rooms with their chosen partners for the night.

Charlie remained by the fire, feeling the warmth of the flames and the whiskey in her veins, but it did little to calm the restless energy swirling inside her. The night had stretched on, but the tension from earlier hadn't quite dissipated.

She found herself glancing back to the clubhouse, half-expecting to see Folio emerge again. But when he didn’t, she tried to focus on the people around her, laughing and talking, trying to convince herself it was all just another night.

Haze leaned in close, her voice low and teasing.

"You okay? You've been staring into that fire like it's about to tell you the meaning of life."

Charlie blinked, breaking her gaze from the flickering flames.

"Yeah. Just... thinking."

Kara raised an eyebrow.

"About him?" she asked, with a knowing nod toward the clubhouse.

Charlie felt a flicker of irritation rush through her, but she masked it quickly with a smirk.

"Who?"

Haze didn't buy it.

"You know exactly who."

Charlie’s smile faltered, but she shrugged it off.

"He's just... he's just someone I have to deal with. Nothing more."

Kara didn’t push it further, but Charlie could see the skepticism in the woman’s eyes. The conversation drifted, but Charlie’s mind kept returning to Folio—his gaze, the quiet weight of the moment they’d shared. And yet, despite everything that had happened, nothing had changed. Nothing could change.

[thatchickwiththecamera]

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Can we talk about when in the Dunne's isle Xaden and then a just few minutes later Dain were both negotiating weapons for the fight, Violet joined then quite a few moments later because she was talking to the old lady, but as soon as Xaden realised Violet is fighting too, Xaden and Dain immediately settled on daggers?

Like zero hesitation, no questions asked plus ignored everything they must've talked about before she stood with them?

[thatchickwiththecamera]

I love how confused everyone is by these. 😂

anything can use, just give credit🤍

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I need WWE to allow intergender matches because I need Penta to run it back with Iyo and Chelsea Green.

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Y/N’s 4 year anniversary post to Noah🖤

tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @Chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Reblog if you're okay with receiving asks for backstory info on any/all of your fics.

If not all, specify which ones in the tags.

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I went into a state of shock upon finishing Onyx Storm and will now need 5-10 business days and a bucket of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream to emotionally recover. Please don’t contact me until I’ve stopped screaming into my pillow.

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Tairn once said:

“Please, do tell me more about what I should value.”

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“At least I didn’t let you fall to your death.”

“Should I get the wingleader?”

“You’re bleeding. Stop it.”

“No, it’s a collar.”

“Next time you fly, and I’ll ride.”

“I could torch him if you like. But you do seem attached.”

“I chose you not as my next, but as my last. And if you should fall, then I will follow.”

“And I could call you Violence like the wingleader.”

“Tell him if he harms you, I’ll scorch the ground where he stands.”

“I will bet my life on you, as I have from the very first day.”

“Stop arguing with me and eat something.”

“Dragons pay no heed to your puny gods.”

“We made a choice to protect you—without your consent. It was an error, and one I won’t make again.”

“I chose you last year for that brilliance, and now you’d like to be congratulated like it’s something new? How odd.”

“Andarna! Use some common sense, the kneecaps are a much easier target.”

“I have better things to do than monitor the machinations your subconscious mind. If a dream bothers you, then leave it. Stop allowing yourself to be tortured like a hatchling and wake yourself like an adult.”

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Smash (with mask). Raw.

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MARANELLO, 2025

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MARANELLO, 2025 — Lewis Hamilton begins a new chapter in his storied career with Scuderia Ferrari. (Photo by Andre D. Wagner)

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YO WHY IS THIS APP ATTACKING ME TODAY!?

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The fact that I could follow along with this entire conversation in my notifications as it happened.

Love it.

P.S. I like the second short one.

WE ASKED AND ADAM DELIVERED

Sources: Rightful Peeps on Twitter

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I love them, your honor.

sid and maybe geno and tanger charming their way into getting the keycard for flower’s hotel room to “move things around” and then flower dumping beef sticks in sid’s already rotting jock 😭 the only valid boys will be boys

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@artificialbreezy - Sooooo…the 2010s version of me is screaming! I am so here for the hockey switchup! How do you feel about everyone’s favorite Flower???

as long as you don’t ever write for Crosby. I’m fine with the hockey switch up 😘

oh! do you mean 10x all star player, 2x art ross trophy winner, 2x hart memorial winner, 3x ted lindsey winner, 8x best nhl player espy winner and 3x stanley cup champ Sidney Crosby?

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Bad Omens M.C. | Chapter 1

Pairing: Nick Folio x OFC

Warnings: death, murder, attempted murder, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, physical assault, alcohol use, smoking, swearing/foul language, smut, torture.

Summary: When Charlie Parker witnesses a high-stakes deal gone wrong between the notorious Bad Omens M.C. and a rival organization, her life takes a dramatic turn. Now a target, she is forced to seek out protection only the club can provide and is introduced to the gritty, high-octane world of the SoCal criminal underground.

Author’s Note: Decided to turn this isn’t a series instead of posting as one long one-shot. Enjoy! THE MEMBERS OF BAD OMENS MC

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @foliosgirl, @moonsleep, @jilliemiw86, @dsireland86, @collidewiththesavannah, @alwaysfightforwhoyouare, @klutzy-kay24, @lacy1986, @pullfromtheghostx, @tosoundlessdarkistare, @xmads-omensx, @dontwantthemoney, @heyyoplayer, @shayeanna-ashlie,

Charlie wiped down the last of the sticky wooden table tops inside The Silver Spur, closing out her nightly ritual and ending her shift. Her boss and the bar’s owner, Marty, had left hours ago.  The little dive bar was nestled on the edge of sleepy Caine Valley, California and now sat silent, save for the faint buzzing of the neon beer signs that hung along the walls.

She flicked off the lights locking the door behind her and stepped out into the alley for a smoke. The warm southern California air soothed her skin as she leaned her back against the cinder block wall covered in layered patches of peeling paint.

She took a deep drag from the cigarette nestled between her lips. A noise caused her to pause before she slowly and tiredly exhaled. The muffled sound of voices echoed from the direction of the old warehouse nestled behind the bar. A cloud of smoke ballooned in front of her before quickly dissipating with the shifting breeze. 

As she peered around the corner of the old building, she half expected to see Frank sitting there by his usual burn barrel holding a meeting with himself again. The ornery old homeless man liked to claim ownership of the bar’s back alley from time to time and he proudly and stubbornly refused and sort of help from anyone that tried to offer it. 

Instead of seeing Frank holding court, the alley sat empty. Her eyes were instead drawn toward the shadows that danced across the dirty windows of the dimly lit warehouse. A building that she had long thought was abandoned now seemed busier than ever. Curiosity now piqued and nosey nature unchecked, she moved closer to investigate. 

Peering through the cracked pane of a dusty window, she saw what looked like a scene straight out of a crime drama on television. 

At a large wooden table sat a group of bikers with tattoos and worn leather kuttes. The men’s appearance contrasted heavily with that of the group of men dressed in finely tailored suits and shiny italian leather shoes that sat opposite of them. 

She had stumbled upon some type of meeting and from the varying expressions that adorned the men’s faces, there was history between the two groups and no one seemed very fond of being in the other’s presence.  

"You think we're fucking stupid?" one of the suited men sneered, his voice laced with arrogance. "These guns aren't worth half of what you're asking."

One of the bikers leaned forward, his tone dangerously calm as he spoke. 

"We upheld our end of the deal. You pay up or you can tell Mariano we're out."

Mariano? Why does that name sound familiar? Charlie wondered. 

The biker wore his dark hair gelled back on top of his head with the sides tightly cropped. Hints of stubble peppered across his sharp jawline. A cross earring dangled from his left ear and a tattoo of Jesus with a crown of thorns peaked out above his collar on the side of his neck. 

She watched as the biker sat back, clenched his jaw, and cut his eyes sharply at the man across from him before continuing to speak. 

“Little birdy told me Matsumoto is expanding his reach across the pacific…something about a new operation out of San Francisco.” He stated, the hint of a threat carefully woven into his words. 

The suit's face flashed a hint of disgust at the mention of the name. 

“Didn’t know the Omens fucked with Yakuza?” He spat. 

The stone faced biker ignored the question and continued. 

“Now tell me…if they control the north and we control the south…where exactly does that leave you?”

The man in the suit seethed as the reality of the bikers words sunk in. 

Charlie shifted her weight in an attempt to get a better view but felt her foot slip. Before she could re-adjust the toe of her boot had already connected with a discarded metal trash can lid. The noise echoed loudly through the quiet alley as it skittered across the pavement. 

All heads turned toward the direction of the sound. She stood frozen and held her breath. 

“Go check it out.” The suited man ordered a lackey with a tilt of the head.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” She whispered to herself, as she ducked behind a stack of crates trying to make herself as small as possible. 

Panic seized her as she watched the goon exit the building through the gaps in the crates. His cheap suit fit awkwardly over his lanky frame and the stiff heel of his patent leather shoe echoed loudly across the asphalt with each step as he drew closer to her hiding spot. 

Charlie held her breath, her thoughts racing, pondering her next move. She couldn’t just stay there and hope he simply missed her curled up in her terrible hiding spot. She needed to do something and fast. 

As the man passed where she was hiding, she lunged forward and delivered a swift kick to his knee, catching him by surprise. He grunted in pain and stumbled backward. She scrambled to get away, but didn’t get far as the man managed to grab hold of the sleeve of her jacket and yank her back. 

"Shit!" Charlie cursed, struggling against his grip. "Let go of me, you freak!"

The man's grip tightened, his face contorted with anger.

 "Oh, Little mouse has claws," he growled, his other hand coiled back ready to strike.

POP POP POP

Before he could land a blow, the sound of gunfire erupted from within the warehouse. The man froze for a moment, both of their heads turning towards the sound of the chaos. The meeting was over and whatever deal that was previously on the table had officially gone sour.

Any sense of professionalism and diplomacy was replaced by bullets whizzing through the air, sending shards of shattered glass and splintered wood flying.

THWACK

She took advantage of the distraction and sent a right hook flying toward the man’s face, her fist connecting squarely with its target. Pain shot through her hand at the contact. 

The force of the hit caught the man by surprise and he stumbled a bit but still somehow managed to maintain his grip on her arm. The shock of the punch quickly wore off and the man angrily charged forward, the side of his face red and showing signs of swelling from the impact. She felt a sharp flash of pain shoot through the back of her head as it connected with the cold metal siding of the warehouse. 

Panic crept in as she felt his hands snake their way around her throat. She fought to find some semblance of leverage against the side of the building as she felt his grip tightening. Her head grew dizzy from lack of oxygen and as her vision started to blur she threw her hands out in front of her. She felt around for the man's face in the dark before forcefully jamming her thumbs into his eye sockets. 

“Ah, fuck!” He yelped, releasing her and grabbing his face in pain. 

She felt her body collapse as she gasped for air and quickly grabbed hold of the stack of wooden pallets next to her, using the to pull her body back up to a standing position. She paused for a moment, still fighting to return her breathing to normal. 

She needed to get out of there. 

The man was slightly hunched over in pain, hands grasping at his face and tender eyes. 

She hauled her leg back like she was on the pitch again in high school about to boot in the winning goal during the state championship match and sent a forceful kick right into the suited man’s groin. He cried out in pain once more and fell to his knees before falling over into a groaning heap on the wet asphalt. 

She ran as fast as her feet would carry her around the backside of the building, her lungs burned, head slightly spinning still desperate for oxygen. As she turned the corner she collided directly with a solid form of another suited goon that had been patrolling the perimeter. 

“Where you runnin’ to, little rabbit?” he said with a sneer

She backed up and turned to run in the opposite direction. He reached out and quickly grabbed a fist full of her hair, yanking her back against his chest. She thrashed against his grip. He yanked her around to where she was face to face with him, forced to look up at him as his fist knotted tighter into her hair. 

“I like it when they fight.” he said venomously, mouth disgustingly close to her ear as he quickly and hastily looked around to see if anyone else was there to serve as witness.

“Let’s have some fun shall we?” 

She struggled against his grip as he tried to pull her deeper into the shadows of the warehouse. 

She felt her vision blur as she screamed in rage and fought like hell against his grip. 

CRACK

The sharp sound of a gunshot pierced through the darkness. 

She heard the man give a grunt before his grip began to loosen. Eventually disappearing completely as his body fell into a heavy heap on the pavement. His weight forcing her to the ground as well. 

She pushed herself away from his limp form and watched a thin rivulet of blood trickle down his face from the hole that now dotted the center of his forehead. A pool of blood began to form on the pavement under his skull from the exit wound. 

Her head whipped toward the direction of the gunshot and she saw one of the bikers lowering his gun. His long brown hair was secured under a black ball cap embroidered with a grim reaper. His gun remained trained on the lackey as he approached, nudging the dead man with his foot. 

"Fuck!" the biker muttered, his eyes then flickered to Charlie’s form still sitting on the pavement and turned the gun in her direction.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" he yelled. 

Charlie's heart hammered in her chest. She was in deep shit. 

"Woah! Put the fucking gun down, I didn’t plan on getting jumped by Sonny Soprano today, much less shot by you!" she frantically replied. 

She slowly got up to her feet, arms raised, palms facing toward him to show that her hands, skin now scuffed from the pavement and slightly bruised from throwing the punch, were in fact empty.  

He let out a frustrated sigh before lowering his gun and returning it to the holster hidden under his kutte. 

He stepped forward and seized her by the arm. 

“What is it with you fuckers and grabbing my arm today?!” 

She resisted his grip as he dragged her around the side of the building where a van and a number of motorcycles were parked.

The back of their kuttes read ‘Bad Omens’ and ‘California’ with the image of a grim reaper holding a scythe in between. 

Shit. She thought. 

Bad Omens were well known in Caine Valley. The notorious motorcycle club pretty much controlled the whole of southern California. They owned the automotive repair shop off of Route 3 along with a few other businesses scattered about town. But almost nothing happened in the Valley without the Omens either knowing about it or having a hand in it. 

“Matt! Who the fuck is that?” A voice belonging to a tall man barked out as they drew closer to the group. 

The tall man had tattoos covering his arms and neck and stood next to a shorter man with slicked back hair.

The shorter man glanced at her with a mix of frustration and concern. He was the same man that spoke during the meeting. 

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "This complicates things a bit."

"Zivo got his hands on her, had to put him down," Matt stated, addressing the other man and ignoring the taller man’s question. 

“I had it handled.” She shot back, ripping her arm from his grip. 

“Sure you did sweetheart.” Matt scoffed, stepping toward her, face so close she could smell the mint toothpaste on his breath, “I bet he would’ve had a lot of fun with you if I hadn't been there to save your ass.”

Her jaw clenched as he looked her up and down with a smirk. 

“Enough!” The shorter man barked, “How much did you see?” 

He shot Charlie a hard look, his expression unreadable, brown eyes piercing. 

The look made her heart almost skip a beat, his gaze was cold and sharp. Under any other circumstance she’d find the man before her insanely attractive. But right now she was too pissed off and scared to care. 

“Too much apparently” She bit back, trying for the life of her to hide any hint of fear that might peek through. “I got attacked by another guy too, but I was able to get away before I ran into…Zivo was it?” 

“Shit.” stated the long haired man next to her, running a hand down his face. “Folio, we can’t just let her go.” 

The shorter man she now knew as Folio paused for a moment, expression unchanging before cutting his eyes to the man next to her.

“Matt, she’ll ride with you in the van,” he ordered.  "We'll figure this out back at the clubhouse."

Before she could protest, Matt grabbed her arm again and lead her over to the passenger side of a white Chevy Express van and ordered her to climb inside. He slammed the door shut behind her and she heard the sounds of motorcycles roaring to life one by one. 

“Put your damn seatbelt on.” He mumbled after climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the key in the ignition. 

He grabbed the shifter by the steering wheel pulling it down into drive. The van pulled out onto the main road into town behind the rest of the club members riding two by two. She watched as the shape of the Silver Spur got smaller and smaller in the passenger side mirror. 

Her mind replayed what had just happened on a loop as she watched the street lights pass by through the windshield. Matt remained silent for the entirety of the ten minute drive before they eventually pulled into the backlot of Sumerian Automotive. 

Behind the shop was a large storage lot. At the very back of the lot stood a dimly lit clubhouse with a large Bad Omens reaper painted on the front facade. 

To the right of it was an area scattered with miscellaneous pieces of gym equipment cast to one side and what looked like a fire pit in the middle. To the left, a number of bikes were parked all lined up in a row. They were all backed in and ready to roll if one of the boys needed to leave quickly. The members who had attended the meeting were one by one adding their bikes to the long line of chrome and rubber. 

Matt drove past the row of bikes and parked the van under a metal carport. He hopped out and escorted Charlie inside. 

The air inside was thick with tension following the night's events. Every eye in the room was trained on her as she followed closely behind Matt. 

“Church in twenty minutes.” Folio announced to the group before he gestured for Charlie to take a seat at a worn down table in the corner.

Some of the club members gathered around them, their expressions ranging from suspicion to curiosity, while a few others headed straight to the bar on the far side of the room and poured themselves drinks. Glasses of amber liquid and beer bottles clinked together in celebration of them making it back in one piece. 

Charlie hadn’t heard anything about the club losing anyone, but the other side evidently hadn’t been so lucky. 

"What's your name?" Folio asked, his gruff voice drawing her attention away from the tired men at the bar. 

"Charlie," she replied, too tired to hide her annoyance. 

He assessed her carefully. 

She took notice of the word ‘President’ written on one of the name tapes stitched on the front of his kutte. 

"You stumbled into some dangerous shit tonight, Charlie," he said finally, his tone serious. "You saw and heard things you shouldn't have."

Charlie rolled her eyes, her attitude showing through despite the situation. 

"Yeah, so I’ve gathered.” 

Folio's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin. 

"This isn't a joke, sweetheart." 

"Yeah, no shit," Charlie retorted sharply, crossing her arms defiantly. 

"So what's the plan, huh?” She asked with smirk. “You just gonna keep me locked up in your little clubhouse forever?"

Folio leaned forward, his voice a dangerous whisper. 

"Watch your tone."

Charlie scoffed, but a brief flicker of fear danced in her eyes. 

"Look…I won't say anything..," Charlie replied, defiantly staring down the man across from her. 

"You better fucking not," another biker with long hair and a goatee growled, his accented voice low and menacing. 

Folio raised a hand, silencing the man. Eyes never leaving her. 

"Listen," he said, a hint of venom in his voice. "The men you saw tonight will more than likely put a price on that pretty little head of yours. So you're under our protection for now. But if you even think about talking to anyone about anything that yo…”

“Save the intimidation tactic, I’m not stupid.” She interrupted. 

His jaw clenched.

"Take her to one of the spare rooms," he ordered, still looking at her, his voice was firm.

"She doesn’t leave until we sort this shit out."

—

In the main meeting room of the clubhouse, the members of Bad Omens gathered around a long scarred wooden table for “church.” Their tired faces etched with varying degrees of concern. Folio sat at the head of the table, his features illuminated by the dim glow of the light fixture overhead.

"We can't just let her go," voiced Nick, his Sergeant at Arms, who sat to his right. His voice was low but insistent. "She's seen too much. If she talks..."

"We're all fucked," Noah, his Vice President interjected from where he sat to Folio’s left, his tone tense as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "We gotta do something."

Folio leaned back in his chair, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

"She may have stumbled into club business," he said finally, his voice gravelly yet commanding. "But she's not a threat."

"So what are we gonna do then?" asked Matt, his intelligence officer, from where he sat next to Noah, nervously tapping his fingers on the table before he continued.

“At least one of Mariano’s men knows she was there and has seen her face. You know he’s going to want this wrapped up tight with the election coming up. It won’t be long until they try to come after her.”

"We can't just get rid of her," Folio replied flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "That ain't who we are."

Silence descended upon the room, the weight of the decision hung heavy in the air, each member contemplating the possible repercussions of their next move.

"Maybe we can use her," suggested Jolly, from where he sat beside Nick, his Swedish accent pronounced as he continued. "She's gotta work somewhere. Why not at the shop? Keep her close, keep an eye on her."

Folio mulled over the suggestion. 

 "We’ve talked about needing an office manager for a while now," he murmured in response, more to himself than to the others. "And it’d keep her on a tight leash."

A murmur of agreements rippled through the room. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it offered a compromise between their code and the necessity of the situation. 

"Okay then," Folio declared, stubbing out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. "We give her the chance to work for us. She keeps her mouth shut, stays outta trouble, and we keep her safe."

The others nodded in reluctant accord, a sense of uneasy resolution settling among them. They knew the risks of bringing an outsider into the fold, but they also understood the consequences of letting her go free.

"Matt, go get her," He ordered, his voice firm. "We'll lay out the deal."

—

Charlie rested her head back against the wall next to the bed. Close to an hour had passed since they had arrived at the clubhouse and her thoughts swirled between panic, annoyance, and tired resignation.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped her out of her trance. The door creaked open, and a figure entered, barely illuminated by the dim light filtering from the hallway. 

"You awake?" a voice asked. It was Matt. 

Charlie muttered a quiet “Yeah” in response, unsure of what to expect next.

"Good," he grunted. "Prez wants to talk to you again."

Her heart sank. She hadn't anticipated another interrogation so soon. Rising slowly, she followed him back up the main corridor of the clubhouse, every creak and murmur seemed to echo her fear along the way. 

In the main room, the atmosphere had shifted. A tension remained, but now it mixed with an air of deliberation. Folio stood leaning back against the battered pool table, his eyes taking note of her form as she approached. 

She was short, barely a few inches over five feet. Her dark brown hair was still slightly messy from what she had been through earlier that night. It fell a little past her shoulders and framed her round face. A set of soft cerulean blue eyes cast a piercing glance as she looked in his direction. 

She wore a black tank top with the Silver Spur logo tucked into a pair of high waisted straight leg Levi blue jeans and a pair of well worn Doc Martens. A black belt cinched her waist and he couldn’t help but notice the ways the denim accentuated the curves of her hips and ass. 

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to a rickety chair opposite him. Charlie hesitated for a moment, but obeyed. 

"We've talked," Folio began, his voice rough but steady. "And we've come to a decision."

Charlie felt anxiety build in her chest. Decision? What decision could they have made about her fate so quickly?

"We can't just let you walk," he continued. "But we're also not in the business of harming innocents."

She nodded, careful to keep her face neutral as a small wave of relief washed over her.

"So, here's the deal," he said, his gaze piercing. “You’re going to work for us. Officially."

Charlie's brows furrowed. Work for them? The idea felt like a cruel joke. 

“Work? For You?” She questioned as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back against the chair. Her voice was laced with amusement, defiance flickering in her eyes. 

Folio eyes momentarily roamed to her breasts, more pronounced from how she sat, before flickering back to her face. She raised an eyebrow at him, a faint smirk playing at her lips. He’d been caught. 

His jaw twitched as he grew more annoyed by the boldness of the woman in front of him. 

"We own the auto shop," Folio stated bluntly, his tone brooking no argument. "You'll have a job there. We need an office manager.”

“Thanks…,” she scoffed. “but I already have a job.”

“Not anymore,” He replied with a smug grin. “I already called Marty and told him you quit” 

She stood from her chair and crossed the short distance toward the man. 

“You can’t fucking do that!” she said anger seeping from her as she got in his face. 

Matt stepped forward ready to grab her, but Folio shot him a look telling him to stand down. He leaned down until his face was level with hers. He stared at the women in amusement. 

“I can…and I did,” he sternly replied before returning to full height. 

Flames of anger flickered in her eyes as she stood defiantly in front of him. She wanted nothing more than to slap the arrogant look clean off his face. 

Folio found her intriguing as hell. He was so used to how the sweetbutts and hang-arounds acted. How they would do anything he or one of the boys would say in hopes of earning a night in their beds and the chance to brag about bedding an Omen. 

But not her. 

There were grown men who wouldn’t dare try and stand toe to toe with him like she currently was. This woman either had balls of steel or was completely out of her mind. Or both. 

“You'll be paid properly…don’t worry…we’ll take good care of you.” His words were menacingly soothing, but the hint of an underlying threat hung in the air like a storm about to break. 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” She shot back, fists clenched at her sides. 

"It means you keep your little mouth shut about what you saw tonight, do your fucking job,” he added with a sneer, face now dangerously close to hers, his already thin patience waning even more. “And we make sure you stay alive."

They stood like this for a moment, neither wanting to yield. The smell of worn leather and cigarette smoke clashed with the scent of her floral perfume. 

"Fine," she finally managed to spit out, her voice tinged with resentment.

"Good," he bit back in reply, before turning and swiping a pack of Marlboro Reds off the rail of the pool table.  

She noticed the glint of a nose ring in the light as he lit up the cigarette between his lips. Tipping his head back and exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

Something stirred inside her, making her mentally kick herself. 

Dammit, why’d this asshole have to be so fucking hot?

"We'll get you settled in at the shop tomorrow. Tonight, you stay here. Go get some rest.”