#Paulie is having a life changing moment watching this go down

[animeniac-writings]

Robin's first interaction with her future man past life-or-death situation is firmly grabbing his balls, I love her.

[not-souleaterpost]

ENTP CRONA DUMP

Not going back on my word, just forgot to post a dump of "ENTP Crona" stuff I planed to just post all at once in a year, but after trying to stop doing stuff like that, I just thought I post what I had and be done with it.

, the thing even I don't really find funny, but I think I have to do it to get it out and book end it. A lot of it isn't really funny, some of it may sound a bit edgy or abrasive, but it's just in good fun, still putting it under the "keep reading thing" because of the amount and shittyness of the "content" Enjoy or yeah...sorry

ENTP Crona experiencing a soul rejection, screaming in agony because of not being able to deal with figuring out if "video games are art" or "video games aren't art" is the more contrarian oppinion at the moment

ENTP Crona reading shizophrenia symptoms on google "Wow, he is literally me"

ENTP Crona fleeing into the desert, going down a hole to cry

Ragnarok "Wait, the cow already killed Medusa a year ago, why we doing this bitch shit again?"

ENTP Crona "I posted a deliberately controversial and edgy meme into the group chat again, when they all see it, I wont be able to deal with how angry everyone will be..."

Soul: "You cant just nonstop spam shit on the internet, people will think you don't have a life"

ENTP Crona: "But I kinda don't..."

Soul: "Still writting on every single subject for 10 hours straight must be tiring and exhaustive, take a break"

ENTP Crona: "But I wrote everything in the last 5 minutes

Soul: "Heh, dont like partys either? Guess reading the room can be stressful even for somebody as cool as me sometimes-"

ENTP Crona "No, I can read it just fine, just then choose to say the thing that sets the roof on fire and regret it five seconds later.

ENTP Crona trying to figure out if Maka subscribes to the theory that Holden is a child abuser himself in "The Catcher in the Rye", only if yes, to arguee that not even the creep teacher was one and it is a misreading, and its actually about idk, read it in school so cant even come up with an explantion.

ENTP Crona trying to cheer up a crying Maka, after she got made fun of for liking bad music by Soul

"No, I like Speeding bullet 2 heaven too! Well except the Beavis and Butthead skits, even I am not that contrarian"

ENTP Crona curled up in the corner of the dark dungeon, not able to face the world, cause liking Ringo Star is to mainstream now but changing to hating him is just too painful...

ENTP Crona after everyone gets confronted with their lives just being fiction

"Well actually I prefere the anime ending"

But after mostly everyone agrees

"But, actually the manga works in a certain way afterall-"

ENTP Crona during the anime only scene where Maka and Crona talk about Maka's mom - its the same scene lol, remember those 4th wall breaking snide comments Crona barely managed to not blabber out loud lol

ENTP Crona "Marvel movies were allways bad"

Marie "Oh you aren't dumb and incompetent!"

ENTP Crona "Why did it took me 8 hours to put together the IKEA table?"

Marie "Oh dont be to hard on yourself, screwing in the table legs upside down could happen to anybody!"

Maka confronting Medusa: I'm here to save ENTP Crona and Mary!

Medusa: Nah, they both are still stuck in the maze going in circles

ENTP Crona after a tourist asks for directions in Death City: "I'll be honest, even though I am living here for years now, I myself cant deal finding my home without google maps"

ENTP Crona "I'm the Joker, baby! (Jared Leto version)"

ENTP Crona "-oh so a glorbo, or smol bean, cinamon bun is a charachter like Paulie from the Sopranos!"

ENTP Crona after trying to read "Finnegans Wake" "Damn, thats how high I still have to climb..."

ENTP Crona watching X:RA "Wow, I actually get 90 percent of the wordplay! This show is great!"

MGMT Patty : "Time to pretend..."

*ENTP Crona visualising all the different ways to take out and kill the people around*

Ragnarok "And I thought I was the psychopath! We aren't even eating souls anymore, whats guipi wrong with you?

ENTP "Grocery shopping is boring and I thought about the 3 different storys I'll never write down enough for one hour..."

ENTP Crona "-and that's why the metodology that is used to diagnose diseases by only relying on a checklist of data points that may have many different origin points is flawed

Stein "I am the doctor with 10 years experience, take your antibiotics prescription and get out!"

Stein, litting a cigarete after ENTP Crona goes out after apologising "Damn, the kid may be right, shit..."

ENTP Crona be like "Actually, I think Epstein is still alive"

ENTP Crona "Yeah Myerrs brigs and Horrorscopes are the same... Because they both actually are describing something and aren't completly wrong, if you know you know...

ENTP Crona actually getting a tatoo even though it is a stupid thing to do in general, because thats the only way to remember Maka's birthday. Cause aint nobody remembering more than 4 digits...

ENTP Crona using all experience and time to reflect, to start a dramatic uplifting speech that leads into Maka defeating the Kishin with a punch- Ah wait thats just what happened in the anime again lol

ENTP Crona: "I wore a dress for most of my life, yet that is not as embarassing as riding on an electric scooter"

ENTP Crona "Oh ofcourse I'm to scatterbrained and lazy to actually finish a webcomic, that's why I included an in universe callout by a charachter, so I will stay motivated out of spite and want of being better than those, proving the mean pixels wrong!"

ENTP Crona: -the setting being the aftermath of a nuclear testing site is a brilliant synedoche of our society pre and post world war 2, how the atomic age is nearly unrecognisable, being both so much more advanced that previous incarnations do not even look human in retrospect, while exagerating ourselfs into cartoon versions of ourselfs do to paranoia and stereotypes, shared faster and faster, that we soak up like Sponges, being the perfect worker and consumer in one - in a way thats Rock Bottom, the breakdown of communication, only restored by recognising the humanity of the other, even if they look at us with even more potent disgust than we already do.

Maka: Wait, I thought these iceberg videos were just supposed to list of fun facts and triva about Spongebob

ENTP Crona: What gave you that idea, Maka?

TERF Maka: I STILL hate J K Rowling

EC: "Borat is racist-"

M: "No the joke is that he exposes the prejudices of the common american person-"

EC "against Kazakhstanis"

M: "No no- wait... you are right..."

EC: "If MF Ghost was with the culture, it would have used Phonk instead of Eurobeat"

EC: "Where the fuck is Marioh Judah?"

*EC annoys excalibur into quitting*

EC :"Im like prince, everybody thinks In gay but actually im homophobic-"

EC: "Non-cellular phones actually had their purpose - like if somebody called them, you would either know nobody is home, or the person who answered could either inform you where the one you are calling is if you didnt reach the person or just find them - also the fact it was in the same spot ment nobody lost it and could allways find it when needed and it never ran out of battery, also-"

M: "If you don't like the phonecase I gifted you just say so...

R: "Dude, dont we still use mirrors for comunication"

EC "Think Im constrained by the limitations of canons?"

TRAD Tsubaki "Well they didn't make a sign of the cross in the church, so they kinda deserved being slayn by Ragnarok..."

M "Hey you are looking down, everything ok?

EC "Thanks for caring, but the thing is, to explain it all, all the connections and reasons and evidence would make me just look more weird and whiny, and this all, including the fact that I cant even say why I cant say without being whiny and long winged is part of it...

EC "I used trouble not descending into negative loops of self pity and disgust with myself and the world... But then I just developed a hyperfixation on not-having-hyperfixations"

???? Death: IDK

EC *reading the bible* "It even predicted people obssesing over lolcows with the whole golden calf story, damn...

EC: Rip Kissinger

EC: Slouching? No, I'm just posture-divergent

EC: I do love myself - one has to love even their biggest enemy...

EC in the future:

M: Are you really ready for children?

EC: I accidentally watched a trailer for despicable me 4, and after hearing all the pandering 80s song and repetitive family hinjix humor I just thought "Oh, how cozy would this be to watch with my Kids and Wife!"

So yeah, I CAN deal with it

[malethirsty]

Villainy Washes Over - Roman Reigns & Paul Heyman

Summary: With Roman’s heel turn, a possessive gruffer nature stowed into The Big Dog. Whilst everyone else had run, you stayed, and now fresh off of his championship win, Roman was going to treat you to his new lavish way of power.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap)

“What’s the safe word?” “Shield” “That’s right babe. Now wait in here on your knees, I’ll text you when I’m on so you see me claiming what is mine. Only once I get back can you move and whilst I’m gone” he moved across to the bedside table and withdrew a black dildo, tossing it to you, landing perfectly on the floor in front of you “You might want to practice your cock sucking technique” You nodded and Roman cupped a hand to your cheek which you nuzzled into, his warmth, energy and presence washing over you. Seeing how submissive you were for him, he let a cold heel like smirk befall his face “Be good for me and I promise, you will be rewarded. Yessir.” He flashed his familiar hand pose and a sparkling grin your way as he made to leave your shared apartment, shutting the bedroom door behind him. 

The night seemed to trail by, the time elapsing placing more pressure on your form as your knees began to tire from their stationary position, so you sprawled your hands out in front of you and began to practice your head game per Roman’s instructions, you simply wanted to make your man proud of you, especially these days. As Roman began his heel transition and recruited Paul Heyman to be his special advisor, he had become stronger, more brutal, and it had turned you on to no end. Whilst the WWE Universe processed the shock of his sudden change of heart, he was pounding into you on your bed, snarling and growling as he fucked you, almost like a man possessed. The day before when Paul showed up to discuss strategy (which included a neat way of getting the championship quickly by signing the contract at the PPV when both men were down and out) Roman told you he was planning a celebration night and to prepare, and knowing he meant he’d fuck you to winning an inch of passing out, you trained, determined to make your time together the best time of his life. 

After a while of trying different positions, your phone dinged and you slid a hand into your pocket to retrieve it. Sure enough it was indeed Roman telling you to tune into Backlash. So you moved to the remote and turned on the flat screen, on it Roman with Paul signing the contract for the match, lobbing the pen away as he made his way down the ramp. To your surprise the ring had snapped, but as you processed it, it dawned on you that the men inside must be spent and soon Roman would win. As you watched on as a new referee was called down to take the knocked out ones place, it was fair to say your nerves were spiking, especially when Braun & The Fiend kept kicking out. After several intense moments involving a mandible claw, a low blow and a sharp ‘Bitch’ sent towards the ref courtesy of your chief, Roman nailed down Braun with a spear and took back his Universal Championship, the title he never lost. The conquering Big Dog returning to his yard victorious was what closed off the PPV and you smiled, he would be in a good mood once he got back, and that always meant a great fuck. 

In comparison to when Roman had left the apartment, waiting for him to return was better, probably because you knew he had the title, so the waves of nerves had subsided, all your focus on was giving your master the celebration he deserved, whatever it entailed. Soon after you had this thought, you heard movement outside as the door to the apartment opened, and feet could be heard pacing down the hallway. Throwing the dildo under the bed, in case Paul accompanied Roman, you turned your attention to the door, awaiting Roman. The door to the bedroom opened, and as you expected there in all his sweaty, pristine glory, stood Roman with Paul bringing up the rear. You launched yourself into Roman’s arms with a kiss, which Roman returned tenterfold, growling in between “What did I tell you babe? The Universal belt is back where it damn belongs.” “I can tell your happy Y/N, now you have what everyone in the world is dying to get their hands on, the new REIGNING, DEFENDING & UNDISPUTED CHAMPION: ROMAN REIGNS!” You broke apart from Roman laughing at Paul’s over exhuberance, with years of being on opposing sides, you were still getting to grips with Roman’s hired help, so his bombastic nature was still a lot to behold.

“Now Paul, I wondered how to thank you for all you have done, and then I remembered I had Y/N here, and I knew the perfect gift for you. Sit on the bed.” Paul’s face shot up at Roman’s statement, quickly crossing over and sitting, clearly not wanting to question Roman and risk injury as had happened so many times with other clients. You glanced at Roman, wondering what he was planning. The answer came quick as Roman gave you his next command “Crawl to Paul and stay at his feet.” You obeyed, sinking down to the floor once again, though this time you crawled towards Paul, his expression now shifting to puzzlement “Roman, I appreciate the sentiment, but he’s yours, I couldn’t possibly.” “Of course not Pauly, only I get to fuck him, but tonight you’ll get blown by him, my treat. Besides, for the past two hours he’s been training to please you Paul, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” Capitalising on Roman’s sentiment, you pouted and said “Please sir, I need it, need to take your cock in my mouth and suck the cum out for you. I want it all in my mouth. I bet you haven’t came in a long time, let me take care of you Mr. Heyman.” Paul looked flabbergasted at seeing your estate demeanour change to arousal, but Roman watched over you with a smirk, he knew full well you’d act like this to get what you wanted, and knowing that Paul had a weaker resolve than him, it was only a matter of time before he gave in and sure enough, he gave you a sneer, hands going to his belt “Yes, Take off your pants and relax, while Y/N gives you the best blow job you’ll ever have.” Roman said, a growl in his tone as he crossed to where Paul was sitting on the bed to get a better view of what you were about to do.

“Let Paul fist your hair, and let him guide you on his dick.” Roman told you, and no sooner had you gazed up, noticing Paul had disposed of his pants, then his pudgy hand had your hair in a sharp grip guiding you in-between Paul’s legs and in your domain now, you wrapped your lips around the bulbous head of Paul’s cock. You heard him take a ragged breath as your hot mouth wrapped around him, “Oh God! Fuck!” Escaped Paul’s mouth, clearly overawed by your mouth on his cock, your ego sated, you began to map out his cock, tracing every vein, finding pressure points, anything to make Heyman squirm and your man happy. “That’s it Y/N, suck it nice and slow.” His sinister tone back in place, you obeyed, moving on from mapping and setting a rhythm where Paul could enjoy your ministrations without nutting immediately. Roman cocked his head to observe you, dark  eyes staring down at your submissive nature “That’s right Bitch, take him all the way down, gag on his cock.” Roman spoke, his low voice filling every corner of the room, and you obeyed, letting Paul slide down your throat, your bottom lip right over the top of the council’s balls. At this Paul collapsed onto the bed with a loud thud, broken moans emitting from the man’s mouth, mixed in with cries of ‘Yes!’, expletives and your name fresh on his mouth, you attacked with even more gusto, with Roman watching on, face unchanged, yet within, bursts of pride were exploding as he watched you in your natural state, driving Paul closer and closer to the edge. 

Craving the sight of you pushing Paul over the edge, he swiftly moved behind you and gripped Paul’s hand and the strands of your hand he had in a vice grip. Paul’s hand immediately lost it’s strength as Roman took over, one hand ripping you from Paul’s cock, his other hand gripping the base of his council’s cock, looping his thumb around his balls for good measure “You’re gonna show Paul your special trick? Gonna keep it all in and let it out when I tell you?” He asked you, your head tilting to face him, you nodded “Then suck him down Bitch” Roman growled and not waiting a moment longer, Roman shoved you down so you taook Paul completely down your throat, cock and his balls filling up your mouth, until you reached Roman’s thumb, an indicator that all of Paul was in your mouth, so you mapped out not only his cock, but his balls as well this time. The man before you had lost all composure, a mixture of sounds coming out as he reacted to the bliss your mouth and tongue was putting him through. Roman slunk over to Paul’s sweaty writhing form and got up close “Yeah, it feels good don’t it? We’ve worked at that for months, Y/N & I.” Paul looked at Roman, but couldn’t speak, he was so spaced out on bliss. Roman cocked his head up at Paul and set his gaze on him “Cum for Y/N, cum for him Paul, fill his mouth” A ragged drawn out cry came from Paul as his cock convulsed in your mouth, shooting load upon load down your throat, making you gag slightly as you kept it in, determined to give Paul at least one last sight, letting Roman see how good you were at obeying his orders. Once Paul had stopped moving and was panting, Roman turned his attention to you “Let it out Y/N” he instructed, knowing what was coming next. You let Paul’s cock and balls fall from your mouth, letting them plop back to their owner before you struck eye contact with Heyman and let his load out, cascading down the shirt you had on, surely trailing down to your pants as well, but at this point you didn’t care, you’d obeyed Roman and that was what mattered “Such a good whore.” Roman smirked down at you “Isn’t he Paul?” He turned his attention back to his partner, whom looked stunned at everything that had gone down, only being able to nod at Roman’s question. 

“Go to the lounge Pauly, wait for me there, and also there’s a change of clothes down the hall if you need to change for ‘whatever reason’” Paul lifted himself off the bed, and moved out of the room, hand reaching for the door before Roman’s voice came again “Leave it open”. Knowing whatever Roman was planning next was intense, adrenaline started to course through you as you let a half smile cross you, Paul corrected himself and left quickly. The moment he dissapered down the hall, Roman turned to you, flashing his pearly whites in a big smile “You did well baby, I’m proud of you for ‘helping’ Paul out.” You shot a smile at Roman sweetly “The pleasures all mine Chief.” He grinned, he was liking this new name he was coining himself as, but now was not about him alone, it was about him and Y/N. “You deserve a reward for being so good Y/N.” “Yes please.” “Yes please what?” “Yes please Roman.” You said, taking effort to emphasise his name. The Samoan flashed a smirk your way as he soaked in your pretty words, and holding a hand out so as to keep you in place where you were, he began to undress tantalisingly slow. First his shirt, his beautiful tribal tattoo striking your eyes as you gazed over his torso, taking in his beauty. Shoes and socks were next, followed by his pants, leaving his boxers, where printed on the fabric was his arousal. Backing up to the window and withdrawing the curtains, he backed up against the window and proceeded to remove his pants, his cock springing up, erect and dripping with precum, your time with Paul clearly putting a number on the Universal Champion. 

He looked at you and commanded you simply but firmly “Get Naked With Me”. You obeyed instantaneously, disposing of your messy shirt and your pants so you were the same as Roman. Once this was done, he beckoned to you, sticking a finger out and cocking it towards him, excitement coursing through you, you stepped towards him until you were up close to the Samoan God. “You want me?” You nodded, lust in your eyes as Roman gripped his cock, thumb gliding over his wet tip “Then come and take it baby.” He growled, and you made the final moves, stepping forward, wrapping your legs slightly around Roman’s, you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning as you encased his member in your tight heat “Ride me Y/N, ride daddy’s dick.” Slowly, you began to back yourself onto Roman’s cock, breathy moans escaping your mouth as you began to adjust to his length. Roman backed into the glass window for leverage, using the glass to hold you up as he met your thrusts, making you cry out. You looked past Roman out the window, at the skylines alight and taking in the sounds below of the street, if someone happened to look in from a window they’d see you being dicked down, or if Roman hit your prostate in just the right way, someone would hear you being fucked by the Universal Champion, and you didn’t know what turned you on more, the feeling of voyeurism or the fact Roman was press naked against the glass, ass flat against it as he fucked into you, making you his Bitch.

As you were lost in these thoughts, you felt a hand gripping your hair, pulling your gaze to the Tribal Chief himself “Don’t look outside right now, look at me. No one outside is fucking you, I am. Your gonna look at me in the eye when I bury my cock in your ass, is that understood?” “Yes sir” you breathed out, both shocked and turned on at the same time. “I know it’s hard.” Roman chuckled “You get some good dick and immediately want to flex, I know babe. That’s why I brought you this far, so anyone watching could be jealous of you, or anyone watching could wish their man could fuck them like how I fuck you. But you need to know who deserves your full attention, who is it Y/N?” He buried himself balls deep again, sending ripples of pleasure through you once again, however Roman had stilled and you knew you had to answer him in order to get him moving again “Y-you Roman, only you.” “Good” he growled as he walked away from the window, and placing you on the bed “No one else makes you feel the way I make you feel in bed baby.” He said it as a statement, not as a question, he knew no one else could compare. “Now hold onto my back, Imma fuck you like a man.” And true to his word, Roman began to piston forwards faster and rougher than ever before, his hand moving down to grasp at your throat, causing you to shudder as Roman’s fingers began to tighten, constricting your breath slightly, causing you to surrender to the pleasure that Roman was sending through your body as he continued to fuck you deeply and rougher than before. 

Roman soon bent down & began to leave love bites and hickeys down your neck, that, plus the pressure on your neck as well as Roman’s strong thrusts into your ass left you on the precious of orgasm “R-Roman, I’m going to cum!” You cried out to Roman, who only increased his pace “Fuck yeah, do it Y/N, come for me, you look so damn pretty, coming from my dick, from how hard I’ve fucked you, it gets so tight when you do it as well, makes my dick even harder. So do it!” With Roman’s command coming out as a snarl, you gave in, shooting your load all over yourself, making Roman moan out even more watching the spectacle beneath him, and from the tightness your hole was implementing around his cock. Roman suddenly pulled out, causing you to whine and throw your head back at the emptiness “Urgh, Roman? What?" Heavy leather was suddenly placed onto your bare chest and wondering what was going on, you lifted your head to look up to see an astonishing sight: Roman moaning breathlessly as one hand stroked his chest, the other hand stroking his cock, aiming for his Universal Title draped across you. “Y/N, you’re gonna watch me come on MY title, and then you’re gonna clean it up for me.” If you had as much stamina as Roman, you would have shot a second load right there and then, but you concede yourself by watching Roman stroke himself, showing himself off. From how hard Roman had fucked you, you knew he was close to his end, and sure enough, Roman’s hand went faster and faster “Fuck I’m gonna cum! Fuck yes! Fuck!” The rest of his speech dissolved into groans and curses as he shot load upon load onto the Universal Championship title, gaining his ragged breath back, he motioned for you to clean the belt, and so you moved forward, placing the title on the bed so Roman could watch over you as you licked his salty load off of the belt, a guttural laugh coming from the champ.

Once you had taken care of licking the belt, you looked up at Roman who surged down to kiss you, you responding back with equal passion “Fuck Y/N, you never disappoint me when we fuck around like this.” “Thanks Chief” you responded, grinning at the praise. “Now see Mr. Heyman out, that is if he hasn’t come again, in which case, make sure he’s decently dressed before he leaves. Then we’ll shower and sleep, tomorrow I’m spending the whole day naked, so we’ll fuck whenever we want.” His proposal sounded like the best thing ever on offer, so you gave him another kiss as you got up to help Paul, Roman was left alone as he got up and crossed to the window, fully naked and opened his arms, as if to bask in the glory of his newfound victory. He had changed big time from who he once was, but as long as he had you, his title & Paul by his side, nothing was going to stop him from conquering the world. 

[domesticblisss]

Nahër

Walter x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Hase’) Mob AU! Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2517 Warnings: Smut. Choking, PiV, fingering, cum play, mild degradation, alcohol mention, drugs mention. A/N: Sooo, this happened. There’ll be a part 2. Might make it a series if I have enough attention span for it (and if you guys like it too!)

Honestly, I don’t know how I got here. Actually, I do. I met Axel a few weeks ago while buying groceries at the supermarket near my new apartment when we ran into each other. He was accompanied by four other men, all dressed similar in dark jeans and polo shirts. A very menacing look on their faces, they looked dangerous too, not the type that would hurt you for no reason, but the type that you respect just for their existence, the type that would give you a warning. Their presence was their warning.

Funny thing is that you don’t expect this whole vibe from good looking men, which, I’m going to be honest with you, is their case. Let me see if I can describe them properly. First is Axel, we met on the first year of high school, he was a tall, lanky, shy kid. Beautiful green eyes, blonde hair, the highest cheekbones I’ve ever seen with a permanent tinge of red in them. He looked like a Cherub. It was so funny but also a pain to watch all the girls throw themselves at him to be met with pure silence. He didn’t have any friends, the only person he would interact was me during all of our last school years. We had some sort of silent agreement: we would eat lunch together, I would get the girls out of his away and he would beat up anyone that annoyed me (even though I never asked him to). 

Back to present day, Axel looks the same, just a bit taller and way, way more muscles on his body. Next to him was a bald guy, the shortest of the group but still tall enough to tower over me, he was also the one that looked much more friendly than the others, with sparkling blue eyes and a distant smile on his lips. Beside him was a tall man with nice chocolate eyes, thick brown hair and beard, muscular, but super lean, a nice tan and a cute ass too, if I must say. Next to him was another blonde guy, his hair lighter than Axel’s, blue eyes that said he was about to reach breaking point, but something in him screamed ‘loyal’. Now, the last guy... where do I begin... He’s tall, the tallest of the group. He’s not muscular as the others, he’s thick, strong. Black hair in a military cut, steel eyes that I’m sure could stare deep into my soul. All the other guys had readable faces, his... his was blank, impassive. There’s something about the way he looked at me, it was chilling, but I liked it.

“Hase! God, we haven’t seen each other for so long.” Axel exclaim as we pass by each on the cereal aisle. “Ugh, I can’t believe you still remember that nickname.” I answered as we hugged each other. “You haven’t changed a bit, huh, the same angel face. Well, you look... buffer now, but the face is the same!” We talked a little bit about life, how we’re now and what we did after we left high school, his answers were a bit vague, but I brushed it off. Wanting to catch up and see me again, he offered “Look, me and my friends here, we own a little nightclub on St Pauli and we are having a special night tomorrow. If you’re still into the same stuff we were in high school, I’m sure you’ll have a blast. C’mon, what do you say? For the old times.” He gave me a look that I knew I couldn’t refuse. “Okay, for the old times.” I could feel those steel eyes staring at me and when I looked at him, he had the faintest smile on his lips. We exchanged contacts, said our goodbyes, and went on our ways.

Something tells me that our little run in wasn’t by chance.

Axel texts me to ask if I’m going and where I am, by that time I’m already in line to get in and he asks me to wait for him. A few minutes passes by and he shows up. “Why are you waiting in line? You know the owner of this place, you have a free pass here, everything you want, you got it.” “Wow, I’m feeling really important right now.” I answer him a in a sarcastic tone he’s used to. “Oh Kleiner Hase, you’re still the same sarcastic little shit, huh?” he laughs as we enter the building. The inside of the club is mesmerising. The decor is very minimalistic but still attention grabbing. We made our through the crowd. Flashing lights, industrial music is playing, sweaty bodies grinding to the beat of the music, couples are making out, friends are drinking and I’m sure I’ve seen an illegal substance here and there. Fuck, I’ve missed being this free so much. Once you start adulting, you don’t have that much free time and you’re constantly tired. It fucking sucks, I know.

It takes us a while to get through everyone, and Axel gushes on about how the club is thriving “Every night is like this, we’re packed and there’re lines of people to get in.” We climb a stair that takes us to a secluded room. Two security guards waits by the door and they let Axel and I in without any trouble. It’s a large room, with the same minimalistic decor from the club, a custom leather couch sits in the middle of the room, accompanied by two matching leather chairs and a slick centre table. On the far back, there are two beverage refrigerators, packed with all sorts of drinks and two doors, one of which I assume it’s the bathroom. The main wall is covered with a one-way mirror, where they can overlook the whole club. When we get inside the room, we’re greeted by his friends. The bald guy is speaking in italian on his phone, the brunette with kind brown eyes reads a book that I can’t figure out what it’s about and the other blonde one and the one I assume it’s their “leader” are quietly talking to each other.

“Herren, look who is here! Hase, this is Fabian. Bookworm over here is Timothy, you can call him Tim. This lovely person is Alex, and finally, but not the least important, this is Walter. He’s the head that hold us together.” Axel introduces us, I quickly shake their hands and Walter stands up to greet me, his imposing figure towering over mine. His handshake is the strongest of all, very powerful, and he holds my hand a bit longer. “It’s very nice to properly meet you, Hase. Junior always told great things about you.” Walter tells me in a quiet but very polite tone. There’s something about him that is making me lose my mind. He has this energy that glues you to him and makes you want more. All he did was shake my hand and call me by my stupid childhood nickname. Pathetic.

The night goes smooth, whatever I wanted to drink, they made sure I got it, Axel, Fabian and I even went downstairs to dance for a while, I haven’t had that much fun in such a long time. 

We kept talking for some time before everyone, one by one, left, leaving me alone with Walter. Fabian had to pick up his parents from a late flight on the airport, Alex went home to his wife and kids, Tim wanted to train, and Marcel had the “hottest chick” waiting for him downstairs. I felt a thick tension in the air, almost making it hard to breath. It was probably all in my head though, as I looked at him by my left side on one of the chairs, going through his phone. He caught me staring at him and apologised for being a horrible host. “I’ve got some last-minute business to attend to but it’s all done. Come over here.” He said standing up, waiting for me. When I got up, he immediately placed his left hand on the small of my back, leading us to the one-way mirror. “Look, it’s beautiful isn’t it?” All I could do is nod back, his hand was rubbing small circles on my back. “Are you nervous, my dear? I know I look a certain way, but I promise I won’t do anything to you, anything you don’t want to.” “I’m sorry. You do have this... imposing aura that, you know...” my words failed me. “I should be the one apologising,” he said as he positioned himself by my right side, facing my profile as I faced the one-way mirror. He gently put a loose hair stand behind my ear, leaned closer to the same ear, as if he was going to tell me a secret and continued “but look at it. All these people dancing, having fun. Friends, one night lovers… isn’t it all beautiful, Hase?” “Yes.” I answered as I turned around to look at his eyes. “Very beautiful.”

We stayed like this and stared at each other for a while, and in a moment of courage, I closed the little space we had between us and kissed him. He wasn’t surprised, responding almost immediately to it. He deepened the kiss, holding me by my hair. The kiss was rough, desperate but his lips were surprisingly soft. He broke the kiss when he felt me moaning, biting my bottom lip and positioning himself behind my back.

He trapped me between his thick body and the mirror, his hard erection poking my back. His left hand held me by my throat, squeezing it softly, while his right one slid up my right thigh, lifting the hem of my black dress on its way up. He kissed his way up my neck, stopping by my ear to whisper, “Tell me to stop.” “Please don’t stop.” I whispered back to him, pressing my ass to his hard length. He lets out a little laugh, bites my shoulder and slides one thick finger between my slick folds. “Little Hase is a little hure, isn’t she?” he says as he rubs lazy circles on my clit. I just nod a let out a small yes. He keeps going like this for a few seconds, later holding my face to the glass one more time, telling me to look at everyone while he starts fingering me. His fingering starts slow, increasing to the beat of Nine Inch Nails’ Closer as it starts to get louder. I come right after the song ends. He keeps his body pressed to mine, knowing that if he let me go, I’d probably buckle down.

I started laughing as I came down from my high, the hand on my throat turning my head up to look at him. “What’s so fun, Hase?” “This is the best orgasm I had in ages... fuck.” “You’re not being properly fucked, are you?” “Nope.” “Come here.” He kisses my lips and lets go of my throat, guiding me to one of the doors I saw when I first got in the room.

Behind that door there is an office. The decor is completely different from the club and the watch room. It’s rustic, a lot of dark wood, one of the walls is completely full of books, there’s an old record player and several vinyls, leather couches and chairs that looks like to be a signature piece for him, the light is dimly lit, with a yellowish tone. There’s a big wooden desk, stacks of money on top of it, one unlit cigar near the lamp, some papers and pens too but it’s tidy. I look around and turn to him, saying “I feel like I’m at the Corleone’s house. This looks like some mob shit.” “Come here.” he says and grabs me by my chin, kissing me roughly “Shut up.” he commands as he takes my dress off. I finish taking my bra and panties off, as he takes care of his own clothes.

He’s on me again, sucking one of my nipples and the plays with the other. Gently, he backs us down to his table and I prop myself up on my elbows. His cock is not that long, but it is thicker than usual, he positions himself between my legs and enters my heat in one swift move.

He lifts my right leg up and positions it on his shoulder, turning his head to kiss and bite my calf. His ministrations are hard and all we can hear is the sound of our skins slapping on one another. He tells me to touch myself and increases his speed making my orgasm hit me before I can even feel it coming. He keeps his thrusts hard even while I’m spasming around him. I can feel him twitch inside me and he pulls out immediately, emptying himself on my stomach.

He stares at me with that same mysterious face from the day we first saw each other on the grocery store. I make sure to put on a show as I collect his cum from my stomach and lick it off my fingers. The faint smile is back on his face.

I put my elbows down for a bit and lay down the table. He grabs a couple of bottles of water for the both of us, and I use mine to cool down my skin for a bit. We stay in silence all the time.

I feel something heavy being thrown on my stomach and when I prop myself up once again to look what it was, it’s one of the stacks of money that were on Walter’s table.

“Are you fucking serious? Do I look like some fucking prostitute to you?” I asked him, incredulous.

“I’m not saying you’re a prostitute. I’m offering you power.”

“You fucked me like you wanted and threw money at me. That doesn’t look like a power offering to me! Again, I’m not a fucking prostitute.”

I keep my position, looking up at him, waiting for an answer. He exhales, looks down at me, at my body and shakes his head. One of his hands are at my waist, the other is at his shaft making himself hard again.

“Are you serious?” I ask him.

“Am I?” and in one sharp move he’s back inside me. He moves slow this time, torturing me. The hand on my waist leaves and grabs another stack of money. And another, another, and another. A total of five. Layered out all over my body.

He grabs my throat again, pulls me up and closer to him, all that money spilling over on the floor. He slaps my face twice, softer than I imagined he would and kisses me. We come together.

He holds me close to him, but still leaving a bit of space between us, enough for his other hand find it’s way to my pussy, inserting two thick fingers to play with his own cum inside of me.

“I’ll ask you again, do you want power, little hure?”

---

Translations Hase: Bunny Kleiner Hase: Little Bunny Herren: Gentlemen Hure: Whore

→

[aion-rsa]

The Sopranos’ Best End Credit Songs

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There are so many legendary aspects of The Sopranos that it’s hard to pick just one. Between masterful storytelling, deep character development, and uncanny acting, everything comes together to create a show that has been enjoyed for over two decades now. The most artistic aspect of the package, however, may just be the use of music, specifically the unique songs curated personally by creator David Chase that run during each episode’s end credits. 

Ranging from oldies, foreign ballads, jazz compositions, and pure instrumentals, the variety is stunning and can keep you exploring the track list of the series for days. We’ve decided to narrow all of the end credit songs down to the best 15 in the series, listed in chronological order of airing. Enjoy! 

Season 1 Episode 4: Meadowlands 

“Look on Down from the Bridge” by Mazzy Star

The nice father-son moment between Tony and A.J. at the closing of this episode is accompanied by this beautiful track from Mazzy Star. A.J. sees his dad in a whole new light after Meadow tells him that he’s in the mafia, but a simple smile and wink from Tony reassures the youngest Soprano child that he certainly will still “look on down from the bridge” and see his family as the only priority in his life, no matter what criminal occupation he tries to hide on a daily basis. 

Season 1 Episode 7: Down Neck 

“White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane

This one follows the pattern of the show choosing to play a song earlier in an episode and then again during the final scene and credits. The Jefferson Airplane hit refers to drug use and being intoxicated, therefore changing as a person in the process. The song plays when Tony is taking prozac mid-episode and during the final scene in which Tony and A.J share an ice cream sundae and some whip cream together. No matter how much the therapy and the meds try to alter Tony’s life, he’ll remain the same man: a depressed mobster and a father who softens for his children. 

Season 2 Episode 10: Bust Out 

“Wheel in the Sky” by Journey

If you haven’t noticed by the time you’re done watching the show, The Sopranos loves to point out how trapped all of the characters are in the lifestyles they have either chosen or been forced into. Tony has betrayal surrounding him at every corner at the end of the second season: Richie and Janice plotting his removal, Carmela falling for a painter who is working in the family home, and Pussy’s FBI informancy reaching a climax. Still, the “wheel in the sky keeps on turning”. Tony finishes the episode having some fun with A.J. on the Stugotz, and he doesn’t “know where he’ll be tomorrow” but he’ll enjoy the time he has in the present. 

Season 2 Episode 12: The Knight in White Satin Armor 

“I Saved the World Today” by the Eurythmics

Tony returns home after disposing of Richie Aprile’s body because Janice shot him to death over a domestic dispute. After informing Carmela of the night’s bloody events, she quickly moves on to the list of chores and homemaker responsibilities she is going to lay at Tony’s feet for the next week while she goes on vacation with Ro Aprile. This apt song from the Eurythmics exemplifies everything Tony has to be in the lives of friends and family around him: always there to save the world for them.

Season 3 Episode 4: Employee of the Month 

“Fisherman’s Daughter” by Daniel Lanois

This Dr. Melfi-centric episode is one of the most deservedly acclaimed hours in the drama’s history. When the final scene gives her a chance to let Tony loose on the monster who assaulted her, she powerfully takes the moral route and declines his services. The camera pans to black solemnly with this haunting instrumental track by Daniel Lanois, a perfect backdrop to allow the audience to ponder everything that just happened and why Melfi was able to maintain strength that so many others wouldn’t have mustered. Anything with singing would have detracted from the environment the writers were trying to create, so this is a great song choice. 

Season 3 Episode 12: Amour Fou 

“Affection” by Little Steven and the Lost Boys

The penultimate episode of the third season features the climax of the relationship between Tony and Gloria, in which the crazy affection that they have for one another boils over into violence. Yet another of the brilliant musical choices this show made was to use the same song twice: once earlier in an episode, and then again in the final scene and credits. This tune, sung by Silvio Dante (Steven Van Zandt) himself, plays with Tony and Gloria spending time together mid-episode and then again at the end credits. 

Season 4 Episode 4: The Weight 

“Vesuvio” by Spaccanapoli

Another example of double dipping on the same song in one episode. The above scene between Carmela and Furio dancing and falling in love right underneath Tony’s nose uses this romantic Italian track by Spaccanapoli, and then uses it again in the final seconds when Carmela is daydreaming about Furio while having sex with Tony. So sensual and heavy, the audience knows that Carmela is going down a path she can’t see through to the end, but the music signifies the passion that she will inevitably entangle herself in for the time being. 

Season 4 Episode 7: Watching Too Much Television 

“Oh Girl” by The Chi-Lites

When an assemblyman starts an affair with Tony’s ex-lover, Irina, there is quite a bit of jealousy and ownership that exudes from the mob boss. This classic from the Chi-Lites plays in the car on the way over to the assemblyman’s house as Tony drives over to confront him about “taking” his mistress from him. It is a song which causes deep reflection and nostalgia for a lost love, and prompts Tony to get emotional listening to it. Wonderful acting by Gandolfini and superb use of in-world music that plays over to the credits, something the show got down to an art and a science simultaneously. 

Season 5 Episode 10: Cold Cuts 

“I’m Not Like Everybody Else” by The Kinks

No, Tony Soprano is certainly not like anybody else. He insists that Janice see anger management counselors at the beginning of this episode, and when she actually improves her mood because of it, his narcissism makes him antagonize her until a typical Soprano family fight breaks out at dinner. Tony walks out of the house with a despicable smile on his face to the tune of this intense rock anthem.

Season 5 Episode 11: The Test Dream 

“Three Times a Lady” by The Commodores

In an episode in which Tony spends 20 minutes literally dreaming about past and future problems in his life, culminating in the murder of Billy Leotardo by Anthony Blundetto, The Commodores soft romance hit plays us out. Tony calls Carmela to report about said dreams, part of which were repeat ones that have happened previously in Tony’s life. It’s nice for the audience to see these two having a tender exchange rather than the tense arguing that normally characterizes their marriage, especially because this was when the two were still separated previously throughout the fifth season. 

Season 6 Episode 4: The Fleshy Part of the Thigh 

“One of These Days” by Pink Floyd

Paulie Walnuts is a fan favorite for a myriad of reasons. Between his gray-haired wings and his immature one-liners, many forget that the mobster had one of the scarier violent streaks in the show. After discovering that his mother was actually his aunt, Paulie gets jealous of Jason Barone’s mother trying to protect him from the mafia after selling the sanitation business that serves as a front for the DiMeo crime family. This psychedelic, hard-rock snippet from Pink Floyd that blares in the credits after Paulie threatens Jason’s life at the end of episode is a strong reminder to the viewer that this is a character who borders on sociopathic most of the time. 

Season 6 Episode 12: Kaisha 

“Moonlight Mile” by The Rolling Stones

Unlike other iconic dramas, The Sopranos loved ending their season finales (and “Kaisha” is technically a season finale with season 6 split into two parts) with relative closure and absolutely no cliffhangers. The family has an enormous Christmas gathering at the Soprano residence, marked by A.J. bringing over an older girlfriend and Meadow’s rare absence from family time. This classic from The Rolling Stones that describes the feeling of trying to get back home off the road fits lovingly with the rare moment of calm before the storm that is the final season of the show.  

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Season 6 Episode 14: Stage 5 

“Evidently Chickentown” by John Cooper Clarke

This closing piece by John Cooper Clarke is actually considered a poetry performance, and the anger and fury that it inspires as Phil Leotardo laments being taken advantage of a few too many times is palpable. This is when we knew that war in New York was going to be bloody. The song also symbolizes the perpetual frustration both Christopher and Tony have with one another when they hug at the former’s baby’s baptism. The final season was certainly kicked up a couple notches as these final credits rolled. 

Season 6 Episode 17: Walk Like a Man 

“The Valley” by Los Lobos

This somber piece plays alongside Christopher picking up a tiny tree in his front yard after Paulie had attempted to destroy everything on his property as revenge for a violent incident. After Christopher thinks they’ve made up, Paulie and the gang start making fun of his infant daughter and laughing in his face. It is at this point that Chris understands he is forever an outsider, not loved by a single person on the planet. He will just trudge along and try to keep upright, which are themes displayed in this chilling and melancholy song of choice. 

Season 6 Episode 21: Made in America 

“Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey

The most famous song in the show is also the final one that plays right before the screen goes to black and Tony Soprano’s fate is left up to our own imagination (kind of). It’s technically not an end credits song, but there’s no way it can be excluded from this list. The song represents the nostalgia of sharing one final family meal together, the simplicities of the Soprano family when you strip away the mobster lifestyle and the murder, and it encourages the audience to never stop believing their favorite mob boss is still alive if that’s what they so choose to desire. A special ending to a legendary show!

The post The Sopranos’ Best End Credit Songs appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[megan1412]

All You Need Is Love

While Paul and John are happy with homosexuality being legalized, some people aren’t. They realize that the hard way. (Warning: Violent content and extreme homophobia reminiscent of time period)

————————————————————————

They didn’t know that when they went out that night that things would end badly for them.

It all started when Paul suggested they get a night out away from the kids. John immediately agreed, and they called the nanny to spend the night with the kids. They got dressed up and decided to go to London and hit the clubs. The night was going smoothly. They had a few drinks, met up with a couple of friends, and danced drunkenly. But when they left the club, everything changed.

“That was *burp* great baby.” John said as he hung onto Paul’s shoulder.

“Yeah. You doing ok big fella?” Paul said with a chuckle.

“Never better!”

“Hey you!”

They turn around and see a group of men approaching them. John immediately tenses up, but Paul grabs his arm and signals him to back down.

“What do you want?” Paul asks with a stern tone.

“Who gave you the right to saunter around this part of town?” the bigger man said gruffly.

“Excuse me?” John says with attitude.

“Hey! Did I say you could speak f****t?”

“What did you call him?” Paul fumed.

“You heard me. Just because the law was passed doesn’t mean we have to treat you good. If you show your face around here again we will make you pay.” the man said with a snicker.

“We have every right to be here. It’s you who has no right being here.”

“Oh really?”

As the conversation drug on, Paul got more and more nervous. He wanted to walk away, but the men were scaring him.

“Please, just let us be. We need to get home to our children..” Paul was cut off.

“Oh. Fags who have kids. That’s so cute. We’ll do the kids a favor and spare them the embarrassment.”

The man pulled out a switchblade. Paul went into fight or flight mode. John panicked and began screaming.

“PAUL! RUN!”

He charged at the man but the other guys went straight towards Paul. He was paralyzed by fear and he let them tackle him. He heard John yelling at the man who was now on the floor. Paul was taking hit after hit and was pinned on the pavement. He began yelling for John and trying to fight back.

“JOHN! Get off of me you bastards!”

John ran to Paul’s aide. He got most of them off of Paul which helped him get the ability to fight back. Some of them ran off when they saw the fury in John’s eyes. The others stayed and continued their assault. John warded them off but they turned their attention to Paul, who was badly injured and in pain at that point. One of them pulled out a Swiss Army knife discreetly and moved towards Paul. Time went in slow motion after that. The man tackled Paul and hit him on the ground. He then plunged the knife into Paul’s side, making him howl out in pain. He heard John grunt as he pushed a man down. They finally ran off and left Paul on the ground, bleeding.

“Yeah! We finally ran them off! Paul we did it!”

He felt his voice falter as he looked down at the pavement and saw Paul laying there in pain, barely talking.

“Paul?”

He bent down and saw the severity of his injuries. John was banged up but not as bad as Paul was. He grabbed Paul’s hand as he noticed a tear in Paul’s white shirt. The shirt began to be stained with blood as John realized what had happened to his husband.

“Oh… Paulie no….”

People began to run towards them and he saw the police sirens nearing. Everything turned black and white as he noticed Paul fall into unconsciousness. He began to scream but couldn’t hear anything. Then he felt everything go black as he passed out holding Paul’s hand.

—————-

The next afternoon, John woke up in a brightly lit room. He saw Mimi sitting in a chair next to his bed. Everything was blurry. He noticed he didn’t have his glasses and reached for them. Mimi sprung to life when she saw John awake.

“Oh John! Your awake!”

“Ugh. Barely. How long have I been out?”

“Since last night dear. It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Christ. I’m all bruised up.”

“You still look as handsome as ever. Glad you are doing ok.”

As he sat up, he saw his wedding ring on the table. He immediately thought of Paul.

“Where’s Paul?”

“He’s doing better.”

“Better? How is he?”

“John. He was stabbed. Twice.”

The words stabbed him like the Swiss Army knife that had cut Paul.

“Thankfully the knife didn’t cut too far in. The most severe injuries were from the beating. It’s a miracle he is even awake right now.”

“He’s awake?”

“Yes. He has been asking about you all day. You were still asleep.”

It took no time at all to decide his next decision. Against the advice of the nurses and Mimi, he decided to walk down the hall to find Paul’s room. He saw the room labeled “McCartney” and knocked. His knuckles were swollen but he did it anyway. The nurse opened the door and recognized John. She let him in and told him that she was just finishing up changing his sheets. He could stay now. He pulled back the curtain and saw Paul laying there quietly, resting his eyes. He was bruised up all over and had a bandage on his side. The sight sickened him. He managed to sit beside him and take Paul’s hand. It stirred him awake.

“Please tell me that’s John.” he said staring up.

“You know the touch of my hand you sod.”

“John!”

He rose up quickly and hugged John, despite the pain he felt. They engaged in a huge embrace and cried softly together. Paul was shaky and nervous. He almost didn’t want to leave John’s arms.

“Hey, are you ok?” John asked concernedly.

“Yeah.” he said, diverting his eyes.

John thought for a moment. “Maybe we should go to Scotland for a while. The end of Julian’s semester in school is approaching. We can take a break at the farm if you want.”

Paul’s eyes glistened as he thought. “Ok. Let’s go as soon as we are let out.”

The door opened, and Paul flinched. John immediately noticed. Paul was never this jumpy. He decided that the trip to Scotland was what they needed. When they were released, they immediately started packing. The papers were beginning to bring light to the story about the attack, and they started receiving letters of condolence. George and Ringo promised to watch over the house and cats, and they departed for a break in the countryside of Scotland.

Ch. 7 has arrived! Hope you enjoyed this nice Friday story!

[lifesabe-ch]

this means war - billy r. and frank c. (part 9)

summary: this is a spin off from a movie (can anyone find the title? ;) starring Billy Russo and Frank Castle. In this AU, Billy isn’t a psycho, Frank’s family is alive, and they both really like coffee. And, y’know, Y/N.

pairings: Frank Castle x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader (actually both of them, i promise)

warnings: nosey men spying on Y/N

a/n: this part is kinda long, but one of our favorite parts from the movie...! (written w/ @pitaparka​) 

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8

Covering her eyes with your hands from behind, you grinned as you awaited a response.

“Guess who?” You teased, completely prepared for the shove of her hand to push you off of her.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning. Who put frosting in your Cheerios?”

You laughed, moving around her to grab a rag, your shoulders shrugging in response as you began wiping down the counter.

“It’s a beautiful day.”

She watched as you cleaned, noting the cheerful tune you were humming. The shop was practically empty, only a few regulars scattered around. You, Morgan, and Becky were the only three scheduled for today, and Becky was in the back doing inventory. Morgan was here working. You… were being disgustingly happy.

“Look,” your friend started, leaning herself against the counter you were wiping down. “I know you. You’re not this happy, ever. No one is ever, smile and hum while cleaning at work happy on a Tuesday! Unless…”

Her sharp gasp wasn't what pulled your gaze up to her, rather the hit to the head with the rag she had snatched from you.

“Hey!”

“You got laid, didn’t you? It was Frank! He must have some good ass dick to have you smiling like that this early.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you tried to take the rag back from her, ignoring the way she held it out of your reach in hopes for more information.

“I didn’t sleep with Frank!”

The rag came down again, this time against your arm.

“You slept with Billy?”

“No!”

She was silent for a moment, before hitting you once more, this time with much more force and excitement.

“You had a threesome?”

The few people inside glanced behind the counter to see you, mortified, loudly shushing your idiot friend as you finally took the rag away, hitting her back lightly.

“Stop being so loud!”

“Which one was it? It was the threesome wasn’t it?”

“No!” You cried out softly, swiping crumbs off of the counter. You’d have to sweep later.

“I didn’t have any sex,” you say.

“So you just came into work this happy? After not having sex with anyone? I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it baby, I got eight hours of sleep last night,” Your words were accompanied with a smile, the memory of the restful night resurfacing. You missed your bed.

She adjusts the pastries in the front of the display case. Her brows furrow, and she turns to look at you.

“Wait, why haven’t you had sex actually?”

“Uh, excuse you? That’s rude.”

“You have two of them,” she notes, and you roll your eyes.

“So? Can we not talk about this at work please?”

“Uh, work is the best place to talk about this.”

“But what if one of them walks in and I’m talking about how I want to get dicked down by him.”

“I have never seen them come in here after one o’clock. I think that’s the least of your worries… so about Frank—”

THE tables outside of the cafe aren’t typically used by clients, but there sits Frank and Billy, inconspicuous as ever in baseball caps and sunglasses.

“Bill, stop staring at her. She’s gonna notice you—”

“I’m trying to read her lips, man.”

“Holy shit, you can read? I mean it’s not a book but it’s close enough,”

Billy elbows Frank in the side and they both can’t help but refocus on what they were there to originally do.

“It’s my turn to ask her out,” Frank says, eyes trained on you through the glass window front.

“What is this, a game? There aren’t turns, Frank.”

“I need her to meet my kids, Bill. In the right way. You don’t have that problem. Let me have this one, man.”

“Why should I? Just go for it. Go in there and ask her,” Billy encourages, and Frank gets up to go inside, but swiftly sits back down when a worker comes out.

“Oh shit,” Billy says, turning away from the store to look at the street.

“What,” Frank says, copying him, “who’s this?”

“It’s fucking… Betty or whatever, she’s got a crush on me. When I was at Y/N’s place the other day she told me.”

Frank throws Billy an incredulous look through his shades.

“You were at Y/N’s?”

“It doesn’t matter, we’re gonna get kicked out for loitering if we don’t go in and—”

“No no, see, it does matter, because if you and Y/N—”

“Are you guys looking for Y/N?” Interrupts the woman outside.

Billy looks at Frank and Frank looks at Billy.

“Uh, is she working today?” Billy asks, and Frank leans back in his chair a little bit.

“Yeah. But I bet you already know that. The windows,” she says, gesturing to the glass.

“Right. Yeah.” Frank says. He takes off his hat to fix his hair then puts it back on.

“Can she… did she notice us?” Billy asks.

“No, she’s busy. She’s kind of in a crisis right now.”

“About what?”

“I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Why?” Frank asks, and Becky gives him a dirty look.

“Because,” she starts, “I don’t even really know you guys. I haven’t even really been listening to her anyway,” she says, and she turns to go back in.

“Wait—” Billy says, taking off his hat and fixing his hair.

She turns to look at him, and she just barely lets the recognition shine through her features.

“Oh. It’s you.” She says, and she very clearly fixes her hair and touches her face. Billy’s got her in the palm of his hand. Frank knows, and watches with avid curiosity.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Billy says, and Frank knows he’s laying it on thick.

“I was wondering if maybe you could, just get us some information?”

She glares at him.

“We’re cops,” Billy says, and Frank’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah,” Frank says, glaring at Billy. It’s not much different from when he normally looks at Billy, so Becky pays no mind. She’s too busy looking at Billy too.

“What did she do?” Becky asks, and Billy leans forward on one arm, a charming smile plastered on his face.

“I can’t tell you, or else I’d have to kill you,” he says, and she smiles back at him.

“Now what I can do for you, is I can give you my number, and I can call you, and if you could just hang around her, get some information for us, that’d be great.”

“I think I can do that,” she says, feeling around for her phone. Billy takes only a minute to put in his name and number, and hands it back to her.

“Now it’s vital that you don’t tell her what’s going on. It could ruin the entire investigation for everyone involved, not to mention we would have to… start over, from scratch.” Billy says, and she looks like she’s buying it.

“Okay.” She says, and puts her phone away. Billy takes out his own device and she catches on, and it rings for just barely a second and she picks it up, placing it in her jeans pocket, microphone side up.

“Thank you so much, you don’t know how much you’re helping me out... helping us out.” Billy says.

“My break is over,” she whines, checking her watch. She gives one last longing look at Billy, completely ignoring Frank, and sends them off with a wave.

Now, they wait.

THEY hear cups clattering.

“I don’t even want to,” she says, and they both lean into the phone. If anyone walked by, they’d be able to hear too.

“I’m telling you right now, you will not regret it. Best decision of my life. It feels so good, dude,” says her friend, and Billy and Frank blink slowly at each other. What conversation have they gotten themselves into?

“I feel like I’m gonna regret it, because if I don’t like it, I can’t do anything about it. I’m just stuck with them.”

“Oooh, hear that Frank? She’s talking about you,” Billy whispers, and Frank motions for him to shut up.

“The girl can hear you,” Frank points out, and Billy hushes himself quickly, muting the call. They both continue listening.

“—buy it online. It’s a great way to do your shopping,” the friend convinces, but Y/N is not buying it. Literally or mentally.

“I don’t care. I’m old fashioned. I like buying my underwear in person, thank you.”

Billy is about to hang up, get the hell out of that conversation, when he hears it.

“Fine. You won’t have much time for underwear shopping when you’re packing your kids into the minivan for soccer practice.”

Frank stops him from hanging up.

“Wait wait, wait, listen,” Frank says, and moves closer.

“You’re a pervert, Frankie,” Billy says, but leans in anyway.

“Shhh, shut up, listen,” Frank moves the phone closer to his ear.

“Noooo,” she whines, “Morgan I can’t. I can’t do that. Stop it. I’m too young to be a mom.”

“You were too young to be a mom at fourteen. Are you fourteen?”

“Shut up, Morgan. How are your boyfriends?” She asks.

“No no, don’t change the subject. How are your boys doing?”

Clearly, Y/N is exasperated.

“They’re fine,” she says, and moves out of view with Morgan and now Becky in tow. Becky is not inconspicuous at all.

“Becky, is that a customer up front?” One of the girls asks, and the boys think this is it, this is where their fun little game ends because now they have to sit and listen to Becky take coffee orders. They should’ve had Morgan do it but she’s too close to Y/N.

“No, that’s Paulie,” Becky replies, and even the boys can hear Morgan roll her eyes. Thank GOD Becky is oblivious to any and all social cues.

“Okay so you’re good now?”

“Why would I not be good? I’m good. So happy. Beautiful. Amazing. Incredible—”

“Right, because you didn’t yell at me yesterday about not wanting a minivan,”

“Shut up about the minivans, okay? It’s… I don’t have anything against minivans, just what they stand for.”

“I’m gonna bring this up when you get a minivan for Frank’s kids. Take ‘em to school in the morning, come to work, make your husband his coffee—”

“He doesn’t drink coffee from here,” she interjects, and Frank feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Doesn’t matter. What’s going on with the other one? The suit boy?”

“Billy? He came over and we made pancakes and… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with any of them… I just want a nice boy who’s pretty and… that’s it. They both meet the requirements.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Frank has kids. That’s all of it. That’s the whole problem. What if I want kids, and he doesn’t want kids, because he already has kids? Billy doesn’t have kids.” Billy keeps his eyes on the phone. He doesn’t look up at Frank.

“I mean maybe somewhere,” Billy jokes softly. Frank isn’t laughing.

“You're making much ado about nothing.”

“Kids are a huge deal. Married couples think about having kids for years before actually having them.”

“Might I remind you, you were a mistake.” Morgan says.

“So were you!”

“Plus,” You continue, “I’ve only talked to him for like two hours tops.”

“Nu-uh! Doesn’t he come in every day? And you guys talk on the phone?”

“That’s not the point,” You whine, rolling your eyes as you hear Becky drop something nearby.

“‘Billy’s been in my house. MY HOUSE. The closest Frank has gotten to that is a grocery store! That’s sad.”

“Well then maybe you just have to invite him over to your house?” She proposes, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Frank nods, mumbling under his breath, “Thanks Morgan.”

“That’s a great idea, should I invite his kids, too?”

“I… You need more information. Is he just off the table because he’s fucked once or twice?”

“Twice. At least.”

“Oh. Well, at least he’s experienced,” she ponders. “No. That’s not how this is gonna work!”

“Now, come on, what’s wrong with the suit and tie?”

“Nothing, let’s drop it.”

“That man spends an hour gelling his hair in the morning, and he has no flaws?”

“You know what? He probably gets up an hour early to gel it, so he’s never late for work. And if he doesn’t wake me up, what’s the harm? Where’s the foul?”

Billy almost disguises his proud smirk. Almost.

“No. I’m not buying it. Remember when he didn’t show up on your date? And then didn’t even tell you why he didn’t show up?”

“Yes. I do actually.”

“That’s what life with him would be like. He’d say he’d get out of work at five, but really, he’d get out at like ten, after banging his secretary. And where would you be? Stuck at home with his kids and his hair gel.”

“Morgan, if he lasts five hours I’d let him.”

“Uh, no. Only with me. Not his secretary. Would Frank ever do that to you?”

“No. Frank would surprise me at work with flowers and then make me dinner, and fuck me for a reasonable amount of time.”

It’s Frank’s turn to smile, but he doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Hear that, Bill? I’d be a good husband.”

“Maria would disagree.”

Frank chuckles humorlessly.

“You’re just mad that she’s gonna keep me around.”

“Might I remind you of the two mistakes costing you this? They have names. They’re my god children.”

Frank ignored him, staring back at the screen.

“Billy would last five hours, and Frank would last five minutes, but they’d be a damn good five minutes,” Morgan muses.

“Morgan, do you just want to date him for me?”

Frank rests his head on the metal table.

Billy laughs loudly, but he doesn’t understand it’s an insult.

“They’d be five hours jam packed into five minutes,” Morgan says, and the girls laugh, before moving back to the front where the boys can see them again.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Frank mutters.

“You have to like one of them more. You need to make a decision.”

“Ugh, no. What I need is a drink.” You say sadly.

“No. I know what you need.”

“What?”

“A sex tiebreaker.”

All three of them gasp in unison.

“We can’t do that,” Frank shakes his head.

“I mean, if the lady wants it, who am I to say no?”

“No, Bill. Not happening. I care about you too much to let a girl come between us.” Billy stares at his phone. He sighs loudly. He puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“Frankie, I’ve known you for how many years? We’ve fought together, man. You’re my best friend. I’d let you have her before I let it ruin our friendship.”

Frank deflates. They listen again, and hear silence. Did Becky hang up?

“I think I’m going to hell.” They hear her say.

Did she agree to the tiebreaker? The boys give each other a knowing look.

“You’re not going to hell. And if you go to hell, I’ll be there to pick you up.”

Oh yeah. She definitely did.

tag list (respond to post or send ask to be added!):

@full-of-sins-not-tragedies, @harrysthiccthighss, @constellation—me, @editboutique, @achesiresmile, @ghastlygray, @muddleofmarvel, @starxdame, @with1love1anu, @a-dorky-book-keeper, @batmanbatmanbatmanbatmans-bitch​, @elfmama​, @celyndavies​, @thanossexual​, @pensysto​ 

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 7

"Oh come on - you're going to eventually own more than two sets of clothing you know."

Eli had once said Gale seemed like 'an animated fellow' - if he was animated then Selene was animated to the power of ten; there were times she thought of the builder as a hyper little puppy and it wasn't a personality type she was entirely used to just yet so the woman's eagerness was a bit daunting sometimes.

"You've already spent a lot of money on me-" Eli started, only for Selene to make a hushing gesture.

"Yes, I have, and I've got gols to spare -- just to rub it in Higgin's face once I purposely made certain I stayed the number one top shop in Portia for three years in a row.  That built up quite the savings and I'm not going to be spending it on myself anytime soon.  Now come on - you need more than a bed and a tiny table. Go nuts!" the woman laughed, gesturing at the various furniture items that lined the walls of...was it Paulie?  Paulie's store. ((Continued below cut))

She'd eventually decided on staying with Selene; Happy Apartments had reminded her too much of the barracks, and she...wasn't ready to deal with that constant reminder yet.  So, the offered, spacious room at Selene's had been her choice, and Selene had awakened her bright and early to go furniture shopping.  The bed was easy: a simple wooden frame and headboard that had an ivy pattern carved into it and a basic mattress; the frame and headboard were painted a nice cream color and the ivy was a deep green.  Along with it she'd chosen a matching bedside table that had two small drawers built in, and she'd deemed that sufficient enough to start out with but Selene was...very insistent on furnishing the entire room.

There was another small table that matched the bed, and the builder woman kept "subtly" nudging her toward a bookcase with matching chair as well as a piece that was half dresser (with mirror) and half armoire; all of it was a pale wood that, while it wasn't the exact shade of cream as the headboard, was still a close enough color that it all could pass as a "matching" bedroom set.

"Even if I say no, this is going to magically turn up in my room isn't it?" she asked dryly.

Selene giggled.   "Not 'magically,' no.  If you like them, then let's get them -- Paulie'll even move them in for us."

"That's right!  Because it's the manly thing to do for such a large order," the giant man laughed.

The man was...pretty obsessed with the word "manly" but his laugh was genuine; he and Selene had that same level of friendliness going on. Hopefully that friendliness would remain after he found out who she was and where (and when) she'd come from.

Anyway...back to the matter at hand. Apparently everything in the shop was something Paulie had made himself, and she had a feeling that everything she picked up now was as high quality as it looked and would probably last her several decades so at least Selene wasn't paying a premium for furniture that would fall apart in two years.  "...fine, all right.  But just these things and that's IT, got it?"

Selene snickered then held a hand out to Paulie; as Eli watched the man took a handful of gols (why the world had gone back to physical coin-based currency was beyond her) and dropped it into her palm.

"When exactly did you two have time to make a bet on her wearing me down?"

"As you were looking at the bed frames. When the smallish builder sets her mind to something very little will stop her," Paulie said.  "And sometimes that means I lose a manly bet."

Selene pocketed the handful of coin, looking smug.  "It was a righteous cause, I promise you.  You deserve to actually have a comfortable living space."

"I'll have all this delivered by end of the afternoon," Paulie went on.  "Did you have a floor plan in mind?"

"Nah, we can move it ourselves once you get it into the house," Selene replied.  "Thank you Paulie."  She gave the large man a hug and he returned it with enough force to lift the builder from her feet then waved at them as they headed out from the shop.

Outside the wind was blowing but the sky was clear; Eli zipped her jacket back up against the chill and looked to Selene.  "Now what?"

"Well... Merlin is helping Petra check for any mention or pictures of the tool we need, so they're busy today.  I wanted to wait to see if they found anything and I also have the factory building the last pieces of the lockable elevator car at the moment so even if I had all the measurements or assurances that I could go ahead and try casting that tool we need I'd still have to wait for that to finish.  So...basically, we've got the day free aside from being home when Paulie delivers the furniture.  Want to get a late breakfast?"

Eli opened her mouth to reply when a comically large set of scissors over a storefront across the way caught her attention.  "-is that a salon?"

"Huh?  - oh, yeah.  Sanwa runs it - cuts, styles, and dyes hair.  And beards, but that doesn't apply to you," Selene answered, grinning.

With a small smile she looked away from the scissors shining in the morning sun and back to the builder.  "Don't suppose I could rely on your charity for one more thing, could I?"

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

The apricots Selene grew along the western fence line were juicy and tasted fantastic, and made a for a refreshing snack after an hour or so of moving furniture around.

Paulie had carried it all in and then she and Selene had pushed things into place; Selene was now off double checking on the final pieces of that locking car mechanism, and Eli was sitting on a stool in front of the fence with her back pressed to the wooden slats as she slowly munched on one of the last apricots the builder had gotten off the trees before winter had set in.

It seemed that along with new or hybrid fruits and vegetables a lot of plants she was familiar with had developed a rather long shelf-life on top of having shifted what seasons they typically grew in -- in this case, Selene's apricot trees kept producing right up to the first frost of late fall whereas the trees Eli had known in her time period had mostly stopped dropping fruit by late summer (and the apricots back then definitely hadn't lasted for a few months without showing signs of rot or withering).  There was a single apple tree in the little "grove" along the fence and from what Selene had said the apple tree at least produced on a schedule that Eli remembered.

There were neat, orderly rows of planters next to the trees and while they were empty now there were little signs attached to them to identify what had been there: chili peppers, cotton (such a small amount though...surely that wasn't useful enough to grow so little of it?), green lettuce, pumpkins, wheat (again how was it useful to grow just a few tiny planters full, versus an entire field?)

It was a small comfort to actually see proof that not everything had changed so drastically but that was about all that was immediately familiar on the property.

In the planters among the normal plants Eli recognized were more of the weird ones: bamboo papaya, cornball (this one was at least...SORT of understandable?  It seemed to be corn that just grew in an orb instead of a long cob), layered carrots (something that tasted like a carrot yet was shaped like a turnip and colored a stripey green and white that resembled neither vegetable), potato fruit (looked like an apple, tasted like a sweet potato), sisal... There were remnants of flowers that Selene had called rainbow flowers, and despite there being only withered stems and dried petals Eli could see the name was very fitting.

And over there, separate from the fruit trees, was a cluster of seven trees that were totally unrecognizable; Selene had called them nitra, zeolora, and crystella trees and Eli had never seen anything so bizarre as trees that grew...rock and crystal-looking "fruit" that hung heavy from the branches or leaked from the bark like a growth.  Whatever or however the rocks and crystals grew the builder had said that the trees weren't ready to be harvested but had promised to let her help when it was time; what had gone wrong in nature to create trees that grew rocks?

No... What had gone wrong with the world that gave chemicals and biological weapons free reign to do all THIS?

'At least some of it's familiar...' she kept thinking to herself.

And she had to keep latching on to the familiar things, but there were precious few compared to everything that had changed... Plants were different, the trees were different (even the "normal" ones growing naturally around the shop - Eli didn't recognize those species at all), languages had disappeared, technology was gone...

And then there was all the people, and all the nations, that were gone too.

A twinge hit her in the gut and she leaned her head back against the fence behind her; the change in posture let the light breeze blow right down the front of her, through the little opening between the V-shape of the zipper on her jacket and the tiny gap at her collar bone where her sweater neck drooped slightly.  The sudden stab of cold against her skin drew her attention away from the black hole of thought she was about to tumble down and she took a steadying breath.

After a few moments she did zip her jacket up to beneath her chin but she stayed leaning as she was; from the workshop and warehouse across the yard Eli could hear the noise of machines pounding and grinding away -- the locking elevator car was nearly done with only the front and back wall panels needing completion.  The lock itself was fairly clever and Selene had seemed especially proud of herself as she showed it off to her earlier; it required both a physical key and a magnet of a certain strength to turn the tumbler and lift an inner locking bar that fit into the gap the door would ordinarily slide effortlessly into, and without the magnet to lift the bar you'd have to tear the entire door apart to get that bar up and out of the way (and by that point you wouldn't even need to as the door would be less a door and more a gaping hole).  

Selene had selected a pile of magnets of various shapes and sizes but all roughly the same strength and the plan was only some of them would get a key and some would get a magnet (with a few exceptions - Gale would have both a key and magnet and so would at least one of the Civil Corps members). It essentially meant that it would take two people to get the car unlocked, which Eli considered a little overkill but was willing to let the mayor have the final call.

It did make her wonder what kind of war had just passed between the Alliance and this Duvos...Gale was dead set on absolutely nothing in those ruins falling into Duvos hands even though Eli knew there wasn't a chance in hell that anyone on the planet could replicate anything that could be found down there.

The thrumming and clanking of the workshop factory rather nicely covered up the sound of approaching hoofbeats coming from the direction of the city gates; Eli wasn't even aware Arlo had gotten that close until he'd said hello, and then she felt like an idiot at how she'd jumped out of her skin at the sudden greeting.

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

"Didn't mean to startle you, sorry."

Spacer nickered quietly - almost like the horse was also apologizing on his behalf.

Eli sat up from where she'd been leaning against the fence.  "Not your fault, was just...thinking, I guess.  I need to get back into the habit of listening for every little noise."

With a nod Arlo quietly gave her a once over; she was looking stronger every day, and now that she was out here with Selene she'd be right next to the Civil Corps usual jogging path.  "-you're looking well.  Does Dr. Xu have you exercising to build your muscles back up?"

"Not yet, but getting out to the facility and working inside it is doing a pretty good job of getting me back to what would be normal for anyone else.  It's going to take a lot of work and protein to get back to what's 'normal' for me."

"When the Civil Corps does training exercises we usually start out with a run that begins at the gates and goes right by here - maybe you can start joining us, when we get back to it."

Eli smiled at him.  "I'd like that.  It'd be a good way to get the lay of the land too."  She jerked a thumb over toward Selene's factory.  "She's almost got the locking car done so whatever schedule you had before you ought to be getting back to soon."

Arlo gently nudged Spacer a little bit closer so he didn't feel like he was just a few levels shy of shouting at her to be heard over the noise of the factory going at full steam.  "I'll be helping to haul it out and install it - how big is it?"

"Big enough to properly fit into the shaft, and with thick walls and door.  The lock's actually pretty clever too."

"Good.  We need clever to keep people out of there.  Has Gale talked to you yet?"

He noted that she paused (it was barely perceptible - could've been mistaken for a flinch) before offering him another smile.

"Yeah, he has.  This coming sunday the cat's out of the bag."

"I don't expect any trouble but Remington and I will be there regardless."

Eli nodded and an awkward silence fell; she took a halfhearted bite out of the mostly finished apricot in her hand but was chewing it slowly, like she didn't want to swallow it.

Sensing a change of subject was probably needed Arlo cleared his throat. "-your haircut is nice.  Suits you."

"Thanks," came Eli's quick answer - the relief in her tone was palpable.  She ran a hand through her hair; it was shaved almost to her skull on the sides and in the back, but the top had been left long enough to comb to the left.  "It's how I wore it before.  Fits better under helmets and there's less there for someone to grab a handful of if they manage to get close and I don't have said helmet on."

Ha...a haircut doubling as part of personal defense.  That was something he hadn't given thought to before.  "So you've met Sanwa then.  What'd you think of him?"

"Chatty fellow.  Selene mentioned I was new to the area and he started waxing poetic about Portia and how peaceful it is out here.  I guess that's why you only need three Civil Corps members, eh?" she asked, chuckling quietly.

Arlo smiled faintly, shaking his head.  "He does have a point.  There's not a lot of interest in joining the Civil Corps because not a lot of people think we need a large group of us because Portia is so peaceful.  Gale does have the budget set aside to hire on more people as needed or required, and Paulie helps out as he's able -- we did have a recent incident with a rogue knight that had people clamoring for more town security but that sentiment only lasted a couple of weeks."

"...a...rogue knight?" Eli repeated, raising an eyebrow.  "Like, metal armor, sword, chivalry knight?"

"Sort of.  He had some armor on and a sword but he was commanding an All Source AI and other AIs to attack Portia.  We sustained some heavy damage but were able to fend him off with help from Django."

Eli let out a barked "ha!" before spinning on her stool to rest her arms on the fence and her chin on her arms.  "I knew it.  That man carries himself too confidently to just be a chef."

"He...what?"

"Django.  I met him earlier when Selene and I got brunch.   He walks and carries himself with a certain confidence and balance that I'd expect out of someone who's been trained in combat.  Is the knight-theme of his diner just for show, or is he some sort of knight too?"

"He's retired.  You could tell all that from watching how someone walks?"

Eli nodded.  "You can.  Might take a bit to notice with some more than others but with him it's a dead giveaway.  If you ever want to learn what to look for I can teach you, no problem."

"I'll keep that in mind.  Could be useful."  Arlo glanced toward the door of the factory; he was tempted to get down and go check on progress but if Eli said Selene almost had it done he was willing to take her word for it.  "I need to go on patrol.  Would you like to ride along? Get the lay of the land, like you said earlier, and maybe we'll find somewhere you recognize."

Eli seemed to consider that a moment, then nodded; as she stood she whipped her arm and sent what was left of the apricot in hand whizzing toward the compost heap across the yard.  Arlo tracked its arc and nodded approvingly as it landed on top and sent a small clump of rotting leaves and cornball husks sliding down the side of the heap.

"Nice throw."

"Thanks.  I'll let Selene know where I'm headed and then we can head out."

She headed into the workshop and was back a few moments later; Arlo held a hand out and helped her mount up behind him before nudging Spacer into a trot.  

Across from Selene's shop was Sophie's ranch; as they drew away from the workshop the hissing and pounding noises faded and the soft sounds of cattle and horses started to become apparent.  The wheat fields had long since been harvested and as they ambled along Arlo could pick out tracks across the field were someone had been walking and another longer stretch that looked like someone had been sledding there.  These spots and of course the areas where the cows and horses wandered had thawed out down to the ground underneath and stood out as dark, muddy spots against the remaining slushy snow that still clung to the ground (and was also a reminder of the mud they had to wade through daily to get to and from the facility as well).

"Were there any farms nears Dubei?"

"On the very outskirts, and also hundreds of community plots on the rooftops."

Arlo blinked.  "On the rooftops?  How?"

He heard a soft chuckle behind him.  "Just a reinforced area able to handle extra weight of soil and water, good drainage, that sort of thing.  Almost every roof had some sort of food garden or ornamental one - Dubei loved their greenery.  Planters and trees on every street and corner, shelves to let vines come down the sides of buildings.  Lots of potted plants inside buildings too.  From far off it'd be easy to miss among all the lights, signs, and the glass reflecting everything but down in close, on the streets and in the buildings themselves, you'd see green everywhere."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

He felt movement against his back as she shifted, then "-not when you have AIs specifically handling the work."

"An AI for every task, sounds like."

From the corner of an eye he saw Eli nod.  "They did the bulk of menial and hard labor, and of course were invaluable assistants in day to day goings on.  Lots of data storage, for one."

"The historical records seemed to suggest AIs did everything for humans."

"NOT everything," Eli corrected, tone firm. "They couldn't do everything.  And we couldn't trust them with everything anyway."

"Couldn't trust an AI?  But I at least thought they were everywhere."

"They were.  But would YOU want to trust every aspect of life to something that was one damaged power supply or corrupted file away from shutting down at the worst possible time?"

"I guess not."

They rode on in silence for a bit; the farm passed by and they were approaching the fields beyond Sophie's fences. He turned Spacer to the right and began to follow the fence line up toward where the air balloon platform was.  In full view from here was the water wheel that fed an irrigation system for the tree farm, as well as two towering ruins that were little more than metal husks -- they hadn't held much of importance when they'd first officially been delved into about twenty five years ago and since then they'd been stripped of as much useful scrap as they could without causing them to collapse.

Very carefully he turned his head to catch a view of Eli behind him; she was studying the shape of the ruins in the distance and seemed to be comparing them to the water wheel.  He stopped Spacer at the DeeDee stop and shifted to look back at her.  "Anything seem familiar yet?"

"I'm...PRETTY sure that rounded building there was a planetarium -- a, uh, a place where you could learn about space and the solar system.  That rounded top was usually a theater where you could sit and watch a presentation projected onto the ceiling that, because it was rounded and also huge, seemed to drop you right in the middle of the movie.  It's easy to trick the brain into thinking you're moving if you're surrounded with the right sensory information so the whole point of the presentation was to make you feel like you were literally flying through space examining planets."

"Sounds like fun."

Eli laughed quietly behind him.  "It was.  And it's something I'm sure even your level of technology could replicate."

Arlo smiled a bit at that and guided Spacer off to the left, diverting toward the elevator that led up to the hot springs.  As he scanned the area and the bluffs ahead he wasn't seeing anything out of the ordinary - there weren't even any footprints up this way.  He checked that the elevator was still working as it should and then turned Spacer down the path back toward the road that would lead to the harbor.

Technically he was going well out of the way of his usual patrol route but with Eli with him he wanted to give her the best chance possible to recognize anything in the immediate area; that she'd sort of recognized a planetarium was, he assumed, a good thing, and maybe with a few more landmarks she'd be able to piece together a map of Dubei and know approximately where she was now, 300 years later.

The lighthouse was always in view from almost anywhere you cared to stand once you were south of Sophie's, along with the top of the cargo crane.  There was a rumble in the distance suggesting the bus that wheeled around Portia was just past the trees up ahead (that was where the bus stop was, after all) and aside from the soft lapping of waves against the shore there wasn't much else going on out here.  He could do a quick loop then circle back north toward Amber Island's bridge, then keep going...

"Was Dubei close to the shoreline?"

"It was built out over the shoreline," came Eli's answer.  "Big pylons, gigantic harbor.  Docks and walkways.  I'm not sure where we are on Dubei's shoreline just yet though."

Arlo nodded and kept Spacer moving at a leisurely trot.  Eli seemed a little interested in seeing the "haunted" cave on Amber Island so he made a mental note to make sure she got a chance (knowing Selene if she caught wind of it she'd drag the woman out there herself) and then kept northeast toward Bassanio Falls.

"Is that...desert, over the river?"

Arlo nodded.  "It is.  Eufala Desert.  There's some ruins out that way and Dana's mining operation in Ingall's Mine.  If we'd gone across that second bridge we just passed on the right we would've arrived in South Block - it's a tiny outpost right at the edge of the desert."  As he glanced back to her he saw her frown, then shake her head.  "I'm guessing there wasn't any desert near Dubei in your time."

"No, there wasn't."

She didn't elaborate further; the lift to the top of the falls was where, lately, Arlo had been stopping his patrol route -- now that they were having to keep an eye on the facility in the marsh whoever got the afternoon shift was usually the one who skirted the edge of the marsh and then circled around and down from WOW Industries...

But, the very top of the falls was fairly high up and you could see for miles around up there so that would be the optimal place to have a look from. When they were within walking distance of the lift he got down from Spacer's back and walked the horse the rest of the way; the DeeDee stop would double nicely as a hitching post and there he left Spacer tethered before offering Eli a hand down.

"Let's head up - you might spot something you know."

As soon as they were at the top of the lift Eli immediately spotted the towering ruins of WOW Industries.  "Did you people give names to any of these ruins?"

"Not really.  But the ones we were able to find mention of, or ones with surviving signs, we just call them by their names.  That's WOW Industries."

Eli's eyes lit up.  "THAT'S WOW?  Well, that's half of WOW. All right...all right, so then..."

She jogged up the path ahead of him and he sped up to keep pace, and then almost collided with her when she abruptly stopped.

"What the heck are THOSE?" she asked then, pointing off to their left where there was a flurry of movement near the tops of the trees.

Arlo squinted off toward where she was pointing and caught the barest glimpse of fluttering wings.  "Panbats."

"Pan...bats?" she repeated slowly, turning to look at him in confusion.

"Panbats.  They're pests that feed on trees - we had an infestation of them at the tree farm a few years ago.  Usually they're pretty harmless but if they're hungry or you scare one they might attack."

Eli continued to stare at him for a few breaths more, then turned on her heel to head up the path further before turning to the left to creep up to the base of a tree; at the base she knelt down, putting the tree partially between herself and the panbats that were flapping around.  Arlo came up behind her, counting seven of the beasts; he was more interested in watching how Eli watched them -- he wouldn't say she was sizing them up but she was eying them with far more than a passing curiosity.  As they hunched there, observing, Arlo could see one large panbat alight on a bough and pull a shriveled apple free from a dry branch before beginning to suck at it.

"...do you have pandas, and bats, in this world?" Eli asked quietly.

"Bats, yes.  Not sure what a panda is."

"Pandas - panda bears.  Think...THESE things, but no wings, and about half the size of your horse."

Arlo shook his head. "We don't have those around here, at least.  Couldn't say for the rest of the world though."

Eli let out a sigh that trailed off into a faint raspberry noise before she stood and turned back to the WOW Industries building.  "Well... The good news is I know WOW Industries, and I know where it was.  We're in the southeastern corner of Dubei and now I can also confirm that the shoreline is NOT where it should be, and that none of these bluffs or waterfalls here are where they're supposed to be.  It's like...it's like parts of the land got shifted, or sheared off."

He didn't know what to say to that and instead followed silently as she walked up to the building.  She stared up at the building and at the door, then circled around the ruin's foundation to the left; there was a flat metal platform here they'd assumed was some kind of loading dock that served double duty as a canopy that covered three enormous pipes coming out of the building.  Not far from the edge of the platform was an enormous, wide stone retaining wall that overlooked the eastern border of the Collapsed Wasteland.  There was another wall and a line of trees that blocked the majority of the view of the Wasteland from the top of this particular wall - it was hardly more than a crater with a few intact buildings clinging to the land so there wasn't much to see regardless.

Despite the obstructed view Eli was still standing atop the wall and, while he couldn't be sure, it sort of looked like she was measuring distances with her hands - using her fingertips lined up with the landscape and tops of the ruins.

He was content to wait and let her do whatever she needed; down below them he could just make out slurpees wandering about -- he wondered what she'd think of THOSE.

"Oh Fate...why is THIS the way the story goes..."

He just barely heard her speak.  "-huh?"

"Nothing.  Just having a crisis of faith.  Or, in my case, a crisis of Fate."

"Ah."

She ran her hand through her hair again, and paced back and forth a few steps in each direction.  "--what religions even exist now?"

"We have the Church of the Light.  There might be others but I'm not sure - I've never been very far from Portia."  He waited a moment, watching her pace.  "What religions existed back then?"

"Hundreds of thousands.  Mine specifically was the Foundational Three."

Arlo shook his head.  "I've never heard of that one.  The Research Center might have, but not me."

"Great..." she sighed.  "Well.  The Foundational Three are..."  She paused, kicking away snow and ice from the stone under her before dropping down to sit.  "Fate.  Balance.  And Judgement. Fate is the Great Curator, and ensures that every soul born into the world has a story to tell and, when those lives are over, makes sure their stories are made a part of the cosmos.  Balance is the Silent Observer - Balance makes sure your life isn't too hard or too easy because too hard means you give up and too easy means you don't grow.  And Judgement is the Arbiter, the one who carries out decisions made by Balance.  Judgement will remove or place obstacles as needed, and punish or reward those as needed -- those who make it their purpose to make other lives miserable will find themselves on the receiving end of Judgement's wrath, and that's not somewhere you want to be.  And on the other end of the spectrum are those who are given a helping hand to overcome their troubles if it proves to be more than they can bear."

She trailed off, staring out at the treetops below them.  Arlo likewise cleared off a spot to sit and dropped down next to her.  "It sounds like a nice religion."

Eli nodded.  "Compared to most I'd say it definitely is.  Certainly more kind than a lot I'd heard of back then.  A lot of religions threatened doom and hellfire and damnation, or the destruction of the soul, or losing the ability to be reborn into another life - always more threats of the bad things versus promises of the good things.  The Foundational Three always made the most sense to me though."

"Why's that?"  He asked almost without thinking, then quickly added "you don't need to answer that if it's too personal."

She waved a hand dismissively.  "Nah, it's fine.  In fact, the Three actually encourage you to share information and stories.  That's part of why it made sense to me...there's things that should be shared, and remembered.  And there's proof all around you that the stories told keep echoing - there's a reason people believe in ghosts.  Those are just stories that weren't ready to end."

"I'm not sure I follow."

At that Eli laughed quietly, pulling up a knee to rest her chin on it as she wrapped her hands around her leg.  "So, you have ghost stories here, right?  I'd assume so being as you have a 'haunted' cave attraction."   When he nodded she continued.  "A ghost is a soul.  A story.  And sometimes, when someone dies, instead of their story joining the infinite collection the story itself hangs around.  Sometimes it's there because the soul feels their story was cut short and they're upset.   Sometimes it remains because the soul feels too strong of a connection to someone else's story, and they can't leave yet because their story is still being written, just on someone else's pages.  That's how you end up with guardian spirits or the angry, hateful ghosts that appear in scary stories -- it's just someone's life, someone's story, that wasn't ready to close the cover yet.  Eventually though the cover closes, the story returns to the shelves, and the details of that story are written in the fabric of existence where anyone, at any time, may catch a whisper of it even if they never knew that person."

She went quiet after that and Arlo mulled over everything she'd just said; it was a neat and tidy way to think of the universe, for sure.  There was even a small bit of comfort in it, thinking that both people he knew and also those he'd never known or would ever know would somehow know about him when he was gone...granted, that thought was terrifying too - a bunch of strangers hearing only bits and pieces of things he'd done or the type of person he'd been.  Anyone could make any sort of story out of scraps and believe themselves right.

"What happens when you accomplish whatever Fate said your story was supposed to be about?" he asked into the silence.

Eli shrugged.  "How would you know you'd done that?"

"...no idea."

"And no one else would know either.  Only Fate would.  And even stories that seem complete can keep going.  The only thing you can know for sure is you have a starting point in your story, and somewhere there's an ending point, but there's an infinite number of ways to get there."  She trailed off again, then inhaled deeply and looked over to him.  "Though I definitely understand the NEED to know why your story is going where its going.  What am I supposed to accomplish?"  With a flick of her fingers she gestured to the Wasteland ahead of them.  "How in the world does THIS fit into any reasonable story Fate would want to tell?"

He didn't have an answer for that so he just stayed quiet; the sun was setting and the breeze was getting a bit more chilly and out of habit he rubbed his hands together.  

The movement attracted her attention. "We can head back.  I've seen enough to have at least some idea of where I am.  It's just...staggering that there's so little left."

He nodded and stood, and offered her a hand up; they walked back to Spacer in silence and began to make their way back to Portia.

About halfway there he heard her sigh again - it was more of a groan though.  "What's wrong?"

"I just realized something.  Something that I was doing."

"What's that?"

"I want to know what happened here, and what that facility actually is and why I was down inside it.  And I keep catching myself thinking of those three things - what happened, what it is, why I was there - as all separate pieces of the puzzle, when I SHOULD be thinking of it as one big knot to unravel.  Seeing WOW, and spotting the sewer network got me to thinking about what's gone, what should be where, and how the landscape changed and for a moment it was like THAT was the only problem.  And I know I'm doing it because, to be blunt, I'm terrified to actually get the answer..."

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say.

The ride back to Portia was quiet after that.

[bohemian-rhapsody-slash]

The Mclennon is making me so happy!!! You're a incredible writer. About this "They don’t admit their feelings to each until after their first proper fight. John makes a lot of jokes about their claim to journalists who ask about it, which makes Paul think that his Dom isn’t taking it seriously. He doesn’t want their claim to be a joke because to him it’s real, and that’s when they tell each other."When you have time,could you please elaborate more? I love this and would like to read this 'scene'

John can tell from the minute they get back to the hotel room that Paul is in a mood.

A bad one.

The sub pulls off his jacket and throws it carelessly on a chair, rather than hanging it up carefully like he usually would, before grabbing one of the tiny bottles of gin they’d snuck upstairs after the party last night.

“You gonna tell us what’s up then?” John asks, leaning against the wall as he watches the younger man down the contents of the bottle.

Paul frowns at the Dom. “What’s up? Are you joking? Were we just sitting in the same press conference?”

“Evidently not, as you seem to have a bee in your bonnet about something.”

John is trying to keep the mood light, but the look on Paul’s face is slightly terrifying, and he can sense an argument brewing.

“That whole bit you did when you were asked about our claim,” Paul says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Joking about how nice it is to have a good little sub to cook and clean for you. About how you always have to carry a leash in your pocket now.”

John had been joking, but hearing it repeated back to him like that makes him go a little red with shame. He must have sounded like every Dom Paul has ever been with.

“Look, I didn’t mean it to be like that,” John says, knowing that he sounds defensive. “You know that’s not how I think of you and how I think of subs-“

“I know that, John. It’s not that that’s bothering me. It’s just that you were asked three serious questions about our claim, and you didn’t give one serious answer. And it’s been like that in every interview we’ve done over the last couple of months.” Paul’s voice is almost a whisper now, his eyes wet. “Look, I get it...I know that if you’d had your choice, you wouldn’t have it this way. I’m really grateful that you claimed me to protect me. I am. But...hearing you joke about it like that, it makes me feel...like you’re not taking this seriously. Like our claim is one big joke.”

Paul’s shoulders slump, and John wants to hug him, but he suspects he might get a punch in the jaw if he tried it.

“I’m sorry,” John says quietly. “I can try and be more convincing next time.”

And that really seems to get Paul going.

The sub’s bottom lip trembles and his eyes are shining with tears.

“That’s the thing,” Paul says shakily. “This whole claim is a joke. It’s a charade. I thought I could do it, John, but I can’t. I thought this might turn into something real, that maybe you might really-“ He swallows, blinking back tears. “But clearly you don’t. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like this. I’d rather you unclaim me.”

That hits John right in the heart.

“Don’t be daft,” John says, his own voice trembling. “If I unclaimed you, every Dom at the label would be bending you over their desk. I wouldn’t want to be a part of The Beatles if it meant having to watch you do that. Neither would George or Ringo.”

Paul shrugs, folding his arms, the tears now falling. “I don’t want to have to make you pretend, John. I love you, but I don’t want to be in a loveless claim.”

I love you.

I don’t want to be in a loveless claim.

All this time. All this time John thought he was the only one.

“You love me?” John parrots.

Paul laughs bitterly and nods. “Yeah and I’m a stupid git for it.”

John swallows, his heart suddenly pounding. “A loveless claim? Is that what you think this is?”

Their eyes meet, and Paul suddenly looks a little uncertain.

John takes two big strides over to the younger man before cupping his face, brushing Paul’s tears from his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Because that’s not what this is to me,” John says softly, and then he leans in to brush his lips gently against Paul’s. “Yes, we arranged this claim to protect you. But I’ve been in love with you since we were stupid awkward teenagers, and this is a bloody dream come true for me.”

Paul looks at him with wide eyes for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out if this is another joke, but then he’s smashing his lips against John’s. There’s far more passion in this kiss this time- far passion than any of their previous kisses. John backs Paul up against the wall, kissing him with all the energy he can muster, because he can never again let Paul think this is a loveless claim.

And then they’re tearing at each other’s clothes, and John’s dick is twitching with interest because it’s never been like this before. Every coupling between them so far has been pre-meditated, a little awkward. The kind of sex you have in an arranged claim.

But this. There’s fire here.

When they’re naked, John lifts the sub and pins him against the wall, smiling against Paul’s mouth as the younger man wraps his legs around his waist.

“You really want me then?” Paul whispers, pupils blown wide.

“Aye.” John licks the skin above Paul’s collar. “Love you Paulie. Don’t ever want you to think otherwise. You’re my sub and I love you.”

“John,” Paul sighs his head thumping back against the wall as the Dom licks at his nipples.

John turns and throws his sub onto the bed, fumbling for the lube in one of the bedside drawers.

They make love like this is their first time, and in a way it is. Their understanding of their relationship, of each other, has changed now.

And if John spends the rest of his life in a claim like this, then maybe he’ll allow himself to be a bit more conventional and give Paul the happiness he deserves.

[luccislegs]

Cute fluff for Iceburg/Reader/Paulie just how they met and how their relationship dynamic works! ((Dumbass-no-mi))

here you go.

Iceburg and Paulie have worked together for ages. It was a boss/subordinate friendly relationship at first. Then Paulie became Vice President of Iceburg’s Galley-La shipbuilding company and things changed. 

Paulie liked Iceburg for a long time before he became VP. Unfortunately, Iceburg was entirely oblivious to his feelings, and Paulie was always too shy to say anything. It was painfully obvious to everyone else, and Paulie didn’t even try especially hard to hide them. He was like an open book, stumbling over his words and blushing whenever Iceburg did anything even remotely adorable. Fortunately for him and everyone else, he was all business when it came to the job, and it’s probably the only thing that saved him. 

Iceburg trusted Paulie with his life, let alone his company, so it was almost a given that he be given the position of VP. Paulie was more than capable, regardless of his weird quirks, which Iceburg found adorable if not a little strange. If he wasn’t so dense– which is something people said about him on a regular basis– he might have recognized it was because he returned Iceburg’s feelings (not they they were well hidden, Paulie was just as oblivious as Iceburg was to his). Although, Iceburg was always oblivious unless something involved his company, ships, or his pet mouse.

You come into their lives in the most typical way Paulie can manage. He calls you a harlot.

You were out running some errands and accidentally trip in front of them, and something about your position– or was it your legs?– sets Paulie off. As you’re picking yourself up, you hear what sounds like muffled yelling and when you look up, you find the mayor of Water 7 and VP of Galley-La in an…interesting position. Paulie was pointing angrily at you, running his mouth behind Iceburg’s hand, who was in turn looking at you with an apologetic smile.

“I’m terribly sorry about him. But, well, it’s just how he is. Are you alright?” he asks, ignoring Paulie entirely.

You can feel yourself blushing. Everyone knew that the mayor was handsome, it was a given. He’s also known to be friendly and gentle, if not a bit childish. He is well loved by the city, and he’s now staring at you expectantly. Paulie’s reaction is…strange, to say the least, but you knew about his weird reaction to women’s skin, and it was to be expected since you were in shorts. “I’m fine, really. Just in a rush was all.”

“Well, where were you headed? We were just on our way to lunch–” 

At this, Paulie finally manages to rip Iceburg’s hand off his mouth and yells, “Don’t invite this harlot to lunch with us! Look at her, she’ll attract too much attention.”

Your eye twitches at his words and you react on instinct, pointing at him as you snap back, “Not as much as you do in that stupid jean jacket. They went out of fashion 10 years ago.”

Iceburg laughs behind his hand as Paulie sputters, staring at you in disbelief. After a moment, he stops and looks away, crossing his arms in a huff across his chest. Iceburg then continues, “We were just going to get some lunch, if you’d like to join us…?”

“Oh, it’s ___, mayor Iceburg. And I couldn’t impose,” you answer, waving your hand emphatically. As much as you want to agree, you don’t want to interrupt them.

“Not at all,” he says, walking towards you. When he came to stand beside you is when you realize the significant height difference between you. You have to tilt your head all the way back to see his face, and he chuckles. “I would be glad for you to join us.”

Paulie huffs, watching from the corner of his eyes before he stalks around Iceburg and continues down the street. Iceburg puts his hand to the small of your back and leads you the same way, chatting amicably.

Over the course of the next few weeks, you run into them frequently. A part of it is you, you’re sure. After that first lunch date, you returned to the same restaurant a few times a week, hoping to see them again. Your efforts are rewarded– it seems they frequent the place as regulars. And more often than not– which is to say every time– you’re invited to join them.

Within the first 3 dates, you recognize that Paulie has feelings for Iceburg, but you’re beginning to suspect that Iceburg is oblivious, at least based on the way he reacts to Paulie. Equally, Paulie is very jealous of the attention Iceburg pays you, even if it’s no different than how he treats you. It quickly becomes obvious that they have feelings for each other, but neither are aware of it. Which begs the question of why Iceburg was so insistent on you joining them.

Your bonding moment with Paulie was a harrowing one. He showed up at the restaurant alone and invited you to lunch with him. Prior to that, he had barely spoken a word to you, so you were immediately on edge. True to form, he ignores you for the first few minutes, aggressively tearing up the napkin on the table and giving you dirty looks from the corner of his eye.

The longer you wait, the more antsy you get, until you decide to go for broke. You like Paulie. He’s handsome and, even though it’s never directed at you, he’s funny and friendly. You want him to know that you aren’t actively going after the man he likes, at least not to hurt him. Your personal preferences in a relationship aren’t always shared by others, but you’ve got the feeling that Iceburg does. And you hate to say it but, even if Paulie doesn’t, he’ll have to get over it if he wants Iceburg.

“I know you have feelings for Iceburg,” you say, picking at the corner of the placemat on the table. It’s coming up, ragged at the edges, and you tear off another little piece as you speak. You hear a choking noise and, when you look up, he’s bright red and frowning at you. It seems for a moment that he’s going to explode right there in the restaurant, but then he just…deflates.

“How did you know? You like him too, don’t you?” His question is really more of a statement, and you flush slightly as you nod. Paulie sighs and looks down at his drink, stirring the straw absently as he gathers his thoughts.

“You’re pretty obvious about it. You always turn red when he looks at you, or speaks to you, or just…anything really. It’s cute, actually,” you say, and watch the blush return to his cheeks. He chuckles lightly and meets your eyes fully for the first time.

“He’s an idiot though. Doesn’t notice at all,” he says, and there’s an odd relief tempered by wariness. You have feelings for him too and, though *he* won’t ever make a move, he’s unsure if you will. Though it is strange for you to bring it up like that if you were, unless you were going to *tell him* you’re going too…

“He really doesn’t, does he? He’s adorably dense but it must be so frustrating.” He nods in response and you can see the tension in his shoulders disappear. 

It’s a relief to be able to talk about his feelings with someone who actually understands. The others sort of know what it’s like, but the frustration and annoyance of trying to get Iceburg’s attention can only be understood by someone else who likes him. And Paulie finds he isn’t *too* upset by your feelings for Iceburg. You look so understanding and, if he stopped to think about it instead of getting jealous, you really were nice.

The rest of lunch passes in a blink and, by the end of it, you’ve got Paulie’s number and a text waiting for you when you get back to work, and you realize what a sweetheart Paulie really, truly is.

Upon your next meeting with the men, Iceburg immediately sees a difference between you and Paulie. Paulie had informed him of his lunch meeting with you, and he seemed happy about it. Iceburg was immediately suspicious but also happy that you were getting along. He hadn’t fully reconciled his feelings for you yet, but he knew they ran deeper than friendly. His big problem was his feelings for Paulie. He didn’t think he could have you both, but he didn’t know how to choose. Or if Paulie really felt the same. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure you did either.

At lunch, you and Paulie are giggling like best friends, and Iceburg feels left out and more than a little jealous. In his typical manner, he turns childish, throwing things at the two of you and pouting. Paulie is confused, he’s never seen Iceburg act that petulant, but you wait and watch, and the frowns and glares he throws whenever either of you get a little too friendly is a dead giveaway.

It’s almost impossible not to laugh as you lean over and whisper into Paulie’s ear. He almost gives it away and, if it weren’t for Iceburg literally looking the other way because he’s so peeved, he might have figured it out. Paulie doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to get his own hopes up, and on top of that, if what you say is true, things just became a lot more complicated.

Over the last few days, feelings of his own have bloomed for you. It’s the last thing he expected to happen because he hasn’t had feelings for anyone else in such a long time. But when he’s feeling down, or frustrated, or panicked, you always seem to know and find some way of reassuring him. He doesn’t even have to ask and he looks forward to hearing from you throughout the day. Without even realizing it, he’s worried when he hasn’t heard from you in a few hours, and will text you just to make sure you’re okay. You always are, but it makes him feel better. 

And on your end, it’s nice to know that Paulie cares enough about you to make sure you’re alright. Sometimes work gets in the way, sometimes you just don’t feel like talking, sometimes it’s something else. Paulie never pressures you to talk, just checks in and if you say you’re fine but don’t feel like talking, he respects it. It’s a total contrast to how he was when you first met him. Sure he still has his random outbursts, but they’re usually preceded by an appreciative look and followed by a flustered apology.

They both notice how quiet you get after you whisper into Paulie’s ear, and Iceburg worries that he’s actually upset. For once, Paulie doesn’t think that and wonders what you’re plotting. Iceburg perks up a little and tries to engage you in conversation, but you’re aloof.

In reality, you aren’t. You’re just trying to work up the courage to invite them to a movie– a date, if you’re being brave– since both of them are obviously too dense and too shy to make a move with each other or you. 

After you exit the restaurant, you’re standing around outside while Paulie smokes his usual cigar. Iceburg is still pestering you, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He just wants you to return to your usual, cheerful self, to prove you aren’t mad at him for his childish antics. Finally, you take a deep breath, your heart in your throat as you say, “Hey, guys, there’s this movie I’ve been wanting to see for a while now. Would you…maybe wanna go…with me?” 

You’re fidgeting with your fingers and looking at your feet, so you don’t see the reactions. Paulie’s eyes widen and he inhales too much smoke, so he turns around and starts choking. Iceburg just blinks a few times as he stares at you, almost frozen to the spot. He thinks you’re adorable and his brain has just stopped as he realizes you’ve just asked them both on a date.

“What do you think you’re doing, you hussy?” Paulie yells, and you flinch at his harsh words. Usually his outbursts would roll of you like water, but it was hard enough working up the courage to ask and your nerves were frayed and you–

“Paulie, stop. ___, I would love to go,” Iceburg says, cutting off your hectic thoughts. His hand comes rest on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. There’s amusement in his eyes and excitement on his normally apathetic face and you nod automatically.

Paulie sighs beside you, encircling his waist around your back in a very out of character way. “I’m sorry, ___. If you really want me to go, I will.”

He says it in such a lackluster way, as if it’s a chore for him, but the flush on his cheeks and your intimate knowledge of how he is gives away how much he actually wants to go. He looks up to Iceburg and finds him giving him a strange, almost unreadable look. Or unreadable to Paulie, anyway, you recognize it as hopeful and you can guess what he’s hopeful for.

The movie is terrible. It’s unfortunate, but it happens sometimes. Paulie is walking in front of you, on a tangent about your terrible choice of movie and you’re grinning softly at his nonsense. Iceburg is at your side, watching Paulie push through the thick crowds in the theater when he feels you stumble into him. When he looks down, he realizes you’re being shoved around by the crowd and automatically wraps his arm around your shoulders, holding you close as he uses himself as a shield.

Your face is on fire and you resist the temptation to put your arm around his back for only a moment and when you do give in, you’re rewarded by Iceburg squeezing you tighter. When you finally make it out of the crowd, you’re outside and Paulie is nowhere to be found. You expect Iceburg to let you go, but he only squeezes you closer. You almost trip over his feet and laugh, both out of amusement and nervousness, and then Paulie comes into view again.

He looks annoyed, running his mouth about rude people and getting lost, and it changes to wariness when he sees you and Iceburg so comfy. Before he can get too upset though, you reach out and take his hand. He bursts out with his usual insults and you just roll your eyes, waiting for him to stop. You know he’s just embarrassed because he doesn’t actually pull away, and when he shuts up you tug on his hand to bring him closer.

Iceburg watches without a word, meeting Paulie’s eye over your head and something suddenly clicks. With his free hand, he reaches out and takes Paulie’s, chuckling a little as Paulie sputters and chokes. You’re smiling gently as Iceburg finally makes his move, even though you’re nervous about what this means for the three of you. But Paulie settles and links his fingers between yours, squeezing even though he can’t look at you.

You know you have a lot to talk about, and things might not fit together right away, but you can definitely accept how unbelievably lucky you are to have met these two men. And they won’t say it for a while, but you’ll eventually find out that they feel the same way. Paulie will be first, expressing how he doesn’t think he ever would have gotten with Iceburg if you hadn’t come along

[dahvangogh]

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[masterlist]

[ prologue | one | two ] 

CHAPTER ONE

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

– Anais Nin

“How to be single and satisfied at the same time?” Daniel reads the headline out loud, his eyes skimming through the cover of It Girl with curiosity.

Grace hums out loud, thinking the question over while chewing her bottom lip.

“Masturbating, for sure,” Lisa says without missing a beat, Grace only seeing the top of her blonde head because of how burrowed on the laminated menu she was.

The raven-haired laughs loudly –she can’t help it–, but poor Daniel, red tinting his face, starts looking around in case anyone at the dinner has heard them and was giving them any dirty looks.

“Relax, Dan. No one cares.” Grace pats him on the shoulder.

Lisa seems to have forgotten her menu and is now staring fully at Dan, a wicked smile appears on her purple-painted lips, completely ready to bug him.

“Don’t… Leave him alone, Lisa.” Grace quickly chastises her, even kicking her under the table for emphasis, for Lisa can be the most annoying person ever when she wants to. “And Dan, no one is paying any attention to us. Relax.”

Dan is still looking around, his face finally back to its natural color.

“It seems… everyone is paying attention to the tv?”

Pauli’s Diner is crowded, every booth full and a long queue that reaches from the counter to the door. The usual. Yet everyone’s attention, even the four waitresses, seems to be on the tv. Grace also focuses on the big tv, which is placed high at the back of the diner wall, three booths away from theirs. It is on and showcasing a newswoman reporting about something, but without the sound and no headlines or subtitles below to indicate what she was talking about, Grace is left with more questions than answers.

“I think something happened.” Dan sounds between scared and resigned.

The three of them look at each other, then almost comically pull out their phones at the same time. Something always happens in Gotham –the city that never rested–, and it was a common occurrence to check the Gotham Gazette App every day. After all, any good Gothamite knows that to be well informed is the key to survival in such an insane and restless city.

“Fuck. I swear if that madman of Zsasz has escaped again, I will hunt him down and drag his ass to the Asylum myself,” Lisa grunts; her pale brows furrowed tightly. “Fucking load already, stupid App!”

Grace focuses on her screen, the app taking more time than usual to load.

“Mine too…” Dan’s answers in his usual hushed voice. Then, he starts chewing on his lip, worry all over his face.

A big headline pops on Grace’s screen –the App finally deciding on working–,  and she sighs happily after reading it.

“Seems an aircraft has fallen to the Sprang River; 20 people are currently missing and the rescue team is doing everything in their power to get to them.” She literally reads out loud the last words, happy that no madman is out and about on the city. “Nothing about Zsasz, sorry Lisa.”

Her two friends exhale the air they had been holding.

“Seems your impromptu date with Zsasz will have to wait.” Grace kicks her friend’s leg again, but this time just to annoy her.

Lisa shows her the middle finger.

“No, but for real. After last time, I don’t think he is going anywhere.” The raven-haired reminds them. “He killed 5 people until Batman and young Robin stopped him.”

Grace sees Dan gulp.

“Yeah, after escaping. Again.” Lisa sounds mad, which is understandable after living in Gotham for five years, and seeing all the hurt Zsasz has caused many Gothamites. “And one of them was my neighbor!”

Dan sighs, remembering her.  “Oh, that poor woman…”

“She was a mean bitch, though,” Lisa adds as if it is vital information.

Grace can’t help but to huff.

“Lisa!”

Suddenly, one of the waitresses appears at their booth. With a sheepish smile painted on her serene face, –probably because of how much they had had to wait– she asks them what they would like to order.

Lisa happily asks for a sandwich and a banana smoothie, –as if the last conversation has never happened– but quickly rectifies and changes for a big portion of the chocolate cake instead of the sandwich. The waitress, Marge by what the badge on her blouse, agrees with the blonde and sings praises about how good it is. Then, her attention goes to Dan, asking him sweetly what he would like to order.

The boy, who has never liked being the center of attention, turns bright red again. Shyly, he orders a cappuccino and one of their famous big chocolate cookies, all the while his eyes are zooming on the table instead of her.

When she turns to her, Grace feels as if she has been punched on the stomach.

The waitress aura, white and bright as any other, is twinkling and shaking from pure anxiety.

“What about you, sweetheart?” The old lady asks kindly, her face completely composed despite what her aura said of her.

The contrast between her aura and her facial expression is starting to freak Grace out. Nevertheless, she tries to focus on the present, on what she is feeling, on where she is and, more importantly, on what she wants to fucking eat. Which is really obvious if you know her, by the pointed looks of Lisa and Dan.

“I want a yogurt and banana smoothie, please.”

Marge hums.

“Be right back, then.”

Then, Lisa quickly starts rambling about what they should do on the weekend, something about the opening of a new club in town, but the raven-haired girl can’t pay enough attention to the get on the conversation. Marge’s soul is making it hard for her to concentrate; she even starts rubbing her hands together instinctively as if to distract herself.

She says fuck it and turns around.

The old waitress looks as composed as before, preparing their orders with the help of another girl while looking at the tv. But if Grace focuses hard enough, she can clearly depict Marge’s aura still shaking and twinkling, perhaps even more so than before. Despite training hard to control it, Grace still sometimes is unintentionally receptive to other people’s feelings –almost like an antenna would, she can perceive them and even go as far as toying with them.

This woman is anxious and worried, and Grace doesn’t even know how she isn’t shaking physically.

And Grace, being the sympathetic girl that she is, can’t help but take pity on the poor woman and break her own rules.

She extends her hand, scanning before that no one is paying her any attention, and then lowers it slowly.

Marge’s aura calms at the same time that her hand motion stops, and it no longer twinkles.

Though the lights in the room go crazy for a few seconds.

Grace has to thank whatever God exists, or even the Cosmos, that small tasks such as this one  don’t make her hands or her whole self glow with the usual green-bluish energy.

She still remembers the hilarious comment that once a crewmember of the Serbian Mafia made when he saw her appear out of nowhere, floating in the sky, just minutes before she brought hell upon them. Her, attired in her tight black suit and black domino mask, surrounded by bright green-bluish energy floating in the black sky while defying gravity.

And instead of running away, hide or even shot at her, he placed his hands on his hips and said out loud impressed:

“What the fuck? She looks like Goku Super Saiyajin!”

Grace can’t hold now the giggle that escapes her lips.

“What the hell?” Lisa’s voice brings her back to the present, and to the diner.

The raven-haired girl turns around and looks at her friends, smiling as if nothing had just happened, while blinking innocently.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

[ –    –    – ]

The pencil runs all over her sketchpad, quietly humming along to Stevie Wonder’s Superstition while drawing the sun setting between the skyscrapers. It looks spectacular from her high-ceiling windows. Grace’s weird obsession –despite her psychologist telling time and time again to her that it isn’t exactly a bad thing– of drawing beautiful things, or anything she believes is beautiful to her own standards, has made her sit down and try to make it justice.

Despite having to get ready for a night out with Lisa.

“Just fifteen minutes more and you will get ready.” She sets an alarm, just as Dr. Carson had advised her to do, and keeps drawing happily.

The oranges, in light and deep tones, together with the goldens of the sun setting almost make her forget about any advice, psychologist and nightclub.

And so she keeps going, her sketch pencil running through the page.

She has always felt privileged for owning an apartment in Gotham Village, where only the rich dwelled and played, with amazing views and almost non-existent criminality –which is surprising to say the least in this damned city–. It is the place where she could find herself being happy or at least, try to be normal.

But she misses going out and doing her thing as she did back in Europe.

Grace sighs, chewing on her already-chewed sketch pencil and stops drawing, hugging her legs to her chest.

When she had moved to Gotham almost a year ago, she had wanted to set aside her “dangerous hobby” and live a normal life. Like Lisa or Dan did.

After what had happened to her six years ago, she had used her family’s connections and pulled some strings so she could go and study in a European country. Away from Central Park and New York. There in Berlin, Grace had trained with an Israeli private trainer, Isaac, in Krav Maga until achieving a black belt and her expert five patch. Initially, she had started with just wanting to know the basics, a bit for self-defense and that’s it. Until one day, on a Friday night while she was watching The News, she saw another rapist just get five to ten years in jail and a pat on his shoulder. It had made her so furious that all the windows on her apartment exploded. Moreover, it was in that exact moment, while floating in the middle of her room with her whole being surrounded by the weird bright green-bluish energy and feeling full of rage, that she knew she could try and make a difference, for those who had power were clearly not doing anything.

The next day, after paying the window installer for she had no windows after last night’s debacle, she had asked Isaac about what he would wear, hypothetically of course, if he went to a fucking battle. At first, her trainer had answered that his military uniform but then he had rambled on and on about how a suit of Kevlar thread paired with a good armor would be the best choice if he could afford it.

So Grace, after debating all day whether to do it or not, had called her father that same night and had asked him to find someone who could build it for her.

Matthew Henderson had asked many questions, but she had just told him that in due time she would tell him. Just not now.

He had refused and straight-up hang up.

Later that same night, wide awake and after seriously considering to just wing it and buy a superhero costume from a cosplay online shop, her father had miraculously called again and accepted.

She really was his spoiled little girl.

Grace had flown to New York, the city that she now loathed with a passion, and had her measures taken. The guy who created it made the suit so it fit her like a glove – the downside to that? she had to be careful with what she ate.– It was tight, full-body and with high heeled boots to make her seem taller –after all, she couldn’t go around looking like a gremlin while also fitting crime. A pair of matching black gloves and a domino mask were also made.

After that, before putting the suit, she had not only trained to be the best at Krav Maga but also had learned a few other things –fighting with knives and how to use a gun properly, yet she still preferred to this day using her powers and Krav Maga–. A year and a half later, she had made her debut on Berlin’s streets.

In those years, she had killed many rapists, abusers and pedophiles. Delivered a few petty thieves and robbers to the nearest police station like Santa Claus would do on Christmas Eve, even going as far as tying them up and sticking a note on their foreheads explaining what they had done wrong. She really had been a good samaritan. A few encounters here and there with the Serbian Mafia and the Triad too.

Moreover, she might have done some petty thievery here and there, just to add a bit of spice to her life, but mainly she had been a good girl.

And fuck, she misses doing those things.

It was fun.

A bit dangerous, yes, but fun.

When you have powers beyond your imagination and are able to do some good, why would you step back and live a normal boring life?, she tries to reason with herself every night.

Yet back then in one of her many Skype sessions with Lisa, her childhood best friend, she had realized how empty and alone she had been feeling.

She had superpowers, at 23 she had her damn degree and had been studying to further her education even more, had also a lovely apartment, and yet she felt more lonely than ever.

And loneliness is a dangerous thing.

So, when she had told her good old friend, while omitting a certain hobby she had, of how she was feeling, the blonde had just replied with:

“Come to Gotham! We could live together and the city is fun. Trust me, you will never get bored here.”

Grace chuckles when remembering that. In the next twenty-four hours, she had packed her things, had said goodbye to her colleagues from University, and then hopped on a plane.

She has to give it to Lisa, Gotham city is everything but boring.

Gotham honors its name with its gloomy atmosphere, high buildings and horrible weather. The city is probably Tim Burton’s wet dream. You can find gargoyles in many of the buildings façades, many nights the city is covered in a thick fog, it has an Asylum for the worst of the worst with a high rate of escapees, an absurdly high rate in criminality and many bat-related vigilantes coming out at night to play.

Oh, and the many deranged individuals that play around Gotham like it is a child's’ dream playground.

Lisa had filled her in during those six years on her weekly Skype sessions about those individuals and so she knew most of them before she had placed a foot on the city. Gotham City has the Joker, currently-for-who-knows-how-long-because-he-always-escapes locked in Arkham Asylum, a psychopathic clown who had a weird obsession and ongoing feud with Batman; Two-Face, a half-burned crime lord obsessed with duality and the number two; the Penguin, another crime lord who looked like his namesakes and wore a monocle and umbrella; Poison Ivy, a stunning woman (Lisa said so, her gayness clearly showing here) who was an eco-terrorist and could control nature; and the list could go on and on for ages to no end.

So, her current life in Gotham is never dull or boring. She is working on a renowned and bohemian art gallery in the city, has an amazing apartment –she had tried living with Lisa but they had almost ended fistfighting with each other over a jar of marmalade–, can meet her best friends every day if she wanted, and is continuing her studies at the local University.

But she would be lying if she said she doesn’t miss going out and doing her thing.

Even drawing and painting, the thing that had always distracted her from suiting up and going out, was starting to not divert her attention as it normally would.

Her alarm starts going off.

“I really don’t want to go out.” she sighs loudly, as if someone would pat her on the shoulder and tell her not to go. “I hate partying and crowded places.”

Grace chews her already-very-chewed sketch pencil while walking all the way to her wardrobe.

She has to get ready or Lisa will probably scream her ear off for making her wait.

Though she is always late.

[ –    –    – ]

Grace, setting aside her ex-extracurricular activities, has always hated going out and now she remembers clearly why she does.

The night would always begin as good as it could possibly be. Lisa and her looking bomb would march to a nightclub, then the club would be buzzing with activity and music, they would have a few drinks and perhaps even dance a bit if the music was any good.

Then Lisa would start flirting with any of the cute waitresses and end up, don’t ask her how, with their tongue almost reaching her throat.

Lisa visibly looked like a terrible kisser, she always reminded Grace of a lifeguard doing mouth-to-mouth, and so she never understood why would the women always end up going God-knows-where to probably fuck.

And so then she would end up all alone, surrounded by sweaty bodies while going deaf by the loud music, and nursing a drink.

Tonight is no different from the usual, but she is tired. Her head hurts from overthinking too much all day long and the high heels are killing her.

Grace decides it is time to call it a day and head back home.

She quickly sends a message to Lisa, who is probably very busy with the cute blonde-haired waitress, and stands up from her barstool.

Hey girl, hope you are having fun with the redhead girl wherever you are.

As you left me alone, as usual (don’t fret, i’m used to it lmao) I have decided to stop being a pathetic human being and go home.

Call me tomorrow, but don’t even think of giving me any details. I don’t care about your sexual life.

Bye, bitch. xx

PD: text me when you GO home and when you GET home, it isn’t safe out there.

The raven-haired sighs.

She has to hit the bathroom before calling her uber though.

Too many drinks.

[ –    –    – ]

♡ Here, in this fancy shithole, Lucy Ross lost her virginity ♡

Grace sniggers, the situation completely reminding her of some of the type of things she had seen written back then on her high school’s cubicles’ walls.

She sighs happily while finally peeing.

Suddenly, the screams of a high pitched voice and the sound of glass shattering continually almost makes her fall off the toilet.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

She grabs some toilet paper and when she is finished cleaning herself, she pulls her panties up as quickly as possible. Grace holds her breath. It is one person, a female by the sound of the colorful series of profanities she is screaming, and Grace doesn’t need to check her aura to know how angry she is.

Though just in case, she takes a peek.

She focuses on her own aura, then changes her focus towards the other one in the bathroom, even going as far as closing her eyes to discern it much better –without stepping out and risking getting hurt.

It is shining as bright as the sun, but trembling and roaring with despair and sadness. The fact that the poor female isn’t angry surprises her.

Grace takes a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever she is going to face after stepping out of the enclosed and safe space where she is.

When she opens the door, almost scared of what she might see after reading the aura, the sight of a blonde woman headbutting the bathroom’s big mirror isn’t at all what she had expected.

The girl doesn’t even pay her any attention, clearly busy trying to crack her skull open, and so she keeps doing it, even adding some punches to the mix.

Grace can’t let her hurt herself this way.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She has to stop her before she kills herself, or gives herself a concussion if she is lucky enough. “Stop! Stop!”

Grace grabs the blonde by the waist, as if trying to separate her from the mirror, and pulls her against herself.

Next thing she knows, the blonde answers her with a chokehold and then sends her flying over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Her body collapses against the same toilet she had been peeing seconds ago, tearing the door from its fringes in the process. However, because her pain tolerance is higher than normal, Grace just grunts and answers right back.

The raven-haired extends her hand, a bright green-bluish glowing around it, and makes a motion towards the sinks. Now the blonde girl is the one being sent flying but this time towards the mirror she had been shattering just before and the sinks.

Grace stands up, her back killing her even more than usual, and approaches the blonde sitting with her back against the shattered mirror.

Weirdly enough, the girl instead of being knocked out is looking at her as if she is Jesus Incarnated. There is wonder all over her face.

“You are so paying for the damages.” the raven-haired quickly points out but then stops herself.

She can’t help but examine her for serious injuries. After all, she had been head-butting the mirror three seconds ago and then sent flying to it –on self-defense though–. But despite all the blood that is running down her forehead, she seems more than fine. Happy even, just gazing at her.

“What the hell?” she can’t help but voice her thoughts out loud.

The raven-haired almost falls backwards when the girl —who is clearly not right in the head— jumps to hug her tightly, mumbling “yes” nonstop while jumping up and down like an excited child.

The blonde girl pulls back, black eyeshadow and glitter smeared around her big blue eyes, and her black-painted lips start smiling almost manically.

“You! You!”

Grace blinks several times, completely lost for words. Then she sighs, trying to get back to the present time.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asks her, completely serious.

“No, I’m Harley Quinn and you...” the blonde points at her, smiling cheekily. “You are my new best friend.”

The raven-haired girl can still hear Lisa, in one of their many Skype sessions, telling her snippets of information here and there about Harley Quinn.

“She is definitely insane. For a long time, she was the partner in crime of Joker and dated that nutter. Girl… the things she has done are something else. Anyways, then she left him and joined a girl band… No, kidding. But Catwoman, Poison Ivy and her did start hanging out and creating some mayhem.”

Again, Grace doesn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go have a drink!”Harley links one of her pale arms with hers, then starts dragging her out of the bathroom.

[ –    –    –  ]

They both sit on a VIP booth with an exceptional view of the dance floor and enough privacy to plot the murder of the current President. The loud music is now faint and low. At the glass low table, there is a big metal ice bucket with two expensive-looking champagne bottles and two glass flutes nearby.

Harley is sitting on the other side of the table, her maniacal smile still on and with her legs crossed, while Grace sits on the other side in the U velvety couch.

She scans her, now fully seeing her for who she is.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, which is dyed in blue and pink, lipstick smeared from probably drinking too much and her clothes are as eccentric-looking as the wearer is. She is wearing what seems like a dog collar, a very sparkling sequin red crop top matching with a penguin sequin dark jacket, striped high-waisted dark pants, and red neon high-heeled boots.

“Interesting choice of clothes.” she can’t help but say, then nods to her neck. “Nice collar, too.”

Harley smiles, almost childlike.

“Bud and Lou hate wearing it, so I decided to put their dog tags on one and wear it to honor them. Cool, right?”

Grace raises an eyebrow.

“Bud and Lou are…?

The blonde laughs loudly, a hand going to her flat stomach.

“My hyenas, silly!”

Then gets serious, so suddenly that Grace almost jumps from such a radical change of demeanor, and picks up one of the champagne bottle on the ice bucket.

“Sounds cool.”

It is all she can say.

But Harley doesn’t pay her any attention, furiously shaking the bottle up and down until it pops. She laughs fascinated by it, then pours some on both flutes and gives her one.

“Anyways!” she cries out loudly, then sips a bit of the champagne while staring at her, doe-eyed. “I kinda need your help.”

Grace takes a sip too.

“My help?” The raven-haired gets comfortable on the couch, a bit curious about the whole thing. After all, it isn’t every day you have a conversation with the infamous Harley Quinn. “You have just met me, Quinn.”

Harley opens her mouth – almost fish-like–, but Grace points a finger, interrupting her.

“Also, you are paying for the damn damages of the bathroom!”

The blonde enthusiastically nods, even going as far as to salute her military-style, all while smiling cutely.

Grace can’t help but smile back.

Harley Quinn is a very cute girl.

“So, will ya help me?”

She blinks a few times.

“With what?”

“Well, you see… it’s a long story.” Harley says, dragging the long while saying it. Then, she takes another loud sip of her flute. “When Mista J an’ I broke up for the hundred’ time, I decided it was time to emancipate myself! I started hanging out more with my besties, adopted many cute pets, hooked up with hot-billionaire Bruce Wayne once  an’ even changed ma’ hair.”

Grace raises a thick brow, surprise all over her face.

“You hooked up with Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?”

Harley shakes her hands nonchalantly.

“Just kissed an’ groped his ass. Very tight and firm!”

Grace laughs at that and Harley joins her.

“Anyways, anyways. My friend Selina had just recently gotten a heart surgery an’ Red an’ I were helping her out on some things, then decided to live together. We had so much fun together! So, so, so much! We ran Gotham, the boys couldn’t keep up! And… Pammy an’ I… we fell in love.”

The blonde sighed happily, blowing raspberries into her glass flute.

“Pammy is Poison Ivy, right?”

Harley nods with a happy smile, but her face quickly contorts in one full of hatred and disgust.

“But Batnight ruined everything!”

The dark-haired girl scratches her temple, trying to remember the names of all the vigilantes of Gotham City, but she can’t remember anyone called Batnight.

“I don’t… I don’t recall any Batnight?” Grace chews her bottom lip, completely lost. “Is he new in town or…?

Harley shakes her head effusively, a clear no, while moving closer so her butt is now placed on the verge of the couch.

“He has sticks!” the blonde points out as if to help her distinguish who the vigilante is.

Grace takes that into consideration.

“Batnight… Batnight… Bat… Night… Night?.” Grace mumbles out loud while Harley nods along to what she is saying. “Nightwing!”

“That’s what I said!”

Grace opens her mouth to correct her, then closes it. She thought Nightwing now patrolled on Blüdhaven instead of Gotham City. Then, she opens her mouth again to ask about it but decides on not doing, Harley’s tale is already making her head hurt a bit. There is no need to enlarge the story even more.

“Red was helping her plants, ya’ know. Doing some good for nature, an’ the Batnight took her down!” Harley places her flute on the table with ferocity, making it shatter. Nevertheless, she is still looking at her with shiny eyes. “Now, Red is at GCPD Lockup, an’ in a week will be taken to the Asylum! Unjustly!”

The blonde starts to sob desperately, putting her hands to her face so it is hidden from her, and Grace sighs silently. While she stands up and approaches her, she checks her aura.

It is shinning and twinkling furiously, Grace can feel the sadness and sorrow the woman is feeling.

She is not lying.

Grace sits beside her and pats her back slowly.

With a kind smile, she asks her: “And because of what I did in the bathroom, you want me to help you?”

Grace is really an empathic girl, she can’t help it.

Harley drops her hands to her lap and looks at her, her eyeshadow and glittery mascara even more messed up than before. Then, almost shyly, nods.

“I… I have…. “ the woman hiccups while her pale fist starts rubbing her left eye. “I have a plan. It is good! But I need me some explosives to cause a distraction, so I can bail out my Pammy. Normally I would do it myself, I was going to… ‘til I saw ya’ earlier in the bathroom!”

The raven-haired girl laughs softly, then cheekily pinches Harley’s right cheek.

“Alright. Girl, I do have superpowers.” Harley nods along to that. “And I can make things go Boom, but where the heck do I get explosives, huh?”

The blonde grabs Grace’s hands with her bleached ones, turns on the coach to sit cross-legged on it and squeezes her hands tightly. She is smiling a bit more now which makes Grace a bit happy.

She likes seeing people smile.

“Blubberpot probably has some, but we ain’t good friends, ya’ know? So he won’t give it to me.”

“Blubber… pot?”

Harley nods.

“Penguin! Small with a pointy nose? Like a toucan?” she makes a gesture of a nose going large until touching her lap with her hand.

Grace realizes she means Cobblepot, Oswald Cobblepot; and nods.

“But I earlier heard some birds talking about Black Mask, it seems he had a new shipment of LX-14, CL-20 an’ TNT to one of his warehouses here in Gotham. ” Harley whispers conspiratorially, puckering her mouth like a duck,  though they are alone in the VIP area.

The dark-haired hums, running Harley’s plan through her mind.

“And you want me to smuggle them up, right?”

Harley nods, then subsequently adds: “Selina is busy with don’t-fucking-know-what and I would ask Zatanna but I heard she was busy! So, please?”

Grace sighs.

“You could go there, make the explosives disappear an’ make them appear in my house!”

“Girl, that’s not how my powers work. To open a portal and then move them to your house, I would need to first have set a foot on the place. I can’t just teleport myself to somewhere I haven’t been to before.” Grace takes her hands off Harley’s hold and crosses her arms while explaining this to the blonde girl. “Also, do you even know which warehouse it is? Last I heard from Black Mask, he has many.”

Harley jumps from her seat and starts searching through her pants pockets, nodding to what Grace said while taking out whatever she finds inside and placing it on the small table. A lipstick, some keys with a key-chain of a circus hammer, a small pocket-knife, another pocket-knife but with a blue handle,  some sort of ring –which curiously looks like the pin of a hand grenade, but Grace will turn a blind eye on that –, and finally a crumpled piece of paper.

The blonde gives it to her, smiling happily.

“I wrote it down, ‘cause I’m a smart girl. I got a Ph.D., ya’ know?”

Grace reads the direction written in messy handwriting and chuckles at the smiley face doodled underneath it.

“I will help you out on one condition.” She points a finger to the blonde’s face. “No killing any policemen. Got it?”

Harley nods enthusiastically.

“Then I will help you.”

The blonde lets a loud scream and throws herself to Grace’s arms, ecstatically jumping up and down as she did an hour ago on the nightclub’s bathroom. She is thanking her again and again, tears running down her face and falling to Grace’s naked arms. The dark-haired girl pats her in the back, chuckling lightly, and then hugs her back.

A few seconds later, but still as happy and ecstatic as before, Harley pulls back and places each of her hands on Grace’s cheeks.

“Let’s go have a sleepover at mines!”

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XX

Chapter: 20/28

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

It wasn't long before the four of them were being ushered out of the club with the rest of the drunkards. They were all laughing as they came back out onto the street, they walked down to the corner and stopped to look around. Nobody really wanted to go home just yet, but it was almost 4 in the morning and there wasn't anywhere else to go.

"What now?" Ringo asked, he was leaning against George for support.

"Bed for you, I think." George chuckled, his arm was wrapped around Ringo's waist.

"Noooo." John slurred out "We can't go home yet, the night's just begun!"

"The morning's just begun, more like." Paul snickered, he was smoking a cigarette.

"Come on, this is meant to be Ringo's celebration! If he doesn't wanna go home, then we're not going home." John protested, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he could hardly keep his eyes open.

"No, no, I don't wanna keep you guys out if you don't want to." Ringo said quickly, looking at George for reassurance.

"I'd love to keep going but I'm pretty knackered, and everywhere's closed." George smiled sweetly.

John chuckled then and managed to stand up straight by holding onto a nearby wall. He dove into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little bag of white powder.

"I've got something to perk us all up." John wiggled his eyebrows as he waved the bag in front of them.

Ringo gulped, he'd never done hard drugs before. Sure he'd smoked his fair share of grass, but so had everybody. Cocaine on the other hand was far removed from Ringo's world, it wasn't even a possibility that he'd come across it in his daily life and even if he bumped into someone who did they weren't keen on sharing. It was expensive, so Ringo figured that's why the rich were the only ones ever doing it. George seemed to sense his hesitation and rubbed his side soothingly.

"I dunno." George said "Ringo's never done it before, I don't wanna corrupt him."

"I think it's too late for that." Paul chuckled, but he didn't look too sure himself.

"It's no big deal, it's not that different to just having a drink." John rummaged around in his pocket for his front door key which he took out and held victoriously.

"What's it like?" Ringo asked in a small voice.

"Like 1000 cups of coffee all at once." John said grandly "But also nothing like that."

"Great, very helpful." Ringo laughed.

"It'll hurt your nose. Unless you wanna gum it, but it tastes foul." Paul explained.

John opened up the bag then and piled what Ringo thought was an excessive amount of coke onto his key, he then raised it up to his nose and held one of his nostrils down while he inhaled sharply. John's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a heavy breath, when he opened his eyes again he had a huge grin on his face. He moved to take another bump but Paul interrupted him.

"Hey, now! If you don't start passing that around it'll all be gone." Paul said with a huff as he took the bag and key from John.

Paul then took some for himself before passing it along to George who took even more than John had done, at least by Ringo's reckoning. Ringo couldn't help fixating on George's face and hands and had almost forgotten that it was his turn next and the nervousness began to pick up as George offered it to him with a soft expression.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." George said with a smile, Ringo could notice his pupils dilating.

"Can you- Er, do it for me?" Ringo asked sheepishly.

George obliged and scraped what Ringo thought was a pitiful amount onto the key before holding it up to his nose for him. Ringo repeated what he'd seen the other three doing and felt his eyes fluttering shut. It didn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected it to but it certainly wasn't a pleasant sensation. When he opened his eyes again he saw George looked at him with a smug expression, his sharp teeth exposed.

"Good?" George asked as he passed it back to John.

Ringo didn't really feel anything just yet, but he had a feeling in his stomach that it would all change quite soon "Good." He simply said in response, he could feel his heart beginning to speed up.

Paul had to wrestle the drugs from John once again and insisted that they kept up a rotation as they worked through the entire bag. Ringo no longer asked George for assistance but still made sure he wasn't taking as much as the rest of them, despite what his brain was telling him to do. As it was passed between them Ringo wasn't really noticing the effect it was having on him, he just knew that he couldn't wait for it to be his turn again, and by the time it had all ran out he was hit with the heavy realisation of it. John's description had been spot on because while it was somewhat like an extremely intensified caffeine hit, there was an entirely new element present which Ringo could only describe as feeling amazing. His heart was racing and he felt the intense need to move, to touch, to speak. His muscles were twitching and he kept breathing heavily, running his tongue across his teeth. John mindlessly tossed the empty bag onto the street after mercilessly emptying it and cleaned off the key in his mouth without much thought. They all looked rather crazed and Ringo couldn't help but laughing as they began hurrying down the streets with no real goal in mind.

"There's gotta be somewhere open." John said, Ringo felt like they were all talking ridiculously fast.

"Well there's always somewhere, just not somewhere I really wanna be." Paul chuckled, he looked the most composed of the four of them.

"We could just go back to mine." George couldn't wipe the wolfish grin off his face. "I've got some records we could play."

"I definitely feel like I need to dance." Ringo chuckled.

"To George's we go!" John announced, leading the way immediately.

And so they headed back to the flat, even though there was no urgency they found themselves running down the empty streets as if walking simply wasn't an option. John had got Paul on his back at one point, Ringo wasn't sure when, and as much as Paul protested the whole thing he couldn't stop laughing. Ringo and George held hands as they ran, Ringo felt at times that his heart might explode. At some point John decided it was a grand idea to try and smash a shop window which they all found hilarious, especially when John was rabidly trying to find something to throw at the glass. Somehow they managed to get back to their building in one piece without committing any further crimes; George had suggested they take the stairs instead because it would be 'fun' but even Ringo couldn't be convinced that climbing that many stairs was a particularly good idea. They rushed into the lift and Ringo felt like he was vibrating.

"Please tell me you've got some stuff at your place, George." John said quickly.

"Think I do somewhere, unless you've knicked it." George responded, he kept running his hands up and down Ringo's back.

"I can't make any promises." John laughed as the lift finally came to a halt.

George desperately rummaged for his key and almost dropped it in his hurry. John rushed past George and began turning the place upside down in the search for more drugs, Ringo found himself getting a little concerned but couldn't deny the itch he had for a little more. George kicked the door shut behind him and dragged Ringo over to the sofa where he immediately locked their lips in an intense kiss. Kissing George always felt good, but this, this was something else. John reemerged victoriously from George's bedroom waving around another bag of white powder and knelt down beside George's glass table. Ringo pulled away from George for a moment to watch John and almost jumped from his seat when he saw John pull out a knife from his jacket.

"No!" Paul shouted "Use a fucking coaster or something, you maniac!"

John rolled his eyes "But Paulie, this looks so much cooler."

George wasn't paying the ordeal any attention, he was busying himself with kissing down Ringo's neck. Ringo felt George's hand running up his leg and everything almost felt like too much, only almost. Paul smacked John on the back of the head with a coaster then passed it to him and John made quick work of dividing the coke into thin lines.

"Who's got a note?" John asked, not looking up from the table.

Paul huffed and took out his wallet, retrieving a bank note that he handed to John which he began to roll up.

"Oi, there'll be plenty of time to suck Ringo's face off after we do this." John said bluntly as George reluctantly pulled his hand away from Ringo's crotch.

Ringo felt like his skin was burning after his contact with George and he began to wonder whether taking more was really a good idea. He watched John hold the rolled up bank note to his nostril and snort up a rather thick line of coke which he'd divided onto the table.

"Fuck!" John shouted, his head shooting upwards as he passed the note onto Paul.

Paul got to his knees gently, John stood up and began pacing around the room twitching somewhat. George was still kissing Ringo eagerly, but pulled away quickly when Paul called his name to take his turn. Ringo was completely intimidated by the size of the line John had laid out for him, while he was partly grateful that he hadn't intentionally been given less. George snorted it up with no problem, that ever-same grin spreading across his face as he felt it working its way through his body. Ringo shyly came to kneel beside him, Paul had joined John's hunt for a record to put on. Once again George looked at him with kind eyes, even with his pupils so massive he managed to look kind.

"Don't do it all if you don't want to. I won't judge you." George smiled "Might even thank you."

Ringo chuckled nervously and took the note carefully in his shaking hand. He raised himself up on his knees slightly and bent over the final line on the table, he swallowed hard then snorted it up. He almost felt completely backwards as he tried to lower himself back onto his knees but George caught him easily, placing his hand around Ringo's waist again and kissing him deeply. Ringo felt ecstatic with George's hands roaming over his body and tongue pushing into his mouth, he almost didn't hear the sound of a record being played. Ringo pulled George up to his feet clumsily so that they could dance, he could see John and Paul already spinning each other around ridiculously. Ringo imagined that from an outside perspective the four of them would've looked a little insane but he didn't really care, he felt beyond brilliant. He wasn't really sure long they carried on dancing for but he certainly noticed when it finished as George let out a loud shout at the sight of Paul beginning to take John's trousers off.

"Come on now! Do that shit at your place." George didn't sound angry but his tone was commanding enough that it drew all their attention.

"What's the problem?" John asked with a sly grin, his hands placed on his hips triumphantly.

Paul looked completely innocent on his knees but his eyes were extremely dark "We best be heading to bed then." He said sweetly.

"Care to join us?" John purred as he helped Paul up to his feet, looking directly at Ringo.

"Think the coke's gone to your head, John." George laughed, placing a hand around Ringo's waist somewhat protectively.

"Don't think you've had enough." John's smile widened as he took a few steps closer to the two of them "Sharing is caring, after all."

"Oh come off it." George shoved John back playfully "Ringo's all mine tonight, I'm afraid."

"Only tonight?" John joked, winking at Ringo.

"Permanently." Ringo chuckled, resting his head on George's shoulder affectionately.

Paul just gripped John's hand swiftly "Come on, Johnny, don't keep me waiting."

"Can't say no to that now, can I?" John whispered to Paul, kissing him passionately before they started heading out the door.

"Goodnight you perverts!" George waved with a laugh as Paul merely nodded his head before they ducked out of the flat in a hurry.

Ringo laughed as the door shut, even with the record playing the flat seemed silent. He looked over at George who was meeting his gaze intensely, his eyes were so much darker now with his large pupils. Ringo opened his mouth to speak but George was already kissing him; the rush from the cocaine was in full swing now and Ringo felt like electricity was running through his veins. Immediately Ringo ran his hand down George's back to grab his arse, the other deeply rooting in his hair. They tumbled over to the sofa messily, George falling into Ringo's lap and deepening the kiss. George's tongue ran across Ringo's bottom lip, desperate for entry and claimed his mouth as soon as Ringo opened it to him. It was just wasn't enough, he needed more. Ringo had never felt this turned on in his entire life and he was praying the sensation would never end, every brush of skin or trace of lips was pure ecstasy. George pulled away with heavy breaths as he began stripping Ringo of his clothes.

"George." Ringo panted out.

"Yes, love?" George always looked irresistible, even when he was coming apart at the seams.

"I wanna try something different." Ringo explained as his jumper was lifted above his head, the cool air on his hot skin was very welcome.

"Different how?" George began running his fingers across Ringo's bare chest.

"This time... Can I fuck you?" There was a pause after Ringo spoke, George looked up from where he was focusing on Ringo's belt and that familiar grin grew across his lips.

"God yes." George breathed out, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips.

Their mouths crashed against one another again, Ringo taking control this time as he picked George up just as he had many times before and carried him to the bedroom. George was twitching with excitement, nibbling at Ringo's neck as he carried him with ease over to the bed. Ringo seemed to blink and already George was lying naked in front of him, maybe he should've suggested this sooner. The sight of him was purely sinful, he was so beautifully slim but not weak looking in any way. Ringo crawled onto the bed slowly, he knew he had to pace himself or all this would be over way too soon. Ringo leaned in gently to kiss George, both of them were still sweating and panting before they'd even began, and he tasted delicious. Ringo moved his mouth down George's body agonisingly slow which easily drew out moans from the younger man.

"Ringo..." George's voice was shaky, which was something entirely new to Ringo's ears but he couldn't deny how much he liked it.

"Mmm?" Ringo murmured as he continued kissing down his boyfriend's body.

"When you say you're gonna fuck me, I need you to really fuck me." George sounded more timid than usual.

"As opposed to?" Ringo spoke so that he'd breathe cold air onto George's aching erection which made him shudder.

"No, I just- Don't be afraid that you're going to hurt me or something."

Ringo took hold of George's cock then, it made him hiss to feel Ringo's cold rings against his hot flesh and it gave Ringo the same satisfaction it always did.

"You want me to hurt you, don't you?" Ringo asked, he began to move his hand slowly and George's head fell back onto the bed.

"Is that weird?"

"Makes me question your occupation a bit." Ringo chuckled, then ran his tongue slowly up George's length.

"It's not like that." George tried to sound composed, but it wasn't working.

"Tell me what it's like then." Ringo hummed as he took the head into his mouth.

"Fuck..." George breathed out "I just like it a little rough, you know that."

"You never really hurt me though." Ringo teased George with his mouth between sentences "But you want me to hurt you." When George didn't respond, Ringo grazed his teeth ever so slightly and it made George curse. "Don't you?"

"Fuck, yes I fucking do. Yes, fucking yes!" George was almost screaming "Please just fuck me..."

Ringo made a happy noise in this throat as he took George in his mouth a few more times, it was strange to think at how much he'd struggled to do this the first time. George was writhing beneath him and Ringo pinned his legs to the bed to stop him from squirming around; George let out a small gasp, maybe Ringo was enjoying this more than he thought he would. After teasing George for several more minutes, Ringo flipped George over so that he was lying on his stomach and George couldn't hold in the groan at the sudden reminder of Ringo's strength. George moaned again at the noise of Ringo unbuckling his belt, his arse was rising up desperate for contact. Ringo was questioning why they hadn't done this sooner, but part of him knew the drugs in the system were giving him the confidence to finally take control like this. He ran a hand over George's cheek slowly which only made the taller man move more restlessly, and he made the snap decision to bring his hand down hard onto the skin. George let out a yelp at the stinging feeling and for a second Ringo worried he'd been too rough, but the wanton moan that followed removed any concerns.

"You like that?" Ringo asked, he was even surprising himself with how he was acting.

"Yes..." George panted, he was gripping the sheets desperately.

Ringo repeated the action, slapping down hard onto his other cheek this time; he wondered whether this was the 'use' for his rings George had been referring to all that time ago. He then moved his fingers up George's back until he reached his face where he pressed two fingers against his thin lips. George accepted them gladly, he was writhing in frustration and was clearly desperate for anything to occupy him, running his tongue over and between them as if he'd kill for the taste. Ringo rubbed George's face with his thumb gently while he began to pump the fingers, using his other hands to rub over his arse teasingly. George whined when Ringo pulled his fingers back out which resulted in another hard slap. Ringo had never been this rough with a girl before, he'd always been so concerned about really hurting them that he never really did anything daring, but now with George it felt nothing but right. He knew George could handle it, that he wanted it, and as much as he loved George just having his way with him, Ringo could get used to switching up the dynamic every now and again. The sight of George whimpering and desperate was definitely something he could get used to.

Ringo ran his fingers around the rim of George's entrance, making him hiss, and he felt beyond intoxicated. This was a whole new experience in itself, he'd never fingered George before but he tried not to over-complicate things in his mind and just give in to the pleasure of it all. He pushed his index finger in gently, this was definitely not the time to hurt George, and was surprised by how natural the whole thing felt as the muscles contracted around him. Ringo's mind couldn't help returning to their old conversations: how John and Paul had been amazed that George wasn't on the receiving end of things, and Ringo imagined all the times George had been in this position before. George's hair was sticking to his forehead in dark strands and his eyes were the darkest Ringo had ever seen them, his muscles straining in pleasure and Ringo prayed he'd never forget the sight.

He managed to get his first finger in without much resistance and he couldn't deny he was desperate to just sink his cock deep inside George. It was difficult to tell what feelings were sexual pleasure and what was the drugs, but it was all melting together beautifully. Ringo pushed in a second finger beside the first and couldn't stop himself from increasing his pace to punishingly brutal, but George was far from complaining. Every time George would beg for more, desperate to feel Ringo's cock inside him, Ringo would slap him harder each time. While it was fun to tease him, Ringo could only take so much himself and eventually removed his fingers. Even without being touched Ringo was painfully hard, which he gladly proved to George by rubbing his erection between his two cheeks. Ringo teasingly ran the head of his cock across George's entrance several times without pushing himself inside. He decided to turn George over again onto his back, he wanted to watch his face while he fucked him. George flashed him a grin which said more than words ever could.

"Ready?" Ringo asked as he aligned himself.

"Yes, fuck..." George's mouth didn't seem connected to his mind at all.

Ringo braced himself on George's shoulder as he gradually forced his cock inside, nothing could've prepared him for how good it felt. They were both cursing before Ringo even bottomed out, Ringo found himself resting his forehead against George's when he was finally all the way in. This was nothing like fucking a girl, Ringo couldn't help thinking. If George felt this good when he fucked Ringo, he wasn't surprised he was so eager to do it.

"So fucking tight." Ringo breathed as he regained enough consciousness to begin pulling back out.

"You're just big, my love." George smiled, his hand was on Ringo's neck.

"Is that so?" Ringo grinned, but he couldn't keep his composure for long as he slowly thrust back inside George.

"Shit... You know you are." George was having trouble keeping his eyes open.

"Just like hearing you say it." Ringo kissed George's forehead then, in any other circumstance it would've seemed sweet.

Ringo picked up his pace now, this was something he was familiar with, he liked to think he was good at it. Granted he'd never fucked a girl this tight before, or had such strong feelings for someone he was sleeping with, but that only made the experience all the better. They were both very quickly becoming a mess of sweat and moans, George pulled Ringo down on top of him so that their glistening skin rubbed together as Ringo began ruthlessly fucking him. Ringo could sense that his rhythm was sloppy but he couldn't help it, his mind was swimming in pure ecstasy. He wasn't sure how long he was going to last, but George's endless moans and pleas weren't helping him in any way.

"Harder... Please." George panted "Fuck me harder."

Ringo found it impossible to deny George when he looked and sounded so utterly delicious. He lifted himself back up and realigned himself, lifting George's legs and wrapping them around his waist who gladly pulled their bodies closer together. Ringo placed his hand just beside George's head for support as he thrust in again, bottoming out in one harsh thrust and George felt like crying. He picked up the unforgiving pace once again and Ringo could barely keep his eyes open but he tried his best to meet George's gaze, who was looking at him with such a beautiful blend of lust and love.

"Ringo..." George struggled to get his words out.

"Yes?"

"Can you..." His voice trailed off into a moan "I want you to choke me."

"Choke you?" Ringo didn't mean to sound as concerned as he did, but he'd never been asked this before.

"Please..." George pleaded, he tightened himself around Ringo in an attempt to convince him "I want it, I promise."

"I dunno... I don't know how to do it." Ringo had slowed his pace subconsciously.

George just flashed him a grin and caught Ringo at the wrist, who reluctantly allowed his hand to be moved so that it gripped around George's neck. Ringo had a nervous look in his eye but George looked completely crazed, he really wanted this.

"Just press down, at the top. Not too hard." George breathed out "I'll tell you if it hurts, don't worry."

"You're sure?" Ringo couldn't deny he somewhat enjoyed the feeling of George's slim neck beneath his hand like this.

"I'm sure." George gave him one of his sweeter smiles then and strengthened his legs around Ringo as a signal to carry on.

Ringo nodded and tentatively picked up the pace again, it wasn't long before he was losing himself in the pleasure once more. George placed on his hands on Ringo's forearm, they shared a look of understanding that George would use this hand to signal when to stop; George tightened his grip to signal that Ringo should do the same. Ringo pressed down with his thumb and first two fingers as he quickened his pace once more and George took in a strangled breath, his eyes fluttering shut. This was never something Ringo expected to find himself doing, but George had a way of surprising him like that. As Ringo tightened his grip he felt George clenching around him, and he wondered whether it was intentional or not, but it felt good. George's hand was still wrapped around Ringo's arm but his grip was lighter, he was letting out struggling moans and his face was growing redder. It was a strangely glorious sight, and Ringo felt somewhat guilty for finding it so erotic but he figured there was a reason people did this - even if they wouldn't be quick to admit to it. After several minutes Ringo felt George suddenly tighten his hand's grip on his arm and he quickly moved his hand off of George's throat; he took in a dramatic breath in and his eyes shot open which were on fire with pleasure. George looked at him with a mixture of shock and joy and the moans that followed should've been criminal.

"Fuck." George said with a husky voice and Ringo knew it wouldn't be long before either of them were done.

"Was that okay?" Ringo asked, he didn't want to kill the atmosphere but the last thing he wanted was to take things too far.

George responded by pulling Ringo in for a heated kiss, it was messy with nothing but tongues and teeth and heavy breath. Ringo figured that had to be a good sign. He pulled back up again and gripped onto George's hip tightly as he fucked through what he figured was his final burst of energy.

"I'm close..." Ringo mumbled as he hazily looked at George.

"Me too." George panted "Touch me."

Ringo didn't need to be told twice; he used his other hand to snake around George's leaking cock. George gripped onto the sheets which were damp with their sweat, his other hand madly running over Ringo's skin anywhere he could possibly reach.

"You fuck me so fucking good, Ringo." George began to ramble "Love your cock. Love how you fuck me. Been waiting for you to fuck me."

Ringo couldn't respond coherently, he could only moan desperately as his rhythm began to falter even further as he felt his orgasm building. Nobody could make him this undone, not like George, all he needed to do was speak and Ringo melted into him.

"Just don't fucking stop, don't stop. Please don't stop." George's head had fallen backwards, his eyes rolling in his head "So close..."

"I'm gonna- Fuck!" Ringo cried out as he felt himself slipping away, the sound of his skin ruthlessly smacking against George's was deafening.

"Come inside me, please. Fuck I need to feel it. Make me cum while you fill me up, daddy." George was getting completely lost in it all, Ringo almost didn't catch the final word but the sound falling out of George's lip was the final push he needed.

Ringo rapidly jerked George's cock as he maintained a rough rhythm, and as he felt George desperately tightening around him as his orgasm overcame him it was impossible to stop himself from finishing. It was pure electricity. George screamed out in pleasure, scratching his hand down Ringo's back involuntarily as cum coated his flat stomach with the feeling of Ringo filling him up with his own cum. It was the longest orgasm he'd ever experienced, or at least it felt that way to Ringo, as he struggled to open his eyes again. As their breaths collectively slowed down and they both came back to reality, Ringo having collapsed on top of George, they could hear the distant sound of the record still playing in the living room. They both smiled to hear the music, letting out breathless laughs, as Ringo pulled out as gracefully as he could manage.

As they always did, George cuddled up to Ringo who wrapped his arms around him happily. Ringo pressed a kiss onto George's damp hair, taking in the earthy smell of sweat.

"I love you." Ringo murmured against his head, pressing another kiss there.

"I love you too." George pressed a similarly gentle kiss onto Ringo's sweaty neck.

"Finally broke out the 'daddy' then?" Ringo chuckled lowly.

"Shut up... I wasn't hearing any complaints." George sounded a little defensive.

"Far from it." Ringo pressed George closer to him "Should I go turn that record off?"

"If you want to, I always thought you were better at turning on though." George pressed another kiss against Ringo's skin.

"Let me recover from this first, alright?" Ringo laughed as he began to slowly pull away to get off the bed.

"No round two?" George asked with a pout.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Ringo winked as he headed towards the door.

"What did I do to deserve you?" George asked smiling, raising himself up on his elbows.

"You must've been a saint in your past life. But you're far from that now." Ringo said "Think I'll take a shower, care to join me?"

"Is that even a question?" George grinned, already getting up to his feet.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Dean Saving You In Prison (Part 2)

Pairing: Prisoner!Dean x lawyer!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

_______

“Alright, Dean,” you said. You set your box down on the table in the visitors room you were working out of. Dean watched as he happily sipped on his soda, taking a bite of his burger. “How’s lunch?”

“Awesome,” he said with a thumbs up, wiping off his hands. “So what do you got?”

“Well first off, we can only get you a new trial if we discover new evidence,” you said.

“Double jeopardy,” said Dean.

“Exactly. Now your defense was screwed from the start because it’s quite obvious your own lawyer thought you did it. You had no alibi, the murder weapon, with your prints, was found at your home. All they were missing was the nice little bow on top. Motive. You had none,” you said. “But it was more than enough.”

“None of that has changed,” he said.

“True. But I don’t like a case lacking motive. It’s sloppy. I want us to take a look at who would have had a motive for killing John Wiles,” you said. “I know it’s only been a few days but I narrowed it down to these three people.”

“That’s already more effort than the other guy ever gave,” said Dean.

You slid your three folders in front of him, Dean tapping one.

“Marcus Porter. I know him. I used to work with him and John at a garage when I was straight out of high school,” said Dean. 

“You friends?”

“On Facebook, bump into each other at the bar every once in a while but not really,” said Dean.

“He ever ask about your personal life? Work hours? Relationships? Activities?” you asked.

“We would shoot the shit. I guess that stuff would come up. Why?”

“He was learning your schedule, Dean. He knew when you wouldn’t be home so he could plant the weapon,” you said. 

“My house wasn’t broken into though,” he said.

“Also true. But you just told me you would meet up at the bar every once in a while. He could have stolen your keys, made an imprint of your house one, and slipped it back in your pocket without you noticing,” you said.

“So...why me? Marcus and I weren’t best friends but we got along,” said Dean.

“It likely wasn’t personal. You were probably the easiest fall guy in his opinion,” you said. Dean ran his hand through his hair, staring at the folder. “Having someone to look into really helps, Dean. No one is perfect when it comes to this. They can plan and plan but at a certain point, they have to take some kind of risk. We just have to figure out what that was for him.”

“What if he didn’t slip up though?”

“We’ll find something, I promise.”

Three Weeks Later

“Hello, De-“ you said, stopping short when you saw the black eye. “What happened?”

“Oh, you know me. Always so popular with the other boys at recess,” he said.

“The douche from the riot,” you said.

“Yeah. He’s in solitary for a few days so at least I get a break. I’m getting nervous to be honest. I don’t think next time it’s gonna be just a few punches,” he said.

“Punch a guard,” you said.

“Excuse me?”

“Punch a guard. You’re safe in solitary and I feel like we are so, so close to getting a retrial. Do that until I can get you some privacy. Blame it on me, alright?” 

He nodded and you pulled out your box again, Dean smiling wide when you set a piece of pie down in front of him.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the best lawyer ever?” he asked.

“You, pretty much every time I see you,” you laughed. “Okay so I think I found fifteen minutes in Marcus’ alibi.”

“Fifteen minutes? Y/N, that’s not-“

“Why do you think I’m in my athletic stuff? I’ve been up all night running around town,” you said. “During the day, it’s impossible because of traffic but the middle of the night, if he took Conklin, it’s all greens and he has plenty of time to kill Wiles, and plant the weapon before you got home from work. I know how he did it.”

“Awesome. Now how do we prove it?”

Two Weeks Later

“Relax,” you said, fixing Dean’s tie for him.

“Last time I wore this suit, I went to prison,” he said, scratching at his cuffed wrist.

“Dean. All we have to do is bait him. He’s gonna take it,” you said. “We got the judge to let us put him up on the stand. He’ll take the bait.”

“I know. I would really like to not go back to prison tonight is all,” he said. You gave him a smile, Dean grabbing your hand when you started to gather up your things. “Y/N. No matter how it goes today, thank you for everything.”

“You stopped someone from hurting me. We are more than even, Dean. Let’s go win so I can take you out for some pie,” you said.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s do this.”

“He’s not cracking,” whispered Dean when you walked back over to the table.

“Yes, he is,” you said, grabbing a picture off of the table. “Mr. Porter. Can you identify what this is?”

You walked over and held up the imagine, Marcus glancing at the judge. 

“Your leash is getting shorter, Ms. Y/L/N,” said the judge to you.

“Please answer the question,” you said.

“A bloody knife?” said Marcus. 

“It is the murder weapon that killed John Wiles,” you said. 

“Okay?” he said.

“Mr. Porter can you tell me what this is a picture of,” you said, holding up another.

“A dead guy,” he said.

“Let the record show I am holding up evidence photographs 1B and 1E. Now, Mr. Porter, it’s quite clear from the photograph and the autopsy report that Wiles died from several stabbing wounds. Something is a bit funny though which is why I need your help. You see, these stab wounds are on the front of the right side of Wiles’ torso.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, I suggest you get to your point and quickly,” said the judge.

“Mr. Porter, I’m not a detective but why would a right handed man stab someone with his left? You know what? We’ll come back to that,” you said, smiling as you walked back to the table and grabbed the autopsy report. “According to the coroner's findings, the angle of the wounds indicate an upward slicing motion starting left and moving right. Now if I’m holding a knife in my right hand, why would I do that? Why take the risk of using such a poor angle when I could have easily moved a few feet to my right and gotten a much better hit? We’ll come back to that one too.”

You went back to the table again, the room much tenser as you grabbed the plastic bag with the murder weapon.

“This knife was used to kill Mr. Wiles. It has his blood on it and Mr. Winchester’s fingerprints. These are facts. This knife was taken from Mr. Winchester’s kitchen. He admits it was missing from his butcher block. Also a fact. As the owner of the knife, it makes sense we would see these prints. What doesn’t make sense is why a right handed man angled his knife the way a left handed person would. That’s a little odd. What doesn’t make sense is how a right handed man would even strike with this knife at this angle, especially in an intense moment. I’ve never killed anyone but I think you want to know you’re going to hit your target. That’s also a little odd. Then there’s the timing. We all know the traffic headache that’s been going on over on highway 23 for three years now,” you said.

You glanced over at Marcus, giving him a smile.

“Mr. Winchester much like the rest of us, hates traffic and avoids the highway as much as possible. Except on Wednesday nights. You see, on Wednesday nights, Mr. Winchester goes to Paulie’s bar for a drink and to shoot some pool with his buddies from work. He always pays at the end of the night and credit card records will show he paid off his tab at 11:03pm on the night in question. He then proceeded to drive home. But Mr. Winchester took highway 23 home instead of side roads. Why wouldn’t he? It would be faster, even with the construction and single lane. So Mr. Winchester took the highway home. 

“He took the highway home, parked his car in his garage and went to sleep. We know for a fact that Mr. Wiles was killed between 11pm and 11:30pm. We know this because Mr. Wiles was also in the construction business. In fact, he was on the night crew working on the highway. It’s not a lot of time to kill someone if you think about it. So Mr. Winchester pays off his tab at 11:03, goes to the parking lot and then he has to get to Wiles’ home within 27 minutes and kill him. That’s plenty of time. If you aren’t Mr. Winchester. See, there’s no highway access anywhere near Wiles’ house. The lead construction crew member testifies that he saw Mr. Winchester’s vehicle that night, just before the night shift was set to start. It makes sense. It’s about a ten minute drive from Paulie’s to where the main construction was taking place. That’s 11:13. Let’s give Mr. Winchester a minute to actually walk out of the bar and get to his car. 11:14. Now we only got 16 minutes,” you said, turning towards the judge. 

“The next closest exit is eight minutes away. Eight minutes. 11:22. Mr. Winchester has eight minutes left to drive all the way back to Wiles’ on side streets and kill Mr. Wiles before his carpool buddy, Mr. Ericsson, will discover his body. Does anyone know how long it takes to drive from exit 9 to Mr. Wiles home? Twelve minutes on a quiet night. That’s 11:34. But John Wiles was discovered at precisely 11:30pm. Isn’t that a little odd too?”

“What is going on,” said Marcus.

“Where were you between 11:00pm and 11:30pm on the night of June 8th, 2018,” you asked.

“Excuse me?” said Marcus.

“Answer the question, Mr. Porter,” said the judge.

“At home with my wife,” he said.

“Yes, I see,” you said, pursing your lips. “Your wife says you took the dog out for a few minutes. 15 minutes in fact.”

“Yeah, I took him for a walk. He had to go to the bathroom,” he said.

“Well which is it? You were at home with your wife or you took your dog for a walk?” you asked.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say that I took him out,” he said.

“Oh. My mistake,” you said with a smile. “Mr. Porter, do you have any idea how close you live to Mr. Wiles?”

“A minute or two.”

“Just over a minute but I’ll be nice and give you the two. Now do you have any idea how close Mr. Wiles lives to Mr. Winchester?”

“No.”

“They live two minutes apart. Any idea how far to get to your house to Mr. Winchester’s? Using that math, four minutes. You were gone for fifteen minutes. Two to Mr. Wiles. Let’s say four to break in and kill him. Two to Mr. Winchester’s, three to plant the murder weapon and four back to your place. That’s your fifteen minutes Mr. Porter. I mean that’s pretty weird too isn’t it? I mean, the fact he owed you money and the fact your wife had to take your dog out to use the bathroom just an hour later despite you having just taken him are just little coincidences, right?” you asked with a smile. “You being left-handed is also completely coincidental, right?”

The whole room was quiet, Marcus staring you down. 

“I didn’t kill him. He did. His fingerprints are all over the murder weapon,” said Marcus, nodding towards Dean.

“Oh, we already addressed that Mr. Porter. You get tired of Mr. Wiles not paying you back? Or maybe it was the affair he was having with your wife,” you said.

“That has nothing to do…”

“Oh so he did have one with her? Mr. Porter, why didn’t you say something? Were you embarrassed? Felt like less of a man?” you asked.

“I am-“

“Well she had to go looking elsewhere. I bet that hit below the belt. Did you catch them in your bed? Did you catch another man with your wife in your bed?” 

“The slut-“

“I bet she even bragged about how much better he was at it. How pleasurable it was. How that was a real man.”

“I am a real man.”

“Real men are tough guys, they don’t get cheated on. They don’t settle for that shit.”

“I am a real man!”

“Oh are you?” you said, the judge saying something but you ignored it. “A real man that gets cheated on with the guy who took his money? It sounds like John Wiles was the real man. He got the girl, the money. I bet they even laughed about you behind your back.”

“He-“

“He took everything and you were left to sit there and be humiliated like the-“

“I showed him humil-“

“Oh yeah? How’d you show him? Cry to your mommy about it?”

“I killed the son of a bitch! That’s how I showed him!” shouted Marcus. You looked at the judge and smiled spinning around.

“No further questions your honor.”

“That was fucking awesome,” said Dean that afternoon, smiling wide as he ate a burger outside some hole in the wall joint.

“How’s it feel to be a free man?” you asked.

“Awesome. You were awesome up there. That was like some A Few Good Men shit up there,” he said.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” you said, Dean tilting his head back and enjoying the sun on his face. “I told you I had this.”

“I don’t know how you did it but whatever you want, it’s yours,” he said.

“Make some better friends for me,” you said, Dean chuckling.

“Yeah, I will definitely be doing that from now on,” he said. “But I’m serious, I owe you.”

“Buy me dinner,” you said with a shrug. “You’ve been flirting with me for weeks Winchester.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he smiled. “Y/N.”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Thank you.”

“Dean. You gotta stop with that.”

“Alright, alright. So where would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

“There’s this new place downtown that’s pretty good,” you said.

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart.”

_______

[taizi]

the wrong end of a very long tunnel

king falls am word count: 2106 poetry borrowed from straw house, straw dog by richard siken

read on ao3

x

and you wanted an adventure, so i said have an adventure

The car smells like Jack. He always forgot body spray on his mad rush out the door in the morning so he took to keeping a can in the glovebox. Sammy sits in the driver’s seat with a death grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles standing out like strings of pearls. In the passenger seat is the packed bag he found by the front door months ago.

It was months ago. It took that long to negotiate a way out of their contract at the station. And maybe Sammy was hoping for a miracle, hoping for a late-night phone call or the sound of a key in the lock. If he waited a little longer, dragged his feet, Jack would make his own way home.

But Sammy is sitting in a car that smells like Jack, with a bag in the passenger seat where his boyfriend should be, and his phone in the cup holder with the GPS waiting on his first move.

It’s a hard move to make. Sammy is a coward. He wants to go back inside. Back into their house, even though the mail is on hold and the gas and water has been shut off. Back into the life he and Jack built with each other, for each other.

But this is the only way back. Leaving now is the only way to go back home.

Jack, Sammy thinks.

He presses the clutch and shifts into first gear. He doesn’t slow down until the fuel gauge is on empty, seven hundred miles away. Then he pulls into the first gas station off the interstate and has a quiet panic attack.

It’s only for his benefit that it’s quiet, really. To keep some semblance of control. He could have made a scene if he wanted to. It’s one o’clock in the morning in the Middle of Nowhere, Northern Oregon, and Sammy is alone. He could fall to the ground and scream and be long gone before some unfortunate morning employee came in and checked the CCTV.

Jack, he thinks. He doesn't scream. He gets out to pump gas.

i don’t really blame you for being dead but you can’t have your sweater back

His apartment isn't quite ready for him. Real estate market isn't exactly booming in King Falls, but the landlady wants a chance to clean the carpets. The last tenant had cats. So Sammy has a handy excuse to stop in at the only motel for a hundred miles, to smile as he introduces himself as the new radio personality, make small talk, ask about the town. It's very scenic, the drive up was beautiful. You must get a lot of tourists when the weather's nice. Have you seen any new faces around here lately? Anyone new come through?

No, the grizzled receptionist said, just you.

The motel room smells like stale cigarette smoke and mold. The walls are an ugly puce with a wainscot that might once have been white. The comforter on the bed is stiff and over-starched. Sammy sits down on it with Jack's bag. He didn't bring any of his own things in from the car. He falls asleep with his nose pressed into the collar of one of Jack's shirts. It's the only way he can fall asleep.

It's easy enough to assimilate into town. Easy enough to adopt a persona that would assimilate into town. He could play the aggressive shock jock well enough for work, but he felt like an understudy in a role that wasn't really meant for him. Felt like being back in high school and taking a friend from homeroom to the prom because she was a girl who understood him and the pictures would be what their parents expected.

Sammy has always known how to be what people expected. He's always known how to play his cards close. There's too much at stake to get sloppy now.

Ben Arnold is a bright, lively person. King Falls is home to him. He knows the ins and outs of every weird and unsettling corner. It's on the tip of Sammy's tongue to ask— hey, where would the best place be to start looking for a missing person? Can you give me a reference number for the paranormal abductions section of the local library? The love of my life is gone and your creepy, hungry hometown is to blame, so tell me, Ben, what does it do with the people it eats? Where does it keep its food?

Sammy doesn't know how to have that conversation without sounding insane. Without going insane. So he doesn't have it.

He'll do this on his own.

Jack's shirts don't smell like Jack anymore, but there's still a can of body spray in the glovebox. Sammy only uses it sparingly, when he's afraid he's forgotten what it smells like.

On a rainy morning, when Sammy is giving Ben a lift home from the station because they drove in together the night before, he points Ben toward the glovebox for some napkins to dry his glasses with. After a moment of rooting around, Ben makes a suspect little "ooh" sound— his curiosity is a monster Sammy is doing his very best to tame— and comes out with the body spray.

"Don't," Sammy says. It comes out quick, but not sharp, and Ben's head tilt is confused, but not hurt. "Just don't want to waste it," Sammy adds with an easy smile, eyes on the road. He puts out a hand for it and Ben surrenders it without a fight. It's just body spray, it's not worth the conversation they're having about it. "It's hard to find."

"It says Bath & Body Works on the sticker," Ben laughs, "but whatever, weirdo."

And Sammy could say actually—

Do you have a minute?

Can I tell you something?

But instead he drives them down the mountain, arguing about breakfast, taking care on the turns. Ben's glasses are smudged and his smile is lopsided and bright. Sammy has never been able to protect anyone but himself, but he drives differently when Ben is in the car.

you are a fever i am learning to live with, and everything is happening at the wrong end of a very long tunnel

It doesn't feel right to not want to be at his apartment, pouring over the complicated notes Jack left behind that Sammy doesn't know how to read, smoothing out a wrinkled map with half a route traced in blue pen and pretending like this time he'll see something there he didn't notice before, this time he'll figure it out.

But the longer Sammy spends here, the closer he comes to admitting what a part of him knew all along.

He isn't getting Jack back. He isn't going home again. Home got taken away, home is gone.

"Havin' a rough night, are we, bud?" Ron asks. Sammy doesn't know where he came from.

He's laying on his back across the hood of his car, a bottle of liquor clutched in hand. It's a clear night, and there's hardly any light pollution out on the edge of town. Maybe that's why Sammy drove out here. Maybe he just wanted to look up and see something beautiful in this godforsaken place. It's half past one in the morning, and by now Sammy would be deep in Sweetzer Forest, doing his usual pointless run around before booking it up to the station for the show, always a few minutes late.

But at midnight on the dot, his phone helpfully reminded him of Jack's birthday tomorrow. He checked the notification at a red light. Then he pulled into the parking lot on his immediate right and got out of the car, because he didn't trust himself to drive at that point. The only 24 hour convenience store was a few blocks away. He bought a half gallon of whatever was nearest the door.

"I'm fine," Sammy says. He's pretty sure he says it. It's so practiced by now that he can't imagine he would have said anything else.

A calloused hand works the bottle out of Sammy's fist. Ron leans his hip against the side of the car and takes a swallow. The first drink had made Sammy cough, but Ron's face doesn't change.

"Shelled out for the good stuff tonight, I see. Special occasion?"

"Yes," Sammy says firmly.

Of course it's special. Jack's birthday is always special. They go out to dinner and they get extraordinarily drunk and they stumble home together and climb into bed. Jack is warm and solid, and he lays an arm across Sammy's waist in a way that makes Sammy feel— held. Jack makes him feel held. 

And Sammy isn't the type of person who could make someone feel like that about him, but he tries. He makes breakfast, he remembers how Jack takes his coffee and how he likes his eggs, and hopes it at least comes close.

"I forgot what day it was," Sammy goes on, and then he starts crying.

He'll blame the drinks later. He'll say he just can't hold his alcohol. It'll be sort of a running joke after this. Sammy never lives it down.

But for now, the driver's side door pops open, and the cabin light goes on, and the warning chime starts up because the keys are still in the ignition. Ron roots around for a minute and then returns to Sammy with his phone and a napkin from Paulie's.

Sammy takes the napkin, not sure what he's supposed to do with it. Ron asks for his PIN, and Sammy tells him, "It's today." Ron takes his wrist and directs the hand with the napkin in it up to his face.

Oh, Sammy thinks, and wipes his eyes while Ron makes a call.

Some interminable amount of time later, the car rocks a bit as Ben climbs up next to him on the hood. He scoots around until he and Sammy are shoulder-to-shoulder, marooned in a parking lot under a staggering array of stars.

"I'm playing a Best-Of compilation," Ben tells him. "I was working on it for your anniversary, but I'll come up with something even better by then." He turns his head, glasses going crooked and pressing into the bridge of his nose. Beneath a mop of dark curls, his eyes are familiar. People don't usually look at Sammy like that. He's not sure what it means. "Come on, dude. Come with me. Let's ditch your car for the night, okay?"

He winds up on Ben’s couch, bundled under the comforter from Ben's bed. Ben finds Legally Blonde on TV and stays up to watch it with him, and Sammy falls asleep in the first ten minutes.

He dreams of Jack, but for once it isn’t a nightmare. He doesn’t wake up gasping. He dreams of Jack’s face, of his hands, of his smile in the morning. He’s awake between one breath and the next, a slow rising up out of the dark.

Someone is singing ABBA in the kitchen, where there is the distinct smell of breakfast burning.

"What in the fresh hell are you doing in there?" Sammy croaks.

"Hey, look who's up! You look fresh as a daisy, Sammy." Ben's obnoxious good cheer seems louder than usual, pounding between Sammy's ears like a hammer, but that might just be the dehydration talking. "Come and eat.”

This isn’t why Sammy came to King Falls. This isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. He's harboring secrets and taking advantage.

But there’s a plate of lopsided eggs and toast and slightly blackened bacon in front of Sammy, and a cup of coffee and the caramel vanilla creamer he’s taken a liking to that Ben keeps stocked in the station. The kitchen is warm, and comfortable, and bright with the sunlight coming through the window above the sink.

“Is it okay?” Ben asks, sitting across from him. “You always get your eggs over easy at Rose’s.”

Sammy pulls the hair out of his face with the hair-tie on his wrist. The end result makes Ben laugh, and Sammy picks up his fork.

“Of course it is, Ben. You’re the best.”

The first bite tastes like guilt. The second one tastes like way too much butter. The third one tastes like home.

you can sleep now, you said. you can sleep now. you said that. i had a dream where you said that