#and suddenly somehow out of that a thought of cowboy will popped up

[cannibalovers]

cowboy will doodle um... yay or nay

[bussyslayer333]

Heart Out

summary: your boyfriend proves his love for you on the beach, so you prove yours in the hard deck bathroom.

pairing: jake seresin x penny’s niece!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut at the end once again,, but it’s jakes turn this time :0, some swearing, and mentions of dilfs/daddy issues LOL,, MDNI 18+

ps this is my lil continuation of jake x penny’s niece!reader bc i love them <3

((it can be read separately ofc !!))

requests are open as always !!!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Today had been dreadfully boring. Your aunt Penny was out all day at the Hard Deck working on accounts and you couldn’t even pester your little cousin Amelia because she had also been out all day with friends. You’d thought about visiting Jake at work but you weren’t sure whether you were at that stage of your relationship yet. So instead, the best option seemed to be lounging around in your underwear watching Desperate Housewives reruns in the living room. As you flopped over onto your front trying to escape the San Diego heat that you still weren’t accustomed to, a notification popped up onto your phone.

cowboy ❤️

come join me at the beach?

photo

You opened the message to a selfie from Jake in what appeared to be the Hard Deck bathrooms. He was stood shirtless flexing his arms into the mirror doing a little pouty face staring down the camera. You giggled at his stupidly handsome face that somehow manages to look good no matter what he was doing.

You

are you not at work? ❤️

cowboy ❤️

annual dogfight football baby

With that message accompanied a picture Jake had taken over his shoulder of Rooster and Mav shirtless and covered in sand. Suddenly it clicked why your aunt had travelled to the bar to complete tasks which definitely could have been finished at home. Deciding to wind Jake up you replied to the second picture he sent, ignoring his first selfie

You

how does mav still look so good? talk about dilf 🤤

Giggling as you sent the message you put your phone down and decided to finally peel yourself away from the couch to start getting ready for the beach.

Flipping through the variety of swimsuits you had bought with you, you wondered which one Jake would like best. Although Jake would like to call himself a man of taste, when it came to his girl his taste in her clothing was sparse to say the least. Settling on a blue two piece with strings that tied it all together, you moved to pick up Jake’s button up that you had kept since one fateful night in his truck. It was light blue and quite fitted on him but it hung nicely on you and could work as a cover up if the sea breeze became too strong.

You span around to look at yourself in the floor length mirror in the corner of your room. Jake was going to love this. You plucked your sunglasses from the bedside table and placed them on your head so you could finally make your way back downstairs to your phone and tote bag.

Picking up you phone you smirked at Jake’s many replies.

cowboy ❤️

shut up

you’re not being serious right?

because i don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship with your father for that to be a funny text

that emoji makes it seem like a joke

i mean yeah ig he keeps it tight for a guy who gets senior discounts

You interrupted his next text by gracing him with a response.

you

shush jake obv im joking

….we will talk later tho

You then sent a photo of yourself in the mirror near the front door, chest pushed slightly out. You knew your audience.

cowboy ❤️

ur such a tease

you

see u soon flyboy <3

The drive down to the Hard Deck is brisk, not much traffic for a midweek afternoon in Miramar. As you pull into the Hard Deck’s parking lot you recognise a few of the pilots cars and you pull in next to Rooster’s bronco, scoffing at the fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. That boy was seriously stuck in the 70s.

Moving out of your car, you walk down to where you can see your aunt ‘working’ on one of the benches outside of the Hard Deck that faces the beach front. She slowly averts her gaze from Mav and smiles up at you,

“Hi darling, I wasn’t expecting to see you here?” You giggle as her attention slips from you again when Mav throws the ball particularly well over to Payback.

“Yeah, Jake text me asking if I wanted to join.” She giggles at your dreamy smile and pulls you down onto the bench next to her. Once you’re sat and your belongings have been placed down next to Penny’s you scour the group of pilots to find your boyfriend.

However, as you rake over the group you come to the realisation that he isn’t stood with them. That put an odd feeling in your stomach, Jake was never ever one to miss out on a competition. As you were about to question you aunt, you saw Bob approach with an uneasy look on his face.

“Hey, are you looking for Jake?”

You nod, spurring him on.

“He’s a little further down the beach, with um.. those two girls,”

Your gut twinges again as you look to where Bob is facing, lo and behold Jake is stood pointing something out to two tall slim girls. You weren’t jealous per se, you had no real reason to be. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, as annoying as it was, girls always seemed to flock to Jake. You weren’t jealous because Jake was the one to express his interest in you first, he knew what he wanted and it was you. Still your gut twinged. You looked to Bob, then stood up abruptly.

“Pen, do you mind looking after my stuff?” You turned to ask your aunt and she hummed absentmindedly, still entranced by her boyfriend. You took the hum as a yes and kicked your slides off ready to go find your boyfriend.

Bob took this as a sign to take off back to the group still playing football and watched your figure retreat to where Jake was standing with the two girls, smiling as they laughed at something he had said.

One of the girls smacked Jake’s chest lightly as she laughed far too hard for what Jake had said. This was when you began to feel slightly angry, you knew that type of laugh. You’d used it before. On Jake nonetheless. No man was ever that funny, especially Jake.

As you came into Jake’s view, his smile widened which made you falter slightly, in what was quite a stompy walk. Reminded of the fact that you were wearing his shirt and his favourite bikini you tried to style out your march into more of a cool girl saunter.

Jake lifted his sunglasses once you were stood in front of him and sucked in a breath as he took in your attire. He lifted his hand from his side and started to play with the hem of his shirt which hung from your frame.

“Wow..”

“Hey baby,” you smiled at him then turned to the two girls who appeared slightly confused by what was occurring in front of them.

“And you guys are…” okay maybe you were slightly snappy, but did these girls still have to hang around when they now clearly knew Jake was taken.

The brunette one of the two spoke up, “Jake, are you not gonna introduce us?”

Jake looked up and scoffed slightly at the girls audacity, he shared a look with you that had you holding in a giggle.

“…right, Brianna, Stace, this is my beautiful girlfriend.” At his statement you smiled up at him, bashful at his compliment and at the thought that you had previously had in which he completely ignored you in favour of his two new friends.

“Hi..” you smiled at the girls with more pep in your step.

The red head (Brianna?) then spoke up, “Oh.. this is your girlfriend?” With distaste on her tongue which made Jake seethe.

“What I just said.” He spoke shortly back to her.

Her friend clearly sensed the tension bubbling and tried to smoothen out the situation, “I think she just means we weren’t expecting to meet her,” she smiled apologetically at you.

You smiled back appreciatively and spoke up, “Well we should really be getting going, I have a game of football i need to see my boyfriend win, it was nice meeting you girls!”

Jake had already began to move away, dragging you along with him as you waved at the two girls when Brianna (?) spoke again,

“Wait Jake! Didn’t you want my number?”

You both turned back to see her friend look confusedly at her and Jake scoffed once again,

“Yeah, no thanks pal.”

You struggled to hold your giggle in again at Jake’s passive aggressive word choice and continued your walk back towards the rest of the pilots who were now taking a break from their game.

“God can you believe them?” Jake asked you exasperatedly, “you look so unbelievably hot right now by the way doll, is that my shirt?”

“They weren’t tooooo bad..” you giggled and nodded at Jake. He continued on,

“I mean they dragged me from the group asking where the closest place was to get food that wasn’t made behind a bar but then when I tried to point places out they just kept going on and on and on and on and-”

“Jake shut up would you?” You said as you finally reached the group sat outside the Hard Deck.

“Hey!” He said and smacked your ass lightly to emphasise his annoyance. You turned and stuck your tongue out at him as Rooster spoke up,

“Finally able to shake you two new best friends then ?”

Phoenix snorted and turned to you, “Babe you should have seen the way they were eyeing Jake up before they finally went in for the kill.” You giggled along next to her at her interesting choice of analysis for the two girls.

Jake had started his own conversation with Coyote and Bob when you finally turned back to look at him and finally realised you hadn’t got the chance to admire how handsome he looked right now. You suddenly couldn’t feel it in you to be angry at the girls and their failed attempts at flirting. The late afternoon sun was warm against your skin and made the remnants of sea water on Jake’s chest glimmer. His dark navy swim shorts hung dangerously low on his hips and his ray bans were sat just slightly too far down on his nose so he had to bring a hand up to push them back upwards, afterwards he raked said hand through his windswept hair and you embarrassingly felt you stomach flutter at the action.

You laced your fingers through his other hand which was still resting low on your hip and squeezed. He turned his head slightly indicating that you had his attention whilst he still managed to listen to Coyote’s ramblings. Standing on your tip toes you whispered into his ear,

“I’m going to go into the bathroom in the Hard Deck in a second and your going to follow in after me in about two minutes, okay?”

Jake looked down at you and smirked at your playful expression, he tipped his head up slightly in a showing of understanding and he dropped his hand from your hips to let you excuse yourself.

Jake watched your retreating form with his eyes trained on the sway of your hips and a smile plastered on his face. He pulled his phone from the pocked of his shorts and checked the time. 16:43. Two minutes and he could follow in after you.

Those last two minutes of Jake’s life seemed to be the longest he’d ever lived through.

He followed your previous path towards the bathroom at the back of the Hard Deck and knocked on the locked door. You open the door to a smiling Jake Seresin.

“Hi doll,” he smirks down at you. You pull him into the bathroom and lock the door behind him, wary of your surroundings.

He has one hand placed on the side of your face with the other groping your ass making you whine out at the contact. Jake leans down and kisses you slowly and sweetly, he goes to slip his tongue into your mouth but before he can you’re pulling away to shed yourself of his shirt and pull your hair up using the spare hair tie on your wrist.

Jake watches with his mouth hanging slightly open as you drop to your knees in front of him smiling sweetly.

“Not that I’m complaining sweetheart but what on earth did I do to deserve this ?”

Tugging at the drawstring holding his shorts up you stare up at him, “you defended my honour in front of those two wenches, oh valiant solider!”

Jake rolls his eyes at your dramatics, but he can see that you truly are grateful for his actions. The thing with you and Jake is that he always understands what you truly mean, even if you mask it behind layers of dry humour, built up for your protection.

You finally undo the knot holding Jake’s shorts so low on his waist (and make a mental note to tease him later on for his navy level drawstring knot) and look up to Jake for conformation.

“Please baby,” he almost whimpers down at you .

You smile at his whiny tone and pull his shorts down enough to release his cock and kitten lick against his leaking tip, making him shudder slightly in pleasure. You grasp him with you right hand and start slowly stroking, watching carefully at what movements make Jake react the most.

He begins to fiddle with the tie at the back of your neck which holds your bikini top together to try and distract him from letting out a groan too loud which could alert anyone outside of your whereabouts.

You lean down again and spit onto his tip, using you tongue to spread the wetness of your saliva and his precum along the length of his cock.

After spending your first night with Jake you realised he had enough of a reason to be so cocky. He was big. (not that you felt the need to tell him and boost his ego even further).

Sinking your mouth down onto him you breathed carefully through your nose and let him hit the back of your throat. Jake released a throaty groan in response to the action and moved his hand into your hair to pull at it lightly causing you to moan onto his shaft. The vibrations make Jake whine even louder into his fist. Spurred on by his noises you continue to move up and down on him sloppily, clenching your thighs at the sounds being pulled from his throat.

The final straw for Jake was when you looked up at him through you long wet lashes as you pulled off of him, with a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Fuck baby, I’m so close.” Jake whimpered.

You take him back into you mouth and trace the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. You sloppily continue to suck as Jake’s whines reach a crescendo and he spills into your mouth with a deep grunt. His grip on your hair loosens and you pull your mouth away, careful to keep his cum inside of your mouth. Some slips out the sides of your lips as you swallow and you allow it to drip down in between the valley of your breasts for Jake to admire.

“You are too fucking good to me doll,” Jake speaks breathlessly, helping you up onto unsteady feet.

You giggle up at him, “You can repay the favour later cowboy don’t worry.”

He smirks down at you and rights his shorts swiftly. As he looks back up he uses his fingers to collect his seed that collected in between you breasts and pushes them into your mouth for you to suck clean. Once you finish he pulls you into a searing kiss and licks his tongue around your mouth, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue.

You pull away, slightly light headed and turn to the mirror to right yourself. Jake stands behind you in the mirror and pulls his button down onto you, smiling at your reflection. You turn around and peck him quickly and reach for the door to let yourselves out.

Walking into the main area of the Hard Deck with Jake behind you, you notice your aunt looking at you with her signature smirk on her face and you blush under her gaze. She wonders when you and Jake will finally stop defiling her property.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: i love these two, jake is much less suckier than he is in my first fic bc i think he is actually so boyfriend !!!!

hopefully you all enjoy this!!! and thank you so much for all the notes on my other two pieces !! i promise i will get to any requests as soon as :)

pls reblog and comment and tell me what you think <333

- honey :0

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 4

summary: it’s the morning after the night before. time for a very awkward conversation.

warnings: warnings, very very brief alluding to smut but rly only if u squint 

song for this chapter is best friend by rex orange county! also the series masterlist can be found through the link to my main masterlist in my bio :) enjoy!

- jazz

You were’t sure what you needed more the next day: painkillers, to help your hangover or another round of drinks, to help you forget what you’d done night before. 

Or should I say - who you had done the night before. 

You didn’t sleep with your co-workers, much less your boss. God, it was almost as bad as if you’d slept with Merl - no, you couldn’t even let your brain go there. You’d already thrown up twice that morning (once into Jack’s toilet and then once into the subway tracks) and you didn’t need to make yourself do it again. Your stomach was churning and it felt as though the Blue Man Group were rehearsing their drum set in your frontal lobe. You’d tried to nurse it with a large block coffee and a half a packet of painkillers but alas, to no success. 

Somehow, though, your physical pains were the least of your worries. The fact you’d snuck out of Jack’s apartment and left without a word was playing over and over again in your head - so much so, that you almost didn’t come into work. Almost. Not even this situation was enough to make you take a day off. 

‘Is there a reason you’ve been stood outside the office for fifteen minutes, agent?’ You jumped at the sound of Champ’s voice. He glanced between the Starbucks coffee in his hand and the bruise around your left eye (fuck, you’d forgotten about that), quirking an eyebrow. ‘Rough night?’

‘No.’ You quickly answered. ‘Sir.’

‘So you what...walked into a door?’

Got drunk, tried to square up to a guy, got punched and then fucked my boss - thanks for asking. 

‘Yeah.’ You nodded. ‘I’m not normally clumsy but I forget that doors in America...go the other way? You know, drive on the other side of the road, use a different weight system, doors that go-’

‘- you can stop now, Percival.’ Champ cut you off. ‘Make sure you look after yourself.’

‘Right.’ You nodded. ‘Thank you.’

With the agent staring you at expectantly, you had no choice but to go into the office. You forced a smile, using your weight to budge open the door and step inside. 

The sound of your heels against the floor announced your entrance; the faint smell of Jack’s aftershave wasn’t normally that noticeable, but that morning, it wasn’t doing you any favours. You stood in the door way for a moment, letting it shut behind you as your eyes landed on the cowboy. 

He didn’t even look at you. Why wasn’t he looking at you? Fuck, had you upset him-

‘Nice of you to make an appearance, Percy.’ He suddenly spoke, flashing you a smile as he tore his eyes away from his computer screen. ‘How’s the shiner? Your buddy sure did pack a punch, huh?’

‘Uh, yeah.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘It’s fine, a little sore.’

‘You should pop down the lab on your break. Ginger will sort it out in no time.’ He leant back in his chair. 

‘Are we just not gonna talk about the fact we slept together last night?’ 

Jack suddenly jumped in surprise, eyes widening. Right, clearly not. 

‘I was trying to find a way to bring up such a sensitive subject.’ He replied. ‘But I guess I don’t gotta worry.’

You sighed as you walked over to your desk, placing your bag down and taking a seat. Fuck, your head was killing. You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to continue the difficult conversation you’d just unwittingly started. You got the vibe that people in the South probably didn’t talk about sex so crudely. Twenty-something years of hanging around Eggsy Unwin had de-sensitised you to the idea of it being a taboo subject. 

‘I’m sorry I left this morning without saying anything.’ You sheepishly murmured. ‘When I do stuff like that, it’s usually with random guys I found in a bar.’

The biggest question that kept playing over and over in your head was why? 

Why Jack? You’d rebuffed Tequila’s advances before he could even finish the damn sentence and yet you’d slipped into bed with Jack with ease. It was probably to do with the fact he’d been such a good kisser, and the rest did not disappoint. It had been good. Really good. Possibly the best you’d ever had, actually. He’d said at the beginning of the night that he was going to help you kick back and chill out and...yeah, he’d done a pretty good job. 

‘It doesn’t affect me, sugar.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t see why it has to change anything between us.’

Of course. Had you forgotten who you were talking to? This was Whiskey, the biggest flirt at the fucking agency. He’d probably had a different girl the night before you, and he was probably going to have somebody else tonight. He hadn’t said or done anything that could have lead you to believe it meant something more. Sure, you’d become friends and saw each other day and yeah, he drove you home sometimes because he didn’t want you to walk home in the dark and he had invited you out to help you de-stress when you needed it most. 

Did you like Jack? Did you want it to be something more? Did the last few weeks all....add up to something? Then again, maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he was just looking out for you, because you were a young woman, alone in the city. Perhaps last night had just been...a fluke. A glitch in the system. A wobble in what was otherwise a completely professional relationship.

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded, scratching the back of your neck. It really felt like you should have said something more, because it felt like something more. ‘It didn’t mean anything.’

He quirked a brow at you. ‘So we’re good?’

You forced a smile. ‘Better than ever, Whiskey.’ 

You’d had one night stands before. They were standard, really - but it was rare you found yourself thinking about them the next day. Something between you just worked. You couldn’t put your finger on it, in the same way you couldn’t spell out the sudden urge to kiss him last night, but some things just couldn’t be explained. Your attraction to him certainly couldn’t be - he was older, used the worst nicknames and spoke to you entirely in Southern metaphors. But, as aforementioned, he’d also looked after you.

Maybe that was what you needed. Maybe it was what you wanted-

- You stopped yourself there. No time to unpack all of that, especially when you were this hungover and spent most of your waking hours spitting fire about how independent you were. You’d had Tequila pinned to the wall less than twelve hours ago for trying to make move on you.  It was probably something to save for therapy (which was on your to-do list). 

The tension in the room felt a little more reflective of a fight between a couple than it did of two friends who had casually slept together the night before. Normally, the room was just calm, filled with the only sounds of you two occasionally cracking jokes or your fingers desperately tapping away at your respective computers. Now? It was tense. Suffocatingly so, as though it could have swallowed you whole. 

‘I’m gonna get more coffee.’ You announced, abruptly. ‘And I guess I’ll pay Ginger a visit to sort out this annoying fucking bruise. You want anything from Starbucks?’

‘Didn’t you just go?’ He observed. 

‘Yeah, but I want some fresh air.’

As you passed Jack’s desk on the way out, he reached out and grabbed your hand, quickly tangling your fingers in his. He peered up at you, brow furrowed - you were off. He knew you were off. He’d proven time and time again over the last month that he could read you like a fucking book. You were a clown for thinking that he wouldn’t notice the fact you’d completely retracted into yourself, or that you’d suddenly from from Jack to Whiskey. 

‘You’re annoyed at me.’ He observed.

‘I’m not annoyed at you.’ You didn’t try to pull your hand back. ‘I’m annoyed at...myself, I guess.’

‘Why?’ 

‘Because I let last night happen.’ You explained. ‘I shouldn’t have made a move on you, I shouldn’t have broken every professional boundary between us for one night of meaningless-’

‘- what if it wasn’t meaningless?’

You froze, suddenly snatching your hand back. What were you meant to say to that? You couldn’t work out if you wanted it to mean something. There was so much to untangle but your main concern was sorting out your sore nose and banging head ache. 

‘Jack...’ you murmured. ‘I can’t talk about this right now. My head is on fire and my nose is fucking purple.’

He stood up, reaching for his jacket. ‘C’mon then, I’ll take you down the lab.’

‘I can get there myself, really.’

‘D’you know where it is, sugar?’

‘I can work it out.’ You shot back. ‘I’m smart-’

Before you could finish your sentence, he had a hand on the small of your back and was guiding you out the room and down the hall. That was new; he hadn’t really shown you any signs of physical touch - excluding last night, obviously - but the progression felt...natural. Heck, Jack hadn’t even realised he was doing it, and you didn’t feel the urge to complain or push him off.

That was probably saying something. 

--

‘There we go.’ Ginger murmured, slowly dabbing at the bruise with...something. ‘Good as new.’

You felt as good as new. After putting a weird paste on your nose and forcing some fancy, top-of-the-range painkillers down your throat, your hangover was gone and your nose was no longer stinging. You’d been out here thinking that Kingsman had been far ahead with their medical technology, but this place made it look Victorian. You were tempted to ask if they had an amnesia-inducing medication that could make you and Jack forget the events of last night, but then you realised something.

You didn’t want to forget.

‘Thank you, Ginger.’ You smiled. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘What did you do to end up with a busted nose and black eye, anyways?’ Ginger raised her eyebrows. 

‘Our girl tried to deck a man twice her size because she thought he was following a woman into the bathroom.’ Jack replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. That’s fine. That was totally fine. You were fine. 

‘I had the right intentions.’ You muttered. ‘Anyways - Calahan isn’t gonna catch himself, so I gotta get back to work. Thank you again, G.’

That was code for Jack and I are about to have a very awkward conversation. To be frank, you would have begrudgingly left at the whole ‘it didn’t mean anything’ point, but he’d been the one to push it, to float out the idea that it could mean something. You’d thought it, but he’d been the one to say it. That was the huge difference between the two of you. You could compartmentalise your feelings when they proved to be an inconvenience. Jack Daniels, however, was...brash. When he felt something, he had to say it. It was a blessing and a curse. 

You both walked back to your office in silence, once again with Jack’s hand resting on the small of your back. He knew you didn’t need looking after - hell, you’d proved that ten times over - but it almost like he was keeping an eye on you. He’d seen you square up to two different men in the last twenty four hours. It was for your safety, really. 

The minute the door had shut behind you both, that tension immediately returned. This time, however, there was a little hint of excitement. Anticipation, maybe. 

‘So...’ you trailed off, leaning against your desk. Awkwardly playing with your hands, you peered over at him. ‘Let’s recap: we slept together, I snuck out, we said it didn’t mean anything and then two seconds later, you retracted that statement.’

‘I didn’t retract it.’ Jack insisted. ‘I was just reading your signals - which are confusing as fuck, by the way, sweetheart - because you were the one who walked out.’

‘My signals?’ You scoffed. ‘You were the one who invited me out the in first place! And the one who drives me home every damn night so I don’t have to walk alone!’

‘You’re the one who’s being as skitterish as a calf at a goddamn smoke out-’

‘- as a what at a what?!’ You spluttered. ‘You’re the one calls me sweetheart all the time!’

‘Yeah, well, you’re the one who kissed me first-’

‘- just shut up a second!’ You held your finger out to him. He silenced immediately. 'I feel like we’re overcomplicating this.’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘We are?’

‘Whi - Jack.’ You took a deep breath. ‘I am going to ask you this once, and once only. If you say no, I’ll move on and we can act like this never happened. If you say yes...we can discuss it, okay?’

‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Go for it.’

‘Did last night mean anything to you?’ You asked the question slowly, in the same tone you might ask a child what small object they had in their mouth. 

‘Not at first.’ Jack replied. ‘I didn’t go into it with the intention of it meaning something.’

You frowned. ‘Do go on.’

‘I was gonna come in this morning and pretend like it never happened. Then I saw you, with that stupid bruise and stupid smile and I realised that you’re brash and dumb and fucking gorgeous and ...shit, you’re spiteful as hell and I’m a little terrified of you but damn, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking obsessed with you.’

‘Well, shit.’ You murmured. It was the answer you’d wanted just...in a lot more words. 

For a long time, your head strong nature and inability to tolerate ninety-nine percent of the human race was something people had used a reason not to like you. But Jack? Oh, no. Not him. He saw it as a challenge, maybe. He had an urge to cut through the thorny outside and trying to see what you held on the inside. He’d see little bits of it here and there - your smile when you spoke about Eggsy, or the way you’d gone out your way to try and protect that woman - but he was determined to find more. He wanted to find more. You were an enigma, a vortex of swear words and brash decisions, and hell, you were sucking him right in.

‘You gonna say anything more than shit?’ He urged. 

You’d never been all that good with words. Didn’t actions speak louder? That’s what your mum had always said, and it had proven true in your line of work too. Punching the daylights out of someone was always a clearer threat than a concerning phone call. Pulling your weight on every mission was more proof of hard work than gloating to your uppers about your achievements.

And kissing your boss was a much clearer sign of telling him that you liked him too rather than just verbalising it.

Jack almost veered backwards when you lunged at him, just about catching you in his arms. Your lips crashed together - it was a little more desperate than last night, but then again, so was the whole situation. His arms caught you at the waist, holding you against his chest as he kissed you right back.

After a few moments, you pulled back for air. Neither of you said anything, instead choosing to just stare at each other with disbelief.

‘That was very unprofessional of me.’ You admitted. ‘But I do like you Jack and I’m worried it’s going to be a problem-’

‘- since when has mutual attraction ever been a problem?’ Jack practically snorted at the idea. ‘I like you. You like me. I don’t get what’s so complicated about that, sugar.’

‘Because it’s unprofessional! You’re my boss and I’m here to work.’ You suddenly took a step back, complex feelings finally colliding. ‘To prove myself and get a promotion!’

‘And you’re doing that just fine!’ He shot back. ‘Better than fine! You work your ass off ten times harder than any agent I’ve ever met. I don’t know how those uppity goddamn suit-makers haven’t realised what an asset you are.’

‘Are you saying that because you like me or because you mean it?’

‘Ouch.’ He murmured. ‘Even if I couldn’t stand you, I would still recognise the fact you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever seen.’

‘Wouldn’t that be an ideal world.’ You snorted. 

‘How about this?’ Jack reached forward, taking your hands in his. ‘It’s clear that whatever happens now, we probably can’t go back to how things were. I can try, but I promise you it won’t happen.’

You nodded in agreement. 

‘So, you can back track on everything we’ve just said and let it affect how we work together, or we can just lean into this whole stupid thing.’ He continued. ‘We’ll work together and play together. Two birds one stone, just until you go back to London.’ 

This was something of a rare opportunity: mutual attraction. Aside from the occasional one night stand in London, you barely had the chance to have fun. After years of hard work, maybe you deserved it. It was just...fooling around. You’d both admitted you liked one another but it was hardly a grand declaration at love. There were some feelings at stake, but not enough for you to be worried. 

‘We need ground rules.’ You replied. ‘I like you and you like me but we have to put the brakes on it there. You have to promise not to fall in love with me. Obsession only, okay?’

Jack tilted his head to the side, as if to say fair enough. ‘Sure thing. Anything else?’

‘The minute this starts to interfere with my work, I’m cutting you out.’ Your tone was a little sterner. ‘Heck, the second it happens, this stops. It’s...an addition to my work, not a replacement.’

‘As your superior...’ he said the words teasingly. You hated that you loved it. ‘I will make that doesn’t happpen.’

‘Good.’ You gave him a curt nod. ‘Then it’s settled.’

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. Jack peered down at it, almost waiting for you to retract it and break into a grin. But that didn’t happen. You were completely serious. Could he put it down to British weirdness? Probably. 

‘You drive me fucking insane.’ The cowboy grabbed your hand, yanking you towards him and capturing you in another kiss. 

tags: @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @imananxiousdriver​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @66wookies​ @paintballkid711​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @hepburnwritess​ @haileyybird​ @xjaywritesx​ @jabbajambler​ @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @wickedmuse​ (message me if you wanna be added!) 

[babbysquid]

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 4

Author’s Note: Okay so I got a bit carried away with this chapter but I couldn’t help myself so it’s about twice as long as previous chapters. This is where things really start to get more plot based so the story will really get moving from here. The way I’ve planned out the plot so far though it’ll be several chapters long so get buckled up!

Warnings: mild cursing, suggestive language, Jack “Whiskey” Daniels needs his own warning

Length: 2,586 words

Not A Whiskey Drinker Masterlist

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

“She almost broke the man’s arm Champ!” said Whiskey, phone to his ear.

“I don’t care. If you’re exaggerating this skill of hers she’ll be a liability.”

“She won’t be a liability!” Whiskey was seething at this point. Yes it had only been a few days, but somehow he had become protective over you. Seeing you twist the man’s arm back at the bar lit a fire somewhere deep inside his stomach. Whiskey heard a sigh through the phone.

“Fine. You’re training her and she’ll be your responsibility. Don’t fuck it up Whiskey.”

With that Champagne hung up. Whiskey was buzzing with excitement. With the combination of your quick wit and your apparent hand to hand combat skill you were definitely capable of becoming an agent with the Statesmen.

The ding of the elevator stirred Whiskey from his thoughts. Strutting out of his office he quickly caught up to you.

“Whiskey.”

“Mornin’ Y/N. How’s my lovely little lady today?” you rolled your eyes and shook your head, continuing towards your office. Along with your normal bag you had also brought a tote bag that contained some office necessities. After setting your bags down you pulled out an electric tea kettle and made your way towards a shelf to find a spot for it.

“Y/N think fast!” came Whiskey’s voice as he threw the mug that sat on your desk. You quickly spun around and caught the mug before it could smash on the floor.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Not a coffee drinker either?” Whiskey said, eyeing the variety of teabags you pulled from your tote.

“Nope. Coffee is a slap in the face. Tea feels like a hug.”

Whiskey gave his standard full body laugh.

“You really are somethin’ darlin’.”

“Out.” you said, ushering him out of your space. “Come back if you need me.”

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re the boss and I’m the assistant.” Whiskey leaned against the door frame as he said this.

“Whiskey…” you said with a grumble, trying to push him from the door, but the man wasn’t budging. Bending down he whispered in your ear,

“I am a mighty fan of switching up the dynamic every once in a while.” he said and you could almost feel his smirk against your skin.

“Out!” and you shut the door on his face.

‘I swear to god this man will be the death of me.’

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

The rest of the day was fairly standard. Random errands Whiskey needed, picking up lunch, sorting through notes, etc. The only difference between today and the previous was the fact that Whiskey kept throwing things at you any chance he got.

“So I organized these files and highlight all the—“ Before you could finish your sentence you looked up as a pen, a baseball, and a full bottle of whiskey were flying at you. Quickly you caught them all and managed to keep the files you were holding in your hands as well.

“Whiskey what the fuck?”

Initially it felt like Whiskey’s standard teasing, but at this point it was ridiculous and was getting on your nerves. If you didn’t catch the whiskey bottle it would’ve made a huge mess and you were most likely the one who would have to clean said mess.

“Wouldn’t have thrown ‘em if I knew you weren’t gonna catch ‘em.” said Whiskey from behind his desk, propping his feet up on the wood and stretching his arms behind his head.

You were too focused on the files when you entered his office that you didn’t realize Whiskey had taken off his blazer and tie. He was wearing his standard white dress shirt and some suspenders. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and you couldn’t help but stare at his tanned arms. You didn’t realize how much muscle the man had. You shook your head.

“Why do you keep throwing shit at me?”

“Oh darlin’,” Whiskey stood up and pulled the bottle of whiskey and the baseball out of your hands, set them down on his desk and leaned on the wooden table. “just testing your reflexes and reaction time.”

“Ginger was right.”

“Hmm?” said Whiskey, pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and popping open the bottle of whiskey. You stared as he brought the bottle to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he took a swig. He licked his lips and you felt a shiver run through your body.

“I’m waiting darlin’.” he said with a smirk. He knew you were staring. He had made sure you were staring.

“She said you were a character.”

“I have been called larger than life.”

“Uh, anyways here are the files.” Reaching out to hand the files to your boss, his hand met yours and once again the two of you froze. The only movement coming from the room was the rise and fall of your chests and Whiskey’s thumb making slow circles on the back of you hand.

“Jack I— oh.”

You immediately moved your hand and Whiskey took the files from you at the sound of Ginger’s voice.

“Sorry.” said Ginger, giving you an apologetic look. “Champ gave me some…” Ginger paused, looking for the right word. “updates — classified updates — that you need to hear Jack.”

“Guess that’s my cue.” you said, making your way out of the office.

“Get home safe Y/N.” said Whiskey giving you a smile. Your heart fluttered in response.

‘Stop. You cannot have feelings for your boss. Especially Whiskey.’

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

It was finally Friday after work and to say you were exhausted was an understatement. The rest of the week had been pretty straightforward minus some odd behavior from Whiskey. He continued to randomly throw things at you or ask seemingly random questions.

‘How quickly can you run a mile?’

‘About 7 and a half minutes.’

‘Ever got in a fist fight?’

‘No, but I’ve prevented some from starting.’

‘How flexible are you?’

That question you decided to ignore. There was one question, however, that kept replaying in your mind over and over again.

‘Have you ever shot a gun?’

When he asked the question you stopped in your tracks. Sure he was from the South so he most definitely had experience with firearms but you? Nope. Frankly, guns scared the shit out of you. Why did he want to know?

‘No. My dad and brother would go to shooting ranges occasionally but never took me. But if they asked I would’ve said no.’

You pondered his reasoning for all these questions as you took a shower. The questions could’ve been an attempt to get to know you better but they were nothing along the lines of ‘where did you grow up?’ ‘do you have any pets?’ or ‘what’s your favorite color?’. You were stirred from your thoughts by a knock at the door.

Parker.

“One second!” you called, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel around yourself. You rushed to the door leaving a small trail of wet footprints behind you.

“You really had the audacity to knock while I was—“

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes.” came a thick accent. Your eyes widened immediately and you swallowed.

“Whiskey?”

“You gonna let me in darlin’?”

You were too shocked to do anything other than follow his request. Stepping aside to allow him to enter you shut the door behind you.

“Nice place. Nice getup too.” he said with a wink.

You were suddenly hyperaware of the current state of your appearance. Your hair was dripping wet and you were naked other than a much too small towel wrapped around yourself. Your boss (your very attractive boss) was in your apartment and you were essentially naked.

“One second.” you said, and ran back to the bathroom to change into the clean clothes you pulled from your closet before. Throwing on your sleep shorts and a large shirt you stormed out of the bathroom to confront Whiskey.

“Firstly, how the hell did you get my address and secondly, why the fuck are you here?”

“Firstly,” said Whiskey, putting his hands on your shoulders attempting to make you calm down. “I told you we did a background check. And secondly,” he guided the two of you over to your small couch and placed a plastic bag on your coffee table. “I brought dinner.” You narrowed your eyes and glared at him.

“What is it?” your voice still tinged with anger.

“Sushi.”

After a minute you responded.

“Okay fine you can stay.”

Whiskey took several boxes of sushi out of the bag and all your favorites were there. Your mind was doing flips to figure out much all this costed. Sushi was not cheap, especially from the restaurant he got it from.

“How’d you know sushi is my favorite?”

“Background checks.”

“Okay now I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” Whiskey just gave you a smile and dug into the food. The two of you ate in silence. While scarfing down your sushi as politely as possible, it had been a long time since you had your favorite food, you observed the man next to you. He still had his black Stetson and black cowboy boots, but his slacks and blazer had been replaced by some tight fitting jeans and a matching denim jacket. The same camel coat he wore when you first met was hanging on the hook on the back of your door.

“Those gears in your head are turning darlin’.”

“Why’d you actually come here? I doubt it was just to buy me dinner.”

“Straight to business sugar? I do have to admit you’re not wrong about my intentions.” Whiskey pulled off his hat and sat it down on the coffee table. A hand went up to smooth his hair down and he turned to face you directly, a serious look on his face.

“As you’ve probably noticed Statesman Brewery is… different. We are a brewery but we’re also something more. First and foremost we are a secret independent intelligence agency.”

You choked and almost inhaled the gulp of water you were swallowing.

“I know it’s bizarre darlin’ but please don’t hurt yourself,” he said, placing a hand on your knee. “even if I wouldn’t mind doing some CPR on a catch such as yourself.” You gave him the standard look you gave him when he said these types of comments. “I wasn’t just throwing shit at you to scare you and those questions I asked? Bit of a verbal test if you will.”

“Okay now tell me the actual truth.”

“I’m serious Y/N.” his eyes darkened slightly. “You have the makings to be an agent.”

“And you think that because I caught some random crap you threw at me and because I can run a mile slightly faster than the average person?” you leaned against the couch, arms crossed. Whiskey seemed serious about what he was saying, but you weren’t fully convinced yet.

“You were at The Parking Lot on Tuesday.”

“Okay what the fuck are you stalking me now? More ‘background check’ stuff?” you said, making air quotes with your fingers.

“That was pure coincidence. Promise on my late mama’s soul.” Whiskey raised a hand and traced an ‘X’ over his heart. “I saw that ungodly man try to have his way. Was close to stopping things myself before I saw you twist his arm around his back. You were faster than a jackrabbit.”

“You saw that?”

“Sugar, the whole bar saw it. But even if the bar didn’t, I still would’ve. The second I saw you and your friend walk in, well, let’s just say I wasn’t interested in watching the football game anymore.”

Whiskey had been watching you. He saw you act fast and save yourself from that dick at the bar. Subconsciously you pulled your shoulders back and your heart swelled with pride.

“You showed him who’s boss.” Whiskey winked, repeating the phrase that seemed to keep coming up.

“Okay okay so let me get this straight. You’re some sort of secret agent, whose coverup is a business man in the alcohol industry.”

“So far so good sugar.”

“And you’re suggesting that I join this secret intelligence agency?”

“Not so much suggesting as I am insisting but other than that you’re right on the money.”

“Did you hire me as your assistant with the intent of offering me a position as an agent?”

“That, darlin’, was all you. You impressed me that night. Spoke to Champ and Ginger about it and convinced them that you’d be a good agent.”

“Champ and Ginger are agents too?” Your eyes widened. “Is Sara the receptionist one too?” Whiskey laughed at this question and your curiosity.

“No Sara is not an agent. Only a handful of people in the New York and California offices are agents. The rest of them are at the Kentucky branch.”

You paused thinking about your next question and looked down at your hands. You couldn’t help but fidget, anxious about how Whiskey would answer the next question.

“And what if I say no?”

“That’s not really an option.”

You swallowed hard and looked back up to meet Whiskey’s eyes. He had a serious look, but that seriousness slowly melted into something softer. Hope? Encouragement? Something else? He shifted on the couch so his knees touched yours.

“I have seen what you can do. You’ve got reflexes like a cat, almost broke a man’s arm.”

“He deserved it.” you grumbled.

“No arguments there darlin’. You have what it takes. Sure you’re gonna need training and whatnot but you’ll get the best of the best at Statesman. Besides, you’ll have the top teacher we have to offer. Me.” There was that million dollar smile again.

“Okay initially I was on board, but after hearing that I’ll have to spend more time with you? Kill me or dispose of me or whatever the ‘not option’ option is.” You jumped at the intense laugh that came out of the man in front of you.

“Darlin’ you’re breaking my heart.”

“And you’re breaking my sanity.” you rolled your eyes and started to put away leftovers from dinner. When you closed the door to the fridge you heard Whiskey’s voice in your ear.

“You haven’t said no.”

You turned around, practically chest to chest with Whiskey.

“Doesn’t really feel like I have a choice cowboy.” giving him a smirk. Whiskey reached around your waist to grab a pen that was on the kitchen counter. It felt like he was cornering you, but something inside you welcomed it. Whiskey scribbled on the notepad that sat next to the pen, ripped the page off, and pressed the paper into your palm.

“Pack your stuff for a week long trip. Meet me at that location on Monday morning at 6am.”

With that Whiskey turned and grabbed his coat and hat, making his way to the door.

“Sweet dreams darlin’.” he said, tipping his hat and closing the door behind him. You glanced down at the paper. His handwriting was much nicer than you were expecting. All that was on the paper was an address located in a really nice part of the city and a phone number. You could only assume it was Whiskey’s cell phone number. The only other thing on the paper was a small heart with a ‘W’ inside it. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but seeing that doodle made warmth spread across your chest.

taglist:  @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @littlemissoblivious @agingerindenial @mack4676 @loveforminato @thats-one-tender-foot @xwingsandohs @purplepascal042 @harami-mami @nova646 @lesbianlena @computeringturtle @cassandras-nest

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Blood red mist - Japer x reader

Hello everyone. Sorry for my long absence, life got in the way. But here you go, a jasper hale x reader pic thats been long overdue for @imyourapocalypse, there will be more parts but heres part 1! :)

“Guys, it’s okay, i’ll take her.”

The one sentence that you didn't think really meant anything, until it did. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Birds. Frikin birds. Normally you were one with nature, but not when it decided to wake you up as soon as the sun rose. You groaned and rolled over in bed mushing your face into the hard lump that was your fiancé. He snickered under his breath and stretched out next to you, rubbing a hand over your back, playing with your hair. You looked up and smiled at him, taking in his brilliance, his messy blonde hair glimmering in the sunlight, the beams from the early morning catching his face making him shimmer, his skin like diamonds.

“Morning cowboy.” He smiled back and pulled you into him, placing his nose in your hair, breathing in your scent. 

You had met Jasper a few years ago now. You think back to when you watched the tall, pale, blonde haired man float through the school office while you were there to pick up copies of your recommendation letters. You'd been so startled and taken aback by his beauty and piercing amber eyes that your fingers shook and the manila folder you were holding slipped out of your hand and landed on the tiled floor with a dull thud. A classic scene from every cheesy rom-com you'd ever watched, only you didn't care, because as you leant down to pick up the folder in embarrassment, Jasper helped and as soon as you looked into his glowing eyes, you knew fate was a real thing. 

Since then you'd been with the Cullen’s through almost everything, well, not with them in person some of the times. You'd been accepted to University across the country and missed most of the recent drama that surrounded the Cullen family and Bella Swan, but having recently graduated you were back now and you couldn't be happier, neither could Jasper. 

At first you weren't sure if you liked Bella, you were a few years older, and weren't one for drama, in the beginning you didn't click, however, overtime when you had a holiday or came to visit the Cullen’s you grew closer and closer and were practically best friends. You could relate to one another… both human (Well, not Bella anymore) both in love with good-looking Vampires. 

You were still away at University when Bella was changed, due to come back only a few days after. Jasper had been filling you in on everything that had been happening, and you face timed with Bella every day until the change happened. You'd got back and were instantly kept away from your friend, only glimpsing her still, frozen form through the smeared glass of the Cullen’s make shift infirmary. Jasper assured you it was for your own safety, his Major side was out in full force, his mind floating back to the time he trained New Borns with Maria. He knew how destructive they could be, what little willpower and resistance they had and he constantly worried for your safety.

You'd managed though. Survived through it all, somehow unscathed, the meeting with the Volturi, which…. you weren't actually there for, again. Something you weren't involved in. If it had been Bella she would have been brought along but Jasper was protective on another level, dominant. You could never win a fight with Jas, his need to protect you and your bond too strong to fight. 

Now it was just another day. The Volturi were gone, the other vamps, the family friend had all gone too, now it was just you and the Cullen’s, you and your mate. You smiled to yourself. Finally, the first day things can start going back to normal. 

-A few hours later -

You were laughing at something Rosalie had said while cupping a mug of hot coffee in both of your chilly hands. The air outside was frosty, the remnants of winter lingering. Rose had been talking about some girl who'd tried flirting with Emmett in the local convenience store.. lets just say if looks could kill, that poor girl would either be a New Born or dead.

Bella and Edward joined you in the Kitchen, even without vampire hearing you could make out what they were saying. Jacob, as much as he wanted to, couldn't come over to look after Nessie, He had pack duties and so now Bella was saying she couldn't join the family hunt. You smiled and coughed a little. Both looked at you, unaware you and Rose were sitting across the room. 

“Guys I’ll be here, I can look after Ness.. I know you wanted to get her some school supplies Bells, I know the perfect shop in town I could take her to and then we could get some food! Have a girls date.” You smiled, your teeth sparkling against your slightly chapped, rose red lips. 

“What’s this about a girls date.” The southern accent made your skin tingle and before you could turn around Jasper was already behind you pressing a kiss to the sweet spot on your neck, you sighed and leaned back against him.

“Y/N is taking Renesmee into town for some shopping and food while we all go hunting this afternoon.” Bella smiles at you gratefully but you feel Jasper tense behind you. You watched as Edward rolled his eyes and gave you a small smile, obviously listening to Jaspers loud thoughts. 

“Darlin, I don't know if I like the idea of the two of you being without one of us..” You were next in line to roll your eyes, turning to look at your fiancé, you took his hand and kissed his knuckles. 

“Jas, were only going to town, we will do a little shopping for school supplies get some food, the human kind, and then before you know it i’ll be calling you to come pick us up again!” 

You stood up off the stool and kissed his cheek, slipping out of the room away from Jasper before the Major could disagree, It was decided. The vamps would do the vampy hunty stuff, and the Human and hybrid would look for cute fluffy pencils and sparkly backpacks. 

———————————————————————————————————————————

It was just after Christmas, the air was frigid and frost still nipped at both your noses as you skipped down the steps of the restaurant. The snow had finally cleared, but still no signs of green life in the town of Port Angeles. Somehow Nessie had persuaded you into getting ice cream even though it was the middle of January. Bags in one hand, Nessie’s gloved hand in the other, you walked side by side back to your car a few streets over from the parlour. It was oddly quiet, but then remembered there was some sort of celebration going on near the dock, the reason you hadn't seen anyone on the walk back to the car park. You had parked where you normally did, the same car park behind the book store Edward had once saved Bella in. 

You could see it, your silver BMW under the single street light, bathed in a warm glow. A belated graduation present from your family. You smiled and thought of Jasper. Wondering how they were getting on at the hunt. Just as you were about to reach for your phone you heard a twig snap at the edge of the trees. Then a swoosh, something passed your eyes in a flash. Something wasn't right.

Your phone started to buzz in your pocket. 

You stopped. Nessie stopped. Something didn't feel right. Your smile faded, somewhere in the distance you could hear a scream, but then realised it had come from right beside you, You slowly turned to look at Renesmee, fear on her little face. You were confused, until you felt it. Your stomach felt warm, hot almost, only one part of it, then all of it at once, flashing burning pain. 

You sank to your knees, the bags in your hands dropped with a dull thud and the contents slipped out onto the wet asphalt. Nessie was staring at you in shock, you looked down and choked as you watched the silver handle of the knife, wedged in your body, bob up and down in time with the rhythm of your laboured breathing. Your phone was still ringing, the sound a fuzzy noise somewhere floating in your scrambled thoughts. In the distance your were sure you heard a howl. They were too far away. You grabbed Renesmee’s hand, giving it a squeeze, you were crying, a red haze seemed to float around you both, like raw energy flickering in the night sky. 

“Nessie look at m-me, don't be scared.” You sobbed, you were dying, you could feel your energy fading, the red haze around you seemed to get brighter. “Nessie, it’s okay, shhh.” You were trying to calm her down, your hand still clutching her small one. Your eyes were flickering. 

“Nessie, my phone, can you get my phone.” You weakly pointed to your blood soaked pocket. She seemed frozen, unable to move, then something clicked inside her. She grabbed it answering the frantic caller on the other end. 

“Uncle Jas, Uncle Jas there’s so much blood.” Nessie cried. Jasper. Your eyes were getting heavier, you could hear Jaspers frantic voice on the other end. Suddenly you felt the phone pressed against your ear, it felt like your could hear the sound of your blood rushing around your body. 

“Jas-jasper,” You were crying harder, the man you loved frantic on the other end. “I love you Jas, I love yo-you.” You couldn't hear what he was saying, not really, the pain taking over, the darkness creeping closer and closer, the red haze getting brighter. You were dying, and everyone was too far away to save you. 

Rose’s P.O.V.

The hunt had been a successful one. We hadn't been able to hunt as a family for a long time, always something popping up meaning people would have to stay behind. Jasper was on edge, everyone could tell, obviously thinking too much about Y/N, his mate. We didn't really blame him, we all know how it feels when it comes to the care of your Bloodsinger. 

We had all finished up, just getting back to our cars when Bella’s phone rings. Jacobs name flashing across the screen, Bella answered still laughing at something Emmett had said, but her tone changed instantly. Everyone could hear the conversation. Jake sometimes freaked out about the whereabouts of Nessie, but this time it was different. Something was wrong. 

“Bella! Wheres Renesmee and Y/N?! Something is wrong, Nessie is in trouble, our bond, I can feel it she's scared, really scared, I'm going to find them now!” 

We all looked at each other and then to Jasper, he was staring at Alice, who had fear and an absent look in her eyes. 

“Y/N’s hurt.” If i wasn't already dead my heart would have stopped. All of us were at our cars in a flash, quicker to get to Port Angeles by car than running. Jasper had his phone pressed to his ear, no doubt trying frantically to call his mate. She was answering, Jasper was banging his fists against the dashboard, anger and fear radiating off his pale skin.

“C’mon darlin pick up pick up.” Pain and worry in his voice. The phone is answered. 

“Uncle Jas, Uncle Jas, there’s so much blood!” Everyone could hear Renesmee crying on the other end of the phone, then it seemed like the world stopped. Y/N’s weak voice whispered through the receiver. 

“Jas-Jasper.” She was crying, if vampires could cry, we all would be too. “Jasper, I love you.” The line went dead just as we reached the “Welcome to Port Angeles sign.” Alice had seen where they were and it didn't take a detective to figure out where Y/N would have parked. 

We just all hoped we would get there before it was too late.  

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

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[miracleonice87]

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

[loversandantiheroes]

Hotel Hobbies - Interlude

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!Reader Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay, fic brain shorted out a little bit and I started thinking about this story a little too hard to let it go where it wanted to.  But we’re back now, hey ho, with a little interlude before chapter 2 kicks in. Summary:   Wake up calls and morning-after ruminations. Warnings: Nudity, grumpy!Reader, Whiskey is a menace even from a distance, more swearing. Rating: Mature  Word Count: 1801 Previous: Prelude / Part 1 Taglist: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @oloreaa @the-feckless-wonder

It's still dark when a faint buzzing wakes you, followed almost immediately by a muffled curse against your back.  

"What the hell-?"

Whiskey gives an irritated grunt.  "My phone.  Shit."

He gets up, still stark naked, and stumbles across to where his jacket had been discarded, digging through the inside pockets.  He punches through whatever message he just received and gives an annoyed little huff.  By the blue light of the screen you can see his eyes are far clearer than they should be for a man who just rolled out of bed before the sunrise.

"Time is it?" you groan.

"Quarter-to-five," Whiskey answers.

"Jesus." You bury your face back in your pillow, muffling your next words. "Can't the spy shit wait for daylight?"

He chuckles.  "Not according to Ginger, it can't."

"Whoozat?"

"Colleague," he says simply.  He bends down over you, nuzzling your ear.  "Duty calls, honeybee.  I gotta go."

He presses himself down against you, his morning wood warming your hip.  It's an invitation, maybe even a challenge.  Make me late. If it weren't so fucking early and you weren't so goddamn tired, you might actually take him up on it.

You fumble your hand down, find his hip, and smack a little halfheartedly at his ass.  "Lock the door on your way out."

A chuckle in your ear.  "Yes ma'am.  If you've got the inclination, I'll catch you at the bar tonight."

He kisses the smooth patch of skin behind your ear, raising goosebumps. The impulse hits to swat at him.  It's too early for phone calls and conversations, and it's certainly too early for this man you barely know to give you any desire to drag him back into bed.  

Instead you reach back, ruffling your hand through his hair.  "Hmph. See you, cowboy."

The hairs of his mustache tickle your ear as he smiles, humming.  "I hope so."

There's a rustling as he pulls his clothes on.  You will yourself to close your eyes and drift back off before he gets to the door.  It doesn't work.  He's in your line of sight and you can't quite help but watch him dress, even if it is so dark that it doesn't make for as nice of a show as it would be otherwise.  There's a light jingling as he hitches his jeans up and does up his belt.  He stops for a moment before dropping down to the floor, rummaging around as though he's lost something.  You could help, but early wake up calls have never done much for your disposition, and you bury yourself a little further into your pillow instead.  Sounds filter through as you doze. The rustling of cloth, the whisper of soft rope being pulled free and coiled up.  

The door opens and Whiskey stands there for a moment, an outline in black against the lit hallway.  A disheveled version of those black painted plywood silhouettes that always seem to lean up against flea markets and roadside stands in the middle of nowhere.  His face is shadowed, but you can feel his eyes on you.

Squinting against the light, you prop yourself up on your elbow. "What is it?"

Whiskey shakes his head.  "Nothin' at all.  Just admiring the view before I go."

The words don't have the teasing edge you expect.  You tell yourself that's just a byproduct of being woken up so goddamned early, but somehow you're still glad you can't quite see his face.

"You're blinding me, cowboy," you tell him, unable to put as much annoyance behind the words as you'd like.  "And you're not the only one who's got to work today."

Whiskey half-turns, light spilling down the front of him. His shirt, divested of more than a few buttons, hangs open and rumpled under his jacket, the white of it a stark contrast against the tan of his skin. His head dips. You can almost see the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "'Course.  Sweet dreams, honeybee."

You slump back down into your pillow.  "Don't die out there."

"I will do my level best."

The door clicks shut, leaving you in darkness with the outline of his frame against the doorway stamped in fading colors on your vision.

                                                           ⁂

The next time you open your eyes it's considerably lighter, sunlight peeking through the edges of the curtains, and someone is knocking at your door.

Groaning, you roll yourself off the bed, snatching the covers and wrapping them around you.  "Who is it?" you call out with the irritation only the suddenly and involuntarily conscious can muster.

The answer comes muffled through the door: "Room service."

The wall clock gives the time as 8:15.  A marked improvement from the last time, at least.  But, Jesus, couldn't anybody let you sleep?

Scowling rather spectacularly you unlock the door and throw it open.  Standing in the hall is a young man barely out of his teens in a hotel uniform with a white-covered cart.  When he gets a look at you he blanches, though only a little. It wouldn't surprise you if this poor kid had seen people answer their doors wearing far less.  

"R-room service," he says again, trying not to look anywhere that might be considered uncouth.

It's an effort, but you try to soften the thunderous expression you know is on your face.  You cross your arms over your chest, pinning the covers in place. When you shake your head you can feel the rough tangle of your hair bob and weave.  God, you must look a wreck.

"Wrong room, hon, I didn't order anything."

Nor could you afford it anyway, though you don't bother to add that thought.  And what a pity, too.  The plates on the cart are covered, but the unmistakable smell of bacon comes wafting up and your stomach growls to life immediately. The conference's usual spread of danishes and coffee aren't going to be nearly enough to keep you going this morning.

"Oh, uh..." the young man pulls an envelope from the cart and thrusts it towards you.  "It was ordered for you, ma'am. Already paid for."

Frowning, you take the envelope.  It's hotel stationary, heavy and cream colored.  The card inside marked with a heavy, looping scrawl.

Breakfast is on me, honeybee.  You earned it.

"Oh you asshole," you mutter through a begrudging smile.

The kid blanches, and you flap the card at him.  "No, not you, not you, you're fine.  Jesus, come on in."  You shuffle to the side, tossing the edge of the blanket behind you to keep from tripping as you make your way over to your purse to fish out a tip. The spread is generous but not obscene, laid out on the little table near the window.  Bacon and eggs, toast, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a decanter of coffee.  Your stomach gives another even more insistent growl, and you push a ten dollar bill into the kid's hand.  Job done, he hurries out, pushing the cart into the hall with a speed that rather exceeds what you'd call professional.  

Closing the door behind him, you comb a hand through the disaster of your hair and head directly toward the overwhelmingly appealing smell of bacon and coffee.  Something digs into your heel and you wince, fighting with the coverlet to find what on earth you've stepped on. Dropping down to the floor, you find it – a small, pearl-white button.  A little smile curls the corner of your mouth as you remember the immensely satisfying sound of buttons popping from the night before.  There's another one nearby, glinting in the light. Two more at the edge of the bed.  You gather them up, justifying it as a service to housekeeping.  Small objects could damage vacuum cleaners, couldn't they?  

As your fingers close on the last button, you catch sight of another glint under the bed.  This one much too large to be a button. You might've missed it if you hadn't taken the bedding for a cover-up.  You stretch your arm underneath the bed, reaching so far your shoulder begins to twinge in protest before your fingers close around the object. You know what you've found even before you pull the thing up, recognizing the feel of cold stainless steel.  Whiskey's utterly ridiculous belt buckle flask.   The front is engraved, something you hadn't noted last nigh. Statesman – Kentucky – Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

You briefly consider dropping the thing off at the front desk.  It'd be an easy enough way to close the door on this brief little affair.  But even though you never actually accepted Whiskey's invitation for tonight, you already know you're going to turn up.  You'd hoped last night's encounter would've broken whatever spell of intrigue he possessed. That once the mystery had been dispelled and he'd proved himself to be every bit the boring shit-kicker you'd expected him to be, you could let housekeeping wash him out of your sheets and be done with it.

But then he'd turned out to be a decent lay. And then he had the audacity to buy you breakfast. The less repugnant he turned out to be, the more it irritated you. Sure, he was still sticking to that ridiculous Redneck James Bond story to cover up whatever he actually did, but it's not as if you'd bought that anyway.

"Asshole," you mutter again, knowing full-well how fucking ridiculous it is to be mad at the man for not being a complete piece of shit. And, even more damning, for leaving you actually wanting to see him again.

You stack the flask and the handful of loose buttons on the nightstand. "Only going to return this," you mutter.  "Not to see him.  Not to fuck him. Just to return this."  

The lie doesn't sound any more convincing out loud than it did in your head.  Especially when you can still feel that pleasant, well-used ache that makes your legs tingle when you walk. Even acknowledging its presence is enough to make that lingering heat kindle up into something much more pressing, and part of you wants nothing more than to throw yourself on the bed and sink your fingers into your cunt until it eases again.  

In protest of this, your stomach gives another growl, loud enough to make you jump. Like it or not, you do have to work today – libido be damned – and like hell you're going to do it on an empty stomach.  

It's only as you're slathering butter onto your toast that you pick up on the one thing you haven't noticed this morning, and a little grin quirks the corner of your mouth. Your dress, shoes, and bra are all still lying on the floor where you left them.  Your panties on the other hand, are nowhere to be seen.

[crayonwriting]

02 - Here We Go Again

Summary: Maiko just wanted her good ol’ dad to walk her down the aisle. So, she invited the three men from your past in hopes of meeting him. The only problem was, which one of them is it?

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Disclaimer: This is based on the movie directed by Phyllida Loyd and written by Catherine Johnson which is inspired by the music of the pop group ABBA.

catch up here!

"My, my, my! Look who we have here!" You put your hands on your waist, beaming at the end of the dock were your friends, Yoshiko—the wealthiest in your group with a very kind heart—and Rika—the noisiest, smallest, and a wisecracking author.

The two, who had just arrived, screamed loudly and ran up to you. You met them halfway,  slamming into them in a tight hug. You haven't seen them for years! If you could remember, Maiko was only at least ten years old when they last visited. 

A lot of people getting off of the ferry stared at your group but none of you paid them any heed. You turned to Yoshiko and grinned wide.

“You look amazing, Yoshiko!” You glanced down at her chest which made you stifle a laugh. It was obvious that she had some ‘enhancements’ done to that area. “These are new though. Where’d you get them, huh?” You playfully lay your hands on them, making Yoshiko squeal and jokingly swat your hands away.

“Where else than husband number three!” Rika cheered, laughing loudly.

—

Maiko placed the final pin onto Nana’s bridesmaid's dress for the final adjustments. The three of them were in front of the mirror to see how the dresses looked like when worn. Maiko had found these dresses for sale when she was out with Minoru on the mainland.

“Maiko-chan these are so pretty! I can’t wait to see your dress!” Eri gushed, twirling around in her own dress. Maiko sighed with a dreamy smile.

“I’m gonna have the perfect wedding, with my father to give me away.” She muttered, dreamily.

“Well, I hope the church has a wide aisle,” Nana remarked. Maiko scoffed, pulling at her friend’s hair playfully. 

“I’ll know which one it is when I see them.” Maiko defended.

Just then the door opened and Minoru entered. Nana and Eri greeted him, missing their other friend as well. Minoru chuckled tackling both girls into a hug, making them land on the bed.

“There are pins on the dresses! Please be careful!” Maiko warned, looking at them amused. When they all pulled away, Nana and Eri posed playfully.

“So, how do we look?” Nana asked. Minoru whistled and smiled.

“Wow. You guys look amazing!” He turned to his fiancee, pulling her in by the waist.  “But this one, right here, is gonna be the most beautiful around.” Nana and Eri teased the two of them; Maiko could only blush. She leaned in and pecked Minoru’s lips. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to pick up a few props for my bachelor party tomorrow.” He went to the closet and plucked out his needed items—a cowboy hat and his swimming trunks. 

Maiko was amused.

—

“Heave-ho, maties!” Bokuto shouted into the winds. All the while, Kuroo was struggling to re-tie one of the sails that was blown out by the wind, while Oikawa was doing his best to not to get thrown off the boat as he tried cranking one of the cables.

—

You, Yoshiko and Rika rode on your truck to get to the villa. Once there, Minoru was already walking towards you. You waved him over.

“Minoru! Meet these hitchhikers I found at the docks!” Your insult was met by a loud ‘hey!’ and a ‘hitchhikers, my ass!’. You just laughed. You pointed your thumb towards Minoru. “He’s the leading man at the party.” Minoru just bowed at them. He walked closer.

“You must be Rika-san?”

“That’s me.” Rika reached over and gave Minoru a firm hug. He asked her how she’s been, to which she answered with a smile and an ‘I’m doing good.’ Minoru looked behind her.

“And you must be Yoshiko-san. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Mhmm.” Yoshiko hummed, hugging Minoru in greeting. “All bad, I hope.” The boy just laughed lightheartedly.

“And they’re all true.” You quipped. Minoru saw you struggling with your guests’ luggages and proceeded to help you get them down from the truck.

—

The three of them all sat near the back of the boat where Bokuto was steering. Oikawa sat beside him, staring at Bokuto’s side profile. 

“I think I know who you are.” Oikawa tilted his head. “You’re Bokuto Koutarou. Ace of the MSBY Black Jackals team in Japan.”

“Yep. That’s me.” Bokuto grinned.

“You retired three years ago. Why?”

Bokuto just shrugged. “I love volleyball. I’ll never stop loving volleyball. But...something just clicked one day and I knew I had to go.” He glanced at Oikawa who looked like he was in deep thought. “What about you? Are you a player as well?”

“Yeah. Argentina.”

“Ever thought of quitting?” The suggestion made Oikawa shake his head vigorously. 

“You’re a close friend of Y/N?” Kuroo asked from the sides. Bokuto’s shoulders slumped in the slightest. 

“No. I haven’t heard from her for...twenty years, I think?”

Kuroo was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, and then this invite,” he pulled out the invitation from his pockets, waving it in front of them. “Out of the blue.”

“It’s the same for me.” Oikawa mumbled.

—

“Rika-obaasan!” Maiko shouted from the window on the second floor of the villa. The three women had just arrived by the entrance where Maiko was waiting. She disappeared inside the room and ran down the stairs to them.

“Maiko-chan has grown so beautiful!” Yoshiko gushed, breathing a little heavily as the trek up the villa’s entrance was a tad bit high. Rika held her arms out to catch Maiko in her arms. You smiled at the scene proud of how well you’ve done with Maiko.

“Maiko-chan! You get more beautiful everytime I see you!” Rika held Maiko’s face in both of her hands rubbing at her flushed cheeks. The younger woman shook her head. “You do!” Rika persisted.

“I bet you don’t remember me.” Yoshiko called out beside you.

“Not with all that plastic surgery.” Rika muttered under her breath. Maiko just smiled at the familiar banter between her aunts. She ran to Yoshiko, bringing her into a tight hug as well. 

“Of course I remember you, Yoshiko-obaasan! You haven’t changed at all.” 

“I’m so happy for you.” Yoshiko said when they pulled away. Seeing your daughter interact with your best friends made you feel a warm weight on your chest. You couldn’t help yourself so you pulled your daughter towards your embrace, hugging her from behind. 

“My baby, all grown up; her whole life ahead of her.” Maiko just laughed at your words as she struggled to get out of your hold.

“I’m just getting married, okaa-san! I’m not going to be a miko!” ” She exclaimed. She then led the three of you to the back of the villa. Yoshiko and Rika shared amused faces. Maiko showed the same fiery attitude you had during your younger days.

“Just like her okaa-san.” Rika slung an arm around your shoulders, following your daughter’s trail. 

“If she was like me, she wouldn’t be getting married at twenty.”

“Or married at all.” Yoshiko added.

The villa that you owned consisted of small clusters of buildings designed in Cycladic architecture, capturing the beauty of the small island. The small archway, where you just passed through on the side of the main building, led you to a small alley full of locals selling various produce. Somehow, small  parts of the town had merged with the hotel space and you didn’t mind.

“I haven’t put the laundry down before you came!” You panicked, in the slightest, picking up a nearby basket and shoving all the washed sheets and blankets in it. As you hastily tried to tidy up, Maiko walked over to you. She took the basket from you gently with a knowing look. 

You had promised her that you won’t be working too much on her wedding preparations, seeing as only a few will attend. And Maiko has seen you work so hard for the hotel—for her—and the least she could do is make you relax, especially now that your friends are here.

Minoru appeared with two glasses of ice cold water which she gave to your two guests. Rika and Yoshiko took a few sips and for some reason—they didn’t know if it was just their thirst or exhaustion—the water tasted sweeter than normal and more refreshing. Minoru noticed the change in their expressions. A smug smile appeared on his face.

“Good, right?” The women could only nod in silence. Maiko stood beside him intertwining their hands. Minoru continued. “I’m actually designing a website that would showcase everything about Kalokairi. I just think this place has so much potential. But no one knows we’re here.” He glanced at Maiko, pecking her forehead, affectionately. “After that, with proper marketing and advertisements, people will come flooding in.”

Maiko grinned, proud at her fiance. “We just want this to be the ultimate romantic destination. They did say that this was once the site of Aphrodite’s fountain. The Goddess of Love. And if you drank the water,” she gestured to the glasses they held, “You’re supposed to find true love and perfect happiness.”

“Can I take home a bucket of this?” Rika asked. 

—

You entered a small house—still a part of the hotel—which was reserved for VIP customers...if you had them. Rika and Yoshiko immediately admired the simplicity and beauty of it. As they looked around Yoshiko removed her expensive coat and sunglasses, placing them atop the small coffee table.

“I thought you didn’t want a lot of tourists over here?” She asked. You were going about the small space, fixing things that weren’t even misplaced or broken. 

“I don’t want, like, boats filled with tourists. Just...a few more would be nice.” You opened the bathroom door and suddenly remembered the plumbing issue you've been having for a few weeks now. You turned to your friends. “Now, the toilet is…if it doesn’t flush right away, just go,” you made a motion with your hands, “And come back in a while and it should be fine.” Rika and Yoshiko just looked at each other.

You dismissed their looks with a shaky laugh. “Sorry. Nothing really works around here. Hell, I think I’m the only one working around here!” You paced around the room. “I’ve been running this hotel for fifteen years and I’ve never had a day off!” It was starting to feel a little hot inside so you pushed open the nearby window, letting some fresh air in. 

One of the shutters suddenly broke off and fell, almost hitting a passerby who had just bought onions from a seller. You peered down at them, face apologetic. The locals who were within the area stared up at you with blank expressions. They were used to the occasional bang and clang of your hotel falling apart at the seams.

“I’m sorry!” You shouted over. You sighed loudly, turning back to the room. “Where’s a rich guy when you need one?!” You said, exasperated. Your two friends just raised an eyebrow at each other, following you out. 

You went down the steps to retrieve the fallen shutter. The small alley where it fell was filled with local Greek people who hounded you to buy their goods. You recognize some of them who’d offered to help around the hotel and were now asking for payment for their services.

You just nodded robotically, mumbling that you’d pay them soon once you get the money. If you get the money. Yoshiko and Rika did their best to catch up with you. You picked up the shutter. Going around the corner, you stopped by a white door. You twisted the knob firmly before it fell off. Yoshiko winced, realizing how you meant that nothing works here literally.

“If I had a rich man, I’d be able to fix this whole place.” You then scoffed. “If I married a rich man, I’d never work it all!”

Pushing the door a little, it opened. You checked in on the kitchens where your cooks, who were previously sitting down by the table resting, scrambled to get back to their preparations. You eyed them warily. You went inside and got an old bottle of wine you’ve been saving for special occasions. You handed it over to Yoshiko.

“It’s hard to find a rich man to marry.” Yoshiko accepted the bottle, reading the label.

“Easy for you to say, Yoshiko. You’re practically born rich.” Rika countered with a small chuckle.

You just sniggered and shook your head. They kept following as you went around the whole place, conversing with one of your employees, talking about various repairs that needed to be done and due payments to be made. They also followed you into a small shed where you pulled out your tool belt. You buckled it around your waist, picking up a drill as well. 

Your friends could not believe the sight. Never had they imagined your life to turn out like this. Sure, they kept in touch from time to time but they didn’t know that you needed all the help you could get. You stopped in your tracks, feeling their gazes on you.

Turning back around, you just flashed them a smile, grabbing the wine bottle.

“C’mon, let’s go have some fun.”

—

Maiko was lifting some boxes of decorated napkins to help set up the reception area. Just as she was outside the villa, she spotted three tall men curiously looking around. She felt her heart leap to her throat. Could this be…?

“Hi.” She croaked out. The men looked at her. Maiko’s palms were starting to sweat so she kept them in closed fists. “May I help you?”

“Hey there! We’re here for the wedding!” Bokuto’s voice was loud. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

“Oikawa Tooru.” The man beside Bokuto piped up.

“Kuroo Tetsurou.” The other one stated. He eyed Maiko up and down, noticing the bewildered look on her face. 

Inside Maiko’s mind, she wanted to scream in confusion. She was pretty sure that when her father showed up, she’ll know which one it is—call it instinct if you will. But right now, with all three of them right in front of her, she was more puzzled than ever.

“Were you expecting us?” Kuroo asked.

It took a while for Maiko to respond. She did her best to hide her confusion with a beaming smile. “Oh my god, yes!” She said, relief echoed in her voice. It doesn’t matter that she can’t tell which right now. What matters is they’re here and once she gets them alone or spends a short while with them, she’ll know. Right? 

Kuroo squinted his eyes and tilted his head. He pointed a finger to Maiko. “You’re not, Y/N’s daughter are you?” He asked the question which nagged at his mind ever since receiving the invitation. If this girl was your daughter, then that would mean you’re married. But then again, the girl had the same surname as you...would that mean the opposite thing?

Maiko blushed slightly and bowed her head, indicating that she is your daughter. Bokuto stepped closer, removing his sunglasses.

“That’s why you look familiar. You look just like her.” Bokuto ransacked his mind, trying to remember the name on the invitation. “You’re Meiko, right?

“It’s Maiko.”

“Ah, my bad.” He scratched the back of his head. “I used to have a great aunt living on the mainland. Her name was Meiko.” Maiko was about to say something in response but Oikawa cut her off.

“Is it okay if you show us to our rooms? I’d like to get settled in before we see your okaa-san.”He said. He had been getting nervous ever since they’d arrived at the small island. He wanted to see you so badly but he also wanted to put himself together first because he knows that he’d be a mess in front of you.

“Oh! Yes, of course! You can meet her….but, uhm….,” Maiko panicked. She hadn’t thought about where they’d stay. She didn’t want you to know that your exes are here; not until she figures out who her father is. Suddenly, she knew the perfect place they can stay, hidden and away from the villa. “Uh, come this way please.”

tags: @yikes-buddy / @ushi-please / @melodiamore / @akaashi-todoroki / @honeymoneyy / @minty-mangos-world / @ochabby / @paettonissahotcheeto / @chrisrue15 / @cottage-babe2 / @tsukkx / @yashinosakura / @coconut-dreamz / @roseestuosity / @youstydiaa / @shiningstar-byulxx​

a/n: chapter two it is! this was hella long. 2.6k words i think? i also feel that this was all over the place, switching from one group to another. and i’m so, so, sorry if it confused you! i’m confused as well anyways i originally planned to write 2 chapters then do a double posting, but seeing as it’s a certain owl’s birthday today, i just had to post today. 

happy birthday bokuto koutarou! i love you marry me pls

again, i apologize for the errors (grammar, punctuations, story flow) and thank you so much for all the support!

[totallypathet]

UK Episode Five

UK Hun?

I know I haven't at all talked about Drag Race UK this season, but I have ~opinions~ and my flatmate is getting bored of me so here we are.

First episode back after lockdown! I feel so bad for these queens, started filming, get sent home for seven months, have no idea if/when they're going to start filming again, lose income for 7 months, it must have been so awful. But I'm glad they're all back! Except poor Veronica who got covid - I hope they do a Eureka and invite her back for season 3, I feel like she had so much more to show!

Of course they brought someone back to replace her, typical drag race gag, but nice that someone else got another chance! Having said that, it should have been Astina. She didn't deserve to go home in the first place, imo. I do think it was kind of harsh to throw that at everyone first thing though! Like the eliminated three didn't get to do anything to even fight for it, and for all the remaining queens, like its been seven months! Who remembers things that long?? Not me, that's for damn sure. I think that was kind of harsh, and I think a lot of people did go for Joe maybe as a safe choice, like there's always an argument for the queen who went home first, they didn't really get to show much. You know what I wish, I wish those three had been a group for the Eurovision (I refuse to say Rurovision) challenge, and then everyone got a chance to vote someone back. That would have felt fairer somehow.

Anyway. I was initially really glad we got Joe back, because I really felt like she did have more to show. I was soon to be disappointed, however 😂

I do love the music challenges, and I adore MNEK, I hope he is like the permanent music judge. One of my favourite moments was him, I think it was after Bimini's first take, going "well...its good that we have that..." very like Chrissy Teigen 😬 that was so funny to me, I loved it.

1. A'Whora

Before the covid break I really didn't like A'Whora, but I feel like she's come back a bit more relaxed, a bit more open, and I liked her so much more this episode. I feel like maybe when she came back she was a bit more relaxed because she knew (kind of) what she was walking into, so she felt a but more at home, maybe. Anyway, I think she did really well this week! She's not a singer, but she leaned into this moany sexy thing that some people do do at Eurovision, and hey, sex sells! I think it was a smart choice for her.

Her look as well... amazing. You guys it was a bag of chips! She had wooden forks as her earrings! The font of the newspaper was to scale! She was carrying a salt shaker! It was so sick, I loved it. I loved seeing her be fashion and polished and beautiful, but also whimsy and funny at the same time! Great week for A'Whora.

2. Bimini Bon Boulash

We LOOOOOOOVE Bimini Bon Boulash! For me, she was the absolute stand out this week, I just adored her! Her verse was amazing, her lyrics were great, her very East London attitude was everything, I just loved it. And her outfit! That mad pink cowboy barbie? Incredible! Also, so Eurovision. And the jump off the stool! That lives in my head rent free. "Somebody do a death drop or summing!" Perfect. The whole performance was amazing.

Also her runway looooooook! It was so beautiful, so fashion, I was getting Gautier from that lace and the umbrella... everything about it to me was so perfect. I know it was a team win, but to me Bimini absolutely killed it, and she was my winner 🥰🥰

3. Ellie Diamond

I love Ellie, but honestly I think she's too young for this competition. She's so great, but if you give her just a couple more years, she's going to be absolutely unstoppable. I think she did pretty well this week, her lyrics were fun, she is a dancer, she performed great! I do agree with Michelle, she did look a little bit like she was in her head for a lot of the performance, but that just comes with confidence, and when you've not performed for 7 months and then suddenly you're on the main stage, that's got to be super nerve wracking!

I also think Ellie was a victim of a bad group this week. I think the group as a whole didn't have a lot of direction or focus, the choreography wasn't that great, they didn't really feel like a group. It was unfortunate. I feel like she did the best she could.

I kind of loved her runway, I think the seagull thing was hilarious! She was a human size seagull! That's hysterical. The only thing I kind of wish is that she'd had ridiculous padding on. Like, what's funnier than a giant seagull with huge tits in a bikini. I think that's so funny.

4. Joe Black

Oh Joe. I was excited for Joe to come back, but as soon as she walked out to the Eurovision challenge in that dress with that wig and a belt, I knew it was over.

I'll get into the dress H&M/Primark drama in a second, but first let's talk about the actual challenge. Joe's lyrics were pretty good, but the way she performed them was just so at odds with the track. It's cheesy Euro pop, you know? I just feel like she could have done things differently. And then with the choreo...look I don't expect anyone to walk in being a great dancer and doing flips and splits and all that, but I just felt like she didn't even really try with the moves Ellie and Tia wanted to do. Maybe that was the edit, I don't know. I also feel like, as team leader, she could have found some solutions, like they could've had Tia & Ellie doing these amazing moves, and Sister & Joe could have done something more simple, or they could have found some comedy Joe could lean into while the others were dancing, but it just seemed like they didn't even try and find a way around it? It was just a bit weird to me.

And then she came out for the runway, and it was like chalk and cheese. Joe Black had by far and away the best runway look of the night. That's one of my favourite things that's ever been worn on UK Drag Race, it was amazing. But it was also like girl if you can do that, why were you wearing H&M during the main challenge? And like, I'd get it, if that dress was beautiful, or bold, or she'd used it as a base and done something to it, but it wasn't. It was so basic, and she even said she knew it was basic, and it didn't even fit her right. It was just so disappointing.

Honestly, I understand what Ru was saying about not wanting to see off the rack. I can't believe I'm about to be defending Transphobia Paul, but I actually kind of agree. And it's not about money, I don't think anyone has to spend loads of money to be a good drag queen, I think its just about it being a Look. A Moment. Like this is internationally available TV. And you're going to come out to perform in a dress off the sale rack that you just threw on and belted? I just find that disappointing. And I get what people are saying about Astina in week 1 winning with an off the rack outfit, but at least she did something with it. I mean, first of all it at least was a cool jacket. But then she built this outfit, and sold a character, she gave us an East London Moment, and it didn't matter that the jacket was from ASOS.

Joe didn't give us anything with that dress. She did nothing with it, and she didn't give us a character or a presentation, it was just an ugly dress. But then she came out in that incredible runway look, why such a disconnect? And I know that it was covid, and everyone had a loss of income, but girl the filming started before that. Like Joe should have already had the wardrobe for the season all ready before the lockdown. And if she didn't, she had 7 months to do literally anything with that dress. Stone it, glitter it, paint it, dye it, wreck it with bleach, make it a top, make it a jacket, do SOMETHING! You know? Also, that runway look? Idk if she made it or commissioned it, but baby that was not cheap. That took time, and energy, and effort, and money, so I'm calling bullshit on "maybe she could only afford a sale rack H&M dress 😔". Bullshit, Vivienne.

I was just so disappointed in Joe. I'm glad she went home.

5. Lawrence Chaney

I was worried for Lawrence this week! She's not known for being a singer or a dancer, and she was the only plus size girl in her group. As a big bitch myself I know it can be intimidating to be surrounded by thin people, especially when you're doing things you're not confident in.

But bitch she fucking turned it out this week! She wrote good lyrics, she kept up with the choreography, but most importantly, she performed the song. Like she leaned into not being a good dancer, she didn't look unsure or awkward, she just did it. I love that about Lawrence, she always just gives it her best, and I respect the hell out of it.

Her day at the seaside look was cute. It was a little bit obvious, a little bit literal, but it was well made, it fit her beautifully, and she looked fantastic. She did the assignment, and tbh I'm happy with that. She did a good job, and I'm proud of her!

6. Sister Sister

Honesly, the fact that Tia Kofi was in the bottom two when Sister Sister was right there is a fucking hate crime.

I genuinely forgot Sister Sister even existed. Like the only memorable thing she has done all season is her Morning Talk Show goth, and that was painful to watch. And she spends all her confessionals just bitching and moaning about other people! She spent the whole Talk Show episode complaining about Veronica and saying she didn't wanna work with her, but bitch what did you do?? If you think someone else is boring, you should have no trouble out shining them! And then she didn't!

I'm over it with her. Her performance wasn't that good, her lyrics weren't that good, and then her runway look was like the Wish version of A'Whora's.

I'm not totally certain that I buy that Sister stole it as a concept from A'Whora, but... maybe? Like, if Sister had really seen A'Whora's when they were filming the first time, and Sister had something totally different back then... I can see that maybe she thought "oh, thats a way better idea". All I know is, if you're gonna do the same look as someone else, you better leave them in the dust; and she didn't. She should have been lipsyncing this week.

7. Tayce

Tayce really pulled it out this week! Her rap was one of the best performances in the whole show, she killed it! Her lyrics were great, she really delivered them like a rapper, and them she performed the hell out of the song! Loved it. The only things I had to say about Tayce was that she seemed like the odd one out in the group in terms of outfits? Like everyone else went very Eurovision, cheesy pop pink, and she went with a very cool, edgy, darker look. Like, she looked stunning, and I looooved her hair, but it just didn't quite fit with the rest of the group. But that's a real nitpick, in terms of the actual performance, she was amazing!

Tayce's runway look. It was okay. It was a little bit literal for me, she went for shells and netting. It was cool, she looked beautiful, but it wasn't like a knockout for me.

8. Tia Kofi

Tia got a raw fucking deal this week. She was the best performer in her group by a country fucking mile, she had the best lyrics, she was the best rapper, and I think she looked the best out of the four in that group (during during challenge). I could not believe they put her in the bottom two.

Okay, her runway look was not great. It was a long way from great. But at least she had a unique concept (*cough* Sister), and she gave us some form of presentation. It could have been a lot better, but there was potential! I really wish that she'd had a much more defined look, I wish the skirt had been a high waisted pencil skirt, with some kind of cone-like texture somehow, really fitted and beautiful. And then I wish the top had been really big and over the top ruffles, maybe tulle, just something BIG. And that wouldn't have had to be expensive, you can buy cheap pencil skirts, she could have dyed one brown herself, and then she could have bought that cheap mesh that looks like tulle and made a really big rounded ice cream top out of it - I'm just proving my point about Joe Black and the off the rack thing now btw. But I wish it had just been a bit more considered than it was. And I also wish she'd had a flake head piece instead of a cherry, because when you buy those ice creams at the beach it's always a 99.

One thing I will give Tia's runway this week is that her face was stunning. I think that's the best her face has looked all season, the makeup was beautiful.

There was kind of a lot of drama this week with the whole off the rack thing, and then the A'Whora vs Sister Sister conspiracy, and I kind of loved it! I also really enjoyed this challenge, I feel like they've had much better and more interesting challenges on the UK series than the American one. Also UK Hun is going to be in my head for weeks.

I'm picking my top 2 of the season as Lawrence Chaney and Bimini Bon Boulash. Veronica Green would have been up there for me as well, it's a real shame that she got sick and couldn't finish this season! I really really hope they bring her back for season 3!

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Cage

Somewhere just outside the Mexico Border

It is a rusty metal warehouse in the desert in front of which is a vast gravel parking lot filled with trucks left running with the high beams on. Kingpins as well as landowners wearing button down shirts and jeans file past burly looking men in muscle shirts, flashing their credentials. A short man had his arm around the waist of a model as he flashed his. “She’s with me.” He said of the model who kissed him on his balding head.

There is no visible security. This area is an agreed neutral zone, a privileged spot where the turf wars and smuggling routes could be forgotten in favor of sport and fun, and yet was not a haven where these criminal masterminds would ever admit existed to their families. It was protected by both a silent agreement of non-violence, and the fact that it was every low level drug dealer’s dream to be here.

The Warehouse is a fighting arena that only opens once a year and sends out invitations to its exclusive clientele. Even these Kingpins saved up money to come and bet on the fighters here and there was no limit to their wagers. It was not unheard of for millions and even a billion to be lost in a single match. Land was negotiated here. Trade routes were negotiated here. The existence of entire gangs were negotiated here. War and peace between violent factions were negotiated here.

People in the small border towns had a feeling that the government and the police weren’t really what changed the situation on their street. But they could never guess that what did change things was the winner of a match in an arena in the middle of nowhere.

As for the fighters themselves, no one knew where they came from. They had names like Cobra, Diablo, Demonio, and La Muerte. Their identities were a mystery. But their appearances seemed to suggest that they came from all over the world. Those who had the privilege of coming here, would whisper about these fights, saying that the fighters seemed like animals, something beyond human, or like monsters. They would compare them to famous action heroes like ‘The Hulk’ or ‘Superman.’ While it was true that regular MMA fighters could do amazing things, they were limited by their humanity.

These fighters… they didn’t stop fighting, even if they were gasping out their last breath.

Francisco Pererra had somehow stumbled on one of those fighters. He was just appointed as head of a cartel in Aguascalientes and had come upon a small fortune in the form of a free and open water route up through Corpus Christi. It wasn’t just the route, but also his method, using a combination of decoy boats and submarines to constantly distract the meager Coast Guard and keep them away from the actual cargo -- fentanyl and cocaine. He’d gotten rich very quickly, but before he spent on anything else, he wanted to spend on this gambling ring. This was his debut on the world stage.

When he was approached by a young man in his private residence, introducing himself as a fighter, he thought it was too good to be true. The owners of those who fought were the upper of the upper class. He was doing well as a startup Surely, this man wanted something.

“I just need entry into the Arena. The rest does not concern you and it's best you not get involved any further.” The young man opened three large briefcases. “This should be more than enough to cover the entry fee, plus compensation for your cooperation.” The young man was stiff but polite and spoke fluent Spanish with an American accent.

“Is this a bust? I won’t be responsible for it…” He shook his head. “I won’t live very long if I am responsible for something like that.”

“I have nothing to do with any government or law enforcement.”

Francisco Pererra did not believe him. He smiled and said, “Oh of course and of course.”

As the young man was leaving, Francisco pointed a pistol at the back of his head. Before he could pull the trigger however, the gun glowed red hot and exploded in his hand, taking off two of his fingers. When the young man looked back at him, his eyes were glowing gold. 

He calmly helped Francisco collect his severed fingers and put them in ice and drove him to the nearest hospital for reattachment surgery. When the nurses asked what happened, Franciso just said he had an accident with a firework.

That young man was no law enforcer. He was a true Demon Fighter.

Now Francisco Perrera came in, not from the front, but from the back. Wheeled horse trailers backed into a garage door and ramps were brought to them as they opened. Wheeled cages meant to house zoo animals rolled down the ramps and attached to a four-wheeler. Each cage was covered with a double layer of black fabric. Francisco’s champion was in one of those cages, but once they were in the arena, there could be no further contact between the sponsor and the fighter.

Francisco presented his entry fee in the suitcases on a cheap white plastic fold out table. Large men with assault rifles stepped forward and took the suitcases while Francisco waited. They were counting the money. He cleared his throat of dust and stood there, watching as one especially huge cage was rolled off the trailer. It was so heavy that it bent the ramp.

“Perrera!” 

Francisco turned around, his heart rate jumping. 

“Your entry fee is sufficient.”

Feeling validated, Francisco straightened his tie and tipped his cowboy hat and made his way to the VIP stands through a white door in the sheathing wall. The whole area smelled of alcohol and smoke. A group of big shots looked up from their game of cards. He gave them a proud greeting. “Good evening, I’m…”

They all turned their backs on him and continued their game. He let out a breath. Of course, they wouldn’t humor his attention. He was a newcomer after all. But maybe, with this fighter, he might actually get on their radar. Securing a treaty with a larger cartel had its risks and benefits, much like gambling but if you hit the jackpot you were set for life.

He sat down in a cracking folding chair. The arena was huge. Built for rodeos, it was temporarily reconfigured to house what could only be described as a gladiatorial contest. Bullet proof glass protected him from the rest of the lower level seats. And a double layer fence that stretched all the way to the roof protected the rest of the guests from the contestants themselves.

“Welcome Mr. Perrera.” A sweet young female voice greeted him and lowered a shot glass with a bottle of black label tequila in front of him. She was dressed in a tight red shiny vinyl dress. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders, looking quietly seductive. “Good luck on your first entrant.”

“Because you are a newcomer, you should be lower on the ranks, however, many in the crowd have thrown welcome money in the pot in your support.”

“Oh really?” Francisco had good instincts and didn’t rush to sip on the tequila.  “Sit and drink with me. Tell me more about this.”

She obliged and he took his glass and poured a cup for her and handed it to her. She gave a knowing chuckle. “You really are new. All the death and violence is restricted to the Cage. But if you’re still nervous…” She tossed back the tequila and then slid the cup back to him.

“One can never be too careful. If I disappear it's not a big thing, no matter where I am.”

“It’s rare to get a new fighter and a newcomer. People are betting on you because they’re excited and want to encourage more fresh blood. No one wants to see the same fighters every year from the same people they’ve known for years. What’s more… the name of your fighter… they like it.” Her lips turned up. “Caimán!”

“I had heard these fighters had the look of a devil, but I found out this was… something more grounded than I realized. The first thing I thought when I looked at him was ‘Caimán!’ He looks at me like an alligator! He’s not some boogeyman. He looked like he could actually eat me.” 

She didn’t leave his side as the PA system announced that the matches were going to begin. She slid a paper roster to him. “This is the line up.”

Caimán was going to be up against ‘Gigante’ in the first match! For the first time, Francisco felt upset to be here. How could they put a newbie up in the first match in an elimination contest and give him a chance to win? Even in the case of a champion, such fights were exhausting. He would have to defeat everyone of the beasts in the ring to have a shot at winning.

He stilled his expression and looked over the arena. Well, of course he wouldn’t have a chance at winning. The truth is, he shouldn’t be here at all. He was here on a stroke of luck. Winning was not in the cards for him. He should just enjoy his time and make the most of his good fortune. It was a shame this young man had to sacrifice his life. Despite his crocodile look, he had kindly expressed regret about the gun blowing up in his hand. He’d personally and quickly driven him to the hospital and then paid the bill. He even left him a wound care spreadsheet after the nurses forgot. It wasn’t the behavior of a tough as nails fighter or an alligator. More like a neglectful son come home to bother his father again. Much like he was once, years ago. Perhaps why he had taken a liking to him so quickly?

A roar interrupted his reverie. A roll up metal garage door clattered open and a giant of a man nearly eight feet tall of pure muscle, painted near black with tattoos, ran out, howling like a vicious animal. The crowd screamed and banged on the lids of garbage cans. The noise was deafening. The man clapped his hands over his ears and rushed the chains. Bright sparks like the sun snapped and popped.

The Cage was electrified!

Francisco reflexively crossed himself as the man didn’t react at all to the electrical current. When he let go of the fence, his hands were smoking. He rushed to the other side to menace the other spectators. Francisco saw it. The golden eyes!

Gigante suddenly stopped and turned. Another metal cage door was opening. Francisco could scarcely contain his grin! He pulled a napkin from his shirt and wiped his sweaty face. 

Caimán was acting true to his name. He was slight in figure, hilariously shorter than Gigante. Despite the heat and humidity in the air and the dusty dirty surroundings, he wore a black Burburry trench coat that reached near the floor. In his hand was a long sword that shined with a blue tinged light even though it wasn’t dark inside the arena. Weapons were allowed in the arena so long as they weren’t heavy firearms. Especially given the size difference of these contestants, having a bit of an equalizer was viewed as permissible. He took two steps into the arena with the air of a mother who had caught her children doing something naughty.

Gigante and Caimán faced each other. Gigante was panting, his mouth running with drool, his eyes bloodshot. He looked rabid, but didn’t rush towards his much smaller opponent and rip him in two. The crowd murmured with the suspense of the wait. Francisco felt the hairs rise on his back. He didn’t know why he got this feeling, but the thought came into his head that Gigante was being suppressed, that the whole crowd was being suppressed! It was like a pall had been cast over the entire crowd. Everyone was afraid to move, afraid to breathe, weighted down by a strange fear they didn’t understand.

Caimán walked around the edge of the Cage taking the longest route to his opponent, strolling with a slow, measured gait. He took his time, looking Gigante up and down.

“What is going on?” The woman next to him was shocked. “Gigante never acts like this.”

Her kind welcoming demeanor had vanished, she now glared at Francisco fiercely. 

Francisco sipped his tequila. “Ah… so Gigante is yours. No wonder you wanted to talk to me!”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Had this been any other place, she would have drawn a pistol and shot him in his smugly smiling face. Her nervousness grew as Caimán approached a still and silent Gigante. “Where did you find him?”

Francisco was silent. His intent was to use this opportunity to gain advantage for his business. The fighter had his own agenda beyond him and he shouldn’t be involved any further. This young man had walked into a room full of the highest ranking cartel members and had taken ownership of the entire space.

Gigante chuckled. “So… you’re finally here to put us out of our misery?”

Caimán didn’t answer for a long time. The crowd was getting restless in the silence, but that terrifying aura prevented anyone from speaking. “It’s my intent to free you.”

“Free? No one ever… gets free.”

When Gigante raised himself to his full height, Caimán raised his blade and that aura became more intense. He pointed it at him, like a knight facing off against an ogre. “Don’t.”

Gigante leaned back a bit as though struck by a strong wind.

“How are they controlling you? Answer.”

Gigante looked at Caimán, his eyes suddenly stopped glowing. “Get out… Get out while you c-”

A tattoo that hadn’t appeared before suddenly flashed red in the shape of an eye, right on his forehead, and the glow of his eyes lit up again. All humanity in those eyes froze, his pupils dilated wide until they became black save an eclipse ring of gold. Caimán for the first time in the match showed a touch of emotion, his eyes widening slightly as his Aura suddenly collapsed.

Gigante took a strong leap and closed the distance between them. Caimán reacted with a powerful thrust that slid the metal blade between the bones of the giant’s large knee. That leg was rendered useless in an instant but Gigante did not so much as flinch or cry out in pain. His arm whipped around and seized Caiman around the throat. That blade flashed again, neatly severing the hand. He didn’t have a choice. If he had waited more than that instant his windpipe would have been crushed. He rolled and staggered away from Gigante’s remaining fist. It slammed into the ground with skull-crushing force.

The crowd regained its former noise, cheering “Gigante! Gigante!”

At his tiny size and miniature build, one would think that they would have cheered Caimán as the underdog, but Caimán had walked in like a tyrant, barking orders like he owned the place. He’d humiliated not only Gigante but also all the spectators who were all predators in their own right and had been forced into silence by this newcomer. The sight of him fleeing Gigante was galvanizing. They wanted Gigante to smash this newcomer into a pulp!

Gigante was faster than a man his size should have been, it was like an ancient giant wolf, running his opponent down and forcing him to retreat or die. Even though he was running with blood, lame in one leg an missing a hand, he grinned and licked his lips in an intense desire to kill. Caimán however danced around every attack, not returning a blow if he didn’t have to.

Francisco was confused. Why didn’t Caimán go in for the kill? He had more fights after this. Why waste so much energy running his opponent around the ring? His female companion was only annoyed with Gigante. “Hit him! Hit him you bastard!” 

He then noticed her ring. It was red and glowing. 

The eye appeared on Gigante’s head again and the man suddenly screeched in a high voice. Caimán closed the distance and split the skin of the man’s forehead right through the middle.

The man’s eyes suddenly rolled back and he sank to his one knee. He went from a massive intimidating fighter to a hunk of empty flesh in an instant. Caimán who was still anticipating another motion suddenly lowered his sword and rushed forward, putting his fingers on the man’s neck. But there was no need to check his pulse. Gigante was dead.

The woman banged her fist on the table and stood up. “Spy! He’s a spy!”

Guns were suddenly pointed at Francisco. “Why are you saying this? You’re just angry that you lost! Put those guns away, this place is a place of non-violence!”

Her eyes turned cold. “You have no idea. You don't know anything.”

“He’s right.” Another voice came from the table to his right. An old man in a suit sat one leg crossed over the other, his white hair long down his back, his dark eyes like empty holes in his face. “Put the guns away. No need.”

The guns were put away and hackles lowered. 

Caimán stepped away as a worker arrived with a forklift to carry Gigante’s body away.

“Perrera. I will buy this fighter from you. Name your price.” The old man said.

Francisco didn’t know what to say. The truth is the fighter didn’t belong to him, it was the other way around. The fighter had bought him with the intent to enter the fight for his own agenda.

“My price? You know I have a route, sir. I would like your protection on that route. Your protection of my assets. I am a small operation. Even with a lot of money, I can’t buy what you already have.”

“You are a very smart man! That humility has brought you here. Then… Welcome to the club, Pererra.” The old man raised his hand and again, he was wearing one of those rings, just like the woman. He waved his hand twice and Caimán’s reaction was instant. He clutched his head and fell on his knees.

“Oh… he is a strong one.” The old man continued to wave and stood up, walking up to the bullet proof glass. “He will make excellent food for my Tigre.”

Caimán turned his head, his golden eyes blazing, he started to speak, snarling like an animal. That voice generated dark waves of black heat that ignited the sawdust. The heat was enough to melt the chain links on the Cage. The heat was so intense that the spectators started screaming and fleeing. Even at this distance, all the people in the VIP area started backing away.

The saw dust arena had turned into a pit of flames but Caiman was kneeling in all of it. Clutching his head.

Francisco had no choice. He turned and ran from the arena, leaving him behind.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: I Have to Mark You

This chapter has a lot in it... it's not as long as my others but there's a lot that happens. 

TW/CW: stepping into more dark territory for this chapter. It may cause you to have anxiety if that's something you get from reading fics that touch on 'physical or mental abuse' if so, I would skip this chapter. Nothing NSFW, but there is some emotional and mental manipulation happening in this chapter. 

This chapter hurt me to write but it needed to be done so the two can progress in a 'non-healthy' way in their relationship. 

I also wanted to say that I do not condone Ren's actions in this chapter. If you have feelings for someone this is NOT the way to do it.

As always I have a Masterlist so you can read all the chapters and also check out my two other fics, Cowboy Blues and Good Intentions. They are not as intense as this chapter if thats what you are into! 

Pain. 

Digging, throbbing, gum scraping pain. 

Hands were all over you, touching. Grabbing, pinching your skin. 

You kept trying to scream, trying to thrash away but the chains kept you still. Ren made sure of it. 

You don’t know how long you were held there, you just remember hearing the door open and close. The sound of footsteps entering the room. Ren's voice talking to others, and suddenly you were being touched. Not anywhere sexually, but it felt violating. You didn’t know who they were, how many there were. All you knew was that it hurt. 

You jolted from your anxiety-induced fainting, someone was stroking your hair. Brushing it with the cold bristles of a brush. Back and forth over your part, being sure to keep every hair out of your face. It would’ve been soothing if you could speak, but all that could come out were garbled moans. Spit was spilling over the ball gag, soaking your chin, dripping down onto your chest. Whoever was there was quick to wipe the excess while the brush kept combing your hair. 

“They’re almost done, Angel.” a deep voice cooed. Lips touching your ear, voice like honey over your frayed wounds. You jerked your head to the side, desperate for reassurance from the assailant. A sharp sting by your side, followed by a separate voice mumbling to itself. “You did so well my princess… I’m so proud of you.” 

You moaned, tensing your arms again, trying to break free. But the more you flexed, the more exhausted you became. All you could do was cry, and allow whoever to continue to brush your hair, hoping that the horror would end. 

Moments later the pain stopped, in its place was a cold film. Spread across your side, sticking to your sweat-slicked body. Footsteps out of the room. You heard what sounded like a fridge door opening and shutting, followed by someone sitting in a chair opposite from you. Oh how you wished you could see, touch, hear anything except the blood rushing to your brain. 

A drink was sipped, the smacking of lips across the room, “Now you’ll never forget who you belong to.” 

----- 

You were sore. Rolling over in bed, stretching and flexing your arms and legs. Sighing at the popping of joints, a symphony to your bedridden ears. You felt the sunshine flood through the windows, basking the bed in its warmth. You opened your eyes, they were crusted and dry. Probably needed to take out your contacts, you must’ve forgotten to take them out when you went to sleep last night. 

Oh. 

Your eyes fell to the sheets. 

These weren’t yours. 

No the ones in your bed were white, these were a charcoal gray. 

Something different was in your arms, a soothing softness you hadn’t felt in weeks. You blinked a few times, trying to rehydrate your contacts. Pulling the article up to your face you saw colors. You gasped, it was your tie-dye blanket! The one Ren had stolen from you weeks ago! You held it close to your face, breathing in the scent, familiar and safe. You started crying into the blanket, it had been so long. 

“I see you’re awake.” 

You stopped, memories of the night before flooding your brain. Dropping the blanket from your eyes you peaked at the man sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Ren. 

You saw red. 

What did he do to you last night? You couldn’t remember, your brain blocking out the trauma he induced. You launched at his figure, stoic and still. He was staring at you, sipping on a cup of coffee. In his sleep shirt and pants, hair tousled so effortlessly you would have forgiven him right then and there. But the moment you moved your side ached with pain. You sat up, instinctively cupping your rib cage. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he instructed. Eyes unblinking, you would’ve thought he was a statue if it wasn’t for his eye twitching. 

“What, what do you mean?” 

You looked down at yourself, somehow you were dressed in your sleep shirt and a pair of old sweatpants. Both you hadn’t seen since your move to the new apartment, more things Ren must’ve stolen. Your hand pressed to your ribcage, instantly causing you to wince. 

“What did I just say?” He set down his coffee on the bedside table, moving closer to you. Reaching out his large paws to no doubt restrain you again. You flinched away, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed. Your bottom lip was already quivering, although you couldn’t remember everything. You remembered that he did this to you. 

Ren stopped moving towards you, hands falling to his folded legs. Looking at you with dead, unblinking eyes. He hummed and got off the bed, crossing the hotel room to the kitchen. You clutched onto the blanket, attempting to hide from him. Shutting your eyes as you heard him coming back, “Drink this Angel.”

He had a glass of water in his hand, holding it in front of your face. 

Your mouth instantly became dry, “Why?” 

Ren rolled his eyes, “I can see how chapped your lips are from here just take the water.” 

Sitting up again, wincing at the pain, you propped yourself up on the headboard. Grabbing the glass from his hands and slowly sipping. “Good girl, now let’s talk.” He sat back down on the bed, careful not to touch you. Ren ran a hand through his bedhead, sighing as you backed further into the wall. “Before you freak out, I did this for your own good.” 

You clung to the blanket again, “What did you do Ren?” 

He reached out, stopping when you backed away again. You didn’t want his hands to touch you, afraid of what you might feel. What you might say when he does, how you would betray yourself for falling for him when he was so clearly capable of hurting you. 

“You have to let me touch you, I won’t hurt you.” 

You scoffed, “Yeah like I’d believe that.” You hopped off the bed, stepping on wobbly legs. Holding your blanket to your chest. You instantly felt dizzy when you stood up, like your body was shutting down all over again. Your vision was spotting, only making it to the couches when you felt Rens arms surrounding you. 

“Stop moving, you’ll hurt yourself,” he whispered in your ear. 

You threw your arm back, smacking the side of his head, “Let go of me! I don’t-I don’t need your help.” 

Smacking him again and again, whatever was on your side was throbbing now with every movement. His arm was trying to keep a loose grip but you kept squirming away from him. 

“Angel, stop moving!” 

“No!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face again. You wanted him to let you go, let you fall to the floor, and be at peace. Away from the monster who chained you last night. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You clenched a fist, swinging up at his jaw. Although you were exhausted and sleep-deprived, you could feel the click of bones smashing together. He fell back from you, hands covering his own face, allowing you to fall on your butt to the floor. Chest heaving, you cried into your blanket, desperate for relief from the aching of your body and soul. 

Above you, you heard silent sniffles. Followed by Ren taking a deep breath and probably rubbing his nose on his shirt, “Please. (Y/N), please let me help you.” 

Looking up your eyes locked. No longer were they dead, but full of sadness. Regret, pain, just like your own. They were bloodshot, like he had been crying for hours beforehand, his under eyes were puffy and bruised. Ren sniffled again, reaching out a hand to you. 

Staring back and forth, the hand and his face, you were torn. An unspoken bond between you two had been severed, and now you were faced with the aftermath. 

Slowly you raised your own hand to his, studying how small and delicate it was compared to his palm. Veins scattered across your own skin, discoloration at the wrist, while his own were powerful and callused. Years of work and determination between each muscle, fingers cradling your own. He gently tugged your hand, silently asking you to try and stand up. You raised to your feet, swaying slightly. Ren leaned into you, careful that you wouldn’t fall again. Pulling you back towards the bed, both of you sitting in front of the other. 

You redacted your hand once you were settled, holding again to the blanket. Ren brought his hands to his lap, studying his own wrists. Flexing and stretching them in and out of fists before he spoke again. 

“Yesterday,” he sighed, “Thing’s got a little out of control.” 

You nodded. 

“And it is not my fault that you wouldn’t behave and listen to me…” 

“So you’re blaming me?” you scoffed. 

“Yes.” 

You moved to get up again, but Ren’s hands shot out to stop you, “No no no, I’m not blaming you. Please don’t move.” 

“I needed you to understand your place in all this…” he looked down at your side. 

“And what is my place Ren,” you whispered. 

“It’s with me. (Y/N), it’s with me, now and forever.” 

You shut your eyes, tears forming once more. 

“What happened Kylo?” 

He got up, hoisting you into his arms in a bridal carry. Walking to the bathroom. Kicking open the doorway and settling you on the ground between him and the mirror. He said nothing, just grabbed the hem of your shirt and tugged. Understanding what he wanted you lifted your shirt off, closing your eyes, afraid of what you might see. He let out a deep breath, fingers lightly trailing up and down your spine and over towards the affected area. 

You opened your eyes and gasped. 

You looked terrible. 

Your hair was in a knotted mess. Someone, hopefully Ren, had tried to put it in a bun last night but instead maybe tied it in a bow? Your face was splotchy and red, eyes bloodshot like his. Your lips were pink and swollen, puffed up on the inside from the gag being in. Eye makeup smeared across your cheeks and down to your neck. 

Your eyes scanned yourself in the mirror, slowly moving towards your left side. Film, you saw a film on your side. Almost like a saran-wrap texture across your skin, taking up the lower portion of your left rib cage and waist. You lifted your arm, revealing the source of your pain. 

Gasping, you instinctively went to touch it, Ren grabbing your wrist before you could. You had a tattoo. 

Not just any tattoo, but a name. Written in his own handwriting, across your ribcage. The ink was slightly bleeding, along with your skin attempting to pucker under your movements. It was an elegant tattoo, simple and beautiful. If it weren’t for the demon who gave it to you unwillingly you would’ve loved it. But the demon was standing behind you, staring into your soul. Holding you hostage for the second time. 

“Why,” you croaked out. Not moving your gaze from the mark. 

He swallowed behind you, “You forced my hand.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Ren stared at the tattoo, his left hand coming across the film. Slowly tracing the lines of his own name, like he had never seen the words before. “Now you’ll never forget how much I love you.” 

The words fell on your ears like a curse. All the blood rushing to your head. You felt like you were going to pass out, jerking away from him but he held you still. Breathing menacingly behind you, ready to eat you if you denied his declaration. What kind of sick and twisted game was this? It was fun when you two were fooling around but this, this was wrong. He belonged to someone else and now, now he had gone too far. 

He spun you around, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “You’ll never forget that you belong to me, and me alone.” His hand locked on your jaw, forcing you into a kiss. Angry and passionate between both your lips, you tried to back away. You needed air or something to get away from him. Just so you could clear your head. He wouldn’t let go, causing you to sob against him. He pulled you into his chest, pressing your head to listen to his heartbeat. You cried into his shirt, staining it with your tears. 

Lifting you to the sink, standing between your open legs he massaged your scalp. Allowing you to cry into his hands. He didn’t try to stop you, only coaxing you to let it all out, reminding you to breathe when you started hiccuping. You weren’t sure how long you cried, but he never left you. Never stopped holding you, kissing your forehead, whispering how much he needed you during the process. Despite his continued movements, your head was pounding. Crying, followed by anxiety attacks and more crying was not giving you the best start to your day. You needed water, a shower and to sleep. 

“Please, please stop,” you begged him. 

Ren stopped his movements, “What do you need, Angel?” 

“Can we shower, and go home?” you heaved, “Please. I need to go home Kylo.” 

“Okay.” 

----- 

Ren showered you, dressed you, and drove you back to the apartment. Neither of you saying a word to each other. Allowing the comfortable silence to bathe the both of you. Once you pulled up to your house he was at your side once more, opening your door and holding your hand up the stairs. 

Inside your living room were 6 bodies, hovering over the coffee table. Each one grumbling and laughing with one another like they belonged there. Ren cleared his throat, “We’re back gentlemen. You may resume your posts.” 

“Yes, Mr. Ren.” they all spoke in unison. Not one of them looked at you as you clung to his side. Not wanting to get into a petty argument with Ushar or Vicrul after your difficult evening. 

“Let’s get you to bed okay, Angel? I have to tie up some loose ends back at the office but the Knights will be here watching over you.” 

“Oh, okay,” you whispered. Slowly walking up the stairs. Since your shower, your tattoo has become itchy and hurt even more. Ren wouldn’t allow you to remove the film, telling you that the artist demanded it stay on for another week. That way the skin wouldn’t get infected. Although you hated the tattoo, the last thing you needed was to end up with an infection with your boss’s name on your ribcage. 

Ren pulled back the sheets, being sure to guide you to your preferred side of the bed. He tucked you in and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at you. “What are you looking at?” 

He sighed, “Just you (Y/N), always you.” he leaned in and gave you a kiss. Getting up and shutting off the lights to your room. Leaving you alone to feel the repercussions of his actions.

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @kirah36 @morby @clumsycopy @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @desiraypark @princss-bucky @ghoulian13 @swiss-mrs @douglasdriver @direnightshade @sydneyssmut​

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: You’re Mine | Word count: 5038 | Pairing: Arthur Morgan x male reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) | Tags: fluff and smut, blood cw, dead animal cw, WIP

Summary: You’re hanging around the saloon, waiting for someone to finally pop your cherry, when you suddenly run into a lot more cowboy than you can handle.

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11 - coming asap]

Once you and Arthur found the strength to let go off each other, the two of you managed to hunt two deer. You brought them into the little shed behind your house, yours for skinning and Arthur's to stay safe from vultures. For once, Arthur accepted your offer to stay the night, planning on heading back to camp early in the morning.

It's been dark by the time you got back, and you and Arthur stripped down to your underwear before heading into bed. You ended up wrapped around Arthur, your face buried in his neck. With his hot body pressed against you and his scent in your nose, you fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, you find yourself turned the other way around. Arthur's arm is wrapped around you, his breath ghosting over your skin. It makes you feel like you're in a dream. After almost making your peace with Arthur being gone, you're now closer than ever after he came back to you yet again.

At this moment, all warm and content, you let yourself believe that this could be something special. You can't think of anything that Arthur could gain from tricking you, so he must really like you. The thought takes root right beside that little flame that burns for Arthur ever since you made out by the fire after rescuing John. 

Arthur moves behind you, his arm pressing you even closer while his lips touch your neck. You use the new position, rolling your hips to rub against Arthur. It doesn't take long for him to grow hard, and when you push back against him, he groans. "Not a good boy at all," he mumbles.

"Good morning," you chirp, getting another groan in response, so you reach back to pat Arthur's head. "Did you sleep well?"

When there's only silence, you wonder if Arthur fell asleep again, but then he gets up on all fours, looming over you. You turn, meeting his gaze.

"I haven't slept so well in years," he says, a bit of wonder in his voice.

Arthur runs his fingers down your face, a glimmer to his eyes that makes you melt inside. You can't remember being looked at like this ever before, and somehow you begin to feel bad about your reluctance to give Arthur everything.

"I want to be with you," you stammer, the sudden spur of guilt forcing the words out of you, "I really do. I don't know why I'm so afraid."

Arthur's brows knit together, and you hate yourself for taking away his former expression. He doesn't stop caressing you, though, more thoughtful now. "It's scary to offer yourself to someone. I get that."

"Wait," you say, struggling to believe the true meaning of his words, "you've done it? You seem more like the one to do it to others."

Arthur laughs and sits back on his heels. "I usually am, but that doesn't mean I can't take a cock."

You can't help but look down in embarrassment from Arthur's words, and he chuckles, clearly amused that you come off as the sweet boy you keep telling him you're not. He leans over to catch your eye, and you meet his gaze, trying your hardest not to look away again.

"Shut up," you huff, and Arthur allows himself another smile before turning serious again.

"It might feel weird at first when things are supposed to come outta there instead of going in," he says with a shrug.

"Then why do people do it?"

"You remember yesterday," Arthur says, and you close your eyes with a sigh. Of course, you do. Arthur hasn't even been inside of you, and it still felt better than anything you've ever felt before.

"It's like that, but just… more," he says. "People do weirder things for a lot less."

At first, you feared that talking about this might bring back your fears. Instead, it gets easier. "How does it feel?" you ask, and another question imposes on you. "Does it hurt?"

Arthur studies you for a moment, making you wonder if he thinks of you as dumb for asking these questions. Then he looks over to the table where he put down his bag.

"It can hurt, but only if you don't do it right. So that's what you're afraid of."

"Guess I am," you say. The sudden realization makes your heart feel lighter, and you feel like kissing Arthur stupid just for talking to you about this.

"What if I could show you what it feels like?" Arthur asks. "Without actually doing it."

You have no idea what he's talking about, but you trusted him the day before, and it turned out fine, so you nod. "Alright."

Arthur gets up to retrieve a small bottle from his bag, showing it to you when he crawls back into the bed. "It helps to loosen you up so it won't hurt."

"And you just happen to carry that around with you at all times."

This time, Arthur is the one looking down, a rosy color tainting his cheeks. "It's handy for all kinds of things," he defends himself, and when you laugh, he leans in to shut you up with a kiss.

"You want me to show you or not?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

Arthur crawls between your legs, and after helping you out of your underwear, he reaches for your calves. "Now, be a good boy for me and lift up your legs."

You do as he says, but you still feel like running, your heart pounding again. Arthur pours some of the substance from the bottle on his fingers before running them around your hole. It feels oily and definitely not unpleasant. Still, Arthur doesn't seem satisfied with your reaction.

"Close your eyes and try to relax," he says, "I ain't gonna hurt you."

You do as he says, taking a deep breath and trusting that he'll make you feel as good as yesterday. Arthur applies more of the oil, but you can't focus on what he's doing, too distracted by another sensation. Hot breath is ghosting over your skin, and then Arthur licks along the whole length of your cock, making it twitch.

Your eyes fly open, and you stare at him as he sucks you into his mouth. Just like thinking that Arthur wouldn't let another man take him, you never imagined him doing this either. You're clearly wrong. The way Arthur pleases you with his mouth tells you that he's not doing this for the first time, and he probably didn't need a Dolly to teach him.

Arthur teases you with his tongue, and only the bucking of your hips makes you aware that his fingers are still on your ass. With his free hand, Arthur wanders up from your balls over your stomach and up to your chest, playing with your nipples. Then his fingertip slides into your hole. It does feel weird, but with Arthur giving you all these other pleasures, it's easy to relax.

While still distracting you with his touches and his lips, Arthur takes his sweet time to get you used to the unfamiliar intrusion. It's not painful, and a lot less weird than you thought it would be. Soon, you find yourself pushing back against Arthur's finger, wanting to feel him even deeper.

Most of the time, Arthur complies, but sometimes he draws back, making you wait for it while his tongue drives you crazy. With his flat hand resting on your chest, he sucks you deep into his mouth, his finger curling ever so slightly inside of you.

You can't hold back eager moans and gasps, and when Arthur drags his finger in and out of you, tension is building inside of you that you've never felt before. You fist your fingers in Arthur's hair, desperately holding on to him.

When he said that it wouldn't hurt, you never could have imagined that it could feel so good. You can't decide if you want to watch Arthur or just fall back and let it happen. Him looking up to you while he sucks your cock deep into his mouth brings you so close to the edge that you can barely take it, but in the end, you fall back on the bed, just enjoying the different sensations.

You claw at your sheets, moaning and panting. "Arthur, please," you gasp, desperate for release.

Arthur sucks you deep into his mouth one last time before letting go off you, making you whine in frustration, although you know by now that he'll take care of you just a moment later. Arthur comes closer, nudging your hips to get you to lift them before pushing his knee under you. 

After pulling himself out of his underwear, Arthur presses closer, his cock rubbing against yours. He takes you both in his hand, stroking slowly while his finger keeps sliding in and out of you.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, and it takes all your willpower to squeeze out an answer.

"No."

"Do you understand now why people do this?"

"God, yes," you moan, wondering why you never tried to do this yourself.

With every push of Arthur's finger, he seems to set your insides aflame, hot sparks shooting through your stomach, and up your cock. His fingers close hard around you, his flesh rubbing against yours, hot and heavy. 

"Imagine if it's not just my finger," Arthur says between desperate sighs, now just as aroused as you are. "Imagine it's my cock inside of you, how much deeper it can go, how I could fill you up."

Feeling Arthur's cock sliding up against you right now makes it easy to imagine. You would finally know what it would be like to have him in you, his pulsating flesh buried deep inside, the tension building up while Arthur's body is pressed flush against your own.

You could hold him and kiss him, be closer than you've ever been before. A sudden longing fills up your chest, bringing tears to your eyes.

"Arthur, please," you moan, and there must be something in your voice that makes him understand. 

He leans forward, and you throw your arms around him, drawing him in for a kiss. It should be impossible for him to hold that position, but he lets you cling to him. While his finger curls inside of you, he whispers against your lips. "You're doing so good, my sweet boy. Just let go."

You cry out as his words send you over the edge a moment later, all the tension building up in one spot before flooding your whole body. You come in Arthur's hand, your muscles clenching hard around his finger. You hold on to Arthur, pressing your face in the crook of his neck, barely able to breathe.

Then you fall back, gasping for air while Arthur keeps stroking himself. He pulls out his finger, and like the day before, he presses his cock against your ass as he comes, painting you with his seed.

A sudden calmness enters the room as Arthur lies down next to you, only interrupted by your breathing. With your last strength, you turn to Arthur, and he pulls you close when you put your head on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat while Arthur runs his fingers through your hair.

"I won't stay away for so long anymore," he says, so quietly that you're not even sure he means to talk to you. "I promise."

Warmth pools in your chest and you fall asleep.

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

It's been only three days since your hunting trip with Arthur, but you already miss him even worse than in the weeks before that. He had to bring the deer back to camp but promised to visit you within the week. You hope he'll be back soon. Assuming that more could happen between you two, you took a bath at the saloon every day, and you're beginning to attract weird looks and some gossip from the girls.

The day draws to a close, and you wonder if you should head to the saloon when there's a rapid knock on the door. Your heart almost leaps out of your chest, but you remind yourself that it could be somebody else than Arthur. 

Opening the door, you see a familiar face, but one you didn't expect. "John?"

"Hey there, friend," John says, looking over your shoulder to check the room. "Sorry to barge in like that, but we need a place to stay."

"We?" you ask in confusion while John pushes you to the side to make more room.

Charles and Javier walk in after him, followed by a smaller, burly man you haven't seen before. After them comes Arthur, taking a look around outside before quickly closing the door. 

Charles walks around the room, closing all your drapes, while Javier pulls out a weapon to reload it.

"I don't like this, we should just get out of here," the smaller guy says.

"Shut up, Bill," John hisses as you turn to Arthur.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Um, we'll leave you to it," John says, ushering their men to the other end of the house, giving Arthur and you some room.

Arthur grabs your shoulder and pulls you aside, shielding you from the other's view. "I'm very sorry to drag you into this, but John insisted that we come here," he says quickly, his voice low and out of breath.

"Why?"

"We're in trouble," Arthur says, before hiding his face behind his hand. "God, this was a mistake. We need to leave."

"Arthur, tell me what the hell is going on," you say, fear creeping up on you. You've never seen Arthur so worried, even before your coach got robbed.

Arthur sighs deeply. "We just robbed the bank, and something went south. There's way more police than we thought, and they're already blocking the streets. We can't get out of here without a bloodbath."

Your heart drops, wondering if Arthur knows in how much trouble they really are. "Are you crazy? There are bonds in that bank, government bonds. They could call in soldiers from the nearest fort if they feel like it. This is by far the worst possible bank to rob."

All color is draining from Arthur's face. "We didn't know that," he whispers.

"Well, you should have asked me. Not doing shit on your own, remember?"

Arthur doesn't answer you, seemingly lost in thought. "We can't be here. It's too dangerous for you," he says before waving the others over. "Come on, we're leaving!"

"Told you pretty boy ain't gonna help us," Bill hisses at John.

They head for the door, Arthur trying to push past you, but you plant yourself in front of him and press one hand flat on his chest, making them all stop. "You're not going anywhere."

"Come on," John begins when you see Bill reaching for his gun. 

Without thinking, you pull Arthur's gun from its holster and aim it at Bill. "Move and lose your hand," you growl.

Bill hesitates, and Arthur looks back and forth between you two. "He's a damn good shot," he says, but his voice is strained.

When Bill lifts his hand away from his gun, Arthur turns to you. "Please, just let us leave. You gain nothing from handing us over to the police."

You stare at him, unable to believe that he could think this about you. "I'm going to help you, you dumb bastard, just keep that dog off of me."

You turn the gun around and hand it to Arthur before walking to the middle of the room. The men watch you as you draw your carpet back, revealing a trapdoor. "My uncle built this in after the house was done. Nobody knows it's here."

You open the trapdoor, and since John is standing closest to you, you wave him over. "Come on. Those government fellers don't joke around. They'll go door to door if they have to, you have to hide."

At least John seems to trust you. After a quick look over to Arthur, he disappears down the ladder. "Looks good," he says, and you wave at the others to follow.

"I ain't going down there," Bill grunts, but immediately gets pushed forward by Charles.

"Move, or we'll make you," Javier says, his hand resting on the knife on his belt.

With a groan, Bill gets in motion but gives you a dirty look before he disappears through the door. Charles and Javier follow him without a fuss, leaving Arthur and you behind in awkward silence.

"I'm sorry I thought-" Arthur begins, but you cut him off.

"We'll talk later. Now just get down there before the damn police show up!"

Arthur nods, and the second he's through the door, you close it over him, putting the carpet back in place. Soon after, you hear voices and shouts outside. With your heart pounding like crazy, you devise a plan, hoping to get the police to stay away from you.

Heading outside through the back, you get the last deer you shot and drag it into your kitchen. Acting fast, you get it open and slice it up, hanging up body parts and generally making a mess. By the time there's a knock on your door, your whole house reeks of the dead animal, and your apron is drenched in blood.

"Open up! It's Sheriff Lewis," a voice shouts from outside.

You've known the Sheriff since you were a child, so you go to open the door right away. Anything else would be suspicious. Outside, the Sheriff is flanked by two official-looking government types, one of them raising his gun the second he sees you.

"Sheriff?" you ask, and Lewis quickly pushes down the guy's gun, giving him a dirty look. Then he turns to you.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we got a serious situation going on. You might have heard the commotion." 

"Is it the panther?" you say, wiping your hands at a bloody rug. "Already got two of my deer, that bastard. I tried to get him a couple of days ago, but couldn't find a trail."

The Sheriff looks at you completely dumbfounded. "A panther?"

"Got into my shag, that ratchet beast," you grunt. "Why do you think I'm hacking up deer in the middle of my house?"

Finally, the Sheriff seems to catch on and shakes his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, but we have way more urgent business. The bank just got robbed."

You laugh as if he made a great joke, but go silent when the men just stare at you. "Wait, you're serious?" you ask, acting particularly surprised. "Who'd be dumb enough to do that?"

"We don't know yet," the Sheriff grunts. "I've got reports about four or five men, probably a gang that's been roaming around here for a while. There have been a few incidents with stagecoach and train robberies nearby."

"Are they dangerous?" you ask, looking back into your house as if you want to rip your hunting rifle off the wall right away.

The Sheriff lifts a hand. "Don't worry, we're already covering all the roads. There's nowhere they can go. We should have them in the hour."

"Oh good," you say with a sigh. "You had me worried there for a moment."

"Just stay inside and be careful," the Sheriff says, turning around.

He clearly wants to leave, but one of the other men clears his throat. "We have to check, Lewis."

The Sheriff sighs, turning back to you. "You mind if we take a quick look inside? We have to check all the houses."

"Oh no, not at all." You step aside, although your heart is pounding like crazy. You lay some good groundwork, now you hope that Arthur's men don't lose their heads, especially that Bill guy.

The government guys walk in briskly, but just like you hoped, they don't care to stay very long in the stench you created. One of them is coughing as if he wants to vomit right next to your door while the other gasps a quick "All clear." to the Sheriff.

Lewis nods at him before turning to you. "Stay vigilant. If you see something suspicious, try to get word to us, but I wouldn't advise approaching these guys. They're very dangerous."

"Of course not," you say. "You know me. Just shooting animals."

Tipping his hat to you, the Sheriff walks away, the other men following him quickly. You close the door, leaning against it from the inside. After a few deep breaths, you check the window to make sure they're gone before heading back to the trapdoor. You pull away the carpet, whispering to the ground. "It's me, I'm coming down."

When you reach the bottom of the ladder, five guns are trained on you, but when Arthur puts his one away, the others follow.

"How does it look?" John asks.

"You're in deep shit," you say honestly, still surprised that the infamous Van der Linde Gang could be dumb enough to hit that particular bank. "The Sheriff assured me they had all the roads covered, and they're checking all the houses."

"Nice touch with the deer," Charles says, making the others turn to him.

Remembering the bloody apron, you take it off but nod to Charles. "Thank you. That was the only thing I could think of to keep them away from here."

"So, what do we do now?" Javier asks.

"Getting the hell outta here," Bill grunts, "like I said from the start."

He looks to Arthur with hope, who in turn, watches you. His expression is still worried, but you don't think it's just about the trouble they're in. "What do you think?" he asks, and his eyes say even more.

I'm sorry I was doing things without you again, but I need your help now.

You sigh and try your best to think fast. "You're the first ones who've been dumb enough to actually rob the bank, so there's no real plan in place to deal with the situation. They'll probably search for a while and then regroup by nightfall, come up with a plan."

"Which would look how?" Arthur asks, and you can't help but feel flattered. At least he trusts that you know these things.

"Call in men from the nearby fort would be my guess," you sigh. "The sheer number of the military will give them enough of an advantage. We need to get you out before that happens."

"What I've been sayin'," Bill grunts.

"Shut up," the other four reply and Bill crosses his arms and leans against the wall, sulking.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I can't go out right now, or the Sheriff might get suspicious. I think it would be best to wait out their search, then I can have a quick look around. If we're lucky, I might have a spot to get you past the roadblocks, but I'd have to check if they're covering it. For now, you need to stay put."

You focus on Bill for your last words, and to your surprise, he stays silent. "Thank you," John says, "you're saving our asses here."

"Don't thank me yet," you say, and you can't help but look at Arthur. The thought of losing him over something so stupid is killing you. After what they did, getting shot on sight is probably their best bet. The richer the person, the less they like to get robbed. "I'll get you when it's time to go."

‐------------

It's been dark for a while before you head back down into the hidden cellar. The men are sitting on the ground, seemingly half asleep and exhausted, but their heads snap up, waiting for your update on the situation.

"I think I have a way to get you out. It's a little risky, but I'm sure it's our best bet."

"Let's go then," Arthur says, all of them getting to their feet.

You're about to head up the ladder when John drops back to one knee, only not falling over because Javier is holding him. "John, what the hell?"

"You're bleeding," Charles says, pushing John's coat to one side. "What happened?"

John grunts. "That guard outside the bank got me before I got him. So what?"

"Jesus Marston, why didn't you say something?" Arthur asks with a combination of worry and annoyance. "You could have bled out by now."

"Just a scratch."

Telling by the stain on his shirt, you don't think it's just a scratch, and since he just went down, you're not sure if he's capable of making a silent escape through enemy territory.

"Let me see," you say, heading over to John. "I know a little something about patching people up."

"It's nothing," John says, getting to his feet. You wouldn't call his stance stable. Even in the dim light coming from above, you can tell he's pale, and sweat is covering his forehead.

Arthur must see the same. He grabs John by one arm and holds him together with Charles. "Take a look, please."

It feels a little weird, but you pull up John's shirt, revealing a cut over his left hip bone. It's not overly deep, but fresh blood is leaking out. "I definitely need to stitch that up."

"Swanson can do that back at camp," John says. "Let's go already."

"Can he make it?" Arthur asks you with a look over to John that tells you that John is in for quite a scolding later.

"Maybe," you say, your eyes trained on John. "You'll have to drag him along, which makes it pretty hard to stay silent and avoid the police, but once you've done that - you should be back at camp right before his heart gives out."

John stares at you with wide eyes. "It's just a tiny scratch!"

"Then get up that ladder on your own."

Arthur and Charles let go of John, and he stumbles to the ladder, getting a foot on the first rung before he falls back. You manage to catch him, and Arthur quickly helps you to put him down on the ground.

"Goddammit John, you're alright?" Arthur asks.

"Dizzy," John mumbles.

"We can't take him with us like that," Javier says.

"We can't leave him behind," Charles immediately disagrees.

You admire his resolve, but looking at John, you don't think that they'll have many choices. "I'll patch him up, and you'll leave him here. I can hide one man for a few days. You can get him when things quiet down."

"But Abigail-" John begins before Arthur slaps his forehead.

"Shut up, Marston. She's probably glad that she doesn't have to see your ugly mug for a few days."

That's a harsh thing to say, but John doesn't even look offended, so you get up. "I'll get something to patch him up."

It doesn't take you long to clean the wound and close it, but with John bleeding for a couple of hours, you still don't think it's a good idea to let him go with the others. With Charles' and Arthur's help, you make a makeshift bed down in the cellar while Javier and Bill check the windows, trying to spot any police.

Charles joins them after you put John to rest, leaving you behind with Arthur. His eyes rest on you when you quickly check on John's bandage. "Is there anything you can't do?" he asks.

Since John looks pretty out of it, you shrug your shoulders. "Taking a cock, I guess."

Arthur chuckles but quickly gets serious again. "I mean it. You're unbelievable. Amazing."

"Keep your big words for after I got you out of here," you say, but you can't help that warmth spreads through your whole body.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Arthur says, his voice barely audible as if he's ashamed to say it out loud.

You walk over to him and thinking about what's coming next, you pull him in for a long kiss. "It's all good. Let's focus on getting you out of here first, okay?"

"Sure," Arthur says with the sweetest little smile on his face, and you have to turn around and walk away, or you wouldn't be able to let him go.

A few minutes later, you're on your way through town. Lucky for Arthur and his men, your house is close to the nearby woods, and you make it there without being seen. Then, you head to an old mining tunnel. It's been shut down after a few cave-ins, and you hate the idea of Arthur going in there. The chances of being buried are much smaller than getting shot by the police, though, since they're still patrolling the outskirts of town.

Javier lights the lamp you gave him, heading into the mine first, followed by Bill and Charles. Arthur turns to you, looking like he has no desire to go next. "Are you sure you wanna keep Marston? If they find him-"

"Then I'll tell them he's a stranger I found wounded on the road," you say. "They can't blame me for helping a guy in need. And if they lock him up, we'll find a way to bust him out again."

"Like I said," Arthur smiles, "unbelievable. Extraordinary."

"Shut up and go already," you hiss, hoping that the dark will cover your embarrassment. 

This time, it's Arthur who pulls you in for another kiss, his arms closing warm around you. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Make sure it's really safe."

Arthur tips his hat, finally vanishing in the mine, and you sneak back to your house. John is fast asleep in your basement, but his face has gotten its color back. You wipe the sweat from his forehead with a sigh. 

Whenever you think that things might turn out fine, something like this happens. You're already pretty involved in the gang's business, and you begin to believe that John wasn't so far off. Maybe you should consider joining them. Somehow, the thought of leaving your home and going with Arthur doesn't scare you at all.

[soundofseventeen]

Play It Again (Lee Chan)

Happy birthday to my (and our) soulmate @peachy-hoon​!!! There aren’t enough words to convey how much we love and adore you and the 3M/Trash Royals wouldn’t exist without you. Thank you for....everything, really! 

Word count: 3065

Inspo: Play It Again

Chan wondered why he was here tonight. He could’ve been at home in his favorite pajamas, stuffing his face with popcorn and shielding his eyes as the next jump scare popped up on the screen. Instead, he was sipping a beer with his friends in a parking lot behind an American themed style restaurant his friend Joshua worked at and in the midst of the conversation between Jeonghan and Seungcheol, he wondered why the Americans were so strange. 

He knew Joshua was born and raised in the famous Los Angeles, California, home of the celebrities, endless beaches and endless beach parties. Chan would’ve understood if he had gotten a job at a surf shop or anywhere that required being outside to remind him of home. But Joshua’s job as a waiter required him to dress like he was going to a rodeo….one that he had only seen in the movies.

Any other time Chan would’ve laughed at him, but tonight they were in the same boat. He looked down at his outfit, feeling too warm in the jeans too heavy for him and the boots that suffocated his feet. He didn’t even wanna think about the ten gallon hat on his head nor the handkerchief around his neck. But it was a party and the only way to get in for free was to look like a cowboy. At least he didn’t stand out, but he felt like a fool nonetheless. Maybe he was at a county fair. He wouldn’t have doubted it with the way the American country songs he couldn’t even understand blared over the speakers, the hay littering the entire place and even the way the vague scent of manure carried around. (Which in his opinion crossed the line a little.) At least the food was good, the barbecued stuff especially and the cold bottle wrapped around his hand wasn’t too bad either.

He couldn’t tell if he was enjoying himself with the way he caught up on his life with his friends or if he was passing time until it was acceptable to go home. He laughed at their jokes, even spitting out some of his beer when Soonyoung gave an accurate impression of Jeonghan, and he had to turn around to compose himself. However, he just wanted the comfort of his couch, swaddled in his favorite blanket and go on about his life until he felt it appropriate to go out again. That is, until he saw you sitting on the tailgate of someone’s pick up (he couldn’t believe how far these owners went to give it the Western country feel but he was impressed), laughing at whatever someone was saying, which he pinpointed as Joshua. Your hand was on his shoulder, clearly amused and Chan wondered if Joshua was there to work or actually flirt with you when he could’ve done so off the clock.

“You wanna go over there?” Vernon motioned when he noticed Chan staring.

“I’m fine here, but you guys can go if you want.” Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Let’s go,” Seungcheol ushered the small group that had formed. “I have to talk to Joshua about some missing dishes that disappeared last time he was over.”

“Channie, when was the last time you were in a relationship?” Jeonghan asked casually, slinging his arm around the youngest boy’s shoulder.

“The last time was when Hoshi hyung got his ass beat by Woozi hyung in that tournament. I think?” He ran forward a couple of steps when he heard Soonyoung right behind him, hearing the older boy complain about how Chan was never supposed to bring that up ever again and he laughed as loudly as his lungs let him. He honestly felt like he was in high school again; the only difference was that he could legally drink now. He turned around, walking backwards, taking a swig of said alcohol. “Why?”

“I happen to know someone who’s single.”

“I don’t know who you bribed, but I’ll have to decline. Again.” He saw that you were finally alone and you looked up to meet his gaze. He liked the way your face broke out into a wide smile and you waved at him (and them) enthusiastically. If only his heart could calm down a little, that’d be great though. But then Joshua came back with two plates of food and he felt a little disheartened. Which was good in a way. At least he wouldn’t try to steal you away from him.

“Your loss,” Jeonghan shrugged. “I’m hungry. You, come with me.” He grabbed Seungcheol’s wrist and dragged him away from the group, the oldest whining that he could’ve taken someone else because the fine china in question was more important. Soonyoung then excused himself to buy another beer, saying he’d be right back with Seungkwan following behind him, begging him to buy him one. It was just him and Hansol and he wasn’t sure why his nerves were getting the best of him. It’s not like something was gonna happen.

“Are you still interested in buying that guitar we saw the other day?” Hansol asked, making conversation. He took off his own cowboy hat and fanned himself with it, blowing out a huge gust of air.

“I wanna but I keep thinking if it’s worth the money. I dance and create new dances. But I want Joshua hyung to keep teaching me without having to borrow his.” Chan just realized in that moment that he really had no other hobbies. Friends, yes...but things to do? Not really.

Hansol nodded, throwing the hat back on. “I get you. What if I help you find one?” He raised his hand to wave. “Joshua, hey! Hi, Y/N!”

The giggle you let out may have melted Chan’s insides and forgot about the instrument. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He really had to snap out of whatever trance you managed to put him in. Especially with one of his best friends in the picture. “Hey! Nice night, huh?” He figured he could at least afford to sit next to you, right? He handed you the beer bottle, placed his hands on the tailgate and jumped up. 

“It’s too hot,” Vernon whined. “Josh, I don’t know how you do this every night.” He pulled the bandanna around his neck to prove his point.

“I get paid enough to suffer. At least I think I do.”

“Joshua, you’re such a baby about this most days. I tell you not to go all out, but ask him if he listens.”

Joshua stuck his tongue out at you. “Well you never listen to me. But anyways, I need to go find my boss and ask him about my pay. Come on. The inside of the restaurant is a lot cooler than in here.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Without missing a beat, Vernon grabbed the employee by the flannel and dragged him away.

Chan jumped a little when you tapped him on the shoulder. “Want some? If I have any more of these ribs, I’m gonna puke. Joshua swears if I don’t eat every few minutes, I’m gonna yell at him.”

“Maybe he’s just being a good boyfriend,” Chan shrugged, the last word making him internally choke.

“Joshua Hong? My boyfriend? I hope you’re joking.” You threw your head back and laughed. “Oh my god, you’re too funny!”

“Wait, you’re not dating? No way.” He couldn’t stop the giant grin from forming. There’s no way you couldn’t have been dating him.

“Nah, he’s just hoping I can set him up with one of my friends. This is just him trying to bribe me.”

“So you’re not gonna help him out with that?”

“Don’t need to. The feeling’s mutual, but he can’t really see that and I’m not gonna tell him. Anyway, I heard about your new job. Congrats!”

“Ahh yes. It’s every man’s dream to run a cash register and have people threatening me for doing my job.” He downed the last of the drink. Maybe water would be good from here on out. If another bottle didn’t get him buzzing....then surely your laugh would. God, you had such a cute laugh. Chan didn’t know how long he stayed talking to you, nor that his friends had basically ditched him and watched him, but he didn’t care. He felt on top of the world; like he was immortal; like he could take on any challenge possible and he could win blindfolded with one arm behind his back; like-

“Oh my god!” you screamed, jumping off and bringing Chan back to the present moment. “This is my song! I kept bugging Joshua about playing this!” And before Chan could register anything more, you had pulled him off the tailgate. “Come on Chan! I wanna dance!”

Luckily, his reflexes were faster than his current state of mind so he managed to follow directions. Somehow between the spinning around and the music that suddenly seemed too loud, he managed to pull you close (making him more nervous than he already was), and be in the moment. “Wait, how do you know this song?” he asked.

“Joshua and Vernon play it a lot when we hang out. I guess it got stuck in their heads and when I heard it, I fell in love.”

Chan couldn’t understand the words, but he saw your eyes and the faraway, dreamy look they held and maybe it wasn’t too bad. He liked the way you moved easily with him as if you were reading his mind, and he liked that you couldn’t stop singing along and he liked that no matter times you kept looking away every time you looked at him, you couldn’t stop looking at him. Man, he was in trouble. He wasn’t expecting it to end so soon, nor when you suddenly kissed his cheek and pulled back with a smile. God, he just wanted to yell to whoever was in charge of the music to play it one more time. It seemed like his night couldn’t get better. He couldn’t believe that he almost missed this for a scary movie he could watch 100 times.

“Joshua, play it again,” he heard you whine to no one in particular, which he found both endearing and humorous.

Was he falling in love with you? He could feel his heart beating out of his chest because you hadn’t moved away from him nor had you let go of his hands. It felt too warm for him now. He was sweating and he just wanted to fan himself to cool off but he couldn’t move; he didn’t wanna break whatever spell you cast on him. At least, not yet anyway. 

“Hey Chan?”

“Yeah?” He swallowed. Part of him wanted you to confess your feelings for him so he could remind himself to breathe again...but he also wanted to have this moment forever just in case he was misreading the signs. Mostly, he just wanted to kiss you now but he had to hold back.

“I think your friends ditched you.” You let go of his hand to point out the fact that his friends were indeed leaving the parking lot, trying not to look like they left him behind. “Asshole...Joshua did too. There goes his date.”

He snickered. “I didn’t know you could be so petty.”

“He said he wasn’t leaving without me. But joke’s on him; I have his house keys.” Sure enough, you pulled them out of your pocket and laughed. 

Maybe he was going into cardiac arrest. His heart was beating faster than ever. He could feel his cool composure slipping every time you did something he considered cute and even though he liked it, he couldn’t get used to it. “I could...um t-take you home i-if you want-t.” Oh god; he was stammering now. He wasn’t even sure how you managed to make him nervous. Oh my god….what if you rejected the idea. He really just blurted the idea out. Wait, what if you weren’t even ready to go home? Oh my god, you were probably thinking that he couldn’t wait to get rid of you, and that wasn’t even the case! Wow, you really made him nervous.

“I mean, if you don’t mind...I wouldn’t say no. I have an early shift tomorrow and my boss will kill me if I’m late.”

Or maybe he really had to stop overthinking things. “Come on then. Just show me the way.”

*

Okay, maybe he didn’t plan on you living on the outskirts of town or even the way the radio played absolutely nothing that catered to his taste so late in the night. If only his car had the Bluetooth system or even something that could provide an aux cord but nope, he couldn’t afford that yet. He was lucky he even made it this far since the last time he had a job.

And he certainly didn’t anticipate you falling asleep somewhere along the way. But at least it prevented that awkward silence or him oversharing some embarrassing story just because his nerves didn’t let him focus. He probably would’ve blurted out how he couldn’t believe Joshua didn’t have a crush on you, no offense to your friend. Or maybe he would’ve been too forward and asked you to marry him or something. Something told him he would steal all the stars in the sky for you and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Chan continued changing the stations to keep his mind empty with the exception of finding a song or station that would satisfy him. They all played the same tunes, censored the same words, talked about the same topics so it was a lot harder to find something he’d like. He came across a couple of songs in French, one in Spanish, four in English and a shit ton of kpop which made him smile. 

In another lifetime, he figured he could’ve been one of those idols who won fans over with his charming smile and sweet words. He was modest about his dance covers but he effortlessly kept up with even the hardest choreography. Maybe then, he could have your attention but he wasn’t sure that’d work. He’d be busy and he wanted to have all the time in the world for you. Maybe a kpop idol wasn’t his best bet for that. He’d try again in his next lifetime. Right now, he was happy where he was.

When Siri announced he was here, he gently shook your shoulder to wake you up and you swatted him away. “Y/N, you’re home.”

“Two more minutes,” you mumbled and you were lucky he had nowhere else to go the following morning.

He let you be and turned his attention back to the stations, each time more unsatisfied with the last. He needed to be smarter and at least invest in buying some CDs even if they were outdated. The radio, Chan could conclude, sucked more everyday than when he was a kid. And yet he still searched.

 An explicit rap that sounded better when the curse words played...a catchy pop song that he would eventually come to hate because it would be overplayed...he was pretty sure this was a Japanese song he heard at the mall once...a throwback from when his parents were his age...a commercial for tires….more pop songs he could tolerate at the moment….this sounds like Y/N’s favorite song….a jingle that would probably be stuck in his head tom-wait…was it? No it cou-....it was your favorite song.

Chan slowly turned to you, still fast asleep and he tried one more time. “Hey, I found your song.”

“They don’t play it on the radio...” You frowned a little, trying to fall back asleep.

He turned up the volume, patiently watching the way you woke up rather quickly when you finally recognized it. “Oh my god! This is my song! We’re hearing it again! Chan, here it is! It’s playing!”

He couldn’t stop that smile from spreading from the way you moved in your seat. “Let’s go on a date next Friday.” Oh crap...that’s what he was afraid of. The no filter and the way you stopped dancing. Maybe he should just lie down in the middle of the street and pray someone would run him over. If he just got out slowly…

“Sure...I’ll ask my coworker to trade me shifts.” Though you weren’t looking at Chan when you agreed, he could see that smile on your face and how you touched your cheek. 

Oh my god, you were adorable and he was in love with you. “Would I get bonus points if I learn to play this song for you? Joshua hyung has been teaching me how to play the guitar these last few weeks…”

“If you learn to play this song-” That smile on your face that just widened at the thought said it all for him. He was gonna learn it and he was gonna woo you with it and he was gonna make sure you thought of him every time it played.

“We have a deal.” He watched you get out slowly, him turning the volume up as high it could go so you could hear the whole thing and not caring if the neighbors complained about the noise. You were the happiest person in the world right now and he wasn’t gonna take that away from you; not now or ever. 

You were already at the front door when you ran back up to Chan’s window and tapped on the glass. “Yes? Did you forget your keys in here?” He turned on the light and looked at the seat which he didn’t find. “They’re not-” His sentence was cut short with you grabbing his cheeks pressing your lips to his and kissing him giddily and pulling away just as quickly. “Thank you.” 

Despite him fumbling with his seatbelt and nearly falling over on his way out,  he managed to kiss you properly with the dumb song he couldn’t understand a word of still playing and the soft wind blowing, the headlights being the only source of light in the cool night and he wished someone would play it again to keep kissing you.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt.4

getting wild up in here, angst is slowly ramping up :)

“I’ll try the armour on!” Mianite chirped, eagerly taking the enchanted armour from Karl.

“My lord, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s probably cursed or somethin’,” Karl earnestly tried to dissuade the young god from the risky plan. After recovering the armour the Darkness had worn in their grueling fight, they spent almost an entire day arguing about what to do with it. Personally, Karl thought it would be for the best if they just destroyed the lot. It had a strange, ethereal glow to it unlike regular enchanted armour. It could only lead to trouble. Mianite grinned cheekily, tapping the brim of Karl’s cap, pulled low over his eyes - it was the only thing that could hide the now almost entirely glinting, pitch black depths of his eyes, along with the scarf wrapped tightly across his face to disguise the other side effects of the Darkness’ momentary connection to him. No one questioned them after he claimed he just wanted to upgrade his look - why would they? They just thought he was trying to look like a strange cowboy.

“Don’t worry about it, my champion. I am a god, after all.” Without a moment's hesitation, Mianite pulled the full set of armour on taking a moment to adjust it to fit properly. He spun around with a wide grin, his arms spread out wide. “Well, what do you-” Mid-sentence, his face contorted painfully, and he doubled over, as though struck from behind.

“My lord?” Karl stepped forward hesitantly, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. Mianite’s hand shot up, grabbing Karl’s wrist in a vice-like grip. He straightened abruptly, the once sunny face of the god Karl knew and respected twisted into a strange, cruel visage. 

“I’d take better care of your god, if I were you Karl.” The Darknesses’ harsh, rasping voice emitted from Mianite’s mouth like some sort of trick a ventriloquist would play. But this was no magic trick. Wrenching his hand away, Karl sprinted towards the beach - a point where he could take off easily enough with his elytras.

“Jordan, Tom, get out of here!” He yelled panickedly over his shoulder, as he shot into the air, the familiar feeling of the wind rushing against him acting as a small spot of comfort. How could that happen? Why didn’t I stop him? This is all my bloody fault. He reached a high point above the islands, and attempted to pull himself into a controlled circle. The weather wasn’t on his side, unfortunately, and gusts seemed determined to send him plummeting to the ground. It only took a moment for him to spot Jordan and Tom, with the Darkness somehow easily pursuing them. There was no way they’d be able to handle him in another fight, especially in the air, and Karl didn’t want to do anything that would harm Mianite. As Jordan shot by him, struggling to bombard the Darkness with arrows, Karl called loudly out to him, “Jordan, get Ianite’s help! She was down there with us, she has to do something!” Jordan, though struggling to maintain his complex flight pattern, did as asked, diving towards the islands. Helplessly gliding far above, Karl watched the Darkness launching volleys of attacks on Tom, as he tried to distract him from Jordan’s efforts.

Within a minute, the Darkness suddenly froze in place, tendrils of black and purple light winding around his torso like a straightjacket. Ianite’s usually bubbly expression was frozen in a small scowl, as she drew the temporarily trapped being towards her, evidently putting all her strength into it. Dropping into a steep dive, Karl stumbled to a stop alongside her, his eyes fixated on the hate-filled expression contorting Mianite’s face. “It’s pointless trying to capture me sister. I have become more powerful than anything you could conjure up in your visions.” The voice was a combination of Mianite’s confident tones and the grating sounds of the Darkness’. It repulsed Karl, yet he stood still where he was. Ianite rolled her eyes at the declaration, turning to the three champions instead.

“I’ll be bringing him back to Asgard to try and purge this thing from him.” Her eyes flitted to Karl, and he heard a soft voice in his head, much more soothing than what he had ever heard from the Darkness.

He’ll be fine. My brother is rash, it was not your fault.

Karl couldn’t bring himself to give any other response than a small nod. But the instant before they vanished, the all-too familiar tones of the Darkness echoed in his mind.

Imagine following a god as weak as the form I am in...

Then with a small pop, the two gods vanished into thin air. “That was insane,” Tom broke the silence, running a hand through his hair. Jordan nodded mutely in agreement, clearly still mulling over what had happened. “Listen, Karl, why don’t you join Cap, Hermod, and I for a round of mead. It’s on me.” Karl shook his head at Tom’s suggestion. He needed to get away, if anything. He needed space to think, to be alone.

“I’m good right now, catch up with you later mates.” Raising a hand in farewell, he turned to trod slowly back towards his house.

Hours later, he found himself in Mianite’s new temple, the temple his god had created after the first one became demolished. Normally he found it a bright, comforting place to sit and think in. But with Mianite gone, it seemed cold and austere, almost like a crypt. A chill stole over him, a chill that sunk into his bones, a chill that reminded him of the sensation that always crept over him when he looked into the neverending depths of the void in the End. His bare feet softly padding across the smooth floor, he made his way to the front of the temple where he kneeled in front of the glistening throne. It was polished to the point where he could see his own reflection staring back morosely. 

Dreading to see the extent of the damage to his face, he first removed the wide brimmed hat from his now ruffled hair, then carefully unwound the dark blue scarf from his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room. The amount of light seemed to only agitate the burning sensation in them, a pain that just intensified as the days passed. He had learned not to rub at them, because that only caused thin rivulets of a thick black substance to trail slowly down his cheeks. The stuff stained like nothing else, and he spent hours trying to scrub it from his pillow when he mistakenly swiped a hand across it.. But he was used to the sight of the lifeless, deep black eyes. It was his skin that had started to worry him. At first, the grey skin had only appeared under his eyes, like shadows from not getting enough sleep. But it soon grew darker, spreading further around his eyes and slowly down his cheeks - giving him the look of someone not quite alive. Thin cracks formed, fracturing the skin like a statue about to crumble. 

He reached a hand up to lightly touch the infected skin, wincing as a few flakes fluttered down. When the skin crumbled away it felt like hundreds of tiny needles had been stabbed into the site. A deep sigh escaped him, as his shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the base of the throne. “What did I do wrong? Why did it have to be me, and my god? I don’t… I’ve been tryin’ and tryin’ to figure it out but I dunno why. Am I not good enough? Not strong enough?” His voice cracked slightly, as he croaked out the words in a hushed voice. 

He didn’t expect a reply. He knew he wouldn’t be getting one, what with the state Mianite was in. I failed him. I failed my god. I could’ve protected him, but instead I let the Darkness take him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could just cry, just let his emotions escape him. Things would be so much easier if he only didn’t have to feel. A sticky, thin trickle of the black substance inched its way down the brittle skin of his cheek, falling onto his loosely folded hands.

It’s not too late to accept my offer, Karl.

A scoff escaped Karl as he heard the voice of the Darkness rumble in his head. “As if. You screwed with my god, man. That was taking it too far. And have you seen me? I’m a walking disaster after that shitty stunt you pulled.”

If you join me, you will be healed. You’ll be restored to your proper self, Karl. But it will be better, because you’ll have access to powers you could never get with one of those little godlings. 

“I’m not looking for power, mate, I just want to be normal. That’s what you don’t understand.”

I know more of you than you would think. You don’t truly want to just be “normal”. You crave respect, to be recognized as someone worthy of it. You fear the memory of old friends will be stronger than any connection you can ever make. If you simply accept my offer-

Karl pushed himself to his feet, snatching up the scarf and hat from the floor. “You,” his voice trembled, but he steeled himself quickly, “have no idea who I am. I don’t want anything you have to offer.” In all honesty, the offers were growing more and more tempting. To be healed, to be accepted, and to simply be happy? The others will never accept you if you make a deal with the Darkness. Don’t you get that? He hesitated though, still struggling to fight the temptation. With that much power, they’d have to accept me. They’d have no other option.

No, no. What was he even thinking? Force his friends to accept him? What kind of lunatic would actually do that? His resolve strengthened, he reassembled his hat and scarf disguise, and turned to stride towards the large doorway. 

One last thought for you, Karl. Do you really want to side with a god that would willingly risk himself and his people to satisfy an idle whim? Do you truly support a god so selfish?

Of everything the Darkness had thrown at him, it was the only thing that truly planted a tiny seed of doubt. Out of everything that had happened to him, it seemed like his loyalty and trust in Mianite would always be a constant source of comfort. He’d always be able to turn to him when he was in need - or so he had thought.

The Darkness’ words kept repeating in Karl’s ears, the doubt he felt towards his god growing stronger and stronger. Still, he refrained from doing anything until he could see Mianite face-to-face again. Maybe it was just somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe the Darkness was only saying it to pin him against his own god. He couldn’t just renounce his god as casually as Tom had done. Mianite was still his anchor, and he couldn’t let go of that.

But it all changed the day of the judgments. When he had to capture his own god at sword point, force him into a cell to guard. Staring through the small openings in the door, the god Karl had once been proud to be announced champion of was nothing more than a sneaking, suspicious shell of his former self. Or had he really been like that all along, and Karl just never noticed? 

His turn in the tank came too soon, he was too lost in his thoughts to properly process what was happening to him, until he was sealed into the tank. The water surrounded him, pushing down from all sides. He felt like he was slowly being dissolved into nothingness. The rather warm water felt scalding through the scarf he clung to, keeping his face as concealed as possible. The short duration he spent submerged felt like an eternity, and when his lungs began to burn with the need for air, the water was suddenly gone, and he heard the whispering voice of the judgment tank in his ear.

Darkness

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 2 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

3

Anna sat back far sooner than she wanted to; she could have gone on kissing him like this for hours, but that was a capital B capital I Bad Idea. And so she pulled regretfully away with the dainty little laugh she'd perfected in undergrad, not in acting classes but backstage when the guys playing opposite her sometimes got the wrong idea.

"But it feels so real when I'm up there with you," they'd plead, and she'd do the little laugh and say "God, I should hope so, considering how expensive tuition is here. Good to hear my investment is paying off.”

Kristoff didn't seem as thrown off by the laugh as the others had been; he just leaned back a little and raised his eyebrows. She'd forgotten how he had a funny way of looking at a person that made you want to just open right up and spill it all out.

But she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to spill right now, and so she went the opposite direction, closing off even further. "Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, we can stop wondering about the past and focus on the here and now. Specifically, whether you want that last spring roll or not."

There was a wounded look in the depths of his dark eyes. Good; better now than later. He gave her a familiar crooked smile anyway. "You already ate the other two."

"So you're saying you want it?"

"I'm saying I always liked egg rolls better, but I knew these used to be your favorite, so that's why I got them."

For a moment she wavered, caught between what she wanted and what she knew she should do, but his eyes stayed steady on hers all the same, still that faint hurt hiding in them. It would be awfully easy to fall in love with those eyes.

She moved away, scooting to sit beside him again where he leaned up against the couch. “So,” she said, reaching for the last spring roll and taking a messy bite, “still up to help me run lines?”

Kristoff nodded. “‘Course. Can’t say I’ll be up to par, though, I haven’t acted since our American Lit days.”

“Oh my god, I forgot you were John Proctor! ‘You’re tearing down heaven and raising up a whore’-- and everyone freaked out because they thought Mr. Martin would be pissed you didn’t leave out the cuss word but he was just like…”

She waved her hands emphatically, trying to come up with the right word. “Like...you know. You remember. He thought it was awesome, is what I mean.”

“Honestly, I don’t. I was so embarrassed I was just trying not to pass out.”

She remembered that, the way he’d turned scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears, and she wanted to kiss him again, at least on the cheek to see if she could make him blush like that again, but instead she popped the rest of the spring roll into her mouth and wiped her hands on her jeans and said around a mouthful of cabbage, “Okay, let me get this script.”

Her bag was kicked halfway under the table; she yanked it out, sending loose papers and pens rolling everywhere. “Ah-- shit, sorry.”

He scooped up the pens and handed them to her in a neat bundle while she shuffled through the papers. “God, you’d think they’d do me a favor one of these days and staple these things...anyway, okay, here’s the right order.”

Anna patted the edges neatly into place and presented the script to him. “Don’t let me peek at it, even if I beg. Oh-- and don’t tell anyone about it, either, because I don’t remember or not if I had to sign an NDA or not this time around, and I’d rather not risk it.”

He took the stack of papers with a raised eyebrow. “Okay. So who am I playing?”

“I’m a princess of some country they made up in Europe, and you’re the American journalist trying to kickstart his career assigned to cover me at the start of my...debutante something or other. Basically, I’m supposed to get married off to a prince or something, but then you come along and run into me by mistake outside the palace, and you’re super funny and down-to-earth and it’s this forbidden romance and blah blah blah, at the end I pick you but because for some reason it’s a Christmas movie I still keep the crown, too, and then you kiss me under the mistletoe and voila, roll credits. Oh, and you’re supposed to be from Georgia, so try and do that accent if you can.”

He screwed up his face, trying to-- well, honestly she didn’t know what he was doing. “Y’all--”

“Oh, god, please stop,” she said, putting a hand over his mouth with a dramatic shudder. His breath was warm against her palm as he chuckled. He was making it really hard to do the right thing, which was especially disconcerting considering he wasn’t even trying. 

She fought the urge to stroke her thumb gently against his jaw and instead pulled her hand away. “Just read it like your normal self.”

“Do you want me to try and like...act?”

“Um...if you want to, yeah. Mainly I’m worried about memorizing this. But that’d probably help, so...go for it. Unless it’s weird, in which case--”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said, and it took her a beat to realize he was reading.

She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, slipping into the posh British accent they always wanted you to do for these parts even when the movie was set somewhere vaguely north of Switzerland. “Neither do you.”

“What gave it away? The accent or the cowboy boots?”

Kristoff glanced up from the script, looking vaguely nauseated. “Are people really going to watch this?”

“Tragically, yes, because it’s another Netflix thing, and it’ll get all hyped up whether it really deserves it or not.”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “This is why I stick to my DVD player.”

“You do not.”

He just raised an eyebrow, and she gasped. “Kristoff Bjorgman. You are not seriously telling me that in two thousand nineteen you still don’t have a Netflix subscription.”

“I think my roommate does.”

“Well, that basically counts as yours, then.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know, all the password-sharing and--”

She trailed off. By the look in his eyes, he actually didn’t know. “Well-- never mind. Say your line again so I can do mine.”

“What gave it away? The accent or the cowboy boots?”

“Neither.”

“Then what was it?”

She held the silence for a beat, staring deeply into his eyes, practicing her best you-mean-you-really-don’t-recognize-me face? He returned the gaze with an astonishingly good what-is-this-girl-up-to-and-why-am-I-already-into-her face, and either he’d gotten much better at acting in the last few years, or she really shouldn’t have kissed him even that one time, because there was no way that for either of them it would mean--

“Nothing,” she breathed, the line suddenly jolting its way out of her mouth. “I’m just good at reading people.”

They went back and forth through the script, and to her surprise, he didn’t give in even once when she begged him to let her peek at the lines, even when she tried to bribe him with the last dumpling. “No, Anna, you know this,” he’d said calmly, and then suddenly she had, and they’d gone right along. 

The dialogue was still edging dangerously close to falling straight off a cliff into too-cringy-for-Hallmark territory, but somehow when she was reading it with him, it seemed almost-- almost-- plausible.

Except for that bit about the cowboy boots. That was unforgivable. 

She took a sip of Pepsi and flopped back against the sofa, glad she didn’t have to keep looking at him anymore. Not that there was a problem with the view; it was a nice one, if she was being honest, maybe even a very nice one, but that little bit of sadness still hadn’t melted entirely away, and she knew she wouldn’t forgive herself for putting it there for a long time. 

It’s for the best, she reminded herself fiercely. You know you’re a mess. Don’t need to drag him into it just for old times’ sake. 

Beside her, Kristoff let out a yawn. “Oh, shit, sorry--” she said, suddenly scrambling upright, “didn’t mean to keep you up late or--”

“No, no, you’re good, it‘s only eight. I just was working a double today, got up earlier than normal.”

She bit her lip. He hadn’t made mention of that when he’d volunteered to let her come over and read lines. “I-- well. Thanks, Kristoff, so much. For your help and for letting me hang out here for a while. Let me help you clean up and then I’ll head out.”

She hopped to her feet, already collecting discarded chopsticks and napkins, trying to ignore the frown on Kristoff’s face. “Seriously, Kris, you’re a lifesaver. The audition is tomorrow, and I did my best to prepare but honestly, I just had to do a stupid radio interview about the tampon commercial so I could get an easy paycheck because I owe my sister way too much money right now so that’s what I was worried about yesterday and then before that, I was looking at other auditions online too because I feel like my agent just has to be hiding some from me but then hey it was today and the audition’s tomorrow and so I was screwed if I didn’t get help and--”

“Anna.”

She froze.

He got to his feet slowly; she let her eyes trail up his broad frame, taking in every inch of him. Had he hit another growth spurt in college? 

He held out his hand, and for an absurd moment she thought he meant for her to take it, but then he plucked some of the garbage out of her grasp and led her towards the kitchen, pressing the garbage can open with his foot. “I know it’s been a while,” he said, his voice soft but somehow insistent, “but we’re still friends. I’m happy to help you however I can.”

Anna swallowed hard and forced herself to look away at the decidedly less attractive sight of a half-eaten fortune cookie tumbling into the garbage. “Well-- thanks.”

He nodded, and now that her hands were empty it was so tempting to just grab him by the collar and pull him down into another kiss, reality be damned. So she was a complete mess and he had his life together and she was terrible at relationships and he was probably, like, amazing-- what could it hurt, one more kiss?

But she’d only just run into him again, and she shouldn’t have lost contact with him in the first place, and she really didn’t want to lose him again. You only get so many friends willing to share their apple slices with you every day even though apples are their favorite and you take more than your fair share of the peanut butter, she thought morosely. Can’t just waste someone like that.

She brushed past him and swept the script into her bag, tugging it back on over her shoulders and turning to him with a practiced smile. He hadn’t moved; just let his gaze follow her. “Well, guess I’d better be getting home, then.”

“Need a ride?”

Shit-- she’d forgotten he’d driven her over here right after he’d gotten off work, and the metro line she needed had no stops near here, so it’d be at least an hour getting home, and she didn’t really have money for a taxi but if she got in a car with him again, there would definitely be more kissing, and she just really, really couldn’t do that to him.

“I’m good, thanks! I’ll just get an Uber or something.”

He nodded. “Night, then. Good catching up with you.”

“You, too. Thanks again.”

Her heart was pounding as she slipped out the door. She found herself waiting for some idiotic reason to hear the deadbolt click shut and his footsteps walk away until they faded into silence. God, this was pathetic, even for her. She’d always been awful about jumping into things head first, especially when it came to men, and that had never once actually worked out for her. Which was how she’d ended up majoring in theatre and not even doing any education classes alongside it, and moving into her sister’s place just because it was in LA even though she couldn’t afford her share of the rent, and dating a string of guys who were too into pop-up shops or vaping or Soundcloud rap or whatever the big thing was at the moment, and now, apparently, kissing her high school best friend who definitely deserved better than whatever she was right now.

She made her way down the stairs, dialing her sister’s number already. She picked up on the second ring, just like always.

“Anna? Hey, what is it?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“What’s wrong?”

That was what did her in. She found a bush by the sidewalk and crouched down behind it, feeling the tears already start to stream down her face. “Can you-- can you just come pick me up, please?”

One of the perks of having a big sister who actually had her shit together was free pickup and dropoff service all around the city, though unlike an Uber, the rides didn’t come with no questions asked.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” Elsa asked as Anna clambered into the car, still sniffling pitifully. “I thought you were just going to go study your lines at that coffee shop and then go to the grocery.”

“I was, but then I, um…I ran into Kristoff.”

Elsa frowned. “Should I know who that-- oh my god, Kristoff from high school? The one that you had a crush on for like…”

“Years, I know,” Anna said balefully. “God, I probably still have notebooks in storage full of Mrs. Bjorgman signatures.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“He’s a barista.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

She laughed a little at that, and some of the tension went out of Elsa’s shoulders. “Okay, fair. But he’s in vet school, too.”

“Oh, wow, impressive.”

“I know. Just imagine me trying to go back home for a visit now, they’ll all ask questions about you two and I’ll be like ‘oh, Elsa’s this super successful SLP and Kristoff’s gonna be a vet’ and then they’ll ask what I’m up to and I’ll have to say ‘doing cartwheels in a commercial where they taped some string to my shorts so it looks like my tampon’s hanging out because that’s supposed to be cute and quirky’ and then they’ll say ‘oh my god I think I saw a GIF of that’ and then I’ll have to go dig myself a hole and die in it.”

Elsa just rolled her eyes. She was used to these dramatic tirades. “Anna, you’re twenty-four. You’re not supposed to have your shit together yet.”

“You did.”

“I let you think I did,” her sister said in that infuriating older-and-wiser voice she’d perfected way back in middle school. “I’m serious, you’ll be okay. And whatever happened with Kristoff--”

“God, don’t say his name, please, or I’ll just get all worked up again, and I’ve already gotten mascara everywhere.”

Elsa sighed. “Okay, fine, we’ll save that part of this discussion for when we’re home with pints of Ben and Jerry’s. But just...I want you to know that you’re okay, Anna. More than okay. And you’re going to knock it out of the park with this audition tomorrow. I mean it.”

Anna looked away, rolling down the window and sticking her hand out so she could feel the wind smacking against it, turning her wrist so it could hiss between her fingers. Movies made it seem so much easier to have these moments with someone, to open up and cry it out and get an easy resolution. But this was her life, whether she liked it or not, and she had to put up with it anyhow. “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

[pastelwitchling]

This prompt is courtesy of Anonymous.

Prompt: a corrupt cop stopping Michael and Alex and taking a liking to Alex (who is in the passenger seat or something like that). If you choose to write it, thank uuuu

***

Michael looked to the passenger seat where Alex slept against the window, and his lips quirked up. His arms were crossed tightly to ward off the cold, and as they came to a red light, Michael took his own jacket off, and carefully draped it across Alex’s chest. Alex murmured in his sleep, shifted under the jacket, and turned silent. Michael’s smile widened.

It had been days since he’d seen Alex sleep at all, and the thought that he could do it so easily now with no one else but Michael in the car sent a warmth throughout his chest. He checked to make sure the heaters were working, and lightly pressed two fingers to Alex’s rosy cheeks to know he was warm enough. Michael thought of Alex awake, and knew that the airman would not appreciate being coddled, least of all by the cowboy. And yet the knowledge of that only made Michael want to laugh.

A few months ago, he might’ve been brokenhearted by it, might’ve wanted to wake Alex up just to justify himself, might’ve wanted to pull over and hold Alex in his sleep because he knew he would never get another chance to touch the airman. Now, things were different. He and Alex had spent nights talking, had laughed, had had dinner together, had bonded over fries dipped in milkshakes and Star Wars and music. When Alex looked away from him nowadays, his cheeks flushed. When he told Michael to go away, he said it in a whining tone, laughter bubbling in his throat, that only made Michael want to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. When Alex caught him staring, he’d throw something at him to stop, his lips turned to a cute that made Michael’s heart melt.

And now Alex had trusted him enough to help him follow up on a lead, no Valenti required, which Alex admittedly did not do often. Baby steps.

At any rate, Michael was just reaching over to push Alex’s bangs back from his eyes, and to – he confessed – get a feel of Alex’s soft locks in his hair, his warm skin against his fingers, when he heard the wail of a police siren, and he stopped. Flashing red and blue in his rearview mirror, Michael saw a police car following him, and while rolling his eyes, pulled over to the side.

The first thing Michael registered as the tall cop came to his window was that he reeked of alcohol. Michael would know what that smelled like. He tensed. He’d dealt with drunk cops before, but that was when it was only him in the car, and not Alex with him.

“Howdy, partner,” the cop said, and Michael had all too often recognized the sway in his own drunkenness, the way his words slurred, the way his eyes never clearly focused on whoever was in front of him not to recognize it in someone else. His hands tightened on the wheel.

Damnit, come on, he thought. Not now.

“You know how fast you were going?”

Michael forced a smile. “Honestly didn’t, officer,” he said. Okay, maybe if he stayed calm, the worst that would come out of all of this would be a speeding ticket.

The officer raised a brow. “License and registration please.”

And so Michael sat with his thumbs tapping the steering wheel as the officer looked them over – or tried to. It was pitch black outside, and the cop could barely stand straight. Michael doubted he was even really reading anything on the page. He handed them back to Michael without a ticket, and did something Michael had never seen a cop do.

He leaned an elbow on the car’s hood and peered inside. It took a second for Michael to realize that he was watching Alex.

“What were you boys doing all the way in Hobbs, anyway? That’s a long drive from Roswell.”

Michael frowned. How the hell did this guy know where they had been?

“Can I just have my ticket so we can get home?” he said, then, as an afterthought, added, “Sir.”

The cop smirked, and it terrified Michael because it was that look that he feared most of all in himself when he was drunk. That look always meant trouble.

“You know,” the police officer said, scratching his jaw as he looked around as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I could forget the whole ticket thing if,” he gestured with his chin at Alex, “you’ll let me wake up your friend there. Take him for a ride.”

Michael stared. “You followed us, didn’t you? You sick bastard, you followed us?”

The officer, it seemed, did not seem to appreciate being accused. “Alright, why don’t you step out of the car, sir.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Get out of the car.”

The officer, Michael saw, was still glancing at Alex’s sleeping figure. Michael’s hands curled to fists. He did want to step out of the car, if only to shoot this creep across the desert and watch him fall on the other side like a pebble, but he didn’t want to leave Alex in here alone, not for a second. He had the horrible feeling that if he did, Alex would be in danger.

“Say, officer,” Michael said through grit teeth. “You noticed your car’s on fire yet?”

The cop frowned, glanced at his police car, then did a doubletake. Somehow, the car had turned into a giant bonfire, the flames reaching the dark skies in an instant.

“What the hell,” he muttered, then when the glass suddenly shattered and the tires popped, screamed, “WHAT THE HELL?!”

As he ran to put it out, Michael turned his own engine back on and drove off. And if the cop’s wrist and one of his ankles suddenly broke for no apparent reason, then Michael couldn’t say he knew anything about that.

Michael pulled his phone out and dialed as Alex stirred awake. He looked into the rearview mirror, relieved that the fire was no longer in sight.

“You good?” he asked, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Sorry,” Alex muttered, rubbing his face. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hm? No, you’re fine. Max, hey,” he said as his brother picked up on the other end, “I – yeah, I know what time it is – I need you to do something for me. Yeah, brother, now.”

“What happened?” Alex looked around. “Are we in Roswell?”

“Not yet, Private, go back to sleep.” Then, into the phone, “There’s a cop from the Hobbs district whose car just set fire in the middle of the road. Might want to look into him. No, Sherriff, I have no idea how. I’ll text you the details in a bit. ‘Kay.”

And he hung up, fully aware Alex was watching him with furrowed brows. “Did something happen?”

Michael grinned, reaching a hand over to ruffle Alex’s hair which the airman dodged. “Just a little accident.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You have that look.”

“What look?”

“That I-just-broke-a-dick’s-arm look.”

Michael huffed a chuckle, shaking his head. “Go back to sleep, Private. I’ll wake you when we get to the cabin.”

“Can you at least…” his words trailed off, and before Michael could ask what was wrong, Alex said, “Is this your jacket? Aren’t you cold?”

Michael’s grin widened. “Aren’t you tired?”

“At least take it back.”

“When you leave. I need it to smell like you so I have something to remember you by.”

“You’re a loser.”

“Made you blush a little bit though, didn’t I?”

Alex said nothing for a moment, then, “I’m going to sleep.”

Michael laughed, reached to touch Alex’s arm, and this time, Alex allowed the contact. Michael was glad; part of him needed to be reassured that Alex was here, safe, with him. “You do that, Private.”

***

This was one hell of a random prompt. Sorry it took so long, I’ve been in a schlump of sorts, but I’m really hoping to have all the prompts out by the end of Thanksgiving break.