#and then the cops caught me by pretending to slow down so i could safely cross the highway (those fuckers)

[iloveyoubecauseyouarelove]

Had a dream with Salt Raiders Kaif, Stan, and maybe Ben, Rob, and/or Glen and it was a slasher game. Typical slasher game like Dead by Daylight, sorta had props like Propnight, kinda styled like Friday the 13th. But the catch was that every so often the slasher had an ability that allowed them to teleport right behind the nearest player.

It was scuffed! Winning was almost impossible. People were ratting a lot

Stan became a secondary killer somehow

[rebelwrites]

Trouble Is Your Middle Name

Dominic Toretto x Sister Reader

A/N this is my fic for Fanfic Friday

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Dominic Toretto Masterlist

This Months Writing

There were two rules you had, two rules your half brother gave you when he promised to take you in when you had nowhere else to go.

Rule One you kept up with your studying, just because you had the surname Toretto didn’t mean you could slack off, he wanted the best for you and not to end up like him or the rest of the family.

Rule two was you would keep out of trouble. Stay off the police radar and keep your head clean.

The first rule was easy and you were keeping your grades up and would be ready to sit the Bar soon enough, becoming the first lawyer within the family. But the second rule was hard, you grew up around cars and the fast life so it was in your blood.

It had been a long and exhausting week of studying and you needed a break, before you exploded. So as you climbed into the driver's seat of your Hellcat you went into auto pilot, cruising through the streets until you found an empty parking lot. You needed to let some steam off, it was late so you were less likely to get caught, or that’s what you thought. Little did you know you had a cop following you ever since you left the campus library.

A few burnouts and donuts never hurt anyone.

There was something about throwing the car about that made you feel free, the smell of burning rubber was one of the best smells and you found it relaxing. There was no doubt that you were a Toretto, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have the same mother as Dom and Mia, all that mattered was the Toretto blood than ran threw your veins.

You were in your own little world as you tore up the car park, leaving tyre marks as you went, to even notice the cop had put his lights on. It was only when you heard the blip of his siren you knew you were fucked. And you had broken rule number two.

“Fuck,” you mumbled bringing the car to a stop, killing the engine before slowly climbing out of the car.

“Should have known it would have been a Toretto,” the cop scoffed, instantly getting your back up.

“Talk about pre-judgement,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that Toretto?” The cop spat.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Look can I just go and we pretend this never happened?”

“I’ve been watching you all night, ever since you left campus, so far I can do you for speeding, reckless driving, criminal damage, and I’m sure if I looked probably illegal modifications,” he said, puffing his chest out.

“Look, do what you gotta do, I need to know what’s happening with the car so I can arrange a lift,” you said calmly, when inside you were panicking. You knew Dom was going to flip.

“I’m tempted to seize the car,” he laughed.

“Do it,” you shrugged, pulling your phone out, looking for Dom’s name, hitting call.

Within three rings he answered.

“You do realise the time right?” He laughed.

“Yeah I do but I need you, look don’t flip out but I went to let off some steam in an empty parking lot,” you sighed, “turns out a cop followed me from the campus and is tryna do me for so many things. And is now threatening to seize the hellcat.”

“Fuck sake, Y/N. What did I say?” Dom shouted.

“I know I broke rule two and I’m sorry okay.” You mumbled. “Just please come down, I don’t like the look of this cop, he is giving me the creeps.”

“Say no more kiddo, I’m on my way, ping me your location.” Dom said softly, he knew you didn’t get scared or creeped out often so he trusted your feelings. “I will bring the busta as well. Don’t worry.”

It didn’t take long before you heard the sound of Dom and Brian speeding down the street, pulling into the parking lot, parking with your car.

Dom jumped out the car, instantly pulling you into his arms. It didn’t matter that you were half siblings, neither of you saw each other as that. You were blood and he was going to do anything he could to keep you safe.

“Has he touched you?” He asked.

“No, thank god,” you whispered looking up at him. “I’m sorry, I should have come straight home.”

“It’s fine kiddo, I know you are stressed.” Dom smiled softly, kissing the top of your head, before letting you go.

“Oh so I see you called your half brother,” the cop laughed, “thought you were meant to be a Toretto?”

“You wanna shut your fucking mouth officer,” Dom snapped, pushing you behind him. “I mean is it that slow of a night that you have to follow a young woman and keep her blocked in a parking lot at eleven pm?”

“She was breaking the law,” the officer shrugged, “and just one look at her car tells me that it’s been illegally modified,”

“Well I’ve just had a walk around your car and I can find at least three different violations,” Brian said calmly. “For starters your tyres are bald, you have a brake light out, and the window wiper is broken, that is just from walking around the car.”

“What would your chief say if we reported you?” Dom said, “told him all the issues with your car and how you made a young woman feel uncomfortable. I’m not quite sure that would go down well.”

“Dom my dash cam is still recording,” you whispered.

“And we have proof,” Dom laughed, stepping closer to the cop. “So here is what’s gonna happen, you are going to climb back into your squad car and drive off, pretending that this never happened, that my little sister was never here.”

“But she obviously was here,” the cop laughed.

“I mean it’s our word against yours, these tyre marks could have been from anyone,” Brian shrugged, “and plus Y/N has been with me working on my car.”

“Fine,” the cop huffed, “but if I catch you driving so much one mile an hour over the speed limit I will be coming for you.”

“And then I will just come after you and send this little video to your chief.” Dom hissed. “Now get the fuck out of here and go you know, be a police officer.”

The three of you stood there, watching as he pulled out of the parking lot, driving off into the distance.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hugging Dom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“You are kidding right?” Dom laughed, “Trouble is your middle name”

“So you aren’t mad?” You asked looking up at him.

“What is there to be mad about? You were never here remember,” Dom laughed, “Now come on let’s get you home.”

@chibsytelford @phoenixhalliwell @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @withmyteeth “jessprins13 @rightwhereiwantyou @jasonbabymama @pumpkin-spice-hate @garbinge @zozebo

[fromiftowhen]

fic: my aim is so true (a Chenford post-3x11 one-shot)

Instead of my usual post-episode recap, I took ALL of those Tim Bradford feelings and put them into my first completed Chenford fic since July 2020. I’ve very, very much missed writing Tim Bradford, and this just felt like too many emotions to pass up. 

Rated G | 1500 words | Title from Soldier by Gavin DeGraw 

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

Lucy’s waiting by his truck when he makes his way out to the parking garage later that night.

He slows to a stop, pressing his keys into his pocket and keeping his palms there, just watching her for a moment.

“Did I not pay you enough compliments today, Chen?”

She raises an eyebrow at the question, that all-too-familiar smirk crossing her lips.

“Don’t think there’s such a thing as enough compliments,” she says, shrugging with her free shoulder. She leans against his tailgate, and he feels that same edge creeping in, the one that’s told him for the last thirteen months that she has more to say.

He just waits, letting the unexpected emotions of the last two days well in him.

“Listen,” she sighs. “I heard that Barnes put in her resignation memo.”

He starts to shrug, but the way she’s watching him makes him nod instead. “She did.”

“She okay?”

He tries to stop the smile. He really does. The question is just so perfectly Lucy Chen that he can’t help the automatic response.

He’s told her a lot of truths in their time riding together. Some have been intentional, pulled out of him by the situation -- stories about Isabel and his father, and a million things in between. Some have been unintentional, in the heat of the moment, but still entirely true -- about how she’s good at things and how she’s aggravating, and a million other things that shouldn’t have been compliments but were.

But he’s not sure anything he’s ever told her has been as true as the words that had easily fallen from his lips earlier.

You are a kind and insightful person. You see the good in people.

It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.

He wants to tell her another fact -- yeah, Barnes is okay, because he wants it to be true. He knows it can be, and it’s the reason he’s standing here.

“I hope so,” is what he settles on, because that’s a fact too. “She has a long road.”

Lucy nods, and he mimics the motion back at her, starting to pull his keys out of his pocket again. He expects her to say something, to agree, but she just quietly watches him for a second.

“Tim.”

He just raises an eyebrow, and he knows she reads it as the invitation it is to continue, one of a million silent ways they’ve learned to communicate.

“Are you okay?”

He breathes in slowly, focusing on the feel of the concrete underneath him, the rumble of the ground as a car passes on the level above them, the slight tilt of her head, and the look of anticipation in her eyes.

Now, in this moment, he feels okay.

He thinks about that being something Barnes needs to learn -- that the moments come, and they’re horrible, and it’s okay not to be okay. And eventually, after those moments become minutes, and hours, and days, weeks of not being okay, eventually, a moment will be okay again.

And then it won’t be okay.

And the healing won’t be linear, and it’ll hit you out of nowhere. But eventually, it’ll be okay again.

It’ll come on slowly, or all at once, alone or with a person who feels like home, but it’ll happen. It’ll take more work than you want to imagine, but it can happen.

He nods when he realizes he’s still just breathing in, and she’s still just watching him, careful, like the entire reason she’s leaning against his truck is to make sure he’s okay.

“There was more I wanted to teach her,” he says, and it’s a fact again, but it feels vulnerable, like a million other things he’s shared with her.

“Stuff about being a cop?” He can hear in her voice that she knows that’s not the answer, and he appreciates the out, but he’s spent too many hours in the last two days putting himself out there, opening himself up and grounding himself again, not to be honest with her.

He shakes his head. “Stuff about coming home.”

She just nods. He appreciates that she doesn’t pretend to know exactly what he means, even though she knows so much about a million things and usually has no problem letting him know. Because he could train her for another thirteen months, another thirteen years, and still not teach her the unwanted shared connection that trying to become a civilian again forges between people.

“She’ll figure it out. You helped her find a path, at least,” she says, always the optimist. He starts to shake his head, just a conditioned response to needing to disagree with her, to challenge her, but something stops him.

Something that feels a lot like the familiar look on Lucy’s face, something that feels like the words that had bubbled out of him as Barnes had walked away.

You change your mind, you will always have a home here.

Something that feels like hope, again.

“I tried,” he says, and he believes it.

“Wouldn’t have expected any less,” she says, adjusting the strap of her bag and jangling her keys. It’s her telltale sign, one he’s learned in the last few months of late-night parking garage conversations, one that tells him he’ll sit in his cab in the dark in just a couple of minutes, waiting for her headlights to pass.

“I’ll let you…” she gestures to his truck, standing up straight but not making a move to walk away.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and for a moment, the silence between them is stilted, and he thinks about her fake confession in the shop, about her hand in his, warm, deliberate, later that day, about how not a single part of him had been surprised to find her here tonight.

“Tim,” she says, and his name on her lips again pulls his focus back to the present. “What you said earlier about showing me that the world can be a scary place?”

He nods, waiting for her to continue.

“You did that, in ways I wasn’t prepared for. And that makes you a good teacher, a good training officer. You did good by Barnes, too; you gave her what she needed, just like you did with me.”

He starts to shake his head again, but she shakes hers first, stopping him.

“But you did more than that,” she whispers, her tone soft, but the words still reaching him easily in the echo of the parking garage. “You showed me the world could be good again, can feel safe again, after trauma.”

She doesn’t have to explain -- the silent Caleb is there, heavy in the air between them even when unspoken.

This time, he shakes his head before she can stop him. “You did that. You put in the work,” he tells her, and it’s a conversation they’ve had before and one he’d have a million times if she needed the reminder.

She nods, “I did, yeah. But I did it with your help.”

He shrugs because it’s not a fight he’s going to win. He can tell by the determined look on her face, as aggravating as it ever is.

“You’re a good training officer, Tim. You know how to help people in the way they need it,” she says, glancing away for a second before finding his gaze again. “You want to help people. And that’s what makes you a good man.”

He breathes in slowly again, grounding himself, waiting for the concrete under his feet to make itself known, for the familiar rumble of a car passing again. But all he can focus on is the tilt of her head, the look in her eyes -- but this time, there’s no anticipation there. She doesn’t expect a response because, to her, it’s not open to debate.

It’s simple, and she says it like a fact, and he lets himself just breathe in and out, and in this moment, he accepts it.

And it feels okay.

“Thanks,” he whispers because he’d needed this, a check-in for complicated emotions years in the healing process, for the hope that’s been building, thirteen months in the making.

She nods, a quick quirk of her lips. “For what? Doing my job?”

He just shakes his head, letting himself smile slowly, finally pulling his keys back out of his pocket. If he stands here much longer, he’s going to think about the warmth of her palm against his again, about how dim parking garage light shouldn’t be so flattering, about the way his heart had caught in his throat at her words in the shop on that last day.

“Really.” He nods again, and he knows she takes it as the silent thanks it is.

She smiles and tosses a slight wave at him, her keys jingling as she turns, and he carries that feeling of hope into the dark cab of his truck as he hears her now-reliable engine start down the row.

He breathes in and out and lets a hopeful feeling slowly swell in him until her headlights pass behind him, and he lets her guide the way.

[weareallstoriesintheend]

A writing request: Protective Clyde rescues reader from a guy being a little too handsy at the bar. Makes sure reader gets home safely. Super fluff/protective Clyde. Maybe ends with a 'thank you' kiss on the cheek. Annnddd I'm already crying thinking about you writing this

Safe & Sound (Reader x Clyde Logan) 

Note: For you @ladyinwriting18? Anything! 🥰

Part 1 of the Safe & Sound Series. Here is Part 2 & 3

Warnings: Creepy misogynistic bullshit. But also the fluffiest of fluff!  

Words: 2,407 

Smutty Part 2 - HERE

The smell of whiskey breath ghosting over your face made your stomach turn. You were just trying to have a quiet drink at the ‘Duck Tape’ after a long day at work and all of a sudden you were having your evening ruined by some overbearing guy with half a bottle of dutch courage behind him. “Seriously, I’m okay thank you” you said politely, trying to catch the eye of anyone who could get this guy off you. You were not one to be polite to guys that harass you usually but something about this guy’s overly aggressive lean towards you had put you on edge. All sorts of images and scenarios were flashing through your mind and your heart was starting to hammer in your chest. But just like always, just like you were taught from the time you can walk, you played it off by smiling sweetly and being as polite as possible. Annoyingly you’d chosen to sit in the back corner of the bar tonight so you had nowhere to go but past him. Your dress was high up on your thigh and you tried, subtly, to pull it down.   “Nah, come on sweetheart” he said with a smirk, flicking your long hair off your shoulder dragging his fingers purposely along your skin as he does it “Let me buy you a drink” You went to speak again, hoping to brush him off but the panic in you was rising. The feeling of his skin on yours had triggered something within you, you fidgeted your hands over each other on the bar top to stop them trembling. You looked up at him, mustering up that fake sweet smile again, turning to grab your jacket to leave – figuring this was the only way to get him to leave you alone – before you heard someone else speak.

“I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” you heard the deep drawl before you looked up. Clyde Logan was sidling his way across to where you were sat in the corner, the light of the bar was behind him like an aura. Your lumbering guardian angel. Honestly you’d never paid too much attention to him, he was just… Clyde. He’d been around forever except for when you’d returned from college and found out he was off in Iraq. Clyde was just the big grumpy bartender who made a mean vodka cranberry for you every Friday night; the same grumpy bartender who always slipped in an extra lime because he knew you liked it. You gave him a relieved smile as you caught his eye; he instantly turned his attention back to the guy leaning against you as he piped up once more. “Oh come on Clyde, I was only havin’ a bit of fun” he slurred, giving him a hacking laugh before slipping his hand up your arm and onto your shoulder. You instantly tensed up, skin crawling as you could feel the sweat drip from his forehead on your bare shoulder as he propped himself against you. “Oh I’m sure ya are. But see, I don’t think she finds it very fun do you darlin’?” Clyde said looking at you out the corner of his eye and you shook your head. “Now I’m asking ya to leave cause you’re making my customers uncomfortable. I’m damn sure this woman, nice as she is, doesn’t want your hands all over her now does she?” You shook your head again and the guy looked at you, having the audacity to scoff in offense at your response before turning back to Clyde with a grin. But Clyde kept talking “Her shakin’ her head there? That’s her sayin’ no. Got that? So I’m goin’ to ask you one more time to get off her. Look at her… sweet like a little bird she is, she don’t need your big greasy paws all over her like that” The drunk guy sneered and jostled your shoulders in a jovial way, trying to show Clyde how you were at ease you supposed, and you felt his metal watch strap nick your skin at the back of your neck and you hissed softly at the pain. There was a sudden thud and you looked down; Clyde had grabbed the guy’s free arm that was resting on the bar with his flesh hand. He gave it a sudden tug and the guy gave a high-pitched yelp as he was pulled closer to Clyde and off you. “I said… I’m goin’ to have to ask you to leave” Clyde repeated. You knew sweet, quiet Clyde could have a temper when he needed one; you’d seen him strong-arm a few guys out on their asses a few times over the years. You’d always quietly admired how sturdy and wide his body looked, comfortable and yet solid. So when he did things like that you’d silently sip your drink, pretending you weren’t watching his bicep bulge under his long-sleeved shirt as he grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck or twist their arm behind their back and haul them out the bar. Another bar patron, an older guy, was walking past this little scene and shot the drunk guy a knowing look before giving his input “Now Billy! Logan here’s got two tours under his belt. Show the guy some respect. Make yourself scarce, come on” Clyde shoo’d this new guy off with a tilt of his head and the guy threw his hands up in surrender before walking away. Billy let out another hacking laugh that made you flinch slightly in your seat, it was full of contempt and far too much confidence for a man in his position “What do you think ya goin’ to do Logan? One arm freak ain’t gunna do nothin’ to me!” “I think you’ll find that I still have my arm, just my forearm and hand that’s missin’. I still got enough to break this arm of yours in three places if you don’t leave this beautiful young lady alone” “Oh I see, Little Logan got a crush” Billy grinned cockily at him, spittle was flying out of his mouth as he slurred and it made you cringe as you saw it landing on Clyde’s dark blue shirt. You started to panic again, you didn’t know what Clyde was going to do next and you shot him a look. You didn’t want him to get himself in trouble for you and after everything that had had happened at the speedway you worried that one little thing would get the cops on

his ass again. He caught your panicked expression and gave you a contemplative pout before turning his head back to Billy. He dragged Billy a little closer so he was bent uncomfortably; you could see his belt cutting deep into his side, pressed into him by the wood of the bar. He was flinching and groaning in Clydes strong grasp, when Clyde spoke he was close to his face and his voice was a low, slow and dangerously calm growl “Now somethin’ tell me this precious, good woman here wants me to spare you the pain I was plannin’ on givin’ ya, kind as she is. So I’m goin’ to let you go but if I ever see you so much as look at her again I’ll show you what two tours in Iraq teaches ya. Got it?” You watched as Billy quickly gathered up his jacket that was hanging haphazardly from the chair he had been sitting on and skitter out the bar like a dog with its tail between its legs. Clyde gave you a pouty but satisfied nod before calmly going back to washing glasses.

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

The bar was closing in around an hour so Clyde made you another drink, extra lime as always, to steel your nerves. As he walked around, picking up after people and saying goodnight to the stragglers he kept a close eye on you. Always looking back over his shoulder to where you were sat. You smiled every time he looked at you, several times you thought about getting up to leave for the night but he always caught your eye and something in his look made you sip your drink a little slower. Maybe you should stick around.

“He didn’t hurt you or nothing did he?” Clyde said in a low voice so the last people that were leaving couldn’t hear him. Part of you wondered if he was embarrassed to be helping you but then you realised, as he turned his body to literally shield you from the gaze of the rest of the patrons in the bar, he was protecting your privacy. “No Clyde, I’m fine thank you” you smiled, brushing your dress down awkwardly trying to ease the tension. Clyde was a man of few words usually but he made up for it in the intensity of his stare and right now that stare was focussed purely on you. His eyes roamed over you and it made a heat rise up on the back of your neck. He made a grunting noise, almost to himself, and he leaned over the bar to fetch a napkin. He turned the tap on that was over the small bar sink and dipped the napkin under the running water. You gave him a look, raising your eyebrow in question and he nodded to you shoulder. You looked down and noticed a small trail of dried blood running down your shoulder from where the guy had cut you with his watch. “Can I touch ya? Is that okay?” he asked, eyes soft and concerned as he studied you. You nodded shyly and he leant forward and wiped the napkin over your skin gently. You watched his hand carefully, the huge size of it compared to your arm making you bite back a giggle. The cold of his horseshoe ring brushing lightly against your skin made you break into goosebumps. He dabbed and patted to make sure he got it all wiped away “There ya go, all cleaned up” He gave your arm a stroke with his thick knuckles, like he was doubly making sure you were all squared away. Clyde Logan didn’t smile very much, you always thought his signature grumpy pout was actually quite endearing, but in this moment as you gazed up at him he gave you the smallest, most tender smile and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. “You don’t have to take care of me you know?” you whispered, he shook his head as he hopped up on the bar and swung himself back over. “Well of course I do, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that!” You gave him a small push to his chest that barely moved him “You stop that!” you laughed, he chuckled as you dipped your head down, letting your hair hide the growing blush on your cheeks. “I only speak the truth darlin’” he said turning to wander over to the cash register “Give me 2 minutes to check todays takins’ and I’ll drive ya home” You scoffed and dropped off your high bar stool onto your feet “You really don’t need to do that, I’m sure that guy is long gone” “Well I can’t just let ya go home on your on now can I? What kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?” he said, you swear you saw him smirk to himself and he pushed his hip into the cash register to close it. He turned to you, swinging his jacket off the hook on the wall and around his shoulders. “Oh Clyde, you’re sweet but I’ll be okay” You stepped forward as you spoke and helped him pull his jacket over his prosthetic arm “Really! I don’t live too far, you know that! It’s only a mile round the corner I can walk it” You flushed at his forwardness and unexpected level of care he was showing you. The heat was rising up on the fact of your neck again and you couldn’t quite decide if it was embarrassment or something a little more intimate. “Nonsense, I won’t hear another word on the matter” he shot you another smile; you quite liked this more relaxed Clyde. There was something about that shy smile that made you accept his offer with a small nod. “Perfect. Let me grab my keys and I’ll drive ya”

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

You hopped down out of his truck as he opened the passenger door for you, which he had insisted on doing; he’d even held out his prosthetic arm for you to use to steady yourself as you dropped unsteadily onto your driveway. You’d thanked him quietly and he’d responded “Nothing but the best for the princess” making you giggle and elbow his side jokingly. You both wandered down the driveway in comfortable silence, nothing but crickets and the crunch of gravel beneath both your shoes.

“Safe and sound now aren’t ya” he said, tapping your front door absentmindedly with his knuckle, watching you wrestle your keys out of your bag. You chuckled and nodded, before you could give yourself a second to overthink it you pitched up on your tip toes, pulling him down slightly with your a small hand on his wide shoulder, and placed a timid kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Clyde” you whispered. You giggled slightly as a noticeable pink blush bloomed across his cheeks and he shook his head and stuttered “N-no thanks necessary sweetheart”

You put your key in the lock and he turned to leave with a courteous nod goodnight. As you pushed open the door breathing out a tightly held in sigh, suddenly thankful to be in the comfort of your own home, you heard him say your name. You spun to see him a few feet away from you, rocking on his heels slightly “Come by the bar tomorrow night? I’ll make you another one of those cranberry drinks you like and…I’d errr… I’d love to see ya”

Now it was your turn to blush, you hoped he couldn’t see it in the shadow of your doorway

“I’d love too. See you then” you replied, giving him a small wave before going inside.

Maybe you should have paid more attention to the big grumpy bear behind the bar because it turns out, he’s rather sweet.

[mochegato]

Colossal Debts

For @maribat-secret-santa-2020.  Timinette and platonic Jasonette requested.

Jason owed him big for this.  Tremendously. Monumentally.  Colossally big.  This was Tim’s night off.  His night to relax at home… with a few cold case files and maybe video games.  No family, no obligations, no playing nice. Just him, alone.  Not even his friends were going to be over.  Just relaxation.  But nooooo.  Jason called and coerced him into helping him, or more specifically one of his drunken, loud-mouthed, idiot friends.  Make no mistake just because he let Jason coerce him into helping, that in no way meant he wasn’t going to collect big on this.  Tremendously. Monumentally.  Colossally big.

He scanned the room looking for someone who looked like he would be a friend of Jason’s but didn’t see anyone who stood out as an obnoxious jerk.  If Jason made him come all the way down here for no reason, Tim was going to make him take his nights for the next month.  He yanked his phone out of his pocket to give him a call only to have the phone start ringing before he could get past the lock screen.  Speak of the Devil… He pushed the answer button and opened his mouth to ask Jason what the hell, but Jason spoke before he could.

“Where the fuck are you?” he demanded.  “You said you were going to the bar.”

“I am at the bar,” Tim hissed back.  “I’m looking for your friend but I don’t see anyone that stands out.  Are you sure he’s still here?”

“I said ‘her’, dumbass.  And yes she’s still there.  She just called me saying she was going to walk home since you weren’t there,” Jason growled back.  “I swear to God, if something happened while you were fucking around…” he gave an aggrevated sigh.  “Look for a woman who looks completely out of place in a seedy bar and way the fuck out of your league.  Someone who seems like pure innocence and sunshine… drunk sunshine, very drunk if her friend is anything to go by.  Probably pouting and sitting back down after I threatened her to get her not to leave on her own.”

Tim scanned the bar again and saw a petite woman slump into a chair at the end of the bar and drop her head on her arms dramatically.  “I can’t see her face, but black hair, small?”

“Probably.  Her name is Marinette.  Don’t call her small to her face unless I’m there to see you do it.  And Tim?” He waited a beat to make sure he had Tim’s attention.  “Mistreat her in any way and I will throw parties in your townhouse every night during your entire three month stay in the ICU.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it.” Tim rolled his eyes.  Jason could at least come up with a somewhat new threat.  “One wrong move with your drunk girlfriend and you’ll kill me.”

“Not my girlfriend and I won’t be the one to do it.  There will be a line.  She’ll be at the front of it.” He hung up without further explanation.

Tim sighed and made his way over to the woman he was pretty sure was Jason’s “friend”.  He sat down next to the woman close enough to make sure she knew of his presence but far enough away not to invade her personal space.

“Not even remotely interested.  Thank you, next.” She mumbled into her arms, lifting one of her arms to clumsily wave him away.

Tim cocked his head to the side with an amused smile.  She had an adorable French accent.  “First time I’ve been turned down before the person even interacted with me.”

“Exciting day for you.  Congratulations.”  He was pretty sure she was slurring her words slightly but between the mumbling into her arms and her accent, it was hard to tell.

“Thank you.” He nodded to her even though she couldn’t see it.  “I’m Tim.”

“Don’t care,” she singsonged in an annoyed voice.

Tim gave an amused snort.  At least she was an amusing drunk.  “I’m Jason’s brother.  He sent me to come pick you up.  I take it you’re Marinette?”

Marinette’s head popped up to take him in and she immediately regretted it, dropping her head back down with a groan.  “Too fast.  That was a mistake.”  She kept her head buried for a few moments to let the blood settle before slowly turning her head to face him, still resting her head on her arms.  Tim’s breath hitched slightly when her eyes met his.  Her eyes were bright and brilliant and utterly captivating.  She was looking at him with a soft smile.  “So you’re Jason’s brother.  Not what I was expecting.  Which one are you?”

“Tim,” he repeated with a smile.

“Oh, you’re the smart one.”  She nodded with a teasing smile.  She raised her head slightly to see him better.

Tim scoffed.  “I’m surprised he didn’t say the annoying one.”

“You’re all the annoying one.” She gave him a knowing smile, as though she was letting him in on a joke.  Her face suddenly turned serious and penitent.  “Thank you for picking me up.  I’m sorry for whatever threat he used to get you to come.  He’s always been so overprotective.  I’m sorry you got caught up in it.” She smiled gratefully at him and Tim’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.  

She suddenly straightened up in her seat and turned back to her empty drink in front of her, frowning at the sight.  She moved the ice cubes around, searching intently for liquor she hoped it was hiding. “I’m sorry for interrupting your night.” She turned back to him with concerned eyes.  “Oh!  Did you have plans for tonight?  Were they fun?”

“Uh, no.” He looked down sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.  “I was just relaxing.”

“I’m sorry.  Oh, you should get a drink!  You can celebrate with me.  You can’t celebrate without a drink.”  She motioned wildly to get the bartender’s attention.  She was suddenly very excited, her grin incredibly wide and all signs of weariness and serenity gone.  

Tim stared at her for a few moments trying to figure out how to respond.  “No, I’m good,” he said calmly, trying to bring her emotional levels back down.  She pouted at him and gave him puppy dog eyes.  Tim looked over to her drink to keep from looking her in the eyes.  He needed to distract her, and himself.  “What are you celebrating?”

“My company!  I just officially launched my company on Monday!  Isn’t that so cool?  It’s so cool.” She nodded to herself.  “Oh! We should have a drink to celebrate.”

“Yes, very cool.  Congratulations,” he confirmed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed.  “I know you’re just patronaging… parrotizing… patronizing!  Patronizing me, but I’ll take it anyway because you’re one of the only ones to say it.  So, thank you very much.”  She gave him an overly wide smile.  “You should get a drink to celebrate!”  She exclaimed excitedly, eyes opening wide as though she just thought of it.

Tim chuckled.  “No, thank you.  I’m good and we should probably cut you off too.” He handed his card to the bartender. “I’d like to close out her tab, please.”

She pouted at him, her euphoric mood suddenly plummeting along with her shoulders. “But it’s a celebration.”

“Is this man bothering you?” The bartender eyed Tim suspiciously.

“He doesn’t want to celebrate with me.”  She sighed and slumped onto the bar again, resting her chin on her arms.  “Nobody wants to celebrate with me.  Even my friend left,” she reported morosely.

“I was sent to take her back to her home,” Tim assured the bartender.  

She kept a skeptical eye on him and addressed Marinette again.  “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Hm?” Marinette looked up at her with a confused look.  She looked over to Tim again.  “Oh, right.  No. Yeah.  I’m fine.  My brother sent him.  If he tried anything, Jason would cut it off.”  She returned her unfocused gaze to the bartender.  Suddenly she straightened up, hands grasping the edge of the bar almost knocking over her empty glass in the process.  “His hand!  I meant his hand.  He’d cut off his hand!  Not…” she surreptitiously looked Tim up and down.  She slumped back down into her seat and hid her head in her arms again. “I’m not drunk enough to finish that sentence.”

The bartender nodded with a chuckle and left to ring up the tab.

“So… brother?” Tim prompted her laughing.

“Hm,” she hummed in confirmation.  “Self-proclaimed.”

“How did you two meet?”

“Bar fight.  In Paris.”

“Of course you did.  Did he step in to protect you in the middle of it, start it, or both?”

She scoffed at him.  “I started it.  Actually, legally, I didn’t start it.  The guy who grabbed my ass started it.  I just finished it.  Jason pretended to be my brother to the cops and made sure I got home safe. We hung out a lot after that for…” she eyed him critically, “… reasons,” she finished uncertainly.  “The brother title stuck.”  She looked around the bar, eyes drifting from one thing to another with no apparent link.  “Stupid cover.  Brother,” she scoffed.  “His French wasn’t that good.”  She turned to Tim with a bewildered look.  “And do we look alike?  Even a little bit?”  

She scoffed again and faced forward, moving her arms to rest them on the bar with a thump but missed the bar.  The momentum threw her forward and her reflexes were just a beat too slow to stop herself from crashing into the bar.  She braced herself for the impact but instead felt a soft, warm embrace halting her movement.  She looked up at her savior in awe.  Tim looked down at her with a soft smile.  “Careful. The bar moves.”

Marinette blushed as she settled back on her seat.  “Thank you,” she answered quietly, looking away from his eyes.  

Tim nodded and moved back to his seat, but kept his arms around Marinette until he was certain she was stable.  “So was the reason you hung out so much after that so he could cover for you in more bar fights?” Tim joked.

Marinette hummed affirmatively.  “I know you’re being condensate… condescend… joking, but kind of. They seem to follow us. Or maybe it’s just fighting in general that I can’t get away from.”  She frowned at the bar, remembering something that Tim desperately wanted to know more about. He didn’t like the frown on her face. He wanted to get her to smile again.

“I wasn’t trying to be condescending or patronizing.  Promise.  At least not towards you.  Jason, yes absolutely.  But not you,” he spoke with sincerity in his voice.  

She stared at him wide eyed for a few moments before looking away shyly. “Okay.”

As if to accentuate her earlier point, he heard loud yelling halfway down the bar. One man stood up and started shoving another over something Tim couldn’t quite make out.  Tim jumped out of his seat and reached for Marinette to get her to safety.  He’d just come back later to get his card.  Protecting Marinette was more important right now.

Marinette brushed his hands away inelegantly.  “We’re fine here.  That guy there, with the glasses?  He’s going to jump in any second now.  That’s going to push the fight in the other direction.  Once he jumps in his friend is going to jump in too.  They’re going to be fum… stum… fighting around that big table there.  One of them is going to be thrown on it.  Probably glasses’ friend.  That’s going to get Curly, the bald one?  Curly was the bald Stooge right?” Tim opened his mouth to respond but she was already moving on.  “So Curly’s going to jump in, right?  Once he’s in the bartender is going to pull out that bat and probably the gun she keeps under the bar and stop it, ‘cuz she likes him.”  She looked around in panic.  “Don’t tell anyone!  That’s a secret.  I think.” Deciding nobody was around to hear, she slumped back down and continued her narrative.  “The fight will move away from us until the bartender ends it.”

Tim eyed her skeptically and turned to watch the bar fight unfold.  His mouth dropped as it happened exactly like Marinette had predicted.  He whipped his head around when he heard a loud bang next to him.  “Oh my God someone stole my phone!” she whisper shouted to him, searching around frantically.  

Tim looked down to the source of the noise, something hitting the floor, he sighed disbelievingly.  He bent down and picked up her phone she had dropped and handed it back to her.  “It’s right here.”

She looked between him and the phone a few times.  “Oh my God,” she whispered out, “you stole my phone.”

Tim stared at her for a few moments and started laughing incredulously.  She could predict the events of the fight, incorporating observations of multiple figures, inputting social relationships, attitudes, and physiques, but she couldn’t figure out she dropped her phone. He looked at her fondly for a moment before furrowing his brow when a thought occurred to him.  “So… you were here with a friend and your friend just left you alone?”  It seemed incredibly irresponsible considering her current state and honestly, Tim was a little worried about what Jason would do to the friend when he found out.

Marinette scoffed.  She turned her head to give him an insulted look.  “You think he’s better at taking care of me than I am?”  She straightened up in her seat to her full height attempting to look more intimidating and faced her body toward him.  “Even drunk, I could handle myself as well or better than him.”

Tim held up his hands in mock surrender.  “No.  I am not doubting your capabilities,” he tried to placate her.  “I’m just saying having more than one person, especially when drinking is involved is safer.

Marinette stared at him for a few moments deciding if she thought he meant it or not before seeming to come to the conclusion he meant it.  She nodded at him.  “Agreed.  To be fair though, he…”  She raised her arm up, propped her elbow on the bar, and sloppily plopped her chin on her hand, staring at him intently.  “…you have gorgeous eyes.”

Tim gaped at her and blushed, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “Than…”

“To be fair,” she continued not letting him finish his expression of gratitude and returning her glossy stare toward the bar.  “He wasn’t exactly sober either and his girlfriend was caught in that rogue attack across town and he was too worried about her to think straight. That’s probably why you’re here instead of Jason anyway.”  Tim whipped his head around to see who was close enough to hear her, but almost the entirety of the bar was focused on the remains of the fight.  There was nobody close by, but she was drunk enough to suddenly start announcing things loudly enough for everyone in the bar to hear. He really, really needed to get her out of there but they were still waiting on his card and the receipt.  

Marinette suddenly furrowed her brow and looked down at the bar top. “Oh.  I don’t think I was supposed to say that.”

He tried to fix her with a stern look but it came out softer than he intended. “What did you mean by that?”

Her face quickly morphed to a blank expression when she faced him again.  She blinked a few times.  “By what?  I don’t know what I said.  I don’t know anything, not a thing.  Mind completely empty.”  She tried to tap her temple to indicate where her brain should be, in case Tim needed the visual reminder, but flinched back when she accidentally poked herself in the eye instead.  She scrunched her eyes shut and turned toward the bar again.  “And filter completely missing,” she tried to mutter under her breath, but instead said it just as loudly.

Tim stared at her for a few moments uncertain how he felt about her clearly knowing their secret, or at least Jason’s and having the will but clearly not the ability to keep quiet about it.  He burst out laughing, deciding giving into the absurdity of the situation was the best response.  “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”  He nodded to the bartender who just returned his card after dealing with the fighters.

“I know,” she announced in an exasperated voice and throwing her arms out to the side.  “You would think I’d be better by now.  You should hear… I really like your smile, too.”  She smiled sweetly at him.

Tim smiled self-consciously.  “I like yours too.”

She beamed back at him and turned back to the bar.  “… hear some of the excuses I’ve come up with.” She turned to Tim with a desperate look on her face.  “I once said I had to water my hamster. I don’t even have a hamster.” She looked back to the bar again and slumped back into her seat.  Her face turned sad.  “I want a hamster.”  

She waved her arms wildly as a thought occurred to her.  “Wait!” She looked at him with panic in her eyes.  “If Jason’s your brother and my brother… does that make you my brother too?”

Tim stared at her for a second.  “No. Not even remotely.”

“Are you sure?  Transitive properties and all.” She looked at him uncertain.

“I am absolutely positive.  In no way could you be considered my sister,” he promised.

She sighed in relief, relaxing back into her seat with a contented smile. “Okay, good.  You should get a hamster.”

“I think it’s time to get you home,” he said shaking his head and getting up. He reached out to help her up and support her.

She looked over at him stricken.  “Oh no, I made you uncomfortable!  Do you have a pho… phoban?” she scrunched up her face in concentration.  “Phobia!” she announced proudly.  Before leaning into Tim.  “Do you have a fear of hamsters?  I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought them up.  It’s okay, you don’t need to get one.”

Tim fought the smile that wanted to appear on his lips at her concern.  “No,” he assured her.

“Oh.” She looked down trying to come up with another reason for his sudden decision to leave.  “Did I make you mad because you hate hamsters?” She asked in a very serious tone like that was the most rational next explanation.

He didn’t even fight the smile and chuckle this time as he wrapped his arm around her waist to help her toward the exit.  “No.  I have no opinions on hamsters at all.”

“Well that’s just sad,” she dismissed him and curled into his side, allowing him to guide her outside.  After a few steps she stopped and stood up straight.  “I annoyed you!” she moaned ruefully.

“No.” He ran his hands up and down her arms to calm her and get assure her he was not upset.  His breath hitched when she turned her watery, shining blue eyes to his, pausing his hands as he got lost in her gaze.  He shook his head to focus back on the task at hand, not hitting on the beautiful, sweet, funny, interesting, drunken friend of Jason.  “It’s just getting late and I think you could use some sleep,” he said gently.

“Oh… okay,” she answered slightly dazed from his gaze as well.  Her gaze shifted to take in his face.  “You’re very handsome.  You have great hair too.  Does it naturally do that?”  She reached up to touch his hair, but jerked her hand back so violently she would have fallen over if Tim wasn’t supporting her weight.  “I am so sorry.  That was not okay.  I forgot you’re just here because Jason asked you.  I don’t know you and I can’t just touch you without your permission.”

Tim looked down pointedly at his arm around her waist but she completely missed the look.  She groaned and hid her head in her hands.  Tim tightened his grip around her waist and continued leading her to his car. “It’s okay.  I’m glad I came down and met you.  And, if I was offended I would have tried to move away instead of leaning into it.  You can touch my hair if you want,” he assured her.  “And anything else,” he muttered under his breath.

She looked up at him with a cute look of wide eyed confusion.  “What?”

“What?” he answered back just as innocently.  “Um… So… You and Jason are close?”  He asked carefully trying to distract her while he opened his car door for her.

She hummed noncommittally.  “As close as Jason lets anyone get.  He’s like the big brother I never wanted.  I think I was adopted against my will.”

“Oh?” He prompted as he closed the door.  He needed her to stay awake so he knew where to take her.  And it had the added benefit of allowing him to get to know her a bit better… and possibly blackmail on Jason.

She hummed again when he got in on the driver’s side.  He watched her fumble with the seat belt as she spoke.  “Something about the dead heroes club?”

He froze.  He snapped his eyes to hers.  “You were a hero?”

Her eyes bugged out and snapped up to his.  “Noooo, what?”  She looked back down at the belt latch, trying a few more times to get it to click.  She huffed after a few more tries.  “Reverse polarization.”

“What?” Tim asked her trying to figure out where the hell that had come from.

“Reverse polarization.  That must be it.  The… the square part is repelling the other square part.  That’s why I can’t get it to work.” She nodded to herself. “Reverse polarization.  They don’t want to be together.”  She paused for a moment.  “If that isn’t some kind of symbolism… I don’t know what for, but something.”

Tim gave an amused smile and pushed the latch into the buckle.  Marinette gasped and looked at him in awe.  “How did you stop the polarization?”

“Magic,” Tim answered looking away, fully realizing there would be no way to explain the lack of magnets involved.

Marinette gasped.  “You’re magic too?”  She stared at him excitedly for a few moments before her face scrunched up again.  “You guys aren’t magic.  Batman doesn’t like magic.  You lied.”

Tim stared at her, thinking very carefully about his next words and running through all the things she just revealed.  First, she knew he was a bat.  Second, she knew Batman didn’t like magic.  Third, she said ‘too’.  So either she knew someone who was magic or she was magic.  Fourth, she had taken him seriously and thought he was lying to her. He decided the last one was the immediate issue.  The rest could be dealt with when she woke up in the morning.  Or when he could corner Jason.  “Sorry, it was a joke.  I didn’t think you would take me seriously.  I’m sorry for misleading you.  It was not my intention,” he promised solemnly.

Marinette studied him and cocked her head to the side and finally nodded. “Okay.  I don’t like liars.  Even though I am one, but I don’t like it.”

“So why do you?”

“Have to,” she shrugged.

“Because you’re a hero, like Jason?” he prompted again.

“Hero’s not the right word.” She shook her head jerkily.  “You don’t have heroes.”

Vigilante,” he suggested.

“Yes!” She looked excitedly at him then realized their conversation.  “Nooooo.” She looked straight out the windshield. Tim focused on the road as well and pulled out into traffic.  “I was never a vigilante,” she continued absentmindedly.

“Were you a hero?” he asked again.  “A hero that died and came back?”

“Hm? What?” She raised her eyebrows at him as though seeking clarification.  “I’m sorry my English isn’t very…” she screwed up her eyes to think, “… well.”  She nodded proudly at herself.

Tim scoffed at her.  “Your English is excellent.  You have to focus to mess it up.”

“Aww, thank you!” she beamed at his praise.  “I haven’t been speaking it very long.”

He opened his mouth to press the subject but decided that wouldn’t be fair to her.  He wouldn’t want someone to take advantage of him if he were in a weakened state.  He wouldn’t do it to her.  “Where do you live?”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door’s glass.   She rambled off her address.  Tim chuckled lightly.  “I meant here… in Gotham.  Not France.”

Marinette’s eyes flew open.  “Oh! Um.”  She frowned to think about it.  They hadn’t been living there very long and she remembered more by sight than by actual address.  “6th street.  No 7th.  8th?  9th. Definitely 9th.  Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly at him and closed her eyes again.  “No!” she jumped forward, “27th!” She looked away and frowned.  “No, that’s not right either.”

Tim sighed and tried not to smile at the cute faces she was making.  He decided this was absolutely fruitless.  The only solution would be to call Jason.  He picked up on the fourth ring with an annoyed voice.  “No, you can’t date her.”

“That was not the question.  And also, fuck you.  Where does your girl live?”

“She’s not mine and why don’t you ask her?”  After a beat, he amended himself.  “Actually, she is.  She’s mine. You can’t date her.”

Tim scoffed at him.  “She already said you adopted her like a little sister.  B rub off on you, Jay?”  He smirked as he drove knowing exactly the face and gestures Jason was making to that. Before he could respond, Tim continued, “She doesn’t remember her address.”  He looked over to her.  Her head was resting on the glass again and her eyes were closed.  Her breathing was even and her mouth hung open slightly. “And I’m pretty sure she just fell asleep.  I can link to the batcomputer and look it up, I guess.”

“NO! I don’t want B to know about her yet.”

“Why,” Tim asked suspiciously, the previous conversation about magic popping into his mind.  It could be just Jason being Jason and wanting to keep everyone at arm’s length or it could mean something was going on with this woman and he didn’t want Bruce to act on it.

“Because it’s B.  I want her off his radar as long as possible.”

“That tells me exactly nothing.” He rolled his eyes.  “Is she dangerous?”

“Only if you try to grab her ass or try to hurt someone.  I just don’t want Bat dad getting his hands on her,” he explained, his growing annoyance clear in his voice.

“So, she is a hero, a magical one.” Tim nodded at the confirmation.

“No…” Jason answered tentatively.  “… It’s complicated. ��And I’m not going to explain it.  Just… take her to your place for tonight.”

“Why my place?”

“She needs some place to crash.  She’s a good person.  And you want to hook up with her despite me telling you to back off.”

Tim nodded his head to the side in acknowledgement.  He wasn’t wrong.  And if she slept at his place tonight he could keep an eye on her to make sure she was okay and maybe talk to her in the morning.  “Fine.  I’ll take her to my place.”

“And Tim?”

“Yes?”

“You sleep on the couch.”

“You know I have a guest room, right?  A few, in fact.”

<><><><><> 

The next morning came earlier than Tim was prepared for.  He really wanted to stay in bed for a few more hours, but he was afraid of Marinette waking up in a strange bed and freaking out with nobody there to answer questions.  He dragged himself out of the guest bed and started making coffee for them.  He would have started breakfast for them, but he didn’t know how long she would be sleeping and he couldn’t cook.  He just decided he could order some food to be delivered when he heard shuffling from the kitchen entrance.  

He looked up to see Marinette in the doorway, nervously rubbing her arms, an anxious smile on her face.  She looked absolutely beautiful despite being a bit rumpled and disheveled.  “Hi,” she waved awkwardly.

Tim gave her a disarming smile.  “Hi.”

She looked around uncertainly.  “Um… if you don’t mind me asking… Where am I?” The apprehension was clear in her voice.

Tim smiled calmly, trying to reassure her that she was safe.  “You’re in my townhouse.”

“Right, right.  Cool. Cool.” She shifted nervously. “And we didn’t?” She motioned vaguely between them.

Tim’s smile widened at her expression.  “No.  I slept in the spare room.”

“Oh thank god.” She let out a relieved breath.  “I didn’t think we did considering I’m still dressed but… Oh, no offense to you.  I just…”

“Weren’t yourself or able to make responsible decisions last night?” He asked with an amused glint in his eyes and a smirk.  He motioned to a chair at the counter.

“Yes.” She sighed out, grateful for his understanding.   She suddenly straightened unnaturally stiff and studied him apprehensively for a few moments.  “You say that like you know I wasn’t making responsible decisions last night.  Tell me I didn’t do anything I should regret or be embarrassed about last night, please.”

“Other than saying you wanted to jump me and get married and have babies in a house filled with hamsters?” he offered innocently.

“OH MY GOD!”  Her face turned bright red faster than she could bury it in her hands to hide it.

His laughter boomed out of him.  “I’m kidding. I’m totally kidding.” He only laughed louder when she gave him an absolutely adorable pout.  

“That was not funny.  You’re mean.” She sat down in the offered chair with a huff.  “Stop being mean to the hungover urchin you housed for the night.”

His laughter calmed quickly and he had the decency to look guilty.  “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  That was mean.  You were perfectly polite and sweet all night.  You didn’t do anything embarrassing at all.  The only thing I would be embarrassed about in the morning was telling me my eyes were pretty and I was handsome.  Which isn’t even embarrassing, I’m just easily embarrassed.  It was very nice to hear though.”

The rosy color returned to her cheeks as she studied his eyes searching them to see if he was telling the truth this time.  She must have found that he was because she looked down and nodded.  “Yeah, drunk me is very honest.”  Tim blushed slightly at her admission.  “I swear I’m not usually like that.  My friend and I were just celebrating and things spiraled.”

Tim nodded in understanding.  “Congratulations again, in case you don’t remember me saying it last night.  You never said what kind of company it is.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile.  “It’s a fashion company.  I’m a designer.  I’m really excited to finally have a store front up and running.”  She looked around his townhouse, really looking at it for the first time.  “Um… no offense.  Who are you?

Tim chuckled.  “And drunk you has no memory retention.”

“I am so sorry,” she moaned into her hands.

He chuckled.  “Don’t be. I don’t drink often but when I do, I’m pretty much the same, and significantly less cute in the process.” Marinette blushed and looked down to try unsuccessfully to hide it.  “I’m Tim.  I’m Jason’s brother.  He asked me to pick you up last night since he was helping with the rogue attack.”

“He was?”  She looked at him, the picture of innocent confusion.

“Oh, sober you is much better at acting dumb than drunk you.”  Tim commented with a shake of his head and handed her a cup of coffee.  “I’m impressed.  I would have believed that if I didn’t know better.”

Her eyes widened at him.  “What did…”

“Just that you knew Jason was a vigilante.  Is there more?” he asked with a teasing smile.

She opened her mouth to deny it before she thought better of it and narrowed her eyes at him playfully.  “You were going to be nice to the hungover urchin.  I’m too hungover for mind games.”

“I actually never said that.  But I’m willing to make it up to you.” He offered her a charming smile and leaned across the counter toward her.  “Want to go get breakfast?  My treat. We can talk and get to know each other… if you want.”

Marinette beamed at him, “I would love to.”  She suddenly got a mischievous glint in her eye.  “How pissed do you think it will make Jason?”  Tim hummed noncommittally.  Honestly he wasn’t sure.  Jason seemed surprisingly okay with Tim bringing her to his house, but Jason was also extremely overprotective of the people he cared about so…

She leaned forward conspiratorially with a devious grin.  “We should take a picture that makes it look like more is going on and send it to him.”  Tim raised his eyebrows in surprise.  Did she just… “Actually, maybe not.” She waved away the idea and leaned back in her chair again.  “You’d be the one that would have to deal with the aftermath of that.  That wouldn’t be fair and Jason can be an absolute asshole when he’s being protective.”

“Jason would hate it.  Let’s do it.”  Tim’s expression morphed to match her previous grin.

Marinette’s face brightened with excitement.  “Really?”

Tim nodded, “I am always up for messing with my brothers.”

Marinette looked away shyly.  “Okay, well, I was thinking you could take a picture of me kissing your cheek and send it to him?  If you’re okay with me doing that.”

“I am absolutely okay with you kissing me,” Tim nodded, pulling out his phone. His cheeks colored quickly when he realized what he said.  “I mean…”

“Ready?” she interrupted, the slight blush on her cheeks the only indication that she had heard him.

He nodded mutely and positioned the phone to take the picture.  He nearly dropped the phone when he felt her soft lips brush against his cheek.  It took a moment for him to remember he was supposed to be taking a picture of the kiss, not just enjoying it.  Too quickly, she pulled away, looking at him with expectant eyes.  “Did we get it?  How does it look?”

He stared at her dumbly for a few seconds, still recovering from the kiss. “Um, right,” he turned to view the picture.  “You look gorgeous.  It!  It looks gorgeous.  I’ll just… I’ll send it to Jason.”  His fingers fumbled through the screens to send the picture.  Would she mind if he set it as his screensaver?  It wasn’t creepy if the picture was her idea, right?

“And… could you send it to me too?” she asked timidly.

He looked up at her in surprise and quickly gave her a happy grin.  “How about you take one with your phone. Maybe I can kiss your cheek this time.”

Marinette’s cheeks turned bright pink.  She bit her lower lip and nodded at him.  Tim grinned as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek.  Maybe he owed Jason instead. Tremendously.  Monumentally.  Colossally big.

[yespolkadotkitty]

I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far  LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion  for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault  ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn. 

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

Tagging: @thegreenkid @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @littlemissthistle @havenforafrazzledmind @myheart-pedro @john-in-the-sky-with-paul @idreamofboobear @rae-gar-targaryen @miulola @abuttoncalledsmalls @buttercup-bee @strangelittlenobody @qseomilk @jazzelsaur @songsformonkeys @mourningbirds1 @pajamasecrets @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @skdubbs @nelba @badassbaker @nelba @f0rever15elf @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylittlelonelyappreciation @theravenreads @filthybookworm @aeryntheofficial @toomanystoriessolittletime @lannister-slings-and-arrows (Zach Pit) and @absurdthirst might like this <3

please ask to be added or released from the tags!!

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees. 

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

  He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock. 

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks. 

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you. 

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss. 

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows. 

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 2

A/N: Ayyy. Seems like no one hates the concept so I decided to go ahead and continue... Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of sex, guns, slow burn

Word count: 3190

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

Once you reached the depth of the boat, you released the anchor, letting it fall out of view. You swam across the Grady-White, looking for anything worth collecting, hoping not to find a body, especially your dad’s body.

Near the floor of the bow of the boat, there where keys. You swiftly picked them up, your lungs beginning to burn from the lack of oxygen. You worried that you would take an involuntary gasp of air, so you turned back with only the keys. You wondered how the keys didn’t get lost during the storm.

You broke the surface with the keys in your hand, brushing your hair back from your face. Your friends were over the side of the boat and John B let out a sigh of relief.

Kiara huffed too, “Oh my god, that took forever.”

Pope asked if you had found any dead bodies and you shook your head no. You saw JJ mutter something to himself and look at you with slight guilt. You were gone awhile. He probably thought he had pushed you to your death.

You hoisted yourself up onto the bow and swung your legs over.

When you told the rest of the pogues that what you had found was a motel key, they seemed slightly discouraged and sarcastic that that was what you had salvaged.

Kiara suggested that you guys report the wreck to the coast guard, hoping for a finder’s fee.

On your way there, JJ approached you at the bow, his hand resting on your shoulder. You turned, and he looked at the deck.

He patted your shoulder and pulled his lips inside his mouth, making his face resemble a monkey’s.

“I’m glad you didn’t, ah, drown or something, aight?” He patted your shoulder awkwardly and walked away before you could even respond to that extremely random statement.

You heard Pope laugh at him, slapping his head, “Dude, glad she didn’t drown? Is that the best you can do?” JJ stopped his laughing real quick with a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Ay, shut the hell up, will ya?”

Going back to your beer, you turned back to the water. Kiara nudged your shoulder. “JJ’s right you know, that wasn’t rational.”

You smirked, swirling the last of the beer at the bottom of the bottle. You wrinkled your nose as you realized it was probably just backwash. You took a swig anyways, “Since when am I rational, Kie?”

Kie scoffed, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You could have died you wretch!”

You shrugged, tossing the bottle aside, “And? Wouldn’t have been the worst way to go. Y’all would have had a helluva story to tell, eh?”

“Story, what the fuck, Y/N?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Her nurturing reminded your brother. “Honestly, you and John B are the same person. Just gender swapped. You’d be amazing together. I’d never escape your combined mothering powers.” You watched your legs swing over the edge of the boat, something that was far from safe but kept you on edge in a good way. You saw Kiara’s blush and smirked. “Diving was fun, anyways.”

Kiara pursed her lips. “Honestly, you guys are perfect for each other, too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but you had a good idea. You knew asking questions would simply draw more attention, so you decided to let it slide.

When you reached the coast guard, John B and JJ went inside to notify them, trying to make their way through the loud crowd.

You crossed your arms as you waited with Kiara and Pope. Pope was staring at you intently and eventually you had enough of it. “What is it, Pope? Why are you looking at me like one of those corpses you so badly want to study?”

Pope didn’t flinch at my obvious attempt to deflect the conversation. “You gonna keep pulling shit like you did back there?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You said.

Kiara raised her eyebrows as Pope said. “Even if you don’t, I think you should know that John B’s blood pressure can’t take you risking life and limb to check out a goddamn boat wreck.”

You rolled your eyes, “I think I know what my own brother’s blood pressure can take, but thanks for the evaluation, Pope.” You brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, folding your arms, “Besides, it’s not like my blood pressure can take John B’s constant delusions that our dad’s not dead at the bottom of the ocean somewhere.”

“Y/N!” Kiara hissed at my bluntness.

You held your hands outward, questioning, “What? We all know it’s true.”

Just then, John B and JJ returned, JJ saying, “Well, that went well. So what’s the plan?”

John B insisted that you guys check out the motel room that those keys opened, Kiara agreed to be look out.

As you guys pulled up to the motel, JJ let out a low whistle. You could see why. Agatha had really done a number on this place, even worse than the Chateau. The shingles were barely hanging on to the roof and the entire place just looked drowned, like it had aged fifty years overnight. You noticed furniture all around outside, probably to dry since it would collect mold and mildew if left damp indoors.

It didn’t make sense that someone who owned a Grady-White would stay in a run-down place like this. John B voiced this thought of yours.

You, John B and JJ hopped out of the boat, JJ tying it down. As you guys turned to leave, Pope said to John B, “Don’t let them do anything stupid.”

JJ shrugged, “Oh, we will.”

You winked at Pope, John B sighing, “I’m not making any promises.”

Kiara handed the motel keys to John B, warning in a low voice, “Be careful.” At John B’s lack of response, she leaned forward, giving him a hard look. “I’m serious, be careful.”

You nearly laughed out loud at your brother’s dumb response, an awkward chuckle and a breathy “Heh, yeah…”

As you guys walked down the hall, JJ nudged your side and nodded his head at John B, as if to say, “Watch this.”

He grabbed John B by the shoulder and chin, turning his face towards his; they were only inches apart.

John B’s eyes widened, JJ saying with an overly romantic tone, “Just be so careful, John B.”

Laughing, you watched as John B shoved JJ off harshly, sending him into you. Your back hit the back of his tank top and you caught a whiff of his scent. At first you were repulsed, expecting boyish BO, but surprisingly, JJ smelled of salt, sea salt. He must have been surfing this morning. You pushed him forward, ignoring his dumb grin.

John B looked disgusted, “God, you’re so weird.” He said to JJ.

JJ shrugged, his shoulders reaching his ears. “Dude, what the heck was that about?”

John B looked at him sarcastically. “I don’t know; maybe she wants us to be careful.”

JJ rolled his eyes, clapping him on the back, saying “Every since you’re being threatened with exile, she’s just been like—” JJ caressed John B’s face again, “Oh, be so careful, John B.”

You snorted when JJ added, “Just give me that John D already. Like when are you gonna swoop in on that?”

You but in, agreeing, “You two need to just bang already. I feel like I’m going to puke every time I look at you guys.”

John B’s looked tense. “You know the rule, guys. No pogue-on-pogue macking.”

JJ looked over at you, mocking John B’s statement silently.

You giggled and John B said, “JJ you need help. Not like a little help, you need a lot of help. ‘Cause it’s like every girl who has a heartbeat, you’re just like… UNGHHH…” John B stuck his hands out, acting as if a magnet was forcing him forward, dragging his body.

JJ scoffed, “What? It’s not a big deal. Your sister’s no different!” He defended, gesturing to you.

You slapped him on the shoulder for bringing you into this.

John B turned to JJ, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t bring my sister into this, dude.”

JJ held his hands up. “Whatever, man. I was just sayin’…”

You sighed, walking over to the door. “I think this is us guys, twenty-nine.”

JJ walked over, knocking on the door swiftly before raising his voice to a high-pitch and mimicking in one breath, “Housekeeping.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. That sound nearly sent you. JJ had always been a master of voices, but this was one of your favorites.

When John B asked if he should open it, JJ added something in Spanish and your eyes widened. You brushed your hair forward, hoping no one would see your random flush of skin.

“No power. No security cameras. No one’s gonna know,” said JJ. It was true, this was a beyond ideal situation.

Your brother unlocked the door, letting the three of you in and locking it behind him.

There wasn’t much inside. You figured it was probably a man over 50 given his choice of clothing, but there was no identification. There was a map with some coordinates pointing to off the continental shelf, which made no sense since no one fished there.

John B found a safe, but was trying to guess and check the password, JJ focused on the map. You realized there was a post it with a pin number on it and you picked it up, handing it your brother. “Here, try this.”

It worked. When he opened the safe, you immediately saw piles of cash. “Well, shit…”

You called JJ over and a giddy smile took over his face as he saw what was inside. Of course, he immediately went for the gun.

He picked it up, turning this way and that, pretending as if you guys were in some sort of lame action movie and he was taking down some cronies after him.

In all honesty, you were jealous. Crossing your arms, you pouted. “I wanted the gun.”

JJ shrugged. “Too slow.” Adjusting his position, he asked, “Come on, take a picture of me.”

John B stood up, shaking his head.

You looked at him like he was an idiot, “Seriously? You want to make our own incriminating evidence?”

Suddenly there was a hard rock hitting plexiglass sound from the window and John B looked over, before jumping to the blinds by the door of the motel room, hissing, “Cops.”

There was no way you guys would make it out in time.

You looked over at the window, ushering the guys over, “Hurry! Out here.”

JJ went out first, John B following. You shuffled out quickly, and felt an arm at your waist. You turned to see JJ, who was looking at your feet, focusing on helping you onto the ledge he was on. You leaned out, nearly falling but trusting him to hold on to you as you closed the window door with your hand. JJ pulled you back to the ledge with one swoop, the quick movement making you crash into his side.

Luckily your hair was in a braid, or it might have gotten you guys caught.

John B held his finger up to his lips, gesturing for you guys to be quiet.

You nodded. JJ didn’t remove his arm from around you. There was hardly enough room for one person. Afraid you would fall, he pulled you even closer, so that your feet were on top of his. You were chest to chest, your back against the wall, JJ caging you, but not touching you. He wasn’t looking at you but into the window, his eyebrows furrowed with anxiousness.

Without anything else to look at, you stared at him. Your breath was coming fast from your fear, making you pant and take in large gulps of hot air.

Sea salt. Once again, you could smell it. Stupidly, your mouth moved before you could control it, “Did you go surfing this morning?” You whispered.

JJ turned to you, face blank and confused. “What?”

You saw Kiara and Pope run back to the HMS Pogue.

You flushed immediately, and JJ watched your blush reach your chest. “Uh, what?” You repeated. “Nothing, never mind.”

You looked to the side, trying to ignore his stare on you. His hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose from your braid behind your ear.

He leaned back towards the window and John B and him shared a look of astonishment. They had taken the money. The cops had stolen from a crime scene. JJ whispered, “What the fuck?”

You looked back at him, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly, he shuffled slightly, and the gun that was loosely tucked into his waistband slipped, clattering on its way to the ground.

Fuck.

JJ punched the wall slightly in frustration and cursed under his breath.

John B glared but didn’t say anything. You all flinched when the window curtain was opened abruptly. Afraid you guys would be seen, JJ moved closer, his chest flush against yours now. You could hear his heart racing and you were sure he could feel how fast your chest was rising and falling. Because of the crisis. Right, because of the crisis.

He leaned forward, hiding his face beside yours, his scruffy blonde hair tickling your left cheek.

You took a deep breath before holding it, your eyes closed. You didn’t want to catch anymore of his scent. It made you foolish and disoriented.

It was tense minute. It felt like hours to you. Finally, they were gone. You released your breath onto JJ’s shoulder, and you noticed him shudder slightly.

He pulled away, making eye contact for a little too long before moving. John B opened the window and hopped inside. JJ followed, disentangling his limbs from yours.

JJ reached his hand out to you to help you up, but as usual, you slapped it away. He rolled his eyes as he watched you hold onto the sides of the window frame, hoisting yourself through the space. For some goddamn reason, today had to be the day the tip of your foot got caught on the frame and you stumbled.

Instantly, JJ had his arms out, helping you through.

Once inside, you patted him softly on the chest and he let go of you.

You straightened your shirt, clearing your throat and following John B out the door.

When you reached the HMS Pogue, Kiara and Pope had it ready to go. You guys got in and Pope drove off.

Pope asked if you guys found anything and JJ held up the money and the gun. While Kiara and Pope shouted at him for taking something from a crime scene, you gave him a high-five.

What was life without a little danger, anyways?

When you guys returned to the docks, they brought in Scooter Grubbs’ body. Apparently, he had drowned while taking his brand-new Grady-White into the storm.

When you returned to the Chateau, you guys pieced it together. It was obvious that Scooter had to have been a drug dealer, otherwise it wouldn’t have made any sense that a marina rat like him could have copped a goddamn Grady-White.

Despite Pope’s initial doubts, you guys wanted to go after the contraband that was no doubt hidden in the boat.

For now, you had to lay low. Of course, to you guys, that meant throwing a kegger on your side of the island. You even invited the kooks. They were great at attracting attention, which meant less attention on you guys, and less attention from the fact that you guys had a gun stolen from a crime scene.

It was late, and you walked over to your brother with a beer in your hand. He was leaning over one of the campfire logs, looking out wistfully with his chin in his hand. You followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at Sarah Cameron, the local, certified golden girl of the kooks. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a shove. “Find someone in your own league, bro!”

He shook his head quickly. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

You stopped him from saying anymore. “I don’t care, JB.”

You turned, looking to get more beer when someone twirled you from behind. You were met with a solid chest and looked up to see Asher.

He gave you a grin and you gave a wary smile, uncomfortable with his sudden physical contact.

“We always run into each other at keggers, ay?” Said Asher.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Seems that way.”

Asher threw his arm around your shoulder, taking the rest of your drink and downing it. “We should really try to change that.” He suggested.

He was asking you out. Embarrassed, you tried to shoot him down nicely, “Ahh, I kind of like it better this way.”

Asher turned to face you, stopping your pace. “Aw, come on! Let me take you out, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Sorry, Asher, but dating’s really not my style.”

Confused, Asher laughed, “But whoring it up is?”

You heard a sharp, “Hey!” and JJ appeared from behind you. How long had he been there?

He shoved Asher. “What the hell did you say?” He questioned, gaining on Asher.

Asher put his hands up in the air, “Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble. Besides, who the fuck are you?”

You saw Topper appear, Sarah Cameron at his heels. “What’s going on here? You dirty pogues giving my little brother a hard time?”

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Asher was Topper’s younger brother? You had slept with that?

Repulsed, you wrinkled your nose. John B approached to see what the commotion was about as well. He asked what was happening and JJ gestured accusingly at Asher. “This one’s calling Y/N a whore.”

John B’s eyebrow rose, his expression dangerous.

This was not going to end well.

“He did what?” Before he could reach Asher, Topper shoved John B, provoking him to shove back, leading to an all-out brawl.

You were tempted to join in, but Kiara held tight to your arm, not letting you out of her grip.

One thing led to another and Topper had John B’s head in the water, drowning him.

“JOHN B! Topper get OFF!” You screamed.

You watched as JJ’s jaw clenched at your hysterical cries. Steeling himself, he ran up to the fight, pulling the gun out of his shorts and holding it to Topper’s head.

Everyone on the beach scattered at the sight of a gun. Pope cursed with his hands on his head, furious.

JJ muttered something to Topper and he held his hands up, releasing John B. Kiara finally let you go and you ran up to your brother, who was coughing his lungs out.

Kiara joined you, helping John B up and walking him out of the water.

He shook you guys off, glaring at JJ.

You guys blew it. This was the complete opposite of laying low.

To be continued…

Masterlist

@treestarrrrrrrr​

[anna-justice]

Ghosts - Upstead

Summary: When Hailey gets a surprise visit from a ghost of her past, Jay is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: mentions of domestic violence, swearing…

Requested: Yes! #57, “Stop pretending you’re okay.” & #58, “You’re safe, I’m here.”

…

Hailey grabbed a pen out of the cup on Jay’s desk before sitting down at her own. He started to say something, but she threw a smirk over her shoulder and Jay decided he was perfectly content with watching her walk away. He tried to focus on the report he was writing, but his eyes kept betraying him and finding the blonde working across the way. He glanced up every few seconds, watching intently as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before aggressively marking something on the paper in front of her.

Jay shifted nervously and Hailey looked up, giving him a face before going back to work. He felt his cheeks heat up, he had been caught. He busied himself again, only to be distracted by a groan coming from Hailey’s desk. Jay looked up like before, witnessing her run her hands through her hair aggressively. Jay jumped up, moving to lean against the side of her desk. “It’s a slow day, wanna go get coffee?”

Hailey looked up, her eyes brightening at his words before she nodded vigorously. “Please?”

“Let’s go.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and his keys. Hailey couldn’t hide the smile on her face, she was ready to get away and coffee with Jay sounded like the perfect outing.

The two of them bounded down the stairs, Hailey keeping her eyes on him as he rambled out something stupid that Adam had done, causing her to laugh. “Upton.” Platt called from the desk, Hailey’s head snapped up to look at her.

Her and Jay both stopped in their tracks to listen to their desk sergeant. “What’s up sarge?”

Trudy nodded towards the front of the room, “Someone’s here for you.”

Hailey nodded, turning to scan the room. Her entire body froze when her eyes landed on a man she hadn’t seen in years. Her father.

She felt her heart rate speed up, her chest rising and falling quickly. She was stuck in place, her gaze fixed on him. She felt heat behind her, snapping her out of her haze. “Hailey?” Jay asked from behind her.

Hailey looked up at him and then back to her father, who had noticed her presence. She tried to speak but nothing came out, she was utterly shocked and at a loss. Her father stood and Hailey scanned his body, her eyes widening when she saw his swollen knuckles. He took a step forward, causing her to take a subconscious step back into Jay’s chest.

“Hailey.” He said, taking another step towards her. Hailey had nowhere else to go, she was already pressed up against Jay who was abnormally silent. She fisted the bottom of his jacket in her hand, desperate to hold onto to anything.

“Hailey?” She heard in a low voice, a familiar one. She felt Jay’s breath against her neck, confirming that she hadn’t imagined him whispering in her ear.

Her dad made his way to her quicker than before, and Hailey’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s great to see you sweetheart.” He said and Hailey felt her eyes sting. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she was running out of the district.

She hated feeling this way. Weak. It wasn’t her and it hadn’t been for a long time. She ran until she reached the truck, leaning against the side of it. Her eyes stung with potential tears and she fought to control them. She refused to let her father have this much power over her, but the last thing she had expected to see was him.

Jay watched Hailey run out of the district and finally put the pieces together. He glared at the man in front of him, who was watching the door with a shocked expression on his face. The way Jay saw it, he had two choices: comfort Hailey or clock her father. Fortunately for him, Hailey would win every time.

Jay stared him down as he booked it out of the building, going to search for his partner. His heart ached for her, he had never seen her so terrified before. He rounded the corner and saw Hailey bent over the front of his truck. He took off running, slowing down before he reached her so he didn’t scare her.

“Hailey?” He asked quietly, edging closer. Hailey’s head snapped up, his green eyes meeting her red and puffy ones. He sighed taking a cautious step forward. Hailey snifiled, her bottom lip quivering again and Jay took it as an invitation to wrap his arms around her.

Hailey relaxed into his embrace, fisting his jacket once again. She cried for quite some time, pushing away the thoughts threatening to consume her.

Jay rested his chin on Hailey’s head, hugging her tighter. He was happy to know that she trusted him enough to let him in and show him this side of her, but he hated that this was something she was dealing with in the first place. Not only that, but after weeks of moving in the right direction, he hated that their first hug was because she was hurting. He wanted it to be joyful, maybe even celebratory, not painful.

Hailey trembled in his arms and Jay felt his heart clench in his chest. He brought a hand to the back of her hair and combed his fingers through her hair. “You’re safe, I’m here.” He said softly, only loud enough for her to hear.

Hailey nearly choked on her own spit at his words, partly because they were true. She felt safer, happier even, in his arms. Hailey internally groaned, her father ruined everything. Including her first truly intimate moment with Jay. She hated herself and how vulnerable she felt, and she also hated how it took her seeing her dad again for her to open up to Jay. It wasn’t fair to him, it was his job to be her rock.

Jay wanted to scream when Hailey pulled away, he wasn’t ready to let go yet. She wiped under her eyes and smiled softly. “I’m okay.” She said and Jay eyed her. “Let’s go.” She said and pulled open the passenger door.

He stood there and watched her, he knew she wasn’t “okay,”but he knew better than to push Hailey. They were a solid team and he had no doubt that she would talk to him eventually, but he wasn’t sure if he could wait that long.

Jay climbed to his side, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. He drove towards Hailey’s favorite coffee shop, even though it was a little out of the way. They ordered and waited in silence and by the time they left, Jay was getting restless.

“Stop pretending you’re okay.” He blurted at a red light.

Hailey looked down at her hands, “I’m fine.” She said quietly.

“You’re not and you don’t have to be.” Jay said honestly.

Hailey sighed, she wanted to talk to him but she couldn’t bear to fall apart again, not in front of him. “I don’t know how to be around him.” She admitted, “I’m a cop Jay, a detective and I think I’m a pretty damn good one. I carry a gun, I take down terrible people every day and I can’t bear to be in the same room as him. How pathetic is that?” She rushed out, feeling the tears gather again.

“Hailey,” He said, smiling at her. “That might be the least pathetic thing ever.” He sighed out.

Hailey rolled her eyes, avoiding his gaze.

“You are a damn good detective, better than I will ever be.” He said, “Hailey I am amazed by you every day, having a hard one or a difficult or damaging past does not make you pathetic. It makes you strong, or at least I hope it does because if not I must be the most pathetic man on earth.”

Hailey smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit. She had never been good at taking compliments and there was something about Jay Halstead singing her praises that made her stomach due summersaults. “Thank you.”

Jay shrugged, “It’s the truth.” Hailey laughed and Jay raised his eyebrows. “I’m serious, you make me look like shit sometimes. I think Voight wishes he could trade me in for a second Hailey.” Hailey blushed and Jay smirked. He liked having such an effect on her.

They eventually found themselves back at the district and Hailey was thankful that Jay made her forget about her dad for a little while. The two of them spent a few minutes outside, preparing and planning for their escape back to the bullpen, but when they entered the Upton patriarch was nowhere to be found. Instead, Platt held up a piece of paper and motioned for Hailey to come to her.

Platt handed her the sheet with no further explanation and Hailey read it as Jay looked over her shoulder.

Hailey, Your mother and I miss you very much. We wish we got to see you more often. I want to fix things and explain, please call me. All my love, Dad

Hailey took a deep breath and looked to Jay, who nodded slowly. She took the paper between her fingers and ripped it in half, throwing it into the trashcan next to the desk.

The two partners made their way back to their floor, Jay wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. She was going to be okay, and as long as she was by his side, so would he.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Wages of Sin

Before I found tumblr, I seriously believed I was the only person on Earth whose pulse went up when Samoa Joe appeared. He just broadcasts pure dominant energy and power. I miss seeing him in the ring but I’m glad he’s still on my tv on a (mostly) weekly basis. 

Pairing: Samoa Joe x reader

Word count: 3,732

Content advisory: BDSM smut

It was all you could do not to roll your eyes at his expression when you came in the door. It was always the same with men: they called to have a computer technician come over and when a woman showed up, they looked at you like there had been some mistake. Some would even be so gauche as to ask if you were qualified to do this sort of work. This guy wasn’t that bad but when he saw you, his eyes swept up and down over your body, lingering on your breasts longer than he should have before he waved you inside with nothing more than a grunt. 

“The computer’s in the office,” he informed you. “First door on the left back there. Off the kitchen. It’s been slowing down for a while and now it won’t even start up.”

“Ok. Other than slowing down, have there been any other problems you’ve noticed, Mr…” 

“Joe,” he grunts. “Joe is fine. And yeah, there have been a bunch of programs crashing.”

“Well, Joe, why don’t we have a look and see what the problem is?”

You head in the direction that he’s indicated and enter a neatly organized office space. There’s a desk in one corner, but the room is dominated by a large section coach flanked  by a couple of odd looking benches. It’s strange, because there’s no television in the room, no books, nothing that would indicate this was a place where one would sit and relax. You shrug it off. Maybe he likes to take a nap after he’s done working. Maybe this is where he takes women to seduce them.

Immediately, you try to push that image from your mind. You hate to admit it, even to yourself, but when he gave you that once-over, you’d felt a shiver run through your whole body. He was massive and while at first glance he’d appeared fat, you quickly saw that he was just powerfully built. As he stood behind you and watched what you working, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, pushing them up and revealing forearms like iron girders, the kind of arms you could imagine holding you down with ease, choking you, forcing you to do whatever he wanted. 

You try to shake those thoughts out of your head and focus on the task at hand. You boot up his computer in safe mode and, once you’re able to get a look around, it’s clear that the problem is a large number of files that have taken up so much space that the computer barely has any available memory to launch or run anything. On top of that, there are multiple malware programs that are deviously working away. You’ll have to work on those right away in order to get the computer stable enough for you to see the files and try to clear out some space. 

He stands behind you as you start to untangle the electronic knots, his breath heavy and incredibly distracting. 

“This is gonna take me a while,” you tell him.

“Well I’ll leave you to it then.” His tone is friendly but there’s a dark undertone to it, like he can see inside your mind and know that he’s having an effect on you. 

Once he’s gone, you settle down and focus on the task at hand. He pokes his head in a couple of times but leaves you alone otherwise. It’s just as well because what he’s got is a real mess and it takes a lot of work to identify and then scrub the malware. Normally, you could run a program to deal with the majority of the work but his computer is so unstable that it can’t run anything, meaning that you have to do everything manually. 

Thirteen programs. It takes two and a half hours but you’re finally able to remove all traces of the thirteen programs that have contaminated his hard drive. The early winter light is already starting to fade and now you have to start isolating files. Protocol is that you identify duplicates and separate them onto a second drive without ever looking but everyone takes a peek to see what secrets a client has. Nine times out of ten it’s porn, usually varying flavors of vanilla. It’s never happened to you personally, but a couple of the people you work with have found photos or videos of kids, something that immediately gets reported to the cops. (Peeking at a client’s files is unethical but not illegal, meaning that what the technician sees is fair game.)

When you see that the files are almost all videos, you figure you pretty much know what you’re in for. The nature of the videos, though, is more than you bargained for. This is hardcore stuff, all women getting flogged and bound and taken roughly in every hole as they scream in pain and ecstasy at the same time. There are dozens if not hundreds like this and mixed in among them are videos of Joe himself, proudly displaying his naked body and a thick cock that you can imagine would be rough to take even under normal circumstances.   

Watching all this, you feel your breathing grow faster and that familiar wetness in your core soaking your panties within minutes. The fact is that you’ve desperately wanted a man who’d take you like this, who’d use you and brutalize you, but you’d never found one. You’d eventually had to dump your last boyfriend because the sex was so boring you found yourself repulsed by it. You’ve watched plenty of videos like these at home, but knowing you were only a couple of rooms away from a man who clearly indulged in these activities a lot makes you squirm in your seat, trying to get some friction against the seam of your jeans to relieve a bit of the pressure. 

Your eyes flicker towards the benches you’d noticed when you came in and now you know what their purpose is. You open another file, Joe again with a woman tied up and bent nearly double, his hand wound around her pony tale as he pounds mercilessly into her. 

Looking once again at the benches, you imagine him strapping you to one and whipping you, making you beg for him. 

The woman in the video is screaming non-stop about how good he feels, how she deserves what she’s getting, welcoming every vile slur he hurls at her. 

You’re so caught up in what you’re seeing and in what you’re imagining that you don’t notice that the sound on this video is a fair bit higher than in the others, and are caught totally off-guard when you hear the voice behind you. 

“See something you like?” he drawls. 

Right away, you feel not just your face but your whole upper body grow hot with humiliation. It’s one thing for you to be fantasizing but this is you getting caught invading a customer’s privacy. Even if it’s understood that everybody does it, you’ll be lucky to keep your job if and when he complains. 

“Not really my scene,” you lie. “But I don’t judge. I just need to sort through stuff to free up some space. I’m going to install an external drive and move your videos there. It’s an extra charge but it’s not too much. You can call the office to find out the exact amount if you want.”

Joe gives a noncommittal sound and walks away without another glance. Your cheeks are still burning an hour later when you’ve dutifully moved the files onto the external drive, careful not to open a single one, even though you’re dying of curiosity. Trembling, you pack up your stuff and prepare to make a shame-faced exit. You’re wondering if you should just apologize to him, maybe say that you opened one of the files by accident and just started poking around, not quite believing what you were seeing. You’re unable to decide if that would be better than saying nothing and trying to pretend that nothing had happened. He’s standing in front of the door with an unfriendly look on his face. 

“Well,” you begin unsteadily, “you haven’t lost any files. There wasn’t any permanent damage, so other than moving some stuff to an external drive, everything will be exactly the way it was, but it’ll run a lot faster.” 

He folds his arms and looks down his nose at you without speaking. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what to say next under the weight of his stare. 

“There were a bunch of malware programs I had to remove. That was what was causing most of the problem. There are certain sites that tend to… have… lots of those things. Anyway, I installed newer antiviral software that should block them.”

You sound completely lost and you are. You feel like, rather than registering a complaint with your employer, Joe is preparing to kill you and eat you for violating his privacy. In the interest of getting out before you’re made into a main course, you opt to stop speaking and to leave the subject of your intrusion out of the conversation. 

As you reach for the doorknob, though, Joe presses his arm against the door and his scowl deepens. 

“You lied to me,” he seethes. 

“Excuse me?”

“Before. You were lying when you said you weren’t interested in those videos. I can always tell.”

“Oh,” you murmur, “about that. Look, I’m really sorry that I was going through your-”

“Yeah, that’s not what we’re talking about little girl.”

“It isn’t?” You feel yourself shrinking back from him and he leans closer as you do, until your back is pressed into the doorframe.

“No,” he purrs. “We’re talking about you and how you were turned on by what you saw. We’re talking about how your panties are probably still soaked because you were so excited.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you fight to think of something to say. His broad chest is just inches from you, heat radiating from him and clouding your thoughts even more. 

“I have to go,” is what you’re eventually able to croak. 

“Is that so?” he hums. “Well I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna go get into something more comfortable. If you want to go, you go. I won’t stop you. But if you want to find out what I can do to you, what I can make you feel, then you get back in the office and wait for me.”

He steps back and heads up the stairs without another syllable, leaving you with a decision to make. There are assuredly better ways for you to find a man to dominate you. But you’ve seen what this man can do and you’ve felt the power and confidence roll off him, leaving you quivering inside and out. You take a deep breath and head back down to his office. 

He makes you wait. It’s a good fifteen or twenty minutes before he reappears wearing nothing but boxers, a towel over his shoulders and an arrogant expression that says he never had any doubt you’d be here. 

“Eyes down.” It’s an order, you know, even though he speaks as quietly as ever, and you immediately comply. 

You’re able to see him toss the towel on the sofa and you hear him opening something- a drawer?- and then close it again a second later. Whatever he was looking for, he knew exactly where it was. 

“Top off and hands behind your back.” His voice is behind you, even as ever. 

You comply right away, stripping yourself of your sweater and t-shirt, hesitating a little at the thought of removing your bra. 

“Everything off,” he whispers, much closer than he was before. 

Keeping your eyes on the floor, you remove it and try to steady your breath. You feel a light line traced across your back by something you can’t identify. It’s thin and pliable, but has some strength to it, like the branch of a sapling. It makes you shiver as he continues to move it softly back and forth across the widest part of your back. 

“So you like snooping around in other people’s things, do you?”

“No,” you stammer, “I don’t usually do that, I don’t know what I was-”

Immediately, there’s a sharp crack as he brings the branch-like thing, a riding crop, you guess, down on your back with force. You give a short scream and your breathing speeds up as you feel the pain leak from the narrow band of impact across your skin. 

“You’re lying to me again,” he taunts. “We both know you do that kind of thing all the time, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, trying to focus on anything but the pain and at the same time feeling the juices pooling between your thighs.

“What a bad girl you are.” You flex your muscles, anticipating another strike but he does nothing. You let yourself exhale and relax just a little and that’s when the second blow comes, even harder than the first. The scream you give is louder and tears spring to your eyes. Behind you, you hear him hum in satisfaction and it reverberates in your core. 

“You were watching quite a few of those videos. I saw you,” he continues, to your shame. “Tell me, what did you like the most about them?”

“I- I don’t know…”

This time, the strike hits the flesh of your inner arm, exposed because you have your hands clasped behind your back, the way he told you. 

“If you’re not going to be honest with me, this is going to be a very rough night for you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” And there’s a sharp impact on your other arm that draws a sob and a long whine. 

“Get to the point, little girl.”

“I liked seeing you. I got turned on by what you were doing to those women because I’ve wanted someone to do those things to me.”

He presses himself against your back, running his thumb roughly along one of the whip marks he’s made there. “Now was that so hard?”

You shake your head, struggling to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as he circles around you. He presses the handle end of the riding crop- you were right about that- under your chin. 

“Look at me.”

You do as you're told, more tears dripping from your eyes as you lift your head. 

“Already crying? Are you sure you want this?”

“I do,” you assure him, nodding your head vigorously. 

“It only gets rougher from here,” he warns you. “So if you want it to stop…”

“I want to keep going.”

“So you think you deserve to be punished.”

“I do.”

“You know what you did was wrong. And you know that you’re a filthy girl for liking what you saw so much.”

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘yes, sir’” he corrects you sharply. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think about doing things like that when you’re by yourself? About big, mean taking whatever they want from you? About them hurting you and using you?”

“Yes.”

You hear the sound of the riding crop cutting through the air, but not in time to brace yourself for the impact. It hits right across your nipples and if you had thought that the blows to your back and arms hurt, they were nothing compared to this. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you sob. 

He snaps the riding crop across the same point, the center of both nipples, making you shriek. 

“Show me your hands.”

You lift them for his inspection and he whips your palms repeatedly, like you’re a misbehaving child. 

“Now take off the rest of your clothes,” he instructs. “And give me your panties.”

You move to follow the order, flinching in pain at having to use your wounded hands. He paces in front of you, seeming impatient but letting you take the time you need to get fully undressed. When you’re done, you offer him the garment he requested, which he snatches away from you. 

He smirks as he rolls them around in his hand. To your relief, he places the riding crop on the desk behind him before he approaches you. 

“What’s this?” he sneers, wiping the soaked cotton over your face. “Is this because of what you saw?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You liked it even more than I thought. You really are a dirty little slut. Do you think you deserve to be punished more?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ask me.”

“Please, sir,” you stammer, “I want you to punish me because I’m a dirty slut who got turned on watching your videos.”

He gives you a smirk that carries just a hint of approbation. “Very good, slut. Go kneel on the sofa, ass out, arms on the back.”

You scurry over and do exactly as you’ve been told. Once you’re in position, he follows you, hovering over you. 

“Your eyes stay straight ahead,” he cautions. 

He kneels on the sofa beside you and reaches down, producing a pair of handcuffs already attached to the old-fashioned heater, obviously installed for the purpose of chaining women in place. You let him take your wrists and manacle them, flinching because the metal is actually hot on your skin. Once again, he disappears behind you. 

His hand comes down on your ass with a thunderous noise and you swear you can feel the reverberations in your skeleton. You let out a half-gasp, half-cry but before you’re able to regroup, he smacks your other cheek just as hard, if not harder. He continues this, increasing the pace as he does until you’re screaming and crying. 

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“I… I think so?”

“I don’t know,” he muses, “your pussy is dripping. I think we might need to look at punishing you another way. I think I might have to pound that slit with my cock to show you what happens to dirty sluts who go looking at things they’re not supposed to.”

“Yes, sir, you should.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes, please, sir, I want your cock.”

“What’s that?”

“Please fuck me, sir. Show me how bad I am.”

He bends over you, pushing his boxers off, and whispers harshly in your ear, “Well as long as you’re absolutely sure.”

You nod and he accepts that, grasping your bruised ass tightly and ramming into you like a jackhammer. He pounds relentlessly, leaving you with nothing to do but take what he’s giving, gasping and mewling in ecstasy as each brutal thrust seems to increase the sensitivity of your cunt, the sensation of pleasure flooding through you. 

“Is this what you needed?” he snarls, panting. 

“Yes, oh god, yes!” You’re a little shocked at the volume of your own voice but all you want to do is scream because what he’s giving you is what you’ve fantasized about for so long, what your body has always known it needed but could never get. You can feel every nerve rushing towards climax and just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, he pulls out, pressing the tip of his dick against your tailbone, just above the crack of your ass, and he comes, the hot liquid trickling down between your ass cheeks and your swollen lips in streams. He traces the flow with his thick fingers, up and down, making you whine in need. Finally, he grabs the towel he brought with him and wipes you off. You’re still whimpering, moving your hips all around, searching for any kind of contract. 

He gives a dark chuckle and you hear him walk away. You want to cry but he’s back in a moment, close by you. Immediately, he starts to wind a rope around your legs, soft like silk and strong. He binds your thighs to your calves, your ankles together and then he flips you over, the chain on the handcuffs pulling your arms taut. 

You could not be more vulnerable, spread open before him. He wipes his dick across your chest to remove the remaining mix of your juices. 

“I’ll bet you think you deserve to come, now, don’t you?” 

“Yes, please sir.”

“Why should I let you.”

“I’ve tried to be good for you, sir. I’ve done everything you asked. I’m sorry I lied to you before but I told you the truth after. And you just turn me on so much, sir.”

He smirks again and plants his tree trunk of a thigh on the sofa between your legs. 

“Like this,” he growls. “You want to get off? You fuck yourself on my leg like an animal who doesn’t know any better.”

Part of you wants to resist, but you’re so desperate for it that you press yourself against him and start grinding into his thigh. You can feel the powerful muscle beneath the flesh as he flexes, giving you a little more friction. It’s still slippery and the way that you’re bound makes it difficult to move the way you need to, but you’re able to make it work. 

“Are you close?” he rasps. 

“So close, sir!”

“And am I good to you, letting you cum on my leg like this?”

“Yes, thank you!”

You thrust yourself even harder against him to add just the little bit more pressure that you need, moving faster as you can feel your orgasm ready to burst through you. 

And with a nasty grin, he steps back. 

Your clit is so engorged that the sensation of air hitting it is actually painful. Although you’d like to remain composed and be angry, you just sob, tears welling up yet again. 

“Why?” you cry at him. 

“You don’t get to cum until I decide you’re ready.”

“Please, sir, I’m begging you, I need to.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

He pulls his boxers back on and grabs the towel, heading towards the door. 

“Wait!” you yelp after him. “Where are you going?”

He laughs again, deep and almost demonic. “I’m a busy man. I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

“Aren’t you going to untie me?”

He smirks and throws the towel over his shoulders again. “Oh no. You’re gonna stay right there until I’m ready to use you again.”       

[lyssismagical]

wrong numbers and a knight in shining armor (or a red t-shirt)

Just an itsy bitsy idea. No Powers AU. TW for being followed?? 

Peter had never really worried about his well-being in a place like Queens. Sure, crime was almost always high and it was hard to walk to school without getting at least a little bit antsy with all the people, unable to tell who’s good and who might draw a weapon if you step too close. But Queens had always been home.

Growing up, Peter had never shied away from playing outside or walking to the park on his own, he’d never been afraid of the man who’d sat outside their building for six months, quiet and carrying a switchblade, he’d never really thought twice about being a defenseless kid in New York.

He’s seventeen now, still as defenseless as he was a little kid, when he feels real, pure fear for the first time.

It’s late, granted, later than he’d normally be out and about anyways, but he’d gotten caught up at Flash’s house with Academic Decathlon, prepping for a competition. All the other kids had gotten rides home from their parents except for Peter and Cindy, but she lived only a block or so away. Peter walked her home anyways, sensing her worry about walking home at night.

Now, he’s alone, walking the fifteen blocks by himself at nearly one in the morning. He makes it four before he notices he’s being followed.

He purposefully stops and picks up the pace to see if the man will move past him or leave, but he follows his every move from a few houses back.

He’s being followed.

On instinct, he reaches for his phone, needing to call MJ or Flash who aren’t far from him to come save him, but it’s dead. He hadn’t bothered asking to borrow a charger at Flash’s house because he didn’t think he’d need to.

But when he puts his phone back in his pocket, his hand hits his wallet which makes his change jingle.

A payphone.

There’s not as many payphones in the city as there once was, but Peter’s sure he passed at least one on the way to Flash’s house. It’s a better option than just walking home when that man could get bored and jump him at any second.

He picks up the pace, not wanting to spook the guy but needing to make as much distance as possible.

His breaths are coming too fast, chest heaving, and he shivers, though he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or from the fear that’s settled frigid in his veins.

Three more blocks later, he sees the phonebooth, blue and with a little light like a beacon.

He slips into the booth, tucking himself in the corner, trying not to stare at the man as he stops a few buildings away and leans against a brick wall.

MJ. He’ll call MJ. Flash might laugh at him, Ned lives too far, May’s working, Tony’s on a mission. Plus, nobody’s as scary as MJ is.

His hands are shaking as he dials the number, white-knuckling the phone. He cradles it against his ear, nearly sobbing in relief when the dialing stops and the phone’s answered.

“Hello?”

Except that’s not MJ. It’s a man’s voice, low and gravely and distinctly southern.

“Oh shit, sorry, I- I guess I called the wrong number. I- I’m sorry. I’ll, um, I’ll let you go,” Peter stutters out, reaching for his wallet and more coins to call again, but he comes up empty handed. He only had enough for one call.

“Wait,” the guy says, uncertain and worried. “You sound rattled. Everything okay?”

Peter glances over his shoulder at where the man is very slowly slinking closer to his phone booth and Peter lets out a scared squeak, fear gripping his chest. “There’s this guy and he’s been following me for like five blocks now and I- I’m really scared. Really fucking scared. I have another seven blocks to get home and I don’t- I was trying to call my friend to come walk me home but I guess I forgot- I don’t know- I guess I misdialed and I don’t have anymore change.”

“You want me to call the cops for you? Where are you?”

“71st and Bow Street, Queens? New York?”

The boy on the other end of the line hums. “Well, I don’t know how much you really want another stranger approaching you tonight, but I’m actually staying with a friend right near where you are. If you stay put, I can make it to you in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” the boy says with a little laugh. He sounds genuinely worried about Peter which warms his chest. “As long as you’re okay with that. I don’t want to freak you out more. I can always call your friend for you or the police for you.”

Peter lets out another breathy sob, relieved but still shaking with fear. “No, it’s okay. If you don’t mind coming to get me, I’d really be okay with that.”

“Okay. I’m wearing jeans and a bright red t-shirt, and I’ve got blond hair. Just under six feet. My name’s Harley Keener. That way, nobody can try to impersonate me if someone gets there before me,” he laughs. “I’ll be there in fifteen, ‘kay?”

“Thank you,” Peter breathes. “See you in fifteen.”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call, but Peter doesn’t let go of the phone, keeping it pressed against his ear and nodding as though Harley’s still talking to him. He figures it’s safer to pretend he’s talking to somebody. That way, hopefully the man will stay back while he waits.

As soon as he sees a mop of curly blond hair and a bright red t-shirt, jogging up the street towards the phone booth, Peter’s knees give out.

Harley slows down, squaring his shoulders and sending a calm look over at the man who glares at Peter before slinking down the street.

“Is it okay if I come over there?” Harley calls out softly, hands lifted in defense.

Peter nods quickly, crying a little harder, more in relief and being safe than anything else. He doesn’t think he could stand up yet, knees still weak and hands trembling. Harley moves quickly to tug the phonebooth door open and he slides down to his knees, easy smile on his face.

“He’s gone. Don’t think he’ll want to come back now that he’s outnumbered. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Peter barely manages to choke out, reaching out to catch Harley’s hand, needing the extra piece of comfort. “Thank you for coming to get me. I don’t- I don’t know what I would’ve done-”

Harley smiles, squeezing Peter’s hand before he’s standing up, carefully tugging Peter up with him. “It’s all good, no need to thank me. It’s the least I could do. Come on, up we get.”

Under the streetlight, Peter can properly see Harley. He’s young, probably Peter’s age, if he had to guess, tall and strong with blond curls and the brightest blue eyes Peter’s ever seen. He’s got his easy smile, all soft and special like each smile is more important than the last.

It makes Peter feel incredibly self-conscious of his no doubt puffy face and red eyes and still trembling hands in the aftermath.

“You want me to walk you home? And feel free to say no, I won’t take it harshly,” Harley says, not an ounce of any negativity in his voice, just sweet.

“You want to walk me home?” Peter echoes uncertainly, but he’s still clinging to Harley’s hand, still glancing around nervously like every shadow is out to get him. “It’s seven blocks from here if you’re okay with that.”

Harley grins, squeezing his hand. “It would be my honor to walk you home.”

“I’m, uh, I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker, lead the way!”

 They talk all the way home, all seven blocks, hand-in-hand like they’ve known each other for more than an hour. Harley keeps everything light, making jokes and telling stories about his little sister and his hometown and his mom, the friend he’s staying with in the area, Gwen, and in return, Peter talks about his aunt and about his friends and Academic Decathlon.

By the time they make it to Peter’s apartment building, Peter doesn’t really want to say goodbye to Harley. The last thing he wants to do is make Harley uncomfortable, but he also desperately doesn’t want to spend the next few hours alone in his apartment building. He won’t be able to sleep and the anxiety is still thrumming through him.

“Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight when you didn’t have to, and I don’t want to take up all your night, but…”

“But?” Harley prompts, never losing his smile and tightening his grip on Peter’s hand.

“Would you wanna come up for a coffee? Or a snack? I just- I don’t really want to be alone and you make me feel safe and I’m- I’m rambling, sorry. You probably want to go home, not spend your night with a wrong number-”

Harley lets out a little laugh. “I’d love to come up with you. As long as you want me, I’m here.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003  @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment 

[fandom-necromancer]

Criminal Romance

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope evil!Reed900 and criminal!Reed900 are overlapping enough for this to be what you wanted! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Author blatantly brushes over morals and ethics for the sake of the AU, Gavin and Nines are criminals, murder)

‘Damn, you are phcking sexy when you are angry, you know that?’ That made a smile appear on that beautiful face, as Nines was standing hunched over the sink to wash away the blood from his knuckles. ‘I believe you are the only one who reacts to danger by proposing to it.’ ‘Aw, so you finally have decided on an answer?’ Gavin couldn’t hide his excitement and knowing he needed something to do if he didn’t want to bounce around the place, he took the disinfectant wipes and took Nines’ hands. ‘Here, let me.’ He started wiping over the android’s knuckles, careful to get into the ridges between hull plates too as soon as Nines let his skin retract. ‘There, all done’, Gavin murmured, not letting Nines’ hands leave his as he continued caressing them gently. ‘I think I have decided’, the android answered finally. ‘Not that I ever had any doubts, but you know, I had planned to confess my love to you at a perfect moment. Like, right after a chase with the police, when the adrenaline is rushing in your veins and your heart is beating like crazy.’ He grasped Gavin’s hands and pulled the man close. ‘Or during a shootout when we made it just within an inch of our lives.’ He kissed him. ‘Or maybe when we are both tied up in the back of a police car, just moments before breaking our chains and making our escape.’ His thirium pump worked overtime as he saw Gavin’s eyes flutter shut while leaning in for the next kiss, his breathing caught against the android’s lips.

‘You damn romantic’, Gavin whispered and pressed himself flush with Nines’ body. It was when he lifted a leg to hook behind him, that the android chuckled and pressed it down gently. ‘Darling, we still have a body to dispose of.’ ‘Don’t care’, Gavin panted. ‘Police isn’t even searching for him yet. Isn’t even reported missing yet.’ ‘Still, we have to-‘ He was interrupted by another kiss and Nines was just about as annoyed as he was amused. He laughed the moment his mouth was free again and shook his head. ‘Gavin. Come on. Let’s wait until we are home. I’ll dispose of the body, you clean. Then we can continue this. How about that?’ Gavin whined, but stepped back from him, holding him by his coat-tails. ‘Hurry’, He ordered in stern tone and Nines nodded.

They walked back into the room and Nines got to work untying the lifeless body that slumped in his grip. Damn low-life trying to rat them out to the police for a reduced sentence… In Nines’ opinion you either were smart enough to plan your actions so you didn’t get caught, or you owed up to your crimes. Was there no honour in the criminal world? No, Nines had never betrayed someone in his life. He had killed, threatened and robbed, but he had never betrayed his partners. Neither had Gavin, Nines thought, remembering how they had met. Nines, out for revenge for what Cyberlife had done to him, what they had done to other androids, killing off everyone who was responsible for the decisions made. And then Gavin, who had been thrown out of the police for anti-android behaviour and started a small little red-ice business. Nines remembered all too fondly how they had started off as enemies, Gavin accepting Thirium drained from captured androids. He had planned to kill the man for the longest time, but as he had looked death personified into the eyes and just smiled, flirting with him of all things, it had been the first time Nines had changed his mind and offered Gavin to be partners. Since then, Gavin found Nines his victims. Gavin lured in those who were willing to let androids suffer and Nines ended their existence on this planet. It was perfect and no one was able to stop them.

Not even former partners of his human that had suddenly decided that creating drugs from the blood of the dead to make humans addicted to it until it killed them eventually was fine, but they drew the line at taking the shortcut of killing some assholes directly. Nines would have to pay Gavin’s labs a visit after this, reminding them not to dare say a word against his love else they would end just like the body Nines currently carried on his shoulder effortlessly. He smiled to himself thinking of their scared faces and nodded. But first he had to take care of their latest victim.

As he came back, the body neatly cut up and buried deep in several neighbouring fields with enough distance they wouldn’t be able to connect the single pieces if they ever found them, he froze. His eyes were fixed on the police car parked just in front of the building, the officers nowhere in sight. It hadn’t been here before. It had just arrived, the hood still appearing slightly warm in his infra-red vision. And Gavin was still inside, cleaning away the mess they had made. Gavin.

Nines started running. Out of the two of them, Gavin wasn’t the one who was good with careful words. Gavin was the one to manipulate, to be the textbook asshole who threw punches and curses around. Gavin was the one to hide their intentions behind blunt bravado and gather attention. Nines? Nines was the one who made sure all that attention came from the right kind of people and that in the event the wrong people appeared – like they had decided to do now – they had no evidence to go off of. Said simpler, they were a really good team and Nines had left Gavin alone in one of the worst situations he could have. But maybe he wasn’t too late yet.

He slowed down as he heard distant voices and made a point of strolling in as relaxed and calm as possible, even if his systems were running overtime already. He pretended to flinch as if only now realising they weren’t alone. It would help the play, whatever Gavin had already said. ‘Hey, what happened?’, he asked, quickly moving to Gavin’s side. ‘Stop! Don’t move. Put your hands where I can see them!’, one of the two officers ordered sternly, weapon raised. ‘I’m not armed’, Nines said, otherwise complied. He was near enough to Gavin to jump in front of him or grab him to pull him away. He was safe. Gavin turned his head around to him, his arms still risen. ‘They found us.’ Nines remembered their codes. “Found” was something different to “caught” or “got”. “Found” was good. It meant they didn’t have a clue, just caught them somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. “Caught” would mean they had seen something and “they got us” would be the signal for Nines to come up with an escape plan that left no witnesses.

So, he relaxed a bit. ‘Are you from the police?’, Nines asked innocently. ‘Yes, DPD! And who are you?’ ‘May I see your badges?’, the android tried. Both officers showed them without taking the gun down. ‘There. Now answer the question.’ ‘I’m a RK900 unit. My name is Nines.’ The android had looked up their IDs and badge number. They were real cops and were currently stationed at the precinct Gavin had formerly worked at. It was safer to use their real names in case someone recognised them or they had to follow them to the station. Nines’ scan from the room returned him nothing, Gavin had done his job well. Maybe this time playing innocent and just relaying on the laziness of others might be the safest bet. ‘My name is Gavin Reed’, Gavin followed his example. ‘Gavin Reed? Like the Detective?’ Gavin sighed. He was still salty about having lost his job. Nines was quite glad about it as the human would have without doubt long caught up with his doings. ‘Yeah. Got kicked out because of anti-android bullshit.’

‘Sir, has he done anything to you?’, the officer that had kept in the background until now asked. ‘Excuse me?’ Nines would have laughed hadn’t he been deeply offended by the assumption. ‘No’, he answered, looking down on the humans. ‘And considering I plan to propose in the near future, I doubt it will be very likely.’ ‘Alright, why were you here? As a former Detective, you do know, this is breaking and entering, right?’ ‘Is it really breaking and entering, if we didn’t break in?’, Nines asked and Gavin backed him up: ‘Yeah, we drive by this place almost every day and wanted to know what’s inside. We checked, this building doesn’t belong to anyone anymore.’ ‘So you are just exploring?’ ‘That’s right.’ ‘Then where’s your third man?’ ‘Third man?’ ‘Yes, you were going inside with someone else, now you are only two.’

Nines alarm went off. They had been watching. They had seen the person that was now dead. Gavin likely hadn’t had a chance to dispose of the bloodied tarp and his cleaning supplies yet. A thoroughly search would without doubt lead them onto their trail. And although the police would never be able to prove they had committed all their murders, at least this last one they would be punished for. Outwardly he only smiled and shrugged. ‘We were alone. I don’t know if someone followed us, but it was just us two.’ ‘Yeah, right’, the officer said, little convinced. ‘I would like to take you two with us to the station for further questioning. We have a few cases where the suspects’ descriptions fit well enough with you.’

Gavin and Nines stared at each other and Nines shrugged. He couldn’t think of any reason why they could be suspicious to the police, but that was what made it all the more important to go with them to the station. Nines was sure they would have to let them go for lack of evidence anyways, so it was best to comply and play their part instead of making a scene. Might as well find out how much the authorities knew of them. ‘Alright’, Nines took the lead and hoped Gavin wouldn’t make a fuss. ‘But we have to be home before eight o’clock, else his cat will start dismantling the flat.’ ‘That’s entirely up to you.’

~

‘Where were you on the third October 2039?’ They were sitting in different interrogation rooms and while Nines was waiting for someone to ask him questions, Gavin was already prodded. Nines had allowed himself into the room’s systems and could hear every word from the intercom and see through the cameras mounted on the walls. Other than Nines Gavin really had to think back and try to remember what had happened that day. But even then, Nines saw recognition on his face far earlier than he showed it to the officer in front of him. ‘Pffff, I don’t really remember. That’s how many years ago? Five? Six? I had been kicked out of the DPD and looked for a job at that time. Didn’t find one right away, apparently being fired by the police isn’t the best way to find a new job quickly.’ ‘Which you haven’t until this very day, although you have regular income.’ ‘I’m a freelancer. Private security, one day here the next over there, you know? I’m still looking for a real job.’ ‘So, the sudden rise in Red Ice trade and cases of missing androids are not in any way connected to you?’ The officer sitting opposite to Gavin had leaned back in the chair and let the files fall on the table with an audible slap. Nines listened very intently. That was from before they had met, before they had had each other’s backs. How on earth had the police been diligent enough to do follow ups on something this long ago?

Gavin just laughed; his obviously heightened stress levels well hidden. ‘Hey, don’t complain about that if you throw out one of the best detectives you had, especially one that worked his ass off to get these cases closed. Hell, likely some new gang that uses the thirium from these units to skip a lot of the production costs. Really, that sounds like an easy case. And you haven’t solved that one yet?’ Nines relaxed. He didn’t know whether leading someone on their trail was a good idea, but he trusted Gavin to choose the right action and angering the officer might just work. ‘Okay, I’ll ring up a few contacts and see if they can recognise you’, the officer grumbled. ‘For now, that’s it, my colleague will lead you out.’

~

When the door opened, Nines made a show of looking completely unperturbed. ‘Letting me wait? Let me tell you that tactic isn’t as effective as it is with humans.’ The officer threw him a look. ‘Well, we are just understaffed, that’s all.’ ‘Shouldn’t have fired my partner then’, Nines hit into the same spot Gavin had just minutes before. It worked wonders. ‘Listen, this is about you and whether or not you will be arrested. We have a bunch of dead Cyberlife personnel that where involved with the development of your series.’ ‘Really?’, Nines asked. ‘That’s too bad. I never really liked them, I mean I guess no deviant likes the people that thought of them as objects. But I am perfectly content with creating a brighter future. I don’t like looking back on what happened.’ Not really a lie. He was indeed creating a better future by making sure these monsters would never be able to lay hands on an android again. ‘Sure. That’s why people disappear that worked in complete secrecy on your line? Not even their families knew what they were working on.’ ‘Maybe whoever is killing these people got their hands on a Cyberlife pay-check? I am no cop, but I’d say you should look into the higher ups of Cyberlife itself.’ ‘That we already did and there is no motive. One, two, maybe. Not forty-three.’

Nines would have swallowed hadn’t he been observed. How had they managed to find all his kills and managed to connect them back to him? ‘Well, that is no evidence. Why should I kill them? I wasn’t a deviant back then. You have no reason to believe I did this.’ ‘We have, actually. One of the persons the killer missed had fled the country seeing what happened to his colleagues. He informed us and pointed us your way, telling us how you swore to kill every last one of the people who held you at that lab.’ So the fucker had fled the country. That’s the reason Nines never managed to find him. Good to know. ‘I have sworn that’, Nines admitted. What else could he do? ‘Multiple times even. But that doesn’t mean I would do that. If you knew what they did to me, you would understand what drove me to say that. But now the situation is different. One careless word delivered by someone who fled the country isn’t enough to arrest me.’ ‘No, but enough to keep you here for further questioning. I will lead you back to the cell until the officers responsible for this case have arrived.’

~

Nines joined Gavin on the bench, watching how the door was locked and the officer walked away, likely to make some phone calls. Both of them knew they hadn’t been as invulnerable as they had thought, and the lasting expectant silence was weighing down on them. >It doesn’t look too good. Nines eventually displayed on his palm for the other to see. Gavin leaned against him and whispered in his ear: ‘Yeah, it really doesn’t.’ >We need to get out of here. Gavin nodded and shrugged, enough for Nines to understand he agreed but had his doubts it would work. The android smiled. >Thanks to the police I have located my last target. The only loose end. ‘Really? Where?’ As an answer, Nines pulled up a tourist brochure of Indonesia. >How about a vacation until things have settled? Gavin smiled at him, taking Nines’ hand and stood up after him. Just before Nines laid his hand at the door and started hacking, Gavin leaned in tiptoeing, so he could press a kiss on his neck. ‘Seems you do get your romantic moment after all’, Gavin whispered amusedly, and Nines answered by opening the door. Shortly after an alarm blared and they found themselves surrounded by chaos, sudden gunshots and screams. That would be indeed make for the perfect moment.

[benevolentsam]

Hey Dean, I was wonderin'. Do you know when you guys are coming back? Money's running low again and the motel manager keeps giving me this sleazy side eye, I don't trust him at all. Do you think the next place we go, we can pick a Best Western or something? Somewhere where I don't feel like I'm gonna get kidnapped in the parking lot? Are we leaving when you come back? I kinda like it here but... I miss you De, please call me back soon.

Sam hung up the receiver, hoped wherever her family was they'd come home soon.  

She was losing it, suck in a no name motel in a redneck town. The guy behind the desk already asked her if she was selling. It didn't matter that she was wearing her brothers hand-me-downs. The jeans that fell off her thighs awkwardly. The flannel four sizes too big. She was still a commodity. And she worried, because if her dad didn't drop her some money soon, she might have to sell herself. That or starve. And honestly, starving seemed the better option.  

Sam sat back on the bed and closed her eyes. Silent prayers that the phone would ring.

It was three days later when John burst through the motel door, early evening while Sam was doing her homework.

Dean was trailing behind and bleeding. Red everywhere. So much that Sam couldn't see anything but. He flashed a feral grin at her, immediately winced, but he was there and smiling and safe. And-

"Samantha, get the first aid kit."

The way her father barked at her was humiliating. She wasn't a kid anymore, wasn't a dog acting out, or their goddamn scullery maid. But Sam grabbed the first aid kit. Looked over at her brother to see what was wrong. Gashes over shoulders and half made shirts. Stitches, Dean needed stiches. So she pulled out the dental floss and needle, some butterfly tape just in case her work was sloppy.

Her hands were shaking. Maybe it was because she was scared, but she hadn't eaten in a day and a half.

John sat back while Sam went to work, swallowing Tylenol chased by whiskey. It was like he didn't even care his only son was bleeding out on the bed. He probably didn't. But Sam bit back her chiding tongue, stitched up her brother without a sound. Dean let out soft grunts, pretended he wasn't hurting. Even when Sam wiped over open wounds with the antiseptic. Slow hisses between teeth, but always with a smile. And when Sam was done, or done enough, he thanked her with a one armed hug.  

"Sam, sweetheart, grab me a beer," John asked, or commanded. And she picked up a bottle from beside a door, where they leftthe rest of their crap that Sam would have to clean up later. Fresh beer, receipt stuck to glass with condensation.

"Why didn't you stitch Dean up before coming back?"

"Cops were onto us," he grunted under his breath. "Stupid, donut eating bastards, trying to save their asses." And of course, Sam thought, that the cops stopped them from saving Dean but not buying beer. Never buying beer.

Sam sat back down beside Dean. The way he struggled to move with his fucked up arm made it look like he was swimming. He still gave Sam a hug and a breathy thanks. It didn't mean anything. Not when she knew it would happen again in a month’s time. Her hands still shook. She was starving and angry and scared and everything else.

When John passed out on the sofa, full of painkillers and booze, Sam let herself cry.

Dean hadn't fallen asleep, so used to laying on his left side. He watched as Sam frantically tidied the room. Clothes that needed to go to the laundromat. Dean's shirt that she could sew up like she had done with him. Muddy boot prints that she would have to scrub at to get their deposit back. She cried. She couldn't see the stains through her tears but she knew they were there. She cried. And she thew her dad's duffle across the room, bottles and guns clinking so loudly she was worried she'd set one of them off. There was no smell of fire, so she figured she was safe.

She wished she could break everything John owned.

"Hey, hey Sammy? Are you okay?"

No, no she wasn't but what could she say? That she wanted to leave forever. She was sick of being treated like a child and a mother at the same time. That she hadn't eaten because John didn't care enough to leave money. Or that she was sick of cleaning and scrubbing and bleaching 'til her hands bled.

"No."

"Sit," Dean said, and sounded so much like their dad that he left no room for argument. "What's wrong, Sammy? What's going on in that head of yours?"

Sam sobbed. Dean's blood was still on her hands, she smelled of sweat and gun powder and alcohol.

"Why didn't you call back?"

"Sammy-"

"No, Dean, I don't get it! I'm too young to hunt, but I'm old enough to look after everyone? Dad comes back and expects me to fix you up and clean his clothes, and then he'll set off again in a few days and I'll be alone again. I hate being alone. I hate- I hate doing all the chores when you guys are here. I hate Dad."

Dean paused. He paused because he didn't have anything to say. Sam didn't want him to say anything, not really, because none of it was Dean's fault. She turned away, cried and sobbed and blubbered because she was just tired of it all.

Something pressed into her palm. And when Sam looked up, she saw that Dean had placed $20 in her hand.

"Order some food, a pizza maybe? Grab me something too," Dean said. There were a hundred take out menus in the kitchenette drawer. And after a month of stretched out meals and leftovers, a pizza sounded so good. "I'm sorry I didn't call, kiddo, we got caught up and... and it doesn't matter now, okay?"

"What pizza do you want?"

"Whatever you want, Sammy, we can get a real big one and then breakfast is sorted too."

And Sam knew nothing was really sorted. Because John would wake up and give Sam just enough quarters for the laundromat. She'd probably have to skip school to fix everything, make John and Dean whole again. That's all Sam was good for, after all. Fixing things. She gave Dean a bittersweet smile, bit back tears that she didn't want to cry anymore.

She picked up the phone and flicked through some menus before coming across one she knew Dean would like.

for @fascra

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

SAFE

Marcus Álvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hi! I'm sooo in love with ur writing!! Anyway I'm wondering if I can have an Alvarez one were the reader gets jumped and beaten by some guys and shes found by him but he thinks shes dead the whole time on the way to the hospital and super super fluffy and the reader gets out and he goes on a man hunt to kill them? I'm sorry if it makes no sense it's a rough idea I had of my own XD

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford​  ✨

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: NSFW, smut

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

The only thing you can feel besides the pain running up your spine, focusing in your head through your neck, is two hands holding your left tightly. A soft kiss on the back of it and some tickles because of the facial hair. You’re trying to open your eyes, turning the gesture into an agony. His voice sounds so far that you’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you, but at least, knowing that he’s there calms all the nerves that were consuming you seconds before. And you don’t know how much time passes when your throat begins to work again. Babbling word with no sense, stirring slightly above the mattress you notice that the edge sinks a little more.

“Whe— Where I am…?”

Taking your time, you’re finally able to talk only opening your right eye. The left seems like it’s covered by a cotton patch and hurt like hell. You don't need to be a genius, looking around you, to figure out that you're at the hospital. Some flashes about last night squeeze your mind. You just closed the bar, outside of Santo Padre, guiding your walk towards your car after a long Saturday dawn. And everything you wanted was coming home faster than other days and lie down on bed. You weren't even in the mood for take off your clothes. But you remember a hand tangling your hair in his fingers, before you could open the automobile, pushing you to the ground. Your head hit it, feeling how the asphalt and your neck got wetted by the blood. Disoriented, you didn't know where the kicks came from straight to your stomach, your back, your arms and your face.

“You know… who I am, chamaca?”

Your gaze quickly reach Marcus, with a worried look on his face and two dark shadows under his eyes. Your orbs tour the largest fingers caressing yours, laying your head above the pillow needing to be more comfortable. You're supposing, because of the pain and the punts, doctors could think that maybe you could need some time to also remember your name. But they're wrong. You can feel the fright wrapping the mexican when there's no answer from your lips, narrowing your hand a little more hoping that the gesture can help you.

“Ma— Marc… us Álvarez”. Muttering for a second, you provoke a soft laugh full of happiness pouring out a tear whilst leaning to you, so he can leave a kiss on your temple.

“You're thirsty, mi niña? Do you want water?”

You nod as you can, moving your chin for one second, trying to get up by your palms. The man helps you after pressing a button on a side of the bed, so it can lift up the headrest. Serving some water in a plastic cup and guiding it close to your lips, he places his free hand on your nape making it easier for you to drink from it. Your throat feels somewhat better, even if the liquid forces you to cough two times.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N). This is my fault”. Álvarez says leaving away the cup, sitting down on the edge of the bed caressing gentle your bruised cheek with his fingertips. He looks disappointed, upset, sad. His gaze over your hand between his again, but you can't understand why he's blaming himself. “Those perros... are Mayans enemies. They should heard me talking about you”.

“Did you…”

“Bishop”. He doesn't need to listen the whole question. “I brought you there. I thought you were dead, and I didn't care anything else. You're safe now”.

That's enough for you, closing your eye nodding as wrapping his arm to pull him closer until your nose touches his chest. He was just another client of the bar you were working in, but with time he became a friend. You started to assist to Mayans parties, helping them when you were free. And El Padrino was always jumping around you, even when you couldn't notice him. His eyes are always on you, controlling everything surrounding you just to work on making you feel comfortable. Last night was like a blind point.

The days pass between some visits by cops trying to get something out of you about that night, Mayans watching the place and the amazing care of Marcus, until they get you on medical discharge. And even if you would like to go home, as a club decision you're going to stay at the clubhouse till the mexicans find the men who assaulted you.

You're falling asleep under the soft blankets with your gaze on the big window covered by the wooden blind, when the door gets opened. Marcus walks inside without turning on the light, sitting on the edge of the bed. There are no words. Just a heavy sigh escaping from his lips, rubbing his face with both hands and giving you his back. Every night since you're staying there, he comes after being outside all day long to know how you feel, how you are and what you need. But now it's different. You can notice that his whole body is too tense. His breathing is somewhat shaky as his heart beating. Crawling with your knees above the bed, you reach him in silence. You don't need a single word to know that they already found those guys who almost killed you. Marcus is tense because you're going to leave the clubhouse by morning, coming back to your house, so he will not able to see you as much as he would like.

With your fingertips touring his shoulder blades slow, going up to both sides of his neck, you leave your arms falls down on his chest feeling how your skin get wet slightly for what you know it's blood. But you don't care. Not even a little.

“What if I don' feel safe?”

You mutter on his ear, touching it with your nose in a smooth caress. You have never felt insecure, because your father taught you pretty well. That night they just caught you off guard. And Marcus knows that right now you're just pretending because you also want to stay with him. But neither of you are too good expressing yourselves.

“You would have to stay here, till you do”. He just replies, lying his back on your chest as you sit on your heels.

“And you would come every night?”

“I would do anything you want”.

His eyes are closed when your lips reach his left cheek, trailing down every mild kiss towards his jaw, till them find his neck. The simple fact of having his scent so close flooding your lungs, provokes a soft chill going up over your thighs. Your fingers sliding under the kutte the enough to take it off and leave it on a corner. You know how tired Marcus is, so you're good if he doesn't move yet, enjoying every touch of yours. And what you have inside your mind it's not to thank him for taking care of you, but because you truly feel things for him, as he does for you. While your mouth and your tongue are focused on his neck, biting, sucking and tasting it taking your time to memorize every inch of him, your fingers unbutton one by one every button his shirt, playing and trying to desperate him just a little.

“Come here”. He demands with a soft growl on air, grabbing your waist as good as he can, to push you on top of him.

His legs between yours, sitting on his lap and facing each other. When his lips almost touch yours, you feel like you could die right then and there. You both have waited for this too long, so when he kisses you taking away your breath, you don't care about anything else. Getting comfy above him with both hands placed on his head, your lips conform to his and every move they made. You're feeling as if you were on top of the world. Marcus nails his fingers on your thighs, dragging them up under the fabric of your shirt. You know that he wants to be careful, being a little convalescent yet, but if you can't even keep your calm, how are you going to ask him to?

Taking off and throwing his black shirt away, his hands travel over your skin up by your sides so soon as your shirt can fly off from your body running the same fate. Your hips begin to dance over him, noticing the lump under his jeans, listening in the background how his boots falls down too. The friction of the rough fabric rubbing your panties with some delicious pressure provokes you a moan sinked on his mouth. You need him more than you could need anyone, letting your hands travel as if they had a life of their own to unbuckle his belt with trembling fingers, unzipping the jeans faster than he can even think. Helping you to slide them right to the floor beside his boxers, you lick your lips having a quick look of his hard cock touching your abdomen. Latent lust burning in your eyes, getting up of Marcus the enough seconds to pull down your panties by the waistband being grabbed by your hands. You're not going to lose more time, you want to feel him inside you, filling you completely.

Tangling his fingers with yours, pushing you slow to him and touring your whole body with his dark eyes wanting to lease it from memory, you crawl above him attacking his lips again. One of your hands go among your skins holding his hardness, stroking him with necessity while the kiss becomes impure and naughty, with your tongues colliding and tangling with each other. Marcus' breathing starts to be more frenetic and wild, stopping just for a second when you tuck his dick between your legs sinking it in your wetness without expecting. It's fucking delirious. His hugeness breaking through inside you, no waiting for your body to amold wrapping his heat, your hips bounce on top of the mexican whilst your lips being unable to separate from the others.

“Fuck, chamaca…” He growls satisfied with every touch, every move and every sensation you give him.

Forcing you to spread your legs a little more and his dick digging inside you deeper, your uncontrollable moans becomes somewhat louder. You don't care if someone can hear you, because everybody knows that this would happen sooner or later. And even if you have to wait too much, no one could stop you now. Marcus is all you want, not needing to go into details, and you are all he needs to keep his feet on the ground. Like the two pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly.

Turning you above the bed, pushing you to the middle of it without pulling himself out of your inland, the man roams his mouth over the skin of your throat biting it so gentle that ends up bristling it. Every delicious thrust with his abdomen hitting yours, makes you beg for more and he absolutely loves it, pounding you somewhat faster nailing his cock and playing with your body. One of his hands pinches your nipple, touring them with his tongue and tasting every inch of your breasts, whilst the free arm is surrounding your waist completely. Marcus needs to have you close, letting him do whatever he wants with your anatomy ready to please him, even if the only thing he wishes at this moment is show you every damn thing he can feel for you without using more words than necessary.

Your legs get tangled in his when the man lies down on top of you, looking for your mouth with somekind of filthy desperation devouring them as soon as he reaches them. You can't describe every sensation that it's running through your body ending up concentrating on your lower abdomen, giving you delectable tickles on it.

“Cum insid' me, please, Marcus…” You beg throaty against his face, while he bites your inner lip hitting your body more anxious.

You don't need a nod, nor an agreement, to know that he's going to do it. And even if you aren't using a condom, having left that idea more than discarded for your first time, you don't care about the risk. There are no hazards when you're together and both are conscious about that fact. You can't help but arching your back as soon as he filled you up with his heat and his teeth biting your lips to silence the way that he has to fall apart under your warmth. The ecstasy finds you after some hard thrusts that almost hit your soul, with his hungry tongue tasting yours. Your hands placed on Marcus' head, being easier to drown his full name wrapping by the undeniable pleasure he provokes you, even when his moves become slowly and leisurely, going rough at least till your bodies can't handle it.

You can feel his seed spilling down by your thighs, when the mexican falls exhausted by your side with a fleeting smirk on his face and a hand lying on his chest. Turning his head to yours, he doesn't waste any more time, wrapping you into his arms whilst you two are trying to recover yourselves.

“Maybe… I could feel more safe sleeping with you”. You mutter sinking your nose on his sweated skin, like yours is.

“Then, I will have to stay”.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 13

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLOHELLOHELLO. Thank you all for your lovely feedback on the past few chapters. I am so glad y’all are as attached to these characters as I am, and hearing how much you love them really gets me in the mood to write. Keep doing that, please. ;) And when you’re done, pls find your local bail fund and donate if you have the resources. Xoxoxo

“God, yeh smell so good.” Harry nudged the door shut with his toe and gripped an edge of Melody’s towel. She clung to the fabric, pressing it to her chest.

“Harry,” she warned, though there wasn’t a note of authority in her voice. Her skin was already tingling where his fingertips brushed her thigh.

“Mel,” he retorted in a flat voice. He took a step forward, until she could feel his body heat radiating through the back of her towel. And before she could escape his grip, there were lips grazing her shoulder, a hand folding her wet hair away from her neck. Harry inhaled the scent of her soap and grasped her hip, pulling her against him.

In the past few weeks, since Harry had developed enough strength in his legs to take the lead in bed, he’d been relentless. And this week he’d forgone his cane completely. He still wasn’t satisfied with where he was at, but it was enough for Melody, especially when her rib made it nearly impossible for her to do much more than lay there. And she was having trouble denying his requests for “physical therapy.”

“Harry,” she repeated as his mouth worked its way up the side of her neck. His hand slipped through the gap in her towel and pressed to the bottom of her belly. She was already thinking about the way he’d felt last night, when he’d had to take it slow because Bea was in the living room. Slow didn’t mean gentle, he’d reminded her. Her thighs still ached.

“We don’t have time.”

“We could just stay here,” he mumbled against her ear. She shivered. “Let me fuck yeh into next year.”

“No,” she whispered, though it was weary. Her fingers were growing loose around her towel. “No, I—”

“Just say your rib’s hurtin’ yeh too bad, yeah?”

“Harry,” she whined, and it was a testament to her willpower that she was able to pull away from him. Her heart was hammering wildly against her tender ribcage. “Later. Please.” She took a breath just deep enough that it wouldn’t bother her injury as she turned around. “Please,” she repeated.

Harry looked put out. He tipped his head back and sighed, then nodded. “Yeah, later. Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

“Mel, shut up,” he said with a chuckle.

She smiled and took a step closer to him, rising onto her toes to deliver a slow kiss to his lips. He groaned into her mouth and hooked an arm around her waist.

“Is it later already?”

She laughed, slipping out of his hold with a final peck. “Not even close.”

“Fine. Can yeh put some clothes on, then? Before I change my mind.” There was a smirk on his lips, but the words sounded distinctly threatening. Melody wasn’t taking any chances. She slipped around him and began to rifle through the closet without another word.

***

In the years that he’d lived in this city, Harry had never seen Brute’s so full. The bar was so packed with people that they were overflowing into the street, dancing near the entrance to the warehouse despite the cold December weather.

“Of all the places to spend New Year’s Eve,” Harry muttered beneath his breath.

“Josie is working,” Melody reminded him from where she clung to his arm.

Harry rolled his eyes, facing away from her so that she wouldn’t see. Bea might have begun to grow on him, but Josie had not. And he still didn’t like Bea enough to spend a holiday at Brute’s just so she could be near her girlfriend.

Any other bar would have been crawling with cops if there were this many people drinking out in the street. But this area was safe from their slimy hands thanks to Goodman. Which also meant that anything could happen tonight and the police wouldn’t be there to help. Harry was surprised to realize that after everything they’d done to him, to Melody, he found their lack of presence unsettling.

“I saw that,” Bea whispered when Melody wasn’t paying attention. Harry had almost forgotten she was walking with them.

“Saw what?”

She laughed. “You judge people very harshly before you get to know them.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Melody interjected.

“Yeah, sure. Double team me.”

“Oh,” Bea said with a goofy giggle, “you wish, honey.”

Melody grinned across Harry and then gave his arm a discreet squeeze. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d say that they were both already tipsy, but it was only the prospect of getting drunk that had the two girls happy and teasing. As far as he knew, Melody hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since he’d moved in at the end of September. He wasn’t sure whether that meant tonight would be fun or dangerous.

“Excuse me,” Bea shouted over the music when they reached the door to the bar, though she wasn’t nearly as polite when she began to shove people out of their way. Melody followed the path that Bea plowed and pulled Harry along behind her.

Harry could feel eyes on him. Not all of them, but a lot. People who had been going to fights since before he’d ended up in his coma, people who frequented Brute’s. Many of them didn’t seem to recognize him at first with his new haircut and thinner build, but there were a few double takes and then heads drawing together to talk about him like he couldn’t see them. He could feel himself stiffening. This felt so foreign. He’d never been in Brute’s with Melody like this, with her hanging off of him. The last time they’d been here together, he’d still been pretending to be completely disinterested in her.

“What’s wrong?” Melody asked. Harry lowered his eyes to find her staring up at him. Her hand slid down his arm to intertwine their fingers.

“Nothin’s wrong. Just feels weird.”

“It does,” she agreed. That was when he noticed that some of the eyes weren’t just watching him, but also Melody. He remembered for the first time that these people probably knew her better than they knew him, that they were betting on her on Friday nights now. It almost made his skin crawl.

Melody, already in heels, stood on her toes. Her hair tickled Harry’s chin as he tipped forward enough for her to speak into his ear. “Don’t close up on me, please,” she said. “I want to spend tonight with you. Have fun with me.”

Harry’s eyes wandered the bar behind her. Bea was leaning against the counter, but Josie was swamped with customers and the other bartender, who he’d never seen before, was actively avoiding her. Melody pressed her free hand to his chest, where the top few buttons of his shirt were popped, and her thumb stroked the skin over his heart. “Harry?” she prompted.

“Okay,” he mumbled back to her. “Okay, love. ‘M right here. ‘M with yeh.” He felt her grin stretch against his cheek.

“I would give you a kiss but I don’t think you want my lipstick all over your face.”

Harry grunted. Melody leaned forward just briefly until he felt her chest press against him, and then lowered back onto her heels. Her eyes glinted when she looked up at him. “Drinks?” she shouted. He nodded.

They slipped their way in beside Bea, who was still waiting for Josie to make her way over.

“Why are there so many girls here?” Harry asked as he peered around the place once more. This was not the typical crowd. Although you could find anyone at the matches, Brute’s usually only drew in fighters, old men, and guys looking for trouble.

“When Melody convinced Goodman to do women’s fights, she kind of brought in a whole new demographic,” Bea answered. “This place is packed nine times out of ten.”

When Melody convinced Goodman... That sent Harry for a loop. He’d been too unsettled by Melody boxing to learn about any of the logistics. He couldn’t imagine her having an actual conversation with Goodman, let alone proposing a new business venture.

Harry was jostled by a group of guys that looked like they belonged in a fraternity. He caught Melody’s hip before he slammed her into the bar top and glared at the group as it wandered across the room.

“Thank God!” Bea yelled when Josie finally stood in front of them. Melody tapped Harry’s hand and he let go of her. “Who do I have to fuck to get a drink around here?”

“A kiss will work just fine, sweetheart.”

Josie leaned over the bar top and Bea pressed their lips together, sneaking a hand around the back of her neck. Harry turned away. He felt like he was intruding. When he looked back, Josie was pouring out drinks for the three of them. She set a glass of whiskey down in front of him. He kept forgetting how many times she had served him drinks before he’d actually learned her name.

“We’re way over capacity!” Josie yelled, gesturing wildly about the room. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and fanned the back of her neck. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. Go to a club or something.”

Harry was all for that. However much clubs weren’t his setting, any amount of space and air would be better than this sweaty room. Melody’s hair was beginning to stick to her shoulders.

“No,” she shouted back, “we’ll stay! It’s fine.” She began to strip off her coat and Bea followed suit. Harry didn’t take off his jacket until she nudged him, and Josie took the coats to hide them on the other side of the bar.

Josie grinned and leaned over to kiss Bea one more time before she ambled down the bar for the next awaiting customer. Melody lifted a mojito to her lips. Bea sipped something bright red. Harry pushed a hand through his hair. For the first time, he was glad that it didn’t reach his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand it in here if there were strands sticking to his neck like Melody’s was to hers. He lifted his whiskey to take a swig, grateful for the extra ice cube that Josie had added.

“One of my film friends is supposed to be here,” Bea said, taking another large gulp of her drink and then dabbing the excess from her lips. “I’m gonna go find her. I’ll see you in a little bit. Stay safe!” she shouted. She kissed Melody on the cheek and then began to work her way through the crowd.

“Just you and me.” Melody grinned up at Harry.

“Coulda just stayed home then, huh?”

She pouted. There it was again. That silly expression, like she was already feeling booze in her blood. He downed the rest of his drink as the man sitting on the stool closest to them shuffled out of view. Harry set his glass down and ushered Melody onto the seat.

“What if I wanted to dance?” she asked as she settled back on the stool.

“Tha’s what I was afraid of.”

“Why? You don’t wanna dance with me?”

“Again,” Harry reminded her, a smile on his lips despite himself, “I don’ dance, love. And last time yeh pinned me against a wall, if I remember right.”

Melody drained a large mouthful of her drink to stifle her laughter. She turned toward him and tugged him to stand between her legs, blocking anyone’s view up the skirt of her dress.

“Were you mad about it?” she asked, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her over the din of the bar. Her fingers curled into his belt at his hip to keep him from backing away from her.

“Absolutely livid,” he said.

“Oh, sorry.” Melody finished her drink and set down her glass. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “Give me another chance?”

“I don’ dance. I do not like to dance, Mel.”

Her eyes lit up with something mischievous and she opened her mouth, but someone else spoke before she could.

“Styles, right?”

Harry turned his head and found a man standing beside them, brows knitted together.

“Do I know you?”

“No, I just go to a lot of matches. Sorry to hear what happened to you, man, but I’m glad to see you on your feet. My friends and I can’t wait to see you back in the ring.”

Harry felt Melody’s hand fall from his belt. He took a step backward, straightening up, and nodded. “Yeah, I can’ wait to start fightin’ again.”

“All right, well I’ll be front row at your first match. Fights are kinda boring without you.” The man’s eyes flickered to Melody and then widened. “Except for the women’s. Those are always good.”

Harry watched her give him a tight-lipped smile before the man wandered back into the hordes of people. Melody was silent and when Harry turned back to the bar he found that his whiskey had been refilled without him noticing. He took a drink. When he returned his attention to her, Melody was toying with the hem of her dress.

“Maybe Josie’s not so bad,” he said, sliding Melody’s fresh mojito across the counter toward her.

“She’s great.”

Harry discreetly brought his hand to the outside of her knee, pressing it toward the other. She hadn’t thought about the fact that Harry had backed up and left the view of her skirt open. He could feel eyes pressing on them from every direction, and though she looked incredible, Melody was one of the most recognizable and dressed up people in the bar. She crossed her ankles and spun around on her stool, away from his hand, to sip her drink.

“Did I do somethin’?” he asked after another quiet minute.

Melody sighed. “No. No, I just—” she turned toward him again and shook her head. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Wha’s wrong, then?”

Her tongue swiped across the bright hue of her lipstick. “Will you kiss me?”

Harry frowned. “What, at midnight or right now?”

“Both.”

Harry glanced around and seemed to understand. She wondered if he was comfortable enough to kiss her with this many people around, so many that might know him, or know of him. So many eyes. He wasn’t, really. It felt like it went against every grain of the reputation he’d built here. But he wasn’t about to disappoint Melody tonight, not when she looked like she did, when she’d made promises for later, when she seemed so optimistic for the coming year.

Harry grasped her jaw and leaned down, connecting their lips. Her lipstick was sweet, somehow. And when she opened her mouth her tongue tasted like mint.

“No,” she whined against his lips when he began to pull away. Her fingers caught the buttons of his shirt.

“Yeh’re fuckin’ relentless when yeh get alcohol into your system,” he mumbled. He gave her one more quick kiss and then pried her hand from him so he could step back. He licked his lips and still tasted the kiss. “Is it on me?”

“Just right here,” she said, reaching up to rub her thumb over the corner of his mouth, removing a smudge of lipstick. Her eyes were shiny when she looked at him and he didn’t know if it was happiness or just the mojitos. He could already feel his head buzzing, and he remembered that he himself hadn’t touched whiskey in almost nine months.

“So, you’re gonna come dance with me?”

Harry sputtered out a humorless laugh. He had made a point of not looking around after he’d kissed her, and now that he did he regretted it. There were more eyes on them than before, more women watching him and more familiar faces that he couldn’t pair with names. He cleared his throat.

“Mel, there’s not even room for dancin’ in here.”

“Sure there is. There’s a dance floor right over there.”

Harry turned in the direction that she was looking. He couldn’t see the floor, but he did see a mass of bodies, sweaty and packed so tightly together they appeared indistinguishable from one another. Nothing but a mass of limbs.

“Are yeh serious?” He drained his second whiskey with a wince. “Yeh wanna get us trapped in that?”

“Is it really trapped if you’re with me?” she asked with a goofy, wide grin. She was sliding off of her stool before he could answer her, tugging her skirt back into place. “Please, Harry? Humor me.”

“Thought I already was.”

Her lips turned into a frown. She used his hips to prop herself up and speak into his ear again. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

Harry sighed. She could be persuasive when she wanted to. “Should yeh even be dancin’ with your rib?”

“I feel fine,” she told him. He suspected she felt better after her drinks. Her fingers curled into his belt again and began to drag him away from the bar.

“Mel,” he hissed, “if yeh make me do this I swear to God I will keep yeh up all night.”

She grinned. Her teeth looked sharp and her fingers only tightened around his belt. “You need better threats.”

Harry’s mind raced with thoughts of later and before he knew it, they were bumping into the bodies on the dance floor. He caught Melody’s hip to keep her from backing right into the chest of some lone creep in the middle of the crowd. She mistook his hand for an invitation and pressed herself against him, hands on his waist. Even without trying, the jostling of the people around them made it look like the two of them were dancing.

“Did I tell you,” Melody began, pulling herself up so that he could hear her, “how good you look?” Her fingers curled into the sides of his shirt for emphasis. It was white, a color she wasn’t used to seeing on him, and also more fitted than all of the older clothes that he’d been wearing, now that he had less muscle mass.

“No, but yeh’ve been starin’ at me since I got dressed.”

She smiled and pushed back the hair that had fallen across his forehead. A smirk that she might have found infuriating at other times snaked its way onto his lips and she tilted her head.

“Harry, are you drunk?” she asked in surprise.

“No, absolutely not.” He shook his head and his hair fell right back into place, but his smirk turned into a thin smile. “Just buzzed, not drunk.”

Melody let her head fall back as she laughed. Harry watched her hair fall behind her and then curled his hand into a fist at her back as she began to move her hips against his. He could feel the beat of the music in his feet and the beat of his blood in the rest of his body. Melody grinned again as his knuckles rapped against her spine.

“No one is watching us right now,” she said. “No one can see us in the middle of all these people. Pretend it’s just us. Pretend we’re alone.”

Easier said than done. Harry could feel someone bumping against his back, hear voices from every angle. He smelled beer and sweat. But one of Melody’s hands looped around the side of his neck and her head fell forward, and his hand opened against the small of her back. He might have felt dizzy if she wasn’t so solid in front of him.

Melody kept her face lowered when Harry began to dance with her finally, for the first time ever. She thought she was imagining his movements at first, but her eyes caught the twist of his hip and she felt his chest shift beneath her shoulder. Her thumb skimmed the spot just behind his ear, where she could feel his hammering pulse.

Harry’s hands grabbed at her hips, ran up the length of her back until he could tangle his fingers in the ends of her damp hair. Even Melody never thought that she’d get him to relax this much. She gasped against his shirt when she felt him grab onto her backside and pull her even closer. And then his fingers detached her hand from his neck. He spun her around. She staggered and he caught her back in his arms, her shoulder blades to his chest.

“Thought I was supposed to be the one unsteady on my feet,” he spoke in her ear.

“You caught me off guard.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Didn’ know that was possible.” His arms tightened around her waist and she felt the lightest of kisses to her collarbone.

“Are you sure you only had two drinks?” she asked as she relaxed against him.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean?”

She laughed. When she started dancing again, he moved with her. “I think you had too much.”

“Why? Because ‘m not mad that yeh have me stuffed in this crowd?”

Melody felt his cheek settle against the side of her head. She looped an arm up to comb through his hair and opened her mouth, but his hand shifted up her side and she flinched away from him instead.

“Fuck, fuck,” he cursed, letting her out of his hold. “‘M sorry.”

She shook her head quickly as she laid a very gentle hand over her ribs. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He was bumped forward by the surging mass of bodies and this time he nearly toppled her over. She caught him by his chest before they could fall. In the very next moment she crashed toward him, stuttering out a pained breath when her chest met his.

“Yeh okay?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as if he could shield her from everyone else. She nodded. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

Harry pulled Melody into his side, the injured rib closest to him so that no one could irritate it more with a stray elbow. He guided her off of the dance floor, and when the rest of the bar seemed equally as full, they made their way out into the street. Melody leaned against one of the windows, so steamed up on the inside that it was nearly opaque. She laughed and Harry frowned as he stepped in front of her.

“Wha’s funny?”

“Nothing. I’m just having a good time.”

“You are?” He glanced back through the door they’d come out of and shook his head. “I could’ve fucked up your rib all over again.”

“Harry, I’m fine.” She shivered as the cold night air started to cool her sweaty skin. “Hey,” she added when his frown only deepened, “I’m okay. I swear. I can barely even feel it anymore.”

“It looks like you two started having fun without me.”

Melody grinned when she caught sight of Sean. Harry watched her face light up. She stepped away from the window to hug him.

“That’s what happens when you’re late,” she said. When she took a step away from Sean and looked to Harry, she found him with his hands in his pockets. “Um, I was just about to head to the bathroom and try to find Bea. Okay? I’ll be back in a second.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sean said with a nod.

Melody exchanged a quick look with Harry and then began the arduous process of carving a path into the bar. Harry hadn’t seen Sean since he’d left the hospital after Melody’s last match. He knew what he was supposed to say, it was getting it out of his mouth that would prove the hardest part. There was nothing but tension-filled silence for a moment.

“Look, mate,” Harry began, drawing his hands back out of his pockets. He curled his fingers tight enough to crack them. “‘M… I didn’ know that yeh called me just…”

Sean was grinning. Harry wanted to smack him.

“I know, man. You’re sorry. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a swift nod. “‘M sorry. I just don’ like her in these situations where—” 

“I know, Harry,” Sean interrupted. "I care about her, too. A lot. I do. I know what you mean. But if she wants to keep fighting I can’t stop her and I’m gonna do my best to help her stay in one piece.”

A girl stumbled into the space between Harry and Sean, giggling wildly, catching herself on the windows of the bar. She bounced back out into the street, chasing a friend, throwing the contents of her cup across the pavement. Harry watched her run and then took a deep breath.

“Yeh want a drink?” he asked.

“Yeah, I could go for a drink.”

“Brilliant.”

Harry wandered back into the building with Sean at his heels and they began to press through the throngs of people toward the bar. This time, Josie ignored everyone that had been waiting to get Harry another whiskey and to serve Sean a bottle of beer.

“I deserve a nice tip for this,” she said before hurrying away.

Sean said something that Harry couldn’t quite make out before he took a swig from his beer.

“What?” Harry shouted.

“No cane!” Sean repeated.

“No.” Harry shook his head and glanced down at his feet. “No cane. ‘S fuckin’ bliss bein’ able to actually walk.”

“I’ll bet.”

He said something else that Harry couldn’t hear over the yelling in the bar and then pointed toward the door. Harry nodded. Struggling not to spill his drink, they trailed back outside. Snowflakes were spilling from the sky, so slow and spaced apart that Harry didn’t realize it until one landed on his cheek. It didn’t feel cold enough for there to be snow.

“How’s your mom?”

Harry let a long gust of air trail between his lips. Snowflakes melted as they reached the rim of his glass.

“She’s startin’ another round of chemo.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’ know how the fuck she can stand it.”

Sean shook his head. “‘M sorry, man.”

Harry didn’t acknowledge his words. He only twisted his head to watch the crowds milling about, the group dancing in the strange, fluorescent glow of the single bulb just above the warehouse door. He took a few more gulps from his glass and felt a heat in his belly that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“She’s not even mad anymore,” he said eventually. “She used to be so angry about it. Shoutin’ how it wasn’ fair and just pissed that I had to live with my dad because she was so sick. And now ‘s just another day. ‘S just so casual. ‘Hi, I’m startin’ my next round in a week.’”

Sean didn’t know what to say. He’d talked to Harry about these things in passing, but many times it was like pulling teeth to gain any extra information. And now he was just spilling, overflowing. It could have something to do with the glazed eyes and the drink that sloshed onto the pavement as he moved his arm.

“I fuckin’ hate this,” Harry muttered. “All of it. My mum’s dyin’ and I can’ even help her anymore. ‘M just playin’ house.”

“I don’t think that’s what you’re doing.” Sean shivered in his jacket and wondered how Harry wasn’t bothered by the winter air. “You need time to recover. Melody needs time, too. She doesn’t—”

“Melody.” Harry spun so hard he nearly tripped himself and craned his neck to search through the people in the bar. “Where the fuck did she go?”

“The bathroom, remember?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Tha’s not what I meant. Said she’d be back, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sean agreed. And as he watched, a shadow fell over Harry’s face. He froze in place for a few seconds and then his glass of whiskey shattered on the street. Sean glanced down at the shards. When he looked back up, Harry was gone.

The people stuffed into the entrance of the bar toppled sideways into one another as someone bowled past them. Harry closed the distance between the door and Melody in only a few strides, and when he reached her he ripped the frat guy who had been too close for comfort back by the collar of his shirt. The man gasped and then scrambled to maintain his footing. Melody hadn’t seen the interaction, but she’d felt the displacement of air, heard the gasp.

“Harry, no!” Her voice barely carried over the rest of the uproar as heads turned in their direction. 

Harry was already halfway through a swing. His fist connected with the man’s jaw. His fingers sang a high note of pain and it felt like coming home after a journey far away. That feeling was so deep-seated, so familiar. He wanted to yell but his arm was already winding up for another punch and his brain couldn’t organize words quickly enough, so he stayed silent. He hit the guy until he saw blood, then he hit him again. Somewhere, distantly, as though she’d been lost in the crowd, he heard Melody, but he didn’t stop until a set of arms wrapped around his shoulders and hauled him away.

“Stop. Harry, stop! Enough!”

It was Sean’s voice in his ear. Someone cheered and Harry heard applause. He tried to twist back around but Sean jerked him in the direction of the door. “No, go! We’re going outside.”

Somehow Sean overpowered him. Without so much as a step in the other direction, Harry was dragged out into the street. Sean threw him out of his arms and Harry stumbled over his abandoned glass.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Yeh didn’ see—”

“Are you kidding?” Melody fell through the doorway and nearly tripped right into the sparkling shards of whiskey glass. The skirt of her dress was twisted up one leg and a strap was falling off her shoulder, and she looked almost as livid as Harry felt.

“What’s your problem?” Sean asked.

“He was touchin’ her!” Harry threw out an arm. His knuckles felt like they might begin to swell. He pressed his thumb to a few to check how much they stung and pain rippled through his hand. He relished it.

“He was not!” Melody shouted. “He was talking to me, and I’m quite capable of telling him to fuck off by myself!”

“Yeah. Yeh looked real capable from where I was standin’.”

“What, because I didn’t just haul off and hook him?”

“Yeh wanna fight so bad but when—”

“In a ring where the other person wants to fight, too! I’m not gonna start fights with strangers just because they don’t understand what personal space is.”

“He had his fuckin’ hands on yeh. ‘M not blind—”

“No, but you’re drunk.”

Harry reeled back. “What the fuck does that have to do with it? Can still see just fine. Didn’ miss his fuckin’ face, did I?”

“No, you nearly broke his jaw!” Melody shouted.

“Would serve him right.”

Melody heard shuffling behind her and she found a couple friends helping the injured man out of the bar. Blood ran down his chin and stained the chest of his shirt. Harry took a few steps forward and he flinched.

“Stop!” Melody shouted, pressing her hands to Harry’s chest.

“Well, get the fuck outta here, then,” he said, waving at the group of boys. They started down the street and Melody watched Harry’s eyes follow them.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Everyone inside the bar began to count down to midnight. The people outside in the street shouted along. Melody watched as Harry’s bleary eyes hardened in realization, as he avoided meeting her gaze, and then she dropped her hands from his chest.

“Happy New Year!” echoed all around them. Melody dropped her eyes and straightened out her dress. For all the noise around them, the air between her and Harry was painfully quiet. Sean couldn’t stand it.

“So, that was all I was here for,” he said. “I’m going home.” He gave Melody a polite nod when she caught his eye and then tossed his beer into the closest receptacle as he turned to leave.

“Are we leavin’ too?” Harry asked.

Melody curled her hands together to combat the cold that had begun to settle into her fingers. “That’s it?”

“‘M not apologizin’ for what I did, Mel. Yeh can’ just expect me to react calmly to that. I’d do it again if someone else decided to lay a hand on yeh and I really don’ care if that makes yeh mad.”

He was looking directly at her now instead of avoiding eye contact and his gaze was intense. She shivered. He glanced down at her bare legs and let out a breath that fogged in the air.

“‘M sorry that we missed the ball drop,” he said before reaching up to tug at his hair. “I wasn’ tryin’ to fuck up your night.”

Melody felt herself soften. It wasn’t the apology that she was looking for, but it was something. And from Harry, she thought she could accept this small give.

“Are we goin’?” he asked again when he watched her shiver once more. “‘F yeh wanna stay then fine but yeh need your coat out here.”

“No,” she said softly. Her hands curled around her upper arms. She could feel the tip of her nose growing numb. “No, we can go.”

Harry nodded. He let her lead the way back into the bar and through all of the partiers. If he thought that eyes followed the two of them before, now it was as if every head in the building turned their way. People shuffled out of Melody’s path. One man folded his hands behind his back as the two of them passed.

“You’re a menace,” Bea yelled when they reached where she was now sitting at the bar, “you know that? That blood is not gonna come out of the floor.”

Harry tucked his hitting hand into the pocket of his jeans gingerly, so that he wouldn’t scrape his sore knuckles. Melody’s frown deepened.

“Can you get our jackets?”

Bea stretched herself out over the bar top to reach the shelves underneath it and returned with their coats. Melody took both and shook her head so minutely that Harry might not have caught it if he wasn’t watching her.

“Please tell Josie I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, she’s used to it. But I’ll tell her.”

Music continued to blast, people continued to shout and dance as Melody and Harry left the bar the way they’d come. They slid their arms into their coats when they were outside. Harry thought that the adrenaline of fighting might have cleared the alcohol from his system, but the pavement looked like it was rising toward him as he walked.

“Yeh still angry with me?” he asked after they’d been walking for a few minutes.

“No, I’m upset,” she snapped. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Sounds like the same thing when yeh talk like that.”

Melody opened her mouth to respond and gasped instead as she slipped on a patch of ice. Harry grabbed her arm before she could fall but she cried as she jerked herself upright.

“Fuck,” she muttered between her clenched teeth.

“Yeh good?”

“My rib,” she whispered, blinking up at a streetlight. This road, mercifully, was empty, but she could hear voices echoing from the next block.

“Did yeh strain—” Harry cut himself off as Melody walked into his chest, forehead to his bare skin where his shirt was undone. He watched her hands ball into fists at her sides.

“That bad?”

“Don’t patronize me, Harry.”

“‘M not!” He stroked her hair and sighed. “Should be better within the next few weeks, love.”

She grunted against his chest and then pulled away to keep walking. Harry let his hand fall back to his side as he followed her. “Does this mean yeh’re not mad?”

“No, fuck you.”

Harry chuckled. He rapped absentmindedly on the window of a closed restaurant as he passed.

“Talk dirty to me,” he goaded.

Melody stopped dead in her tracks. Harry thought she was going to yell again or actually swing at him. He stopped a few steps behind her.

“You absolute ass.” She turned her head to glare at him and then kept walking. “I’m wearing a new underwear set and you fucking ruined that for me.”

“What?” He sped up his footsteps. “No, I didn’. Didn’ ruin anythin’. I only ruined it if yeh let me ruin it. Don’ let me ruin it.”

Melody, despite how hard she tried to compose herself, sputtered out a peal of laughter. Harry grinned at her as he caught up and fell into stride beside her.

“That mean yeh forgive me? Yeh’re gonna let me see ‘em?”

“No.”

His face fell so quickly that she had to pinch herself to keep from laughing again.

“If I do it doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” she said, “but you might get lucky. New year, new slate and all that.”

Harry snaked his arm around Melody’s shoulders and pressed a clumsy kiss to her head. “Did promise me, remember?” he whispered.

“How could I forget when you remind me so insistently?”

Harry smiled into her hair. Every other emotion that he’d filtered through that night seemed so far removed as Melody tucked her hand up the back of his jacket, as his vision swam foggy just at the edges.

“You’re drunk though,” Melody muttered as an afterthought. “Probably shouldn’t—”

“Oh, please. Please, don’ pull that,” Harry said. “Could’ve lost an entire half of my brain and I’d still want yeh. Don’ need to be sober to know that.”

Melody shook her head, feeling her insides flare at his words. She curled her fingers around his shirt.

They hit the block where the people were beginning to wander out into the sidewalks and hail cabs to get home, and somehow, despite the unfortunate way the night had turned out, Harry thought that this city had never looked so warm and bright.

Chapter 14

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes

word count: 2767

If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, just let a girl know!

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Chapter 5

Dove felt the blood drain from her face. Her stomach turned as she closed her eyes to keep from spilling the already minimal contents of her stomach onto the rooftop. A sudden shout followed by a click caused her eyes to shoot open. The brunette nudged her way past Glenn as she stared down at the other men in their group, weapons all pulled on each other except for T-Dog. Her heart sank before she heard Rick’s voice. “Drop it. Or I swear I’ll do it. I don’t care if every walker in the city hears it.”

There was an audible exhale from Glenn as the crossbow was lowered, but the way Daryl stared at T-Dog still made Dove uneasy. She stood on the edge of the platform as Daryl finally spoke. “Ya got a do-rag or something?” Much to her surprise, T-Dog reached into his pocket in order to provide Daryl with a blue bandana.

Finally feeling safe enough to descend, Dove to the few steps down to the rooftop slowly. Backpack straps clutched tight in her hand as the cool metal almost dug into the palm of her right hand, she came to a stop between T-Dog and Rick. It was like a train crash, you want to look away but you can’t.

“I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs,” Daryl spoke as he picked up his brother’s hand in a surprisingly delicate way, “Ain’t that a bitch.”

“I mean if I ever saw anything that looked like the definition of ‘ain’t that a bitch’ it might be that hand,” Dove whispered to Rick. Her stomach lurched again and she swallowed hard as she watched the hand be deposited in Glenn’s backpack. Glenn didn’t look pleased, but it wasn’t like any of them were going to stop Daryl Dixon anytime soon.

“Must have used a tourniquet. Maybe his belt? Would have been much more blood if he didn’t,” Daryl pointed towards the ground and Dove’s eyes scanned the fresh blood stains. Daryl began to walk off and with a nod from Rick, the others followed.

“I’m just going to pretend that Merle Dixon’s hand isn’t in my backpack right now,” Glenn said through gritted teeth as T-Dog walked off to collect Dale’s tools.

“I’m tellin’ you right now, if that shit starts stinkin’, I’m taking it out and using it for batting practice,” Dove shook her head. “Man this fuckin sucks.”

Daryl’s sudden shouts for his brother were definitely startling. Not only for the volume, but for the fact that they didn’t know if there were any walkers in the building that might hear him. She prayed there weren’t any.

As they walked into a room and saw two walkers down for the count, Dove let out an appreciative whistle.

“Had enough in him to take these two out one handed,” Daryl said as they all surveyed the room.

“That’s one tough son of a bitch,” Dove mumbled as she tiptoed past one of the walkers on the ground.

“Toughest asshole I ever met. Feed him a hammer, he’d crap out nails,” Daryl nodded as he reloaded his crossbow.

Dove walked slowly around the room, a quick peek out the window showed her there was nothing to see outside except the walkers roaming. Not that she expected much different.

“Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is,” Rick raised his gun and began to walk through the room.

“Plus, he was probably running on pure adrenaline. He might have crashed at some point. But like you said. Toughest asshole you ever met, right?” Dove raised an eyebrow at Daryl as she went to walk past him into the next room. “I mean I’m sure he’s fine,” her apology was lost as Daryl clenched his jaw, shook his head, and walked forward into the next room.

“Nice going,” Glenn shot her a thumbs up as he came up next to her.

“Shut up,” Dove grunted and stomped ahead, not wanting to fall behind too much.

 ~

The smell from the stove hit her before she even entered the room. Dove coughed and covered her mouth.

T-Dog covered the lower half of his face, “God what is that?”

Dove’s answer was muffled through her hand, “Burnt skin.” She caught the wary glance of her friend and shrugged. “What? I used to work in a crisis unit right out of college. Saw a lot of shit. But the smells would always be the thing that got me,” she shivered slightly as she stepped into the room just in time to see Rick approaching the stove.

Glenn approached from the side asking what it was and Rick just confirmed her suspicions. “Skin. He cauterized the stump.” That was it. Dove retched and ducked back out of the room. The contents of her stomach spilled out on the floor in front of her as she placed her hands on her knees to recover.

She heard footsteps approach and held a hand out into the room. “’m fine. Just give me a second.” Another cough echoed through the hallway before she was able to straighten up and reenter the room as she wiped her face on the sleeve of her shirt. “Sorry…”

The looks she got ranged from annoyed to sympathetic before Daryl shook his head and broke the silence. “He ain't dead. Nothin can kill Merle but Merle.”

Dove had to appreciate how much faith the man had in his brother. It was admirable. Just like she had to admire the fact that, in spite of an injury that could take another man out, Merle Dixon had somehow made it out of the building.

“Why the hell would he do that,” Glenn squinted at the bright light from the broken window.

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s out there alone as far as he knows,” Daryl mused as he pulled back from the window.

“You call that surviving? What are his odds out there,” T-Dog motioned towards the window.

“He’s right. Any sane man would assume that people who left him chained to the roof wouldn’t come back. Not that ya’ll didn’t have your reasons,” Dove shifted from foot to foot as T-Dog stared at her. She didn’t mean anything by it, but to her it seemed like nothing but facts.

“You couldn’t kill em,” Daryl stepped up to Rick. “Not so worried bout a dumb dead bastard.”

“What about 1,000 dumb dead bastards,” Rick snapped back. “Different story?”

“Take a tally, do what you want. I’m gonna go get him.” Daryl went to march off before Rick was able to stop him.

Dove’s wide eyes met Glenn’s shocked gaze as the two men argued about whether Daryl was going on not.

“You can’t stop me,” Daryl practically shouted.

The next thought that went through Dove’s head was that maybe Rick was actually a good cop as he was able to empathize with the other man. “He’s family, I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel.” It actually seemed to get through as Daryl stopped pacing like a caged animal. “He won’t get far with the injury. We could help you check a few blocks around but only if we keep a level head.”

T-Dog spoke as the attention turned to him, “Alright but only if we get those guns first. I’m not roaming the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions.”

Rick turned his head and nodded towards Dove. The young woman paused for a moment. “T’s right. I’m in but…I mean if it comes down to it, a gun is much faster than a crowbar and I would just feel a lot safer if we got the guns first.” Her hazel eyes glanced towards Daryl and she furrowed her eyebrows. “But I do want to help you find your brother. Because if it was my sister, I wouldn’t stop lookin until I found her or I knew she was dead.”

The expression on Daryl’s face was unreadable as he nodded his head. “Alright. But we best go get those guns, then. Don’t want Merle bleedin out,” his eyes narrowed at Rick again before he shouldered his crossbow. This might be the most agreeable that they had ever seen him, even if he still looked like he was ready to fight.

~

The five of them had settled down in another room so that Glenn could look at the map. He knew where the guns were and he knew the city best. Dove had perched herself on the edge of a desk and it was there she sat, legs crossed, when Glenn mentioned his plan about going out to find the guns. Alone.

Rick immediately interrupted, “You’re not doing this alone.” Dove’s hands shook as she ran a hand down her face.

“Even I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t even like you much,” Daryl agreed.

“It’s a good idea,” Glenn interjected from his spot on the floor.

Dove threw a thumbtack from the desk in his direction. “It’s a fucking awful idea! What do you got a death wish or somethin’,” she hissed at the younger man as she bounced her leg and shook her head.

“If you just hear me out,” Glenn almost pleaded. She couldn’t even believe they were having this discussion. “If we go out in a group, we’re slow. We draw more attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast.”

She hated the fact that he sounded right. She tuned out the mapping of the city until she heard it. “That’s where Daryl, Dove, and I will go.” Her head snapped up as she looked across at Daryl. He looked equally confused.

“Why me?”

“You’re crossbow is quieter than his gun,” Glenn shrugged his shoulders.

Dove sighed, hopped down from the desk, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah but why me?”

Glenn stared up at her, “Next to me, you’re the fastest. I mean you played sports.”

“Yeah like ten years ago in high school!” Dove rolled her eyes.

“But, you’re fast. If things go wrong, you run for the guns. They're the most important thing.” Glenn pointed to the map on the floor.

Dove’s eyes scanned the crudely drawn diagram of the streets with narrowed eyes before finally letting out a sigh. “Alright. I guess I’m in.”

“While they wait here in the alley,” Glenn placed a gum wrapper on the board, “I run up the street, grab the bag.” He then explained the positioning of the others in the group. It sounded way too easy and usually when things sound that easy, they aren’t. “Whichever direction I go, I got you in both places to cover me.” Dove nodded her head in appreciation as he finished his explanation.

“Hey kid,” Daryl finally spoke up, “What’d you do before all this?”

Glenn squinted, “Delivered pizzas. Why?”

Dove’s eyes widened as she let out a quiet snort of laughter before she nodded her head. “Makes sense. Gotta learn the backstreets to make those thirty minutes or less, ain’t that right?”

~

The ladder that they had to climb down was less than ideal. Dove sighed as she looked down at it before she held a hand out in front of Glenn. “Uh uh. Didn’t you ever hear of ladies first? Plus, I don’t exactly feel like having anyone check out my ass,” she held two fingers up to her eyes before turning her hand to point at the two men. She swung her leg over the edge of the building and placed a foot on the top rung of the ladder as she heard Daryl speak up.

“Not much to check out,” he said just loud enough for her to hear.

Dove smirked wickedly for a moment. “Then check this out,” she raised her middle finger at both of them before she began her descent.

She heard Glenn say something about being nice to Daryl before beginning his own descent. Wouldn’t that be the day.

A few rungs from the ground, Dove hopped off the ladder and landed with a quiet grunt before she stepped to the side.

Glenn stepped past her once they were all on the ground. “C’mon,” he motioned down the alley.

Dove followed close behind Daryl, crowbar raised slightly as she stood next to the dumpster. She still didn’t like this.

“You got some balls for a Chinaman,” Daryl stated.

“I’m Korean,” Glenn corrected.

“Is now really the time for this,” Dove hissed through gritted teeth

Then Glenn was off. Dove moved forward slightly before she felt a tight grip on her arm. Her knees hit the ground as she was pulled behind the dumpster, a retort lost on her lips as Daryl motioned for her to keep quiet. As quietly as she could, Dove moved to position herself between Daryl and the wall. Back against the dumpster, she said in a barely audible whisper, “What the fuck was that?”

“Someone’s comin,” Daryl whispered just as quietly. Before she could even think about anything else, he had jumped to his feet, crossbow raised.

“Whoa don’t shoot me,” another voice shouted as Dove jumped to her feet, “What do you want!”

“I’m looking for my brother. He’s hurt real bad, you seen em?” Daryl didn’t lower his crossbow. Dove’s gaze shifted quickly between the two men. Or rather, Daryl and the boy.

Suddenly the boy shouted in Spanish.

“Shut up! You’re gonna bring the geeks down on us! Answer me,” Daryl growled as he approached with the crossbow. Dove stepped out from behind the dumpster.

“Daryl stop it! He doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped at him. She hoped she was right. All of a sudden, the boy wouldn’t stop screaming for help. Dove ran towards Daryl just in time to see him hit the boy in the face with the crossbow. “Ah, shit.”

“Shut up,” Daryl repeated as he held a hand over the boy’s mouth. A yelp of surprise slipped through Dove’s lips as two men came barreling down the alley. The shoulder of one of the men connecting with her own as he ran past her. Her back slammed against the wall, the world started to spin as she hit her head. The crowbar was wrenched from her hand and she watched as the two men started to beat Daryl.

A quick burst of adrenaline hit her like a truck and she mumbled a quiet, “Motherfucker,” as she stumbled to her feet. The one closest held her crowbar in his hands. She took two quick steps towards him and grabbed the crowbar, her hands wrapped around the man’s own. “Stop it,” she grunted through gritted teeth as the man fought to get control of the crowbar back. The woman’s nails dug into his fingers and she thought she had it for a second before she felt the air leave her lungs. An elbow to the stomach sent her reeling back. 

A commotion near the entrance to the alley stopped the two men. Her eyes went wide as she saw him. She was hoping he would have to take the other alley. One of the men screamed, “There’s the bag! Take it, take it.”

Dove shook her head and attempted to stumble to her feet again, the crowbar was close by. She thought about throwing it, but then the screams of one of the men drew her attention back. Daryl was up on his knees. He had shot the guy right in the ass. Any other time, she might have laughed. Glenn’s screams for help chilled her to the bone as she scrambled to regain her footing. Even when she did, the elbow to the stomach was really messing with her. “Glenn, run!” But it was useless, because they already had him. She was hot on Daryl’s heels as the car pulled away from the alley with Glenn and the men inside.

“Come back here! You sumbitches,” Daryl shouted as he started to pull the gate shut.

Dove tried to slip through the hole in the gate. She wanted to run after the car, run after Glenn. It was stupid and she wasn’t thinking straight, but she couldn’t let her friend die.  A strong grip on her arm was the only thing that made her stop. She spun around, a wild look in her eye and met Daryl’s angry gaze as he shook his head. Dove’s attention turned back to the gate as the walkers began to pile against it. She couldn’t even hear the car anymore.

Glenn was gone.

 ----

@crossbowking​