#because this lad is the only fucker that puts it in words

[an-enigmatic-mind]

HE ALSO DOES THIS THING WITH HIS CHORUSES WHERE HE SWITCHES 1 OR 2 WORDS AS AN EVOLUTION THROUGH THE SONG.

He did it in Like Real People Do with "should not- could not- will not- ask"

And on my current fixation, he says "all that we intend is scrawled on sand". that evolved to "built on sand" at the end

Also he says "should not change our plans." At the beginning, feeling like however minute there is a feeling of uncertainty; which then evolves to "will not change our plans" that feels to me a greater signifier of certainty; a decision being made to be dedicated.

And the bridge growing in repetition of "we begin again" feels like a score counter but also an affirmation of persistence. That although all things end. Inevitably. This won't be how we end.

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 14)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,355

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]

Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭

_________________________________________

“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.

This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.

He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.

He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.

Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.

He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.

Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.

He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.

All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.

“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.

Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.

The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”

No. Fucking. Thanks.

Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it. 

Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?

“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.

He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.

“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.

Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.

“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.

The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”

“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?

Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him. 

Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.

“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair. 

“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—” 

“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”

He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.

He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.

Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening. 

Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.

He’ll show that fucker.

It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.

His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.

He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.

His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.

The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.

He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—

Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.

He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.

There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.

His prayers are not answered.

When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.

Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.

He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes. 

Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.

His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.

Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.

“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”

“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.

He does care that it’s bothering him, though.

Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.

He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall. 

Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.

There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.

It’s you, and you’re in his bed.

Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.

One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?

And two, who the fuck let you in his room?

Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.

The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?

Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.

He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. 

He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.

But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor. 

There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.

His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.

You must be used to it by now.

This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.

His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe. 

Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—

No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—

Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.

He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.

Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now. 

It’s fucking locked.

Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest. 

“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”

He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.

“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.

He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.

Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree. 

With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

He needs a fucking drink.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

[criceofpain]

cherry kisses | lee heeseung

part two: strawberry skies

featuring: enhypen members

synopsis: heeseung is desperate to find out who he had a one-night stand with at his house party last night, and the only clue he has is the taste of cherry balm on her lips.

pairing: sub leaning!heeseung x dom leaning!afab reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst (only a tinge), pwp, strangers to lovers

word count: 4802

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dom and sub themes, degradation, choking, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), teeny tiny bit of anal if you squint, heeseung on a leash

With a lip balm stick in hand, Heeseung stands frozen in the middle of the living room while the other boys bustled all over the place—Jay making hangover soup in the kitchen, Jake running with the vacuum cleaner, and Sunghoon picking up the scattered cups that may or may not have smelled like spit as he was grimacing hard. 

With a heavy head, the eldest plopped onto the couch behind him, his fringe obstructing his sight as he held up the item on his hold. “Cherry flavored”, it read.

He instinctively runs his tongue over his top lip, remembering the faint taste the balm left from last night’s happenings. Vivid images of a certain woman flash in his head as he fixes his gaze on the balm. He found her gorgeous, submitting to him as he let the alcohol take over his body. The bad news was this—he wasn’t able to pick up a name, a face, or even a clue on who she was. At this point, she was considered a Jane Doe.

He shakes his head in frustration, shoving the balm stick inside his jean pocket. How could he not remember someone who fucked him so good?

“You done daydreaming yet?” Sunghoon asks, throwing a shirt on Heeseung's way, which he swiftly catches with his hand. The younger gives him a suggestive grin, almost about to laugh. “Hyung got that good banging last night, huh?”

“Shut up, Hoon.'' Heeseung hisses, messily putting on the shirt that turned out to be Jay's, judging by the smell of perfume on it. “Don't want to talk about that.”

“Oh, I bet he’s been ditched.” Jake snickers, turning off the vacuum cleaner and ceasing its noise. the lad stifles a laugh as he saw the scratch marks on Heeseung’s back and the hickeys on his neck. “I mean, look at his face. He looks like I stole his cup ramyeon.”

“But was he, though?” Jay chimes from the kitchen, a pot of soup on his two hands as he walks cautiously to the dining table. “You can’t skimp on the deets, hyung. You gotta tell us what happened.”

Heeseung shakes his head yet again, not bothering to answer the questions being thrown at him. These stubborn fucks. He stands on his feet, sauntering to the table as the smell of the soup welcomes him. Who in their right mind would want to miss out on Park Jongseong's cooking?

“Hasn't it come to you that she might be in one of our classes?” Jake suggests as he sits down, holding four bowls in his hands. “We can ask around, you know. we have Sunghoon’s influence for that.”

With a dramatic gasp, Sunghoon retorts, “You fucker! Just because I'm popular doesn’t mean i can just go around the campus asking ‘Hey, do you know some girl who fucked Lee Heeseung last night?’. I'm not an introvert for nothing, bro.”, earning laughs from the two J’s.

“Nah, but seriously speaking,” Jay prefaces, pushing a bowl of soup for each of the three. “What's with this girl that not remembering her bothers you so much?”

The question sends Heeseung into silence, making him rethink his worries in the first place as he consumes his hangover soup slowly.

Maybe it was the way he felt when she touched him, or what her moans sounded like. Hell, it might be the way that his body moved synchronously with his which just felt so right. No one has ever driven him into a crazy state before this.

“I don't know either.”

***

“One, two, three… pick up your paces, y'all!”

The words immediately disappear from your memory as you fervently jump to the beat of the professor’s whistles that were seriously doing no good for your eardrums. With eyes closed, you fling your arms upward as you keep the balls of your feet moving. How much more do I have to endure?

That was just one of the reasons you despised gym class. As the last whistle trills, you almost drop to the floor. Beads of sweat roll down your forehead as your body emitted heat from all that muscle exertion. You break into peals of pants, trying to catch your breath.

“I’m about to fucking pass out.” you gasp under your breath as you panted, vision almost getting blurry as your professor rambled about something in the background. He better supply me with a nebulizer kit after this.

You reach for your back pocket rather weakly, feeling for the lip balm stick inside of it. As strange as it seems, you couldn’t risk getting chapped lips every time because boy, you hated stinging lips. You lift the stick open, twist it slightly, and slowly smear the product all over your lips. The familiar taste of cherry meets your taste buds, just as usual.

You sigh as you put the balm back in your pocket, relieved that you were able to replenish your stock after running out of it last night.

Oh, last night was so memorable. You give yourself a mental pat on the back. If it weren’t for you going crazy over Lee Heeseung’s lip ring and asking him for a kiss, you would’ve lived a boring life. He had a reputation for being the smartest and most proper of his pack, but you were slowly doubting that after he drunk fucked you senselessly and made you his bitch last night.

Still catching your breath, you finally get on your feet, making way to the gym bleachers. You make a mental note to proceed to the film department in hopes to spot your senior-turned-daddy dom. it’d please you to see him go wild again.

“So when do you plan on revealing yourself?”

You almost jump at the sudden voice, clutching your chest tightly. In a blink, you see Sunghoon in front of you, wearing a lopsided smile on his face.

“What do you want?” you ask through your teeth, slapping the lad’s shoulder while you were at it.

“It was you, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Park Sunghoon.” you shook your head, dabbing your face with a cool towel.

Sunghoon clicks his tongue loud enough for it to echo throughout the whole basketball court. You gasp as he feigns disappointment, shaking his head and pretending to cry as if someone had passed. You roll your eyes at his antics and pinch his earlobe, ceasing his act.

“Ow! Fine!” Sunghoon pouted. “It's about Heeseung hyung.”

Oh.

You let go of poor Sunghoon’s ear and flash him a shit-eating grin, contrary to the frown you were wearing just earlier. You had no idea how you became whipped for that man in the first place when you’ve just interacted once, but you liked it. You liked him. Seeing this, Sunghoon cups his mouth with his palm, realization dawning on him.

“No way.” Sunghoon cackled silently, eyes still agape and staring at your smug expression. “So it was you.”

“Oh, it was me, indeed.” you reply before chugging down water from your tumbler. You swallowed, letting the cold liquid pass down your throat. “Why are you suddenly asking me about this, by the way?”

“Hyung actually doesn’t have any idea who obliterated him good last night,” Sunghoon mutters, fidgeting with his fingers. I still can’t believe my two best friends fucked! “and you can only imagine how it bothers him up until now.”

Lee Heeseung? Bothered? Those two words made a very strange combination. You figured he’d just call it a night and not tell everyone. Somehow, you were envious towards Sunghoon because Heeseung was able to see everything firsthand—how he thought about you, how you occupied his mind, how he felt about the marks and scratches you left on his body, and how his face looked whenever he’d come undone inside you.

“Should I reveal myself, then?”

***

“Good game, you fuckers!” Jake hollers as he spun his sweaty soccer uniform on his hand like a lasso. This earns him disgusted looks from his teammates, especially Sunghoon and Jungwon who were bona fide clean freaks.

“Ew, would you stop that, hyung?” Jungwon winces, throwing a cleat in Jake's way. “And stop cursing, will you? there’s a seventeen-year old in the room.”

It was another cup bagged by the Decelis Academy’s soccer team, scoring them three goals against their sworn enemies, JYP University, way up to victory. Their coach would scold the life out of them for being “pussies” and they’d always prove him wrong after that, which always sends their poor coach into a state of mental breakdown.

The locker room reeked of mixed sweat and perfume, the temperature hot and humid. They've surely worked themselves out on that game.

“Hey, don’t forget the deal, you guys!” Jay chuckled, shoving his dirty uniform into a mesh bag, leaving him half-naked. “Anyone who gets a yellow card treats us to the barbecue place.”

“Who got himself a yellow again?” Sunoo gives Jay a side-eye, fanning himself. “That rarely happens.”

“Well, a man who goes by Lee Heeseung shall explain.” Sunghoon roams his eyes around the room, frowning as he didn’t find a trace of Heeseung, or Heeseung himself, in the area.

“Too bad, he’s already in the showers.” Riki shrugs.

***

The splashing water sounds echo in the almost empty shower room, along with Heeseung's steady breaths that overpowered it. With his palms stuck on the cubicle wall and eyes shut, he let the cold water drench him from head to toe.

It was a good game, but strangely, he didn’t feel like hanging out with the team. On a usual basis, he’s always the most enthusiastic about after parties and samgyeopsal sessions. Today, however, was an exception. He opted for a cold, peaceful shower in hopes to get the still unknown woman off of his mind.

Or so he thought.

He sluggishly twists the shower knob, ceasing the flow of water from above his head. With  eyes now wide open, he pulled a towel and wrapped it around his hips. “Finally.” he whispers, stepping out of the cubicle after sliding his flip-flops on.

He cautiously walks on the slippery floor, and to the lockers. What he didn’t know, however, was the pair of eyes spying on him as he walks half-naked to the lockers.

“Fancy seeing you here.” a voice says, startling the life out of Heeseung and almost making him topple to the floor if it weren’t for his grip on the sink. A peal of laughter follows it after as he got himself on his feet, cursing under his breath.

You stare in amusement as the oblivious lad scrutinized your whole form. He squints as he sees your fit—an oversized black hoodie with the hood snugly fitting your head, a pair of sunglasses that were big enough to cover your whole face, and your school’s gym uniform.

“Excuse me.” Heeseung almost stutters, completely flustered as he was only wearing a towel to cover his privates. “This is the men’s showers.”

you giggled, pulling your sunglasses off to reveal your face to him. “I know,” you quip. “sir.”

Heeseung finds himself almost choking at the nickname. He had no idea what it was for, but it definitely caught him off-guard. You smirk smugly as you take off your hoodie, enjoying the perplexed expression on his face. You were finally face-to-face with your person of interest and you wish you had a camera right now so you can remember the privilege of being able to bring out Heeseung's inner satyr.

“Aww, that’s not how you looked while you were busy making me come last night.” you coo, running a hand over his wet abdomen. He sucks in a deep breath as your fingertips move slowly along his muscles, touch like electricity making him tense up. The feeling was so familiar to him that realization finally dawned on him. Fuck, it’s really her.

He freezes, realizing that the person who bothered him so much ever since this morning is now in front of him. As you proceed with your ministrations, he feels himself getting harder as your fingers move down south. A smile creeps up your face, pressing your body against his bare one. Oh, how your breasts felt soft against his chest.

He looks down at your breasts squished against him and lets out a chuckle. It was time for him to stop playing coy. “If only you’d take that annoying bra off right now, maybe we could pick up where we left off last night.”

Not letting you speak, he yanks your bra down, revealing your soft and perky breasts. You let out a gasp as he latched his tongue on one of your nipples, his hands making their way down to pull your sweats and panties down.

“Already wet for me?” Heeseung mumbles against your breast as he dipped a finger on your sex. “I guess I wasn't the only frustrated one.”

He then pulls away from your breasts before kneeling down and slinging one of your legs over his shoulder. Wasting no time, his tongue harshly flicks your clit, making you cry out because of the sudden contact.

“Oh, Hee!” you moan as you find yourself holding onto his hair for dear life. I can’t believe the ace student who acted all prim and proper was so hungry for my pussy. “Oh, you feel so good!”

“Oh, do I?” Heeseung taunts, sliding two fingers in you, tongue not leaving your already sensitive clit. “My little whore can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“Ah, yes, Hee—”

“That's not my name.” he interrupts. you felt the sting in your ass from his slap as he pumps his fingers in a shocking speed, leaving your tongue. He then stands back up and pulls you into a sloppy kiss, almost whining as he tasted the cherry lip balm that he so wanted to taste again, this time, on your lips.

“Yes, sir.” you whimper as his kisses go down your neck. “I can't get enough of you. I want to—ah!”

“Say that again, you naughty girl.” he murmurs. You didn’t know it, but you were making his confidence grow bigger by every second, just like his dick. He clicks his tongue. “Use your words, slut.”

“Sir, I want to come!”, you almost scream as you hold onto his shoulders. “I'm so close… please, I want to come all around you, sir.”

“And you are so going to.” he pulls his fingers from inside you, making you whine at the loss of contact, then pushing them into his mouth to taste your arousal. He hums in satisfaction, gazing at you with lustful eyes. You looked so fucking beautiful in front of him—swollen lips, bedhead, breasts filled with hickeys, and pussy almost dripping wet as he bore his stare deeper. You wanted to be fucked here and now.

Heeseung pins you onto the nearest wall he could find and strips all of your clothing off, throwing them on the floor. His towel soon follows, revealing his hard and aching cock that was so ready to fill you up. Your  mouth almost waters at the sight, but he then holds you by the chin, making you look up at him, and him only.

“I don’t want to push you into something you’re not okay with.” he assures, voice laced with concern as he stroked your head. I still have a reputation to keep, after all. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want me to.”

“But I want this, though.” you reply, bucking your hips against his dick to get some friction, which he responds to by hooking your leg onto his waist, getting ready to enter you.

“Good, now let me make you feel good.” he nods, slowly pushing himself inside your wet cunt.

***

A week has already passed since Heeseung had fucked your brains out in the showers, and you have never spoken to anyone about it. It's not like you didn’t have a good time—you really did, but for some reason, you felt like you’ve tainted someone’s innocence even if Heeseung himself was comfortable with it. He moved like he had prior experience, yet you were pretty sure it was because of porn. Still, you can’t help but think that he might be cursing you for barging into the showers and turning him on.

You slump your head on the cafeteria table, frustrated as hell. “I don’t understand.” you whine out. “I shouldn't be feeling this way.”

“Well, if you look on the bright side and not act like chicken shit,” Sunghoon pipes in as he chews on his sandwich. “it might help.”

“Does he hate me?” you grumble, head still on your hands, not wanting to face Sunghoon who was probably laughing at you right now. What did I just get myself into?

As a silent psychological warfare happens in your head, you remember the pact that you’ve made with Heeseung after having sex with him in the showers. It was the first time you've had a proper conversation with him, and the way he spoke to you was nowhere near the way he did as he rammed himself inside of you.

“I’m curious about something, you know.” you mutter, watching Heeseung silently change into his tracksuit. The way his muscles flexed whenever he moved was something you found hot, not to mention his plump and breathtaking ass.

“What is it?” the lad replies as he shimmied into his shirt, stealing a glance at you. from a few meters away, You sat on the bench, and he couldn't help but notice how and where you were looking at him. The hoodie you wore made you look so tiny, along with the way your hair frames your face. cute.

“Have you ever thought about submitting?”

Heeseung looks at you with a puzzle expression, not exactly understanding what you’ve just said. You reply to him by lifting your brows, waiting for his answer. 

“I don't… really know what you mean by 'submitting’. it can have different meanings, you know?” Heeseung blabbered on, taking a seat beside you.

The space in between your bodies was dangerously close, your shoulders were about to touch. He looked at you with his usual “meh” face, except without his glasses. “You might be talking about school projects, papers, or even sex,” he whispered, his face getting dangerously close to yours. His breath that reeked of mint fans your face, and his doe eyes met your lidded ones. “You want me to sub?”

You immediately shake your head, afraid that he might get the wrong idea. “No, i was expecting a yes or no for an answer—”

“Shush, let me speak.” he places a finger on your lips to interrupt. “I'll do it with you. But on one condition.”

Flustered, you gently pick up his hand and pull it away from your lips. “F-fine, then.” Lee Heeseung wants to be submissive? “What condition?”

You sit up almost immediately after your small flashback, and grab the nearest person next to you—Sunghoon. You grab your best friend’s face and do something that you never thought you’d do in your whole life—kissing him. You close your eyes tight to ease the secondhand embarrassment, but after just ten seconds, you pull away from him, not bothering to look back.

Sunghoon, still taken aback, scowls at you in complete confusion. With mouth agape, he stares at you in shock. “What the fuck are you on, Y/N?”

“Hoon… it’s about Heeseung.” you mutter, clenching your fists in embarrassment. Shame, shame, shame. “I made a deal with him, I, I'm sorry.”

“It's fine, it’s fine.” he reassures, tapping your shoulder. “Tell me all about it.”

You draw out a long sigh, face glum as you prepare to tell Sunghoon about yours and Heeseung’s deal. “Okay, so here’s the thing. After me and him did it, we basically—”

You stop in your tracks as your phone vibrates from inside your skirt pocket. Assuming that it was an emergency message, you immediately fish it out and unlock the screen, only to see the notification that reads:

hee (13:34) you win. </3 fuck, how did u?

“If you successfully make me jealous within a week,” he suggests, tugging on your hoodie gently. “I'll let you do whatever you want with me, mommy.”

***

You had no idea how you found yourself sitting on a swivel chair in a small apartment bedroom that wasn’t even yours, but you were loving the scene unfolding in front of you.

You try to suppress a dreamy whine in your mouth as your eyes fix on the poor lad kneeling in front of you. The way heeseung’s sweat glistened on his skin, fringe stuck on his forehead, lips swollen and agape—it fucking turned you on. He whimpers desperately despite the tightness around his neck, wanting to be touched by you so bad. He was nervous at first, but once you’ve tied his wrists up and leashed him, the shyness has gone poof.

“Now how am I supposed to satisfy you when you’re such a noisy, whiny bitch?” you fake sympathy, manspreading in front of him with your lace panties on display. Fuck, I want to eat her out. 

“Stubborn boys don’t easily get what they want, so if you obey Mommy,” you yank the chain links of his leash harshly, almost getting dragged towards you. “Maybe I can reward you.”

He can only nod at your statement. His breaths are ragged and his hardness was starting to ache. Suppressing his moans, he bites his lip in frustration, telling himself to endure it for a little longer.

“Now, you dirty little boy,” you tilt his chin upward, making him look at you. Noticing his misty-eyed expression, your expression slightly relaxes, but not too obvious for him to see. “What's our safe word?”

“C-cherry.” Heeseung whimpers out. He personally loved the one you picked out, for it reminded you of your very first encounter. It also became his most favorite flavor from that moment.

“Attabot.” you smirk, chain still in your hand. “Lay on your back.”

Heeseung obliges, laying himself flat on the bed, still being guided by the chain. You let out a hearty chuckle, scrutinizing his frustrated expression, The hickeys you’ve put all over his body, and the precum peeking from the tip of his cock. Oh, he looks so fuckable and punishable.

Without a word, you saunter to the foot of the bed, bending over to touch his sensitive cock, to which he shakily whines. “Mommy…” he sighed. “Please touch me, mommy.”

“What did I tell you, whore?” you seeth, slapping his erect cock. His cries fill your ears as you stroked him slowly, teasing him as you went. “You only speak when Mommy says so, right?”

“Want you to make me cum.” 

“What the fuck are you so stubborn for?” you retract your hand from his length, tuning on the vibrator that was stuck in your free hand for long and pressing it on his ass. “Didn't I tell you to wait, huh?”

Whimpers turn into cries as you thrusted the small vibrator in and out of his tight hole, and you can only laugh in satisfaction at the way he was practically desperate to be touched by you.

“Ah! I'm so sorry, Mommy!” he shouted desperately in defense as you turned up the intensity of the vibrator. “Won't do it again, please, Mommy! Stop!”

You don't cease, but you latch your mouth on his cock, fervently sucking on him. You can only moan against his length as you go, feeling yourself getting wet as well. No matter how you wanted to be touched and pleasured, you had to assert dominance. Stick to the pact.

“Mommy, I'm so close!” Heeseung wails, his elbows making thudding sounds against the mattress. his toes curled up as you licked all over his tip. He had to wait before he could release all over your face and he hated it. Fuck, he so hated it.

“Now, come all over me.” you command before enveloping his cock with your mouth again, closing your eyes as you wait for him to release in your throat. With a few pumps, he cums inside your mouth, moaning loudly as he did so.

The lad sighs in relief as he makes his release, slightly relaxing his tensed muscles. You swallow, turning the vibrator off and retracting it from his ass.

“We're not done yet.” you remarked, crawling on the bed until you were parallel on top of him. “I'm giving you a chance to show me what a good boy you are. Understand?”

“Yes, Mommy.” he desperately nods, feeling the sting of the silk tie that was restraining his hands. “I'll be your good boy.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you grin as you strip yourself off of your bra and panties, revealing your naked body to him. His cock twitches at the sight of the slight bounce of your breasts and the wetness of your pussy. “Aww, my baby boy’s so eager for me.”

You sink into his cock, your moans filling the room at the same time. He felt thick as he stretched your walls, and the constant twitching of his tip didn’t help you, either. You marvel at the sight of him—so small and so submissive under your authority. You never thought it’d come to this, but you were enjoying every single bit of it. 

Noticing his wincing expression, you messily untie his wrists, rubbing the marks that the tie left. Of course, you weren’t going to go all harsh on him, and he loved that about you.

You slowly rock your hips against his, letting his hands find your thighs and touch wherever he reaches. “You feel so, so good, baby boy.” you mewl, propping a hand on his chest. “Only for me.”

“Only for Mommy.” Heeseung echoes as he weakly squeezes your hips, weakly meeting your thrusts. “I like you, Mommy.”

“Oh, I fucking do, too!” you nod, not fazed by his sudden confession.

He almost squeals in joy knowing that you felt the same towards him just as he felt about you. You grin as you see his smile, eventually giving in and pressing your body onto his as you bounced on him slowly. Through lidded eyes, he saw how you beamed and in his eyes, You looked so beautiful in your current state. In pure euphoria, he throws his head back as your lips kiss all over his chest, leaving some hickeys on your way.

You yank the chains to pull him closer to you, letting him kiss you, letting him taste the cherry lip balm that you never stopped using. You laugh against his lips, feeling for his neck. You then press your thumb and middle finger on the sides of his throat, making him feel a little bit lightheaded, but not asphyxiated.

The way he bucks his hips against yours let you know that he was about to reach his high again, and you kiss his tear-stained face as you both reach your highs—you clenching all over him and him filling you up with his cum. 

Heeseung feels like seeing stars as he feels the tight sensation all over him, holding onto your ass as you milked all of his release.

After you have ridden out your highs, you loosen your fingers on his neck and unleashed him, feeling very euphoric as you both catch your breaths.

The room was filled with silence as the two of you stared at each other’s fucked out faces, breaking into peals of laughter after a second or two. You lazily press a kiss on his lips again, to which he returned ever so lovingly.

"Did I hear you right?” heeseung whispered, sliding a finger along your spine. He stares at you with his doe eyes, and you feel your heart break a little. You nod, propping your arms onto the mattress to be able to get a clearer view of him. “You really do like me?”

“Well, why the fuck would I make you jealous by kissing Sunghoon, then?” you giggle, making his expression glum as he remembers how he saw you kiss your best friend. “You're one of a kind, hee. I’d like to get to know you more.”

With your words, his heart flutters. Never did he think that he’d fall into one’s trap after telling himself that he will never take interest in someone all these years. He pulls you in for a kiss again, not bothering to pull out just yet. You feel his heartbeat on your fingertips as he holds you close and tight, lips still moving rhythmically with yours.

From there, he promised himself that he would go through hell and high water for you.

notes: AAAAAAAAAAA this is for all my sub!heeseung hoes who love seeing the gentle giant fold 🤩 fun fact: this actually got plagiarized in ao3 as a heejake fic and i was scared for my life (i have the rights to my fic idk why i was anxious that time, maybe bc it was my first time getting my fic plagiarized?) anyway, this is also an old fic of mine way back in 2021. hope you enjoy, luvies!

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @polalvsjy @taetaemylovie @heetro @yizhoutv @lavhikaru @kaislinging-slasher01 @cha0thicpisces @en-archv @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @lhseth @aerinaga @xwonniex @celeste-hoon @ajayke @enhastolemyheart (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

© criceofpain on tumblr, 2021

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

Chapter 13: The Rush of Blood

Alfie feels sweat trickling down his back, his eyes lacerate into the interloper in front of him, who dirties and taints the elegant hall as if by osmosis.

Michael McCleary. To Arabella, just a name scrawled in Tommy’s handwriting, but now here he stands, a short and stout man with filth escaping his every pore.

‘You’ve been ignoring my calls and letters, Solomons.’

His Scouse twang echoes strongly in the affluent surroundings.

‘Yeh well there’s a very good reason for that, ain’t there?’

Alfie’s stiff shoulders and heavy-set back, wrap an unwelcome presage around Arabella, as if confirming Tommy’s suspicions that the High Rip gang have prior dealings with her fiance.

Swiping a cocktail from a reluctant waiter, Michael smirks and downs the alcohol. He bites aggressively, with what few teeth he has left,  into the cherry that decorates his glass.

‘I don’t like being ignored you see. It gets me all angsty.’

He putters the cherry stem.

‘Maybe I need to get me a good looking tart like yours? Bet she helps relieve the tension at night, doesn’t she?’

With a filthy leer, Michael flicks the tied stem down Arabella’s cleavage. Reacting almost before Alfie has the chance to form a fist, she pulls back his hand.

‘Stop, think where you are and who is around you. It’s just what this fucker wants. Don’t play into his hands.’

Alfie grunts a response, the blood bouncing in his veins in abundance.

‘She speaks a lot of sense, you should listen to her’.

‘She has a name, you know’.

Michael’s laugh fills the darkening space.

‘Oh I know your name, Ms Arabella Shelby. I know all about you and your family. Modern day Romeo and Juliet, you two are. Star-crossed lovers from opposite ends of the trotting tracks.. .  and well  . . . we all know how that tale ends’.

With a calming composure, Alfie’s bulky shadow casts shade over the Liverpudlian’s pockmarked face.

‘You might be better served expressing your profound views on literature to someone who gives a fuck, mate. You waltz in here thinking you’re a brave lad, when we all know that the only reason you are still stood vertically, thieving my oxygen is because I am choosing not to put a bullet in that thick skull of yours. Now tell me what you’re ‘ere for and then you can fuck off or I will  stick my boot so far up your arse that you’ll fly back to Liverpool and hit the Mersey with a breathless sense of having tumbled like Icarus from the sky’.

Michael’s delusive grin cultivates his face, Alfie’s resolute words land beside him like a grenade with the pin still attached. The malodour of old garbage fires thrives from their unwelcome guest and as foul in her nostrils as it is, Arabella inhales deeply in an effort to slow her breathing.

Michael’s drawing quite the crowd.

‘Alfie is right, make your point and then fuck off’.

‘Bad words from such a beautiful broad- be careful none of these toff-nosed Jews hear it. You wouldn’t want to give the game away.’

Alfie’s eyes slice like the ambiguity in Michael’s rhetoric.

‘Oh don’t worry Solomons, your secrets and skeletons are safe with me. . . for now anyway’.

The twine possessing Alfie’s composure splinters and with a constricting grab of an upper arm, he whips Michael away from prying eyes, with Arabella’s plea of his name falling on death ears and Rubin hot on their tail.

At the main entrance a huddle of elderly Jewish women’s discussion on knitting patterns is firmly interrupted by a grapple they look shocked to be witnessing.

‘Now, don’t you worry about this ladies, I’m just taking out the rubbish’.

Alfie’s tone is jovial, but Arabella can see every vein in his body is amplifying to cardinal proportions.

Taking a sharp right, he hurls them into a deserted back alley, before ricochetting Michael’s back off the cold and damp bricks, making Arabella wince and Michael bellow breathlessly.

Years of fighting and taking back meant dealing with dregs like McCleary was almost autonomous. Despite his incensed demeanour, his brain remains utterly calm, firing off a lightening series of automated responses. A continuous of experience distilled into substance.

A multitude of action happens simultaneously and all before anyone has time to anticipate.

Arabella isn’t sure where he pulled it from, but Alfie is now pivoted firmly in front of Michael, a Webley Mark revolver held unwaveringly on his trigger finger.

‘My boy, no!’ Rubin clamours out as Arabella surges to the end of the alley surveying the surroundings.

‘Shit!’

Her panicked expletive reaches the ears of a well-to-do couple dressed in all their finery. Casting her a scandalised look, the lady tuts an ‘oh really’ under her expensive furs.

Arabella swallows her bottom lip. There is no way a gunshot is to go unnoticed and uninvestigated in these surroundings. She makes a dash back to Alfie, tugging at his arm once again.

‘Alfie, Alfie. . .Alfie, put the gun down’.

His eyes pirouette with torment, his fiance's pleas sequestering to the background. He gently bats away her arm.

‘Sweetie, you might want to stand well back for this one, because when I drop this bullet from it’s resting place the blood and matter that will ascend this little cunt to the heavens will deflect itself all over this pigsty. Now green and red just don’t go together and I’d hate for that dress to be ruined.’

‘Alfie, you need to stop. If anyone hears that thing go off and calls the police . . . he’s not worth that’.

‘My dear boy, Ms Shelby is right, put away that weapon. A man like this is not laudable for the ammunition’.

Ignoring Rubin entirely, Alfie addresses Arabella without ever leaving his attention from the snivelling creature caught firmly in his cross-hairs.

‘Treacle, since my resurrected partnership with your brother, I have no need to worry about the old cop shop. It’s all justifiable housekeeping.’

Arabella glances across to Rubin. Beads of sweat interspersing his forehead catch the oppressive luminosity of the gas light.

Alfie lurches forward pushing the weapon straight into Michael's windpipe with force.

‘Now McCleary, don’t ever think you can come into my world, and take an upper-hand. That ain’t ever gunna happen is it? Did you think I’d let you get away with it, what you thought you’d sensed a weakness in the Israelite?’

‘No need for senses when there’s certainty’.  Michael splutters  through the cold constriction of gun metal. Alfie’s eyebrows shoot up, the lines in his forehead increasing with magnitude.

Driven by instinct, he pushes the barrel of the gun under Michael’s chin as his eyes twitch at his adversary’s cool composure and audacious words  His heart races but his mind is icy.

‘Talk to me about this certainty of yours’. The clicking of his gun cocking into place and his detached tone sounds almost deafening to Arabella in this confined space.

‘Alfie stop! He’s winding you up!’ Her voice going an octave higher.

‘Your uncle, Charles Solomons. He’s an interesting fellow isn’t he? Or at least he has some very interesting cargo that comes through Liverpool docks’.

Arabella hears the gasp Rubin drops at the name Charles Solomons. Alfie’s eyebrows lower and pull even further together as his lip curls.

‘You see Alfie, you might have a hand at what goes through Camden Lock and thanks to this new allegiance with Lady Muck there, you have a finger in the pie at Poplar, but Liverpool and the Albert Dock? They’re mine. I control them and with  no foot hold there for either of your little gangs, I have a lot of leverage in way of your Uncle Charlie’s cargo from Boston.’

Alfie catatonic eyes continue staring at Michael, looking straight through him.

‘Charles Solomons’ business has nothing to do with me!’

Spittle flies from his mouth along with his indignant rumble of words.

‘Funny that because his business of bootlegging, narcotics and the like has certainly bank rolled a lot of your warehouses and labour. How do you think he’d feel knowing his own nephew had a hand in the fallout of his empire eh? Because between me and my lads, we could make it very difficult for his goods to make their destination points’.

The barrel of Alfie’s gun collides with Michel’s cheekbone, splitting the skin wide open. Michael grabs the wound with his hand shouting a series of expletives.

‘Lets say I shoot you right here, right now. In the fucking face. I’d be doing everyone a fucking favour then wouldn’t I? Including my Uncle Charlie.’

‘You can kill me now, but it wouldn’t make a difference. There’s not just me in on this’.

Alfie swallows, the saliva bounding down his throat like poison. How did this fucker, this scruffy backstreet gang member know so much of his business? Alfie didn’t want this fight but it has come looking for him and battle it, he will. His finger tightens on the trigger, snatching at it. But by now, galvanised by the chaos, Arabella steps into the fold.

Alfie turns his head sharply at her, but she doesn’t react. In that second panic sets in. He didn’t panic ever. Panicking got you killed. A straightforward equilibrium. But, just like panic, distraction gets you killed and when he sees her step into the combat zone, his focus goes to keeping her safe. Already, she is becoming detrimental.

Unfazed by the weapon and the weight of the situation, Arabella looks Michael up and down, her eyes set to a primitive gaze.

‘So, that’s your leverage is it?’

‘Arabella, go the fuck back inside!’

Rubin wrings his hands behind them.

‘Ms Shelby, perhaps Alfie is right and you should. .’ Rubin’s attempts to mediate are cut off by Alfie’s growl.

‘Fuck off Bella, Now!’

‘I’m going nowhere! I want to know what Mr McCleary is using Charles Solomons as a bargaining chip for?’

Nursing his bleeding cheek, Michael winks at Arabella salaciously.

‘I mean, you ask all the right questions don’t you babe? If she’s half as good at emptying your balls, Solomons then she’s too worthy for you.’

Alfie’s anger hits crescendo and just as the adrenaline spikes to manipulate his limbs, he feels the soft skin of Arabella’s hand entwine with his around the gun. With a firm grip she pulls the focus of the barrel between McCleary’s legs.

‘I’ve got more than one method for draining balls, now get the fuck out with what it is you want’.

‘Alright sweetheart, as it’s you. You see, us up North we haven’t got it as good as you bastards down here. You Southern ponces have it perfect, business must be booming with everyone’s love for trotting spectacles’.

Arabella rolls her eyes.

‘Fuck sake, you men and your fucking horses! All this is about the tracks!?’

‘The tracks that have got you were you are standing now, love. Well, me any my lads are feeling a bit left out and we reckon it’s about time you did some sharing’.

Alfie pouts at the fanciful fucker in front of him. That thick-lipped mouth of his on display, that Arabella notes makes him look amenable and cordial, hiding the steel that lays beneath the easy smiles.

‘Carry on down the road to Little Italy and you can discuss all this with Darby Sabini -we hear he is in need of allies at the moment’.

Michael grins wide, oozing more blood from the gash to his face. He likes her, shame really when he considers his end game.

‘Oh no Miss Shelby, I’m not in this to share or be a worker bee for any Italian mob cunt. We want space and pitches and with those we will agree to a truce at the Liverpool docks and no more trouble with the cargo of a Mr C Solomons as well as a new trade network at my end.’

‘Fuck your truce! I don’t do fucking truces mate! Don’t think for a single second of your measly,  miserable existence that I would work with a cunt like you. You, yeh, are the lowest and most de sanctified piece of scum and I don’t do deals with men willing to kill the rats that live among them by biting them’.

Either McCleary was mentally deficient or he has more up his sleeve that he can pull out when he wants. Arabella was yet to decide which.

‘Look, how many good-natured businessmen have you lot bullied, hounded and baited for pitches? That’s how it works. Now don’t come the incensed with me when the same thing happens to you’.

Alfie works his way closer into Michael’s space, the gun pushing further into McCleary’s gut with each step.

‘Now, I’ve been very patient of you, considering the circumstances but now your just getting on my last fucking nerve. You come ‘ere to seek me out, you know the road, you know I offer a deal or death. Un-fuckin-fortunately for you mate it’s no deal’.

The sound of a cocking gun fills the expanse around them. Alfie’s eyes knit together as his gun was already rearing to go.

A cold chill fills his body.

As quick as a snake he whips his head in Arabella’s direction. A tall and lanky man with a soot covered face and eyes like piss holes in the snow looms behind her. The same revolver as his own sequestering into the parting of her hair.

‘Well, I did tell you I wasn’t in this alone. What’s say we call a truce that you famously don’t do?’

Alfie’s tongue darts out across his lips to add moisture to his acrid mouth.

‘Take that gun from behind her head now or so help me I’ll paint this alleyway with every ounce of your intestines’.

‘Alright, calm yourself will yeh! Take this gun out of my ribcage and I’ll ask me mate here to throw back your princess once we’ve discussed our bookmaking arrangements for Kempton and Earls Park. We can discuss Epsom when . . . ‘

Smug words drown out to the ear piercing shriek of agony, followed by a gunshot.

Alfie can hear the blood swilling around his ears as they ring. A cold sweat like the ones he experienced in France drapes around him.

Rubin, who has ducked down, cowering like a child to avoid the fired bullet, turns to look at the damage inflicted to the brickwork behind him.

Alfie’s eyes search with frantic need. Never has he felt relief like the kind her green scowl is bringing.

Arabella’s provoked patience melded into fury and flashing her hand from inside her cleavage she had retrieved a flick knife.

McCleary’s cadaverous assailant falls back, nursing his eye socket. His muck filled knuckles struggle to contain the cascade of crimson.

Alfie spots a blood stain growing on the young man’s upper arm. One flow of movement from her had caused the damage.  Alfie didn’t know if he was turned on, worried or infuriated- the dilemma was nauseating. He quickly pulls her arm a little too roughly, placing her behind his frame, an action that makes Michael sneer.

‘There’s part of that weakness of yours, Solomons. A devil always protects his angel’.

‘You are pushing your fucking luck mate!’

Alfie bellows the last three words as they spark a fire in his eyes like every demon and monster laying dormant inside him is suddenly awakened.

‘She’s fucking blinded me, you stupid fucking bitch!’

‘That is just a scratch. Rest assured that I think before I act so had I wanted to blind you then that eyeball would be on the end of my knife edge.’

‘Yeh and make another sound and both your fuckin eyes will be in my next batch of rum, mate’.

Michael keeps his eyes on Alfie. Watching him warily and attempting to second-guess what his next move will be, irritating Arabella to no end. She points at him with the tip of her knife, dripping with red.

‘Let me explain a few things to you. For one, I am not in anyway some hapless princess that gets what she wants through the strong-arming of her brothers. Secondly, should you wish to know where my brothers get their violent tendencies from, it’s from having to try and fight back at a sister who has always been two steps ahead of them. As for the devil, well, even the devil doesn’t know where an angel sharpens their knives’.

Despite the situation Michael’s countenance lifts into a smile that reaches his eyes. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game with Solomons, but now he understood that this broad is more strife than he has given thought to. The only thing left to do is see everything through and watch who would be the victor.

Alfie transfixes a snarl to Michael’s assailant who is using his flea invested blazer to wipe away the blood. He reaches into his pocket sending all eyes to his actions with cautious worry. Pulling out a white handkerchief, he condescendingly tosses it across.

‘Why don’t you wipe yourself the fuck up and then the pair of you can trot on down to the end of this road and fuck off from where you’ve crawled from?’

‘Alright, we’ve said what we need to say, no need to labour the point’.

Alfie’s shoulders hunch. Going without a fight seems suspicious and he can almost feel the charge coming off Michael as he pushes the still drawn pistol in the bakers hand out of his way to saunter to his mate.

‘This isn’t a finished conversation though, Solomons. Earls Park races start in a fortnight and we want in on the pitches and not the shitty cheaper rings that you Jews have been used to before now. We can discuss another meeting in the coming days. Don’t ignore my telegrams this time- I’d hate to come back for your princess’.

‘And she would hate to come back for this fucker’s other eye’.

Arabella spits out through gritted teeth as Alfie once again finds himself squaring back up to Michael with all the menace of a mad man. A dense darkness spiking in his eyes forcing devilry to dance in his pupils. Arabella watches warily through the silence. Maybe all the schemes of the devil were nothing in comparison to what this man could muster up.

In one swift blow, Alfie’s knuckles collide with Michael’s conspirator. The sound of bones crunching fill the space as the gangling lad plummets to the concrete,. Rubin gasps in shock and turns his head to the side, scrunching his eyes as if it would remove him from the situation.

‘That there yeh, is just for starters. Consider it a warning to both of you that children do not belong in a man’s world.  No fucking deal. No fucking meeting. Take your friend and fuck off.’

Alfie steps over the body below him, barging into Michael's shoulder in the process. He holds out his hand to Arabella, which she accepts as they walk off down the narrow space.

‘Before you go anywhere there’s something else you should know’.

Alfie spins around, his expression dripping with malice.

‘What’s that old saying- an eye for an eye? You might want to check on your little right hand man. He got in our way when we were looking for you at that warehouse you use belonging to her brother. Not sure how long it takes to bleed out from a leg wound but he’s already been there quite a while, so I wouldn’t leave it too long.’

Alfie’s brain feels like it’s in overload. They have got to Issiah. He drops Arabella’s hand. With hunching shoulders, he storms back onto the thoroughfare of the street. He needed to get to Issiah and get to him fast. Everything else could wait.

***************************************************************************************

TAG LIST: @theworldisforeverours @hotchlover @bekkarific @jarvisrocks

@fairypitou @azulawayne @quarterpastmidnight @clintbartoris @gameofpot @doomwhathouwilt @lokigirlszendaya @inkinterrupted @misselsbells-blog @soloalfie @hades-dogsitter @buttercupsandboys @sunshineyourethebesttime​ 

Sorry for the super long update delay! I hope there are people still willing to read this labour of love. 

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag-list and as always please comment and reblog! 

[gotatext]

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐲  ;    ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜᴜᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ #3 !

who did you share a bed with last night ? how did you sleep ?

   “ slept on my own and it fucking sucked balls, man !  i’m not doing that again tonight. no chance. i’ll fucking top and tail with naomi if i have to. ”  night one, he’d been eating pussy. night two, he’d had to up and leave the bedroom in the middle of the night because jenny and dante were being so fucking loud. it was like they were genuinely trying to rub it in people’s faces. “ it’s just dry, you know ? i can’t be bothered with it. there’s a reason jacqueline wilson wrote the sleepover club and not the sleeping alone club. ”  

are you getting on with any of the bombshells/originals ? who’s at the top of your list ?

  “ honestly, i thought i was making bare mates in here but it looks like they’ve all turned on me after that game. ”  it’s petty as fuck. it isn’t like he’s gone out of his way to cheat on romi with jenny — for starters, they weren’t even together — but then angel said he needs to remove the words ‘game’ and ‘challenge’ from his vocabulary if he ever wants a shot at getting romi back. and obviously, he does. “ i just feel like everybody in here is fickle as fuck. not angel, though, he’s my boy. ”

do you see yourself starting to focus on one person or are you still exploring ?

   “ well i was gonna focus all my energy on romi, wasn’t i ?  but i guess that’s gone out the window now... ”  jude lets out a harrowing sigh, thousand-yard staring just to the left of the camera.  “ i’m still gonna fucking try, obviously, because we’d be stupid to throw away something good over a stupid fucking mistake and some insecurity. but i don’t know if i’m fighting a losing battle. i feel like romi’s the kinda person who, once their mind’s made up there’s no changing it. ”  at the fire pit, it felt like they’d just gone round in fucking circles.  “ i’m assuming romi’s getting to know other people now. i mean, i saw them talking to dante. part of me feels like i should do the same and get to know jenny. like, actually this time, because before i was kinda holding back. but i don’t know, it’s like the bed’s not even fucking cold and already it’s like crack on, lad, you’ve only got however many days left and then you’re done. it’s fucked. ”  yeah, maybe he should have saved the thoughtless decisions for when he was back at the main villa. there’s no way he’s getting back now.

how was the beer pong game ? what was most memorable about it ?

 “ obviously the fucking jenny thing was the most memorable, jesus christ, are you dim. ”   this interview is throwing him through the fucking ringer, leg bouncing and anxious to make a getaway, but he knows they won’t let him off that easy. this — seeing him sweat — is good television. they can say what they want about therapy on the outside, but all these fuckers care about is a good show.  “ not even because it was a good kiss, like the kiss itself was fine, whatever, jenny’s a good kisser, but like, everything that happened after... i had no idea that shit would kick off, or i would’ve just kissed angel. but yeah, like i said, i didn’t think it through. wasn’t that deep. at least not on my end, but i can see now why that would have come across as dickish. ”

what was it like seeing the postcard ? what was the most shocking part of it ?

“ what postcard ? ”  jude’s not being facetious, he’s genuinely confused. must’ve been moping by the pool when that one happened, too pissed to even follow the sound of charlene’s screaming. “ i don’t know nothin’ about no postcard ?  who went on holiday ?”

who did you vote for the hideaway ? why ?

  “ angel, cos he’s my boy and he deserves to hit it.  ”  even if callie doesn’t seem like the type to put out, he’s sure they’d find some way to spend the time.  “ it was the only option. there’s no one else i want in there. if it’s not angel, i’ll actually be fuming on his behalf. that boy’s the fucking salt of the earth. i’ve known him two days and i’d honest to god take a bullet for him.  like, my head was spinning out last night and he proper calmed me down. they hit the nail on the head calling him that, man. ”

if you could have voted for an original to go in the hideaway, who would you have voted for ?

 “ callie. nothing personal. same reasons as before. ” jude shrugs, leaning back against the beach chair. his energy’s still antsy, but less so now that he’s not talking about romi, or jenny or both of them. it’s like angel’s ability to centre him has impacted him so profoundly that even speaking about him calms him down.  “ my boy needs a good shagging. he’d be proper attentive. even if nothing happened, like... i want them to have that time, bro. i think they could make a real go of it. ”

[danceofwhispers]

Dear Ser Falcon. Not often do we hear from you personally...who do you consider the biggest threat in each court up and down the continent?

"Oh, are we opening this door? Wonderful. I enjoy this conversation. Let us start with North. Nasir Manderly or Brandon Karstark. In one sweeping motion they've become two of the most powerful lords in the realm of the North and perhaps throughout the continent. They say the silversmiths of White Harbour liver as good, if not better, than smiths of steel. Karstark mans some of the harshest lands with the King ear. We've heard the tales of the stupidity in the wolf king. They might be too loyal and too stupid to dream of success."

@nasirofmanderlys @wintervsuns @owenstark

"Now the Arryn's, my overlords. My queen and her kingslaying husband. Their giant idiot of a commander and the suspiciously place bastard. It is the King who is dangerous here. We see not what he is capable of, only the aftermath of his actions. Mayhap the true danger is our true heir, Jasper Arryn."

@ravellaarryns @rememberences @mountainvroyce @domericstone @gcuienveres

"Casimir Tully will burn the riverlands down or he would if anything stayed dry long enough. In truth, Mallister and Mooton will take control of his king and he won't realize it until Lord Blackwood stops encouraging his presence at council meetings."

@casimirtully @zakariyamallisters @qorbanmooton

(TW; INCEST MENTION) "Who threatens the lion? His court is made up of sycophants and relatives. Much like the dragon, only the lion can kill the lion. Unless his brother and sister diddling aye? Then perhaps they will kill the lion. Suppose still lioncide"

@casterlygldcs @gcuienveres @arronlannister

"The King of thorns has either learned from history and keeps the Hightower close because it's better to have a family historic their treason close by should you need to strike off a few heads or he will die in his sleep and war will once again tear apart the reach. The boring thing about the reach is those fuckers lover each other and love....oh the things we do for love. For example, I married well below my status though my daughters have done well. Were I a Hightower I could be a cripple and get dangled before those will kings blood. That fucker. The King too. Fuck em both." (drunk rambles crossed out then uses paint to cover the words.)

@visxionaries @garlandhightower

(TW; INCEST MENTION) "The dragons! Obviously, Jaehaerys will kill them all. Burn the lot of 'em. Valyrian scum, aye. Sister fuckers they are. Can't be rid of the taint of sister fucking. That baby don't look Dornish, I bet it'll look Targaryen enough." (Decides again crossing out drunken rambles)

@caetargaryen @jaehaeraxtargaryen @garrick-cargyll @daeron-dondarrion @deimos-velaryon @ellievswann @sunglxss @evenfallsbrightest @vhaenessavelaryon @burneddragon

"And dorne. I love ye dorne. I've got a post for ye lads, i do. Tak' yer bides, laddies. Put it on the table. Me thinks the boy found his baws, ya? Aye. Comin' for you Martell. Comin'." (Decides again crossing out drunken rambles)

@morsmartelll

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Forbidden Love. Part 3: Ted.

This is from my personal Muggle Modern AU about the Black Sisters. Let me know if you have any questions or if you want to know more about this story.

Check out Part 1 and Part 2.

*************************

Late November, 2009.

Ted felt like he couldn't breathe. Ted's legs were numb. They were just running because they had to. But Ted's mind was somewhere else. He could only hear his breathing. What the others were saying was muffled. And he could only distinguish shapes and lights with his watery eyes. All he could see was Andromeda's face. How scared and sad she was.

"WAIT! STOP!" Ted's hearing finally focused on Tammy's voice. When Ted stopped running he finally realized how much he had run because his legs were on fire. And he was sweating. The rest of his friends were the same. Out of breath. And probably numb too.

"What the fuck was that, Rugby Boy?" Will asked furiously "A bottle?"

Adam was kind of pale too. Ted knew him. He wasn't a violent person. They didn't hate those people. They simply thought they were annoying. And making silly pranks and getting those Knights into trouble had been fun at Hogwarts. It was a silly war. Those Knights got everything they wanted just because of their last names. Their money. It wasn't fair that plenty of teachers gave them privileges. Adam also had a name. Son of a Rugby star. But he was different. And he had chosen to be on Ted's side. But Adam had never been this angry.

"That fucker was messing with Tammy!" Adam said furiously "I couldn't stand it"

Tammy looked so pale. She was so tired that she sat on the floor. Ted went cold.

"Tammy?"

"Tammy, are you okay?" Roger kneeled in front of her and grabbed her chin "What did he do to you?"

Ted felt like he had failed her. He had been so busy. Ted had been so angry that Rodolphus Lestrange accused him of stalking Andromeda.

"Andromeda is too good for you" He had said "You are nothing but a mundane waiter who has nowhere to drop dead. Stay away from her"

Ted had only tried to defend himself. But when Lestrange said that. He got violent.

What a wanker, Ted was. Tammy needed him. And he hadn't been there.

Tammy looked into Roger eyes. She just nodded.

"I am okay. It was nothing. He was just a fucking pervert"

Ted knew her. She wasn't okay.

The rest of the gang was quiet for a while. Roger took off his jacket and put it around Tammy's shoulders. Tammy smiled.

"Oh Fuck!" Will moaned "Our fucking equipment! We left it all there!!" he said desperately, pointing to his back. And grabbing his knees.

There were a few murmuring swears and sighs.

"We have to go back and get it" Roger nodded, still touching Tammy's shoulder.

"No" Ted said softly.

"I don't give a damn about them" Adam said. I want to show them they shouldn't mess with us. Let's go back"

"NO!" Ted said louder "There's nothing there. I saw Rabastan Lestrange destroying everything during the chaos...."

And he had been to busy looking for Andromeda to stop him. Besides, Rodolphus had knocked him down. And he was on the floor bleeding.

"WHAT?" Will screamed.

"Fuck!" Adam kicked a trash can nearby.

Roger simply looked down and shook his head. Tammy was still numb.

"Do you know how much I've fucking saved for those drums?" Will was a funny lad. He made fun of serious situations. He made everyone laugh when things seemed dark. He was positive despite of having a tough life. But right now. He was being dead serious.

"We know, Will" Ted tried. He felt guilty.

"You have to be kidding me" Will covered his face.

"We've all made an effort to get those things. But..."

"Fuck Ted! This is all your fault!" It was Adam who spoke. He was furious, spitting words and moving his hands dramatically "I told you messing with that girl would only bring trouble!"

Ted was quiet.

"Andromeda is not just a rich girl to play around with..."

Ted shook his head "It is not a game" but Adam ignored him.

"She is a Black! One of the most rich and powerful families in The UK!" Adam continued. He sounded hysterical.

"Adam, stop" Tammy said. But he ignored her. "And she was there! Jeering with them. Laughing at us.... Don't you see? You are surely just a silly game for her. Going out with you is a fucking joke to her!".

"Adam..." It was Roger who tried to stop him now. But Adam didn't listen.

"She probably told everyone to go there and mess up with our performance, with our instruments, with Tammy...."

"Shut up" Ted said slowly.

"That fucking spoiled rich princess is a complete bitch..."

"SHUT UP! SHUUUT UUUUP!" Ted yelled this time and he approached and grabbed Adam's shirt. He could feel that the others were tense. They had enough violence for the night.

Andromeda wasn't any of those things. She would never be able to play a game or mess with people. She was not Bellatrix. Ted had fallen in love with her because she was different from all of them. She made him laugh. She was innocent but thirsty to learn many things and live adventures. And at the same time, she was so brave sometimes it surprised Ted. She was extremely beautiful. But what was more beautiful was her intelligence. The way she put Ted's world upside-down.

But all of that came with the package of being a Black. And having the devil for a sister. Maybe her parents were worse. Ted hadn't met them. But he had heard nasty stories about them.

And Andromeda had so much love for all her family. She was constantly defending them. But still she kept Ted hidden. Ted didn't know what to believe.

"Andromeda hadn't told anyone about us. About me" Even though he was sure she would if Ted was someone like Rodolphus Lestrange.

Adam seemed a bit scared but carried on either way. With a lower voice this time.

"And what do you think will happen if The Blacks know you've been fucking their little princess, ha?" Adam spat "Do you think they will celebrate? Welcome you into their home?" Ted pushed him away furiously "Oh how about this... Publish it in the papers" then he made gestures with his hands "The princess and the pebble..." then he clapped "What a wonderful love story"

Ted punched him hard. Tammy let out a scream. Roger stood up, ready to calm them down. Ted loved Adam. He would die for him and the other way around. But right now he was being a dick.

Adam didn't do anything else. He just stared. Ted started pacing around to calm down.

"They are gonna fuck you over, Teddy" Adam said again. Now pleading "They would never accept that Andromeda would be with someone like you..." he was right. So Ted stopped pacing "So there are two options. You either keep being her little secret, forever. Or you keep on letting them fuck you over. And not only you. But us as well. Just like tonight".

Adam was right. So right. They all knew Adam was right, because they didn't say anything. But it didn't mean that Ted hated the truth. It hurt. And the knot on his throat got stronger.

Ted stared at his friends one by one. Their bruises. Their ripped clothes. Their tired and pale expressions. God knows what that bastard did to Tammy. How much they had saved for their instruments. To build this band. And he never planned for this. To fall in love love this hard for Andromeda. He never thought about her family, her money or her friends. Just her.

Ted thought about how his life was before her. How his life was with her. And how it would be without her. It would definitely hurt to be without her. To carry on. To try to forget her. No other girl would be her. No one would make him feel this way. No one would feel this great to hold, to kiss, to touch. And it hurt like hell thinking that way. Maybe Ted couldn't live without Andromeda. But he had to.

"I am sorry guys" he said to his friends "I am gonna fix this. I swear"

And Ted walked away, ran away ignoring how Tammy was calling after him.

***************************************

Outside it was pouring. The perfect weather for Ted's sadness. The song that was playing on the radio spoke about love, about dispear, about how they couldn't live without their loved ones, how they couldn't breathe without them.

Ted decided to turn off the radio. This was too painful.

And just then, somebody knocked on his father's car's window. Ted jumped. Andromeda. Ted unlocked the door and she came in.

"Hey"

"Hey"

Ted's body was screaming for her touch. Especially since she looked so cold and white. And so beautiful with her hair soaked.

"You're soaked" Ted said "Let me give you my jacket"

"No, Ted it's okay"

Ted took it off anyway.

"Let me give you my jacket"

Andromeda accepted it. They were silent after that. Only the pouring rain sounded against the car. It had never been awkward like this before, until now. Ted hadn't seen Andromeda in almost two weeks after the incident. He missed her like hell. But he wasn't sure what she would want right now.

Andromeda was the first to look up at him, searching for his eyes. The power of her eyes was so strong that he had to look at her as well.

They both came closer immediately. Like magnets. They needed each other.

Andromeda hesitated but touched Ted's cheek. And he immediately closed his eyes at the touch. This would be even harder than he thought.

"I swear I didn't know anything" Andromeda cried "I didn't know we were going there. Or what would happen. I swear!"

Ted nodded. He knew that. He never doubted that.

Andromeda kissed him a bit desperately. But Ted pulled away. Even if his lips protested.

"Ted..." Andromeda begged.

Ted was silent. He had planned what to tell Andromeda in his mind so many times. But now that he had her in front of him, it was hard. So hard. He was speechless.

"Bellatrix knows about us" Andromeda added. She was nervous, her eyes flickering from side to side.

"She knows?" That scared Ted. He couldn't deny it.

Andromeda nodded.

"Yeah I am sure she knows" she said "She hadn't told me anything about it. I mean, Bella pretends she doesn't know anything. She acts like always. But I know her..."

"Did she tell your parents?" Ted mostly feared for his friends.

"No" Andromeda shook her head "I thought she might. But..." she sighed "I don't know. Maybe I can reason with her and she might see how happy you make me and..."

Ted sighed "No, Dromeda" he said "I don't think she would"

Andromeda looked at him. It felt like they were talking about different people. Bellatrix Black had been a nightmare for Ted. She hated him. And she had shown it.

"It... It's just..." Andromeda's voice shook "She doesn't know you. She needs to get to know you"

Ted sighed. Andromeda dreamt big. But Adam's words were running through Ted's brain over and over again. Ted didn't know but he had the feeling that Bellatrix had planned everything that night. He didn't say that.

"Adam almost went to jail" Ted said looking away. But he knew Andromeda was surprised. "If his father wasn't rich and important, he would've been locked in there for a year"

"He broke Gerard's head!" Andromeda was defending him. Ted looked at her "He got stitches at the Hospital"

"Do you know what he did to Tammy?"

Andromeda looked down.

"He had drugs. Him and Rab had something that night...Some pill"

Ted couldn't believe she was defending them.

"They interrogated my parents" Ted continued "The police told them I am a violent person. They let me out because they didn't have proof of something I had done. But they said they would keep an eye on me"

"I am sorry" Andromeda whispered.

Ted didn't answer. He was angry. But not at Andromeda. At everyone around her.

"I know that what they did was wrong" Andromeda added "But you guys became violent as well. And Adam shouldn't have..."

"I would've done the same" Ted interrupted furiously. Andromeda looked at him "When it comes to Tammy, I am capable of killing. You know that"

Silent tears fell down Andromeda's cheeks. Ted fought the urge to wiped them away.

"They destroyed our instruments. All of it"

Andromeda frowned. Like she couldn't believe it.

"Maybe Bella and Rod found out. But they are not capable of doing that"

Ted scoffed. He shook his head. He was getting angrier. It wasn't Andromeda's fault. He reminded himself. It wasn't her fault.

"It was Rabastan. I saw him" Ted spat

"I told you they were on drugs"

"What about Rodolphus? And you sister?" Ted asked "Don't you think they would do this because they don't like the fact we are together?"

Andromeda didn't answer. She was frowning because she couldn't believe Ted was raising his voice.

"I think Rodolphus would do anything to get me out of the way" Ted added "He desperately wants to fuck you. And Bellatrix? She is the worst of all. I bet she planned everything. That bitch!"

Andromeda slapped him. Just like that. And it hurt. Not that slapping no. But the way she was looking at him so dissapointed. Andromeda began crying.

Ted felt immediately like a piece of shit for hurting her like that.

"I am sorry" Ted said lowering his voice "I am sorry, love"

Ted tried to pull her in but Andromeda was angry. She pushed him away. But Ted insisted. Finally Andromeda gave in and she broke down crying in his chest. Ted stroked her hair. He kissed her head. God how much he loved her. So tears fell down his cheeks as well. This wasn't fair.

"I don't think this is gonna work, Dromeda" Ted said softly. He was thinking about Adam's words. How right he was.

Andromeda shook her head. She was holding Ted's shirt for dear life. She pulled him closer. Ted's body felt so right and comfortable.

"Do you honestly think your parents will accept me? Your sisters? Your friends?"

Andromeda continued sobbing.

"Things like the other night will continue happening. And I am fucking my friends' lives because of you"

Andromeda finally pulled away. She wiped her tears and looked at Ted like she couldn't believe what he was saying. Her eyes were all puffy and red. God, she was beautiful.

"What are you fucking saying, Ted?" she asked scared.

"I don't think I can continue with this anymore" Ted's eyes filled with tears as he said this. So he looked away.

"Ted, no!" Andromeda cried desperately scooping closer "We can solve this. I am pretty sure that if I talk with my parents, my sisters... Rodolphus and the others doesn't matter... I mean..."

Ted shook his head as he silently cried.

"Ted, I love you" Andromeda said as she cupped his face between her hands "I love you. And you love me. You love me"

Ted let out a sob. But he pushed Andromeda away.

"Nobody is gonna accept anything" Ted said "Bellatrix hates me. Rodolphus hates me"

"No....No..." Andromeda insisted as she cried harder "I don't care. I will run away with you. I'll do anything"

"No" Ted cried as well "I am not gonna let you do that because of me"

"Ted, don't give up on us so easily" Andromeda begged.

Ted was not only complicating his friends' lives with this relationship. But he was also ruining Andromeda's. She could never be happy hiding this way. She couldn't be at peace with her family. She couldn't have the life she deserved with Ted. Ted had nothing to offer her. So it was clear that she was better without him.

"I had fun with you but I am not willing to complicate my life for you like this" Lies. Lies. All lies "I don't think I love you that much" Ted loved her more than anything. He would do anything.

But Ted knew Andromeda. She would not give up so easily. She needed to move on and forget about him. So Ted was making her hate him.

Andromeda looked at him in surprise.

"You don't mean that" she shook her head "I don't believe you"

"Since I've met you, my life has been fucked" A big lie. "I almost got kicked from work. I have trouble with Adam. The band doesn't progress. Things keep happening to my friends. I've been humiliated but your stupid sister, by The Lestranges..." Ted was trying so hard not to break down. He had a big knot on his throat.

"It all had been because of you"

"Fuck you!" Andromeda screamed furiously with tears in her eyes. It was working.

"It's not worth it to go through all of this just to fuck you"

Andromeda slapped him again. And this time she opened the door furiously. The sound of the pouring rain got stronger.

But before Andromeda got out, she turned.

"I thought you were braver than this" she said "I thought you would fight for me. Not pretend you are a dick! You are gonna regret this, Ted"

I am doing this for you. Ted thought.

As soon as Andromeda slammed the door closed, Ted felt very cold and very sad. It took everything in him not to run after her, not to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how much he was willing to do and go through because of her. She was worth it. She was so worth it. But he was doing this because he had no choice. Andromeda and him could never be together. Not in peace anyway.

Instead Ted watched Andromeda ran away in the rain. And he cried. He finally let it all out. And he got so angry that he hit and hit the wheel. Over and over again.

"Fuck! FUUUUCK!" he screamed.

And then he began sobbing like never before. He already missed her. He already needed her. But Andromeda was gone. And Ted would never see her again.

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows — an Alfie Solomons x original character story — Chapter 2

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 2: the unknown variable

Word count: 2261

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, mild sexual references

Alfie and Thomas meet for the first time, and Livy can’t keep her mouth shut. Chaos ensues.

“Put him down, mate. He's only little.”

Alfie makes his way towards the front of the bakery and gives his second visitor of the day a once over. He hums under his breath; the gypsy isn’t much bigger than the bird waiting upstairs.

“You on your own?”

“Seems so.”

“Well, you're a brave lad, ain't you?”

Alfie turns without waiting for a reply and heads in the direction of his office. His stride is slow, yet purposeful, the hallmark of a man used to getting what he wants when he wants it.

After a quick stop to sample the bread, they climb the stairs and continue to his office. Alfie opens the door and gives a silent prayer of thanks when he finds Livy sitting demurely in the corner with her hands folded neatly on her lap.

He’s not sure what he was expecting, but something in his gut warns him to proceed with caution. There’s an air of unpredictability about her as if any minute things could descend into fucking chaos.

It’s unsettling because he’s usually the mad fucker—the unknown variable in any equation—and he full well uses it to his advantage. Now he can’t help but feel like the tables are turning and he’s about to fall victim to his own game.

“Who’s this?” Thomas stops in the doorway and looks her over, his eyes lingering far too fucking long in Alfie’s opinion.

“Well, that’s none of your fucking business, innit? So how ‘bout you take a seat or fuck off.”

The two men exchange stares before moving to sit at opposite sides of the desk. Thomas withdraws a cigarette from his jacket pocket, rolling it once across his lips before lighting it. Alfie responds by leaning back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach, the picture of casual indifference.

Livy watches the stand-off with mirth in her eyes, but keeps a straight face and avoids attracting attention. At least for now.

“Well, I've heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people. You're gypsies, right? So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?”

“I came here to discuss business, Mr Solomons.”

“Right, well!” Alfie claps his hands, the noise echoing across the room. “Rum's for fun and fucking—“

To Alfie’s horror, he’s interrupted by a fucking giggle. Thomas whips his head around, and both men stare as Livy presses her hand to her mouth in a failed attempt at controlling her laughter.

“I’m sorry gentlemen, please ignore me. It’s just that …” she trails off for a moment, nearly regaining her composure, before giving up and breaking into giggles all over again. “It’s just that I really fucking love rum. So what do you think that says about me?”

Christ. Alfie tries to hide his shock at the words spilling from her mouth. He should be annoyed, angry even—because this is business, innit? He waits, almost expectantly, but his infamous temper fails to make an appearance. Instead, the curve of his lips betrays his amusement, and he swears he can hear William laughing in his ear.

“She’s one of a fucking kind mate”.

That cheeky bugger is clearly taunting him from beyond the grave. But there’s work to be done, so he pulls himself together and darts his eyes at Thomas, assessing the situation.

The smaller man gives nothing away, his face expressionless, but Alfie feels certain that he’s thrown by the redhead. She’s a wild card, and in that moment, he decides the best move is to include her in his hand. After all, a madwoman in the company of the Mad Baker can only bolster his reputation.

“Well pet, I’m not sure what it says about you. But considering the contents of those barrels out there—“, he grins and points a thick finger towards the door. “I’d say I’m a lucky fucking man, yeah?”

Then he winks and Livy is practically preening with delight. Thomas, on the other hand, remains stoic, inhaling deeply from his cigarette, so Alfie sighs inwardly and continues to play the game.

“But whiskey, yeah.” He slowly reaches for his drawer, eyes never leaving Thomas as he removes a bottle and two glasses. “That is for business.”

“Let's talk first, eh?”

Alfie considers the man for a moment, running his hand down his chin, before slowly returning the bottle.

“Suit yourself.”

He gives his beard another stroke before suddenly leaning forward and cocking a brow. “They say you had your life saved by a policeman”, he remarks in a conspiratorial tone, with a twinge of poorly concealed disgust in his voice.

Yet again, they’re interrupted by a fit of giggles from across the room, but this time Alfie leans back, folding his arms across his broad chest, and waits patiently.

“You right there, love?”

Feeling encouraged by his attention, Livy decides to leave the sofa. She walks across the room before coming to rest behind Alfie. After placing a small hand on his shoulder, she leans down and whispers loudly, “How do you think he looks in the mirror each morning knowing he owes his life to a fucking pig?”

Yet another string of giggles escape from her cherry red lips, and somehow, she manages to look hopelessly innocent and desperately wicked at the same time.

Alfie makes a mental note to go temple and thank god for whatever the fuck is happening right now. He’s usually good at reading people, but he’s still not sure about her. Is this tiny woman purposely trying to aggravate Thomas fucking Shelby? Or is she truly unafraid to speak her mind, making her a rare creature indeed.

He thinks back to William and his fucking stories and concedes that there must be some element of truth to it all, but just how much remains to be seen.

Either way, there’s just something so fucking precious about the way she carries herself, and it triggers something primal in him. He wants to fucking devour her, protect her, and worship her. He’s never felt like this before but it’s un-fucking-deniable, and it only gets worse every time she opens her beautiful mouth. He’s desperate to get her alone but unfortunately, he has to deal with this fucker first.

As if on cue, Thomas interrupts his thoughts. He gives Livy a piercing look (which makes Alfie want to punch him in the fucking face) before replying, “I have policemen on my payroll.”

“Well, I don't like policemen because policemen, they can't be trusted.”

“Mr Sabini uses policemen all the time. That's why he's winning the war in London and you are losing it.”

“A war ain't over until it's over, mate.” Alfie scoffs. Fucking hell, this lad needs it all spelled out, don’t he? But if it’s a show he wants, it’s a show he’ll fucking get.

“I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.” Alfie moves his large hands theatrically as he continues. “I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking nose, and I hammered it home with a duckboard.”

He pauses to glance at Livy, taking note of the fire in her golden eyes, before returning his attention to Thomas.

“It was fucking biblical, mate. So don't come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I'm losing my war to a fucking wop.”

“That war was a long time ago. You need to be more realistic.”

“Realistic, yeah? Realistic?”

“Well, if you weren't losing the war, then you wouldn't have sent me the telegram.”

Fucking hell. This cunt is testing his already limited patience. “Really? You forget your fucking telegram. The telegram just said, "Hello."

Alfie wags his fingers mockingly, and this seems to amuse Livy because she joins in, scrunching her tiny fucking button nose and waving her little fingers with glee.

But then her mood takes a sudden turn. With a slight pout, she turns to Alfie and whines, “This man is such a bore. What on earth does he want?”

Alfie looks at Thomas and barks, “You heard the lady. Get to the fucking point.”

“We join forces.”

“Fuck off. No! Categorical.” Of course, Alfie is a businessman and he’s open to any deal that benefits him (which is why he sent the fucking telegram). But he continues with his mock outrage. “Fucking ridiculous.”

Thomas proceeds to argue his case, blabbering on about percentages and what not. But Alfie’s not paying attention because Livy is running her fingers through his hair, her nails gently massaging his scalp, and he finds it fucking hard to concentrate.

He just manages to pick up on something the other man says about “trust” and “protection”, which reminds him …

“Oi, you're the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That's you.” Alfie growls accusingly, “You fucking betrayed him, mate.”

Livy shakes her head disapprovingly and clucks her tongue like a governess scolding her disobedient charge. Alfie snorts at her response, but Thomas ignores them both and continues with his well-rehearsed speech.

“I can offer you a hundred good men. All with weapons. And a new relationship with the police.”

Alfie slides his hand along Livy’s hip, his fingers lightly skimming the deep green silk, before casually reaching around her ample bottom to retrieve his gun from inside the desk.

“Intelligence”, he murmurs, “Intelligence is a very valuable thing, innit, my friend? And usually it comes far too fucking late.”

After sharing that delightful pearl of wisdom, Alfie raises his arm and calmly points the gun at Thomas, aiming directly between his pale blue eyes.

Livy, to her credit, seems completely unfazed by the weapon and the implied threat of violence accompanying it. So Alfie decides to drag out the theatrics a bit longer.

“Let's say that I shot you already, right, in the fucking face. And the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there.” Alfie waves the gun vaguely in the direction of the opposite wall. “Which is a shame, innit, 'cause that cabinet's fucked now and I got to get rid of it.”

“Oh Alfie, that would be a shame, darling. What a lovely cabinet.” Livy shakes her head, a forlorn look on her face like her favourite cat has just fucking died.

“It is, love, a right shame,” Alfie mutters consolingly before turning his attention back to Thomas.

“So, what I'd do is this… It's fucking simple, mate. I cut that cabinet in half, don't I? And I take one half of the cabinet and I put it into a barrel, and I take the other half of the cabinet and all its pieces and I put that into another barrel, right?”

Livy is so close now that she’s practically on his lap, hanging onto every word spilling from his dumb fucking mouth. He’s just talking shite now, but for some bizarre reason, she seems to be enjoying herself—and who is he is to deny a beautiful woman? (And if he can fuck with Thomas Shelby while doing it, well, that’s just the cherry on top, innit?)

“So I send this barrel off to Mandalay. And the other barrel off to somewhere like... I don't know… Timbuktu. You ever been?”

“No,” deadpans Thomas.

“No? Would you like to go?”

Livy interrupts before Thomas can respond. “Oh YES, darling! This world is far too wonderful to stay in one place, don’t you think? I hear they have camels, which are like horses with giant humps! Can you even imagine? Although I wouldn’t like to travel in a barrel, thank you very much.”

And with that, Alfie fucking loses it. He puts down the gun and gives into temptation, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her the last few inches onto his lap. He’s still utterly and totally mystified by her—she might be genuinely fucking insane—but he’s not afraid to find out.

He just needs to get Thomas fucking Shelby out of his office because he’s had enough of this cunt to last a lifetime.

“Alright, mate. You caught me in a fucking agreeable mood. Tell us your plan.”

— • — • —

A deal is done in record fucking time, neither man keen to spend longer in the other’s company than absolutely necessary.

But now business is the last thing on Alfie’s mind, as the door slams shut and they’re finally alone.

He glances down at Livy, who is still perched invitingly on his lap. She fingers the well-worn fabric of his white cotton shirt before nervously pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, showing the first signs of insecurity since arriving on his doorstep.

Her thighs are mere fucking inches from his aching cock, and he can’t remember ever needing a woman so desperately. Every fibre of his being is begging him to pull her closer—but then he remembers what brought her here in the first fucking place.

She’s here because she needs help, you fucking bastard.

This bright, beautiful woman comes to him in her time of need, and he puts her in a room with two of Britain’s most dangerous men.

Alfie drags a rough hand down his face before slipping an arm under her knees, lifting her from his lap. He places her down gently on the edge of his desk, before settling in his chair, pushing back until she’s just out of reach.

“Alright pet, that was quite a show. I can see you’re a big girl, yeah? But I think it’s ‘bout time for a chat, love, don’t you think?”

A/N This chapter is clearly a reimagining of the scene where Alife and Thomas meet in season 2, episode 2 of Peaky Blinders. After this, most of the story will be non-cannon and I won’t be recycling so much of the original script.

[struggling-with-time]

Why did it have to be Him? [George x reader]

Paring: cc!Georgenotfound x Fem!reader (platonic) (cc!Wilbur Soot x Fem!reader)

Summary: You're George's friend, who he is very much in love with, but you are dating Wilbur.

Warnings: Angst, sour!George

Words: 1.7K

Masterlist: George's Masterlist - Wilbur's Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Heavily inspired by Him by James Marriott. Please request if you have any ideas. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

George opens the door and greets her with a hug. “It’s good to see you again.” She returns his wide smile, god she looks happy. It makes him want to frown, but he doesn’t at least not as long as she’s looking.

“Thank you for inviting us!” She tells him as she hands George a bottle of wine. It’s the cheap brand they used to share when they were both younger. He laughs slightly when he notices.

“Of course, you’re always welcome.” He tells her as she passes him by. He watches as she hangs her coat. He follows her with his eyes as she moves along the hallway.

“Eh-hem.” A cough brings George back to the person she brought with her.

Wilbur.

“Oh.” George tries not to let his face fall. But a change is more than noticeable to the man in front of him. “She brought you. Well, come in.”

And like that his host face is back on, ever the charmer with the famous pretty privilege. George turns away from Wilbur heading back up the stairs.

“You coming, Wilbur?” He calls after the taller lad.

George waves a quick hand to his guest, before heading to the kitchen. Knowing he’ll find her there, and he can put the wine away.

He sees her immediately, her head looking into his fridge searching for a drink. George walks over and puts a hand on the fridge door. Making her look up at him.

God, why does she have to look so innocent?

“Soo…” He trails off.

“Soo…” She replies.

“Wilbur huh?”

She slams the fridge door, making George pull his hands up in a defensive position.

“We are not having this conversation again George.” She rolls her eyes. She lets out a sigh. Then she takes the bottle of cheap wine from his hand and reopens the fridge to put it away.

“I was just going to ask if you have been any places lately?”

She huffs at his question, an eyeroll just in sight, but not present.

“We have. Thank you for asking.”

George smiles at her response. He reaches over the counter to take a bag of crisp.

“And that didn’t happen to be the arcade, did it now?” He opens the bag, ignoring the eyeroll that she is finally giving into.

“And what if it did?”

George offers her the bag, and she takes a handful.

“I’m just saying, we both know what happens after the arcade. Then it’s the beach trip.” He watches her carefully. “Then a fancy dinner.” She eats a chip. “Then the short camping trip.” She winces. Got her. “Then the promise to meet his parents.” She tugs her arms closer to herself. “And then the inevitable excuse about him either not having time, being in the right mental state or…” George trails off.

“George c’mon he’s your friend. Don’t talk about him like that.” She dusts her hands off from the crisp dust and picks up the drink she settled on.

“So, there is no reason you have been looking for camping gear I take it.”

She brushes past him on the way out of the kitchen.

“You disappoint me!” George calls after her, as they join the others in the living room.

She sits down beside Wilbur, and George nearly scoffs at the way Wilbur is sitting. He’s the tallest in the room, and he sure knows it.

Pretentious fucker.

Why did he have to introduce the two of them? Why did George have to be the one to lead his friend down that path? Why did he have to absolute watch the girl he’s head over heels with fall for another guy? And why did it have to be him? Why of all people did it have to be fucking Wilbur?

Wilbur throws an arm over her, but he doesn’t even look at her. George is. George is the one looking at her. Not him.

It takes George under one drink to want to rip Wilbur’s arm off. But it takes the rest of it to calm him down. This is why it isn’t you. George reminds himself.

Wilbur starts talking about his future and his plans for said future. His plans. And how she fits into them. George seethes at the thought. She only fits into his grand scheme of things as an afterthought, an add on. An accessory. The guy is a prick. But an ambitious and successful one at that too.

George excuses himself. A lie about needing more to drink, despite everyone clearly watching him descend the hallway and stairs to the outside. Not the kitchen.

He grabs his jacket, throws it on and opens the front door, letting the heat seep out and into the cold February night.

Against his better judgement, George takes a seat on the steps leading to his door. He pats his sides down, feeling the box against his hand. He fishes it out.

It’s a box of cigarettes, he knows he shouldn’t. But honestly, there is a lot of things he shouldn’t do in the world, yet he still does them. And thus, the logic applies to this situation too.

“You need a lighter for that?”

George snaps back around to look at the doorway. There she stands in all her glory. Illuminated by the soft light of the indoors. George blinks, savouring the moment, remembering it for the days she isn’t around.

She turns around for a moment, throwing her own jacket over herself, and fishes a lighter out. She hands it to George.

He lights his cigarette.

She hovers her hand over his package.

He nods.

She takes one.

George hands the lighter back to her, and there they sit. Two friends. One so in love with the other it’s laughable. The other so alienated by that thought alone. Two strangers.

The chill air hugging them close, letting them huddle into themselves in hopes of fighting against the cold. A losing battle.

But neither moves.

However, she talks.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

George looks at her, she’s already looking at him.

“I can only say the same to you.”

“Touché.”

And like that the subject is left hanging. Last year they would have confronted each other about the bad habit. But that is last year, and so many things have changed.

“I didn’t think I would come down here again you know.” She tells him. “Not after the new year’s party.”

Ah, the new year’s party. The one George hosted. The one where he got into a shouting match with Wilbur. The one that ended with him losing a long-time friend, and a sort of co-worker turned friend.

“Not your finest moment.” She smiles at the absurdity of the memory. George hates it. Because for him it was the moment, he realised she would never see him the way she sees Wilbur. Or any other guy for that matter.

But what irks him the most, is that Wilbur was the one who made him reach the conclusion. That Wilbur, of all people, made him come to terms with his feelings.

“Not my finest moment.” George agrees. Or admits? He isn’t completely sure which it is, but it’s there for the night to welcome, and the night does.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I was disappointed in you.” He looks at her, she turns her head away.

“I know George.”

“I didn’t take you for being someone who falls for the bullshit he spews.”

She doesn’t say anything, he knows she should. So does she.

“And where are you gonna end up when you break up? The muse for his next song.” George snorts. It’s harsh, but he’s right.

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.” She snaps at him.

“I don’t.”

The night falls silent once again. The only sound coming from their staggered breaths.

George trashes the last of his cigarette bud against the front steps. She looks at his hand, then at him.

“Why did it have to be him?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Why did it have to be Wilbur of all people?”

“… I don’t know.”

“Please, anything. Just any reason. I get it’ll never be me. But why did it have to be him?”

She flickers her own cigarette away, following that with her eyes now instead of George.

“Out of everyone you could have had, why did it have to be him?”

Her eyes are back on George, he can see the way she’s clearly trying to muster up a response that will satisfy him. Yet he can’t help to keep pressing on.

“Was it because when you looked at him, he thought he could be so much more than me?”

It was no secret, ever since she had started seeing Wilbur. After George himself had introduced the two, George and Wilbur had sized each other up, at every single chance they got. From view counts on twitch, to subs on YouTube, to financial gains, to arcade games. Anything they could compete in, the two had had a sudden interest in beating each other.

“Was it because he wasn’t me?”

Her breath hitches.

George Freezes.

She scrambles.

George watches.

She’s standing.

George sitting.

They wait.

“I think it’s time I leave.”

George swallows.

She nods to herself. Before repeating. “It’s time we leave.”

Before George knows, her phone is out of her pocket. A number dialled, and steps are coming down the stairs.

Wilbur has arrived. He looks down at the single cigarette bud beside George. Then he looks at George.

“You know those kill right? It’s a bad habit.”

But George doesn’t listen, he barely ever does anymore when the guy opens his mouth. Instead, he does what he does best. He watches. He watches her. He watches her as she grabs Wilbur’s hand. He watches her, as they become them. And he watches them, as they disappear down the street.

While George says he’s disappointed in her.

George is only disappointed in himself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 5: Master of the House

…in which Ezi is home alone with Harry’s assistant.

Word count: 4.8k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: PLEASEEEEEE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I'll write faster when I get a lot of comments 😩

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Harry pulled Ezi down the hallway to find the nearest bathroom. His head started to hurt as he thought about how his mother would react if she found out what Ezi had done. What he had done. He didn’t expect his cousin to run and tell anyone that he’d been attacked by a helpless girl and that Harry had beat the shit out of him afterwards. But someone might have seen that, and words could spread like a virus at these kinds of events. It’d be wiser to just walk away quietly.

When he had found a bathroom, an old lady stepped out, saw them and made a face, probably assuming the worst when she caught sight of the blood on Ezi’s face.

“I didn’t hit her,” Harry told the lady, only to receive a disgusted look in return.

She ignored him and turned to Ezi. “Honey, are you alright?”

Ezi offered a grin, showing her blood-stained teeth. “Yeah. It’s not my blood.”

The lady’s eyes widened in shock. Slowly, she took a step back, then ran off without another word.

Harry immediately shut the door behind them. “Wash your mouth,” he told Ezi, turned on the water, and as she washed her mouth in the sink, he took off his jacket, put it on the marble counter, and rolled up his sleeves.

Ezi hopped onto the counter and watched Harry soak the handkerchief he’d been carrying in his pocket.

“Face,” he ordered, and she lifted her chin so he could gently wipe off the blood around her mouth.

“I was defending myself,” she said once he’d finished and tossed the handkerchief into the bin at his feet.

“I know.” He shifted his eyes back to her. He didn’t mean to sound like a dick, but it seemed like he’d come off as one. He leaned to the side with his hand on the cool surface of the sink. “It’s not your fault. I know my cousin. His family is in debt because of his gambling addiction. I keep telling my mother to ban him from the manor, but she has too much respect for the fucker’s parents to do it.”

“So why did he call you trash?”

At that, Harry couldn’t help but cackle. “He did? Well, I think most people would think so. I haven’t done much to make my mother proud. She wanted her only son to take over our family’s business, but I wanted to become a singer, and yeah…”

Ezi blinked at him. She probably didn’t understand most of what he’d said, so he let it go and worked up a smile. “Sorry for oversharing. You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m not hurt. I was the one that bit him.”

“Are you feeling sorry for him now?”

“No. I would’ve eaten him if you hadn’t shown up.” The way she;d said with a straight face amused and scared Harry at the same time. “Although he didn’t taste as good now that I’m human and need my food cooked.”

“I’ll just assume that you weren’t serious.”

Harry picked up his jacket from the sink. Ezi hopped to her feet and reached for the doorknob, but he pulled her back to him by her wrist and swept his eyes over her body once again. “Where did he touch you?”

She pointed to her waist and showed him the red fingerprints around her forearm.

“Nowhere else?”

“Nowhere else.” She shook her head. “I don’t like being touched.”

A sense of discomfort filled Harry as he recalled how she’d said those same words after he’d yelled at her earlier. She must have been so scared. Tonight he deserved a trophy for being the biggest asshole alive.

“Nobody should touch you. Not even me.”

“You are touching me.”

Harry looked down at his fingers around her wrist and immediately let go. “From now on, nobody,” he said. “Only when you give them permission to touch you, okay?”

“What about handshakes?”

“Handshakes are fine. Wouldn’t recommend shaking hands with everyone, though. Germs and all that.” He stepped in closer and pretended to put his arms around her without touching her, just to demonstrate. “So hugs like this are for friends. You don’t usually do this to people you’ve just met. Unless they’re the ones on the street with the sign that says FREE HUGS. You’re allowed to hug those.”

“Got it.”

“And,” breathed Harry as he grabbed his nonexistent boobs. “This area is forbidden. Nobody is allowed to touch you here...unless you want them too, of course.”

“Why would I want them to?”

Harry ignored the question and went on, grabbing his bum. “Also this and the front area.” He gestured to his crotch. “Forbidden.”

“But I don’t have a tail.”

“You have something else that’s just as important as my tail.” He felt silly to say it, but it would have felt weird to say dick or penis to her face.

She put a finger to her lips; a line appeared between her brows as she pondered. “Speaking of something else, the hole--”

“Okay, not here! Save your questions for when we’re home.”

Harry grabbed her shoulders to spin her around, and she immediately smacked his hands and shot him a glare. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

“Good. Love that attitude. But really, we need to leave before my mother finds out I almost killed someone in her home.”

He reached around Ezi and opened the door, bobbed his chin for her to go first, but she stood still, her face serious. “That wasn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back there. You became someone else. You were...violent.”

“Well, yeah. Only because he deserved that.”

Ezi cocked her head to the side, her clear blue eyes squinted. “But he was one of your kind. And I’m not. So why were you protecting me?”

“Because he assaulted you. I don’t care if he was the Queen of England. I would’ve beat his ass still.” Seeing her perplexed expression, Harry let out a soft laugh. “Why’s it surprising? Didn’t you save me twice?”

Ezi averted her eyes and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“And you lost your tail for it, so it wasn’t a fair trade anyway.”

He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and told her to go.

They didn’t speak on the ride home. Harry wanted to lighten up the mood with his stupid jokes, but he was too agitated to say anything. They had left without saying goodbye to his mother or anyone, so he would probably be in so much trouble tomorrow. He had put his phone on airplane mode; his mother’s harsh words would have to wait. He also couldn’t help but think that if he hadn’t shown up, something worse could have happened to Ezi. Or his cousin. Or both. And it would’ve been his fault as well.

“Next time we go out, don’t do the opposite of what I tell you to do,” he told Ezi when they’d arrived home and gone upstairs to her room. “You’re even more stubborn than my cat. At least she’d stay put when I tell her to.”

“I was looking for you! I thought you’d left me.”

Harry tossed his keys onto a table and turned to look at Ezi. He put both hands on his hips. She was giving him those puppy dog’s eyes while fidgeting with her own fingers as if she hadn’t nearly torn open his cousin’s throat with her human teeth. He could not imagine what she could do with her siren fangs.

He let go a sigh and scratched his forehead. “You thought I’d left you?” His voice was lower now that he’d calmed down a bit. “So you don’t trust me?”

She said nothing, just staring back at him.

Calmly, he went on, “I brought you all the way here to London and risked it all to keep you in my house, Ezi. I had to speak to some of my relatives at the event, but I was going to come back for you. I told you to stay--”

“You lied to me.”

Frozen to the spot, Harry blinked. “About?”

“Dawson,” Ezi said. “I talked to Dawson.”

“You talked to Dawson?!”

“And he was a nice person.” Then, she had to reassure him, “Don’t worry. It was a short conversation, and I didn’t tell him much about myself.”

“Then how do you know he was a nice person?” Harry scoffed. “I mean, you barely know the lad.”

“He told me about manga, and he called me beautiful, and he doesn’t act friendly to his enemy.”

“Enemy?” Harry asked, but Ezi didn’t bother to explain.

“Why do you hate him?” she asked.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. “He’s a try-hard. I hate try-hards. My mother loves him, so of course you’d love him, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it love--”

“Good. Because he’s lame.”

Ezi tilted her head, looking puzzled. “What’s lame?”

“Boring. Not interesting.”

“Oh.” She gave an understanding nod. “Then you’re the lamest.”

“Okay, you know what?” Harry exhaled and pointed to her bedroom door. He had never felt more like a dad than he was now. “You’re grounded for a day. That means you’re not allowed to leave your room tomorrow.”

“How will I eat?”

“The food will be brought to your room.”

Ezi’s face turned red as she crossed her arms and stomped her foot. “You cannot imprison me!”

“It’s not imprisoning if you still get to play games and watch videos on your iPad.”

Harry knew Ezi loved the iPad. Her furrowed brows relaxed as soon as she heard that she got to keep it. “Fine.” She breathed. “I don’t want to see your face anyway. I’ll just be in my room with Chilli.”

“Good.”

“Good!”

Ezi shoved Harry aside as she stormed into her room and kicked the door shut. Harry stared at it for a moment. Then, he smiled, shook his head and went back to his room.

.

.

.

Ezili had a nightmare again.

This time, she’d returned to the ocean after failing her mission, and as punishment, her mother had turned her into a shrimp, while her sister had watched with a satisfied sneer.

A few moments after she’d woken up screaming, she heard Harry’s footsteps pounding down the hallway before he burst into her room, panting as he asked if she was alright. She almost said that she was now that he was here, but she didn’t and only answered with a nod.

“Okay,” Harry gave a crooked smile. “Just...wake me up if you need anything.”

“Wait.” The word slipped out before Ezili could stop herself.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah?”

She rubbed her hands onto her thighs, feeling the smoothness of the fabric of her nightgown, which brought her a sense of comfort. In the semi-darkness of her room, Harry looked strangely handsome with his messy hair and sleepiness in his heavy hooded eyes. She wondered why he had to be all groomed most of the time when he already looked good without trying.

For a second, she forgot what she was about to say then flinched when he called her name.

“Can you sleep here with me tonight?” she asked.

Harry looked stiff, his lips slightly parted.

“If you want to,” she quickly added. When she was living under the sea, she had hated sharing her space with the other sirens, so she could imagine how uncomfortable Harry must feel about her request. Still, she knew if he was around, she wouldn’t have nightmares. If she focused on his presence, then she wouldn’t think about her mother and sister and the task that seemed impossible to complete. Besides, she wanted to be as close to him as possible, learn his behaviours, and slowly slip into his mind and then his heart.

“I mean…” He scratched the back of his head and awkwardly looked around the room. “I guess I could sleep on the sofa over there.”

“There’s plenty of space on this bed,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

His mouth curled. “I know. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. After what happened tonight, I thought you wouldn’t want to be near a man anymore.”

Ezili shrugged. “Well, I’ll try not to hate you tonight.”

Harry rested a shoulder against the doorframe and rubbed his chin. “Well, well, well, are you saying that I chase your bad dreams away?”

“Yes, because you’re already a living nightmare.”

Her response made him laugh. At this point, she could conclude that he enjoyed being degraded.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “How’s your English so good? I thought you must speak a language for sirens, no?”

“We speak Séren back home.”

“Oh, cool. Say something in your language.”

“T’ko thikc mei vie mei zua zi.”

“Damn. What does it mean?”

“I don’t like you because you’re ugly.”

Harry’s smile vanished, making Ezili explode in laughter. When she saw the way he was gawking at her, probably because she had never laughed like that before, she forced herself to stop and cleared her throat. “Yeah, so that’s Séren.”

“How do you speak English so well then?”

“Not just English. I also speak French, Danish, and German.”

“Wow. Your fish schools teach human languages?”

Ezili made a disgusted face. “No. I learn them from hearing the conversations of the sailors on the boats.”

“Makes sense.” Harry nodded slowly. “You seem like a fast learner. Way too fast; it’s scary. Maybe your brain is even more developed than mine.”

“Thank you.”

“Now that I’ve entertained you--”

“You’ve done nothing. I did all the talking.”

“I gave you a topic to talk about. Don’t be mean.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Anyway, now that you’re entertained, do you still want me to stay?”

Ezili thought for a second and nodded.

“Alright,” Harry breathed and shut the door behind him. “I’ll stay. Scoot over.”

“You’re permitted to touch me tonight,” Ezili said.

Harry froze when he’d sat down on the edge of the bed. “What?”

Was there something wrong with his hearing? He’d asked her to repeat a lot of things tonight.

“You’re permitted to touch me tonight,” she told him again in annoyance. “You might touch my hand or arm when you sleep. I can’t hold you accountable for that.”

“That’s not--” He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “You know what? Good for you. Keep that attitude when you’re with any man. I’m a man myself, but most of us are pigs.”

“You mean all of you.”

“I literally just lay down and you’re already insulting me.”

“Fine. I’ll stop,” Ezili said, smiling as she watched Harry adjust the covers to make himself comfortable.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me like that,” he said with one eye shut and the other half-opened.

Pouting, Ezili turned over with her back to him. Harry’s throaty laugh made her stomach clench, but in a good way. “Ezi,” he whispered. “I was only joking.”

She completely ignored him, pretending she was asleep. He was quiet for the next few moments, and when she looked back to check, he was already sleeping. She thought he was playing, so she called his name and lightly pulled a strand of his hair, but he didn’t react. He was lying on his back, his mouth slightly open as he breathed, chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm. She pushed up on one elbow and peered down at his face. She hadn’t observed him this close before. Well, not since their first encounter on the beach. The last time, however, had been in a different situation, and she hadn’t got time to properly study him. Humans were exquisite-looking creatures. She would never admit aloud, but she had always envied them for it.

She started counting his eyelashes and connecting the freckles on his face. The more she looked, the more fascinating he became. It had amazed her how he’d rescued her instead of another human. And not just any human, but his family. She would never betray her kind for a human. Her rescuing him twice had been an act to gain his trust, when the whole purpose of this mission was to have him dead at the end.

Slowly and carefully, she moved closer and gently pressed her ear to his chest. She could hear it. The thumping of his heart, pumping blood through his veins, keeping him alive. He would be dead without that heart. Sadly, so would she.

.

.

.

“Good morning?” Harry said in a tone of a question when he woke up and found Ezi standing in front of the window with her back straight and arms to her sides, like one of those guards in front of Buckingham Palace. “Helloooo?”

“Shhhh. I’m meditating.”

“Who meditates standing up?” He snorted. “Man, you’ve been watching too much YouTube.”

“TikTok. And I’m not a man.”

“Wait, you’re on TikTok now?”

Ezi released a long breath and turned around to face him, hands on her hips. Sunlight filtered through the thin material of her blue nightgown, and Harry looked away as fast as he could before he got hard over a nipple or something. He wasn’t a bad guy. It was only--

“Seven in the morning,” he groaned into the pillow and fell back to the bed. “Fucking hell.”

“It’s morning, so you’re not welcome in my bed anymore.”

He removed the pillow to glare at her. “Ungrateful little minx. Said that after I’d chased away all the nightmares.”

“Go before I send Chilli to take you out.”

As if she heard her name, Chilli appeared in the doorway and licked her little paw while sending Harry a death look.

“You’re siding with the enemy now, huh?” he asked the cat.

“Why not?” Ezi said. “She’s a smart girl.”

Harry groaned loudly as he pushed himself out of bed and started doing some stretches. “Remember,” he told Ezi, who was watching him with her arms crossed and a judgy look on her face. How did she manage to look this good at seven in the morning? Totally unfair. “Remember,” he repeated as he almost forgot what he was trying to say. “You’re grounded. So you can’t leave your room today, but the food will be brought to you. You’re allowed to use the bathroom down the hall.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He ruffled his hair and gestured at her. “Now continue doing...that...thing that you were doing.”

“Meditating.”

“Whatever,” he chuckled. “Weirdo.”

.

.

.

“Good morning, Mr Boss!” said Amy, Harry’s assistant, as he went downstairs. She’d just arrived with the flowers for his living room.

“Morning, Ames. Any updates?”

“All in the email I sent you, Boss. Also, your mother called...52 times.”

“Yeah, I’ll deal with her,” Harry gave the girl a tight smile as he fixed his hair in the giant mirror by the stairs. “Thank you so much.”

“Did you watch the season finale of Master of the House?” Amy asked, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

He turned around, grinning back at her. He liked how Amy was always so enthusiastic, but at the same time, found it difficult to match her energy. “No, been too busy. What happened?”

“I won’t spoil.” She giggled and started replacing the flowers in the vase in the centre of the living room with the new ones. “You should watch it this week and we’ll discuss.”

“I will.” When he got to the door, Harry did a spin as he remembered what he almost forgot. “Amy, can you stay here and wait for Niall to come? Also, there’s a girl sleeping upstairs. Don’t wake her.”

Amy’s usual grin had never disappeared so fast. Her hand that was holding a rose froze midair when she asked, “Was it the girl I saw the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Your new girlfriend?”

“Just a friend.” Harry knew Amy had a little crush on him. It was harmless, so he didn’t really care. “I gotta go,” he told her, pretending he couldn’t see through her frown. “Wait for Niall.”

“Okay.” She forced a toothy grin and waved. “Have a great day, Boss!”

.

.

.

This shirt was too big for Ezili. She shook her head, tongue stuck out at the corner of her lips as she reached further into the closet to get the dark blue t-shirt at the back.

As she pulled the pink shirt she was wearing over her head and put on the blue one. She heard the door to the closet creak open. Her chest nearly exploded. It was just Chilli.

She gave the cat a look. “What?”

The cat meowed at her.

“Yeah, I know he said I couldn’t leave my room and was only allowed to use the bathroom, but I’m bored.” She slipped on a white tennis skirt and sat down on the floor to put on a pair of white shoes. She struggled with the strings, but somehow still managed to tie them into two nice bows like she’d seen on those tutorials.

Twirling in front of the mirror, she asked Chilli, “Do you think I look good?”

Chilli responded by rubbing her tiny head against Ezili’s ankle. Ezili took it as a yes.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud thump from downstairs. Speaking of which, Ezili hadn’t heard from Harry all morning. He’d left breakfast for her at the door and disappeared to who knew where. She probably should go check on him.

Chilli followed her to the living room, both forgetting that Ezili wasn’t supposed to go downstairs. But it didn’t matter anymore, because instead of Harry, she found the green-haired girl lying on her stomach on the white cushioned sofa with her feet in the air and a half-finished bag of chips on the coffee table.. The sound Ezili had heard was the result of the chair this girl had knocked over yet didn’t bother to pick up.

Ezili hesitated for a moment behind the bookcase behind the girl. Before she decided to speak up, the girl did. She was on the phone with someone.

“So the master of the house was taken care of.”

Master of the house?

Harry?

“Nah, I think that girl is dead, too,” the green-haired girl giggled. What was so funny about death? “No, I don’t mean like dead now. But if she attacks, then the team will take her out.”

Ezili shivered. Could she be talking about Ezili? The master of the house was Harry. This green-haired monster had murdered Harry, and Ezili was the next target.

“What do you mean I don’t know that? I’m the expert. I’ve watched stuff like this all the time. Believe me. There’s no way she’s not getting caught. I can’t wait for the world to find out who she really is.”

Ezili went numb until she felt Chilli around her ankle. She put a finger to her lips to order the cat to stay quiet otherwise they’d both die. Picking up the cat, she walked quietly to the front door and slipped out before the green-haired girl found out she’d left her room. She must run away. She’d rather die by her mother’s hands than become a prisoner to humans.

The problem was: she didn’t know where she was.

How far was the ocean from here? She remembered having flown across the sky inside the iron bird, so this land must be very far from home.

“Watch where you’re going, crazy bitch!”

Ezili screamed when a car made a loud noise that almost blew up her ears. She stumbled backwards to the side of the road as the man inside the car gave her a look of contempt and drove off.

She hugged Chilli tighter to her chest. Relax, the voice inside her head said. I know you’ll figure out what to do.

She inhaled deeply and--

“Ezili?”

The sound of her name felt like a splash of water on a hot day. She shot her focus to the white car with the window rolled down and saw a familiar handsome face with glasses.

“Dawson!”

Dawson poked his head out of the window. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans -- the opposite image of the person she’d met last night. “Hey, where are you going?” he asked, looking concerned. “With the cat. Where’s Harry?”

“He’s dead,” Ezili told him quietly. She couldn’t let them find out that she’d escaped.

To her surprise, Dawson laughed. Could it be that he was one of them?

“Sooo dead. His mum sent me to check on him because she’s raging and he doesn’t answer his phone. But don’t worry. This happens all the time. He’s like a cat. Got nine lives.”

Ezili rapidly shook her head. “There was a girl in there. Green hair—”

“Harry’s assistant?”

“Yeah, that girl!” She continued nodding. “She was talking on the phone with someone. She said that the m-master of the house i-is dead.”

“Shit.” Dawson’s face grew dim. Maybe he’d finally understood. “She spoiled you the season finale?”

What?

“That sucks. But don’t worry, there’s still more.”

“What?”

“Master of the House. The Netflix show.”

It took Ezili’s brain a few moments to process, then she realised she had made a fool out of herself for nothing. Of course the green-haired girl wasn’t talking about killing Harry. It was a Netflix show!

Sighing in relief, she threw on a smile. “Oh, right. Yeah, that really shocked me. Harry’s not home, by the way.”

Dawson grimaced. “You okay? Where were you running off to?”

“Uhhh.” Ezili straightened her back. “W-Where were you running off to? I mean, driving.”

Dawson chuckled. He also had dimples like Harry’s, just not as prominent. “I came to see Harry but since he’s not home.” He peered around her to the front gate of Harry’s house. “I guess I’ll go to the bookstore today.” Another smile at Ezili. Unlike Harry, this one smiled a lot. And Ezili was keen on it. “Wanna come?”

Go with him?

Yes, yes she absolutely wanted that.

Harry wasn’t going to let her explore this new land anyway. And after the incident this morning, it was for the best if she knew her way around here, to escape when she must. Still, she remembered how angry he’d been last night about her not doing what he’d told her to do and putting herself in danger. She was about to turn down the offer when Chilli jumped out of her arms and into the car with Dawson. She sat casually on Dawson’s lap, gazing up at Ezili.

Dawson beamed. “Looks like the cat’s made up its mind.”

Ezili rolled her eyes, threw her head back and groaned. “Her name’s Chilli,” she said. “But, fine. I’ll go with you.”

.

.

.

Niall felt like the main character today as he skipped up the steps to Harry’s door. Harry had asked him for a favour again. Because where else would his best friend turn to when things got rough? Niall knew that he was helpful and the best friend Harry could ask for. Still, he tried to stay humble about it.

“Sup, Ames.” He waved at Harry’s assistant, who opened the door for him. “Did you like my new TikTok?”

“With all five of my accounts. I got you, Nialler,” Amy said as she leaned against the staircase while chewing gum in her mouth.

Niall shrugged off his coat and hung it up. “Thanks, love. Sorry I’m late. Mikasa was wild this morning. I’m literally exhausted.”

“Uh, TMI?”

“What do you mean? It’s just yoga. She and her ‘I’m a therapist. Yoga will be good for your mental health’. She thinks I’m in love with her and would do anything for her. And you know what? She’s absolutely correct. Now where’s the girl?”

Amy looked confused for a second before she realised who he was referring to. “Oh, the pale girl? I saw her leave with Dawson Styles.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, she got into his car with Chilli. Is she really Harry’s girlfriend? I don’t like her. She didn’t say hello to me the first time and not this morning, either.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Niall grabbed his head. “Sick girl on the loose. Sick girl on the loose. Thanks Ames.” Ignoring Amy looking baffled, he pulled out his phone and called Harry. The endless ringing only got him more frustrated. “Pick up, you motherfucker. It’s always the Nialler who has to save the day.”

Harry picked up after what seemed like a million beeps. “Don’t tell me someone’s injured. It’s only been an hour.”

“Worse!” Niall almost yelled. “Dawson kidnapped the girl!”

[vgilantee]

In Love and Sh*t || Luke Patterson x Reader

Requested by anon

Word count: 1.1k 

A/N Back to my roots with a soft, slice-of-life fic. and my first Luke fic! and it was fast tracked just for Jules! 💕💕

Warnings: Cursing (I hold the belief that these boys have potty mouths, but it’s a show for younger audiences, so no swearing. but they are teenagers in the 90′s so nobody can convince me these lads don’t swear)

It was obvious from the day you met Luke that his love language was physical touch. He was always leaning on one of the guys, or holding Alex’s hand, or using Bobby as a foot rest, or having an arm warped around Reggie. Always touching them in some way. This made things in your developing relationship both easier and more difficult. 

On one hand you knew when he was comfortable around you because he would place his hand on the small of your back when you were standing together, or he would rest his head on your shoulder when sitting together. But on the other, it made it impossible to tell if he saw you as just friends, or he wanted something more, like you wanted with him. Until one day you finally had enough of the wondering. You would tell him and either way, your friendship would change forever.

Luke had walked you home after a band practice, and before he could walk away, you put your hands on his shoulders to hold him in place.

“Luke, this may make our friendship very weird but just hear me out.” You dropped your hands and took a slow, deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Out of habit, he reached forward and held your hand. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He squeezed your hand. “Look, Luke. I really like you and I don’t know if you like me back and I just needed to tell you or I might just combust.”

“What?” His voice was so soft, and you pulled your hand from his. 

“I knew it. I’m sorry, I should go.” You felt your eyes start to water and your throat start to tighten as you turned to your front door.

“Wait, no, Y/N.” Your hand paused, hovering over the door handle. “Please, turn back around.” Staring at your feet, you turned back. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t what that reaction meant. I just…” he let out a sigh and you glanced up to see him run his hand through his hair. “I like you too, okay? And I never expected you to like me back.” You stare at him as he blushes, your own cheeks warming.

“Oh.” Stepping forward, he placed his hands on your waist, and you rest your own on his shoulders. “Okay.” Luke let out a quick exhaled laugh before leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. 

“So, can I kiss you?” A shit-eating grin spread across his face, your own smile hurting your cheeks. 

“Absolutely.”

---

“Ya know, Y/N, I have to thank you for finally confessing to Luke.” Bobby’s weight shifts the sofa as he flops down next you Luke, who has you held firmly on his lap. Reggie and Alex had yet to arrive, the latter bringing food. 

“And why’s that, Bobby?” You manage to turn so that you are sitting sideways, legs on the same side of Luke’s so that you are facing Bobby.

“Because now I can actually do things during band practice instead of being pinned down by that fucker.”

“Oi!” You laugh as Luke releases one arm from around you so that he can whack Bobby in the head with a pillow. You duck and roll off of his lap just in time to avoid the retaliation, and you watch as a pillow fight ensues. That is until Bobby’s hand slips and the pillow goes flying, hitting you in the stomach. 

“Oh, it’s on.” You can confidently say that you have never seen Bobby move as quickly as he did when climbing off the sofa and sprinting out the garage door, chased by you and Luke. As soon as the door swings back into place, you are scooped up by Luke with a squeal.

“Luke!” You are thrown over his shoulder as he moves back to the sofa. 

“Yes, my dear?” Luke’s terrible British accent sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Put me down!” The sentence is broken by the giggles, and you let out an ‘oomph’ as you are dropped, then another as Luke drops himself on top of you. “Get off my fat ass!”

“No!” He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and pushes his hands under your waist. You wind your arms around his neck, closing your eyes and letting out a hum as he softly kisses your neck.

“Ew! Gross! Luke and Y/N are all in love and shit.” You open your eyes to glare at Reggie, and you feel Luke groan into your neck.

“Fuck off, Reggie.” His words are muffled by the fact that his face is still very much pressed into your neck.

“He said to fuck off.” You relay for the bassist.

“Oh I know. I just don’t care.” Reggie made his way over to his bass and flopped himself down on the seat beside it. “I’m just going to sit here to make sure you don’t bone in the middle of the garage.” Luke groans again as you try to hide your face in his shoulder. 

“Aww! Look at you two!” You press your face even further into Luke’s shoulder as he pulls an arm out from under you. You can only assume he is flipping off Alex, who very likely has his hands pressed to his cheeks in mocking. Alex’s voice is raised a couple of octaves as he pretends to gush. “So damn cute! And so in love!” Then his voice returns to normal as he drops a pile of pizza boxes on the coffee table beside you. “Anyway, food.” 

You quickly pull your hands to Luke’s chest and shove as hard as you can, trying desperately to get to pizza. This only causes Luke to wrap his arms tighter around your hips and squeeze. 

“Off! Off! Food!” Luke becomes a dead weight on top of you as you try with all your strength to shove him off.

“Oh my god, get off of her you fat ass.” Bobby wanders back in, bottles of soda tucked in his arms as he carries in cups. 

“Oi!” This is what finally causes Luke to finally release you, and he scrambles to sit up. You pull your legs out from under him and sit up, making grabby hands at the pizza boxes as you shift. “My ass is not fat!” He turns to you, hoping for you to defend him. Instead, he sees you staring at the now-open pizza box that Alex leaned over to hand to you. “Babe?”

“Hm?” Your head whips to him, a piece of pizza in your mouth. “Well…” You hold the ‘e’ sound and Luke looks at you in mock offence, folding his arms and pouting. You press a kiss to his cheek and Reggie pretends to gag. “I love you.” You sing, holding the ‘o’ sounds in both words.

“I love you too.” He tries to keep up the hurt act, but it’s clear he’s losing the battle.

---

taglist: @parkeret​ @amazing-socks​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ (if you want to be added to my taglist for jatp, luke, or all of my fics, send in an ask!)

[leah-halliwell92]

Mr. Telford History Teacher

Summary: You needed one last elective class to fill the second to last category for your minor. Little did you know the one teaching it would have more effect on you than the corse itself. 

(Cred and thanks to @come-join-themurder​) 

Warning: Swearing, mentions of harassment and rape.

You’d taken a seat in the farthest corner of the room hoping for the class to be smooth sailing. It’s not that you didn’t like history, you do. But European history wasn’t something you wanted to...until the teacher walked into the classroom that is.

He did not look at all friendly, was the first thing you thought when he walked in dressed in black, his shades in place and scars under his goatee. The man himself though is another thing entirely. You stared at the man from behind your lashes and nearly gushed at how handsome he is. All height and salt and pepper hair ticking box after box of what your dream man would look like. You resisted the urge to sigh as he quietly set himself up before moving around the desk and leaning on it and taking a look at the now full classroom. 

“You see more cheer in a graveyard,” he commented his accent coming through, a slight grin making his dimples pop under his “Glaswegian smile”. 

You breathed a laugh at his small reference and the shaky sighs of the rest of your classmates. 

“Ah I see a sign of life from the back corner!” He said exuberantly looking in your direction, “What’s your name darlin?” 

“Y/N sir,” you said clearly.

“Manners that’s good,” he said nodding in approval before going through the roster taking attendance. 

You quickly discovered that he could read the dictionary and you’d be happy, his voice doing things to you you’d never thought possible. Tender yet gruff and rich to your ears as he finished reading out names and began to discuss what the course is built on and what we would need to do in the coming weeks. 

Mr. Telford was just about to begin lecturing on the first portion of the set of chapters you’d be looking at only to be oh so nicely interrupted by none other than Jonathan Darby. You rolled your eyes as he made half-assed remarks he made. The over confident prick thinks that because his dad has ten year that he can do anything he wants to anyone he wants. Fucker thinks he’s above the rules cuz daddy rubs elbows with the right people. 

“Shut up Johnny! Some of us actually learn something!” You yelled finally having snapped, “Or do you need me to call your mom again?”

The room snickered as he promptly shut up and sank into his seat. 

You looked up to see a smirk of approval on Mr. Telford’s face. 

The class proceeded without anymore interruptions to your relief, now if you could only focus on what he is lecture. It wasn’t the content that held your attention but the person giving the lecture. Mr. Telford strolled from one side of the room to the other lecturing as he did. You loved how his accent and voice seemed caress each word he said no matter how rough.

You were both relieved and disappointed when you saw that class was nearing its end. 

“Read the syllabus for the important dates and read at least the first two chapters of the textbook before next class, thank you!” He said as students started trailing out of the room. 

You’d just about finished packing and stood to make your way down when Darby towered over your standing form a smirk on his face. 

“You’re going to be trouble,” he said leaning into you getting in your face, “But I like me a girl that fights.”

You rolled your eyes having heard this before and not really in the mood to be intimidated, least of all by wanna be skin head. 

“I’m going to be late for my next class,” you said clearly not amused and moved to side step him when his arm blocked your way. 

“I like em when play hard to get too,” he said giving you an appraising look.

You resisted the urge to gag at that and said, “Do you really not know the meaning of “no”?”

He laughed and said, “Bitches like you say that now but you know you want this.”

You pushed your way through to find Mr. Telford sitting a the desk feet up “reading” the book he’d brought with him. 

“Don’t you turn your back to me bitch,” Darby growled and made to grab me when you both heard.

“I wouldn’t do that lad,” You turned to see Mr. Telford standing up and standing between Darby and you, “Harassing a woman is against the law for one and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your old man to see how it is you really behave when not in his classroom.”

Johnny stepped back hands up in mock surrender a twisted smirk playing at his lips. 

“Nothing happened old man, (Y/N) and I were just having a friendly conversation. Weren’t we?” He asked looking at me.

“Not fucking likely,” you spat glaring at him standing your ground. 

Johnny looked like he would jump at you if he could be backed off as Mr Telford  stood between you fully keeping you away from Johnny’s sight, and reach.

You heard an exasperated sigh and footsteps as Johnny finally left the room.

You sighed in relief letting out the tension that had pent up the moment he cornered you. 

“Are you alright lass?” Mr. Telford asked softly turning to you.

Warm brown eyes bright with concern as he looked you over.

You nod and take out your inhaler. You noticed his eyes widen as you breathed in the medication. 

“Yes I’m asthmatic,” you say to his questioning glance, “Johnny doesn’t know it and it’s gonna stay that way. His old man knows and won’t do shit about what Johnny does so if he instigates an asthma attack he won’t get kicked out but at least it’ll put a black spot on his supposedly flawless school record.”

“But you could die,” Mr. Telford said bluntly, “Is getting him sacked worth it?”

You shrug putting your inhaler away and say, “Better dead than a rape victim swept under the rug.”

He looked sadly at you but nodded knowing it would be true before he asked, “Do you have a class after this one?”

You nod in affirmative and look at him in curiosity as he picks up the book and papers he’d come in with. 

“Come on, I’ll walk ya,” he said with a kind grin.

You were about to decline but thought better of it and held back a blush as he walked beside you to your next class.

“Health?” He asked with a hint of a grin on his face.

You laughed and nodded, “Needed for nursing.” 

“If ya need any more help don't hesitate to ask,” he said sincerely, “And if you need an escort let me know.”

“I couldn’t ask––” You began to say.

“Your not askin I'm offering,” he said kind grin fixed on his face making you blush.

You nod appreciatively and walk into the room to take your seat and saw Mr. Telford make his way back to his own classroom. What you didn’t see was him send a text to one Jackson Teller, who so happened to be sitting next to you, to keep an eye on you during the time that he couldn’t.

Just as you had settled in, a man with impossibly blue eyes and the craziest hair walked in.

“Well come to Sex Education boys and girls!” He said with a playful grin, “Yea we’ll be learning about the do it self but what I will make sure all of you know, boys especially, is how to keep your John protected from all sorts of stuff.”

You laughed along with the rest of the class and figured that this semester is going to be an interesting one. 

Tag List: @ideclareflananigans​ @come-join-themurder​ @miss-nori85​ @xbreezymeadowsx​ @tommyflanagans​

[aestheticsfandomsandmore]

Great, I kinda wrote a continuation of tianshan's last strip, even knowing it will never happen. Again, I have to remind you I'm Italian, so I may have made a few mistakes - I'd be glad if you reported them.

Hope you enjoy.

I posted this on AO3, if you want to read it there.

____________________________

“Put me the fuck down, you chicken dick!”

“Relax~ It's going to be fun.”

“For you, maybe!”

“Yeah, definitely, but you will have fun as well if you stop panicking.”

He Tian puts him down and locks the bathroom door. Then he mischievously smiles at him before heading towards the bathtub in order to fill it with hot water and some bath salts.

Mo tries to open the door but the key disappeared. “Shit, wha- what are you planning to do?”

“Like a said, taking a nice bath with Little Mo. Do you prefer vanilla or chocolate scent?”

“I don't prefer shit. Jesus, He Tian, let me out of here now.”

He Tian looks at him, still smiling but less wider. “Don't be such a damper. I'll go with chocolate then.”

Mo sighs. “I really regret coming here. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps” He Tian walks toward him, once the bath is ready, “you were worried I really meant my last message.”

Fucker. Mo is sure to be blushing because he feels hot all over his face and is even more sure of that when He Tian smirks.

“You wanted to see me and you didn't want us to part. But now you're here with me and you're complaining. Such a complicated lad.”

“Just because I wanted to see you, it doesn't mean I want to take a god damn bath with you!” he screams, feeling angry and exposed at the same time. Yeah, he didn't want to end their relationship, for some reason, but He Tian always has to break any kind of boundaries or concept of personal space, making him wonder why he even bothers trying to be less... less Mo Guan Shan-like.

“So you admit you wanted to see me! That's so cute, Little Mo!”

“I'm not going to take my clothes off. You'll have to undress me yourself.”

He Tian moves dangerously closer, only a few inches between them. “Is that a dare?” he whispers.

Mo gets even more embarrassed and takes a few steps away. “No, it isn't! I'm serious, He Tian, cut this crap, let me out-”

“Why?”

Mo swallows. If he didn't know him better, he'd almost say that He Tian is looking sad. “What's that supposed to mean? I. Don't. Want. To. Take. A. Bloody. Bath. With. You. Is it so hard to understand?”

“Yes” He Tian answers. “I don't understand you sometimes.”

Mo freezes. “Well, that's none of my business, if you can't understand something so simple, it just proves that you're a selfish bastard. Not that I didn't know already. Now give me the ke-”

“Then why have you come? Why did you want to see me, if you think so badly of myself?”

Mo tightens his fists. He doesn't really know what to say: he's been repeating that question to himself for almost a year.

“The answer is that you like me” He Tian hazards. He holds his sides gently and Mo doesn't even push him off, taken off guard. “I know you do. That's why I don't understand why you're always resisting me. I'm right here, right now, and I want you. I'm not gonna lie. So you shouldn't either.”

Mo puts his hands on his chest in order to push him away, but he doesn't really manage to do that. He's sweating, the room is hot, He Tian is hot and he can't handle him when he's so close. “I- I don't- I-” he can't think straight.

He Tian giggles and then says: “Stop thinking. This has nothing to do with your brain. This is just a matter of...” He moves one hand from his side and puts his fingers on Mo's heart. He doesn't complete his sentence but he doesn't really need to. It's a matter of feelings, emotions: painful, terrible, annoying things human beings cannot really control. His heart is racing so fast right now. He's so close to give up. He just needs one more reason...

“I won't do anything funny, I won't even touch you if you don't want me to, I promise. I just want us to hug in the bathtub for a while.”

Sounds reasonable, a small part of his mind tells him. The rest of it is shouting not to trust, not to let him get so close, not to surrender so easily, not to get naked in front of him, in any sense possible.

Mo doesn't listen to all of that. “Okay.”

He Tian smiles, a wide and warm smile that makes something inside Mo's body melt. He's not sure what that is.

“Can I undress you or you want to do that yourself?”

Mo is surprised, almost shocked that He Tian asked for permission and didn't just do it right away. “Uhm-” he's so confused by all that's happening that he's not sure what to answer. “I- I mean... okay.”

What the actual fuck? Has he actually agreed?

He Tian looks like he could explode from too much happiness in any second. Stupid, Mo thinks. But he can't help smiling a little.

He Tian softly grabs the collar of his shirt and takes it off from Mo's shoulders and arms. He is now looking at him like he's about to eat him. Mo can't really believe to be able to make someone feel like that; to make feel like that. He can't just ignore the lust in He Tian's eyes. He takes his shirt off very slowly, caressing the skin of his abdomen and chest almost reverently. He takes a minute to look at his naked bust and Mo feels like every centimeter of his body is getting hot. He can't help but shake a little.

He Tian notices. “Relax” he tells him, “we're just getting started.”

That doesn't really help him relax.

He Tian puts his hand under the elastic band of his pants. Mo swallows. He's not sure he's ready for this, but before he can say anything He Tian makes his pants fall down to his feet.

“M-M-Maybe I... I should... take this off.” Mo mumbles, feeling so extremely embarrassed by the thought of He Tian seeing his penis.

He Tian looks like he's fighting a battle with himself and Mo's sure he is: he would normally continue his doing without even caring about what Mo just said, but right now he probably knows he's already been allowed to do things he normally could have just dreamed of. It's almost like he doesn't want to push his luck. “Okay” he agrees, finally, taking a deep breath before undressing himself.

Shit, he's so fucking gorgeous. His muscular torso, his long legs, his perfect face and his... oh, yeah, he's got a pretty great ass. Mo turns around and takes his pants off, his face completely red. It is not the first time he has been staring at the other's body, but never has without even a piece of clothes on.

“Should we... get inside?” he asks but he doesn't really have the courage to look at him in the eye.

He Tian surprises Mo by hugging him closely. His hands are embracing his shoulders and his chest is all around Mo's back. “Sure” he replies, before giving him a small kiss on the neck.

Mo jumps out of his skin and He Tian laughs. He enters first and Mo follows him right after, quickly, pretty impatient to cover as much skin as possible. The water is warm and scented, he can sense his body already softnening, he feels at ease. He Tian sits behind him and hugs him, just like a minute before but now it's way more intimate. He doesn't mind, though. For tonight, maybe, he should just try to enjoy the moment.

“Feels good, huh?” He Tian asks, near his ear.

Chills all over his body. Damn.

“Uhm, yeah” he says.

They stay silent for a while, He Tian's forehead against Mo's nape, Mo's eyes closed trying to avoid the thought of their naked skin being so fucking close.

“Now I'm going to wash your back” He Tian announces at some point. Mo remembers him saying he would do so. He doesn't have the time to answer, 'cause the other boy has already grabbed a sponge and is now starting to gently rub it against his back. It actually feels... pretty good. He Tian goes from his neck to his shoulders and then rubs his spine, from his nape to his sacrum. That freaks him out: he's too close to his ass.

He Tian notices once again and, surprisingly, stops, heading towards the centre of his back. Mo breathes a sigh of relief: he's glad He Tian didn't break his word not to do anything funny. Once he's finished with his back, he holds him tighter with his left arm while rubbing his torso with his right hand, as slowly as before, almost like he's treasuring every second of it. He probably is. 

Mo tries to ignore the fact that he can feel He Tian's dick pressing onto his skin; he's hard. It's such a strange feeling, but he can't help blushing and moaning for a second thinking that he's able to get such a reaction out of him, without even trying. For one, tiny second, he even imagines what He Tian would be like if he just stopped being so stubborn, if he admitted to himself something he is well aware of but is not ready to accept; what He Tian would look like around him if he were able to kiss him and touch him freely. Right now, he basically seems to be in heaven and they aren’t even really doing anything. At one point of them being so incredibly close, he figures themselves in bed and he wonders if, during their first time, He Tian would be gentle or rough or maybe a passionate combination of both. He pictures them...

“Like it?” He Tian asks and Mo jolts, realizing what he was thinking and where he actually is, blushing hard, cursing himself in his mind. When he understands the other's question, he nods. He can sense He Tian's smile on his clavicle.

Maybe he shouldn't regret to have come to his house, after all.

[dapandapod]

Lambert the lark

On Ao3 here! 

This one is for @mayastormborn, because singing Lambert and because Lambert looking very much indeed like Paul Bullion with his curly hair and fancy beard. I had fun.

Beware the swearing and actually rather filthy songs that Lambert likes. Oh and a surprise sentimental thing in the middle there.  It was supposed to be a 5+1 but writing is hard so it turned into a 4+1. Please enjoy!

1. The bar

Let it be known Lambert likes to sing. Let it be known that when Lambert is drunk, he sings very loud.

Most patrons of the tavern he favours in the little shit town Mulbrydale, they know.

Most people living close to the tavern know too. And all the horses in the stable behind the tavern.

Yes, it is known that Lambert likes to sing.

The poor bard entertaining for the night is looking rather exasperated, and there is a bet going on in the corner when the bard actually will just march out. Lambert couldn’t care less. Earlier that day he got paid for a job well done, a basilisk tormenting the locals' livestock decapitated and shoved into the eldermans face.

It was glorious.

So it only makes sense to have a glorious finish, beer foam stuck in his mustache and voice roaring louder that the poor blond lad trying to play his lute. How the fuck does the loud drunk ginger know every song?!

It takes another three tries at a ballad until the bard gives up. Or rather, explodes.

“IF YOU ARE SO KEEN ON SINGING WHY DON’T YOU TAKE THE FUCKING STAGE?!” He screams at Lambert.

Money changes hand in the corner, the bard storms out, and Lambert takes the stage.

Let it be known that Lambert loves Fishmongers Daughter and knows all 27 verses.

Let it be known Lambert still did a better job pissdrunk than the actual bard.

2. The bath

Hot springs are the best thing ever. Really, nothing is as good as settling in to one of the stone pools and soaking in the slightly-too-hot water. Best thing those fuckers funding Kaer Morhen back in the days ever did.

Lambert leans back against the stone, his angry orange locks curling even tighter in the steam. In the next pool over sits Jaskier and Eskel, Geralt is still wrestling with his towel by the wall.

“Hot springs are the best thing ever.” Lambert says, voicing his thoughts. If the moan from Jaskier is anything to go by, he agrees.

“Move over.” Geralt mutters after finally being defeated by the towel.

Lambert opens an eye to peer at him, then spreads his arms across the edge of the pool and closes his eyes again.

“Asshole.” Geralt says fondly, then proceeds to climb over Lambert to get down into the pool.

Stark naked.

Lucky Lambert wasn’t looking, because otherwise it wouldn’t have been Geralt calling Lambert names, but Geralt instead declaring what Lambert was seeing.

“Aaaasshoooooleee.” Lambert sings, his voice bouncing around the walls, giving it a rather otherworldly feel.

“Oooh, nice resonance! Do it again!” Jaskier sits up a little straighter.

Lambert smirks and peeks at a glaring Geralt who now is soaking too.

“Aaassshoooooooolee.” Lambert sings again, and Jaskier joins him, harmonizing. It sounds lovely, so they do it again and again, creating a little melody.

“Please.” Geralt huffs, but he is smiling.

“Nah, I rather like it.” Eskel says agreeably, and really, if Geralt dislikes it Lambert has to continue. Those are the rules.

They experiment a bit with tempo, making it canon, Lambert taking a really low note that Jaskier can only barely meet, and oh the discord of that note sounds great too.

“I'm going to steal your job.” Lambert declares to Jaskier, when they dry off. “Im going to get so much fucking coin.”

Jaskier only snorts.

“I would like to see you try.” He says, amused.

Oh, little bard, you just wait.

3. The night

Silence is different in the woods. Especially at night. The way that everything is asleep, even the trees quieter than in the day. The fire crackles merrily anyway, the wood popping and fizzing. Lambert is feeling a little forlorn, he sits close to the fire and stares at the flames, hugging his knees to his chest.

Aiden is half laying on his bedroll next to him, working on a leather braid for his saddlebags.

It is strange, Aiden is right there, but Lambert feels lonely.

Achingly alone, small among the giant trees, old in a world that forever is new.

His mother died long ago. But her voice comes to him, words half forgotten and a melody that reminds him of honey and of sleep. Before he realize it, its leaking out.

He is humming, a deep murmur in his chest. He can see Aiden look up at him from the corner of his eye, but he keeps his eyes on the flame. Idly he drags his chin back and forth on his freckled arm, letting his beard scratch and soothe him. The heat of the flames feels good, his back too cold in contrast.

“What is that song?” Aiden asks quietly, he, too, afraid to disturb the night.

Lambert finally looks over at him, the light dancing on his face, making his hair look like its own fire.

“I don’t really know. My mother sang it to me.” Lambert never speaks of her. But this is Aiden, and the world is sleeping, and he tastes honey.

“Will you sing it for me?” Aiden asks, of course he does. This is why Aiden is here.

The words are old, the language has long since changed. He sings of rolling hills and budding flowers, of rivers feeling lonely and luring travelers into their cold embrace. He wonders if that is how drowners came to be.

Aiden watches him all the while, the braid still in his hands. Lambert watches the fire, sings lowly into the night.

It feels good, singing her song to the darkness. It feels ever better when he stops and peeks through his locks at Aiden.

Aidens face is hard to read, but his actions are not.

“Get over here, wolf.”

With Aidens arms around him, with the taste of honey on his lips, the crackling of fire behind him, Lambert joins the forest in its slumber.

4. The fight

It’s raining, fuck, it’s pouring down. Thunder is rumbling ahead, the raindrops fat and absolutely much wetter than rain has any right to be. They are soaked, the drop bounce off the armor, the weapons get slippery in their grip, their hair sticks to their faces and necks.

Geralt hates it. As they fight the griffin, he grumbles and mutters.

Lambert thinks he is being dramatic, really, it’s just some water. (Though, to be fair, it’s easy to be positive when Geralt is so extremely cranky. If Lambert was alone, he would be just as miserable, if not worse.)

The griffin is very big, and very angry.

It swoops down from the sky, Lambert aims with a crossbow at it’s wings.

“One little griffin were going shopping in town” he sings, clenching one eye closed while aiming. The griffin flies right above him, his talons inches from where his head was just a moment ago. Lambert swirls around untroubled, and aims again.

“But there came a Lambert, and shot it down.” Water is dripping from his eyebrows, eyelashes, running down his cheeks, but it doesn’t matter.

The shot is clean, it hits the target and a loud shriek announces that the griffin felt it too.

“Stop that! You are just pissing it off!” Geralt yells from the other side of the field, ducking from said pissed off griffin. Lambert smirks, shoving his hair out of his face with the crook of his arm, water sloshing everywhere.

It is a small miracle that he still has a grip on the crossbow. They charge the now grounded griffin, splitting up to make things difficult for it.

“ONE LITTLE GRIFFIN IS FEELING FEELING A LITTLE CRANKY!” Lambert sings, or rather howls, swinging his sword in a tight arc, aiming for the griffins flank. From the other side of the beast, Lambert can hear Geralt harumph in annoyance. It’s fun to work with family.

“BUT THERE CAME A LAMBERT AND-” Here Lambert has to pause.

He even takes a step away, scratching at his wet beard thoughtfully. He turns and yells towards a small grove of trees.

“JASKIER?! WHAT THE FUCK RHYMES WITH CRANKY??”

“Lambert come on!” Geralt yells, and yes, alright, fair.

“OH, NEVER MIND! I GOT IT! BUT THERE CAME A LAMBERT, HE GOTTA HELP GERALT, OR AIDEN WON’T GIVE HIM HANKY PANKY!”

“Wow! A true poet!” Geralt yells again over the shriek of the Griffin. “Now come help me fucking kill it!”

+1 The competition

"You really think you are going to win this?” Jasier says, disbelief and amusement clear in his voice.

“I hope you are ready to pay for my new sword, bardling.” Lambert says with a confident grin. Jaskier shrugs, strapping on his lute.

“Your loss. You do remember I am a very famous bard and poet across the continent, and a very sought after professor at Oxenfurt?”

Lambert makes a very charming snorting sounds and waves it away.

“Work hard tonight, and don’t think of trying to cheat!” Lambert tells him, and waves Eskel and Jaskier goodbye.

They agreed that Geralt is too biased towards Jaskier, so Eskel would go with him while preforming and Geralt with Lambert, to make sure none of them is cheating.

As if Lambert would need to cheat.

They walk towards a rather shadylooking bar by the docks, another one of Lamberts favorites. More than one turn around and give a (semi)friendly nod when he enters. The two of them order their drink and settle down.

“Soooo, when are you gonna go about earning those coins?” Geralt asks, sipping on his tankard.

“As soon as the poor lad stops his wailing. Gotta give him a chance, don’t you think?” Lambert smiles, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

There is indeed a poor lad by the elevated area, trying to sing heroic ballads with an accompanying lyre. Talk about reading the crowd wrong.

As soon as the lad is sat in a corner drowning his lack of success in wine, Lambert rises and stretches.

“Alright, time to make good on this bet.” Lambert steps up and begins clapping his hands in a beat. A few patrons see what he is doing and humours him, so he adds the stomping. And proceeds to sing the filthiest song he knows.

Without going into details, it involves what a lady has under her skirt, and how she uses it when she is a lady with mighty needs. To put it nicely. It takes exactly one verse and one chorus before the coins start.

Lambert gives Geralt a victorious smile.

“Alright, how much did you get?” Lambert asks Jaskier. “I hope you won’t have to add too much from your own pocket, swords are rather expensive.”

“132 crowns and 36 ducats.” Jaskier says with a triumphant smile. “The fine ladies at the brothel where quite generous.”

“Where is Eskel?” Geralt asks, looking around.

“Oh, he found a lady with horns and decided to see if they were real.”

“Again? He really has a thing for succubuses, doesn’t he?” Geralt muses.

“Sure seems like it. So, Lambert, how did it go? How much?”

Jaskier won. Lambert blames it on the florence, being slightly less of value than the crown. He lost by three. THREE. Lambert is pissed and Jaskier laughs, but really, he is sweating big time. Lucky he dresses in layers, because fuck that was close. Jaskier declines every challenge there after.

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[archetypal-archivist]

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'.  "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.