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fadingreveries · 1 year ago

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The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count: 1.2k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

After packing her bags and leaving her New York apartment behind, Riley found herself on a plane with Maxwell and Drake. She gazed in awe at the cream-coloured leather seats, dark oak tables, and a complete minibar with beverages she could only have dreamed of consuming in her lifetime. It was clear that she had underestimated just how lavish their lives were back home.

“Say ‘goodbye’ to New York and ‘hello’ to Cordonia!” Maxwell exclaimed, his arms stretched out wide in front of him and still as eager as ever.

It turned out that not only was he Liam’s fairy godmother on his bachelor party night, but he had now undertaken the new position of Riley’s fairy godmother on her way to Cordonia. He felt very satisfied with the good he was spreading in their lives. Better this than to cause more mischief and mayhem, as Bertrand would put it.

Riley leaned back in her chair, hugging herself tighter with her leather jacket around her. She was dressed in a magenta blouse and black jeans, yet she was slightly shivering. She wasn’t even all that sure if it was because of the air conditioning cranked up high or because of her nervous but excited energy.

She was surprised by her spontaneity at that moment and still couldn't process where she was. “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

Riley knew it was a risky decision to choose. She didn’t know what the future held in Cordonia or what her relationship with Liam would unfold into. But she knew better that to never have tried for something she truly wanted was to regret it for the rest of her life.

“Believe it. We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive,” Drake responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Metaphorically speaking, anyway. But Drake had seen things pretty close to it. In front of other members of the court, noble ladies dished out compliments and gave out diplomatic answers to every question like it was second nature. Being close to Liam showed him the other side of them which involved a lot more name-calling, sabotaging, two-faced conversations, and downright dragging others’ self-esteem across the cold ground.

It was something that rubbed him the wrong way whenever he got an occasional glimpse of it. It was just a constant reminder to him that no one at court could ever really be trusted. If Riley was gonna stick around, she might as well know the ropes as early as she could.

Maxwell knew he was being a Debbie downer again. Or as little Maxwell liked to put his own little twist on it when he was six-years-old, a “Drakey downer.” Maxwell shushed him, putting his finger up to his lip. “Yeesh, don’t scare her, Drake. You okay, Riley?”

“Honestly… I’m terrified,” Riley admitted, suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. “I met you all just last night and suddenly… I’m uprooting my whole life for a competition in a country halfway across the world. I feel like I’m a little over my head for doing this.”

Drake scowled, scoffing as if he almost saw her answer coming. It was exactly the point he kept bringing up to Maxwell when he said Riley would be joining them. “I knew it. She’s not gonna last a week. It’s a waste of time bringing her if she’s not even sure of herself being here.”

“I don’t get why you’re being so grim about this,” Riley muttered, frowning as she looked Drake in the eye. “Is it really as bad as you say it is?”

Seeing the genuinely hurt look on her face, Drake took a second to breathe and rethink his sudden hostility towards her. It wasn’t anything personal. He just knew this kind of risky decision-making only ended in disaster for people.

Mostly, he didn’t want it to negatively affect Liam. He knew Liam hesitated to talk about his feelings in front of others, but Drake could always see the truth in his eyes. No way in hell was he going to let anything hurt him.

Shaking his head, Drake sighed. “Look, no offense, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”

Maxwell had only met Riley the night before but besides Liam, he was quite possibly her only advocate for her time in Cordonia. He didn’t even want to think about how Bertrand was going to react knowing he had technically plucked a random girl from New York to compete in being the next queen of their kingdom.

In a protective manner, Maxwell frowned and retorted, “Riley’s not some crown-chaser. She and Liam have something real. I saw it last night with my own two eyes. And if they don’t believe it, you can personally bring me to the eye doctor to get my 20/20 vision rechecked. Everyone knows that’s just one of my amazing assets.”

“Drake… I’m different from those girls. Liam being a prince doesn’t matter at all to me,” Riley softly said.

The boy she learned to love that one special night was just Liam to her. She knew the title and his responsibility to Cordonia was a large part of his life, but she knew that she would have fallen in love with Liam regardless of what his title was.

Pointing an ironic finger at her, Drake leaned back in his seat and remarked, “That’s exactly the kind of naive thinking that’s going to land you in trouble here.”

Just then, the pilot announced the plane’s descent. Sliding open the window for a brighter view of outside, Maxwell peered out. He knew it was something that Riley would find fascinating and hopefully, it would calm her slight nerves for her big journey ahead. A little boost for her spirits.

“Hey, look! You can see Cordonia out the window! Riley, you won’t want to miss this!” Maxwell said, gesturing her over to join him by the window.

Making her way towards Maxwell’s spot, Riley craned her head to get a better look of the scenery. She gasped in wonder, taking note of the various shades of blue and turquoise in the ocean surrounding the country. The beige and tan stone buildings with roofs of orange and sandy colours immediately caught her eye. There was an expansive wealth of healthy forests with their dark green foliage. She could even see the large white and gold glamour of the royal palace’s architecture from where the airplane hovered over.

“That’s Cordonia? It’s like something out of a fairy tale!” Riley exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with even more enthusiasm by every new sight she saw. “The sparkling ocean, the swaying trees—”

“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of the plane,” Drake interrupted her, although he was a little relieved to see that any trace of her nervousness faded away.

“I’m just saying it’s beautiful,” Riley commented, her mouth still slightly agape and her eyes fixated on the sights below.

“It is, isn’t it?” Maxwell agreed, before turning to observe her. It was exactly what she needed to get excited over her new start. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Riley answered with a grin, feeling like she could handle anything thrown in her way.

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @tessa-liam

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versatileginger · 2 years ago

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HIDDEN | CHAPTER 1

Billy Russo x OC (Ava)

Warnings: Not canon, violence, weapons, stalking (not MMC), murder, everything you'd find in The Punisher universe, no betrayal.

Summary: Billy meets someone that piques his interest. Did he mention she carries a knife?

A/N: Early upload! My very first time writing.. anything lol. English is not my first language. Artwork made by yours truly. Let me know what you thought!

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting gentle rays through the curtains, and with it, Ava's day commenced. The shrill insistence of her alarm clock echoed through the room, urging her to greet the world at 6 a.m. She cherished the early hours, finding solace in the tranquil embrace of dawn. As she stretched, her long, dark hair flowed like a cascading waterfall over her shoulders.

Dressed in cargo pants, a comfortable top, and a well-worn leather jacket, she slung her bag over her shoulder before departing from her snug apartment. It may have been a modest space, but it was her sanctuary, and she treasured the solitude it granted her in the morning.

Amidst the awakening city, with the streets slowly coming to life, Ava made her way to her beloved coffee shop. There, she ordered her customary bold dark roast with a hint of cream and settled at a table near the window. Soft morning light filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow. With her phone in hand, she began to sift through emails and the latest news, savoring these quiet moments before the storm of the workday.

Then, a man in a finely-tailored suit graced the coffee shop with his presence, effortlessly commanding attention. His chiseled jawline and piercing coal- black eyes provided a striking contrast to his impeccable attire. The man moved with a purposeful grace, his gaze sweeping the room. When their eyes briefly met, an unspoken connection formed, acknowledging that they were the sole early risers in the establishment.

"Early start, huh?" he mused, his voice carrying a note of intrigue as he settled at a nearby table.

Ava glanced up from her phone, offering a welcoming smile. "Yeah, I find it helps me focus better at work," she replied.

Billy's curiosity was piqued. "That's interesting. What is it you do then?"

Ava, opting to share a glimpse of herself first, responded, "I work in IT, starting my day early gives me the feeling of having a head start on the day."

With curiosity gleaming in her eyes, she continued, "And what about you?"

Billy smiled, appreciating her inquisitiveness. "I work over at Anvil," he said. "We're a security outfit that helps people stay safe and solve their problems. We've got a diverse team, includin' some ex-veterans who bring real-world expertise to the mix. We handle all sorts of gigs, from keeping big corporations secure to helpin' out in more low-key situations."

Ava nodded, captivated by his work and eager to learn more about him. "That sounds fascinating," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "You enjoy doing it??"

Billy nodded, his gaze focused on her. "It has its challenges, but it's worth it," he replied.

Leaning in, Ava's curiosity was fully engaged. "That's truly admirable," she remarked, sensing his hesitation to elaborate more. "It must be a deeply rewarding job."

Billy nodded, his gaze unwavering,. "It comes with its challenges, but it's worth every moment," he replied.

Their conversation unfolded and as the coffee shop filled with the bustling sounds of other patrons Ava gracefully stood, a courteous smile gracing her lips.

"Well, it was lovely chatting with you," she said, preparing to take her leave.

Billy realized the omission and extended his hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Billy," he said.

Ava shook his hand, her smile warm and genuine. "Nice to meet you, Billy. I'm Ava."

Ava walked away from the table with a casual "See you around," leaving Billy alone with his thoughts. He continued to sip his coffee and recount their conversation, but then he saw her heading for the exit. As she pulled open the door, her top rode up a bit, and Billy caught a glimpse of something glistening.

Is that a fucking knife?'

Ava's workday was a mix of routine and challenges. As she settled into her office, surrounded by computer monitors and the soft hum of technology, she delved into her tasks. Emails poured in, demanding her attention, and she methodically sorted through them, addressing IT issues and providing support to her colleagues.

Her role in IT was diverse, and she enjoyed the ever-changing landscape of her job. Some days, it was troubleshooting technical glitches, ensuring the company's systems ran smoothly. Other days, it was collaborating with her team to implement new software solutions or security measures.

Her work brought her a sense of accomplishment, knowing that her efforts contributed to the seamless functioning of the company. Yet, amid the bustling work environment, she couldn't help but occasionally find herself lost in thoughts of her chance encounter with Billy at the coffee shop that morning. His intriguing job and friendly demeanor lingered in her mind, adding a touch of excitement to her otherwise ordinary workday.

As Ava immersed herself in her work, her coworker, Mark, approached her desk. Mark was a friendly guy with a penchant for coffee, much like Ava.

"Hey, Ava," he greeted her with a warm smile. "How's it going?"

Ava glanced up from her computer screen, returning his smile. "Morning, Mark. It's goin' well so far. Just the usual morning rush of emails and tech support."

Mark chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Tell me about it. I feel like you need a second cup of coffee already. Speaking of which, are you up for a quick coffee break later? My treat."

Ava appreciated the offer and the chance to catch up with her coworker. "Sure thing, Mark. I could use a coffee break. Let's say around 10:30?"

"Sounds perfect," Mark replied. "I'll meet you at the breakroom. Don't work too hard until then!"

As Mark walked away, Ava couldn't help but wonder how he knew she had already had a coffee. Perhaps her caffeine addiction was more obvious than she thought, or maybe it was just a lucky guess. Regardless, she looked forward to their coffee break, knowing it would be a pleasant distraction from her busy workday.

MAIN MASTERLIST HIDDEN MASTERLIST CHAPTER 3

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #frank castle #billy russo x oc #billy russo x female oc #billy russo masterlist #versatilegingers masterlist #versatileginger writes #the punisher

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lily-alphonse · 1 year ago

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-`✮´- Zelink Week Progress -`✮´-

June 28th 2024 Update

Just thought I'd update you guys since I know at least some of you are following me because of my Zelink longfic on AO3. There are a bunch of shorter fics incoming in July for Zelink Week (July 15 to 21) so get hyped :D

Under the Stars: Started Writing!

I'm very excited to be changing it up and doing Skyward Sword for this one. Tooth-rotting levels of fluff

Fading: Idea Phase

Brain empty.

No but like I have a couple ideas but maybe I just won’t post for this one idk.

Blooming: COMPLETE

I just finished writing this one yesterday so it still needs editing, but I'm so glad to be done with one. Its slightly longer than I would have hoped at about 5k words but it’s very good.

Look forward to a melancholy journey to TOTK Zelink’s happy ending with this one

Enchantment: Started Writing!

RENFAIRE AU MY BELOVED!!

I can’t wait to write this one I’ve been sitting on this idea since I watched Fall Guy. Everyone will be able to read it regardless of what games you’ve played. It’s gonna be SICK bro I can’t wait. This is going to be a longer fic so I will actually only post chapter 1 for Zelink week, and then maybe weekly updates from there.

Link in a leather jacket riding a motorcycle>>>>>>>

Spellbound: Idea Phase

Right now I'm leaning towards something to do with puppet Zelda. Basic? Perhaps. But I do love her as a concept and haven't written anything about her yet.

Sealed Fate: Idea Phase

This one I might use for angst. Maybe Link dies or something. Idk

Reunion: Idea Phase

More TOTK Zelink, this time I'm thinking just quick snapshots of them crossing paths. I have a skeleton of an idea but no vibes yet I think I will discover them as I write

You guys are about to eat so good istg

I maaaay have to skip an upload on the longfic to be able to get all this done since my birthday is also smack in the middle of Zelink week but we shall see lol

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ao3feed-destiel-02 · 10 months ago

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On the Edge of the Cliff

On the Edge of the Cliff https://ift.tt/F7fAZOJ by serragracewn Dean Winchester is a quiet, nerdy student who loves books, classic movies, and spending time with his punk boyfriend, Castiel. Castiel, with his tattoos, leather jacket, and rebellious attitude, is fiercely protective of Dean, who has always been an easy target for the high school bullies—Alastair, Azazel, and Zachariah. When the bullies corner Dean one day after school, they take things too far, physically assaulting him and choking him until he loses consciousness. Castiel, arriving just in time, fights off the bullies and performs CPR on Dean, bringing him back from the brink of death. The story follows the aftermath of this traumatic event, focusing on Dean’s struggle with PTSD, anxiety, and the emotional scars left behind. Throughout it all, Castiel remains by Dean’s side, offering love, comfort, and unwavering support, helping Dean rebuild his confidence and sense of self-worth. Words: 3765, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 13 of You Deserved to Be Saved, My Beloved Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Zachariah (Supernatural), Alastair (Supernatural), Azazel (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, High School Student Dean Winchester, High School Student Castiel (Supernatural), Nerd Dean Winchester, Punk Castiel (Supernatural), Punk Castiel/Nerd Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Bullied Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Hospitalized Dean Winchester, Bullying, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Asphyxiation, Choking, Attempted Murder, Near Death Experiences, Temporary Character Death, Scared Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Overprotective Castiel (Supernatural), Comforting Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Worried Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Dean Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Caretaker Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Self-Care, Dean Winchester Learns Self-Love, Angst with a Happy Ending via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/9dkiwKr August 25, 2024 at 06:38AM

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester'#Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

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queenclaudiabrown · 2 years ago

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Living Legend | Chapter Four: Questions and Answers

Content warnings: canon events within the media covered in this chapter, uncensored cussing, canon triggers of all media covered and referenced Media: Moon Knight Season 1 Episode 2 “Summon The Suit”; reference to Primeval Series 3 Episode 1 Word count: 6,939

Sarah woke up sore and stiff in her bed the next morning, in the exact same position she’d fallen asleep in. After crying her eyes dry, she’d taken the briefest of cursory showers and gone straight to bed.

She pried herself off the mattress and made a light breakfast, still queasy from the night before. After forcing it down, she applied enough makeup to mask her exhaustion and dressed in a white blouse, knit vest, jeans, boots, and her beloved caramel leather jacket. Her feet felt like lead as she biked away from her flat.

She was late arriving at the museum, and strangely enough she felt that she didn’t care. Black and yellow striped tape blocked off the Egyptian section- and the destroyed loo- from public access. Feigning ignorance, she strolled as nonchalantly as possible up to one of the security guards- mercifully, not the same one that had helped Arthur Harrow corner Steven yesterday. “What happened? Was there a robbery?”

“We’re not sure yet.” He told her. “One of the toilets got pretty wrecked- some pipes burst and it was really bloody bad, or so I’m told. But a bunch of the Egypt exhibit is screwed up too- like somebody ran around shoving things over or something. And the hallway between it and the toilet is a mess too, racks knocked over and stuff.”

“Weird.” Said Sarah with false casualness. “Hope they find out what happened.” She quickly moved away, turning her head as she scanned for Steven/the mummy dude or Harrow. To her relief, she spotted the former across the way, and they hurried toward each other.

He threw his arms around her immediately. “Thank God you’re okay.” He said, voice muffled. “I woke up alone in my flat and I didn’t know if you’d made it out alright.”

Okay, so Steven definitely wasn’t secretly a superpowered American with a magic mummy suit and glowing eyes. “I’m fine. I met him- the other bloke. He saved us and sent me home.”

He pulled back and nodded, then scanned her with his eyes. “Are you hurt? Did anything happen?”

She shook her head. “Scratches at the worst. He took care of the jackal pretty quickly. I sort of just… hid under the sink.” She averted her gaze, directing it to her hands as she picked at a hangnail. “I hope it’s not cowardly to say that. I didn’t have anything to defend myself with, and I thought that if I tried to fight it I could get torn into pieces by a monster I can't see.”

“It’s not cowardly, Sarah. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t try to fight it. If you had died- if you’d been killed by something sent after me- Sarah, I never would’ve forgiven myself.”

Her eyes watered. “It wouldn’t have been your fault, Steven, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Worry flooded his face again. “Sarah, I watched the security tape. The jackal’s not on it. It’s just us running around looking like bloody lunatics. And then there’s me carrying you out, but I’ve got this really mean look on my face.”

“He insisted on carrying me so I wouldn’t get in trouble for wrecking the toilet.” Sarah revealed. “I mean, I couldn’t see the jackal, so I guess it makes sense that the cameras couldn’t either. But why could you? And why could he- whoever he is- see it and kill it so easily? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I haven’t got a bloody clue myself either. Just ’cause I could see the bloody thing doesn’t mean I know why I could, or what it was.”

“But we know who sent it.” Sarah reminded darkly. “Arthur fucking Harrow. Whatever shit he’s spreading about his and/or Ammit’s version of a good person is exactly that- shit. A good person wouldn’t unleash an invisible magic hell jackal on two innocent people who may or may not have a random scarab. Not that I want to talk to him personally, or have him be anywhere near you again, but he could’ve asked in person for us to hand it over. Instead he went straight to murder.”

“It did seem like a bit much.” Steven agreed in his Steven way.

At that moment, another one of the security guards- Kat, Sarah thought her name was- approached them and informed them that the museum director wanted to see them both in his office. She wished them luck before dashing off to stop a human tower of unattended small children from scaling a display.

A haze of stress and memory descended on Sarah, and she walked and sat robotically. She didn’t snap back into the present until the museum director set two plain white mugs of steaming coffee on his desk. “I should tell you the museum has no wish to press charges.”

“Okay.” Steven replied jitterily, quickly taking a mug. After a moment, he offered it to Sarah, who took it with a tiny twitching smile of gratitude. He returned it, taking the other cup for himself.

“But, Mr. Grant, Ms. Page-”

“-‘Doctor Page’-” she corrected lowly, a habit she’d formed over the years since receiving the title. For a moment, she remembered when she had corrected Lester upon their first meeting, but shook her head to banish it.

“-Dr. Page,” the man corrected himself annoyedly, “we’ve spoken to your colleagues.”

“Yeah?” Steven’s nerves were almost tangible, infecting Sarah with a stress more heightened than the one already threatening to empty her stomach.

“It’s all been a bit of a struggle for you recently, hey, Mr. Grant?” The man continued, sitting down into his chair. Sarah wasn’t even the one he was speaking to, but her jaw clenched at the painfully ‘sympathetic’ tone of his voice.

Steven didn’t seem to notice how truly condescending it was, dropping his head with something akin to a sigh. “Yeah.” He admitted, sounding ashamed and close to tears. Sarah wanted to throttle the man behind the desk. “A bit, a bit.”

“This particular group of doctors has a long-standing relationship with us.” She man continued, and Sarah drew in a deep breath and let it out through her nose to calm herself. It didn’t work, so she obnoxiously slurped her coffee instead, glaring at him over the rim. The beverage tasted awful- the creamer was probably either gone off or some artificial non-dairy substitute, and there was next to no sugar in it. The roast itself tasted cheap and almost stale.

“Doctors?” Steven questioned. The man slid a pamphlet across the glass top of the desk, and Steven nodded as he understood. “Oh.” He reached out and picked it up.

“They’re wonderful.” The man continued.

“Yeah?” Steven’s voice was timid but hopeful, and Sarah’s murderous desires surged. He didn’t deserve this.

“I could arrange an appointment.”

“Okay, yeah.” Steven was nodding. “It looks… it actually looks quite posh.” He chuckled. “Looks like they’re very good listeners, right?” He opened up the brochure and showed Sarah one of the artfully-structured ‘inviting’ pictures of an employee supposedly offering advice and a sympathetic ear, then held it up for the man to see.

“They really are.” The man agreed. “I know this is classic HR to say, but… but you’re not alone.”

Sarah was sure the man had good intentions, but his demeanor made her skin crawl. Not in a creepy way, but in that condescending, patronizing way she was so sick of receiving.

“Yeah? That’s like, part of the problem, innit?” Steven took a drink of his coffee as the self-spiteful words left his lips.

“Before you leave us, I’m sorry for the protocol of it, but… any museum property on your person?”

“No, I-I haven’t nicked anything, I swear. I…” He set down his coffee mug to rifle through his pockets, briefly producing a small folding mobile and a square-tagged key before tucking them away again. “No, nothing.”

The man cleared his throat and indicated, and Steven looked down at his nametag on the left breast pocket of his jacket. “Yeah.” Steven forced out after a moment, and Sarah could see how he struggled with losing literally every piece of something he’d worked so hard for and loved so much. He took off the tag, glanced down at it in his hands for a moment, and set it on the desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Grant, that will be all. You, Miss Page, are not being terminated. We’ve reviewed the security footage, and we’ve decided that although you were part of the incident, you weren’t the main culprit of the incident, and therefore you will also not be penalized in any way.”

For a moment, her heart jumped. She loved working Museum, and being in such a familiar place was almost like she hadn’t been torn out of her old life and universe and injected into this one. She could stay, without having to fight for it.

But in the few seconds that she straightened eagerly in her chair, lowering the cup from her lips, she made her decision.

“Actually, I’m quitting.” She declared, eyes hard and cutting as she glared at the man behind the desk. “I don’t want to work in a place that bullies and shames someone into feeling like he’s less than everybody else.” She chugged the rest of her coffee- gross as it was, she was going to need it- and reached up to unclip her own nametag from the white blouse she wore. She slammed it down on the desk, a tiny bitter part of her hoping it left a scratch on the glass top, and shoved to her feet. Linking her arm through a bewildered Steven’s, she marched for the door, tossing one last sharp-tongued remark over her shoulder:

“And it’s Doctor Page.”

Ten minutes later, what little they both owned that had been left at the museum was collected, and they had left the museum for the last time. Sarah was too angry to feel sad about it.

And now they were sitting on the edge of a fountain next to the living statue of a man Steven called Crowley. He was wearing a suit and monocle, pained gold with one arm outstretched. Blue eyes, nearly the same shade as Nick Cutter’s, were the only exterior sign that he was a living human and not an incredibly realistic art piece.

“Well, that’s it. I got the sack. I don’t blame ’em- I’m a vandal, I should’ve been arrested.”

“You’re not a vandal.” Sarah sneered- not at him, at the museum HR, at the chaos and injustice of it all. “You- him- whatever- saved both our lives, killing that… that thing, whatever it was. So what if you smashed up the sinks to do it? They can well afford to repair everything, with how much they make and how little they pay- paid- us.”

“I did- I did find things, hidden in my flat, I swear. I’m not joking.” Steven continued, still worked up over everything. He tilted his head, staring intently at Crowley. “That’s worth exploring, isn’t it? Like if I could find that storage locker, that might be my one chance to prove to myself that I’m not… mad.” His voice had changed, going from frustrated to hopeful. “Oh, mate, thank you.” Abruptly, he leaned forward and hugged Crowley, who startled and blinked at the unexpected physical contact. “Thanks, cheers.” Steven patted him on the back before standing up.

He was striding off before Sarah could blink, and she scrambled to pull a pair of tenners out of her wallet to drop into the gold-painted man’s hat. “Sorry about him, keep up the good work.” She rushed out before hurrying after her friend.

Steven produced the key from his pocket again, staring down at the maroon plastic intently. Reaching his side, Sarah peeked at it around his arm. “Do you recognize the logo?” She asked.

“Hmm? No, I don’t, but I reckon if I walk around enough I’ll find it somewhere. Wonder what the ‘J’ stands for.”

Sarah mentally groaned at the thought of the two of them traversing every street in the greater London area looking for this symbol. That was if it was even in London and not somewhere else. But she didn’t voice those thoughts. “We’ll find it twice as quick if we split up. Let me take a picture of that, and we’ll split up. If I find it, I’ll ring you, yeah?”

“You’d do that for me?” Steven looked at her in wonder, and her heart melted.

“Of course, Steven. You’re my friend.”

Thirty minutes later, Steven rang her, excitedly telling her he’d found the place. She asked him to wait outside, then ran down the sidewalks until she reached the address he’d given her. Soon enough, they were together again, and Sarah controlled her breathing and smoothed her hair as they walked into the building.

It wasn’t the right one, irritatingly, and they tried four more before they had any luck.

“Hiya. You alright?” Steven greeted the receptionist (if that was the word).

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, um, look, man, this is like, the fifth branch we’ve been to.” He began. “I’m looking for my storage locker. It’s under ‘Steven Grant’. If it’s not under ‘Steven Grant’, it might be under ‘Marc’… I don’t have a surname, just ‘Marc’. Would you have a look for me, if that’s alright? I know it sounds-”

“Of course.” The man cut him off, not rudely. “I know you. Number 43, right? I never forget a face.”

Sarah and Steven exchanged looks. “Must be it, then.”

The man led them to #43, down corridors formed from the corrugated steel sides of the surrounding lockers. Fluorescent lights came on overhead noisily as they entered their corresponding sections, bathing them in an odd greenish color. After unlocking and removing the padlock, the man left them, and Steven pulled the door open.

They stepped inside, Sarah finding a lightswitch and flicking it on. The door shut behind them as that same color flooded her vision, the light illuminating the contents of the room. Several rugged-looking plastic storage bins were stacked in places, a few others alone scattered about. A rack of shoes and other items stood beside the door, with what looked like some sort of pop-up clothes rack on another wall, a few shirts and pairs of trousers occupying its bar. A single military or camping cot had been set up, with a pillow on one end and a neatly-folded blanket or two on the other. Becker would’ve been all over it in a second, Sarah was sure.

“Whoa.” Sarah breathed. “Whoever the other bloke in your head is, he’s… blimey, I don’t even know what.”

Steven didn’t reply, slowly walking deeper into the room. He eventually crouched beside the cot, opening the military shoulder bag set atop a couple storage bins next to it. Sarah came up behind him, observing over his shoulder.

“Oh my God.” Steven said upon seeing the topmost of its contents- a shiny silver handgun with a black grip. He picked it up by the end of the grip, looking more weary than wary. He deposited it on the cot, and Sarah eyed it for a moment, wondering why Marc had it. It wasn’t common for Brits to have guns unless they were military or police, but Marc was American- sounded it, anyway.

Steven delved deeper into the bag, producing several thick wads of foreign banknotes belonging to multiple currencies. He let go of them in favor of a passport, opening it to find Steven’s face on the American interior. “‘Marc Spector’.” Sarah read the name attached to the picture. Well, now they had a surname.

Steven sighed and put the passport down. He moved a map out of his way, fishing something out from underneath it. “No way.” He breathed, producing… a golden metal Egyptian scarab? “It’s real, it’s totally real.” He touched it with his other hand, and two small but intricate wings popped out of its sides.

“This is what was in your pocket in the Alps?” Sarah asked, eyes tracing over every line of the object in awe.

Before Steven could answer, the scarab started flying, lifting off of his hand and leaving a small, flat piece behind. Sarah straightened, stepping backward away from it as it largely hovered a few inches above Steven’s palm. “Whoa.” He breathed, slowly getting to his feet. “I’d say you’re a compass, but you’re not pointing north.” He remarked, more or less following it as it moved.

“South, I’d say.” Sarah agreed. “Southeast?”

Abruptly, Steven’s posture changed, and the scarab dropped back into his hand. Sarah frowned. “What is it?”

“Marc?”

She drew in a breath, glancing between Steven and his blurry reflection on one of the room’s walls. “Is he talking to you again?”

Steven nodded. “There he is, here he comes.” He waved at his reflection. “Hello, man in the mirror. I was wondering if you’d pop up again.”

“Me too. I’ve got some questions for him.” Sarah stated, crossing her arms and glaring at the wall.

“A bit, yeah.” Steven replied to something Marc had apparently said. A moment later, he gestured about to room. “No? Well, a bit late for that innit? So what, what- am I, like, meant to be some sort of mad secret agent or something?”

Sarah had seen some strange things in her time… prehistoric creatures mistaken for pagan gods… time portals… monsters from the future… mad scientists… clones. She doubted the truth behind Steven and Marc would be much madder than that.

“More complicated?!” Steven suddenly demanded. “What, am I possessed? Are you like, a- a demon? Or-”

He cut himself off, or maybe Marc did, and Sarah’s eyes flicked between the two versions of her friend- though to her perception his mirrored image was merely that- as she waited for answers with bated breath. After a few moments, Steven glanced over his shoulder at the cot, then looked back at the wall. “Are you joking?” He spluttered. “Sleep- I’m never gonna got to sleep again! You hear me?! Look, I don’t care how bloody handsome you are-” Sarah snorted at the sheer insanity of that comment “-tell me what it is you are. What are you?”

Steven’s voice was rising, and it scared Sarah. Not because he was frightening, but because nothing worked up Steven Grant enough to make him raise his voice, and now his reflection was freaking him out more than literally having his life threatened had seemed to.

“Yes, bloody- yes.” All was silent for a few moments, but the next word out of Steven’s mouth made Sarah’s blood run cold. “Khonshu?” A moment later, he followed it up with “The Egyptian god of the moon?”

“Great, first we’ve got Ammit, now Khonshu as well. Steven, please tell me there’s not a freaky cult of Khonshu out there like Harrow and Ammit’s thing and you- Marc, whatever- are part of it.”

“Oh my God, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Steven suddenly said, turning his back to his reflection. Sarah’s coal-black eyebrows shot up. “Not you, Sarah, him, what he said.”

“Well, what did he say? I’m only getting your half of this bizarre conversation.”

“Erm- well, he says that he’s Khonshu’s Avatar, or something, and he, like, protects the vulnerable and delivers Khonshu’s justice to those that hurt them.” He scoffed, clearly not believing it. “I eat one piece of steak, and then bam, I go bonkers.”

Sarah frowned, considering, as Steven sat down on the cot. She thought back to that awful night six months ago- Marc clad in the grey super-mummy outfit, a metallic crescent moon on his chest matching the one he’d killed the predator with. Marc, or whatever his name really was, carrying her bleeding form to a hospital.

“Wait… Steven, he might have a point.”

“What?! Sarah, you can’t possibly be buying into this- this rubbish.”

“Maybe it’s not rubbish.” She replied, meeting his eyes. “Steven, six months ago, I was living in another universe, and the year 2009. Something awful happened to me- this horrible creature that had to do with my work nearly killed me, and I crawled through a portal and wound up in a bloody alleyway here in London in the middle of night. I was hurt, and it was going to kill me. But then Marc showed up- you know, in the outfit, all mummy-ish and stuff. He saved my life and killed the creature, and he brought me to the hospital. He never told me his name, but his voice- it’s the same voice you were speaking with last night when that suit popped out of nowhere in the loo and you killed the jackal.” Sarah took a breath, struggling to wrap her head around it all. “Mythologically, Khonshu is called upon to protect people from wild animals, or to help heal people and cattle. That night, I was vulnerable, and he saved me and killed that thing with some sort of crescent moon… throwing star… thing. Steven… it makes sense. It all adds up- the mythology, what he just told me, him saving me that night.”

Steven tore his gaze from hers and redirected it to the pistol beside him. “You want my body?” He demanded. “Right, yeah. Marc, how about this for a deal?” He shoved to his feet and grabbed the bag he’d found the scarab and gun in. “I’m gonna take this bag full of illegal shit, yeah, and I’m gonna go straight to the authorities, and I’ll tell them I threatened Sarah into helping me if they go after her, and they’re gonna put me away so I don’t hurt anyone else, and hopefully NHS will fill me with enough pills so that you get out of my head!”

As he had rambled this incredibly ridiculous plan, he zipped up the bag and began backing toward the door, and the overhead lights began flickering again. “Steven!” Sarah called, chasing after him. She paused, then darted back to grab the gun and tuck it into the waistband of her trousers, concealed by her leather jacket. “Steven, stay with me!”

Steven slammed the storage locker door and the flickering stopped. Down the hall from them, a light went out, and then one came on on their opposite side. “Steven, I don’t like this, what if it’s Harrow again?” Sarah worried. “What if there’s another jackal?”

God, she’d do anything for an anomaly to be the problem right now, even if it spat her back into the exact hellhole she’d crawled out of six months ago.

The second light began going on and off rapidly, its speed ominously ever increasing. “Oh God, oh God.” Steven muttered under his breath as the lights began switching on and off as if illuminating something moving rapidly toward them. Suddenly, Steven screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, pulling Sarah after him with a yank on her arm. The lights were flickering and flashing, and all around them the storage lockers were shaking. “Is it another jackal?” Sarah panted out, right on his heels.

“It’s Birdy again!” He replied in terror, confusing her for a moment before she remembered what he’d told her about the looming person with the giant bird skull head in the lift of his flat building. With this new context, Sarah realized that since he was apparently sharing a body with Khonshu’s Avatar (if this story was to be believed, which Sarah was starting to), he was probably seeing Khonshu in some form or other.

They began hooking corners, Steven looking over his shoulder repeatedly and still shouting and screaming. Turning yet another corner, Steven came to an abrupt halt, and Sarah skidded into his back, both of them unbalancing but somehow managing to stay upright. “What?” Sarah hissed. Steven didn’t reply, staring up toward the ceiling in terror. After a moment, she chanced: “Khonshu?”

Steven screamed again as a storage locker’s door banged open behind them, and Sarah grabbed at the collar of his jacket and yanked him backward. Spurred into motion again, Steven took off running once more, and the two finally escaped the maze and came into the brightly-daylit exterior sections of the building that the storage facility shared. Steven careened into the street, tripped and fell, and flung his arms up to shield his head as a motorcyclist screeched to a stop less than a foot away. Sarah stopped at his feet, hurriedly squatting with the intention to get him upright again.

The motorcyclist leaned over and peered down at Steven. “Marc?” She questioned with an American accent. “Where have you been?” Her gaze traveled to Sarah. “And who’s this?”

Steven looked up at the woman cautiously. “Layla?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “This is Layla?”

‘Layla’ cocked her head. “Yep. And I still don’t know who you are.”

Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself. “We’re kind of being chased right now- second time in twenty-four hours, might I add, getting real sick of this- so if you don’t mind, can we save the introductions and explanations for when we’re not possibly about to die?”

Layla eyed her for a moment, then gave a half-shrug and canted her head. “Alright. But I definitely can’t take you both on this.” She indicated the motorbike she was riding.

Sarah nodded. “Right, well, I can take the bus, since you two seem to know each other.” She wasn’t sure how much Steven and Layla had spoken on what was apparently Marc’s phone, but she knew that they had talked, and Steven knew Layla enough to recognize her. “We’ll meet up at your flat, and I’ll take the bus, yeah?” She pulled Steven to his feet.

“Right, yeah, cheers, I’ll… sounds good.”

Layla thrust a second motorcycle helmet into Steven’s chest, and Sarah nodded her head in a decisive farewell before she turned and sprinted down the street the way Layla had come. As soon as she could, she climbed up onto the outside of a double-decker bus and rode holding its rail until they reached a street near their flats, and from there she walked. Well, jogged.

Sarah got there before Steven and Layla, and she paced nervously for a few minutes before resolving to make herself a cup of tea. Steven wouldn’t mind, and she made a mental note to buy him an extra box of it even though she hadn’t taken the last teabag.

She was sipping the hot beverage and leaning up against his kitchen counter when the door opened, Steven leading Layla through. Seeing Sarah, his nervous expression relaxed slightly. “Oh good, you’re here. You make it alright?”

Sarah nodded. “No trouble on my end. You?” She asked, watching Layla- who she could now see was both really pretty and not white now that the helmet was gone and her eyes had adjusted and they weren’t in a tense situation- as she slowly meandered into the flat.

“No, no, we were good.”

Layla bent down to look at Gus the goldfish, tapping on the glass as she observed him. There was something strangely magnetic about fish- young or old, people loved to stare at them and watch them, in tanks or in the ocean, in real life or in videos or films.

“I just want my life back.” Steven said quietly after a long few moments.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Layla remarked acidly, standing straight again.

“No, sorry, I- I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself, sort of.” Steven rushed to apologize.

Layla took notice of the bedroom area. “Uh, this is your flat, Marc?”

“Uh, I’m Steven.” He corrected.

She didn’t seem to care. “Are you living here with someone else?” She demanded, piercing him with her gaze that quickly flicked to Sarah. “Her, maybe?”

“‘Her’ has a name, which I’m happy to tell you now.” Sarah responded. “It’s ‘Sarah’, by the way. Doctor Sarah Page. And no, Steven and I aren’t like that- we’re just friends, that all, and until we got sacked this morning we were colleagues.”

“Yeah, no, exactly, Sarah’s right. This is my mum’s flat.” Steven agreed.

“Okay, so you guys are- are talking again?”

Steven made a humming noise of confirmation, surprising Sarah. She didn’t know Mrs. Grant (or ‘Ms.’) had started returning her son’s twice-daily messages.

Layla picked up a book off one of Steven’s many bookcases. “Marceline Desbordes-Valmore?” She questioned, her pronunciation of the French name flawless.

“Yep.” Steven confirmed, then surprised all both women as he began reciting one of the poems in French:

“N’écris pas. Je suis triste, et je voudrais m’éteindre.

Les beaux étés-”

Surprising Steven and Sarah alike, Layla joined in:

“-sans toi, c’est la nuit sans flambeau.”

“Oui, oui.” Steven half-joked. “Yeah, she’s my favorite poet.”

Layla frowned. “Um, no, she’s my favorite.”

Sarah sipped her tea. “Can’t two people have the same favorite poet? My mother and father met trying to grab the same copy of one of Phyllis Wheatley’s Poems.”

“He knows she’s my favorite, and I know he knows that, so it’s stupid for him to act like he doesn’t know that and she’s his.” Layla told Sarah, only slightly clarifying things. She wandered across the flat, gesturing with the book to the heaping piles of Egyptian books on Steven’s desk. “So you’re learning French and hieroglyphics?” She prodded.

“Yeah, well, that’s not that impressive, really. It’s not like hieroglyphs are a whole language.” Steven told her, strolling over to the desk as well. “It’s more like a-”

“-Like an alphabet.” Layla completed shortly.

“Yeah, and… well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it.”

“Sure.”

Steven opened a book and pointed to the text on its page. “For example, like this one here, right?”

“Funeral rites.” Layla cut to the chase.

“You’re Egyptian, aren’t you?” Sarah guessed, drawing their attention to her. “Whether you were born there or not, it’s in your blood, right? I was trying to figure out what your ethnicity could be. Like, my mother’s from India and my father’s from Morocco, even though they both live here in England and I was born here, so I learned Arabic and Hindi from them, but I was fluent in English first. If you’ve got ties to Egypt, it’d make sense for you to know some form of the language.”

Layla eyed Sarah rather critically. After a moment, she spoke. “You know, I thought I wasn’t gonna, but I like you. You’re smart, and you’re not mean about it.” Sarah offered her a small smile, unexpectedly touched by those words. “And I’m just- I’m not buying this, Marc. Use whatever accent you want, yeah, let’s just get this over with.” She strode across the flat and picked up a bag, from which she produced a document envelope. “You sent these papers but you never signed them.”

“Did I? Uh….”

Layla presented them to him matter-of-factly. “This is what you wanted.”

Steven fished in his breast pocket for his glasses. “Have a look here….” He said, taking the papers to read over them.

“After everything, you told me that we needed to move on.” Layla said.

“Alright... divor- divorce?” He looked up at Layla in surprise.

“Yeah, we doing this or not?” She demanded, nodding at the papers.

He glanced back down at the documents. “I would never divorce you.”

Sarah tilted her head as everything clicked into place. “You’re not just angry, you’re hurt. You don’t want to divorce Marc, but you think that he’ll never let you be with him, so you’re going along with it, and you’re not even willing to hear Steven out about him not being Marc.”

Layla shot a look at her, but otherwise ignored her. “What are you doing?” She demanded incredulously of Steven.

He removed his glasses, his face earnest and his voice soft. “Look, you seem absolutely lovely. This Marc, on the other hand, is a right twit, yeah?” He looked over at a small mirror on his wall as Sarah chuckled at the description. He stammered a moment as he looked back at Layla. “I don’t know how to explain what’s been happening. I don’t expect you to believe me; I honestly don’t really believe myself. All I can do is try to- try to show you what I found, yeah.” As he spoke, he went over to the bag he’d taken from Marc’s storage locker, putting the divorce papers down.

Sarah threw back the last of her tea and headed over to them, standing about a meter behind Layla with her arms crossed. “I found this bag in the storage locker.” He continued. “Well, Sarah and I found it.” He opened it, rifling through the monies. “And inside of it is all sorts of things, most interestingly-” He paused abruptly, and Sarah frowned.

“‘Most interestingly’ is what?” Layla pressed.

Steven looked back down at the bag, a myriad of emotions on his face. “Nothing.”

What had Marc said to him to make him stop? Sarah added another bullet point to her ever-growing mental to-do list: smack Marc next time he was controlling Steven’s body.

“Nothing?” Layla repeated disbelievingly.

“Nothing, never mind.”

“What’s in there?” Demanded Layla, going for the bag even as Steven tried to stop her.

“Nothing. Wait, wait-” He was cut off as Layla shoved him aside and delved into the bag. “Bloody hell.”

Layla ceased her search, pulling the golden scarab out of the bag with a combination of betrayal, anger, and wonder on her pretty face. ��The scarab pointing to Ammit’s ushabti- what we fought side by side for.”

“No-” Steven tried to interject, but Sarah was still processing the new information Layla had casually blurted out. An ushabti was a small representative figurine used in Ancient Egyptian funeral practices, one of the many items that was put into someone’s tomb. So, apparently Ammit had a tomb and an ushabti- possibly separated from each other, given that Layla had said that the scarab led to the figurine instead of just Ammit’s tomb- and the scarab was indeed a compass of sorts, but drawn to a specific object or location instead of the magnetism of the North Pole. Thirdly, Ammit’s tomb and/or ushabti was likely located somewhere in Egypt, as it was to the southeast- the direction the scarab had floated in- and a reasonable place for a tomb of an Egyptian demon deity to be located.

“This whole one-man show is just- what, so that you can keep it for yourself?” Layla demanded, cutting off Steven and returning Sarah’s attention to her.

“No no no, I swear-” Steven again tried, but Layla wasn’t done yet.

“Why? After all that we’ve been through? No, just stop! Stop! I’m supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in- what, a gym bag?”

“Take it! Take it, you can have it.” Steven told her, clearly taking the woman by surprise. “Take it, take it, I don’t want it. I swear. Have it.” By his voice, he was close to tears, so very worked up over the stress of the last few days and this massive burden that had descended upon him. “I am not Marc Spector. I’m Steven Grant. I work in a gift shop- well, I used to work in a gift shop- and I think I’m in real danger. Me and Sarah both are, and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help us. Please.”

At the Egyptologist’s name, Layla looked over at her. “He’s telling the truth, Layla. This Marc bloke’s only been speaking to him for a couple days- through mirrors, apparently- and he somehow got ahold of that scarab, but now there’s this Ammit-worshipping cult creeper guy who set an invisible Egyptian jackal on us last night trying to get it back. Steven could see it, I couldn’t, but it very nearly killed both of us, and then Marc took over his body or something and grew some fancy mummy armor and killed it.”

Layla’s face had softened, the anger draining out of it and giving way to sadness. No- heartbreak. “You really don’t remember why we’ve been looking for this?” She questioned Steven, now sounding like she herself was fighting back tears as she held up the scarab. “Our adventures… or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.” Steven told her, and Sarah knew he meant it.

Abruptly, there was knocking on the door. “Steven Grant? Can we have a word?” A feminine voice asked through it.

“See?!” Steven hissed, pointing at it. “Oh, God, they’ve come for me.”

“Why?” Layla queried.

“I vandalized the toilet.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, shaking her head fondly. “You did not. Marc did, when he was killing that bloody jackal thing. Besides, the museum’s not pressing charges, remember?”

The woman knocked again. “Yeah, just a minute.” Steven called.

She knocked more. “Steven Grant?”

“Yeah?”

“DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy here.” The woman replied as Layla pocketed the scarab.

“Yeah, one- one second.” He opened the door and peered through the opening. Layla raised a finger to her lips to signal Sarah not to speak. “Hello, officers.”

“Steven Grant?”

He nodded, and Layla made a silent beeline for one of the windows. “I think so, yeah. I mean- yeah, yep, yes. That’s me- 100% Steven Grant.” Sarah shook her head at the absolutely overkill confirmation, then frowned. Why was this woman so insistent about his name? “Sorry, I was just having a bit of a day.” He apologized.

“Mind if we come in, Mr. Grant?”

“Oh, um, actually, right now isn’t-” he looked over his shoulder back into the flat, but his protests were cut off.

“Appreciate it.” A man said, thrusting the door open and strolling in. Sarah narrowed her eyes at his behavior- surely that wasn’t legal.

“Anyone else here with you?” The female DC asked, her eyes lighting on Sarah a moment later.

“Just me.” Sarah smiled. “What seems to be the problem, officers?”

They didn’t answer, both of them walking deeply into the flat, more intrusively than Layla had. “So, um… yeah. Is this about the toilet?” He asked nervously. “’Cause it’s been dealt with, yeah. I’ve been sacked, and uh, yeah, that’s….” he trailed off, seeing the female DC standing by his ringed-with-sand bed, holding the singular ankle restraint. “I have a sleeping disorder.” She dropped it and walked away. “And, yeah, well- the museum said that they, uh, wouldn’t press charges as long as, uh-” The sound of his shower curtain being yanked back cut him off briefly. “-as long as I do it in installments. They- They uh, they said that I could.”

Steven turned abruptly to see the male DC standing quite close to him, holding a small pyramid. “What’s this?”

“It’s a paperweight.” Steven answered.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Paperweight shop.”

The sound of pealing bells reached their ears, and the female DC strode toward the window Layla had been heading for- and apparently snuck out of, since she was missing and the window was open. Sarah cursed her failure to notice that.

“You’re in possession of a stolen item.” The man told Steven as he sat down.

“Oh, yeah… no, I don’t have it.” He told him as the DC went into the bag the scarab had been in. Sarah subtly tugged her jeans higher up on her hips and the back of her jacket further down to better conceal the gun that had also been in that bag. Without him being able to produce a legitimate firearms license, he’d’ve gotten into a world of trouble for having it in the flat. “I don’t, no. It’s not here.”

The male DC took Marc’s passport out of the bag, and Sarah sucked in a breath quietly. “‘Marc Spector’?” He read, and Sarah finally realized something very suspicious about him- he was American.

So were Marc and Layla. And Arthur Harrow.

And this American DC, who clearly held no regard for at least some laws (Danny had been very emphatic in teaching the team their rights in case they ever had trouble with police, whether it was anomaly-related or not), was very intently searching for something. Sarah was willing to bet it was the scarab, and that these coppers weren’t actually coppers, but cultists of Ammit. She casually put one hand on her hip, readying it to whip out the pistol.

“That’s not mine.” Steven told the man.

“Funny that.” He sneered, sauntering up to Steven and lowering himself to Steven’s height, holding the passport up and open. “Fella looks just like you.”

“Twin brother adopted at birth.” Sarah deadpanned.

“Fake passport and a thief?” The woman said, and Sarah felt the pit of dread in her stomach worsen as she realized where this was going. The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I think you best come with us, son.”

“And her.” The man jutted his chin indicatively at Sarah. “Aiding and abetting, accessory after the fact.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, not even bothering to defend herself. Both fake cops- she was sure of it now- produced handcuffs, and when Steven tried to back away, the man shoved him down face-first on the floor and cuffed his hands behind his back. Fearing the gun would be discovered, Sarah presented her hands to the woman with a calm façade. They were ‘escorted’ to the car and put into the backseat without so much as a mention of their rights. Steven seemed too upset and distressed to notice that error in their disguises.

One of Sarah’s lines is a slight variation of one of Amy Pond’s lines from Doctor Who, specifically “Vincent and The Doctor”.

#primeval #moon knight #sarah page #steven grant #layla el-faouly #khonshu #the british museum #queenclaudiabrown

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 2 years ago

Text

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 4a

*Warning Adult Content*

Phone Number - Part 1

- Knox -

Knox didn't get any sleep last night because Everett didn't get any sleep last night.

The boy tossed and turned until a few hours before sunrise.

At one point, he screamed himself awake because of a nightmare.

More are bound to follow, given what all he experienced in the past twenty-four hours.

Knox couldn't help but pity his temporary roommate, enough to buy Everett a new charger so he can finally use that damn phone of his.

"I don't care who you reach out to, just don't reveal your location."

Knox tosses the yellow Dollar Store bag at Everett after entering his bedroom.

"Has Josie stopped by? I ran into her while I was on my out and she told me she had something for you."

Everett nods from the bed, quick to unbox the phone charger.

"She delivered a few toiletries shortly after you left. My skin was desperate for some lotion and it felt great to brush the stank out of my mouth. I'll never take toothbrushes for granted again."

"Yeah, because your breath smelled like..."

"Fuck off, you big panda. I didn't ask for your snarky commentary."

Knox's head falls backward as he laughs.

He shouldn't find Everett to be this amusing but he does.

Too much, if he's being honest.

Perhaps the way Everett carries himself is to blame.

His looks make him appear sweet and innocent but when set off, his mouth runs exactly like a filthy sailor's.

He's cute but deadly.

The absolute worst kind to fall for.

"Was that supposed to hurt my feelings or something?"

Knox removes his beat-up leather jacket and kicks off his shoes before joining Everett on the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it.

"It doesn't, by the way. Pandas are one of the most beloved animals on the planet. Everyone is a fan of pandas."

"Yeah, well, I'm not everyone," Everett mutters.

"In fact, I think they're extremely overrated."

Knox laughs again.

"Fuckin' liar. You couldn't even look me in the eyes when you said that."

"Don't you have someplace else to be?" Everett replies sharply, meeting Knox's playful gaze.

"No," Knox says. "Getting under your skin is far more entertaining.

"God, you're so annoying."

Everett plugs the charger into the wall outlet beside the nightstand and hooks his phone up to it, struggling to keep from smiling.

"I prefer this version of you over the one who almost strangled me to death. Are you always this hot and cold with the people you kidnap?"

Knox purposefully avoids answering the question because his targets are usually dead by this point.

"Why panda?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes. I'm very curious to hear why you matched me to one of the most adorable animals in the..."

"Okay, enough." Everett rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching and wanting badly to rise. "You're dressed in black and white, and you're about the size of a pregnant one..."

They both chuckle at that.

"It was honestly the first thing to pop into my head as I watched you get dressed this morning."

"I thought you were still asleep then."

"I'm pretty good at faking it when I want to."

Knox bit back the inappropriate comment he wanted to make and instead allowed a comfortable silence to settle between them.

He responded to a few texts while Everett checked in with his people.

Knox appreciated the lie Everett told his parents in claiming he had spent the night with a boyfriend.

If only Shaun were still alive, Everett definitely would've been with him.

The what-ifs leave Knox feeling unsettled, so he quickly brushes them off.

The life that Shaun lived would've eventually caught up with them both.

It was only a matter of time before Everett witnessed firsthand just how cruel life was for a biker.

Going forward, Knox secretly hopes the boy will think twice about dating men that are no good for him.

Not that he should fucking care.

"My friends knew about Shaun and I being together."

Everett frowns while looking at old texts sent from Shaun, most of them flirty one-liners.

"They've sent me a thousand questions asking if I knew more about what happened. I assume they watched the news from last night."

"What did you tell them?" Knox asks.

Everett sighs, shaking his head as he deletes his conversation with Shaun.

"I hate lying to them."

"I know it's hard, but it's for their own good."

Knox drags a hand through his hair and exhales a heavy breath.

Since when did he become so... nice?

"You seem like a decent kid, Everett. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess..."

A loud knock at the door makes Everett jump from his spot on the bed, effectively ending the conversation.

Knox doesn't move an inch.

"Who the fuck is it?" Knox growls, his demeanor doing a complete 180.

"The owner of the house," Gavin replies. "Come out here for a minute. We need to talk about the kid."

Everett reaches for Knox without thinking twice, one hand gripping Knox's left arm with enough force to leave behind an imprint.

The boy's light brown eyes are glowing bright with fear and his bottom lip is back to trembling.

Knox instinctively leans in closer, almost as if he's no longer in control of his body.

"Please don't let him hurt me," Everett whispers with a panicked voice.

"I won't say a word to anybody about anything, I swear. You have to believe..."

"I do. I believe you, Everett. You're safe with me, alright? I've got you."

"You promise?"

" I promise."

Everett nods and drops his hand, allowing Knox to stand and crack open the door.

Gavin doesn't peer inside being nosy, merely laughs at how ridiculous his newly appointed Enforcer is acting.

Must be something in the water.

"What's up?" Knox asks.

"I'll tell you as soon as you get your ass out here," Gavin says. "Or would you prefer the kid hears everything?"

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ao3feeddestiel · 10 months ago

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On the Edge of the Cliff

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/o85IPLK by serragracewn Dean Winchester is a quiet, nerdy student who loves books, classic movies, and spending time with his punk boyfriend, Castiel. Castiel, with his tattoos, leather jacket, and rebellious attitude, is fiercely protective of Dean, who has always been an easy target for the high school bullies—Alastair, Azazel, and Zachariah. When the bullies corner Dean one day after school, they take things too far, physically assaulting him and choking him until he loses consciousness. Castiel, arriving just in time, fights off the bullies and performs CPR on Dean, bringing him back from the brink of death. The story follows the aftermath of this traumatic event, focusing on Dean’s struggle with PTSD, anxiety, and the emotional scars left behind. Throughout it all, Castiel remains by Dean’s side, offering love, comfort, and unwavering support, helping Dean rebuild his confidence and sense of self-worth. Words: 3765, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 13 of You Deserved to Be Saved, My Beloved Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Zachariah (Supernatural), Alastair (Supernatural), Azazel (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, High School Student Dean Winchester, High School Student Castiel (Supernatural), Nerd Dean Winchester, Punk Castiel (Supernatural), Punk Castiel/Nerd Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Bullied Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Hospitalized Dean Winchester, Bullying, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Asphyxiation, Choking, Attempted Murder, Near Death Experiences, Temporary Character Death, Scared Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Overprotective Castiel (Supernatural), Comforting Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Worried Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Dean Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Caretaker Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Self-Care, Dean Winchester Learns Self-Love, Angst with a Happy Ending read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/o85IPLK

#IFTTT #On the Edge of the Cliff #serragracewn

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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My Best Friend (1)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: mention of stalking]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

This series has a sequel under a different title, My Beloved Nymph, which you can read here: Part 1

_____

Aemond arrived at their house a little late, angry and discouraged. He had to drive the drunk and mumbling Aegon home again and reassure their mother, that he would be fine. He was tired of being his nanny. He slammed the car door shut and walked out of the driveway onto the porch of house.

He knocked on the door. After a few moments he heard footsteps and the sound of a lock opening. It was opened by Klaus, a tall, handsome brunette with a slender face and brown eyes. He was the owner of the house and his longtime buissnes partner. He got him access to all kinds of booze - and more - to the club Aemond owned.

"Sorry, something stopped me." He said shortly as he entered.

Klaus just looked at him meaningfully.

"Aegon?"

Aemond didn't answer. His grimace was enough. He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the hanger. They went into the living room, where two other men were sitting - Albert and Criston.

Aemond immediately shook hands with the second man - they had been on good terms for years, Criston was also a frequent visitor to his club. He shook Albert's hand as well, though not as much with joy.

Albert was a slippery and unpredictable man. Aemond knew, that he had been trying to do business with the Mafia for years, and he preferred to stay away from such things. After a brief greeting, Aemond settled into one of the armchairs.

Klaus offered him a drink and Aemond just nodded. The living room and kitchen were separated from each other only by a countertop. Following Klaus, he saw, that there was another person standing in the kitchen.

The girl he saw was the younger sister of Klaus. Their eyes met. She smiled at him in greeting, and he nodded to her.

Y/N was still on University. He knew, that she was a designer and could draw. Sometimes she would sketch them from afar at one of their meetings, though she hid herself so well, that usually no one noticed. Aemond, though they had only exchanged a few sentences during their "acquaintance", was fond of her.

She didn't seek constant attention and didn't bother them, unless something very urgent happened. She distanced herself from their affairs, knowing, that some things were better left out.

Sometimes, when they drank too much and she came down to get a glass of water at night, Klaus would make fun of her and she would make him laugh and tease him. They were tossing some nonsense and rolling with laughter, causing Criston and Albert to laugh too. He envied their relationship.

Although he had a good relationship with his sister, Healena, they were never able to establish such a connection. They were both incredibly closed and distant. Y/N and Klaus were assertive and empathetic, mischievous in a comical way, but at the same time, somehow, affectionate. They reminded him in an unpleasant way of how broken his family was.

Y/N went upstairs and they started discussing business topics. Albert tried to get Aemond to take some "new" drugs from his mob colleagues, but he steadfastly refused. No amount of money or opportunity could force him to get into this shit. Most of all, he wanted Klaus to get him whiskey and vodka at a better price than before.

They talked until late. Criston was the first to say goodbye, an hour later Albert left. Aemond also got up to slowly make his way home, but Klaus' voice stopped him.

"How is your father?"

Aemond stopped. He didn't know, if he wanted to discuss this. His mother tried to talk to him about it, but he didn't want to. Not with her. Klaus, however, was an outsider. Aemond sighed.

"Getting worse." He replied after a moment of silence. "He confuses my mother's name with his ex-wife."

Klaus was silent for a moment.

"Let's have another drink."

One drink turned into two, then three. Aemond was talking about Aegon and his father. About how when he opened the club, his father didn't go there once. About Aegon having a drinking and gambling problem. That he keeps bringing home new girls, much to his mother's despair.

He was surprised, that he was spilling all this, but Klaus was a good listener. He didn't interrupt him or lecture him. Occasionally he would comment on a sentence, but generally he looked at him with understanding.

Aemond felt he had drunk too much. His ears were ringing and his head ached terribly. He rubbed his temple, closing his one eye.

"I should go home now." He said as he slowly got up from his chair. He felt dizzy and grabbed the fireplace mantle beside him.

"Oh, man, you're not going anywhere." Klaus laughed, supporting him by the arm. "Sleep on the couch. Tomorrow is Sunday, so you don't have to go anywhere in the morning anyway."

Normally, Aemond would have refused, but today he didn't have the strength. It was almost three in the morning, he could have ordered an Uber, but he was afraid he would puke all over the car.

"All right."

***

He was awakened from a deep sleep by the gentle clinking of plates and cups. He opened an eye but closed it immediately, blinded by the morning light from the windows. His head was bursting. He wondered what time it was.

He made one more attempt to look ahead and saw, that Y/N was quietly bustling about in the kitchen. He could see, that her movements were slowed down, trying not to slam cupboards and putting dishes away, without making any louder noises. Her face was literally determined not to wake him.

She glanced at him to see, if she was succeeding, and when she met his gaze, she frowned apologetically.

"Sorry, I'm so hungry." She said, as if she had to justify herself, that she wanted to have breakfast at her own home.

"I'll be making scrambled eggs and casseroles. Will you eat with me?” She asked, her voice light and unjustified contentment.

"What time is it?" He asked instead of answering, rising to a sitting position and clutching his head. He felt like it would explode. Y/N looked at him understandingly.

"Eleventh." She said, and he just let out a heavy breath. He knew he shouldn't have had any more booze, and he wished he'd not listened to Klaus.

Y/N started to rummage in one of the cupboards, standing on tiptoes. It caught his attention, that she herself was still in her pajamas. It was warm, so she was wearing shorts and a black T-shirt with the words "Depeche Mode" written on it. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

Very often they played songs of this band in his club. Apparently Y/N found what she was looking for, because she turned to him and waved a box of painkillers at him. He just nodded without saying a word, and she poured water into a glass. She brought it to him along with the pills and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Thank you." He replied, reaching straight for the package. Y/N sighed sympathetically but said nothing. He appreciated it. He didn't want to listen to mothering and lecturing about the effects of drinking too much alcohol.

Aemond got up and Y/N went back to making breakfast. He sat on the other side of the counter on the seat, so that he watched what she was doing. He had to admit, that in the chaos of her activities, he had to appreciate her resourcefulness and how she also kept the scrambled eggs from curdling and the casseroles from burning to a crisp.

At first he didn't feel like eating, but the smells, that reached his nose, made him change his mind.

"Sorry for the trouble." He finally said, realizing that Y/N was doing him a favor. She just shrugged and laughed.

"Come on. Happens to the best ones." She said and looked at him with a smile.

Only now, looking at her from a closer distance, he realized, that her eyes were not blue. They were blue-green, changing color slightly depending on the light. Her dark, long eyelashes, eyebrows and hair, made her eyes look even bigger. He watched her silently.

She had a soft, relaxed face. Her figure was slender and fragile, and she was quite short. The shorts showed off her long legs. He thought, that she’s pretty. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of her words. "Ready!" She made the verdict, placing the food on a plate. She handed him one, which made a beeping noise.

In the meantime, she made tea for herself and coffee for him. She didn't ask his opinion, but made it the way he liked it. Perhaps because Klaus had prepared one for him many times. It reminded him of her brother.

"Klaus won't be joining us?" He asked, trying the scrambled eggs. It was tasty, though he would have added more onions to it. Y/N looked at him. She swallowed her bite before answering.

“He said he would eat something in town. He has some errands to run at one of the stores. He asked me to take care of you." She said the last sentence with a slight amusement characteristic of her.

It wasn't ironic, it was more of a mild annoyance. The one she usually shared with her brother. Aemond frowned at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been called a smile. Y/N noticed the nuance as she smiled even wider.

Aemond feared, that Y/N would force him to talk, but she didn't. She ate in silence, staring at a point behind him, her eyes betraying, that she was thinking about something.

Aemond realized, that since he'd known her, Y/N had never shown any sign of reserve or fear of him. On the contrary, she was never afraid to express her opinion in front of him. She wasn't afraid of looking ridiculous in his eyes. He wouldn't be able to do it.

His image was everything to him. The lack of one eye and his blindfold created an invisible barrier around him, a wall, a vision of a cool, distant and resolute man. Also towards women, he always felt the need to be a domineering person, who could not tolerate opposition.

On the one hand, he needed directness, on the other hand, he felt, that the women he had met so far, expected this from him. Despite the confidence, that was real, he felt tense around them even, when he slept with them.

However, now, that he was sitting with Y/N at breakfast, he felt relaxed. He knew, that even if he remained cool and distant, he wouldn't discourage her. Her behavior towards him openly told him, that she had sympathy for him, and whether he wanted it or not, he couldn't reject that.

Y/N blinked as if she remembered something. She looked at him, but in a rather unusual way. She looked like she was considering whether to ask a question, but nothing came out of her mouth. Aemond stopped eating.

"Something happened?" He asked, wondering why she was staring at him like that.

Y/N put down her fork and thought for a moment. For someone so talkative, it took her quite a long time to put her thoughts into words. He knew she wanted to ask him something serious, and he didn't know if, after talking to Klaus yesterday, he wanted more outbursts.

"I don't want to burden you. But I have a problem." She said hesitantly, waiting for his reaction. Aemond raised his eyebrows.

"Problem?"

Y/N pursed her lips. It worried him. Her expression was desperation. He had no idea, what’s going on. She curled up in the seat and swallowed.

"Albert sends me messages." She said finally. Aemond's face hardened.

"Texts...uh." She rolled her eyes as if she couldn't say it. She shrugged. "Well, you know. And he sends me pictures of himself. God." She sighed, burying her face in her hands, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. “I asked him to stop. He stops for a few days, but then it's the same again." She said dropping her hands. She didn't look at him, she was ashamed.

“When he comes here, he doesn't seem to do anything. But when she greets and cuddles with me, she does it so that I…” She paused for a moment, her eyes turning red. Her knee began to move uncontrollably. She finally dared to look at his face.

He could see, that she was fighting herself not to cry. He felt his heart pounding. He swallowed hard, looked ahead, and drank some of the now-cold coffee. He thought, that he wanted to kill him. A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wanted to ask you… Do you think I could talk him out of it somehow. Did you notice, that I was giving him mixed signals with my… behavior or in any other way? He once wrote to me that I pretended to be a saint, but I must be quite a... slut deep down, because of how I look at him." Her voice trembled as she uttered the last sentence, and Aemond felt his jaw tighten.

"I've never noticed you giving him any signals." He said slowly, through slightly clenched teeth.

Y/N stared at him with wide, red eyes. She was silent for a moment, then nodded and sighed. With the rest of her strength, she brought a slight smile to her face. She got up to collect their dishes.

"Thank you." She said, taking his plate. "You've calmed me down."

"Will you tell Klaus?" He asked, looking at her intensely. "Or do I have to do it?"

She stopped, her face hardened. She didn't look at him. She moved after a moment, but no answer came out of her mouth.

Aemond felt the blood pulsing through his veins. Her confession sobered him completely. He got up, walked around the counter, and came over to her, until they were inches apart. She turned to him, startled by his sudden movement.

"I asked you a question." He said coldly and low.

She looked at him with her big eyes. The words stuck in her mouth. She took a step towards him. Then the second. He wondered what she wanted to do, but didn't pull away. They were so close, that their faces were practically touching.

"Klaus knows." She said despairingly. "But they have signed contracts for next year. He would pay heavy fines for abandoning them, Albert made sure of that. Klaus is afraid, that if he wants to stop working with him, Albert will file an anonymous report about his illegal transactions. There are more of them than I thought. He never told me about it before."

There was bitterness in her words. She dropped her gaze to the floor. Aemond couldn't find the right words to say.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked softly, after a moment of silence. She didn't answer right away.

"...For two months."

They stood there speechless, each looking in a different direction, lost in their own thoughts. He felt Y/N rest her forehead against his chest. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed softly. He didn't move away.

Subconsciously, he placed a hand on her back. He stroked them with his fingertips. He placed his forehead against her hair and closed his eye. They were soft. He could smell the pleasant herbal scent of her shampoo in his nose.

"I'll take care of it."

#aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond the kinslayer

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

Note

UR WRITING IS LIKE SEROTONIN AHH MORE STUFF LIKE THE URGENT BATHHOUSE MEETING PLS🙏 it was so funny

Me, thinking everything that I say is funny: 🤣😂

Everyone else: 🧍🏻‍♀️

Don't need to read this for continuation, but Part 1 here.

SOS Men of Lookism: Urgent Bathhouse Meeting Part 2

!! Spoilers for latest arc. Massively breaking the fourth wall. Part 3

Another call for a meeting in as many months.

Samuel's lip curls as he reads the invitation. He doesn't remember the rest of the men being so needy.

Once again, they find themselves in the bathhouse.

Many absent this time, having made their peace with the storyline and their development. No obvious division to be seen, although they have naturally split into their own groups.

Still, the room is full of intimidating and powerful men naked and half merged in the water.

Sweat drips down their chiselled bodies, beads of water collect and pool in collarbones, rolling down hard pecs and sliding across cut abs.

The dampness from the vapour leaves a slick sheen on any exposed skin, highlighting scars and muscle. Hair damp, tendrils curling at the nape and locks framing their face. (Gun's 438 panel and the fan's reactions still at the forefront of most of their minds.)

Few of their usual guard and defenses are left, instead the heat of the water and the steam softens their edges, making them placid and pliant. Their voices mingle together, filling the air.

"Hey fuckos," Vin places an arm each around Hudson's and Jay's shoulder, "Do I complete the team or what. You guys are lucky to have me."

"It's nice to see you," Daniel agrees as the two blondes shrug Vin off, "Although it would be good to have Mary too,"

"True," Vin scratches his chin in thought. "Haven't see her in like 200 chapters."

"Yeah bro, when's our backstory dropping?" Taejin adds, sitting a little further away.

"Fuck OFF asshole, I'm not talking to you!" Vin throws a punch towards his former friend.

Vasco, ignoring Vin and Cheonliang's business, interrogates Jace about the status of his beloved Burn Knuckles, checking that all the welfare of his crew is ok.

"-And I like your earrings." Vasco inspects Jace's right ear.

"Thanks," Jace's hand reaches up to fiddle with his new jewellery, "It was painful, but I guess we're really going for Gun's vision with your scar and our leather jackets too."

"What about you?" Zack observes the rest of Allied with disinterest, instead seated besides Johan.

"I dunno. I really miss Eden and Miro," Johan worries his lip between his teeth, "I've been in this coma for forever."

"Shame." Samuel comments with a smirk as Jinyoung cackles next to him.

"Aish!" Sinu exclaims in frustration, "I can't believe I got arrested again. Yeonhui has been giving me grief non-stop."

"Huh? I thought it was unclear with you. Didn't you make it out?" Brad's brows knit in confusion as Jason shrugs.

"Sorry man," Jake apologises anyway, looking sheepish and scratching the back of his head.

Jerry, along with the other members of Big Deal, assures their boss that it's fine before addressing their No.6. "Lineman, looking forward to your power up."

Lineman gives them a winning grin, chest puffing with pride.

Taesoo watches a young!Gapryong wading towards him and the Kwak brothers. Their conversation stops, silence falling upon them as they notice his presence.

"Forgive my interruption," Gapryong starts, "Taesoo, please tell me how you managed to appear in so many flashbacks?"

Jichang's eyes drift over to Taesoo, "Share your secrets, Ansan."

Eli, standing bare by the showers, examines his reflection in a mirror, "I'm thinking of going blonde again."

Warren watches his friend, quickly losing interest in the conversation. "I [don't] care-"

"NO!" Goo jumps out, "There's too many blondes as it is." His fist waves in Eli's face. "I'M THE OG!"

"Put that away," Gun shoves his partner's hand roughly, "You'll find that that is Jay Hong."

"You fucking-!" Goo aims a kick in his direction, and a fight breaks out.

"So... what usually happens here?" Baek Hangyul directs to DG and Eugene, the three of them lazing in the water together.

Eugene gulps as he eyes up Hangyul's torso and abs, thinking that he should up his own workout routine.

And it's not that he is insecure with his body, but he can't help but shrink below the water a little when sitting in the middle of these two sex symbols.

"Not sure," DG says, running his fingers through his pink tresses and watching Gun and Goo squabbling at the far side of the bathhouse. "More fan service, I guess."

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queenvidal · 3 years ago

Text

The Girl Who Never Cries

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 6: Bad Blood

Chapter Summary: You have to face the punishment for your actions, but it's nothing you could have ever imagined.

Wordcount: 2288

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language. - Part 1 of the The One And Only Series - Takes place during the beginning of season 7

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

“What were you thinking?” Rick's voice makes you sigh in annoyance. After Daryl brought you to your house and you took a quick shower, your father sat you down at the kitchen table. While he is overjoyed having you and the others back, in one piece even, he’s still angry about what happened at the gate.

“Dad, can you calm down for a moment?” You ask him softly.

But he continues, “They will punish you, Y/N.”

“For what?” Exasperation is clear in your tone. “For laughing?”

Rick throws his arms up in frustration. “Disobedience, Y/N! This will have consequences.”

Loud and feigned laughter escapes you. “Oh, now you are concerned about consequences?”

“That’s nothing to joke about, Y/N-” Rick tries to defend himself, but you won't let him.

“Dad, for real now, I’ve just laughed. Admittedly at the wrong moment, fine, but so what? I haven’t touched Dwight and Mr. Mustache intervened before anything could have happened.”

Your father sighs in frustration. With his elbows resting on the table, he lays his head in his hands. He is clearly worried and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “I think it would be the best, if you were out with Daryl next time they come for the pick up."

You look at your father in disbelief and you say, “You can’t be serious. If anything, that would only make things worse. I made a mistake, Dad, and I will take responsibility for that.”

“But Negan-”

“Negan won’t kill me for laughing, Dad. He takes me for one if not the most useful scavenger of the community.” Or at least you hope he still does. While he had told you that much, he is still hard to read and predict, especially with how you two parted ways the last time you two spoke.

“If something happens to you, Y/N-”

“It won’t.” You assure him with your hand resting on his arm, “Promised.”

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

In retrospect, you should not have promised anything. The closer the next pickup came, the more you were on edge. All of the confidence you had a week ago dwindled as the days went by and when the all too familiar sound of the trucks settled at the gate, even the smallest rest of it went right out the window.

With your hand still clinging to the doorknob of the infirmary, you debate whether you should quickly scurry back inside. With your heart rapidly beating against your ribcage you watch the saviors jumping out their vehicles, gathering at the gate. The last time you felt that anxious was the night at the clearing. Giving the circumstances, you might follow Glenn and Ab, somehow you have a feeling you can't really talk yourself out of this one.

Your hands start to sweat as you search the gathering crowd, Negan has yet to appear somewhere. Maybe he isn’t supervising this week's pickup. Simon had to replace him already one time for whatever reason. Maybe it’s going to be the same thing today. No, it’s just wishful thinking and you know that. He won’t miss the chance to punish Alexandria for fucking up. And just as that thought passes your mind, you spot the signature leather jacket of the saviors leader in the crowd. Negan marches through the people, his beloved bat resting against his shoulder. And he looks pissed.

Your stomach churns in response to your rising heart rate. The fight or flight instinct is screaming at you to go back inside, but you force yourself to stay your ground - you are scared but not a coward!

Some of the saviors walk up the street to the pantry, as it is just the routine by now. They eye you with knowing grins on their faces as they pass you by, feeding your anxiety. You watch them making their way, when Negan's voice roars over the place. “Y/N!”

Startled, you look back at him. He stands in the middle of the street with his head high and scowl on his face. He commands you over to him with a wave of his hand. “Get over here. Now!”

His tone of voice doesn’t leave any room for argumentation. With a deep breath, you finally let go of the door and slowly turn towards the street. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins but you try your best to hide it, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with Negan, while your feet carry you forward.

Once standing close enough and in front of the leader of the Saviors, you come to a halt. His eyes are trained on yours, Lucille casually resting in his gloved hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see some if not most Saviors stopping in their tracks, eager to watch the scene unfold.

Your father appears on the edge of your peripheral vision but you don’t dare to break eye contact with Negan.

“So,” he starts, his voice slightly quieter now. “Simon brought to my attention that you think orders are something you can ignore and laugh about.”

“I-

“Nope!” He cuts you off immediately and raises Lucille to point at you for a brief moment. ”No talking - you’ll listen!”

You worry the edge of your lips with your teeth, your nerves slowly getting the better of you as you endure Negan's glare.

“You know, I thought you understood the message I delivered when we first met, but maybe I was wrong, which for your sake I hope I am not.”

“No, I-”

“Cause if I am and you actually don’t give a shit about our previously so smooth working relationship, I’m gonna have you receive the message yet again. Maybe you forgot about who is in charge now.”

“I don’t query your authority or the one of your men.”

Negan narrows his eyes at you. “Yet you laughed when receiving direct orders from one of my top guys.”

“I laughed because he threatened me with a knife.” It was a pathetic attempt to scare you and shut you up. Just like the first time Dwight tried that on you, when he so miserably failed to kill you in the woods.

Negan studies your face for a moment and leans against the hood of the parked car behind him. “Thing is, I like you and it would be moronic of me to go too hard on you. After all, you did gather an insane ass load of stuff for me in the past few weeks. But I also can’t let shit like this slide, which begs the question now,” He pauses for a long moment, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. ”What should I do with you?”

You clasp your wet hands together, trying to at least appear calmer than you actually feel and after a quiet moment, you respond, “Whatever you see fit.”

Negan scratches his beard, deep in thought. The longer the silence streaches on, the harder your heart beats within your chest. Suddenly, Negan turns his head around and calls over his shoulder. “Hey, D!”

Your eyes snap to Dwight, who approaches you two with way too much confidence for your liking. Like one of the boys in kindergarten who tells on the other kids to gain the teacher's approval. Pathetic.

“Dwighty-Boy, what do you think?” Negan's nickname for that asshole almost makes you throw up. “I can’t go too hard on her for several reasons. But she sure as hell needs a reminder that you’re someone she has to respect.”

Dwight casts you a creepy smile. “Well, maybe not too hard on her, but she wasn’t alone.”

No! You can feel all the color drain from your face and your heart sinking into your boots.

“Right,” Negan says, his attention and eyes back at you. “You had a friend.”

“Daryl has nothing to do with this!” You reply while fighting your voice from faltering. You remind Dwight, “That’s something between you and me.”

Dwight snarls back, “He disobeyed as well.”

“Because of me!” You almost shout, anxiety tightening up the knots in your abdomen. If not for Daryl, you would have stabbed Dwight. “I was the one laughing at y-”

“He’s just as-”

BANG!

Both of you jump at the sound of Lucille hitting the car with enough force to bash a serious bulge into the metal. “Enough of this petulant fucking bullshit!” Negan's patience is running out.

“Since you two are acting like fucking kids, we’re gonna settle this like fucking kids.” Negan waves at you for you to come closer. “Y/N, you're gonna apologize to Dwight and better make it sound genuine.”

With eyebrows knit together in confusion, your eyes switch between Negan and Dwight. “What?”

“Now.” Negan urges, looking at you somewhat expectant.

Baffled by Negan’s strange idea of a solution, you turn to face Dwight, who seems to be just as unhinged. “I am sorry for the disobedience and the inappropriate laughter afterwards. It won't happen again.”

Negan turns his head towards Dwight, waiting for a response.

Dwight glances at him for a split second, before looking back at you. “Good.”

Negan pushes himself from the hood. “Now shake hands like goddamn adults, so we can move the fuck on."

You both raise your hands for a handshake, albeit the mutual aversion.

Once both of you let your hands fall back to your sides, Negan claps his hands together, his signature smile back in place. “Now that this shit’s out of the world, let's get back to business.”

You and Dwight look at each other in equal confusion as Negan swaggers away towards the pantry, whistling his usual melody.

What the hell just happened?

Dwight takes a step closer to you, his voice quiet enough to only reach your ears. “I’ll get you killed and then I'm gonna kill Daryl.”

You look back at him with narrowed eyes and with an unreasonable amount of venom in your voice you reply, ”I can’t wait to see you try.”

Dwight just scoffs at you before he takes off, slithering back to the side of his boss like the sad worm that he is.

The crowd around you starts to dissolve again. Taking this as your sign of finally being dismissed, you hurry past everyone to get down the street and back inside of the infirmary.

Once the door is closed behind you, you try to calm your nerves. While trying to control your rapid breathing you walk the room up and down, counting down from ten and then again and again.

Eventually, you sit down at your desk, with your eyes glued to the clock above the door. Time passes agonizingly slow, while your mind is running wild. After a few more minutes you slowly start to relax.

With your notebook and old medical journals cluttered all over the surface, you consider returning to your studies. You might as well use the time instead of just waiting for the Saviors to finally leave again.

And just on que, you hear the door opening. You hope for Rick to finally announce the Saviors departure with his usal scowl on his face.

But instead your eyes fall on a black leather jacket and you resist the urge to fall back into the chair. Somehow you figured and actually feared the show on the street was actually just a show, with the real punishment still waiting to be delivered to you. At least it’s going to be in the privacy of the infirmary and not on the street for everyone to see, preserving what’s left of your dignity.

Negan closes the door behind him, his face void of his usual smile. “Just wanted a quick chat and then you'll be rid of me.” He leans casually against the door, keeping the distance between you two.

In response, you lean forward on your desk, resting your folded arms on the surface. The absence of Lucille doesn’t go unnoticed and it strangely calms you down a little bit. But then again, Negan doesn’t need the bat to kill you, he still has his gun and a knife.

His eyes bore into yours for a long moment before he finally speaks up. “Y/N, I'm gonna be honest with you, no one and I mean no one would have gotten out of this situation as unscratched as you just did.”

You figured and you wonder what Negan's motives are to let you live. He must have ulterior motives and not knowing what he wants is freaking you out. “I am aware.”

“You better be.” He says, pushing himself from the door. “Disobedience is not tolerable, neither is disrespect."

“And I understand that but Dwight-”

“I don’t give two shits about the bad blood between you and Dwight,” He interrupts you in a harsh tone. “And I advise you to do the same.”

Negan comes to a halt in front of your desk, looking down at you with a stern expression. He leans down, resting his hands on the desk, coming closer to an almost eye level, as if he wasn’t intimidating enough already. “I think we both know, I’d not harm you. ‘Cause I’d absolutely hate to ruin this pretty face of yours.”

Despite the tense situation, you can’t stop the blush from settling on your cheeks.

“There are enough useless shits in this town who don’t go out to scavenge. I don’t want to kill your people if I don’t need to, but if you force my hand, I’ll do what I gotta do - do you understand?”

“I do.” You stare back into his hazel eyes and believe to notice them falling on your lips for a fleeting moment.

“Consider this my absolute last warning, sunshine.”

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd

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annepsilvaauthor · 2 years ago

Text

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 1

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 4.321

Author note: I'm back, my loves, with the first chapter of this series!! ✈️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 As you'll see, I focused more on Phoenix in this intro. But calm down! We'll have the others soon. In this fic, there will not be only one protagonist. I will try to analyze and show you some characters. I hope you like the way I'm making this fic. Let me what you're thinking, I love to know about it.

Prologue

ᴅᴏᴡɴᴛᴏᴡɴ ʟᴇᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ, ᴄᴀ

Phoenix and Storm paid their Uber and walked down the short sandy driveway to Jerry's Bar. Phoenix was wearing her scuffed dark boots, skinny jeans, and a beige silk shirt, the top four buttons of which were undone. Her ebony hair blew in the cool night breeze, touching the tanned skin of her face highlighted by simple makeup.

"OK. What can a bar in the middle of nowhere offer us?" Storm asked before they opened the double wooden door.

Phoenix watched her bite the inside of her mouth, a typical gesture when her best friend was anxious. Storm always left the programming up to Phoenix because first, she was so excited by the variety of choices that she was unable to decide, and second, Phoenix knew how to have a good time. Storm was fully confident that they wouldn't lose the night if Phoenix was in control.

Phoenix watched the blue-bottomed flowery dress sway on her pale legs and Storm hugged her body against the cold despite wearing a leather jacket over her shoulders. She smiled. Even the wind knew Storm's anxiety level.

"I heard that the best drinks in town are sold here. And... there are lots of games." she said enthusiastically with the last part.

"You and your addiction to competition." Storm rolled her green eyes. "I just hope we don't get kicked out of that bar too."

"That was an exaggeration of the manager."

"You monopolized the pool table all night, yelled at the losers and even made a scene when the manager wanted to close the bar."

"It was too early."

"It was five in the morning!"

"Okay, okay! I assume, I may have gone a bit overboard last time." She raised her thin arms in surrender. "What can I do? I love a challenge."

"I love it too, but that's not why I go around screaming at the manager's mother for wanting the fucking cue ball back."

"Wow, I was really drunk that day. I love old ladies, I would never yell at them when I'm sober." Phoenix confessed moving her lips, but turned her gaze to her friend. "And you're judging me for what? Don't you remember that day in Florida?"

"No, I have a mouse brain. I don't remember anything after five minutes." She turned her face towards the bushes.

"You disappeared for forty-five minutes and came back dressed as a clown."

"And? You know I like good characterization."

"You stripped the clown from the fucking children's party!"

"It was not my fault. He offered me tequila on the sly. You know how I get on tequila."

"Your brother will never invite us to Clarinha's parties again." Phoenix warned holding back a laugh.

"He doesn't know what he's missing. We don't go to parties. We are the party, baby!" she called out to nothing with open arms. "Now let's bring some fun to these California people!"

Phoenix let out a laugh like she always did when she was next to Storm. Since they met during the Naval Academy, they have been inseparable. Not that they were exactly the same, but their differences complemented each other. Storm was the gale in Phoenix's sense of order and she brought stillness to Storm's overcast clouds. They were perfect opposites.

They entered the Texan-decorated bar. There were several animal heads impaled on the walls, bearskins for rugs, wooden tables, chairs, and counters. Phoenix noted the pool table in the far right, the foosball table to the side, the dart board in the back, and the racks for beer pong to the left. In the center was the dance floor with a jukebox.

"A country bar." Storm considered for a while. " I loved it!"

"I knew it."

They walked through the still not so crowded environment and took a seat at the bar, ordering the famous Kenny's Cooler and Sangria Red. They had to admit, Texas had the best drinks in the country.

"A toast." Phoenix raised the glass forward and Storm did the same. "The Top Gun."

They drank. And soon more options came to the bill. That was their last night in Lemoore. They would spend five weeks in intense training at Miramar, and as daring as they were, they were professionals and took their mission seriously. They couldn't afford to overextend themselves during training. They were called to be the elite of pilots and nothing could spoil that. They had more than reason to celebrate.

After a few liters of alcohol in their blood, Phoenix noticed a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and found several missed calls and messages from a Ceasar. From the notification bar, she could find out what the message's content was. He was calling her for a second round. She also read the dozens of messages she had ignored all week. They all basically asked why she didn't answer, when they could see each other again and have a dream with her.

"You have that face." Storm emphasized when they prepared the beer-pong table.

"What a face?"

"The I-have-a-man-behind-me-and-I-don't-know-how-to-be-a-scrotum-for-him-to-stop-calling-me face."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow.

"Your brow furrows and your eyes roll back." the friend finally explained. "Is that the aquarium guy again?"

"He's a dolphin trainer... and yes, it's him. Thirty times." She dropped her cell phone on the table and huffed, messing with her hair. "Why don't men understand that you just want one night and nothing else? I don't want them to give me the satisfaction of why they didn't call sooner or leave a second date up in the air. I don't want to live in this drama. I just want to fuck and leave. Period."

Phoenix didn't have time for relationship drama. Literally. She worked for fifteen days in the middle of the sea and sky and the other fifteen days were for fun and thinking about everything but work. She couldn't stand the mess that was a relationship. Feelings just got in the way of her life.

She wanted one night. A moment of pleasure. Satisfy a need. Only that. But the men she met didn't understand that. They always wanted to repeat or call a formal meeting, ask what day she returned to earth or even visit her in surprise. That was the thing she least wanted. However, that was what always happened.

"You know, I envy you. You have all these guys chasing you who worry about returning the next day, send gifts and want a second, third, fourth time." Storm confessed slowly. "The guys I sleep with aren't man enough to say goodnight when I leave the house. They simply disappear."

"You should introduce me to one of those guys."

"Phoenix, I'm serious. I want a love and I only find terror." she whimpered clearly already affected by alcohol.

"I'm serious too. Do you know what we should do? Swap partners. Everyone would be happy."

"So as to. You don't want a guy like that." she approached Phoenix and played with the tip of her nose. "I know that deep down... deep down... almost digging a well... you want a love for life. You just haven't found the one that makes your legs go wobbly yet."

"You're wrong." Phoenix hugged her side. " I want the most scrotum man that can exist!"

She shouted her order so firmly and loudly that she drew curious and astonished looks from some of the customers around her. She had two shots in a row, not caring about the crowd.

"From today on, engrave that in your mouse brain... I, Phoenix... I'm only going to have sex with a guy when I'm sure he's the biggest asshole on earth..."

"Go fuck yourself with it." Storm pulled back enough to look at her friend. "You can't go a weekend without fucking."

"This is not true! I am a...highly...controlled and...adult woman."

"I doubt it. If you don't find this scumbag today, you're going to sleep with someone else."

Phoenix released her friend at once and fixed her with her dark, intense eyes. There was a different glow about them. And Storm knew very well what it meant.

"I feel a hint of challenge."

"Actually, a whole shell." Storm held up the hand not occupied by the drink. "If today, you have sex with someone... even if it's your fucking scrotum... you'll have to wash my clothes for a whole month."

"And when I win, what will you offer me?" Phoenix asked with a victorious smile.

"I'll pay your bar tab for a month."

"Prepare the card, my friend, because the bill will arrive."

They looked at each other defiantly for a few seconds and drank each other's drinks, sealing the deal. Storm was sure Phoenix would lose, even though she hated losing a challenge. It would be an interesting night.

The two friends finally started beer-pong and Phoenix got the upper hand. She celebrated with several shots of tequila, even though the game was the exact opposite. The two ended up in the center of the dance floor, doing their best steps as they embraced and seduced each other.

"Another Red Sangria?" Phoenix asked after three songs.

Storm just kept dancing, but nodded in agreement. Phoenix walked to the bar, leaning against the counter. She could see that the room was starting to fill up. Sipping a margarita, she watched as two men dressed in costume walked through the double doors.

The first wore pointed-toe boots, blue jeans, a red flannel shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a brown hat. His full chest ripped out the buttons and the blond hair could be seen from afar. Or maybe she'd been staring too long.

The second had dark skin like milk chocolate. He wore white flats, light wash jeans, a cow print shirt and a dark brown hat. He was slightly taller, but something about the first man stirred Phoenix's body so much that she had to sit down. Maybe it was the way he played with a toothpick in his thin mouth.

"Your drinks, miss." the bartender's voice brought her out of her reverie.

Phoenix watched them chat briefly among themselves and soon they separated, each looking for her prey. She got the drinks and went back to the dance floor. She danced as wildly as possible, really having fun with her best friend, who wasn't the best dancer but was still great company. Storm wasn't shy about ridicule.

After a while, they decided to stop dancing and invest in foosball. This allowed Phoenix to notice the man flirting with almost every woman in the bar, including those accompanied. He waited for his companions to leave and went upstairs. Phoenix was shaking his head and laughing internally. Men.

Due to her long observation, Phoenix became inattentive and Storm made the final point.

"Fuck!" she shouted really irritated, which caught the attention of more people, including the Texan. "Another!"

"You're crazy, Phoenix." Her friend laughed. "You know you'll never beat me at foosball."

"We'll see."

They went on to play two more games and Phoenix grew more and more irritated at not winning one. So she insisted they go to pool.

"Is there room for two more to play?" a serious voice sounded next to them. It was him.

"Of course." Storm nodded with a silly smile.

Phoenix just gave them a discreet look and handed over the clubs. They started to play, men against women. In the first match, they did well.

"And the women slaughter the Texans!" Phoenix teased by clapping a hand on Storm's hand in greeting.

"Again." the blonde demanded with an intense look, but displaying a superb smile.

"Someone does not know how to lose." Phoenix insulted again, already arranging the balls on the table.

"I was just warming up, baby. Now things are on fire." He was looking at her so firmly that she swallowed hard. Had the night gotten warmer by any chance?

"I'm not sure about that. I only see smoke."

"You know what they say... where there's smoke, there's fire."

"Wrong." it was her turn to smile. "Sometimes it's already turned off."

Phoenix noticed his smile falter for an instant, but the intense glow in the green orbs continued to grow. She came to understand what kind of man he was and knew very well how to irritate.

They started another game, and at every point, they had a shot. Phoenix couldn't help but notice that he drank it all without spilling a drop or grimacing. He looked immune. And that was the sexiest thing she'd ever thought possible.

She also noticed his gaze light up every time she leaned over the table, after all her shirt opened a huge gap. Phoenix caught him in the act several times and he didn't seem embarrassed, on the contrary, he looked at her more directly.

"And the Texans beat the girls!" he said imitating Phoenix's tone and pointed his fingers at her as if they were a weapon. He shot, blew and put it in his pocket.

Idiot, she thought.

"The last one." she insisted.

"Who doesn't know how to lose now huh?" he teased, adjusting his hat.

"When we win, we want the hats."

Phoenix noticed his smile fade completely and it took her by surprise. They were damn decoration hats. What was so important?

"No." he replied without humor.

"Okay, so you assume we've already won."

He assumed an expression of suppressed anger, his eyes burning and she couldn't tell if it was provocation or pure anger. Maybe both.

"Messed with what you shouldn't, girl." the brunette declared with a mocking half smile.

"Best of three." The blonde demanded strongly.

Phoenix grinned. Finally she had found someone as competitive as she was. They started another game and this time there was no stealth, both Phoenix and he looked at each other with flames in their eyes. He even went so far as to offer her a shot of it. Phoenix accepted and tried to imitate his attitude, drinking everything without spilling it, but the grimace at the end was inevitable. He let out a chuckle and walked away.

"And the girls win again!" Phoenix roared and Storm howled. "The hats."

They approached them and held out their hands. The blonde clenched his jaw and sighed heavily as he handed over the hat. Phoenix thanked her mockingly and tipped his hat over her glossy black mane. She noticed that the sparkle in his eyes lit up again, as well as the mischievous smile, and she couldn't help but bite her bottom lip.

He took a step forward, standing millimeters away from her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She swallowed hard and remained in place waiting for the touch. However, this never came because he just struggled to get the glass from behind her on the pool table. He raised the drink to his lips with a mocking smile. He had tricked her, played with her senses. Damn.

Phoenix got ready to retaliate when she heard Storm yell from behind her:

"NATTY! OUR SONG!"

Storm took Phoenix by the arm and dragged her to the dance floor, where they danced madly to the sound of Spice Girls' Wannabe.

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

I wanna really, really, really wanna zig-a-zig, ah"

"When we arrive in Miramar, I will prepare a basket with my clothes for you." Storm commented with a victorious smile.

"I didn't lose."

"But you will. You were practically eating each other with your eyes!"

"He's not my type."

"He's everyone's type." She crouched in the dance and went up. "Besides, he's undressing you just with his eyes. That counts."

"It doesn't count! I'm just having fun with him."

"Be careful! You can get burned."

To their surprise, the dark skinned guy joined them in the dance and practically kicked Phoenix out of Storm's side. He even danced well for a man with such long arms and legs. Phoenix watched the blonde leaning against the pool table still drinking his drink. He kept his eyes stuck on her and managed to balance that ridiculous toothpick between his teeth.

"If you wanna be my lover

You gotta get with my friends

Make it last forever

Friendship never ends

If you wanna be my lover

You have got to give

Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is"

She danced that stretch looking at him, who raised an eyebrow and threw another malicious smile. Phoenix danced strangely to where he was and tried to pull him to the dance floor, but he refused.

"A Texan who can't dance... this one is new." she insulted, leaning on the table also next to him.

"Not wanting and not knowing how to dance are two different things."

"Bullshit. You don't know how to dance." she said and resumed her abandoned drink there.

While she was drinking, she watched him approach, but a group of friends appeared in front of her and asked if they could play. They accepted and played along with them. Phoenix and the mysterious blonde, who made no effort to say his name, teamed up and beat the pairs of friends one by one. The friends left there devastated.

Phoenix noticed that the blonde stretched his hand on her back, sliding his fingers into the back pocket of her pants. She immediately felt a hot shiver and a hook between her legs with that.

"Wrong place, cowboy." She complained by removing his hand from there.

"You're right." He held both hands around her on the table, without touching her. "I should have put it further ahead."

She laughed in debauchery.

"Let's see if your aim is better in the darts than in the bar."

She let out that comment and walked away from him, walking to the dart board and being aware that he watched her walk. Five seconds later he was after her.

"Have you been watching me?" he asked with a convinced smile.

"I'm just saying that you chose the wrong target today. To insist."

Phoenix threw a dart, but it didn't hit the red dot in the center. The blonde threw three in a row and hit them all. He smiled arrogantly and Phoenix rolled her eyes. That was already starting to irritate.

"OK. You've already proven that you're good."

"Yes, I'm good. I'm too good to be true."

"Wow. What self-esteem." She joked. "But who's in your hat?"

She watched his expression fall gradually and smiled victoriously. So, she decided to end her fun with him there. She felt a little too involved with the situation and a little altered by alcohol. She could get burned.

However, her departure was prevented by a hand on hers. Her whole body reacted to it as if she were in the sky, flying. The adrenaline rushing through her veins. He put her in front of the target and a dart in her hand. He guided her hand with his up as he glued to the back of her body. She felt the firmness of that breastplate and thighs.

"Keep your body firm and your gaze fixed." He ordered with his lips glued to her ear and a finger under her chin. His breath was hot and alcoholic. Phoenix used all her strength not to sigh.

"Is this how you leave them jaw-dropping?"

"It's not my fault if my charm attracts them easily."

"Do you think you're attracting me?"

" Since the moment I entered this bar."

Phoenix didn't have much time to think about what he said, as he guided his movement and soon the dart was in the center of the target. She smiled for getting it right feeling the hot breath take all over her ear. He took that piece of skin for himself and held her tightly by the belly. Phoenix couldn't hold back a gasp.

"Are you feeling it?" he asked dropping kisses to her cheek.

"No... that has no effect on me." she said trying not to tremble.

He trailed kisses down her neck and nape, squeezing her belly with his huge hand. Phoenix felt her whole body burn. Her vision blurred with the desire and heat of that touch. He was good, very good.

She leaned into his chest as he deepened his kisses into her neck. It was impossible not to bite the lips to keep from moaning. That was going too far. She was burning up and it felt so good. But she couldn't go on. She wasn't going to lose the bet.

"No." She pulled away from him in a start.

"Why not?" he asked with livid eyes in desire and hoarse voice. How hot was that man!

"You're not...asshole enough." Phoenix looked for the wall to lean on.

"What?"

He approached her keeping a curious eye on her, but Phoenix held up a hand urging him to step away from her. He obeyed.

"I've slept with enough men to know that you don't understand a woman who just wants to have fun. You always want..."

"Call the next day, ask for a second round or a meeting." he added to her surprise. "What is the problem with women understanding that we only want one night?"

She considered those words for a moment. He understood her. In fact, he was the male gaze in that theory. He just wanted one night and nothing more. However, she had already dated men like that and in the end they did the same thing as the others.

"You're bluffing. I've heard that speech before." she emphasized almost becoming part of the wall.

"Once, I went out with a woman I met at a wedding on the ship. We fucked a lot for one night. The other day, I picked up her sister."

"Disgusting."

"Another time, I fucked a flight attendant and found her on another flight."

"Got you!" she pointed at him. "You got involved."

"No. I picked up her friend and she saw us in the bathroom." he smiled with pride. "I don't fuck twice with the same woman."

"If this is all true, you must be the most scrotum man that exists on this earth."

"Which puts me on your list."

He approached her again with slow steps, asking for silent permission that Phoenix said nothing. He was now inches from her. Phoenix watched the smug smile with the toothpick and the eyes half-dropped with alcohol and desire.

He was certainly what she was looking for and he still came with a prepotent beauty to make her angry. She felt the rage inside her that she was giving in to the charms of someone like him. But she felt even more angry for making that stupid bet.

"I can't."

"But you want." he said with the same arrogance as before.

"Your ego must be the size of Everest."

"I just know that you want the same as me."

"Perhaps. Maybe I just want to taste it." She stared at his thin lips. He laughed.

"The problem is…" He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. "If I kiss you, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

Phoenix felt a frenzy throughout her body accompanied by an unnatural heat. That man was getting her serious in every way. And she wondered if it really would be that bad to wash Storm's clothes for a month.

Suddenly, Phoenix realized something that left her mesmerized and frustrated at the same time. In the depths of those beautiful green eyes, which looked at her in lust, there was a gleam of tenderness. He wasn't everything he said he was.

"I am really sorry. You aren't the man I'm looking for."

She watched his expression turn back to one of confusion as she handed the hat back to him. Phoenix let out a weak smile and plucked that damn toothpick from him, putting it in her own mouth.

"And I really hate losing."

Phoenix started to walk away from him, aware that she was being watched and heard the deep voice again:

"Can I at least know your name?"

"That's a lot of information for just one night!" she replied, still on her back with a smile.

Phoenix managed to convince Storm to let go of the brunette and leave the bar with her. Once outside, her friend commented in surprise:

"You really did it. You're not going home with any guy"

"Of course I did." she replied with a sigh.

"Why aren't you throwing it in my face that I'm going to be indebted?"

"I chose a bad day to accept this bet."

"Ho, ho, ho..." She laughed mockingly. "I knew! He's your guy."

"Not exactly. He has kind eyes."

"If he's not your guy, then why are you so frustrated?"

"I don't know." she whimpered. "A part of me wanted to believe he was. At least I would have a valid reason to fuck him."

"I meant it. He's everybody's type."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. I will never see him again."

They called an Uber and went home satisfied with the night of fun before the training period. They had more things to focus on besides sexual contact. Phoenix would never see that blonde with the smug smile and tender eyes again. And, in a way, she was relieved because she felt he might be the first man to access a side of her that she'd never shown anyone. It was better for the two of them never to meet again.

What an irony of fate, after all.

#monica barbaro #hangman x phoenix #hannix drabble #glen powell #top gun phoenix #hangman top gun #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick

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gotham-ruaidh · 4 years ago

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) |I| Also posted at AO3

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Chapter 10: Home Sweet Home

Take me to your heart // Feel me in your bones // Just one more night // And I'm coming off this long and winding road // I'm on my way // I'm on my way Home sweet home...

Soundtrack: “Home Sweet Home,” Mötley Crüe, 1987 [click here to listen]

Dr. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, aged seventy-four, carefully exited the limousine through the door held open by the driver.

“Thanks again,” he remarked quietly.

“That way,” the driver pointed. Lamb saw a piece of colorful paper with an arrow and the word CREW, pointing toward an open door.

As he approached, a huge, bulky man emerged from inside.

“Got a pass?”

Lamb offered the laminated card he’d received via messenger that morning. The man squinted at it. “Friends and family – OK, let me take you myself.”

Lamb had never been behind the scenes at the Boston Garden – or at any arena, for that manner – and the sheer number of people scurrying to and fro was incredible.

Men hauling loops of wire.

Construction workers in hard hats.

Stacks and stacks of black crates with PRINT stenciled in six inch letters.

People with clipboards and walkie talkies.

Everyone was smiling. Especially Lamb – not caring how out of place he looked in his professor’s chinos and oxford shirt.

They turned a corner into a corridor, with several doors that were clearly dressing rooms. The man turned to Lamb. “Wait here. There’s a lounge with food and drinks, but I don’t think it’s open yet.”

“That’s quite all right. I don’t want to be in anyone’s way – ”

“LAMB!”

The older man turned, only to get swept into a bear hug and off of his feet.

“Oof! Easy!”

Jamie Fraser – shirtless and in black leather pants, with black streaks smudged beneath his eyes – grinned. “So great to see you! We’ve really been looking forward to having you here.”

Lamb flushed. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. I must say that it’s a bit different from the academic conferences that I’m used to.”

Jamie shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, the swirls of tattoos covering his arms dark in the half-light backstage. “I bet. Hey, do you want some earplugs? I’m told the shows can be kind of loud.”

Lamb patted his shirt pocket. “Brought some. I do want to be able to hear tomorrow, you know.”

“LAMB!”

He whirled to see his dearly beloved niece – glowing in a denim jacket and white t-shirt and ripped jeans – and he bent to give her a hug.

“Oh, my dear! I’m so excited to be here!”

She pulled back, still smiling, and sank against her husband’s shoulder. He held her close and kissed the crown of her head.

“Hey, do you want to stand side stage with me during the show? You can sit, if you want – I know your knee isn’t the best. Jamie can rustle up some chairs. So we can be together, if you want?”

Lamb nodded. “That would be fantastic. Jamie, I’ve been listening to all of your records these past few days, to prepare myself for tonight.”

“Uh-oh,” he laughed. “Should I be worried?”

“Certainly not. You’re quite the gifted musician, but I’ve known that since I met you. And I must say that your newest album is your best.”

Jamie flushed. “Well, your niece is the woman who inspired all of it. So of course it’s great.”

Claire playfully swatted his shoulder. “Flatterer.”

“Yeah, well. We open the show with the title track. Billboard says it’s been number one in the country for five weeks now.”

Lamb smiled. “With a title like She’s My Addiction, and with people learning about your and Claire’s story – I’m not surprised.”

“OK, people. Ten minutes to showtime.” A balding man with a headset and clipboard appeared. “Do you need help finding side stage?”

“Actually, Tom, can you show my uncle where we’ll be sitting? I just realized I forgot something in Jamie’s dressing room.” Quietly Claire slipped her thumb over the side of Jamie’s pants, digging her thumbnail into his hipbone, relishing his shiver.

Tom nodded. “Sure – this way, sir. Ten minute warning.”

“Got it. See you later, Lamb!”

And with that Jamie and Claire quickly disappeared into his dressing room. Lamb heard the lock turn.

Tom sighed. “Every damn night, those two.”

Lamb smiled. “There are far worse things. Show me to my seat?”

~~~FIN~~~

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

151 notes · View notes

mashedpotittiess · 4 years ago

Text

Arrangements Ch 1

Title: Arrangements. Chapter Title: It’s just a little crush.

Pairing: Lim Sejun x Reader. Mentions of Choi Byungchan and non mentions of Do Hanse, Heo Chan, Kang Seungsik, Han Seungwoo and Jun Subin as well as OC’s.

Summary: He was the aggravating fuckboy roommate of your best friends but maybe that’s what caused you to agree to such an arrangement. But will the arrangement work out? Between mutual friends, his other hookups and a certain romantic interest on your part, this could all be trouble.

Words: 6,500

Rating: PG13 but will eventually become M

Genre for this Chapter: College! au, Angst.

Tags/Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of sexual scenarios, mentions of possible drug use (a roofie), Mentions of someone possibly wanting to take advantage of someone (While Nothing happens I need to put this as a warning as it can trigger some past experiences readers have had)

Fic Series inspired Playlist Link:

Taglist: @a-mess-of-fandoms @dnyad

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You hated Lim Sejun and his band of one night stands. Before anybody assumes it’s a case of “oh she has it bad for him and she’s just jealous” you were in no way into him like that and in no way jealous of the Grey haired man you dubbed ‘FookBoi’ nor his female companions. He simply cramped your style.

When he moved into your best friends apartment as a third roommate you thought you’d have the same dynamic with your friends that you had had for about a year before his sudden appearance. But you were sorely mistaken.

It was Friday night and you had your body sprawled over the deep grey fabric of the couch with your sock covered feet lying on your best friend Do Hanses blanket covered lap. Byungchan had occupied the black leather like single seat to your right and you all were currently debating on whether or not twins were creepy. The debate brought to you by you all watching The Shining once again.

“How could you even think twins are creepy? It’s clearly just the matching outfits with the head tilting that eludes to the creepy factor” you were thrown into a fit of laughter as Hanse imitated the twin’s expression when Johnny first saw them, his lip ring glinting in the soft shadows of the single lit lamp to his right. Byungchans dimples were on full display as he couldn’t help but laugh as well. You really did try not to blush at his adorable face. You had a thing for one of your best friends and you couldn’t help it, your small crush had existed for around 8 months are you knew it was a matter of time before it was known.

You were admiring his soft contours of his face down to his defined jawline and back up to lip plump lips curled upward around his teeth as his focus was still on Hanses face when the front door slammed open causing you three to jump in surprise. Hanse grabbed your feet as if to use your unicorn print covered appendages to shield himself from the big scary monster he assumed had not only come through his front door but also used a key.

As you tore your gaze away from the man you had been admiring you looked up to see Lim Sejun walking passed the back of the couch with some blonde traipsing her body on his ebony leather jacket covered shoulder. He threw you a smirk as he had undoubtedly witnessed your admiration for his roommate. “Enjoy your movie” was all that left his lips before you heard a woman’s giggle and the closing of his door followed by a hard thump.

Pulling your feet back to your body you crossed your soft cotton short covered legs and snatched a fist full of buttery salty popcorn from the shared bowl in the center of the dark wooden coffee table situated in front of you. Hanse pulled the off white blanket closer to his body and used a black nail polish covered finger to press play on your movie. As you took another bite full of popcorn your munching was cut short by a woman moaning a loud “Unngh yes Daddy” Choking on the salty kernels your face took on a sour expression and you turned to see Hanse grimace and Byungchan blush a bright crimson followed by a shake of his head.

The sounds of what started as a soft mumbling were turning into a shrieking of sorts causing you and your best friends to stand up together and make a beeline to Hanses bedroom. You all knew it would be no use to higher the television to try and drown out the sounds of pleasure the two people in the room next to the living room were feeling. Clutching your beloved popcorn and fizzy coke you settled yourself in the middle of the light blue jersey sheet covered bed. Hanse with the fuzzy blanket from the living room took up the space to your right and Byungchan settled himself on your left, his long legs sprawled out, his green and yellow parakeet printed socks causing you to smile softly.

With a few clicks of the remote the movie had been ready to be continued but before you could immerse yourself into the infamous “Redrum” scene, Hanse decided to look you straight in the eyes and with an obnoxiously loud screech he let out a “ HOOOYAH D A D D Y.” His eyes rolling back into his skull. Fake gagging you shook your head and slapped his tattoo covered shoulder over his thin tank top. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

Curling yourself into your oversized hoodie you got comfortable with both of your best friends, settling yourselves once again into weekly movie night. As the movie played you were brought back to what had just happened in the living room. While this certainly wasn’t the first time your plans were ruined by Mr ‘Fookboi’ himself, it still irked you. You knew this wasn’t your apartment and you had no say what happened around here but you missed the fun times you three had had without the possibility of hearing ridiculously loud sex take over the three bedroom apartment at any time of the day or night.

Hell, before Sejun moved in, the boys had shared an apartment with a man named Seungsik. He was genuinely nice and even joined in for a couple of your movie nights. It was peaceful and the only loud banging happened in the apartment was when Hanse attempted to make cookies and the clanging of pots and pans that most certainly weren’t used in baking resounded throughout the shared space. But that peace was cut short when Seungsik accepted a study abroad opportunity and Sejun occupied his space.

You spent about 4 days out of the week here and you swore there was a new female face that accompanied Sejun almost every one of those days for the passed six months that he had been living here. You were in no way sex shaming him as you believed everyone can do whatever they wanted with their own bodies but his choice in woman was sometimes infuriating. They held no respect that this was a shared apartment and it showed.

From the Brunette last week who had walked around in nothing but a towel while you helped Hanse study for his Psych midterm to the Blonde the week prior that you caught using YOUR purple toothbrush that you had left in one of the two bathrooms for nights you slept over. Like who the fuck uses a toothbrush that isn’t theirs? As you had taken in her party dress which you assumed she had been wearing earlier in the night when she followed Sejun to his room passing you and Byungchan grimacing over Hanses attempt at baking muffins, covered frame and her makeup smudged eyes, your eyes narrowed in on your toothbrush between her pink stained lips.

“Excuse me, that’s my toothbrush” you said with a grimace on your face as she leaned down to spit the toothpaste that had been sloshing in her mouth into the sink, the white fluid making its way down the drain. “hmm? oh here” was all she replied before placing the toothbrush in your palm. It still had toothpaste on it and it took everything in you to not throw the toothbrush at her and go full on hulk mode.

Then there was the Red head a few days ago that you knew as Cynthia from your shared Calculus class. You had been making dinner for your best friends that had been having a difficult school week. Walking into the apartment with the the bags full of groceries using your key the boys had given you, you set the canvas bags onto the white counter before organizing them into piles of what needed to be made in order from first to last. Pulling together the pots and pans you needed your thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched whine and the sounds of a bed thumping against a wall. Glancing towards the door you saw what appeared to be a woman’s taupe coat. Shaking your head you let out a disgusted ‘gross’ and pulled up your Spotify playlist hoping it would drown out some of the sounds coming from the occupied bedroom.

Throwing the tomatoes and onions into a pan you let them sauté until they were caramelized and got started on putting together the garlic butter for the fresh baked french bread you scored at the grocery store. Grooving to your music, you went along with your chopping of vegetables for the salad followed by dumping a box of penne into the salted water you had prepared. Spreading the herby garlic spread onto the soft doughy bread you plopped it into the oven and checked your pasta.

‘Buss it Buss it Buss it Buss it’ came through the speaker of your phone and you let your body do a little twerk as you plated the penne a la vodka, salad and finally the warm garlic bread fresh from the oven, turning around you checked to make sure everything was turned off and grabbed your phone to check the time. “They should be home soon” you mused and poured yourself a glass of ice water. ’Is you FUCKIN’ yelling the fuckin part you wiggled your hips as you sipped your water and turned around when the sound of crunching put a halt in your boppin.

Your jaw twitched as you took in the Red head leaning against the island counter with a piece of garlic bread between her smeared lipstick covered lips. The smell of roasted garlic and tomato sauce hung in the air as you stepped towards the female eating the food you had just made.

“That food isn’t for you, you do know it’s rude to just eat what someone else had made without asking right?” you furrowed your brows at her and extended a hand towards the rest of what you had plated up. Leaning her head against her left palm she licked her lips clean of what looked like breadcrumbs and smiled. “Aww, were you making a meal for Sejunnie? if so, I can assure you this won’t get him into your pants, not when he has a lady like me right here. But it’s cute that you tried.” Opening your mouth ready to ask her what the literal fuck she was talking about, Cynthia moved her elbow along the counter followed by a ‘oops’ and a shrug of her shoulder.

Looking down at the tray that had skidded across the wooden floor when her elbow knocked down your garlic bread just milliseconds ago you let out an annoyed “are you fucking kidding me?” Looking unaffected, Cynthia shrug her pale pink covered shoulders at you and licked her index finger of what looked like garlic butter. Leaning down with a bend of your knees you started to pile the bread you now had to throw out onto the faux marble tray that balances itself in your left hand. You grit your teeth stopping yourself from saying much else knowing that it wouldn’t do a thing. Knees knocking against the floor as you reached for a piece that had gone under the counter, before you could grasp it between your deep purple nail polished fingers, a pale hand reached out and placed it down onto your tray.

Looking up your eyes met Sejuns light grey contact covered gaze and you shook your head head towards the woman he had just been fucking. “Some company you keep” you mumbled to him before standing up, lavender slipper covered feet coming into contact with the dark wooden floor. As the door clicked open you were met with an enthusiastic“y/n did you cook? your’e the BEST.” Hanse stepped through the threshold of the open plan kitchen and took in the scene. You with a tray of what looked like garlic bread, a furious gaze in your eyes, Sejun with his hand extended towards you and a red head smacking her lips along a napkin.

“Um what happened?” left Hanses lips as you tossed the food that had been in your hand into the trash and got to work looking for the swiffer they kept in a linen closet close to the kitchen. Your ears picked up on what sounded like Sejun saying out a soft yet firm “I called you an uber, they’re here already” followed by a sickeningly sweet “But Sejunnie we could spend more time together.” Rolling your eyes you entered the kitchen once again and wiped the wet wipe along the grease covered floor. “Domestic, cute” Looking up you stepped towards the red haired female ready to throw hands. You were beyond tired of her shit and weren’t going to take anymore. She fucked with food, precious FOOD.

“I told you to leave already” Sejun grabbed Cynthias elbow and guided her towards the front door. “But, ugh fine. Call me later?” she asked and he just shrugged his shoulder while walking her to the elevator.

Angrily throwing the swiffer pad into the trash you thrust the mop to Hanse to put away and bounded to the sink to wash your hands. “I fucking can’t stand people like her, Sejun needs to filter out the bitches from his list of hookups. I swear to god dealing with someone like her is not worth getting your dick wet.” You shouted and Hanse pat your back.

Byungchan’s soft head of hair leaning on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you sighed shaking the thoughts of Sejuns hookups out of your mind to focus on the movie that was almost finished. Looking to your left you smiled softly at the dimpled boys sleeping face. Hanse shifted on you right to pull his blanket closer to his body.

While Hanse was still awake you knew it would be a few minutes before he completely passed out like the sweetheart to your left had. Sitting up carefully you leaned Byungchans head onto a pillow and brought the comforter up his body while Hanse curled into himself mumbling a “you can sleep here or take Channies bed.” Shaking your head you let him know you’d be taking the couch as you tucked the bowl of kernels under your arm and balanced two glasses between your fingers of your fight hand as you maneuvered your way out of his room and to the kitchen. The soft lighting over the stove illuminated your trek to the kitchen and you spotted Sejun in a pair of joggers and an oversized pale blue t shirt sipping a glass of what looked like water.

Moving passed him you dumped the remnants of the kernels into the trash and carefully plopped the dishes into the sink to his right. To your left his eyes followed your movements as you cleaned up. “I’m sleeping on the couch so if you’re going for round two with whatever her name is, please keep it down.” you grumbled without looking at him and you made your way to the couch you had spent many a nights on. From the open kitchen you heard him shift as he placed the glass he had been drinking out of into the sink. “She left already, goodnight y/n” he responded and walked the few steps to his room, his door softly closing behind him and you shut your eyes, pulling the blue blanket that had been on the end of Hanses bed and you had snatched, closer to your body letting sleep overtake your tired brain.

The smell of sizzling bacon and warm butter invading your nostrils sending your senses in an uproar and your body to slowly open your eyes. Sitting up you still clutched the blanket you had been using tight around your body in a makeshift cocoon. Gaze scanning the kitchen behind the couch you were sitting on you watched as Sejun joked with Hanse while preparing the bacon that was sizzling in the pan below him. Hanse was mixing up more pancake batter and Byungchan was finishing a flip on the duo of cakes bubbling up in the pan he had been working with.

You could almost curse your stomach as an obscenely loud grumbled was heard in the open space causing all three boys to turn around and take in your messy bun that more like a turd flopping atop your head and your mascara slightly smudged under your eyes. Raising your left hand into what looked like a small wave you heard Hanse laugh loudly causing you to smile. “The Princess is awake” with a stern look in your eyes his smiled widened “I forgot y/n hates being called Princess, EHEM my queen.” Standing up you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back hearing the muscles pop from lying in the same position for too long.

Trudging towards the bathroom, you abandoned the blanket on the kitchen island on your way there. As you took in in your appearance in the bathroom mirror while you let the water warm you shrugged. Your best friends had seen you look a lot worse.

As you smoothed the foaming cleanser onto your hands and over your face you let out a soft sigh in content. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink you pulled your small body of makeup remover you had stashed there and massaged it onto your eyes to cleanly remove any remnants of eye makeup. Letting the warm water rinse your face of all impurities you got to work on bushing your teeth with your N E W purple toothbrush.

Letting your hair loose from its turd like confines, you softly ran what you knew as Hanses brush over your locks and shuffled back into the kitchen after your bathroom escapades were done with.

Tucking your hair behind your ears you poured yourself a glass of cold OJ and watched as the men finished with their Gordan Ramsey like cosplay of cooking. Giggling to yourself as the visual of Gordan Ramseys face on your friends bodies overtook you.

When you noticed the boys were just about done preparing the food you pulled plates from the cabinet and paired them with silverware for all four persons. A comfortable silence surrounding the room as you all piled your plates with food and made your way to the dining table to the left of the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food” you smiled out while cutting into your fluffy pancakes earning a wide from Hanse, a smile from Byungchan and a nod of your welcome from Sejun. Plopping a piece into your mouth you almost moaned at the warm syrupy goodness that coated your tongue, you could take the vanilla Hanses flavored the cakes with.

For the most part you all had ate in silence with the exception of Sejun and Byungchan talking about the college Basketball team Byungchan was on.

You had offered to do the dishes in repayment for the delicious breakfast the boys had cooked up and joined in on the conversation that took place in the living room when you had finished. Settling yourself on the cushion next to Hanse you let him ruffle your hair and leaned your head on his shoulder.

Hanse was like the brother you never had, you had known him since your first year of college, you small body nervous as all hell when you walked into your first Literature class of the year. Sitting next to you he had struck up a conversation when he took in the crescent moon earring dangling from your double helix piercing on your right ear.

From then on you all had become great friends, you had liked the same music and enjoyed some of the same aesthetics. A couple of months later you all had stumbled upon Byungchan at a frat party and a conversation about Liquor vs Beer ensued in the comfort of the lit kitchen. Before you knew it you all had drug your asses to waffle house for 4am food to nourish your alcohol filled bodies. You both becoming fast friends with the tall teddybear of a man.

A year later and the two men rented an apartment together inspired by the fact that you had been living in an apartment with your roommate since the middle of your freshman year. They had invited you to be their third roommate but you were on a multi-year lease and to be honest, you didn’t mind your roommate. You loved your friends but you liked being able to come home when you needed alone time or just girl time. Lately you had been spending more time at your best friends house due to your roommate having her boyfriend over a lot more before he graduated later this year and you wanted to give them alone time.

Musing to yourself on how grateful you were for their friendship you took in the effortless conversation between all three men. You knew they had been friends with Sejun for sometimes prior to him moving in but you hadn’t really taken in how friendly they were all with each other. You had to admit it put the moving mattress of a man in a new light.

“Favorite Nirvana song..3..2…1.” Hanse blurted out. All together four answers were heard at once “Lithium” you heard Hanse shout which you had already known. “All Apologies” Byungchan smiled and “Come as you are!” you and to your surprise Sejun yelled at once. “oof we have a tie.” Hanse said followed by a “Okay, okay.. Favorite BEYONCE song 3…2…1”

“Wait wait, Beyonce solo or Destinys Child included cause that’s a whole other convo” you added in before anybody could answer before taking a sip of your ice water and roaming your feet into the blanket you had been using. “Solo Beyonce” Hanse answered before shouting his countdown once again.

“Crazy in love OG version” Hanse shouted, “Formation” was Byungchans answer. “Irreplaceable” Sejun answered while tilting his head onto his palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch to your left. “If I were a boy” you smiled at the lyrics invading your thoughts. “But seriously Yonce is a fucking icon and you can’t just pick one song, that’s like ILLEGAL!” you added which earned claps from your best friends and a genuine smile from Sejun causing you to cock an eyebrow at his dimples cheeks.

The familiar ding of your phone signaled a text and you entered your password into the drive while vaguely listening to what the three men were talking about. Sending a message in reply to your friend and classmate Haley you tossed your phone back onto the coffee table in front of you and leaned back onto the comfy cushions behind you. “Oh shit y/n I almost forgot! Heo Chan’s frat is having a party tonight and i’m making you come with” The inky haired man to your right said with a clap of his hands, his rings clanking against each other. “Oddly enough that’s what Haley was texting me about and I already agreed to go with her since i’m obviously the best wingman ever. I also love how you weren’t planning on giving me a choice on going.”

“I wasn’t giving you a choice because I knew you couldn’t say no to this face” with a pucker of his pink lips, Hanse folded his fingers under his chin leaning closer to your face in a mock pout. Rolling your eyes you flick his slightly exposed forehead with a painted index finger. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

“Byungchannies going too and I think Sejun may show up too” Hanse added and you nodded. You knew Byungchan would go, with him being good friends with Chan and Seungwoo from Lambda Tau Nu or VTN for short. Sejun going came as no shock to you either knowing the amount of girls that would be wanting him to go with them and of course leave with them as well.

Checking the time on your apple watch linked onto your wrist with its black leather strap, you stood up throwing the blanket that kept your legs warm onto Hanses lap and grabbed your phone while looking for your slippers you had worn there. It was a little passed two in the afternoon and you knew you need to go home, shower and then later prep for the party. “Imma head out to freshen up, see you later. Hanse you picking me up?” with an of course heaving your best friends mouth you left the comfort of the three mens apartment and heading off to your own.

Smoothing your warm vanilla and rose body oil over your freshly shaven legs you checked your phone noting you had a little over an hour to finish getting ready before Hanse and byungchan would be pounding on your door. You had just finished pulling your black satin bra and panty set when your doorbell sounded off. Wrapping your fluffy white robe close to your body you opened the door to a smiling Haley who was carrying what you presumed to be her “getting ready shit” and a bottle of Svedka.

“Pre game sweets” she said when she caught you glancing down to the bottle clutched between her fingers. With a slight smile and a shake of your head, you both headed towards your room to finish getting ready.

Checking her ass in the mirror, Haley gave a little booty jiggle in her skin tight taupe body con dress that accentuated her deep mocha colored skin. You had just finished styling your straight hair with some silkening gloss when Hanses called signaling them leaving their apartment and heading towards yours. Sliding your feet into your black suede high heeled ankle booties you smacked your medium toned nude lipstick covered lips and followed Haley into the kitchen.

When the boys got there Haley demanded a pre game shot and you all but obliged. With a slam of the clear shot glass onto the faux marble counter you all headed out, following Hanse to his small Silver SUV.

Pulling up to the long street of parked cars in front of the VTN house you shook your head at the seemingly already drunk couples making out in the bushes and a half naked guy running down the lawn with a V painted onto his chest in what looked like red lipstick.

Entering through the oak double doors behind Byungchan you squeezed his shoulder as he maneuvered you all through the crowded entrance. Settling on a quieter side of what you knew from a few parties here as the living room, Byungchan excused himself to bring you all some drinks and you surveyed the area you were in. A couple of kegs were a few feet to your left where some guy you recognized as Subin was performing a keg stand. The two couches and coffee table were pushed closer near a wall where the stairs leading to the second floor bedrooms was to make the makeshift dance floor where bodies were rhythmically shaking the hips. Behind you to your right was the brightly lit kitchen when bottles lined the counters and bags of chips were strewn everywhere.

As you surveyed the kitchen you noticed Byungchan talking to a girl you knew as Emi. Byunchans dimples were on full display as he laughed at whatever she had been saying causing a soft bloom of rose to flush onto her pale cheeks. Leaning down to stir her drink her light brown hair fell slightly over her face to which Byungchan leaned forward and swiped his fingers over her forehead and still blushing cheeks to tuck her shoulder length hair behind her right ear. Noticing your gaze, Hanse chimed in “Oooooooh is Channie finally making a move on Emi? He’s been into her for like a month now” Whipping your hair around towards the tattooed man your deep brown smokey eyeshadow covered eyes widened slightly.

“He what now? How did I not know about this?” Hanse furrowed his eyebrow at your seemingly upset look and Haley cleared her throat. Haley had been the only person who knew about your crush on your friend from a night of one too many Vodka Tonics and Tequila shots. “I only knew about it cause I caught him shooting her google eyes and I asked him what was up until he fessed up.. why do you look? wait..y/n did you?” With a tick of your jaw you shook you head pleading with him not to continue his question.

“Since when?” was all he asked and you softly told him the answer. “But it’s fine, I honestly didn’t think much would come from it. I wasn’t sure how our friendship and the dynamic would work if we ever got together” You ran your thumb along the hem of your black and deep green plaid skirt. “It’s for the best, I’m glad he looks happy.” you were being honest, you wanted your friends to be happy and that’s all that had mattered to you. Yes you were a little heart broken but it was better than him finding out about your crush and you getting rejected then, or you all getting together then later breaking up and you losing one of your best friends and Hanse being stuck in the middle of his two best friends.

With an are you sure? Hanse headed off to the kitchen when you nodded your head and sighed. “God you’re such a good person babe, I would’ve been like ‘HELL NO IM NOT OKAY I AM A HEARTBROKEN WOMAN ON THE VERGE OF A MELTDOWN’” Haley whisper screamed into your ear and you felt yourself smiling at her over dramatic theater kid self.

“Ugh Chan looks so good” biting her deep fuchsia colored lips Haley wiggled her eyebrows and you shook your head. You knew she was staring at his ass in those tight light wash jeans as he talked to Hanse and Byingchan in the kitchen.

“Oh shit he’s coming over here” Fluffing her black shoulder length curled hair Haley pushed her boobs out by straitening her back causing you to giggle and accept the drink Hanse handed you. “Hey Haley hey y/n” Chan smiled causing adorable dimples to grace his cheeks. ‘Do all these men have dimples or what?’ you thought and shook your head slightly.

With a hello and a thank you for invited us you let Haley grab all of Chans attention with a conversation about Musicals. Hanse caught on to what you were doing and stepped further away from the two, taking you with him.

You had been talking to Hanse about Haley and Chan when Byungchan stepped in front of you both with Emi right behind him. “Hey guys, this is Emi” Hanse smiled and gave her a little wave. Suppressing your urge to be jealous and petty you took a deep breath and nodded towards her “Hi” leaving your lips. As Byunghcan talked to you both about how sweet Emi was and how they had been talking but it hadn’t been anything serious, you gripped your glass in your right hand and tilted your head back drinking all of its contents in one go. The familiar warm burn of alcohol siding down your throat and distracting you from Byuns dimples as he spoke so highly of the female clutching onto his right arm.

Taking in the girls pale blue satin liken dress and beige sweater handing off of her arms you had to admit she seemed nice, very demure and soft spoken but nice. “You’re so pretty, Byungchan didn’t do you justice when he told me about his best friends” Emi genuinely smiled at you and you thanked her. Needing a refill of your drink you excused yourself and headed towards the kitchen.

Setting your glass on the counter you got to work mixing Rum and a splash of coke. Taking your first sip you nodded and hummed at the taste. If you were going to deal with your crush and best friend finding a girlfriend you definitely needed something strong. Taking another sip you leaned your hip against the counters and slowly moved your head in a circle to relieve the tension you had been building up. You felt your body starting to heat up from the amount of bodies in the house and the alcohol flowing freely through your veins as you finished your second drink with a long chug.

Shrugging your oversized medium blue denim jacket off of your shoulder you looked for a suitable place to hide it from partygoers. Situating your jacket behind bottles of soap under the sink you made a note on your phone letting you know where you hide it in case you forgot and needed to retrieve it the next day.

Pouring yourself another drink you capped the Rum when you were done and sighed as the breeze from the overhead vent licked against your skin in your black crop top and plaid skirt. “Damn, now that’s a drink” came from your left causing your to look up with an arch of one of your eyebrows. Liam Martinez stood in front of you with a smile of his pearly whites and you couldn’t help but smile back. You recognized the Wide Receiver of your college football as you shared a literary course with him. You actually also shared that class with Sejun as well.

“Want one?” you asked with a smile to which he shifted closer to you and handed you his red cup. “Yes ma’am” you opened the same bottle you had been using and started pouring it into his glass, followed by a splash of the open coke to your right. Scooping a bit of ice from the bag in the sink into his glass you handed it back to him which he accepted gratefully.

“So, what’re you doing here? or better question, why are you drinking alone in a kitchen full of bottles?” Leaning your hip against the counter you quirked you lip slightly over you glass. “Well if anybody was drinking wouldn’t it be better to drink in a room full of bottles?” Chuckling at your retort Liam placed a hand on the counter and sipped his drink waiting for you to continue. “But if you must know, I finished my drink my friend made me and came to make another, plus they were having a convo I didn’t really feel like being a part of” you let the last bit slip out with a shrug of your shoulders.

With a ‘hmm’ in acknowledgment you two started a pretty nice conversation about your shared class and the frat house you were currently in which Liam had been a part of. Feeling the buzz flowing through your body you accepted his offer when he asked you to dance.

With your hand tucked into his you made your way to the dance floor and wrapped your arms around his neck as the music thumped around you. Settling his hands on your hips he pulled you closer to him, swaying your bodies to rhythm of the bass. Under the soft lights in the dark living room Liams light brown hair shined. Liams hands trailed up and down your hips, eventually turning you around pulling your back into his white t shirt and blue plaid covered chest feeling his muscles rippling against your back.

Leaning your head back onto his chest you ground your hips back into his and smirked. The alcohol coursing through your veins lending confidence to your dance moves as your began to grind with him in the middle of the other swaying dance partners crowding the space.

Another song came to a finish and you felt your body heating up tremendously. With a huff of air escaping your parted semi glossy lips, you knew you needed water and as Liams fingers grazed up your left thigh you excused yourself telling him you’d be right back but he had insisted on going with you.

Reaching the kitchen you looked for a clean empty cup to be the vessel that you needed to quench your thirst and hopefully cool your body down. Liam handed you an opaque red cup from the stack of downturned cups and you poured yourself some water from the fridge and took a long sip relishing in the fresh cool liquid cooling your body down and causing a small shiver.

“Hey can you pass me a coke from the fridge?” The taller man in font of you asked as you were closer to the fridge than he was and you nodded thinking nothing of it. Opening the metal fridge you looked around on the middle shelf before your eyes landed on the signature red cans, plucking one from the shelf you turned and stepped your way back to Liam, handing it to him which caused him to smile his pearly whites in return.

“Hold on, did he just drop something in y/ns glass?” Hanse voiced out while putting a black nail polished hand up in a stop motion after his eyes had zeroed in on the man in question drop something that looked like a small white circular pill into your drink. Earlier in the night Sejun had been talking to Hanse when they both noticed you dancing with Liam, he couldn’t quite place where he knew him from but after Hanse voiced what he had just seen, he remembered a girl he had hooked up with a couple of weeks ago said that after she had hooked up with Liam about a week prior. She had been looking for her shorts and found what looked like roofies on the floor in a bag under his bed. Sejun had asked why she didn’t report him to which she just shrugged and said Liam hadn’t done anything to her and she wasn’t sure that’s what they were so she wasn’t going to start trouble.

With a narrow of his eyes he peeled Tashas hand from around his torso and bounded off into the kitchen following Hanses fast steps towards your figure holding a red cup smiling up towards the tall figure in front of you.

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ANNNND chapter 1 is done! I’m going to try to update this pic every week but i can’t make any promises as i’m also writing a Jungkook Magic/au fic series.

I hope you enjoyed the read and pls let me know of any errors you come across as this is partially unedited and i don’t have a Beta reader or anything of the sort. ILY

-C/Potittiess

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