#drunk at a charity bar crawl

[dolce-tenebra-toscana]

La squadra's part time jobs because we all know Diavolo doesn't pay them enough money to survive 🤣

They survive on Pesca's cooking 70% of the time but they still need to buy stuff for themselves 😅

Risotto ✂️: Bouncer

You are almost 2 mt tall, got black sclera and red eyes? We all know Risotto would use his scary appearence for something other than being an hitman.

He works part-time at Napoli's underground clubs as a bouncer and he is very requested not only for his intimidating looks, but especially for his serious attitude and because how prefessional he is; deals with drunk jerks, helps people who are bothered inside and out of the club...

Sure he hates when people flirt with him or try to push him to enter, but in the end he doesn't really mind.

Prosciutto 🍖: model

He knows he is a very good looking man; his posture is impeccable and he takes really good care of his appearence so why not use all that for good money?

He uses an alias, changes his usual hairstyle and is not very famous but whenever his teammates point his face on a low/medium brand product he smirks and says sh*t like " Well what can i say, la classe non è acqua~"

He also gets big discounts on the products he models for so is free shampoo, perfume and bath products in general for him and the boys.

Formaggio 🧀: bartender

With the nickname " Er sorcio " ( the rat ) he makes his way in all the bars in Napoli, pouring drinks and filling beer's glasses to the brim! His charming personality really helps with tips, especially cause he can make you think he's listening to all your problems while in reality is watching the game on the old tv behind your back.

His signature cocktail is the Hugo and his usual boss even tried to sign him up for a bartending contest but he playfully declined cause he may " k*ll the competition "

He sometimes steals some fancy bottles from the storage room but he is clever enough to do that when the owner is not around.

Illuso 🔎: make up artist

Do you know someone more narcissist than Illuso? Well meet his persona " Gianni Fashionista " and we'll see.

His over the top, snarky and mean-girl attitude and extremely good make up skills made him famous with the rich ladies of " Napoli Bene " and he uses this to gain the upper hand.

He may gossip with Signora Valeria while he prepares her for a charity event, spill the tea with Donna Annunziata about her daughter in law while painting her nails... Illuso crawled from the bottom to the golden top of the superficial, evil and fancy high class of Napoli and he loves it!

Melone 🍈: babysitter

Ok ok i know the majority of the people wouldn't trust this purple tuscan with a goldfish...BUT Melone is really good with kids!!

His experience with Babyface ( and the fact that his mother was a cold b*tch ) teached him everything he knows about how to properly take care of children, and said kids love him too!!

Melone takes them to the park, play pretend, fingerpaint with him is so so fun!! And at the end of the day the mothers always gives him a lil extra money cause they see how happy the children are when " Signor Lollo " comes around.

Nobody knows he may be teaching his favourites how to manipulate people around them to get what they want or how to dispose of a body BUT is just for fun...right?

Ghiaccio 🧊: driving instructor

Can we all appreciate how CUTE Ghiaccio would look with a white polo shirt, jeans and a red tie while he screams at his student during driving lessons? Absolutely adorable!

You can be sure of one thing, with him you won't only get your licence, you'll end up being actually afraid of commit infringement on the road!

Our favourite blue Veneto is a dangerous driver when he is on a mission but when he's teaching other people? He's ruthless and precise, will yell at you at the mininum mistake and at the end of the day his students still hear in their mind " LA FRECCIA D*OCANE!! METTI LA FRECCIA P*TTANA LA MADONNA!!"

Pesci 🐟: wedding planner

Who loves weddings? PESCI DOES!! And with him even the smallest ceremony will look like it came straight out of a fairytale!

No matter the weather, the guests, the priests or any kind of problem his clients might face; he has a solution and he isn't afraid to fight for his beloved brides!!

Zia Carmela is talking sh*t about wanting to seat near the groom? Nah sister, stay at your seat and BEHAVE!! The bride is worried her beloved's " cousin " might actually be his ex? Pesci will check on the background of EVERY female guests to reassure the lil sposina that she has nothing to worry about!!

You want your wedding to be perfect? Better call Pesci~

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ

_______________________________

ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (𝟷𝟾+)

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Soft romantic Valentine’s Day sex with Peter, bonus points if it’s their first time.. or maybe their first Valentine’s Day being married 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (since it’s way past v-day, i did like a tony’s gala/charity party thing hope that’s ok)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+, super fluffy and silly smut, virginsssss

Tw: harassment/sexual assault

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: hey bug I’m still trying to get used to the whole writer thing it’s still a pretty new concept but thank you for being so patient with me! I tried to make this a realistic when it comes to first time sex as possible, it pretty awkward and goofy, a little sudden, but i think it’s pretty cute

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Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You moved so gracefully between the bodies of rich chatty folk. Now that you both were adults it was mandatory according to Tony that you guys had to attend these things. Peter wished he could go back to when you two would watch Star Wars and play video games up in your room during these boring parties.

“Dude, you gotta just grow a pair and ask her on a date,” Sam interrupted.

“Come on man. It’s not that easy,” he argued.

“Yeah it is; you just go up to her and say, ‘Hey I think you’re hot, I’m in love with you, Let’s fuck’,” Sam joked.

“Hey, no. They’re virgins. They don’t ‘fuck’,” Nat said amusingly. 

“What! No- I- uh,” Peter stammered over his words heavily as Nat, Sam, Bucky and Steve laughed around him; not at him of course, well maybe Sam. 

“Hey man it’s ok,” Steve reassured.

“Yeah, Steve is still a virgin,” Bucky joked, making Steve push him unamused.

“Seriously though, it’s ok having not done anything. Virginity and purity culture is gross and weird and way too fetishized nowadays. You do it when you feel comfortable and with someone you completely trust; and remember just like everything else, practice makes perfect,” Nat winked at Peter, making him blush. 

Peter thought about it and honestly he trusted you the most with his life. It wasn’t a secret that Peter really liked you; well apparently it was a secret to you. He was so in love with you but he was positive you didn’t feel the same way. You were so beautiful there was no way in your right mind that you’d even look in his direction.

You were talking with some douche at the bar. Peter hated how close he was standing to you. He didn’t think he deserved someone as special as you but he certainly knew that someone like that guy didn’t deserve even your attention let alone a conversation. Although looking at it, it seems like you’re just listening and he’s yapping away.

“You’re like one of the hottest bitches I’ve ever met,” the guy slurred.

You’ve been stuck with this guy for the past twenty minutes. Every time you think you could slip away he tugged your arm and pulled you back in. this guy was drunk off his ass and every slurred word went through one ear and out the other. 

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me,” you tried to leave.

“That’s not gonna work on me princess, come here,” he grabbed your waist and you moved your hands between your bodies.

“Hey, what the hell?” Peter said, noticing the commotion between you and that guy.

The guys looked over and saw that you were clearly uncomfortable and none of them were having it. Peter especially was fuming. This guy's hands were all over you and he knows you didn’t let him. His face buried uncomfortably in your neck and your face held a fearful look. Peter stomped through the crowd to help you.

“Hey man, get your hands off of her,” Peter said sternly. 

“Oh, ho, ho. Cute,” the guy mocked.

“Lay off kid. Help a brother out,” he slurred.

“Peter,” you whispered desperately.

“She doesn’t seem interested, so back off,” Peter pushed him. 

“I’m not gonna tell you again, kid. Leave us alone, sometimes women might not say what they want but they always want it,” he growled disgustingly. Peter looked at you and saw nothing but terror and fright; there was no way in hell he was leaving you.

“Hey, man. We’re gonna give you ten seconds to get the fuck out here,” Nat said intimidatingly; but with a man’s misogynistic ego that big he surprisingly didn’t back down.

“Now,” Steve’s voice boomed loudly towering over him.

“What are you gonna about it?” he mocked.

Bucky wasn’t having it either and grabbed his collared-shirt with his metal and dragged him towards the exit. 

“If I ever see your ugly ass face again, I’ll kill you,” Bucky’s voice shook the man and he scurried away.

You looked at Peter and hugged him tightly softly crying into his shoulder. He held you tightly and whispered softly in your ear soothing you. You couldn’t get rid of him and you didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened if Peter and the rest of the guys didn’t help you.

“Sorry, for the ruckus,” you whispered, noticing the people watching confusedly at you guys.

“Don’t be, guy was a total piece of shit. Are you ok?”

“Can we just leave?” you asked him.

“Of course,” Peter held your hand tightly and led towards the elevator.

“Hey kids, you guys ok? Steve told me what happened,” Tony asked you two.

“We’re gonna go upstairs now,” Peter told him quietly.

“Of course,” Tony said remorsefully.

“Kid?” Tony whispered to Peter, “Use protection.”

“Seriously, Mr. Stark?”

“Hey, I’m kidding. I’m kidding; take care of her will ya?”

“Your room or mine?” Peter asked you.

“Yours.”

“Can we watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah.”

Peter gave you his clothes for you to change comfortably in and you went to the bathroom to change. In the meantime Peter too changed into a tight black shirt and sweats. Suddenly he heard the door open slightly and you peeked your head out worriedly.

“Uh Pete,” you called him.

“Is everything alright?”

“The uh, the pants you gave me? They don’t fit,” you whispered shyly.

“Oh no, uh ok hold on,” Peter scurried to find another pair.

You opened the door wider tugging his shirt in holes it might cover your modesty; this was the most undressed you’ve ever been in front of a boy. Peter looked back at you frantically but definitely did a double take seeing your bare legs so exposed. 

“Sorry, I can’t seem to find anything,” he stuttered a bit.

“It’s ok, the shirt’s pretty long,” you tiptoed to the bed covering yourself with the blanket.

“Sorry about you know,” he sat with you.

“It’s ok. I just kinda wish I was more like Nat. You know then maybe I wouldn’t have been in that situation, I’d be able to kick his butt,” you chuckled. But Peter didn’t.

“Hey, you weren’t in that situation because you weren’t physically strong, it was because that guy was the scum of the earth.”

“Thanks, Pete,” you placed your hand on top of his; Peter’s stomach flipped when you did. 

“Peter?” you asked him.

“What?”

“You’re staring,” you smiled.

“Sorry,” he looked away shyly. 

You and Peter sat on the bed as a movie played. It was one of your favorites and you couldn’t help marvel at the best scenes; your laugh was infectious. Peter couldn’t help but ogle at you. He thought you were so beautiful and funny. He wonders why you’ve never had a boyfriend. Any guy would be so lucky to be yours; expect that fucker who put his hands on you

“Y/n?” he asked sheepishly.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend? If you don’t want to answer it’s ok, I realize that probably sounds invasive, and-”

“It’s ok. I uh- I don’t know. I guess guys don’t like me like that? What about you, you haven’t dated since MJ.”

“I- uh, ok uh- Ok you got me there,” he laughed. 

“It’s just I asked because you’re uh, well, it’s no secret you’re very pretty, Y/n. Any guy would be so lucky to be your boyfriend,” Peter blushed.

“Thanks, Peter. I don’t know, guys are just too,” you couldn’t necessarily find the words.

“Obnoxious, irritating, rude, aggressive,” he finished making you laugh. 

“No, well, yes, but I guess the word would be… overbearing. Guys are so pretentious, you know. And not to mention they want everything but the kitchen sink in a girl. And I don’t have that. Guys don’t look at me and think, ‘Wow, she's the most beautiful girl ever. I want to date her’,” you explained with a faint chuckle. 

“I think that,” Peter blurted out.

“Well, then I wish more guys were like you, Peter,” you said smoothly. 

You and Peter both hadn’t realized the space between you two closing in. Your faces were mere inches apart and you both felt hot and flushed, yet neither one of your wanted to pull away. The sound of the movie playing in the background was drowned out for a second but now it was almost as if it was the loudest thing bursting your eardrums. 

You quickly snapped your head back to the TV breathing out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You could see the disappointment on Peter’s face when you did out of the corner of your eye but you didn’t think it was appropriate right now. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was kiss a boy after what happened downstairs. 

You crawled back and tucked the rest of your body under the sheets and Peter did too. You felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest; terrified that with his heightened senses he could hear your heartbeat. 

He could; and that made his beat faster too.

You two watched the movie in silence after getting yourselves comfortable. Peter’s lights were off and a small lamp along with the bright TV was the only thing illuminating the room. It felt small but you managed. 

You felt like you couldn’t focus on the movie with Peter laying so close to you. You could practically feel his body heat radiating off of him and you wished so badly that you had the courage to tell him how much you liked him. 

You didn’t think he liked you back but after what he said about wanting to date you, you weren’t so doubtful that he felt that way too now. You finally started focusing on the movie again trying your best to not think about Peter but that didn’t help at all considering the two characters … kissing, if that’s what you want to call it.

Your eyes slightly widen seeing the man’s hand crawl up the woman’s shirt. Her gasps and moans seemed louder than you remembered. You could see Peter shifted beside you as the things on the screen became more and more heated. 

“I forgot about this scene,” you cringed at yourself.

“It’s ok, you uh, do you want to watch a different movie?”

“Sure,” you squeaked.

Peter put a new movie on but neither of you could get the images out of your heads. Without the other knowing, you both wondered what it would be like, feel like if Peter’s hands roamed your body that way. Bringing goosebumps to your skin. The way your soft gasps and moans would sound against the shell of Peter’s ear. 

You couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your thighs wondering what Peter would do first. You wondered if he’d ever been with another girl and if he did, well that didn’t sit right with you. You swallowed and unbeknownst to you Peter could sense everything. 

He knew how much your breathing quickened after. He could feel the rapid beating of your heartbeat after watching only seconds of that scene. He could smell the sweet arousal coming out of you as you softly clenched your thighs in a desperate attempt to stop the feeling. 

He shifted beside you embarrassed that he was thinking about these things with you. You would hate him if you found out. But you would really?

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something? Promise you won’t get mad?” Oh no. You were really doing this?

“I could never get mad at you,” he said sincerely.

“Have you ever, you know, done it?” you asked shyly.

“Oh, uh no actually. MJ and I never really talked about that and we broke up before really anything happened.”

“Oh, cool.” 

There was awkward silence between you two not really knowing what was to come next. You wanted him, bad. You just got this urge suddenly to feel him, know what he sounded like. You felt a bit embarrassed and thought there was no way he was gonna want to do anything like that with you.

“Do you wanna…?” Or maybe so.

“Only if you want to.”

“Is that bad that I kinda do? Look,” Peter faced you more comfortably and closer, “I really like you. Like a lot. I know I probably shouldn’t and it’s like super inappropriate right now but I can’t help it. You’re like the most beautiful and most perfect girl I’ve ever met. And I really want to show you but I’d never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“Peter, I really like you too. There’s no one I trust more than you, seriously,” you sat on your knees facing him too. You smiled at each other warmly and you started to feel warmer than before.

“Can I kiss you?” Peter whispered.

“Please.”

Peter inches closer to you and gently cupped your jaw pulling you in to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered close and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You moved your knee to move closer to him unfortunately directly on top of the remote. 

The volume turned up and startled you both, the laughter and music from the cartoon on the TV echoing in the room. You pulled back sharply, accidentally biting Peter’s lip but he didn’t seem to care all that much as he grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. 

“I’m so sorry! I think I bit your lip,” you panicked and cringed.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he laughed; his laugh was so charming and contagious you could help but giggle too. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated.

“Don’t be, it was an accident,” he chuckled.

“Now where were we,” he smirked and leaned in to kiss you again. 

Your hands went through his hair and you sighed contently as his lips moved perfectly against. You kissed people before but they’ve never felt this amazing. Peter’s tongue pushed past your lips and you gladly let him in. You melted against him and he placed his hand on your back and pushed back slowly to lay your back against the bed. 

That didn’t work out because you weren’t really in a good position to lay down without moving so you tumbled to the floor making Peter gasp.

“Are you ok?” he laughed.

You head shot up from the ground with a big dopey smile on your face. You crawled back up to bed laughing.

“I’m ok, just took me by surprise,” you giggled.

“Sorry, the mood’s totally ruined now I guess,” he smiled sadly.

“Well, I still wouldn’t mind if we tried one more time,” you said timidly.

“Yeah?” you nodded.

“Ok, uh can I uh, is this ok?” Peter had you straddling his lap and your stomach fluttered with anticipation and arousal.  

“More than.”

Peter leaned up and kissed you again, his fingertips sneaking up your shirt and grazing the soft skin of your belly. Your body shudders but you wanted more. You wanted him to make you squirm and wiggle. 

Peter tugged on the hem of the shirt silently asking if he could remove it. You hesitated but eventually lifted your arms up to let him undress you. Your skin was bare in front of him and this was the first you’d ever been shirtless in front of anyone.

Your arms instinctively covered your chest in modesty but Peter grabbed your hands and smiled softly letting you know that there was nothing to hide. You swallowed hard. Nervous about the current situation. You weren’t scared, you were far from it, but it seemed no matter how many times you imagined this, how many times you went over in your head what you would do, you still felt unprepared and clueless about what to do.

“Do you want to stop?” Peter whispered.

“No, I just don’t know what to do,” you giggled.

“I uh, I can kiss you again,” he suggested, making you nod your head.

Peter captured your lips in a kiss once again, he felt like he could stay like this in your arms and you in his forever. He lifted his own shirt and you were taken by surprise considering you’ve never actually since completely shirtless. There were times when his shirt would rise with his hoodie being taken off but never fully off and it’s all of its muscle glory. 

“Peter,” you breathed out.

“Yeah?” he smirked.

You rubbed your gentle hands faintly across his torso and chest marveling at his physique. 

“I didn’t realize how uh, fit, you are,” you gasped.

“It kinda came with the bite, and training of course,” he grinned. 

“I mean look at you; you are even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said.

He leaned forward and kissed along your chest, his hands roaming over your skin. Your breathing became heavy and your hands rested awkwardly on Peter’s shoulders. 

“Relax, princess. I got you. I promise I’m gonna take really good care of you,” he laid you down again, sideways his time so you wouldn’t fall off the bed again. 

He kissed you again before trailing his lips down your throat. You bit your lip smiling basking in the feeling of Peter’s lips against your burning skin. 

“Peter, please. I need more,” you whined. 

“Like…?” he trailed.

“I’m ready. For you,” you whispered against his lips.

Peter groaned and crawled over you eagerly and opened the drawer grabbing a condom. His torso was directly over your head and you took that opportunity to treat him the same way pressing kisses to his torso. 

“Baby,” he snickered.

“What, you don’t like my kisses?” you smiled.

“I love your kisses,” he smirked.

You watched him stand up and slowly pulled his sweats and boxers down. He kept his eyes trained on you making sure he wasn’t gonna scare you or anything. He saw your face fill with fear, confusion, shock; it didn’t matter so he pulled his pants quickly back up. 

“Wait,” you shouted.

“What happened?” you were confused. You thought things were going well, you were excited and aroused when Peter pulled his pants down. The sight of his impressive member surprising you and making you wetter.

“I thought you were uncomfortable,” Peter panicked.

“No! Please Peter! I want to have sex with you so bad!” you shouted dramatically making him laugh.

“Please take your pants off again,” you crawled up to him and grabbed his neck pulling him close. 

“As you wish, baby,” he kissed you and quickly wiggled out of his pants. You took the condom in your hand and carefully tore the foil. You pulled the ring of latex out unsure of what to do next. Peter gently tilted your head up and kissed you softly before taking the condom from your hands.

“I got this, you just get ready and sit pretty for me,” his words made you shudder. You quickly sat back and practically tore off your panties, tossing them across the room. You could see the light in Peter’s eyes started to fade and you could tell he was getting nervous. 

“Hey, having second thoughts?” you asked softly.

“No, it’s just, I don't really know what I’m doing either,” he stammered.

“Well, I don’t really have anyone to compare, so,” you reassured him.

“I just don’t wanna ruin anything. What if I'm not good?” he said.

“Well, practice makes perfect. So let’s start practicing!” you cheered. 

Peter bit his lip and pumped his aching cock a few times. You settled back and opened your legs a bit and Peter settled himself in. His hands trembled as he grabbed his dick and lined it up to your entrance and your breathing quickened. 

He slid past your folds quite rapidly and you grunted. Peter noticed the discomfort and his hips pulled back too far causing his member to slip out. You giggled but Peter grunted. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you pulled him close and kissed his nose. 

“Don’t freak out, baby,” you nuzzled your nose against his.

Peter kissed you softly, “You’re too good to me.”

Peter tried again and slowly passed your slicks folds. You moaned softly feeling his girth and Peter’s eyes screwed shut. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck and nibbled on the skin of your ear. You wrapped your legs around his hips pulling closer and Peter grunted.

“Fuck, Y/n. You feel so good,” he moaned.

“Peter,” you moaned.

Peter hips snapped into you rapidly and your moans got louder. His hand reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. He kissed you again before his body trembled over yours. His hips suddenly stopped and he fell forward.

“Pete?” you whispered.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. You felt so good I couldn’t hold back,” Peter whined.

“It’s ok,” you giggled.

“No it’s not,” he grumbled. 

“It’s fine Pete, it was our first time. Don’t sweat it,” you smiled.

“No, sit back, princess. I promised I was gonna take care of you and I fully. Intend. On keeping that promise,” he kissed you in between words. 

You fell back and Peter trailed kisses down your front. His hands rubbed your thighs softly pressing faint kisses to the inside of them. Peter looked admirably between your thighs. He licked his lips and looked up at you almost innocently making your stomach flip at the sight.

“Fuck,” Peter whispered before licking up your slit.

“Peter,” you gasped.

He flicked his tongue over your clit and your hips jolted forward. You wiggled and moved under him gasping and whimpering his name. Peter used his strength and pressed your hips down hard as he continued to eat you out. 

Your hands flew to his hair tugging and pulling his fluffy curly hair. Your chest moved up and down hastily and sweat lined your forehead. You sat on your elbows and looked down to Peter who’s eyes were closed and his face immensely flushed, cheeks redden. 

His eyes opened and stared directly into your eyes. He came up for a second and smiled cheekily before dipping his tongue passed your entrance once again. The pressure in the pit of your stomach built up and up and up, until finally it snapped and your body arched in pleasure. 

You moaned and shrieked Peter’s name feeling ecstatic, overwhelmed with absolute pleasure. 

“Feeling good?” Peter got up wiping your cum off his chin. 

“Oh my goodness, Pete. You gotta do that again!” he laughed before kissing you.

“How was that?”

“Better than I imagined,” you cupped his face.

“I lo-” Peter stopped himself.

“I love you,” you whispered, finishing his sentence. 

“Good, because I love you too, so much,” he kissed you. Peter tucked you in his bed and crawled beside you holding you close.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you kissed his jaw.

“For what?”

“For the best night ever,” you ggiled.

“Anytime. Like you said, practice makes perfect.”

“Oh, yeah. I cannot wait until we practice again.”

===============

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

[sunjaesol]

@anabetharo asked: Lucy watching Tim on a date with someone else, at their usual bar

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Las Torres was busy as usual. Tables filled with friends, the bar lined with demanding, drunk and parched people begging for another drink by the overworked bartenders, speakers blaring pop hits while muted TV's showed a sports game only the diehard fans paid attention to. Normally, that meant Tim.

And normally, she'd make fun of him for it. She'd down her drink for some liquid courage and sidle up to his side and tease him mercilessly until he either brushed her off, or entertained the battle of banter they continuously had going on. Usually, he chose the latter.

But now she couldn't do any of that, because Tim Bradford — stoic, hard-ass, emotionally closed-off and hot as hell Tim Bradford — was on a date. With a woman. With a woman that wasn't Lucy. And Lucy was not okay with it.

(Lucy was frankly also a little drunk, so her judgement and flair for the dramatics might be out of wack. Whatever.)

If she felt threatened by officer Barnes, she hadn't been prepared for the babe that currently sat beside him. Tall and slender like a model, with sharp features and beautiful brown skin, a killer smile and totally interested in whatever Tim had to say.

Lucy took an aggressive sip of her margarita and ripped her gaze from the couple back to her friends, but their conversation interested her in the least. Nolan babbled about Henry and Abigail's upcomng wedding with apprehension while Nyla showed Angela a video of her pummeling James during their sparring sessions.

If only Jackson was here, she mourned, he'd gladly commiserate with her.

"Lucy," Nolan said.

It snapped her from her jealous reverie. "Hm? What?"

"What do you think? About the flower arrangement?" A picture on his phone got shoved in her face, the bouquet of flowers eerily similar to the ones she has pinned on her private 'wedding' board. It only made her feel more pathetic.

"Great," she gritted. "It's- it's really great."

"Everything okay, girl?" Angela asked, brows furrowed. The group's attention shifted to her.

Swallowing the rest of her drink, she licked away the salt and nodded rather drowsily. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. But, uh... who's that woman with Tim over there?"

Now, she had her hand on Tim's forearm as she laughed, him fully entranced by her. Lucy felt like laying down and crying for a sec.

"Oh." A deviant smirk crawled up Angela's cheeks as she connected the dots, leaning closer to the drunk girl to rub it in a little more. The detective always tried to get a heightened reaction out of everyone. That annoyed Lucy, the meddling, but she was too drunk to truly care. "That's Grace. They met at the gym. She's pretty, huh?"

"Try gorgeous," Lucy mumbled.

"I did a background check on her," Nyla casually added. "She used to be a model and now she does marketing for charities."

"Even better. She's nice," Lucy groaned, not even trying to hide her clear jealousy. She was pretty sure they all knew anyway. Her attraction to her former TO wasn't subtle, especially after several undercover stints and her brief period as his go-fer.

Lucy wanted him. Lucy loved him, and she has never loved anyone. But now he had Grace. Grace, with her long legs and good heart and probably without lifelong PTSD. A total catch.

With her mood well and truly ruined, she shook her head and stood up, staggering on her feet for a beat as she sought balance. "You know what, I... I'm going home. I'm getting an Uber and I'm going home."

Nolan frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she gulped, forcing herself not to look again. "I think I need to sleep. I'm too much right now."

"You're never too much, Lucy," Angela reassured.

"Eh," Nyla quipped. "Maybe a lil'."

Dropping a handful of bills in the middle of the table, she bid her friends goodnight (earning a sympatethic kiss on the cheek from Angela) and walked outside. The fresh air did her well. It hit her hot cheeks with a gust of cold and knocked her mind back in order.

Tim was allowed to date whoever he wanted. He didn't owe her anything. They had never even edged on something, even if the energy felt charged during moments of joy or vulnerability. He deserved someone great like Grace.

With squinting eyes, she swiped to the Uber app, when suddenly the door behind her slammed open again.

"Lucy."

Whirling on her heels, she came face to face with a surprised Tim. Did he look worried? Her drunk-addled mind had a hard time processing.

She blinked. "Hey. Why'd you leave your smoking date? Go back inside."

He shook his head and pointed at his truck in the lot. "I'm driving you home."

"What?" She didn't comprehend. Where was the logic in this? His date seemed to be going so well! "Why? Grace wants you."

"Because we both know Las Torres isn't as safe as we think," he uttered. Lucy rolled her eyes while he steered them in the direction of the vehicle.

One, she couldn't fear life even if her life was almost taken by a psychopath, which meant she couldn't fear this bar. His point was moot.

Two, Tim was so infuriatingly stuck in his ways that he'd lose his mind one day.

And three, why did he have to be so freaking sweet?! Why couldn't he be with her? Why wasn't he on a date with her? The only reason she had that Pinterest board was because of her vivid dreams about Tim!

"Nowhere is safe. Maybe Canada, or Iceland or something," she blabbed. A smile quirked up his lips. "I'll be fine, Tim. I can handle an Uber myself. You don't have to drive me, just please, please, go back to Grace."

He dropped her in the passenger seat and shot her a curious look. "How do you know her name?"

"Angela."

"Figured."

It shut and he moved to the driver's. Lucy sighed and settled into the cushiony seats. She better get comfortable as he clearly wasn't budging.

When silence settled between them, Tim making no move to turn the ignition, she whispered: "She's beautiful."

He nodded. "She is. But I'm not going on a second date."

Her heart froze. "What? Why?"

The man smiled at her, a little fond, a little pained, a little too much. Maybe they were both too much. Her head was spinning. "She doesn't have that Lucy-quality."

Oh, wow. The ultimate Tim Test. Biting down on her lip, she suppressed the blooming mega-watt beam and swallowed the confession of love that hung on the tip of her tongue. "Lucy-quality," she puffed. "That's stupid."

"It's not," he said, dead serious.

"Just drive, Tim." They had a lot to talk about tomorrow. But now he'd take her home. Like he always did. "Just drive."

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - chapter four

chapter three // chapter five

Aelin slammed her car door harder than necessary, sighing once she was comfortably sitting in her seat. She buckled her seatbelt and turned her head to the man sitting next to her in the passenger seat. "I'm not going to buckle your seatbelt for you, you're an adult, not a child."

Arobynn just chuckled and did it himself. “Always a delight to deal with you, darling.”

Aelin had to take a deep breath or she would snap. Getting mad at him wouldn’t work, it never did. It would just make him mad at her, and it wasn’t worth it. “Call someone else next time, then.” She said as she started driving. Aelin wished she had drunk a coffee before or taken anything that could help her stay awake. Arobynn lived one hour away from this bar, the night was going to be very long. “I forgot, you have no one else.”

“Be careful how you speak to me, Aelin.” His words were harsh even if they were slurred by the alcohol. Aelin hated the part of herself that was scared at his threat. So she didn’t answer, focused on the road, and put on some music to try to distract herself.

Aelin thought about last night, how bad her night of work was until she danced with Elide. Aelin had always loved to dance, she remembered all the times she forced her parents to sit for an hour so she could show them everything she learned that week at the dance studio.

When she turned eight, Aelin started doing dance competitions and she was good, very good, actually. She went to nationals twice, the first time she ended up in fourth place, not good enough. The second time she was in second place, it was better but still not good enough. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was born with the need to be the best at everything she did, she didn’t understand why. Maybe it was because her parents had always been first in their own way and Aelin wanted to be like them.

After an injury at fifteen, she had to stop dancing. She still remembered crying in Aedion’s arms for an entire night. If Aelin thought about it, she would realize that’s the moment everything started to go downhill in her life. But she tried to avoid thinking about it, if she didn’t think about the problems, they didn’t exist.

“Why are you dressed like a whore, anyway?” Arobynn broke the silence and Aelin’s heart clenched. She hadn’t been hurt when Rowan made comments on her outfit because as much as she hated him, she knew he respected women and just wanted to hurt her. Arobynn never had an ounce of respect for women, he had proven it multiple times, that’s what made his comment horrible. “Not that I’m complaining in any way.” Aelin’s eyes left the road for two seconds to see him with a disgusting smile on his lips and his eyes fixed on her thighs. It took all her self-control not to vomit right there.

“I was working,” she simply said. She didn’t have to justify herself but Arobynn didn’t like to be ignored.

“You work at a strip club now?” He snorted. “Why do you even want to work? I told you I could pay for everything you need.”

He did, and it had been generous. Too generous from Arobynn to come without a price. “And I told you I could do it on my own.”

“Well, you don’t seem to earn a lot of money wherever you work since I’m still the one paying for your college tuition.” He said with a light tone but Aelin caught what he really meant. You’re only here thanks to me, be grateful.

“How many times do I have to thank you for it?” She asked with a sharp tone. Aelin had never been very good at staying calm. “I told you I would pay you back-”

“Bullshit,” he tapped his foot on the floor of the car, almost screaming. Unusual for him to lose his temper. When Arobynn was mad he favored hurting people with words. It was very rare for him to be physically violent. She jumped in spite of herself. “Do I look like I care about the money?” No, of course not. The money he used to pay for her college was like pocket money for a ten-year-old child, he didn’t see the difference in his bank account before and after paying for it. “I don’t understand why you want to work and live in a shitty apartment when you could be cared for and live in a manor.”

“ Your manor.” She said coldly.

“Yes, mine. How is that a problem?” He was angry, Aelin could see it at the way his hands clenched on his tights, the way his right leg kept fidgeting, or at the way he pronounced every word that came out of his mouth as if they were full of venom.

“You are my professor, Arobynn. I am your fucking student and not only this but I am also your teaching assistant. Do I really need to explain how wrong it is?”

“I am trying to take care of you, Aelin. I would expect you to be nicer.”

“Right now I am the one taking care of you!” She screamed, done with his bullshit. If someone had told Aelin five years ago that her favorite author was like this, she wouldn’t have believed them. “Even if I don’t want to.”

“I’m waiting for the day you crawl for my help, Aelin.”

She didn’t answer, instead, she kept her eyes on the road. She thought about her favorite books and how happy they made her. Maybe she would read one when she gets back home, it was too late to sleep anyway. Twenty minutes later, she parked her car right in front of his house. It was big, too big for a single man.

Aelin looked at her professor as he unbuckled his belt. “Have you graded the papers we gave you last month? Students will need them this week.” She asked but knew the answer. He just smirked at her and winked.

“You know me better than this, sweetheart.”

Aelin sighed and got out of her car, following Arobynn. He wasn’t walking straight and somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped he wouldn’t get hurt. Aelin knew Arobynn wasn’t a good man, he was a real piece of shit. But he had been there for her when she was at her worst, he didn’t do a lot but he had been there. He gave her opportunities she would never have had alone. And even if his interest in her was bad, he believed in her. He read every single one of her stories, gave her advice to become the best writer she could be. He let her access his contacts. If she ever made it on the best-seller list, it would be a little bit thanks to this man.

He opened his door and Aelin didn’t wait before going to his study, not caring about what he did. She quickly found the folder full of papers. She went through all of them and left hers and Lysandra’s on Arobynn’s desk. She couldn’t grade them, even if she wished she could grade Lysandra’s, but Arobynn didn’t want her to play favorites.

She turned but found Arobynn watching her at the entrance of the study. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, of course, he would start drinking again the minute he got home. He walked towards her and she was struck by the size difference between the two of them. He pinned her with this lover’s gaze. She looked at the face she once found beautiful and swallowed. She wanted to move but couldn’t.

“What would I do without you, sweet Aelin?” He purred, letting one of his knuckles caress her cheek and before he could brush her lips she turned her head to the side. This gave him just more room to lean in and place a kiss on her cheekbone, his lips were soft and warm. Slowly, Aelin pulled back. “Tell me what I have to do for you to let me lay the world at your feet.”

Aelin said nothing as she walked away from him.

-

The moment Aelin entered her bathroom she fell on her knees and threw her guts up in the toilet. She could still feel Arobynn’s hand brushing her thigh in the car, could still feel his eyes on her or his hot breath on her ear.

When she closed her eyes she could remember the first time she saw these grey eyes four years ago and how different it felt to have them on her.

Aelin couldn’t hear the music over her friends’ laugh and her own.

When a waiter passed her she took the opportunity to take another glass of champagne and give him her empty glass. Her head was already spinning in the most delicious way.

"Ten bucks says he goes back with him tonight," Nehemia said, her eyes fixed on Aedion and the handsome blond man he was talking to. They were at a charity event, Aelin had agreed to accompany her parents only if she could bring her friends. Her three friends practically lived at home, so they agreed.

“Ten bucks?” Aelin asked as she took a sip of her drink. “How boring you are. Five hundred says they make out in a cupboard here.”

“You’re the only rich girl here, you know that?” Sam asked as he took her under his arm, forcing her head to rest on his chest. Aelin laughed loudly as she pushed him away, trying not to spill her drink on either of them.

“You are so loud, Aelin,” Lysandra complained but she wasn’t better. If anyone drank as much as Aelin did it was her best friend.

“I think our little Aelin,” Sam said, his voice full of fake seriousness, as he took her head in both hands, Aelin giggled at his fake frown. “Is slightly drunk.” Sam finished, and before Aelin could say anything he bent to kiss her. She lost herself in him, putting her arms around his neck. After a few seconds, they pulled apart but Aelin rested her head in his neck, breathing deeply in his lavender scent. She would kick his ass later for using her soap.

“Fireheart?” Aelin heard her mother call, she turned around but tripped on her long dress. Sam caught her before she could fall and the group of four friends exploded with laughter. They had all had a little too much to drink if they needed so little to laugh.

Aelin hid her glass behind her back, remembering that her parents had forbidden her to drink. They didn’t want their sixteen years old daughter to be seen doing inappropriate things. Sam took the glass discreetly and she knew he would get rid of it as soon as possible. Aelin's parents would never suspect Aelin's perfect boyfriend of helping her disobey her parents.

What her parents didn't know was that her three friends were her partners in crime, especially Sam.

“Aelin, honey.” Her mother said as she stopped in front of her. Sam’s hand rested quietly on her hip, a silent reminder that no matter how the conversation turned out, Aelin was not to get upset.

But Evalin was not alone. "My dear, I'm sure you know Mister Hamel?" She asked, knowing full well that Aelin knew him. She had dozens of copies of all his books all over her room, his writing was just amazing.

Aelin turned her head to admire her idol's face. He was handsome, for a thirty-seven years old man. If Aelin was honest, she had always had a thing for men older than her.

When her eyes met his gray ones, Aelin tensed. Absolutely everything about this man screamed power. From the way he stood to the little smile on his face as he held out his hand for Aelin to place hers in. His hand was warm but not soft, she could feel several scars. He placed a kiss on the back of her hand before saying softly, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Galathynius."

The memory of that night made her throw up a second time as she fought against tears. Everything about this memory was painful. She had worked so hard to keep these emotions locked inside of her for years, she couldn’t break now. Not after everything she did to forget.

“You got drunk?” A deep voice asked and Aelin whipped her head toward that voice only to find a shirtless Rowan, arms crossed, watching her from his doorframe. She didn’t secretly marvel at his muscles like she usually did whenever he was shirtless, tonight, another proof of how bad she was feeling. “Is that why you’re so late?” His voice was hard, the same voice he usually used whenever she was around.

“Were you worried?” She asked, sarcastically. She didn’t have the strength to fight now, and yet… She couldn’t help when he was around.

“Your cousin and best friend were worried sick. Are you so selfish that you don’t care?”

“I’ll talk about that with them, then. I don’t need you here.” Her voice was as hard as his, while she usually was more teasing. Aelin saw him frown at her tone but she didn’t give a shit, she needed to be left alone. “But if you want to know, I wasn’t getting drunk, no.”

“Then what were you doing?” He snapped and Aelin didn’t understand him. Why did he want to know that? Shouldn’t he have been happy she wasn’t here? Why did he even come into the bathroom? Aelin supposed he heard her throw up, it’s not like she was a very discreet person. Did he come here just to mock her? “What has put you in such a pathetic state?”

“Get the out,” her voice was weak, trying not to think about one of the worst nights of her life. You look pathetic , Arobynn had told her two years ago. But Aelin couldn’t help it, everything about that night disgusted her. When she looked up at Rowan she thought she saw concern in his eyes but she probably was hallucinating because a second later, his eyes were cold as ice.

He laughed, even if his laugh didn’t have any humor in it. “You know what, Aelin? Keep throwing up all you want. You’re worthless.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

There was a long pause and when Aelin thought he wouldn’t say anything else, he opened his mouth. “I understand why your parents cut you off. Who would want a disappointment like you as their daughter?”

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” She said silently, and when he closed the door, Aelin let the tears run down her face. For the first time in his life, Rowan hurt Aelin.

-----

taglist:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

[viraltiger]

A year ago I got black-out drunk at a charity bar crawl. My best friend commissioned a painting of his favorite photo of me from that night. - See more viral images on ViralTiger.org

[skyguy-snips]

Chapter 1: The Captain

Book 7: Battle Scars

Words: 1415

Masterlist | Taglist

Chapter 2

note: im very dfubk dnd its dsarurday night im so sorry pls enjoy chapter the new book!!!! ilysm. i'll edit/spellcheck inthe morning. srry lmao im genuinelu very drunk and my gf is trying so sober me up..... its barely working haha sorry anyways i hope you enjoy!! xoxo

note update: i am simply unwell this morning and it’s no ones fault but my own. send your thoughts and prayers lmao

Hurtling through space, Skylar let out a string of curses. She stumbled to the side, slamming into the wall as Tech took another harsh turn to avoid the shots coming from behind them. They had finally gotten that damn lizard thing, only for the previous owners to chase them from the surface.

Omega and Wrecker were in the main hold with the cargo, Echo and Tech in the cockpit and Hunter at the rear guns. Skylar stumbled again as a blast hit the ship, falling into the back of one of the cockpit chairs.

“How much longer until we’re in hyperspace, Tech?” Hunter shouted, firing the guns.

“That depends on when Echo plans on getting the drive back online,” Tech snarked, glancing at Echo.

“I’m working on it!” Echo yelled. Skylar just huffed, already done with their arguing. She watched them work for a few seconds before turning back to the main hold to check on Omega. She was unsteady as explosions rocked the ship, and she watched as Omega pulled the safety bar over her head and Wrecker tried to secure the creature next to her in its crate.

“I don’t think Ruby likes this very much,” Omega said. Skylar dropped into the seat across from her, a confused look on her face.

“You named that thing?” Skylar asked as Wrecker sat down in the seat next to her.

“What’s with these guys?” Wrecker shouted, his hands gripping the safety bar.

“Well we did steal from them,” Omega said. The lizard hissed from it’s cage, and Skylar flinched.

“Technically, the Rhokai stole the lizard first,” Tech called from the cockpit. Skylar shared a look with Wrecker, rolling her eyes. “We are merely intercepting it.”

“They don’t see it that way,” Hunter said, continuing to return fire. A rough blast rocked the ship, the lizard’s cage dropping to the floor and the door flying open. It immediately crawled towards Wrecker, who started yelling.

“It’s loose, it’s loose!”

The creature crawled up his leg, heading straight for his head as he jumped up from his seat.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off,” he shouted, running around in the small area. Omega and Skylar both jumped out of their seats, trying to calm him down.

“Stay calm. You’re scaring her,” Omega said, trying to grab the creature without being whacked by Wrecker’s flailing limbs. He ran clear to the cockpit, slamming into the back of one of the seats and falling backwards.

The creature went flying back into the hold, and Omega grabbed the crate from the floor. Skylar moved to block it’s possible escape route to the cockpit.

“Hyperdrive’s online!” Echo shouted, just as Omega dropped the crate over the creature, trapping it.

“Got it!” she shouted. Skylar grabbed onto her, knowing the jump to hyperspace would throw the small girl otherwise. Tech slammed the lever forward, and the stars blurred around them.

Skylar let out a sigh of relief, leaning down to help Omega close the crate and lock it properly. She made sure Omega was alright, and then she moved to help Wrecker off of the floor.

“You alright, big guy?” she asked, smirking at him. He rubbed his head, an embarrassed look on his face.

“Don’t be mean, Sky. That thing was attacking me!” he whined, pointing accusingly at the crate.

“Uh huh. Whatever you say,” she replied, patting his shoulder as she walked out of the cockpit. She passed Hunter, who nodded at her questioning look: He was alright.

She sat down next to Omega, smiling as she watched the girl peer into the crate to get a better look at the creature, ‘Ruby’.

----------

When they arrived at Cid’s, Echo placed the crate on the counter for Cid to look at.

“That’s one strange lookin’ lizard,” she mumbled, straightening back up to look at the group.

“What’s your client want it for?” Echo asked.

“Maybe it’s a pet. Maybe he wants to turn it into a stew. Don’t know, don’t care,” Cid replied. Omega’s face fell a bit at the idea of Ruby being turned into a stew.

“As long as you get paid,” Hunter finished as Cid turned to walk away.

“Now you’re catching on,” she replied, her back still facing them. “And guess what? That means you get paid too. Bring the lizard in the back.”

Skylar moved to stand by Hunter, nudging him with her shoulder. He glanced at her before turning his eyes to watch Echo and Tech head towards the office. They started following them, but Hunter paused, glancing at a few people along the far wall. She went to ask him what was wrong but they were interrupted.

“Hunter?” Omega called. They both turned around, finding Omega and Wrecker. The girl looked up at Wrecker, gesturing towards them with her thumb.

“What are you two up to?” Skylar asked, the hand not holding her helmet resting on her hip.

“The mission’s over. Can we go?” Wrecker asked, Omega giving them a blinding smile.

“Again?” Hunter sighed.

“It’s a tradition,” Wrecker said, Omega nodding along. These two were trouble, that Skylar was sure of. “It makes the kid happy.” Omega leveled Wrecker with a frown.

“Uh huh. The kid,” Hunter said. They just looked at him, sweet and manipulative smiles on their faces.

“Don’t take long,” Hunter sighed, turning to walk back to the office. Skylar couldn’t help but grin, knowing Hunter had the biggest soft spot for his brothers and Omega. The two cheered, jumping up and down before running from the bar. Skylar followed Hunter, glancing back toward the group of people along the far wall.

They entered the office, Cid tapping away on her datapad.

“All right, here’s your cut,” she said, handing Hunter a handful of credits.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You said the job paid three times this,” Hunter argued.

“For me, not for you,” Cid said.

“And just how is this a mutually beneficial arrangement?” Echo asked, clearly frustrated.

“You’re breathin’, aren’t you?” was Cid’s reply, just angering them further. “Rather generous considering the debt you owe me.”

“What debt?” Skylar asked. Cid tossed the datapad onto the desk, and Skylar picked it up and scanned through the itemized list.

“Docking fees, port charges, gear, fuel, rations, and 20 cartons of Mantell Mix?” she read off. Cid didn’t reply, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. Tech took the datapad from her, reading it for himself while the other three glanced at each other.

“Now, I like you, but I’m not running a charity here. You need a big score for us to be square,” she said, pointing her staff at them.

“Like what?” Echo asked.

“Like retrieving that tactical droid, but you bungled that op,” she said, frowning. “I suggest you figure something out before you see my ugly side.”

“That’s not her ugly side?” Tech murmured, glancing at Skylar next to him. She elbowed his stomach where the armor didn’t cover, a small ‘oof’ leaving his mouth.

“What was that, goggles?” Cid asked, leaning closer to him. The argument was cut short, however, by the sound of blaster fire coming from the bar. They all turned on instinct, hands pulling out their blasters. They took off running, pausing in the doorway to the bar with their blasters aimed.

They saw two patrons go running for the exit, a cloaked figure standing by the far wall with a blaster in their hand. They sat the blaster on the edge of the table, their face obscured by their hood. However, a flash of blue and white caught Skylar’s eye, and her breath caught in her throat.

No. It couldn’t possibly be. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, there was no way this person was a trooper, let alone would she be lucky enough for them to be from the 501st. Not after what happened.

Cid shoved past them, angry for the disturbance.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” she asked, nudging Hunter aside. “Who are you?”

She gestured towards the cloaked individual with her staff, their head turning to look at them. They stepped forward, and everyone’s hands warily held their blasters. The person reached up towards their hood, and all of the air left Skylar’s lungs.

Blue and white plastoid armor. She would recognize those tally marks anywhere.

He removed his hood, looking at them with an unreadable expression. Skylar felt Echo tense beside her, his arm lowering his blaster immediately.

“... Rex?”

-----------

Taglist (request to be added here)

@commxnderwolffe @graciaramirez @killtherandomness @nerjetiise @photowizard17 @selbyknox @unapprovedtrash @xsweetchanx @hannahbowker @lokigirlszendaya @quietly-scrolling-through @wondergal2001 @zombiedixon89 @hanns1d

[kevindayisafrog]

Part 7 of the Kevaaron thing

TW - homophobic slur towards the end

Kevin’s days merged together in a slow downward slope of practice, sleep and lessons. His grades slipped slightly as he couldn’t procure enough energy to pick up a pen, let alone write thousand word essays and extra notes on top. At practice the Foxes resented him more as his fraying anger caused him to snap easier and cause more fights than usual. Wymack tried to bench him for a week but got tired of Kevin’s complaints and decided to let him back on court to annoy the Foxes instead. All he wanted to do was sit alone in his room so could process his thoughts, but Andrew kept a closer eye on him so he couldn’t even go to the bathroom without questions being asked. He couldn’t breathe in the suffocated dorm and the pounding noise of the court made it worse. And on top of all this the press and Raven fans dragged Kevin and Jean ruthlessly, blaming Riko’s death on them and calling them all the names under the sun. But he couldn’t complain, the Foxes’ sympathy could only stretch so far; and that ran out after one of last week’s practices ended with Kevin and Matt ripping each other into pieces.

Kevin looked out the window of the car as Andrew speeded towards Columbia with the sweet taste of Eden’s on his mind. The car radio hummed in the background as Nicky filled them all in on the latest campus gossip, but Kevin couldn’t care less. He tapped his fingers against his thighs as they turned off the highway and towards the exit for Columbia. Kevin itched to get out of the cramped car and drown himself in the strongest drink that Eden’s could provide. Andrew pulled up outside Sweetie’s and Kevin practically fell out of the car to escape the closeness of the others. “Embarrassed to be seen with us, Kev?” Nicky got out of the car and flung an arm around Kevin’s shoulders as they made their way into the ice cream bar. Kevin tried to shake Nicky’s arm off but couldn’t manage to stop Nicky’s iron grip from squeezing his arms. “Let’s get the table in the corner”, Andrew led the group to the table and shot Nicky a death glare until he dropped his arm from Kevin’s shoulder. “What? You’ve got Neil, you can’t be too greedy”, he winked at Kevin before sliding next to Aaron on the pink leather booth. Kevin looked from pair to pair and decided that sitting with Andrew and Neil might be more comfortable than having Nicky’s hands brushing his under the table. “Yay, I get to see your face better”, Nicky smiled at Kevin before grabbing napkins and idly spinning them in a lazy circle. “Hi, what can I get you today?” a short black haired waiter approached the table with menus but Andrew waved him off and ordered their ice cream without looking at the man. “You don’t have to always be a dick”, Aaron muttered as the waiter left the table to fetch their orders. “I’m not looking for charity points”, Andrew lifted one leg onto the seat and rested his chin on it as he watched the other diners. Kevin watched him for a while before reaching over and snatching the napkins from Nicky, “can you stop fucking doing that. It’s annoying”. Nicky rolled his eyes and turned to face deadpan Aaron with a smile. “Am i the only happy one here?” he looked around at the stone faced monsters and laughed as Kevin threw the napkins at him. “Behave”, Aaron growled as the waiter returned with three sundaes. “I’ll just get the other two for you”, he smiled at them before turning and leaving for the kitchen. “I’m not really hungry”, Kevin muttered as he stared down at his ice cream with a sick feeling slowly crawling up his throat. “You can’t get drunk on an empty stomach, so if you’re planning to drink away your sorrows I’d advise you to shut up and eat”, Andrew waved his spoon in Kevin’s face before turning back to his own sundae and taking small bites. “Here you go, enjoy”, the waiter slid the last two sundaes to Aaron and Nicky and quickly left the table again. Kevin watched the others eat and felt as if he would pass out from the sight of the sugary food. “I will fucking force feed you”, Andrew turned slightly in his seat and picked up Kevin’s spoon as a warning. “Fine”, he snatched the spoon back and swallowed down a lump in his throat as he scooped up the ice cream. They all ate in silence until the last person, Neil, finished eating before Andrew shoved Kevin off the seat to leave the diner. Kevin waited for Neil to slide out before following the two out into the dark street.

Aaron watched blearily as Kevin knocked back drink after drink without a thought. He never cared much for Kevin’s well-being before, but he felt somewhat responsible now that Kevin had no one else to lean on. “Heya, Kev”, he grabbed Kevin’s wrist before he could drink and pulled it away, “wanna dance?” Kevin looked at him blankly as Aaron slid off his seat with a stumble and smiled at him with a lopsided grin. “Come on, chicken”, he let Kevin set his drink down before pulling him towards the dance floor by the wrist. “I don’t dance”, Kevin stood in the middle of the dance floor blushing as people moved all around him. “Come on, let loose”, Aaron grabbed Kevin’s other wrist and pulled him closer. “Just let loose”, he repeated as Kevin stood stiffly with darting eyes. “I might go back up to Andrew”, Kevin made a move to leave but Aaron pulled him down to his level. “Don’t leave me, I’ll teach you”, he pushed Kevin back up straight and started to slowly dance with a pleased smile. “I don’t think so”, Kevin let a rare smile creep across his lips as the pint sized boy opposite seemed to ‘let loose’. Aaron rolled his eyes and placed his hands on Kevin’s hips to move them side to side. “Why not? It’s fun”, he blinked up at Kevin’s swaying frame. “People will laugh”, Kevin’s smile faded as he looked at the dancers around him. “Who will laugh?” Aaron watched as Nicky made his way down the steps. “Everyone, they’re staring”, Kevin took a step back and knocked into a drunk girl who wolf whistled at him. “Sorry”, he whispered and stepped towards Aaron again. “Everyone’s drunk, dipshit, they won’t remember. Live a little”, Aaron started swaying to the music and smiled as Kevin shifted on his feet and began to slowly sway with him. “There you go”, he laughed and standed on his toes to place his stretched arms on Kevin’s shoulders, “loosen them shoulders, you giant”. They both laughed as Kevin slowly caved in and went for it. “Nice hip movement”, Nicky stumbled over and slapped Kevin’s ass, “I like what I see”. Aaron rolled his eyes and pulled Kevin closer. “He’s mine for the night, go find someone else”, Nicky stared blankly between Kevin and Aaron before nodding with wide eyes and moving away. “Someone needs to teach him boundaries”, Kevin spoke quietly so Aaron had to ask him to repeat it. Kevin laughed and leant down to speak in Aaron’s ear, “someone needs to teach him boundaries”, Aaron nodded and blushed at Kevin’s body so close to his. He tried to step back without making it obvious and stood on a woman’s foot. “Watch it, schoolboy”, she shouted at him as her boyfriend stood between Aaron and her. “Get your own girl, dwarf”, he sneered down at Aaron how raised his fist. “Or fucking what?” Kevin grabbed Aaron’s fist and pushed him behind him. “Are you standing up for that child?” The man glared Kevin up and down before laughing in scorn. “Oh, I see, you’re fag-“, Kevin didn’t let the man finish before punching him square in the face. The girl shrieked and leapt down to aid her battered boyfriend as Kevin pulled Aaron away by the hand.

“I’m sorry”, he shouted over the music once they were back up with the others at the table. “Sorry for what?”, Andrew leaned over the table to inspect Kevin’s cut hand. “Oh, Kevvie, violence is never the answer”, he leaned back in his seat and shook his head sarcastically. “Piss off, hypocrite”, Aaron glared at Andrew before turning back to Kevin’s slumped demeanor. “I could’ve handled it myself, you didn’t need to do that”. Kevin nodded quietly before whispering. “I’m sorry”. Aaron rolled his eyes and left the table to get ice. When he reached the bar he stared at the mirror on the wall and watched Kevin reach for another drink. “For fuck’s sake”, he bit his lip as Roland walked over with a smile. “Just ice, thanks”, he watched as Roland scooped ice into a rag and tied it up. “Andrew got in another fight?” he handed the ice to Aaron with a worried expression. “No, Kevin this time”, Roland nodded quietly as Aaron left without another word. “Use this you big baby”, he pressed the ice onto Kevin’s knuckle and took the drink from his other hand. “I was drinking that”, Kevin scowled at Aaron who knocked back the drink himself and placed it back on the tray. “I don’t care, you’ve had enough to last a lifetime”, he looked at Kevin’s confused glare and pressed the ice harder to make him wince. “I’m not having this conversation, not now”, he looked away to watch Nicky make a fool of himself on the dance floor and Aaron felt a heavy pull in his chest. He knew too well about addiction denial and knew what Kevin was thinking. “Well, we’ll talk about it later”, he let go of the ice and looked down at his thighs as Kevin grunted in reply.

[moral-turpitudes]

College Headcanons: Modern!Peaky Blinders Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

Grace Burgess:

Major: Criminal Justice Minor: Fashion Merchandising

10/10 would join a sorority. She has the look and loves the parties.

Has beauty and brains, surprisingly.

Works part time as the barista at Starbucks.

Loves sticking her nose in people’s business so her major is pretty fitting.

She loves a challenge so when she gets to know Thomas Shelby, she knows he’s gonna be fun to figure out.

Studies a decent amount but uses her spare time to try to look into the Shelby’s and why they practically run campus. A little birdy told her about them.

Knows Tommy’s coffee order by heart.

Always DTF.

Is suspicious of Tommy’s inability to use technology but goes along with it cuz she wants to get to know him more.

Didn’t think she’d fall for the mysterious man with a smoking problem but here we are.

When introduced to his family, she asked too many questions about their finances and such, making them think she worked for the cops or something.

Polly still didn’t trust her despite it being a while since they first dated.

Her professor likes her, and encourages her to keep investigating as part of her project on corrupt institutions. Only her professor is a little too enthusiastic. She passes the class, but tells Tommy about him being creepy from time to time.

The next day the professor isn’t there. Hmm. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Almost fought a guy who spilt his coffee on her new dress.

Dreams of being well-off and having a fashion line of her own. Envying Ada’s knack for clothing.

Gets drunk with her sorority sisters on the weekends at the bar and does karaoke. It’s not the best, but she gets an A for effort.

About halfway through her junior year she has to leave cuz she’s dramatic and Polly may have blown her cover. So in a rash decision, she leaves Tommy on his own, making him have a fit and almost getting himself suspended but it’s fine. Polly tells him he’ll meet someone else.

Esme Lee

Major: Horticulture

Her friends all have crazy majors but she wanted something simple, so she chose horticulture. It also lets her get out of the dull college life for a while, or so she thought.

Knowing she can get her mind set on her studies, they decided to help her out and invited her to a frat party.

Everyone who was popular was there so she felt a bit out of place, until she met John randomly when she went to grab a drink.

She’s a wild one kind of like John so they mesh well together. They ended up getting drunk and dancing the night away, letting all their college worries leave them.

In her spare time she can be seen roaming campus with John or hanging out with her friends, and occasionally yelling at some people to get away from her plants at the schools gardening area.

She got along with the blinders really well, except she liked to challenge Tommy at times.

She may be small but she’s one hell of a yeller. She intimidated John the first time she yelled at him.

No one messes with her unless they want to be beaten up by her boyfriend.

Polly likes to chat with her about the business sometimes, sparing some of the details, but she knows Esme can be trusted, and besides, Esme can always force it out of John if it’s something too shady.

Apart from her social life, she does quite well for her studies, and runs a small etsy shop where she makes jewelry.

Her favorite part is uploading aesthetic photos of them to her insta and trying to get John to model for her pictures.

She, like the rest of the family, knew Grace was a snake, and always got bad vibes from Linda…smh.

When she heard news of Grace leaving, she shared a glance with John and did a happy dance internally. In regards to Linda, she wanted to claw her eyes out a bit but she held herself back. Linda would eventually get what came to her. Karma really is that bitch.

As time went on, she found herself agreeing on a whim to marry John, and later falling pregnant with her first of many children. But she’s fine with this situation as long as he helps her live her cottage!core dreams with a bunch of chickens running around while they raise their 10,000 kids.

Linda Shelby

Major: Agriculture

Minor: Religious Studies

Unhinged™

Joined a philanthropic sorority, so she mainly focuses on serving people at shelters and charities instead of serving looks at frat parties.

Claims to be a Christian.

Has the eye for anyone with a penis.

Spends most of her agriculture classes daydreaming about shooting Arthur.

Prays she has the knowledge to pass her exams instead of actually studying for them.

Just wants to live on a farm and be a housewife.

Gives off major bitch vibes no matter how many crucifixes she wears around her neck. Polly tolerates her, and so does the rest of the family, but it’s only a matter of time before someone snaps.

Textbook good-girl-gone-bad trope. Everyone knows her around campus for preaching about no sex until marriage but she be doing the nasty with her side-bae after prayer night.

Enjoys eavesdropping on the Shelby family’s conversations. She supplies Grace with information in exchange for free coffee.

Gaslighting is her second language, speaking in tongues is her third.

When she’s not planning things, she can be seen talking to Grace at Starbucks or stress-baking. She hooks her friends up with weed brownies and later switches to coke because of her boyfriend’s family *cough* Arthur.

Binge drinks on Saturdays and crawls to church on Sundays.

Gets clingy and manipulative at times.

Loves doing her religious studies homework in the chapel or the huge library on campus.

She’d do okay up until finals week, then she’d have many a break down that only cocaine could fix.

Drunk calls Arthur and lets it slip she’d been sleeping with someone the whole time they’d been together. Has 2 working braincells at that point.

He goes off on the dude as they both went to the same bible study. He begged for mercy in the middle of the church floor for Arthur to stop with the punches but we all know hell hath no fury like a person who’s been cheated on. May have almost killed him but it’s fine.

Linda finds him bleeding almost as much as Jesus did.

After crying to Grace on the phone, she snorts a couple lines and downs some shots and heads to Arthur’s dorm. Sos Linda’s got a gun.

Gets shot and lives to tell about it.

She leaves to find god perhaps after all this...or more coke, and just says “fuck it” to her degree. College isn’t for everyone, it’s ok Linda.

Poor Arthur is confused in the weeks leading to the shooting and Linda leaving. Isiah tried to warn him since he was her partner for some projects but he didn’t listen. He wanted to question Tommy’s barista bae about her too but she dipped tf out. The world may never know.

Lizzie Starke

Major: English

She’d taken up an assistants job at the business college and so she worked for nonother than Professor Polly Gray.

She got along with her well, and on Friday nights when she’d be invited out for drinks, she’d overhear Polly divulge one too many secrets about her business.

She kept her circle small so she never felt the need to tell anyone, also fearing that she wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if she did.

Polly trusted her with all her paperwork, often having to proofread and go over Tommy’s insanely long assignments and political debate notes.

Tommy would often be seen around the office, talking Polly’s ear off about business and legal issues, all while she’d get lost in his eyes as he spoke.

She knew she was out of his league, at least while Grace had him wrapped around her finger, but Polly said her day would come so she believed it.

In her spare time, she’d read poetry and sip tea, and on occasion try to teach Tommy about the world of laptops, but even she gave up after a while.

Her major took up a good deal of her time, constantly writing papers and re-reading books, but there was always one silver-lining. Tommy would often skip getting Finn’s help and go straight to her. He said it was because she gave good advice, but his demeanor said otherwise.

When he’d arrive, she’d notice him gradually improving his appearance, much like he did with Grace. And when he’d leave, Polly would shoot her a knowing look.

She may be quiet, but she’s smart, and knows when to make her moves, which both impresses Polly and intrigues Tommy.

Ends up being one of the only ones able to call Tommy out on his shit.

When she’s not around the Shelby’s she’s with her friends or hitting up bars and bookstores.

When she and Tommy finally get together, some students turned their heads at first, but they were good for each other in the long run, it just took Tommy longer to see it.

Gina Gray:

Major: Business Management

Minor: Fashion Merchandising

She came in the picture shortly after Grace’s departure. She was studying abroad but decided to come back for her business classes.

When she first laid eyes on Michael she knew he was the one, but she had to go through Polly, her professor first.

They dated for a while until he popped the question one weekend, leaving everyone in shock.

When she wasn’t fooling around with Michael, she could be seen around campus with her sorority sisters and some of her close friends. Since she was a fashion minor, she always made sure she was dressed to the nines and turned heads almost as much as Michael’s cousin Ada, almost.

Gives off bitch vibes 24/7. No one can really tell if she’s genuine in her feelings, not even Michael, poor bud.

His family thought she was suspicious like Grace, and Polly still can’t put her finger on why she feels she may have a trick up her embellished sleeves.

Michael tends to follow her like a lost puppy of sorts, but she loves the attention, and when he mentioned how his family worked she didn’t seem very phased by it, coming from a somewhat dysfunctional and power-hungry family herself.

She tries to study a decent amount but she’s always hanging out with Michael or getting herself into trouble with the cops when her sorority sisters throw parties.

She’s smart and very convincing, but Polly sees right through her, leading up to a very heated discussion between the two women after class one day.

It’s safe to say that her grades for Polly’s class are holding on by a thread, much like Polly is to her sanity.

She loves a game, whether that’s messing with people’s heads, or trying to beat her friends on game night. She always enjoys watching how they work through their problems, picking out the weakest ones in order to beat them while they’re down.

When she’s not scraping by in her business classes, she’s brainstorming fashion ideas for her numerous projects she’s left until the last minute. Somehow she’s passing the class with flying colors though.

Like Michael’s cousin Tommy, she’s always scheming over something, and so it’s only a matter of time before she fucks something up.

Aberama Gold:

Profession: Philosophy Professor

Side Job: Hitman

His teaching styles are eccentric, often taking the class on field trips to immerse them in the experience.

Goes on for hours about various stories and theories, often losing the class after 30 minutes.

Sometimes he gets called out of class by the teaching assistant because he got an “important” phone call.

“Important” phone calls mean hits and he can’t turn them down unless he wants beef with his rival gang members or people involved in the mafia.

For these reasons, he has two phones. One for his usual work and family, and one for the dirty work.

His son always teases him about having hella phones, but he ain’t no drug dealer, although he most definitely knows some by association.

Asks hard questions to his students and expects good answers.

Doesn’t believe in homework, but makes the classes very challenging and hard to skip.

In his spare time he helps out at the boxing ring, teaching his son the ropes and prepping him for competitions. Other times he helps Arthur and Finn train, all in an attempt to get them to mention their aunt Polly.

He’s in love with the woman but is a bit shy like his son. It takes him a bit to get the courage to meet her but once he does they hit it off.

Polly wasn’t turned off by his dangerous lifestyle, in fact she was turned on by it as she’s lived the same life.

When he wasn’t with Polly or helping his son, he could be seen roaming campus in his signature hat, resting in alleyways or leaving campus abruptly, obviously to go kill someone.

He’d often spend nights away from home alone in the forest, away from Polly and his family, using “philosophy research purposes” as an excuse so he could stake out targets.

He always kept his end of the bargain up, even when he had to deal with Polly’s family and their gangly family business.

Bonnie Gold:

Major: Sports Management

One of the more quiet, reserved students on campus. He can get mouthy when challenged though so watch out.

Would definitely hang with the art and english students, they’re chill.

Can be seen carrying his boxing gloves between classes and doing routine jogs around campus.

All the bitches love him but he only has his eyes on his future. He just wants to win his matches and then he’ll think about love, or so he says. He has the eye for someone in class though and it’s not long until his dad finds out.

He’s health-conscious af.

Has never eaten Ramen noodles a day in his life and doesn’t plan on it. Even if his friends Finn and Isiah try to bribe him. It’s one of the peak college experiences after all.

May have gotten drunk at a frat party and fought a tree.

Would throw hands if someone was being a dick to someone he cared about.

Takes his major seriously. He studies decently well given his dad is always on his ass about it, but when he’s done he goes to parties or hits the ring.

Often has his head in the clouds, dreaming of being a famous boxer, or at least managing a very successful sports team.

Helps his dad on hits. Not many people know this so it’s hush hush.

When he’s not shooting at his fathers enemies, he’s in the ring practicing for the big competitions.

Often spends weekends with his dad, helping to plan attacks and meeting with his blinder friends.

Almost got suspended for knocking out a couple guys cuz they insulted his father.

Attends his dads lectures just to keep an eye on things for him and because he actually finds the subject interesting. May also have a “thing” for a girl in the class but most likely won’t make a move because he’s shy af most times.

Isiah Jesus:

Major: History

Minor: Religious Studies

Despite his wild lifestyle, he likes learning about religions and how they all came to be, given his dad is a preacher.

He may not be a saint but he tries to do well in the classes at least.

Can be seen fucking around with his buds Finn and Bonnie, and going to one too many frat parties.

Finn and him would do lines of coke as soon as Arthur helped move a new supply in, and he’d try to bribe Bonnie to try it but he’d refuse and say he “has to stay clean for his matches.”

When he’s not doing coke or studying for his history or religion exams, he’s out helping the blinders on various jobs.

He often gets in trouble with security because he’s always sneaking about the dorms with some girls he met at parties.

Call it divine intervention, but he couldn’t help but feel something was “off” with the girl Arthur was seeing, cuz he’d gotten partnered up with her for some religion projects in the past and her ideas were concerning. He told Arthur to be careful but we all know what went down.

He likes joining the blinders on their business trips, often leaving his schoolwork until the last minute, just to get the opportunity to help in the business.

He and Finn rant about them not getting enough exposure to the family business but Polly quickly shoves the ideas from their heads saying they need to focus on school, at least then maybe the family could have some other potential.

Daydreams of being a full-blown leader like all the ones he’d read about in his history books. He often looks up to Tommy just as much as Finn does, which sometimes gets them both hurt.

He can be seen often at the ring training with Finn and Bonnie.

He sticks up for his family and friends, even if it means putting himself on the line. No one messes with him unless they want trouble from him and everyone he knows.

[hockeybabe87]

Auston Matthews - Why

You walked into the crowded bar with your friends as you tried to find a spot to hangout for the evening. You were handed a drink by one of your friend’s boyfriends when you locked eyes with a man on the other side of the room in the VIP section. You smiled as the familiar boy’s eyes twinkled as he gave you a once over.

You’d met Auston at a charity function earlier in the year and you’d become fast friends. But you tried to keep your distance a little bit knowing that he was in the NHL. You watched as he rose from his table and walked out of the VIP section straight towards you.

“Hey Y/N!” He said pulling you into a hug.

You smiled and immediately hugged him back, trying to memorize every curve of his body pressed against yours. You were happy that you decided to wear something a little sexier than normal this night.

“Come to the VIP.” He said as he rested his hand on the small of your back and led you and a few of your friends over to where he ad his friends had a table in the back with bottle service. Auston sat down and immediately pulled you down next to him, his hand resting on the top of your thigh as he quickly fixed you a drink at the table.

“Thanks for bringing us back here.” You said as you noticed all of your friends mingling with his around the table.

Auston smiled at you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Anything to spend more time with you.” He whispered causing you to blush.

You began to drink a little faster than normal and you were definitely feeling the alcohol surge through your veins as you were talking and laughing at something Freddie said.

You felt Auston’s grip on your thigh tighten slightly and you turned your attention onto him. He brushed your hair back so he could put his lips closer to your ear.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispered as he placed a kiss just below your ear.

You giggled and turned to face him, you could smell the alcohol on his breath so you weren’t totally sure if he was being honest or if he just had too much to drink.

“How drunk are you?” You whispered back.


“I’m fine baby.” He said as he slowly slid his hand up your thigh.

You quickly grabbed it and pulled it back down. As much as you loved it, you were not about to let this happen at a table in front of all of your friends.

Auston chuckled as he took a large swig of the beer he was holding and he squeezed your thigh gently.

“You coming home with me tonight?” He smirked.

“Maybe if you’re good...” You smiled back as you giggled and took another sip of your drink. You and Auston played these games all the time. Everyone knew it. You were putting each other through hell. You both wanted each other so badly, but neither of you were fully ready to commit. You had just gotten out of a long term relationship, and well Auston was enjoying the single NHL life. You wanted so badly to just crawl into his lap and show him how badly you needed him, but you resisted.

Tonight seemed different though, he was so much more touchy, the little kisses here and there, the looks he gave you...was tonight going to be the night?

You stayed tucked into the table with him most of the night, he was so attentive to anything you needed and if any guy would even look at you he would turn kind of possessive. But it made you feel safe; it made you feel wanted.

You leaned into Auston and whispered, “I’m not going to lie, you have me incredibly turned on right now.”

Auston’s eyes widened as he took in your words.

“I want you to touch me, just not here...” You whispered, praying he would get the hint that you wanted him to take you back to his place.

“Y/N, the uber is here, are you coming back with us?” Your friend asked, obviously unaware of what was going on with you and Auston at that moment.

“Uhh, sure.” You said, begging and praying Auston would stop you.

He didn’t say anything. He walked with you out of the bar and gave you a hug and a kiss on top of your hair as he made sure you got into the Uber. He even told you to text him when you made it home safely.

You couldn’t help it as you began to cry as you sat in your room taking off your makeup. You wanted Auston so badly, you began to question yourself. Did you do something wrong? Were you not good enough? Why didn’t he want you?

—

A few months had gone by before you saw Auston again. He walked into a quiet Starbucks coffee shop when he noticed you in the corner sitting at a table with the same guy you had ended things with before the night at the club. He didn’t want to talk to you, just wanted to get his coffee and leave. However, when you spotted him he knew couldn’t just slip out so easily.
 “Auston!” You said over the low music and the sound of the espresso machine operating in the back.


“Hey!” He plastered on the fakest smile he could.

“Have you met Mason?” You asked.

Your boyfriend stood up and shook Auston’s hand and introduced himself. 


“Babe, I’ll go get the car okay? I don’t want to be late to your parents.” Mason said as he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. 


“It was so nice to meet you.” He said to Auston before he went to retrieve the car.

“So you’re back together.” Auston stated.

You nodded your head.

“Well it’s not like anyone else wanted me.” You spat.

Auston ran a hand through his hair as he sighed in frustration.


“Do you really think I didn’t want you?” He asked.

You were literally in shock right now.

“Well I was practically begging you to fuck me and all you did was put me in an Uber to my own apartment!” You exclaimed.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm.

“The reason I didn’t take you home that night was because I KNEW you would end up back with Mason. I didn’t want to deepen our relationship just to have you ripped away from me.” He said as he threw his hands through the air.

You’d never seen Auston so upset. 


“Aus...” You whispered as you reached for his hand.

You had no idea that Auston felt that way. You had no idea he cared for you that deeply.

“Just go.” He said, not meeting your eyes.

You didn’t move from the spot you were in. You gently reached out and tried to touch his arm.
 “Please, just go.” He said again looking you in the eyes this time.

You could see how hurt he was, how seeing you with Mason was killing him.

You nodded your head and gathered your belongings before you walked out of the coffee shop and into the car with Mason.

[wordsandwickedthings]

Break my heart again

“kissed me half a decade later, that same perfume, those same sad eyes.”

Draco was Harry's first crush, and later his first kiss. their adolescent relationship full of repression and secrets - from the world, from each other; the tension between the two boys building and building. And inevitably tension must release or shatter. Harry just didn't know he could shatter twice.

inspired from break my heart again by Finneas. 

warnings: swearing? angst? 

a lot has happened since my last fic, and i cannot describe in words how fucking angry i am at the police and just the system in generals. if you have the means i encourage you to donate to the victims families and black lives matters charities.  

---

There are somethings in life we cannot escape; heartache is one of them. And heartache had a way of fallowing Harry through life like a ghost. No matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he fought – Harry Potter was haunted. And nothing haunted him quite like Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy. Harry’s first crush, whether his adolescent mind was willing to admit it at the time or not. He was snarky, sarcastic, and far too dramatic for young harry to deal with – and he was all the teen thought about at night.

Harry tried to keep the feelings that burned in him to himself. He knew there was a shame to it, not just because Draco was a boy, but because he was Draco. Shitty, self-absorbed, evil Draco. He was not someone who held a high status in the chosen boy’s head; but that didn’t stop the blonde from being in his head. all. The. Damned. Time.

The chosen boy tried so hard to keep his secret, but it came crashing down like Harry always knew it would. No secret can hold forever.

Draco had cornered him in an abandoned hallway and shoved him against a wall, wand pointed at him. His goons weren’t with him for once, the two nemeses were alone. Harry hated being alone with him, when they were alone, he couldn’t focus on anything else besides the blonde – the blonde who had murder in his eyes.

“you think your clever, potter?” Draco growled.

Harry tilted his head like a dog, “I’m cleverer than you.”

“I know it was you who told Dumbledore I was in the forbidden section.”

“how would I know you were in the forbidden section,” Harry challenged, “it’s forbidden.”

The marauder’s map came in handy sometimes, no matter how petty the cause.

Draco pushed him further into the wall, “you’re putrid.”

Harry ignored the flutter deep in his gut, and laughed, “and you’re vile, what’s your point?”

“Why do I put up with you?” the blonde practical screamed.

“I don’t know,” the chosen one yelled back, “why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“maybe I don’t want to!”

Both boys were silent after that, Harry’s heart racing as fast as his mind was.

He couldn’t think, so out of instinct he slammed his lips against the other boys, ignoring how Draco’s wand pressed into the vein in his neck. Harry didn’t know how long their lips touched. a second? Maybe two? Before Draco pushed him away, a look of shock on his face.

Fuck.

Harry closed his eyes as Draco ran away, he couldn’t breathe – fuck fuck fuck.

The two boys avoided each other for weeks after that, and the chosen boy almost preferred it that way, not matter how strange it felt. Harry waited for Draco to tell the whole school what happened in the hallway, too mock him, too sneer at him. It never came, though; Draco didn’t seem to acknowledge the fact that Harry existed at all. The chosen boy didn’t know how to feel about that. For so long he wanted Draco to just leave him alone, even if in the back of his mind he reveled in the attention he got from the other boy. But now, Draco’s eyes on him, Harry felt wrong – like a part of his world had crumbled away overnight.

Until one night when Harry was sneaking out to get some air. The weeks of Draco’s silence was getting to him, and no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, he missed Draco’s annoying presence every day.

Once again Draco found him in an abandoned hallway; It felt all too familiar when Draco pushed him up against the wall, but instead of pressing his wand to the chosen one’s neck, he pressed his mouth against Harry’s.

After that, the two boys kept a different secret. A secret that hid itself in towers and the room of requirement. A secret he shared with another through glances and inside jokes while the rest of the world watched – and when no one watched a secret the two boys reveled in.

It was a secret that burned differently from its former.

But it still burned.  

“what do you think your father would say if he could see us now?”

Draco didn’t look up from his parchment, “whatever curse he could think of first.”

“he hates me.” Harry fiddled with his fingers. He had completely abandoned his essay.

“I hate you.”

“you have a funny way of showing it.”

Draco put down his assignment, crawling up to harry until they were nose to nose. The chosen one lifted his head up to kiss him, but Draco pulled away before he could. There was a look in his eye that Harry couldn’t pinpoint, and harry didn’t like it. “don’t make this out to be something it’s not.”

Harry scrunched his nose, “what is it not?”

“Love,” Draco said, like it was nothing, “infatuation, tenderness, feelings.”

“feelings,” Harry echoed.

“we don’t have to dress this up and make it look nice.”

“why are you saying this shit?” harry pushed the other boy off him, standing up.

“what,” Draco frowned, “did you think we were doing?”

“I didn’t –“ harry wiped his palm over his face, trying to articulate himself. “I don’t think we’re doing anything, Draco. I just thought maybe we weren’t enemies anymore.”

Draco took a breath, closing his eyes, “that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Harry tried to keep his voice even when he said, “then what’s the fucking point of this?”

The chosen boy had a rule; no matter how far things went with Draco, no matter how deep the other boy took him – he would not hurt over him. He wouldn’t let Draco break him.

“why does there have to be a point?” the Slytherin furrowed his eyebrows. “why can’t we just forget for a while?”

“forget what?”

“all of it,” Draco whispered, moving so they were close again.

Harry nodded, “if you’re going to use me,” harry said, frowning, “at least have the decency to not remind me how much you despise me.”

“I’m a lot of things,” Draco reached out and tugged at one of Harry’s curls, the other boy didn’t like how his touch stung, “I’m not a liar.”

“I think that’s all you are.” Harry spat.

Draco pulled away, and the chosen boy felt triumph in the way his voice shook a bit, “we were stupid to do this.”

That wasn’t something harry expected.

“what?”

“I should have known this was a fucking bad idea,” Draco looked at him like he was nothing, and in that moment, Harry believed it. “and it’s over.”

Harry furrowed his brow, “yeah, uh, that’s probably for the best.”

 The chosen one looked back at that time with mixed feelings now that he was all grown up. The way hate and love burned in him with every touch the other boy gave him – everything the other boy took away.

The war was over, and despite how harry though it would play out, he was alive. He was alive and had no idea what he would do next; he didn’t think he would get this far. People wanted him to be an Auror – he was the savior of the wizarding world, of course people wanted him to be the one to protect them. Harry didn’t know if that was what he wanted though; he had spent his whole childhood fighting (even when he didn’t want to) he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life fighting too.

So, harry spent most of his nights at the hog’s head’s bar, drinking and trying to forget – even if it was just for a moment – what was expected of him.

And one-night Harry swore he saw a ghost.

It wasn’t a ghost though; it was Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t expect to see him at Hogsmeade; harry didn’t expect to see him anywhere, really – the Malfoy’s had left England after the war, and after Lucius was put in Azkaban.

Harry ducked his head down; fuck, fuck, fuck.

He didn’t need confrontation now.

Draco saw him though, sliding into the chair next to him and whistling at the bar tender to get him a beer. Harry couldn’t breathe, he felt like he did when he was a child, downing his drink to give him something to do while his mind raged between his ears.

“scared, potter?” Draco finally said when he got his beer.

Harry chuckled, “you’re not very scary Draco.”

“could’ve fooled me by the way you’re shrinking into yourself.”

“figured it’s the polite thing to do,” harry said, pushing his glass forward to let the bartender fill it up. “neither of us need a reminder.”

Draco snorted, “well now we have one, so what’s the point of dancing around.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” Harry replied without thinking.

He could tell Draco wasn’t expecting that, taking a pregnant pause before saying, “so maybe we should dance around a few things.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Harry flexed his hands, “I mean, I am sorry. It’s just – I didn’t want,” he sighed, “I tried to help.”

Draco brought the drink to his mouth, “yeah, I heard. I also heard you’re the reason I’m a free man.”

The ex-chosen one shrugged, muttering, “you threw me my wand.”

“I threw you your wand and suddenly every monstrous act help with is suddenly forgiven.”

“Draco,” harry tried.

“Don’t,” Draco said, “don’t act like you fucking know me because we use to kiss when we were silly little kids.”

Harry leaned against the bar, not making eye contact with the blonde in front of him, “we won, Draco. We don’t have to fight anymore.”

“you won.”

“Draco you are not,” the ex-chosen one deflated.  

He didn’t answer, instead ordering a shot.

Harry fallowed suit, and soon the tension between the two boys faded into drunk reminiscing. They laughed and talked about Hogwarts and their lives before and after, until the bar rang its last call.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, “where are you staying?”

Draco smiled, “are you propositioning me, potter?”

“tragically,” harry slurred, pulling Draco out of his seat, “only for a com - companion on the walk.”

“mmm, yes, tragic.”

Draco didn’t actually tell Harry where they were going, just stumbled out of the pub and started walking down the street with the raven-haired boy fallowing him like a puppy.

When Draco started to stumble more and more, Harry wrapped his hand around the other boy’s bicep to steady him, tugging his sleeve up enough to see his mark. Harry shot his head up, the drunk haze of his mind racing as he tried to keep his mouth shut.

It didn’t work, it never worked.

“You still have your mark.”

Draco looked at him, clearly not all there. “yeah,” he mumbled, “turns out that kinda magic is hard to undo.”

“tell me about it,” Harry said, scratching at his forehead.

“do you remember when I got it?” the other boy said out of the blue. “I have never seen you… you angrier.”  

“I was hoping maybe I could convince you to be on my side instead.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, his silence weighing.

He finally said, “I wish I’d let you save me.”

“you were just a kid, Draco. A kid who had his entire life decided for him by people he trusted, and you were brave enough to walk away.”

Draco stopped Harry from walking, using his shoulders to balance himself, “I should have fought with you,” he dug his fingers into the fabric of the other boy’s shirt, “I should have stayed with you.”

“it doesn’t matter anymore now,” harry whispered, without thinking pulled Draco closer, “what we did doesn’t matter anymore.”

“it’s so easy to say that when what you did was save the world.”

Harry tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, “I couldn’t save everyone though.”

Draco nodded, closing the space so their foreheads were pressed together. Harry sucked in a breath, becoming to acutely aware how long its been since the two boys had been properly close to one another.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, “I’m sorry for everything I did.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to respond, Draco pressing his mouth to the other mans.

They didn’t kiss like teenagers anymore; both more aware of where to put their lips and their hands. The two men melded their actions together into a rhythm. They should be stumbling more, harry thought, they hadn’t done this in years – they shouldn’t fit together this well.

Draco pulled away to catch his breath, pulling harry into the inn with him.

 Harry woke alone that next morning; in a bed that wasn’t his, and a headache that was unbearable. Draco was no where to be found.

Harry dragged himself so he was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. He was trying to stay calm, but all of that was thrown out the window when harry twisted his head and saw a piece of paper placed delicately where Draco had been the night before.

All it said was sorry, potter.

The ex-chosen one locked his jaw.

Again, he thought, rubbing his hand against the stubble of his chin, he let that boy pull him in again just to shatter him.

“you had one rule, chosen boy.” He whispered to himself.

He apparated home.

[sephspark]

In Golden Light

A/N: There’s no lore here. There’s no plot here. There’s not even song lyrics. I literally dreamed this entire fic and then decided to write it down because I was SAD I didn’t get to finish telling Dream!Damien his bedtime story. Also because we’re living in a goddamn plague, I’ve written at least 50k of tragedy and trauma navel-gazing, I have earned this self-indulgent fluff. Thank you.

Warnings: slight unreality [it’s established that this is a dream sequence], alcohol

Ships: MayorAttorney, Celine/Mark

It is Christmas Eve, 1929.

This is a life that could have been. This is a world that will never be. This is a dream, a beautiful lie, but for a moment, it is joy incarnate.

This is a life where there is no dark thing stalking the halls of the Barnum manor, no shadows waiting to collect on ambiguous debts, no gaps between worlds for children to fall through. There is no thousand-eyed abyss that twists Mark into a mockery of its own monstrousness. There is no memory-eating void that takes and takes from William until he forgets how to be. There are no hissing whispers that dig into Tess’s skin until she becomes a caricature of herself.

It is a year after a poker party that never came to pass, because this is a life without the ugliness of scandal, without Celine’s unhappiness, without heartbreak and pain.

Celine is seated in one of the overstuffed armchairs they’ve dragged into the parlor, her shoes discarded with her stockings and her legs pulled up beneath her. There is a glass of red wine on the table beside her. It is not her first, and she can feel the rush of it starting to crawl through her limbs and make her sleepy. She imagines, half-drunk, that Mark will either have to leave her to sleep in the chair or carry her up to their room. She thinks she’ll insist that he do so. If he can’t, it will at least be funny to watch, and she has earned a good laugh at her husband’s expense.

It is only the five of them (Celine, Mark, Damien, William, and Tess) left in the manor now; even Benjamin, the chef, and George have been sent home for the holidays (Tess insists upon it; she remembers too many Christmases spent without her mother). But the walls are still covered in streamers and decorations, and there are still fallen balloons scattered across the floor.

The day before, they’d hosted the Barnums’ annual Christmas charity ball. With William’s parents visiting relatives, it had been the first year Celine had organized the damn thing as the “lady of the house”. It had gone off wonderfully, she’d been praised to the high heavens for it by the same housewives who gossiped about her behind their fans, and she’d at least cemented Mark’s status in society for another year.

In reality, of course, Tess had dragged her through it with white-knuckles, while Damien brought them both whatever confections they requested while they poured over guest lists. There was something to be said, Celine thought, about having the mayor for a brother and the district attorney for a sister-in-law. Although she didn’t know how the two of them had managed to dodge their hosting duties for another year.

It doesn’t matter; the past is past, and now Celine can get horribly drunk on expensive wine, and go back to terrorizing society ladies by offering to read their cards.

Mark stands at the bar, sipping on the same flute of champagne he’s had in his hand for the last hour. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend like they don’t notice. It isn’t that his sobriety would be an issue--Tess is terrorizing William behind the bar, challenging him to make more and more complicated virgin versions of drinks. It’s more that, even among the people who love him best, he does not like the concept of being out of control.

He loves the spotlight. It keeps him in money, and it makes him happy. But he thinks that this is all he really needs, at the end of the day: his wife, eyes droopy with sleep and a soft smile on her face, curled up in her favorite chair. Tess and William, ribbing each other, the way they always did as children, occasionally calling his name to mediate whatever nonsense argument they’ve gotten themselves into.

When he looks over this time, William has left a dollop of whipped topping on Tess’s nose, and though she’s called for a referee, she’s valiantly attempting to lick it off while laughing. Mark shakes his head and looks away--he’s not getting involved with that one.

He’s in between films at the moment. Underneath the tree is a present with Celine’s name on it. She’ll open it in the morning, find two plane tickets inside: New Orleans. They’ve been before, but he knows she’d like to go again. They’ll leave the manor in William’s care (or, really, Benjamin’s) while they’re gone, and enjoy a well-earned vacation after all the anger Celine suppressed while playing hostess. He’s happiest when she is happiest.

William is tending bar all night--it’s his designated role when they have these little get-togethers. Usually, he foists the worst concoctions he can think of upon his friends, terrible things that he learned from friends in the army when they needed to get drunk and didn’t have much at hand. One year, the “winner” of his nightmare mixes was declared to be “only suitable as car fuel” by Damien, the schmuck unlucky enough to choose it from the tray of shot glasses.

He likes the bar for another reason: it puts his back to the wall. It’s not a thing he’s consciously aware of anymore, but he likes to be able to see the entirety of a room through his crooked glasses. Likes to know what’s behind him. Likes to ignore the tremor the war left in his hands. It’s been a decade; he’s talked about it, in pieces, with Tess, and it has helped. But there are still ghosts that linger, even in this world without shadows.

He knows the others are watching their drunken feet to keep from popping any of the half-deflated balloons on the floor so that they don’t startle them. He appreciates it in a way he’ll never speak out loud. Instead, he leans across the bar with a napkin to wipe the topping off of Tess’s nose, only to be swatted away while she insists she’ll do it herself.

He’s sampling his own creations tonight, since Tess is being stubbornly sober and instead insisting on virgin drinks. He misses, sometimes, the nights they’d get drunk together, when she was in university and trailing Damien to every party on campus. But she has become respectable. Gotten herself elected to office. Finally married Damien, after a lifetime of pining for one another. William’s father gave her away at the wedding, and William vehemently denies ever crying when he saw her in her wedding dress.

William is still between careers. He imagines he always will be. He’s got his family money to fall back on, to fund his travel. He’s at least stopped chasing thrills. When he travels, it’s because there’s a job at the other end of it for him; private security things, mostly, but he knows what he’s good at. It worries Tess. He promises her he’ll be safe. He’ll have to promise her that in the morning, but at least he will be able to do it with the letter he’s tucked into her gift beneath the tree: it is a scarf from Paris. He can imagine her tying it over her hair while she drives.

Tess is...Tess is. She started off drinking virgin daiquiris, and she’s not sure what she’s onto now, other than it involved William swearing quite colorfully. She is in a comfortable nightgown, which isn’t unusual at these family gatherings; she simply doesn’t see the point of dressing up for the people who know her best. She has to perform in court and in her offices every day of her life. She gets to be a carefree child again here at Christmas.

In the end, of course, she wipes the topping off of her nose and licks it from her thumb while William isn’t looking. She’s tried her best to lick it off of her nose, to no avail, and she’s certainly not going to call for Mark to come mediate again. A quick glance at him reveals that he is kneeling in front of Celine, talking to her gently with a doting smile on his face, and Tess quickly looks away. It makes her happy to see him happy--she can barely remember those days when she felt jealous of their joy.

She has everything she ever dreamed of, when she laid in bed and dreamed of a future she thought could not be. These moments are all that matter.

Yes, in the morning, she will have to rouse Damien from his hangover and drive the pair of them home after opening presents. In a few days, she will have to return to her office to deal with the post-holiday build-up. At some point, she and Damien will have to have a serious talk about their work; there is trouble coming to the city, and they can both see it. There are a million things to worry about. But for now--for now she can sit at the bar, drinking some combination of orange juice and limes that is certain to burn her stomach, and smile at her brothers.

“Hey,” Mark says from behind her, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. Do you want to go get him, or should I?”

She laughs. “I’ll do it. No promises, though.”

And she stands, stretches, and leaves to find her husband.

Damien has forgotten that he is not eighteen anymore, and that his tolerance for alcohol does in fact have a limit. He’s also forgotten, somehow, how dangerous it is to take a drink from William without questioning it. It’s a mistake he makes every year, to the point where Tess suspects it is not a mistake at all.

Either way, he had been the first to lose himself in the drink, and thus the first to be put to bed in a dark spare room on the first floor. She’d stumbled him in there herself, his arm slung across her shoulder and his legs barely working to help her, while Mark and William muffled their laughter behind their hands. Damien’s been sleeping (she hopes) for the better part of two hours.

But it is almost midnight, and there is a tradition: they watch the clock turn to midnight together, all of the Barnums in one room, and tell each other “Merry Christmas” as soon as the last chime has struck. In hindsight, she thinks it was a way to make the children feel special, to let them stay up past their bedtimes--though they very rarely made it without naps. It certainly kept them asleep well into the next morning, when they finally collapsed in their beds sometime around 12:30, and she imagines it afforded the Barnums and her own mother plenty of extra time to put their presents from Santa Claus into position.

They still stay up til midnight, though it seems less magical with adulthood. She doesn’t want Damien to miss it. He’ll whine if he does, apologize until she wants to pinch his cheek and stop him.

The bedroom is still dark. Damien is a nondescript lump on the bed. She considers, briefly, turning on the lights, and then decides against it.

She sits beside him and rests her arm on his side. His back is to her. He grumbles in a way she knows too well; asking for more time. No doubt he thinks she’s come to wake him up for a meeting.

Tess leans over to trace a line up his nose, between his brows, and draw a circle on his forehead with the pad of her finger. A morning ritual. She can’t remember when she started doing it, or why, only that it’s what she needs to do in this moment. It’s what she’s supposed to do.

“It’s time to wake up,” she whispers, trying to be mindful of the headache she’s sure he’s already feeling.

More grumbling, though his eyes at least crack open to look up at her. He sighs and turns his face towards the warmth of her hand, like he’s trying to burrow into her.

“Tell me a story,” he mumbles.

She laughs. “A story?”

“Mm-hm.”

She can hear Mark calling her name from down the hall. She might miss midnight with the others. She doesn’t want to yell down and tell him that she doubts she’ll be able to get Damien up in half an hour, let alone a quarter. But she can tell him a story.

“Okay. Once upon a time, there was a young girl with two older sisters--”

Damien takes her wrist, gently, trying to shake his head. “Nooooo. Not that one.”

He’s never objected to Beauty and the Beast before. Tess pauses for a moment, tries to think; there are only a few stories she knows by heart, but she can always try to invent one. They will certainly miss midnight. She thinks it’s okay. She thinks this is okay. She thinks--she feels like she should be crying, though she doesn’t know why.

She takes a deep breath, and she begins again.

[puckinghell]

Connor McDavid with #6 from the fluff

“He’s just not very…” Nursey pauses, stares at his captain from across the bar with a pondering look on his face. “Forthcoming?”

You sigh, set your drink down at the bar. “Then what am I doing here?” You turn to the guy whose judgement you actually kinda trust. “Klef?”

When Leon asked you to come hang out with his team at some bar that night, you’d instantly said yes. The fact that you have a little crush on Connor McDavid might have something to do with that, but you were also just excited to spend some time with your friends.

But then you got there and Nursey and Klef had cornered you against the bar while Leon went to talk to Connor, and now you’re standing here with a beer in your hand feeling silly.

Because you know Leon, and this seems like a setup.

“He likes you,” Klef says, shrugging. “He’s just shy.”

You can’t stop yourself from letting out an indignant huff. “He’s not shy. I’ve seen him talk to all kinds of people.”

“Yeah, fans,” Nursey frowns. “Not pretty girls. And definitely not pretty girls he’s interested in.” He nudges you, then motions his head in Connor’s direction. “See, he’s looking.”

You look up and indeed find yourself locking eyes with Connor, who quickly looks away when he catches your eye. He’s shuffling from his left foot to his right and Leon is talking to him a little too vehemently to be talking about something trivial.

“I think Leon is giving him a peptalk,” Klef says, sounding amused. “He should probably get him drunk first, this is never gonna work if he’s sober.”

You start to feel a bit bad for Connor; Larss and Kass have now added themselves to the group and Leon has crossed his arms, which he always does when he’s being stubborn.

You’ve been on the receiving end of many a stubborn talk from Leon, and it’s not fun. There’s no way you’re getting out of whatever Leon wants you to do; when he wants something, he wants it stat.

“You’re not feeding him drunk to make out with me,” you yelp indignantly. “I’m not some kinda charity case!”

“No,” Nursey says somberly, “but he kinda is.”

You wanna tell Nursey that you can’t say that behind someone’s back, and especially your captain’s back, but you know him and he’s probably said it to Connor’s face, too, so you decide not to waste your energy on it.

Not when you’ve got other things to do.

“You’re all idiots,” you say you a sigh, taking your beer bottle off the bar and taking a sip. “And I’m really sorry that Connor has to deal with you on a daily basis.”

You leave them at the bar while they’re still arguing you on that statement and march over to Connor, still surrounded by his teammates. His jaw is set tight and his cheeks are a little red.

“Boys,” you say, by way of greeting, slinging your arm around Leon’s shoulders. “Go tell Nursey he’s an idiot.”

“Why?” Larss asks, and Kass already goes, always pumped to tell someone – anyone – they’re being dumb.

You give Leon a shove and he growls a bit, but he goes, and Larss shrugs his shoulders and leaves too.

Connor is watching you with an amused tilt to his lips. “What’s up?” he asks, guessing correctly that you weren’t telling him to go anywhere.

“They’re trying to get you to ask me out,” you tell him truthfully.

Connor chokes on his beer.

“And I can get them to back off if I need to, cause I still have some very embarrassing pictures on my phone from our last bar crawl and they might just end up on Instagram if they don’t back off, but before I do that I really wanna know if I should.”

Connor seems uncomfortable as he answers. “I mean, I’m their captain, so I could probably…”

And oh my God, of course that’s what he thinks you mean.

“No,” you interrupt, “I mean I need to know if you’re in any way, shape or form interested in me, because if you are, there’s really no reason to not give them what they want.”

Connor’s eyes widen in shock, his cheeks a little red.

“I mean, yeah, if you would want that, then I’d love to, uhm, take you out. And whatever. But you don’t.. If you don’t want to that’s cool, I can talk to the guys and…”

He’s rambling and it’s kinda cute but it’s also annoying because you really just want him to kiss you, and you’ve already figured out that if you want this to happen, you’re gonna have to make it, at least for now, so you lean and put your hand on his arm.

“Connor?”

His mouth snaps shut.

“Please just kiss me already.”

You wonder if he’s gonna do it, or if it might be too much to ask in front of all of his teammates, but suddenly a smile spreads across his face and he carefully puts his drink on the table next to him, then takes yours from your hands and puts it away, as well.

“Okay,” he hums, and then he kisses you.

For all it took to get here, it’s surprisingly easy from there; Connor kisses like he does anything else, with all his focus and all his might, and by the time he finally breaks away you’re breathing a little too heavy to go unnoticed.

“Wanna go?” Connor asks, and you nod, let him pull you towards the exit of the bar.

You can hear the other guys hollering somewhere in the background, and if you could be bothered, you would give them the finger; as it is you’ve got Connor’s hand tightly locked in yours and it’s just not worth it to let go.

You’ll have plenty of time to give them all the finger later.

--

This is the last blurb I’ll post for now! Thank you to everyone that requested and I’m sorry if I didn’t get to yours, I’ll probably do some of these again soon!

[cosimuhs]

without her the world around me changes (and so do i)

It’s only after she gets home from the hospital does she realize that Waverly’s not there to dote, to cover her in too many blankets, and help her shower around the bulky cast on her leg.

or

five times nicole feels alone and one time she doesn't

read on ao3 or below the cut!

1.

It’s hard to remember how they escape from the lab. She can feel the boom of their explosives and the searing pain that raced through her when she put weight on her leg, but she doesn’t know how they got out, to the truck, to the road. Wynonna made it through the portal and that’s all that matters.

Rachel wanted to drive, worried about the bones in her left leg, but she’s not about to trust a seventeen year old to deliver the car safely back to the Homestead. It’s not the best truck in the world but it’s the Earps’ and she promised Wynonna she would be waiting for her, truck and all, damn it, and she’s going to be in so much trouble if they come back to a fender bender.

Besides, her right foot on the gas pedal is perfectly fine thank you very much.

Ten minutes have passed since their mindless chatter has dropped off and the silence in the car sits heavy and loud in her ears, the road empty but for a few tumbleweeds. Rachel thankfully doesn’t comment when she flips the radio on and the soft twang of a country singer crooning about his high school sweetheart takes the pressure off her shoulders, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

It’s quiet for another few minutes and she wonders if Rachel hates her. They lied and tied her up and held a gun to her head so she wouldn’t blame her even though it was mostly Wynonna.

When Rachel does speak, it’s surprising.

“Are you really polygamists?” Rachel hesitates from the passenger seat.

It’s so bizarre and out of nowhere that it makes her laugh around the ache in her shin and for that, she’s grateful.

“Wynonna’s my best friend,” she offers and she hasn’t had a best friend in years. Her chest blooms with the realization that maybe Wynonna hasn’t either judging from the way she reacted.

“Best friends can be polyamorous,” Rachel raises an eyebrow.

She snorts. Gross.

“No, she’s more like my sister-in-law. Ish.”

“Ish? I don’t think someone can be your sister-in-lawish .” Rachel crosses her arms and it reminds her so much of Waverly, bossy and astute and so no-nonsense, that she almost slams on the brakes at the idea of a young Waverly sitting in her car and kissing her after football games.

“I’m in love with her sister, Waverly.” It’s sweet on her tongue and she doesn’t even realize she’s smiling around the curve of her girlfriend’s name until Rachel prods her out of it, unimpressed and clearly looking for more. “I’m going to marry her soon but it hasn’t happened yet, hence the ish.”

“Ah,” Rachel grimaces like a teenager but she sounds relieved that she isn’t stepping into a weird love triangle a la Twilight. “So not a throuple then.”

She chuckles again and watches the landscape pass by in waves of nothingness. “No, definitely not.”

---

It’s only after she gets home from the hospital does she realize that Waverly’s not there to dote, to cover her in too many blankets, and help her shower around the bulky cast on her leg. She makes it as far as the landing on the stairs before she gives up and collapses on the couch. She’ll be here soon, she thinks and smiles at the lecture she knows Waverly will give her for sleeping here and messing up her back.

She smells like gunpowder and sweat and the sweet, cloying scent of death that she wishes were more foreign than it is, but she doesn’t have it in her to get up, already drowsy with pain medication. The pillow she’s cuddling smells like home and she drifts off to Rachel’s clattering in the kitchen.

Her friends still aren’t back when the sound of crying wakes her up and she realizes that she has a grieving teenager who has lost everything she’s ever known in the next room over.

Rachel lets herself be held in Wynonna’s bedroom and then, after a strong cup of tea, tells her about her mom in stuttering heavy words. A doctor, she says, who taught me to take on the world.

She dries her tears and asks questions and it never occurs to her to tell Rachel about her own family who filled her quiet life with love, because they’re not really gone, just away for a little.

Besides, they’ll be back tomorrow or the next day and Rachel can just meet them herself.

---

Two weeks later, Rachel asks what she’s doing and she looks down to see the pen in her hand, aimlessly drawing dicks into the plaster of her cast and her heart clenches hard enough to lose her breath.

2.

She spends her free time after the election reorganizing Waverly’s closet.

Faux fur. Flirty florals. Feminine flannels.  

The town is falling apart around them and she won’t let the Homestead go the same way.

Faux fur. Flirty florals. Feminine flannels.  

There are rumors that supply trucks are being cut off and Jeremy hasn’t answered her calls in weeks and she blows out a candle on Waverly’s birthday sitting alone in the kitchen.

Faux fur. Flirty florals. Feminine flannels.  

Rachel doesn’t disturb her cleaning and disappears for hours on end, sometimes coming back with an odd mug to offer and a full backpack that clinks. She never asks what’s in it but accepts the bills pressed into her palm, the carton of eggs in the fridge. As much as she hates accepting charity from a seventeen year old, she doesn’t have a job.

Most nights, she collapses exhausted into bed, clutching Waverly's sweatshirt to her chest. She doesn’t rest, per se, as evidenced by the deep circles under her eyes, and she spends most nights drifting in and out of her old nightmares only to wake up to her new one.

It’s no surprise that she can’t sleep tonight after months of restlessness. Their room has long since stopped carrying Waverly’s scent and the end of autumn has turned into an Indian summer, abnormally hot and dry for Purgatory. Maybe her insomnia is due to the heat or the fact that Peacemaker is nowhere to be found or any of the other twenty reasons she tosses and turns through every night.

It’s pitch dark out by the time she gives up trying, so late that it’s actually early, and she’s reminded of another world, ages ago, when she had come home from a graveyard shift at the station to find Waverly waiting patiently in nothing but lingerie. Really, really hot lingerie that she didn’t take off, just pulled to the side and let Waverly ride her fingers.

The sudden heat that streaks through her at the image is white hot and burning, curling low in her stomach.

Waverly had cried out, breathy and moaning as she built her up two, and then three times.  

She shudders, her mouth suddenly dry.

It should feel wrong, when Waverly isn’t here to help her over the edge but she’s so damn tired of not sleeping that she lets her hand drift under the waistband of her sleep shorts. It’s been too long since she’s last been touched and the heat, molten hot between her legs, aches.

She groans into the sheets at the added memory of Waverly crawling down her body after, flushed and heaving, to settle in between her thighs. She’s soaked at the thought of it, reaching down to slide through her own folds. It leaves her heady and she can’t help but start a slow grind against the pad of one fingertip.

When did she even take off her clothes? It wasn’t high on her list of priorities to find out, though, not with the way Waverly was teasing her, laving kisses on the inside of her thighs for what felt like hours until she had to fist hands in hair and pull.  

Waverly laughed, a vibrating hum against her clit, and gave in, pressing two fingers in at the same time that she started to taste in broad strokes.  

She tries to replicate it as much as she can, adding one and then another finger, stretching and filling in a toe curling pleasure, and reaching up to thumb at her clit clumsily. It’s easier to pretend it’s not her own fingers if she closes her eyes, as if it were Waverly causing her walls to clench. It’s enough to make her hips buck, bed creaking softly underneath her and the pressure builds hard and fast in her center.

“I need you,” she gasped and Waverly had smoothed her free hand over the expanse of bare, soft skin.  

“I know, baby,” Waverly pulled away to speak, ignoring her grunt of displeasure, and rose up to draw her into a deep kiss that took some of the edge off despite the fact that Waverly was still buried inside her.  

“Let me take care of you,” Waverly had whispered against her lips before descending again, nipping at the column of her neck and the curve of her breast on the way down. This time, Waverly doesn’t hesitate, sucking hard on her clit, and it makes her back bow off the mattress.  

Her mouth falls open as she pumps her own hand and shakes and thinks about the way Waverly had looked up, eyes lidded and dark, and watched her fall apart.

She swears she can feel Waverly pressed close in the hovering plateau before coming undone. For one blissful moment, Waverly is in her ear, coaxing her higher with a “come for me," and it’s what sends her hurtling over the edge.

When she comes, it’s with Waverly’s name on her lips and an empty room to greet her and she suddenly feels so wholly alone in the aftermath that she thinks she might throw up.

She rolls over, wipes away the evidence of her arousal on the sheets, and presses her nose into the pillow on the other side of the bed, aching for some part of her girlfriend. Nothing has her fragrance anymore and she wonders, her body still wracked with tremors, when she forgot what Waverly smelled like.

3.

There’s a bar on the edge of Purgatory that she’s only been acquainted with on noise complaint calls or to break up fights. It’s a ramshackle building, dilapidated and crumbling while the town drunks loiter on the steps.

The traps have been quiet all week and Rachel has proved competent with a shotgun, so she doesn’t feel too worried about taking one night away from the Homestead. And as much as she would have loved to stay in her sweatpants, she can’t drink away her problems in front of a seventeen year old who depends on her to be strong and in charge.

She can’t go to Shorty’s, not when the bar is warm with memories and the way Waverly’s eyes crinkle when she laughs. Besides, the saloon’s not even an option with the new clientele of government “officials” that have taken it over.

So she ends up here, way out at the bar with the sleazy name and even sleazier patrons, hands sticky from where they press against the bartop. The bartender takes one look at her and seems to realize she needs to get well and truly drunk, already sliding a double whiskey across the counter.

She nods her thanks and tips back half of it in one go, wincing at the burn in her throat and suddenly her eyes because it smells like Doc, all smoke and drink. He smelled comforting, she remembers, like when she used to sit on her grandfather’s lap and beg for a story and he would sigh and light a cigar and pull her close.

“Tough night?” The bartender smirks at her already empty glass and refills it.

“Tough year,” she answers and the girl must think she’s joking because she laughs loud and bright and her eyes don’t crinkle.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” the bartender blushes and hastens to explain, “You’re the first non-regular in weeks and Johnny’s sea shanties get boring after the third round,” she gestures to the red faced man with a scraggly beard at the end of the bar.

She didn’t come here for conversation — the opposite in fact — and how do you explain to someone that your half-angel girlfriend, your demon hunter best friend and her baby daddy who also happens to be a vampire are in the literal Garden of Eden and maybe not coming back?  

So she shrugs and drinks her whiskey and orders a beer as a chaser. “I wouldn’t even know where to start,” she says truthfully.

She thinks there might be disappointment written on the woman’s face for a second before she nods and starts to turn away.

“Well, if you need anything, My name is Holly,” she busies herself wiping down glasses, breaking the conversation and granting an air of privacy.

Johnny’s warbling drifts down the stools and she clutches the neck of her bottle so hard she almost hears it crack in tune with his voice. His singing really is pathetic; there isn’t even an ocean within a hundred miles of here. She can already feel the tinge of the alcohol in her periphery and maybe she’s the pathetic one, drinking on a Tuesday in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m tired of being alone.” It slips out. It’s the first time she’s said it and honestly maybe even admitted it to herself and the girl — Holly — looks up.

She picks at the label of her beer, already regretting her loose tongue and smiles demurely, grateful when Holly seems to realize that’s all she’s going to offer. Holly leans closer, unbothered by the grimy bar and grins conspiratorially, “I’ve heard Johnny’s single, if you’re looking.”

She grimaces at that and it’s light and easy when Holly starts pointing out regulars along the dingy walls, rattling off drink orders and backstories.

She almost forgot what it’s like to talk to someone who isn’t a teenager for once, and she lets herself be lulled into the surface level conversation. She doesn’t dare mention Waverly or the rest of them. It’s too painful and she feels strangely protective of the idea of them. As if holding her girlfriend’s memory close to her chest will stop it from hurting so much. So she tells Holly about Calamity Jane and her hatred of men and how she’s a cat after her own heart.

She’s four drinks deeper and snickering at some joke when Holly taps the counter nervously. “I get off in an hour if you…?” Holly reaches out to trace over her wrist with a fingertip.

It doesn’t register for a moment around the haze in her head, and when it does she’s shoving back from the bar so quickly that she has to grapple for a hold on the cheap vinyl of her stool before it tips over.

“No! I — No,” she watches in abject horror as Holly flushes a bright red. “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea,” she slurs and her head is spinning.

Holly’s not bad looking, objectively speaking, and she thinks maybe she would have entertained it were she single, or moving on. But she isn’t and she’s not and maybe she should be by now but she won’t ever stop looking.

“I’m sorry,” Holly stammers, confused because this reaction seems much more than a simple rejection. “I thought we had a — never mind.”

It’s embarrassing the speed at which she pays her bill and flees, tripping over the front steps on her way out. Her heart doesn’t stop racing all the way back to the Homestead — nothing happened but she feels dirty and raw all the same. She doesn’t want anyone to even think she’s interested, let alone anyone but Waverly to touch her like that.

Honestly, though, she doesn’t know if that will ever happen again.

When she gets home, she collapses on the mattress in the barn because she doesn’t have it in her to climb the mountain of stairs, but mostly because Rachel shouldn’t see her like this. She has to be the rock and Rachel can’t see her stumbling, her world on a tilt. So she passes out by herself for the umpteenth time.

She is so fucking fed up with this cold new normal.

The next morning, in the sun streaked panels of wood, there’s a glass of water and a few Advil nestled in the hay and she smiles around her pounding headache.  

4.

She goes to Margot Clanton. There are whisperings that you can get anything at Magpie Ranch for a price. She tries to ignore them (because she hasn’t given up, not yet) until the whisperings are more like a scream and she succumbs. It’s a sweeping scrapyard over acres of land that she has never seen before and that is enough to scare her. Sheriff Nicole Haught is (was?) intimately familiar with every inch of Purgatory, or so she thought.

She pushes forward because it’s not like she has another choice but she makes sure her gun is solid and secure at her hip.

She’s guided into a small building on the outskirts of the property by a greying woman and her grin is terrifying with a hint of sinister in it. She ignores it. It’s the Ghost River Triangle and everything has a hint of sinister in it anyways.

The situation is laid out in increasingly trembling breaths and Margot grows more gleeful as she goes on.

“I can’t wait any more. It’s been over a year,” her voice shakes. “Can you help?”

“I would very much like to, but the price is steep,” Margot taunts and her throat closes because this is her last hope.

Her eyes well up hard and fast and she’s given up trying to seem strong just like she’s given up on everything else. The self loathing presses hard against her sternum, forcing her to her knees. “I will do anything, anything to get her back.”

Most of all she just aches for Waverly.

“Even this?” And then Margot is leaning close and whispering a terrible, horrifying deal into her ear and she is so abandoned in this world that she agrees.

She can’t go on like this, she justifies to herself and for now, it’s enough.

The glass jar is tucked away in the closet, far from Rachel’s curious eyes. She is determined to keep it that way, for Rachel to never know what she decided to do.

Margot’s laugh haunts her for weeks after, ringing in her ears.

5.

Being around Waverly is the easiest and suddenly the hardest thing in the world.

They have a routine, her and Rachel, and she has not accounted for Wynonna’s slamming of doors and the clink of Doc’s gun when he cleans it. She’s jumpy and scared and she doesn’t know how to calm the anxiety within her. Waverly dutifully holds her hand while she triple-checks that all the doors are locked, but she knows that Waverly doesn’t, can’t, understand.

It’s so, so easy to slip back into Waverly, to always have a hand wrapped around her waist or shoulder. To let Waverly push her on her back and touch her until she’s writhing, begging for release. It’s a bonus that she doesn’t have to talk beyond gasping incoherently into the jut of Waverly’s collarbone.

Physical intimacy is never the problem.

Because even when Waverly is a solid warmth beside her, it’s still hard to sleep. She lies awake at night and wonders how someone tucked so close can feel so far away. When she does manage to close her eyes, it’s to images of Waverly and Wynonna walking out, disgusted at what she’s done to try to save them all, like she hasn’t already broken her own heart ten times over.  

She was never able to lie to Waverly before the Garden and she’s not technically lying now but she feels sick to her stomach every time she omits the truth, tiptoes around the proposal. Her friends got out on their own and she made a terrifying deal for nothing and so what, pray tell, was the fucking point of failing over and over for the last year and a half?

She doesn’t even know how to say I love you anymore.

A part of her is afraid that maybe Waverly won’t say it back.

She’s different and if Waverly notices she doesn’t comment, just holds her tighter at night.

---

When she attacks Wynonna in the barn and realizes she set the fire, she knows what she has to do.

Jeremy agrees with a harsh nod and honestly, the fact that he would willingly kill her, instantly makes up for his ghosting.

It’s time for her to fix things once and for all.

+1.

After, she’s pulled back to the Homestead, waterlogged and shivering and alive. Waverly is livid, she can tell from the flare of her nostrils, but it’s shoved to the side in favor of bundling her up in an oversized hoodie and warm fuzzy socks and God does she love this woman.

She can barely talk her teeth are chattering so hard, but she knows by now they all know what she’s done, all know about the betrayal that sits heavy in her lungs. She wonders if they’ll ever forgive her or if they’ll just dump her at the gates of Magpie Ranch since she’s so friendly with the enemy.

She’s coaxed into bed and she doesn’t remember falling asleep but wakes to fingers carding through her hair in broad strokes. Her head is pillowed on Waverly’s stomach, feet dangling off the end of the broken footboard, and her head rises and falls with every breath.

It’s when she wraps her arms tighter around snug hips that Waverly realizes she’s awake.

“I am so mad at you, Nicole Haught,” she says but there’s a waver in her voice and her fingers tighten against the nape of her neck.

She doesn’t respond, just buries her face into the flat of Waverly’s tummy because maybe it’s her last chance to feel its warmth, cuddle into the curve of her body like her safe haven.

So she breathes and breathes and breathes.

“Sweetie?” Waverly sounds concerned and it propels the words out of her mouth.

“Do you still love me?”

There’s an intake of breath above her and the next thing she knows, Waverly has shuffled halfway down the bed to be eye to eye, slotting their hips together tight. Waverly looks bewildered and she is so, so scared because Waverly isn’t saying anything.

“Please.” She adds and she doesn’t know what she’s asking for, only recognizes the way her words are tinged with vulnerability and she has to screw her eyes shut before she does something desperate like cry.

Please love me through this.

It’s the most exposed she thinks she’s ever been but Waverly’s always been good at reading between the lines of what she says. She can tell when it registers by the way Waverly says her name like a prayer.

Waverly hooks an ankle around hers, legs tangling together over the splintering wood, and strokes at the soft of her cheeks so carefully that she can’t help but turn into the touch, snuffle against her palm.

“Baby, look at me,” Waverly murmurs and when she does, Waverly is looking at her, quiet and calm. She tilts her chin with her thumb and pointer, forcing her to hold eye contact, before she continues softly, “I love you and I’m in love with you and that isn’t going to change.”

The air leaves her lungs in an inelegant breath that tickles Waverly on the way out and she revels in the way her girlfriend squirms, nose scrunching adorably.

But there’s more she has to discern because she has done terrible things for the people she loves and was fully prepared to lose them because of it. Her hands still shake and her chest is still tight and she needs to know, needs to ask, even if it will break her heart in the end.

“Do you want to marry me?”

“Of course I do.” Waverly fixes her with a hard stare, “But if you ever, ever do something like that again I will bring you back just to kill you myself, okay?”

She nods fervently because she knows it’s true and the fist wrapped around her heart loosens for the first time in almost two years.

So this is what it feels like to be free.

She kisses her then, soft and aching and something breaks open inside her when Waverly gasps and presses closer. Her world narrows to the gentle press of Waverly’s lips and the swipe of her tongue. There’s salvation in the way Waverly trails over her jaw, her hands warm along her spine.

This love feels holy.

The door slams open and she jumps, regretfully breaking the kiss. She can’t bring herself to pull away from Waverly’s hold.

Wynonna barrels into the room, not caring about interrupting as usual, but her face is hard and anxious.

“You died?”

The tone of Wynonna’s voice isn’t funny but she can’t help the way she bursts out laughing because yeah, she kind of did.

Waverly pulls her into the crook of her neck and giggles with her crinkly eyes and Wynonna just stares incredulously.

There is so much more to do but for now, in this tenderness of concern, she feels lighter than air.

[robbleraptor]

The smell of cheap cigars and stale beer fills the air, it permeates through it, from the walls, from every inch of the ranky looking place. Doesn't matter though, he'd crawl through sewage if he had to. He'd do whatever it takes after his failure. He's not letting go, not this time.

The cold of the darkening night gives out, and a wave of warmth hits him along the stale scents as he walks through the door. The bar is dark, not many lights, and what few are there look like they are about to give in at any moment. He stops, taking in the room, scoping out for the person he followed in, and it doesn't take him too long to catch sight of them. Right at the bar top, a bloke sits, back hunched over as his elbows rest on the dark wood of the bar, he's raising a hand toward the bartender, signaling for their attention.

It's only seconds before he's getting serviced, getting a pint, and Aaron simply watches biding his time. That first drink leads to two, to three, to four, and that's when he feels it's safe enough to swoop in, go in for the kill.

He confidently walks up to the bar and takes a seat on the stool next to the bloke who's now much more heavily hunched over the bar top.

"Long day, eh?" Aaron asks as his lifts his own hand towards the bartender. "I'll have a pint, and why don't you get this guy another on me, looks like he needs it."

The bloke raises his nearly empty pint with a drunken smile on his face. "Cheers, mate." He slurs in appreciation for the free pint.

"Prison work that rough, I take it?" Aaron asks point blank. The blokes drunk enough, no need to beat around the bush now.

"How'd ye...how'd ye know?" The bloke hiccups and nearly loses his balance.

"The uniform, mate. It's a dead give away."

He raises his eyebrows as he makes a face, the sort of face that is so familiar to him, the one he often uses when Charity or anyone else in his family for that matter as they try to ramble on about something, anything. He's never been one for listening to anyone else's problems, he has his own, particularly one at the very moment.

The bloke laughs as he looks down at his top, clearly still wearing his prison guard uniform. "It's shite, really." The man replies. "Shite hours, shite work, and don't even get me started on me pay."

"Sounds like a shite job alright." Aaron returns before taking a gulp of the pint that was just placed in front of him. "You should try running a scrap yard with no help." 

"Scrap...well...to shite jobs." The bloke raises his newly free pint, courtesy of Aaron.

"Cheers." Aaron taps his pint to the other man's, and takes another gulp. "It's your lucky night then." He says.

"You what?"

"Tonight. It's your lucky night." He reiterated.

"And how's that?"

"Well, I figure a hard worker like you making shit pay would really appreciate an easy five thousand quid."

The blokes eyes go wide with disbelief and nearly choked on his beer as Aaron pulls out a small stack of notes, neatly pressed together. "Just how easy are we talking here?" The man grins.

"Mate, all you have to do is deliver a message for me. Think you can do that for me?"

"For five thousand quid I'll deliver yer message me self."

"Good."

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Jingle Hell, Jingle Hell... For those of you who don’t live in or around New York City, the famous Annual Santacon charity bar crawl kicks off at 10 am on Dec. 14th, this year, in case you’d like to go.

You must be in costume, but it doesn’t have to be Santa. 

You might be surprised to hear that some people and bars do not welcome Santa’s Behaving Badly. 

Some people have no patience with drunk, rowdy Santa’s.

Others don’t want to explain to their kids why Santa is passed out or throwing up in the street.

Here’s a fun Bingo game you can reproduce & play, if you go, though.

For tickets, go to https://santacon.nyc/

[wolfontheloose]

🎵 Back atcha, give me da jams. 😝

♛ 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖄𝖔𝖚 ♛

Everything I want I have Money, notoriety and riviera

♛ A white Cadilac XTS limo pulled over and the crowds went wild when a slender, higher than life black heel stepped onto the red carpet, instantly assaulted by a wave of camera flashes. Bellamy J Barns, the world’s favorite sweetheart, lovely babyfaced Hollywood angel in her elegant black dress waved with a bright smile on her red lips, the whole place screaming her name. She was the star of this year’s Oscar’s, the highest paid, most sought-after female lead role. Everyone wanted a piece of her glamorous, beautiful self. Her face was on billboards, in the movies, on the small screens. Makeup lines, fashion industry, parties on expensive yachts, mansions, houses abroad, charity events, dinners at the fanciest restaurants, expensive cars, an army of bodyguards trailing behind her... All at the palm of her petite, perfectly manicured hand. 

No one had thought much about it when a tattooed hand instantly flew to her as she unbalanced herself by stepping on the lace of her long dress. A strong arm covered by a sleeve of an expensive dark suit let her hold on until she straightened the fabric that covered her, immediately notifying the rest of the team over the earpiece he wore that she was safe and ready to move. He let her go off into the sea of flashing lights, doors to wonders wide open for her.

Am I glamorous?  Tell me am I glamorous?

♛ The afterparties were always wild, the things happening behind the scene spiraling out of control until the flurry of sparkling colors swallowed all reason. He stood nearby, sober and vigilant, tattooed hands clasped neatly in front of him, ready to dig into the hidden pocket of his suit for the gun there to shoot any potential threat. He felt hot under his tight collar, the tie choking him. She sat in her short diamond dress, her third outfit for the night, in a VIP booth surrounded by producers, other celebrities, dirty old investors, and rich sponsors of the movie industry. She was blissfully ignorant, a radiant gem of purest quality. One withered hand, an obscenely huge golden ring decorating it, was resting on her naked, perfectly smooth thigh. Some threats he could not shoot. 

The staff brought in a celebratory glass of martini, the glass almost half of her height. They adored her as she kicked her high heels off, climbed onto the table and licked the hard-won award from its tiny golden toes to its bald golden head before tossing it into the pool of the bubbling drink, watching it sink to the bottom. Her tiny feet knocked off a crystal plate lined with white powder. Never mind, there was plenty of where that came from. 

Summertime is nice and hot And my life is sweet like vanilla is

♛ Mediterranian summers... Mild, tender, and fragrant, like a dream in the early hours of dawn. He slipped through the billowing silken curtains, jacket off, tie undone, to the balcony where she rested on a cushioned chaise, covered in light cashmere to shield her from the lukewarm breeze. A rich Swedish table-style breakfast was arranged for her. She’d hardly touched the food but drank all the champagne. They haven’t retreated to her hotel room until 5 AM and she was groggy, sleepy, dead tired. She was like one of those sweet, fancy liquor candy, white chocolate on the outside, dripping with alcohol on the inside.

A knee on the chaise, he crawled over her carefully, nuzzling her awake. Her lazy hand fiddled with the buttons of his white shirt, revealing a shock of ink at his chest. “Remember how we met?” He said.

“I want him, he’s the hottest.” She giggled softly.

He wondered how much longer they would be able to keep this up. She wondered nothing because she was fast asleep.

Hello, hello? Ca-can you hear me? I can be your China doll if you want to see me fall

♛ Boujee shopping district, Gucchi bags hanging off her arm, huge dark shades over the dark circles under her eyes, Ryden trailing behind her, the ever-vigilant team of bodyguards at his command. There must have been a tip-off that she was at the mall. Crowds closed in, unpredictable and greedy. She greeted them with her usual red-lipped smile, a petite hand waving as they flocked around her like vultures. But she was stumbling, already drunk before noon. 

Ryden and his men made a tight circle around her but the crowds didn’t listen to the mall security’s requests to step back. Hands were everywhere, grabbing for her, pinching, touching, squeezing, pulling on her hair. Some threats he couldn’t shoot but he could punch the hell out of. Blows landed, phone cameras flashed, some of them recording. He carried her out of the mall’s storage back entrance, where the car waited. 

Boy, you're so dope Your love is deadly

♛ The scandal was everywhere - on the TV, on YouTube, videos popping up left and right - of him, his face clearly shown, a distressed Bellamy in the background. Hitting civilians, all composure down the drain. Not a hint of professionalism, only emotion. And then other videos followed, private, more intimate, catching him and her holding hands, exchanging affection not appropriate for their relationship. The tabloids went nuts.

Her agents met up with her. What he did could not be tolerated, her career was in danger. What will the media say? He was just a bodyguard, they already found appropriate replacements. A love story was not a part of his contract.

We were two kids, just tryin' to get out Live on the dark side of the American dream

♛ Phone calls was all they could arrange. A restraining order was issued, without Bellamy having any say in it. He’d lost his job and will probably never work in the field again, certainly not for a star as big as her. But he made do, went back to his humble roots, bouncing at night clubs, mixing drinks at bars. Big role offers weren’t coming in as much for her, but that was just the world deciding how much she was to blame for the scandal. She was sure she’ll bounce back. She got herself to rehab. That was where she was calling him from - they got one phone call a week. She’s been sober for two weeks now. He smiles, she cries into the phone. 

“Hey, remember how we met?” He said.

“I want him, he’s the hottest.” She giggled through her tears.

All my dreams and all the lights mean Nothing if I can't have you

@thebellamybarnes

a spin-off of this maybe?