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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Note

💖💘my heart’s dizzy and I my dose of serotonin whenever I read your prose🤟🏽😩 was wondering if you could do reader with an erratic future-vision!quirk so when they first meet yandere!Hawks they’re suddenly plagued by erotic, sensual, 365days-level of disturbing visions of them, so reader actively avoids them (it’s like those Tik Tok future-seeing videos playing to “Play Date”)

Prelude - Hawks isn’t a famous pro-hero in this, but he still has his quirk. It’s not really mentioned a bunch tho lol. This is rlly long, but I decided not to put it into two parts because the smut is so slight lol. Hope this meets your expectations anon, thank you for reading!

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - NSFW mentions, dubcon, noncon. No out-and-out explicit smut, just a really long story. Hawks is manipulative and gets what he wants

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5ukAQcKEIJuzIbP55xp07x?si=iz6I-RoDSdCNYhT2Du8etg

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

He was a friend of a friend, someone you had only met once or twice.

Your friend kept bringing him to hangouts, he kept showing up on her instagram feed, getting mentioned in her twitterbio, and eventually it came out that they had started dating. It didn’t catch anyone by surprise.

What did catch you by surprise, was how infatuated with him your friend was.

“He’s just sooooo hot, isn’t he?” She squealed, shoving her phone in your face to show off a shirtless pic he had just sent her.

You nodded in agreement, quickly appraising the pic before turning your head. Yeah, her boyfriend was attractive, but you weren’t one to ruin relationships. Plus, you and Keigo had never really talked past the brief “Hey” and “Wassup?” said in greeting when introduced the first time.

“Can he come to the mall with us on Friday? I promise there will be no third wheeling.” Your friend begged, clasping her hands together. You thought about it for a second - this had been a fun shopping trip the two of you had planned a few weeks ago, meant as a girls date on a day the mall wouldn’t be crowded. But would it really hurt anything if her boyfriend came along? Probably not.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You shrugged, watching your friends face erupt into a wide grin. “But don’t ditch me to go makeout in a bathroom or something, got it?”

“Sir yes sir!” Your friend faux saluted, before patting you on the shoulder. “Thanks girlie!”

You jerked back, head suddenly swarming with visions, your quirk activating. Your quirk was helpful in some ways, but you mainly tried not to use it - headaches resulted, and you hated getting glimpses of the future. Sometimes they’d be good, but they were often bad - you had gotten a screenshot glimpse of your brothers death, his face marred and bleeding out onto the pavement.

It still made you sick to think about it.

Touch wasn’t something you could always avoid, but you tried, seeing as how it activated your quirk, giving you visions of your future with whomever you touched, or whoever touched you.

You saw your friends face, eyes puffy with tears, shouting something. Then another scene flashed, your friend on TV, talking to a reporter.

Thankfully, the visions ended, this episode relatively quick due to how short of a time she touched you.

“Oh shit, I forgot, I’m so sorry.” She rushed to apologize, holding her hands up and backing away from you.

“It’s-it’s fine.” You wheezed, waving your hand in the air to signal that it wasn’t a big deal. The vision just probably meant the two of you would get into a fight soon, which wasn’t uncommon. It was fine, you were fine.

——

The mall wasn’t too crowded, which made the day pleasant. Your friend was talking to her boyfriend, hand tangled with his as the three of you walked in.

“So (Y/N), what do you think about that new Victoria’s Secret launch?” Your friend bumped you with her hip, drawing your attention as she pulled you into the conversation between her and her boyfriend.

“Oh, um… what?” To be fair, you had zoned out when the couple started being gross and mushy, which was like, the second your friend met Keigo at the door.

The blonde man laughed. “Victoria’s Secret just launched a new line of lingerie, have any thoughts about it?”

Turning red, you smiled sheepishly. “Ah, well…. From what I’ve seen of their stuff it’s… nice? So I’m sure it’s good.”

Your friend mock-gasped, almost slapping you on the arm before quickly remembering your quirk, drawing her hand back. You gave a quick nod of thanks.

“(Y/N)! Don’t tell me you didn’t even know about it?! I practically live, eat, and sleep Victoria’s Secret, it’s impossible to miss their product drops when you’re one of my friends.”

Unsure how to respond, you floundered, opening and closing your mouth like a lost fish.

“Babe, leave her be, she’s probably just shy.” Keigo stepped in, giving his girlfriend a chuckle as he steered you both towards a shop.

“Fineeee.” Your friend whined, turning to focus on the task ahead. “They have a VS shop here though, you’re not getting out of here without going in with me!”

----

The VS store was huge, smelling sweetly of flowers, bright colors assaulting your vision, soft pop music filling your ears.

It was hard not to cringe at all the fancy lingerie, you were honestly a bit embarrassed to be strolling through the store with your friend, let alone her boyfriend by her side.

“Does-does Keigo mind?” You quietly asked your friend, out of earshot of her boyfriend, who was looking at perfumes, last time you checked.

“Not at all birdie, I’m used to clothes, any form, any shape.”

You whirled around, squeaking in surprise at Keigo, who had apparently finished with browsing the perfume. He was flashing you a 1000 watt grin, continuing with what he was saying. “I’m a model, practically every girl I’ve ever met I’ve seen in less than full underwear, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh…. Cool.” You offered, cheeks turning red again. You felt like such a blushing schoolgirl, turning red when faced with looking at bras and panties, flushing when a man got too close.

It was the nature of the store, you told yourself, that was making you so embarrassed.

“Oo! What do you think of this one?” Your friend was holding up a babydoll, pink, with light fabric and zero coverage.

Keigo wolf whistled. “Man, that’d be a good look for you. Lets buy it.” The couple moved on, pointing at different clothes, your friend occasionally picking one from the rack to hold up against her body, looking for Keigo’s opinion.

They were cute together, laughing over the cheesy names on the tags of the lingerie, holding hands as the browsed, your friend occasionally stopping to plant a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I think that’s everything that I like…. (Y/N), your turn!” Pulled out of your casual observance, you back pedaled. “Me? No, I’m not really the type to wear this kind of stuff - I don’t even think most of it would fit, I have weird proportions.“

“Nonsense!” Keigo looked around for a moment, going to the nearest rack to quickly sift through bras, before pulling one out. “This one would make all the boys drool over you honey.”

He held it out towards you, shaking it slightly when you hesitated to take it. Was your friend okay with him talking to you like that, pushing underwear at you to buy? A quick glance sideways showed she was more than okay with it, clasping her hands excitedly as she watched you.

The bra was sheer, soft lavender fabric forming the cups, an intricate embroidered detail of flowers dotted haphazardly over the bra. It was pretty, but you weren’t exactly partial to it. When would you wear it? Who would you wear it for? You weren’t sure it was your style. Plus, it probably wasn’t even your size.

“My arm’s gettin’ real tired.” Keigo joked, before you finally took the garment from him. Checking the size, you paused for a second, blinking towards the man.

“How did you-?”

“You spend enough time in the fashion industry, you learn to tell a girl’s size just by looking at her.” He seemed to puff up, as if he was proud of his bra-sizing skills.

“Let me help her pick out some things too!” Your friend cried, rushing past you to head over to the next rack, ushering you to follow with a wave of her hand.

You ended up with an armful of lingerie - bras, panties, an odd bustier or two, and some other flowy items, like a sheer robe and a lacy chemise. The choices weren’t exactly made by you, more so made by a combination of your friend and Keigo together. They had alternated holding up items towards your body, comparing color and garment cuts, lost in their own mushy-gushy world, and it was almost like you didn’t exist for a few moments, nothing more than a barbie doll to dress up.

But now the three of you stood in line to checkout, and you felt included again, your friend cracking jokes that were making you snort, Keigo watching the two of you interact.

Until your friend accidentally brushed against your arm as she shifted forward in line.

Again, you saw her tearful face, heard her sobbing, before the other scene flashed, of her on TV, talking to the reporter. She still looked upset, eyes rimmed red, nose running, hair a mess.

With a gasp, your vision returned to the present, and you were wobbling on your feet, almost falling.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry (Y/N), I’m so so sorry. Here, let me take that, go sit down by the entrance.” She fussed over you, face concerned as she carefully took the stack of clothes from your arms, making sure to not make contact.

“Oh fuck, is she alright?” You heard Keigo ask, your friend stepping in front of you as he moved forward to check on you.

“Yeah, she’s just feeling a little dizzy. Can you make sure she doesn’t fall and crack her head open? Just wait by the entrance please.”

“Okay. Oh, here-“ You were a bit dazed, but you saw Keigo fish his wallet out of his pocket, thrusting the entire thing into his girlfriends hands before patting her on the shoulder “Whichever card is fine.”

And then you were stumbling towards the entrance, towards the bench right outside.

You hated seeing the future. Why was your friend crying? What had happened to elicit such a reaction? The unknowns killed you, kept you up at night as you tried to puzzle out the events that could lead up to the scenes from your visions.

Not looking where you were going, you tripped on air, unable to catch yourself as you plummeted towards the ground.

But then you were seeing Keigo.

He was above you, face flushed and sweaty, hair tousled, his chest bare. The room was dark, barely lit, and he was so close. The man leaned down to kiss you, then the scene changed.

You were bent over a table, only able to see the solid wood your face was smushed against. There was a heat in your belly, a tingling between your thighs, and pressure. Someone was talking - Keigo, muttering behind you angrily. You head was pulled up, a hand fisted in your hair, and then one of your knees was pushed up onto the table, and the pressure inside exploded into pure pleasure.

You felt yourself screaming, bucking your hips as you suffered through whatever the feeling was.

The scene changed again.

Hands tied above your head, you were pressed against a wall, sitting on some kind of…. Saddle? Your legs couldn’t touch the ground, and you squirmed, before gasping loudly.

There was a nub in the seat, ribbed and textured, slick with some kind of liquid… From you? Then you saw Keigo, standing in front of you, smirking at you with hardened eyes.

He had something in his hand, arms crossed over his chest while he fiddled with the object, muscles flexing. He was shirtless again, and-and his cock was hanging out of his sweatpants, pressed against his belly, smearing precum over his skin.

You tried to say something, anything - the visions never lasted this long, it was too intense, there was so much sensation. But your mouth wouldn’t move, choked up.

Keigo’s hand was on his length, rubbing slowly, saying something that didn’t reach your ears.

The scene changed.

Something was shoved down your throat, warm and twitching. You were sobbing, choking, clawing at whatever was in front of you. A dark laugh filled your ears, and you opened your eyes, met with the clenching abs of a strong stomach.

Keigo was brushing your tears, no, smudging them over your face. Were you wearing makeup? His cock was sitting in your throat, his hips moving in tiny jerks, stabbing your esophagus, making you gag.

Then you were back in the present.

A hand was holding your arm, keeping you from falling and making contact with the hard floor.

“-N)? (Y/N)? Are you okay? Talk to me birdie”

You made a panicked noise, pulling yourself out of Keigo’s grip so fast that you fell flat on the floor, scrambling backwards away from the man.

He almost looked scared, confused as he followed after you, holding out his hands. “(Y/N), you gotta calm down, you’re gonna make yourself sick.”

The man reached for your arm again and you pressed yourself against the floor, screeching out a loud “No!!” before he could touch you. Keigo paused, looking at his hand, then at you. “Hey, hey, I’m not gonna touch you. It’s okay little birdie, you’re alright.” He cooed, sinking to his knees in front of you.

You were hyperventilating, wide eyes trained on Keigo. Your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn’t focus, the sensations of the future still echoing through your body.

Keigo crouched there while you steadied your breathing, talking to you the entire time, trying to help you relax and calm down. You weren’t sure what he was saying, something about the weather? Or a dog? But you could feel your breathing evening out, head clearing.

“Hey, she fall?” You friend was carrying two bags, crouching down beside Keigo, cocking her head at you.

Her boyfriend nodded, turning to her and taking one of the bags. “I caught her, but then she freaked out and fell for real.”

Your friend nodded. “I should’ve told you earlier, she has a touch-based quirk. Every time someone touches her, she sees snippets of her future with that person.”

Keigo cocked his own head, gazing at you curiously. “I guess her future with me isn’t too positive then?”

Your friend shrugged. “Eh, she just hates seeing parts of the future. She doesn’t want to know what’s going to happen, makes her worry or something like that. Don’t take it too personally, she’s like that with everyone.”

“It-it-“ you rasped out, causing both sets of eyes to swivel towards you. “-I hate it... because-‘cause I can’t ever cha-change it.” You shivered.

Keigo nodded in understanding, before rising to his feet. “Think you can walk to my car? I’ll drive you two home, I think you’d benefit from some rest.”

He dropped you off at your apartment, and you wearily waved at the couple as they drove off, before heading inside.

----

A week passed, then two.

The visions you had concerning Keigo were plaguing your mind, filling your body with anxiety. There had been a distinctive feel of fear during each one, and despite all the other various sensations felt, the most overwhelming had been distress.

Whatever was going to happen, you weren’t going to like it.

You were holing up in your apartment, ignoring your roommates when they knocked on your door, only leaving your room to eat or grab water. You couldn’t sleep, too scared you’d have dreams, or more accurately, nightmares of what you had seen.

Curse your quirk.

Trying to pass time, desperate to keep your mind off of the future, you threw yourself into any activity you could find.

First you tried coloring - it was supposed to be relaxing, but it gave you too much time to think.

Then you tried gaming, spending hours in front of your computer mashing the keys. That worked for a bit, but your eyes and head soon protested.

You listened to music at full volume, tried several workout videos, even resorted to cleaning your space with fervent energy.

None of it took your mind off the inevitable.

“(Y/N), someone’s at the door asking for you.” You jerked awake, slumped over uncomfortably on the floor, the half finished card tower in front of you promptly knocked over at your erratic movements.

“(Y/N)?” Your roommate called again.

“Yeah! Coming, sorry.” You mumbled, scrubbing sleep from your eyes. You guess your body would give out sometime and force you to fall asleep, but as you moved to stand, you sorely wished your body had chosen a more comfortable place to pass out.

Opening the front door, you immediately took a cautious step back, sleepy demeanor vanishing.

Keigo smiled at you, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a bouquet of flowers.

Flowers?

“Hey birdie, mind if I come in?”

You stared at him for a second, immediately on guard. Why did he have flowers? Why did he want to come in? Wasn’t he dating your friend? She didn’t live here, what was he doing here?

The man cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at you. You moved to the side, holding open the door for Keigo to come inside.

Your roommates were home. If anything happened, they would be within earshot.

Keigo shot you a smile and a thanks, before immediately moving into the small living room, taking a seat on the couch. When he saw you still hovering by the open door, he patted the cushion beside him.

“Come sit, I promise I don’t bite.” He thought for a moment, before grinning. “Well, not unless you want me to.”

Hesitantly, you shut the front door, going to sit in a ratty armchair further away from the winged man. If this bothered him, the man didn’t let it show other than a short pause before he spoke.

“So, I know it probably seems like, super weird for me to show up at your apartment, but hear me out.”

Flowers were shoved in your lap, Keigo taking great care to avoid touching you. ��“I felt bad about the other day, and my girl and I decided that we should get you some flowers. She picked ‘em out, it even says so on the note.” The man laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“She’s so uptight about this kinda stuff. Anyways, just wanted to say that I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. If I had known, I would’ve let you fall flat on your ass. But I know now, so I’ll be better, cool with you?”

Finishing his little speech, Keigo held out his hands, wings stretching behind him to mimic the gesture.

Looking at the flowers in your lap, you felt your hands shaking. Picking up the little note attached to the bouquet, you found that your friend had indeed picked out the flowers, which made sense. They were your favorites, and in a nice color too. Keigo had left a messy, scrawled “Sorry!” in one corner, before signing by his girlfriends name.

“Um, thank you Keigo, you didn’t have to apologize.” You murmured, rubbing one of the flower petals between your fingers. You were so glad your quirk extended solely to humans - if you were shown glimpses of the future of everything you touched, you would most likely go mad.

“Nah, I wanted to. Also wanted to swing by, check how you’re doing. You been taking care of yourself?” He relaxed on the couch, legs spread, arms resting behind his head. This wasn’t his home, yet you totally could believe that it was by the ease with which he owned the space with his presence.

“Oh, well… I’m still here, so…” You shrugged.

Keigo frowned. “That’s not a fun answer. How much sleep you been gettin’ each night? Eight hours?”

You shook your head, huffing out a breath in place of a laugh.

Keigo clicked his tongue. “No sleep? That’s bad for you y’know. Have you at least been drinking water? Eatin’?”

You nodded quickly, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “I’m not a kid. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary.”

At this point, you think the best thing for your health would be for the man to leave.

The blonde man stared at you for a moment, before sighing. “Alright, I get it. But I don’t want to hear that you’ve passed out or something, got it? Your friend would kill me.”

He rose to his feet, and so did you, walking him to the door. “Thanks Keigo, and thank you again for the flowers. That was very sweet of you both.”

Keigo beamed, giving a two fingered salute. “You deserve it birdie. Well, have a good rest of your day, yeah? Eat something.”

You smiled, at Keigo as he turned away, beginning to whistle as he strolled down the hall.

Once the door was shut, you found a vase for the flowers, filling it with water and setting it on the table. Your roommates would think it was pretty, and it was, a nice little centerpiece.

That really was nice of your friend and Keigo to offer you flowers.

——

“Welcome to Gold Nile Jewelers, how can I-“ You blinked at the man entering the shop. “-Keigo.”

“Birdie? You work here?” He looked just as confused as you felt, cocking his head to the side as he approached the counter.

You looked around the small display room, nodding your head. “Yep… You looking for anything specific today?”

“Ah, right!” He clasped his hands together, bending over to lean on the display counter as he looked up at you. “So professional (Y/N), it’s just me.” The man chuckled.

“Actually, I thought I’d get my girl a cute little bracelet or something like that, you think she’d like that?”

Knowing your friend, she’d be ecstactic. “Oh, absolutely. Any particular occasion, or just an “I love you gift”?” You asked, already running through the list of bracelets in stock.

“It’s our two month anniversary in another week, thought I’d get her a little sumn’ sumn’, y’know?”

Gold Nile Jewelers was an expensive store. You patted yourself on the back for not dropping your jaw when he said “two month anniversary”. People came here for wedding rings and special occasion jewelry, not monthly anniversaries like some high schoolers.

Well, unless they were rich.

You showed Keigo the selection of bracelets currently available, the man listening quietly to your product descriptions and recommendations, asking questions about the fit and feel, and if you think your friend would like a particular one.

“Honestly Keigo, I could choose one I think she’d like, but it’d be more special if you chose for her.” You finally told him. He wasn’t annoying you, but you felt frustrated with his apparent lack of knowledge about his girlfriend. How did he not know what her favorite color was? “I’d suggest coming back in a few days. Go home, see what kind of jewelry she wears, pay attention to the colors she gravitates towards, if she’s allergic to any metals.”

Keigo tapped his chin. “Hmm, you have a good point. I guess I should pay more attention to those kinds of things.”

You nodded as you began to pack the expensive bracelets back into their display cases. “Gifts for a significant other can be hard. Honestly, it means a lot if they pick it out themselves and surprise you with it. Makes it special.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Keigo asked, bright eyes watching your hands work.

A frown almost crossed your features, but you stopped it before it could show. “Ah, sorry, that’s not really a work-appropriate question.”

“Awh, c’mon! It’s just me, we’re friends, can’t you tell me?” Keigo pouted, batting his eyelashes at you in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. The display made you laugh, so you indulged him. After all, he was a friend. No harm in telling him something he was bond to know sooner or later.

“I’m actually single right now. But as a jeweler sale associate, I know how much it means to a person when their partner picks out a gift for them, especially if it’s a surprise.”

Keigo nodded his head solemnly. “That makes sense. I better follow your advice then eh? Find out what she likes-“ he mused “-I can do that.”

“Good luck Keigo!” You called after him as he strolled through the door, waving when he smiled at you, giving that same, goofy two fingered salute that he always did when saying goodbye.

The man unnerved you, the visions you had experienced concerning him making you worry. But as long as he was dating your friend, you felt that you’d be fine.

-----

Keigo showed up again two days later.

“Back so soon?”

“You know me-“ He shook out his umbrella, placing it in the drip-bin by the door, wiping his shoes on the mat. “I always try to be speedy with my work.”

It was grey outside, drizzling slightly. You loved these kinds of days, where you could sit near a window and watch it rain while sipping tea. It was so peaceful and calm, and always soothed your stress.

“Find out anything useful?” Whatever he could tell you would make it easier to refine the jewelry selection for his particular needs.

“So, she doesn’t have any bracelets, and I asked her about why and she said they annoy her. She likes necklaces.” He clarified,. You could tell by the way he puffed up that he felt proud of his detective skills. “I even made a note of the lengths - she likes ones that dip low, which-“ He wolf whistled, and your stomach turned. But it was fine, just awkward.

“Alright, I think we have quite a few like that. Let me collect them for you and lay them out.”

Keigo strolled around the display room while you bustled about, looking in each case at the shiny metals and stones

You laid out the necklaces, calling Keigo over. The man smiled brightly at you as you showed him the selection, noticing he was gravitating towards the more simply, elegant choices.

“I’m sure she would be thrilled with any of these.” You offered, Keigo silent as he tried to decide between two necklaces.

Still, the man shook his head, quirking his lips. “I just…. I need to see them on, y’know?” Then he brightened, as if he had just thought of something. “Hey, can you try them on? Model one for me? Just to see what it’d look like.”

You laughed nervously. “Sorry Keigo, but I’m not allowed to do that, it’s against company policy. Only customers get to try on the jewelry, and that’s if they’re supervised.”

“Awh, c’mon! No one else is here, and I won’t tell.” The man leaned forward, shooting you a quick wink before he snatched up one of the necklaces, holding it out towards you. “Please? I just need to see it. I promise I’ll buy it.”

He was so insistent, and no matter how loud the alarm bells were wringing in your head, you felt cowed by his confidence.

“Um, still… I don’t think it’s allowed-“

“Fuck what’s allowed-“ He cut you off, snorting. “-I want to see what it looks like. It’s just me (Y/N), I’m not gonna snitch.”

A heavy sigh, and you finally agreed, taking the necklace from his nimble fingers. You slung it around your neck, not fastening the back as you held it in place. Hopefully that would be enough to sate Keigo’s curiosity.

His eyes immediately followed the curve of the necklace, how it dipped low towards your cleavage (curse you for wearing a lower-cut shirt today). You tried to ignore the leering.

“Here, let me help you fasten it, doesn’t look right otherwise.”

Before you could protest, he was sliding behind you, deft hands reaching for the necklace your had in your grasp.

“Keigo no-!”

But it was too late.

You were pressed up against a wall, face-first, your hands gathered into the small of your back and held there with a vice-like grip. There was pressure between your legs, something hammering into you, in and out, in and out, in and out.

Keigo was talking to you, you could tell it was the man by his voice. What was he saying? You were too overwhelmed with the sensation between your legs to focus on the words falling from his lips.

Sweat dripped from your temples, Keigo’s chest pressed up against your back was slick with perspiration, his nipples hard and pressing into your skin. It was an uncomfortable situation-

And then it changed.

You were tied up now, tight enough that you couldn’t move no matter how you thrashed. Knees bound in such a way so your ass was up in the air, arms stretched out in front of you, anchored to the headboard of the bed.

Keigo was behind you again - nothing to indicate that the tongue running through your core was his, but somehow, you knew.

You were begging and pleading, withing in your restraints against his tongue, but he wouldn’t let up, he wouldn’t let you crest the mountain that had built up inside. He kept chuckling, the vibrations running through you and making you buck your hips. You felt disgusting.

Then the bed was gone, and Keigo was in front of you. He was sitting in an office chair, your legs straddling his lap. Hands on your hips were dragging you back and forth, grinding you on the hard member protruding from Keigo’s lap. He was flushed, letting out little moans as he kept eye contact with you, smiling and praising you.

Then you were back.

Gasping, you shot away from Keigo, the expensive necklace clattering to the ground as it fell from your hands.

The man froze, confusion etched across his features as he watched you bend over, trying to catch your breath, to calm down, to ignore the lingering sensations from the futuristic visions.

“(Y/N)…”

“I think-I think you should leave.” You heaved, tears building. That had been awful, everything had felt good but you hadn’t. You felt uncomfortable and disrespected and stupid. That couldn’t be your future with Keigo, you wouldn’t be able to handle that. He was your friend’s boyfriend, for goodness sake!

Keigo opened his mouth to say something, but you snapped at him “Leave.”, making the man click his jaw shut.

He walked out the door, shooting you concerned glances the entire way.

You felt better as soon as he was gone, the door clicking shut after him. Thankfully, you were the only employee out front at the moment, and no other customers were present, so no one but you and Keigo had experienced your outburst.

Bending down to pick up the necklace, you inspected it carefully, horrified that you had dropped such an expensive item. It was alright though, so you brought it back to the others, shakily beginning to gather them up to put away.

You didn’t want to see Keigo again.

——-

“I just don’t understand!”

Your friend sobbed, surrounded by tissues on your bed, eyes red and blotchy. You wished you could rub her back, our give her a hug, but you knew what would happen. So you stayed on the floor, passing up tissues and offering wordless sympathy.

“Why would he break up with me? Why?”

You shrugged, looking for words. “I don’t know… I’m sorry that this happened, but if he can’t see how awesome you are, then he’s an idiot.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. You could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t say anything further, instead choosing to wipe her eyes.

She had called an hour or so ago, tearful, asking if she could come over. Refused to tell you what was wrong, but the second you let her in, she had burst into tears, explaining everything.

Keigo had broken up with her via text, that asshole.

“I just…. I thought we were good. Did I do something wrong? I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I. You said he just texted you out of the blue?”

She nodded her head, going to blow her nose again. “We were supposed to go out for dinner tomorrow, it’s our two month anniversary.”

You cringed. Did your encounter with Keigo in the jewelry store have something to do with this? Had you driven your friend’s boyfriend away? Had you weirded him out? Oh god, what if this was all your fault?

Your friend broke down into a sob again, slumping onto your bed. You passed her another tissue. “It’ll be okay. I think he’s a stupid fucker that just wanted to play with your heart. He isn’t worth shit. You deserve so much better than him.”

She nodded, blotchy eyes seeking out your own. In the back of your mind, you cringed, seeing the exact same scene from your vision. Well, at least the two of you hadn’t gotten in a fight.

——-

A few weeks later, Keigo was at your door.

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Aw, c’mon (Y/N), at least hear me out?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Maybe he had a dumb explanation for why he had dumped your friend. You were wary of him accidentally touching you again though. “Fine, but make it quick.”

“No promises.” He grinned, breezing past you and into your apartment. He beelined for the chair you had sat in last time he was here, leaving you to take a seat on the couch.

“Alright-“ He settled in, fixing you with a gleeful eye. “How do you feel about your quirk?”

Caught off guard, you blinked. Wasn’t he going to explain why he had broken your friend’s heart? “Um, what?”

“Your quirk, y’know, the one that makes you see the future?” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together with a smile. He seemed far too pleased, and it made you nervous.

“I hate it. If I could get rid of it, I would.” You stated, ready to move onto a different topic. But just as you were about to ask him about your friend, he rose to his feet, fishing in his pockets.

He drew out a bracelet, black and red, thin. “Well then, lookie what I have.” The man walked over, sitting down quickly on the couch next to you, causing you to immediately scoot to the end. You didn’t want him touching you.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized upon noticing your unease. Instead of scooting closer, he simply tossed the bracelet onto your lap, leaning back as he watched you look at it curiously. “Put it on, see how it fits.”

“I don’t need jewelry Keigo, and I think we should be spending our time discussing why you bro-“

“Just put it on (Y/N), please? I promise you won’t regret it.”

Huffing, you did as he asked, clasping the bracelet around your wrist. It fit snug, almost too tight, but it hugged your wrist comfortingly. It was pretty, but you didn’t see what this had to do with your quirk, or with your friend, or anything that held any relevancy.

Bracelet now on, you fixed Keigo with a blank stare. “Happy?”

“I don’t know.” Keigo grinned. “Are you?” And then he was hugging you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, face buried in your neck.

You shrieked, already panicking as you tried to ready yourself for the onslaught of visions that accompanied physical touch.

They never came.

Choking back a surprised gasp, you drew back from his hug to find Keigo’s eyes, the man smiling down at you as he watched your reaction.

“Kei-Keigo…” You stuttered, shocked, surprised, euphoric, confused - so many emotions, all at once. You couldn’t even think to brush off the hands still around your shoulders, thumbs brushing at the tops of your exposed collarbones by the neck of your shirt.

You weren’t able to think rationally, couldn’t focus on anything but the awe you felt at being touched without being slammed with visions of the future.

You forgot about the terrifying visions you had gotten when Keigo touched you.

You forgot about how he had hurt your friend, broke her heart with no explanation.

You forgot about his hands refusing to leave your body.

“Keigo, this is…. Amazing” You breathed, wide eyes snapping up, catching his smiling face, eyes crinkly and twinkly.

“I had my team modify some quirk-cancelling cuffs! You seemed so upset whenever someone touched you, I couldn’t leave you with such a burden.”

Nodding, you returned your gaze to the bracelet, turning your wrist this way and that to look at the bracelet from different angles.

“I mean, I know how much I like being touched, and touching. I think I’d totally die if I couldn’t.” Keigo chuckled, but you weren’t listening.

The rest of his time sitting next to you on the couch was spent explaining the colors he had spent so long picking (“They’re my personal favorite, aren’t they nice?”) and why he had decided on a bracelet (“It could’ve been a necklace, but I think it looks better in it’s original cuff design, looks cooler that way.”).

By the time he had to leave, you were completely sidetracked, so distracted with your shiny new jewelry that you didn’t even remember to ask what his deal was with being a jerk to your friend, his now ex-girlfriend.

-----

“-and then he gave me the bracelet. I wasn’t thinking much after that, I just… I can hug you, isn’t that incredible?”

You gave your friend another squeeze, feeling a smile dance across your face. But then you sobered, pulling back from her with your hands on her shoulders, quickly becoming serious.

“But he’s really starting to kind of weird me out. Why won’t he explain why he broke up with you? He’s being a little bitch. I tried asking him a couple times, but he kept cutting me off, and I feel like the bracelet was a distraction to stop me from busting his chops about his behavior towards you.”

Your friend looked sad for a second, before shrugging. “I dunno, he just said things weren’t working out, and that while he liked me, he’s not ready for a relationship right now ‘cause of where he’s at in his life.”

“Psh-“ You scoffed, going in for another comforting squeeze for your friend. “-that’s code for “I’m a fuckboy and want to sleep around”.”

“I know….. But it still hurts.” You friend sighed, wrapping her arms around your neck. “But at least he gave you that quirk thing. I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“I just wish he was a mildly decent person.” You grumbled, detaching from the hug to sit back, glaring at the ceiling. “He gives me the fucking creeps.”

“How so?” You friend locked her head to the side, throwing her arm over the back of the couch. You had called her over the second Keigo had left, finally gathering your wits about you.

“I dunno…” You shrugged, not quite ready to tell her about the disturbing visions containing him. Did that have something to do with their breakup? Was it your fault? What was going to happen with Keigo? It honestly scared you, the residual feelings and sensations you could remember from the visions.

Your friend nodded understandingly. “Some people just give off those vibes. Well, at least we don’t ever have to see him again. Good riddance I say.”

You agreed.

——-

Knocking on the door, you shuffled your feet as you took in the house.

It was one of those rich places - nice neighborhood, fancy street filled with lavish houses, expensive cars. You felt slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot in your clearance-rack clothes.

The door swung open, revealing a sleepy Keigo, shirtless, clad in nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, um-“ You quickly turned, averting your eyes, trying to give the man privacy in case he hadn’t realized he was shirtless. It looked like he had just woken up from a nap, eyes blinking owlishly, hair mussed.

“Hey (Y/N), come on in.”

Still keeping your eyes turned away, you stepped inside the opulent house, trying not to gape too much at the decor inside. You didn’t want to look like a complete peasant in front of Keigo, but he’d already been to your house, so you could imagine that he knew of your poor-ness.

“Something wrong? You can look at me y’know, I’m not gonna turn you to stone or something.” Keigo joked, voice entirely too close for comfort.

Head whipping around, you found that he was too close, practically almost touching you as he stood beside you, head cocked as he watched you.

“No… nothings wrong, you’re just…” You gestured to his torso, and Keigo looked down in confusion, before looking back at you, a grin on his face.

“Ah, just woke up.” He shrugged, before reaching out to touch your arm. “Bracelet still keeping that quirk at bay?”

You nodding, following the blonde as he turned and walked further into his house, towards the kitchen.

“Glad to hear! I just wanted to look at it a bit, make sure nothing’s worn or torn, y’know? Hate for you to have to deal with the no-touching thing again.” He said over his shoulder, gesturing for you to sit down at the island, on one of the barstools.

You did so, watching the man open his fridge, take out a carton of milk, uncap it. “Is it too tight?”

“Nope.”

He drank right out of the bottle, and you watched some dribble out of the corner of his mouth, down his chin. The man finished gulping down the milk, taking the bottle away from his lips to swipe at the white trail of liquid rolling down his chin.

Eyes dark, he made contact with your own eyes as he cleaned his chin with a finger, stuffing it in his mouth to suck it clean.

That was gross.

The next second, he was back to normal, cheerfully putting the milk back into the fridge. “Good, good. Now, mind if I take a look at it? You should keep it on though.”

You nodded, and Keigo straightened, walking around the island to sit next to you, shuffling his stool closer.

He grabbed your wrist, laying it out on the island, before beginning to poke at the bracelet, running his fingers over it, fiddling with it, squeezing the tendons in your hand, smoothing his hand up your arm.

It felt a bit intrusive.

“So the visions are all blocked?”

“Yep.”

“And you can touch and be touched?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s your appetite? Sometimes complete quirk suppression can make you lose your appetite.”

“It’s been normal, I guess I’m a little hungrier than normal, but I’ve been getting out more too, not as afraid of crowds.”

“Nice! And how about your libido?”

You spluttered, choking on your own spit, snatching your hand away from Keigo’s wandering touches.

“Excuse me? That’s a bit personal, thanks.”

Keigo shrugged, bright eyes hooded and lazy. “It’s just a question.”

“Are you done making sure it’s all good? No broken parts?” You changed the subject, narrowing your eyes. You can’t believe your friend had ever dated him, that you had ever thought he was anything but a playboy.

You wouldn’t even be here, in his house, but he had come into the jewelers a while back (both you and your friend had blocked his number), spouting something about your bracelet needing constant checks and maintenance in order to keep suppressing your quirk. (“Wouldn’t want it to stop working, right? Just stop by sometimes, here’s my address.”).

So here you were.

Keigo leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow at your irritated tone of voice. “Woah there, don’t get snippy. I’m doing you a favor, right? I’m not trying to hurt you or something.”

Technically, you guess he was right. But he had played your friend, had fucked with her feelings. He was a fuckboy, liked messing with each and every girl he could find, and you didn’t care to be one of them.

“And I appreciate that Keigo. But I like to keep my private life private.”

Keigo was silent, simply holding out a hand for you to place your arm in, so he could fiddle more with the bracelet.

Several moments of awkward silence passed before he spoke again. “You’re being awfully ungrateful. It makes me think you don’t even want this little gift. If I were you, I’d be doing everything I could to show the person kind enough to do such a thing for me how thankful I was.”

Lost for words, you stared at the man. Was he expecting some sort of award? Some sort of prize? It’s not like you had anything to give him.

“I don’t have anything to give you in thanks. Just my words, which I’ve said plenty of. I didn’t ask you to make this for me.” You pointed out.

“Sure, but you use it, don’t you? You wouldn’t like it if I took it away, right? Think about how miserable your life was before I gave you this.”

Your life had been miserable. Afraid to go out in crowds, afraid to leave the house, Nervous about grocery shopping, about paying and having the cashier touch your hand as they handed over the change.

Scared of public transportation, of coffeeshops and bookstores, of public parks, even your own home. What if one of your roommates forgot and touched you? Or accidentally bumped into you?

Plus, you could hug now, and shake hands, and slap your friends back when she told a horrible joke, or tap her when you wanted her attention.

You didn’t want to go back to before. “I’m sorry Keigo… I really do think it’s lovely, and I can never thank you enough for doing this for me.”

Keigo let go of your arm, and it swung back to your side. You could feel the man looking at you.

“You know what would let me know that you mean it?”

God, it better not be something sexual.

“You could buy me coffee. Or maybe a cookie from that bakery on 1st Avenue, you know the one? With the little bunny pastries?”

That surprised you.

“You go there? That’s my favorite place.” You mused, looking at Keigo in surprise. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who’d like a place like that. But appearances could be deceiving.

“Of course! I really like their stuff.”

“Alright,” You conceded, rising to your feet. “I’ll get you some stuff from there. Want it today?”

Keigo rose to his feet as well, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah! Let me get dressed real quick, and then I’ll go with you. Don’t go anywhere birdie.” He shot you a wink, before sauntering past you, out of the kitchen. You raised a brow, surprised. He meant to go with you?

“Make yourself at home while you wait, don’t be afraid to kick up your feet!”

——-

The bakery smelled as lovely as usual.

A warm atmosphere, good food, friendly employees. It was your favorite place for a reason.

“Alright, what do you want?” You asked Keigo, the two of you staring up at the menu.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What are you going to get?”

“Probably a muffin, those are my favorite.”

“What!?! That’s my favorite too! How crazy.” Keigo smiled at you, dimples showing. You got the feeling that he was brown-nosing you, but you kept the thought to yourself, striding up to the counter to order.

Muffins purchased, you approached Keigo, who was lounging by one of the display cases, admiring the delicate, mouthwatering masterpieces held within.

“All good to go?” His smile was so charming, so friendly, you almost caught yourself wanting to see it more. Huffing in irritation at yourself, you pushed past him, shoving the bag with his muffin into his chest.

“Here’s your stuff. I’m going home now, see you around.”

“Wait!” Keigo turned, jogging a little to catch up as you exited the bakery. “We gotta eat these before they get cold - hey, birdie, are you listening to me?“

You weren’t, stoically keeping your head turned forward, walking with determination. There was only so much of Keigo that you could tolerate, and you had reached your limit. He was starting to really annoy you, didn’t he get that you wanted to go home? You’ll just eat your muffin on the subway, it’s not that hard.

“(Y/N)-“ His sudden growl was punctuated by an arm on your shoulder, spinning you around and pulling you towards the man.

“Hey-!” The sudden collision of your face with his chest knocked your breath away, almost causing you to drop your own muffin in the process.

When you managed to gather yourself, you shot a glare up at Keigo’s face, only to find the blonde smirking down at you, a fierce glint in his eyes.

“I expect you to listen when I’m talking, got it? I don’t like being ignored.”

That’s evident.

You tried to back away, but he still had a hand on your shoulder, squeezing you tight to him. “Keigo! Let me go, you stupid idiot-“

“Stop it, I’m not doing anything to you, ya big baby.” He cooed down at you, before taking his hand away, letting you stumble backwards.

He was just messing with you, teasing you. It was obvious, yet still you allowed him to be around you.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I know all the touching’s gotta be new still. Wanna go eat these in the park? I’ll buy you some ice cream if you want.”

“I don’t want ice cream, I want to go home.”

Keigo frowned, walking after you when you turned on your heel, heading for the subway. “Why do you dislike me so much? I’ve done so much to help you, and yet you spit in my face. Your parents ever teach you how to be grateful? Or even respectful?”

You gasped at his accusation, stopping in your tracks to whirl around, only to find the man far closer than what you had expected. Still, you tried to hide your surprise at his proximity, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“You are a playboy, you broke my friend’s heart, and you want to sleep with every single person you come across just to mess with their feelings. I don’t want to be around you. I won’t get dragged into that.”

The man watched you, face solemn and contemplative. “Is that really how you see me?”

“Why would I say any of that unless it was true?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking up and around, as if gathering his bearings, before back down at you.

“Have you ever considered that I’m the one getting my heart broken?”

“Yeah right-“ You scoffed, only for Keigo to cut you off.

“People want to sleep with me because they think it’ll get them something that they want. Fifteen second fame, a piece in a tabloid about my “new lover”…. Think it’ll help them further their career, or that I’ll give them money. I can’t find anyone real.

“And my friend wasn’t real enough for you?” You spat, not believing him for a second.

“Nope. You think she liked me for who I am?”

“Uh, yeah? She gushed to me all the damn time about how good you were, how she felt about you. That girl held nothing but love and affection for you.”

The man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, love for my wallet.”

“She’s not like that.” You argued, brows furrowing.

“Really? Cause she was sucking me dry, and not even in a sexy way.”

You crinkled your nose at what he was implying. Your friend wasn’t like that, she truly had felt for Keigo, had liked him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t just a leech.

“I’m done talking about my failed love life.” Keigo said lowly, nudging your shoulder. “I just thought two friends could hangout, but it seems like you think all I do is try and fuck people.”

“No, Kiego…. That’s not what I meant.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but right now…. You almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

Some of what he was saying made sense, how people would try and use him for various reasons. But that still didn’t explain his sudden and harsh breakup with your friend. And over text no less, a complete douche move!

But you felt bad about his words, about how he seemed to actually want to hangout, and yet you were accusing him of trying to sleep with you. But what about those visions you had had? Was that even how they went? Or were you remembering falsely based on your bias towards the man?

And what about his suggestive touches, his leering gaze? Was that maybe just how he always was, and it wasn’t exclusive to you? Were you inflating your place in his life, thinking that he wanted you?

It was confusing, and you didn’t want to think about it, try and untangle the lies from the truth. Right now, you just wanted to eat your muffin.

“If you really didn’t mean it, then can we go eat these in the park? I just want to chill with someone that isn’t trying to gain something from me. I want to spend time with someone that’s real.”

With a half-irritated sigh, you nodded, hoping you wouldn’t regret hanging out with the obnoxious man.

-----

He kept calling you, texting you. You’d had to unblock his number at some point, in order for him to text you about the bracelet and when he needed to look at it.

“Come overrrrr, I’m bored!”

“Birdie, are you hungry? The delivery place gave me extra Torikatsu and I don’t want it to go bad. Can I come drop it off?”

He’d swing by the jewelers, leaning over the counter to talk to you about a recent shoot he’d booked, or something he saw recently.

Keigo seemed to slowly insert himself into every facet of your live, against your will, ignoring every subtle, irritated attempt of yours to turn him away. Every single time you saw him, your mind would inevitably think of the visions, but you felt like you couldn’t trust yourself with those anymore.

The man assured you at every step, he had no romantic feelings for you, he just wanted a friend, someone to put him in his place, be honest with him.

You definitely were honest.

Snapping at him when he showed up at your apartment uninvited, coming up behind you on the street and grabbing your sides, laughing when you shrieked and tried to hit your attacker, only to realize it was Keigo.

Tearing into him when he tried to talk badly about your friend - she had been having less and less contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Now your relationship with her was reduced to curt text messages. Maybe she was just going through a hard time, and wanted alone time? Still, you let her know you were there for her, whenever she needed.

You were honest when Keigo asked your opinion on food, TV shows, clothes, movies. It was almost satisfying saying something sucked, just to see Keigo’s face fall slightly, before he shook his head, whining.

“Then help me pick something out! I can’t do it without you-“

He totally could, he was just being a baby.

The more he inserted himself into your life, the more you realized that he was akin to a petulant child, just with muscles and a penchant for inappropriate touching.

Whenever he saw you, he’d try to draw you into a hug, letting his hands drop far down your back, way too low for you to feel comfortable. You’d slap them away, and Keigo would laugh, before ruffling your hair.

He’d have you come over so he could check your quirk suppressor, except he was in the middle of a show, and it was getting to the best part. (“Sit down, shhh, it’s just getting good!”) You’d have to sit through the entire thing, enduring Kiego’s hand lazily drawing shapes over your pants on your thigh, simply putting it back whenever you shoved it off.

He was insufferable, irritating to no end, but you could tell he was a lonely man, bitter about his love life and with his friendships.

So you tolerated his presence.

After all, he wasn’t trying to hurt you. That’s something he reiterated every single time you shied away from his touch. He made you feel like a fool for thinking the man was hitting on you, when he made it so clear that he wasn’t, only interested in friendship.

Until you fell asleep at his house.

Another one of those days were he needed to look at your quirk suppressor (which you were 99% sure was fine, it seemed like he just enjoyed seeing it on your wrist). He had been rummaging around in his room before he had to run and open the front door for you, talking as he walked back to return to his previous task.

Apparently he was trying to find a good shirt, seeing as how he had pants on, but his chest was bare. Keigo instructed you to sit on the bed for a second while he retreated into his massive closet, trying to find a good shirt to go with the rest of his outfit.

His bedroom was pretty large, a full California King taking up the majority of the space, neatly made. The sheets and blankets felt soft beneath your fingers as you sat on it’s edge, prepared to wait for Keigo for a bit.

The man always took his fashion very seriously - one time he’d even spent two hours trying on clothes until he’d decided on an appropriate outfit to go to the park.

So you followed your tired eyes, exhausted from work and dealing with Keigo, worrying about your friend, daily life stressors and the like. Keigo wouldn’t mind if you laid back, right? Your feet wouldn’t be on the bed, so it’d be fine.

And it was fine, pleasant, the room the perfect temperature.

You were roughly jerked out of sleep by pressure. Pressure on your hips, pressure on your lips.

Eyes jolting open, you tried to inhale, only to find yourself unsuccessful.

Keigo was on top of you.

Panicking, your hands came to push at him, a muffled sound of protest being squeaked out from where his lips pressed against yours.

Noticing you were awake, Keigo pulled back, smiling the whole while.

“I’m not willing to wait anymore, I just gotta have you.”

His eyes were glinting, hair tousled, still shirtless. You felt goosebumps arise as you remembered the vision you had so long ago, of this exact moment.

“Wai-mmph!” His lips were on yours again, passionate and warm, moving eagerly. A wet tongue pressed at the seam of your mouth, surprising you and making you blanch, which allowed the man access.

Kiego’s tongue explored the inside of your mouth, playfully tapping your own wet muscle, encouraging you to lift it and wrestle with him.

This was too weird, this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t do this-

Biting down hard, you snapped your teeth shut on his tongue, and Keigo yelped, drawing back immediately.

“Ouch, what the fuck!?! Chill out (Y/N), geez.” His hand was dabbing at his mouth, wincing when it came in contact with his bleeding tongue. You had bitten him deep, but you weren’t focused on that right now.

“What are-what are you doing?” Your voice was breathless, disoriented. The room felt…. Dark, and suffocating, as if it was closing in on the two of you, trapping you.

Keigo looked down at you, and it was only then that you realized you had been moved to lie on the bed fully, shoes off, legs splayed. The man rested on his stomach between them, his weight pressed against your body, keeping you still.

“I told you, I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been as nice as I can, but it’s time you started paying me back for everything I’ve done for you.”

What? Paying him back-was he talking about the quirk suppressor he had gifted you? Had he been lying about his true intentions this whole time?

“That’s not right, it was a gift, you-you don’t have to pay back a gift.” You spluttered, feeling as if your chest was collapsing.

Keigo shook his head, swooping down to leave a bloody kiss on your forehead, which you cringed at, before pulling back to speak.

“Nah, it wasn’t a gift. You know how expensive it was? You were always gonna have to compensate me. Now shush, I wanna feel you-“

One of his hands grabbed your jaw, keeping your face turned towards his, pressing down until tears formed in your eyes. His lips were bloody from the bite on his tongue, tasting unmistakably like iron.

You didn’t want this.

Trying to bite him again left you with a slap to your thigh, making you cry out. Keigo huffed out a laugh against your mouth.

He detached from your lips, just to start nibbling at your jawline, elating streaks of red where his lips touched.

“God, you are so sexy. I was trying to chill, but then I came out and you were sleepin’ all cute, and I couldn’t fucking stop myself from touching.”

“Stop doing this, I can pay you with something different. I don’t wanna do this Keigo.” You whispered, on the verge of crying.

“No, I get to decide what you’ll be doing for me, it’s my bracelet-“

“It’s not, you gave it to me, please stop-“

“Shut up.” He growled sinking his teeth into the side of your neck, nipping at the skin hard enough to have you screaming. “You’re so ungrateful, where’s my thanks? I’ve done so much for you.”

“Thank you, thank you Keigo, I appreciate it all-“ You hurried out, hoping it was what he wanted to hear “But I can’t do this, please don’t make me. I wanna go home.”

“There we go, I like the sound of you thanking me. You’re going to thank me for each and every time you cum tonight, got it?”

“No, no, we can’t do this, I can’t! Get off of me, please-“

“You’ll do it, or else I’ll whip you until your flesh hangs off of you in strings.” He hissed, squeezing your jaw cruelly.

The tears in your eyes overflowed as you fell silent.

“Aw, birdie, don’t cry. I’m not gonna hurt you, I never have, right?” He waited for a second, watching your face before he pressed harder, eyes hardening “Right?“

You nodded jerkily, and Keigo came to kiss your tears away, savoring their salty taste as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Keigo, this isn’t right though, please get off me. I don’t want this-“

“You want me to take this away?” A hand caught your shaking wrist, the one that had the quirk suppressor fastened snugly around it, wrenching it up so both of you could see it. “Huh? Put you back where you were in your miserable little life? Running away from everyone, holing up in your apartment, not willing to touch or be touched…”

The very thought made your insides churn, and a fresh round of tears rolled down your face as you shook your head no, lips wobbling as you whined. You felt so pathetic, so small and dumb underneath Keigo.

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to relax now, right? No more begging unless it’s for more.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to shuffle around until he could slide his hands under your shirt, pressing against your tummy as you flinched away.

“Don’t worry birdie, you’re gonna like every single thing we’re gonna do. You’ve had sex now, yeah? Since I gave you the bracelet?”

You shook your head “no”, it’s not like you were eager for sex before you got it, and all the touching-without-terrifying-visions thing was still new to you, the dating world was being eased into. Somehow though, every single date seemed to be crashed by the man on top of you.

Keigo lit up like a Christmas tree, licking his lips gleefully. “Okay, okay, I can-whew, that’s hot-I can be gentle.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, his hands skirting up your ribs, shucking up your shirt as the traveled higher and higher.

“Keigo please-“

“Don’t you dare say stop, I’m not gonna. You’re the first person that doesn’t want anything from me, you’re real, and I’m not stopping.”

His admission made you cringe, recoiling from his touch. He followed you, palms finally smoothing over your breasts, over your bra.

“You’re going to do what I say, or else this-“ Your wrist was wrenched into view, red-and-black bracelet glittering. “-gets removed. And I’ll still do whatever the fuck I want, but you’ll be off in your mind having visions of who-knows-what while I have my way. Got it?”

Your blood chilled, body suddenly feeling ice cold. His tone was dead serious, spitting out the words with a sense of finality.

“So, just lay there and take it birdie, I’ll be good to you.”

#yandere keigo takami #keigo x reader #Keigo Takami #yandere takami keigo #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #Yandere bnha #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.somno #tw dubcon #creepy keigo

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sophie-i-guess13 · 3 years ago

Text

Rough Around The Edges

|Words: 815|

|Characters: Tim Shepard, Dallas Winston|

|Genre: Technically Hurt/Comfort|

|TW: Underage Drinking, Violence|

|Tag! @mjmacchio1991 @apricot-colored-feathers @pepsi-and-cigarettes @the-kneesbees @ralphmaccchiato

Tim Shepard is three months away from his thirteenth birthday and sweating like a sinner in church when he first meets Dallas Winston. He’s a weird kid, Tim decides on that first day.

He waltzed into town like those cowboys Tim watches on the television on Saturday mornings when Ma has all but drowned in her medicinal whiskey. He rode into town on the back of a freight train (okay, maybe not the back of one, but you get the idea) with hair too blonde to be real, and cold, pale eyes. Like a dead fish.

Tim decides the only thing the stranger is missing is a gun against his hip when they run into each other on the rodeo ground. Curly doesn’t have the sense not to stare when he and his brother cross paths with the stranger stuck under Buck Merrill’s hand.

They share a quick nod - Tim and Buck. The lanky teenager looks less like a boy wearing his father’s boots and more like a young man every time he and Tim cross paths. His hair is still long and unruly, hanging on either side of his face in limp, greasy strands. He’s gotten it cut though since it’s much shorter than the last time they’d run into each other like this. Still, he offers a quick and silent nod in their passing, Tim’s fist clench around his earnings in his pocket as the boy with pale eyes watches them.

Tim decides he’s like the rangers on the television that day, if those rangers wore leather jackets two times too big and filthy tennis shoes. Curly decides the stranger is ‘cool’ when he watches the boy try to attack three men -gamblers - who’d lost their savings in one of Buck’s races.

Tim Shepard is fifteen and a half when he’s tackled to the cold ground in the midst of a Rumble. He knows he’ll never hear the end of it when he catches sight of his brother fighting alongside the youngest Curtis. He’d spent the last day teaching Curly all he’d need to know to not end up in the very position he was in now. Each breath he takes is met with a cheap shot at his ribs and chest, really any part of him the Socs can get at.

It isn’t until the Lot grows blurry and each breath feels more like a chore than second nature, that Tim feels the weight of one of Tulsa’s finest football players being ripped away. When he turns his head and spits blood and a few choice words to the ground, he looks to his left and is met with Dallas’s outstretched hand. “You were gettin’ your ass handed to you.”

“I was doin’ just fine, asshole.”

Nearly two years later, Tim runs into Dallas again. Not under the circumstances of slashed tires or a future Rumble, not because of some broken truce. No, the only reason Dallas Winston is knocking on the door of the Shepard residence at quarter to four, is because no one else knows how to treat the torn flesh crossing from Tim’s temple to chin.

Dallas works in silence - and with much more care than anyone would have expected for a hood from New York. When he’s finished to the best of his abilities and both boys have sealed the memory in the back of their minds with cheap grass and Ms. Shepard’s ‘medicinal’ whiskey, they fall asleep on opposite ends of the ugly and stained floral sofa.

As awful as the sight of his mother’s sewing needles were, slick with his blood, Tim chose to remember the way Dallas looked that night. His hair was still too blonde to look real, teeth too sharp and hands too cold, but something had changed in his eyes.

Less like a dead fish, Tim couldn’t push away the feeling that he was hiding something. Protecting something. His own pride is his first guess.

“You really got this from some chick?”

He shields the sudden wince of pain with a snarl. Dallas pulls his hand - and the rag he’d held against the stitches - away and fans at the skin lazily. "Shut up, blondie,” Tim finishes as his eyes roll back.

Dallas scoffs, drowning the comment with aged liquor from a dusty bottle. “Calm down there, hotshot,” Dallas snorts, shoving the boy back against the couch by his shoulders. “Don’t need you tearin’ one of your stitches already.”

Despite the ache in his chest and the fatigue leaking into his bones like rain through a decaying roof, he can’t rip his eyes from the greaser at his side. Maybe it’s just the jagged scar numbing his face, but he hadn’t felt his hands at all. Tim knew there were too many scars littering his skin to go unnoticed.

Or maybe Dallas Winston wasn’t as rough as everyone had been lead to believe.

#soapie’s stuff #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #dallas winston #tim shepard #I guess I write now #MOVING

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fckwritersblock · 3 years ago

Text

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 6

Erik Stevens x Black OC

( Unedited.)

I woke up with a killer headache and the sound of my alarm clock going off. I hit it repeatedly trying to get it to shut off to no avail. Frustrated I picked it up launching it across the room. Next was the alarm on my cell and I released a defeated groan. Sitting up, I took in my surrounding trying to remember how I got to my room last night. My makeup was removed, and I was in a large T-shirt with my hair in a bonnet. The only thing I forgot to do was remove my contacts. Slowly getting up, I left my bedroom and went straight to the bathroom. I raised an eyebrow when I saw a glass and aspirin set right next to my glasses.

There was no way I was THAT alert last night.

Frowning I took the packet and washed it down before starting the shower, I had to wash away last nights shame and hangover. 15 minutes later I stepped out wrapping a towel around my body. I didn't even feel slightly Recovered. Removing my contacts and placing the frames over my eyes, I need coffee.

"Good Mornin'," a raspy baritone greeted me when I got to the kitchen.

"Morning," I mumbled putting on the pot.

"Lemme get a cup,"

I stopped turning around in horror, registering who it was.

"Erik?!"

"Yeah?" He sounded like 'duh'.

"Get out get out get out!" I squealed, holding my towel to me looking for something to throw.

"What about the coffee?"

Erik sounded confused, like he was suppose to be here or something."

"Negro what are you even doing here?!" I exclaimed. "Grab your shit and get out!"

"Damn girl that's how you show gratitude?" I could tell he wasn't getting upset now. "Yo ass don't even know what happened last night."

I froze. Oh fuckkkkk no.

"Tell me we didn't?"

"Naw girl, ion get down like that." He looked disgusted by the thought and I couldn't help but scoff.

"Oh yeah right, I bet. You're such a stand up guy right?" Sarcasm laced in every word as I held the door open for him.

Soon as he crossed the threshold I slammed the door,

"Really Lona that's how we gettin' down now." The anger in his voice was evident and I couldn't help but wonder if he still got that wrinkle in between his eyes like he use to.

"We taken advantage of drunk bitches now Erik.

He was silently for a minute but I knew he was still there.

"You know me better than that." He spoke from the other end. Did I really though?

There was a slight pain in my chest after he said that.

"I use to." I replied loud enough for him to hear before walking back into my room.

"How you feelin' sunshine?"

"I feel like death." I answered.

I laid my head down on the table in the cafeteria Tatiana and Jay were chillin at. I swear to god when you have a hangover it be the longest day ever.

"You don't look far from it either- ouch," Jay rubbed his arm where I hit him.

"I woke up with a massive headache, feelin' like I got by a truck-" I began my list of complaints.

"Probably happened when dude dropped you." Jay mentioned casually.

"-Erik was in my living room just chillin on my couch." I stopped and blinked, looking directly at Jay. "I'm sorry. What? Who dropped me, Erik?"

"Naw, not Erik. Ole dude in the bathroom."

Wait what?" I frowned looking at Tati. "What's he talking about. I was with you wasn't I? Where were you?"

"Ok boo, breathe aite," she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "No anxiety attacks today. Let me start from the beginning. Dumbass here don't know how to be gentle."

As she explained, i remember arriving, I remember chilling, playing beer pong, taking a few shots. I remember dancing, curving a couple of frat boys, and having a good time. Everything after that was fuzzy.

"So you was tore up girl, but hiding it well. You just said you wanted to throw up s you'd feel better. I'm the one who walked you to the bathroom, again, you didn't look that tore up but I guess when it all started to come up you got worse? I only left because Ashley came to get me since Donise was bout to fight and I needed to stop her. I swear I was only gon for like 7 minutes. When I reminded Doni she was on her last strike here and told her we had to get you home we both came right back to find Erik literally trying punch his way thru ole' dudes skull."

"What?" My eyes widened.

"Yeah, apparently Erik caught bruh tryna carry you out the house on the low." Jay informed me filling in from where Tati left off. "When he confronted him and told him to hand you over he dropped you to the floor. E was quick to check on you and asked if I had and before I blinked he was after bruh."

"Erik?"

"Yes girl! And he beat the fuck outta him too." Tati hit her hand with her first. "When I came up, Jay left you with me and Jay and Moses had to get him to stop. Once he 'calmed down' enough he stormed over to you and damn near shoved me out the way. He wouldn't let anyone touch you after that."

"I'm sayin', he turned into the bodyguard." Jay laughed clearly amused.

But I sure as hell wasnt.

Remaining quiet, I tired to process everything. I was almost snatched up and taken God knows where, so some weirdo could do God knows what to me, and Erik came in and stopped everything. For me. Protected me. Made sure I got home safely and stayed with me all night. While I still don't remember anything I do know he was wearing what I saw him in last night this morning......and right about now I'm feeling like the biggest asshole.

"Yeah shit was sexy and scary at the same time. He looked crazy."

"For real son! Crazy as fuck," Jay agreed. "I know bruj said y'all had history, but damn. Y'all was together or somethin'?"

Or something, I thought but instead just shook my head.

"No, but it's complicated," was the only explanation I was giving right now. Everyone didn't need to know my dirty laundry, and while I could careless about what people thought about me, I'm sure they've got enough to run it about last night. Meanwhile I needed to find Erik. No matter how I feel about him, he still looked out for me last night. Not only do I owe him a thank you but an apology too.

It was a nice day outside so I figured he might be in the quad since I saw him out there a lot. There or at the gym. Thankfully he at was the former and I didn't have to look too hard as I headed toward him. As soon as he spotted me he snatched his bag up, saluted the guys and began to walk off. I did my best to catch up without making it obvious that I was after him to everybody else around. Catching up slightly I called out his name and he stopped. He shoulders slumped as if he were sighing as he turned around. He looked at me like he couldn't stand me. I took a deep breath feeling nervous and embarrassed.

"Erik can we talk?" I asked, feeling small.

"Is it about the project?" His voice lacked every bit of emotion.

"No." I answered knowing where this was going.

"Then, naw, we can't."

Without another look he turned, headphones on, and left me where I stood.

————————-

So...someone's upset.

And rightfully so. These two have a lot of issues to work out. Too much anger.

I'm just gonna...let that sit there...

Guess what guys!!

I've got the next 30 chapters planned! The good the bad and the ugly. I'm sooo excited!'

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0 @letsshamelessqueen-m @cmkcolove @readingaddict1290

#black!reader #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger series #erik stevens x reader #black writer #erik stevens #killmomger x oc #killmonger x black!reader #marvel #marvel imagine

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anunvalidcritic · 4 years ago

Text

INVINCIBLE: S1-EP1

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

So I was on my Prime Video account, and I saw that there was a new animated superhero. As I watched the teaser I thought, “Man, I gotta do better at seeing new shows.” So I watched it and JESUS CHXST SOOOO MUCH HAPPENED IN THE FIRST EPISODE!!!

IT’S ABOUT TIME

The way this show started really threw me for a loop because it fully invested me in this conversation about STEVE’s step son MATT...

“I’m supposed to learn to tuck and roll away from a guy who can shoot laser out of his eyes, or control minds, or kick a goddamn school bus to the moon?” -

He’s got a point...

MATT had it rough y’all...

Don’t start cryin’ STEVE... not at work

The art style kinda reminds me of the BOONDOCKS

STEVE don’t start stumblin’ on your words now..

WAR WOMAN slapped him with that weapon like nothin’

RED RUSH + Zoomin’ to Fast = Vomit

He didn’t have to throw that civilian by the head like that ROFL

I won’t lie... as soon as I saw this man I immediately thought... “Black Batman”... I am ashamed

They are really fuckin’ up the WHITE HOUSE... I wonder how the taxpayers feel about this??

We appreciate the diversity in in any show!

Ahh high school drama... gotta love it....

LMAO ANDREW is into mustaches

TODD has such a dicky name... I feel bad for the dudes named Todd.

Ahh come on, MARK! Your dad is OMNI-MAN, and he didn’t teach you to block a hit like that??

AMBER comin’ in clutch with the kick to the balls

BUGER MART = BURGER KING

I really hope those trash bags don’t bust open on him...

...well damn...

OMNI-MAN is not lookin’ excited about him getting his powers. I think we can all agree that there’s a little more to their powers...

CAAANNNNAAAADDDDAAAAA

Dude, don’t psych yourself out, just do it!

He practically floated into the stratosphere and hit that ground like nothing

TRAINING W/ OMNI-MAN

My mouth was a bit ajar listening to the pee analogy

“Try to hit me.” - OMNI-MAN

Now you know damn well he can’t hit you...

BRO HE DIDN’T HAVE TO ROCK HIS SON’S SHIT LIKE THAT!!!!!!!!

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.” - OMNI-MAN

dude your face says otherwise

Something is off with OMNI-MAN...

I would’ve slammed the door as well... if I lived in the same household as him ROFL

Alright, so now it’s confirmed that ANDREW doesn’t know that OMNI-MAN is MARK’s father. I thought he might of because of the whole mustache comment but that is not the case lol.

If a guy is telling you to repeatedly him and he slowly becomes numb to it then you should probably start walking TF AWAY

Look at all that property damage....

“What about Ass Kicker? No... that sounds willful childish.” - MARK

MARK your dad is on a different level... don’t have him rock yo shit again..

I’m not vibing with the orange outfit...

“Make me.” - MARK

I could never and I MEAN NEVER say some shit like that to my mom, superhero or NOT

“I’m nothing like Dad. I’m more like you. I’m nothing special.” - MARK

Well, fuck you too MARK fuck... you...too

I like how they’re just playing catch in the middle of the sky above their neighborhood like it’s nothing.

That ball is going all the way around the world like a fuckin’ merry-go-round!

He is now...INVINCIBLE

Great solo flying sequence

“You guys think your biting off a little more than you can chew? That building has a whole in it, look!” - KILL CANNON

I liked how he asked if it was all clear after he punched him through the building.

RED RUSH + CONVERSATION = BORDEM

lol dude is the prime video version of Marvel’s Vulture

So everybody’s gettin’ called to the base... is there an invasion going on??

DARK WING has some cool tech!

Alright, everybody’s accounted for... who called the team meeting if it wasn’t any of th

NO NOT RED RUSH!!!!!!!!!!!

“Why have you done this?” - THE IMMORTAL

yeah I wanna know tooo!

ofc the one with no powers gets fuckin’ DEMOLISHED in a heartbeat!

GREEN GHOST did not have to go out like that!

ICONIC DIALOGUE

AQUARUS - “Are you alright?!”

MARTIAN MAN - “I live.”

BRO WAR WOMAN & THE IMMORTAL ARE GOIN’ IN!!!! I MEAN THIS IS THE EQUIVALENT TO BUCKY AND CAP TAG TEAMIN’ IRON MAN!!

WHAT EH FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! OMNI-MAN HAS LOST HIS FUCKING MIND!!!!!!!!

.... at least WAR WOMAN got her neck snapped...

SOMEBODY BETTER TELL ME THAT SHIT WAS UST A DREAM!?!?

nah that was real because he looked a little to tired from that dead

______

THIS SERIES IS ALREADY FUCKING AMAZING! My God, I’m already excited for a season two LOL. Let’s get to episode two, shall we? Just remember that everyone’s a critic when their opinion matters the least.

List of Episodes with link :) ~

EP1 - EP2 - EP3 - EP4 - EP5 - EP6 - EP7 - EP8

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fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper · 3 years ago

Text

A birthday fic to correct the awful event Mammon got!

Countdown to Your Special Day

Mammon x Yuki (My MC)

Pronouns: Zie/zir, they/them. If it's easier to read, feel free to sub in they/them for the main pronouns

Tags: Light-hearted romance, fluff/comfort, slight misunderstandings, agender MC, self-indulgent

Words: 4436

[2 months and 1 day away]

-Yuki was curled up in the corner of the couch, concentrated on zir D.D.D. Zie had an open notebook next to zir, the pages filled with calculated numbers and final prices with names of potential websites beside them, some scribbled out and some circled.

-Mammon's birthday was coming up in a couple months, and Yuki had started late in saving money for the surprise zie had wanted to plan for him. He had mentioned it last year as an ideal day, and zie really wanted to make it happen, especially considering all zie did for him was write a bunch of heartfelt letters. Zie wanted to give him something to really experience this time.

-It was just a bit more expensive than zie had realized. Rentals next to a lake were nothing to sneeze at.

-So absorbed with zir phone, Yuki hadn't noticed Lucifer as he entered the library where zie had gone to avoid nosy demons.

-"What are you doing in here, Yuki?"

-Startled, zie dropped zir phone and reflexively covered the notebook. When Yuki realized it was Lucifer, zie relaxed and slumped back against the couch. "Oh, it's just you. Don't scare me like that."

-"That was a bit of a reaction. Are you doing something I should be aware of?"

-"No," was zir immediate response, but then zie reconsidered zir answer. Yuki had been fumbling numbers and trying to make a decision for hours. Zie wanted to do this zirself, but zie'd never done something like this and probably, reluctantly, needed some aid. "Actually, yeah. I need your... help."

-Lucifer blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected this stubborn human who actively tried to make his life harder to ask for help, but Yuki seemed genuine in zir request. "Alright. What is it?"

[1 month and 23 days away]

-Mammon was by the entrance to RAD, waiting for Yuki to come out so they could go home together. Zie had been preoccupied with Lucifer this morning and hadn't left with the younger brothers like usual.

-His day had felt off with Yuki's absence but walking home with zir would make up for it.

-Fiddling around on his D.D.D., checking his sells and ignoring demands from the witches, he occasionally glanced up when saw movement coming out, but it was never Yuki. Hearing familiar voices when the doors cracked open, Mammon took his attention off his phone. It was only Levi and Satan, but maybe Yuki was trailing shortly behind.

-"Mammon, what are you still doing here?"

-"Yeah, I thought you'd be long gone by now after the way you rushed out of the classroom."

-"Shaddup. What's it to ya?" He paused. "I was waitin' for Yuki. Did ya happen to see 'em in there?"

-"So honest. Just say that to begin with," Levi muttered.

-"I think Yuki left earlier with Barbatos."

-"Yep, I overheard Barbatos mention that Lord Diavolo wanted to talk with them about something."

-"What?! Yuki didn't mention anythin' about meetin' with Lord Diavolo to me."

-Satan quirked a bemused eyebrow at Mammon's response. "Why would Yuki need to run it by you about meeting with Lord Diavolo?"

-"LOLOL, it's because Yuki's been avoiding Mammon for a week now. He's been acting like a stray dog without Yuki around."

-Mammon bristled at Levi's comment but didn't rebuttal. He pocketed his phone and walked away from his brothers, darting through the courtyard to leave RAD.

-It was true Yuki had been distant-like the last few of days, but Mammon was sure it was temporary. Even he got tied up in circumstances and important events he couldn't squirm out of. Sometimes it couldn't be helped.

-It wasn't temporary.

[3 weeks and 5 days away]

-"Hey, Yuki--"

-"Sorry, Mammon, I'm running late for my shift. I'll talk to you later!"

-With that as a bye, Yuki was out the door and gone.

-Yuki was usually lackadaisical about any jobs zie took unless one of the brothers worked with zir or if the job required zir full attention. Mammon was usually the first to know if zie had to work, but when--

-"When did Yuki pick up a job?"

-"Jobs," Satan corrected. "Yuki is working at The Fall tonight."

-"The Fall?" Asmo questioned.

"Hold on, what do ya mean 'jobs'? I ain't heard Yuki say anythin' about picking up jobs willingly," Mammon stated, a bit annoyed. He was getting tired of hearing his brothers be more informed about Yuki than he was.

-"When was the last time Yuki actually talked to you, Mammon, that wasn't in passing?" Levi teased without bothering to look up from his game.

-"Hey! We've talked plenty!"

-"Sure, if you want to call those conversations."

-Mammon wanted to argue with Levi, but he really couldn't. He wasn't wrong. Yuki had been absent, and whenever Mammon did manage to talk to zir it was about short and trivial things. It made it hard not to be concerned about the situation of their relationship when Yuki, who was usually glued to his side and spent so much time with him, was suddenly avoiding him. His life had become a bit lonelier without Yuki around.

-"Anyway," Satan interjected, "they've been picking up a lot of shifts from different places the last few weeks. I'm surprised neither you or Asmo knew, considering the network you both have."

-"What the heck does that mean?"

-"It means you're gossiping normies," Levi jeered.

-"Is that s'posed to be an insult?"

-"Besides all that, I'm shocked Yuki picked up shifts at The Fall. I'd love to see the outfit their wearing," Asmo mused. "I'll have to visit them later! I'm sure Yuki will feel completely refreshed after seeing my lovely face."

-Oh, that's right. If Mammon visited Yuki during work hours, zie'd have no choice but to talk with him. He could finally ask zir what the hell has been going on and get an explanation. At the very least just see zir.

-"Well, I'm goin' too! So don't get any funny ideas!"

-"You're not going anywhere, Mammon. You have three extra credit assignments due soon, and you haven't started a single one. Have you?"

-Mammon jumped, frightened by Lucifer's sudden presence behind him. A nervous chill tingled down his spine, so he could only guess the scowl that Lucifer was burning into the back of his head. He tried searching for an excuse, but he was coming up dry.

-Dammit, Lucifer, any time but now!

"W-Well, ya see, dearest big bro--"

-Irritated, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He could feel a headache creeping on him. "That's what I thought. Mammon, my room. Now. I'm going to watch you finish your assignments, even if it takes all night."

[6 days away]

-Mammon simmered as he walked the hallway to Yuki's bedroom. Yuki had seen his messages, but zie was hardly responding to them, if zie did at all. The thought that he had unconsciously done or said something to offend Yuki teased his anxiety, but Mammon quickly squished it. Zie'd just been busy with work and had no off days, but according to Satan, zie only had one more shift.

-One more day that zie would be busy, but then after that zie'd have tons of free time. Yuki will be back by zir favorite demon's side, and then everything else will fall smoothly back into place.

-It was absurd how empty Mammon could feel with Yuki missing from his daily routines. It was worse than when zie had left, when all he could think about was zir where ever he went. Yuki was here though, so he didn't miss zir physically, not like when zie returned home.

-He missed talking with his human, about anything. He missed expecting to see zir when he turned his head. He was missing a piece of a puzzle, and it was aggravating when it was just in grasp, hiding from him.

-Yuki was going to receive a real earful. He deserved that much of complaining after how he'd been treated.

-That could wait though.

-It had been a while since Mammon and Yuki had gone out on a date, and he had just gotten paid from his latest photoshoot. He was confident if he met with Yuki face-to-face and invited zir out zie wouldn't say no.

-That had been the plan until he saw Yuki coming the down the corridor, walking with a purpose. An antsy feeling stabbed him in the gut.

-"Yuki!"

-Yuki froze mid-stride as Mammon approached zir. "Mammon."

-"Yeah, me! The Great Mammon has decided to bless ya with his presence since ya keep ignorin' my messages. Anyway! Guess who got paid today with a bonus? And guess who's gettin' treated to whatever they feel like tomorrow tonight?"

-"Sorry, Mammon, I can't. I have to go to the human world with Lucifer."

-"What'd'ya mean? I didn't hear nothin' 'bout Lucifer havin' to go to the human world."

"Regardless of what you did or didn't hear, it's true all the same. Yuki and I have an appointment in the human world and won't be back for a couple days. Your plans will have to be postponed for later."

-Why was something always blindsiding him lately?

-"What?! Well, if Yuki's goin', I'm goin' too!"

-"Absolutely not. I don't need you causing havoc when I take my eyes off you for more than a second. Don't worry, though, I'll need your company next week for a special trip to the human world."

-It had been quick, but Mammon had thought he had seen Yuki flicked zir eyes at Lucifer.

-"Mammon, it's just for a couple days. Do your best to tough it out. We'll hang out plenty after, okay?"

"Ya better keep your word."

[The Night Before]

-"Mammon, don't forget you're accompanying me to the human world tomorrow morning," Lucifer announced when everyone had sat down for dinner.

-"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Mammon replied. He wasn't the least bit interested in being ordered around doing paperwork and errands. Catching movement from his peripheral, Mammon noticed Yuki trying to look at him without being obvious. He just got zir back, and they had hardly spent any time together. He didn't want to leave, even if it was just a day. More than anything, he wanted to stay with Yuki. "You should definitely come too. You agree, don't ya, Yuki?"

-Yuki barely had the chance to open zir mouth, let alone formulate an answer, before Lucifer answered instead. "No, Yuki has other affairs to attend tomorrow. It's only a day, Mammon. I'm sure you'll be able to handle it, so don't complain."

-There wasn't any further comments about the trip, but Mammon made it obvious he was still hot under the collar with the way he stomped away, taking Yuki right along with him, when dinner concluded. He had been on cleaning duty with Belphie, but Lucifer offered in his place, quelling any complaints.

-Lucifer smiled amusedly to himself as he cleared the table. If only Mammon was aware enough to know what was planned for the day.

-"I can't believe that jerk," Mammon remarked as he dropped onto Yuki's bed. Yuki rolled zir eyes in response before sitting beside the grumpy demon. "I had plans I wanted to do tomorrow, ya know? Dammit! He just came back from the human world!"

-"Did you actually have plans?" Yuki asked it with a sarcastic tone, but zie was suddenly concerned. It was his birthday tomorrow, so maybe he had made plans that Yuki hadn't accounted for.

-Mammon glared at Yuki, his cheeks a shade darker than a moment prior, either from frustration or embarrassment wasn't certain. "I did," he stated softly.

"With who?"

"You, obviously!"

"Wait, we had plans tomorrow? What di--"

-Before Yuki could finish Mammon yanked zir down next to him, hugging zir tightly. Momentarily surprised, Yuki was slow to return the embrace. Zie expected him to be a bit clingy because zie'd been unavailable to be with him for a while, but this hug felt a bit too tight, desperate.

-"You said we could hang out after y'all returned from the human world, but we ain't had much time without being interrupted or the others butting in."

-"Ah. You're right," Yuki agreed. It's funny how zie had been planning this whole affair for Mammon, but in the process has unintentionally abandoned. Zie regretted that.

-"You're warm," he muttered into zir neck. "..I've missed ya like crazy. I've been dyin' to hug you, but it isn't actually enough now that I am. I'm not lettin' you go for the rest of the night."

-A soft sting of guilt hit Yuki's heart. Zie probably could have done a better job of trying to keep the surprise a secret without leaving Mammon completely in the dark, but between the jobs and helping Diavolo and classes taking up the majority of zir time... No, that wasn't an excuse. Yuki had hurt Mammon. That was obvious.

-Yuki entangled zir legs with Mammon's and reached zir arms around his waist, holding him close. Zie took a moment to just be with Mammon, inhaling his smell, hearing his heart beat. Zie had missed him too, a whole bunch, almost too much, but hopefully tomorrow would make up for the weeks of absence and neglect. "I missed you, too, Mammon. Just put up with it for a little bit longer."

[The Day!]

-"Happy birthday, Mammon!!"

-He had heard Yuki's voice before he had actually seen zir. He was flabbergasted to see zir come out of the cabin he had arrived at.

-When Mammon had woken up and joined the others for breakfast, Yuki had already left. It wasn't long after that Lucifer and he prepared for the trip to the human world. He had dragged his feet and groaned, making a show of not wanting to go. When Lucifer had sent Mammon ahead of him to get things ready, he thought it had been a punishment for his attitude, but after coming through the portal into the human world, he realized it wasn't in the city or anywhere near the hotel they usually stayed at.

-The scenery was beautiful and spacious, open in nature with cabins lining a sparking lake that had docks and piers dividing it. Unlike the city cramped full of people and towering buildings designed with glaring windows that bounced the bright sunlight off of them and funky smells, this area was full of trees that casted cool shadows and a refreshing breeze that rustled the leaves.

-Mammon was absolutely gobsmacked.

-Yuki beamed when zie saw the awestruck trance Mammon was in. Zie was hoping he'd like it. Mammon was definitely a city boy, but Yuki took a guess he enjoyed the lure of natural scenery too, based on their picnic date and walks through the forests.

-Mammon's daze broke when he saw Yuki approaching him. "What's goin' on, Yuki?"

-"C'mon, ya dummy, think! You didn't expect Lucifer to make you go on a business trip on your birthday, did you? It was his way of bringing you up here without being suspicious. Although, I thought you definitely would've caught on last week with what he said."

-He had completely forgotten about his birthday. Mammon had been entirely focused on Yuki and zir strange attitude that he'd spaced on even the date.

-"Oh."

-"Yeah, so," Yuki stepped back and spread zir arms out, displaying the lake on zir right and the cabin on zir left, "happy birthday... again! You mentioned a cabin by a lake as an ideal place to go, and you also wanted to rent a boat in the park, so I thought merging the two together would be a good idea! On top of that, I plan to 'spoil ya rotten all day'. What does the Great Mammon think?"

-"Ya know, I'm not deaf to the mocking tone. You're killin' the mood before it's even started, but I guess I can let it slide!"

[Final Hours]

-As the dimming daylight darkened through the pulled curtains, Yuki and Mammon lounged restfully on the couch. Mammon used Yuki's lap as a pillow as zie stroked zir fingers against his head. The tingling feeling traveled down his spine and relaxed his body. He could probably fall asleep in this position with Yuki brushing his hair with such tender touches. If they were at the House of Lamentation, they wouldn't be able to have this kind of moment without being interrupted by his brothers. Too bad the day was coming to an end.

-Dwelling on the negative thought caused him to unintentionally frown, and Yuki noticed the crease on his brow. Zie poked his forehead to get his attention, and his eyes opened to see Yuki leaning over him.

-"What are you thinking about?"

-"That we'll have to go back to the Devildom tomorrow. How am I s'posed to accept that after today? Today was too good to end like that, ya know?"

-Yuki hummed in agreement. Zie briefly looked away as a thoughtful expression morphed zir features. "Well," zie started, zir eyes focused back on Mammon, "I couldn't afford to stay for more than one night. My birthday is just a few months away, so maybe you could plan something for us, like when you rented the pool."

-Mammon felt a pang of short-lived guilt for complaining. Yuki had worked hard to save enough money to rent this cabin, even with Diavolo hooking zir up months in advance. "I still can't believe ya didn't just tell me. I was actually..."

-"Worried you did something? Sorry, Mammon. I should have said something, but I was nervous that I couldn't keep it a secret. I was too excited to not tell you, but then the jobs piled up and I promised to help Diavolo in exchange for talking the price down with the owner. I shouldn't have ignored you though. I'm sorry."

-There was a lull in their conversation, but it was only a slightly weighted silence. The misunderstandings were cleared up and today was one of the best days Mammon had ever had, spending it alone with Yuki. He would have enjoyed it even if it hadn't been his birthday and with Yuki pampering him all day.

-"C'mere," Mammon said as he placed a warm hand against the back of Yuki's neck, pulling zir down for a kiss. "You're goin' to have to take responsibility for my feelings. You're the reason I was stressin' out. The whole time you were busy workin' your ass off for this trip, I was thinkin' of you. As your first, I'm entitled to know what you're doin'. I'm gonna get my fill of ya tonight before we have to head home. I've got weeks worth to get outta ya."

-Yuki's cheeks heated as Mammon greedily kissed zir lips. Zie silently agreed that zie wanted to get the most out of Mammon while they were still alone, but one night of trying to cram almost a month and a half of time lost wasn't possible.

-"Your lips are warm," Mammon murmured as they separated. "That wasn't nearly enough to satisfy me though. I wanna show ya how much I appreciate you."

-"What, uh, what do you wanna do?"

-"Right now? Nothin'. Bein' with ya like this is enough for the moment. I love you, Yuki."

-An explosion of emotions surged through Yuki's chest to the rest of zir body, making zir giddy with adoration. Zie wasn't sure how zie was containing it, but staring down into Mammon's eyes, seeing his tinted cheeks, and him just relaxing with zir simultaneously fueled zir feelings more while also grounding zir.

-"I love you, too, Mammon."

#i didn't spite write a 4000k fic for Mammon's bday in two days or spent half a day editing it after posting it #nor am i disgusted with how i feel like i didn't write Mammon properly despite constantly checking screenshots and similar moments in-game #nor am i debating adding the smut back in because i wrote it poorly #couldn't be me #mammon deserves better regardless of canon or fanon content ugh #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x mc #jess writes

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

Text

The Partner / Chapter Four, “Telling”

Word Count: 11.6k words / Story Masterlist / Read The Assistant / Read on Wattpad / Song: Combat by Hazel English (click to listen)

“Now is now. Are you going to be here or not?”

- Ram Dass

The trill of the ringtone brought my eyes open, but as soon as I do and the sun blinds me, I wish that I hadn’t. He was always the one to close the blinds after I’d opened them, something I’d forgotten to do already.

“Hello?” I say, blindly answering the phone, retreating to under the covers.

“Hi, bug. I hope ‘m not interruptin’ anythin’ important at work, but ‘m on me lunch and wanted t’ call. I miss my fiance.”

A smile is already brewing on my lips, beginning the first second I heard Harry’s voice. It had only been hours since I’d heard it last, but somehow, it was always too long.

“Oh, hi,” I reply, clearing my throat, knowing my sleep-ridden voice gives it away already. “Um, I’m actually at home.”

“Oh, ya are? ‘s ev’rythin’ okay with you, Becks? God, yer not sick, are you? Of all times fer that t’ happen and ‘s when ‘m gone on a case,” his voice is heavy, laden with displaced guilt that makes my insides roil. Luckily, it’s not in the same way they’ve been doing lately.

“Yeah. I woke up at 5 this morning and got sick.”

“God, ‘m so sorry, bug, that ‘m not there t’ take care o’ you. Sounds like I woke you from a nap, ‘m-,” I cut him off before the unnecessary grief can weigh either of us down all the more.

“It’s okay, Harry. I probably just ate something that was off, leftovers that weren’t good anymore. I feel fine now.”

“Good, ‘m glad t’ hear yer feelin’ better already. ‘ll be home on Thursday, ‘m jus’ sorry ‘s not any sooner.”

The first hints of a laugh fall from my lips, “Stop apologizing. It’s fine, I’m fine. I can manage a little throw up, Harry, you don’t need to say that. Believe me, I’m just glad you’re not here to see it.”

“You stop it, li’l one. We’re gettin’ married, Becks, fer better or fer worse, rememba?”

“Of course, but I’m okay. I only threw up this morning and . . “

He doesn’t give me the chance to finish, “Threw up mo’ than once? Becks honey, yer sure yer okay?”

“Yes, Harry, I’m okay,” it comes out accompanied by a laugh, making me miss his. “I’ll manage on my own for the next two days until you’re back. Thanks though, it’s cute how you worry.”

“‘s what a husband does, love, what any person does fer tha person they love.”

“I miss you,” it’s a soft murmur, holding more words than I’d know how to say. “I know we’ve done this once or twice before, you having to travel for a case, but it’s hard.”

“I know, babe, it ‘s fer me too, makes me miss you so much,” the honey is there and so is the molasses, more decadent than ever. A little too much for me to handle, making me press that button. “Hey, what’re you doin’?”

It’s only a few moments until I’m squinting through the afternoon sunshine, feeling my sullen lips turn up into my cheeks.

“Hey, there’s my buggie.”

Perhaps, his smile couldn’t be bigger when I see it fill the screen of my phone. Harry’s one-hundred watt smile shines back at me, only growing as the seconds tick along. He’d started calling me that recently, a new spin on an old nickname. I think it was coming to be my favourite, although nothing could ever top ‘Becks.’

“Hi, babe. Don’t you look cute. What in the world are you doing?” my head falls back against the pillow as I move to lie on my side.

“‘m in me car, duh. Told you I was on me lunch. I jus’ had it, went t’ a restaurant here. Had their turkey BLT and it was incredible,” he says it as if I should know this, but he does it with a curl to his lips. One that hasn’t left yet. “I reckon you look cuter tho’, babe.”

“Thanks, but I think you need your eyes checked.”

Shaking his head, Harry doesn’t say anything. He props his elbow on the door of his Rover, sitting his chin in his hand. Today, he couldn’t look more handsome, and I’m sure that I couldn’t miss him more. I wanted to run my hands along the silky smooth lapels of his muted violet blazer, a new one.

I know it was the first thing I saw him wear, suits, but he still dazzled me when he wore a new one. Sometimes, after a long day or a few hours that felt like a day, and I saw him around the firm, it felt like the first time. The color brought out the warm green of his eyes, ones that sparkle while he cards a hand covered with rings through his curls. I never could figure out why he touched them so much, or messed with them, besides assigning it to nerves.

“How’d your morning go in court?”

The words come out in a huff, one that seizes his body with evident exhaustion, “Eh, alright. Not sure yet where ‘s headed, too early t’ tell, but ‘ll jus’ be glad t’ be done soon. This one’s been a real doozy.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Same here, bug. ‘ve been sleepin’ so bad here, tha bed’s too firm at tha hotel and ‘m never tha right temp. ‘m either too cold or too hot, ‘cos I don’t have me li’l heater ‘round,” he hummed with a tilt to his head, a seemingly permanent one to his lips. “I can’t wait t’ come home, then ev’rythin’ will be better.”

I missed him, more than I’d let myself tell him, or maybe even myself, too. The very words repeated in my head that night when my dinner came back up, shouting it in my skull the next morning when I hung over the toilet. Spent with tears, I ached with a longing for Harry. It lessened after my stomach had recovered, but lying in an empty bed or staring down the firm’s hallway at his closed door, it felt worse than all of the other times I had missed him. At my worst, I wanted him, and nothing else. It felt silly to miss him so much when he was only gone trying a case for four days, but I didn’t sleep well either, waking up to remnants of his smell that woke me with lies. Little did I know how much I could ever miss a person, let alone my favorite one.

Returning to work hadn’t been as difficult as I feared it would be, but at times, it was worse. Rose and I were just finishing up a case before I was set to work with Harry again after he finished his upcoming one, something I was hardly able to wait to do. Luckily, I was still able to be there with Rose to help present the case in court, seeing as I only called in the one day. I couldn’t really otherwise, and the long sessions in court were catching up with me. I hadn’t been able to keep much food down, and even when I did, I was so tired from the poor sleep I was getting. Yesterday and the day before, I had snuck in a nap on my sofa, and that’s what was next on my agenda. I could hardly wait.

Ripping open the door to my office, something causes me to stop in my footsteps. Afterwards, I wouldn’t be able to put my finger on it, if somebody had asked. It was just that feeling again, and maybe not being able to remember if the light was on even though I’d turned it off. Or, maybe the other way around. Regardless, my eyes began a scan of the room, but they didn’t get very far.

“Hi, my buggie girl.”

“Harry,” it’s the only syllable I can get out, astonishment stealing all of the others from my lips. That and my forgetting speaking altogether when I dash across the room, giving him enough time to stand up before I collide with him.

The sound of an exhale accompanies the surprise in his voice, “Oh, hi, baby. Did I surprise ya?”

His giggle adds to the concoction of him that pours the word ‘calm’ over me, starting with his safe arms around me. His smell. The sound of his wheezy laugh against my head.

“Yeah, you’re good at that.”

“Reckon I am. I got done early and found an earlier flight,” he remarks, humorous pride in his deep drawl. Molasses found althroughout. “How’re you doin’ t’day, love? ‘m sorry we didn’t get t’ talk on tha phone this mornin,’ bloody phone tag ‘s t’ blame. I hope yer hearin’ t’day went well.”

“It’s okay. I’m just so glad you’re here now,” honesty weighs heavy in my words, and in my eyes when I meet his greens. A color I didn’t know that I could miss, but I did, all those years ago. Those dimples too that fall into his cheeks before my eyes.

“Couldn’t be happier t’ be home . . even if I lost me case, but ya win some and you lose some,” Harry hums, thumbing at the divot in my own cheek. “Missed you so much.”

I feel like I can finally take a breath again when he hugs me against his front, sponging kisses along the top of my head. I felt like me again with him home, welcoming him with kisses and later, a night between the sheets.

Yet, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep lying to myself about that, knowing that my feeling of mine told me otherwise.

The day after he came home was no different, but little did I know how it would undoubtedly pass any expectations I could ever have. Any possibilities whatsoever.

I woke with a start, and a rock in my stomach, just like yesterday, and all of the times before. I knew what was going to happen before I even moved, that the second I did it would be a race to the bathroom. Thankfully, I hadn’t missed and hit the floor yet, but I felt like I was going to each and every time. It was just a matter of when.

He wasn’t up yet, and I wished for the past when I could turn over and cuddle with him to wake up, not by throwing up. But, I was thankful that he wasn’t awake because he thought I didn’t see it, but I did. I saw the way his face fell when I told him that I’d gotten sick again, despite his lawyer expertise concerning those blessed features of his.

This time, I made it too, wretching into the toilet. I thanked God, if there was one, that my side of the bed was closer to the bathroom. I also thanked him that Harry didn’t wake up and walk in until after I was done, or I hoped so.

“Oh, no. Not again, bubs,” he sighs in his raspy drawl thick with leftover sleep. I’m void of a response, head in my arm propped over the toilet bowl.

The swirl of soiled water disappears before me, having flushed it the second I heard his footsteps. We’d been through heaven and hell together, and yet there were still some things that were embarrassing. Throwing up was one of them. The first signs of relief begin to wash over me like cold water on a scorching day from a wet rag he swipes over my cheek.

“I dunno, Becks, this ‘sn’t seemin’ t’ let up. ‘s been a few days now, maybe you should go t’ tha doctor, love.”

“It’s okay, Harry. What could they do anyway for a stomach bug?” my sigh comes, the words muffled against my arm when I lay my head down, grimacing at the smell that’s stained the inside of my mouth. I feel like taking the rag I hold against my head and scrubbing my tongue until I can’t taste it anymore. It seemed to always be there off to the side like a threatening storm, the last couple of days since this had started.

“I dunno, ya don’t know ‘til ya try,” he comments, feet making soft noises on the floor. I don’t hear the run of the tap like I did a moment ago, instead the unscrewing and screwing of something before the sloshing of liquid. “I jus’ dunno what it could be, a stomach bug doesn’t last this long, does it?”

A mumbled reply lacking answers graces my lips after he places a cup in my hand. Lifting my aching head, I find purple mouthwash sitting in the tiny cup we use for brushing our teeth.

“Have you ever had somethin’ like this befo’, bug?”

Taking my time swishing the minty liquid around in my mouth, I almost sigh at the welcomed taste, willing the previous one away. After shaking my head at him, I nearly choke gargling on the peppermint tasting liquid when I hear his next comment.

“Let’s jus’ hope yer not pregnant, dunno how you would be tho,’” Harry titters, humor threaded throughout his tired words. “Well, we certainly do know how babies are made, we sure do loads o’ it-.”

“Stop, Harry, it’s not funny,” I don’t intend for it to come out in a near retort, but I can’t stop myself.

“Why not? It wouldn’t be bad if ya were, we’ve always wanted babies.”

My response comes, short and to the point, “You know why. We’re getting married in August, Harry.”

“Things can be moved ‘round, Becks, a baby can’t.”

“Stop talking about this like I’m pregnant, because I’m not,” I say, feeling my head fill with another wave of dull pain when I get to my feet. His hand catches my elbow when I begin to sway, legs feeling like Jello.

“Didn’t say you were, bug, ‘m sure ‘s jus’ a stomach thing. They pass afta a few days, so you should be right as rain again soon,” Harry assures me, stepping to the side to face me. Despite his angering comment, a cooling sense of relief comes when his lips touch my clammy forehead. “Maybe you should stay home again, sleep it off.”

“I’m okay, I feel a little better now. My stomach goes hard, I throw up, and then it’s done. Like clockwork.”

“‘Kay, but if ‘s not gone in two days, I want you t’ go in and be seen . . ‘m gonna hop in tha shower if you wanna join me,” Harry rasps, cocking his head to the side as the corners of his lips lift, honey dripping from them. I always loved the way he looked in the mornings. The disheveled hair that sometimes stuck up in all directions, sunshine glazing over in his eyes, and how those lazy lips always held a smile for me. This time, it was dripping with mischief, a look that I knew all too well.

“Yeah, and we both know what that’s going to lead to, Harry. Not a lot of actual showering.”

That M word grows on those watermelon pink lips of his, ones I could just eat up. “Ya, we could practice makin’ a baby, if you like. Y’know, again.”

“Stop,” it’s the closest I’ve come to giggling this morning, or any affability I’ve harbored towards this topic. “But, no. I’m sorry, I don’t really feel up to it.”

“Fine, we’ll jus’ shower fer real this time, love. ‘ll even wash you up, since yer not feelin’ good. I bet it’d help t’ feel all clean aftawards.”

“Okay,” I sigh, relishing the satisfaction gracing his cheeks masked by new stubble the color of chocolate.

“I don’t like my baby bein’ all sick,” Harry hums with his lips against my temple, the smell of vanilla and sandalwood lulling my eyes closed. It felt as if there were few times when knots didn’t riddle my insides lately, but right now, in his arms, I was free.

It had been bothering me all day, ever since Harry’s comment. If I was telling myself the truth, it had been gnawing away at the insides of my brain for longer than that. There was so much inside of me telling me that his suspicion was right when all I wanted was for it to be wrong. If I was doing that truth thing again, of course, there was a remaining part of me that wanted it to be right, but it was miniscule at best. No more was said about it after that, but that fact in itself only made it harder to forget. Even if I had wanted to speak to him about it, he had been in partner meetings all day. I knew he was due for lunch here soon, and that’s what led me to run a quick errand before then, nabbing the car keys from his right drawer where he always left them.

I certainly didn’t think that this was how it would be happening, at Harry’s firm of all places. Our firm? Guilt seeped under my skin the second I had put my plan into action, well aware that he had no idea what I was doing. Tears had been close all day long, since the time those joking words had left his lips. Sure, the blame went to him on that, but I couldn’t have known what it would lead to, either. We both could deserve the blame for this entire thing.

The second it’s done, I find that I can’t get myself to follow through. The closest thing I’ve felt to relief all day comes when I see my watch reads one o’clock. It feels like every person I pass knows my secret, despite that being an impossibility and more. The only person who could have the smallest inkling is the person whose door I stop in front of, because I’m not sure how I can do this. Or, that I can. I’ve surprised myself by getting this far in my plan.

When the door opens for me, I can’t decide if I feel lucky that he made the next decision for me. “Hi, bug. How’s yer mornin’ been? ‘ve missed you, y’know. Oh, whatcha got there? Did ya get me lunch?” his words couldn’t be sweeter. Neither could his hand that brushes against my cheek, sliding down my arm next. Alarms blare inside of me, yelling at me to tell him while others repeat the opposite. I don’t know why, but doubt floods me within milliseconds. I know that he wouldn’t be upset, but then how come I worry that he would be? “Ev’rythin’ okay, Becks?”

“I-I . . ,” I try and my failure is almost immediate. The only thing that I succeed at is pushing him back into his office, and closing the door.

“Becks, what’s wrong?” urgency shines through in his voice. It’s the last thing that I can find, in my hand or my lips. My name graces my ears a few times more as I stare at the floor, not knowing how I could ever say this. Not just that, unsure of how I can make the next move, knowing that it very well may change my life from this moment on.

“I-I can’t do it, Harry.”

“You can’t do what, bug? Ge’mme lunch?” his words are carried with that breathy laugh of his. I had been doing a good job so far today, far too good of a job. That ends when the first tear greets my cheek, and my lips begin to wobble. “Becks, what’s tha matter? Yer worryin’ me, buggie.” It shows all over him, even in the way his hand comes to cradle my cheek, wiping away the tears. Worry.

My attempt at a deep breath is futile at best, and with a sigh marked by tears, I throw caution to the wind. I do it.

“Can you, please? Because, I can’t, Harry. I can’t look at it, I’m too scared,” my words have been wicked away, the moisture in my throat too. All of it. Then, the breath in my lungs grows when I lift my hand. Any composure he had had is gone in a blink.

“Becks . . ,” now, his words are kidnapped from him, too. Come on, one of us has got to do it, and it won’t be me. “Honey, I was only jokin’ this mornin.’ You didn’t hafta take one . . Wait, yer serious, arentchu, Becks?”

“Y-Yeah. I-I missed that pill what, like two weeks ago when I lost my pack, a-and, I still took it but it might have been too late,” the words are thick on my lips, caught between the sobs that paint my cheeks with tears. They’re soon shed onto his button up when he presses me against his front.

“Oh, Becks. ‘m sure ‘s fine. Ya still took it, that’s all that matters, honey.”

I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t swallow like this, or when my heart felt like it was going to jump from my chest. It doesn’t help that my chest shakes with each new sob dealt by my lips. How do I even say it? I still can’t say the word, and how is that going to fucking work if it’s true?

“I-I was supposed to get my period last week, Harry, and I didn’t. I checked after you said that this morning and- I’m so sorry,” breaths fill my lungs hastily, but the confession doesn’t tell my heart it’s okay to stop racing a nonexistent opponent. Neither does the long sigh that leaves my fiance’s lips.

“Becks, honey, you have nothin’ t’ be sorry ‘bout. Promise,” the sensation of his warm breath against my ear distracts me, but only for a mere moment.

The devil and angel inside of my head continue to scream at me to get it over with. One insists so that then I can take the biggest breath of relief while the other cackles that my life is never going to be the same. Somehow, I find the courage to step away and to find his eyes that have grown glassy. One corner of his mouth lifts to send some sunshine my way, but I feel nothing but the mid November cold outside his window.

“It may very well be negative, y’know,” he assures me, reaching his other hand out to cradle my cheek once again. His thumb swipes back and forth on the skin, wiping away the tears like the contraption on a car’s windshield.

“And if it’s not?” my voice is sheepish and nothing else, framed by sniffling.

“Then, it’ll be okay too, promise. We spoke ‘bout if somethin’ like this were t’ happen, befo’ we even started havin’ sex. So, we were prepared. We’d keep it, of course, and we’re gettin’ married soon anyway, bug. Babies were always in tha plan, maybe we’ll get our wish a tad early, ‘s all. If so, we can reschedule tha wedding t’ be early or later on. Promise you it’ll be okay, my Rebecca Ann,” I’m not sure of the last time I had heard his voice dripping with so much sweetness. This time, I can’t tell if it does anything to fill the cracks . . to fix it. “I wantchu t’ know that befo’ I turn it over and read it. And, that I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry . . so much,” I whimper, my lips soon stilled with a kiss from his. “You’re not mad?”

“No, ‘course not, bug. Why in tha world would I be mad? We’ll be okay no matter what it says, and ‘ll be happy either way. Reckon ‘ll be over tha bloody moon if it turns out one way,” his grin couldn’t possibly reach any higher. Another chunk inside of me is filled with the sourness of guilt, because everything has drained out of me, including any happiness I could find. “I know you would be too- or would you? Ya really don’t seem okay, Becks.”

“I dunno,” my shoulders rise and fall with the two parts to my sentence. “Just scared . . We had this big, perfect plan and . . “

“I know, buggie, but nothin’ ‘bout our entire relationship has ever been traditional or somethin’ close t’ normal, but we’ve turned out okay. Much better than okay, ‘d say. We’ll be okay afta this too, we always are. ‘ll always take care o’ you, Becks, and our babies one day too,” he only reminds me once again of his talent of words and choosing the right ones. I suffice my absence for them with a hand lacing with his, and squeezing it. It just so happened to be my left one, and he lifts it to press a kiss to my engagement ring.

The closest I can manage to a swallow is when his lips press below my eye, and I hear his words, “We’ll be alright.”

“I know,” at first, I’m not sure if he had heard me. When he nods, I know. But do I really believe it?

“Ready?” my favorite voice in the entire world says. I’m not, but my heart can’t go on any longer with this suspense, and so my head answers for me. “Alrighty, then,” Harry murmurs, giving my clammy hand a squeeze. Unable to decide where to look, I can’t take my eyes away, despite being uncertain how fast I’ll get the answer then.

When I think back on it later, I’d never be able to conclude whether I wish he had kept his lawyer composure or not. The way I told the story was that the second Harry turned the pregnancy test over and his eyes found it, they lit up like a Christmas tree. There couldn’t be another ray of light inside of them, and I knew.

“We’re gonna be parents, Becks,” he says in a voice choked with emotion, it too appearing in his eyes that echo mine.

“Really?” it’s as if I had been socked in the gut, because the air whooses out of me in that instant. His nodding is emphatic as he turns it around to face me. If I hadn’t believed him before, my denial is renounced when I see the word that had been a question in my mind all morning.

“We’re havin’ a baby,” Harry wheezes with wet words, dropping his arm. I don’t remember his coming around me in a hug, or replying to him, echoing those same words.

It’s all a blur, his words of excitement about becoming a father, my obligatory remarks likened to his. Moments later, I sit there on his sofa wondering what the hell just happened. Turning over the oblong plastic thing in my hands, the one word goes in and out of focus before the tears that flood my eyes.

Pregnant

I’m going to be a mum.

How?

I don’t even know how to be one. I don’t know the first thing about changing nappies. I try to eat healthy, but it never works. I hardly get enough sleep and drink enough water, as it is. Sure, I thought I’d have kids by 25, and I’m newly 28, but I still feel so young. I most definitely don’t feel ready to become a mother.

No, we’re supposed to get married this summer. I already picked out the dress. It’s perfect, and I won’t be able to fit into that with a watermelon in there, and fucking grapefruits on my chest. Wait, how far along would I be at the wedding?

Shit, I’d be ready to pop by then, if not having done so already. Fuck.

“No,” it flies from my lips. I don’t stop it as my head tips into my hands, spilling loud sobs there. The sound of my crying is the only thing that I hear. No, there are no words from Harry or consolation, because the Dad To Be couldn’t have jumped higher from the news. He’s next door telling Myles, and I couldn’t feel lower.

How can this be? We were so careful. I took my pill every day at dinnertime, but I thought still taking the one after almost missing it entirely was fine. The package said so, and I had had some spotting not long after, a few days of it. The pill had made my periods lighter and easier, so I just assumed it was my period. I went through all of the typical stuff - breakouts, sore boobs, the cramps.

“Goddammit,” I mutter under my breath, embracing the sting of my fingernails digging into my scalp. “They’re fucking pregnancy symptoms too.”

And then, there was the vomiting. It wasn’t just in the mornings, but it had been sporadic the last few days. I thought that I had come down with a bug of some sort, but no. There was a baby growing inside of me, that’s why. It was the explanation for everything - my achy boobs, the cramping, the spotting, and the throwing up.

Harry’s baby.

Our baby.

Holy fucking shit.

As the clock in Harry’s office announces every passing second, my trip on the Guilt Express only carries on, because the Happiness Train was only moving farther away from me. Instead, the stops on my ticket are Unplanned, It’s Too Soon, What About The Wedding, We Just Got Engaged, We’re Fucking Moving Houses So Where Would A Baby Go, and This Is All A Dream, Right?

The sights of Harry’s office swim into view, but their familiarity does nothing to calm me. My heart still thrashes inside of my chest, and I’m afraid it may make a run for it. Suddenly, the announcement blares inside of my head again. Harry and I are having a baby in nine months. With a sniffle, my lips wobble as my head slowly falls. Dropping the pregnancy test on my lap, my hand inches towards my body.

It’s no different when I feel it, my hand caressing my flat stomach. Nor does it look anything but how it has for as long as I can remember. I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t feel any different inside of me, because it does. I can’t see it, or feel it, but the words appear inside of my head momentarily.

There’s a baby in there, in my belly. My baby. I’m its mum, and Harry is its dad. They’re ours. They could be a boy or a girl. They may not be bigger than my fingernail, I suppose, but God, they’re ours. The sourness builds upon each other, and I can’t hold it back anymore, soon finding refuge in Harry’s trash bin. Whimpers leave my lips as the contents of my stomach do too.

For one of the few times, I thank God that Harry wasn’t there. I busy myself with wrapping up the bag, replacing it with a new one, and lightning some candles. It’s not enough to remove the thoughts that I’m unsure I’ll ever escape, now. My head spins when I sit down again holding it, feeling my body shake as shouts fill my mind.

Why am I not happy? I have wanted to be a mum my entire life, and now that I am, I . . I wish that I wasn’t.

Why can’t I be like Harry? He doesn’t even have to try, and he’s happy about it. The tears only come faster when I realize that I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy as this, rivaling the night I told him I’d marry him.

“Alright, bug?”

Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear. Clearing my throat, I hurriedly wipe at my face whilst looking towards the window, wishing I could be anywhere else but here. That I could be anybody else but me.

“Y-Yeah,” my reply is mumbled. The tightness in my gut that appeared when I saw that look of happiness on his face fights on when his hand touches my shoulder.

“We should get some lunch in that belly o’ yers, Mummy. What’s sounding good t’ you?”

My insistence that I couldn’t feel worse is eradicated by his words washing over me. The specific ones that he chose to say, because it can get worse.

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Oh, stomach still queasy afta this mornin’, bub?” he questions. Without looking, I can tell that he’s taken a seat beside me, worry claiming his face. “Maybe somethin’ easy, then. Yogurt, a banana, rice, or some chicken noodle soup. Ya still gotta eat, love, ‘specially now with tha baby. They need t’ eat, too.”

Nodding my head up and down only makes it hurt worse. All I want to do is cry, and not in front of him. I want to be in our bed, without him there. What is happening to me? Since when do I wish he wasn’t around?

I don’t want to have to be thinking about how I haven’t had anything to eat today, and how that’s not good for our growing baby. The baby that relies on me to take care of it, and that in nine short months will need Harry and I every second to do that too. I hadn’t even completed my mentorship with him, or been at the firm for two years. We hadn’t even been together for two years. For God’s sake, we aren’t even married, yet.

“Becks?” for a lawyer, he does a poor job of hiding the urgency in his voice. The worry and doubt. The very feeling that I can’t walk away from, even though I don’t have it in me to try. “Any o’ that sound good t’ you . . and tha baby, love?”

There it is, again. The baby. I hate myself more and more when I get angry at him for saying it like that, reminding me of this newfound responsibility that I have. One that I didn’t ask for. I know that he doesn’t mean to add to the guilt o’meter, but he does. With every second that happiness escapes me, I do it without knowing, too.

“You can get Chinese, if you want. I’ll just have some broth and rice. I’ll try it, anyways.”

“‘Kay, good. Thanks, bug,” his words are punctuated with a kiss to the top of my head. I know that it’s coming, and that it’s the most overdue I’ve ever been for a question from him. His hand leaving stripes up and down my back doesn’t do much to help the impending doom. “Sure yer alright, Becks?”

I can’t do it. After all of the times that I did, I can’t this time. No, not about this. Wouldn’t it be easier to, though? To lie? Because, how in the fuck do I tell my fiancée, the love of my life, and my best friend in the entire world that I’m scared out of my mind that we’re having a baby? What words do I even choose to relay to the man who I’d always wanted to be the father of my children, that now we’re having a baby together, I can’t figure out how to be happy about it? I have to tell him, don’t I?

Harry is good at loads of things. Rather, there’s very few things that he’s not good at, and reading me isn’t one of them. Taking the last step that’s not there has been something I knew from the start he excelled at. When I need it the most, he does it. I feel the comforting weight of his body around mine, and sobs are flying from my lips again.

“I’m scared, Harry. I don’t know what to do, or how we’re going to do this. I don’t know how to be a mum, let alone a good one,” I couldn’t remember a time that my heart hadn’t been pounding beneath my ribs. Without asking, I wondered if the baby could hear it. It was so sudden, the way it had weaved its way into my thoughts, because all of a sudden, it was there too. The baby. Our baby. It had been there, growing inside of me for how many days now and we didn’t know.

“We’ll be okay, Becks. I promise you. I promise you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be alright, my love. ‘m gonna take care o’ you . . tha both o’ you. You, and our son or daughter. ‘ve known fer so long, well befo’ we got t’gether that you’d make a wonderful mum. Ya take care o’ me so well, and yer so good with Harper and Ollie. ‘m rather nervous too, they’ll be so tiny and helpless. I dunno tha first thing ‘bout breastfeedin,’ which dummy t’ choose, or what a baby wants when they’re cryin’ but, Becks, I know we’ll figure it out t’gether. We’re such a great team, love, and ‘m positive that we can take this on too,” my nodding into his chest is instantaneous, and so are the tendrils of relief when his fingers begin to comb through my hair. “'ve dreamt so long o’ havin’ babies with you, Becks. We’re gonna make tha cutest ones, I jus’ know it . . We’ll learn all o’ this t’gether, babe. We’ll be alright.”

“I love you, Harry,” still, the tears haven’t signalled a retreat. Neither has the sadness that weighs on my shoulders.

“I love you too, Rebecca Styles, mo’ than anythin’ in this entire world. Dunno how ‘ll come t’ love another quite like you, but already know I love our li’l baby loads. They’re gonna have tha best mum ever.”

I wish he could know that he mistakes my coming sobs for happiness when I don’t even know what the hell they are. I can’t figure out why they came when he talked about already loving our baby, and that I’ll be the best mum. Until I do, because I try to say something that affirms that I feel the same things too.

I can’t, because I don’t. I hope that eventually, I may.

It was difficult for me to remember the last time it had been like this, when all I had wanted was to feel okay again. Each time I questioned why I couldn’t, I only felt all the worse. It didn’t come when I had taken the second pregnancy test in the bathroom once Harry had gone back to his meeting. The same word showed up on this one too, although I’m not sure why I had thought it would be any different. I wasn’t sure if I could be swimming in any more guilt, realizing that I had begged and pleaded for it to say something else so all of this could go away.

I had dreamt of this day ever since I was a little girl. This wasn’t how it went. My tears were for another reason entirely, and for a while after Harry left again, I couldn’t get them to stop. I could hardly breathe. Just when I thought I’d caught my breath, the devil inside of me reminded me that I should be happy and that I’m not. The rug was pulled out from under me again and again, and so was my breath.

I’d seen him only twice this morning since we had gotten to work, seeing how he was in meetings all day long. No, now he was checking on me every hour, making excuses for bathroom breaks that were spent visiting me. By now, the tears had dried out and that was the least of my worries. As if this all wasn’t too much already, I’d never felt more numb.

It had been twenty minutes of ignorant bliss that he interrupted when he walked into my office again. The moment our eyes connect, it all comes rushing back to me. I remember it. The baby.

“Hey, love. How’s it goin’ in here?” Harry asks, looking a little too nonchalant as he strides into my office, hands in his trousers.

“You don’t have to check up on me. I’m fine, Harry,” my words take on a blunt edge that I intended, I can’t lie.

“But I want t.’ I dunno how t’ do all o’ this, ‘ve never been a Dad befo.’ I jus’ can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you, tha two o’ you,” he coos, arriving behind me and draping his arms around my neck. They lay there loosely, cupping my shoulders on either side. I thank God that he can’t see my face, especially when his hand wanders to my stomach that he rubs. “How ya feelin’? Did what ya had at lunch help settle yer stomach at all?”

Gritting my teeth, I ready my answer, forgetting the flow that I had found in writing up this statement for my case. “No,” I answer, swallowing afterwards, still able to taste it in my mouth despite the sticks of gum I’d chewed.

“Oh, ‘m sorry. Did-.”

“Yeah, I threw up again. But I’m fine, I had a cup of ginger tea and that seemed to help. I’ve been able to keep that down, plus a banana and a few slices of toast. I guess I was really hungry,” I respond, unsure of whether to take one of his hands, or not. This is all so unprecedented, and I really have no idea what I’m doing. I have a feeling of what I should be doing, like telling him that I’d already thrown up three times today, but I don’t know how to.

“God, ‘m sorry, love. ‘s it normal t’ be gettin’ sick so much like that? It can’t be good fer you or tha baby, but ‘m glad you were able t’ eat some mo.’ I hope that stuff stays down now, ‘s no wonder you were starvin’ since there was nothin’ left in there,” my eyes fall shut when his nose nudges at my temple in between kisses. “Ya sure I can’t get you anythin’? Y’know, there’s a whole case of ginger ales in me office, if ya want. I can’t believe I forgot they were there, I know they help settle yer stomach too.”

“Thanks. I might grab one a little later, or something. You should get back to your meeting, Harry, it’s important.”

“I know, jus’ wanted t’ make sure you were okay, buggie. Y’know, if ya need t’ at any time, you can go home if yer really not feelin’ well. ‘ll jus’ get a ride from Myles or somethin.’ ‘d come with, o’course, but I can’t miss these meetings,” blinking hard, his words find a crack inside of me, but there’s too many to choose from. He really is the best, only reminding me that I somehow found the perfect man to be the father to my children. I wish happiness bloomed inside of me at that realization, but sadness only comes again to overwhelm any happiness that brought me. Breathing in, my throat feels scratchy. Silently, I tell him to leave before it starts again. “If ya need anythin’ jus’ text me and ‘ll see it on me watch, ‘ll be checkin.’ I hope you have a good rest o’ yer day and that you continue t’ feel better. Love you.”

My pause continues for seconds and seconds more. Longer than I had meant before I can speak without giving it away, “I love you too.” I force a small smile at him when he walks away, wondering why I can’t have all of that sunshine inside of me like he always does. The door closes softly behind him, and my returning sobs are even quieter. Darkness is all I see when I bury my face into my knees, hugging them against my chest. Seconds later, I think of the baby, and loosen my grip.

This is what it’s going to be like for the next nine months, isn’t it? The rest of my life? I’m going to catch myself thinking about them first.

Once it starts, I can’t stop. Have I had a drink in the last few weeks? No, thank God, no. Have I been eating healthy? Kind of. Have I been sleeping well? Hardly. Wait, does sex hurt the baby? Because Harry and I had been doing a lot of that. Well, no duh, Becky, that’s what got you here in the first place. Had I been lying on my stomach too much, and would that hurt it? Had I been around secondhand smoke? Shit, did I miss my vitamin this morning?

With each new tear and question, my cheeks become slick with them. The air disappears from my lungs and I fight for it, shocked again to remember that it’s not just me anymore. I’m not just living for me anymore, or Harry, but our baby, too.

“Hey, Becks, one mo’ thing. Di- Bug, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Shit. I had just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. And our baby. But, did I really want that?

“No, how could I be? I can’t stop thinking about it. If I’ve been eating good, if I had a drink lately, if sex hurts it- Harry,” sobbing his name had never hurt as much as so many other times. Missing him afar hurt but not as much as that night we broke up. God, why am I thinking about that stuff when I’m supposed to be happy? The reminder doesn’t will the tears anyway, it only makes me feel worse.

“Oh, Becks. C’mere,” his voice is molasses all over again, but it hasn’t strayed very far from it since he told me that we were going to be Mum and Dad. That we were going to have a baby. I still can’t even say it, and I don’t think that I have. Even then, I don’t think it’d be real. No, saying it would make it too real. I know it. “Shh, ‘s okay.”

“It’s not, Harry, I’m so scared. What about the wedding and my mentorship here with you, and-,” my words are choppy and drowning under tears, but he hears them. He hears me, like he always has. His soft touch pulling me to my feet and over to my sofa doesn’t stop the incessant thoughts being thrown around in my head.

I’ll have to stop working, won’t I? What about Harry? He can’t, he owns the firm with Myles, and together with Rose, they’re in charge of all of the nitty gritty. Hiring. Helping with payroll. All of the menial stuff assigned to keeping the lights and water running. Licenses. Meetings upon meetings. Then, there’s still being a lawyer. It won’t just stop if we have a baby, but how would that work, I-

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, Becks, but it will be. Promise. ‘s okay that yer scared, ‘s a lot t’ wrap yer head ‘round. I keep catchin’ myself thinking, ‘Hey, ‘m gonna be a dad with a bloody kid. ‘ll be changin’ nappies, makin’ bottles, and my whole life will revolve ‘round this tiny person all o’ a sudden.’ ‘ve only jus’ started t’ talk t’ me own dad again, so I dunno how t’ be one meself, but I know ‘ll figure it out. We have nine months t’ prepare, Becks, and we’ll learn as we go. T’gether. Please, don’t worry ‘bout tha weddin’, we can move it ‘round or do a civil ceremony at first, if we want. We’ll figure it out, and it’ll still be perfect. Nothin’ less fer me girl.”

Harry’s words do everything but comfort me. Instead, they do the very opposite, and I’m struggling for breaths. Sitting on his lap, pressed against his front, I couldn’t be closer to him. My thoughts only make me feel further away from him, because of what he said. I don’t even have a mum. No, not really, so how in the fuck can I be one? Mine was horrible to me, and set the worst example of what a good mum is. So, how will I know what to do? How can I be a good mother to our baby one day soon, then?

“Yer already a good mum t’ our baby, Rebecca, I can’t say that enough. You eat good and make sure I do, drink far mo’ water than I ever do, yer always careful, never f’get t’ take yer vitamins unlike me, and sex doesn’t hurt ‘em, bug. You take such good care o’ me, you have from tha beginnin’, and I know you will with our baby too. We’ll figure somethin’ out, if you wanna stay home with ‘em once they come, or if my Mum moved up and took care o’ em. ‘ll be home too loads, I bet I could even work from home most o’ tha time. Hey, will you look at me, please?” Obliging, my head heavy with multitudes of questions lifts. Blinking, more tears join the others as his face sharpens before me. “I wouldn’t have wanted kids with you if I knew you wouldn’t be a good mum. Buggie, I want loads o’ em with you, so if that tells you anythin’ ‘bout how wondaful o’ a mum I know you’ll be t’ our kids . . We’re gonna have a baby, and we’ll be alright. ‘Kay?”

“We’re . . ,” the same sentence begins on my lips, but it falters. His own urges me to breathe, and I focus on that while his fingers card through my hair. The green in his eyes is molten heaven when I look back. I hope that they have his eyes. “We’re gonna . . have a baby, Harry.”

“Ya, we are, Becks. Tha cutest baby in all tha world, and sweetest too,” he grins, his sunshine warming my face.

“And we’ll be alright.”

“Yes, we will, my love. ‘ll make sure o’ it,” he concludes, smushing his lips against my forehead where he sponges a kiss. A zing spreads from his lips, and with those words, I start to breathe again.

Maybe, we will be okay.

“And then what happened, Mum?” her almond shaped blue eyes stare up at me, hanging onto my every word.

Swallowing, the words I know I’ll have to say wad into a ball in my throat. She knew, she’d heard bits of this story at times, but I wonder how much she remembered.

“Spoiler alert, things weren’t okay.”

“How come?” the way a wrinkle forms between her dark eyebrows reminds me of somebody all too well.

“Are you sure you want to hear this, love? It gets kind of sad,” I warn her, combing her dark chocolate curls off of her face. They’re just like his. Only when she nods with confidence in her actions do I continue, despite wishing he was here to help me tell this part.

It wasn’t okay. No, it was the very opposite. I had wished things would get better, that this nightmare would turn out to be a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not yet, anyways.

I wish that I knew how to talk to him. There had never been a time when I was afraid to speak to Harry, or when I didn’t know how to. No, not for a very long time, at least. It was impossible to count the number of times I had put my head in my hands from the litany of thoughts raging inside of it, or just from the aches it held for other related reasons. I didn’t know what to do, and I wish that I did. Tense couldn’t even cover it, how it felt between us the last few days since the news hit. I seriously considered driving separately to work today to avoid it, until realizing it probably would only stir the pot, inciting another row between Harry and me. With how much my head already throbbed from likely dehydration and my pounds of destructive thoughts, I opted out of that one.

Staring at my cell phone sitting beside my laptop, my chin falls into my hand with a huff. The dark screen stares back at me as I will it to ring, to ding, or just to do anything because of him.

No, not anything, Becky. If you wished that, you’d end up getting another one of his annoying texts asking if you’d tried eating again. How much water were you drinking? If you wanted anything from the break room, if he were there. No, you just wanted a hug from him. Becky, you wanted a text from him that was about anything other than the baby. Him sending you a song he thought you’d like, a funny meme, a recipe the both of you should try, or just a sweet text.

I thought my hard work had paid off when I hear the chiming of a ringtone, even if it was my office’s. Still holding out hope, I pick it up, chirping my usual greeting, “This is Becky.”

“Hi, love! It’s about time I got ahold of you,” at the sound of the voice, my heart plummets into my stomach. My hand in my hair turns into a claw, my scalp soon singing with mild pain.

My lips wobble, unknowing of what words to say, and what tone to take, “H-Hi, Mum.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I’m sorry, I-,” my beginning is rough, rooted in my tendency to people-please, just like I had always done with her. The phone begins to slip from my fingers clammy with a nervous sweat. Already. “Why are you calling me at work?” I almost say that same name again, the one word I’d always called her. It never felt real, like she was my mum, so why should I call her that? It never stopped being true though, that was just her name. No matter how much I hated her and that name, I could never stop it from being true.

“Because you weren’t answering your phone, silly! How have you been, Ree?” there’s a lift to her voice, the same one that drills an emptiness into my bones. It’s the one that she used to hide it all, in front of teachers, my friends’ parents, and anybody that she needed to use it with. It was the calm before the storm, the show she was trying to put on. The last thing I needed right now was another storm to come colliding with the one already raging a war inside of me. Through my life.

Closing my eyes, my thumb presses against my temple. No, you don’t get to call me that, M- Kate. I had been conflicted about wanting him all day long, but now, I needed him. How good he was at saving me.

“I can’t talk right now, I’m working. Can-.”

“You stand Robbie and me up the other day, and I have to hear from somebody else that you got engaged! I think that the least you can do, Rebecca, is to talk to your mother for a few goddamn minutes,” her retort finds the gap in the door I hadn’t been able to close ever since I saw that word on that test. That was when my world had gotten turned upside down, something I hadn’t been able to fix just yet. I realized that was even further away now when her words send my teeth down into my bottom lip, the taste of iron overpowering on my lips.

It had taken him so long to bring that name back, to drag it out of the closet and to dust it off, polishing it back up. Within seconds, she had broken it again, and I wished he could be there to fix it up. Because no, he was in court right now, I realized, and for the first time today, I told myself the truth about needing him. But he was angry with me, the one person I couldn’t stand being mad at me.

“You don’t get to call me that, or talk to me like that, I-,” my bravery is short-lived, but the blame isn’t dealt to me, it sits in her hands instead.

“No, Rebecca Ann Holte, you don’t get to talk to me, your mother, like that. You should be ashamed of yourself, I have wanted nothing more than to reconnect with my only daughter, and she can’t even return a message of mine,” her sigh is louder than mine, because that had always been the theme, hadn’t it? She always had been worse off than me, so I had no room to talk, she’d say. When she lost her job or my dad left her. It was always about her. “I hope to God you don’t become a mother one day, you are one of the rudest and ugliest people I know, so I can’t imagine how your kids would turn out. I mean it, you have one of the ugliest hearts, Rebecca. I can’t believe you’re my daughter. I have tried how many times with you to fix things, and you never give me the chance.”

That smell came, the one that fills you when the wetness floods your eyes. I smell them, painting my palm, most likely ruining my lazy attempt at makeup today. I thought I had felt empty before, but it shrinks in comparison to the hollowness that swims throughout me.

Climbing my throat, the arguments and refusals neared, despite not knowing if I believed them. I wish I did as I spoke them, “No, I will be a good mum one day, even if I never had one myself, because I would never treat my children the way you have always treated me, Kate. I don’t care anymore what you think of me, or my heart, because you speak from an ugly one yourself. I have never wanted to fix things with you, because you never change, can’t you see that?” they’re picking apart my voice now, weighing on close to every word, but I know I have a few more until they consume me all entirely. “You are not my mother, and I don’t want to ever see you again or speak to you for as long as I live. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell you that and you don’t get it. This is the last time you ever will, because if you contact me again, or God forbid, my fiance, I promise that you will regret it because I’m a fucking lawyer and my soon to be husband is one as well, not to mention one of the most powerful ones in Britain. And my name is Rebecca Styles.”

It echoes, the clank of the phone hitting the holder after I slammed it down, ending the call. I don’t hear it for long, because the floodgates have opened, again. My lungs burn from lack of air, something I can’t seem to find as my entire body seizes with a sob, one word repeating over and over in my head. Lies. Lies. Lies. Ones that I tell myself, because I can’t help but believe her. Am I really sure that I could ever be a good mum? Then another starts, a new word incessantly filling my head.

“Harry.”

It was the furthest from okay, continuing with how I couldn’t stop throwing up, quite literally, and the way it made Harry sick himself with worry. Consequently, this could only lead to one thing, and that was me losing my patience, or lack thereof with him despite his good intentions.

“I think ya need t’ go and see yer doctor ‘bout this.”

“I don’t, Harry, morning sickness is normal,” I insist, plucking a K-Cup from the drawer. Suddenly, I remember and shove it back into the box, for the third time today. The jury was still out on whether or not to drink coffee while pregnant. More importantly, whether Daddy Harry who was doing all of the research and therefore breathing over my shoulder was okay with it. Not that I could keep it down, anyways, which was the ultimate winner. It still hadn’t gotten any easier, trying to figure out this new life of mine, and it was only Day 4 of it. I had wondered, time and time again just how long they had already been with us and we just didn’t know it.

“Ya, but this isn’t, Becks, and I think y’know it.”

“It’s fine, Harry. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” shoving a mug onto the little stand, I avoid his gaze whilst watching the hot water spurt out of the machine.

“Ya never wanna talk ‘bout it when I bring it up lately. Not when we were at tha shops yest’day and I suggested lookin’ at baby clothes. Not when I asked ya when we should tell our families.” I don’t know how to respond, and so I play my favorite card, just like I’ve been doing lately. It’s called the Silence card, and Harry really hated that one, even more than the Only Nodding one. “You’ve hardly been able t’ keep any food down, love. Yer livin’ on crackers and ginger tea, that can’t be good fer you and tha baby.”

I didn’t mean to, but I still blinked hard when he said it, as if I needed a reminder it was there. A baby growing inside of me, the reason for all of this. Our baby.

“I’m fine, Harry.”

“I thought we were done lyin’ t’ each other, Becks. We’re gettin’ married soon, and now, we’re . . we’re startin’ a family,” he wasn’t a lawyer for no reason, and sometimes, I hated it. He used it to his advantage, his way with words and snappy comebacks. He knew where to hit and his aim was always spot on, but I didn’t like how he used it with me, too.

He was right, I wasn’t fine. I couldn’t be in the kitchen while he cooked without running to the loo to relieve myself. If I’m honest, I was getting sick of my diet of ginger ale and soda crackers. It was a party when some chicken broth or a bite of a banana would stay down, even though they never sounded good to me. Nothing did, not even the churros from Pedro’s, or our favorite muffin. Believe me, Harry had tried. It had grown old quickly how he had come to watch me eat, arguing with me to take just one more bite or another spoonful, even though we both knew that I would throw it up later.

It wasn’t just that. I was so exhausted, which I figured was mostly due to the lack of food thing. The only thing I was good at lately was sleeping. I could hardly stay awake past 7:30 pm anymore, and negotiated every extra minute of sleep in the morning that I could from Harry. Well, that was until I woke up at the ass crack of dawn to hang out with the toilet, again. Plus, my boobs hurt something fierce and Harry found out when he went to play with them the other day. Let’s just say, he’s not going to try that again after I almost bit his head off. Whoops.

“I am fine, and I don’t need to go and see a doctor, Harry. Let’s just give it a few more days, okay?” I sigh at last, removing the steaming mug from underneath the spout. Gulping, I dip the tea bag into the water, watching how spots of the water grow dark in places from it.

“Fine,” he retorts, leaving his spot beside me, slamming the door to the break room behind him.

Despite watching him do it, I jump in place. Forgetting the tea, it was too hot anyways, I follow him after a few moments. Doing my best to avoid prying eyes, I take a different way to his office, hoping I can try to calm down during the extra time. Arriving at his door, I found it was a blunder all entirely, because I can’t hold back the next words once I step into his office.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why am I?” Harry spits back from behind his desk, lifting his head to look at me. He was wearing one of my favorite outfits of his today, the brown cheetah print shirt and tight black slacks, but it didn’t do anything to help our predicament. “Why are you, Becks? Huh? This ‘s s’posed t’ be tha happiest time o’ our lives, and yer bein’ like this.”

There it is again, his way with words, the stabbing ones. My sights on him falters, eyes falling to the floor before I look back to him. “How am I being then?”

“Yer bein’ selfish,” he almost shouts, but he doesn’t need to. He’s never had to, because he can achieve all of the disdain and hurt without the added volume. “We’re having a baby, Becks, we’ve always spoken ‘bout wantin’ kids. Now, we are, and yer actin’ like . . like you don’t want our baby.”

“I never said that,” my voice is quiet, and unconvincing. The both of us know it, despite my half-lie. The one I had been so afraid for him to find out, and suddenly, I feel sick all over again.

“You didn’t need t’, I know it,” it works for him, the soft voice. You’d think that tone would be reserved for gentleness, but no, it’s not. I hate that about him, how he can turn like a whip, but can’t we all? “And God, Becks, ya won’t shut up ‘bout tha wedding. Why can’t we jus’ have a bloody civil ceremony first? Tha whole thing ‘s t’ get married - exchange vows and become husband and wife. We don’t need all tha fancy dresses, food, and a party at first. It can wait, Becks, until after tha baby ‘s here. Or we can whip up somethin’ t’ have this Winter . . but yer already shakin’ yer head ‘cos you hate that idea. Fuck, can I do anythin’ right fer you lately?”

“Harry,” I begin in a tone leaking with an apology that I don’t know how to say. “I’m going through a lot right now.”

“I know, love, we both are. Our lives have changed already in tha last few days ‘cos o’ this, but ‘s jus’ a wedding, Becks. I wanna marry you, but right now I don’t care ‘bout a cake, tuxes, and what fuckin’ song we walk down tha aisle t.’ All I care ‘bout right now is tha fact we’re havin’ a baby and ‘m so excited . . . but I wish you were too. They’re gonna be here in nine months whether we like it or not, and I think you need t’ learn how to like it. I jus’-,” he cuts himself off with a hand pressed to his mouth, cutting eye contact.

“What? You were going to say something else,” I continue, but he won’t, refusing to with a shake of his head. “Say it, Harry.”

“I jus’ can’t believe you, yer like a completely different person since we found out ‘bout tha baby.”

“I’m a different person, huh? I take it you mean that in a bad way, am I right?” I don’t know where it comes from, but bravery finds me, and the words come spilling out. “I just found out that I’m pregnant, Harry, that I’m growing a human being inside of me. I have to share my body, and make sure that I’m making the right choices every second. I have to protect it, feed it, get enough sleep, take the right vitamins, eat the right foods, and try not to be too stressed out. But, hey, I already messed up on that one. I didn’t ask for this and I’m scared, so yeah, maybe I’m a different person. You know what? So are you, and I don’t like it. I’m trying my best, and I hate how it’s never enough for you, this new you . . Forget about going out to dinner tonight, I don’t want to be around you right now, you’re- ugh, you’re so overwhelming, Harry.”

It was a question I couldn’t answer - whether I had been honest with myself lately, or lied to myself more than ever before. It was clear as day and I couldn’t lie about this one, the look on his face when I blinked and saw it all register with him.

“Fine. Forgive me fer fuckin’ carin’ ‘bout you and our unborn baby, Becks. ‘m rather sick o’ bein’ ‘round you too when yer like this, so go and have a good night. Lemme know when yer done bein’ selfish, and when yer ready t’ be a family t’gether. I have t’ go t’ court now,” if there were words of Harry’s that I’d always remember, somehow these had become some of them. They rang in my ears long after he had stormed out of his office, and I had escaped to mine with tears already staining my cheeks.

What in the fuck have I done now?

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nyahsaqueen · 3 years ago

Photo

Task 001: Character Playlist.

Death Becomes Her - a Nyah Queen playlist

Snippets of Lyrics below:

1. tipsy - Chloe x Halle

man just this entire song is her vibe, k bye

I've been crucified, darling Ghosts haunt me like New Orleans I've been charged with murder Need someone to push me further I'll hit you where it hurts, yeah If you don't put me first, yeah And I don't give no apologies If you lose a life, that's not on me, yeah

[Pre-Chorus] Better, baby, better treat me better Better than those other guys who change up like the weather, yeah It is such a shame that they went missing, they can't find 'em now Oh, I wonder how I accidentally put them in the ground, yeah

[Chorus] I might be a little tipsy on your love Makes me a little crazy, but so what? You're strumming on my heartstrings, don't be dumb If you love your little life, then don't fuck up

[Verse 2] I'll take you to the afterlife Boy, if you ain't actin' right Key your car and crash the lights Hit your head, I'm not polite Then I'll hunt down your family Let 'em know 'bout the tragedy Who did it? A mystery But you know that it, it was me, yeah

2. scream - Michael Jackson & Janet Jackson

Tired of injustice Tired of the schemes The lies are disgusting So what does it mean, damn it? Kicking me down I got to get up As jacked as it sounds The whole system sucks, damn it

Peek in the shadow Come into the light You tell me I'm wrong Then you better prove you're right! You're selling out souls but I I care about mine I've got to get stronger And I won't give up the fight

3. girls like us - Zoe Wees

It's hard for girls like us We don't know who we trust Not even the ones we love 'Cause they don't know

4. motive - Ariana Grande & Doja Cat

'Cause I see you tryin', subliminally tryin' To see if I'm gon' be the one that's in your arms I admit it's exciting, parts of me kinda like it But before I lead you on

Baby, tell me, what's your motive? (Motive)

You treat me like gold, baby Now you wanna spoil me Did you want a trophy or you wanna sport me, baby? Want me on your neck 'cause you wanted respect 'Cause you fightin' some war, baby Well, I had to bring the fists out, had to put a wall up But don't trust phonies, baby (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) You gotta tell me, what's your motive, baby?

5. boss bitch - Doja Cat

Yeah, ain't tryna be cool like you Wobblin' around in your high heel shoes I'm clumsy, made friends with the floor Two for one, you know a bitch buy four And two left feet, you know I always drop First thing a girl did was a bop I'm the whole damn cake and the cherry on top Shook up the bottle, made a good girl pop

I'm a bitch, I'm a boss I'm a bitch and a boss, I'ma shine like gloss

6. nightmare - Halsey

"Come on, little lady, give us a smile" No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing

7. all the stars - Kendrick Lamar, SZA

Tell me what you gon' do to me Confrontation ain't nothin' new to me You can bring a bullet, bring a sword, bring a morgue But you can't bring the truth to me Fuck you and all your expectations I don't even want your congratulations I recognize your false confidence And calculated promises all in your conversation I hate people that feel entitled Look at me crazy 'cause I ain't invite you Oh, you important? You the moral to the story? You endorsin'? Mothafucka, I don't even like you Corrupted man's heart with a gift That's how you find out who you dealin' with A small percentage who I'm buildin' with I want the credit if I'm losin' or I'm winnin' On my momma, that's the realest shit

8. needed me - Rihanna

But baby, don't get it twisted You was just another n**** on the hit list Tryna fix your inner issues with a bad bitch Didn't they tell you that I was a savage? Fuck ya white horse and ya carriage Bet you never could imagine Never told you you could have it

You needed me Ooh, you needed me To feel a little more, and give a little less Know you hate to confess But baby ooh, you needed me 9. checklist - Normani, Calvin Harris feat. Wizkid

Come show me what the neck ’bout Might show you what the check ’bout Might show you what that net 'bout Give it all to you if you check out Way you moving it around me Make me feel like you wan’ drown me Make me feel like you wan' wet me Only you know how to get me up

10. truth hurts - Lizzo

You tried to break my heart? Oh, that breaks my heart That you thought you ever had it No, you ain't from the start Hey, I'm glad you're back with your bitch I mean, who would wanna hide this? I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever be your side chick I put the sing in single Ain't worried 'bout a ring on my finger So you can tell your friend, "Shoot your shot" when you see him It's okay, he already in my DMs

I'ma hit you back in a minute (Yeah, yeah) I don't play tag, bitch, I been it (One time) We don't fuck with lies (Two times), we don't do goodbyes (Woo) We just keep it pushing like ay-ay-ay

11. juice - Lizzo

If I'm shinin', everybody gonna shine (Yeah, I'm goals) I was born like this, don't even gotta try (Now you know) I'm like chardonnay, get better over time (So you know) Heard you say I’m not the baddest, bitch, you lie (Haha)

It ain’t my fault that I'm out here gettin’ loose Gotta blame it on the Goose Gotta blame it on my juice, baby It ain't my fault that I'm out here makin' news I’m the pudding in the proof Gotta blame it on my juice Ya-ya-ee, ya-ya-ee, ya-ya-ee, ya-ya-ee Blame it on my juice, blame it, blame it on my juice

12. motivation - normani

Fallin' into the bed Why would we ever do somethin' instead of Fallin' into the bed right now? Yeah

I'ma break you off, let me be your motivation To stay and give it tonight And, baby, turn around, let me give you innovation Hey, 'cause I do it so right Think about it, ooh, I think about it Think about it, ooh, take a look at me now Hey, a little motivation, alright

13. mi gente - J Balvin, Willy William

Esquina a esquina, de ahí no' vamo' El mundo es grande, pero lo tengo en mi' manos Estoy muy duro, sí, ok, ahí vamos Y con el tiempo nos seguimos elevando

English: i’m rusty, i had to get some google help

Corner on the corner, that’s where we go The world is big, but I have it in my hands I’m very tough, yes, okay, there we go And over time we keep going up

14. sorry not sorry - Demi Lovato

Now, I'm out here lookin' like revenge Feelin' like a ten, the best I've ever been And, yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this But it gets worse (Wait a minute) Now, you're out here lookin' like regret, ain't too proud to beg Second chance, you'll never get And, yeah, I know how bad it must hurt to see me like this But it gets worse (Wait a minute)

Now, payback is a bad bitch And baby, I'm the baddest You fuckin' with a savage Can't have this, can't have this (Ah) And it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah

Baby, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry)

15. django jane - Janelle Monáe

And hit the mute button, let the vagina have a monologue Mansplaining, I fold 'em like origami What's a wave, baby? This a tsunami For the culture, I kamikaze, I put my life on a life line If she the G.O.A.T. now, would anybody doubt it?

16. perfect illusion - Lady Gaga

Tryin' to get control Pressure's takin' its toll Stuck in the middle zone I just want you alone My guessing game is strong Way too real to be wrong Caught up in your show Yeah, at least now I know

It wasn't love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion) Mistaken for love, it wasn't love It was a perfect illusion (Perfect illusion) You were a perfect illusion

17. formation - Beyoncé

I see it, I want it, I stunt; yellow bone-it I dream it, I work hard, I grind 'til I own it I twirl on them haters, albino alligators El Camino with the seat low, sippin' Cuervo with no chaser Sometimes I go off (I go off), I go hard (I go hard) Get what's mine (Take what's mine), I'm a star (I'm a star) 'Cause I slay (Slay), I slay (Hey), I slay (Okay), I slay (Okay) All day (Okay), I slay (Okay), I slay (Okay), I slay (Okay) We gon' slay (Slay), gon' slay (Okay), we slay (Okay), I slay (Okay) I slay (Okay), okay (Okay), I slay (Okay), okay, okay, okay, okay Okay, okay, ladies, now let's get in formation, 'cause I slay Okay, ladies, now let's get in formation, 'cause I slay Prove to me you got some coordination, 'cause I slay Slay trick, or you get eliminated

18. be careful - Cardi B

Be careful with me, do you know what you doin'? Whose feelings that you're hurtin' and bruisin'? You gon' gain the whole world But is it worth the girl that you're losin'? Be careful with me Yeah, it's not a threat, it's a warnin' Be careful with me Yeah, my heart is like a package with a fragile label on it Be careful with me

19. i like that - Janelle Monáe

I remember when you called me weird We was in math class, third row, I was sitting by you Right before Mr. Ammond’s class 'Cause my mama couldn’t afford new Js Polos, thrift store, thrift clothes that was all I knew Do you remember? Uh, I remember when you laughed when I cut my perm off And you rated me a six I was like, “Damn” But even back then with the tears in my eyes I always knew I was the shit 20. W - Koffee feat. Gunna

Everything we do, we give thanks, tell dem wah we do Lowe di L, take di W (Ayy, ayy) One thing deh out deh fi you (Ayy, ayy) And it nah come if you no go

#darkesttask1 #( dossier. )#( tasks. )

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nightklok · 4 years ago

Note

ASH... oh my lord those prompts are SO good... chickles for #60? and/or hammertooth for #98? whatever strikes your fancy~

100 Ways to Say I Love You Prompts[Open]

AAAA Thank you for requesting Kelly ;^; I really liked the two you picked out so i ended up doing both!! (And sorry if they became too long sdfsff)

60)-”Happy Birthday.”

Word Count:1278

For his own reasoning, Pickles chose to pretend his birthday didn’t exist. It was difficult given how famous he is and how much more fan mail and online exposure he’d get around that time that would constantly remind. It’d be easier to not collect his fan mail and avoid the internet but his family always seemed to find a way to pester him. Every single Goddamn year would be them trying to come over or pestering him with texts, phone calls, and dollar store birthday cards with half-assed written messages.

Fortunately, this year seemed to be different. He was only thankful that conveniently their latest mission to fulfill the prophecy or whatever was in England In hindsight, he should’ve realized that it was actually part of Charles’ plan.

And since he never really looks at the schedule of what they needed to do, he didn’t realize that conveniently there was a day off between the tasks. And it so happened to fall right on his birthday.

It didn’t click into place once he found himself slowly waking up to Charles pulling him closer sleepily. His hands were always so gentle around him that it was almost easy to fall back asleep. Luckily, him being kissed was enough to get that jolt of energy to not fall as fast asleep.

“Happy birthday, Pickles,” Charles said and Pickles tiredly laughed as he kissed him back.

“Aren’t I gettin' a little too old for birthdays?” He asked with a tired smile.

“That would mean you actually had celebrated your own birthdays. There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself a little,” Charles answered, "Besides, I kind of planned something for us to do together. Of course, the boys want to do something with you too but that will be in the evening."

“What about my family? They're gonna ruin it if they find out-”

"They won't. It's all taken care of. It's nothing worth getting the press over. It's just gonna be between us and no one else."

That was enough to get Pickles to be comfortable enough to not ask anything else. Charles wasn't pestering him to get up and start the day like he usually would. He seemed to be taking his time with him and it was actually nice for once.

True to Charles' word, it was as quiet and enjoyable as Pickles preferred. He had shared plenty of birthday bashes before in the past to wake up incredibly hungover with a bunch of celebrities on his bed. As nice as those times were, he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would.

There was something nice about being able to spend a birthday not trapped in a room or with people he barely even knew. While the other guys may call him old, he just found it not as appealing as they must have. Charles could've simply given him a cake and he would've been content enough with it. However, because he was Charles, he always had tricks up his sleeve that he was never able to catch.

They spent most of the morning and afternoon traveling around England, visiting a few music museums, catching a private matinee performance of Book of Mormon, and even trying out pie at that traditional pie shop Charles always raved over. It was just as delicious as he had said.

It was evening when they finally made it back to the tour bus after basically traveling around like tourists. The two hadn't had a day where they basically traveled around aimlessly like normal people and while their celebrity status gave them extra special treatment, it was more enjoyable than either of them had expected.

He saw that the boys had attempted to throw him a surprise party. Attempted being the keyword here. Obviously, the boys and Abigail had fought over who was doing what and it ended with a disarray of balloons, streamers, and food being scattered all over. There was no sign of his family so honestly, he could've been knighted by the Queen herself on the spot and he would've felt the same.

“So we really tried but someone had to insist on being in charge.” Nathan glared at Skwisgaar.

“Not my faults your aesthetics are shit.” Skwisgaar pointed out.

“Should I remind that you wanted to throw in actual rattlesnakes to the punch bowl for the ‘aesthetics’?” Abigail asked.

“I don’t get why we couldn’t get a metal birthday cake! Mercury is totally safe and metal too!” Murderface chimed in.

“Uh eithers ways, happy birthdays!” Toki said quickly as he hugged Pickles so tightly he almost saw white.

Pickles just laughed when Toki pulled away. How could he be mad at people who at least genuinely tried to throw him a birthday party? He couldn’t remember if his family ever tried to throw him one. It used to hurt him he didn’t remember and he’d try so desperately to remember as the last thing of hope he had that they definitely cared about him.

Looking at the scene now, he realized that it didn’t matter. He finally got the birthday party he truly wanted. A birthday party thrown by his actual family, “The gesture’s still sweet. I really appreciate it. Thanks, guys.”

The cake was at least saved thanks to the fact it was kept in the fridge by an Abigail who definitely knew how to hold a sword. As they ate their cake, the presents were brought in by a klokateer. Six gifts in all.

The gifts were exactly things he would like. A mixture of handmade from the boys' secret talents and store-bought that still carried the same amount of love as they were all things he would like. The final gift was almost easy to not notice. It was a small box wrapped in white packaging and even though it had no name tag, it was still easy to see from who it was from.

It took a few moments to unwrap the paper and open the box. Seeing what was inside almost made him drop the box before looking at Charles, "You-This is for real? You actually mean it?"

Charles nodded as he took his hands, staring at him completely with a look that was full of the love he shared for him as well,"Of course I do, Pickles. You really mean a lot to me and I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize that. I know things are going to be hard soon and I'm not sure if we'll ever get another opportunity for me to propose to you so I'm taking this as a chance. I want this to be a promise that no matter what happens, I'll always be waiting for you and I hope you'll do the same for me."

Pickles almost choked back a sob as he kissed Charles before hugging him tightly, "Of course I fuckin' will. I'll wait a million years if I have to because I do wanna marry you. You're really the only one for me, Charlie."

It seemed like everyone else was aware of that moment because he heard party poppers go off and a mixtures of 'Congratulations', 'About fucking time', and 'Great, let's eat more cake.'

They eventually pulled away and Charles slipped the ring in his finger, which was a perfect fit.

"We cans plans your weddings!" Toki said excitedly which sparked immediate discussion among the others.

"No, I don't think-" Charles said before he was interrupted by the boys beginning to ramble about a very metal (and dangerous) wedding planned.

"We can tell them tomorrow. For now, I just wanna spend the rest of my birthday with my fiance." Pickles chuckled as he reached over to kiss him again.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled as he kissed him again, “Happy birthday.”

98) “Take a deep breath.”

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack, blood mention Word count: 897

Transitioning was difficult. In one moment, Magnus was spending the past decade or so solely on revenge against the band that took everything away from him. The next moment, he’s now spending the rest of his life helping the band that took everything from him. Life had a funny way of throwing things at him that he least expected. Going from a vengeful person to someone who was not was something he never expected to happen. He figured he was too old to change but he supposed the world was nice enough to grant him some humanity to change.

The world was never kind to him. Magnus had made his peace with that and then continued to fight against it for all he had left in him. He wondered if giving in to help Dethklok meant giving up fighting. He was still fighting, for sure, but the difference was that his battles became for something much more than revenge.

He sat in a meeting with the _Council, _which was full of the people who apparently had a role in the prophecy to help fight against Salacia. Dethklok, Charles, Edgar, Dick, Abigail, ghost Trindle summoned via seance...and him. He was one of the people a part of the prophecy and that was still hard to wrap his head around. He wasn’t told his role yet, it was not his time yet, and that’s what ended up terrifying him the most.

What if his role made him throw away everything he began working for after he was saved? What if he had to go back to his old ways and hurt Toki...fatally this time? No...no he wouldn’t fall down that path again, prophecy be damned.

He couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the meeting. It could be blamed on the pain he _refused _to take morphine for or perhaps trying to figure out himself after realizing he wasn’t who he thought he was. Every meeting he sat through brought up the same uncomfortable feelings and this one was no different really. Just usually talking about the usual stuff; updates on the song Dethklok and Dick were working on, Edgar’s messages with whales, boring stuff. And just as usual, he had nothing to provide to the table.

“Magnus?” Charles asked and Magnus was brought out of his thoughts.

Eyes were on him now. Maybe Charles asked a question and he didn’t notice why he was being asked. God, he should’ve paid attention. Maybe this was part of the prophecy? His role was to answer a question incorrectly and be quickly beheaded as an example to those that dare betray Dethklok. Maybe he was really just kept alive for that example. They brought back a fucking psycho for a prophecy; morality is non-existent with them...Maybe...

“Magnus, you okay?” Toki was sitting next to him. He gently reached for one of his hands only for Magnus to quickly pull away.

Magnus didn’t say anything and ran out of the room instead. He could hear Toki and the others call after him but he didn’t stop. He ran as far as his repairing body would allow him before stopping at a corner, gasping for air. Almost frantically his hand reached for his bandaged chest, feeling something wet just touch his fingertips. God, he fucked up. He always did.

His breathing didn’t stop from escalating. He could feel his heart pound rapidly to the point where it gave no moment for him to breathe. It was almost as similar as to when he stabbed himself. Knowing that he had to die but still fighting for air like he had some sort of worth.

He could hear footsteps and almost a gasp before feeling himself being dragged to sit on the floor. The hands that held his shoulders were so familiar that he didn’t need to look up. Other footsteps were heard across the empty hall. Distinct voices he couldn’t quite make out. He couldn’t tell who was speaking at all but it was enough for him to want everything to stop.

He wants to tell everyone to fuck off and let him suffer in peace. Let the re-opened wounds open more so he could bleed out to death. That would be so much easier for everyone.

But there was only one distinct voice he could somehow hear. Toki. The only one speaking directly to him, speaking softly but enough for him to hear. It was still hard to hear his voice compared to the others and his own breathing but it was something to focus on.

If Toki was willing to help over...whatever he’s going through, then how would he feel if Magnus ended up dying? Magnus was one of the few people Toki called out to when he was stuck in the hospital. Magnus became one of the many people Toki gave second chances to but definitely one of the first to actively try and make sure his second chance wouldn’t ever be a third.

He wouldn’t hurt Toki.

He couldn’t hurt Toki.

His self-imposed role would be to never hurt him for as long as he lived. As his breathing was struggling to stay even and he was struggling to awake, it was that promise and Toki’s voice that kept him staying awake.

“Takes a deeps breaths.” Toki’s voice was the only clear one he could hear.

And so he did.

#lampmeeting #Caffeinated Insomniac Writings #metalocalypse #metalocalypse fanfic #Charles Offdensen #pickles the dummer #chickles #charles/pickles #Toki Wartooth #magnus hammersmith #hammertooth #magnus/toki #As you can see i'm incredibly terrified of writing magnus as he has no lines sadfl;jkdfs #but it was a fun challenge writing something fluff and writing magnus!!#Not on AO3

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writinginthesparetime · 5 years ago

Text

A place far away pt7

pairing: actor!Park Haejin x student!reader

Warnings: famous!au ; college!au ; litte bit of swearing?

genre: fluff ;

chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

(If needed I will add more warnings and upload the genre tags in next chapters)

Summary:

So that’s how all started.

It was a rainy day in Seoul and I was the new girl in town. Precisely the new girl in college, just moved from europe to study abroad.

Little did I knew Seoul was not the only korean thing I’d fell in love with.

————————————————

21st November

“Lillian! Your caffelatte!”

I looked up from my books just a moment, only to see a girl holding two cups in her hands desperately trying to get her friend’s attention.

This cafeteria in the campus often looked like this: loud and busy. I didn’t enjoy spending my time there to study, but that morning only the idea of staying home made me sick.

I spent the last two weeks studying for three exams, now focusing on the last one of those. Class? Chemical behind the skincare.

I went back to my notes, looking at graphics and formulas well written, trying to revise some useful acids for peeling and the benefits of vitamin c for our skin.

I sipped my coffee and looked at the time. Almost 11 o’clock.

It was so weird to think that the whole campus had the free morning. Someone definitely decided to spend it in bed sleeping, someone just enjoyed their free time and someone, like me, chose to keep on studying.

I never wanted to be the best student, but indeed I wanted to prove myself I could. I just needed to tell myself so, and actually work hard. Luckily, lessons were interesting and I found myself being capable of getting on the top of class.

Even cooking class was satisfying.

In the table next to me, a group of girls were chatting loudly, all smiling and well dressed. They were talking about the real reason why morning classes were cancelled and most of the girls went on campus anyways. The reason they all wore their best dresses and used tons of makeup.

An idol.

Or someone famous.

Again.

Yes, if months ago there were some weird visit by an entertainment company, that morning was the confirmation of a collaboration with the college.

So, an idol in that exact moment was in one of my college’s class filming some stupid advertisement about some stupid product, probably to attract teenagers who are still influenced by whoever is in the commercial.

And it worked just fine.

I sighed lightly reading again the same phrase on my notes. “What’s uva and uvb rays? And how uv sun rays damage our skin?”

Let’s say in the morning, especially on these cold ones, the last thing I think of is putting sunscreen on.

Just waken up then, after embracing a sky full of clouds, that’s definitely not my first thought.

And suddenly I thought about Nana who was surely still sleeping in her warm bed.

I lost every kind of concentration, desolated I closed my books and stopped looking outside the window.

I still had some time before the first lesson started, but it was so obvious that I wasn’t able to keep on revising.

This exam looked infinitely long to study and I still had one to go before the end of the year.

And then I suddenly started thinking about that lesson, one month and a half ago. About that speech the teacher made, about working in a company.

I sank into the chair, trying to make myself as little as possible.

I didn’t know what to do with this information. All my classmates saw the list and picked their favourite company. Some girls, after reading important company names, even started to study more.

And I was the only one in the class who hasn’t choose yet. Well, I didn’t even decided about doing this work or not.

I was one of the best students, suitable for the opportunity, but I was afraid about the whole working and going to classes and studying for exams at the same time. I could have just failed.

Plus, I really couldn’t understand why we had to choose a company, I could really work everywhere they wanted.

I snorted.

I knew my time was almost over, I couldn’t keep on procrastinating. A teacher already stopped me in the hallways to know if I made up my mind. I simply run away.

And then I suddenly thought about the no-boys rule, that has been recently broken by Nana a week ago at a really late halloween party. She kept on saying that she didn’t really broke our promise since she make out with a girl, but we both knew the truth.

On the other hand, I didn’t date anyone, girl or boy. I kinda made friends with other classmates, even ended up in a project group with Jackson, who kept being an acquaintance.

That’s it.

That’s it, like any other Hae-jin story then.

I looked up.

Y/n, stop thinking about him.

Yet, sometimes his kind smile came back to mind.

And even how we never met in the last month and a half, after bumping into each other almost every week.

Slowly the voices in the cafe became quieter and many people left, dispersing in the campus.

I sipped my coffee and I saw myself reflected in the window.

My eyes were tired from the lack of sleep and my cheeks bright pink because of the cold November.

I wrapped myself in my blue hoodie, judging again my morning decision to choose comfort over style. Countless times Nana tried to find any item in my wardrobe to save my outfits, that are so basic to her.

Anyways I did find a trick: just wear an elegant coat over every outfit and suddenly I didn’t look like a mess. Not completely.

I noted mentally to go shopping as soon as my mother sent me some money.

I got up picking my things up and throwing them inside the backpack and, against my will, I exited the cafeteria heading to class to revise the next coming exam. I wasn’t prepared for it, neither for the day ahead.

While i was quickly walking i kept hearing people chat about what was going on in college, and i even saw some people randomly run through the campus, going wherever they heard the idol’s last location was.

And it was just one of those crowds that crushed me. I stumbled, getting hit by thousands hands and shoulders that tried to get me out of the way.

I was almost falling when I ended up crushing a girl, she quickly grabbed me by my shoulders, holding me.

“Everything’s okay?’ She asked worried.

This girl definitely looked older than me, well I could guess she wasn’t going to college anymore. Her neat appearance made me feel ashamed. Everything about her made me think she was one of those girls who really treated herself good.

“I’m fine, thank you.” I said softly and bowed at her. She took a step back, feeling the embarrassment between the two of us.

With her right hand, closed into holding two different phones, she moved a lock of hair with her pinkie.

Only then I noticed she was holding, with her other hand, a big brown leather briefcase. She kinda looked like a business woman, only her windbreaker didn’t suit her style: an huge stuffed one, long ‘till under her knees, with an embroidered word on her chest, probably the name of the company she was working for.

She quickly excused herself and left, not giving me enough time to read that word. I only saw the logo, made by three little triangles that reminded me of the three Giza’s pyramids.

“Y/n!” I heard my name being called while trying to walk in the hallway. “Wait, y/n!”

I turned around to where I thought this voice came, only to see Nana, of course, running to me. In a couple of seconds she joined me and, well, actually she bumped into me, with the biggest hug.

“Y/n-ah, you have no idea how it’s so good to wake up late, i feel so fresh!” Saying so she slapped her cheeks lightly.

“Lucky you.” I looked up.

“Oh my god, what are those? Eye-bags?”.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” I said shrugging my shoulders.

We walked side by side, in silence. Nana knew my weird sleeping habits, she knew it’s been weeks since I had a proper full night of sleep and, luckily, she knew when was the time to not say a word.

And I didn’t have to tell her more.

In the hallways people kept walking and talking, even louder than any other day, it was becoming annoying.

Everyone was frenetically moving, girls stopping mid walking looking at their phones, little half runs and continuously checking their hair.

I was getting curious to know who was the reason of this whole mess.

“Hold this: I have a concealer that matches your skin color.” Nana suddenly gave me her make-up trousse. We have so differently skin color, even different undertones, but I wasn’t shocked at all: we often tried make-up products together, even sharing them for fun. “If it’s not your color, you’re good enough to make it work it out. I know lately you’re not into this, but your eye-bags could literally scare the teacher.”

I smiled at her, knowing that she was trying to make me feel better and she definitely didn’t want me to look like a zombie.

We left in front of the class door, she headed inside to take seats while I just tried to remember where the closest toilet was.

Needless to say that I didn’t know at all: campus and buildings were huge, every lesson was taken in a different classroom and I still couldn’t orient myself. I only followed the signs.

I found myself walking for the whole hallway and after turning twice, fifty metres ahead, I ended up in a blind alley, with some doors on the sides.

Above one of them, a sign with a drawing of a lady. And behind that same door a group of girl exited the toilet. Coming across, we bowed slightly.

All of the sudden, behind myself I heard a soft sound, getting slowly louder until the rustle clearly turned into quick steps in the hallways.

I turned around confused, but I could only see me and the other four girls.

I was so focused on that sound which was gettin louder and kinda deafening because of the echo on the walls, that I didn’t notice I was slowly going backwards.

And when I turned, I didn’t have the time to clearly see the person I bumped into.

Raising my gaze, I saw some details.

A black button down shirt. A strong arm. Fine jawline.

And then the shoulder I literally crush into.

The man was taller than me so his shoulder was at the same height as my face, and because of my abrupt movement I ended up hitting him.

I got hurt on the side of my face, a strong smack at my right ear.

Suddenly my head started spinning, there was a loud strong whistle that kept shutting my thoughts. I stumbled untill I lied to the closest wall.

Every sound was padded. I brought my hands to my head, I could literally heard my blood angrily pulsing.

I didn’t know what was around me anymore. My vision was blurred, it was hard for me to focus on anything.

I ended up squeeze my eyes multiple times.

The man stopped, and I only knew because I couldn’t hear any close steps.

My legs were shaking and the whistle still there, not letting me think straight.

“Oh.” A manly voice that sounded so far away. “I am sorry.” His cold and formal words made me shiver.

The only thing I was thinking about was to find a quite place to sit, any place.

And then, like someone opened a door with air stream, steps and voices got louder.

The whistle left, letting me finally hear but every little sound now was painful as a stab. I looked up trying to recall the place, feeling the rough wall behind me.

I was so shocked to see a crowd of people coming towards me, and a man I could clearly see because he was taller than anyone. That man. He just run out to another hallway.

I didn’t see more because once I recognised the toilet door I only thought about laying on the little couch each bathroom in campus had.

I moved quickly.

I closed my eyes while sinking on it. Slowly I started feeling better, no more dizziness. My heartbeat was regular now.

Outside, finally the silence.

It still took me a couple of minutes before getting up. I decided to splash my face with some cold water and suddenly I felt a little better, more awake.

I could still clearly see how sick I looked.

Maybe it was time for that concealer to save me.

I quickly applied some makeup, trying to hide my dark eye-bags. I fixed my hair tying them up into a ponytail to look more clean.

“You look awful.” I whispered.

I exited the toilet and redo the same way backwards. Empty hallways and silences.

Only my steps echoing between the yellowish walls.

Three times I bumped into someone that morning. Three differs ways, three different people, three different pair of arms touched me.

Hold.

Loved.

Hurt.

Slightly bent over, I got closer to Nana who took a seat in the middle raw.

I tried to be as quiet as possible and to be the more invisible I could. The teacher already started the lesson and he was writing fast on the blackboard.

“Y/n, what happened?”

Nana asked after looking at the clock on the wall, and then at me. I let myself fall onto the chair, giving back her trousse.

“I don’t think I am feeling good, after class I am going home.”

I was slowly walking through the campus, heading to the exit while thinking about taking a long nap before getting back to study.

I needed to rest.

And i needed a painkiller for my headache.

“Miss. Y/l/n! Miss!” I heard a door slamming and quick steps. Beside me, my history of makeup’s teacher was closing our distance.

“Yes?” I asked. Behind him, inside the hallway people were talking and looking at us.

“I am truly sorry to disturb you, but I needed to know if you decided about the job. As I have already told you, this is the last week to sign up.”

“I am really thankful for your interest, but I haven’t had the time to look at the list, so I think I’ll have t-“ I couldn’t end the phrase because the teacher, after looking up for a folder and finding it inside his briefcase, interrupted me.

“Here it is.” He gave me the folder smiling.

“Honestly, I still won’t have the time to choose, I’m too busy studying for exams.”

“Miss y/l/n, that’s not the first time we talked about this.”

“I am truly sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to study and work and attend classes, all together.”

“Miss, I never thought of you as a lazy person, but you know better than me that classes are ending soon and there are just a few exams to be taken. Do you really want to risk to lose this opportunity?”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Miss, you’re on the top five of the class, we are positive you’ll be able to make it just fine. And if you won’t, we do not expect you to pass every exam this semester.”

“But it will be humiliat-“

“It will be more embarrassing to lose such an opportunity to work with professionals. I don’t want to force you, but I think you’ll regret this in the future.”

He kept smiling the whole time, trying maybe to reassure me, while his words were sharp.

I really just wanted to go home, forget about everything and sleep. Thinking too much made my headache stronger.

I raised my gaze, ignoring his face. Behind him, I could see some people staring.

“All I ask you is to think about it.”

I grabbed the folder and hold it tight.

I just needed to resist one more week, and wait for the deadline.

But the idea of meeting persistent teachers made me feel sick. More than I already was.

“Are you feeling good?” He asked worried, taking on step closer.

“Not really. Teacher, I don’t really have time to choose between the companies right now.”

“I have a proposal. Actually, you can even meet them now if yo-“ He stopped talking mid sentence. “A-are you feeling good? You look pale, do you need some water?”

“Thank you teacher, I just need to go home and rest.” I quickly smiled.

“Please, think about my proposal. I actually highlighted the company in the list and at the end of the folder I gave you some informations.”

He sounded so noisy.

“Okay okay. I surrender, I accept. Please send me via mail al the papers I need to fill and I’ll gave it back to you as soon as possible. But now, I really need to go.”

I quickly bowed and left, heading to the closest bus stop.

The headache was painful as ever. I found myself crying on my way home.

————————————————

A/n:

I am truly sorry, it took me ages to write this chapter. I keep on revising it because I think it’s kinda dark and sad: it resembles what happened in the last weeks.

AnywaysI hope you still like it, and please dm me if you want to be tagged in next chapters!

Look forwards to the next ones, they’re gonna be gooooooood!!

#park haejin #park hae jin #korean actor #story #park hae jin x y/n #park har jin x reader #park #k actor #kdrama #writing in the spare time #writing #a place far away #original #forest

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yeet-or-be-hawed · 6 years ago

Text

“Bloody Knuckles” High Honor!Arthur Morgan x Low Honor!Reader

Okay, it took me forever to get this fic out because I had the separate ideas for art supply store and low honor reader/high honor Arthur but couldn’t quite come up with a solid plan. After playing some Red Dead, I had a very strong urge to beat there ever living shit out of Micah and that sparked this idea! I honestly really like the idea of High Honor Arthur and Low Honor Reader so you’ll probs see more fics like this one in the future!

Fluff with lots of adorable pining! Trigger warning: Violence, sexual harassment, mention of rape (just a threat, but just in case.)

After Arthur fills the pages in his journal, you take him to a small art supply shop to help him pick out a new one.

You rolled into camp mid day. You had been gone for three days to work a robbery but the Pinkertons arrived at impeccable timing. You spent the last two nights sleeping in the woods and you were pissed. Ever since Micah joined your rag tag group, trouble has been behind every corner. At first you thought it was coincidence when your jobs went smoothly while Micah was in jail or camping up near Strawberry. You told yourself it was because he wasn’t there to fly off the handle, but ever since he returned to camp, you weren’t so sure. Blood was dried to your clothes and you were covered in dirt head to toe.

You hitched your horse and made a beeline for your tent. You felt grimy and exhausted. “Come on, girl. Let me get a taste of that chocolate skin.” Your head twisted up in disgust to see no other than Micah cornering Tilly. Usually you don’t have time to get caught up in camp drama, but when Tilly caught your eye, the fear you saw there sent you off the handle. You stormed up behind Micah and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face you. “Y/N!” He said in surprise. “So quiet, I didn’t even hear ya come back to camp.” His voice was nervy, knowing he had been caught. You looked at Tilly. “Go on, Ill take care of this trash.”

Tilly nodded and quickly walked in the direction of her tent. Micah sneered at you. “Ya know, I like seeing you get all jealous, warms my heart. You know you’ll always be my favorite.”

You spit at his feet. “I don’t know why but Dutch trusts you. My personally, I wouldn’t trust you farther than I could throw you. I hear one more disgusting remark, see you put one more hand on one of the girls round here, you’ll be dead. Hear me? No questions asked, I can deal with Dutch later.”

“You think killin’ me is gonna be that easy cowpolk?” Micah straightened his back, he was bigger than you and trying to assert dominance.

You laughed, “trust me, had weapons been allowed in camp, youdve been dead long ago.”

Micah scoffed. “Careful sweet thang, or I’ll be comin’ after you next.” He leaned in close and whispered in your ear. “I’ll slit your throat before you wake up, that way no when can hear you scream while I fuck your-“

“Well well, if it ain’t my two favorite people!” Dutch approached you from his tent.

You pushed Micah off you and brushed your clothes. “You May want to reevaluate your favorite people Dutch, it’ll get your throat slit in your sleep one day.” You glared at Micah as you shoved passed Dutch. You gave up warning Dutch long ago. He wasn’t the man you once followed, the Dutch you knew would’ve never let a piece of scum like Micah into their ranks. The Dutch you knew would’ve sent him packing the first time he touched Mary Beth, or tried to pay Abigail for sex. Just about every woman in that camp went to Dutch, voicing their fears and uncomfort with Micah. You recalled Mary Beth crying to Dutch about how Micah had groped her and whispered vile things in her ear and if Charles didn’t walk by when he did, she wouldn’t have gotten out there so quickly. You remembered listening in wholehearted disgust as Dutch defended him, told her not to be so sensitive and Micah didn’t mean it. When Mary Beth ran from Dutch’s tent crying, you barged in and gave Dutch an ear full. The whole camp could hear you screaming at him and he just watched you with cold uncaring eyes. That was the day you decided Dutch wasn’t the man you once knew, nor would he be the man you followed. There was one reason you stayed, and one reason alone. There he was, sitting under a shady oak tree with his nose buried in his journall. Nothing in this world had ever softened your heart like he did.

Your body was tired and you were angry, but there he was, so peaceful and calm. His hair moved with the gentle breeze, this was your destresser. You smiled as you approached him.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” You asked as you approached him from behind.

He looked up at you and smiled. “Ran into Albert again today. He was tryin’ to get pictures of alligators.”

You rolled your eyes, “that man is going to get himself eaten one day.”

Arthur handed you his journal. “I know, that’s what I keep telling him, but the man’s a damned fool.”

You admired the beautiful sketch that took up the last two pages in his journal. Arthur didn’t let anyone look into his journal, most the camp didn’t even realize he could draw much less write. “Arthur, this is beautiful! In another life you would’ve been a famous artist.” You frowned. “Sucks it’s your last page though.”

Arthur rubbed his neck and you handed him the journal. “Yeah, I’m in need of a new one. I already checked at the store in Rhodes and they don’t have any. God knows how long it’ll take me to find another one.”

“I do!” You cried. “In Saint Denis, I saw an art store right beside the tailor!”

“Well alright!” Arthur said as he stood. “I’ll head that way.” He extended a hand down to you. “Want to come with? Looks like you could use a visit to the tailor. And a bath.”

You laughed, “I suppose you’re right. Let me change into some different clothes and splash some water on my face and I’ll be ready.”

“Sounds good!” Arthur turned and waved as he walked towards his tent. Suddenly your body wasn’t so tired and you weren’t in such a bad mood when you made your way to your tent. You dug around in your trunk for your favorite shirt. “Shit, where is it?” You cursed to yourself. You looked down. That’s where it was. You had mistakenly grabbed it and shredded it for bandaging just before you left for your robbery job. You sighed and called to Abigail who shared a tent with you. “Can I borrow one of your shirts? I’m taking Arthur down to Saint Denis.”

She raised an eyebrow at you, “How gentlemanly of you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. I guess I’ll stop at the tailor to grab a new outfit if you just let me borrow one.”

Abigail crosses her arms. “You gotta let me pick it out.”

You groaned. “Fine, but no skirts, you know I don’t like skirts.”

Abigail rolled her eyes as she went through her blouses. “I know I know. I wish you would just try them though, they’re perfect for this weather, plus I bet Arthur will think it’s cute.” She gave you a knowing look and you turned red.

“No he won’t, because I ain’t cute period.” You crossed your arms stubbornly then sighed. You did like the idea of Arthur thinking your cute. You bit your lip. “Just find me a cute blouse and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“A cute blouse eh?” Abigail giggled. “How about this one?” She lifted up a button down pale blue shirt with little white flowerrs.

“I like it, but they won’t match my pants.”

“Then wear a pair of mine!”

“All of yours are too tight!”

She rolled her eyes and threw you a pair of golden khaki riding pants. “That’s because they’re actually made for women. They wouldn’t feel too tight if you didn’t wear men’s clothes all the time.”

“They’re comfy.” You responded as you changed pants.

“Yeah well comfort won’t catch a man now will it?”

You sighed as you pulled off your top and began buttoning the new one. You turned and looked at your reflection. It always surprised you to see how much curvier you were in women’s clothing. “And a final touch,” Abigail sung as she replaced the old beat up hat on your head for a more feminine sun hat. Floppy yet simple. You groaned. “I dunno Abigail, I think I look funny.”

She leaned her head against your shoulder as you looked in the mirror. “You look adorable, you just ain’t used to wearing proper clothes. Now get out there!” She shoved you hard and you stumbled out of the tent. You almost fell when heavy hands caught you. he chuckled, “careful now.”

You smiled up at him as you leveled your feet. “Thanks Arthur.”

“No problem.” He backed up and looked at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in women’s clothes before.”

You blushed and turned away, “I know, I look silly. I just-“ you sighed and felt ridiculous. “Abigail let me borrow some clothes since most of mine are in rags.”

“You look lovely.” He extended his elbow to you, “you ready my lady?”

You tucked a fly away hair behind the sun hat and took his arm. He led you to the horses and unlooped his arm from yours. “You can ride with me if you like.” He offered.

You nodded. “Thank you Arthur, Blue deserves a rest, he’s been on his hooves since the morning I left.”

Arthur mounted his horse and offered you his hand. You took it and he helped you up his horse. “What happened back there by the way? I thought it was only gonna take a day.”

You rolled your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his waist and the horse bolted off. “Pinkertons showed up and ruined the whole damn plan. I swear, its like every job we plan with dumb ass Micah ends with the law knowing exactly how to catch us. Something’s up with him and I know it.”

Arthur nodded. “I can’t stand that snake. I don’t know what Dutch sees in him.”

“Me neither. One of these days I’m gonna knock his teeth out.”

Arthur laughed, “I’d pay to see that.”

“Well, stick around because if I see him touch Tilly one more time I’m gonna rip his arm right out of its socket.”

Arthur laughed, “so violent!” Arthur’s voice changed more serious. “Seriously though, don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt by messin’ with a fool like him. If he ever bothers you, you tell me. I’ll take care of him real fast.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “What, you think I can’t take him on my own?”

“I never said that.” Arthur’s horse slowed to a casual trot as you entered the large city. “This is Saint Denis?” He coughed and gagged. “Smells terrible.”

“Turn here. Yeah, humanity’s greatest advancements. I’m not surprised, humanity has a way of painting a pile of shit gold and calling it divinity.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Arthur tipped his hat to a passing carriage. “The sooner we get outta here, the better.”

“Just keep heading straight. At the end of this street take a left and it should be on the corner up here.”

Arthur followed your directions to the art supply. He pulled his horse to a halt and hitched it in front of the building. He dropped from the horse to let you down. “Such a gentleman!” You laugh.

You walked up the stairs to the shops and Arthur took your hand to lead you through the crowds. You looked down at his big hand wrapped around yours and swallowed the lump growing in your throat. He released your hand when you entered the small art supply shop. “Welcome!” Greeted the shop owner.

“Afternoon, partner.” Arthur responded. You were always so taken aback by Arthur’s polite manners. For someone who grew up as rough as he did, you wondered where those polite mannerisms came from. You split off to explore the store. Art supplies lines the walls, everything from canvas to paint to pencils to things you didn’t even have names for.

“Y/N!” Arthur called in a hushed voice. “Over here.”

You found him surrounded by note books, journals, and sketchbooks. “Wow,” You whispered. “There’s so many to choose from.”

“Which is your favorite?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes, “we’re here for you Arthur, not me.”

He shrugged. “I know, just curious.”

Your eyes studied the books, various styles and shapes. You smiled down at a red brown leather journal, small flowers ran embellished the border and a fox ran down the spine. “I like this one! How about you?”

Arthur was holding one similar, the leather was more brown and it had a deer stamped with ink on the front. He nodded, “I think I’m gonna go with this one. Why don’t you get that one?” He asked as you set yours back on the shelf.

You shrugged. “I’ll come back for it later. I really need to spend my money on some new clothes right now. Although, if you distract the shop keep I can steal it.”

Arthur raised a brow at you then shook his head disapprovingly. “Fine.”

His broad shoulders bumped you as he squeezed between you and the shelf of journals. When Arthur got to the front to pay, you looked down at the shelf and the journal was gone! You frantically looked around the shelf and shifted books out of the way. It was just there? You bent down to search the floor when Arthur called to you from the door. “Let’s go!”

You frowned and met him at the door. He was clutching the brown paper bag the clerk had put his new purchase in. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I couldn’t find the journal! One minute it was there and then it was gone, I guess it’s no big deal but I was hoping you could teach me to draw.”

He looked at you surprised. “Really? Would you rather someone more talented teach you?”

You scoffed and gave his shoulder a shove. “Of course! You’re a very talented artist, Arthur.”

His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Nah, it’s just little doodles that’s all.”

The look on his face when he talked down to himself always made your heart ache. You could see through the sad smile he was trying to pass off. “Why do you always do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“You always talk about how bad you are and how ugly you are. You can’t even admit that you’re good at the things you enjoy like drawing and writing!” You huffed. “I just hate seeing you put yourself down, you’re your own worst enemy and you’re just so-“ You cut yourself off. You could feel him staring at you and your cheeks flushed. You looked away and quickly changed the subject. “So, do you need anything while we’re at the tailor?”

He cleared his throat and stroked his thick beard. “I guess I could use a new vest.” He pulled his finger through a hole in the side seem of his worn down vest. “What kinda clothes are you thinkin’?”

“I definitely need some new shirts and pants. I uh, I was thinking I would buy some more women’s clothes.”

“Like a skirt?” Arthur asked. He didn’t laugh, but you still felt embarrassed.

“I dunno, I feel like I look weird in ladies clothes.” Your eyes stayed on the ground feeling rather self conscious.

He put his hand on the small of your back and you looked up at him. He greeted your gaze with a kind smile. “I think you’ll look lovely in whatever you choose.”

Your whole face turned bright red and you tripped over your words. “Oh I...t-thank you Arthur.”

A small bell chimes as he held the door open for you. The boutique was filled with fancy dresses, trousers, skirts. Blouses of every style and color hung from the walls. Arthur’s hand did not stray from your waist and you took comfort in the warmth of his hand. Arthur seemed to be having more fun with this than you, pulling pieces out to show you left and right. He did always have such nice style, so you trusted in his opinion. You laughed as he pulled ridiculous things and he made silly faces. He draped your pieces over his arm, not allowing you to hold any of it. Even when you pulled out a lovely vest he quickly snagged it and threw it over his arm. After you exhausted the women’s side of the boutique, you moved to the men’s side. Arthur shook his head in disapproval every time you lifted an over sized ranch shirt up for yourself. You’d roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but recall your conversation with Abigail. You decided to step out of your comfort zone and Arthur was helping.

“Just a vest, my ass.” You taunted as Arthur added a pair of pants over his shirt and two vests. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry anything?”

“No!” Arthur said defensively as you tried to snatch the clothes from his hand. “Damn it woman I’m finished lookin’ anyways.” He led you to the fitting rooms and handed you your pile. As he turned to his separate room he pointed a finger at you, “now I want to see those on you before you go sayin’ they look ‘weird.’”

“Fine fine, but if I should you mine you show me yours!” You joked as you closed the door to your room.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You heard him call sarcastically from his room.

The first outfit you tried on had navy riding pants and a fitted pink button down, accented with navy buttons and outlining. You added a white floral vest to it and examined it in the mirror before stepping out. “I dunno,” you called to Arthur. “I like the colors, but do you think it’s, I don’t know...too frilly?”

Arthur stepped out in his new chocolate pants, beige button down, and a paisley vest, mostly dark crimson with accents of various shades of brown. The clothes hugged his body perfectly and the vest accented his broad shoulders and chest. You cleared your voice, trying not to stare. “Looks good.”

He looked over your outfit and smiled as he adjusted his sleeves. “Back at ya, I think it looks perfect. You just ain’t used to something that isn’t a hand me down from Hosea or John.”

You punched his shoulder as you stepped back into the dressing room. “Thanks.” You said sarcastically.

Your next outfit had brown high waisted trousers and a red blouse, the material was thin and felt soft against your skin. You tucked your shirt in and smiled, this felt more like you. You fixed your collar as you walked out of your fitting room. Arthur was leaning against the doorway, the only change in his outfit was the color of his vest. This one was olive green with golden accents. “Very nice.” You said. “That one is definitely my favorite, which are you gonna go with?”

He shrugged. “Both probably. I like the red, but I gotta go with what the pretty lady says.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back into the dressing room. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” He muttered.

You picked up the last outfit. A good pair of denim work pants and a linen top, perfect for the upcoming warm weather. Arthur had just stepped out of his fitting room in his original clothes, the pieces he had just tried on slung over his arm. “Whatcha think?” You ask.

He looks down at you and smiled. “Looks like it’s your favorite.”

“It is.” You smiled back.

He put a hand on your shoulder. “Then it’s my favorite. Hurry up and try on that last outfit.” He took a seat in a chair just outside the fitting rooms. “I’ll be right here.”

You gave him a confused look and turned back to the fitting room. “There isn’t anoth-“

“Yes there is!” He called back to you. You looked down and saw the chemise first. It’s material was soft and sheer. Underneath it was a beautiful blue material with tiny pinstripes, it reminded you of Arthur’s favorite shirt. Your cheeks flushed when you picked it up and it unfolded into a skirt. Abigail’s voice rang in your head, “I bet Arthur will think it’s cute.” Her teasing voice echoing in your mind.

You sighed and pulled on the chemise then hitched the skirt to your waist. You turned to the mirror and looked over the outfit. The way the skirt hugged the small of your waist made you look so tiny and the chemise was more low cut than you were comfortable with, but it silhouetted your body perfectly. When you walked out of the fitting room, Arthur was fiddling with this fingers. You cleared your throat and smiled shyly. He cleared his throat as his eyes trailed up and down your body. “That’s uh, that looks real..good.” He tripped over his words and his cheeks flushed. “I know you don’t normally wear skirts but I saw it and I just” He sighed. “It was my favorite color and I thought it would nice on you.” He looked up at you from under the brim of his hat with a sheepish smile. “You can put it back if you don’t like it I just-“

“I like it. I want to wear it out.”

He cleared his throat again, “good I’m glad you like it. I’m gonna go pay for my stuff while you get your stuff. Meet me outside when you get done.”

You nodded and turned to the fitting room to gather your things. Arthur has already paid and was standing against the building outside when you came out. When the owner gave you your price at the register, you tried to correct him; surely it was supposed to be more. He pointed out the window towards Arthur. “The fella you’re with paid for the clothes you’re wearing. He seems like a keeper, that one does.”

“Yeah, he does.” You said as you handed him your money. You gave him a wave as you exited the store. He looked up and smiled as you walked out of the store. He put his arm around your waist. “Want to grab a bite to eat before we head home?”

“I’d love to, but you’re letting me pay this time.”

He looked down at you, his brows furrowed. “What? No. I’m paying.”

You groaned. “Arthur, I can’t let you buy me clothes and dinner, you’ve already spent enough on me. It’s not like this is a date or anything.” You joked.

Arthur tried to hide the disappointment on his face under the brim of his hat as grip on your waist loosened. “Oh. Well, I was hopin’....”

You looked up at him in surprise and pulled his hand back down to you. “It’s a date then.”

He smiled and his grip on you tightened. As you walked together to the saloon you flirted and laughed and it felt so natural. He held the door open for you and led you to the nearest table. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he walked to the bartender and ordered. After a few moments he returned with two plates. Your mouth watered as he sat your plate in front of you. A big piece of prime rib took up the majority of the plate with a side of potatoes. You were both quiet as you ate, both too focused on how delicious the food was. After you finished your plate you let out a loud belch, awarding you with a hearty laugh from Arthur. “I’m stuffed. Thank you Arthur, that was great. A whole hell of a lot better than whatever Pearson cooked up tonight.”

Arthur wiped his mouth. “Damn straight. It’s starting to get late, you ready to head home?”

You nodded. “Sounds good to me.” Arthur stood and offered you his hand. You took it and he intertwined his fingers with your as you walked out of the saloon. The sun was barely visible on the horizon, the sky mostly hues of dark blue. With his spare hand, Arthur whistled loudly for his horse.

“I’ve been meaning to do this for awhile now, take you out I mean.” He stroked his beard, “probably about as long as you’ve been riding with us.”

His horse came around the corner and you moved into the street. He put his hands around your waist and hoisted you onto the saddle. He sat behind you and pulled his arms around you to give the reigns a quick flick. You leaned back and he settled his chin on top of your head. “What a silly ol’ fool I am for waitin’ this long. Guess I always thought I wasn’t good enough for this.” He held his reigns loosely in one hand as he snaked the other around you and gave you a squeeze.

You buried your face into his chest. “I don’t know where your self hatred comes from, but I wish I could take it away from you. I wish you could see the you I see. The funny handsome man who is the kindest soul I’ve ever met. You’re so genuine, I’ve never met someone quite like you. You give me hope that maybe I could be a good person one day.”

His voice was soft in your ear. “You’re already a good person. “

“Not as good as you. I’ve killed and robbed more men, women, and children than I can count. I never really cared til I met you, you make me want to be better.”

He kissed your ear softly. “I don’t believe you could get any better than this.”

He half buried his face in your hair, keeping his eyes on the road. The soft buzzing of the crickets around you soothed you and your body began to fall back into the exhaustion you felt this morning. Your eyes felt heavy as you rested against his chest. “We’re almost there darlin’, I’m sorry I’ve kept you out so late.”

“S Okay, I’m not tired.”

He smiled. “You’re a bad liar.”

“I know.” You yawned and closed your eyes.

You didn’t even feel the horse slow to a stop. Arthur placed a kiss on the top of the head. “We’re here, sweetheart.”

He slipped down the horse and pulled you down gently. “I had so much fun today Arthur. I came home feeling terrible and you turned my whole day around. I wasn’t expecting this.” You spoke softly as he walked you to the tent, most of the camp already asleep. His fingers brushed yours and you tangled yours with his. “Me neither.” You approached your tent and you heard Abigail snoring softly. You stood staring at each other under the moon light. His thumb rubbed your hand softly. “I should let you go on then, it’s getting late.”

“Okay.” You whispered.

He let out a shaky breath and put his large palm on your face. You leaned into him as he pulled you close and gave you the softest kiss you had ever had. His lips were smooth on yours and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body tightly against yours. When he pulled away from you, you could see the redness on his cheeks and could feel his heart pounding against his chest. “I uh, I should go. Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Arthur.” You watched has he walked away, your fingers against your lips.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you entered the tent, Abigail was sitting wide awake on your bed. “Shit! Abigail, were you awake the whole time?”

She smiled at you widely, “I dunno, was that the sound of lip smacking I just heard out there?”

You threw your pillow at her. “Shut up!”

“Ahhh no way!” She squealed. She looked you up and down. “I see you changed your mind on skirts.” She said pointedly towards your new clothes.

“He picked it out for me, he said he was his favorite color.” You smiled down at the skirt as you fummed with the material.

“Shut up, that’s adorable. Tell me everything!” You stayed up late with Abigail and gave her all the details as you showed her your new clothes.

Arthur woke up early the next morning and pulled himself out of bed to make the morning coffee. Arthur couldn’t help but play back the night before on loop in his head. He couldn’t get over the way your lips felt on his, the way your body felt against his. When he finished the coffee, he turned and found the ususal early morning coffee group talking as he approached. He poured his own cup then handed the kettle to Sadie. “Mornin’ Arthur.” She handed the kettle to Abigail, who then handed it down to Tilly.

“So Arthur,” Tilly said in a mischievous tone. “I heard you and Y/N didn’t get back from Saint Denis until late last night.”

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Oh hush, its not like we did anything promiscuous.” He stared down into his coffee and could already feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

Sadie smacked him in the gut, “Arthur! I didn’t expect you to be such a lady killer.”

Arthur his his face under the brim of his hat, “Shuddup.”

Tilly giggled, “I didn’t think you had such a soft spot Arthur. I think it’s sweet.”

Abigail smiled as she took a sip from her coffee. “I do too.”

Arthur was bright red now and he stammered over his words. I don’t- you sh-“ he groaned. “Don’t you ladies have something better to do right now?”

Tilly laughed and Sadie rolled her eyes as the girls turned to walk away. When Abigail turned to leave, Arthur caught her shoulder, “Wait, can you do me a favor?”

She turned to him. “Sure, whatcha need?”

He pulled a small brown bag from his satchel and hands it to Abigail. His voice grew soft and his eyes were full of admiration as he stared down at the small brown parcel. “Can you leave this on her nightstand?”

“Of course.” Abigail turned to leave then turned her head over her shoulder. “You did a good job picking out that skirt by the way.”

“I thought so too.” He muttered to himself as he finished his coffee.

“Arthur!”

He looked up to see Dutch approaching him. “Good morning, my boy!” He hooked a heavy arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him towards the horses. “I’m meeting Sheriff Gray in town and I want you to join me.”

“Okay, how long’s this gonna take?” He said as he looked longingly to your tent.

“Not long. We’ll be back by early afternoon.”

Arthur nodded and he mounted his horse. He knew you wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours, but he was disappointed he wouldn’t be there when you found your gift.

“Let’s go.” Arthur said and dug in his spurs.

When you woke, the morning sun was already high in the sky. You stretched and slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You yawned as you pulled on your denim work pants and linen shirt. You reached for your hat on the night stand and stopped. Sitting beside your hat was the small paper bag from the art store, your name scrolled across the top in Arthur’s beautiful handwriting and a fox drawn under your name. You reached in and pulled out the journal you had picked out in the art store. “That sneaky bastard,” you whisper as you run your fingers across across the cover.

You put the journal into your satchel and grabbed your hat, eager to show Abigail. You found her doing laundry and as she saw you turn the corner, she jumped up and ran to you. “What was in that bag?” She asked excitedly before you could even say anything.

You reached into your satchel and pulled it out. Her hand came to her mouth as she gasped. “This is gorgeous! He gave me the bag to give to you this morning at coffee and I’ve been dying to know what it was!” She handed it back to you. “He’s got it bad for you, ya know.”

You smiled sheepishly, “you think so?”

“Pfft, you should have seen him this morning! Sadie and Tilly were grillin’ him about you two getting back so late. I’ve never seen that man get so flustered. I’ve known him a long time and I ain’t never seen him like this before.”

The image of Arthur’s blushing cheeks in the moonlight and shaky breath came to the forefront of your mind and butterflies formed in your stomach. You looked around the camp, “where is he anyways?”

“Dutch took him out early this morning. John said they’ll be back soon.”

You smiled. “Good.”

You looked at each other when you heard Ms. Grimshaw cussing Karen. “I gotta get back to work. I’ll find you later when I’m done.” She waved as she turned away.

“See you.” You called as you turned away. You made your way to Arthur’s spot under the oak tree and pulled out your new journal. This spot had a perfect view of the camp and the lake behind it. No wonder Arthur spent so much time here, it was beautiful. You watched as Kieran and Lenny cared for the horses. You began drawing all the gang’s horse, starting with your own. With each new horse you drew, they slowly improved.

The last horse you drew was Silver Dollar. You flipped through the pages of different horses you had drawn, playing with different styles and angles.

The air was warm and the shade from the tree kept you comfortable. You closed your eyes and rested against the tree.

“Get yer hands off me Micah.” Abigail hissed.

You opened your eyes and turned towards the sound of her voice. Micah had Abigail cornered down alone down the small hill outside of camp where the extra supply wagon was. He had a hold of his wrist. “You’re fiesty, I like that.” He grabbed her waist. “I like you.”

You grabbed your journal and ran down the hill towards them. Micah dropped her hands as he saw you coming towards them. “Abigail!” You called. Out of his grasp, she ran to meet you. “I think John was lookin’ for ya.” You told her loudly as you eyed Micah. As she passed, she gave you a concerned look and you gave her a small nod.

“Well well, already tired of ol’ Morgan? I knew you’d come running eventually but not this soon.” Micah’s tone was sarcastic.

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.” You responded flatly as you approached him.

Micah moved closer. “I saw you two sneakin’ back into camp last night, all cozied up” He closed the distance between you and whispered in your ear. “I always knew you were a little whore.”

“Shut her goddamn mouth.” You spat. “I told you, next time you harassed them you’d be dead.”

Micah spoke low, his tone menacing. “And I told you I’d slit your throat in your sleep.” He paused and a smiled twisted on his lips. “But ya know, now that I know you and Arthur are so close now, I could just tie ya up one night.” He pulled his knife and ran it across your chin. “I’ll tie you up while you sleep, cut off your clothes, and I’ll let all the trash in Rhodes take their turns with you and when they’re done I’ll take my turn. when I’m done I’ll dump you at his feet like the used up trash you are.”

You leaned in close to his face. “Ya know Micah,” You whispered. “I can’t understand a goddamn word yer sayin’.” You quickly jabbed him in the stomach, causing him to drop his knife. You kicked it out of reach when he doubled over. You looked over him coldly. “I can’t understand ya over all the shit fallin’ out of yer mouth.”

He groaned in pain. “That was a mistake, cow Polk.”

You pulled your leg back and kicked him hard in the stomach while he was still doubled over in pain. “You’re the mistake, you piece of scum.”

You underestimated how fast he was as he grabbed your leg and jerked you towards him. You fell to the ground in front of him and he grabbed your face in one hand. “You’re out of your league girlie.” His fist crashed into your cheek.

You sneered at Micah, “that’s my advantage cowpolk.” He was knelt down on one knee, leaving himself stupidly open. Your fist came up straight into his crotch. “You’re not fighting a man and I could care less about fighting dirty.”

You stood quickly and stomped his back hard, forcing his body down onto the ground. As you raised your leg for a second stomp he rolled out of the way quickly and swept his leg under you, throwing you back to the ground. He kicked you in the ribs and you cried out in pain. “Damn you,” you growled as you crawled to your feet. You threw a punch but he dodged, and caught you right in the mouth. Blood drenched your chin and ran down your shirt.

“Hate to ruin that pretty little mouth” Micah mocked. “But I just can’t wait to see how Morgan will be when he sees what’s left of you when I get done.”

You looked down at your now ruined shirt, covered in your own blood. You were boiling with your own rage as you tackled him to the ground and began slamming your fist into his face. “This was a new shirt you son of a bitch!”

“Everything okay down there?” You looked up to see John and Abigail standing at the top of the hill.

Micah’s fist caught you square in the jaw while you were distracted and he pulled himself on top of you.

“Holy shit!” You heard John yell.

“I’m gonna kill you.” Micah growled as he wrapped his hands around your throat and began to strangle you. You clawed at his face, “we’ll we about that,” You croaked as your nails found his eyes and you dug in hard. You felt his grip loosen and Micah’s hands flew up to his eyes as he howled him pain. You shoved him down and looked down at him in pure hatred. “Going for the kill this quickly in a fight? I always knew you were a coward.” You brought a strong blow down onto his nose. Your vision was turning red in a blind rage. “I. Am. Going. To. Destroy. You.” Your fist collided with his face between each word. Someone tried to pull you off and you jabbed your elbow up into them, determined to beat Micah’s skull into the ground until it was a pile of goo.

“Son of a bitch!” John shouted. “Abigail, go get Charles, I need some help.”

You barely heard him over the buzzing in your ears. Micah’s face was completely covered in blood. Your knuckles were split and bleeding but you couldn’t feel them over the adrenaline. Micah was now unconscious under you but you gave him your word, if he touched another woman in camp, you would put him six feet under and you intended to make good on your word.

Two pairs of hands now grabbed you and lifted you effortlessly off Micah. You kicked and fought, “Let go of me!” You hissed.

Charles kept a tight grip on your arm. “It’s done, Y/N.”

“You’ve beat him enough, it’s done. He’s out cold.” John urged.

“He was touchin’ Abigail!” You shouted back. Your vision was beginning to clear and you noticed the small crowd that had formed at the top of the hill.

“She told me, and we’ll make sure somethin’ is done about it this time. You just can’t kill him before Dutch gets back. You’ve got blood all over your face and hands, you may want to get yourself cleaned up.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You did good.”

You nodded, before you turned to leave, you spit on Micah’s face. “I ain’t done with you.” You said angrily down at his unconscious body.

Arthur tried to keep pace with Dutch, but he kept pulling ahead. He was anxious to see you, they were getting back later than intended which was no surprise to Arthur. “What’s got you in such a rush?” Dutch called to Arthur.

“Nothin’. Just ready to get home.” Arthur responded.

“Arthur, don’t take me for a fool. I hear the gossip just as much as you.” Dutch’s voice softened. “Where’d you take her?”

Arthur sighed. “We went to an art supplies store and had dinner in Saint Denis.”

“Well that’s splendid son! Good to see you finally makin’ yer move.” Dutch crossed in front of Arthur’s horse. “Since you’re in such a hurry to get back, how about an ol’ fashioned race back to camp?”

Arthur smiled, “You’re on, old man!”

The two took off and left clouds of dust in their wake. Arthur’s heart was pounding. He found himself longing for your touch, now he had a small taste he couldn’t get enough. The familiar tree line came into view, “yah!” He cried as he pushed his spurs into his horse. You were so close now, it was all he could think about. He didn’t even notice Dutch slip passed him until the last second. “Shit!”

Arthur charged into camp just behind Dutch. “You got lucky this time, old man.” He called as he dismounted his horse.

“Luck don’t got nothin’ to do with it, son.” Dutch teased as he hitched The Count. Arthur barely heard him as he made a beeline for your tent, but he stopped to investigate the small crowd around Micah’s tent. He grabbed Sean by the shoulder, “Whats goin’ on here?”

Sean grinned, “You and Dutch missed the fight of the century, ya did. Micah got the hell beat out of him.”

He looked over Bill’s shoulder and saw Micah’s unconscious body, covered in dried blood and bruises. He raised his eyebrows. “Shit, I’d hate to see the other guy.”

Sean slapped Arthur’s back, “That’s the best part, he got himself handed to him a little girlie. It took two men to pull her offa him.”

“Aw hell,” Arthur knew right then and there you were responsible. He half ran to your tent. When he ducked him, you were sitting on your bed, wearing your chemise with your denim work pants. The chemise was clean but the pants were covered in dirt. You looked up from your book and smiled. “Welcome back.”

He frowned when he saw your face, no where near as badly beaten as Micah’s but your lip was busted and your cheeks were swollen. “What the hell happened?”

You laughed nervously. “I kinda...got into a fight with Micah.”

He sat beside you on your cot and eyed your face worriedly. “I heard. You gave him one hell of a beating.”

You smiled smugly, “I told you I could take him.”

He gently took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger and investigated your face. “You did, but look what he did to this pretty face.” His thumb gently brushed your broken lip and you flinched. “I ought to kill him for this.” His voice was stern. “What happened?”

“I-” Dutch burst into your tent.

“What the hell happened between you and Micah?” Dutch looked over you in shock, your wounds minimal compared to Micah’s.

You crossed your arms, “Jesus Dutch, what do you think happened? He was trying to touch Abigail again. Last time I caught him cornin’ Tilly I warned him I would kill him if he decided to touch us again. I intended to keep my word until John and Charles pulled me off.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to beat the man close to death!” Dutch raised his voice.

You stood, you could feel your anger rising again. “If would’ve done something about him sooner, this would never have happened! I’ve came to you time and time again about Micah harassin’ us and you never did shit. He threatened to rape me Dutch, what the hell did you expect me to do?”

Arthur looked from you to Dutch. “He what?” His voice heavy with anger.

Dutch huffed. “Fine, fine! You’re off the hook. But no more fighting in camp. You know the rules.” He turned and left. You rolled your eyes and floppped down beside Arthur. “‘YoU kNoW tHe RuLeS’” you repeated in a mocking voice. “One a these days I’m gonna ring his neck.”

Arthur just stared at you in disbelief. “How do you have more balls than all the men in camp combined?”

You laughed and laid your head in his lap. “I guess you boys just need to toughen up.” Your tone softened. “I never thanked you for the journal, by the way. I found it when I woke up this morning.”

He stoked your hair, “I’m glad you like it darlin’.”

His eyes fell on the blood splattered shirt on the ground. “Is that your new shirt?”

“Oh yeah, it may or may not have gotten ruined when Micah busted my lip. I’ll have to go to Saint Denis and get another if you’d like to join me?”

He smirked, “are you askin’ me on a second date?”

You grinned up at him. “Sure am.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #Red Dead Redemption 2 #rdr2 #van der linde gang #fan fiction #reader insert #fluff

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

Text

The Taste of Blood

So here’s that vampire AU for Sledgefu I talked abt a while back. It falls into the two other AUs I’ve created thus far, Horror Movie and NOLA. This specific vampire one is going under the Demolition Lovers AU tag (because yes, this was inspired by the first MCR album in part.) Title is taken from one of my fave tracks on the Only Lovers Left Alive soundtrack (another inspiration for this AU.)

This is another one that might have some sequels, I’m still playing with the idea based on some other sources of inspiration! In any case I don’t think I can leave it with just this one piece.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“I think we should call my dad,” Eugene touched the mirror he was looking into, waiting for his reflection to appear, but it didn’t. “We’re both obviously sick. I mean...I can’t even see my reflection, and I know it’s there. It has to be.”

Snafu moved behind him and peered into the mirror. “Where? I don’t see mine either.”

“We’re both losin’ it,” Eugene muttered miserably. He didn’t want to call his dad, hadn’t even tried since he’d left to find Snafu in New Orleans. But he also didn’t want to go to any of the local doctors, and as it was they’d both started to develop an intense sensitivity to sunlight. Even if they’d wanted to see a doctor in town, they’d have to somehow convince one to make a house call at night.

He moved back to the couch, where they’d both been sleeping for the past week since the trouble had all started, and picked up his glass of water. Neither of them could keep anything down, but they kept trying water in the hopes of at least being slightly hydrated.

He sipped, and immediately gagged and brought it back up, nearly choking as his stomach contracted violently at the water inside of it.

“Baby,” Snafu whimpered softly, pulling him gently back onto the couch. “No more water. Just gonna make yourself more sick.”

“That isn’t possible,” Eugene protested. “We’re sick, so we need fluids. Give me your wrist, we can at least do a pulse check.”

“Alright Florence,” Snafu sighed and held out his wrist. They’d been doing these checks all week, with their pulses getting fainter and fainter with each passing day. Eugene was worried, but he didn’t know what he could possibly do to try and fix it. Nothing was working, and they both looked worse with every hour.

“What the fuck,” Eugene spat, and moved up Snafu’s arm, then to his neck, searching for a pulse anywhere. Nothing.

“Check me,” Eugene said, his hands shaking at the thought of what Snafu was (or rather wasn’t) going to find.

Snafu did the same, moving from pressure point to pressure point, anywhere, searching for a pulse. “Uh. Eugene.”

“I know, I know, I know,” he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and suddenly noticed how stiff the air felt in his lungs. The air went in and out, and he was still breathing, but it felt...off. “This isn’t possible. We’re dreaming. Or dead. Or something.”

“I think we are dead,” Snafu said quietly. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

“I gotta call my dad, now. Before we pass out and-”

“Eugene,” Snafu interrupted, and grabbed a hold of his hands, just tight enough to keep him sitting on the couch. “You aren’t gonna wanna believe me. And that’s fine, cause I don’t wanna believe me either. But...you remember how we brought Hugo home late last week?”

Eugene did. It had been a bit spur of the moment, but they’d been talking to Hugo for the past few months, meeting up with him most nights to hang out. It had always edged up near wanting to bring him back to their bed, but it had taken them until Friday of that last week to finally feel brave enough to ask him to come back home with them.

“What do you remember from that night?”

Eugene blushed. There was a lot he remembered, a lot of fun and good things. But he couldn’t remember much after.

“I know I found a weird rash on my neck. Figured Hugo and you were just overly enthusiastic about the hickeys.”

Snafu shook his head. “Still got the rash?”

Eugene moved his collar to show it off. Two small red dots, evenly spaced.

Snafu undid the first few buttons of his shirt and showed off the same.

“Okay, so Hugo was a little rough. What’re you gettin’ at, sweetheart?” Eugene laughed.

“We’ve never seen Hugo during the day. He bar tends some nights, but otherwise he doesn’t work. He dresses like he’s at least five years behind everyone else, and his teeth are...well, you’ve seen them,” Snafu continued. “I...this is everything my family made fun of growing up. All the ‘spooky’ parts of the city that the tourists fall for. But...”

“But what?”

“Some folks always used to warn about vampires. The city’s old, and you can melt right into it. Where else would you go if you couldn’t die and wanted somewhere you could just be and party or hide away or do whatever else you wanted?” Snafu asked.

“Are you saying you think Hugo’s a vampire?”

Snafu looked at the floor, and Eugene sighed internally over how pale he looked. How pale they both looked. Whatever this was, it was eating them alive.

“And you think he turned us, but it’s just now...taking full effect or something?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Snafu protested. “You think I like thinking that this is what it is, what we’ve got? This wasn’t my first option for a diagnosis.”

“Okay, I’m sorry I just...you know how it sounds. I know you do.”

Snafu nodded, sighed, and dropped his head into his hands. “There’s ways to find out. I mean...it’ll feel silly, but if we do some of these tests, and then it turns out it isn’t this, then we can move past it.”

“Fair enough,” Eugene agreed. “What tests do you know of?”

“Well, we failed the first one. No reflection. Failed the second one. Can’t keep any food or water down. Failed the third one. Don’t have a pulse anymore. I’ve got one more, but you aren’t gonna like it,” Snafu replied. He went to the fridge and pulled out the meat they’d picked up from the butcher on Monday.

It slowly dawned on Eugene what the test was, and his stomach turned. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Snafu said, slicing into the meat with a knife from one of the kitchen drawers and draining the little bit of blood that came out into two glasses. “C’mere.”

“I don’t think I can...” Eugene said. It looked repulsive, thickly settled at the bottom of the glass.

“It’s old blood, but nothin’ we can do about that,” Snafu said, and handed over one of the glasses. “Bottoms up, darlin’.”

He tossed it back like a shot after Snafu tossed back his, grimacing at the sensation of the blood as it slid down his throat.

“Now what?”

“We haven’t been able to keep anything down, so this should come up too,” Snafu replied.

They stood at the kitchen counter and waited. And waited. And waited.

“Jesus,” Eugene whimpered, and dropped to his knees, hiding his head against them as he wrapped his arms around himself. “Snaf-”

“I know,” Snafu interrupted softly, and pulled him up to standing again. “Come on. Back to the couch we go. We’re gonna be alright.”

“No, we aren’t,” Eugene heard himself whisper, horrified. “What the fuck, what the fuck what the-”

“Shhh,” Snafu interrupted. “Can’t do nothin’ about this if we panic.”

“We’re dead,” Eugene hissed. There was no other way around it. He was walking, talking, feeling the panic but with none of the usual heart-pounding. Because his heart no longer beat. Because they’d fucked a vampire, and now they were dead.

“I know,” Snafu was alarmingly calm, and it made Eugene itchy to watch. As much as he valued Snafu being able to be cool and collected, he also couldn’t bear to be the only one freaking out.

“We have to find Hugo,” Snafu continued. “May as well go straight to the source. I know going out sounds like shit right now, but we can do this.”

They dressed, just barely presentable to be out of the house, and wandered down to the nearest bar. The sun had just recently gone down, but Eugene missed it. If this was all real, and he really had already had his last moment in the sun, then he wished he could have somehow known. He would have enjoyed it more.

Hugo was behind the counter, working. But he looked like he wanted to jump the counter as he caught sight of them.

Eugene let Snafu take charge of the situation. He was too weak, too tired to do much more than stand by Snafu and lean against him.

“Hugo. We gotta talk,” Snafu called across the bar.

Hugo winced as they stepped up to the bar counter. “You guys look like shit.”

“Yeah. Feel like you might know somethin’ about that,” Snafu said. “Wanna take a moment in the back room with us so we can sort this out?”

Hugo sighed. “Fine.”

He led them to the back room, and Eugene let himself collapse onto the couch in the room with a groan. He’d felt better after the glass of disgusting, sludgy blood, but whatever effect it had given him had worn off.

“I thought I had drained you both completely. You should be dead,” Hugo said, staring at them in amazement and confusion.

“We are dead, asshole,” Eugene barked.

“I mean...not dead like me. Completely dead. Not getting up and looking for blood to drink dead. Speaking of, have you guys been feeding? Because you look awful,” Hugo said.

“Wow, thank you for again tellin’ us we look horrible after doin’ this to us,” Snafu spat as he dropped into a wooden chair near the couch.

“I didn’t mean to,” Hugo protested. “I was going to just kill you both. I hadn’t fed in weeks...it was nothing personal, I swear.”

“Hugo...this is is why you’re still single. I swear to fuckin’ god...” Snafu muttered. “Nothin’ personal. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Hugo continued. “Look, I can help you adjust to this. It’s the least I can do, and it’s what my maker did for me. Granted, he was also well off and not bar-tending to pay rent, but-”

“Boo-fucking-hoo for you,” Eugene scoffed. “I’d say this is the least you can do.”

Hugo sighed. “Clearly, whatever we had is gone. So I’ll do this. I’ll give you a list of places folks like us-”

“Vampires,” Snafu interrupted. “I wanna hear you fucking say it.”

“Vampires,” Hugo said. “Places where vampires like us can meet up for resources, help when you’re new and learning how to feed and how much to feed, things like that. I’ll give you my phone number, but you call me; I won’t call you. You only call if you’re comfortable with doing so or really need immediate help, okay?”

Hugo grabbed a piece of stationary from a desk near one wall of the back room, and started to jot down the various places and people they could use as resources, and as he listened to the pen scratch Eugene’s heart sank.

No more sunny walks in the park, or sunsets watched in between making out with Snafu. No more dinners they cooked together, learning new recipes. They’d have to quit their jobs, and find new ones with only night shifts, or they’d lose the house. No traveling, unless they were willing to drive all night while knowing they for sure had somewhere to hide during the day.

And more killing. If they wanted to survive, there would have to be more killing.

“For now...give me five,” Hugo said and handed Snafu the paper before ducking out of the room. He returned with one of the other bartenders, who calmly bared his neck to Snafu as he knelt down near him.

“What the fuck is this?” Snafu scoffed.

“Dinner,” Hugo spat. “Unless you wanna keep looking and feeling like death.”

“We are dead!” Eugene screamed, forcing himself up off the couch even though every limb protested the effort. He strode towards Hugo faster than he intended to, unsure if it was his new state of being or his anger carrying him forward. He pushed him up against the nearest wall, and hissed. “We’re dead and it’s your fucking fault and-”

He was suddenly incredibly aware of blood in Hugo’s veins, and before he could stop himself he latched onto Hugo’s neck, effectively stealing his dinner from within him.

“Get him fucking off of me!” Hugo was screeching, caterwauling, but Eugene held tight onto him, hating how much he enjoyed the feeling of his now much sharper eyeteeth sinking into Hugo’s flesh, emptying his dead veins of his last meal.

“Eugene! Enough!” Snafu pulled him away, and Hugo dropped to the floor, whimpering.

“He deserved it,” he huffed.

“I know,” Snafu said. “But what good is killin’ him gonna do us, huh? None. Let him live with the knowledge. I guarantee that’s worse than bein’ all the way dead.”

“Neither of you are even up to my usual standard,” Hugo scoffed, still on the floor. The other bartender was staring at him, but made no move to retrieve him. “That’s what I get for fucking ugly goddamn-”

It was his turn to hold Snafu back as he tried to race towards Hugo, shouting abuse right back at him, how he was a shitty fuck, how he was lucky they’d even allowed him near them to begin with.

He dragged Snafu outside, regretting that he’d lost his cool.

But he did feel better, with the blood he’d taken from Hugo.

“Here,” he offered Snafu his wrist. “You’ll feel better. If we both feel a little healthier, then findin’ all of these people and places’ll be easier.”

Snafu pulled him into a dark corner near an alley, and kissed him hard before moving his wrist up to his mouth. The feeling of Snafu’s teeth slipping into his wrist was something else, painful but not so much to make him do more than wince. It was almost erotic, especially when Snafu looked up at him, still drinking, his lips locked against the skin of his wrist.

Which at least confirmed one thing he’d been mildly worried about, regarding blood flow. He didn’t know how it could still work, but he wasn’t going to question it when he had Snafu with blood on his lips, pulling him close and rutting against his hard cock.

“Let’s go home,” Snafu murmured into his neck. “We can check out everything Hugo gave us tomorrow night.”

Eugene nodded, but used a hand to carefully pull Snafu’s face back up towards his, and gently, with just the tip of his tongue, licked the drying blood from the corners of Snafu’s mouth before kissing him.

He had figured it wouldn’t be a jubilant walk home, but he had expected to at least feel better, having gotten confirmation of it all. But he didn’t. He was tired and hungry despite having fed off of Hugo, and wanted nothing more than to fuck until the morning or until they were both too tired and sore to move, whatever came first.

By the time they got inside, however, he was only half-hard and he could tell Snafu was just plain exhausted. They dropped onto the couch after making sure the door was locked and the windows were all still tightly covered with blinds and newspapers they’d taped over them, and Eugene knew they’d both be asleep soon. There would be no calling into work; he couldn’t keep his eyelids open let alone get up to go to the phone and call them both in.

What he could manage was to wrap his arms around Snafu, and try not to cry when he didn’t have the familiar sound of Snafu’s heartbeat to lull him to sleep. But he still had Snafu’s hand squeezing his, and it was just enough to work in place of the heartbeat.

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu #Horror Movie AU #NOLA AU #Demolition Lovers AU #it is almost 2 am so please forgive any typos #I'm gonna reread this tomorrow after my tattoo appt and fix any mistakes I see

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concussed-to-pieces · 6 years ago

Text

Bookish; Part Two

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Word Count: ...I am so sorry. Over 20k.

AN: THIRSTY/HOLIDAY CREW HOOOO! Welcome aboard a most festive holiday spectacular, my entry into the 25 Days Of Chrismuts! This is even more like a cheesy romance novel than the previous installment of Bookish! We've got plot-convenient amnesia, we've got protective security, we've got secrets, violence and daring rescues...everything you and I need to have a great holiday season! Tagging @25daysofchrismuts, @oraclegazes @hardcorewwetrash annnnnnnd @toxiicpop! Enjoy!

Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains minor gunplay (non-loaded gun), firearms in general, graphic descriptions of violence, warped recollections (amnesia) and mentions of emotional neglect. Stay safe!]

“Is that a sniper rifle?!” You yelled in bewilderment, Dean's hand on your shoulder forcing you back down into your seat.

Seth shrugged from his spot beside you, the definitely-a-sniper-rifle cradled in the crook of his elbow. “Maybe.” He allowed, plastering on a grin so hackneyed it made you wince. “Maybe it’s a toy.”

“Maybe you ought to quit talking and start aiming!” Roman shouted from the driver’s seat. “Move it, Rollins!”

How had you ended up in this mess?!

...

The snowfall always looked better from your window. You sighed, sipping on your cup of tea and tugging the tail of your bookmark loose. You had many fond memories of sitting in the little nook your window created, watching the snow come down thick. When you were younger and your parents would call, you often described it to them in excruciating detail.

Fond memories. Lonely fond memories.

“Whatcha' reading now, gorgeous?” The familiar wiry frame of Dean Ambrose settled in beside you, and you giggled while he made himself comfortable. “You crammin' for a midterm or somethin'?”

“No, I just figured I'd catch up on this, uh-” You tried to keep the book out of his hands, but he was too fast. He easily pilfered the volume, squinting at the cover before his eyes widened.

“Oh ho, this your leisure readin' material?” Dean crowed, laughing raucously and vaulting off the window seat with your book in hand.

“Hey wait, give that back!” You grabbed onto the leg of his jeans, bringing him to the ground and scrambling over his body to yank the book away from him. You then moved on reflex to incapacitate him, trapping his neck between your thighs and slamming his head against the floor with your body weight and momentum.

Dean grinned infuriatingly up at you from between your legs, sticking his tongue out in a purposely lewd gesture. “Gettin' pretty good at that, gorgeous! Keep it up and you might have a real shot.”

“You're such a jerk!” You growled. “From where I'm sitting, you're the one who's in trouble.”

“Mm, you'd think that, wouldn't ya'. But the thing is--” Dean's hands slammed shut on your thighs and he pressed your knees even tighter to his shoulders, effectively immobilizing you. “-You're wide open like this, gorgeous.” He smirked, spreading your legs and grabbing your rear to pull you in closer.

You squealed, smacking him with your book and trying to wedge the volume between his face and your groin. “That's cheating Dean!”

“You're the one that put your crotch in my face!” Dean laughed, “What can I say, I'm a hungry guy and you're always delicious.” He slid a hand over the curve of your thigh, making your insides go molten when he moaned in his throat. “You smell so good, gorgeous. Taste even fuckin' better.” He muttered, licking his lips.

“Hey Ambrose, Roman got Ch-” Seth ground to a halt as he pushed open the door and saw the two of you on the floor. “Whoa, my bad! Sorry, I didn't know you guys were, uh, y'know--” He sputtered, obviously flustered.

“We're not!” You huffed.

“We’re not? Shit, and here I thought we were! Ah well, up I get.” Ambrose shifted your knees over his shoulders and actually stood while holding you, your head bumping the ceiling briefly. You quickly bent down, wrapping your arms around the back of his head.

“Dean!”

“Oh, heya’ gorgeous.” Dean mumbled into your stomach, pressing kisses to your shirt while you clung to his face and dug your heels into his shoulder blades. “Weird way of ridin’ piggyback.”

“Put me down Ambrose!” A pair of hands landed on your hips and eased you back down Ambrose’s body.

“Dean, you’re such a tease.” Seth grunted. “Don’t be mean.”

“I ain’t bein’ mean! I wanted to see what they could do. All that training really paid off. They move like a goddamn missile.” Ambrose praised, making you blush.

“Well, they did learn from the best.” Seth preened.

“Don’t even try to take all the credit!” You nudged him with your elbow. “I worked hard for this.”

“You're absolutely right. We're proud of you, gorgeous.” Seth gave you a smile and a kiss on the cheek, “We might even have to recommend you to our boss if you keep improving so fast!”

“Very funny. I doubt I'm on a recommendation level for a fast food joint, never mind whatever private security group you guys work for.” You laughed off his comment, noticing that Ambrose looked weirdly uncomfortable. But then he swiped your book again and you quickly forgot about it, trying to reclaim your property as Seth and Dean played keep-away. Things really got out of hand when Dean started reading aloud passages from the book.

Roman walked in on you shrieking stop reading it and give it back already!, the larger man laughing uproariously and plucking the steamy novel from Ambrose's grasp. “You know you don't need to read this crap when we're around, gorgeous. After all, we're available for uh...wish fulfillment, should the need arise.” His smirk was insufferably smug as he rifled through the pages of the book.

“It's not that, Roman. I'm studying the kissing parts.” You muttered, folding your arms over your chest. “I'm still so new to this, I need...I figured I should study up so you guys don't get tired of me, is all.” You dug your toes into the plush carpet, studiously avoiding eye contact with the three men. “I know I'm not very good at...well, y'know.”

Dean's finger slid beneath your chin and he tilted your face up, his thumb resting on your lower lip. “You don't ever need t’ worry about that, gorgeous.” He murmured hoarsely. “We’re here to protect you, an’ we plan to do so for as long as we can. You're one of the group, whether you like it or not.” He stroked your lower lip in a meditative gesture, back and forth, and you found the motion oddly soothing. “You been worryin’ too much.”

“My modus operandi: I read, I worry.”

“And you kiss.” Dean breathed. “A few other things besides.”

“S-Sometimes.” You hated that the four of you had engaged with one another on multiple occasions and yet you still had issues with the simplest of things. It wasn't fair! When would it become easy? When would you get to fluster them with some carefully-chosen words or a casual touch?

“Don’t worry. This isn't a race, gorgeous.” Seth assured you kindly.

“It can’t be a race because no one else is in it.” You grumbled. “It’s easy for you guys, this stuff comes natural to you.”

“You don't know how wrong you are.” Roman said quietly. He looked thoughtful for a minute, then seemed to shake himself out of it. “Hey, c'mon. Enough of this bullshit. I got Chinese food for dinner, and we can watch some of those garbage Christmas movies.”

“I happen to like those garbage Christmas movies, so you'd better watch your mouth!”

...

“C’mon gorgeous, we have to go.” Roman whispered in your ear, his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. “It’s time to go.”

“Go? Bu’ where?” You slurred, firmly entrenched in the grip of sleep. You barely remembered being carried up to bed after a marathon of sappy movies. Roman sighed heavily and then wrapped the blanket around your body, lifting you after a moment.

“We gotta’ move, Reigns.” You dimly heard Ambrose grunt. Roman hushed him while you snuggled into his chest.

Without warning the intruder alarm started blaring, startling you wide awake. You felt Roman flinch and Dean swore.

Seth was suddenly at Reigns’ elbow, where had he even come from? “Twenty seconds. Attic breach.” He whispered, leaning his weight on the door to your room and carefully opening it. “Two at a time the stairs. Remember how many there are.”

Roman nodded. “Ambrose, take offensive point. Rollins, you’re on flank.”

“Nothing is getting past me.” Seth muttered.

“Guys, what’s happening?” You whispered.

None of them answered your question and you fell silent, clinging tightly to your blanket. There was a crash upstairs, like someone had knocked something over in the cluttered attic. Dean bolted out the door, heading in the direction of the attic stairs.

Rollins all but hung off of Roman’s arm. “We waiting or leaving?” He asked.

“We’ll wait in the SUV.” Roman’s voice sounded oddly strained. “I’m not leaving Ambrose behind.”

“He should have stayed in for-”

“I said, I’m not leaving him behind. He's on offensive point.” Roman snarled. Seth fell silent. “We’re not leaving him behind while I’m here, Rollins. We’re moving out. Run flank like you’re supposed to and there shouldn’t be any problems.”

You got the feeling that there was some previous situation being brought up, maybe during the rough stint that Rollins had mentioned.

“It’s been a long road to get to the relatively-cushy setups. We’ve always stuck together though, even when shit got hard or dangerous. There’s been a lot of times things fell through.”

Roman held you a little tighter when he left the room, his body tense. Just as he reached the stairs, a door slammed loudly. That seemed to seal it for the large man. He lunged down the stairs, three at a time with Rollins doing an odd sidestep hot on his heels. You buried your face in his chest, terrified beyond belief. If this was something that had them spooked…

Into the kitchen, out the side door to the garage, Roman bypassed your rarely used sports car and instead headed for the navy blue SUV that Ambrose had dubbed ‘The Grand Bandwagon’. “In, in, buckle up.” He panted, sliding you across the backseat. You quickly did as he asked, watching Rollins deadbolt the kitchen door and then scramble to the SUV.

“Drive around to the rendezvous point, it’s a straight shot out the window for him and he knows his evac routes.” He hissed to Roman, who nodded. You tucked your knees up to your chest, shivering with fear (and cold, December was not known for its balmy weather).

The garage door eased up, one of the tracks squeaking loudly. Roman climbed into the driver’s seat and Seth slid onto the bench seat beside you. “We’ve trained for this. It’s going to be fine.” He assured you. “Just remember what we taught you and we'll take care of the rest.”

Roman didn’t turn the engine on, instead taking off the parking brake and letting the car roll out of the garage in neutral. “Here’s hoping that gate at the bottom of the hill isn’t too stiff from the cold.” He muttered.

“More like ‘here’s hoping Ambrose makes it’.” Seth replied, sounding sulky.

“Here’s hoping I don’t punch you in the mouth.” Roman growled.

“Hey guys? Not exactly instilling a lot of confidence with your bickering.” You finally piped up.

“Sorry.” Seth apologized after a moment. “I’m…I always feel so guilty when it comes to-”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you. Still defensive, I guess.” Roman replied ruefully. “Old habits.” The SUV silently inched through the gate, past a group of small, dark-colored vehicles. “Your parents gave us a few weeks off, y’know.” Roman continued to you. “Told us almost a month back: ‘You boys go enjoy yourselves, it’ll be nearly Christmas and we always take our child on vacation’. The email's exact words.” He was watching you in the rearview mirror, like he was waiting to see your reaction.

You shook your head, utterly confused. “They don’t bring me anywhere. Especially not after what happened at the gala.”

“We noticed.” Seth said grimly. “These guys must think we’re as dumb as we look.” You weren’t sure what on earth he meant by that.

The SUV had reached the road at this point, and Roman cautiously turned the key further to start the car. The engine roared to life. You remembered Dean’s proud announcement of, “came straight from the line with over 700 horses, I tuned it up even tighter for extra asswhuppin’.”

Reigns grimaced. “It’s louder than before, Christ.”

“Ambrose knows his stuff.” Rollins said by way of agreement, his fingers tapping away at the seat cushions beside your hand. “May not know how to keep that stuff quiet, but he knows it.” Over the idling engine you heard several loud popping noises. Roman gritted out a curse. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Seth took your hand, squeezing it a little too tightly. The darkness outside the vehicle was broken by the faint lights from your house up on the hill. You could only just see several forms moving around in the many windows.

“What’s happening, Seth?” You asked softly. More popping met your ears, closer this time.

“He’s coming, it’ll be okay.” Seth said, not meeting your eyes and instead shooting a worried look at Roman as the larger man unbuckled his seat belt. “Roman, don’t-”

“If he’s hurt…Seth, we can’t leave him. I’m not leaving him.” Roman said, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his stoic act.

“He’s not dumb enough to get hurt, man. Put your seat belt back on. He’s gonna’ make it. Nobody knows the plan better than--”

The front passenger door was suddenly ripped open from the outside, making everyone jump. Seth had his arm in front of you and Roman had his handgun drawn before your brain could really register the motions. “Now now big fella’, you wouldn’t blow a hole in my skull, wouldja’?” rasped a familiar voice.

Roman holstered his gun and all but dragged Ambrose into the SUV, burying his face in the other man’s hair for a moment. “Don’t do that to me again.” Reigns choked out, shoving Dean back to his seat and quickly wiping his eyes.

“Hey, we stuck to the plan. Everything’s okay. Well, mostly.” Dean’s laugh was more of a cough. “I always forget how many is too many.” Something struck the passenger side window with a loud ‘pang!’. “Roman, uh, let’s get the fuck outta’ here. Open up the Bandwagon. Wanna’ see how it does with an expert at the wheel.” Dean coughed again, and you then realized he had a death grip on his side. “Also, might have gotten grazed. Nothin’ to worry about right now, but maybe later one of you g-”

“Grazed? As in, shot?!” Was that what those popping sounds were?! It was a far cry from what the movies made them out to be! “Dean, Jesus Christ!” You blurted.

“Here’s a tip that’ll do you good in life, gorgeous. Don’t--ah, ow--don’t bring a knife to a gun fight. Unless you like a challenge.” Dean groaned as he lolled his head back against the headrest. Seth reached over him hurriedly and clicked his seatbelt into the buckle. Dean huffed out a breath. “Such a mother hen.”

The vehicle’s headlights snapped on, brilliant angel eye LEDs illuminating the road and throwing everything into contrast. Dean hummed, seeming pleased. “Everyone buckled?” Roman asked calmly. There was another sharp ‘pang!’, on the window by Seth this time. You flinched at the noise, clinging tighter to Seth's hand.

“You bet your ass. Drag that shit, give it all you’ve got.”

When Roman shifted the SUV and gave it some gas, you felt like your heart was trying to leap out of your throat. Seth laughed incredulously from his spot beside you as the vehicle tore off like a bat out of hell. “Hell yeah, go Grandwagon!”

“Jesus Christ Ambrose, what did you feed this thing?!” Roman sputtered, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Nothin’ I didn’t think you could handle.” Dean grinned. “You’re scratchin’ the surface, big fella’. When we get to the highway, open it up.”

You grabbed Seth’s arm and clung tight in anticipation. Rollins didn’t seem to be able to stop his giddy laughter, resting his cheek on your head and reaching over Dean’s seat to pat his shoulder appreciatively. “You’re the best Dean!”

Roman expertly guided the eager Trackhawk along the narrow, winding roads leading away from your house, smoothly shifting gears to put distance between the vehicle and the residence.

“So is anyone going to tell me what's going on?” You asked after several minutes of relative silence had gone by.

Dean craned his neck so he could make eye contact with you in the backseat. “Gorgeous, you remember the guy tailing you and your mom when you went to get that princess dress?”

You would be hard-pressed to forget being that scared. You nodded and Ambrose squinted, shifting a little.

“We, that is, Roman an’ I, went after the guy. Sent Rollins t’ cover you. That scumbag should have known better than to try and sneak out the back. That whole store was basically designed like a kill zone for fuck’s sake, ain’t hard to figure out that it’s a shady joint.” He made a noise of disgust. “Follow the money an’ sure as shit you'll find it's soaked in blood.”

“We briefly interrogated the man and of course, he spilled the whole plan pretty quickly. We didn’t take too kindly to being kept in the dark. One of us could have gotten hurt in the attempt, after all,” Roman carried on where Dean left off, “Your dad dismissing us for the whole gala was something we didn't see coming. We now knew there were people out to get you, but that stunt in the bridal shop seemed a little desperate. Meant they were willing to take you in public. So, Rollins infiltrated the party to escort you elsewhere.”

Willing to take you in public. Your whole body broke out in a cold sweat.

“Your parents hadn’t had any contact with us since the gala. But earlier this month someone claiming to be your dad sent us an email with fucking paragraphs of praise and a request that the three of us enjoy some time off since they’d be picking you up for the ‘annual Christmas vacation’.” Seth rolled his eyes. “Whoever is out for you hasn't exactly done their research. Might be the reason why we made it as far as we did, these people just assuming that we were doing our jobs as your security. At this point, though, I think they’re on to us.”

“I don't understa-”

Headlights blazed to life behind the SUV. A flurry of ‘pang!’s met your ears and Roman shouted, “Rollins!”

Which led to the current mess, Seth unbuckled, a sniper rifle in his hands and the rear window of the Jeep cracked open so he could take a few pot shots at your pursuers. One of the cars drew up alongside and you covered your ears as shots rattled against the glass beside your head.

Seth dropped his gun and grabbed hold of one of your legs, attempting to pull you underneath his body across the bench seat. Your seat belt held, unfortunately, and the back of your head slammed against the hard paneling on the door when your torso slid under the lap belt.

Everything went black.

“--on the highway, Reigns!”

“-happened to the-”

“-gorgeous, please, please!”

“--bump, they’ll be okay-”

Loud, panicked voices faded in and out; you were vaguely aware of the car moving beneath you and something pressing down on you. Your head hurt, and you gladly surrendered to the pull of unconsciousness. If this was what an action scene was really like, you’d had more than enough excitement...

…

When you woke up, you kept your eyes closed. Brow furrowed, you tried to discern why you felt like something was wrong.

It struck you after a moment that the noise of the highway close to your house was strangely absent. Your eyes flew open and you sat bolt upright, cringing in pain and running your fingers over the back of your head until you found the lumpy source of your discomfort. That mystery solved, you slowly took in the room around you in confusion.

The walls and ceiling were bare, unfinished wood, a stark contrast to your bedroom at home. The bed itself was piled high with a mishmash of quilts, and beneath that directly against your body was a pelt of some kind. Or maybe a group of smaller pelts, all sewn together? It was a cream color, soft and warm. A hysterical laugh bubbled in your throat as Gaston’s antler-heavy decor in Beauty And The Beast came to mind. The room definitely had that rustic feel to it.

The door of the room was slightly ajar, and you could hear quiet voices in the next room over. Nervously, you slid out from beneath the blankets, wrapping one of the quilts around your shoulders as an afterthought when the chill of the room hit you. You tiptoed to the door, overly cautious. After all, you couldn’t exactly remember how you had gotten here! It couldn’t hurt to be careful.

The door eased open a little more at your touch. Firelight played over the wall that you could see, bathing the wood in dancing shadows. You tried to open the door the rest of the way, but the hinges creaked loudly. You froze.

There was a rustling and the thud of rapidly approaching footfalls, then the door handle was wrenched out of your hand. You screamed, pressing your back to the wall next to the door as your fists raised instinctively. You were currently cornered by a stranger with a well-kept beard and strangely bleached streak in his hair. Said stranger shifted his weight nervously at your exclamation, his brow furrowed.

There were two other men in the room, you realized quickly. Your eyes were drawn without your conscious involvement to the coagulated puddle of blood at the light-haired man's side and you felt sick to your stomach as the large man with the tattoo covering his entire arm got to his feet. All three of them were so much bigger than you. Bruce Lee's Art Of Fighting might have made for excellent reading, but you were relatively certain that the absence of years of skilled training on your end rendered the knowledge down to historic clumps of text and black and white images.

“Gorgeous?” The light-haired man asked slowly, like he was addressing you. His face was overgrown with stubble and deep shadows marred the area beneath his piercing blue eyes. He looked exhausted and wary.

“I remember you.” You said shakily, jabbing a brave finger in the direction of the blond-streaked individual. An expression of guilt flitted across his face, strengthening your meager resolve. “You were hanging from the rafters and...and then you rushed me from the counter! And then I backed into you and...oh God, am I kidnapped? You knocked me out and kidnapped me! Where are my clothes?!” Your voice rose to a fever pitch, “I'll give you anything you want, I swear! M-My parents...they'll pay whatever amount you set, just please don't hurt me anymore!” You begged, cowering away from the man as best as you could.

“'Anymore'?” The man with the streak in his hair repeated, sounding confused.

“The back of my head is throbbing, I've got a lump and everything!”

“Let me see.” He demanded, reaching out again.

“Stay away from me! Don't touch me!” You cried, thankful beyond words when he immediately halted. “I just want to go home, p-please!”

The light-haired man exhaled hard, those eyes trained on the back of the man in front of you. “Give 'em some space, Seth.” He said finally. The tattooed man rolled his shoulders menacingly, but remained silent.

Seth (if that's really his name your brain piped up) however, began to protest. “Ambrose, I-”

“No. They're freakin’ out. Back off.” Ambrose (?) ordered. The man with the light streak (Seth?) obeyed without further question. “Look, uh, I promise, as weird as this all seems, we didn't...kidnap you.” Ambrose continued carefully, like he was maneuvering around telling you the whole truth. “Not really. More like...rescued?” He clearly noticed your look of disbelief, because he swore under his breath. You flinched at the curse, not used to such rough language. “You obviously remember your parents. D'you remember anything...specific about them?”

“They're away on a trip. They always are.” You replied curtly (hopefully not too curtly, these men were huge in their own right and you were deathly afraid of upsetting them). “What did you do to my security team?” A terrible thought struck you as you once again looked at the bloodied bandages on Ambrose's side. “Did you...you didn't...did you kill them?” You breathed, horrified.

“No, hell no! Listen to me, we did not kidnap you!” He exclaimed. “We're not kidnappers or murderers or whatever the fuck!” His irritated tone of voice did little to dissuade your concerns and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You tried to wipe them away, but more rushed in to take their place and began rolling down your cheeks. “There was a break-in, shit, over a year ago at this point, remember? Y'know, the reason why you had a security team in the first place?”

“S-Someone was...” A hazy image surfaced in your mind. The man with the streak in his hair (Seth?) slipping through your bedroom window, grinning like a fiend. “It was you, you broke in!” You accused, your finger yet again pointed in Seth’s direction. “You came in through my window!”

“I did sometimes.” Seth allowed. “You thought it was funny because I would go out through one window on the other side of the house, sprint across the roof and then swing in through yours. You don't...you don't remember that part?” He asked hesitantly. “We're uh...we're your current security team. Have been for almost a year now.”

You were shaking your head before he was even done speaking. “My parents only hired professionals.”

“Your parents.” The large man with the tattoo spoke up, his words a furious hiss. You shrank back at the harshness of his voice, wondering what your parents had done to earn his ire.

“Easy Roman.” Ambrose murmured, one hand on the other man's arm. Thick black hair surrounded Roman's face like a tangled halo, extending past his shoulders to curl at his collarbone. His frown was framed by a goatee the same color as his hair. The tattoo was menacing enough, but the way his brown eyes narrowed had you thoroughly on edge. He scared you the most if you were being brutally honest, his stony demeanor and imposing form utterly terrifying.

“Please.” You begged pitifully, hating how the three of them continued to study you. “I just want to go home.”

“You wouldn’t be sayin’ that if you knew what was waiting for y’ there.” Ambrose said sharply, getting a better grip on Roman’s arm and pulling himself upright. “We’re the only friends you’ve got in this whole fuckin’ world right now, gorgeous. We promised to-” He paused, grimacing.

“You need to lay back down.” Roman muttered.

“-Promised to keep you safe, no matter what.” Ambrose continued, his fingers digging into Roman’s shoulder hard enough to make the tan skin pale. “There was a breach. A security breach. Someone had been feelin’ out our perimeter and they finally acted on it last night. Rollins saw them first, he tipped us off.”

“Dean bought us the time we needed to get you to the Trackhawk.” Seth’s voice was low, grave. “We were pursued. You hit your head when I grabbed you. It was...it was my fault.”

“I want to talk to my parents.”

“Listen, if we break radio silence now there's a relatively good chance whoever is trying to get you will absolutely find you.” Seth stressed the words tersely. “We were supposed to have the holidays off. Like the gala. Do you remember the gala?”

--Someone dragged you into the shadows of an alcove, you swung with all your might--

“You grabbed me and I hit you!” You retorted.

“I apologized for scaring you! And we went bowling afterwards!” Seth squawked. “I’m not some perv, you were crying and-”

“Because that makes it better, right? Grabbing someone when they’re already freaking out?” Where was this courage coming from?

“-and I just wanted to make you feel safe!” Seth finished loudly, clearly frustrated. You glared at him for raising his voice, folding your arms across your chest. For whatever reason, you at least felt like you had a fighting chance when it came to him. Ambrose was obviously the voice of sanity, and Roman was scary. But Seth was different.

“Christ. Go easy on a guy, will you?”

You recalled the moment as clear as day, the way he had nonchalantly rubbed at his throat where you had landed your strike. Your blow was nothing but a nuisance to him. How long had you been stuck with these three? What else had happened? “I want to talk to my parents.” You demanded again.

Ambrose sat down heavily on the ottoman by the fire, dropping his head into his hands. “Dean?” Seth asked, a note of fear shining through his tone. Ambrose waved off his concern with a low grunt. Seth ignored him, moving to his side and crouching so he could see the other man’s face. “Dean…”

“Room’s spinnin’. Mighta’ lost more blood than I thought.” Dean admitted through his fingers.

“I knew it. Ambrose you need a hospital.” Roman’s words were dismissed with the violent shake of a tawny head.

“I’ve made it through worse shit than this.” Dean growled.

“That’s not the point, idiot, we weren’t supposed to have to go through the worse shit anymore!” Seth snapped. “This gig was supposed to do it.”

“Oh, because this is the first time a plan has collapsed on top of us, right?” Roman shot back bitterly. “We knew this job was messed up from the start.”

“I ain’t saying that and you know it! Shit Ro, I never wanted Ambrose to get hurt.” Seth’s voice softened oddly. “Didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I hoped we would figure out a way around this.”

“Fact of the matter is that you can’t talk to your parents.” Dean addressed you around their conversation. “If these people are find out where we are, there’s a damn good chance you’ll wind up bagged. I’m not tryin’ to scare you. I’m just bein’ honest. All you are right now is a paycheck. They been tryin’ t’ get ahold of you for ages. It was all part of the plan”

Your legs gave out and you slid down the wall, hitting the floor with a quiet thud. “I…please.” You said stupidly. Your head was pounding, the room wavering uncertainly before your eyes.

“Rollins, get them back into bed. They gotta’ rest.”

“You do not touch them! Only we can touch them!”

“Gorgeous, you with us? Sorry we’re late.”

“Just us. Only us. Only us.”

Fragments of conversations you didn’t remember having looped in your brain, tangling and twisting into a ball and drowning out the voices in the room.

“Easy, easy, it’s okay. We’re getting you out of here.”

“Trust me, no matter how you feel, you look even dumber.”

“It’s us, man. They got him.”

With more care than you would have expected from a kidnapper, Seth eased you upright and tucked the quilt back around your shoulders. Your body all but fell into his own and he steadied you with a hand on the small of your back. “Don’t touch me.” You whispered, no real bite behind your words.

Seth’s hand rose to your arm instead, his grip tightening. “Just to get you back into bed.” He bargained. “Please.”

You wanted to cry. “No. I can get there myself.”

The wounded expression on his face was only there for a split second, then it smoothed back into a neutral mask. “Alright.” He slowly, agonizingly slowly, let you go, brown eyes chilled with something unreadable while he watched you like a hawk.

You fumbled back into the bedroom, not daring to hold his gaze for any length of time. What the hell was wrong with you? Did you actually believe them? You had been kidnapped! Given a rap over the head and all but Shanghaied! Was this that Stockholm syndrome you had read so much about? Because if it was, it was more dangerous than you could have imagined.

You laid down on the bed, clutching the quilts with shaky hands. The way that Seth had looked at you stirred something in the pit of your stomach. You were certain that if you had maintained eye contact, you would have…well, it didn’t bear thinking about. You shivered, gripping the blankets even tighter.

His eyes had shone in the light from the fire, wary and guilty, but the longing in them had taken your breath away. Clearly, whoever this man was, this burglar-turned-kidnapper, his emotions ran deep. His touch, for whatever reason, sent shockwaves through your body. Was it just because he was attractive? You immediately scolded yourself for your lapse in judgement, of course it was because he was attractive! Nobody ever gave you the time of day, so naturally you would read too much into someone just looking at you. You huffed out a frustrated breath.

Their names are Dean, Seth, and Roman...

…

At some point you must have drifted off because the next thing you knew, cold white light was streaming into the room in earnest. You groaned, caught between disappointment and relief that this wasn’t some wild dream.

“Awake again. How’s your head, gorgeous?”

You were pretty sure the scary guy was going to take years off of your life. Roman, you reminded yourself while you tried to manage your heart rate. “Do you have to watch me while I sleep?” You finally squeaked out.

Roman shrugged from his spot in the rough-hewn chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted. “Until a couple seconds ago, I was asleep too. You moved. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Oh! You were probably up with uh…Am...Ambrose, right?” You deduced, rolling onto your stomach so you could really study Roman. He didn’t look nearly so scary in the daylight, but he was still a clear and obvious threat. It couldn’t hurt to butter him up a little.

Roman nodded, scrubbing at his face in an effort to rouse himself. “Yeah. I think he’s stable now. Hard to tell with him. You remember that, huh? Anything else?” He asked, sounding weirdly hopeful.

You scrunched up your nose, actually trying to think back. “No.” You admitted. “All I’ve got is bits and pieces.”

Roman put his head in his hands and was silent for a few minutes. “It’s okay.” He whispered, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself. “It’ll be okay. You’re gonna’ remember at some point and we’ll be there.”

Your brow furrowed. These guys were either fantastic actors or you had actually meant something to them. You’re their meal ticket, stupid! Stop making it easy for them to get into your head!

“Ro?” There was a timid knock on the door. “Hey I made breakfast, are they…” Rollins trailed off upon seeing you awake. “Oh! Morning. How do you feel?” He asked cheerily. Obviously he had slept better than Reigns. Reigns? Roman.

“I wish you guys would knock it off with this buddy-buddy act. It’s creepy.” You muttered, sitting up and folding your arms firmly when Rollins sat on the edge of the bed.

“We can’t help it, gorgeous. This is how we’re used to being around you.” Seth reached for you, then hurriedly pulled back like he remembered what he was doing. “I’m…I’m sorry.” He apologized jerkily.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself soften a little. “You said something about breakfast?” You prompted him.

“Oh! Yeah, I made breakfast. Uh, Ro, food? Yeah?”

“Has Dean eaten?” Roman queried, standing up from his chair and stretching with a long, drawn-out groan.

“Made sure he ate first. I think he’s gonna’ make it.” Seth grinned. “If the amount of food he put away was any indicator, I’d say he’ll be up and about before you know it. He went right back to sleep once he was done.”

“Thank God.” Roman breathed, his shoulders slumping. “Food sounds great. You wanna’ watch them while I eat, or you wanna’ just bring everything-” Seth sprang off the bed and pushed the door open the rest of the way, picking up two plates. “-in here.” Roman finished, accepting a plate from the eager young man. “Breakfast is served, gorgeous.”

“Fuck you guys, leaving me all alone in the living room like I’m some kinda’ nuisance!” Seth winced at the volume of Dean’s voice, hurriedly passing you the other plate and then scurrying back into the living room.

“You want half of mine? I can’t eat this much.” You offered Roman quickly.

Roman glanced up, then sidelong at your overloaded plate. “If you’re sure you don’t want it, yeah. Can’t waste food.”

You scraped a hearty assortment of the eggs and bacon off your dish and onto his own, ignoring his murmured thanks. This was a strategic choice, to make sure your food hadn’t been poisoned or otherwise altered in a detrimental manner. You watched Roman narrowly while he tucked into the larger portion, observing his lack of hesitance or wariness as he ate.

Once he was nearly done, you took a tiny bite of your toast. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were beforehand and keeping track of Roman faded to the background of your mind as you devoured your breakfast.

“He’s a great cook for being such a crossfit weirdo.” Roman gestured towards the door with his fork, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I heard that!” Seth protested, returning to the bedroom with a bleary-eyed Dean hanging off of his shoulder. The light-haired man did look mildly improved; he had gotten some color back in his face.

“Heya’ gorgeous, miss me?” He asked cheekily, making a loud smooching noise with his mouth. Against your better judgement, you let a tiny giggle escape. “See Rollins? They’re still in there. Nobody can resist my charm for long, even if they don’t remember nothin’ else.” Dean grinned, giving Seth a weak punch in the shoulder.

“I will drop you, Ambrose.”

You quickly determined that you weren’t going to be left alone. For someone like you, this was a horrifying revelation. You valued your peace and quiet and these three were anything but. Thank God you found a few of your favorite books deep in the backpack Seth had said was yours.

The snowstorm appeared to have slowed to a light but steady flurry. Roman and Seth took turns shoveling out the vehicle you had glimpsed from the window, Seth waving off your offer of help. “I don’t want to risk losing y--er, losing anything in this rough weather.” He explained as he hung his jacket up by the fire to dry.

“That’s not fair to you guys though!” You protested, hiding your disappointment at the fact that he could see through your ploy so easily. So many half-hearted plans were fighting for space in your brain, you hadn’t really given much thought to what you might do if you did get outside. It was cold, and you hadn’t exactly brought your glacier-scaling gear. Plus, you had no idea where you were!

“If you’re hell-bent on killin’ yourself that’s fine. Go on ahead. But you’re not takin’ either of my boys with you.” Dean growled. “Gorgeous, I know you’re scared. I wouldn’t be so hot if I was in your shoes with my memories missin’. Please. Don’t do anythin’ stupid when you’re like this. I’m beggin’ you, please.” His tone had then dropped to a plaintive rasp, vastly different from his humorous jibes earlier. “You, Reigns an’ Rollins are all I’ve got in this world. I’ve…I’ve lost so much. Please, gorgeous.”

Seth hushed him, digging his fingers into his hair almost like he was petting him. Roman urged their partner to lay back down, saying, “You need rest, Ambrose. We don’t want to lose you either, you know.” His expression had softened to the point where he was no longer scary to you, his concern for Dean blatantly obvious through the tough façade he clearly tried hard to maintain.

Dean spoke with you at length while the other two were outside, the light-haired man attempting to lessen your worries in a way that seemed to give you as little information as possible. You hated to admit that, despite his roundabout way of talking, some of the things he mentioned resonated, shoving forward half-recollections from the dark patch that clouded your mind.

You shook your head, ducking underneath the covers and chewing on your thumb as you mulled over the day’s events. You were so conflicted. It wouldn’t have been as bad if your brain didn’t keep offering up weird little bits and pieces of past experiences that you couldn’t fully recall. For all you knew, they were telling the truth. But for all you knew, they weren’t. You flopped back on the pillows, pressing your fists to your forehead and fighting the urge to scream in frustration. Your mind kept looping one scene, startlingly vivid and searing a line of heat through your belly.

--Roman slamming his shoulder into the side of a man who had his hands tight on your upper arms, momentum sending the two of them to the ground. “You do not touch them!” He had announced firmly. “Only we can touch them!”

His face when he had said that, the look in his eyes...what if they were lying? What if they weren’t?

Something bumped against the door. Not hard enough to be a knock, but not light enough to be your imagination or just some creak of the cabin.

Curious now, you slipped out of the bed, shivering at the temperature of the floor. Once you left the safety of the covers, the cold latched onto your body. As fast as you dared, you snuck to the door and turned the handle. Roman was apparently sleeping against your door, his body slumped forward with that deadly-looking hand cannon resting on his right thigh.

You looked at the gun, up at his face and then back to the gun. He stirred and you knew you had to act quickly so he wouldn’t wake the others. Your plan was hardly half-formed when you put it in motion, closing the door again and straddling Roman’s lap. Despite his talk earlier of being a light sleeper, he showed no signs of waking. You cursed inwardly. Maybe you shouldn’t have put yourself in this position before-

He groaned and you sucked in a breath as his eyes drowsily opened. His brow furrowed, those brown eyes slightly crossed when he tried to focus on your face so close to his own. “Gorgeous?” He muttered, obviously caught off-guard.

Good.

“It’s me, Roman.” You whispered back. “Hi.” You took another gamble and cupped his face, rubbing your thumbs through the dark stubble that coated his jaw.

“Y…really?”

“Yes, I remember. I’ve missed you so much.” You said, trying to sound heartfelt.

The speed that he embraced you at startled you, as did the shuddering exhale into your neck. “Christ, gorgeous, I thought Seth was gonna’ go to pieces. When he grabbed you without unbuckling you and you hit your head…we thought you got shot. It was pandemonium.”

You almost felt guilty for playing him like this, but you were fairly certain you wouldn’t get straight answers any other way. “It’s alright. I don’t blame him.” Your hand closed on the grip of his abandoned gun, the weapon lighter than you expected. How to take down an opponent larger than you: You’re already going to be at a disadvantage.

“We should wake them up, they ought to-” You cut him off in a hurry by kissing him clumsily, making him grunt into your mouth before his fingers wove into your hair. His kisses were hungry, foreign and familiar all at once. Your body lit up, losing yourself in the sensation of closeness with another human being. This was so strange, barely-restrained emotions you couldn’t name surging wildly in your chest. You felt almost like you needed to cry.

Roman turned you around in his lap, touching his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He moved you easily, like he had done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had. Your mind tentatively fluttered a few images in the background when you felt his cock twitch through his pants.

“You’re all set for the night, gorgeous. You rest now.”

The muzzle of the gun pressed to the underside of Roman’s jaw and he went still, obviously comprehending the gravity of the situation. “I want answers.” You breathed, jabbing the unfamiliar weapon up a little harder. In the dim light from the fireplace, you could see the forms of Seth and Dean on the floor sound asleep. You would need to be stealthy about this.

“I don't think the gun is necessary.” Roman murmured back.

“Don’t screw with me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Serious as cancer.” You gritted out. “Hot lead brain cancer.” You had heard the line in a movie once and you hoped against hope that Roman hadn’t seen the same film. The last thing you needed was him calling your bluff. It was all you could do to keep the gun steady where it dug into his jaw. Roman could easily overpower you. Easily. The easiest out of all of them.

But even he had his Kryptonite. “Damn, you’re intimidating like this.” You could hear the smile in his voice and your body was suddenly flush with heat once more. “What do you want to know?”

“I want straight, succinct answers, not the vague bull that Ambrose was feeding me. Where am I?”

“Different question.”

“You can’t do that!” You protested.

“I can’t, but I will. What are you gonna’ do? Shoot me or ask me a question that will give you an actual answer?” Roman challenged. You swore you could feel the rasp of his stubble travel down the gun’s barrel to the grip.

“Fine.” You spat, biting your lip. “What...what are you guys planning on doing to me?”

His hands stayed on your thighs, fingers digging into your skin while he mulled your question over. For whatever reason his erection didn’t seem to have wilted, continuing to press insistently against the small of your back even with a gun in his face. “I would apologize for my state, but I’m pretty sure you don’t care.” He whispered.

Oh, you cared. You cared immensely. “Naturally. Just answer the damn question.” You hissed. His hands pried your thighs open and shoved your left leg over his own. The right soon followed, spreading you wide in his lap with your back to his chest. You gasped and he covered your mouth, a grunt leaving him when you jabbed the gun upwards against the bottom of his jaw a little harder than before in warning.

“Easy now gorgeous, you’ll bruise me. Just making sure you don’t wake Ambrose or Rollins. They’re…jumpy.” Roman explained in an undertone. “You do have a gun in my face. I’d hate to get my brains blown out because they’re a little excitable.”

“Smart man.” You didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him. “Now, what are you guys planning on doing to me?”

“To you? Nothing. At least, nothing unless you consent to it.” You rolled your eyes. “With you though...we’re trying to figure that out. The people after you obviously have a pretty broad reach. You probably should have pulled this little stunt on Rollins. He’s the brains of the outfit.” Roman admitted. “All I know is that we were assigned to you with the warning of this eventually happening. Our organization figured it was our best bet, and your parents seemed to agree. Hell, why do you think we were hired in the first place? We aren’t security, gorgeous. You've probably already put that together.”

“You were…you were hired to kill me?” You asked weakly.

“What? No. Well...I mean, that might have been what people expected since our specialty is more to…neglect to protect our clients. We make it look accidental if someone winds up dead.” Roman shrugged as best as he could, like he hadn't dropped utterly chilling information onto you. “We were assigned to the rich kid bait under the assumption that your stalkers would know exactly who we are, as well as what we specialize in. It was supposed to press them into action. We just...” Roman hesitated, “We didn't expect you to be kind to us, we expected a spoiled brat. It changed our whole game plan, basically, and that spot with the guy in the bridal store was a little too close for comfort.”

-Seth jumping over the wall, his body shielding yours while the dressing room doorknob jiggled--

“You’re not like our usual assignments. We’ve told you that.” Roman swallowed hard. “We knew we needed to really be on top of things, or risk losing you. So we did what we do best. We trained. We stockpiled. We prepared.” He shifted beneath you. “Even trained you, as I’m sure you’ve put together by now. Taught you a few moves in case something happened and we were separated from you.”

“Bet you regret that.” You said triumphantly, prodding him with the gun.

Roman splayed his palm on your stomach, absently rubbing small circles. “I don’t regret a damn thing, gorgeous. I know you can’t remember much of it, but we've got no reason to lie to you. The months that we’ve had with you were the best that they could have been. We’re not giving that up without a fight.” He replied.

The raw honesty in his voice gave you pause. What if they weren’t lying? A little late for second thoughts, you’ve got a gun at his throat! You scolded yourself.

“Granted, being seduced and pumped for information at gunpoint is uh, a new one on me. But there’s a first time for everything.” He was smiling again, that jackass. You growled in irritation. “Wait, am I not being seduced?”

“You’re such a jerk.” You hated that you were blushing this hard. “Don’t get comfortable, big guy. Let’s not forget that you’re the one without the gun.”

“I haven’t gotten comfortable in the slightest. Mainly because I can tell how wet you are. You’re hot and dripping through my clothes, gorgeous. It’s hard to be comfortable when I should be inside you. Something you need to tell me about your power play fantasies?” He whispered in your ear, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like having me at your mercy.”

“Don’t say things like that!” You reprimanded him, feeling your legs trying to close on reflex while your body sought relief. His hands tightened on your thighs though, keeping you spread open on his lap.

“You could, if you wanted to. You can pretty much call the shots here, gorgeous. I know exactly how much power that gun’s got, and I’d rather not have it splitting my head open at this exceptional point blank range.” Roman’s voice was nothing but a deep purr, vibrating against your ear. “Wouldn't mind if you decided to maybe get a little greedy for me. A little demanding, even.”

What had you been planning on doing? Your head was filling slowly with half-memories, tastes and sensations flooding you in an overwhelming surge. You whimpered without meaning to and Roman seized the opportunity to kiss you again.

You somehow knew what to do in response to every curl of his tongue against your own. You remembered forms, caresses, shadowy longing. An aching familiarity mixed with the uncertainty of your piecemeal recollections, fanning the flames of confusion and arousal in your stomach.

“Because of who we are…what we do, we promised each other that we would take priority over every mission.” Roman gasped out when the two of you parted once more. “And then…and then you came along. The bait for the trap. With all your books and your family that wasn't and we just…we lost, gorgeous. We lost hard.” You went to move and Roman grabbed your wrist, keeping the gun firm. “Oh no you don’t. If you’re shooting someone, it’s going to be me.” His eyes were downright ferocious in the dim light from the fire and it slowly dawned on you that he was absolutely serious.

“You would die for them, huh?” You tried to sound nonchalant, pushing the gun up again to punctuate your question.

“For them and you.” Roman replied sternly. “Without hesitation.” He pressed his mouth to your own once more, fervent murmurs escaping his lips to hang half-spoken in the heated air between you.

“I don’t understand.” You managed to murmur through his ravenous kisses. “Why would you…”

“I know.” Roman tapped the elastic band on your borrowed pair of sleeping shorts. “It doesn’t matter. You call the shots.”

“Your cock out, now.” You demanded before you could really think about how crazy this was. “If you can still get it up with a gun to your head.”

“Lord have mercy, you’re a fucking terror.” Roman choked out after a few moments of silence. He reached down to unzip his pants, shoving the fly open and straining to free his cock through the hole in his boxers. You were starting to suspect that Roman might possibly have a few…quirks of his own when it came to this situation. His body obviously didn’t mind being held at gunpoint.

“You’re supposed to be scared.” You snapped.

“Did I not just call you a terror?” Roman asked. “I work decent under pressure. Try not to make me panic here. Won’t end well for me.” He knocked his chin against the barrel of his hand cannon. “You just keep that gun right where you've got it, and I'll do whatever you want.”

You reached down silently, your fingers closing around his own on his shaft. Roman's breath hitched. “I think you wanted this, Roman.” You whispered. “Is it hard being like you all the time? So strong and brave and in charge?” You gave him a lazy stroke and his head fell back against the door, baring his entire throat to you. You watched his adam's apple bob with his next convulsive swallow.

“Please.” His voice was hardly there. “God damn it, please gorgeous.”

You nuzzled your nose into his neck beside the barrel of the gun and Roman shuddered all over, one hand moving downwards to cup your groin through the thin material of your sleeping shorts. “You're not putting your cock inside me.” You murmured. “I'm not that dumb.”

He wrapped his other hand back around his cock and started stroking himself. “That's fine. I don't need to put my cock inside you.” He grunted. “You're wet through these shorts, gorgeous. This pussy wants me. But hey, deprivation is self-discipline, right? It's not like I can't get myself off like this.” He gently pressed the heel of his palm down on your pubic mound, igniting sparks in your core. “That's right.” He murmured in response to your harsh inhale. “Grind against my hand, circle those hips and use me to get off. Do it gorgeous, do it.”

Your grip on the gun faltered but Roman didn't even seem to notice, kissing you again and rutting his hips upwards to meet his fist. His index finger sought out your clit through the thin fabric of your shorts, stroking over the sensitive nub and grinning when you gasped into his mouth.

“I've got you now, gorgeous. You want someone to dominate? Someone to boss around? I'm pretty sure I can fufill that particular need even better than the guys in your books. You just keep wriggling like that and-” Roman's words choked off as you jabbed him with the gun again, cutting off his breath and forcing his chin up.

“So full of yourself.” You muttered, taking his shaft in your hand and feeling more than hearing him groan. “You're not going to do anything except be obedient.” You rubbed the head of his cock roughly, running your thumb over the slit with firm, repetitive strokes.

“I'm gonna' come.” He choked out suddenly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm coming--” Roman shuddered beneath you, his hips jerking as his cock spurted onto your thighs and stomach. “Hah, fuck.” He gasped, his chest heaving against your back. “That's fucking embarrassing. Oh well.”

His arms suddenly wrapped around you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. The gun hung uselessly down by his thigh as Roman took a few deep, steadying breaths. You squirmed, marveling inwardly at the lack of terror that you felt even while being restrained.

“You alright, Reigns?” Oh no, Ambrose was awake. You watched in horror as Rollins sat up next to Dean, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely.

Roman ignored the other men for a moment. “A gun only works under two conditions, gorgeous. One: you have to be mentally prepared to pull the trigger. And two: it needs to be loaded.” Roman hissed in your ear.

Your eyes widened.

Roman paused. “Oh, and the safety needs to be off. Three conditions.” His grin was insufferably smug.

“You…oh wow.” Seth seemed to be at a loss for words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes rested on Roman’s cock, still twitching against your stomach over your night shirt.

“This could be the kinkiest shit I see in person in my lifetime.” Dean announced, making Roman laugh. “You fucked him, with a gun to his head? Ku-fuckin’-dos, gorgeous. Kinda’ surprised he didn’t pump you full in retaliation, honestly.”

“You knew it wasn’t loaded!” You exclaimed, knowing that you had no real right to be upset. This strategy had been half-baked at best. Roman tapped your wrist and you released his gun without a fight. You felt yourself go bright red in the face with embarrassed frustration while Roman flipped open the revolver with a practiced flick of his wrist and spun the dry chambers, illustrating that there hadn’t been any danger whatsoever. “Why even go along with it then? You just wanted me to make a fool of myself or something?”

Roman shook his head. “I liked it, why wouldn't I go along with it?” He grinned, “Granted, you startled me at first. I didn't think you had it in you, gorgeous.”

A hand cupped your chin, gently pulling it upwards. Seth offered you a smile. “Hey, it was a good try. Would have worked in a scenario where you were actually in danger, no doubt. You used the resources you had access to.” He praised.

“Fat lot of good it did me!”

“It would have kept you alive. That’s all that matters.” Seth said firmly. “Now, how about you come with me and I’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

Roman gave you a teasing nip on the neck before you got up and you squealed, smacking his chest. Dean chuckled, “Show him who’s boss, gorgeous,” loudly smooching your cheek on the way by.

Seth led you to the bathroom, sitting you up on the sink like you were a small child and then rummaging in the closet for a washcloth. “Are you alright?” He asked softly while he ran the tap.

You nodded, pursing your lips. “Not like I won’t get over being embarrassed.” You raked a hand through your hair, feeling the twitch of an aftershock send a delicious shudder down your spine. You hadn't come from Roman's haphazard ministrations and you couldn't help but wonder whether he would have fucked you if you had let him.

“I’m glad. Glad you didn’t hurt Roman, either.” Seth was dangerous. Seth meant what he said. “We’re all we’ve got in the world, so we try to take care of one another.”

“Roman mentioned.” You grumbled.

“Did he tell you why?” You shook your head and Seth sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “There was an assignment that…the client got in my head. Real deep.” He muttered, seeming ashamed. “I almost got Reigns and Ambrose killed. It was so close to happening. Ambrose…heh, he can take a lot, but that just about broke him.” Seth stared down at the now-wet washcloth in his hands.

“What happened?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you. “I mean, if you want to tell me you can. You don’t have to.” You hurriedly amended.

“We hadn’t really uh, spilled the beans to one another. About…about the fact that we all liked each other a little more than partners normally do. Look, specifics don’t matter. Long story short, Ambrose got fucked up pretty badly. Roman could at least still move but…shit, I thought he was going to kill me himself.” Seth’s little laugh was mirthless, a hollow noise. “There was blood everywhere and I was bawling my eyes out. Roman had his cannon to my head saying that he wanted answers while he’s trying to hold pressure on his shoulder with his other hand and Ambrose just…it was like he came back from the dead out of sheer spite.”

“-don’t bring a knife to a gun fight-”

“So he’s stubborn.” You shook off the memory of Dean’s voice, unsure of when that had even been from.

“That’s the understatement of the century. Dean cracked his head into mine and he screamed, ‘you’ll have to do better than that!’, this maniac grin on his face the whole time. He had his fingers wrapped around my throat, Roman’s hand cannon all primed up against my skull itching to pull that trigger. I’ve never apologized so hard in my life. I begged for forgiveness.”

Seth spread your legs and carefully smoothed the washcloth over your thighs, making you shiver. You wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself, needing an anchor. He hummed soothingly, letting you rock against the pressure of his hand.

“Once we had Ambrose safe and sound in a hospital, Roman took me aside and told me in no uncertain terms that I was on thin ice with him. He absolutely would have killed me.” Recalling Roman’s deadly fierce expression from earlier, you could see it happening. “’Love is a garbage thing, Rollins. Makes my hands shake. Makes me hesitate, second-guess.’ He sounded so angry with himself.” Rollins shook his head, working the warm cloth in small circles. “He punched me right in the mouth and then he hugged me so tight I thought he was gonna’ break my spine.”

Your whine seemed to catch him by surprise. His story was doing nothing to distract from the fact that he was absolutely teasing you on purpose, the warm washcloth equal parts calming and riling. You hiccupped in a breath and he groaned, a kiss landing right beneath your ear. “Seth.” You said softly.

“Yes, gorgeous?”

It had been so much simpler with Roman. You hadn't had time to think. Now you felt shaky, restless in a way that made your knees tremble. Hungry. “Seth, I...I'm scared.” You admitted. He immediately went to move back, his expression concerned. But you caught the back of his neck, rooting him in place. “Not of you. Any of you. I'm scared because if...if what you guys told me is true, that means that we're all in trouble.”

“Not unless we lose you.” Seth breathed, touching his forehead to your own. “Trust me, that's when the real trouble would happen.”

“I want to believe you.”

“It's okay if you don't.” Seth replied kindly. He kissed you and you leaned into it, fingers grasping desperately at his shirt. “Easy gorgeous. I'm not going anywhere.” He murmured, sliding down your body and spreading your legs. “I'm here. Only us. Even if you don't remember, only us.”

...

“Only us.” A large, tan hand dug into Seth's hair, tugging hard enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Roman kissed the other man's throat when he bared it, gently nipping the stubbled skin with his teeth.

You had gone back to bed after spending a considerable amount of time with Rollins in the bathroom. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the two of you had been doing, so both Dean and Roman were a little surprised when their brother in arms emerged red-faced and clearly hard. The slick coating his beard had offered an excellent clue though, and Ambrose wasted no time cleaning up.

“They taste so damn good, don't they?” He gasped into Seth’s mouth, sloppily tracing his tongue along his facial hair. Seth nodded furiously. “You took care of them? Made sure they didn't go to bed riled up?”

“They're better, yeah. I just wish they would believe us.” Seth sighed, tearing up a little and doing his best to play it off. “They remember bits and pieces. Nothing solid. I know they trust us. I doubt they would have let me get them cleaned up and put my mouth on them if they didn't trust me.” He twiddled his fingers and then moaned as Roman slid his hand into his boxers.

“You're dripping, Rollins. See somethin’ you like?” Dean teased, his tongue poking out from between his teeth.

“Hah, Roman with his cock out and a gun to his head was uh…” Seth shuddered all over as he recalled the moment: stirred from his sleep by rhythmic motion, turning over into his side and realizing that Ambrose was already awake and watching, always watching, as Roman cradled you in his lap and rolled his hips up to meet your hand.

Ambrose had shot Seth a predatory grin and jerked his chin up, pointing out the gun that you held underneath Reigns’ jaw. It was Roman's gun. Roman always had it with him, but he never actually had it loaded unless they were actively working. His reasoning was that if someone was planning on doing anything unsavory, the last thing he wanted was them swiping his gun with bullets ready in the chamber. Obviously you didn't remember that, and it sure as hell made for a thrilling display.

“Maybe I could get ‘em to hold a knife on me.” Dean mused in the here and now, laughing quietly at the responding pitiful whine from Seth. “Oh you like that idea? Good.”

“I dunno’, Dean. Can't exactly unload a knife.” Roman warned pragmatically.

Dean's grin was even wider than before. “Yeah, ain't it great?”

“You got some weird kinks, Ambrose.”

“Uh, I'm sorry, were you not the one fucking the hand of someone with a gun ready inna’ position to pulp ya’ tongue and brains? It would seem that someone in the group is finally freakier than I am.” Dean nudged Roman in the ribs. “Knives are one thing, but guns, Ro?”

“Only if I know it's unloaded!” Roman protested. “I...It's the feeling of it, I guess. I'm so used to the cannon it's kinda’ mundane. Someone else touching it, holding it-”

“Strokin’ the trigger, slidin’ it under your jaw nice an’ easy...are we still talkin’ about the gun, or did ya’ change y’ dick's name while I wasn't payin’ attention?”

“I was talking about the gun.” Roman palmed over Seth's stomach.

“Can we do that sometime?” Seth begged. “Promise I'll be careful.”

“As if I need incentive to rail you harder.” Roman muttered, his rude words achingly fond. “Sure, I'll let you play with my gun if you let me play with yours. Unloaded. Deal?”

Rollins’ voice cracked when Roman groped his cock, his thumb rubbing small circles just beneath the head exactly how Seth liked it. Dean quickly got in on the action himself, shoving Seth's shirt up to lick and suck at his nipples until Seth had to bite down on his own knuckles in a losing effort to keep quiet. “N--not fair, Dean-” He gasped.

His partners knew every button to press, every inch of sensitive skin to torment. He was helpless under their attentions, trapped between them in the best way possible. His surrender wasn't something instinctive. Seth was not a submissive person by nature; he had fought his way to the top of every pile he had ever been thrown under. But this wasn't about submission. He could tease Roman until the other man begged to be fucked. He could make Ambrose do whatever he asked, whenever he asked. It wasn't about submission. It was about the trust the three of them had.

The four of them had.

Seth felt tears roll down his cheeks when he came and he rubbed at his eyes, sniffling pitifully. Roman enveloped him in a warm hug and Dean began stroking his hair in a comforting manner. “It's alright, Seth.” Reigns whispered. “We miss them too.”

Seth gave in to crying in earnest then, his whole body wracked with sobs as he just slumped against Dean's chest and felt Roman hug him a little tighter. “Cry it out, y’ big baby.” Ambrose encouraged roughly. “We got work t’ do, so clear your system and then we'll put y’ to bed.”

“Thank you.” Rollins huffed out, feeling stupid for losing his composure but grateful that his brothers didn't judge him.

Eventually the three of them made their way to the blankets on the floor, all tucked up against one another in a tangle of limbs. Seth found sleep quickly, even with his face half-crushed into Roman's chest.

…

The whole exchange with Seth had given you goosebumps. Just like Roman, there had been an odd melancholy that seemed to lurk in his eyes when he looked at you. Seth was all heat, more focus, his attention wholly on you while he worked you over with eager, expert motions.

Despite his delicious efforts, sleep was not in your future. You found yourself lying on your back in the bed (which seemed far too large now), fidgeting with the covers. Soft sounds from the other room caught your attention, and you craned your neck in an effort to listen harder.

Uncertain as to whether the noises you were hearing were pained or...otherwise, swamped with a sense of deja vu, you snuck to the door and peeked into the next room.

Seth was sandwiched between the other two men, his shoulders heaving with deep sobs. Roman was holding him and Dean was running his hands through his hair, both men quietly reassuring him while he wept. It was a surprisingly tender scene and your heart ached a little, that foreign familiarity striking yet again.

You kept watching as the three of them laid down, huddled up on blankets on the floor. You felt a spike of shame lance through your stomach. Here you were, taking up the bed while the three of them (one of them still healing from a gunshot wound, no less) bedded down on the floor.

You slipped from your room and sidled up to Dean, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “I'm awake.” He muttered, startling you enough that you flinched. “Need somethin’, gorgeous?” He blinked up at you, his arms still folded across his chest.

You silently extended your hand and Dean took it after a second, his brow furrowing when you knelt and whispered, “You guys should come sleep in my room.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, sounding suspicious. “Why's that?”

“Because I really doubt that the floor is more comfortable than the bed, and the bed is huge-”

“We ain't tryin’ to hurt you, gorgeous. We also ain't tryin' to get ourselves hurt.” Dean said seriously. “Facts is facts. You believed that gun was functionin’ an’ the only thing that kept Reigns from gettin’ his brains blown out is his own goddamn forethought.” He shook his head, getting to his feet. “Ain't a pretty picture.”

“What have you done in situations where you were alone and thought you couldn't win?” You snapped.

“That's the key right there, ain't it. ‘Thought’. Listen to me, gorgeous. Hear this, even if you wanna’ ignore everythin’ else.” Ambrose tilted your chin up so you had to look him in the eye. “I never believed that there was a situation I wouldn't get out of. I've put all my trust in those two over there. And into you, more recently.” He shrugged, “Sure, I've been concerned once or twice. Rollins probably toldja’ about that though.”

“What actually happened?” You whispered. Dean looked down at the other two men, carefully took your arm and silently led you back into the bedroom. Once you sat down, he stood in front of you with his hands at his sides. Despite the obvious attempt at looking relaxed, you could see his fingers twitching every so often.

“I took my own knife to the back.” He said finally. “Guy was a big fan of brute force vindication, so he whipped it around on me an’ gave me a nice couple of kidney divots.” Ambrose tugged at the neck of his t-shirt and tapped the top of a faded scar that crested his shoulder. “He ripped me open from hip to nape, plain and simple. Blood loss was one thing. The internal damage was kinda’ what had me woozy, though.”

You put a hand over your mouth, stunned. Rollins had dumbed down the scenario, it would seem.

“I was layin’ there in a pool of my own blood, Rollins all curled up around me fightin’ the guy off, protectin’ me a day late and a dollar fuckin’ short.” Dean pointed his index finger at your temple like it was the barrel of a gun. “Reigns came in and blew our client away, then he was on Rollins like a bad suit. Never heard Roman yell like that before.”

“You guys forgave Seth, though. Why?” You cast a glance over at the ajar door. “He could have gotten you killed.”

“Death's a workin’ hazard. I knew that, a’ course. Made peace with it. If he had any sense, Rollins would have ditched us before that went down. I think he was havin’ second thoughts. Doubtin’ himself an' his motives.” Dean stretched, wincing as the bandaging on his ribs pulled at his skin. “Day late and a dollar short, like I said, but at least he knew he fucked up.”

“Why do you guys even do this stuff? Why not just work as normal security or something?”

“I do it because I ain't got nowhere else to go, gorgeous. No blood family. Nobody else except me.” Dean's expression had gone hard. “Roman does it because his pops wanted him to be in the business. Seth does it because he had somethin' to prove and he didn't wanna’ get eaten alive in Spec Ops.” Dean sighed, smoothing his shaggy hair back from his face. “I do it as a way to even the shit odds of this planet. We ain't assigned to good people, okay? You were a weird case. We jumped on it because your parents were totally willing to offer you up as bait. It was our best chance at nabbing these fucks, especially since you'd already had a visit from ‘em.”

“Instead, you had to play babysitter.” The pieces were starting to fall into place for you.

“We figured, fuck it, we can take care of this rich fuck's spawn. We're professionals. Cut off one head to get to the next. We didn't expect you to be so...I dunno’, genuine.” Dean admitted. “Didn't expect you to be so pretty. Didn't expect you to be so damn kind to us.” He gestured up and down, taking in your entire body. “You wrecked us, gorgeous.” He sounded almost angry. “Bent us to y’ fuckin’ will without even tryin’. We stopped plannin’ how we would step over you to get to the bad guys and started payin’ more attention to the way your dad an’ y’ mom treated you. The long bouts of fuckin’ silence, the momentary affections an’...I mean, I still don't get what the end game is. But it don't matter. Cards on the table.” He finished firmly, “We're not lettin' you get kidnapped or ransomed or whatever the hell.”

“Oh.” You said weakly.

“Sorry, I know you were jus’ bein’ polite. Probably weren't expecting the word vomit.” Ambrose muttered self-consciously. “Tryin' to clear up any confusion is all. Been runnin' it over in my head tryin’ to phrase shit right.”

“It's okay. Thank you.” You took his hand, smiling up at him. “You guys have been so kind to me.”

“It's the other way around. Trust me.”

…

Your phone buzzed with a message, waking you from a sound sleep. You wondered at that, thoroughly confused as you fumbled to pick up the phone and unlock it. You didn't think you even had service out here!

-Come outside

You were wide awake now, staring down at the screen with your brow furrowed. A few seconds passed with you just...stock still, reading and rereading the message. It was from a private number, and it was too short to really discern anything about the person's identity.

You slipped out of bed, tiptoeing into the living room.

-Who is this?

-Unless you want those men to get hurt do as I say come outside NOW

Your mind whirled with confusion. Who could this be from? Was this person even able to cause harm to the three men currently sleeping? You gulped, wondering if the cabin had been staked out by snipers or people with night vision goggles.

You remembered the haunted look on Seth's face.

Were you willing to risk it?

You heard movement in the other room and cursed your luck as Rollins leaned against the doorway. “Gorgeous, what're you doing up so early? Y'woke up Roman n’ I.” He yawned, running a hand through his hair. You quickly stepped into an old pair of boots that you had taken note of beside the door. Seth cocked his head to the side. “Gorgeous?” He sounded a little more awake now and you knew you had to act fast. Your hand closed around the doorknob. “Hey, wait, what-”

You yanked open the door and were greeted with a frigid blast of cold air, ignoring it in favor of continuing to bolt.

“Gorgeous!” Seth shouted from the door and you whirled to face him, wrapping your arms around your body.

“Don’t try to follow me!” You said firmly, already shivering. “I'm serious, Seth!”

“I'm not letting you go out here, dammit! You'll freeze dressed like that!” Seth swore, yanking on his own boots. “We're not letting you die out here!”

“You need to stay inside for your own good!” You yelled, making him pause.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘for my own-'!” His words were drowned out by the sound of a rapidly-approaching small motor. You had only half-turned when something struck the back of your head, sending you tumbling face-first into the snow. For the second time in your life, the warm blackness devoured you.

…

Diesel groaned, scratching the nape of his neck and making his spiked gray hair fluff up even further. “Lemme’ get this straight.” He began slowly. “You guys want permission to...go after this kid. We scrubbed the assignment but you guys want my permission to go after Gold to get the kid back. The one that he kidnapped from you because you swiped them out from beneath his nose, right?”

“Yes sir.” Seth continued to stare straight ahead.

Diesel sighed. “Why the fuck do you want to go after him yourselves? The kid was supposed to be bait, remember? We were gonna’ send another team-”

“It’s personal now sir.”

“That gives me like, even less incentive to put you three back on this. What the fuck Rollins, c'mon.” Diesel scolded. “You coulda’ tried to make up an excuse or something, man. Am I not worth lying to?”

“I'm not going to damage my reputation by lying to you, sir. I know there's plenty of people here that still see me as a traitor. I am being one hundred percent honest with you.” Seth's voice shook a little and Ambrose placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to be put back on this.”

“No, you want to be put back on this.” Diesel opened a drawer in his desk. “I'm not redoing your briefing, I can't guarantee any backup-”

“Understood.”

“Let me finish, damn it.” Diesel jabbed a finger at Seth, his brow furrowed. “I might be lazy, little man, but I'm no fool. You three and your relations with one another are quickly becoming a working hazard. You add another person into your mess and it might just blow up in your face. I ain't hatin' on your free and easy lifestyle, just your lack of regard for your own wellbeing! You guys are good at what you do. Don't fuck this up for yourselves.”

“We need to save them. We...We're all they have.” Rollins said quietly. “Imagine being alone and scared with a gaping hole in your memories, with parents that would willingly hand you over to be bait! Goldberg is going to hurt them, I know he is. We need to stop him.”

“Cut the bleeding-heart bullshit, Rollins. You three trying your luck at Errol Flynn-ing this kid isn't something that I can condone.” Diesel slid a folder out of the drawer, opening it up and spreading the contents so they were easily viewable from the other side of the desk. “My hands are tied here, boys. I'm sorry.” He paused, then winked, tapping his finger on a highlighted paragraph. “We don't really know where Goldberg’s gone to ground anyway. This is a dead end.”

“Of course. We're sorry we wasted your time.” Dean muttered, his eyes still latched onto the pages on the desk. “Thank you anyway. For er, bein’ willing to listen to us.”

Diesel waited until Ambrose shot him a sidelong look beneath his bangs before he tucked the file back into his desk. “Now, you boys enjoy the holidays. See Michaels for another assignment if you don't want the time off.”

“Yeah.”

Rollins was squinting at the older man, as if he was waiting for him to do something. Diesel grunted and made a shooing motion. “Get outta’ my office.”

Once the trio had left, Diesel leaned back in his chair and speed dialed Michaels.

“What's up Big?”

“Who do we have active right now? Yeah, I know you sent the report this morning. Just humor me and refresh my memory, man.” Diesel leaned back even further in his chair, running a hand through his hair yet again.

There was a pregnant pause and then Michaels grudgingly obliged, “Logs showin’ recent check ins from our kid in Bulgaria, the Everglades lightin’ up like a damn Zemeckis star field, we have more activity in Canada and Mexico-”

“Well at least I didn't lie to ‘em about the no backup.” Diesel sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Why the fuck can't the clowns of the world take the holidays off?” He grumbled.

…

You woke up in your own bed. You laid there motionless for a second, then bolted upright as memories flooded you. You remembered hitting your head, not knowing who your security team was, the cabin, trying to hold Roman at gunpoint, Seth-

Goldberg. Your blood ran cold. So that was why you'd been offered up as bait. Your father had sometimes griped about him in the background of Skype calls. You only vaguely remembered seeing the large bald man on television once, and it wasn't for anything good. So this was what he was up to? Kidnapping? Or extortion? Both? You could hope it was something that simple.

“Rise and shine kiddo. It's Christmas morning.” You jolted, so deep in thought you hadn't even heard the man approach. “Spacey as usual, I see. Daddy dearest wasn't lying there.” He sighed, seeming disappointed. “Really hoped you'd put up more of a fight, honestly. Wanted to have a few bruises to help ease the bucks out of your parents’ wallet.”

Your fists clenched beneath the blankets.

“Ah well, can't be helped. C'mon, it's time for lunch already. You've been sleeping for ages, blunt force trauma does that to a person.” Giving you no option to argue, Bill Goldberg took your elbow and hauled you out of bed. Your knees shook and he grunted when you almost collapsed. “Shit, you're frail. Neglect, I guess.” The hand on your arm was like a vice. You could feel the strength in his fingers alone, like Seth but entirely malicious. There was no holding it in check to keep from scaring you, he was attempting to intimidate and it was absolutely working.

You followed him downstairs, doing your best to appear docile. The whole time your mind was pitching back and forth, rattling down a list of options that grew more and more farfetched. Fear suddenly squeezed at your heart and before you could think about it you blurted out, “did you hurt them?”

“Who?” Goldberg asked nonchalantly.

“Don't play dumb with me!” You snapped.

“Easy with that attitude, kiddo. You want a beating? Just for the sake of argument I'll assume you're talking about your ‘security’ team.” Goldberg chuckled. “What a joke! They didn't even come after me! Of course, me being on a snowmobile probably factored in to the nonexistent pursuit of your kill squad.” He mused, his eyes fixed on you while you flushed uncomfortably. “I guess they really had you fooled. You know they don't really do security, right? Or did they not even have the balls to tell you that much?”

“Ambrose told me-”

“Can’t even believe he's still alive.” Goldberg muttered like he was talking to himself. “Never mind. I don't really give a shit. I whipped up something for lunch and I expect you to eat. After we've got some food into you, we'll give your folks a little Christmas call. Can't have you passing out from hunger, now can I?”

You stared at your plate once he sat you down at the long table in the dining room, your brow furrowed. “What did you do to this?” You asked incredulously, poking the lump of charcoal that might have been a pile of hamburger at one point. “You're how old and you don't even know how to cook something as simple as a burger?” You knew that your flippant words were reckless, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were on your own, with nothing but the training that you'd been given by Seth, Dean and Roman.

How to take down an opponent larger than you: You’re already going to be at a disadvantage. First things first, get your opponent off-balance.

Bill appeared to be ignoring you. The only indicator that he heard you was the vein in his forehead growing more and more prominent.

“You do realize that my family regularly frequents high-class restaurants, right?” You needled, folding your arms across your chest and making a show out of turning your nose up. “I wouldn't feed this to a dog, Mr. Goldberg.”

“Keep it up kiddo.” He hissed, twisting the handle of his fork in the tablecloth. “I'm sure your parents wouldn't care if I had you skip a few meals.”

“Naturally. They'd probably applaud you. Should have heard my mother wailing about getting my gala dress refitted.” You shot back. He was jealous, you realized, taking in how he had set the table. Silverware in the wrong places, too many dishes for the lone course he had made and the fanciest tablecloth in the linen closet. He appreciated the finer things in life despite obviously having little practice in utilizing them, playing at opulence with the clumsy enthusiasm of a child.

There was a crash that sounded like it came from the foyer and Goldberg glanced up in confusion, his fork hovering in midair. You saw his hand shaking. Just a tiny bit.

“Kiddo, did you invite anyone else for lunch?” He asked you calmly, the furrow between his brows a textbook warning sign.

You shook your head and the older man struck, his fingers clamping down on the back of your neck and slamming your head into the table. Your vision greyed out for a second, right hand instinctively digging at your hip for the knife Ambrose had given you as a birthday present. But you didn’t have it. Of course you didn’t.

“Don’t lie to me, you little brat.” Goldberg hissed. “No one else could be out there. No one else gives a fuck about you. Not even your own parents. How much did you pay them to get them on your side? Whatever it is, I can double it easily.” He was seething. “This game is over.”

Pay? You think their loyalty can be bought, you mused inwardly. And I’m the dumb one.

The French doors to the foyer burst open and in strode three very familiar men. “Guys!” You cried, wincing in pain when Goldberg slammed your head down a second time.

“Not another step closer.” Goldberg warned. “Whatever they’re paying you, I can top it. You boys would be damn useful on my side of the law.”

Seth looked about ready to explode out of his own skin. He had that sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, nearly as long as he was tall, and he just…tossed it aside. You felt Goldberg twitch at the motion. “You're going to regret this.” Rollins said softly.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on a sec.” Dean clapped a hand on Seth’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Look old man, if you’re willin’ to up the ante…” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “We can be reasonable. Ain’t no need for bloodshed on our part, right Rollins?”

“Consider your payment doubled.” Goldberg was grinning wildly. “See kiddo? This is why people like me win, and people like you lose.” He released you, and then caught you by surprise when he slammed your head back down a final time in passing.

…

Seth bit his lip so hard that his skin crunched in warning. His eyes were fixed on you, breath pulling unevenly in his chest as he barely kept himself from blindly lunging at Goldberg. Remember how to do this. Keep quiet. Make him forget that you’re here. Ambrose will talk. Roman will be obvious. You can be invisible.

You hadn’t moved since Bill had cracked your skull into the table. Seth forced himself to ignore your motionless form.

“Gold, I know you say you can double what they’re givin’ us. But uh, you gonna’ give us any proof? Our current handlers ain't exactly hurtin’ for cash, so I’m kinda’ drawin’ a blank on this whole ‘doubling’ thing.” Dean drawled, leaning on Roman’s shoulder and giving the older man a leering smirk. “You’re willing to kidnap and threaten a defenseless person with violence to get a couple hundred thou’ outta’ their family, collateral damage don’t mean shit to you. Plus the little stunt you pulled with your posse invadin’ the house in the dead of night almost had me buyin’ the farm. Didn't want us collectin’ your paycheck?”

“You boys were getting ready to strike. It was a fun game we played, you three trying to lull me into a false sense of security with bowling.” The older man accused. He was wisely keeping his distance, making sure the long banquet table stayed between him and the three men. “I’m sorry, I didn’t consider bowling to be a vital part in your strategy!”

“We needed to get the kid outta’ the house.” Ambrose shrugged, picking at a scab on his chin. “It’d be easier to manipulate them an’ make it look like an accident if they trusted us. You know that from personal experience. Ain’t our fault they were a shut-in.”

While Ambrose prattled on Seth eased back a step, then another. Casual, nonchalant. Dean's hand behind his back flashed a series of fingers at him. Two together, a pause, and then one. Wait a minute.

“Gold, you know above all that we're reasonable guys. You wanna’ know how much our sweet little thing was payin’ us to keep them safe?” Seth could picture the shit-eating grin on Dean's face. “Not a fuckin’ cent. We're paid by our organization. That's it. So if you can double nothin’, I guess y’ must be a man of great fuckin’ substance.”

Goldberg sputtered, obviously at a loss for words, and Dean quickly beckoned Rollins on behind his back while Roman grabbed hold of Dean's other wrist. Seth had a running start of only a few feet and he hoped and prayed it was enough, bolting forward and planting his boot in the cradle his brothers had created to launch him up and over.

It was apparently more than adequate momentum. Seth hastily tucked his head in for the flip over Dean and Roman, bending his knees and rolling through the landing to skid to a halt bare inches from Goldberg’s face. The dishes on the table clattered in his wake and Bill just...stared at him, nose to nose.

“Like I said.” Seth whispered, grabbing the collar of the larger man's shirt. “You're going to regret this.”

“Oh I doubt th-” Whatever smug remark Goldberg had been about to make was cut short by the sound of a blade being drawn. Seth hadn't even noticed Dean and Roman moving to flank him, and from the look on Goldberg's face it appeared that he hadn't either.

“Choose your words real careful, paycheck.” Dean growled, the blade of his knife sliding lazily beneath Goldberg's chin. “I ain't merciful like Rollins. And I won't make it quick like Reigns. I'll make it ugly.”

“This is illegal.” Bill pointed out, his voice shaking.

“You've got to be shitting me.” Dean replied incredulously. “All of a sudden your dumb ass knows right from wrong? Don't make me fuckin’ laugh. I could slit your throat and there ain't a jury that would convict me, Bill.”

Seth saw a flurry of motion out of the corner of his eye and then you were clinging to Goldberg's arm, mumbling no no no. They hadn't even noticed the gun that Bill had, a concealed belt holster maybe? Rollins cursed his own inattention, his grip never wavering. Goldberg easily shook you off and jabbed the barrel into Dean's side, chuckling.

Ambrose grinned back in that way that made it look like he was baring his teeth, devoid of mirth with ice in his eyes. “Nice try, Bill. Better luck next time.”

Roman struck, his arm rocketing forward to slam the butt of his hand cannon down on Goldberg's wrist. Bill yelped, releasing his gun on reflex and Seth cheered inwardly when you caught it. That deadly click announced that Roman was losing his patience, the large man cordially asking, “Gorgeous, how’s your head?”

“Better than ever.” You grumbled, wiping away the trickle of blood from a small cut over your eyebrow. “So what now? The police, right?”

“Nah. This scumbag is special.” Dean mused. “Why the long face? Big’s gonna’ be thrilled to see ya’, Bill! Lighten up.”

“You're sure I can't change your minds?” Goldberg implored as Seth pulled out a handful of zipties. “You boys are wasting your talent working with that asshole. Just think of what you could do if you joined me instead. C'mon!” His eyes landed on you and Seth hated with a passion the smirk that crept across his face. “Imagine what you could get away with, what you could do to them-”

“You'd better shut your mouth before one of us gags you.” Roman’s tone was calm, a stark contrast to the subject matter of his words. “You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you take full advantage of that and shut the fuck up.”

Bill wisely clammed up and allowed the three men to secure him to a dining room chair, where he waited silently.

“Nash is on his way. He had a patrol a few miles south. No backup, my ass.” Ambrose grumbled after he got off the phone.

“Let me see your head, gorgeous.” Seth gave you as thorough of a checkup as he could, trying not to fixate on the swollen cut over your eyebrow. “How do you feel? Woozy? Halo in your vision? Any disturbances?” He asked worriedly, cupping your face so he could see if your pupils were equal and tracking motion properly.

He was distraught when your eyes filled with tears, but then you smiled up at him. “I'm okay! I promise.” You laughed, wiping at your eyes. “I mean, my head is sore, yeah. But I'm okay Seth.”

Rollins silently embraced you, carefully stroking the back of your head as you sniffled into his tactical vest and clung to him. “We told you we would keep you safe. I'm sorry we were a little late.”

“I tried really hard to keep him off-balance.”

“You did good, gorgeous.” Dean rasped, rumpling your hair. “Kept his ass yammerin’ until the cavalry arrived. We're a pretty small cavalry, a’ course. Kinda’ raggedy. But we do our best.” Dean nudged his nose into Seth's cheek. “We gotta’ talk about y’ somersault there, Rollins.”

“It was a combat roll.” Seth huffed, knocking his forehead back into Dean's.

“Great half-ass cartwheel.”

“I didn't see you doing any flips, Ambrose!” Dean flipped him off in reply and Seth couldn't help the hysterical cackle that exploded out of him. He heard you start to giggle into his chest and he held you a little tighter, unable to keep the smile off his face.

…

The latest holiday movie played on in the background and you dimly heard Roman making his way back upstairs, no doubt with fresh popcorn in hand. The three of you had settled in on your bed after Mr. Diesel and his associates had come to collect the docile Goldberg, the extremely tall man shaking your hand as though you were a new business partner.

“I'll be in touch,” he’d said with a sly wink, shooting a glare at the three men behind you. “And as for you boys, you have any idea how much paperwork I'm gonna’ have to fill out to take care of this mess?”

You nudged Seth's side and his arm moved to hug your shoulders. “You want to sit on my lap?” Seth offered and you quickly took him up on it, immensely enjoying the way he pulled you back into his chest. “No guns, right?” He murmured, his hands moving to your hips so he could tuck you tighter into his lap.

You shook your head with a laugh, making an embarrassing noise when he ground his hardening length up against you.

“Uh oh, sounds like Rollins is gettin’ handsy.” Dean teased, leaning over to peck you on the cheek. “What’s the matter gorgeous, he grindin’ his dick against you? He loves doin’ that shit.”

You couldn’t answer as Seth tugged your panties to the side, kisses falling at random on your neck. You could almost hear Dean smirking.

Roman sauntered back onto the bed and settled against the headboard, lazily extending one arm laden with your snack of choice. He wiggled it just out of reach and you crawled forward to grab it, whispering a thank-you. You hoped and prayed that your excitement hadn’t left any embarrassing slick marks on Rollins’ pants. You knew you were wet through your underwear already, feeling the heat on your inner thighs.

Seth flipped your skirt up over your hips as you hungrily tucked in to your snack, his hands rubbing gentle circles into your exposed skin.

Dean swore under his breath, nothing but a gritty, low, “fuck.” Roman glanced over at that, grinning when he saw your position and the way Seth’s hands were moving.

“Fucking ridiculous.” He laughed. “Not that I can blame you. We're all safe and sound. It's a relief. Feels almost normal again, right?”

You looked back at Seth, who actually whimpered at you in a ridiculous manner. “Please?” He asked softly. “You’re already so wet, and Dean and Roman are right here. All you have to do is sit down, I promise.” There was the ticking sound of a zipper pulling open. “Please, gorgeous, please please.”

Feeling like an entirely different person, bold and maybe (just maybe) a little needy, you handed off your snack to Ambrose. “Only if I get to finish my snack after I’ve gotten a treat.” You bargained, dragging a sharp inhale from Roman.

“Anything you want.” Seth agreed rapidly.

“Shit, I think we’d give you a ‘treat’ any old time.” Dean growled.

You settled back down on Seth’s lap, squeezing his freed cock teasingly between your thighs for a moment before you rose back up and let him have his way. Seth’s hands dug beneath your top and into your bra to toy with your breasts, making you tremble in his grip. “I am gonna’ fill you up and make you come on my dick.” He promised in your ear, his cock sliding over your pussy. “Up a little, and then relax.” He coached and you obeyed, the head of his dick breaching you slowly.

“God, gorgeous, you always take him so good. Just like me, just like Roman.” Dean murmured. “We oughta’ fuck him open while he’s tryin’ to fuck you. See how far his focus gets him before he starts beggin’.”

“Easy man, don’t wanna’ come before them.” Seth protested, his voice a little shaky. “That’s right gorgeous, you just lean into my hands. Lean into them, so I can fuck you.”

You had watched Dean and Roman finish Seth off more than once, watched them jerk him until he came with a gasping sigh of completion. The idea of him actually getting fucked by one of them was relatively untouched territory, though apparently not for them judging by how hard Seth was bucking up into you. You couldn't deny that the notion had merit.

“When we fuck each other, we fuckin’ spread each other open. Seth makes the best noises outta’ everyone, don’t you Seth?” Dean rasped, “Whimpers and whines, loves it. One time Roman and I pinned him to the wall and took turns railin’ him.”

That was an image for sure, your mind running wild. Your pussy clenched on Seth's cock and he gasped, his breath coming in sharp bursts. “No fair, you can't say shit like--hngh, they like it Ambrose you can't-” He choked.

“He likes being sloppy.” Roman confided. “Would you like that, Seth? You want to get fucked while you fuck them?”

Seth went dead still inside you. You could feel his thighs trembling and jerking with the effort of not moving and you rolled your hips, making Seth bury his face in your shoulder helplessly.

“You wanna’ get fucked, doncha’? Wanna' get bent over and filled up?” Dean crooned, a hand already fisted in Seth's hair. “Maybe twice, right? Maybe maybe?”

“You want Dean to fuck you while you fuck them? Or do you want to sit in my lap?” Roman purred. “Grind on my cock while you fuck yours into them? We're waiting.”

“D-Dean first then you Roman,” Seth said all in a rush, avoiding looking at your eyes like he was embarrassed. “Please, I--”

“Shh, we've got you.” Roman soothed, sitting up and moving to lift you bodily off of Seth's cock. You whined in complaint and Roman chuckled, rubbing his nose against your cheek. “So impatient. I have to prep him, gorgeous. Do me a favor and jerk him slow while I open him up, okay? I want to see how long he can go without coming.” He greedily fondled your breast through your shirt, like he couldn't help himself. You whimpered and rocked against the comforting bulk of his body and Dean chuckled.

“We're all so greedy for you, gorgeous.”

Seth groaned when you finally laid beside him on the bed, his head hanging while he stayed on his hands and knees. You skimmed a hand over his now-shirtless chest, watching in delighted surprise as he jolted and gritted his teeth after you circled his nipples. Your fingers moved lower, finding his cock and gripping it loosely. It was still dripping from your own slick and you crooned, “good boy,” in his ear, making him swear under his breath and rock his hips down into your hand.

Roman began the careful, gentle process of working Seth's body open, preparing him for the eventual intrusion with two lubricated fingers. Dean knelt in front of Seth, his jeans unzipped and his cock out. He stroked himself a few times and you were certain he was making a show of it, staying out of Seth's reach for a few precious minutes to keep him distracted from any initial pain. Seth wasted little time swallowing down the other man's length once Dean did move close enough, whining and grunting around it in response to either Roman or you, you weren't entirely certain. Rollins seemed torn between humping your hand or fucking back onto Roman's fingers, settling for a weird twitch of his hips every few seconds that seemed to satisfy him.

“How it usually works, gorgeous, is that I prep him for Dean, who in turn preps him for me.” Roman said conversationally to you while scissoring and crooking his fingers. Seth cried out, saliva trickling down the side of his jaw as Dean continued to thrust roughly into his mouth. “I'm a little thicker than Dean, so it's for the best that Ambrose goes first and warms him up.” Reigns brought his palm down lightly on the curve of Seth's rear, not really hard enough to be considered a swat. More of a caress. “Seth loves it when we go one right after the other. Loves feeling all used and fucked out.”

Rollins nodded rapidly, Dean helpfully holding his hair back out of the way.

“Not sure how it might change with you in the mix, but it's going to be interesting.” Roman mused, his eyes narrowing. “Rollins, you’d better not be about to come. Gorgeous, give the base of his cock a tight squeeze.” Seth made a despairing noise that sent shivers down your spine, the power you held over him suddenly obvious. “Hey, no complaining. This is your own fault for being so quick on the trigger.” Roman chided, his fingers wrapping around your own to firmly grip the base of Seth's cock. It twitched like it had a mind of its own, throbbing hot in your hand as Seth squirmed a little. “Sneaky brat. Stop whining and let them milk you like a good fuck toy.”

“Enough.” Dean gasped, pulling back out of Rollins’ mouth. “Wanna' fuck him now.”

“I'm ready, I promise, I promise.” Seth arched his back. “Fuck me Dean, c'mon, I want to fuck them-”

“Alright gorgeous, on your belly underneath him.” Roman got you into position, smirking at the noise Seth made and the way he rubbed his cock against the swell of your rear. “Ambrose, mount him once he's got his cock in them.”

Seth peppered the back of your neck with hungry kisses, one hand entwined with your own as he guided his cock to penetrate you from behind with a slow roll of his hips. You gasped and squirmed up, loving the new angle, then froze when Seth cried out, “F--uck's sake, A-Ambrose!” His breathing hitched and you heard a low groan from Dean.

“Christ Reigns, you always slick him up so nice. Slid right in.” Dean rasped. He leaned down to grab your hand, the one that Seth already had a death grip on. “How you doin’, Rollins? Gonna’ come? If you hold off, I'll make it worth your while.”

“Dean-” Seth half-sobbed, his hips working furiously to fuck into you. His hands groped at the bed beneath you, searching out your breasts and cupping them. “Dean, God, gorgeous you feel so good, so fucking good--”

You were breathless underneath the two men, feeling the pace Ambrose set through Seth's motions. Rollins brought his hips flush to your rear, seating himself as deeply as he could inside you. All you could do was try to arch up and fuck back at him, every inch of skin tingling with heat and arousal.

“Oh no, oh no--” Seth panted in your ear, digging beneath you again to rub his fingers over your clit. You cried out at the lightning bolt of sensation and Ambrose snarled.

“Holy fuck, easy Rollins. Loosen up.” He choked out. “Deep breaths, I don't wanna’ hurt you.”

Seth was clearly paying him no mind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he hammered down into you with sharp, precise strokes. He had gone nearly silent, his teeth digging fiercely into his lower lip.

“Seth.” Dean snapped, Rollins’ chin suddenly gone from your shoulder. “You want me to pull your hair, I'll pull your fuckin’ hair, but you need to relax around me otherwise this shit is gonna’ hurt you.” Ambrose warned. Seth whined pitifully and you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. He looked dazed, his lips slightly parted and wet while Ambrose kept that grip on his hair. The angle his back was bent at couldn't have been comfortable but he didn't even seem to care, letting Dean push him into you.

“M’ sorry.” Seth apologized, licking his lips and then biting them nervously.

“Now fuck them like you mean it.” Dean ordered, releasing Seth's hair. Rollins propped himself up with his elbows on either side of your body, rapidly sliding his length in and out of you. You felt like you were melting, molten hot from proximity and activity. Your thighs were shaking with the strain of holding back from coming, your clit aching for more attention as you tried not to grind back against Seth. You didn't want this to end! It was just too good, filthy and sweet and full.

“Damn Rollins, you're almost as wet as they get.” Dean grunted. “Fuck toy likes gettin' railed. You love it when I get balls deep, don't you?”

Seth pushed his forehead in between your shoulder blades, twitching and moaning as he desperately kept moving. “Ambrose y' gonna' make me come if you keep talking-”

“I love it when you fuckin' squirm for me, you tighten up around me like you want me to fuckin' snap you in half.” Dean growled.

Your body went into spasm, the idea of Seth being fucked into submission apparently too much for you. Your mouth opened to scream but nothing came out, fingers clawing for purchase on the sheets beneath you.

“Oh God, oh God, they're coming, Dean they're coming, fuck--” Seth sighed, circling his hips. “Fuck me, they feel so good...” You sobbed out a breath and took his hand again, kissing his knuckles.

“Don't mind if I fuckin' do.” Dean muttered, snapping his hips forward to meet Seth's body. A few more strokes was all it took for Ambrose to come, the light-haired man planting a hand on the bed beside your head as he shuddered and gasped his way to his own completion. You watched the muscles in his arm flex and shake with the force of holding his weight and you couldn't help shivering again, all the while whispering thank you, thank you...

…

When Dean pulled out, Seth felt his cock twitch needily. He had to stay still, had to stay still. He'd been told not to come, so he had to stay still.

Roman settled back onto his knees, hissing and then smearing some of Dean's come down the back of Seth's thigh as it dripped out of him. “I'm fucking taking you now, Rollins. You're not allowed to come unless they do again, got it?”

Seth knew he must look delirious, his hair all over the place and his whole body flushed with heat. “Whatever you want.” He breathed, watching hungrily over his shoulder while Roman stroked himself a few times with the lubricant from the bottle on the nightstand.

“I know Ambrose got you plenty fucking wet for me.” Roman muttered, still helping himself to a second coating after he put on a condom. “You ready, Seth? Ready for this fucking cock?”

Seth loved the way Roman would get all heated and almost-angry, swears falling rapid as compliments. Seth knew from experience that the more he would surrender, the better it would be. “Please, Roman.” He whispered.

Seth loved the way you shivered beneath his body, obviously overstimulated but loving every second of it. You tugged him down to kiss you and he went happily, his tongue tangling with your own.

Seth loved the way Ambrose softened and fawned over him when he knew he was about to get fucked, the other man's hands stroking his hair and shoulders in a way that was startlingly tender for someone like Dean.

Rollins dissolved into helpless babbling with his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of your head as Roman slowly, slowly sank the length of his dick into him. Seth's forehead rested on your back, his fingers gripping at your sides as he tentatively eased back onto Roman's cock, taking him inch by inch. The growl Roman let out spiraled down into Seth's core, an unfiltered, guttural noise of pleasure so honest it made him want to come on the spot. Seth was hot, slick, a filthy mixture of come and lubricant allowing him to take Roman better than usual.

Dean wiggled you out from beneath Seth, kissing you fiercely and choking back a laugh when you moved against his body in a sensual manner. “You want a taste, gorgeous? Or do you want the whole experience?” Seth watched hazily as you leaned in and whispered something in his ear, Dean's eyes widening and then half-lidding. “That ain't a bad idea, gorgeous.” He murmured, a lazy grin turning up the corner of his mouth. “Pass me a condom and prepare to have y’ dreams come true.”

“You're fucking them Ambrose?” Roman asked, releasing his hold on Seth's hips to reach beneath him and loosely grip the shaft of Seth's cock.

Rollins didn't mean to come, it just sort of happened, the younger man coating Roman's fingers with a muffled gasp. Seth's breathing rasped in his throat as he came down from the high, dimly aware that Roman was not slowing down in the slightest.

“I told you to wait.” Roman murmured. “You did good though, I guess I shouldn't have touched your cock. Now this means I'll have to fuck a second one out of you.” He slid his palms down over the front of Seth's thighs, digging his fingers in for a better grip and full on rutting his cock into Seth.

Rollins sobbed out, pressing his forehead to the bed. It was so good it was overwhelming, his body in spasm from coming and Roman slip-dragging over that spot inside that made him light up. His cock rubbed against the sheets, half-hard just from the pressure alone.

He heard you moan and he found the strength to raise his head, watching hungrily. Dean and you were both on your knees, your back to his chest while he slowly fucked up into you from behind. Roman chuckled overhead and the next thing Seth knew he was being repositioned, Roman tugging him carefully upright into a mirror of the other two.

Roman’s hand slipped beneath Seth's jaw, holding the younger man's face steady while he tweaked and toyed with his nipples. “You like this, Rollins? I can fuck you just like them.” He hissed, grinning when Dean gripped you tightly and sidled even closer. “You two could even make out while Dean and I fuck you. What do you say, Seth? Give us a show.”

Seth buried his face in Roman's neck to hide his embarrassment, covering the skin there with kisses. It was uncharted territory for you to be around when they were actually fucking one another, normally they just jerked each other off because it was less of a hassle. But with you here, getting fucked while he was getting fucked too...

Seth chanced another look at you and saw Dean fondling your breasts and pressing his hand to your stomach to keep you steady, whispering in your ear. Whatever he was saying was making you writhe on his dick, your eyes fixed on Seth the entire time. Dean managed to move even closer, directly opposite from Seth and Roman with nothing but a few inches separating you and Rollins.

Roman grinned against Seth's shoulder, reaching out to give one of your nipples a teasing flick. Dean did the same to Seth, laughing at Rollins’ pitiful noise in reply. “Fuck, they tightened up when you made that sound. Roman, I think they like watchin’ him gettin’ railed.” Ambrose smirked. “Isn't that right, gorgeous? You like watchin’ Seth gettin’ worked over? I know you like it when we suck or jerk each other off, so I'm sure this is fuckin’ divine for you.”

You caught one of Seth’s hands, bringing it to your mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.” You said softly.

Rollins huffed out a breath and kissed you as hard as he could, carding his fingers through your hair. “Thank you.” He breathed.

Dean grabbed a handful of Roman's hair, grinning when the larger man snapped his teeth at him. “So mouthy on top!” He teased, letting the black locks slide through his fingers. Roman wrapped his hand around Seth's throat and threw his arm over the other man's chest, effectively pinning Seth's body to his own. “I am just about ready to come.” Roman was grunting with every thrust, a sure sign of his impending orgasm. “So you just stay put like a good little fuck toy and let me fill you up, alright?”

Seth nodded to the best of his ability, his breath barely wheezing past Roman's hand. “God, please-” He gasped, squirming as much as he could.

“Shh, don't try to talk. Just keep those fucking legs spread and take my cock as deep as you can.” Roman murmured against his ear. His hand moved to Seth's cock again, stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Look at how they watch you.” He whispered.

Seth glanced up again, meeting your gaze. You were worrying your lip with your teeth, watching Seth's face while Dean pounded into you from behind.

“They fucking like this, Seth. Bet they'd love to watch you fuck Dean and I.” Roman crooned, gripping Seth's hips and thrusting up into him so hard Seth's mouth popped open. “I know you love it when I beg for you, when Ambrose scratches your back because he can't handle how intense you are.” Roman slammed in and out wordlessly for a few seconds, then grappled with the front of Seth's thighs and sheathed himself as deeply as he could.

Across from him, Ambrose did the same to you, his teeth digging into your neck as you cried out. Roman’s cock twitched inside of Rollins and Seth couldn't help the sounds that came out of him as he came again, the sensation of orgasm almost painful. He groaned and shuddered while Roman continued to slowly rut into him, no doubt enjoying the flex of Seth's violently-shaking inner walls even after he came.

Your voice cracked with a soft, “I'm coming-”, your back arching and Dean growling out some nonsense words before he came.

Seth hungrily reached for you and you moved into his grasp, letting him run his fingers soothingly through your hair as you came down from your high. Dean and Roman, much to Seth's chagrin, actually high-fived each other like they had just won a football game. You sputtered and hiccuped with laughter, your breath still uneven from coming and Seth groaned, rolling his eyes before kissing your forehead. “Nothing quite like working with professionals.” He griped.

“You love us, Rollins. Don't you forget it!” Roman grinned. “Shower? Dean kinda' made a mess.”

“You're telling me.” Seth couldn't help his snicker when Dean pouted at him. “Chill out, Ambrose. I'll get you back.”

“Can I watch?” You asked, an excited smile on your face.

Dean burst out laughing, giving you a gentle swat on the rear. “Good to know your kinks ain't just gunplay. Guess you're a voyeur too. I can live with that.”

“What do you mean, gunplay?! I'm not-”

“Don't even try to deny it gorgeous, you loved that shit! Good thing Reigns didn't uh, go off early, right?”

Roman groaned in exasperation, knuckling Ambrose upside the head. “You're impossible.”

“You know you love me!” Dean protested.

“I really do.” You said softly, startling Rollins. “All of you. Thank you for being with me.”

“Hey,” Seth replied when he trusted his voice, “I mean, what's the holidays without family, right?”

“C'mon, let's hurry up and get showered! We still have to open presents!”

“Presents?!”

#wwe 25 days of chrismuts #25 days of chrismuts #chrismuts 2k18 #on the...twenty second dayyyyyy #dean ambrose #roman reigns #seth rollins #dean ambrose/roman reigns/seth rollins/reader #this is so long #this is so self indulgent #merry holidays #happy shitscram #You beautiful people you #thirst party saturday

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

Text

Something borrowed, Something blue... (Part 1 - Bakery!AU)

—-

She wasn’t sure what he would think when he saw it, but she hoped he wouldn’t be upset. It had just screamed at her the moment she stumbled across it, and she knew exactly where it should go. Starting just above her knee and winding its way around her thigh to her hip bone, the stencil marks looked thick and jagged compared to the fine lines and dots it would eventually form into.

“Man, this is goin’ to be a hell of a night for me isn’t it?” The grumbled whine from the other brought a smile on her lips as Jo looked over her shoulder at the other blond.

Rolling her eyes, Jo let out a small laugh as she watched Ash massage his hands with a scowl. “Oh yeah, because this is goin’ to be a walk in the park for me too.”

“Bitch, please, you know you love it when I stick it to you; clearly you’re goin’ to be having a blast.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to get the practice and images for your portfolio - seems like a good day for you too.”

“Only cause I get you all bare legged around me for the night, chickadee.” Ash’s smile twisted into a friendly leer at that, though both of them laughed in unison after a moment. Giving the meat of her thigh a friendly tap, the other reached across her leg to flick the switch on the machine on before he turned his gaze back to her leg, joking look gone and replaced with the serious look she knew was his focussed face. Ash had left the building and Dr Badass, #1 tattoo artist on the West Coast, was in.

Rolling back so she was in the right position as the man started to press the needle into her skin with the high pitched buzzing beginning to fill the air.

Jo lay her head back and almost dozed off as the man’s hands and needle worked over the next seven hours. Occasionally they would pause to allow either of them to stretch, go to the bathroom or get a drink as the hours stretched on.

It was almost midnight before the artist finally put down his gun and wiped over her bare skin with the cleaning pad. Jo’s thigh and hip was aching, and Ash made his own groans of pain as he cracked his knuckles.

“Hello?” The voice came calling from the adjoining bakery, and Jo quickly moved to cover her bare bottom half with the blanket she’d been using to stay warm throughout.

“In here, my man.” Ash called back, peeling off his gloves and starting the steps to pack away his machine and the various ink pots he’d used for the design that night. “Bloody pushy bitch made me do this thing in one freaking sitting.”

“This that secret tattoo I’ve heard nothing about?” The question came as the dark haired man made his way into the tattoo parlor. Moving his way across to the tattoo bed, Jo found herself grinning widely into the kiss he delivered along with the plastic bag of Chinese takeout for the pair.

Jo nodded as she ran her hand through his hair and shifted in her spot to stretch out her leg muscles.

“That’d be it, Joey just showed up one day with this little design and begged me to tag her with it-” Ash replied as he rolled across the few feet of space between the pair and his work station, spinning about and holding out a paper to the other man. “Pretty beautiful piece'a work to get to play with. Going to look mint on Instagram and my portfolio. Just make sure you angle your ass enough when I take the photo, aye darlin’?”

Jo shifted awkwardly as her boyfriend took the design from the other, before turning to give her childhood friend access to apply the necessary serum and then bandage to her hip and thigh.

“Where…where did you get this?” Jack’s voice shook slightly as he looked at the page, and Jo could see the tattoo artist freeze before spinning and sliding his way through the door into the bakery without a word. If she’d been able to see his face, she knew he would have been biting down on his knuckle to avoid speaking. “Jo? Did you-?”

“Find a real beautiful piece in one of your old folders and talked Ash into expanding from American traditional and Japanese to do some fine-line grey work? Yep, yes I did.”

Jo looked up through her hair at the other, not sure what the almost vacant and frozen look on his face meant. They’d been dating for two years, sure, but she hadn’t seen that look since the University mixer eight months ago when he’d frozen up at some question from some patron about when he was doing another exhibit or something. She did remember the silence and the cold responses she had gotten from him until they got home when she’d said he was doing her wall again at the patron’s insistence about where his next work was being displayed. Jo bit her lip hoping that she wouldn’t get the same cold response when he saw her leg.

“You found my sketches? And thought to get one..” Jack’s face was pulled into a closed off frown, brows creased only slightly and the rest of his face blank except for the swirl of colour from light to dark in his eyes she knew came from him focussing really hard on what to say next. “You got my artwork put on you without asking me?”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” She mumbled the words out, arms crossing under her chest as she looked away from him. Pushing to her feet and letting the blanket drop down, the blonde moved towards her folded pair of sweatpants and underwear to get dressed again now the bandages were in place without looking back at him. “I’ve always wanted a fine line styled one, and something about that just… Spoke to me. Said ‘Jo, I need to be on your body’ or something like that.”

Once she’d gotten her underwear back on, she jumped at the hand on her unbandaged hip as she span to look up at him. His eyes were dark blue - moody, pensive, aroused or quietly angry; but she couldn’t quite tell which one.

“Show me.” The growled words made her want to smirk but she fought it down - aroused or angry it was then - before she peeled the edge of her bandage off to display the design in its entirety, the band of her underwear pulled high over the very top of her hip bone.

Ash had done an amazing job, like always.

While her rib tattoos were highly saturated in their coloring with vibrant depths in the primary colours of the American Traditional style, and their thick borders and shading added contrast and depth that she’d loved and found her own artist appreciated regularly with his fingertips or lips, this design was the complete opposite.

Shades of grey, from inky black depths to almost nonexistent white highlights that accentuated the skin gaps of the petals, we’re all that made up the design. The thin but deliberate lines flowed together, dots and fading shading used in equal measure to add depths to the folds and turns of the design. The flowers spread and bloomed across her thigh and hip, her own skin filling in the petals like they were blooming from inside her rather than pressed upon her surface. It had been a simple sketch of a group of flowers, from the date in the bottom corner Jo figured sometime before whatever fame he had achieved in the art world from her Googling of him before they’d begun dating, but there had been a soul and life in them. And with Ash’s deft hand and skill, they seemed to grow even more organically from her skin than the paper as if they had always been there. Just below the surface.

His hand twitched towards her, and his finger hovered just above her raised skin as if he was following the lines of his own work like he remembered it, before he reached to smooth the bandage back into place at the clunking sound of the spinning chair drawing nearer to return.

“So, what do you think? Something I should expand more into?” The blond man asked as he span his way back into the parlor, three plates from the bakery and several utensils in his hand as he rolled into sight.

The dating pair nodded, Jo pulling her sweatpants on while Jack rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You did a great job, Ash, and I’ll make sure to wear my cutest thong when the swelling goes down for your photo.” The blonde quipped back, winking across at her friend.

“You are an angel of the highest order, mamacitta, I’ll see about getting you included when Inked is coming for that photoshoot next month.” Ash replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek with a grin before he moved to start dishing out the Kung Pao Chicken and fried rice on his plate.

“Photoshoot?”

“Ash is gettin’ featured in some bigshot magazine again. They like to get examples of old work and new work of his for it to give a real, longterm work.” Jo replied, piling her and the other’s plate high with dinner and stuffing a prawn cracker in her mouth. Biting down and letting the cracker disolve on her tongue, she found herself smiling at the appreciative look from the other as he sat down on the tattoo bench beside her. “I already agreed to getting my sides photographed as part of his older work-”

“And now you get to be part of my new work too.” The mulleted artist smirked, slurping up one of the Singapore noodles straight from the container. “It’ll be on the 15th, so make sure you get someone in to fill that time for you.”

Jo nodded her head, not really thinking on it as she began to wolf down her own meal. Tattooing, especially for that long, always made her ravenous as Ash had a strict no-eating policy when he was working. Something about it distracting him from the ‘art’, but she thought it was more that he just got jealous she could stuff her face and he couldn’t without having to go through the sanitisation again.

Jack bumped her knee however, raising an eyebrow at her as he questioned quietly, “Don’t you have that tail for that week? About the wedding and the cake and the bakery?”

That got a groan from her as Jo tipped her head to the side, resting on Jack’s shoulder in exhaustion. “Oh god, that’s true… Ah well, they can just wait for an hour or two while we shoot or something.”

“That or they’ll include it, show off your body in two magazines, aye?” The eyebrow waggle from the tattooer got a tired sounding laugh from her, and she could feel the other’s shoulder shake from his own silent laughter. “Promise we’ll keep her covered up some, Jack.”

“That’s her choice,” The other responded, tucking into his own late-night dinner with them. Jo could see a splatter of paint on the back of his neck from where she was, clearly having spent the night on his own working on his own artwork. “Though I think Rolling Stone may actually appreciate getting a half-dressed show by tagging along too.”

“It’s not like it’s a cover story - that’s your sister, not me, hun.” Jo ribbed back, chewing thoughtfully over her chicken as Ash span away to get some beers from his fridge.

The second week of the next month was something she was dead nervous about. It wasn’t like it was the first article her bakery had been featured in, nor was it the first time she had been interviewed personally - but those had always been for small local or state publications. Or the odd collumn in the society pages when she’d accompanied her step-dad to a reunion special, or been caught on camera out with the brunette sister of Jack’s in the last two years.

But this time it was a large, international even magazine coming to speak with her. A reporter was planned to follow her about for the week to write a feature story as part of the ongoing coverage about the wedding in six months time. The wedding was due to be Kardashian Level Big according to Shada, whatever that meant, and Jo had somehow been sucked into the epicentre of it almost as much as the bride herself.

It had started with an innocent offer to bake the cake. Something Jo would have done for any of her friend’s upon hearing of their engagement - something Jo had done before when Dean’d been engaged to Lisa six years ago (not that it lasted) and when Sam told her that he and Jessica were finally getting married last year. So when Shada had bounced her way into the back of the bakery three months earlier to show off the glittering diamond on her hand, the words had come out with genuine intent and happiness for the other woman. An innocent and wellmeaning offer which was still well meant and innocent enough; but had somehow been the start of the whole cycle of crazy the blonde was now preparing for.

Two weeks after the engagement announcement, Jo had found herself being swept up into a hug and answering ‘yes’ to her boyfriend’s sister’s request for her to be one of her bridesmaids. Shada had said she would have wanted her for a maid-of-honour (though Jo wasn’t sure how to tell her that wasn’t the correct term) but given Jo was already helping “so much” with the wedding cake that the sweet girl did not want to add any extra duties on top of her. Jo wasn’t aware how much that was a blessing at the time, but she did now. Three weeks after that, the engagement party happened.

Since then, it had been non-stop for Jo. It was as if a paparazzi bomb had gone off in front of the bakery given how frequently the bride and her pose came by to speak with her, not to mention all of the other typical wedding activities she had been dragged along to. It had taken all of her willpower not to drop out of it after Shada had tearfully confessed one night while Jack was reading a bedtime story to Billy that if it weren’t for Jo, she would think the whole thing might just be a sham for the show’s publicity. A lot of wine bottles were finished that night while the two women talked, letting the younger one vent about how out of control it had gotten and how much she loved her fiance’s patience with it all. Jo had dragged the bride’s brother to the bedroom after Shada had left, and thanked him for his own patience until it was almost dawn.

It had been last month that she had received the call from some reporter - a Chuck something-or-other - about her being part of a six-month series following along those involved in the monstrostity that was coming of the event and an “inside view to the love story of the year” from the deadpanned description the reporter had given her over the phone. Jo had laughed so much at that that she’d found herself agreeing before she knew what was happening. Her month would be the second month of the series; however she had already been featured and introduced in the story that had been released that very week. Story one had been a shallow interview with each of the bridal party about the happy couple, and a feature on the gianormous ring. Month two would be following Jo around as a bridesmaid and the baker for the event. She had heard month four’s topic would be some monstrosity about the bridesmaids shopping and fittings which would start during her week follow-around and expanded on later with the rest of the bridesmaids that she was not looking forward to.

Jack’s laugh distracted her from her thoughts though as Jo accepted a longneck from Ash. “You’re my cover girl though, pretty sure they’ll decide to make you one too if they spot the tattoo shoot.” His fingers stroked through her hair as Jo plucked his egg roll from his plate with a smile. “I’m sure it will all be fine, Jo.”

“I’m sure you think it will be.” Mumbling around the stolen egg roll, the three slowly demolished the food and the topic moved on to Ash’s work and the upcoming University art display for the other’s senior classes. It was almost one thirty before the three finally packed up and headed their separate ways home. Thankfully it was a Sunday morning which meant the bakery would be closed and the tattoo shop would not open until midday.

As Jo and Jack reached his town house and got ready for bed, the blonde baker found herself turning back and forth in the mirror of the bathroom with a smile on her face. The bandage covered her most recent work, but she could visualise the soft and dark greys of the work underneath as she looked at it beside her other pieces. It was positioned below the American Traditional styled piece dedicated to her father branded across her ribs, the bright red and bold roses surrounding the chrome’d motorbike would tie-in with the roses blooming across her hip; while the grey tones would mesh with the silver of the bikes design nicely. She could tell the love her childhood friend had put into both pieces - the love of his work, the love of the art and skill, and the love for her - would would stare back at her every time she saw each piece for the rest of her life.

Turning the other way, Jo found herself stroking the bare skin of the other hip wonderingly as to how to find a piece to tie in with the roses and guitar on that side of her ribs - a dedication to her son - but also match the new grey work. Perhaps she could talk her artist into making her a custom piece this time, perhaps even featuring an anchor, eagle and globe for her son’s father. She shook her head at that thought. That would require talking to someone about him, and as she felt the telltale pricking at her eyes, she knew that was a conversation she was still not ready for.

Brushing her teeth quickly to divert her thoughts, the baker found herself cuddling into the small spoon position when she returned to the bed, Jack’s arms wrapping tightly across her waist. The last thing she thought as his warm breath brushed against the back of her neck and Jo found herself snuggling back into his warmth was that she was so lucky to have a second go around.

Over the next three weeks Jo found herself smiling every time she remembered the new design on her leg, be it when she’d catch a sight of it in the shower, or when Ash would make a joke about getting her undressed again, or when Jack’s lips would press against it once it was healed enough. She always loved getting new work done and Dean made a joke each time she got one done that she experienced some kind of natural high from them. Jo snarked back that he’d understand it if he wasn’t such a bitch that he was scared of a little needle.

As Monday rolled around, the baker found herself in the kitchen decorating a tray of mojito flavoured cupcakes with a lime infused buttercream and pearlescent green candy balls and candied lime peel when she was interrupted.

“Hey Jo, there’s some guy here for you.” Sam’s voice snapped her out of her routine of swirling the icing with a jolt. The taller man had the good decency to look apologetic as she set her piping bag down as he moved over to start taking over the decorating duties. Jo still wasn’t sure why he still worked for her. He had finished his law degree the previous year, but he’d yet to move into permanent employment in the field - taking over some of the work from Ash now that the parlor was up and running in the last eighteen months, but making no comment to Jo about when he’d be handing over his apron for a suit. She wasn’t sure what she would do when he finally did though. Probably cry at him until he changed his mind, but that was something for Future Jo to worry about. “Looks kind of sketchy but said something about trailing you?”

“That’d be the reporter, remember? That thing for Stone about Shada’s wedding.”

“That’s this week?”

Jo laughed at the apprehensive tone to the other’s voice and the way Sam’s hands dropped the piping bag to start straightening his denim apron and pat at his manbun self-conciously. “Yes, that’s this week so don’t forget to actually look cute for once in your life.”

“Hey! I am always cute,” Sam replied, tugging the name badge - the same Sam-I-Am written in faded ink over and over - to sit jauntily angled before he reached out to tweak her nose. Jo laughed nasally as he let go with a smile. “Where as you’ll have to remember to get your beauty rest and not just screw your boyfriend until sunrise every night.”

“Excuse me?” The unfamiliar voice interrupted the pair, both jerking in surprise and straightening up as if they were twelve and thirteen again and Ellen had overheard them discussing something they shouldn’t be. Jo blinked her eyes a few times as she finally located where the voice had come from - a man with dark hair, scruffy beard and a somewhat bemused smirk, slightly disheveled clothes and an average height with a messenger bag slung across his front and a dictaphone in one hand standing in the open door to the front of the bakery beside Ash - and found herself blushing at the fact that was the first recorded words to her week long interview. “Uh, I’m here for Rolling Stone?”

“Chuck Shurley, right? Yes, yes, nice to meet you - I’m Jo! Jo Harvelle.” The baker slipped quickly into her usual friendly greeting, brushing her hand off of the nervous sweat starting in her palm on her thigh as she rushed across the room to shake the other’s hand. Jerking her head behind her at the taller man as he turned his attention back to the cupcakes, Jo found herself glaring at her friend sharply. “And that’s Sam Winchester, and he’s going to shut the fuck up right now, aren’t you Sammy?”

“Sure thing, boss!” The cheery response made her want to growl but her eyes focussed on the silver recording device the only thing stopping her.

Directing the man back out into the main area of the bakery, Jo led the other over to one of the empty tables as Ash began warming up the coffee machine for the day and getting the bakery ready for customers in the next hour.

“So, uh… How is this, um, going to be going this week?” Jo asked stiltedly, her hands twitching awkwardly around eachother on the tabletop as the man across from her slung his messenger bag off and set the silver recording device down and pulled out a battered looking notebook. “I mean, I know that Thursday we’re doing some bridesmaid shopping or something, and I emailed you about the appointment for the parlor next door tomorrow - but other than that, what, uh, exactly are you intending to do this week?”

Chuck tumbed through his notebook without looking up at her until he got to whatever page he was intending to start on before he finally looked across at her. Jo felt a little like a deer in the headlights as the reporter pulled out a pen and stared across at her.

“Those are two specific outtings, yes, but for the most part I’ll just be trailing you about on a day-to-day basis, asking questions and possibly interviewing friends as well.” He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, and as if summoned by the awkwardness, Ash appeared with two glasses, a glass bottle of water and two coffees for the pair of them. Jo fought down the urge to kiss him as she began to almost inhale the caffienated liquid, not even reacting to the wink he shot her. Bloody psychic friends, knowing her inside and out. Chuck too drank from his own coffee before he jotted something down in his notepad she couldn’t see. “If you’ve got the chance to do a demonstration of the cake, or just one of the teirs of what is sure to be the monstrosity- I mean, extravagantly beautiful cake, then I know that’d be really important for the piece-”

“I can definitely bake up a teir or two of the amazing masterpiece for the wedding of the year-”

“With photos? Of the creative process required for such an… exciting event.”

“Yes, you can photograph the process.”

“Excellent.”

Both trailed off quietly, however the slight awkwardness had faded as both smirked a little. Jo found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek.

“Off record-”

“Okay, off the record.”

“-You’re not looking forward to covering this are you?” Jo asked politely, hiding her smile behind her mug.

The reporter appeared to pause for a moment, eyes darting away as if trying to decide the best, most diplomatic response, before he looked back at her with his own self-depricating smile. “That obvious huh?” Chuck let out a small chuckle. “Usually I’m touring with bands and such or doing some investigative articles, not.. a fake socialite turned celebrity’s wedding.”

“I read that article on ‘A week in the life of a YouTube something-or-other’ a few months ago actually.” Jo replied, smiling congenially across at the other. “And my boyfriend was a fan of your introspective into the decline of alternative music festivals.”

“Can we go back on the record?”

“Sure?”

“Brilliant. Let’s start with some basic questions, aye?” The awkwardness was fully gone as both relaxed back into their seats and the man looked down at his pages as if deciding where to start. “So, your name is Joanna Beth Harvelle-”

“But I go by Jo.”

“Jo, then.” He scribbled a note down. “Your mom and dad’s names?”

“Ellen and William Harvelle.”

“And you’ve got a step-father, right?”

“Yeah, Bobby Singer - you’ve probably got down to chat with him sometime anyways.” Jo replied almost boredly as they made their way through the basic questions.

“He’s the director on the bride’s TV show correct? Is that how you met the blushing bride?”

“Nah, she’s actually my boyfriend’s sister, so I knew her before she was cast. Not that that had anything to do with either-” Jo was quick to add, shifting to sit upright a bit more, rather than relaxing as she realised she needed to be careful to definitely paint her friend in the best light now they were back on record. “-I didn’t actually know Bobby was working on the project, or that Shada was an aspiring actress actually, until after they started filming.”

“Speaking of your boyfriend - he’s Jack Grey, correct?”

“Yes, he’s a lecturer at Cornish in the arts programs.”

The reporter nodded along with her words, jotting down something as he flicked a look up to her face that made Jo flush. “He was a big name in the art circuit a while back, wasn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t know really, not really my scene and I didn’t know him back then.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Just over two years now.” Jo smiled thinking back on how quickly the time had seemed to go, dipping her teaspoon and stirring her coffee absent mindedly as she fell into the easy responses to the easier question.

“And before that you were married, correct?”

The question caught he off guard, spoon clattering loudly against the side of the cup as her eyes widened. She could hear the sound of coughing from behind her somewhere and the hissing sound of the milk frother being turned to full without any milk jug underneath it. She could see the curious look from the reporter and the quick movement of his pen as he wrote down something as he stared back at her. She could feel the heat leaving her cheeks and her stomach twisting around on itself, and her throat catching as if suddenly parched of any moisture.

“Uh..what?”

“You were married before, making you the only married bridal party member. A, uh, William Mark Reynolds correct?” Chuck appeared to look quickly between her face and his notes, frowning slightly. “A captain in the marines, killed in action in Afghanistan five and a half years ago. Awarded a Medal of Honor for-”

“For disobeying orders to rescue civillians from an occupied ISIL facility, and for blocking the escaping civillians path from the combatants with his own body.” She replied almost mechanically, the words combing back to her from the visit by the Marine officer sent to break the news to her. Jo found her stomach twisting again tightly as it had then, however at that time it had hurt doubly from the pressure of their boy inside growing. Shaking her head, she blinked across at the other man with a tight smile. “My husband lost his life in the line of duty, and gave twenty-three people their’s back. That’s all I have to say on that.”

“Would you mind if, should it suit the article, we include the photo of your receiving the award on his behalf?” The photo in question was pushed across to her on the reporter’s phone, and Jo bit back an inappropriate laugh at how different she looked in it to now. Haunted and sallow, sunken eyes and limp hair, and the crisp black dress not hiding at all the protrouding stomach she had at the time of the ceremony. It was the time she had started baking, and within a year had the bakery up and running and a smile back on her face after months of the same blank look in the image.

Jo shook her head, pushing the phone back across the table to the other. “I’d prefer you don’t, and I’m sure you’ll have more interesting things to include than that too much.”

“That’s true, I’ll see what I can do to ensure not to spend too much time on it.” The genuine smile she received in return as well as the softness in his tone helped to smooth the tightness in her at the line of questioning, as Chuck clicked his phone screen back to black before turning his attention back to his notes. “Anyway, you have a son?”

“Billy - William Dean, but we call him Billy. He’s almost five.”

“And you’re the owner of this fantastic bakery, correct?”

“Yes, this is my other baby!” Jo laughed, the tightness disappearing in full as the topic turned back to easier topics.

From there, the questions moved through to how long she had been baking, when the bakery had opened and what had inspired her ‘unique’ choice in name. How she came to meet Shada and her fiance Ian - which Jo felt uniquely qualified to provide an indepth telling of the pairs first meeting in the very kitchen behind them. Chuck laughed at her retelling the story, and both agreed to take some photos of the space and possibly even re-create the “life changing coffee” as Jo dubbed it on the other woman’s behalf. How the bride had asked her to be part of the bridal party, how Jack would be participating in the wedding - “He’s going to be walking his sister down the aisle, and is the last of the groomsmen” - and how she had found the wedding arrangements thus far.

As the hour reached the time for the bakery to open for trading, the reporter simply shrugged his bag back upon his shoulder, tucked away his notepad and brought out a professional camera to begin taking candid photos of the bakery and it’s workers. Jo herself headed back into the kitchen to begin on a new load of pastries for the day as Sam returned to the front of house and Ash began to flit between the coffee machine and his parlor. The rest of the day passed relatively easily, with Chuck almost an invisible presence as the trio moved through their usual patterns of the day. Jo almost forgot to cut him a slice of the quiche lorraine they were having for lunch that day with how unobtrusive he was.

Occasionally, she’d be drawn into a line of questioning about the business and her personal life, as well as to reflect on the bride herself, but for the most part Chuck appeared content to follow her around quietly other than to ask where he could charge his phone and dictaphone. Ash would bring him in a coffee at the same times he would deliver Jo her own, and she heard them have a slight discussion at one point about her and his friendship. She was exceptionally happy to hear Ash never once mentioned the knife collection Jo’d begun collecting as a child, as she doubted that would run well.

So far as her work, the day had been an almost mindless blur of rushing about the kitchen space preparing to get ahead of herself for the hours off she would be taking the next day. Sam handled customers like the pro he was, sweet talking everyone and keeping a smooth transition of items from the back to front without any input from her; while she knew in the adjoining space, Ash would be drinking beer, spinning on his chair and smashing out the prep work for the week’s tattoos ahead of him and preparing for the photoshoot the next day - occasionally Jo could hear him stop to help with barista duties given the tattoo parlor was not open Monday’s or Tuesday’s typically; as well as the odd conversation between all three men working in the building alongside her.

Just before midday, Chuck and Sam had entered the kitchen and set up some kind of rig to capture her in motion with a slow exposure system for stills as well as a video camera for the video miniseries that would accompany the piece. Jo barely thought of it as she continued to work like a madwoman to pump out tray upon tray of brownies, ice racks full of different cupcakes and pile cakes high with fruit and garnishes. She was just glad she’d had the foresight not to agree to any weddings or functions that weekend. Brownies filled with hazelnuts, Nutella spread and drizzled with white chocolate slipped into the fridge beside raspberry cupcakes, poppy seed muffins, dark chocolate tortes, fruit pies and savory quiches and pies. So far as Jo was concerned, the day was like any other with the constant battle to bake ahead of her needs and the scent of chocolate, berries and baking bread filling her nose; cocoa and flour dusting her hair, brushing her cheeks and coating her hands as always.

It wasn’t until it hit four in the afternoon that Jo was reminded that the reporter was slinking about when she’d been greeted by her dark haired man with a wide grin and kiss as usual as he made his way into the back kitchen. She had her arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and the other tugging him into her by his scarf as he brushed her cheek clear of a white streak of flour when the sound of repeated camera shutters disturbed her from her usual greeting.

“Uh… Some privacy?” Jo pulled back from the other to look towards the reporter, camera still out and snapping candid movements as the pair didn’t step back from one another.

There was another few shutter sounds before the man lowered the camera back to the bench and pulled out his dictaphone instead. “Sorry Jo, privacy is for next week. Hi, Chuck Shurley, big big fan of your watercolor period.” The reporter made his way over, hand held out for the other to shake as he smiled in that same self-depricating way Jo had come to know as his bemused look over the last nine hours. “The sunflower segment was a phenomenal series.”

“Oh.. Oh, thanks. Yeah, uh, they definitely were, um, some of my work. Yep.” Jo looked on as the same cold, almost indifferent look swept over his boyfriend’s face as he shook hands with the other man, his other arm staying firmly wrapped around her waist. Jack’s eyes darted about and she could see his jaw muscle clench for a moment. “Nice to meet you, Chuck. I, uh, hope Jo hasn’t caused you too many problems so far today.”

“Hey!” She let out an outraged cry, hand tugging at his scarf playfully angry as she looked up at him. The sound of the camera clicking caught her off guard again as the pair had smiled and smirked at one another before the playful looks dropped from their faces at the sound. Jo coughed awkwardly before turning back to her cupcake work while Jack stepped back a few feet to pick up one of the brownies laid out on a tray ready to be moved out front or stored into the fridge for the next day.

“So, Jack Grey, you’re Shada’s older brother, right?”

“Yes, Shada’s my little sister.” Jack slumped back against the counter top as Jo turned her attention back to her current work. She wasn’t sure what the tone in his voice or the slightly cool attitude he was putting off was about, but figured the reporter would inevitably want to interview him now or in future and was taking advantage of the opportunity as it presented itself. “Our parents were Eleanor and Michael Grey, they have since passed away before you get to those questions.”

The lemon and honey infused cupcakes she was currently working on, a pale golden yellow batter that had come out of the oven right before they moved from a light gold to a warm brown color on the top, were testers for the wedding cake she’d be trialling later in the week itself. She had to decide over the next day to decide on the best icing for the mix - whether she went for the basil and lemon infused buttercream that she moved towards the mixer to whip up, or if she brought in the purple theme for the outer decoration by swirling blueberries or blackberries into the buttercream too.

“Thanks for confirming, uh.. So, were your parents creatives too? To have had both a prolific artist and a rising star actress in the family, it would beg the question.”

“Our mother was a dental assistant and our father was an accountant. So no. They weren’t particularly creative people.”

“In that case, as the first of the artists in the family - how do you think your sister is handling her rise to fame?” Chuck’s question sounded weird, and the tones of both men sounded off to her; however Jo simply spared a quick glance towards the pair over her shoulder as she moved to start working on the berry coulis. Neither seemed particularly odd, Jack seemed to be appreciating his brownie as much as always and the reporter was simply flipping through his notebook with the dictaphone beside them. “It’s so similar to your own rise to prominance too. Straight out of the last few years of study, picked up by a renowned name in the industry and flashed into the public sphere.”

“My sister is very mature for her age.” The words were practically growled out, and as Jo stirred about the berry mix in the saucepan over the hob, she chanced another look behind her. Jack’s arms were crossed firmly across his chest, and that cold look was back. Peculiar. “Shada also has the benefit of being surrounded by people who want the best for her, and have had their own experiences, as you say, with the problems of popularity and attention. People who will help keep her on the right path.”

“Ah. Yes. Not going to see her follow your footsteps then?”

That caught her attention, back straightening and ears pricked but made no move to look around to see what was happening. It was quiet for a moment before Jo found herself getting a kiss on the cheek and a pat on her hip before Jack mumbled something about ‘catching up with her later’ and leaving. Very, very peculiar.

Finishing off the coulis and moving back towards her station, setting the hot pan down on a cooling pad to be used once it had dropped down in temperature. The buttercream was almost finished whipping in the mixer as Jo switched that off as well. Spooning half the basil, lemon buttercream into a medium, petal nozzel piping bag; she began piping in a rose around the top of half the cupcakes as she waited for the berry mix to cool.

She could hear the man rustling about in his bag behind her, flipping pages back and forth, feet shuffling loudly on the concrete floor, and the click of the back of the dictaphone being slid open for more batteries again.

“What was that all about?” Jo found herself asking while the other’s recording device was not recording every word she said. “Off record, what was that all about?”

“Your boyfriend is a bit of an enigma in the art world, if you didn’t know. He was huge for a while there, people were saying he was going to be the next classics master, first one in generations.” Chuck replied, fitting the batteries back into his recorder, but not turning it back on yet as he moved over to watch what she was doing. A snap of his camera came as she added the last petal to the cupcake in her hand. “And then seemingly overnight, he just dropped off the radar after torching his studio. Burnt over a million dollars of artwork some have valued the loss at.”

Jo’s brow shot up, not having dug much further than just that he’d had an exhibit that went around the world some ten years earlier than her meeting him, as she looked across at the other. “Really?”

“He was set to be huge. But none of his work has been seen since then.”

“Huh, guess I shouldn’t have got him to keep painting over his work out front then, aye?” Jo laughed a little to herself, shaking her head as she picked up another cupcake.

The icing on that one was ruined however when she heard the clattering of the reporter’s notebook to the floor surprised her. Jerking around, she looked at the other in confusion.

“Wait..that…that mural out in the main room?” Chuck appeared to struggle to get the words out, staring at her wide eyed. “Is that a Jack Grey?”

Jo nodded her head with another laugh, quirking her lips up as she sat the piping bag and cupcake down on her work station. Brushing her hands off on her apron, she reached across to the top of the work bench for her phone. “Yeah, that’s I think the tenth one I’ve got him to do? I’ve got photos of some of the other’s on here somewhere too.”

For the next thirty minutes the pair stood together flicking through the somewhat unartful photos Jo had snapped of each of her murals over the last two years - from a wall full of flowers with secret faces in the centres, to a black-and-white labyrinth maze, to a stylised sketchy portrait of her and her son that was done to celebrate Billy’s birthday, to a wall full of swirling colours making designs and shapes within itself that was hard to define but had made Jo smile for two whole months - while the dictaphone remained off and Jo answered off record questions about the other’s work in the last two years. Both sides were surprised as they talked, one that the artist was still making art, the other that it was a surprise for him to be doing so.

Once the coulis was cooled down, Jo poured it in lines around the star nozzel piping bag before filling the centre with the remaining buttercream. The swirls were a mix of purple and white atop the other half of the cupcakes by the time Ash and Sam made their way into the kitchen after tidying down the store front and closing up.

“So, we’ll meet back here tomorrow for the… uh?” Chuck looked a little helplessly at the trio as he flicked back and forth through the notebook, now with extra sheets of paper stuck in at all kinds of angles, including napkins and baking paper when they couldn’t locate normal paper.

“Inked magazine shoot next door.” Ash supplied generously, thumbs stuck through his belt as he relaxed back next to Jo, staring hungrily at the rack of cupcakes for the next day. Moving quickly, Jo shoved the rack of her wedding-tester cupcakes into the fridge as Sam added the last two trays of brownies and a slab of cinnamon buns in after her. The fridge was more full than she normally allowed it to get; with premade elements such as the cupcakes and brownies, as well as trays of unbaked bread, buns and rolls ready to be thrown in the oven throughout the next day so there would be freshly baked items as well. The pout that graced the other’s face as he brushed a hand through his long back hair made Jo smirk. “Got this nightmare getting done sometime around lunch, but I’ll be needing her all day. You know, emotional support.”

“What a liar, Ash, you don’t have emotions!”

“Ugh, the pain, the hurt, you break my heart, girlie.” The mulleted tattooer held his hands up to his heart, clutching in fake pain as he stared back at her. Jo wiped a fake tear from her own eye in response, giving an exagerated sniff, before getting caught up in a hug by the other blond. Squealling as her feet left the ground, she wasn’t even surprised to hear the click of the camera at this point, nor the laughter from the other men watching. As Ash sat her back down on the ground, she elbowed him in the ribs gently. “Anyway, Jo’s going to be out of the kitchen all day with me and the guys from Inked, as well as Garth, Gordon, Creedy and Tamara - just so you know Jo and don’t yell at me-”

“Really? You’ve got Gordon coming?”

“Get over it Jo, it was three crappy dates and him texting that he was seeing someone else.” Jo was interrupted in her whining about the man coming and being a part of the shoot by Sam, shaking his hair out of his manbun now that the food was away and the day was over. He reached out a clapped a hand on her shoulder with a smile. “Don’t worry though, I’m going to make sure to burn all of his coffees and add a ton of sugar.”

“But he’s keto at the moment for the next comp-ooooh.” Jo grinned widely in response at the other, rolling her eyes at the mischief that Sam would inevitably get up to tomorrow. He and the other man had never gotten along well, and Jo was almost certain he’d been involved somehow in scaring the other away three years ago when Jo and Gordon had begun to strike up a flirtation when he’d been visiting a lot to discuss his next work with Ash. However it could have been Billy that scared the other off, and the blonde couldn’t help but smile thinking how much better off she was now than three or even four years earlier.

Finishing the last bit of tidying up and confirming the time for ten am the next day, Jo bid goodbye to the other’s before heading back to Jack’s townhouse to get started on dinner and hand over duties with her mom. The night went by quietly - Billy had behaved himself at childcare and for the two hours Ellen watched over him in the evening before Jo and Jack both made it home, Jack’s cold mood seemed to have disappeared completely if the flowers were any indication, and the trio spent a normal night playing games on the rug in front of the television before Jack took Billy for his bedtime story.

As the pair finally retired for bed after two episodes of Good Omens and half a bottle of red wine each, Jo found herself curling into her spot in the crook of the other’s neck and asking quietly, “Did you really torch a whole pile of your paintings?”

She could feel him stiffen for a moment before his arms wrapped around her again tightly. Jack’s voice was just as quiet, as if it was said softly enough it would remain a secret, just between the two of them. “Yeah, my manager was not happy but fuck him.” His fingers stroked through her hair gently as Jo snuggled in closer again. “He was the one that pushed me to pump out crap, he didn’t deserve a single cent of commision from it and I was… exhausted. Physically and creatively. The news said it was the whole studio, but really it was just a few canvases. I was done.”

She hummed in response, curling her fingers around his shoulders as she hugged into his chest, breathing deeply. It was intoxicating, the smell of oil paints, mens deoderant and that underlying scent she’d come to associate with home. Nodding her head against his chest, cheek pressed against the thin, soft sleep tshirt fabric, Jo could appreciate the other’s past as much as she hoped he would hers one day. Not today though, she’d thought on it enough already today, more than she had in over two years; and she didn’t want to go digging around in that box of memories again. “I’m glad you did it then, otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Exactly, what’s a bit of arson to make everything right, huh.” The words rumbled in his chest and made her smile as they shared a few kisses before rolling about to get to sleep. She would have rolled on top of him, but Ash had made her promise not to get any hickeys and to get a good nights sleep before she’d left the bakery.

And a good nights sleep she got.

Jo rolled into the bakery the next morning, Billy’s hand held tightly in hers since she wouldn’t be in the kitchen unable to watch him that day, and quickly grabbed up the plate of cinnamon buns that Sam had already baked that morning from the kitchen before taking the young boy through to the tatto parlor where there were the starts of the shoot were getting underway. There were lighting rigs, and cameras everywhere. There were cords all over the floors, and Billy was very careful when stepping over them to her relief and pride as they made their way through to where Ash was nursing a beer already.

“Just starting, or didn’t you stop?” Jo asked quietly as she moved Billy to sit up on the tatto bench beside his favourite ‘uncle’. She tore one of the buns in half, handing one half to each of her blond men with a smile.

Ash shook his head as he bit down into the fluffy, cinnamon infused bun before looking at her in surprise at the hidden apple chunks. “Didn’t stop. Saw that beauty round on Elm Street, god Pamela is a goddess, you know?”

Jo raised a brow back at her friend, and almost snorted at the same look on her son’s face towards the tattoo artist though without the knowing leer she knew she was delivering alongside it.

“Uncle Ash, a person can’t be a god,” Billy’s voice cut over whatever Jo had thought to say, biting down on the laugh his words made her want to do.

“You’d be mostly right there, buddy, but when you’re older, you and I are going to have a chat about how all women are goddesses - its just us guys that don’t get any magic powers.” Ash smirked back at the kid, spinning around in his chair before tapping the boy’s nose with one finger. Billy scrunched up his face, looking disbelievingly at the other before dropping it and tucking into his own half of a bun.

The tattoo artist was called away after a few minutes of companionable silence between the trio while eating their belated breakfast buns. A moment after the tattooer left with his unfortunate mullet, the mother and son were joined by her shadow for the week.

“Morning Chuck, didn’t scare you off yesterday did I?”

“Very nearly.” The reporter replied, digging his dictaphone out again and clicking the power button as he’d done the day before. Jo barely acknowledged it now, used to it already. Chuck brushed his hands off, rubbing them together from the cold outside before he spotted the curious face looking at him from Jo’s other side. “Uh, hi there kiddo. I’m, um, Chuck. And you must be Billy.”

“Yep!” The chirpped response from the cinnamon covered boy came with a wide toothy smile, before he held out a sticky hand to the older man. Jack must have been teaching him the manners Jo never bothered to. “You’re the person doing the story on Aunty Shaday?”

“That he is, kiddo. He’s going to be following Mommy around for the rest of the week, so you’ll be on your best behavior wont you?”

“Yessum Mommy.”

“Good boy. Now, did you want to go see if Uncle Sammy would make you a hot cocoa?” Jo asked quietly, running a hand over her boy’s hair as he looked around the place as if he were bored. “And later, Sammy might even get you to help out with decorating some cupcakes if you ask him real nicely.” It wasn’t uncommon on non-baking days for Billy to come into the shop and spend an afternoon icing monstrosities of cakes and sugar cookies under the watchful eye of Sam or Jo. Today however, Sam had roped Jessica into coming in to help out under the guise of practice-parenting so Jo knew there was nothing to worry about with a real nurse on hand for once should anything go wrong.

The young boy disappeared with a squeal back into the bakery, and Jo could hear his excited rambling at the younger couple about cocoa and cupcakes over the din of the photo shoot starting up. The man beside her chuckled a little, flicking open his notebook again and jotting down a few notes.

“Oh, in case you wanted to know, those two works up there-” Jo jerked her head across to the two sketch arts that Jack had done before they’d started dating for Ash’s studio, smirk forming as she saw the clearly not-a-morning-person reporter look about blearily. “-Are two more of Jack’s. A tattoo-parlor-warming present for Ash.”

“Really?” Chuck appeared to squint at the artworks for a moment, before snapping photos with his camera and settling back down again, coffee in hand. Clearly Sam had already taken good care of him that morning. “Any more priceless pieces about this place that my friends in the art community would gag over?”

“I mean, when we get into the photos, you might find another.” Jo smirked wider still at the confused look on the other’s face before her happy demeanor dropped slightly at the arrival of the other ‘models’.

Tamara and Creedy were decent enough people, always tipped Sam for their drinks when they had been by, and Jo figured that Creedy would be getting used for an ‘in action’ tattoo shot from the choice of button up shirt that he usually never wore. Tamara on the other hand had a beautiful Japanese style koi across her shoulder and back that Jo figured was going to be her contribution to the photoshoot. The one Jo found herself rolling her eyes over was when she caught the eye of and shared a nod with Gordon Walker. She was fairly certain he was another Japanese style, a greyscale-styled dragon that from what she remembered and could see poking out from under his t-shirt sleeve wound around his entire sleeve and across his chest. That one would be a pleasure for the photographer to cover today.

“So, who’s got what? What is this whole thing about?” The reporter’s question brought her attention back from following the well-defined sleeve tattoo’s progress around the parlor as Jo blinked back at the other with a shrug. “As much as I’ve followed musicians to their sessions before, a, uh, photo shoot for tattoos hasn’t been on my list of articles so far.”

“And a wedding cake has?”

“Touche.”

Jo laughed a little in response, as she wiped her hands off on her jeans awkwardly. The other three models were getting dragged through the rigmarole of styling as first timers, and the baker knew she would be going through the same process soon enough but given hers would be the only one requiring practically no clothing, there was no point her moving towards the wardrobe discussion. Ash had made a joke about using a sheet when he’d suggested the idea to her first, but looking around Jo knew that perhaps it wasn’t quite as much of a joke as she had thought it was.

Shaking her head, Jo pointed towards the other three, giving a slight wave to Tamara when she noticed her. “So those three over there are the other models - Tamara the lady will be displaying her back piece and likely have a few different poses to try out for it. Gordon, the one smirking over here,” she found herself smiling back nicely but nothing more than a short nod in response to the subject of her conversations look, “will be getting his arm and chest photographed so usually they’ll go for a standing shot. Probably Ash next to him, maybe near the window or by the Insta-wall. And Creedy is the other one, but Ash’ll actually be tattooing him today while they photograph the process - ah yes, there goes his shirt.” As she was talking the older man stripped off his shirt and moved over to the tattoo artist to look at whatever piece they were demonstrating today.

“They use an A-shooter and B-shooter. For the most part, the B will be with Ash and Creedy doing the step by step to see about getting some in action shots; while the A team will be doing photos with Tamara, Gordon and myself.”

“And what are you getting photographed today?” Chuck was noting down as she spoke, however for the most part it appeared to be on a blank page at the back of his book while she’d been describing the process of the day, before he flicked back to the section she knew was about her article. She spotted the words ‘cute little kid, very smart, takes after father - investigate’ before he looked up at her and Jo pretended she hadn’t been looking at his work. He raised a brow, pen poised over the paper.

“I’ll be the American traditional and Ash’s new exploration into fine line greys.” Jo replied with a smile, and bit back a laugh at the blank look as the reporter jotted the words down without comprehension. “Uh, either side of my ribs are two old school styled tattoos to show his main bread-and-butter style, while Tamara and Gordon will be the Japanese section Ash’s been getting a name for. And then my thigh is the fine line style - all the rage right now, and one of the first one’s he’s done. Creedy’ll probably be getting a smaller one on his forearm for the B-shoot.”

“Ah, if the photos end up any good-”

“I’m sure you’ll need to speak with Inked, but they will probably allow use of some of their photos. Or possibly your own. Go have a chat with the art director over there.” Jo waved her hand in the direction towards the crowd of magazine workers milling about and smiled as Chuck gave a nod and disappeared.

Hopping up onto the spare tattoo bench, Jo kicked her feet in the air a little as she pulled out her phone to check over her emails while she waited to be told where she’d next be needed. She could go check up on Jessica and Billy, but she didn’t want to come off as hovering and figured the other woman would appreciate being given the chance to really give motherhood a trial. Maybe she shouldn’t have given Billy a sugary bun for breakfast, but that was all part of the fun of babysitters. Flicking through the emails, she saw some were work related about orders and shipments of ingredients, some where the junk like her old school asking for alumni to return to ‘inspire’ the teens or silly forward emails from her mom. There was six from Shada and her collection of bridesmaids and wedding planner reminding everyone that the bridesmaid shopping would be in two days time, and Jo opened up a response to remind them all to look ‘extra pretty and put together’ as the Stone reporter would be tagging along when there was a bump to her knee distracting her mid sentence.

“Hey darling,” The deep voice caught her attention, and Jo barely restrained herself from the childish desire to jerk her knee away from the man’s hand. Looking up, she raised a brow up at Gordon with a frown. “How’ve you been? Did I see your little brat running about earlier?”

“Walker. Yes you did see Billy earlier, he’s currently with Sam’s fiance working on his icing skills out back.”

“I notice you didn’t answer how you are, Joanna.”

“I’m spectacular, actually.” Jo gritted the words out, turning her gaze back down to her phone and tapping out the end of her email before tucking it away. The amused look on the other’s face rubbed her the wrong way. Forcing herself to not rise to the bait, Jo smiled sickeningly sweetly back at him. “I’ve been extremely busy actually, was on Sugar RUSH last year and did pretty well, I’m being a bridesmaid for a big wedding later in the year, and my boyfriend and I are enjoying our time with Billy.”

“So you finally found someone to replace the big macho man, huh?” Gordon’s face twisted into a smirk as he leant on the bench beside her. “Gone for another military boy like Daddy?”

Jo grit her teeth, sneering back at the other, not dignifying his questioning with an answer.

“From the silence I’m going to assume he is. Did you end up with another William this time around - because if you did, darling, that’s just more than a little sad. Nobody’s going to live up to the last one. What could top a Medal of Honor, aye? Selfless sacrificing war hero leaving his mourning widow knock-”

He didn’t get to finish the rest of his theorising before Jo’s fist was thrown straight into his smug, shit talking mouth with a snarl. As he jerked his head back to the side, her other fist threw out towards where his mouth now was. Her ears were pounding and Jo felt herself rearing back to throw a third one before she was tackled to the side by something warm and heavy.

“Hey, hey now chickadee, gorgeous, mamacitta…” The words managed to sink through her anger as the rush of adrenaline left her shaky and numb as she glared across at the now furiously snarling man, held back from following through again by the warm, tight grip of her best friend. Ash had a harsh hold around her arms, pulling her back and away from the other. "Baby girl, you need to calm down."

As she felt herself calming down again, Jo realised the noise around the room had suddenly dipped, and glancing over the top of her friend’s shoulder, she could see eyes focussed right on her from every corner. She bit down a sneer at the furious look on the bleeding man’s face though.

“You calm now, mama?” Ash asked quietly in her ear, hands rubbing her arms carefully, not quite removing the pressure in case she made a move to go again. Too many fist fights, too many bar fights, and too many screaming fits after it happened had taught him never to trust if she looked calm that she was calm.

Jo nodded her head before he finally released her, cracking her aching fist as she attempted to avoid looking at anyone else but Ash. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Good, good. We’re all good here people, let’s get back focussed hey?” The call came out from the tattooer as he looked over his shoulder towards the rest of the room. With a nod from him, the magazine workers went back to preparing for the shoot, while Tamara and Creedy both turned back to discussing one of the portfolio books Ash had out. Gordon only remained standing as quietly as he had before, eyes focussed on the pair of them before he get drawn away by one of the photo assistants.

“Hey, maybe you should suggest they use the bleeding for aesthetics or something.” Jo mumbled the words out as Ash finally stepped back from her, a smile growing on his face at her comment. Nodding, he rushed over towards the creative team with a lot of gesticulation and ‘framing’ hands towards Gordon. A flurry of movement followed shortly after and it appeared the A-shoot had begun.

There was a cough behind her, and the blonde wasn’t surprised at all to see the dark haired reporter popping up at her elbow unnoticed.

“So, a friend of yours?”

“Nah, just some asshole I dated once or twice. However, he loves a good tattoo so...”

“Ah.” Chuck’s voice was soft as he spoke, silve dictaphone held in hand as always, “Well, looks like you’ve helped crack an idea for the photo story at least.”

Looking over, Gordon was already shucking off his t-shirt and had begun moving into position, the focus arm to camera, muscles tightened and flexed to show off the elegant curves of the dragon onto his chest, while his other hand was fisted up as if hitting his own jaw right where Jo had landed her blows. As her eyes caught his, the dark heat of anger shining through towards her, Jo knew she’d just gotten them their best shot of the day for one of the twelve page feature article and spread for the other.

“I’m truly a creative genius, did you not learn that yesterday?” She qupped back, turning to sit back down on the tattoo bench, facing away from where the shoot had gotten underway and facing towards the B-shoot starting with Ash and Creedy. “Well, you’ll grasp that tomorrow when we work on the preliminary design for Shada’s wedding cake.”

“Ah yes, the cake, let’s talk cake while we’re waiting for your call shall we?”

“Well, it’s-” Jo paused for a second, tilting her head at the other as he began to fumble for his notebook to start taking notes alongside the dictaphone he passed her to hold this time. “You, uh, don’t really know what questions to ask or words for a food-focussed article do you?”

“Absolutely not. That’s why I defer to the professionals.” There was a cheeky smile that made him look five years younger and almost what Jo would consider as cute. Perhaps she’d have to find a single friend sometime soon if she was going to be stuck with his presence for the next six months.

Laughing, Jo waited for a nod from him that he was ready to start before begininng to speak and basically ask his own questions for him. They covered the type of cake - a chiffon sponge cake despite the bride’s claims that she wanted a genoise, what she didnt know wouldn’t hurt her - and then a small interlude where Jo expanded on the different types of sponge and why she had selected one of the simpler, more All-American sponge varities for the event. Then the flavor profile of just why Jo had selected honey (”to add the sweetness in a natural form and symbolic to make each day after sweeter”), lemon (”supposed to be for eternal love, but I just love me some honey-lemon mix”) and basil (”given how unique the couple are, it suits to add a touch of the unexpected to the cake”) for the main flavorings. And as the morning moved to afternoon, Jo began to explain aloud her concept for wrapping the layers in fondant and then incorporating the main color scheme of the wedding into a mottled, artistic style with swirls and paint splashes - “perhaps even some gold leaf just to add the sparkle I know Shada loves” - when the pair were finally approached for Jo’s turn under the camera lens.

They had seemingly talked all the way through Gordon’s photos and leaving, as well as Tamara’s shoot which Jo felt a little deflated not to get to see the beautiful koi again since she’d seen the initial concept art. Even Creedy was now being photographed with a finished fine line deer design held on display on his forearm, the geometric lines behind and around it showing the extremely clear vision Ash had during the design and application.

It looked like they were almost finished and one of the makeup artists came over to start working on Jo’s face and hair. They usually only applied something light and a little bit of drama to the eye in order to avoid detracting from the artwork that was the real focus of the shoot. Jo barely contained the eyeroll as Chuck began snapping candidly with his camera again. He leant over to the make up artist for a second and Jo didn’t bother to hide the roll of her eyes as the woman started applying a red lipstick on top of the basic makeup.

“So, little miss punchy, let us proceed without any more mishaps shall we?” The words came from the director of the shoot as he approached with Ash at his side, a smirk on the mulleted man’s face as he shrugged at Jo’s exasperated look. “Firstly, we’ll want a topless shot for each traditional on your ribs, I’m sure you’ve seen enough photos to know what we need. Then, black tank top and thong for the fine line; and then possibly we’ll do a full body with a bit of design on a chair to get your thigh and ribs in the one shot. Capeesh?”

Jo blinked a few times before nodding sharply at the impatient noise from the director. “Yep, capeesh.” Shrugging a shoulder at Ash as the pushy director moved off, the blonde shrugged out of the flannel shirt she had worn that day and made her way towards the well lit window and red brick wall corner that would be used for the rib photos. It took another ten minutes before the director and crew had decided that they had the lighting right and were ready before she slipped her tank top off as well and covered her chest with her hands. “Did you want left or right first?”

From there the three different poses were easy enough - left side of the ribs with the sunlight practically blurring her face in white and her arm tugging to cover herself creating larger curves to her front than she’d even had when breastfeeding Billy, the right side had her hair glowing down her back in stark contrast to the saturation of the tattoo; and then her black tank top and flannel both thrown back on for her thigh to be focussed as she practically hovered rather than sat on the tattoo bench in the best lighting. All pretty standard poses and moves that Jo had seen in the publication before, and had watched from the back corners the last three features done on her friend. Perhaps though, thinking on it, she wouldn’t remind Ellen or Bobby to go searching out that copy of Inked compared to Ash’s previous moments.

She had heard the gasp from the dark haired reporter when her fine line design had been first revealled, and the slight gape to his face as they wrapped up the photographing of it made Jo want to laugh. “I told you, Chuck, that you might get excited by one of the designs.”

“You got a freaking Jack Grey on your leg!”

“Have had more than on my leg you know...” Jo winked at the reporter as she shimmied back into her jeans and joked around with Ash about how uncomfortable it was to hold that pose, the director approached the trio with a pleased look.

“And we’ll do that last set up now."

Puffing her cheeks out a little, Jo looked up at her friend. “Can you go make sure that Billy doesn’t try to come in here if we’re doing that freaking sheet idea of yours?”

“Of course, I’ll make sure he’s very much busy for the next half hour.” Ash smirked, slapping her on the butt cheek as he headed off, calling behind him, “Damn stupid kid, ruining all my fun!”

Laughing, Jo moved towards the stylists and behind the privacy screen Ash would pull open for his more uncomfortable clients. Or those getting something done that would be uncomfortable for anyone to glance through and see. She was directed to strip, laughing with the older stylist woman as they both grumbled about stretchmarks, and then wrapped in a black robe to move back onto the set spot.

They had seeming settled on one of the tattoo chairs with a high back and open sides, and sitting normally Jo was surprised when the director shouted and gesticulated until she turned around, chest pressed against the worn, soft leather and legs thrown to either side of the backrest. Her arms folded across the top of the back and she tilted her head across at the director questioningly. She got a thumbs up in response while the rest of the team ran about, adjusting lighting and the odd pot plant in the background. Got to have those pot plants.

Another gesture and Jo shrugged the robe off and resettled quickly, tilting a hip here on command so her muscles pulled the designs more flatteringly. She had her head resting on her arms for the most part, hair pulled to her far side away from camera. After five minutes, she was motioned to sit up a little straighter. To twist her head like that. To turn her head like that. To hold one hand up to her face. To rest both elbows on the back of the chair. On and on it went until finally she was told they’d gotten what they wanted, and shrugging the robe back on before getting up; Jo was glad that was the end of her day following that asshole’s instructions.

Returning behind the screen, the blonde redressed quickly before moving out of the space to go round into the bakery kitchen to see what her boy had been up to throughout the morning.

Billy was sat on a stool at the bench beside Jessica, both had what looked like powdered sugar in their hair and the odd splatter of food coloring but otherwise appeared unharmed. That couldn’t be said for the workspace itself. There was flour, sugar and cocoa everywhere, and Jo found her eyes blowing wide as she took in the damage.

A hand on her hip didn’t even surprise her as Ash joined her, a coffee being pushed into her hands and the hand guiding her to sit down on one of the only clean stools in the space. Caffiene was amazing and would fix everything, she thought to herself looking around the space. It looked a lot worse than it was, and she figured that she could have the space spotless again within half an hour once she was suitably caffienated.

The sound of a camera shutter barely registered to her as she smiled across at Billy babbling about what he and Jessica had been up to that morning. Something about making cookies in the shape of bones and body parts, and that they were going to be reassembling a cookie monster or something. Jessica looked surprisingly unaffected after four hours alone with the noisy preschooler, and Jo figured that if she was enjoying herself so much it meant that the baker could get ahead of herself to prepare for her day off on Thursday as well.

However before cleaning and preparation and the cookie decorating could get underway, Jo quickly had the two and a half of them working to tidy and clean down the surface with only the slightest whining from the young boy while a tray of sausage rolls baked in the oven for the groups lunch.

When the oven dinged that lunch was ready, the kitchen was back to spotless, and Jo was even in the midst of teaching Billy and Jessica alike the importance of mise en place before she put a hold on the lesson for the flaky puff pastry wrapped sausages, with stewed apples mixed into the pork sausage mix along with dried thyme and fennel seeds making them moist and slightly sweeter. Shortly after they were plated up, one for Billy, one for Jessica, one for Jo, one for Chuck, one for Ash and one for Sam placed in the warming tray to await his opportunity to come in and eat when Ash would hand over for him.

As the five sank into stools around the kitchen, Jo ran over her plan for the rest of the day to check if it suited the other’s and whether or not the reporter needed anything more exciting than watching her preparing cookie trays for the freezer or rolling puff pastry every twenty minutes, or creating tubs worth of various buttercreams ahead of time. Chuck shrugged, and gave no feedback other than he was sure the morning had given him plenty of content for his article and that he’d be back the next day for the start on the wedding cake photos themselves. Jessica had laughed at Jo’s concern she might want to head off to relax on her day off from the hospital, and waved off the suggestion she go home rather than finish her monster anatomy cookies with Billy.

The rest of the afternoon passed by quietly, or as quietly as a busy bakery with buzzing alarms and a squealling almost-five year old and two women singing along loudly to whatever song would come on the radio could be.

Much as the night before, when Jo got home there were smiles, talk of the day’s activities (”some dick started a ruckus during the life drawing class in the morning which threw the entire day off”), babbling excitedly from Billy, a bedtime story and kisses as the night turned to morning and Jo once again fell asleep wrapped up in two warm arms.

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#AU stories #Bakery AU

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