#he stared right at me and said ‘this is gonna cost so much fuckin money.’ and that’s ALL he said

[angelnumber27]

I am having very specific localized pain directly where my heart is

have mercy plz just let my body feel normal and not in pain for once. Just today

[xesarchives]

she's fire Fezco x fem!reader

Posted February 19th, 2022

Summary: Based off of the song she's fire - Diane Warren, Santana, and G Eazy

Word count: 0.7k

She sets off all the fire alarms

When she walks in the room

Leaves you in a pile of ashes

With one look at you

Her lips, her dress both devil red

She'll make a mess of you

It was difficult for Fezco not to notice her the minute she walked into the house. How her red lip gloss matched her dress so perfectly even in the shitty lighting at this shitty party. She caught Fezco’s staring quick but he didn’t bother looking away, the smile playing on her lips all the reassurance he needed to know she doesn’t mind it.

She comes to slay, she own the game

And she don't play to lose

And she'll knock you off your feet, yeah

And she'll drop you to your knees, yeah

But she's coming home with me, yeah

Fezco watched as the girl got herself a drink while amusing herself with some guy trying to hit. The deal he was doing not taking up too much of his attention anymore, having become a habit as he quickly checked the money.

“Man, the things I’d do to get that woman to come home with me,” The kid buying couldn’t help but notice Fez staring at the beautiful girl, not thinking twice when commenting on her.

“Nah man, that’s my baby,”

She’s fire

But somehow she’s so smooth

She's mine

It almost entertained Fezco to watch his girl flirt with the other people at the party, how easily she had them damn near kneeling for her.

He liked knowing how others admired her and how they could only get close enough to flirt before Y/n would say “hands off the merchandise” before deciding whoever she had been messing with was a waste of her time before she went back to Fezco. He liked knowing she was his.

she's gonna drive me loco

All night

Everything she do

Every single move that’s why

That's why, she’s fire.

It was driving him crazy, just how perfectly her body moved next to Maddy’s when she danced. Every single move replayed itself in Fezco’s head, even after he looked away.

Friends tried to warn me I ain’t hear what they was telling me

Like in the movie Blow when Johnny first saw Penélope

Fezco had replayed the words Rue said to him over and over again since that first night he met Y/n. “She’s fuckin’ crazy, man, watch out with her, for real, Fez,”

He knew she meant every word.

Yeah, she’s the type to leave me left for dead

'Cause somehow she’s always ten chess steps ahead

Sendin' paragraph texts and I get left on read

Y/n wasn’t the sappy ‘send me flowers and chocolates’ type and Fez knew that from the jump, he didn’t mind it. Usually, he preferred it. But with Y/n and the way she made him feel, that’s all he wanted to do. Even when he knew damn well that she wasn’t in it like that.

But all is fixed and forgiven when she gets in bed

But the sex always made up for it.

she be driven me the craziest

Cost me my sanity from all this time spent chasin' this

Get what you pay for, but do I want to pay for this?

Even Ashtray will agree that Y/n is one of the baddest bitches you could meet but that didn’t stop him from telling his older brother to drop her ass before it was too late.

Fezco knew the kid was right, he knew Rue was right too. Fez had spent many nights, sleepless, over this girl.

Had me in my head I ask myself am I okay with this,

Is my perspective skewed?

Feel like I'm stuck on her, I feel like I'm glued

No matter what he did, what he thought, or even what he knew, Fez couldn’t get rid of the grip she had on him.

But, not to be misconstrued, cause I would change my whole life to Better suit your mood

That doesn’t necessarily mean he���s upset about it, though. Fez would do anything he had to to get that laugh to escape her mouth. Whatever he had to do to make her happy he’d do it.

And Y/n knew that, she knew the grip she had on Fezco, the same way she knows she can get just about any man in the room on his knees for her with a simple smile.

She liked the effect she had on Fezco, more so than the ones she had on everyone else.

Fez was good for her. And she wanted him to know that as she made her way to the couch Fez had been sitting on. The same way Fez made sure she knew that She’s fire.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 5]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, use of toys(sybian), squirting, the long awaited chapter 5 😳💕 do they finally meet?!?!?!?! hehehehehehe also sorry for not being able to post this yesterday, had a busy week and when I tell ya I woke up at 3pm today 😗 💕💕💕💕 as always, thank you so much for your continued interest!! I'm already writing ch 6 and im SOOOO EXCITEDDDD hHEHEHEHEEHEH 💕💕💕💕💕 HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR WEEKENDS! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ? 

“You guys! I--you have to see this!”

You can’t wipe the smile off of your face when you shimmy to the side, excitedly showing off the new gift that Seungcheol had sent in the mail.

sleepy_wonu: holy hell

universe_WZ: that mustve costed hella

alphagyu97: nothin like feelin extra poor amirite lads

angelhan: it was only a matter of time before dom.cheol was untouchable lol 

You giggle slightly as you adjust the camera so that you and your new sybian are in frame. “Hey~ Don’t say that!! Y’know it’s not the amount of money you spend on me… I’m glad you guys are always here with me~” The sound of coins clinking goes off in the back as you read a few more comments.

dom.cheol: well princess, don’t u wanna show them how you use your new toy? ;)

tangerine_kwan: fuck i bet it can get u to cum so fuckin fast

hoshi_tiger_xx: yessss

dom.cheol has donated $100

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

“Hmm~ How many times do you think I can cum with this? Oh! Why don’t we do this~” You pause, sliding your wet panties down your legs before tossing the material to the side. You grin, swinging a leg over the toy until you’re straddling it. “Rapid fire question! Whoever guesses the right amount of orgasms I can take before I call quits… Wins a special unreleased photoset of me! Go!”

dom.cheol: 5

universe_WZ: 4

sleepy_wonu: 6

angelhan: 3 artist8hao: 5

alphagyu97: everyone took all the good numbers already!!! 7!!!!!

gentleman_josh95: DMAN IT 3

tangerine_kwan: 8, fuck

kitty_junjun: ugh i was gonna say 4!!!!

xcaliburDK: i was gonna say 5!!!!

therealchan99: 2? thats so low tho….

chwenon: as if anyone is gonna say 1, lmao. Uh 6…. If sleepy_wonu happens to disappear

hoshi_tiger_xx: im gonna say 10, but… seems… risky

Reaching for the remote, you situate yourself until the raised part of the toy sits directly on your clit. A shiver runs up your spine at the feeling; already excited for what’s in store. “Um, to be fair I haven’t tried it myself yet so I’m not sure either... Hehe, but I guess we’ll find out together, huh?”

Gulping, you set the sybian to its lowest setting, the air getting knocked out of your lungs immediately as your body lurches forward. “H--holy shit!” The vibrations are already harsh on the lowest setting; your fingers gripping the remote tightly as you try to adjust to the feeling. “O--oh my g-god, I--”

dom.cheol: aww can ur cute lil clit take it?

xcaliburDK: maybe one of the lower numbers was right lol…

The moans spill freely from your lips, garbled noises getting lost in the mix when you start to grind against the vibration. “Fuck, it--it feels suh--so good, hah, already feel like ‘m gonna cum…” You whine, already getting lost in the pleasure. For a second, you’re tempted to raise the vibration intensity but you hold back, letting your wetness coat the toy as you continue to grind down onto it. The sound of donations and comments sound fuzzy to your ears; only the sound of the sybian buzzing reminding you that the camera was still even on.

“Ngh, g-god, I’m--I’m gonna cum!”

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

xcaliburDK has donated $50

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: cmon, lets see that pretty pussy cum

Your legs shake as you cum, only a squeak coming out of your mouth as you lurch forward atop the toy. The grip you have on the remote loosens while simultaneously trying to turn it off in the midst of your orgasm.

dom.cheol: awww cumming so hard on the first setting? Cute

therealchan99: lol baby is in trouble now

angelhan: maybe 3 was right lmao

“I--a-ah, fu--fuck!” You cry, shaky fingers finally managing to shut the toy off. Your body immediately untenses; chest heaving with how sensitive you already were and it had only been your first orgasm and the lowest setting of the toy. “O-oh my g-god, I--I didn’t know i-it was that s-strong…” You mumble, body buzzing with the remnants of your orgasm.

sleepy_wonu: well mr dom.cheol did pay top dollar

gentleman_josh95: imagine if u had this for yesterdays show lol

“Oh god, if--if I had this for yesterday’s show, I would’ve been too boneless to do today’s show!” You laugh airily, slowly grinding against the toy already. “It feels really nice though… I’m already super curious about how strong the other settings are…” Trailing off, you reach for the remote again, throat dry as you fiddle with the knob.

kitty_junjun: what if u set it to the max setting

chwenon: idk if her cute lil body could take it

dom.cheol: its okay baby, take ur time. I wanna see how sensitive that pussy of yours can get

“But ‘m already so sensitive~ I dunno how much more I can take~” You tease, biting your lip when all the comments flooding the chat are words of encouragement.

You knew when you started camming that it’d be no easy job. Building up your fanbase and subscriber count had taken you months upon months to even get within the thousands and camming was physically exhausting. Some days your viewer counts were low and some days they were above average and sometimes you didn’t make as much in one show than another.

tangerine_kwan: was therealchan99 right with 2 then? Heh

therealchan99: finally FINALLY ITS MY TIME TO SHINE

Giggling, you slowly start turning the knob; body twitching when the vibrations kick in at full force.

Seungcheol watches in amazement at the way your body jerks atop the machine.

He can see the way your legs twitch unbearably when you cum for the third time; your brows furrowed at the intensity of the vibrations and your taut body when you can barely manage to turn the machine off.

Licking his lips, he slowly thrusts up into his closed palm, spreading the precum down his shaft as he watches you catch your breath.

“I--ngh, fuh--fuck, I---I don’t--don’t know if I--I can cum a-again…”

Seungcheol moans at your breathy whimpers; the arousal in his body pooling up quickly when he sees the fucked out expression in your eyes. His eyes flit to the wetness that coats the silicone portion of the toy, smirking when he realizes how much you really seemed to enjoy the gift he’d gotten you.

Mentally patting himself on the back, he praises himself for making the right decision.

angelhan: please tlel me im the winner im begging

universe_WZ: NO

dom.cheol: is the princess tired already? ;)

You catch your breath, not wanting to give up despite how fuzzy your head was getting and how much your body was buzzing. “I dunno… We still haven’t tried the last setting, you guys… And I’m just so curious...” You whisper, hazy eyes staring into the camera.

hoshi_tiger_xx: god u look so pretty like this, all fucked out

artis8hao: right? fuck, id kill to be that guy who can get u off like this

xcaliburDK: goddamn same

The sound of coins clinking mixes with the ringing in your ears; fingertips already on the knob of the remote.

You take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline kick in as you quickly set the knob to the highest setting, a high pitched cry spilling from your lips when you let go of the remote in favor of holding onto the machine instead. Grinding down onto it, you meet the toy's harsh vibrations as it quickly forces another orgasm out of you in the matter of seconds.

Choked cries spill from your lips as your entire body tenses up; body twitching uncontrollably as you cum for the fourth time. You lean back with whatever energy you have left, bracing yourself on the back of the toy as you relieve your swollen clit of the buzzing machine. Your orgasm refuses to stop and you can already tell how obscenely wet everything’s gotten when your head starts to clear.

alphagyu97: fuck you squirted all over the toy baby

universe_WZ: fuck fucki fuck

universe_WZ: wait did i winf kjfhdsjk

You shakily slide off of the machine, resting on your side as the machine still buzzes with life next to you. Your entire body won’t stop shaking, head muddled as you fight the urge to shut your eyes and sleep for the next 5 days. “I’m--I--” You whimper, still feeling the phantom vibrations between your legs.

“I--ho--holy fuck, I, w-wow, I--I don’t--that--I’m, I’m just… wow.”

dom.cheol has donated $400

dom.cheol: knew you’d like it ;)

universe_WZ: THAT MEANS I WON

universe_WZ has donated $150

angelhan has donated $150

therealchan99: well, at least some of us got close

hoshi_tiger_xx: fuckin speak for urself man i said /10/

You end the show after letting ‘universe_WZ’ know you’ll contact him soon, shutting your eyes as you lay on your soiled sheets.

You can still feel your fingertips twitching when your eyes slide shut, chest heaving in deep breaths as you try to relax yourself, momentarily cursing yourself for pushing your body too far for tonight’s show. 

Groaning, you reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with a text from Seungcheol, a simple ‘don’t forget to drink water ;)’ in your notifications and you can’t help but pout.

Seungcheol was nice, almost too nice. Definitely not in a murderer kinda way though, you think. 

He bought you expensive gifts and never asked for anything in return which made you feel bad sometimes. And while the donations and tips you’d made through your camshows was enough to get by with, Seungcheol’s generous donations helped you always make your rent and bills on time without worrying if you’d have enough or not.

You quickly text him back with a smile on your face; hoping that he’ll like what you had to offer.

Seungcheol feels the exact same way he did when you first contacted him offering him a free show, except maybe ten times worse. At first, he’d been a little sad that he hadn’t won your quick little game but this made up for it 20-fold.

The six simple words read ‘want to meet up next friday?’, a small heart emoji next to the question and he’d almost thrown his phone when he read it, hands shakily responding with a simple ‘I’d love to.’ to make it seem like he was calm when he was most definitely not.

His immediate next order of business after replying was to text Namjoon despite how late into the night it already was, begging for the day off and offering to take any shifts or pay cuts in exchange for it. 

All he needed was one day and he swore he’d never miss a day of work ever again.

Namjoon responds with a quick ‘sure, why not’, momentarily confusing him as to why his boss was awake while simultaneously sending Seungcheol into complete panic when he realizes he finally gets to meet you.

The week goes by extremely quickly to Seungcheol; his mood on a completely different level when he offers to pick up Yoongi’s Sunday shift without a complaint. He cleans up all the messes around the roller rink and even offers to do jobs that aren’t his which have Jeongguk raising a brow at the older male.

In the days that lead up to your meeting, Seungcheol looks up a few cafes that you might be interested in and even goes to get an STD exam, not that he’s expecting anything. Safety first, he says.

Your Wednesday show comes and goes, Seungcheol too excited to even get off when he watches you and he even donates an extra $600 at the end of the show; travel spending money, he offers.

And Thursday comes without a hitch and he all but skips to the employee backroom once his shift is over, humming a tune while he changes out of his uniform.

“Hey hyung, no offense, but are you okay?” Jeongguk rests against the locker next to Seungcheol’s open one, brow raised at the blue haired male that beams back at him. “I’m scared, why are you so… giddy. You even offered to take Yoongi-hyung’s weekend shift? What the hell was that about? I’ve never seen him that giddy either.  Man, this place is getting weird, maybe I should quit...”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh, patting Jeongguk on the shoulder before shutting his locker.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow, that’s all. And don’t quit, ‘cause who else is gonna give me free food.”

While the excitement had him since Saturday, now that it was finally Friday, he was downright nervous.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 2PM in front of the cafe that Seungcheol had picked out and you’d gotten a hotel in town to make it easier on yourself instead of trying to get back to your place too late. Seungcheol had offered to come pick you up, but you had politely declined; instead opting to meet him first before letting him do anything else for you.

And by nature, Seungcheol gets to the cafe 15 minutes early, fidgeting and continuously running his fingers through his hair as he patiently waits. He can feel his palms getting sweaty when he rubs them against his jeans, mentally trying to keep calm and his head floods with all sorts of thoughts; mainly, how he even got into this position with you in the first place. And he gets so distracted that he doesn’t realize you’d be standing watching him zone out for the last 5 minutes.

“Wow, not sure what’s got you so focused but you’re standing so still!”

Seungcheol hears your cute airy laugh that follows, a cherry blush on his cheeks when his eyes meet your smiling face. “I--oh my god…” He whispers, taking in your appearance.

He feels his face buzzing, fingers twitching when he sees you in a cute simple  sundress. “W-wow, you--you’re just… so beautiful. I mean, you’re beautiful on cam too but just, wow, in person? Incredible.” The blush reaches his ears when he realizes he’s rambling, a nervous laugh spilling out of his lips.

“S--sorry, I, uh, usually I’m more chill than this but y’know…” He trails off, to which you nod. You step closer to Seungcheol and he gets a hint of your sweet smelling perfume, mentally groaning when your cute eyes peer up into his.

“That’s okay! I totally understand~ I’m kinda nervous myself too, to be honest…” You pause, a pink blush coating your own cheeks. “But let’s talk over some food, huh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t want to pry, but he’s not sure if he should address you as ‘Cherry’ in person, or if he should avoid calling you by anything at all.

He watches as you go through the cafe’s menu, biting the inside of his cheek as he itches to ask.

“‘Cheol… I can feel you staring, y’know.. Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, concerned eyes meeting his nervous ones.

“I just-- Sorry, I didn’t mean to be awkward, I just was wondering how I should address you in person? I don’t want to overstep my bounds, I know you don’t put your real name out there so…”

You place your menu down, closing it before leaning on your palms atop the small table. Seungcheol is cute, too cute, you think. You knew this would be a question when the two of you eventually met and you had given yourself the time to get used to the idea that he’d know your real name.

He eyes hyperfocus on your glossy lips, watching as you say your name for him for the first time.

Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest when he hears it; repeating it over and over in his head before he says it out loud.

“Wow, it sounds nice when it’s you saying it~” You tease, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t mind if you call me by my name, by the way! The pet names are cute but maybe we should keep that to the bedroom~” You end in a whisper, winking at the male.

Fuck, he thinks, just as his cock throbs at your comment. He really wishes you wouldn’t say things like that because he’s weak and he knows it, especially when it comes to you. “Okay, cool! Yeah, sorry, I just---I didn’t want to overstep, I know you don’t really let that be public information.”

“Of course! And thank you, I really can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me. I really… really wouldn’t be able to do all the things that I do if it weren’t for your constant support.”

You want to say more, but the waiter comes to take your orders, cutting you off until he leaves again.

“By the way…” Seungcheol looks at you with curious eyes, lips puckered around his drink straw. “Tell me about yourself, ‘Cheollie! I feel like we didn’t really get to talk that one time!”

He swallows the water in his mouth, licking his dry lips. Here goes nothing, he thinks.

“I swear, and please don’t think I’m a loser, but I--I work at a roller rink. It’s really not cool, I’m not some high paid CEO or whatever, I--I just, I work hard?” Seungcheol chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your reply.

“Wait, that’s so cool! Oh my gosh, I kinda wanna go!”

The surprise washes over Seungcheol, eyes wide as saucers when he hears you saying you’d want to visit his workplace. “Wuh---wait, seriously!?”

“Yeah! It’s kinda, like, retro! I haven’t been to one since I was a kid!” He quickly offers to bring you to the roller rink on Sunday so you could have somewhere to hang out while you were in town.

“And sadly, I took a shift on Sunday so you can hang with me while I work.” 

Seungcheol grins, watching as you jokingly roll your eyes at him. “So you did it on purpose, huh…” The two of you share a laugh, glad that your first meeting seemed to be going okay so far.

“Well, I mean, if it makes you feel any better, my best friend works the concession stand so I’ll make sure to get you a free pair of skates and food whenever you want?”

“It’s a deal!”

The two of you continue to talk over your late lunch, Seungcheol telling you of the various work hijinks he’d gone through at his time working at the roller rink.

“Which, by the way, that morning show you did… Hope you know I holed up in the restroom for an entire hour for that ‘lil stunt.”

You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes when you laugh, only feeling slightly bad for the blue haired male. “But I told you! Sometimes it’s just like that, y’know~” You tease back, heart blooming at the way you and Seungcheol got along.

In all honesty, there’d been something on your mind since you first sat down and you didn’t know when the right time to ask was, or if it was even appropriate.

The smile slips from your face as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought.

Seungcheol takes the bill from the waiter, slipping his card into the holder before you can even offer. But he notices the way your expression falls, noting the hesitance in your eyes when he looks at you from across the table.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is gentle, soft and caring when he leans over the table to make sure you’re alright.

“Yeah! Just---Can I ask you for a favor?”

[sweetlilpaulie]

Liar, Liar.

Beatles X Reader.

What if, for a day you could only tell the truth? 

This proved to be difficult around the boys. 

Caution: Language, suggestive comments

Enjoy, my cuties.

~~~

Being a Beatle was difficult as it was. 

All the screaming crowds, people running straight towards you all the time, screaming so loud it made you deaf. Reporters on every corner, and cameras in your face 24/7.

Now, imagine being a girl in the mist of four boys with huge personalities.

That’s what you dealt with. 

Every day. 

To no avail, nor seeming end.

Sure, they payed you quite well, though, not as much as you felt you deserved.

~~~ 

Today started no different than any other day, you ate breakfast, hailed a cab, and drove off to the studio.

As you were about to pay the cab driver, the words slipped out of your mouth, like they had a mind of their own.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous, I could walk for free.” 

“Pardon?” the man stared at you in shock.

“Er...I mean, You cost way too much...what?” you couldn’t believe yourself. Were those words actually escaping your lips? Were you dreaming?

“I...” he stuttered furiously “I-I’m a fair man! ‘ts not that much!”

“Yes it is!” you argued, even though you didn’t understand why. It was just a cab, for Christ’s sake. You even shook your head at your response, trying in some way to say what you were trying to say.

“Here...just take...” you shoved an extra few bills in the man’s hand “take all my money you wanker, Wait! I did mean to say that! WHAT?” you felt your face redden, and you rushed off before you could offend him further.

What the hell is going on?

“Hey, (y/n), would you mind..”

“Yes, I’d rather not.” you said rather harshly to the young assistant. Once again, you blushed furiously and clapped your hands over your mouth.

“Er...look, I don’t want to deal with you right now.” Why was this happening? “D’you understand?” you prayed that he could understand, you didn’t really mean it.

The man stared at you in shock.

“No, of course you don’t, you’re all amateur airheads....This CAN’T be happening right now.” you muttered, before rushing off again.

The poor kid, burst into tears and ran off.

“NO, I’M SORRY!” you called quickly, surprised you could even say that. But, it was too late, he had run off. 

“(y/n), what are you doing here? You know, we are just setting up. You don’t have to be in the studio till 7:45.” chuckled a voice behind you. Your nearly jumped a foot off the ground. 

It was Brian.

Great.

“Er...” don’t say it, don’t say it. But, of course, you did.

“I dunno...I guess I’m just kinda like watchin’, it’s amusin’ and all that rubbish, and I may... or may not... liketheboys more than I say I do, and I jus’ like to watch’em, tha’s all, perhaps.” You murmured quickly.

You prayed to God Brian didn’t hear what you had just said. Before he could say anything more, you added,

“Can you please not ask anymore questions? I’d rather not get into another awkward conversation, cause apparently I have to say everything on my mind.” you begged the man, your eyes pleading.

He seemed extremely bewildered at your uncanny behavior. You could gather he wanted to know why you were acting so odd. Thankfully, he refrained from doing so.

You silently thanked the Lord, you didn’t find anymore encounters while you were testing equipment. You feared one more slip up would end in utter catastrophe.

This day was far from over.

So, of course, you would be a clown in front of someone else. 

A very honest clown.

~~~

“Great work, lads!” Brian chirped once you and the boys had finished the song. 

“Yes, that was fantastic.” You added, as you stood up from the piano.

Brian turned to you, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it, thinking it was best he didn’t try.

When John opened the door, you knew you were in for it.

“Well, we’ll just be off, get some lunch. D’you care to join us Brian?”

Brian shook his head, smiling. 

“No thanks, Lennon. Be back at a reasonable time, I’d like to finish this album sometime soon.”

Shit.

John turned to face you. “(y/n)? Care to join us?”

“Yeah, I would.” you replied almost too quickly. 

It was strange, after all, you spend plenty of time with them. Lunch was when you would get with your girlfriends at the diner. 

You had no idea what had gotten into you.

He seemed to catch on to this, and smirked.

“Hold on, was that a yes I heard? Eager, are we?”

“You have no idea.” you coughed trying to hide the response.

He chuckled at your words, taking them with a grain of salt, thankfully.

You rushed out the door, ducking your head to avoid anymore unnecessary conversation. 

“Alright there, (y/n)?” Paul winked, and grinned as you and John joined the rest of the boys who were leaning on the doorframe. 

“Not really.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

Here we go.

Taking a deep breath, you ranted.

“Well, I was an ass to my cab driver, and Ben the new assistant, and I made a fool of myself in front of Brian. How’s your day been?” you smiled weakly.

Their eyebrows shot upwards.

“(y/n)? an ass? Never.” John gasped, placing a hand to his heart.

Your rolled your eyes at the melodramatic dork.

“Hey, I’m usually quite nice.”

John scoffed at that. 

“Sure, yar’.”

“Hey, to other people! Besides you, you cheeky git.” you punched his arm slightly, making him wince in pain, which your rolled your eyes at.

“Come ed’! We gonna eat or not?”

Pushing open the door, you went out into the fresh air, as the four guys followed suit. 

~~~

Sitting in between George and Paul was rather an uncomfortable experience. The fact that you were almost touching both of them, made you feel warm inside, and not in a way you wanted to think about.

“Oi, would ya move a bit?” you hissed, nudging Paul.

He turned to you, his lips dipping into a scowl.

“I’m sorry your majesty, am I making you uncomfortable? What can I do, to make you feel better?” he snarked.

“You are making me very nervous, and I’d like ya to move over.” your face flushed slightly.

Just for a minute, one fucking minute....could you say something that won’t end up incredibly humiliating?

His frown almost instantly turned into a cocky smirk.

“Ah, I see... so if I...” he scooted so your were hip to hip, and then wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “...did this, does it make you nervous?”

You pressed your lips together firmly, refusing to let anything peep out.

Don’t you DARE betray me now, I swear to God if you.....

“Very.”

That’s it. I’m cutting out my tongue.

It was then, then you noticed all the boys’ eyes on you. You lifted your menu, to cover the fact you looked like a ripe tomato.

John cleared his throat loudly.

“May I ask, wha’s goin’ on between you two?”

Paul shrugged.

“I don’t even know.”

He turned to you.

“Care ta explain?”

“Er....” you set the menu back down gently, and looked at the boys waiting expectantly.

“...I-I can’t lie.”

~~~

Part 2?

It ain’t over just yet!

Hope you enjoy this part!

Lemme know if ya want more of this one.

Hope y’all are doing well, during all of this craziness. I’m sorry I haven’t written in a long while, my creativity has been running dry, and hopefully, I’ll be able to finish some requests along the way, so be looking out for those as well.

Anyways, Peace and Love,

L.M.

[normallee]

They Were Roommates || Notia and Norma

TIMING: Before Christmas LOCATION: Norma (and Notia’s) Apartment PARTIES: @humanmoodring and @normallee SUMMARY: How to be a Human 101

“Hello, roommate! I have arrived home!” Norma called out as she hung her pirate hat onto the coat rack inside the door. The entire apartment looked bare to her. Nadia had been pairing down her belongings and attempting to make it appear more human. She wasn’t convinced she was doing a very good job but the ghost in a mortal’s body was the authority on these matters. She supposed she’d have to trust them. She stepped inside and looked around some more. “Did you leave Tom on the porch again? That’s not very nice. We need to keep him until Christmas. I heard it, too, requires a turkey. And I cannot imagine having two of them running around.” She went to the sliding glass door and let the turkey back into the apartment. It was big and smelly but she had grown strangely fond of this large feathered creature. Maybe it was because it reminded her vaguely of a shriken. She wasn’t sure. “Are we going to have more lessons today?” she asked. “I have a pen and paper and everything this time. I’ve been told that is what students bring to classes. They also always have gum in order to make bribes of friendship and annoy teachers.” She reached in her back pocket and pulled out a pack, holding it towards her roommate. “Would you like some chewing gum?”

The lack of loud colors in the apartment meant nothing when there was a loud turkey and an equally loud Norma running around, but Nadia had been nursing a cup of coffee long enough that she only flinched a bit when Norma walked in. “Hi, Norma,” she said, a bit too tired for a proper greeting. She wasn’t sleeping much, these days, and… she wasn’t cold, she didn’t get cold, but her body sometimes reacted like it was, shivering for hours before she could get it to stop. She was fine, now, but it came and it went. “Tom?” The fucking turkey. “Oh, yeah! You know, it’s actually proper etiquette that, between the holidays, the holiday turkey is kept out of living spaces. Turkeys need plenty of fresh air, you know. And grass. Keep ‘em inside for too long and they get interior depression.” The turkey thing had been Norma’s idea, sure, but Nadia was rolling with it because, fuck, it was funny. Annoying as hell, but so, so funny. “Yeah, I’m down for more lessons.” They were pretty fun, especially when half the shit that came out of her mouth was made up. Sure, she gave Norma a few good pointers; she didn’t want the woman to get caught and end up killing this body because of some bad advice. “Yes, perfect. It’s always good to take notes. You’ll be quizzed on all of this, later.” She took a stick of gum. “Thank you. See, politeness. A very useful tool.” She popped the gum in her mouth and settled in for the inquisition. “So, what do you wanna know today?”

“Yes, Tom the Turkey. He informed me that was his name through a series of gobbles.” Norma started scribbling notes already as the turkey started to follow her around. “I think he also says that he much prefers the indoors, but we will take your advice into consideration.” She sat on the couch, sitting on the edge with rapt attention with her pen in hand, ready to learn. She would have to take good notes if there was going to be a quiz. Did she need a highlighter? She saw most people studying used one of those and they looked like fun. Oh, right. She had to pay attention. “Well you rearranged my apartment and I’m still not sure as to why. So more about that, please. And as well, I need to understand how a book of faces works. And why toks tik. And what a yeet is. And what humans shop for. There are so many shops and strange items to purchase, I don’t understand the value structure. Did you know that some rocks cost more than others? Why? They’re all rocks. It’s very odd.”

“You… understand the turkey.” It wasn’t a question, but Nadia still cast a doubtful glance towards the creature, looking into its beady eyes for a sign of intelligence. It, Tom, whatever, stared back. Even though the turkey blinked first, Nadia felt like she’d lost a battle of wills or some shit. “Well, thank you both so much for your consideration.” She looked around the apartment, grateful that it wasn’t in the same state that it’d been when she arrived, though it was still a bit odd. The flamingos had been allocated to outside, and she’d managed to get rid of most of those damn trophies. The furniture was better put together, though she didn’t have the patience to really build shit, and she’d short circuited the fucking apartment twice putting things together, but it looked less like an alien lived in the joint. Instead, it looked like an alien and their human roommate lived there. “Okay, so I rearranged things to look, like, more human. Yeah, yeah, all the shit here was very human, but too much human stuff makes you look… less human and more human impersonating. Also, some of that shit was old and obsolete. You don’t need it. Now it looks more liveable, you feel?”

Nadia chewed thoughtfully on her gum. “Okay, so a book with faces on it’s like one of those people from Game of Thrones that’ll steal your face and pretend to be you, but a Facebook is a website, like that town forum thing but with more videos of cats and babies. Uhhh, toks tik is, like, a clock metaphor, and to yeet is to projectile vomit, I think. Humans are dumb, but they typically make purchases for necessity and amusement, in that order if they’re smart.” This was something that she knew about. “Necessity’s like food, water, booze… Toilet paper and hygiene stuff. Amusement’s literally anything to keep them entertained for their short, short lives.” And she knew all about that, didn’t she? “Most of the stuff you’ve got here’s amusement purchases. You need more necessities. Some stores specialize in certain things, be it necessity things or amusement things. And the rock thing is all about rarity and aesthetic. Some rocks are more valuable because they’re prettier, shinier, or because they’re so damn hard to get a hold of. Then, of course, there’s paper money, where someone just wrote a number on a piece of paper and the rest of us are supposed to go along with it like chumps.” Nadia snorted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love money, but it’s fuckin’ useless.”

“Well I can’t be completely sure but he’s easier to understand than most humans, I will say that much,” Norma said. Tom gobbled in agreement before waddling off looking for seeds. The entire apartment felt oddly empty now that Nadia had rearranged it and had removed some of her belongings. They had all been meaningless but she had come to enjoy them and the sense of familiarity they brought. “Old? None of it was very old. All of it was from the last century at least. That is very recent, let me tell you. Nothing has even started to rust yet.” There was barely any dust, too. She had been very proud of this fact. Humans were always so dusty. As Nadia talked, Norma scribbled furiously, taking as many notes as she could. They were in a few different languages, mostly something that just amounted to furious scribbles. She wasn’t entirely sure what note taking actually entailed but it seemed like she was doing it the same way she had observed. It’s not like she needed to read these later anyway. “Food, water, booze. Booze? This is alcohol, correct? That is necessary? Interesting. I do find humans more tolerable when inebriated.” It made them drop their inhibitions and without those, they were far more prone to chaos. She did very much appreciate the improved hygiene over the years, she would say that much. Her face scrunched up in confusion again. “Wait, money is useless? Then why is it so often considered valuable and a thing that mortals will both risk and waste their lives on?”

“Seriously?” Nadia asked, marginally curious. “What does he say?” She watched the turkey, completely confused by the dynamic that he and Norma had going on but, really, it wasn’t the weirdest thing about her roommate. Norma was odd as hell, and that was saying something because some of the fuckers Nadia had worked with over the years had been strange. “Anything older than, like, twenty years is considered old. Some old things are good. Old might mean that it’s worth more, or is considered vintage. But, sometimes old is shitty.” She paused. “Phones older than, like, three years are very shitty.” She peaked at Norma’s notes, frowning at what looked like a mess of squiggly lines. What the fuck? Some of that couldn’t even be an actual language. “You gonna be able to study those later?” she teased. But then she sobered up. “Booze is alcohol, yes, and it’s absolutely a necessity. The drinking kind, not the medical kind. That kind’s not important. But it’s vital that humans have alcohol at least once a week, unless their lame and abstain from that kinda thing. But yeah, most people are way better to be around drunk.” It made them more fun and easier to manipulate. Nadia was a fan of doing business in bars. “Because people apply a fictitious value to slips of paper, and people think they’ve got to work themselves to death to get it, which is dumb. It’s just paper. Just, like, take it.”

Norma thought that Nadia’s question was very strange. “He gobbles a lot. And makes strange clucking noises. Your ears function, yes?” She shook her head. Did she think the turkey spoke in English? That was very silly. Tom made another gurgling noise and she nodded. “You’re right, Tom. Humans are simple minded.” She made a mental note (and a scribble in her notebook) to get Tom more grain. He seemed to enjoy it very much. “Twenty years?!” Norma shot up and practically dropped her pencil. “That’s so recent! Like a blink of an eye!” She let out a huge sigh and reached down for her writing utensil. “How am I supposed to remember what’s recent? That’s such a short time span, the next twenty years are almost here.” She broke the tip of the pencil at her next eplatantion. “Three years? Why do you bother having these gadgets if they are immediately outdated? Why bother? This is silly! That’s no time at all. Do you all really think a year is a long time? Like it matters? This is exhausting. How do you all live so slowly and quickly at the same time?” This felt hopeless. She threw her pencil away, behind the couch. It didn’t matter. “So all humans need alcohol to survive and I can just take their paper money. What about their plastic money? That one is mostly unlimited, right? The currency that is allowed on the small rectangular cards? I ran into some issues the other day but I think I resolved it.”

“Yes, my ears fucking function.” Nadia sighed. “I don’t think that the turkey speaks English. I was wondering if you spoke turkey. How the hell do you understand him?” Asshole. But she didn’t call Norma that, didn’t want to come off as too much of a jackass, even though Norma was the one to start the name calling with that simple minded shit. “Yeah, twenty years is pretty recent, I guess. In the grand scheme of things,” Nadia mused. “But not all of us live for… how long have you been around again?” She was hoping, maybe this time, Norma would say. She was beyond curious about her seemingly ancient roommate. “Technology upgrades at a rapid pace. New stuff comes out every few months, each thing better and more technologically advanced than the last. We’ve come a pretty long way from the invention of the wheel.” She laughed a bit bitterly. “Good question! I did the smart thing and just upgraded bodies when the old one expired.” She took a sip of coffee, glad that Norma was at least absorbing some information. “Yes, and you can, but you’ve got to be sneaky about it. It’s not taking so much as stealing. And you can steal the plastic money, credit cards, they’re called, too, but you gotta be especially sneaky, and you can’t use them for long, or you’ll be tracked. Credit cards are pretty simple: you use one, and they charge you for it. Not immediately, but eventually. I don’t use ‘em. I don’t trust banks.” They were only good for being robbed.

“I don’t speak turkey, I just understand the turkey. It’s very different.” Norma gave an exasperated sigh. It was far less complicated than being human was so it was strange to her to get such pushback about it. Tom agreed. She could tell by the ruffling of his feathers. “I lost track,” Norma said nonchalantly as she doodled severed heads and some intestines spilling on the floor, along with some nice bleeding hearts with knives through them. “Based on your current calendar, quite a few centuries, I believe. But there have been other calendars and other systems of time so it’s all rather subjective and silly.” She added some more blood splatters around the heart with a flourish of her pen. “The real solution would be to get a better, less human body,” she said, mostly to herself, with another sigh. “Can you upgrade bodies like technology? That’s only a ghost thing, correct?” She had a feeling if humans could, they would. They tried so hard as it was to appear less old and feeble as they progressively aged. “Stealing. That’s a thing that is against the human laws, right? Most of them seem to be very against that. I know there are many in different places but that one has always been frowned upon. Humans are very possessive despite the fact their goods and money does not go with them to death.” Her next doodle was a man dying by way of a small plastic rectangle. ‘What’s not to trust about banks, though? Is that not where the money lives? Which you need. Please explain.”

Nadia blinked at Norma, unsure if this was a topic she wanted to keep discussing. “Okay.” It wasn’t. She cocked her head a bit looking at Norma’s paper with raised eyebrows. Violent. She could get behind that. “Damn, okay. That’s, like, an impressively long time. And you don’t age or…” Norma didn’t look much older than Nadia Diaz’s body. At the most, Norma didn’t look any older than Nadia had been the first time she’d died. “Right, right. Super subjective. Very silly. Time’s an illusion, and all that.” She raised her eyebrows a bit. “I mean, you’re not wrong or anything, but less human bodies aren’t exactly easy to find, you know? Outside of this town, at least.” She kind of liked her humanness, too. It was familiar and useful. So what if she couldn’t light herself on fire or have supernatural strength? She could blend in, and humans were in an abundant supply. They trusted their own, even if they didn’t always realize that other species existed. “Yeah, it’s just a ghost thing. I kinda dig this body, though. She’s worked well for me for, like, over six years, now.” She wouldn’t give up this body without a fight, at this point. Besides, it’d literally die without her in it, now, since Nadia Diaz was gone. “Stealing, yeah. It’s definitely against human laws, but laws are subjective. What’s another person to tell me what I can and can’t do, you know?” She grinned lazily, leaning back. “Doesn’t matter. We like to look good, impressive, for the living. Nothing’s more exciting to most people than being better than everyone around them. Wealth makes them believe they’re better. And banks steal money. They all just work for big corporations and the government, and they’re fucking useless when people come along and take your money from you.” Like Nadia literally did all the time. “Why should a group of bureaucratic assholes be in charge of the value of pieces of paper? It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Physically? No, not really,” Norma answered, eyes still glued to her paper and the hatch marks she was adding to the spleen sketch to add some shading. “For the most part I believe I look relatively the same as I did when I was last human.” The words always felt a bit like boiling water in her mouth. To admit she was ever anything so plain was shameful and never something she enjoyed advertising to her demonic cohorts. They all thought they were so much better than her because they had never once been mortal but it was not her fault that her near godhood was delayed a few years. It hardly mattered in the grand scheme of eternity anyway. “If you say so. You are right, however. There really is an overabundance of humans. I see why it would be much easier to acquire one of their bodies. But you should really consider a siren. I think it would suit you.” Norma tilted her head to get a better look at her work. She ripped the page out, crumpled it up and tossed it behind her before she started on her next set of illustrations. Norma was unsure if anything that Nadia was saying about these bureaucratic institutions were correct but she found herself nodding along in the appearance of understanding and solidarity, something they had gone over in the previous weeks. Questions were an indication of non human behavior, at least that was what she had been told by her current tutor. “So we steal money to be wealthy and toppled the banks. Very much noted,” she said, letting out a small sigh as she finally looked back up at her current roommate. “This is all very nice. Thank you. I appreciate you. But can you just show me how to find the cat videos in the world wide web again instead?”

“Huh.” Nadia took all of Norma’s information in with interest; it was the first time the other woman had admitted to once being just that, a woman. A human woman, in fact, who had somehow managed to become immortal in a way that seemed way better than any deal the undead got. “That’s pretty fucking cool.” Maybe she could check in to figuring out how Norma had become, well, Norma. It’d be pretty fucking funny if she made this body immortal. Then, if Nadia Diaz’s ghost really was still hanging around, there would be no doubt that she’d outlast it. She laughed, though, at Norma’s next remark. “A siren? Makes sense, I guess. I’ve been told I have a wicked good tongue, anyway. Imagine if it was supernaturally so.” Whether or not Norma actually took her words to heart was irrelevant. Half the time, Nadia was just fucking with her. It was fun. Norma seemed to genuinely believe whatever came out of Nadia’s mouth, as long as she said it in the right tone. And, besides, what harm could it do? It was fun, and, if Norma ended up robbing a bank or something, it’d be funny as hell. She could feel that Norma was losing interest, though, so the cat videos question didn’t come as a surprised. Nadia was only a little exasperated as she finished her coffee and went to grab her laptop. “Actually, this time, you are gonna show me how to find cat videos. Remember, it’s just like I taught you.”

[headoverhiddles]

Little Pistol - Ron Tully x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You travel to Stockton for a conjugal visit with Tully. The two of you have been apart too long for formalities. 

Notes: This was a request! As per my usual disclaimer, I don’t condone Tully’s ideology, this is his character, minus that! 

Gif used belongs to stilinski-ortiz-dolan!

Tully had been on the boards for a visit for six months. There are a lot of things he can bribe the guards for, like rooms to talk business with his guys, private lines on the phone, and a general prison-wide acceptance that no one would fuck with him unless it really was the law. What he can't bribe anyone for though, is a wait bypass for a conjugal visit. His name is on the list like the rest of them, and even though he'd pay a pretty penny to see you monthly, it's just not something he can do.

Now, having waited quite a bit of time, Tully's "good behavior" had paid off. The next day was his visit with you, which would last a day.

"You seem happy," the guy behind him in the communal washrooms mentions. No one talks to Tully much, for fear of what he’d do to them if he wasn’t in the mood, but this guy was the prison idiot, and Tully didn’t mind his chatter now and then. The taller man is washing his face in the sink, shaving his growing facial hair a little and trimming his hair.

"I am."

The guy smirks. "Can I ask why?"

Tully drags the plastic razor down his chin, inspecting himself. He didn't want to shave it too close, since you always said you liked his stubble... liked the way it felt between your thighs. Tully's small smile grows a little, and he dunks the razor in water. It had cost him a couple fifties to be allowed to clean up a little with actually helpful instruments of hygiene this morning. 

"I'm seeing my girl tonight." He gestures to his things, and the guy goes over, finding a polaroid of you in a black bra and panties, posing on top of Tully's bike.

"Shit. With a body like that, what makes you think she's still your girl?" the guy chuckles. Tully doesn’t dignify the man with a look. 

"It’s not like that." He takes some scissors from his sleeve, trimming his black hair close to his temple. "I know she'd die for me. And I'd die protecting her." The guy's still staring at the polaroid of you when Tully's done his haircut. "Alright, put it the fuck down, or I'mma have you stabbed."

He takes the photo, and feels himself stir already. His eyes run over your perfect tits, down your legs, to the thin black fabric covering that pussy he knows so well. He sets the photo that he’d touched himself to many times by the mirror, and checks his reflection. He'd never really considered himself to be handsome, which is why he became powerful instead, but you seemed to think he was the sexiest man alive. He didn't mind that. 

"Lucky you get a visit," the guy mutters. 

"I almost didn't. See, you're not supposed to get visits from anyone outside of family. Technically, I haven't married (y/n) yet. But, I pulled some strings. 'S what I do."

"Mm. I don't have any girlfriends or anything. Last visit I got was my mom, back in '07. Got banned til the end of my sentence cause my mom tried to plant weed on me. Guess she likes the quiet around the house."

Tully, not really listening, grunts in response. He then does up another button on his blue shirt, and looks down at the picture again, really studying it. He remembers the way you screamed his name while he fucked you over that motorcycle. He takes it as a personal challenge to raise even more hell tonight. 

 ---

You sit in the diner in Stockton, California. You'd traveled up here with a few of the guys who work for your boyfriend, since they had to do some work anyway, smooth some shit out before Tully caught wind of it and had their heads. They knew to take good care of you, or they'd pay for that with their life too. You yourself are about to go see Tully, and you can't wait. It had been so long.

Dressed in a little white crop top, a short black skirt, and sunglasses, you're feeling your best. You know ever since he got the news he’d been scheduled for a conjugal, Tully's probably had tonight in mind day and night, and what you wear won't alter the fact that he's going to give you the best pounding you've ever taken. But you want to wow him too. He hasn't seen you for the better part of a year, after all, and to get a real good reaction out of him, you need the element of surprise. 

"Want another milkshake, hun?" a kind, older waitress with smile lines and grey hair asks. You smile back.

"Love one."

You tap your nails on the table, watching out the window at the people walking by in the heat. You're used to living in Southern California, since Tully's the shot caller and doesn't go out on rides, but he conducts business up here in the northern part of the state sometimes. Liaisons, stuff like that. The county jail he does his time in is unfortunately pretty far away from the reclusive home you two share in San Diego. Still, you keep busy and make do while he's gone, keep an eye on how things are run in his absence. It's what you have to do to stay sane.

"Don’t mean to bother you. But can I ask what your tattoos mean?" the waitress asks, sliding you another of your favorite flavor of milkshake.

You glance down at your knuckles, which have T U L L Y tattooed across them, a letter per finger.

"My man," you say wistfully.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, noticing the sorrow in your eyes, "Did he pass away?"

"No," you smile, "He's just away right now, doing time."

"Shit, no kidding. My husband's been in for two years now, serving another five. Kills me every day."

You move your stuff to one side of the table. "Sit, if you want." The lady checks her watch, and sits across from you. "I hate it," you confess, "It's the worst. It's the life I chose to get involved in, but it's rough when it actually comes back to hit you at night, when you don't have their arms around you."

"I know just what you mean, hun. Probably shouldn't be saying this, but... my husband is an arms dealer, works in the gun trade. Under the table deals out in San Pedro, all that." 

"My Tully's a shot caller," you say, not elaborating any further on his gang or who he's affiliated with. This lady seems nice, but you're never sure who could be an undercover cop, or the wife of a rival gang member. 

"You're visiting him, then?" she asks.

"Yes. Tonight."

"Baby, you have the time of your life tonight, you hear me?"

"Oh, you know I will," you giggle, "When he hasn't seen me for a while, things get very physical."

"I can imagine." She winks. 

You hand her a Polaroid you've got in your leather jacket pocket; Tully's got the other one from this day. In this one, you're dressed in black panties and a black bra, and you're sitting on Tully's lap, straddling him. The photo shows the backside of you, showing off your backside, and Tully has got his face looking over your shoulder, glaring darkly as his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass. It's a photo of the two of you that never fails to turn you on, especially recalling how hard he fucked you over his bike after this picture was taken.  

You sigh, twirling the straw. "He's my ride or die... and I'm his forever girl."

--

Finally, it comes time for the guards to collect Tully. They know exactly what he's going to do to you, as they're the ones who have had to listen to Tully groan your name every morning and night whenever he gets the urge.

“This has been a long time coming,” one guard sighs. 

"Just don't make too much noise," the other guard pleads. Tully glances at him.

"I don't remember payin’ you off to tell me how to fuck my girlfriend."

The guy concedes, keeping his mouth shut. They let him into the room, far away from the others and the best money can buy (he at least had some sphere of influence in this department), and they go to close the door.

"She'll be in in a minute." Tully undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, and waits.

 ---

You get a pat down in the lobby of the conjugal area. They take out a gold switchblade and a couple of metal rings, leaving your pockets empty. Then you're ready to go in. The guards let you in, and you see Tully sitting on the bed. He looks up.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," you grin. One of the guards steps in.

"24 hours, Tully. Make it count." He shuts the door after himself, locking it, and you look around. It's almost like a normal home-- there's a mini fridge, a bed, a TV, and a living area.

"I missed you," you say, and walk over to him. He accepts you into his lap, and you cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

"So did I," he murmurs against your lips. "You doing good? Looking after the boys, making sure they're doing their jobs?" You nod. "Good. They're a bunch of jokes when I'm not around."

"Well, now that nobody's around... am I correct in thinking you wouldn’t say no to a strip tease?" you ask, snapping the strap on your bra underneath your shirt.

"Yeah," he nods, sitting back on the couch. You slowly take your shirt up over your head, watching as his eyes fall down to admire your breasts.

"You like that?" you murmur, bunching your hair up a little as you slide your fingers downward. 

"Thought of me while you did that the last few months?"

"Nuh uh," you grin, "Trying to trick me? I know I can only cum when you tell me to."

"That's right," he smiles fondly, watching your hips swing back and forth. You finally rub the finger between your legs, and get on the edge of the bed, pulling your panties to one side. You hear the low hitch in Tully's breath, and you sink your fingers into yourself, loving the feel but craving the stretch of your boyfriend.

You dip your fingers in again, lips parting as you moan. "Gonna join in?"

"Right now I'm just going to sit here and watch, babygirl. Seeing you do it in person is a nice change. Your moans are fuckin’ beautiful, but a visual always helps." He gives one of his dark smirks, and sits there, watching. You feel the heat rise even more as his eyes travel, your skin heating up just knowing he’s appreciating the show you’re putting on. You let his name escape your lips with a sigh. "My beautiful little slutty girl," he murmurs, and unzips his pants as you watch in feverish arousal. He takes his cock out, and starts to pump it slowly in his hand while you watch, shoving your fingers deeper. Your eyes are trained on his fist, where it's jerking up and down. He lifts his chin.

"Look at that," he starts to stroke a little faster, "All you, baby." You flip over, not reaching enough depth in this position, and sit on your fingers, letting them disappear deeper into your pussy. Tully sits forward, intense gaze trained, unblinking, on where your hips are slamming down. "You're so fucking hot," he whispers.

"Yeah?" You ride your fingers harder, "You like that? You like that, baby?"

"S good, sweetheart." He moans, squeezing himself. "Fuckin' tease."

"Get over here and pound me then," you say, licking your lips obscenely. He finally stands, and grabs you by your hair. You groan as he drags you over to the bed, where he shoves you down onto the soon-to-be-destroyed mattress.

"You wanna feel daddy's cock?" he asks, and you crawl forward, stroking up the length of it. He lets you for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your hands on his dick again, but eventually urges you off again. He crawls onto the bed between your legs, and pushes your thighs far apart, exposing your soaking pussy to him.

"This is all mine," he whispers, "You know this cunt belongs to me." He hums. “I own a lotta things, and this here’s one of em.” 

"Yeah, daddy," you breathe, and he seals his lips over you, upper lip teasing your clit while his tongue dips in and out of you. Fuck. One thing among many that can be said about Tully, is he knows how to eat you out spectacularly.

"That's good, that's good," you start chanting, "Please... sir, please..."

He groans, and the vibrations make your clit throb. "Imma take good care of you, babygirl, don't you worry," he assures softly, eyes glowering up from between your legs, "Take good care of my girl. She deserves it. Deserves gettin’ fucked good too. Don't you?" 

"Yeah..." you whine. 

"You've been a real good girl, waiting for daddy. Only cumming when he's talking to you on the phone. You know the rules." 

"Daddy," you gasp, feeling your orgasm build, "I-I have a confession." Your voice sounds so small, and your tone is airy in your breathless state.

"Mmm? Tell me, sweetheart."

"You won't be mad?"

"That depends." He strokes soothing hands up your calves, and you shudder, flashes of his punishments running through your head.

"I was... in the jacuzzi with the girls the other night. I was thinking of you, and... thinking of what you'd do if you were there. I was wearing your favorite bikini. The one that's translucent, so you can see my nipples?" 

"Mmhmmm."

"And..." You wiggle your hips, chasing your release at the mercy of Tully's tongue. "And I... well, the jets just felt so good, I... mmm!"

"Tell daddy," he encourages with a growl.

"I let the pressure make me cum in my swimsuit, imagining it was you." You let out a moan as his tongue licks a stripe up from the base to the tip of your clit.

He hums. "It's okay. It’s okay. I understand. Some things just can't be helped. I know you tried." You exhale, uncomfortable waves of arousal washing over you. You wish he'd fill you up. "I'm proud of you, you know."  You look down at him again. "You're so brave. I'm in here, you're all alone. I wish I could be there for you, remind you every day why you'll always be mine."

"You are there for me. When you can be. You bribe the guards with your hard earned cash to get ten minutes on a call with me, to check in, make sure I’m alright. You're in here getting shit done, and I’m running things at home. It’s how we do it."

"Mmyeah. But I'd much rather be back in the game than calling the shots in here. In a perfect world, nothing would stand between us. Two of us against the world."

"Together as one," you smile, arching your back.

Tully shares your smile, as he presses soft kisses all the way up to just barely graze your cunt again. "Against all others." He nips at the dip in your hipbone. "Mm. Babygirl, when I'm out, I'mma do this... every night. That’s a motherfuckin’ promise."

You grind your hips toward his mouth, and he holds them down firmly against the mattress as he launches a proper maneuver on your clit, making you cum in seconds. You ride it out, hands fisting in his hair. He crawls over top of you, staring down at you like he's about to devour you. You don’t doubt that he is. 

You part your legs even more, and he picks them up, throwing them over his shoulder and holding your hips up. He guides himself to line up with your dripping cunt, and pushes into you easily with a low grunt, your first orgasm having slicked you up perfectly. Each following thrust is harder than the previous; Tully isn't wasting time. Already sensitive, you feel the second orgasm building. Desperate, you run your hand through your hair, getting it out of your face.

"I need it, fuck Tully, I need your cock!" you practically shout, and his grunts increase in volume as he dedicates all his energy to making sure he uses you properly. "Fill me up with your cum, daddy?" you ask innocently.

"Oh, you know I will."

"Fucking do it then."

"You’re a mouthy one, sweetheart," he moans, and he throws his head back, biting his bottom lip hard. “You test me.”

“You love it.” 

“I tolerate it... cuz I love you so fucking much... ohhff, shit...” 

“Look at me when you cum?” you gasp breathlessly. He obliges, jet black hair hanging and jolting with his tattooed body as he puts all his weight behind fucking you as deep as he can. He looks you in your eyes as your own eyelids droop in desire, and he gasps your name as you both reach your peaks together. 

You hum softly in contentment, and climb on top of his larger frame, laying on his chest. He puts an arm over you, body rising and falling with labored breath.

"What do you want to do now?" you tease. He looks down at you, brushing your matted hair aside affectionately. 

"We still got 23 hours left. You do the math."  

[lwilson]

the boy we knew

The day we found out the tragic news was a beautiful autumn afternoon. I think it was a Saturday and the leaves were turning colors and gathering in mounds of reds, yellows, and greens at the base of the trees in front of the small houses on the block. I had just enlisted in the Army and I wanted to see my friend Ramone before I went off to basic training at Fort Sill in Oklahoma.

Alan, another close friend of Ramone and mine worked at an industrial laundry company called C.Q’s. over on East Grand Blvd and Palmer street. He detested the job, the pay, and the people, but with times being what they were, and jobs being few and far between during the Reagan era recession of the 1980s it was the only job that he could get so he took it, and fought tooth and nails to keep it.  I had worked at C.Q’s. as well, and speaking from personal experience I will tell you that there should have been a sign engraved over the entrance that read “All hope abandon, ye who enter here,” like at the gates of hell in Dante’s “Inferno”.  I lasted all of six weeks before hell got to be too hot for me to handle. So, I quit and joined the Army.

Alan, on the other hand, stayed and with good reason, his girlfriend Kacy was pregnant now which only exacerbated an already stressful situation. They were beyond broke and argued constantly about everything. I can’t remember how many break up to make up sessions they had, but it was a lot.

Kacy was a feisty streetwise girl with the misfortune of having two train wrecks for parents. The only thing keeping Kacy and her little brother Steven from being homeless and on the streets or worse was Kacy’s wit and her strong will.  Kacy was the type of girl that could smell bullshit coming a mile away. She’d smile her sweet slightly crooked smile at the bullshitter, usually some guy way to old to be hitting on a girl her age then she’d kick him in the nuts verbally and sometimes literally and down he’d go.  She and Alan were perfect for one another they were the embodiment of Detroit tough.  Her biological father was a real winner. I never knew his name or met him, but I heard from Alan that he was doing some serious time up in  Jackson penitentiary. Jasmine, her mother was a part-time recovering addict and a full time, well let’s just say the word I would like to call her rhymes with witch.

Kacy and Steven were little more than afterthoughts Jasmine. Jasmine’s major concern was when and where her next fix was coming from, raising a blossoming fifteen-year-old girl and a high strung twelve- year -old boy with criminal tendencies wasn’t high on Jasmine’s to-do list. Kacy and Steven were mostly left to fend for themselves. Kacy, I figured would be alright. She was tough and street smart, but Steven on the other hand was a different story. The first time I saw him strutting up and down the block like a little banty rooster with his nearly translucent white skin and unruly red curls bouncing about his shoulders as he made his way up Farnsworth Avenue, blustering and picking fights with anyone that crossed his path. I knew he was on borrowed time.

Steven was a twig of a boy with visions of grandeur. He was the outlaw son of the outlaw father he never met or knew. A little boy with a major Napolean complex walking around with a boulder on his shoulder daring anyone to knock it off, and many did knock it off and much worse. Undeterred, Steven had decided that being a so-called outlaw was in his blood and that was the way he was going to go.

I watched as Steven began to take up with the absolute worse elements in the neighborhood. Kacy had asked Alan to talk with him, then she asked me, but nothing worked, he was bound and determined to go the way of the wicked, a decision that would cost him his life. When he was 18 or 19 years old I don’t remember which. Steven’s brutally beaten and stabbed body was found in a burnt-out drug den near  Woodard Ave.

*****

Kacy’s mother’s boyfriend Bulldog was a small-time weed dealer who liked getting underaged girls high and drunk so that he could take advantage of them sexually. He had tried this move on Stacy a few times when Jasmine wasn’t around or either blackout in one of the upstairs bedrooms, but Kacy always managed to escape unscathed. It was only a matter of time she knew before he would take what he wanted from her the way he did with Tammy, a young Korean girl from up the block. When he did come for her, Kacy and her four-inch steak knife she slept with would be waiting. She told me and Alan that she would kill him before she let him have her. Kacy was right, Bulldog did come for her a few nights later and she had managed to fight him off but cutting him with her knife.  When Alan got the news he was furious and although she told him that she had the situation under control I knew that there was no way that Alan would let that kind of thing go.

Bulldog received an anonymous ass-kicking one wintery Michigan morning. Still high or drunk from partying the night before Bulldog staggered out on the icy porch and fell. His feet slipped and slid underneath him then shoot out from under him. The first thing that hit the porch was his fat girlish ass. His ass bounced off the ice, his feet flew into the air, he farted, then his head slammed into the ice-covered wooden porch.

“Motherfucker!” he whined. His voice sounded super high and tinny in the still earlier morning. He lay there for a moment breathing heavily and making a strange sound, a mixture of groans and whimpers.

“ Fat Fucks crying,” Alan whispered barely containing his laughter.

“You think,” I asked amazed and tilted my head toward the porch and sure enough he was crying. Bulldog always played the tough guy and now he was out here crying because he fell and bumped his head. What a fuckin cooze.  

“Damn,” I said shaking my head.

After a few minutes, Bulldog pulled himself together and tried to stand up. His feet slid back and forth beneath him and he fell again. His ungloved hand slapped down hard on the icy wooden rail. He yelped like a kicked dog and yanked his hand back and tumbled backward off the porch. He rolled down the four or five front steps and landed flat on his back in the walkway and once again the water work’s started up. Alan and I could believe it. We knew Bulldog was more bark than bite, but we couldn’t believe how soft he really was. This guy was a cream puff.  After a few seconds, Bulldog got to his feet and staggered toward his 1970 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, red with a white interior, a very nice car. As he reached for the door handle he looked up and got knocked out. We heard that Jasmine found him lying face down in the snow with a bloody nose, ears, and a broken hand twenty minutes later. A few days later Tammy’s family contacted the police about Tammy’s sexual assault, but by the time they got around to investigating it, Bulldog was gone. West Virginia, that’s where I heard he went, and surprise, surprise, he ended up in jail for statutory rape a few years later.

*****

           “What are you going to do,” I asked Alan after he told me about Kacy’s pregnancy. He looked sick.

           “ Got to marry her I guess,” he said staring down at the floor.

           “ You guess?”

           “Yeah, what else can I do. We ain’t having no fucking abortion.”

           “ I never suggested…”

           “ I know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucked right now.”

           “What about money,”

           “ I got the job over at C.Qs. Tony’s gonna have to give me a raise.”

           “Tony’s not going to give you a raise.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because he just gave you one a few weeks ago. Why don’t you join the Army with me,” I said? Alan shook his head.

           “Forget that, I ain’t going into no Army.”

           “ You’ll make more money in the Army then you will working at C.Qs.” Alan thought about it then shook his head again.

           “ Nah, we’ll be alright, we’ll manage,” he said.

“You still driving me to the airport?” I asked really wishing my friend would come with me.

           “Yeah, If you want me to.”

           “Okay,” I said. “I’m heading over to Ramone’s. I’d like to see him before I go.”

           “I’ll drive,” Alan said quickly and grabbed his car keys.

*****

Although it had been a few years since we had last seen him, I still considered Ramone a good friend and I wanted to see him before I went off to basic training. Ramone’s street was quiet as it always was when we were kids. Alan parked in front of Ramone’s house and killed the engine.

“I can’t believe he still lives here,” Alan said absently as he looked up and down the short block.

“His parents left him and his sister the house is what I heard,” I said as I looked around.

“Fuck that, I would sell, I wouldn’t want to live around here now.”

Alan and I got out of his Ford Talon and walked up the thin paved walkway up to the house. Everything about the place seemed smaller and shabbier. It was the same small house on E. Palmer that Ramone and his family had lived in when we all went to Ferry Elementary. Going there was like stepping back in time. Many of the same families and small business owners were still there. “Young’s Barbeque” on Mt. Elliot and East Grand Blvd, was still there at the time, “Thompson’s cleaners”, on McDougall and Ferry was still there, and my favorite penny candy store “Frank’s Beer &Wine”  on the corner of Ferry and Mt. Elliot, my old block was still there at the time.

That was years ago, they are all gone now, even Ferry Elementary is gone now.  Torn down by the city leaving a gigantic black hole where our childhood once stood.  An obscene black scar the size of an entire city block with scattered houses and overrun weed fields.

As Alan and I walked toward the small blockhouse my mind drifted back to when I first met Ramone in Mrs. Drum’s class when we were in the fourth grade. I wanted to be Ramone’s friend. It took a while, but slowly but surely he started opening up to me.  I remember sitting at our table waiting for the class to start. Alan for whatever reason wasn’t in school that day. Ramone and I sat quietly waiting then he turned to me and look me directly in the eyes. His voice was calm and splashed with a hint of contempt for me.

“ Do you like Alan better than me because he’s white,” he asked. My views on race and culture were still in the development stages so this question caught me completely off guard. As I sit here today writing this, I can almost hear his flat monotonic voice.

“ I don’t like Alan better than you,” I said quickly.

“You don’t,” he asked slightly surprised.

“No, why would I? I like you both the same,” I said.

“For real,” he smiled. It was a rare thing to see Ramone smile.

“Yeah, sure I do. Maybe I’ll ask my mom to see if she’ll let me have company this weekend.”

“Spend a night,” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah, you haven’t spent a night yet,” I said.

A cloud suddenly came over his dark features and his smile slowly faded.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. He looked down at the table and began to fidget with a piece of torn notebook paper.

“You going to invite Alan too,” he looked up and asked cautiously.

“I was going to, why?”

“ Oh,” he said and looked down at his torn piece of paper again, “Then I can’t come.”

“ Why not, should I not invite Alan, I thought you liked Alan?”

“I do. Alan and I are best buds,” he hesitated, “ It’s just that if my mom and dad knew that Alan is going to be there… I don’t think they’ll let me come over.” I looked at him confused for a moment then I remembered Alan telling me about how Ramone’s parents weren’t too keen on him having white friends.

“ My mom would talk to your mom and let her know that you’ll be safe.”

“I know,” he hesitated, “ It’s just that if Alan’s there they won’t let me come.”

“Why not,” I asked even though I already knew the answer. I needed to hear him say it. I don’t know why, but I did. So, he did say it.

“My mom and dad don’t want me playing or hanging around them.” He motioned with his head toward a table of white children.

“Oh,” I said, “why not?”

“They’re white,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” was all I could think to say.

“My dad says you can’t really trust them and that most of them look down on us black people. They think we’re all on the welfare, or on drugs, or crooks,” he said.

“No, they don’t.”

“My dad says they do.”

“I’ve been to Alan’s house…” I started to say before he interrupted me.

“Your mom and dad let you go over there?” He asked shocked.

“Yeah, and his mom and dad treated me real nice too. They never looked down on me. I even ate dinner over there once.”

“ I bet they think you’re poor now. They gave you charity, see,” he said raising his voice slightly.

“ My dad works at Ford Motor Company, that’s a good job. We’re not poor, my dad’s a boss or something.” I said.

           “ I know you’re not, but I bet they think you are.”

           “They don’t. They’re nice every time I go over there.”

           “ My dad says we shouldn’t do that. He says we should stick to our own kind.”

           “ You want to spend the night or not?”

           “Alan going to be there?”

           “Yeah,” I said. “Just don’t tell your mom and dad.”

           He looked at me as if I had just suggested that we rob a bank.

           “You mean lie?”

           “No, just if they don’t ask you about Alan don’t tell them.” Ramone smiled again and nodded. Ramone was never allowed to spend the night. His parents just wouldn’t let him do it.

On the day of our visit to Ramone’s house, Alan’s family and my family had moved out of the neighborhood and had been out for years by this point. My family moved out right after I graduated from Ferry in 1979. We moved to a quiet middle-class neighborhood about ten miles from where we lived on Mt Elliot Street. The neighborhood was strikingly different than the one we had left. These were tree-lined streets with manicured yards. Our neighbor Mr. Traminski literally had a white picket fence around his yard. It looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. When my family moved in the neighborhood was predominantly white with a few black, Asian, and Arab families sprinkled in for good measure.  By the late 80s rolled around almost all the white families had moved out. White flight is what they called it, I guess. Mr. Traminski was one of the first to go. I guess we liked him more than he liked us.

Alan’s family moved out of the old neighborhood around 1983. In this period, Alan and I had become as close as two friends could be, while Ramone whose family never left the old neighborhood began to drift from our orbit. We tried to keep in touch with him but were unable to regularly. All and all, Alan and I had been away from the old neighborhood off and on for almost nine years and at that time, we might have seen Ramone five or six times. The times we did see him he didn’t seem quite right. He seemed tight, and a  little off-kilter.

By 1985 Alan and I were high school graduates with our whole lives laid out in front of us. I looked as if I was about to embark on a promising college football career, Ramone had been accepted into several really good universities, and Alan had gotten a job at a paper manufacturing plant.  

*****

“This neighborhood has gone to shit,” I said as I scanned my surroundings. I looked out toward the empty lot where Ferry Elementary once stood. The last time Alan and I had been in the neighborhood Ferry Elementary was still standing It had been closed and torn down for years by the next time Alan and I rolled around.  

“To shit and then some,” Alan said. I looked up at the cool cloudless sky. A tiny barely visible plane flew by overhead. A reflective dot high above it all creeping across the cobalt sky dipping in and out of sight. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I could almost feel the earth rotating, even though I knew that it wasn’t possible, still, it made me feel dizzy. I took a half a step back to avoid staggering, then opened my eyes.

“I bet Ramone’s heading off to Yale or Princeton or some other ivory league school partly because of his grades and partly because he’s black. Affirmative action,” Alan said out of the blue. I slowly turned to him not believing what I was hearing.

“What,” I said my anger was bubbling just below the surface.

“ I bet I couldn’t get in,” he said sharply.

“Yeah, because you don’t have the grades.”

“ I’m just saying,” he shrugged.

The front door swung open and Serina stepped out onto the porch. Serina’s, Ramone’s little sister. She had smooth chocolate skin and wide brown eyes, she looked like a black Barbie doll. She stared at us with a blank expression. She didn’t recognize us. Before that day I remembered Serina as a slightly chubby happy-go-lucky little girl running and playing with her friends on the playground with her protective older brother Ramone always keeping one eye out for her and the other eye out for us. The chubby little girl that used to be too shy to look at me was gone and had been replaced with this beautiful stern woman standing before us in the partially opened screen door.

“Can I help you,” She asked while subtly looking us over.

“Serina,” I said cautiously.

“Yes,” she said without looking at me. Her eyes were fixed on Alan.

“I’m Luke and this is Alan,” I said, “We’re friends of Ramone. Is he here?” She turned to me, her jaw tightened and her eyebrows came together in a tight knot.

“What,” she said, the words came out in a breathy whisper. Her expression softened.

“ Is he home?” I asked. Serina looked at me for a long moment then she turned and looked at Alan. I could see the light bulb coming on. She slowly raised a finger and pointed it at me.

“ Your Luke?” She asked. I nodded and motioned toward Alan.

“ And that’s Alan, do you remember us?” She nodded and stepped out onto the porch closing the screen door behind her.

“Where have you guys been?” she asked in a thin wavey voice.  Alan and I looked at one another confused.

“Excuse me,” Alan asked.

“Ramone is dead,” she said in a voice that suggested that she was still struggling with the realization of what had happened. The news was devastating.

“What, when,” Alan and I asked in unison.

“He walked into traffic,” she said in a voice strangled with emotion. “ a truck hit and killed.”

“Where did it happen,” I asked.

“He was on Mt Elliot when it happened.”

“How could this have happened?” I thought. “We were all good friends, weren’t we? How could it be that this was the first we were hearing of this?” I looked at Alan he was standing with his jaw gapped and unhinged looking glossy-eyed and confused. Alan and I stood there on her front porch like mute idiots as Serina dropped the bombshell on us. My brain went foggy and felt warped and wobbled and I jerked my head to the left to shake off the cobwebs. I couldn’t believe it.

“Suicide,” Alan muttered in a low husky voice. I was trying to think of something to say, but my mind was blank.

“I’m sorry,” Serina said. “I thought you guys knew,” she paused, “I thought everyone knew by now.”

“By now,” Alan asked, “How long has he been gone?”

“Three years,” She said matter-of-factly, “ I thought all his true friends knew,” she said bitterly as she glared at us.

“No,” I said shaking my head. She cocked her head to the right and looked at me with her big doll-like brown eyes. She had the kind of eyes that made grown men stutter if she looked directly at you and she was looking directly into the eyes. My mind went blank. Serina was studying me with those eyes, looking for signs of a lie. I understood what she was doing so I held her gaze until she looked away. Ramone had killed himself on my old street. He didn’t kill himself on my block thank god. He did the deed a few blocks up near East Grand Blvd. I don’t think that I had ever known anyone that had committed suicide before or since.

As sad as Ramone’s suicide was I’m sure he was now in a better place. Ramone was a melancholy boy from the moment I met him back in 1976 up until the last time I saw him which must have been some time in the mid-eighties. He just seemed too delicate of a human being to survive in this harsh and hateful world.

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER SIX ; JUST ANOTHER WOMAN.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

BACK in 1918, Teresa wished she could kiss Tommy again. When he returned home from the war, kissing him felt like kissing a stranger. He was there physically, but not mentally, spiritually. He just wasn't all there. It was no surprise to Teresa. Without even an ounce of experience fighting in the trenches and ducking for cover when a grenade is thrown, she had an idea on what horrors Tommy faced before referring himself as a patriarch. The one thing he wanted to do was drink and throw things around before finally seeing his family again. His lips she used to kiss were cracked dry, trembling from the dirt.

But that was 1918. Teresa kept her patience with Tommy as the shell shock brought him sleepless nights and downing more booze and night terrors. Now it was near end of January 1926, Teresa stood in front of another man she was once in love with, someone who was a soldier for the Spinietta family. Or perhaps a man she might still be in love with...

"Miss Griffith!" Alfie exclaims, getting up from the stool before stopping one of the henchman to march over to the girl. "Uh, uh, uh! Hang on, let me give my best loyal customer a proper greeting."

"Shalom, Mr. Solomons," Teresa smiles, embracing the man.

"Shalom, my dear!" And Alfie kisses her both on the cheeks before remembering Luca was still there. Alfie looked at the Italian. "Well, mate since you now look like you've seen six heads on one body, I'm going to boldly assume you and Miss Griffith had some history. So don't mind me, pretend I'm not here." He sits back down, putting his glasses back on and jotting something in his slip of paper he takes out from his pockets.

Luca stared hard at Alfie, then at Teresa, then back at Matteo. There were no words. What even was there to appropriately react to this? What was even there to say? The match stick was soaked with his saliva from staying in his mouth so uncomfortably, but he bit it down with his teeth to keep it from falling and to just clench it from his sudden frustration.

Teresa was just as at a loss of words when she saw the Italian. She even recognized his cousin standing behind him. What were the odds? She was just talking about him to Michael Gray whom he had an encounter with prior to warning her at her art exhibition.

Teresa hated winter but she loved covering herself with the warm buttoned up trench coat to shape out her slim figure, Luca noticed that. He also noticed how her hair was in waves, just like how the women were styling their hair when there wasn't a special occasion. It wasn't new to see the same thing, but he had to admit, it was nice to see those blonde locks again. Luca always tucked a strand of it behind her ear before lowering his head to kiss her so passionately- the lips- yes, he does remember kissing them, too. But kissing her in that moment wouldn't be as beautiful as the first time.

"Hi." Teresa smiled at him, even though she felt like smashing one of Alfie's rum bottles on the floor in anger.

"Miss Griffith," he greets her. His accent thickened as it drew a low volume. "What're you doing here?"

"Came to see Alfie, I owe him money for bringing rum to my grand re-opening."

"You're still directing in Penarth?"

Teresa nodded. "We showcased art deco."

"Oh. Well, congratulations on the exhibition."

"Thank you." There was a short pause. "How about you? You're here to buy rum?"

"Business," he replies. "We're here on business."

"Yeah, okay. This conversation is as immensely dry as the Sahara desert," Alfie removed his glasses. "Unfortunately, I cannot leave you two unattended with my bread in my bakery unless you're here to pay up."

"This ain't no fucking bakery, Mr. Solomons," Luca snaps.

"Mate, I will smash a lead pipe on your obnoxious fucking face if you make one more comment on my business that you intend on taking from me," Alfie emphasized the last part of his sentence, then switched his expression to smile sweetly at the lady. "Now, you said you're here to pay me?"

Teresa pulls out her purse, handing Alfie a stack of cash. "Ten pounds. But it was worth it, the guests loved your rum, Mr. Solomons. I thank you again."

Alfie chanted, counting the bills in his hands one by one. "Thank you for choosing Solomons' Fine Old Rum. I hope to see you again in the future. Right, I'll leave you two alone now, but please don't fuck on top of my barrels! The bottles are very fragile, it'll cost you another tonne for damages, mate."

And he was gone.

Following the white noise and footsteps from the workers in the background, behind the men he brought with him, it really was just the two of them. Matteo cleared his throat, queuing him and his other men to walk over to pat Teresa down. She cooperates knowing she was armed with a handgun strapped to the inside the coat, in which they confiscated, much to her annoyance. After searching her, Luca kept his stare.

"What?" Teresa says. "You're still in shock?"

"It's just..." he trails off. "Seeing an old face again gives me a weird feeling in my gut."

Matteo leaned over, muttering a comment in Italian, causing Luca to let out a chuckle. Teresa frowned at that. Luca knew Teresa didn't speak Italian as English and Welsh were the only two she was fluent in, not even when they dated she picked up a few basic Italian words and sentences here and there. But having people presumably make a remark at you in a language you didn't know was a barrier, and yet it still stung.

"You said you came here on business?" Teresa didn't even need to enlighten her question. She knew exactly what Luca was doing back in England. "Yet you came to see Alfie. I'm just gonna assume it's a proposition."

"Sure," Luca said dryly. "My men and I will be on our way." Luca turned his heel, chewing on the ends of his match stick.

"Not so fast, Luca," Teresa crossed her arms. "you ended things on a sour note and you don't even care."

He turned back around, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Luca, you hurt me. You were in such a hurry to leave me, now that we're standing in front of each other you're not gonna own up to what you did? Don't you even remember me?"

"Six years ago, I took you to my cousin's wedding and we began seeing each other afterwards. Yes, I do remember you, I just don't remember everything. The average man sees almost a dozen women a day."

"No, they don't," Teresa shakes her head. Do they?

He places the match back in between his teeth. "That was six years ago. You think I'd recall every single thing?"

"Well to me, it was special. You made me happy. But I guess it wasn't special for you."

"I'm serious about how many women we see a day. I would see them from parties, some coming to talk about business," Luca waves his hand. "It's like being in a candy store, you dunno where to start, so you just grab a fuckin' load of 'em." Then he smirks to Matteo. "Un sacco di caramelle." And they both chuckle.

She froze at the thought of Luca seeing other women while he lived back in New York, jumping from one to another. Yet again, no surprise. He's a gangster.

"So I meant nothing to you?" Teresa had to ask.

Luca looked down. "I was happy, can't deny that. I guess I never really had time to settle down with someone. When I went back to America, I've never felt more at home than the old country. I became more successful than ever. My family invested in so much just so we could walk around the streets like we owned New York City. So, when I was staying here after the wedding, there was really nothing else to do other than... squeeze in some fun. So-"

Please don't say it...

"You were just another woman." Teresa felt like her body was shrinking. Luca Changretta was kind to her, supported her work, he let her hold one of his Thompson guns for the first time like it was a trophy. He shared his passions, his secrets, his fears, as she did to same. He even promised to take her to Italy one day. But the man standing in front of her looked at her like she was a creature. Perhaps all gangsters carried that kind of attitude, some of them just don't care after.

Gulping the back of the throat to prevent choking out a cry, she spoke back. "Right. Well, welcome back. It's nice to see you again."

Luca nodded as a response and turned to his men. "Andiamo." He was the first to walk back the way he came, Matteo following, then the rest of his men that stood in formation were the last.

"Can I..." Teresa stops him. He turned back around, raising his brow. "...have my gun back?"

Luca tilted his head at Matteo to retrieve it back to her. Matteo walked back to his boss, continuing to make their way down the corridors.

What a way to make an exit, she thought. She didn't have anyone to follow her around, so she exited the back door all by herself, dragging her cold feet and her shattered heart.

//

+ honestly, this entire reunion chapter sounded better in my head. so writing this was a huge challenge because i need more practice, therefore i hate this piece. but yes, luca is a bitch. "b i c t h... and in that order."

+ btw, alfie ships luca and teresa. periodt.

[papa-nikki-writes]

Rowvember day 11-Profit

Profit

Definition

1. A financial gain, especially the difference between the amount earned and the amount spent in buying, operating, or producing something.

2. Advantage; benefit.

Summary: Pierce has always had an eye for opportunity, and that doesn’t change with his time in the Saints, now the Sons of Samedi aren’t his jurisdiction but that doesn’t mean he can’t offer helpful advice, right?

Words: 1,453

Money talks, Pierce had known that from a younger age than most, they always say money can’t buy happiness, that it isn’t everything, but in Pierce’s opinion those that said that usually knew nothing about struggling. If money was the only barrier between not eating right for a week or two, when you finally got food in you’d be laughing right?

      Money had also seen the rich judges son spared jail when Pierce had been locked up and the key thrown away, they were both dealing, they were both ex Vice Kings, it should have been fair. But it wasn’t. It never would’ve been. So when Pierce finally gotten out of jail he swore he’d do everything in his power to get money at any cost, to be rich, to be famous, so that the system couldn’t touch him.

     When he got out of jail however, he found Stilwater burning, and burning far worse than he had seen at the height of his stint in the Vice Kings, and his money making schemes were abandoned in favour of just staying alive. You watch, you wait, you build of course, a sentiment from Benjamin King he still held close to the chest, he would get his shot, he just had to wait it out. So the day he got that call from Gat out of the blue he saw his chance.

“O’Connor’s comin’ to get you, be ready.” was the sign off to the call, and after putting what would be his future Boss to the test, he knew this was where he had to be, cleaning up the city and maybe making a bit of money while he was at it.

       Boss was...difficult sometimes to say the least, charging headfirst into everything and everyone was a bit of a culture shock for someone that modelled himself after King, but he was learning to adapt. Or at least he thought he was, some days all he and Boss would do was argue all day, and it would put that in doubt.

       He tried to tell her, many times that whatever she needed he could get it done, he was confident, he got this, just listen and she’d take offence, but it wasn’t his fault he was competent, he just wanted her to see that. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“And it isn’t mine either.” she snapped, “thank you very much.”

“I’m just sayin’, if we want to corner the Loa dust market, it isn’t enough to just destroy the Samedi’s, we need to have a hook, we need to have them keep comin’ back to us.” he said, and the Boss just stared at him. Her stare was intense, made him squirm in his seat like he was going to get the biggest telling off of his life, she shook her head, the hand she was was resting her head on shifted, gesturing vaguely in his direction.

“Why are you telling me things I already know, what’s your problem?”

“Problem? There’s no problem, I’m just trying to make you rich.”

“Great, then make me rich instead of just telling me you’re gonna make me rich.”

“We need a hook.” he repeated, and Shea turned her head to where Shaundi and Laura sat in awkward silence on the other side of the table with a smirk.

“Laura darling, put crack cocaine in the Loa dust I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Pierce asked,

“Boss, we can’t put crack cocaine in the Loa dust.” Shaundi said, deadpan.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!” Pierce repeated, and Boss whipped her head back round to face him, the look she was giving him definitely putting him in mind of his hardass principal from middle school. It didn’t make either women any less terrifying however. He stood his ground though, he had to. She would respect that at least. “What’s your problem?” he asked her, and he saw both her eyebrows raise, heard Shaundi hiss, grimacing as though someone stabbed her with a red hot poker.

“Shaundi, Laura give us five minutes yeah.” Boss finally said, and they left in a flurry, eager to be out of there as Shea’s eyes never left his face, and it was then that he wondered if he’d made a mistake. “You wanna know what my problem is?” she asked.

“I know what your problem is, it’s the Dex Ultor thing innit?” he guessed, he asked around after he heard Vogel bring him up, nothing that came back was positive, and that’s who he reminded her of? He’d fucking leave that, Dex was no better than Warren Williams or Tanya Winters in his opinion. They had capitalised on what they had of course, but it wasn’t anything he wanted a part of. Boss smiled, and it was then that he realised he definitely made a mistake.

“Tell me some of your weaknesses, go.”

“Is this a job interview?” he asked.

“Go I said.” she insisted with a nod, and Pierce grinned nervously.

“I have no weaknesses, I told you, I just get it done.”

“Look, I’m not asking for childhood trauma, we’re not really there yet, but the fact that you can’t even tell me one lets me know I’m right.”

“What?” he asked confused, and she tilted her head to one side.

“You’ve got no self awareness.” she said, and Pierce laughed, he couldn’t help it, The Boss, the walking nuke was telling him he had no self awareness?

“I have loads of self awareness.”

“Great, then tell me a weakness.”

“You tell me your weakness.” he shot back, and Boss smiled and held out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Shea, I’m an arsehole whose only skill in life is basically hurting people. I also don’t know how to delegate-” she paused, her brow furrowing, “-I could go on for the craic like but you aren’t ready for that conversation.” she said as Pierce awkwardly shook her hand, she took it back then, gesturing towards him. “See? It’s not that difficult. If you want to be confident, be confident I love that, but I’ve been around the block as much as you have, and I have to ask why you decided to follow me if you’re just gonna tell me what I already know, doesn’t that waste our time at the end of the day?”

“I guess?” Pierce asked, shrugging, and she tilted her head again.

“Now lets hear what you’ve got, your real plan this time.”

        Now that took him by surprise, usually Boss only listened to his plans when Shaundi said it, but there she was, staring at him again, this time expecting him to say something.

“Er, I was thinking of doing like a bulk offer yeah? You buy so much, maybe like ten bags and you get one free or something?”

“What like a Buckstar loyalty card?”

“Yeah, we can make ‘em on the cheap once we have our template- plus, one thing I know is that people like to collect shit,” he said, pulling a piece of paper towards him and drawing a happy stick person with ten crudely drawn bags on their arms. Boss leaned forward, and it emboldened him, she was listening at least, not outright slating the idea.

“It could work.” she mused.

“I mean, what have we really got to lose right? If we get the market cornered, once the money is flowing, one or two bags here and there in the grand scheme of things isn’t going to make much of a dent in our potential earnings.” he said, drawing stick figures of him and Boss rolling in money. “We get rich, and we have a happy customer loyal to us, what do you think?” he asked, looking round at her. She thought for a second as Pierce waited on the edge of his seat, before she nodded.

“I like it.” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, thank fuck for that. “You always had an interest in marketing, Pierce?”

“Nah, I just know what people like, I used to hit the library a lot at school, picked up a few Psychology books to read through and shit.”

“And how did you find Psychology?”

“Interesting, people are-well they are interesting. Oh!” he said, a sudden thought coming to him. “How about we spread a rumour that the Samedi curse their Loa Dust?” he asked and Boss tilted her head to one side.

“What if they aren’t superstitious.”

“Well we could always say it’s also cut with glass or bath salts.” he answered with a shrug, and a smirk pulled her lips upwards.

“Pierce, you’re a genius.” she said, and Pierce beamed, the compliment meaning more than he thought it would.

[5typesoftrash]

Good Morning, Darkest Secrets

For @specialagentrin because goddammit, she has inspired me to write so much fic recently. It isn’t even funny. I loveeeeeeee youuuuuuuuuu

RATING T RELATIONSHIPS Dean/Cas, Sam/Cas FANDOM Supernatural Words 2,715 Comments/Warnings angst, pining, unrequited love (I’ll let you see which side), tw: suicidal thoughts/actions/ideation, depression, tw: abuse

***

A boy climbs through his window. “Ow!” he says when he hits the floor.

Dean sits up in bed and looks at him. “Who are you?” he asks. The boy sits up.

“Huh,” he says instead of answering, peering at Dean’s face in the dark. “I must have overshot. I’m looking for Sam Winchester.”

Dean closes his eyes in exasperation. “Wrong bedroom,” he manages. “Sammy’s down the hall. Why are you breaking into our house?”

The kid shrugs. “Felt like it. Which door?”

Dean watches him. He moves weird, kinda like Sam and Dean themselves do, and Dean wonders what that means. He’s almost got it, it’s on the tip of his tongue-

“First on your right. If he hits you, I wasn’t here.”

The kid glances over his shoulder and flashes Dean a grin that makes his knees weak. “I’ll remember that.”

Dean is ten years old.

--

The boy’s name is Castiel. He’s in Sam’s class. He’s seven. (Sam is eight.)

Dean learns all of this the next morning at breakfast, after his dad’s yelling wakes him up. Something about Sam having a boy in his bed and how John refuses to let his sons be homos. Whatever that means.

Mary calms him down with a soft voice and a hand on his arm and invites Castiel to breakfast. Dean’s eyes follow this mysterious new boy the whole way down the stairs.

Castiel’s shoulders still shift awkwardly under his coat (which Dean can see in the light of day is a trench coat. He didn’t know those came small enough for seven-year-olds) and Dean still burns to find out why that looks so familiar. But he refrains.

There are things he can’t blurt out at the breakfast table.

Mary gives Castiel three slices of toast and almost half their jam. He stares at it with wide eyes for almost thirty seconds. “It’s food,” Dean says helpfully. “You eat it. Are you okay?”

Castiel looks up at him with blue eyes free of guile or blame. “Are you sure you can spare this much?” he asks of the entire room. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Dude, nobody talks like that,” Dean tells him, laughing. Mary smacks the back of his head.

“Yes, of course we can. I wouldn’t give it to you if we couldn’t scrape by.”

Castiel looks down at his plate in shame. “This is more food than I’ve gotten at one meal in three years.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “No way.”

Castiel turns red and takes a bite of his toast. No one says anything else. Mary tells Dean off later for being rude and insensitive.

Dean is still fascinated.

--

Castiel is new in town, but he stays for a long time. He starts coming home from school with Sam every day. They’re obviously best friends.

Dean is… Dean is jealous.

Of Sam.

That’s never happened before.

He hangs out in the same room as them a lot of the time, but they are always very obviously hanging out with each other. He’s just the weird big brother who’s also there.

And Cas – Dean has no idea when he became ‘Cas’ – seems to avoid him at all costs, if he can. Dean tries not to push. He just doesn’t know why Cas is so uncomfortable around him. But it doesn’t matter, because it goes away after a few months. By July, they’re all hanging out together, playing Mario Kart and marathoning Star Wars.

But Dean is still jealous.

--

Dean’s a freshman when Sam starts middle school. He and Cas have three of six classes together, and Cas comes over to study every chance he gets. Dean stopped being jealous of Sammy around the end of seventh grade, but he thinks he’ll always be bitter that Cas seems to prefer Sam to him.

Especially at night, when he opens the little box that he keeps locked in the back of his mind. It sits on a shelf, gathering dust, and inside are all the feelings, the thoughts, the little things Dean catalogued in those first two years. Dean shoved them all in their when he realized what it was, and he never lets them out, except when he’s miserable and alone.

He’s spent the last two years since then praying that it would go away. He needs it to go away. He can’t be like this, he can’t be a freak, he can’t be that thing that his father was so scared of when Dean was just ten years old. He can’t.

He is.

One day, he lays on the floor of Sam’s room with his giant-ass AP World History textbook wide open on his face when Sam says it.

“I kissed Cas today.”

Sam is on his bed, on his stomach, flipping through his Alg-one notebook, trying to make sense of the notes he took in class. He says it nonchalantly, out of the blue, and Dean almost does a spit take.

“Um.” Dean’s voice is muffled by the college ruled pages above him. He sits up and closes the book. “You did what now?” he asks incredulously.

Sam looks at him evenly. His hair is a little bit too long – he’s been growing it out this year. Dean tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. “I kissed him,” he repeats.

There’s a pause, then Dean says, “well, what happened?”

Sam scoffs. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you! Nothing happened. I liked a guy, I kissed him, he kissed back, end of story.”

“He kissed back?” Dean doesn’t know why he can’t seem to process any of the information that’s being thrown at him. (That’s a lie; it’s because he’s so fucking blindsided by all of this that he can barely register Sammy likes guys, let alone Sammy likes the guy that I like or the guy that I like likes Sammy back.) “So what now? Are you like… boyfriends?”

Sam shrugs. “We haven’t gotten that far. It was at lunch break and we haven’t seen each other since.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have fifth together?”

“Yeah, we sit on opposite sides of the room and we were doing a lab today so we couldn’t even email back and forth like we usually do in that class.”

Dean lets out a whoosh of air and collapses back onto the floor. “Alright then. Well, good luck.” He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say.

Sam makes a derisive noise. “Right. Thanks, Dean.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Sam flips him off without looking away from his notes. “Exactly, jerk.”

Dean is miserable now.

--

They are boyfriends.

Dean discovers this six days later. It’s Tuesday, which is a cursed day in his opinion, because it’s the day he dies every week. (Tuesdays are inspection day. He has to wear his uniform into school and he’s not allowed to touch anybody or wear a hat.) And now it’s more cursed because it will forever be the day that Castiel Novak told him he was dating his brother immediately after spilling iced coffee on him.

“Okay, asshole, it is on,” Dean snarls, only kind of playing. “This is my ROTC uniform. How fuckin’ dare you.”

Cas just laughs when Dean shoves him. “Dean, I apologized. I’ll get it dry cleaned for you.”

Dean grumbles as he wads up napkins and dabs at it. “You don’t have the money for that,” he says finally. “I’ll do it myself.”

Cas closes his mouth, then opens it again to say, “are you going to kill me if I date your brother?”

Dean’s head snaps up. “Why would I kill you?”

Cas can’t meet his eyes. “Well, you’re incredibly protective of him, and when I first moved here, you didn’t seem to… like me very much.”

Dean scoffs. “Fuck me,” he sings under his breath. “Nah, man, you’re great. I’m just a dick like that. But don’t worry about it, okay? No, go ahead and date Sam. He’s been crushing on you for like, ever.”

Cas looks incredibly relieved. “Great,” he says quietly. “Good. Thank you.”

Dean just nods his acknowledgment and waves Cas away. He needs to hit the road in the next fifteen minutes if he’s gonna get to the school on time, and Cas and Sam have to catch their bus.

(Dean fails his inspection that day.)

--

Cas is a freshman when Dean finally finds out why he moves funny.

Dean is a junior, and he’s about .3 GPA away from dropping out of high school, and he goes to pick Cas up one day because he is the one chaperoning Cas and Sam’s dates. Because their parents don’t even know Sam’s gay.

(Bi? He mighta said he was bi. Dean really has no idea, all his tiny brain has room for is Sam likes Cas.)

He walks into Cas’s house and the first thing he hears is the wet smack of flesh on flesh. The second thing he hears is something thwip-ing through the air. The third thing he hears is crying. The fourth thing he hears is Cas’s voice, and Cas is begging.

“Please stop,” he cries. “Please, Luci, I’ll do anything, please! Just stop!”

Dean pushes the door open and there are three boys inside it. One looks about a year older than Dean, with pale hair and evil-looking eyes. One is Castiel, who looks terrified, like a deer in headlights as he stares wide-eyed at Dean. And one is shorter, sandier, unconscious, and bleeding.

“Did you kill him?” he demands the tall one. He assumes this is Luci, especially considering the bloody gashes on Cas’s exposed back – holy shit, Cas isn’t wearing a shirt and Dean has only just registered that – that match the bloody metal end of the belt Luci’s holding.

Cas kneels, in Luci’s moment of distraction, to press two fingers to the short one’s throat. “He’s alive,” he whispers, and his voice wavers and breaks. Dean glares at the tall guy.

“Get the hell out of here,” he commands. Luci looks confused and defiant but leaves the room. Dean pulls out his phone and dials 911.

“Who was that?” he asks when they’re riding in the back of an ambulance. Cas doesn’t look at him.

“One of the twins, the two oldest. Lucifer. He likes to hurt the rest of us. He does it for sport.”

Dean purses his lips. “Right,” he whispers. “I should’ve known.”

Cas does look at him then. “Why should you have known?”

Dean meets his eyes with sorrow. “Cause I’m an abuse victim too.”

--

Somehow, Sam and Cas are still going strong by their sophomore year, celebrating 3 years in October. On their anniversary (the fourth), Cas stands outside of their house with a big sign. Dean sees him through the open front door.

He stands in the doorway to read it. It says “HOMECOMING?” Dean grins.

“Yeah!” he shouts. Cas shakes his head, laughing.

Tell Sam, he mouths. Dean turns his head and shouts up the stairs.

“Sammy, I’m taking your boyfriend to homecoming!”

“Whatever, jerk!” Sam yells back.

“You won’t be saying that when we’re doin’ it in a limo, bitch!” Dean declares, then drops a wink at Cas and disappears back into the house.

--

Sam still seems happy by junior year. Dean has long since dropped out by now and is working part-time with their uncle Bobby. He never sees Cas anymore, and that’s probably for the better, considering that every time he does, he is in desperate need of a cold shower.

Sam still raves about him obliviously, and Dean still listens with a straight face – a talent he’s mastered after years of hiding his own stupid bullshit. Dean doesn’t let on. He’s gotten very, very good at not letting on.

He breaks down, once, and Sam finds him. It’s embarrassing and humiliating, and it’s made more so by the fact that he can’t even explain to his brother why he’s crying on the floor of the bathroom. Sam doesn’t seem to care, though. He just grabs Dean and pulls him close to his chest and doesn’t let him go for a very, very long time.

Dean hates everything.

--

Dean hates how amazing his little brother is. Sam is such a great person, and he deserves the kind of happiness he’s found with Cas. They’ve been together for six years and they’re both so much happier than they were before. Dean’s seen the change happen firsthand.

He hates how much he resents it. He hates how much he wishes he could ruin it for them. He hates how terrible a person he is, for wanting to destroy this beautiful thing that Sam managed to create for himself out of the ashes of their old life.

He hates himself.

Dean has Castiel’s phone number. He’s used it a grand total of once.

He uses it now.

You and Sam deserve each other is all his message says. It doesn’t say any of the other hundreds of things he wants it to say. It doesn’t say that Dean’s a coward. It doesn’t say that Dean is a terrible person who doesn’t deserve Cas’s friendship. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes Cas and Sam are happy together. It doesn’t say that Dean hopes everyone’s happier without him.

It doesn’t say that if all goes well, Dean will be dead before Cas reads that text message.

He almost jumps out the fourth-story window. He manages to stop himself.

He spends the night in the hospital with a pump in his stomach.

Sam is the only family member who waits with him.

--

Shit hits the fan when Sam comes home for Christmas break. He’s been off at Stanford for three months – and Cas with him, because Cas swore to follow Sam anywhere – and they both come home for two weeks in the end of December.

Mom’s dead; she killed herself eighteen months ago. Dad was killed in a drunk driving crash. Sam and Dean are all alone, just the two of them and Cas and uncle Bobby.

Bobby pays for the house, the upkeep, the water and electric; he takes care of everything so that Dean can keep living there, in Lawrence, in a huge fucking house that he doesn’t need, all on his own.

He should just sell the place, move to Palo Alto to be near his brother, and get a tiny apartment for less than a thousand dollars a month if he can hack it.

He doesn’t sell it because it’s the last place their mom was alive.

Sam and Cas come home and they all get a tree together. They decorate it on the nineteenth. On the twenty-second, Sam asks Dean why he’s been avoiding them all break.

“I’m not avoiding you guys,” Dean denies, even though he is.

“Then why won’t you look at me? Why haven’t you said more than five words to Cas since we’ve been here? Why do you spend all your time holed up in your room?”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to shrug it off, but then Sam says something that cuts deep.

“Do you still not approve of me dating him?”

Dean freezes.

“What?”

Sam’s face looks broken. “He’s tried so hard to win you over, to make you like him. Do you still hate him that much?”

Dean can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t.

“No, I don’t!” he screams. “I never hated him! He’s my best friend, man, and I care about him as much as you do! But no, I don’t approve of you dating him.”

“Why not?” Sam asks. His cheeks are glistening and his face is broken. His eyes look hopeless.

“Because I’m in love with your boyfriend, Sammy!” Dean yells.

There’s silence for fourteen seconds before someone speaks.

“I should leave.”

Dean glances around. Cas is standing in the doorway. He presses his eyes closed.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he whimpers.

“Yeah, well, I did,” Cas replies. He pushes past Dean and leaves the front door open when he walks through it. Sam shoots Dean a look and follows him.

As they walk away from him, Dean thinks he’s just ruined the only thing he had left that was actually important to him.

Good going, Dean.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Here’s a prompt for ya! The classic tattoo parlor/flower shop AU, with Michael as the florist and Raz as the tattoo artist. And if you’re so inclined, featuring the Crue as Raz’s supportive third-wheeling friends.

OKAY I REALLY LIKE THIS! Hope you do too!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You’re staring again, Raz~” 

“I can’t help it! He’s just so..goddamn pretty..” 

Vince shook his head while he unlocked the doors to the shop. “I know I know..you say that every morning. Your actual shift doesn’t even start until the afternoon but here you are..taking opening shifts with me every morning just so you can gawk at him~” Razzle rolled his eyes. “And you always gotta take the piss. I mean..have y’seen him? Wouldn’t you wanna look at him every day?” 

“Not as much as you do~”

“Well your tastes aren’t as refined as mine are~”

“Fuck you!” 

Razzle flipped him off. “Sit ‘n spin on this ya wanker!” 

Their voices were quickly drowned out by Mick pulling up on his motorcycle. After turning the engine off, he took off his helmet and heaved a heavy sigh. “Can you two idiots take your performance inside before you draw a crowd?” 

“Yes, dad~” they say in unison, making Mick sigh again. “I swear you fuckin’ kids are gonna put me into an early grave.” He ruffled their hair affectionately as they went inside. Across the street, Michael, the owner of a new flower shop watched the entire exchange with amusement. To think he believed the guys who worked in the tattoo parlor would be intimidating. They were actually pretty cute..especially the one with the British accent~ Now that he thought about it he’d been wanting a tattoo for a while~

~*~

Nikki and Tommy strolled in late. As usual. And as usual Mick was immediately on their case. “Why don’t you two try showin’ up on time for once and maybe I won’t have to keep dockin’ your pay.” Nikki shrugged. “Not my fault Tommy drank too much last night and was hung over.” Tommy glared at his roommate. “You fuckin’ narc! Maybe I should tell him that you got high and fucked a hooker last night!” Mick rolled his eyes. Usual Terror Twin bullshit. “If it were anyone else I woulda thrown you out on your asses weeks ago. Go in the back and sleep it off.” As they did as they were told Nikki placed a hand on Mick’s shoulder. “Thanks, old man..sorry..” Mick waved him off. “Just don’t make me regret takin’ you junkie brats off the street alright? Go on.” When the door to the shop opened, Mick put on his business face. “G’morning. Welcome to Crüe Tattoo. What can I do for ya?” Michael stepped forward nervously. “I was..hoping to have something done today.” 

“You got an appointment?”

“I’m..afraid not.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Not like we’re busy right now anyway. What were you lookin’ to have done?”

“A..a rose. On my shoulder.” 

“Oh that’s simple. Razzle can do that for ya. Hey Raz! Customer!” 

“Comin’!” 

Michael bit his lip. That was him. The accent was unmistakable. Razzle came out with a big smile on his face. “’Bout bloody time! I haven’t had a customer in days! Who’m I..workin’..on..?” His eyes met with Michael’s and he froze. “Oh..it’s you..” Michael hoped the dim lighting hid the flush on his cheeks. “Hi~” Their moment was broken by Mick clearing his throat loudly. “Anyway..it’s gonna cost ya about $200-$300 depending on how much detail and color you want. If that sounds like somethin’ you want just sign your name here.” Razzle watched as Michael picked up a pen and signed. He had such soft, delicate hands. “Do I..pay now or..?” Mick shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Once he’s done I’ll take a look and give you a price from there.” 

“Oh, alright..thank you~” Razzle hid his shaking hands behind his back. “Follow me then~” He heard Vince snicker as they went past the front desk. “Don’t get distracted back there~” Razzle flipped him off again before going through the curtain.

~*~

Razzle looked up at the clock when he was done. 3 hours. But he was proud of his work. Michael now had a beautiful rose on a vine tattooed on his right shoulder. “It’s so perfect~” Michael said, smiling as he admired it. “With just the right amount of color. You really are amazing~” 

“J-just makin’ sure y’get your money’s worth~” He really needed to not stutter so much. Talking was just so much easier while he was working. Now that they were face to face..it felt like this tongue wanted to mutiny. Looking into those gorgeous blue eyes made his insides melt. No one else had ever made him feel this way. “Y-y’know I could show you the ones I got sometime..if you wanna uh..get together later or..somethin’..” Michael’s smile widened. “I close up at 9~” 

Back at the front desk, Michael paid and gave Razzle one last smile before leaving. Mick patted him on the back. “Nice going, kid. Got yourself a date tonight?” When Razzle blinked at him he laughed. “C’mon, Raz your little crush isn’t a secret..especially not with Vince around.”

“T-then you..”

“Did all that on purpose? Yep~”

Razzle laughed. He’d never been happier that Vince was an annoying busybody~

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: f--k you and the horse you rode in on; adam page [m]

Notes:

originally sent to me by @vonschweetz​ on snarkandsarcasmwrites which I’m turning into my main now, i chose to post this here on it’s own little post. This is my Ivy and Adam universe, but it’s the What If’s version, not to be confused with the Wild Side version. Yes, they are different. whew- that was a mouthful.

Summary:

Ivy and Adam run into each other again after years of being apart. There’s hurt there. Will they work through their pain or make things messier by having a one night stand and going their separate ways all over again? Alternate chapter / universe /ending to What If’s.

Warning:

FEELTH. unprotected sex, strip club vip room mention, body fluids, exotic dancer OFC. Alcohol tw.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

“Hey, how much you think it’ll cost to hire one of the girls to come n’ dance for me for the night?” Adam’s tone was smooth as the whiskey he was pouring into his glass as he asked the club manager.

He felt so sleazy doing it because he never did it, but tonight was a really, really bad night. When he was lonely and just… Craving intimacy. Craving her, the one that got away all those years ago. The need to feel less alone outweighed the sleazy thing he was doing. He tried to justify his trip to this seedy  little club on the Strip as him paying someone who might actually need the money versus just settling for some buckle bunny and having to deal with the fallout later. Either way, he found himself thinking as he solemnly slammed back the fifth of whiskey, it’s still sleazy and it ain’t you.

But bein alone tonight is somethin I don’t wanna do. I can’t do it. I know where my mind’s gonna go. It’s gonna go to Ivy n’ the way things played out. I’m gonna wind up exhausting all the what could’ve beens and what if’s and maybe’s until it drives me insane…

As he weighed his decision against the way it made him feel sleazy, blue eyes lazily roamed the dimly lit strip club and when he saw her -the exact reason he’d been driven to seek out the comfort of a stranger tonight, his entire body tensed and he coughed. His eyes locked on her, watching the way she grinded and wrapped herself around that silver pole. A shiver passed through him that went straight to his cock and settled, making it stand at attention and push firmly against the zip of his jeans. The manager noticed his intent stare and chuckled. “Oh, she’s gonna cost ya, cowboy. She’s gonna cost ya real good. That’s one of the best girls I got, man. And she just recently started workin as one of my girls upstairs in VIP too… So yer in luck. If you got the cash and she agrees to a few hours with ya, of course.”

“Is she… Is she available? You think she’d agree, I mean?” Adam was in disbelief at the fact that he’d even asked that. And in disbelief that the girl he loved years ago was working in a place like this as a dancer.

His eyes shifted from the manager to the way she peeled off a pair of painted on leather chaps, tossing them to the side. It left her in a pair of skimpy high cut black leather Brazillian cut panties. He shifted in his seat as he felt his hardened member twitch and strain even harder against the heavy dark denim covering it. He wished he’d gone for wearing underwear, but wearing them all night during the rodeo earlier left him chafed enough.

The club owner eyed the pile of winnings in his hand and chuckled, giving a half-assed shrug. “Dunno, Hangman. Why don’t you walk over n’ ask her, hmm?” was asked as the man nodded in her direction.

Her dance had just ended, she was leaving the center stage, slinking towards where Adam sat talking to the club owner. At first, she didn’t bother looking at him, instead she addressed the club owner.

“Got anything for me tonight, Slade?”

“Got ya a cowboy, Ivy.” Slade chuckled and gave a nod to Adam who stood nearby, lingering with his eyes darting all over the place. Slade could tell the guy wasn’t used to doing this, it almost made him want to laugh. But sooner or later, all of the cowboys and wannabe rockstars that came out to Vegas wound up at one of these establishments.

Ivy gave a soft laugh. “They all think they’re cowboys or rockstars out here, Slade. Cash up front, right? And the usual, a few private dances, the VIP treatment.”

Adam couldn’t stop staring at her. As a result, he wound up overpouring the whiskey and it wound up soaking through his jeans. He coughed to sort of get her attention and the second her eyes locked on him she blinked.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard, raising a hand to drag it through her hair. She hadn’t said anything. As soon as Adam said her name, she eyed him and all those emotions in her eyes just seconds before vanished. She’d always been good at shutting down. Apparently, she’d just gotten better at it.

“Well if it ain’t West Virginia’s favorite cowboy… what brings you out to Vegas, hmm?” Ivy kept her best neutral tone as she said it, keeping her distance from Adam. She hadn’t back then and she’d wound up falling too hard. She still hadn’t gotten over him, even now, years later.

Adam swallowed hard and he took a deep breath. “Rodeo’s in town. I thought you were out in Florida. Heard you married yourself some soap opera guy.”

“Annulled, actually.” Ivy shifted her feet and nudged the club owner, getting him off to the side. “I can’t do this, Slade. Not with him. You’re the one who makes the rules here, Slade, not me.. No personal ties. Hands off and all that, remember?”

“He’s the only taker you got tonight, Ivy. And poor idiot literally just gave me his entire nights winnings. This could be good for the club and you, lil bit. It’s your call this time. You’re one of my best girls, I trust ya.” Slade gave her a wink and Ivy blew at her bangs, thinking it over. Slade did have a point.

“Yeah, well..” Ivy trailed off as she remembered the debt on her grandparent’s ranch and the cost of hiring hands to pitch in when needed. She found herself thinking about her own potential business venture she was saving up for, re-opening her grandmother’s diner in town, and she found herself thinking about her savings. She sighed and swore to herself under her breath, dragging long and delicate fingers through light caramel colored locks. “Fine. I’ll do it. But he better have money because I’m charging double. If he’s such hot shit on the pro circuit right now, why the hell wouldn’t he just pick up a fuckin bunny at the show?”

Adam overheard most of the conversation and spoke up. “Didn’t wanna.” he barely met Ivy’s gaze and when he did manage to meet it, Ivy found herself cringing at the icy look in his eyes. Adam’s jaw tightened and he started to protest, but when he tried, no words would come.

“But you’re here… at a club paying enough cash for an all night private session upstairs…” Ivy’s brow quirked and she eyed him while smirking. “Either way, stud. you’re on the clock. Let’s just get this over with.” no matter how hard she tried to keep up that all business facade, she was starting to feel it crack. She was starting to feel fidgety under his intent -and cold, stare and she found herself jittery. She knew he was standing there, most likely judging her. He was the one who hadn’t tried to respond to her whenever she did try to reach out. He was the one who never came for her, despite his promise that he’d never let anything happen to tear them apart. He was the one who went off and got all famous from the looks of it.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Ivy Jane.” Adam snapped as calmly as possible as he tore his eyes off of her and stared down at his mud covered Ariats.

“I never said it was nice to see you the first time, Mr. Page.” Ivy responded in a chilled tone as she turned on her heels and started to slink towards the back of the club, to the stairs that lead up to a second floor of the place. A place where few ever got access to.

Adam stopped her halfway up the stairs. “You got no right t’ be angry at me, Ivy Jane. You’re the one who left.” he practically growled the words as he gripped her wrist, staring up at her. Right now he was hurt and confused and so fucking bitter. Everything conspired against them, it always had from the beginning. Their families hadn’t gotten along and constantly butted in and kept them apart mostly, but what was really making him angry was that standing here in the stairwell now, with her right in front of him, was that he was clearly seeing that they’d both had chances. And neither of them had tried or fought, they’d both been too scared to just cut off their families and rely on each other. … we were kids then, though… Adam tried to remind himself, neither of us felt like we had a choice…  And not only that, he could just look at her and tell that somehow, she was hurting and angry and bitter too. And probably full of blame. He had to admit, he was full of it himself because she’d basically disappeared and not once did she try to reach out, not once did she try to contact him and at least give him closure.

“I didn’t have a fucking choice, Adam.” Ivy didn’t mean to say it like she did, she hadn’t meant that little bit of hurt and longing to creep into her voice. She sighed and shook her head. Adam’s shoulders slumped and he muttered an apology. But then the mild anger he felt at finding her again, here of all places, that kicked in and he grabbed hold of her waist, turning her to face him when she faced away and started to walk up the remainder of the stairs.

“The hell are you doin’, anyway? This ain’t you, Ivy Jane. This… This ain’t th’ girl I love.”

“Yeah, well… Shit happens, Adam. I think you meant loved, by the way, because you certainly seem to be acting as if I’m dirt beneath your feet now.” Ivy shrugged it off, trying to make herself forget the way his hands felt all over her or the way it felt to hear his voice again after all this time. Trying to convince herself that he had every chance to come out to Florida and find her after high school and when he didn’t and he chose to go on the rodeo circuit instead, that was her answer as to what he really felt.

“I’m not actin like that, Ivy Jane…But this? This is.. What do you get from it, huh? Because I’m failin to understand it.” Adam ground out through a clenched jaw as he glared down at Ivy.

Ivy glared right back  up at him, shaking her head and giving a bitter laugh. “I tried writing you, Adam. I tried calling, I tried everything. I tried to let you know what happened that night. You ignored it. My choices now aren’t really your problem. Not that there’s anything wrong with anything I’m doing. And you’re the one who came in here and paid for an entire night private session upstairs, so what exactly does that say about you, huh?” Ivy snapped right back, her tone growing increasingly bitter.

“I didn’t know what t’ do! You were supposed t’ come meet me n’ leave that night and y’ never showed! What was I suppose t’ do? Just forget ya didn’t show and skipped town and try to pick up where we left off? If I’d ever gotten anything ya sent to begin with! I never heard another word out of you!” Adam exploded before he could stop himself and before he’d fully processed what she said seconds prior. As soon as what she’d just snapped at him really sank in, Adam went quiet.

Ivy’s lip quivered for the smallest of seconds and she tensed all over at the anger in his voice. “I was tryin t’ get ya away from there, darlin. All ya had to do was come to our spot that night, leave with me… I promised to take care of ya. I never woulda broken that promise.” as he felt himself getting angry because until right now, he’d never even stopped to consider that Ivy might have tried reaching out. He got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew exactly why he’d never known and he made a firm mental note to talk to his meddling family the next time he got the chance.

Before finally cutting ties, because this was… If what she said was true, and he had no doubt it was because he’d never known Ivy to lie and she looked entirely too… Hurt… Bitter… right now to be lying, either way… this was the straw. This was it, this was too much interference on the part of his family. And probably her own, Adam found himself thinking, because god knows her old man hated me for whatever reason.

It was a lot to take in at once and combined with the raw pain he felt right now at finally seeing Ivy again, which was all he ever really wanted to begin with, he now had to deal with what they’d both become thanks to their families grudge and the way life was shitty and it stacked the deck against them and their love for each other practically from the word go.

“Look. It’s water under the bridge. Obviously, it wasn’t meant to be. Let’s just… Do this and go our separate ways.” Ivy’s voice trembled slightly as she said it, turning the knob to one of the private rooms above the club, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Adam suddenly couldn’t let it go. And thanks to the abundance of alcohol coursing his veins right now, he wasn’t thinking totally clear either. All he did know was that he had one last chance and he was taking it.

Ivy saw that flash in his eyes and before she could even fully process, Adam was pinning her against the wall beside the door and reaching out past her, turning the lock on the door. His mouth crushed against her mouth hungrily, almost greedily and his hands were all over her. Ivy started out with her hand firmly against his chest, hell bent on shoving him away and keeping a safe distance, but Adam wasn’t having it. And by the time Ivy had to catch her breath from the deep and needy and angry biting kiss Adam was pulling her deeper into, the hand against his shirt wound up tangling in it instead. Her other hand seemed to grow a mind of it’s own, reaching up, tugging at the messy ponytail he wore his hair in currently, even though she knew the rules like the back of her hand and she knew that this was a taboo, them kissing in the stairwell like this… As soon as she’d pulled his hair free from the hair tie, the scent of his shampoo mixed with whiskey and sweat filled her nose and a flood of old memories never truly forgotten came flooding back to her in a rush all over again.

Adam’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip, tugging and his fingertips dug into the soft curve of her hips hard enough to leave marks behind, rubbing her against him roughly. “You were supposed to be mine. Not workin here, like this. Not dancin…I was supposed to take care of ya.”

“Adam, don’t… Please… If we start thinking about this…” Ivy pleaded, her hands shaking as she lowered the one tangled in his hair to the belt buckle at his waist, trailing the tip of her finger over the intricate design on the metal and resting her hand over the buckle, tugging him closer. Despite everything inside her telling her that not resisting was a bad idea and doing this was an even worse one, not really talking and getting closure first was probably the WORST decision of the current ones she’d been making tonight, Ivy suddenly didn’t care. Ivy didn’t want to stop or think about what might happen next, she didn’t want to fight against the pull to Adam that came rushing right back all over again when she’d locked eyes with him downstairs. “I don’t wanna think. Or fight.”

Seconds trickled by slowly as she stared up at him, biting her lower lip. Literally every single thing that kept them apart for so long was racing through her brain and she could tell it was eating away at him too. That it probably had been for a long time now. Maybe even as long as it had with her.

“We’re… Not supposed to… Touch. Or you’re not supposed to touch me.” Ivy managed to tear her mouth away from Adam’s again to let him know what was expected. Adam gave a solemn nod and Ivy rose to tiptoe slightly, muttering dangerously close against his lips all over again, “But Slade did say that this was my call… And I…” she trailed off, sighing and shaking her head, gently shoving him back into the chair that stood just behind Adam, slightly off center of the room. Adam’s eyes met hers and he tucked his fingers beneath her chin to hold her eyes on his. “You what, Ivy?”

“I just need you…” as the words left her mouth, Adam just barely ghosted his hands down her sides, sliding her a little closer to him. Ivy whimpered as she felt him straining at the stiff dark blue denim and before she could stop herself, she was rocking herself over the bulge twitching and straining at it. Adam’s head lowered after he met her gaze for a second or two, a questioning look in his eyes as if to ask if what he was about to do was alright. Ivy nodded and rose up slightly, putting her chest eye level with his mouth. All Adam could do was drop his head down, bury his lips in the exposed cleavage peeking out and in his face and let out this frustrated groan against her skin.

None of this was supposed to go this way and it frustrated him that it had. Ivy’s hips moved in a figure 8 and with each brush of soaked black pleather against the crotch of his jeans,Adam’s fingertips dug into her ass just a little more, he was cautious to at least try honoring the no touch rule Ivy warned him about after the kiss broke a few minutes before. Ivy pressed down a little harder, taking shaky breaths, leaning in and ghosting her lips against his own as she muttered softly, “Missed you. I was so afraid I fucked it all up when you didn’t… Come for me.”

Adam broke at her words, a sharp breath as his hands raised, caressing her cheeks, pulling her mouth against his as she continued to ride his lap, grind against his thigh and rub herself against him as much as she could. His tongue slipped past her lips as he muttered quietly into the deepening and dizzying kiss, “Darlin, I didn’t know.. Nobody told me you were tryin to get in touch. I tried to write you too. Tried callin, tried everythin. I never woulda just let ya go if I hadn’t thought.. That was what you wanted. Never.” he stared her down, emphasizing his words with carefully placed kisses against every bit of exposed skin within his reach. And as if it weren’t enough, he tilted her chin, making her look down at him, hands ghosting down her sides, careful to move immediately back to the arm of the chair just to be safe, pouting as he did so. “I really did. I.. I thought not hearin from ya meant you finally couldn’t fight everything against us anymore.”

“Adam, no. No.” Ivy’s mouth nuzzled against his neck as she started to sink down in his lap, making his head fall back and his eyes flutter open and shut. When she started to crawl out of his lap and she settled on her knees between his thighs, he grunted, his hips bucking upward as a helpless and needy whine fell from his mouth. “Ivy, darlin, what…” he felt her hands working his legs open wider, trailing up and down his thighs, gripping as she made her way back up his body and into his lap and turned to face away from him, rocking her ass back and forth over the throbbing bulge strained against rough denim. He hissed and leaned forward, his chest pressing into her back, his hands leaving the arm rest of the chair and lingering on the insides of her thighs as his mouth pressed against the side of her ear, “Missed you so fuckin much, darlin. So much. I never stopped thinkin about you.. Hell, I dream about you every night.” he admitted in a low and husky growl, sending a shiver racing through her that he felt as soon as it did. Ivy’s hands twined with his, ghosting over her body, lingering on her chest, squeezing as she whimpered.

“Oh Adam.” her words caught in her throat and her head fell back, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Yeah?” Adam whispered back, his lips dancing down the side of her neck and seconds away from snapping. He’d been kept from her too damn long. And he was tired of it. It had to end tonight.

“Take me home… Somewhere. Anywhere.” Ivy muttered quietly, rubbing herself against his lap a little harder and a lot more urgently.

“Can go back t’ my Airstream over at the fairground.” Adam managed to mutter the words as Ivy turned around in his lap. Adam stood, not bothering to put her on her own feet and as he stopped to open the door he mumbled against her neck “There a back way outta here?”

“Yeah.. Go down the hall and take the stairs. It’ll take ya out into the alley.” Ivy breathed into the kiss that she pulled him into feverishly. The door shut behind them and Adam walked down the hall hastily, stopping at the top of the stairs to press her against the wall. Ivy’s legs wrapped around him and she rubbed against him, whimpering and clinging to him, the tips of her fingers digging into his scalp and tugging at his hair, her other hand lightly digging into his shoulder as she attacked his mouth hungrily.

“Fuck.” Adam managed to gasp just as he descended the stairs and fumbled with the handle on the door at the bottom, hurrying to step out into the alley. From there it was a short walk around the building, and after stopping a time or two between the building and the parking lot where his truck sat waiting, they were finally standing beside it. Adam scooped her up, opening the passenger door and sitting her inside, the restrictions of the club and the VIP room gone by now and all he wanted to do was touch her. Feel her body, her mouth against his own, know that he wasn’t imagining it, this was real and they were together again at last.

Logically, he knew they had a lot to talk about, but for tonight, talking was the last thing on his mind. Their lips came apart swollen and bruised and Adam took a long and deep breath just to try calming himself down a little and Ivy’s legs wrapped around him, pulling him back in all over again, taking his face in her hands, pulling his mouth back against hers all over again. “Adam, I..”

The kiss broke and Adam pressed the side of his finger against her lips to stop the flow of her words, pressing his forehead against hers. “Don’t wanna talk, okay? Just.. Don’t wanna think about all the shit that went wrong. Not tonight.”

“I need to say this.” Ivy insisted. Adam bit his lip, his stomach churning nervously as he peered into big brown eyes, waiting, wondering what she had to say so bad that it couldn’t wait. Ivy’s teeth clenched his lower lip and she muttered into heated little kisses against his mouth, “I never stopped loving you, ever. God did I try. I just.. I couldn’t.”

“I know, darlin. I know. I feel the same way.” Adam reassured her, a hand slipping to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her mouth into his completely as his other hand worked up the insides of her thighs, squeezing as he pulled her close again, letting her cling to him. “I gotta drive.”

Ivy gave a soft laugh and nodded, trying to ply herself from his arms. Adam hurried around his truck and climbed inside, starting the engine and taking a side road out of the parking lot because it was shorter than going through town to get back to the fairgrounds. His hand wandered over the console, grabbing for her thigh, squeezing after he’d raised her hand to his lips. Ivy bit her lip, legs falling open ever so slightly. Before Adam could stop himself from doing so, he was growling quietly and shifting in the driver seat, leaning over to whisper boldly against her ear, “We might make it inside. If you’re lucky. Keep it up, Ivy Jane.”

Apparently, she was trying to get herself fucked against the side of his Airstream because her next move was to lean across and ghost her lips up the side of his neck while lowering her hand and slowly moving it up the inside of his thigh, lingering over a now throbbing bulge. His breath caught in his throat and Ivy gently nipped at his earlobe as she giggled almost whisper quiet against it. His hand skimmed along the inside of her thigh, fingertips disappearing beneath the hem of those black pleather hot pants she was wearing. As soon as his fingertip grazed against soaked fabric, he groaned, biting his lip and tried to make himself focus on the road.

As his finger slipped beneath the fabric barrier and slowly slid over her slickened folds, Ivy shivered and a quiet moan escaped her lips. Her hand found it’s way back down to his lap and Ivy stared at him a few seconds, tongue rolling over vibrant red lips.

“What, darlin?”

“Oh, nothin…” Ivy hummed innocently as her fingers tugged at the zip of his jeans, lowering it slowly. Too slow. Adam gripped the wheel and almost as soon as he felt her hand curl around his thick length, pulling it free from his jeans, he took a few long and shaky breaths, sinking into the seat just a little bit. Her tongue trailed slowly over the tip of his member, circling it, then trailing lower, moving down the side of his shaft, trailing it’s veiny length.

“Darlin, fuck.” Adam groaned, thighs tensing at the delicious and slow torment that was her tongue, gliding over his cock. Her lips wrapped around it and his hand tangled in her hair, tugging. The parking lot of the fairground came into sight and Adam let out a long and ragged breath as he felt her mouth latching on greedily, the hum that passed those lips as she bobbed her head up and down sending vibration racing down his length. By the time he got the truck parked and the engine killed, he was white knuckling the steering wheel with one hand and breathing so heavy it almost sounded like he’d ran a marathon. He leaned his head back against the head rest of his seat and bucked his hips against her mouth carefully, praising in a husky whisper, “Fuck, darlin.. So good with that little mouth of yours. C’mon, baby. Deeper.”

When she trailed her tongue right down the underside of his length, he growled and groaned aloud more than a few times, eyes fluttering open and closed as he bucked in his seat all over again and tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging a little. “Ivy, fuck yeah. Feels so good.” he groaned over and over.

Ivy hit her gag reflex and Adam thrust against her mouth all over again, lowering his hand to tilt her chin and make her stop, look up at him, leaning down to crash his mouth against her mouth sloppily and muttering into the kiss, “Best we move this inside, darlin.”

“Adam.” Ivy whined and pouted, but Adam shook his head and got out of the truck, hurrying around to her side, reaching in to unfasten her seatbelt and scooping her out into his arms, jogging in a hurry towards the silver Airstream parked haphazardly nearby. Her back met the door of his camper and his hand disappeared right back up the hem of her hot pants, fingers hastily brushing her soaked panties aside as he growled against her neck and buried his fingers knuckle deep into her heat, working her open, bucking himself into her, teeth snagging on skin and leaving marks behind. When he finally got the damn door unlocked, he stepped inside, locking it behind him, tossing his key onto a butcher block countertop. He stepped into the back of the camper, gently tossing Ivy against the mattress and sinking down, his hands gripping the waist of her hot pants, tugging both hot pants and soaked panties to the ground in less time than it took Ivy to bat a lash. As his hands parted her thighs, she rose to prop on her elbows, staring down at him. Adam hooked his arms beneath her thighs to hold her legs open and his eyes met hers as he licked his lips and lowered his head, dancing his lips right up the inside of her thighs.

Ivy’s hand lowered, gripping at his hair, trying to tug his mouth up higher and Adam chuckled quietly against her skin, leaving little kisses and bites behind. The second she felt his tongue rolling over her folds and heard the greedy loud slurping she whimpered almost helplessly when she tried to rock her hips upward and realized that Adam had such a tight grip on her thighs that she really couldn’t move. “Adam.” she panted, biting her lip, whimpering even louder as his mouth closed over her clit, tongue circling the small bundle of nerves, teeth snagging on her skin to mark her up. “Fuck, darlin. Still taste so sweet. And you’re so wet for me already.” his nose bumped against her pelvic mound as he mumbled against her cunt and his tongue started to descend, trailing right over her folds, sending a shiver racing through her body. Ivy’s toes curled in the bed sheet beneath her, and Adam’s grip loosened slightly. The second it did, Ivy was writhing and rocking her hips upward against his mouth as much as she could and Adam slipped two fingers deep into her heat to join his tongue.

“C’mon, darlin. Let go. Let me taste.” Adam coaxed, not that Ivy needed much of a reason and as her orgasm washed over her, leaving her shaking and whimpering and moaning on the bed below him, Adam raised up, unbuckling and then unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging off his boots and then kicking the denim free from his body, lowering himself and settling over her, his hand disappearing down between them to guide his cock over her folds, making her shiver all over again and whimper, pleading with him.

“C’mon, Adam, now.. Need you now.”

“I know, darlin, I know.” Adam mumbled quietly against her mouth, his tongue parting her lips as he sank his length deep into her dripping heat, laying still and kissing her all over the face and the neck as he touched her everywhere, hands unable to be still. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Ivy could only nod and seconds later, moan his name loud enough to be heard outside the trailer as he started to fuck into her slow and deep, the mattress creaking steadily beneath the two of them as Adam’s hands captured her hands at either side of her head and his mouth conquered her mouth and then drifted down, lingering on her throat, leaving even more marks behind.

Ivy’s legs wrapped around his hips to pull him even closer, drive his cock in even deeper and when he bottomed out, he growled hungrily into her mouth. Her hand raised, tangling in his hair and tugging at it as Adam started to fuck into her harder, faster, their moans and panting labored breaths joining in the sound of the bed creaking beneath them both. Ivy’s head fell back as she felt another orgasm building and Adam’s hips started to snap erratically, crashing into hers, almost bruising as his pace quickened. “Ah… Fuck. Adam, fuck… Don’t… Don’t stop, baby, c’mon. I’m so.. Close.” Ivy’s eyes fluttered open and shut and her arms wrapped around his neck as Adam’s mouth crashed against her own and he muttered quietly, “Fuck, darlin… Feels so good, holdin you again. So good. Never gonna let…” his breathing hitched as he deepened the kiss and finished, “Let you go again. Ever.”

“Promise me.”

“I mean it, baby girl.” Adam growled as his teeth tugged at her lower lip and his cock bottomed out, sending her right over the edge, her orgasm shattering through all over again. Adam felt her clench around him and he gripped onto her tighter, trying to slow down and brace himself, anything to keep from getting off right away, but nothing worked, especially with Ivy whimpering beneath him, pleading and begging him not to stop, begging him to fill her up.

Ivy’s nails raked down Adam’s back as she felt the throbbing warmth of his release as it filled her and she clung to him, kissing his neck and shoulders, Adam kissing her on the forehead and cheeks, both of them trying to come down from the high of their orgasm.

Adam flopped down onto the mattress and reached out, pulling Ivy on top of him, locking his arms around her as he muttered softly, “I really do mean it. We’re gonna be okay. And I won’t lose you again.”

Ivy leaned her head down, brushing her mouth against his as she mumbled in a quiet yawn, “I know you mean it. And I don’t wanna lose you again. I… If you asked me, I’d pack up and leave with you right now. I just.. I wish I’d been able back then.”

Adam’s hand trailed lazily over her spine and he shushed her, nodding. “I know, darlin. I should’ve known it all along. Feel like an asshole because I didn’t.”

“We’re really gonna be okay..” Ivy’s voice was softer, he could look up and tell she was starting to drift off and he chuckled, pressing his lips against hers as he reassured her again that they were going to be okay.

This time was DIFFERENT. Adam was going to make sure of that.

[forbetterorworsefinalspace]

Dog’s Breakfast

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Final Space

Part: 5

Link-  🌌

_______________________________________________________

Finally Sheryl begins her search for the Dimensional Keys, Gary just gets in the way and Sheryl goes through an actual mom experience.

Just don't get your hopes up.

_______________________________________________________

“Don’t run o- GARY! DO NOT RUN OFF!”

“I won’t!” Gary responded, still taking off in the same direction.

Oh FUCK me….

Sheryl ran a hand down her face as she watched the child stop to look at a sale stand. They were currently on day one of their stay in Furtasanguinis and it was their first day in the marketplace. This city was the largest on the planet, and the black market here was more of just a market. All around were shady characters, buying and selling wears. Sheryl eyed a bird monster who shuffled by, dripping in a green goo that was likely alien blood.

So you know, a child friendly location.

She had set up a meeting with one of her contacts, who would either know something about these keys, or know who to ask. It was in half an hour by the fountain- well, fountain turned drowning pool. Sheryl frowned as a large group of Aliens began to drown another in the muddy water, the fountain just spurting sludge. 

“Mom! MOM! Come look at the bugs store!!”

Sheryl kept watching the drowning, pulling a ciggy out to light up. Gary just kept on calling her.

“Mom! Mom!! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!Mom!! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!Mom!! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!-”

“Eh?” Sheryl responded when the alien finally went slack and the bubbles stopped.

“Bug store mom!”

Uhhhhh…

Sheryl turned and slumped over to the vender Gary was referring to. The vendor was a lean character with eight arms, three eyes and a weird feeler mouth, like a shrimp. On his table were a variety of bags in jars and cases, from all over the universe.

“Look! Mooncake could’a made some friends.” Gary tapped one of the cases with a weird slug, crab thing inside. “C-cute little guys!”

“Mooncake?” Sheryl asked, smoke wafting from her mouth.

“Yeah! My Lunar moth caterpillar! He’s in the jar back home.” Gary smiled.

“Oh that thing.” Sheryl responded lazily, smoking her cigarette. 

“Uh huh!” Gary looked over the display. “I wonder if there are any earth bugs here?”

“Nah, not rare enough.” Sheryl sniffed. 

“Do you know any of these?” Gary asked, gesturing to them. “What are they?”

“Sure lets see.” She started pointing at them with her cigarette. “Endangered, endangered, rare, endangered, venomous, poisonous, on the no trade list, endangered, technically extinct, venomous,-”

Then alien vending the shop started to yell at them then, shaking four of his eight arms. He was screeching in a forgin language but Sheryl understood every word. Gary darted behind her but Sheryl didn’t notice him, she was solely focused on the very angry broomstick before her.

She let him finish, not moving an inch, but when he was done, she took out her cigarette and fried back at him. Twice the intensity, twice the volume and twice the vulgarity. No one stopped to watch as this was pretty commonplace, but the shop vender was certainly shaken, head ducking lower and lower as Sheyrl blasted him, verbally into next week. Finally he just took off, scuttling into the back of his shop, crying a little.

Victorious, Sheryl put her smoke back in her mouth, dusted off her shirt and went back to the fountain, Gary trailing behind.

“What happened?! Why was he such a wet turd?!” Gary whined, staring back at the store. “He just started yelling!”

“Thought I was calling his wears garbage.” Sheryl said, sitting down on a bench near the fountain. “I showed him who the real garbage was though.”

“Oh.” Gary looked back. “How you speak his language?”

“I speak many languages, all part of the espionage business Gary.” Sheryl sniffed, tapping her cigarette free of ash. “Tweedlepick is actually pretty easy to learn. It's just making the right mouth shapes that’s hard. They got that bottom feeder mouth shape, more blubbing.”

“Wow! Can you show me to do that?” Gary asked, excited.

“Ahhh, maybe later kiddo.” Sheryl spotted her contact through the crowd. “Here, my friend just showed up, stay close to me.” She tossed her smoke into the muddy water and was shocked when it erupted into flame in an instant, people yelling and screaming. It died down in less than five seconds though, so she shrugged and walked off.

“Sssherylllll…” The hooded centipede creature hissed, red glowing eyes peering out at her.

“Scheer, yah old bastard, how are you?” Sheryl asked, clasping him on the back.

“Allssss welll. You?”

“Not as well.” She admitted. “I have a sorta mission I’m on, trying to find something called Dimensional Keys. You ever heard of ‘em?”

“Dimenssssional Keysss…” Scheer garbled, scratching his chin with a bone like hand. “I have heard whisssperssss.”

Thank god, maybe this wasn’t a goosechase from a drunken nightmare.

“Oh? What have you heard?”

“That they are but the thing of legandssss.” Scheer explained, shuffling on his many legs. “However, I have not looked into them much farther than that.”

“How much would that cost?” Sheryl asked.

“Dependssss on how much work it issss.” He chuckled deeply. “My work issss not cheap.”

“I got money.” Sheryl said. “And some nice Earth shit. You don’t get much Earth drugs up here, do you?”

“Mmmmmmmm…” Scheer looked thoughtful. “No….”

“Tell you what, you put your feelers out, get the ball rolling, and I’ll let you have a taste.” Sheryl smiled. “Follow through, get me what I want, the entire stash I have is yours.”

“How much issss there?”

“Truthfully only a couple dozen bags, but when something isn’t plentiful, you can charge more for it.” She explained. “So what do you say?”

“...I will ssssee what I can find.” He crackled. “However if the effort beginsss to outway the reward, I may have to raissse my pricesss.”

“Your always worth the costs Scheer.” Sheryl said, but leaned in close. “Just don’t try to fuck me over.”

“I can only assssk for the sssame thing.”

“Then we understand one another.” Sheryl said, standing back. “When should I expect news?”

“Give me an Earth week.” Scheer whispered, starting to scuttle away. “I’ll sssee what I have for you.”

“Alright then.” Sheryl said, watching him leave.

Same old Scheer, even after all these years. Slimy but reliable. 

Anyway, there was no real reason to stick around for now. They could grab some food and head back to the Trailer, where she parked in the middle of the woods.

“Alright Gary, lets-” Sheryl turned and looked at her feet, only to find dirt.

Oh god damn it.

“Gary.” Sheryl scowled, looking up over the crowd and stalls around her. “Gary!”

Nothing.

Confused, Sheryl looked to the bug stand to the west. 

No.

Then to the street meat buggie to the east.

No.

Then everything in between.

NO.

“Gary?” She called, looking around a few more times, to no avail.

He was just gone.

A small shard of glass stabbed at something under her rib the moment she realized Gary was awol. It was a forgin emotion to Sheryl, she had never felt it before and she stall for a moment.

Fuck.

Fuck! FUCK! God Damn, shitty FUCK!

Sheryl forced herself to breath. Calm down! There are only two reasons Gary could be gone. Either he wandered off, or he was taken away. There's no time to panic.

She knelt to the ground, looking in the dirt.

Thankfully earth sneakers were a very visible and traceable patterns.

She followed them a little ways away to an alley, where they quickly turned into a scuffle before two larger prints were running down into the shadows.

Great. Kidnapped.

Sheryl looked down the alley with a scowl.

Should she really go after him? Honestly she told him to stay by her. What use was he if he didn’t listen.

Sheryl rolled her eyes.

Supplies would last longer for one person. Be more quiet. Less mess and disorder.  Hell, she may get the job done faster. Not to mention he’d just be a liability wherever they go…

She should just go back to the ship and forget about this.

‘What kind of monster has a child with someone, just to steal some plans?!’

‘If yah ain’t gonna be useful, you should just get busy dyin’!’

‘No ones comin’ ta save you this time sweetheart. Your rooted.’

Sheryl inhaled deeply and scowled, but started down the darkened alley. 

Fuckin hell.

Thankfully the footprints were very distinct, she was able to follow them through the winding pathways to edge of the marketplace. A few places they were cluttered or destroyed by other prints, but she was able to guesstimate where they were headed and catch up farther down the line with the tracks again.

Finally she came out to a more stable like area of the city, bustling with aliens and animal aliens of all sorts. Looking down she could see a large stack of cages by a shipping container, and Gary was seated in one at the bottom.

Sheryl ambled over and knelt beside the sniffling boy, she stared to a nearby wall.

“So!” She said, startling him. “What’cha doing Gary?”

“Mom!” He scrambled to wipe his eyes and turned to her quickly. “Your here! Some jack-ass-alope took me away and locked me up in here!!”

“Did he.” She stated. “Now how in the hell did he do that with you standin’ right next to me?”

“Uhhhh…” Gary deflated.

“Could it possibly be that you didn’t listen and took off?”

“...Maybe…”

Sheryl blew some hair out of her face. “Mmm, ok then. Have a good life Gary.” She stood up and began to walk away.

“H-hey! Wait!” Gary waved at her to stop. “Aren’t you gonna save me?”

“You made your choice Gary, now you have to live with it.” Sheryl tutted. “I mean, clearly your able to go off on your own, like you wanted-”

“No! No! I just wanted to see the shops while you talked!” Gary shouted, panicking.

“I dunno, you don’t seem to want to listen to me.” Sheryl hummed, looking at her nails. “It might be best if we-”

“No! Don’t leave me here!!!”

Sheryl paused, looking to the ground for a few seconds before groaning. She came back and squatted by the cage, eyes narrowed. “You gonna listen to me?!”

“Yes!”

“You gonna do as your told?!”

“Yes!Yes! Pease!!!”

She grunted. “Fine.”

“HEY! Who are you!?” A voice shouted angrily. Gary yelped and crawled deeper into the cage as Sheryl turned around. She looked up into the face of a very grumpy, toad like alien. Then down to a set of very framilerly shaped feet. “Get away from my products!”

“Right.” She reached into her boot for her combat knife and stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ten minutes later she left the city in the direction of the camper, dripping in blue blood. Again no one paid her any mind, not even when she had Gary in one hand, forcing him along in front of her by the back of his shirt. 

“When we get back home, you are in charge of dishes, mopping and getting the fire ready- DO NOT LIGHT IT UNTIL I AM THERE- I will be taking a soak in the tub.” Sheryl ordered, making him walk up onto a bridge. “I am understood?”

“Yes mom.”

She let him go and kept walking, heading back to camp. Gary took a moment to catch up to her.

“Mom…”

“Eh?” She grunted.

“T-thanks for not leaving me behind.” He sniffled. She glanced at him, frowning when she saw he was sporting a black eye, clothes dirty and hair askew. 

She looked back out to the woodlands. “Yeah, well, don’t make me regret it.”

Gary didn’t respond.

[pinballwitxh]

the other one - series (harry hart x eggsyunwintwinsister!oc)

summary: one could always be seen trailing behind the other, not far behind. geraldine “lee” unwin and her twin brother gary “eggsy” unwin are given the choice of a better life when harry hart comes into their lives; lee follows her brother into kingsman training and discovers her hidden potential with the help of the handsome man who bailed her brother out of jail. (SOME LINES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO FIT THE SCENES AND TO ACCOMODATE AN EXTRA CHARACTER)

warnings: if it’s kingsman there’s for sure a f*ck ton of cursing

so i finally started my harry hart fic and i’m super excited! i hope there’s some colin firth/harry hart fans out there cause i know i’m one. he IS ultimate daddy sorry.

“There’s a call for you,”

“On the work line?”

“Yeah, and you know how I feel about that.”

The girl nodded her head sheepishly and left her manager for the break room. She knew who was on the other end and she wondered what had happened to her brother. This wasn’t a very common occurrence but yeah, it did happen once in awhile.

“Why’re you callin’ me at work, Eggsy?” she growled into the speaker quietly, “One day you’re gonna get me fired.”

“Somethin’ really fucking weird just happened and I need you to come get me at,” he paused, “Well I’m at the jail-”

“The fuck?” she exclaimed, sitting down on a chair, “Are you okay? God, Eggsy, what did you do this time? If it was Dean I swear to-”

“Doesn’t matter, Lee! I’ve been bailed out by someone,”

Her eyes went wide, “Bailed out by who? No one gives a fuck about us, and even if they did none of our friends could afford to bail us out.”

“I called the number on the necklace.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned back, “Someone actually answered?”

“Yeah, and I said that stupid phrase but it fuckin’ worked, and now some old geezer who I think knows fuck-all about us wants to give me a lift home. But I’d prefer if you came and got me-”

“An old man bailed you out? And he knows what about us?”

Eggsy groaned, “Lee, it’s too long to explain please just come get me for fuck’s sake!”

“Fucking fine, but you owe me big time for this, Eggsy.”

Lee was actually quite a hard worker, so when she explained the situation to her boss (with a few harmless white lies to soften him up) he let her go with a promise she would be back the next morning even earlier than her scheduled time. Reluctantly she agreed and left to pick her delinquent brother up at the jail.

Upon arriving Eggsy rushed down the stairs to greet his sister, his face twisted in anger and confusion. She took him into her arms and hugged him close, “Where’s this old geezer you’re talkin’ about?”

“I believe you are referring to me,”

The twins spun around and Eggsy frowned upon seeing the man again. Lee met the kind eyes of the mystery man, taken aback by his sharp appearance and handsome face. He approached Lee with an outstretched hand, “Harry Hart, pleased to meet you, Geraldine Unwin.”

She yanked her hand back at the use of her full name, “Who the fuck are you?” she fumed.

“Told ya he knows fuck-all about us,” Eggsy groaned from beside her.

“A little gratitude from you would be nice, I just bailed you out, after all.”

“That was you?” Lee asked, “Listen, the gesture is kind but we should both be going.”

Eggsy and Lee turned to leave but were stopped when Harry told them something neither of them expected, “That medal was given to the both of you to share by me after your father saved my life,”

That is how Lee and Eggsy Unwin ended up at the Black Prince Pub seated across from Harry, listening to him talk about his past and how he had met their father. With wide and curious eyes they pelted him with questions that he regretfully could not answer. Deep down Harry Hart knew that they deserved to know the answers, clearly the twins had been through so much in their lives already and to be quite frank, their lives were shit most of the time.

“So where was you posted? Iraq, or somethin’?”

“Sorry, Eggsy.” Harry said as he took a sip of his alcohol, “Classified.”

“Is everythin’ we want to know about our father ‘classified?’” Lee asked with a deep frown.

Harry set his drink down and stared at the twins in the eyes, picking out the similarities between them and their father. Eggsy Unwin had clearly gotten most of his father’s physical attributes, he was almost a spitting image of Lee Unwin. Other than sharing a name with him, Geraldine Unwin held the maturity their father had always possessed. However, she too was a near spitting image of their father and of her twin brother. Rather than a dark blonde, her hair was bright and fell pin-straight around her face, an attribute from their mother most definitely.

“The day your father died, I missed something.”

Lee crossed her arms and leaned back to listen, meeting Harry’s eyes with doubt.

“If it weren’t for his courage, my mistake would have cost the lives of every man present. So, I owe him,”

The girl leaned forward, “He leave some money behind or somethin’?”

Harry ignored her, “Your father was a brave man, a good man. And having read both of your files I’d think he would be bitterly disappointed in the choices you’ve made.”

The twins jumped in their seats defensively and shot back angry responses to Harry at the same time.

“You can’t talk to us like that!”

“What gives you the fucking right?”

Harry began to list off the faults of Eggsy, making both of them fume. It was no secret that Eggsy’s life had gone somewhat down the shitter after primary school and that Lee had joined him in some of those unfortunate circumstances. Getting it shoved in his face was annoying, though.

“And you, miss Geraldine Lee Unwin,” his gaze shifted to her, “Exceptional scores in just about every subject and every year, despite a lengthy criminal record and time spent in jail on multiple counts of prostitution-”

“Oi, that wasn’t my fucking choice you prick,” she growled and stood up, “Maybe you’d have some friends if you stopped pryin’ in people’s personal shit.”

“This information is available to the public, Geraldine,” Harry said calmly.

“I’ve had enough of this fucking weirdo, Eggsy,” she grabbed her twin’s hand and tugged him out of his seat, “It’s been lovely meeting you, Harry Hart, but I’m afraid we must be leaving you.”

Harry sat up straight in his seat, “So how do two siblings with the world at their feet let their lives turn to absolute shit?”

Lee was fuming, now, how dare he talk to them like that? She turned on her heel and approached the still sitting man, leaning close to his face and glaring at him, “You don’t know what it’s like to live with a man like our stepfather, things can turn to absolute shit pretty fuckin’ quick with a guy like him runnin’ the house and brainwashin’ your mum,” she shoved a finger into his chest, “Not all of us have the luxury of fancy cars and suits or two fucking parents that are alive to take care of ya, some of us grow up before we’re supposed to.”

Harry said nothing as she pulled away and grabbed her half-empty glass. Eggsy tried to stop her before she could do it, but he was too slow. She threw the remains of her beer in Harry’s face and smiled at his drenched hair and suit.

He looked up to her, “Always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?” Harry swiftly untucked his handkerchief from the breastpocket of his suit and dabbed the beer from his face gently.

“When you grow up around someone like our stepdad you pick up new hobbies pretty quick,” Eggsy said as he pulled Lee back to him.

“Who’s to blame for you quitting the Marines, Eggsy?”

Lee watched Eggsy’s eyes turn dark and his grip on her arm tightened. The Marines had always been a sore spot and topic for her brother because of what had happened. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the older man, “Because our fucking mum went mental! Bangin’ on about losing me as well as my dad, didn’t want me bein’ cannon fodder for snobs like you,”

Harry held his gaze steady on the angered boy.

“Judgin’ people like me sister and me from your ivory towers, with no thought about why we do what we do! We ain’t got much choice, you get me?” Eggsy’s hand fell from her arm to his side, “And if we was born with the same silver spoon up our arses, we’d do just as well as you.”

“If not better,” Lee spat at the older man, arms crossed and glare set.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes seeming to read every thought that crossed her mind. It made her uncomfortable and she averted her gaze to the floor.

The bell above the pub door rang as someone entered, “What the fuck are you two doin’ here?”

THE MASTERLIST

[altaieu]

please refrain from reb/0gging

as im watching the dark skies shift to blues, the sun is rising on a household with one less kitten in it today. i can see no stars out.

amber died yesterday.

we took her home on friday, neck tube in and accompanied by medicine, after a 9 day stay in the hospital. we were going to try our hardest to help her get get better. we’d been making plans the entire time what we’d do with her when she was healthy again; that we’d definitely let them out next more next summer and make certain the garden had no places for pests, that i’d play with them even more than i did now, that we’d get them all health insurance. we bought her the cat bed we’d been lingering over at the store to make sure she had a very comfy spot to recover in. i’d woken up late on friday but i helped my sister with feeding her, giving her medicine. i was prepared to stay up all day saturday to help.

but she hadn’t closed here eyes since she’d come home, and what my sister thought was her sleeping - nictitating membranes half closed, paws twitching like she was dreaming - maybe have been a seizure in retrospect. though she took everything well, at 7 am she was having breathing problems. she was laying sideways on the floor with her little tongue sticking out, eyes half closed. we woke everyone up. we rushed her back to the hospital immediately. we talked about putting her down, and i’m sad we didn’t in retrospect, but we had never lost a cat before and we were so hopeful she could still turn around - twice while she was at the hospital she’d perked up and looked for all intents and purposes that she was recovering. she was such a strong, healthy cat before all this happened, it was hard to think she could just go like that, but as it happened it was just complication after complication that hit her. so we held off to give her the weekend, said if she didn’t look better, we’d be back to sign the papers.

it was not even 5 hours after we’d left her there that we got the call, around 1:30 pm. she’d nosedived suddenly and they tried to resuscitate her to no success - something my sister had said yes to out of reflex, but was going to phone tomorrow to say not to do, to just let her go. we went back and saw her little body. my sister cradled her in her arms, and every time she shifted in her seat amber’s fuzzy ears swayed just a bit and i kept expecting her to shake it off, wake up, blink up at us with those big, warm, adoring eyes she always had. her head was as cold as the wind outside when i pet her and i feel as if the chill hasn’t left my hand.

now my brain keeps playing that still face against those late night/early morning memories of her jumping up on my bed and my desk, smiling at me with that big wide happy mouth, bumping her head against mine and against the curtain until i’d open it and she could look out and she’d wiggle her big fluffy butt right between me and my monitor. her tail would always be straight up as she watched the shifting shadows beyond the glass and she purred like an orchestra. then she’d sit on my lap and make the cutest face at me, and i’d pet her a little, but because she always seemed to do this when i was absorbed in writing or art i’d pat her butt until she got annoyed and leapt off, skittering out of my room and down the stairs with the noise of a horse. i’d always felt a little guilty after that, and last time, in damn november, i’d made the promise to myself that next time she came to visit i’d let her sit on me and cuddle up as long as she wanted. it’s been barely 15 hours and already i miss seeing that fuzzy face pop up from behind my desk, that fluffy butt jogging out of my room. amber, i’m so sorry i booted you away when you were lonely in the mornings and just wanted to give and receive love from me.

there’s so many things i wish we did in retrospect (in retrospect, in retrospect). i wish i had pushed harder for a vet appointment when i first saw her so listless, but i always differ to my sister and she said she had no money for it. i wish we’d gotten all our cats health insurance so it wouldn’t have been as big of a cost as it was, that we wouldn’t have been so hesitant about a vet appointment in the first place. i wish i had convinced my sis to put her down when we were there in the mornning so she could have passed away in the arms of someone she loved surrounded by people she cared about instead of laying her head against the side of a small metal cage because we were too scared to let go of her. i’m so sorry amber, we did you so wrong.

when we were there in the morning a man came in after us, an old old man who looked to be in his eighties or so. he was there about a cremation for his african grey parrot who’d passed away the night before. he had a south african accent, and i heard him talking about how he’d been with the bird for forty seven years, that he’d found it abandoned by someone else. i saw him and an old woman bawling in the parking lot afterwards. looking back i should have taken it as an omen.

when we got back to the house the first time, around 11:30 in the morning, the cats were going crazy. all three were trying to get into my room. i wanted nora to stay out so she could comfort my sister, but maggie stood on my desk for 15 minutes staring with that kitty love face and headbutting me before she fell asleep on the bed by my feet. sassy, meanwhile, was absolutely losing it, running around the house and yelling with her unique, loud “mryow” sounding vocalization, eyes wide. should have taken it as an omen.

its weird to wake up at 3 am today to three cats. a time in the morning when i know amber would’ve come to visit, given her health back. its weird to walk down and not see her stretch her big fuzzy yellow belly into a croissant shape. i miss running around the house with the knotted shoelace and having her run after me at top speed, catching it and then running along with me as its in her mouth. i miss her closing eyes as you brushed her mane. i miss that little orange spot she wore on her head like a jewel.

i don’t think i can do anything downstairs without getting choked up about how she’d lie across my legs as i did anything. i don’t think i can get back to playing spyro or watching xfiles since she was there like that the whole time for those. i don’t think i can pick up arkham knight or aco again since i’d sit out in the middle of the floor for those and she’d come up behind me and bump my back, sit on my blanket, lay across one of my legs as i played.

i worry about my sister who cannot even lie in her bed without remembering amber there, sleeping on a pillow beside her, hugging her with all her legs. that cat got her through an abusive relationship and countless depressive episodes and the inherent trauma of being trans in a world that really doesn’t want you to live.

but like whether she’s in kitty heaven as my parents would prefer to think, or she’s my sister’s little spirit guardian now, or if there’s a kitten born on this day that might cross our paths again and bump our legs and look up, i hope she’s doing good. she deserves that at least, she was the sweetest cat i ever met and she should have got more than we could give her.

i feel bad for the hospital staff too. in her stay there she charmed everyone who crossed her path and they were all rooting so hard for her to pull through. one of the vets had her out in her office walking around for exercise on one of the days she was very perky, seemingly recovering. the one we interacted with yesterday was too kind, waiving the fees for the resuscitation attempts and refunding us the 700 we put down for the next few days of care that wouldn’t come to pass. i mean, we’d already dropped 9k on her and were fully prepared to spend 1k more for that fighting chance of a weekend - and of all the things we regret that is not one of them, even if i know a thousand people who’d call us fucking idiots for it. no cent spent trying to keep her alive was a waste. between all of us, even if we had to go into debt, it was the least we could do. we put aside those hopeful dreams of actually owning a house for her, and all my daydreams of introducing them to the new place.

but that 9k could have been reduced to 4.5k (over the 8 years, putting into it each month) if we’d had health insurance on her. as much as that is, it’s tiny compared to what we just spent and would have given us the reassurance to take her to the vet the moment she got sick instead of worrying about money. please, if you have pets you care about, get them health insurance. here it’s 50 a month but that is nothing compared to the cost of vet bills even for routine checkups which it will cover 90% of, and it will give you the peace of mind that you can go to the vet whenever. the moment a pet starts acting unusual you should take them. even if its nothing, its better safe than sorry. complications can hit so fast and pile up.

i’ll be watching the other cats much more closely after this and - after i have my energy back, hopefully - i’ll follow through on that promise and pay them even more attention and get them even more toys. we’re gping to get them health insurance in january and we’re gonna spent the spring cleaning up the backyard to make it safer for the cats, just in case. when they get into the backyard in the summer, oh, its gonna be real fuckin strange not to see amber’s cute sandy coloured face under the lilac tree by the little pond. i still have photos of her from last summer and remember vividly making myself stupid in the grass to get those upward shots of her.

goodnight little lion. you had all the colours of the desert in you and all the love of the sweetest little earth angel, eager to share it. i wish we could have given you so many more years of care, eight was not enough and eleven is much too young for a kitty to go, but i hope you are warm and basking in sunlight wherever you are.

i could see no stars out until i looked behind the house. there, despite the heavy cloud cover on this overcast day, there is a single star shining brighter than i’ve ever seen before, right above us, right at the door.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 5 - 6

“Last chapter was probably my favorite, and gave me hope that maybe everything won’t be so bad.” -a fool’s last words.

Aelin stared and stared at that piece of paper, at the names that had been signed long before tonight, the men who had decided against her without meeting her, the men who had changed her future, her kingdom, with just their signatures.

I feel like SJM is trying to make us feel sorry for Aelin, but.... no? She hasn’t proved herself worthy of being a queen at all! She flat out admits that these men have never met her - does she really expect these people to hand over the throne of their kingdom to someone they’ve never met?!?!?! WHAT IS gOING ON WHERE IS THE LOGIC

Aelin breathed, “Our doom gathers in the South of Adarlan—yet this is what you focus on?”

Umm yeah because the ruler of the kingdom is a very important job and one that is needed for war?? They need a strong leader to help guide them through the upcoming battles, Darrow is absolutely right to be concerned about this.

“The Bane,” Darrow spat, “is now ours to command. In the event that there is no fit ruler on the throne, the lords control the armies of Terrasen.”

You go Darrow! He’ll be the leader Terrasen needs and defend his kingdom while Aelin prances around demanding her crown be handed to her without her doing any work and threatening anyone who refuses to kiss her ass.

Something cold and oily clanged through [Aelin]. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty.

Hoo boy, the “I can’t marry for love but I have to marry for my kingdom” trope. I don’t mind this trope if it’s done well ( I guess I’m a sucker for that drama) but SJM is either gonna A. sweep it under the rug afterwards and never address it again, or B. milk the angst for all it’s worth and then come up with a last minute solution that doesn’t make Aelin have to make any decisions or compromises or work for her happy ending.

She had laughed once at Dorian—laughed and scolded him for admitting that the thought of marriage to anyone but his soul-bonded was abhorrent. She’d chided him for choosing love over the peace of his kingdom.

Karma is a bitch ain’t it

Aelin spoke into the dark, toward where Darrow was seated. “I suggest, Lord Darrow, that you become accustomed to this. For if we lose this war, darkness will reign forever.” There was a scratch and a hiss—then a match sputtered as it lit a candle on the table. Darrow’s wrinkled, hateful face flickered into view. “Men can make their own light, Heir of Brannon.”

Darrow literally takes no shit!! Why isn’t there fanart and posts dedicated to this bad ass old warrior instead of countless fans gushing over Aelin? Seriously, I’d ask for a Darrow backstory novel but SJM would fuck it up, no doubt.

But Aelin looked to Ren, his face tight. And over the roaring in her head, she said, “Whether or not you vote in my favor, there is a spot for you in this court. For what you helped Aedion and the captain do. For Nehemia.”

*chokes back on sobs* I miss when it was just Nehemia, Aelin, Dorian, and Chaol in the glass castle..... they really were simpler times.

Darrow expresses that Nehemia was a better princess than Aelin is (which is true) and references her death and Rowan fuckin’ threatens to kill him. So gg, you all are just proving Darrow’s point that none of you are fit for the responsibility of ruling/helping Aelin rule.

A messenger arrives and informs them that Rifthold will soon be under attack from the Ironteeth witches.

Aelin wondered if Manon Blackbeak would be leading the attack—if it’d be a blessing. The Wing Leader had saved them once before, but only as a payment for a life debt. She doubted the witch would feel obliged to throw them a bone anytime soon.

Ohhh is this foreshadowing that Manon is going to join Aelin’s side or am I reading into this too much? I’m worried that SJM is gonna reduce Manon to just another blind follower of Aelin hnghhh.....

Rowan’s hand brushed [Aelin’s]. “I will save him,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was … Dorian is vital. Lose him, and we lose any support in Adarlan.” And one of the few magic-wielders who could stand against Morath.

Uhh and you’d lose one of your first friends you made after you were freed from the mines? The guy who you were once in love with? Seriously, she’s talking about Dorian as if he’s some weapon right now and not one of her best friends! I s2g as soon as Aelin met Rowan it was like Chaol and Dorian never existed in the first place and all that development she had with them got swept under the rug.

Since Darrow said that they needed allies, Aelin plots for them all to meet up in Skull’s Bay after Rowan rescues Dorian. Wait.... Skull’s Bay is from The Assassin’s Blade. But that means-

“I thought you knew Rolfe,” Aedion said. Aelin gave him a grim smile. “He and I parted on … bad terms, to say the least. But if Rolfe can be turned to our side…”

Rolfe!!! He was another interesting character from the first book (not a good guy, if I remember correctly, he owned slaves) who actually made Aelin work in order to beat him and gain victory. I’m excited to meet him again.

Alone with Rowan, Aelin said, “Darrow expects me to take this order lying down. But if we can rally a host in the South, we can push Erawan right onto the blades of the Bane.” “It still might not convince Darrow and the others—” “I’ll deal with that later,” she said, spraying water as she shook her head. “For now, I have no plans to lose this war because some old bastard has learned he likes playing king.”

Uhh fuck you?? For acting like Darrow is the bad guy here?? He cares about his kingdom and rather than let his grief over his deceased lover consume him, he fights hard to protect his people and makes sure the crown doesn’t go to anyone who will start a war over the stupidest shit. Fuck you Aelin, Darrow would be a much better ruler than you.

But if Rowan was caught, if Dorian was caught … “I can’t—I can’t let you go—” “You can,” he said with little room for argument. The voice of her prince commander. “And you will.” Rowan again traced her mouth. “When you find me again, we will have that night. I don’t care where, or who is around.”

That really is their only motivation at this point, huh? Aelin just wants this war to be over so she can bone her fae prince whenever she wants without any interruptions. I need a drink.

So Rowan leaves in hawk form to go rescue Dorian and Evangeline is going to stay with Murtaugh, since Aelin at least has the sense to not bring a child to a pirate paradise.

Aelin kissed the girl’s cheek and whispered into her ear, “Work your magic on these miserable old men while you’re at it.” She pulled away to wink at the girl. “Win me back my kingdom, Evangeline.”

I almost felt my heart melt at this cute interaction, but then I remembered that Aelin means Darrow and SJM wants the audience to hate him and that mood flew out the window. I’ll be the only Darrow stan on this website if I have to, damnit.

Aedion said to Ren, “Unless you want to swap one tyrant for another, I suggest you get the Bane and any others ready to push from the North.” Murtaugh answered for his grandson, “Darrow means well—” “Darrow,” Aedion interrupted, “is now a man of limited days.”

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK AEDION!!!! Darrow rightfully denies Aelin the crown and you’re gonna fucking murder him? You need his alliance if you’re gonna win this war holy shit y’all are so fucking stupid!

Aelin said, “We don’t touch Darrow.” “What?” Aedion snapped. Aelin said, “I’d bet all my money that he’s already taken the steps to ensure that if he meets an untimely death, we never set foot in Orynth again.” Murtaugh gave her a grim, confirming nod. Aelin shrugged. “So we don’t touch him. We play his game—play by rules and laws and oaths.”

For once Aelin is finally using another method of negotiation other than killing people but stop framing Darrow as if he’s ~evil~ for not giving you your crown when you’ve done nothing to prove to any of the lords that you’re fit to rule! I am utterly baffled that SJM really thinks Darrow is in the wrong here.

So Murtaugh has been loyal to Aelin’s family, treated her with respect and kindness, and offered to look after Evangeline while they’re gone, so Aelin.... slices her palm and threatens him that if anything happens to Evangeline she will burn all of them. I’m not even joking.

Aelin clenched her bloodied palm into a fist, holding it in the air between them. “Because of that loyalty, you will understand what blood promises mean to me when I say if that girl comes to harm, physical or otherwise, I do not care what laws exist, what rules I will break.” Lysandra had now turned to them, her shifter senses detecting blood. “If Evangeline is hurt, you will burn. All of you.”

Seriously, can someone tell me if I’m going crazy?? AELIN THESE ARE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BE YOUR ALLIES YOU CAN’T GODDAMN THREATEN ALL OF THEM!!!!! Murtaugh has not said one bad word to you and you’re threatening to burn him!!! WHAT THE FUCK AELIN THIS IS WHY YOU ARE NOT QUEEN YOU STUPID DKAHDFJAHFKDH

“Threatening your loyal court?” sneered a cold voice as Darrow halted a few feet away.

Oh thank god Darrow is here, a character who isn’t brain dead stupid. Seriously, number 1 Darrow stan right here.

Her heart strained, but Aelin said to Ren, that scar hidden by the shadows of his rain-drenched hood, “I wish we had time to speak. Time for me to explain.” “You’re good at walking away from this kingdom. I don’t see why now would be different.”

HOLY SHIT REN IS JOINING IN THE AELIN ROASTING!!! Ren and Darrow are the only good people in this entire goddamn kingdom.

Aelin said, “I promise you that no matter how far I go, no matter the cost, when you call for my aid, I will come. I promise you on my blood, on my family’s name, that I will not turn my back on Terrasen as you have turned your back on me. I promise you, Darrow, that when the day comes and you crawl for my help, I will put my kingdom before my pride and not kill you for this. I think the true punishment will be seeing me on the throne for the rest of your miserable life.”

>IMPLYING THAT DARROW WILL EVER NEED YOUR HELP YOU STUPID FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO CAN’T EVEN GET THROUGH A SIMPLE MEETING WITHOUT ALMOST STABBING SOMEONE

I FUCKING HATE AELIN SO MUCH TO THINK I WAS ON THE FENCE BEFORE HOLY FUUUUCK

Ungh... I can do this. So they finally get their asses moving and Aelin sees the Little Folk have left her another present.

Brannon’s temple on the coast had been rendered carefully—a clever little contraption of twigs and rocks to form the pillars and altar … And on the sacred rock in its center, they’d created a white stag from raw sheep’s wool, his mighty antlers no more than curling thorns.

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious.

Finally chapter 6 holy shit. Chapter 4 gave me hope that the book was picking up but chapter 5 just shit all over my hopes and dreams.

Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan, hated the silence.

Dorian’s POV! Sadly since the books utterly forgot of his existence aside from torturing him emotionally after book 2, Dorian doesn’t get a lot of attention anymore. I liked him in the first three books, but given what happened to the other characters, let’s see how SJM butchers him..........

He lifted his hands before the view, his palms callused from the exercises and swordplay he’d made himself start learning once more.

A ruler who teaches himself how to fight in order to help protect his kingdom? Fuck yeah.

Dorian has some inner turmoil about being held captive and tortured and the revelation that his father had been possessed by a demon for years, and it’s.... good? It’s well written, Dorian’s problems are understandable and sympathetic, and he’s clearly taking precautions so it doesn’t happen again. Nicely done!

Dorian flexed his fingers, frost sparking in his palm. Raw magic—yet there was no one here to teach him. No one he dared ask.

I mean, the poor guy can’t even control his magic because all his friends who have magic are off pretending to be a good queen. *glares at Aelin*

He was halfway through the pillars of books and papers when he spied the horizon. When his city began screaming. Spreading into the distance, blotting out the sunset like a storm of bats, flew a legion of wyverns. Each bore armed witches, roaring their battle cries to the color-stained sky.

And here we go! I’m hoping for a good action scene, since the witches are so badass (even though I feel bad for Dorian and his people). We also switch to Manon’s POV.

With the height and distance, Manon fully beheld the carnage as the horizon at last revealed the sprawl of the capital city. The attack had begun without her. Iskra’s legion was still falling upon it, still spearing for the palace and the glass wall that crested over the city at its eastern edge.

This build up is really good! I’m excited to see Manon kick ass (even though again, the people she’s fighting are innocent).

Manon aimed Abraxos for the stone castle atop the hill, barely peeking above that shining glass wall—the wall she had been ordered to bring down— and hoped she had not been too late in one regard. And that she knew what the hell she was doing.

A cliffhanger to end the chapter. Although the wording leaves me to believe Manon isn’t actually going to do any fighting, but we’ll have to wait and see.