#i’d say going against the au’s ‘dress code’ is in-character for them anyway

[eldritch-muppetshow]

gorilla television (but not yet bc they’re still in high school), the last of the designs for the main characters of muppet central high are done! they’re more or less the main antagonists of the au but they’re (begrudgingly) willing to work w the main cast if the problem’s serious enough, they still have standards

[tthael]

What are your thoughts on trans eddie? I love it bc I'm trans and eddie is like one of my comfort characters. Since you're the best writer I've ever seen I'm curious on your thoughts.

Thank you, that’s so nice! I also have some Gender Trouble (transmasc isn’t quite the right word) and I think about gender dynamics a lot, and I think Eddie in particular has an interesting relationship with his masculinity in canon that makes him ripe for this kind of analysis.

Back when I was mostly interested in Hobbit fanfiction, I read a lot of good fics that played around with the gender dynamics of the characters; so while I know that genderswap fics can be a hot button issue because of transphobia and accompanying dynamics, I do like those stories when they’re well-written and taken seriously. For instance, this Dwalin/Nori fic by @thorinsmut features a genderfluid pirate captain and an identity porn romance during the Golden Age of Sail (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861419) and it’s one of my all-time favorite fanfictions (content warnings for violence against animals, discussion of sexual assault, explicit sex, and a genderfluid character experiencing dysphoria). I tend to prefer always-a-different-sex fics, but I’ve also read a couple of a-wizard-did-it fics, like this Coulson/Hawkeye fic by amireal (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173773) from back when I was into marvel (content warnings for internalized homophobia, explicit sex, and workplace harassment). I myself have had an idea for a while about a Hunger Games genderswap fic where, because 1 girl and 1 boy are always sent to the Games, Katniss can’t volunteer to go in his sister’s place, but he can volunteer to go in Peeta’s place because he plans to die to save Prim.

So, if we accept that gender essentialism treats children assumed to be girls and children assumed to be boys differently (which it does), I think that a transman!Eddie would have a slightly different experience growing up. Canon Eddie has a sort of glass closet going on and a lot of his childhood bullying is homophobic, and it’s implied that this is because he’s not performing masculinity to the expected level. Also Sonia’s abuse focuses on illness, injury, and contamination. She wants Eddie to be “safe” (goes into hysterics when he tries to get his feet scanned at a shoe-store because of the radiation), but she also wants him to be “clean” and “good to his mother.” Especially in the 90s miniseries and the Muschietti movies that take place in 1989 and 2016, a lot of that is coded to involve the AIDS epidemic, needles, and fears of transmission, which means that there’s an element of homophobia to Sonia’s influence. Also, Sonia canonically sex-shames Beverly, calling her “a dirty girl” and saying that she knows all about her, specifically singling her out of the whole group of Losers. There’s an element of sexual protection to her emotional abuse, as well as just a general unwillingness to let Eddie leave the house or get free of her control.

So if we reverse this dynamic and Eddie is a transboy, I think that the pressures he would experience would involve him not performing femininity correctly as a child, because he’s a boy. Eddie would still be very polite and somewhat soft-spoken and dreamy, and he’d be squeamish about bullies belching in his face and Richie playing in the sewers, just like he is in canon; but I think that his discomfort with his traditionally “feminine” responses would come from him instead of externally now. I’d have him lean harder into his traditionally “masculine” interests--cars and trains and other vehicles of getting away from his mother--and I’d have Sonia be even more aggressive towards Bill, Stan, and Richie, to the point of them not ever daring to enter the house the way they do in the 2017 movie because I think Sonia would be just as revolted by the idea of Eddie going around with a pack of boys as she is by Beverly in canon. I think that Sonia would be very invested in Eddie’s appearance, probably pressuring him about his hair and the way that he dressed, probably preferring him to wear skirts and nice clothes instead of things that he could wear to ride a bike or go running around in the Barrens in. I think that there would be a greater element of sexual shaming and body- and weight-policing to Sonia’s abuse, with elements of her wanting to protect Eddie’s “virtue” from “those dirty boys.” @pineapplecrushface wrote an always-women AU Nightingale (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979312) and while Richie and Eddie are women in this story so it’s not the trans Eddie fic you are looking for, I think that the mentions of Eddie’s childhood bedroom seems pretty accurate for the environment that he would grow up in if he were assigned female at birth--a pink canopy bed and looking for clothes that don’t make him “feel like a cupcake.”

Actually, I think that this might look a lot like Carrie. I know that other people have already talked about the similarities between Sonia Kaspbrak and Margaret White, but Margaret’s abuse tends to orient not just around control but also around sexual maturity and perceived virtue.

I don’t know when or to what degree Eddie would transition--I don’t know if he would take the opportunity to do it while Sonia was still living, though I believe he’d be financially stable enough to afford it very early on. It would all depend on how the writer wanted to handle Eddie’s adult life--is he married to Myra? Does Myra know that he’s trans? Do he and Myra have a sexual relationship? Does Eddie know that he’s attracted to men? Is Eddie out before he gets the call from Mike and goes to Derry? What kind of transition does he want to have, if any? There are so many things to consider and I think it would all depend on what kind of story the author wants to tell--for me, I’d probably write a story where Eddie happens to be trans, and I’ve read some good fic to that effect--Rapacious from the Very Start (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853020) by InkandOwl (I tried to find their tumblr to tag them and couldn’t) is one of my favorites, though tbh when I read fic I’m looking for explicit sex and that seems to be the core of this series.

But yeah, I’d be down for trans Eddie fic. I think that there’s a lot to unpack there, from how Eddie’s “gazebos” confrontation with Sonia would take place because the primary issue there would not be the idea of keeping Eddie compliant and in the house as a mama’s boy, it would be the idea of keeping him locked in a tower like the witch in Rapunzel because Sonia keeps treating him like a princess; to the idea of needlephobia changing from a threat involving AIDS contamination to perhaps something empowering and self-authenticating like T injections. And Eddie’s such a well-rounded character anyway, I think that there’s a lot of room to dig into his bickering with Richie and his outward aggressiveness and see how much of that is stress and how much of that is the idea that masculinity never shows weak emotions and how much of that is Eddie is quick-witted and thinks arguing is fun. There are also several parallels between Georgie and Eddie, particularly in their relationship with Bill; I think that as a kid, Eddie would think that Big Bill is just the best role model in a real little-brother kinda way, and Sonia would be super threatened by that because she’s Eddie’s mother, Eddie’s supposed to want to be like her.

I think in general I’d be down for most trans fic, as long as it was well-written. In the book there’s an interesting passage from the perspective of Richie’s mother where she reflects on how much she wishes that she had a daughter, because she doesn’t understand Richie and Bill, and she’d feel more confident if she had a daughter she could do things with like baking cupcakes. And I think that a trans Bev would change the way that she experiences abuse from her father, who in the book prefers her to behave in a feminine way (stops being angry at her when he thinks she’s afraid of spiders, because “all girls are afraid of spiders”; becomes irate at the idea that Beverly is playing with boys; obsessive over her virginity) but would behave differently if he thought he had a son and that Bev was transgressing masculine rules.

Anyway! *hammers fist on desk* Bring me my all-trans Losers AU!

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

A Royal Romance AU fanfic sequel to Protect and Serve

Bastien and his men try to get to the bottom of the mystery of who leaked the incriminating photographs of the suitors and have a narrow escape

Word Count 3618

A/N Warnings - possible injury and/or character death. If you have any issues or worries about the ending of this chapter, please DM me.

3 An Unpleasant Surprise

While Sophia and Bastien broke their drought, the press was busy. She had assured Liam that the best thing to do was to let them have their day to react, and issue another statement when she had analysed the output and worked out what the best strategy was. It was pointless making knee jerk reactions to potentially wild and sensational headlines. It would look better staying calm and objective.

The whole Palace went on communication lockdown – although it was impossible to stop anything leaking in through social media and TV broadcasts, nothing unauthorised was allowed out and only essential staff were allowed to enter or leave, to minimise any drama at the Palace gates. All outgoing calls were restricted and monitored, and Bastien was to be notified of anything out of the ordinary. A team had been sent out to Lady Adelaide’s manor and she and Lady Madeleine had been told in no uncertain terms not to make any statements. Bastien already had means to monitor any goings on there, and a kitchen porter regularly reported to him on anything unusual. Staff domiciled outside the Palace had already signed non disclosure agreements anyway. That left assorted nobles and their staff, none of whom had any concrete information to give.

It had been self indulgent of him to spend the day with Sophia, but he was certain that Lewis would let him know if anything of note happened. All the same, in the middle of the night he woke and went down to the security suite to check in.

Lewis had left a report on his desk, and he had a coded communication from Fydelia. He read the latter first, and raised his eyebrows at the content. The kitchen porter was an undercover member of the Guard and had logged some suspicious calls, notably one shortly after Madeleine had returned home. He put that aside and read Lewis’s report on the Press reaction, and made notes before making his own assessment of the day’s media reaction. He needed to know what Sophia thought, and made his way back to their suite. They could work just as well from his private study as from the suite.

He went into the kitchenette and prepared some hot chocolate before going into the bedroom to carefully wake Sophia. She sat up sleepily

‘Do I smell hot chocolate? What time is it?’

‘It’s not dawn yet, theá mou. We need to work on our reaction to the press – come, I hope you’re well rested’ Sophia laughed

‘Bas, your ‘slow’ is a normal day for most men. How can you be so ready for work after the day we just had – not to mention you’re still recovering from surgery.’ Bastien gave her a slow smile.

‘This just needs mental energy – I may not be ready to run a marathon or go another round with you, but my mind is as sharp as it normally is. You may remember I took a full report from Lewis only a day or so after the operation.’ Sophia rose and gave him a peck on the cheek

‘You are phenomenal’ she murmured, and got out of bed, putting on the nightdress and some soft thick socks. ‘Am I dressed modestly enough not to distract you?’ she asked impishly

‘Never’ he said ‘But I am focused on the job in hand, and you will be shortly’ Picking up the mugs of hot chocolate, he lead the way to the study. For the next half hour they pored over news reports and headlines. The press had reacted well to the rebuttals over the reputation of the various suitors and issued an apology, and despite Madeleine's effort to make herself out to be blameless, the field had been levelled. The papers and TV were chastened by the King’s protestation as to the innocence of all the suitors and were cautious not to print or broadcast anything unsubstantiated.

What followed was speculation over the provision of an heir – and the retractions had set the tone for how the media treated the story. Only the most reactionary anti monarchy outlets – of which mercifully were few – had been anything less than respectful.

‘Okay’ said Sophia ‘Now what we need to do is make out another statement for the King saying that the issue of the provision of an heir has to remain confidential in order to protect all those involved.  We need to find a reason to have all the suitors in one place but under protection so that the Press won’t hound them or work out that Olivia is spending extra time with him. We need to keep that going until she falls pregnant, and give her some time for the pregnancy to be viable – an early announcement would not be a good idea.’

‘That sounds good – we can work out with his Majesty how to keep everyone together. Have you any ideas so far?’

‘Some sort of tour similar to the social season, but concentrating on listening to the views of the common people in each duchy – a series of charity events for a deserving cause in each location would improve public relations, and I’m sure it’s the sort of thing Liam would be happy to support’

‘Sophia, that is an excellent idea, and I propose that we visit some of the minor duchies that didn’t field a suitor – such as Duke Rashad’s Domvallier and Lord Neville’s Commery Isles. I’ve had some interesting information as to the source of the leaking of the photographs but it needs more investigation.’ Sophia yawned

‘I have the feeling our sleep schedule is going to be rather unconventional for the next few days’ she said. ‘I’ll write Liam’s speech and you can check it over and show it to him at breakfast. If he releases it this morning it will be in the afternoon papers – and on TV and the internet immediately. After that we need to brainstorm about the charity tour’

‘It will have to be put to the Council of Nobles, but who can turn down the chance to be seen as a benevolent leader by encouraging local charities?’

Sophia got to work drafting out a speech, and Bastien went back to his office to leave a note for Lewis when he got back to work. The Council of Nobles were sent for to discuss the charity tour, and Bastien mulled over the information he had gleaned from Fydelia.

By the time Liam woke and had breakfast in his suite, Sophia had the speech ready, and he approved it. He didn’t need the Council’s approval to propose the charity tour, but organising it would need a lot of work liaising with the various duchies. Bastien moved on to the matter of the leaked photographs.

‘Some of my men are questioning the reporters who released the photos and tracking them back, but it may take time to get to the source.’ Liam nodded ‘Sir, it seems that Lady Adelaide had something to do with the leaking of the photographs. I presume she was angered by your rejection of her daughter. You of course had a full set of and you still have them, so there must have been at least one more set, or they were copied before you received them. I’m currently trying to discover who had access to the photographs apart from Constantine. I’m afraid Regina is our most likely suspect – the fact that she is related to Adelaide and Madeleine makes that even more likely that she was complicit, so I need your permission to question her.’ Liam frowned.

‘I’d like to question her myself’ he said ‘Informally of course’

‘With respect Sir, I feel that although you may be sensitive and sympathetic toward the Queen Mother, you may not be objective. You are welcome to be present when she’s questioned, of course. Sophia suggested you make your statement as soon as you can get members of the press assembled, then we can turn our attentions to Regina’ The King agreed and his aide Geoffrey made a call to admit a selection of reporters in to the Palace.

Bastien went back to the security suite to talk to Lewis, who was drinking black coffee.

‘So, let’s go over what we know already.’ Lewis said as Bastien took his place at the desk ‘Initially it’s thought that Constantine had only one set of photographs, which were kept in his safe. Only Constantine had the code to the safe, but he may have secreted some sort of reminder or clue to that code somewhere. We believe they were the only set because they were put in an envelope for Liam to open on his death. Regina knew about those photographs and may well have known or guessed the code to the safe without Constantine’s knowledge. We don’t know if they were digital or on film with negatives. We’re still looking into who took the photographs and whether they kept copies even though Constantine stipulated he was to have sole ownership of the images.’ Lewis sighed and sat back and Bastien spoke next.

‘So we need to know who had copies of them, how they got them and who released them to the press. I know for certain that Lady Adelaide had a part in it – she made a phone call to an unknown person who had access to them and gave them over to the press. That may have been Regina, or it may have been someone else.’ Lewis raised his eyebrows at Bastien’s revelation.

‘So it could be Regina and Adelaide aiding Madeleine’s bid to be Queen, or they may just be helping someone with other motives. I’ve sent for Lady Adelaide, and we’ll be questioning both her and Regina. I have a team investigating the press – there must be some sort of trail that will help us discover how the sole set of photographs was copied.’ There was a knock on the door and James entered

‘Sir, Regina is refusing to come to the interrogation suite. She insists that she wants to be interviewed in her quarters’ Bastien frowned.

‘I’m not allowing that – we have total control in our room. James, go to Liam and get him to order Regina to do as we request. Remind him that if she complied in getting the photographs copied or released she could be guilty of treason against him.’ James nodded and left. Bastien sighed. If Regina was going to be difficult, it would be a long day.

------

After Liam’s statement about the Charity tour and Regina’s interrogation Bastien returned to his suite. He had been awake for a long time and had had a snatched sandwich for lunch, and needed to rest. His thigh ached and he found it painful making his way back. Regina had denied tampering with the photographs – she said she hadn’t reproduced them or handled them at all and didn’t have access to the safe. One of the guards had been tasked with sifting through security footage in Constantine’s suite covering the safe where the photographs had been kept. Adelaide would be arriving later, and he needed to regroup before he talked to her.

Sophia was there to greet him. Immediately she saw he was hurting, and offered to draw a bath for him to ease his thigh. He sat in an easy chair and she massaged it for him, trying to hide her concern. He looked tired and she thought he was being thrown back into the thick of Palace intrigue before he was strong enough for it. The massage and bath worked well, and he sat in his reclining chair again, this time to take a power nap. He knew from past experience if he lay flat in bed he would sleep too soundly and be groggy when he woke up. He only needed a half hour nap and he’d be re-energised.

------

Later on, he waited in the interrogation room for Adelaide. She looked a little pale, but tossed her head flirtatiously when she saw him.

‘Why Mr Lykel, if I’d known it was you wanting to talk to me we could have gone somewhere more – private’ she said, reaching across the table toward him. He sat back, showing her that flirting was not going to work.

‘I would rather have done this privately, but for the serious nature of the matter in hand, Lady Adelaide’ he said gravely ‘I have reason to believe that you set in motion a process that was intended to make Lady Madeleine the only credible choice of suitor for King Liam.’ Adelaide pouted

‘What’s wrong with a mother trying to make the most of her daughter’s assets? She’s plainly the best choice for Queen and I’m certain Maddy would allow Liam to have a Cordonian marriage and have his choice of lovers’ she retorted

‘It is most definitely wrong when false accusations are made against other women – accusations that harm their reputation and cause them distress’ Adelaide shrugged and didn’t say anything. ‘You don’t deny making a call that resulted in the release of scurrilous photographs to the Press?’ She sighed

‘It would have blown over once Maddy was Queen. We’re not living in Victorian times, a few saucy headlines won’t permanently ruin their marriage prospects’

‘Nonetheless, the photographs involved were known to be in the possession of the former King, and anyone gaining access to them is a security risk and possibly liaising with those who wish to do harm to the monarchy. We’re looking at possible charges of treason’ Adelaide grew pale.

‘I – I didn’t think it was that serious’ she stuttered.

‘In that case you won’t mind telling me who you contacted so we can find out who got hold of the photographs’ Adelaide wrung her hands together

‘Well the problem is – I’m not really sure’ she pleaded. Bastien clenched his jaw and waited for her to explain. ‘It’s – delicate’ she said, leaning closer and lowering her voice.

‘This interview is being recorded, Lady Adelaide’ he replied ‘Please speak clearly’ She shook her head.

‘No, I’m not having this recorded’ she said ‘I’ll tell you in confidence, Mr Lykel, but I won’t have my private life exposed. Please’ She gazed at him pleadingly. He sighed heavily

‘Will you at least tell me in front of my second in command?’ he asked. She nodded, her face pale. He made a gesture and Lewis turned off the recorder.

‘Very well Adelaide, and this had better be the truth, or you will be charged with treason’ he warned her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘Well, I have a lover – he’s – well he’s dominant. I – I’ve never seen his face, he always wears a mask, and I don’t know his name.’ Bastien remained stony faced, inwardly rolling his eyes. Her sexual escapades were her weakness and had gotten her in to trouble on more than one occasion. She went on, biting her lip ‘He’s said things to me before – about what a good Queen Maddy would make, and that he could make sure that it happened. Maddy came home the other night and told me Liam had called everything off. I was so upset – I called him and told him all about it’ Her eyes reddened and she dabbed at them with a tissue. ‘I didn’t know about the photographs, I had no idea how he was going to make things happen. I’m sorry the others were hurt, truly I am’ Bastien nodded

‘I believe you, but you must give us details of how you contacted your ah, lover.’ he said sternly ‘Do you think you could identify him if you heard his voice – is he Cordonian, do you think, or does he have an accent?’

‘Oh he’s Cordonian, and yes, I think I could identify him by his voice. But please, I do need to be discreet. Gordon may overlook my indiscretions – after all lord knows he has his own – but I don’t want it splashed all over the…’ her voice trailed off as she realised what she had set in motion for the other suitors.

Bastien nodded to Lewis to turn the recording equipment on again

‘Thankyou Lady Adelaide, for the record you’re going to supply us with the contact details we’ve asked for. Your cooperation is appreciated.’

 ------

Later, after Adelaide had left to go and settle into the suite she would be sharing with Madeleine, Bastien spoke to Lewis. In truth, the phone number she had given them wouldn’t tell them much. They had secured a promise from her that she would notify them the next time she was due to call him – she called at regular intervals – and they would monitor and try to trace the call’s location. They checked in with James, who was checking security footage for anyone who might have tampered with the safe. He looked weary and his eyes were red from sleeplessness, but he had stuck to his task with stoicism.

‘I think I have something’ he said ‘One of the maids made a habit of moving a large vase in front of one of the security cameras when she cleaned Constantine’s study, but she fell foul of one of the other hidden cameras. I can’t directly see exactly what she was doing, but she was in the vicinity of the safe for a suspiciously long period of time on more than one occasion. I just need to double check the time stamps and the duty rosters for the cleaning teams – but I think we have our culprit’

‘Good man’ Bastien said, leaning on the desk to watch the footage James had picked out ‘Who is it?’

‘I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s a young maid called Lisa’ he said ‘Shall I call her in for questioning? I don’t know if she’s on site but it won’t take long to find out.’

‘We need to verify her identity first’ Bastien chided ‘Cross check with the work schedules. I have an idea Drake is friendly with her, and Sophia also, I’ll call them to ID her.’

It was discovered that indeed it was Lisa who had been seen on the security cameras. Checking other footage, she was seen to take an envelope identical to the one left for Liam out of her bag to check it when leaving the Palace. The next day she had spent another suspicious length of time in Constantine’s study while cleaning it. It was not quite enough to be certain proof, but Bastien had a strong case against her. She wasn’t in the Palace so he asked housekeeping to call her in for an extra shift, saying there were unexpected visitors and she was needed to clean some of the empty suites – which was true, as that afternoon it was expected that the Council of nobles would approve Liam’s plan for the Charity tour and all the suitors would be called on to gather to plan the itinerary and travel together.

------

Sure enough, the young woman turned up on time, and she was watched every step of the way. As she approached the store cupboard to pick up fresh linen, Bastien strolled along the corridor as if by accident.

‘Good afternoon – Lisa, isn’t it?’ he asked her pleasantly as she clutched the list of supplies she needed. ‘Could you step into my office please?’ She looked puzzled.

‘I’m very busy Mr Lykel – can it wait until the end of my shift?’ she asked. He shook his head and stepped forward to take her elbow

‘I’m afraid not, I need to ask you some questions’ A look of panic crossed her face and she tried to pull away from him. He gripped her firmly, and one of his men, Parker, appeared from round the corner to block her should she try to run away.

In the interrogation suite, Lisa dissolved into tears. She had been coerced into breaking into the safe after stumbling across the code in a piece of paper that fell out of a book when she was cleaning. Bastien pressed her as to who had  asked her to get the photos, but she clamped her mouth shut and said she was afraid that she’d be killed for telling.

‘Lisa, we will protect you if you tell us who it is’ Bastien assured her ‘This is a serious matter – you could be prosecuted for treason and either serve time in prison, or be exiled permanently. We can be lenient if you help us’ Lisa looked terrified.

‘I – I can’t tell you who it was’ she sniffled ‘I never saw him. He’s a member of the Sons of the Earth. I have a phone number, that’s all’

‘But Lisa, why did you do it?’ he asked ‘When you were interviewed you swore you’d serve the Crown – and you also signed a non disclosure agreement. You’re in a lot of trouble, my dear’

‘I – I’m sorry, here have my phone, the number’s there, under ‘Boris’ She held it out, but Bastien sat with his arms crossed.

‘Write it down for me’ he said  

‘But – if you call him from another number he’ll know it’s not me’ she protested

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Lisa’ he said flatly ‘We have our ways’ She took her phone back and Bastien started to reach for paper and pen, but as he did, Bastien spotted something that made his blood run cold – a button inset in the side, something that didn’t belong on that model of phone. He shouted out a warning to Parker to get down as he threw himself onto the floor under the metal table. Lisa pressed the button and a loud explosion rocked the tiny room…

Next chapter 4 Two’s Company, Three’s more fun

[raywritesthings]

Sheriff, Hood and Maid

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Quentin Lance, Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, John Diggle Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen (Hinted/Unresolved) Summary: Long before the Hood arrives in Starling City, Detective Lance relaxes his loyalty to the law. His daughter must take on a double life of her own to redeem her family legacy. / AU What-If of Season 1 *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*

It had been a moment of weakness. After losing Sara, seeing the bodies of all those young girls pile up one after the other, with stiff limbs and sightless eyes, it was too much. He’d have done anything to make it stop, to catch Mathis.

Anything, as it turned out, had meant selling his soul.

He’d received a call tipping him off to a location Mathis was supposedly using to conduct his sick experiments. When he’d arrived, there was no Mathis and no equipment. Just a mid-ranking member of one of the local cartels.

Quentin had been angered and then infuriated when the thug had proposed his deal. Immunity for him and his side in exchange for information. He had stormed out of that warehouse and not looked back.

Then another girl had turned up dead. And another. Before he could think it through too many times, he was dialing the number that had called in the fake tip.

What else could he have done? It wasn’t like people weren’t going to buy the drugs anyway if he refused to play ball with the cartel. He’d gotten a location and led a raid to catch the Dollmaker in the act. A serial killer behind bars.

“Just remember the favor you owe us, Detective,” he’d been warned. “Or your pretty daughter with the fancy new law degree is gonna wish it was Mathis that got to her.”

Okay, so one cartel was going to walk the streets knowing he’d look the other way. So what? They didn’t have the manpower to bring them all in.

The funny thing was, once one deal was made, it didn’t seem so bad to make more. It was like they could sniff him out all of a sudden. Maybe there was talk. He didn’t know.

Quentin found himself with a lot more convictions under his belt and a lot more friends in low places. His tab was always paid at his favorite bar before he even made it there after a shift. It wasn’t like he was letting all the criminals walk. There were still bad people getting put away.

How was it any different than Nudocerdo hobnobbing with the big wigs in their ivory towers? How was it any different than Moira Queen or Malcolm Merlyn paying all the right people to get their kids off the hook for crimes they ought to be serving sentences for?

Whenever he happened to be in a charitable mood, which he rarely was, Quentin could admit it wasn’t very different to all the wheeling and dealing he’d done behind the scenes to keep Sara’s record clean.

If he had one saving grace, it was Laurel. She alone was untouched by all the dirt and corruption their city was swimming in. He was prouder than he could say, and it burned at him more than he could stand sometimes the way she would remind him of all the things he had once taught her about the law and doing what was right. He snapped at her more than was warranted for it, and he knew she just couldn’t understand.

He never wanted her to. If she ever knew…

But it was pointless to even worry about that. The associates he’d acquired over the last few years would ensure he was never ousted, so long as he kept up his end of the deals he’d made. And he would, for her sake. This city was rotten to the core, and if all he could do was save one person from it, it damned well wouldn’t be the rich elites who could bribe their way through anything or the teens with rap sheets already a mile long. It would be his own flesh and blood, all he had left of it in the world.

With enough drink in him, most nights he went to bed with a muddied conscience. But it was enough to let him sleep.

---

Laurel had had a bad feeling for a long time. Various bad feelings, she supposed, but it was hard not to when her sister and boyfriend died while screwing each other, her mother left and her father fell into drinking. There weren’t many good feelings left in the wake of all that.

But this specific one had more to do with her work. Ever since she had started at CNRI, things had felt a little… off.

At first she hadn’t noticed, too caught up in the high of winning her first official case, saving a man’s son from prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Other little victories here and there. 

But then, every time she tried going up against something big, the systemic forces truly plaguing their city, roadblocks constantly sprung up in her path. A judge threw the case out, witnesses disappeared, evidence went missing from the police lockers and, lately, her boss had been getting very particular about handing out or approving assignments.

If she’d talked to her father about it once, she must have talked to him about it a million times. He’d been a sympathetic ear at first, promising to keep an eye on things at the precinct, but as time wore on he did little more than sigh and tell her that she couldn’t expect to change the world overnight. Joanna did him one better and suggested Laurel do something with all that pent-up frustration, which had led Laurel to seeking out boxing lessons at a gym not too far from their office.

While letting her anger out through her fists did wonders for her emotional self-control, it did little to fix the rest of her problems. Laurel’s mind chased itself around in circles night after night, wondering just where the trouble was starting from. Was there some kind of leak between their office and the DA’s? Was it Kate Spencer herself? Or was she being spied on?

Laurel started meeting her clients outside of the office and off the books. For a while, it seemed to help as she was happy to note to her dad. But gradually, whatever force was conspiring against her seemed to catch up to her new methods. It didn’t matter if she worked with Joanna or alone, if she wrote her files in plain English or in the secret code she and Sara had developed during a particularly boring winter filled with school cancellations due to the wind chill, making playing outside impossible. She was reaching her wit’s end with this enemy who seemed to know her as well as she knew herself.

Just as she was starting to wonder if everything was hopeless, an unexpected ally of sorts emerged from seemingly nowhere: an archer dressed in green. He’d appeared on the scene as suddenly as Oliver had stepped back into her life after five years of him being presumed dead, taking in Adam Hunt and his security team before Laurel was slated to lose her case against him thanks to a bought Judge Grell. Then again, he took on Martin Sommers and the Triad after they attacked her home while Oliver was visiting.

It was exhilarating seeing someone finally stand up to the untouchable in this city. She couldn’t help to wonder why no one had thought to do it before, couldn’t help but feel inspired...

Laurel kept these thoughts to herself while staying at her father’s that night. The police were still processing the crime scene that her apartment had become the other night thanks to the home invasion that she suspected was meant to have been an assassination if she hadn’t been able to take down one of their attackers and Mr. Diggle hadn’t shown up to confront China White. The bodyguard himself might have been killed had Oliver not been extremely lucky with his knife throw. She supposed he must have gotten very good at that sort of thing while hunting for food on the island.

Laurel’s dreams of a figure moving through thick, green overgrowth stalking the Fortune 500 were interrupted by the low snarl of her dad’s voice. Laurel startled awake, looking around in confusion.

“...don’t care that he got away. Sommers overreached, and that’s his and your problem, not mine!”

Light shone through the cracks around the bedroom door. He was still awake? Laurel slid off the mattress as quietly as she could, sneaking in her socks to the door. She opened it a centimeter and peered down the hall.

Her father was pacing back and forth, crossing in and out of view as he spoke into a phone. “My daughter comes first. The minute you agreed to his contract, that’s the minute you turned your back on me. I wasn’t gonna do a damned thing to save that bottom-feeder from some vigilante.”

Laurel’s mind raced. If this was about Sommers, and her father was talking to a person who had accepted a contract that had to do with her…

“Yeah, I know. I know what you have on me. I’d rather we continue on business as usual, too, but we can’t do that unless I have your word that the next time Laurel is in your sights, you let me handle it. Alright? She’s my responsibility, not yours. And you can tell that to China White herself.”

China White. The Triad. Her father was on the phone with the Triad.

She watched him hang up and rub a hand across his forehead. “Should’ve just let her go to San Francisco…” he muttered under his breath.

She couldn’t keep watching. Laurel shook her head and backed up into a dresser with a muffled bang, too loud for him not to have heard. “Shit,” she whispered.

Sure enough, she heard his shoes coming down the hall. Rather than comforting, they sounded loud and heavy and like a threat. What did she do? What did she say?

The door opened before she could make up her mind to flee, and Laurel looked up at her father.

“Honey?” He asked, sounding just as concerned as always. His gun rested on his belt.

She had to play this off. She couldn’t risk him finding out she knew. She couldn’t trust he wouldn’t hurt her — she didn’t know who this man was anymore.

“Uh, sorry. I was getting up to use the bathroom, and I couldn’t see where I was going in the dark,” she explained, hoping the strain in her voice could be attributed to the pain from hitting the furniture.

He nodded. “Okay. Lamp’s on the table there for it you need it.”

“Uh-huh. Are you going out?”

He looked down at himself. “No. I just, uh, was finishing up some work at the table. I’ll get to sleep soon, promise.”

Laurel forced a smile that was more a nervous twitch of the lips as she slowly moved past him into the hall, shutting herself in the bathroom. She let out a breath then drew it back in, forcing herself to focus on that and prevent herself from hyperventilating.

Her father was a dirty cop. How long had he been? Since she got her degree? Since the Gambit sunk? Since always?

He was the source of the leak. For three years, she’d been watching herself and who she spoke to, dedicated herself to nothing but work — and the one person she had felt safe in confiding to, the one person she’d thought understood her relentless pursuit of justice, had betrayed her.

She sat on the lid of the toilet and willed the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes back. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for herself. She’d unknowingly been helping the other side by giving them ready access to information. What was she going to do now?

The first thing was stop talking to her dad about her cases and make sure to lock up her notes even in the safety of her home. And then… what? That didn’t feel like enough.

What could she do to help the people who had suffered for her ignorance? The people who would continue to suffer thanks to this corrupt bargain her father had made? Or even, maybe, possibly, her father himself?

Was he just doing this to protect her? Maybe someone had made threats. Maybe he thought it was the only way. They were both semi-public figures. It wouldn’t have been hard at all for organized crime to make the connection between them and decide to exploit it.

If she could figure out how deep this went, how far this web of alliances stretched, maybe she could free him from it.

But she couldn’t do it as herself. It was clear that either her father would be forced to stop her or the Triad and whoever else would take matters into their own hands, and she didn’t want to test her luck a second time. Prosecuting them publicly would mean damning her father, too, and despite everything she had just learned, she didn’t know if she was prepared to do that.

She had to work independently of the law. Any misgivings she might have felt about that a month ago melted away now that she knew her father had abandoned his own credo a long time ago. This wasn’t some idealized mock trial in school. This was reality. And there was someone out there already proving that the only way to get justice in this city was to get it yourself.

Laurel stood and flushed the toilet to sell her story, washing her hands in the sink as she stared herself down in the mirror. Her eyes were dry and determined.

She would do what needed to be done.

---

Oliver was at a crossroads in many ways. Diggle was on the fence about joining him. Lance was hot on the trail of evidence he’d planted to set himself up for exoneration. And he still didn’t know quite where he and Laurel stood since his return in both of his personas.

He knew as Oliver he was making things difficult, wanting to atone for his actions yet also wanting her safe. He couldn’t be the man she saw in him in his public life because he was needed as the Hood. And while she seemed far more receptive to the Hood, his first encounter with her had proven… odd.

“How do you decide?” She’d asked him unexpectedly in the dark of her apartment. The little light come through the windows made her eyes look overbright and earnest. “Who gets hospitalized and who lands in the morgue?”

“It’s not a decision,” he answered eventually. “Not a conscious one. This city is in a fight for its life. In those kinds of struggles…” He had found himself struggling then to articulate what it was to be driven by the need for survival in the heat of battle, how everything else faded away.

But Laurel had nodded as if she understood. “Then it’s not a question of targeting.”

“Is there someone you wanted targeted?”

To his surprise, she did not dismiss the question, but rather hesitated. “I don’t have everything I need yet. And you’re right that Declan’s case can’t wait if he really is as innocent as you think.”

He’d let the subject drop, and there had been no time to address it in any of their subsequent meetings. Certainly not at Iron Height, where she had pulled him out of the fog of battle through her touch and voice alone before he could make yet another kill. He didn’t know how to thank her for that. Especially when the next time he saw her, it was because she was representing him against her dad, and he couldn’t exactly thank her for something he wasn’t supposed to know about as Oliver Queen.

It helped that Laurel was convinced there was no way he was the Hood. At least, he thought she was convinced until the polygraph test. Until he revealed some of the truth about what had happened to him there. The look in her eyes… he had fled before she could ask him anything, back to the party he was having Tommy plan at the house.

Oliver walked around the main room, making sure he was very visible as Diggle prepared to head out in the Hood’s suit. While he didn’t exactly enjoy himself in this type of crowd anymore, he didn’t truly tense up until he noticed something.

Outside the glass doors to the patio, someone was watching.

The strobe lights from the party illuminated her for a moment — he thought it was a her, though he couldn’t make out her face beneath the dark shawl she wore over her head and wrapped around her shoulders. The patio went dark and then light again, and in that time she had turned her back as she dropped something in one of the potted plants.

Oliver sucked around people as he made his way to the patio and the far edge, but he could make out no one in the darkness of the grounds. None of the attendees seemed to have noticed anything, either, thought that likely was due to their inebriated states.

He went back to the plant and pulled out what she had left behind.

It was a manila envelope with a note scrawled on one side in almost exaggeratedly bad handwriting.

For the Hood, if you know him.

Oliver’s heart thudded in his chest. This woman had clearly decided to believe Lance, or at least believed he had some role in the Hood’s appearance in Starling.

Did he open it? Ignore it to avoid proving this woman’s suspicions? But then, what did she want?

Oliver took the envelope back to his room and opened it, spilling the contents onto his desk. Pictures printed on computer paper. Typed notes. It was rudimentary and low-budget, but he was looking at a dossier. A dossier on Nudocerdo, the Starling City Police Commissioner. From the looks of it, he was in far too many pockets to be doing anything good for the public.

Take him down without death and I’ll tell you everything, was written at the bottom of the final page.

Now he was truly at a crossroads. If he acted, this woman would clearly know he at the very least had a connection to the Hood. But just what was “everything”?

Oliver found himself attacked by a hitman before he could ponder that much further, and only the intervention of Detective Lance saved his life and his identity from being exposed, as much as the detective looked like he might be happy to shoot Oliver as well. Long after the party had been cleared out and his family had gone to sleep secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t a vigilante was Oliver able to discuss with Diggle the woman who seemed to think he might still be the vigilante.

“I think you were visited by the Maid.”

Oliver’s face scrunched up. “The who?”

Digg shrugged. “She showed up a couple weeks back. Folks in the Glades say they’ve spotted her trailing gangbangers and cops alike. And the rumor is she’s had to fight her way out of a situation or two. That’s part of what made me realize I needed to join this fight,” Diggle told him. Folks are getting restless, desperate. You’ve shown them a new way, and they just might take it.”

Oliver frowned. He hadn’t been trying to show anyone a new way. This was just the most effective way for him to complete his father’s mission. “Why ‘the Maid’?”

“You said she was wearing that shawl over her head? Hoodette didn’t catch on, so people started looking to your namesake: Robin Hood.”

It hit him a moment later. “Maid Marian.” His uneasiness grew. Oliver knew, of course, that the whole point of what he’d just done was that the Hood and Oliver Queen were separate identities. But he didn’t like the idea of being associated, and romantically at that, with another woman. Not when he was meant to be proving himself to Laurel. If she could only know.

Unless she did? Why exactly had she wanted to know how the Hood chose his targets and what happened to them? What had she meant by not having everything she needed yet? Was she gathering information? And if she was…

It was a theory. The same kind of theory that this woman was working off of regarding his own identity, but if he was right it changed everything.

If he was right, he needed to know what Laurel knew. And he had a feeling he’d only find that out once Nudocerdo was out of the picture.

---

Once again, he found himself at the bar and, once again, he found his tab was already covered. He wasn’t drinking anything strong, though. Not tonight. Not when he’d screwed up bad enough.

He’d been so sure it was Queen. Locking up the Hood would’ve helped smooth over the ruffled feathers caused by the vigilante’s interference in Hunt and Sommer’s operations. Would’ve made his job a heck of a lot easier. And would’ve gotten the bastard far and away from his daughter.

When he’d been sure of the archer’s identity, it had all made sense. Queen returned from that island and thought he could slide back into Laurel’s good graces by putting his thumb on the scales of justice, so to speak. That was clearly why Hunt and Sommers had been attacked coincidentally as Laurel was mounting cases against them, and she had been picked out of all the lawyers in the city to help him clear Peter Declan’s name. Only now, it apparently was a coincidence, and he didn’t know anything anymore.

The Hood needed to be caught. No matter what good other people thought he was doing, he was a menace that needed to be off the streets the same as any thug. Just because he was stealing money and giving it away didn’t make him better than the likes of a kid jacking a car for a joyride. It made him worse, because he was causing unrest with the criminal elements who, like it or not, were woven into the very fabric of Starling. Had been for longer than Quentin had wanted to admit before he’d finally given in.

A man in a fine suit took the barstool next to him. “Evening, Detective.”

Quentin blew out a breath. He was not in the mood for another deal right now, not when he was still on shaky ground with the Triad. “So, which boss do you work for?”

The man pursed his lips. “Hardly. My name is Carl Ballard.”

Ballard? One of the big-wigs? Quentin sat up a little straighter.

“What’s a guy with all the money and success in the world doing in a hole-in-the-wall like this?”

“I’m here on business. I assume you haven’t heard since you’re clearly off duty at the moment, but reports have come in that Commissioner Nudocerdo has been attacked in his home by the Hood.”

“That son of a bitch,” Quentin swore. It wasn’t enough that the guy had to prove his Queen theory wrong tonight, but he had to go after the police department?

“I agree,” Ballard said lightly. “And so do some associates of mine who were fond of Nudocerdo. Given his imminent fall from grace, we want to see that things keep running smoothly. That’s why I’m letting you know you have the full backing of Tempest to fill the position of Commissioner.”

He reeled back a little in shock. “Commissioner? Me?” His eyes narrowed. “Just what is Tempest?”

“A group of like-minded individuals who want the best for our families and our city, like yourself,” Ballard told him. “We all feel you would be the best candidate in these uncertain times. Your commitment to catching the vigilante is unmatched, and you understand the way this city works.”

He knew what that last part meant underneath. Business as usual. It was hardly what he would have envisioned all those years ago as a beat cop with his head full of ideas about changing things for the better. He’d forgotten about that dream a long time ago.

“Say I accept. What’s in it for me?”

“A number of powerful allies. More if you prove effective.”

“Effective at what?”

“Tempest wants to find out the source of the Hood’s information. What he’s basing his crusade off of and how he obtained it. These are things you have to be wondering, too.”

He had, and he’d thought for a worrying moment that it might be Laurel. For the first time tonight, he was glad he’d been wrong about his assumptions on Queen.

“I’ve been in the Glades recently working on a gentrification project, and my security tells me they’ve heard rumors of a spy. A woman. They’re calling her his Maid Marian. We’d like you to start there, tracking down this young Maid.”

An informant for the Hood? That was something solid, something real at last. What did he have to lose?

“I’ll get on it — or, guess I’ll put my best men on it, since your people want me in the Commissioner’s chair so badly.” Quentin stuck out his hand for Carl Ballard to shake.

It wasn’t the worst deal he’d made.

[jcmorrigan]

Valentine’s Day F/O Letter

For the event hosted by @nougatships​ and @megane-shipping​! I decided to write a letter to Giovanni Potage from EE because I am love him SO MUCH right now. Anyway, it got kinda long, so most of it will be under a cut.

***

Hi Gio,

             This is the first time I’ve ever really written anything of length to you. To any of the ones I love this way, really. Beginnings are hard. There’s so much I want to say, and I’m not sure where to even start. So let’s get the basics out of the way: how are you doing? Successful heists lately? Epic tales of villainy I simply must know about?

           I’ve been fine. Life’s boring, as usual. I would say I don’t even know how you put up with it, but I’ve seen your couch-potato side, so that’s not really a big mystery. I like that. I like that you’re equally up for breaking the mold with some adventure and just…kicking it. (Wow. That’s some old slang. When’s the last time anyone said “kicking it”? Me. Just now.)

           So as for the reason I’m writing this letter…I think it’s best if I just begin in chronological order. So you and I both know you’re not the only one in my heart, and I’m glad you respect this. There’s a time, a place, and an AU for you, and it doesn’t make you any less special. But I’m always stunned when I look back at how we met. The others, it took time to realize I loved them, and how much they meant to me. But you? You broke through that fuckin’ museum wall, and I KNEW you were my type. If you want the receipts, I have the Discord chat of when I was talking to my friend while watching you and screaming about how much I wanted to cuddle you. (LISTEN. I KNOW THAT WAS FORWARD. I’M SORRY FOR BEING A CREEP. SOMETIMES I’M A STALKER.) …Actually, the exact words were when my friend, knowing you were my type, said “If he were any further up your alley, he’d be at your house” and I said “He could come to my house anytime” and I’m sorry your girlfriend is such a creep.

           I haven’t felt that instant…fall that many times in my life. The last time I can remember it, it was for someone real. As in who originates in my world. I think you’ve figured out that sometimes, I compare you to him. That chase went on such a runaround…with men, my whole life after him, I’ve thought of them as goals to achieve. I got the attention of the hot one! Yay! Finally! Now he can love me and all of my little quirks, even though I’m super boring! And I’m not saying that’s incredibly wrong. I’ve made some good relationships that way, actually. (All fictional, of course.)

           But you…what struck me is how much I wanted to be with you for your sake. Not mine. Not to bandy about getting you to notice me, or playing the tsundere game, or worrying I’m not good enough. Sure, I like a slowburn and a good confession, but I really just wanted to be close to you because you made me smile. You had a good sense of humor, you have that unbreakable lighthearted confidence I adore…you’re a little bit of an idiot, but in the absolute best way possible (and you have emotional smarts where I don’t). And on that note! You’re one of the nicest guys I know! Even if you are the bad guy.

           Which was kind of the two-hit combo that slayed me. I have a villain problem. You know this. I know this. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Some days, I want to be a villain, myself, and have the freedom to do what I want, take revenge on those I feel wronged me, take whatever my heart desires, just not have to live by the RULES anymore. But some days, I become acutely aware of my conscience. Could I ever be a real villain? Could I actually steal? Could I KILL? I think about the people I’d hurt, and I don’t wanna do that. I now know that depending on the situation, I can laugh with the sinners and cry with the saints. (Little Billy Joel for ya.) But with you, I know I don’t really have to…pick. You let me be me, and you let me have that freedom of just…doing bad things that are against the rules. And it feels AWESOME. But then, we never really take it too far, and we still have our friendships, our standards, our moral codes, our etiquette. Basically, you’ll let me be the good guy, too, and you’re just a sweetie pie. Some days, I need to toe the line more; some days, I need to shed blood. But you let me suspend in between, getting the best of both worlds.

           And all this is why I think…maybe you’re my favorite out of all of them. It makes me feel guilty to love you best when I’ve given my heart to two others, and who knows where it will stop? But it’s you I find myself thinking of most often. You who I’d have fun with. You who’d make me smile. You who I’d want to make smile.

           Also, I realized lately. I don’t get jealous over you, not like I thought I would. I like seeing you depicted with other partners, the Blasters or other selfshippers/OCs. I love when I meet someone else who had the good enough taste to fall for you! If you want to invite Crusher or Spike or anyone else you like to be part of this…I know you have enough love for all of us. We can all be happy together. Just say the word!

           Knowing you would support me emotionally no matter what is touching. I’ve relied on you for a lot. I’ve done scary grown-up government stuff while listening to your theme. I invited you to the crew that would go on that flight with me because I hate airplanes so much, and I knew you would give me amazing distraction-cuddles (though I suspect you, also, fear the airplane, and if I’m right about that, I admire you so much for not letting it show). There are times I…really hate myself, or feel worthless. Especially because I have so much trouble validating myself. But I know you’d just put a hand on my shoulder and tell me it’s going to be all right before inviting me to slip on some ski masks and pretty supervillain clothes so we can go hijack sugar cookies from the bakery. (Pink for you. You always have dibs on the pink ones! I haven’t forgotten! And blue for me <3)

           The adventures we’ve been on in my imagination…the walks around Twilight Town (YEAH YEAH I KNOW WRONG WORK OF FICTION), snuggling up in your knitted blankets (which are SO SOFT), making my villainess dress together, the first kiss on the rooftop, dancing like idiots, THE HEISTS…it all makes me really happy. You remind me that I don’t necessarily have to “grow up” to be a grown-up. And, I mean, I knew that, but you make sure I REALLY know that. (Speaking of which, don’t you love how if you add the two of us parents’-basement-dwellers together, you probably end up with one [1] functioning adult?)

           I also really have to thank you for being accepting of my asexuality. I’m always scared it will push others away. They say men only want one thing, right? And I am unfortunately attracted to men. Yaaaaay me. But there are big exceptions to the rule, and you’ve always been the one to say “Fuck gender roles!” I feel like when I’m with you, I never have to worry that you’ll be wanting something I can’t give you.

           In return, I will accept you no matter your body, your identity. I’ve run into a couple different takes on you, but they’re all you.

           I guess that brings me to the hard part of this. This is going public, so I don’t know how specific I want to get. But there was a very powerful force that suggested I couldn’t see you through my own eyes. That no one could do so. It almost tore us apart. I thought it was my moral obligation to let you go. I thought loving you would mean taking a stand on the wrong side and hurting my friends. I thought that what would happen is that every time I thought of you, I would be reminded of ugly truths and harsh realities.

           But after two days, I missed you so much. It was a good wake-up call to know this relationship wasn’t completely baggage-free, and it reminded me that I have many characters in my life who I want to give my attention, but it also proved to me that if I tried to let you go…I would have to physically push you away instead, and in the end, I couldn’t do it. I think back all the time to how good of a brother-dad-mentor-figure you were to Molly, and how you got worried about Fred’s astigmatism, and how I was sure you’d get along with so many of the characters who already made up my world, and how this spoke to your heart. Oh, and also, I needed your dumb ass to say loitering in front of a truck was a valid crime. (Please don’t ever loiter in front of a truck. I’m begging you.) I need you to show me how easily you shift from Grandma Mode to Knife Mode with your knitting needle, to be proud of the way you season your soup attacks, to keep making your own capes, to insist on the benefits of wielding a bat with a fucking knife taped to it, to jet your friends to safety when they’re afraid of such things as fire and traitor bears.

           Whatever comes of all that, I hope there can still be a space for us. You and me. And I’m confident it will happen, now. It already is happening. Because I know that you’d just want me to be happy, no matter where you fell on the issue that began it. And you love and respect my friends, too. I know you see us as our own little group of villains and co-minions and talk about us like we’re an evil team that has to take care of each other, and that’s…honestly so cute. Too bad I’m terrible at putting your words to work. Maybe one day. When I learn how to find the approval I seek without fighting it out of people. But I think that was the moment it went from a crush to actually loving you. When I saw how you would do that with Molly. With everyone. Make sure they knew how valid they were. I…feel bad that I haven’t been able to live up to this lately. Like I’ve failed you. But I can always try again, right? That’s what you’d want me to do! And I do improve on things every day. One day, the minion will surpass her villain (but still stay around with you because that’s what we do)! I hope I can support you in the same way – that when you have things that trouble your mind, that I can help you feel better and get you toward a solution to the problem.

           I know I’m safe with you, and I want to keep you safe, too. I know how much you’d put on the line to defend me, and I just want to protect you from all of the bad in your world – from snooty Vice Principals who call their armies to beat you up (I’m still SO SORRY you went through that!), from the law chasing you away from all that’s familiar, from all the insults and mockery that could ever come your way. I want to stand before you like a shield. To gather the troops of the other characters I know and form a protection squad around you. To make you smile. (Even if you are really, really cute when you cry. Look, I’m not gonna beat around the bush – I do love getting to comfort you. It SUCKS that you have to go through the hard times, but I like…being there. I hope that doesn’t make a sadist of me. Yeah, yeah, I know, that’s an overreaction.)

           By the way, I’m kinda sorry for not ordering the lobster bisque at the pub in the airport. I was gonna because of you! But I chickened out! And that salmon I got instead was REALLY good, okay? But it’s a double whammy because I had JUST found out the soup place in the mall closed and I need to make up for this. There will be soup!

           (As of the most recent draft, I had a horrid stomachache last Sunday, and chicken soup was all I could eat for most of the day. I thought of you. Though yours would’ve been better than Campbell’s and we both know it.)

           Fun fact: you are dating a silly, sappy lady. I keep thinking back to this letter – I drafted it once, then went back and added things, and here I am saying I ALMOST mailed this without talking up your looks. Which is probably a good thing because it means I’m primarily with you for your personality, but everyone deserves to feel like they look nice, so here goes: I love your silly, sly smirk. I love your cute little fangies. I love your untamed pink hair. I love when I can see just how deep-pink your eyes are. I love how much of a beanpole you are, and how much taller you are than me (even if it does mean you can’t carry me bridal-style for more than thirty seconds). I love how innocent you can look, and how you can look the absolute OPPOSITE of innocent when you want to. I love the way your face lights up when you’re happy about something, or when you’re being cocky. I love the way you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and I can always see how you feel just by looking (I’m bad at body language and reading between lines, after all). Do not ever doubt that is one handsome man looking back at you from the other side of the mirror! Because I could just watch your smile for so long, unbroken, you don’t even know.

           Thank you for being you. Thank you for letting me be me. Thank you for the fact that we’re our silly selves and we can be grown-ups without growing up in the gray space between good and evil. I can’t wait to see you more – in your own story, where I’m not; in the story just for us, in our own little timeline; in the TBTCverse Twilight Town where we are hounded by complex crossover lore; in the beautiful art everyone draws of you; in any other universe that may bring us together.

           And someday, the time might come that we have to part ways romantically. I’m not looking forward to that. I’m really not. I hope it doesn’t happen. But someday, we might not have the chemistry anymore, or you might find someone better, or I might have to put more focus in what I guess is the “real world.” If that day comes, I hope we can still be friends and mean something to each other. Zucchinis/QPPs, preferably. But if we have to be more distant…just so that I can think of you, and you can think of me, and we’ll both treasure those memories.

           I love you, Giovanni. Or should I say “Boss”?

 Sincerely, with all my heart,

Rachel “Composer” Scribere/Inlustris

(P.S. I wasn’t sure which universe’s last name I should put, seeing as I obviously am not going to write my last name in THIS world, so there, have both the ones you know me as.)

(P.P.S. “If there’s a place that I could be, then I’d be another memory. Can I be the only hope for you? Because you’re the only hope for me.” ~MCR, “The Only Hope for Me Is You,” Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys)

[hellholland]

A Queen and Her King || Tom Holland x Reader [Part 1][Gang/Assassin AU]

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is my very first action AU, so I apologize for things that seem oddly unrealistic in the crime world. I obviously don’t know much about it. If you have tips or feedback, please message/ask me about it! I created the idea for this fic through a song called Natalie by Bruno Mars, but I also want to credit @hollandroos​ for her fanfiction, Blow A Kiss, Fire A Gun. It was the very first Mob!Tom fanfiction I read (The first AU like that I’d ever read, actually.) and it still inspires me as I hope to continue this series. I hope for this to get better as it goes along. Just so you have the basic knowledge, this is kind of like a Mobster!AU meets Assassin!AU and a lot of wild crossover shit. 

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, language, guns, knives, suggestive sexual actions, mentions of pedophilia (It’s not any more graphic, it might even be less, than basic horror movies you might’ve seen. The description is mostly about action, not in depth detail of what it looks like. It’s an assassin/gang/mafia AU, so it’s kind of fucked up anyway.)

DISCLAIMER: This story contains content that I am just writing for the sake of the story. I do not condone/support it. Your “character” as the reader, may also do things you personally would not do. Please don’t read if you can’t handle that. THIS DOES NOT ACCURATELY REPRESENT TOM, HIS MORALS OR ANYONE HE’S ASSOCIATED WITH. I’M MERELY USING HIS IMAGE AND A NAME TO CREATE THIS STORY. PLEASE DO NOT EVER TAKE THIS AS AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF TOM. (This is more of a movie in my head, and a character Tom is playing)

I have trigger warnings at the scenes that should need them. Please let me know if there are other subjects that need warnings!

Prologue

As three shrill beeps replaced dialing noises, Tom’s anger skyrocketed. He began to pace and repeatedly clench his fists at an attempt to hold back everything he was feeling. 

 “We’re sorry, you’ve reached a number that is either disconnected or no longer linke-“ Tom spun around and threw the phone, sending it flying into his bedroom wall and crashing to the floor. “Goddamnit!” He sat down on the corner of his bed, staring out through the wall-to-wall glass pane that separated him from the rest of the world. The skyline was a vibrant dark blue, turning to purple and black. 

 Every  dollar in his safe he’d worked his ass off to get was gone. There was no trace, no logical reasoning as to how it got stolen. That safe was one of the most protected vaults in the world.

 Natalie, or Natalia as Tom used to call her endearingly, was gone too. 

Disappeared. No word, no warning. 

 Not only had she cheated on him, she robbed him.

 “Tom, what do you want to do to respond?” His best friend and co-leader Harrison asked, frustration clear in his voice.

 “I don’t fucking know. Nothing yet, we’re too vulnerable. We’ll...need alliances.”

 She took his heart out of his chest and walked all over it, puncturing it with her stiletto heels.

 He found out everything she’d done after she left. Of course the man was riddled with sadness and hurt, but the only feeling he let control him was anger.  

He couldn’t be weak. Not now, not ever. 

 After willingly letting her in and finally bringing his guard down, she wrecked him. You know what everyone says? That Natalie Rose Giovanni can never be overthrown. She’s notorious for the lives she takes and everything in between. That she’s untouchable. But in the end, the greatest revenge is going out and accomplishing what is said to be impossible. And that is exactly what he would do.

 This was personal now.

 Natalie, Europe’s top drug queenpin with a terrifying hidden past, versus Thomas Stanley Holland, the most notorious mafia leader in almost every corner of the northern eastern hemisphere. 

 She took everything he had, even some of his very best men.

 His team.

 His power. 

 His reputation. 

 His empire. 

Soon enough, he was going to take every single bit of it back, even if it meant ruining her fucking life. 

 Even if it meant killing her.          

One

“Hang on,” you giggle softly, looking up at the man in front of you. “Why don’t we go back to your room?” 

 His hands had made their way under your thighs and he had you up against a wall, giving him easy access to touch your body. “We’re not exactly in the most private area of the hotel.”

 “If it gets that dress off you, then that’s fine by me,” he replies, kissing down your neck.

 “Eugene!” You push his hands down and stand straight up, smiling coyly at the millionaire while listening for any instructions in your earpiece.

 “You’re doing good. Get the card to his room and be quick with this, (Y/N). This operation has some complications.” 

 “I’m just telling you how I really feel, Allison.” Of all the names Felix could pick for an undercover op, why choose such a plain one? 

 You slip your hand into his pocket, pulling out the key card and tucking it into your bra, all without breaking eye contact with him. “I’ll meet you there in ten,” you whisper in his ear, running a finger down his chest as you walked away.

 “Fucking pig,” you mutter to the man behind the earpiece, making quick time to the elevator.

“Right?” The man in question is Felix Sternberg, (Known as Judas by his “enemies”) one of the most elite proxy murder directors in the world, or at least the most famous among federal government organizations and operations that do things not commonly associated with the human moral code. (Murder, drug dealing, etc.) He’s one of your newest co-workers. The brains behind your newest weapons, technology and escapes. It’s possible that without him, you would’ve been in a supermax prison by now. 

The most intensely protected in the U.S filled with the worst kind of people imaginable.

 People like you.

 “What’s his deal again?” You ask, shaking your head away from the doubting thoughts that often plagued you. 

“Rape, robbery, embezzling, pedophilia, the usual.” Felix says nonchalantly.

 “God, I cannot wait to shower tonight, that’s disgusting...” 

 “You’re also technically a contract murderer for a living, so I don’t know if you’re one to judge, (Y/N).”

“But I’ve never done shit to kids or forced myself on a person. I only kill people who deserve it.” 

“That last part is debatable, but we’re moving on. Wait for the bellboy in the elevator to leave before going up.”

“Sounds good.” 

The red silk dress draped on your body was apart of the job, a request made by the contract. The person who hired you was actually his wife, Valerie Pence. She wasn’t much better than him when it came to money, but once she found out what he’d done, the decision was easy. There also might’ve been infidelity involved in her reasoning.

She’d informed you that the best way to get to him was probably seduction and that his favorite color was red. The combination of the two would make it easy to get him alone. She took you shopping for the dress herself, an odd way of saying thank you (other than money) for the favor. When you stepped out of the changing room to show her, she simply smiled, but her watering eyes displayed a different emotion.

“You look stunning. This’ll work.” You wonder what her thought process was with hiring you, how their relationship came to be and everything in between. Getting personally involved with clients was a beginner’s mistake, but in some cases it was incredibly hard not to even think about what happened between some duos.

“He’s gone, move fast.” Felix interrupts your recollection, snapping you back to your work.

Eventually, you end up in his room, only stopping for a minute to marvel at the lavish decor and to peek around. White silk sheets dressed the king sized bed, complimenting the other colors in the room. Dark reds, black and grey all combined to give the room a sensual and eerie feeling.

Eugene appears soon after, hastily moving toward you, lust in his eyes. “Hang on, let me just go get something ready okay?” You stopped him, one hand steady on his waist the other over his shoulder.

 “Alright...”

“I want you to wear this, though.” You found some questionable fabric, presumably left behind the last hotel-goer, and started to tie it around his eyes as a blindfold. “Now lay here,” you pushed him down on the bed, a little too roughly, but he didn’t question any of it. 

You enter the bathroom swiftly, the door clicking behind you. 

“Felix, where’s my stuff?” You whisper. 

“Underneath the sink. There’s a silenced pistol. The bag has a change of clothes in it and some sunglasses. Put your hair up, too. I have someone ready to tamper with the security footage, but just in case I want you to try and be very discreet and exit through the fire escape. No one should see since you’re on the back of the building. Your ride will be waiting to take you home.”

“Thanks.” You grab the bag and begin to undress, leaving only your satin gloves on. This replaced the fancy dress and heels with what you could only describe as an outfit straight off if 2015 grunge tumblr, doc martens and all. 

Not the worst, but not the best outfit choice.

“I have one more...treat for you you, Mr. Pence.” You call out through the door, smirking to yourself. 4 sets of handcuffed glistened in the bag, and a gag. 

“Thanks for leaving them in there Felix. Did you put her fingerprints on them?” 

“You’re sadistic, but yes. The police and FBI will likely arrest Kathryn and any of her employees. I planted stuff to lead them to the kids. You’re in the clear but you need to get a move on, even if that includes speeding up your ‘process’.”

Kathryn Moseby, a “friend” of the millionaire. She holds a position in congress. She’s also the ringleader of a pedophilic sex trafficking ring. 

“Like I said, he deserves my ‘process’. They all do. I’m doing the world a favor right now.”

“Whatever you say.” 

 You sigh, plucking the bag off the ground and walking back to the bedroom. “I hope you like your girls dominant, Eugene.” You quickly click the handcuff onto his hand and to the bed frame before he could even respond. His breathing started to become uneasy, but he nodded. 

 “It’s new...but I’ll try.” 

“You don’t have a choice.” You whisper, clicking the second handcuff shut. The other two might’ve been too loose, but they’d restrain him. “Final touches,” you smile, climbing into the bed and almost straddling him. He seems taken aback as you jerk the gag tightly to make sure it stays on. “We don’t want anyone to hear us, now do we?” He shakes his head nervously in response.

 As an extra precaution, you switch on the TV to a music station, turning the volume up just enough to mask loud conversations. “Alright Eugene. Let’s begin.” You pick up the pistol and a small knife, crawling on the bed.

You run your fingers along his chin, feeling less gross about touching him because of the fabric between you two.

“I fawt yoo changfed?” He tries to ask in reaction to feeling the gloves, barely audible or intelligible.

“Oh, I did.” You giggle, removing his mask.

[TW: Violence]

He’s shocked, confused, and now scared. His eyes take in your figure and then the gun in your hand. He starts to panic.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you off easy, did you?” The knife from earlier now glints menacingly in the soft lighting. “I don’t normally do it this slowly, but you’re a special kind of messed up. We’re all fucked up, especially me, but you, you’re a rapist and a pedophile. A cheater. Kind of the scum of the earth.”

He still wasn’t processing his situation entirely, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

He wasn’t screaming. 

He wasn’t begging.

 Yet. 

You jabbed the knife directly above his knee. Angling it towards the bone. This time, his entire body jerked and he started to yell, but the music drowned out his shouts.

“That was for every child and person you’ve ever touched.” You pulled it out, watching the tears stream from his eyes, then ripped past the buttons on his suit shirt. “And this is for Valerie.” 

You slowly carve the knife into his skin, toward the right side of his stomach. It was a number that you carved. 334. 

“I wonder who my 335th will be?” 

“Hey (Y/N), as much as I enjoy tuning your weird shit out and waiting for you, you need to be fast. Like now. We’re cutting our time too close.” 

“I got it.” You frown sarcastically at the pathetic, convulsing man beneath you. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to go.” You pull the knife away, wiping the blood off with your gloves. 

The red contrasts the starch white in a disgustingly satisfying way. You stand up, brandishing the pistol excitedly. His screams are becoming increasingly louder, and more annoying. 

Watching him writhe in pain and desperation filled you with a twisted sense of pride. You keep telling yourself that he deserves it to justify your actions, but there’s still that one ounce of innocence in you that rejects those thoughts. 

Then you remember Valerie’s voice on the other end of the phone when she called, tearfully begging for help. She sounded desperate and sad, not angry.

She just wanted him gone. 

Had she tried to divorce him, she might’ve been endangered. If she turned him in for his crimes, he’d send people after her. 

That’s all you need to get the job done.

“I’ll see you in hell.”

Bang.

Please leave feedback! I will gladly accept civil/kind worded constructive criticism. -Ciel

[pedroscurls]

Title: Coach Negan (Part 3.)

CHAPTER TITLE: The Results

Character(s): Negan and Reader (pre-apocalypse/AU) Summary: Taylor gives you some advice and on the day of the results, Negan asks you out on a date. Word Count: 4,483 Warning: SMUT!!! HERE WE GO. THE TIME HAS COME (and so has you and Negan lol see what I did there?)  Author’s Note: I was going to wait another chapter before having them hook-up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The tension was too thick and I needed to make it happen. Also, thank you guys for all your comments! I’ve been kinda MIA lately, but I appreciate all of you that stick around. I hope you enjoy this smutty goodness! ;-)

(GIF Source: @jeffrey-daddy-morgan)

You were sitting on the couch with Taylor beside you, a box of pizza and your respective glasses of wine on the coffee table. The results for the basketball team was going to be posted today and Taylor thought it would be best to have pizza and alcohol either as a celebration or a reason to sulk. Either way, it was a good combination for whichever outcome.

“I think you’re in,” Taylor smiled. “And not because the coach has a huge fucking hard-on for you, but because you’re really good.”

“Well thanks, Taylor. I don’t know though. If I do make the team, I can’t continue feeling the way I do for Negan. Obviously,” you shrugged, sipping your glass of wine.

Both of you were lounging around the apartment, dressed in clothes that neither of you would dare to walk out into public with. Taylor had truly become your best friend since deciding to room with her and it was the greatest decision you ever made. She was like an older sister that you never had, but wanted.

“Why not?”

You looked at her, arching a brow as if she was really questioning your decision to stay out of having an intimate relationship with Negan. “What do you mean why not? I can’t date my coach!”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fuck him though,” she winked.

“I’m not like that, Taylor…”

“I know you aren’t, but maybe it’s time that you go out there and have fun. You can’t keep missing out on potential opportunities because you want to jump into a relationship first,” Taylor replied. “This isn’t high school anymore where you get to know each other, become boyfriend and girlfriend, then have sex. We’re adults now.”

“Taylor…”

“Listen, I know. Your last relationship -- He was a fucking jackass, but not every guy is like him. Plus, I’ve got a good vibe from Negan.”

You bit your lower lip, resting your cheek against the couch as you looked over at her. You had been contemplating on just sleeping with Negan and allowing it to run its course, to just go with the flow, but it was difficult for you. You wanted to strictly have an established relationship first before anything else were to happen.

“I don’t know, Taylor…”

“Don’t tell me you and Negan haven’t talked dirty on the phone with each other or texted one another… Or rather, sexted,” she laughed.

“Taylor!” you giggled, blushing deeply. “We have, okay? It isn’t the same though.”

“How is it not the same? The only difference is he hasn’t put his dick in you, but figuratively speaking, he has. The thought is there. You just have to let it happen,” she advised. “Plus, you already had him over here.”

“That was a spontaneous decision,” you admitted.

“And look where that got you… Sitting on his lap and feeling him up,” she smirked. “Did you feel it?”

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes, shaking your head. “Taylor, come on.”

“I want to know. Since finding out that I like women, it’s been awhile since I’ve felt or seen a dick. You felt it, didn’t you? Oh shit. Tell me how it went down,” she grinned excitedly.

“Taylor…”

“Spill.”

“Fine, fine. I just kinda -- He pulled me on his lap and --”

“On this couch?! Oh shit. Am I sitting where he was sitting?” Taylor laughed.

“No, god, no. I mean, yes, it was on the couch, but -- Taylor, stop! Do you want me to continue or what?”

“All right, all right. Go on, Miss Goody-Good.”

“I’ll hit you,” you threatened playfully.

“And you know I’d like it,” she winked.

“I can never win with you. My god.”

Taylor laughed, gesturing for you to continue.

“Well, like I said, he pulled me onto his lap and damn it, Taylor… I felt it. Like immediately. I could tell that he was big too.”

“You sound like you want that diiiick,” she exaggerated.

You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your wine. You leaned over for the rest of the bottle and poured yourself another glass, looking at Taylor who was looking at you skeptically.

“I can’t, Taylor.”

“Okay, give me one reason.”

“I just -- I’m not like that.”

“Like what? A woman with needs?”

“Taylor… You know what I mean.”

“What’s different from you having sex with Negan without being in a relationship first? Who knows, maybe you two will start dating after he puts his dick inside of you,” she laughed.

“Do you always have to talk like that?” you sighed, the blush in your cheeks deepening.

“I’m just saying. He’s into you and you’re into him.”

“If I make the team, he’s going to be my coach, Taylor.”

“Good enough reason to fuck him in his office,” she winked.

“Let’s say I do end up sleeping with him… What if he disregards me afterwards? What if he just got what he wanted and then that’s it?”

Taylor sighed, “You need to stop over analyzing every situation before it happens, babe. If that happens, then you move on. You give him a taste of his own medicine if that happens, but something tells me that it won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because Negan eye-fucks you every time he sees you. It’s proven from the tryouts I attended yesterday. After he has you once, he’s going to want you again. Plus, you’re a catch. Who wouldn’t want you? Shit, I even tried to make you switch sides but you won’t budge,” she laughed.

You laughed quietly, shaking your head and leaning back against the couch. “Maybe I’ll try it out,” you shrugged. “I don’t know though. If I make the team, it’s going to be even more difficult.”

“Like you never had the fantasy of sleeping with a Professor or Coach,” Taylor teased.

“Oh, shut up,” you smiled, grabbing a plush pillow from the couch and tossing it at her.

“I’m just saying. You’ve always had a thing for older guys anyway. It just so happens that Negan is perfect daddy material.”

“Taylor! Oh my god, I’m not even into that,” you rolled your eyes, setting your now empty glass of wine down onto the coffee table. You already had three glasses and you didn’t know whether you made the team or not. You needed to pace yourself.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep lyin’ to yourself. There’s no hurt in trying it out. You may even finally get fucked better than any other man you’ve been with. Just keep that in mind,” Taylor winked.

Before you could reply, your phone began to ring. Taylor quickly grabbed it, grinning to herself when she read Negan’s name on the screen. Standing from the couch, she kept a distance and answered the call, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Taylor speaking,” she laughed. “Oh, hi, Negan…”

“Oh. Hi. Do I have the wrong number or --”

“Nope. You’ve got it correctly. May I ask why you’re calling?”

You stood, trying to lunge for her. Taylor extended a hand, laughing to herself as she tried to pay attention to what Negan was saying while fending off your attacks.

“I just wanted to let her know that she made the team,” Negan smiled.

“She what? No way!” Taylor grinned. “You made the team!”

“What?!” you exclaimed, reaching for her and grabbing the phone from her grasp. “I made the team?” you repeated into the phone.

Negan chuckled, “You sure fucking did, sweetheart.”

“Taylor, holy shit… I made the team!”

Taylor grinned, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring you another glass. “Celebration time!”

You laughed quietly, bringing the phone back to your ear to hear Negan’s deep chuckle as well. “I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed with excitement right now.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re going to fucking make it all the way this year and we’ll have you to thank for it,” Negan replied.

Taylor took the phone once more and instead, handed you the glass of wine. She urged you to down the entire glass as she spoke to Negan once more while you were distracted. “So, Neegs, may I call you Neegs?”

“No, Negan is just fine, doll.”

“Fine, be a party pooper. Anyway, like I was saying… When are you going to bone my roommate?” Taylor laughed, watching as your eyes widened and your cheeks turned pink.

Negan was taken aback by her bluntness. He also wasn’t expecting her to speak that way; he was the only one who could easily talk like that. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. When are you going to stick it in? Bury the bone? Fill the cream donut?”

“Oh my god, Taylor!” you yelled, setting the empty glass after downing its contents. You lunged at her, managing to get her to the floor. Immediately, you crawled towards the phone that she managed to toss down the hall and quickly grabbed it. You stood and ran to your room, locking it behind you as Taylor laughed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you two sex it up on the phone then,” she laughed, giving you your much needed privacy.

With a heavy sigh, you shut your eyes and brought the phone back to your ear. “Negan?”

“Your roommate’s fucking hilarious, doll.”

“I’m sorry about that,” you sighed.

“Listen, I called not only to tell you the good news myself, but also because I have a question to ask you.”

“Oh… What is it? Is everything okay?”

Negan cleared his throat. “Yeah, everything’s fucking peachy. I just -- I don’t normally do this, but would you like to have dinner with me? Tonight, maybe? A celebratory dinner.”

You bit back a smile, your cheeks turning pink once more. “A date, huh?”

“Don’t act so surprised, doll. So, is that a yes?”

You giggled, biting your lower lip as a small grin lined your lips. “Yes. I’d love to have dinner with you, Negan.”

“Great. Tonight at seven?”

“Perfect. Any particular dress code?” you asked.

“Naked will work fine,” he teased.

“Ha ha. Seriously… Should I dress up or--”

“Casual is fine. I’ll be cooking, so no need for the fancy shit. Unless you’re into that then we can do that as well…” Negan suggested.

“Nope. I love a home cooked meal.”

“Well good because I make the best spaghetti.”

“Now you set yourself to the highest standards. I will be very disappointed if it isn’t good,” you teased.

“Oh, I can assure you it will be fucking good. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll text you my address.”

“All right, Negan. See you tonight.”

“See you later, doll. Congratulations again.”

After he hung up, you fell back on your bed with a big grin on your lips. Things were now finally falling into place with making the basketball team and your new relationship with Negan. You decided that you were going to take Taylor’s advice and just go with the flow. If it didn’t work out, then at least you could say that you tried.

“You’re going to get deep dicked tonight!” Taylor laughed, sitting on the couch while you slipped into your ankle boots.

“I’m taking your advice. Whatever happens, happens.”

“He said to dress casually, right? But fuck, you look hot,” she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah. He’s cooking us dinner.”

“Well, it seems like he’s got the entire package, and then some, doesn’t he?” Taylor winked.

“Okay, I’m leaving now.” you laughed, draping your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Taylor.”

“Or tomorrow morning,” she grinned. “Seriously, have fun, okay? Don’t think too much. Just go with the flow of things.”

“I will, thank you.”

“And if he turns out to be a jackass, don’t hesitate to call me.”

You laughed, leaning down to give her a hug. “I will, Taylor.”

“All right. Now, go and have some fun. Let’s hope you end the night riding that dick of his.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, pulling away. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun!”

You parked your car along the curb, climbing out nervously. You were dressed in black jeans that were folded just atop of your boots with an olive green knit sweater. Your hair remained in its natural state and you managed to even put on a light amount of makeup.

It would be a different change from what Negan was used to seeing you in. He had gotten used to the shorts and tanktops that you were sure he would be surprised to see what you looked like in regular clothes.

With a heavy breath, you walked quietly to his door and knocked on it. After a few passing seconds, the door opened to reveal Negan in grey slacks -- barefoot -- and a white t-shirt with a light grey apron. Though, it wasn’t his attire that caught you by surprise. It was his beard, or lack thereof.

“You shaved,” you blurted out.

“I did. You like it?” he smiled, allowing you inside as he held the door open for you.

“I see your dimples better now.”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment. Make yourself at home. Food’s almost ready.” he said, his eyes taking you in. Negan’s eyes watched as you turned your back to him to remove your boots, his eyes falling onto your backside and how your jeans did a perfectly good job at accentuating your ass. He wanted nothing more than to grab it.

Clearing his throat, Negan took your bag and draped it on the coat rack near the door. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen, bringing you to stand near the stove as he stirred the wooden spoon into the sauce he was currently making.

“I can’t believe you’re literally in an apron right now.”

Negan smirked, “Want to see me in nothing but the apron?”

You blushed, biting your lower lip. “I’d rather not.”

“Liar,” he winked. Negan scooped the sauce onto the spoon and lifted it to his lips, shutting his eyes and grinning to himself. “Mmmm. My god, that is fucking delicious. I’m so fucking good. Try it,” he smiled.

You stepped forward, parting your lips when Negan brought the spoon to your lips. As you tasted the sauce, you moaned in delight and opened your eyes to see Negan staring intently at your lips as if he was transfixed. “That’s so good. Did you make it yourself?”

“All homemade, baby.” he grinned, forcing himself to get out of the trance he was currently stuck in. “Wine or beer?”

“Wine’s perfect,” you replied.

“All right. Go and take a seat at the dining table. Dinner’s almost ready.”

You left the kitchen and sat in front of one of two plates. Your ears perked up at the sound of Negan entering with a bowl of spaghetti and a tray of garlic bread. He set it down onto the table before taking his seat across from you. Negan poured you a glass of wine while he set his bottle of beer down in front of him.

“Thanks for having dinner with me,” he smiled, taking you plate and setting the spaghetti onto it.

You watched him carefully, your eyes skimming over his features now that his beard was gone. His eyes seemed to change in color, making it more green and hazel-like rather than its usual brown. His dimples were much more noticeable and you found yourself wanting him to smile constantly.

“Oh, um, it’s no problem, and thank you.” you replied, taking the fork from the table once he set your plate down. After each of you had your plates filled, you began to eat, the sounds of silverware clinking against one another echoing throughout the dining room.

“Your roommates got one fucking personality,” Negan chuckled. “Taylor, right? She was the one who was also at tryouts.”

“That is her. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don’t be. She’s very fucking entertaining.” Negan smiled, watching your reaction as you ate. He grinned proudly to himself at your constant quiet sounds of moans and the occasional shut of your eyes. “You enjoying the food?”

You blushed. “I am, yes. It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“I can tell by the way you’re fucking moaning,” he chuckled. “Tell me, is that how you sound when you’re having sex?”

You almost choked on your food, grabbing a napkin to dab at your lips. The color in your cheeks simply reddened and you tried to hide it with the glass of wine, sipping at the alcohol.

“Maybe,” you replied.

“You’re teasin’ me. Again, doll.”

“Maybe I like teasing you, Negan. Ever think of that?”

Negan smirked, his tongue running across his pearly white teeth. “What else do you like, doll?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out,” you winked. You were slowly loosening up throughout the dinner. Negan had this natural charm to him that you couldn’t get enough of. Despite the sexual tension that lingered in the air, you found yourself wanting to hear him talk about the countless stories of his time coaching at the university.

After dinner, you stood from the table and walked to the kitchen. Out of habit, you began to clean the dishes after pulling your hair up into a ponytail. Negan stepped into the kitchen and smirked to himself, setting your empty glass of wine down next to you with your lipstick staining the rim of the glass.

“You know you don’t have to wash these,” he said, hovering closely behind you.

“I know… It’s the least I could do. You cooked, I’ll wash.”

Negan smiled, stepping forward until he was pressing into you from behind. His hands rested on your hips and his lips dropped to your exposed neck. The lack of stubble made you focus on his soft lips grazing each inch of your skin and you tried to continue washing the dishes, but he was far too distracting.

“My favorite player,” he mumbled, squeezing your hips and pulling you back roughly against him. “A damn good basketball player with a nice fucking ass,” Negan growled, his hand dropping further to grasp onto your backside roughly.

“Negan…” you whimpered, reaching out to turn the water off. You pushed back against him, causing a quiet groan to escape his lips.

Slowly, Negan turned you around, staring deeply into your eyes. His hands moved to rest underneath your sweater, his fingertips touching your skin. You shivered, looking up at him.

“My hands are wet,” you mumbled.

“Mine will be too in a second,” he winked.

Negan grabbed a paper towel and gently dried your hands, his eyes staring deeply into yours. He needed to make sure that you were okay with this. Just a few days ago, you stopped yourself because you said you weren’t ready and he didn’t want to force you into doing anything that you didn’t want to.

“I like you and I know it’s not ideal for us to do fucking anything since I’m your coach, but… I need you just as badly as you fucking need me,” Negan whispered huskily.

“I want you,” you responded immediately. “I want you right now.”

“Are you sure?” Negan asked.

“I wouldn’t say it if it I wasn’t.”

Negan looked down at you, clearing his throat as your hands pressed against his chest. You could feel the thin fabric underneath your fingertips and you stood on your toes to gently nip at his earlobe, shutting your eyes.

“Negan… Take me…”

He growled, hoisting you off your feet. Negan held you against him, allowing your lips to gently suck and nip along his neck. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, setting you down against the mattress.

You stared up at him, licking your lips as you stood and lifted the end of his shirt over his head, dropping it to the ground. Your fingertips ran down his chest, biting your lower lip at the dark curls of chest hair. Slowly, you pushed on his shoulders to make him sit at the edge of his bed as you stood between his legs.

Negan ran his hands up the sides of your legs until he reached the end of your sweater. Slowly, he lifted it to your abdomen and you took the initiative by removing it completely. You set it on the floor next to his shirt and bit your lower lip when you felt his lips run across your now exposed skin.

“Goddamn, you’re beautiful,” he growled against you.

You blushed, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Removing it from your body, Negan looked up and watched as the bra revealed your breasts to him. Immediately, he sat up and lined light kisses along your skin, moving his lips upwards to your nipples.

Once his lips attached to you, you moaned and moved your hands to his hair, stroking his dark locks away from his face. Negan used his free hands to undo the button and unzip your pants. You shimmied your lower half to help him remove your jeans, slowly kicking it to the side.

Negan’s tongue flicked repeatedly against your nipple, moving across your chest to pay attention to your other breast. You groaned quietly, your wetness staining your thong as Negan’s hand played with the waistband.

“Negan…” you moaned, gently pushing on his shoulders. You watched as he lied down and you leaned down as well to undo his jeans, slowly pulling it down his legs and feet. Your eyes caught sight of the obvious tent in his boxers which simply made you even more wet at the anticipation.

Negan gently tugged on your hand, his other arm wrapping around your waist as you straddled his lap. He groaned when he felt your wet heat against the fabric of his boxers, looking up at you as you slowly rolled your hips against his throbbing manhood.

“Holy fuck, you are sexy.” he commented, slowly lowering your panties. He tossed it over his shoulder and immediately ran his index finger along the soaking slit, groaning to himself. “And fucking wet.”

“I need you right now, Negan… Please,” you pleaded, gasping when he rolled you onto your back.

“Oh, doll… Hearing you beg is just making my dick harder than it already is,” he smirked. Negan spread your legs with his own and reached down to pull his boxers from his body. He kicked it off and growled when his manhood sprang free from its confines.

You widened your eyes at the sight of his member. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been intimate with a man; it had been too long. Negan grasped his member, running the head along your slit repeatedly.

“Just so you know… We’re doing this over and over and over again until the only thing you can think of is my dick ramming into your tight pussy,” he whispered huskily, slowly pushing into your tight heat. “Fuck, you are tight…”

You moaned loudly, a sudden wave of pain flooding through you. You tried to relax, your arms wrapping around his frame tightly as your nails slightly dug into his skin. “Oh god, Negan…”

“You like that, doll? You feel what you do to me? How hard you make me?” he groaned, slowly pulling his hips out before pushing it back in. Negan continued his slow thrusts, allowing you to get used to his girth while he reveled in your tight walls stroking his manhood.

“Yes… Faster, Negan,” you begged, arching your back into him as you kept your legs spread apart for him.

Negan groaned, pulling back enough to look down at you. His hands rested on the bed near your head, slowly increasing his pace like you asked. Negan hadn’t shown any interest in a woman since Lucille died, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been with another woman since.

You were different and he knew that from the moment he met you. Not only was he willing to wait until you were ready, but Negan was willing to see where this new relationship would take him. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.

“Negan!” you moaned aloud, your legs now finally wrapping around his waist. Negan picked up the speed, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout his bedroom. His lips latched onto your neck, sucking gently as he allowed his hips to do the rest of his work.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, grabbing your hands and placing them above your head. “Open your eyes, doll… Let me see how pretty you look.”

You laced your fingers with his slowly, staring up at him and moaning once more. Negan knew exactly how to pleasure a woman. You didn’t know what it was like to have a man focus on your needs rather than their own. You could feel yourself approach climax by the way your toes began to curl. You wanted to shut your eyes, but Negan delivered a sharp thrust, pushing himself deep inside you and remained still.

“Keep ‘em open for me. I want to see your face when I make you come,” he growled. “You’re close, aren’t you, doll?”

“Y -- Yes!” you moaned, staring deeply into Negan’s eyes. As he began his rapid thrusts once more, you felt your walls begin to tighten. You were close and Negan knew it too. He removed his hand from yours to drop towards your clit, beginning to circle it with the pads of his fingertips in sync with his thrusts.

With the added pleasure, you arched your back and shut your eyes tightly. You felt like you were on cloud nine from the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling. Negan groaned, continuing his thrusts before he pulled out to release along your lower abdomen. He painted your skin with streaks of white and panted heavily, staring down at you.

“My god,” you said breathlessly. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you with a small smile. For once, he wasn’t sporting a charming smirk or a cheshire grin, but instead, he looked content.

“Yeah, we are definitely doing that over again,” he commented with a chuckle.

Negan climbed out of bed to retrieve a small paper towel, cleaning his release off your body. You watched him with a small grin, sitting up and feeling the slight soreness at your lower half.

“Negan?” you called.

He looked down at you, lying back down next to you. Negan wrapped his arms around you and allowed you to lie back, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Kinda sore,” you blushed.

“We’ll have to fix that since the first practice is tomorrow night.”

“How do you propose we fix it?” you asked.

Negan smirked, licking his lips. “I’ve got a few fucking ideas.”

You blushed, kissing his cheek lightly. “I bet you do.”

“Welcome to the team, doll,” he winked, holding you closer in his arms.

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