#my reaction to o saying 'i beat him' was pausing the tv and running across my house and into my room to text tiffany

[lingeringscars]

i’m honestly still recovering from the e / o scene but i would just like to say b.echo rights. i called it when e.cho was like “it took you three years to forgive me” in 5x01 that they pretty much started dating right then. also bellamy saying that loyalty is echo’s biggest weakness i CALLED this too Thank You. 

[slashiest-slasher]

For @slashthedice‘s Frisky February!

Day 9: Consensual Non-Con

Billy Lenz x Male s/o (WOW this is fucking long, obvious tw applied, don’t like don’t read)

Billy would never touch you without your permission. Okay, maybe that's a lie. He quite frequently hugs onto you and feels you up whenever he damn well pleases. But he would never take advantage of you, never go beyond heavy petting and steamy makeout sessions without waiting with baited breath for you to nod and tell him he can go on ahead.

For all of his eccentricities and oddities, he's holds your comfort (at least, your comfort regarding your permission) strangely high. It's so conflicting that at times it makes your head spin. One moment, absolute filth will be spilling out of his mouth and his nails will be digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood, and the next, he'll demurely look up at you through long, pale lashes asking "Can Billy?"

Honestly, it turns you on sometimes. But there were times when all you want is for Billy to take you fast and hard, without hesitation. To wrangle you to the floor and have his way with you, even if that's the last thing you want. When it's daylight out, and Billy is hidden away and sleeping in the attic, it's about the only thing you can think of when you have some you-time (which is jerking off in the shower, typically).

And tomorrow just happens to be the exact day that everything just so happens to line up for you. Barb's planning an absolute rager of a pre-game before heading over to her latest fling's place for the actual party with the rest of the girls, excluding Clare, who's heading down to the police station to get something done about the Moaner's phone calls.

You wish that you could get Billy to stop that particular habit, but he went hysterical at their reactions, how indignated and flustered and scared the girls that the sorority would get whenever he called. You found it fun at times, when Barb would tell you to "be the man of the house" and handle the calls, mostly because Billy endlessly frothed about pussy and she thought it would be a riot to have a guy on the phone. 

Getting Billy riled up by dirty talking (or dishing him some of his own medicine, as the others thought) lead to some great sex with him. Where he would almost take you the moment he sees you, but still pauses, waiting for your response.

So you get planning, sitting Billy down the night before and carefully trying to explain to him what you wanted. You wanted him to use you, fuck you tomorrow even if you say no. To hurt you as much as he wants. To only ever stop if you tell Billy red, or slow down or do something else if you say yellow. That you get off on this kind of thing. You won't get shitfaced tomorrow, just enough that you won't be able to fight back properly.

Billy is vibrating again in his spot on the bed. "You won't... You won't hate Billy? If Billy does to bad things t-t-to you?"

You shake your head and caress his face. "Not when I'm telling you it's fine, and as long as you stop when I say that phrase. You can be as rough and as mean as you want, and I won't get mad at you."

"But- what if Billy doesn't want it? Wh-what if Billy doesn't want to be bad?"

"Then we don't have to. It's just a fantasy babe, I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want. And if you start to get uncomfortable, you can say the same phrases, and we can stop."

Billy nods slowly at first, but ramps up, and suddenly stops to look you in the eyes. "You trust Billy th-that much?"

There's some part of you that wants to say no, you don't Billy is so unpredictable, that there are times you think you're going to wake up to him standing over your bed with a knife. But at the same time there's something that tugs inside you that says otherwise, that as feral as he gets, he would never hurt you. You tuck a lock of stray hair behind his ear, and caress his cheek. "Of course I do Billy."

Billy's cheek go red, but you don't get to see it for that long before he launches himself at you, burying his face in your chest and spilling out gibberish. You catch a "Love you, love you, love you" and a "sweetie pie" which makes your heart skip a beat.

The next day, you've got a nice buzz going for yourself. A nice pleasant warmth in your gut and fuzzy feeling in your head that makes you misjudge how your legs are working just a little bit. You have your wits about you, so you trail behind the girls as they leave, leaning heavily on the doorway to wave them goodbye. Clare had left five or so minutes earlier to head to the police station.

"Bye bye girls! Be safe!" you shout after them, blowing a kiss and giggling when Phyl catches it in her hand and presses it to her chest.

As you stumble your way back into the living room and let yourself fall back onto the armchair, you surmise that maybe, just maybe, you're a little more drunk than you originally thought. Your head spins and pulses when you land, so instead of going to turn the TV on like you were planning, you sink back into the armchair and try to get your wits about you.

You sit around for a good ten minutes trying to get your head to stop swimming, staring up at the ceiling. The bones of the house creak and groan, but you wrap that up to the wind and cold warping it. Claude had hopped up onto your lap some time ago, curling up and nipping at your hand when you don't immediately start petting him.

"You sill fat cat, you're so needy," you tease, stroking his white fur. He chirps briefly, but puts his head back down on your lap and starts purring. It's nice, lulling you towards sleepiness. That was a problem with you when you drank, if you didn't push through the initial drowsy haze, you pass out pretty quickly.

Just as you're about to nod off, someone grabs you by your head and pulls you over the armrest. Claude scatters, and you're thrown heavily to the floor. Above you stands Billy, chest heaving and eyes glued to you. Well, you're wide awake now. He hesitates for only a moment before hauling you to your knees by your.

"P-pretty cunt," his other hand goes to undo his belt and fly. "F-fucking t-tease, you want my f-fucking cock? My f-fat juicy cock shoved into your p-pretty p-p-pink lips, f-fucking your throat."

You try to get away, but the tight grip on your hair makes you wail and tears to spring up. "Get away from me!" you shout, grabbing his wrist and trying to loosen his fingers.

He silces you with a sharp slap across your cheek that makes your teeth clack together and leave bleeding scratches on your face. With his grip on your locks still tight, he drags you across the living room, and throws you onto the couch.

While you're still dazed and reeling from the slap, Billy rips you shirt off and slips his belt free to tie your forearms together. "Tie up the p-piggy bitch, so it can't get away when I f-fuck its holes." He roughly pulls down your jeans halfway down your thighs and just barely runs his fingertips along your bare ass.

"No! Don't fucking touch me!"

It makes Billy's hands stutter for only a moment, but he continues on, and spreads your cheeks. The first swipe of his tongue has you letting out a sharp gasp. He's drooling again and he forces his tongue into you, lapping and making wet, squelching noises.

Billy is like a man starved, trying to get as deep as possible, and digging his nails, drawing more blood, into your ass. Spit and drool dribbles down your perineum, and you really have to fight to not moan. You thrash weakly instead as your sensitivity builds. "Please, stop! I don't want this!"

Again, it makes Billy pause just enough. He pulls himself off of you and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He slurps on his fingers briefly before slipping them inside your already soaking and dripping, and hurriedly rushes in trying to stretch you. It feels more like a cursory exploration, quickly getting in to press firmly against your prostate, just to see you shiver and moan. He fumbles getting his fly undone, and that's when you take your chance.

You try to toss yourself bodily over the couch, and manage to get down on the floor (bringing Billy with you). You squirm out from under him, and knee him in the gut for good measure before struggling up to your knees.

Where to go, where to go? Outdoors is a no since you can't even get the door open like this, let alone would you be willing to run outside with your dick and ass out. The basement would be the smartest choice.

Billy catches up to you surprisingly fast, skittering to a stop at the foot of the stairs. You give no mind to kicking him in the chest, sending him sprawling back into a table, knocking the vase off.

While he's trying to collect himself, you dart up the stairs to your bedroom. Under the bed is the only place you can hide, so you drop to the floor and slide under.

Your heart is thumping hard against your chest, and it takes all of your power to get control of your breathing when you hear Billy thundering up the stairs and yelling expletives and your name. Your heart feels like it stops when your bedroom door swings open, bouncing off door stop before he slams it close and locks the door. He stands there a moment, turning bodily to look around.

Just when you think he's going to turn around and leave, he crouches down and stares at you with one eerily lit eyes. "Agnes, it's me, Billy," he whispers, grabbing onto you ankles tight enough to hurt. It makes your heart skip from a real palpable fear that Billy has slipped into a manic state. But you've got to trust him, you've got to have that faith.

Instead you squirm and kick, trying to break free of his grip, but you aren't able to, and just keeps pulling until you're out, and his crotch is pressed to your ass. He swings at you once, catching you in the lip. Enough to throw you off and wrap his hands around your throat tightly, and smack your head against the floor. It makes your vision go black, your head to swim, and panic rising up in the back of you throat.

"Yellow," you manage to rasp out.

Billy immediately lets go of you, and stares down at you unblinking, panting, while you coughed and sucked in air. Completely silent, just watching. He only waits until you've just caught your breath before getting up and heaving you onto your bed, face smooshed in the pillows and ass in the air.

Billy doesn't wait for any confirmation, or assurances, or okays, and climbs onto you and thrusts into your. His hips don't need any time to find a pace, and he's pounding into with no care for the sobs coming from you. "F-filthy f-fucking pig, taking my cock, you like it~" Billy teases, fucking into you harder. He squeals and snorts, rambling off.

Neither of you hear the door struggling to be opened downstairs.

"St-stop! It hurts, it hurts!" you cry, tears spilling down your face. Even with Billy having eating you out, the spit isn't much for actual lubrication. "Get off of me!" God it burns, but your thighs are trembling and your cock is rock hard. When Billy amps up, close and chasing his orgasm already, he fucks you as hard as he can, which only makes you cry harder. It suddenly becomes slicker, and you know it's because of your blood.

Billy cums inside you, and with little care pulls out. His cum spills from you, and with much softer and gentler hands, reaches around to stroke your cock, but there’s yelling from downstairs and people running up the stairs. Billy jump out of the bed, quickly doing up his pants while someone tries to kick the door open.

He's out of the window and sprinting into the dark, shadowy corners of the neighborhood before the door finally opens. It has to be a nightmare when Lieutenant Fuller burst through, Clare close behind him.

"Jesus Christ," he lets out in a breath, and Clare gasps when she get in and sees you. "Go wait downstairs," he orders.

"But-"

Lt. Fuller's voice is soft as he directs her out of the room. "Let the man have some dignity." Lt. Fuller turns back to you, and undoes the belt around your arms. It leaves bright red marks where the skin was rubbed raw.

His hands hover on your shoulders while you push yourself up with arm, while the other tries to pull up your pants and hide your erection. Thankfully, Lt. Fuller looks away the moment he notices it, letting you get your pants up all the way and zipped up.

He takes off his coat, and places it on your shoulders. You were shaking, weren't you? you could hardly notice. Oh what a mess. Billy was never going to come back, was he? Fuller grabs a kleenex from your nightstand and wipes at the tears on your cheeks. He stops at you hisses when he wipes the tissue over your injured cheek. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get that creep, and make sure he gets locked up."

You numbly nod, and pull the coat tighter around yourself. You let him lead you out of your room and down the stairs into the kitchen after a distraught looking Clare tells him not the living room, your torn shirt in her hand.

He sits down opposite of you at the kitchen table, while Clare busies herself with making some coffee. Lt. Fuller pulls out a notepad and pen. "Son, I know it hurts to think about, but can you remember anything about what the perpetrator looks like?"

You shake your head, not looking up from the table. Time to put those acting classes to good use. "I-I don't know, it was so dark, and I was so scared. I think he had short, dark hair? Maybe? A-and he was taller than me, I think. His skin kind of looked yellow, but it could've been the light" You accept the cup when Clare passes it to you.

"Is that all?" Fuller asks. "Don't worry if it is, you were under a lot of stress. I'm surprised you remembered anything."

Clare suddenly gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. "You don't think it was the Moaner? Or," she shudders. "I know you don't want me bringing it up, but could it have been Will?"

"Will? Who's that?" Fuller asks, eyes darting between you and Clare.

"My..." you mutter quietly enough that Fuller asks you to repeat yourself. "My boyfriend," you get out, looking into your coffee cup.

Lt. Fuller nods, scribbling it down on his notepad. "I know it's difficult to change habits, but that was made legal years ago. Legally, there's nothing I can do to you. But even if it was illegal..." You start shaking again, clutching your mug tightly. "Well, I've turned a blind eye more than once. Had a blind eye turned towards me more than once as well. All I need to know is if it could have been him."

You let out a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding in. "No, it wasn't... It wasn't Will, he's the same height as me, a lot skinnier, and we would never hurt me. He adores me. And the guy he was- he was completely silent. I don't think it was the Moaner."

Fuller nods again, writing it all down. "Would you be willing to go to the hospital?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Alright, can't force you to do anything. I'll radio the information back, and if you'll let me, I'll station myself outside of your door."

You go to object, but Clare cuts you off. "Oh would you? It's so scary just us in the house alone with the Moaner and another maniac out on the loose."

Lt. Fuller smiles and pats her arm. "Of course, and tomorrow morning I'll have an officer stationed outside of the house. But tonight, he could try come back in, and I wan't to make sure both of you stay safe."

Clare looks so strung up that you don't say anything, and nod along with what he's saying. You drain down the rest of your coffee, and stand up. "I'm gonna go take a shower." You hand Lt. Fuller his coat back, before making him up a cup of coffe and also handing that to him. "I think there's some pastries in the fridge, you can help yourself."

"I'll be up to check on you in a bit."

"Yeah," you say, voice hoarse. As soon as you're out of view, your body deflates. The one night you try doing something different... You can only hope that Billy'll show up eventually. You don't care about how you feel, you're fine, embaressed, exhausted, but Billy... Just thinking about how scared he must be makes your stomach turn.

You stop and stare at yourself in the mirror before getting into the shower. And Christ you're a mess, no wonder Lt. Fuller was so worried. Your eyes are red and raw, tear tracks on your cheeks, one cheek swollen and scabbed from where Billy scratched you. Your lip is busted open and stings when you run your lip over it.

Your shower routine is the same as it normally is, though you are a bit more careful cleaning yourself out. Your fingers and the water stings. It seems like Billy isn't going to be topping for a while. You're sure he'll be devastated. You just want him back in your arms.

Thank fuck your bed doesn't have any cum stains on it when you go to crawl in. Your door doesn't close quite right, thanks to Fuller. The only thing on your bed is a thin sheet, to prepare for what Billy might do to you. The mess he might make. But everything hurts too much for your to care about the chill.

Your bedroom door cracks open, and for a moment you hope it's Billy, before Lt. Fuller walks in with two quilts, and a cold pack in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. He sets down the glass and cold pack on the night stand, before layering the quilts over your shivering body.

"You don't have to." You weakly say as he pulls the quilts up to your chin.

"You're right, I don't." Lt. Fuller grabs the cold pack and presses it to your swollen cheek, making you sigh. He sits down on the bed next to you. "I have a nephew, a few years younger than you. I'm never going to have kids, so he's the closest I got. And... You look a helluva lot like him, you know?"

You let him reach over and stroke your hair.

He watches you for a few moments before getting up. "I'll be out in the hall, alright? Yell if anything happens."

It isn't until a good half hour after Lt. Fuller leaves, you unable to drift into sleep, that you hear a light rapping on your window. When you look over, you see the familiar form of Billy, shadows entirely except for one unsettling eye hoisting himself through the window with less grace than usual. Not that he's ever been anything that could be described as graceful. Usually he comes into your room without warning, but the notice now is nice.

You shuck off the blankets and sit up on the edge of the bed, watching Billy fall to the floor with a loud thump, cursing quietly. He struggles to get up, and while you want to help, you think it's cute, how flustered he is and dusted in snow. You smile and let out a soft giggle as sprawls across the floor instead and huffs.

Until the door bursts open, again, and Lt. Fuller has his gun trained on Billy. And if Billy were in better shape, he would scatter and dive out the window, but he isn't, so he clambers and tries to crawl for you.

You rush to Billy, covering his body. "Don't! It's just Will!" you shout, holding Billy close.

Lt. Fuller lets out an irritated sigh and holsters his gun. "He couldn't have used the front door?"

You help Billy up from the floor, holding him close as he grips onto your shirt and hides his face in your neck. "He uh- We try to be subtle, with all the girls in the house... It just what he does."

He peers at Billy closer, placing a hand on his should which Billy flinches at. You pulls him away. "Will's sensitive, and shy. I told him what happened and he wants to be here with me, even though he knew you would be here."

Fuller looks between the two of you, how you turn your shoulder to him like a barrier, how Billy clutches at you and mutters into your neck. How you stroke his hair, and how tensely Billy's muscles are flexed. "I would have appreciated the warning you were having a visitor."

"I didn't know he was heading over, I would have, otherwise." No, you really wouldn't have. "Can we go to bed now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Sleep well you two." Halfway towards the door, he pauses. "Will, be good and keep him safe."

Billy says something that sounds like 'yes sir', and Fuller leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him. Billy pulls his face back looking into yours. His eyes are brimming with tears, and his bottom lip is quivering.

You hold his face. "Hey, hey. I'm okay Billy. I'm fine. Lets get you into some pajamas and head to bed, alright?"

Billy nods, and lets you dress him in your oversized pajamas, which still look adorable on him. While changing him (not that he can't do it himself, you just love doing it) you notice his swollen ankle, and how his skin flinches when you touch his left side. You make sure to kiss both softly before dragging him under the cocoon of blankets.

You stroke his face and hair, pressing frequent kisses to his lips. "I love you Billy," you tell him over and over, pressing close to him.

He shivers in your arms, choking down whimpers. "B-bad Billy, stupid idiot. Agnes? Agnes? Where's the f-fucking baby-"

You cut him off with another, longer kiss. When you part, his eyes are still closed. "You're not bad, Billy. You're very good, and kind, and you know I love you. I would never love someone bad, and I still love you." Partially a lie, but you still believe every word.

[alison-anonymous]

♡ loose cannon ♡ pt 4

This chapter will have lots of flashbacks with fluff between you and Hades, so prepare to read this with a box of tissues!

Blast Through the Past

♡♡♡

      It had been 3 weeks since Hades death was announced. Of course, they left the cause of death out of the papers out of fear that it might cause you to crack again. But that didn’t make the sting and the self-hatred burn any less. You were nothing but the crazy loose cannon. You always had been and always will be, nothing more.

      His funeral was tomorrow. Of course, Mal, who had taken things almost as hard as you did, and Ben had taken it upon themselves to organize everything. You had apparently froze him in the perfect position, so he was able to fit inside a casket. The wake would be tomorrow morning, following the service. Almost everyone who had spoken to him wanted to speak, but Mal kept asking if you wanted to say anything. No matter how badly you wanted to, you knew that you would burst into tears before you could even get the first syllable out, so you politely declined. 

      The world had lost its color without Hades. Everything was dull and grey and meaningless. Getting up in the mornings was never worth it because he was never there to wake up next to. You turned onto your side in the cushy, dark blue duvets and stared at his vacant side of the bed. He used to always find some cheesy way to wake you up in the mornings, just so he could see the smile on your face...

♡ flashback

      The sun was shining brightly through the thin castle curtains with those stupid birds singing their sickening tune outside. You groaned out of frustration for being woken up by something so beautiful, only to feel a muscular arm tighten around your waist. The arm slowly drew you back until you were pressed up against a warm chest. 

      Smirk playing across your lips, you turned over in his arms to be greeted with the smiling face of Hades. “Good morning, gorgeous.” 

      You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. “Good morning, Hades,” you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

      “I wrote another rock song for you. I was going to sing it to you this morning, but I completely forgot about it once I saw your beautiful face.” He winked at you, leaning in to kiss you. You melted into the kiss, resting your hand gently on his unshaved cheek. A giggle escaped from your lips as you pulled back and stared into his dreamy eyes. 

      “You’re really sweet, but you do know I have to get up now, right?” 

      He suddenly tightened his grip around your waist. “You’re not going anywhere, princess.” 

      “Hades!” You giggled, trying half-heartedly to pry his hands off of your waist. You kicked and pushed on his chest, but your attempts were to no avail. When he wanted you, he got you. He let out a laugh at your foolish attempts to escape and when you were about to give up, he suddenly drew you in even closer so your noses were touching. You both felt your heart beats quicken as he stared longingly into your eyes. You brought your hand up to rest against his chest.

      “Five more minutes?” He whispered, breath warm against your lips.

      “Five more minutes,” you couldn’t help but grin.

♡ end flashback

      “Y/n?” The voice of Evie was what broke you out of your flashback. Not moving from your spot in bed, you kept your face blank as Evie, Mal, and Uma carefully walked in. They exchanged pitiful glances with one another as they neared your bed. Evie gently took a seat on Hades side of the bed while Mal and Uma stood next to her. The trio took in your form. Your face was blank of any emotion, as it had been for weeks. Your hair was disheveled from having not been washed, your eyes were bloodshot, and you were dressed in Hades clothes, including one of his leather jackets. They had no idea what was going on inside your head, and frankly, even Mal was afraid to know.

      “Y/n, I know you don’t really want any visitors right now, but we’ve come to get you for help. We need your help to move Hades so we can put him in the casket,” Evie gently told you, reaching out to rest her gloved palm on top of your hand. You were so weak from lack of food that you didn’t move. In fact, it seemed like you hadn’t even heard them at all as you stared blankly at the wall behind them. 

      “Y/n?” Mal asked. 

      “Are you alright?” Uma’s voice began to melt away... 

♡ flashback

      “Are you alright, love?” Hades asked, rubbing your arms gently. You slowly nodded your head, trying desperately to hide your envy. 

      “Yeah, I’m fine. But...” you paused, causing Hades to cock his head to the side. “Maleficent? Really?” 

       A moment of silence passed as he stared at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment, but when he suddenly began circling you, like a hawk circling its meal, you began to feel very unsure of yourself. 

      “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were...” he leaned in slowly to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Jealous.” 

      You pulled away and scoffed at him. “Jealous? I think you’ve been alone for a little too long, Had.” 

      “Oh really?” He narrowed his brows, plastering on his famous malicious smirk. Uh oh, you internally face palmed. You were in for it now. You waited in agonizing anticipation as he suddenly stopped and tapped his chin. The heavy silence coating the room made you want to scream, but you held it in and waited for whatever horrible thing he had up his sleeve for you. 

      You were even more shocked than before when he suddenly said, “You know, I was actually thinking about going back to see Maleficent again. I mean, damn are those eyes enchanting...” 

      It felt as if though he had just ripped out your heart and crushed it. You suddenly forgot how to breathe as you just stood there in incredulity, your mouth opening and shutting like a fish. Heart beating at a thousand miles per hour, you could only watch as amusement spread across Hades’s face at your reaction. “Y-You wouldn’t...” you were only able to stammer. 

      He narrowed his eyes at you and began stalking towards you, striking fear into your heart for the first time. For every step he took towards you, you took one back until he had you pinned against the wall. You could feel his body heat radiating onto you as you stared fearfully into his eyes. Was he really going to leave you for Maleficent? 

      Confusion suddenly filled your brain when he tilted his head back and started laughing. “See, my dear, you are jealous! Don’t worry, though,” he snickered, running his fingers along your cheek and pausing at your lips. 

      Through half lidded eyes, he softly smiled at you. 

      “You’re the only one for me.” 

♡ end flashback 

      You suddenly sat up in bed, startling the three girls. That was the first time you had virtually responded in a while. You ran a shaking hand through your hair as your eyes scoured the room, feeling like there was so much to look at and so little time to look at it. 

      “Are you o-” 

      “I’m fine,” you suddenly snapped, causing even more shock in the girls. That was the first time you had SPOKEN in a while. Throwing the dark duvet off of your legs, you swung yourself off of the bed and stood on your legs, almost falling from the lack of use. The three girls gaped at you as you struggled the first few steps, but hastily began making your way towards the door. 

      “Y/n, where are you going?” Evie quickly asked, fumbling to trail after you, Mal and Uma not too far behind. 

      “To move Hades,” you shortly responded. All that you knew was that you were experiencing quite a lot of unwanted nostalgia and you wanted to get away from it as soon as possible. The three solemnly began to follow you through the halls, exchanging worried looks to one another throughout. It didn’t take long for you to help move Hades, though you barely looked at him through the process. You weren’t ready. After you helped to set his body in the casket, Mal and Evie offered to keep you company for the rest of the day. 

      “We know you’re going through a lot more than you show,” Mal explained. “You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

      Wringing your hands together, you began to prepare your polite rejection in your head. You knew that you wanted their company more than anything, but you didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else. And that meant, you guessed it, isolation. But your lonely heart must have spoken before your brain could as you suddenly blurted out a, “yes.” 

      And so, that was how the night before Hades’s funeral went. Mal and Evie walked you back to your room and helped you take a bath and get dressed in an outfit Evie deemed more acceptable. The three of you were now sitting in a braiding circle, with Evie leading the train and talking about any thing that crossed your minds. A pile of junk food sat on the colorful carpets before you and the TV was turned on to some girly show in the background. As you ran your fingers through Evie’s silky blue hair, you listened calmly as your two best friends discussed marriage. Evie was wondering if she and Doug were going to make it that far, and Mal was giving her some advice on how she felt when Ben proposed. 

      “It is scary,” Mal said truthfully. “But honestly it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” 

      You softly chuckled. “I always dreamed that my wedding colors would be an icy blue and white,” you sighed. The room suddenly fell silent, and you kicked yourself for bringing it up again. 

      “You know...” Mal suddenly interjected. “It’s okay to talk about it, N/n. We’re here for you.” 

♡ flashback

      “I’m here for you,” you screamed as loud as you could to be heard over the thunder booming above you. Rain pounded down on the ground and on your soaking wet bodies as you watched Hades retreating figure stop at your words. You hated feeling so desperate, but... 

      “No matter how many times you push me away, I am here for you. I always have been and I always will be and there is nothing you can do to stop that Hades.” You blinked as tears and rainwater spilled from your eyes, stifling another sob from rising in your chest. You knew he loved you, and you knew you loved him. But he was so afraid to love and to hurt that he pushed you away. Through the storm, you could see his back straighten. Throwing caution to the wind, you knew he wouldn’t come to you so you began to walk towards him, tugging his jacket tighter around your shivering arms.

      “I’m here for you Hades, because I love-” 

      “Don’t say it.” His shaking voice cut you off. You furrowed your brows in confusion. 

      “What? I love-” 

      “I said don’t say it,” he snarled. You couldn’t see his face, so you walked around him and stopped in front of his figure, having to crane your neck slightly to see his face even though he was refusing to look at you. You felt frustration soar through you as you stomped your foot.

      “I can say whatever the hell I want,” you snapped. “I love you, Hades. I fucking love you and there is nothing that you can do to stop that.” 

      A silence followed where there was nothing but you staring expectantly at him and the sound of the rain slamming against the pavement. His eyes finally floated down to greet yours after what felt like forever, and it looked like the anger in his eyes had finally cracked as he wrapped his arms around you. 

      “I told you not to say it,” he mumbled just before he crashed his lips onto yours. 

♡ end flashback 

      You shook your head, trying to shake the image out. “There is... a lot,” you answered truthfully. “I just... I just wish I still had him.”

      “I think we all do,” Mal softly smiled as she moved on to your next braid. 

      “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Evie began. “How did that even happen, you and Hades?” 

      You giggled as you tied off one of Evie’s braids. “It’s a long story, but I was the only one who understands him. Well, who understood him now... he was always so nice to me and cruel to everyone else. He never wanted to leave me alone. He made me feel like I wasn’t some sort of monster. Like I was an actual person...” 

♡ flashback 

      “I can’t believe they actually put you in chains,” he muttered to himself as he broke off the cuffs the guard, who you had kicked into the underground below, had put on you. 

      You shrugged. “I’m a loose cannon, they took necessary precautions.” 

      He gave you one look and shot you a knowing smirk. “You don’t look like a loose cannon, princess.” 

      You sent him the same smirk back. “Looks can be deceiving.”

♡ end flashback

      You spent the rest of the night chatting with Evie and Mal, actually talking out your feelings and your past and well, everything with them. For once, it felt like you actually had friends who cared about you and were willing to help you in your time of need. They decided to spend the night with you, which you didn’t mind one bit. 

      You could use the company... 

♡♡♡

      It was the morning of Hades’s funeral.

      And you were more of a wreck than you had ever been before. Reality had finally hit you, and you were almost unable to get out of bed. Luckily, Mal and Evie were there to help you out or else your emotionless self probably would have stayed glued to the sheets. Without Hades, having emotions also seemed meaningless. What good was having your emotions if you were just going to be sad all the time?

      Evie and Mal had already gotten dressed up for the funeral, so they helped you into a gorgeous black gown and sat you down at your large vanity to get you decent. As Mal touched up your makeup, Evie did you hair. For once, you sat eerily still, just staring blankly at yourself in the mirror.

      A melancholy silence coated the air until you suddenly broke it. 

      “How do you make these feelings go away?” your voice was only slightly above a whisper, but they heard it. Evie exchanged a knowing look with Mal and sighed, running the brush through your hair. 

      “I’m afraid you can’t take them away. You just have to let them run their course.” 

      “But it feels like I’m dead without him,” your voice had grown hoarse. “What’s the point of living if I feel like I’m dead?” 

      The two lowered their eyes to the floor in silence and felt tears begin to brim in their eyes. You were their friend, and you were hurt horribly and there was nothing they could do to help you. As they finished you up, they helped you to stand and the three of you exchanged a very long hug. You thought back to all of the times that you and Hades had hugged...

♡ flashback

      “Come here,” Hades motioned to you from his spot on the couch, his shades still over his eyes. You quickly dropped the bag of groceries you held and leapt onto the couch, snuggling into his chest as he draped his arm around you, pulling you close as you breathed in his scent. 

      “Have I ever told you that I love you?” you giggled.

      He let out a slight hum. “Once or twice, I think.”

      “You dummy.”

♡ end flashback

      It seemed like only seconds before you were at the funeral. And in the blink of an eye, that was over too. It was beautiful, Mal and Ben had done a lovely job. As everyone began leaving, you slowly made your way to the open casket and stopped right next to it. Ben had been about to close it, but stopped once he saw you approaching. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder and offered you a slight smile. 

      “Take your time,” he told you before slipping away, leaving you alone with him. 

      You forced yourself to lower your eyes and look at what you had done to the love of your life. As you stared down at his all too familiar frozen figure, you time travelled through all of the years you had spent together. All of the walks, all of the late night talks, all of the cheesy duets he made you sing together, all of the kisses he blew at you, all of the winks, all of the hand holding, every single kiss you ever shared, all of the slow dancing, all of the teasing, all of the jokes, all of the kissing in the rain, all of the troubles, all of the trust issues, all of the overcoming, all of the fighting, all of the make ups, all of the hugging, the cuddling, the vows, the plans for the future... all of his love. All of your love. All of it. Every day. You wanted him every day. Every day for the rest of your life. And thanks to you, you could no longer have that.

      “I’m so sorry, my love,” you whispered as tears began slipping down your cheeks. You slowly leaned over to give him one last kiss goodbye on the forehead. The icy skin sent a chill through your lips as you straightened back up, but not before one lone tear slipped from your cheek and landed in the middle of his chest. 

      If only tears could melt the ice...

      Your lone tear began soaking into the ice as you forced yourself to turn around, sliding your hand along the casket as long as possible before walking away, hearing his words ring through your ears...

      “We put the US in trust baby!” 

      “Does this jacket make me look fat?”

      “I hope you know that you’re mine and only mine now.”

      “Love, you’re the only one for me.”

      “I will always love you.” 

      And as your tear began to soften the firm ice, the only thought going through your mind was: 

      I’ll always love you too, Hades. 

to be continued... 

The story isn’t over yet! Give me at least one comment letting me know you want more, and I’ll upload the next part! 

♡ a.a. 

[kpopboysreact]

BTS Reaction - Sitting on His Lap Wearing His Shirt and Panties

Request: Can I ask a bts reaction to their s/o only being in his tshirt and panties and you come sit on his lap?

Why does Jimin make me so soft you guys 😂 ah~enjoy the reaction~

RM

This could go one of two ways. The first being Namjoon wanting nothing more than to hold you, taking pride in the fact that you're his girl. Seeing you in his shirt would bring a sense of confidence to him, an assuring feeling that you were all his. If things went the other way, however, wearing his shirt would have much different implications. “Jagiya...” Namjoon’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “are you being a bad girl?” His hands slowly found your bare thighs, and he pressed his fingers into your skin, drawing small circles. It brought a smirk to your face, feeling him slowly hardening underneath you, his erection pressing against the delicate material of your panties. “If you are...” His lips found your collarbone as his hands snaked higher, but not where you needed them. “tonight is going to be a long night.”

Jin

You’d left your shared bedroom after feeling Jin’s side of the bed next to you empty. Seeing him hurry to finish his breakfast, you decided to sit on his lap in your sleepwear to keep him home a little longer. “Why do you have to leave so early?” “Comeback soon...” Jin sighed, pushing his bowl back and moving his hands to play with the hem of your shirt. “I think this is my shirt.” You nodded and he sighed again, this time lightheartedly. “You shouldn't take things that belong to other people, y/n.” “But I always wear your clothing!” “I meant...my heart.” You rolled your eyes at Jin’s attempt at a joke and got off his lap, making your way back to the bedroom. “Wait! Jagiya! Come back!”

Suga

I think sitting on Yoongi’s lap would be a common occurrence in a relationship with him. When Yoongi works, he used to prefer being alone. But now with you in his life, trying to song write or produce without you by his side is near impossible. You're his muse, and he truly treasures every minute with you whether he says so or not. (And he doesn't.) You fell asleep in his studio, Yoongi working another late night, and awoke to him calling your name in a soft yet groggy voice, tired from the lack of sleep. “Y/N?” “Yeah?” “Come here.” You slowly stood and walked over to your boyfriend, who slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap, all the while continuing to watch his computer screen. “I was working on this beat and I just wanted to know what you thought of it.” Yoongi took his headphones off from around his neck and placed them gently around your ears, followed by resting his head against the back of your shoulder and swaying you back and forth as you listened to the works that you inspired. Of all the members, I think Yoongi is the least likely to be affected by what you were wearing when you sat on his lap. He would just be completely focused on how relaxed he was in your presence.

J-Hope

It was a game you two played. One of you was the teaser, and the other was strung along, fighting for a chance to win power over the other. And after being dominated time after time again, you found the perfect opportunity to strike back. When Hobi returned from rehearsal and plopped himself down on the couch in your living room, his legs spread wide, you came from behind and sat yourself down in his lap, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “Welcome home, baby.” You whispered, already feeling Hobi’s excitement growing. “Mmmm?” Hobi took your chin in his pointer finger and thumb and caressed your cheek, pulling your face closer to his so your lips were nearly touching. “Does my kitten want to play?” Hobi slid his left hand to your thigh, his right hand holding your face in place. You nodded, but took his hand off your thigh and pinned it against the couch, not ready to give up control so easily. “Now now, kitten. No need to play unfair. Let me touch you. I promise you’ll like what comes next.”

V

The second you sat on Taehyung’s lap, he couldn't contain his smile. “Well hello, jagi...” He quickly looked up and down your body. “I like your outfit.” You giggled. “I thought you would...” “My shirt looks so good on you...” “Don’t say it.” “But you know...” “Taehyung, don't say it.” “It would look better on the floor.” “You said it.” Taehyung laughed and pulled you into a quick kiss. “I couldn't help myself.” Taehyung pulled your chest forward so it was pressed against his, and you were now straddling him. He moved his hands from your shoulders to your ass, caressing your body the whole way down. “You’re so perfect.” Taehyung lifted you up while standing from the couch and began to walk you towards the bedroom. “Let me show you just how beautiful I think you are...”

Jimin

It was the middle of the night, and you felt Jimin stirring next to you. You turned around to check on him, and saw him sit up, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at you. “Did I wake you?” Jimin was squinting, his eyes not used to wakefulness, as he smoothed his bed head down. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?” He shook his head. “Nightmare.” Jimin rubbed his eyes as you sat up, slowly making your way over to him and gently sitting on his lap. He wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Jimin pressed his forehead against your back and shook his head. “It was just...” He sighed against your skin, goosebumps rising across your body. “I thought I lost you.” “You could never lose me, Jiminie.” Jimin’s hands caressed you, slowly running his fingers over your thighs, stomach, chest, really anywhere he could reach. “Every inch of you is beautiful. Every centimetre...” His teeth nibbled at your ear, then he kissed behind it sweetly. “I love it when you wear my shirt. You should keep this shirt.” “You say that every time I wear one of your shirts.” “Then just keep all of them. They look better on you, anyway.”

HE MAKES ME SO SOFT

Jungkook

Jungkook was gaming, as always, and you wanted his attention. So, you threw on one of his shirts, put on a nice pair of panties, and walked out into the living room. His eyes were focused on the TV screen, that is, until you sat down on his lap. Jungkook quickly paused the game as he assessed the situation ‘holy shit, this is real’ he thought, but talked through a confident façade. “Is someone feeling needy?” He asked you, smirking as he pushed his game controller aside. “What, you’d actually pick me over your games?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “You really think I wouldn't?” In a swift motion, Jungkook pushed you back against the couch and moved his body above yours, pinning your hands above your head. “I’d choose you over anyone or anything any time.” Jungkook brought his lips to your neck and sucked hard, leaving red marks in his wake. “You should go out like this, wearing my shirt, bearing my marks...everyone would know you were mine” He turned his attention to your panties. “These are cute.” He chuckled and moved down your body, kissing your hip. “What do you want me to do, now that I’m down here?” He teased, ready to do whatever you wanted at your command. 

[cathygeha]

COVER REVEAL

RABETTE RUN by NICK RIPPINGTON

A psychological page-turner with a shocking twist

Publication Date: February 21, 2020

Publisher: Cabrilon Books (February 21, 2020)

    BOOK DESCRIPTION

‘ALICE IN WONDERLAND... WITH TANKS AND GUNS’ – NICK RIPPINGTON

EMERSON RABETTE has a phobia about travelling on the underground, so when he is involved in a car accident his worst nightmare is about to come true.

A middle-aged graphic designer and father of one, Emerson’s entire future depends on him reaching an important business meeting. Without an alternative method of transport, he has to confront his biggest fear.

Things immediately go wrong when Emerson’s Obsessive Compulsive Disorder kicks in and his fellow passengers become angry at the way he is acting. Thankfully a young woman called Winter comes to his rescue and agrees to help him reach his destination.

Once on the train, she thinks her job is done. What she isn’t prepared for is Emerson taking flight after reading a message scrawled on the train’s interior. 

It simply reads: ‘Run Rabette Run’.

(Rabette Run is Nick Rippington’s fourth book, a standalone psychological thriller. The author’s Boxer Boys trilogy is highly acclaimed and is now available in a digital boxset)

What the critics say about Nick Rippington

‘Addictive, funny, touching, brilliant stories’

‘’Characters that truly come alive on the page’

‘’Evocative, original, unfailingly precise and often humorous’

EXTRACT

PROLOGUE

HE was sneaking a glance at his daughter in the rear-view mirror, listening to her talk about college and friends, when their blue family estate was broadsided by the Jeep.

Time suspended before a tsunami of shattered glass crashed in and he lost control of the steering wheel. The airbag deployed and the seat belt cut painfully into his shoulder as it absorbed the strain of his 15-stone bulk before boomeranging him back into place. What was left of the windscreen retreated as his body reacted like the lash of a whip and, in his confusion, he experienced that eureka moment... ‘Ahhh, whiplash!’

As the car skidded across the road he was dazzled by a kaleidoscope of bright lights – neon advertising boards, shop windows and street lamps. When his eyes adjusted it was as if he was watching everything in slow motion: A couple he had noticed walking hand in hand moments earlier ran in different directions, while a newspaper seller deserted his pitch, money pouch flapping against his pounding legs. Further along, a dapper-looking bloke in tweeds seemed in two minds which way to flee before settling on the safety of the Underground steps.

The visions tumbled from his mind as the car completed its 360-degree spin and he finally locked eyes on his assailant. Marooned in the stationary Jeep, the dark-haired woman stared through the windscreen vacantly, a thick stream of blood meandering down her face from a garish wound above her eyebrow. Devoid of expression, it seemed the shock had vacuumed all thought from her brain.

As soon as she appeared, she was gone, the car continuing to spin. Facing the pavement again, the driver’s attention was captured by what he thought was a bundle of blankets and rags in a shop doorway. With alarm he noticed startled eyes staring out from a face swamped in facial hair. ‘Get out of the fucking way!’ the driver mouthed as he realised one of London’s street dwellers was totally oblivious to the approaching danger.

The car made jarring contact with the kerb and suddenly it was the driver who was spinning, like a sock in a washing machine. His head bumped against the ceiling, his left arm smashed against the twisted metal of the door and his right leg sent jolts of electrifying pain through his nervous system.

Finally, the fairground ride from hell came to an abrupt halt, the car thudding against something hard. The heap of tangled metal that was once a solid and protective shell settled slowly back in an upright position, bouncing like one of those gangster rides with hydraulic suspension that featured in American movies. This wasn’t America, though, this was twenty-first century Britain and he wasn’t a teen gangster, just an ordinary Joe going about his boring, routine business.

New sounds invaded the void left by the disintegrated windows: horns blowing, tyres screeching, glass crunching, people screaming. His ears slowly acclimatising to the noise, he then detected an unfamiliar ticking and saw steam pouring from the bent and buckled bonnet. Performing calculations in his head, he tried to work out how much this entire calamity might cost him. What would the insurance company say? Was there any possibility the vehicle wasn’t a write-off and did his policy contain the use of a courtesy car? How the hell was he going to get to work? What the hell was he going to tell his wife?

Shit, his daughter!

‘You OK back there, honey?’

There was a pause during which his heart skipped a beat.

Then...

‘Yeah, I think so. I’ve a... pain in my tummy.’

Superficial damage. Nothing serious. Thank God. Relief flooded through him.

‘You?’ she asked.

‘My leg’s killing me but otherwise...’

His thoughts were interrupted by another sound. Looking to his left, he was surprised to see the passenger window still intact. Outside, a man in a navy-blue uniform and cap gesticulated wildly, but it was hard to make out what he was saying. The driver felt as if his head was submerged in that slime kids found all the rage.

Still, at least he was conscious enough to interpret the police officer’s manic, hand-waving gestures and detect the urgency in them. Shaking his head to free himself from the gloop, he felt needles of pain attack his nervous system as he shifted sideways, utilising every muscle necessary to reach out and press the button which released the window.

The car’s electrics made an uncomfortable, whirring sound as the glass slid down a few centimetres then stopped. Jammed. He continued pushing the button, but the internal workings were badly damaged. He watched as a gloved hand slipped through the gap at the top of the door and exerted pressure. There was another crunching noise and the window dropped to around halfway, the brute force almost certainly rendering the mechanism irreparable. Not thinking straight, his first reaction was one of anger and his mind made calculations about how much compensation he should claim once he was back on his feet.

The police constable battled gamely to get his point across amid a deafening ensemble of alarm bells and sirens. ‘We need to get you out of there, sir. No need to panic, but we have to make you safe before we can get the paramedics to check you over.’

‘Sounds serious, Dad,’ said his girl.

‘Thanks, Sherlock, always the optimist.’

‘What was that?’ The officer’s face seemed blurred as the driver tried to focus.

‘Sorry, it’s my ears...’ he shouted, the frenzied effort to make himself heard betraying his underlying fear. ‘I can’t... Is the car going to explode?’

‘Umm, I sincerely hope not, sir, but there is a lot of fuel around, the engine’s smoking... It’s best to err on the side of caution. We need to get you a safe distance away in the unlikely event that things escalate. The fire brigade will be here in two ticks and they’ll bring it under control in no time. Until then...’

‘Not sure I can move to be honest, son. I think my leg’s trapped.’

‘Ahhh.’ The policeman nodded. ‘Can you have a look around – see what the problem is? You might be able to free it. On second thoughts, hold on, I’ll come around to your side and see what I can do.’

Appearing at the driver’s window, he then brushed aside fragments of glass and leaned through, peering into the gloom of the footwell. ‘O... K,’ he said slowly. He wasn’t very good at disguising his feelings. It was serious. ‘We have a bit of a problem. A lump of metal appears to have wedged itself in your leg. I’m guessing it will take special tools to get you out of there.’

Shit! The Jaws of Life. Only the other day he had been watching a TV programme about the fire service and the equipment they used to cut people free from road traffic accident wrecks. The jaws had saved many lives, but the name alone was enough to send a shudder rippling through his damaged body. The sirens in the distance were getting louder as they announced their urgency to the world. Blue spinning lights roamed the darkness of the car’s interior, before a more permanent red glow encroached on the shadows. Was it getting hot?

‘Ahhh...’ said the officer.

There were snapping sounds followed by a crackle. Random memories of an old advert for cereal entered the driver’s head: snap, crackle, pop. Twisting as best he could, the driver realised the noise was being created by flames eating into the car’s paintwork. ‘No!’ he muttered through clenched teeth. Damn, he’d just forked out a small fortune on a touch-up job after some local punk had dug a thick groove right along the passenger’s side with a coin or a key.

‘Uh oh!’ said his daughter, looking over her shoulder. ‘They’re going to get us out of here, aren’t they, Dad? I’m scared.’

‘Stay calm,’ he replied, wishing he could practice what he was preaching. ‘I’m sure it will be fine. The fire brigade is on their way and will be here shortly.’

‘Ahh, they’re here,’ the policeman announced on cue, relief evident in his tone.

Moments later the driver heard a new voice, the accent pure Cockney. ‘Stay calm, sir, and we’ll have you out in no time.’

The driver twisted in the direction of the person speaking and another wave of pain rolled through him. On the periphery of his vision he could make out a tall man with a pointed jaw in a fire brigade uniform.

‘What seems to be the trouble, eh? Let the dog see the rabbit.’ The fireman leaned inside. ‘Rrrr...igh...t,’ he said before shouting some instructions to the rest of his crew.

Suddenly, the car was plunged into darkness. The driver guessed it was being buried in that foam the fire services used to bring a blaze under control. It felt strangely comforting to know they weren’t going to be burnt alive. Another sound, a screeching, grating noise soon invaded the car’s interior, setting his teeth on edge.

‘Cool!’ muttered his daughter as sparks sprayed through the roof. Moments later the metal was peeled back like the lid on a tin of tuna, bright lights invading the space, making them cry out and shield their eyes.

‘Sorry, mate, it’s got to be done,’ advised the fire officer. ‘Once we’re inside, we can hopefully remove the obstacle that’s holding you in place and get you out of there. Second thoughts, the best thing we can do, looking at it now, would be to remove the door, together with your good self. It should be easier to cut you free elsewhere, rather than in the midst of this, um, chaos. When we get somewhere a bit less volatile the medical people can assess the problem and hopefully free your leg from the door.’

As he said this, for the first time the driver realised that up until now the darkness of the footwell had prevented him taking a closer look at his injury. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he glanced downwards. A thick metal shard was protruding from his leg and a dark, sticky substance soaked his trousers. The limb looked like a theatrical prosthesis in a zombie apocalypse movie, the foot at a right angle to the rest of the limb.

He experienced an unfamiliar dizziness and passed out.

GLOVED hands grasped the limp body and gently carried it to the stretcher. The patient felt a needle entering the soft tissue in his arm and after that remembered little, sliding into unconsciousness as he murmured her name. The paramedic whispered to one of the fireman.

‘What did he say? Sounded like a name? Jane, was it? I think he said something about a daughter. Was there anyone with him?’

‘Nope,’ replied the fireman. ‘He was all on his lonesome.’

A colleague arrived at the paramedic’s shoulder. ‘Right, best get him to intensive care, lickety spit,’ said the new arrival. ‘I hate to be the prophet of doom, but it will be touch and go if he survives the night.’

BUY LINKS:

UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B084D3TT36

shortlink is https://amzn.to/36Iqhta

In the USA it's https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084D3TT36

shortlink is https://amzn.to/2OisZ1U

AUTHOR BIO

NICK RIPPINGTON is the award-winning author of the Boxer Boys series of gangland crime thrillers.

     Based in London, UK, Nick was the last-ever Welsh Sports Editor of the now defunct News of The World, writing his debut release Crossing The Whitewash after being made redundant with just two days notice after Rupert Murdoch closed down Europe’s biggest-selling tabloid in 2011.     On holiday at the time, Nick was never allowed back in the building, investigators sealing off the area with crime scene tape and seizing his computer as they investigated the phone-hacking scandal, something which took place a decade before Nick joined the paper. His greatest fear, however, was that cops would uncover the secrets to his Fantasy Football selections.     Handed the contents of his desk in a black bin bag in a murky car park, deep throat style, Nick was at a crossroads – married just two years earlier and with a wife and 9-month-old baby to support.     With self-publishing booming, he hit on an idea for a UK gangland thriller taking place against the backdrop of the Rugby World Cup and in 2015 produced Crossing The Whitewash, which received an honourable mention in the genre category of the Writers’ Digest self-published eBook awards. Judges described it as "evocative, unique, unfailingly precise and often humorous".     Follow-up novel Spark Out, a prequel set at the time of Margaret Thatcher and the Falklands War, received a Chill With A Book reader award and an IndieBRAG medallion from the prestigious website dedicated to Independent publishers and writers throughout the world. The novel was also awarded best cover of 2017 with Chill With A Book.       The third book in the Boxer Boys series Dying Seconds, a sequel to Crossing The Whitewash, was released in December 2018 and went to the top of the Amazon Contemporary Urban Fiction free charts during a giveaway period of five days. A digital box set, the Boxer Boys Collection, came out in September last year.

       Now Nick, 60, is switching direction feeling that, for the moment, the Boxer Boys series has run its course. His latest novel, Rabette Run, will be released in the Spring and Nick says, ‘It is a gritty psychological thriller with twists and turns galore. Think Alice in Wonderland with tanks and guns.’     Married to Liz, When Nick isn’t writing he works as a back bench designer of sports pages on the Daily Star. He has two children – Jemma, 37, and Olivia, 9. 

Author links: 

Website: www.theripperfile.com

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/buckrippers

Twitter: @nickripp

Instagram: @nickrippingtonauthor

Where to find Nick’s books...

Amazon Author Page in the UK: 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Nick-Rippington/e/B0135YST78

Amazon Author Page in the US:

https://www.amazon.com/Nick-Rippington/e/B0135YST78

CITATIONS:

For Crossing The Whitewash: “"Evocative, original, unfailingly precise and often humorous" – Writers Digest eBook judges

 For Spark Out: “Down and Dirty, visceral, occasionally violent but engaging and strangely compelling. The writer has a great street voice” – IndieBRAG judges

 COVER STORY

 Nick’s covers are designed by the hugely talented Jane Dixon-Smith of JD Smith designs. His second book Spark Out received the cover of the year award from the reviewer website Chill With A Book.