#risky loans

[auraismoonstone]

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[nyancrimew]

saw a meme basically going 'which hacker is gonna step up and wipe away all this student loan debt, morgages, etc.' and was curious as I have very little logistical knowledge of both! What stops you from going "hmmmm I think ill go into a banks records today and start going crazy" on a day to day basis?

people say this stuff all the time because somehow hacking is the one skill where it's expected of you that as soon as you know any of it you can do literally everything, when really that response of "why aren't they doing X instead of smaller hack/hack i vaguely disagree with/hack for money (TO SURVIVE)" is basically the same thing as going up to a random protestor on the street and asking them why they haven't taken over the white house yet.

all forms of resistance require patience and while i wish i could just sit down and when i get up from the computer again the world is perfect that just isn't how the world works. hacktivists (and hackers in general) have had massive positjve material impacts over the last decades and just because the specific thing you want them to do hasn't happened yet doesn't mean we don't want to do that.

and as for why loan forgiveness hacks aren't really a thing, financial hacks are extremely hard, at this point it's basically impossible to steal money from a bank you hack without having to hack a whole number of them, and to truly get rid of something like debt which is info there is tons of copies and backups of is a monumental task which requires massive amounts of stealth and access that no one person alone could pull off and is incredibly risky. computer crime alone is already one of the most harshly policed areas to do activism in and financial crimes would only make it worse and basically impossible not to end up in jail forever.

[softlyfiercely]

DO NOT VOLUNTEER TO BE A CO-SIGNER OR GUARANTOR FOR SOMEONE ON TUMBLR.

I just saw a 'mutual aid' post going around where instead of asking for donations, the person was asking someone to be a "guarantor" - also known as a "co-signer" - for their rent.

DO NOT DO THIS.

I am all for mutual aid. I think credit scores are a scam designed to fuck poor people. I get it. I do. BUT. Being a guarantor/co-signer for someone basically means that if they don't pay what they owe, for whatever reason, their landlord, bank, creditors, etc. can and will come after you for the full amount.

It seems like such an easy way to help someone. You don't need to pay any money, just lend them your name and good reputation so they can get permission to borrow and spend their own money. It feels like you're getting one over on the shitty capitalist system and using your privilege of good credit/income to help someone else.

But it is a HUGE risk. Do not do this. All it does is give that shitty system more ways to get their hooks into you and create tons of problems for you down the line.

You can really fuck yourself over in the long run by getting tangled up in a financial situation like this. Even co-signing for someone in your life who you trust, like a sibling or a parent, can be really risky. No matter how much you trust someone not to purposefully leave you holding the bag, now you're on the hook if they end up with financial problems neither of you anticipated.

Do not co-sign for another person's loan, car, rent, etc. unless you are able and prepared to pay the full amount or subject yourself to the mercy of whatever that person gets themselves into.

ESPECIALLY do not do this for someone on the internet, where scams are rife. Do not share your personal information with people online and NEVER allow someone else to use your personal information for their finances.

Here is an article with more information.

[barcaatthemoon]

on display || alexia putellas x reader ||

you and alexia get distracted moving your things out of your apartment.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

your apartment looked weird with nearly all of your things moved out of it. for years, you had called seville your home. now, you were moving to barcelona with alexia. it wasn't the biggest move you had ever made, but it was definitely the most nervous that you'd ever been for one.

"hi ale," you greeted your fiance. she had walked into your apartment as quietly as alexia could and wrapped her arms around your waist from behind.

"are you ready to go?" alexia asked you as the two of you stared out of the window. your apartment was on the fourth floor of the building, and you had always loved the giant window that had filled your living room with natural lighting.

"i'm gonna miss this place," you sighed. alexia turned you around to face her. your love for seville was often something that alexia teased you about. you had been born in barcelona and lived there until they let you leave on loan. you had been eventually sold to your team in germany before being tossed back to spain. you had played in most of the major cities, even madrid, but seville had been your home for the past five years.

"you'll come back with barcelona, and then you'll know how nice it feels to win here," alexia teased. you pushed her away playfully, which resulted in the same way it always did. you and alexia were no strangers to play fights and unserious wrestling matches. alexia may have been a bit bigger than you, but you almost always won them, including this time.

"are you okay?" you asked as you glanced down at alexia. she had been completely with it, even as the two of you fell onto the hardwood floors. you were terrified that you had just hurt her again. you could still remember when you had accidentally hurt her knee while she had been trying to recover.

"i-i'm fine," alexia stammered. she wasn't often nervous around you anymore, not enough to sound like that. you smirked as you took in the obvious flush in her cheeks. "don't look at me like that."

"do you want me to fuck you ale? do you want me to fuck you right here in front of this window? someone could see us, it's pretty risky." you knew that you weren't playing fair at all. alexia took short breaths to try and calm herself down as you actively ground against her. "i bet if i took those shorts off of you, you'd be soaked."

"don't tease me like this," alexia warned. you just nodded and moved back enough to grab at the waistband of her shorts. "what are you doing?"

"not teasing," you told her. alexia's jaw dropped when you took and dropped your own pants. there were a million possibilities on alexia's mind of things that you'd do, and this wasn't one of them. she hadn't expected you to drop down and get in the same position you had been before.

"fuck, baby, don't stop," alexia moaned. the feeling of your skin made the movements of your hips a thousand times better. alexia's eyes were squeezed shut as you set a steady pace. you were leaning over her, but you didn't glance down at her more than a couple of times. instead, your focus was on the world just going on around you outside of the window.

the thought of anybody looking up and catching you was thrilling. it sent shivers down your spine, ones that the steady rubbing of alexia's hands on your sides helped to calm a bit. you had always been a bit on the wild side, and alexia knew that this was something you had wanted before. it was why she hadn't tried to stop you. people were less likely to recognize one of you in seville than in barcelona.

"i know that you're close, but don't you dare stop," alexia warned you. her hands gripped you tightly, forcing you to move a little faster and harder. alexia kept going, even as your body was starting to tremble above hers. you could hear everything that she muttered under her breath as she got closer and closer to her release. it was easily the dirtiest string of words that you had ever heard, broken up in three different languages.

hours later after you had packed up the rest of your things into the moving truck, you stared up at that window longingly. barcelona was about to be your home now, and seville would just be full of memories for you again. you'd go back to barcelona for a few seasons before retiring. it was scary, but you were ready to take the next steps in your life with alexia, who you knew would never do something like this again, but still find ways to keep you entertained.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: you get arrested and sent to the fortress of meropide after being oblivious to a Fontainian crime, so your boyfriend Nuevi gets you out by striking a deal with the Duke, Wriothesley ;)

tags: threesome, double penetration, semi-public, vulgar, explicit

wrd cnt: 500+

a/n: repost/rewrite from first acc!

You couldn't believe the circumstances you were in, who knew Fontaine had some obscure rules with loans? One overdue day and you'd have rather get strucken by a loan shark than be sitting in the Fortress of Meropide right now.

You did get one call though, and of course the most sensible person to contact right now was the Ludex, who just so happened to be your partner. He could surely get you out of here, if anyone.

It was almost a whole hour wait, as Neuvillette was in the middle of a trial, but left as urgently as he could to come get you. That wasn't the only obstacle, the most difficult was the Duke.

"I'm sorry Neuvillette, I can't bend the rules for you" the brown haired man stammered on, "as much as l've done it before...this one's out of my control. She's in the files now." He explains. "I could try but it's too risky".

You heard back and forth for some time.

After what seemed to be hours of negotiations, it seemed your boyfriend ran out of all his other ideas.

"If it's really this hard" Neuvillette said, putting a firm grasp on your thigh, pulling it open slightly, "I don't mind...sharing some of the difficulties with you, Wriothesley. You've always been one for risks."

You felt your face burn in a deep pink hue, was he really about to whore you out? In this cell?

"Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen..." You thought in your head.

"Mr Wriothesley, there must be a way we can figure this out?" You plead. Going along with your partner.

"You two...you're quite forward huh? Do I follow you clearly?" He asked, standing from his chair to approach you two while loosening his tie.

It was exactly clear, and Wriothesley was exactly right.

"This place is quite uncomfortable, I can't believe you'd subdue her to this, Duke."

"Well I'm not the one who built it you know, I just run the place."

"Well honestly we need to reevaluate, seems all too gauche." Neuvillette admitted, complaining about the bars he was pressed up against.

"S-slow down- fuck..." You breathe out, barely managing to keep your eyes open while the two men bicker while deep inside you, all too casual in such a risqué act. Your back was pressed up against Neuvi, resting your hands on his arms which held you up, cupping your ass, while Wrio held your legs up, pressing closely to your front while they both put their cocks in your wet hole.

"Aww...getting tired? I can assure you it's better than staying in here my dear" Wrio says, gripping your legs tighter as he smirks down at you "If you were to stay any longer, I'd be real hard for me to ignore you now after this..."

You hear Neuvillette scoff at his flirty remark, "treading dangerous waters now Duke, be careful" he said, a slightly threatening tone.

"Lighten up...just making some conversation." He says annoyed, tilting his head in curiosity at your face, shifting down to whisper close to you, pressing your legs against him closer in turn.

"What's your name sweetheart?" He asks. His lips brushing against your cheek.

Out of breath, you mutter it out for him, almost unnoticed over the sound of your sticky cum soaked cunt and his lower stomach slapping together. Your moans bounced off the walls in the cold dark room. You wondered if anyone could hear you.

If anyone was listening to you mewl and cry in pleasure over getting stuffed full of cock.

"Fuck...you're so tight, Y/n..." He grunts out, fucking you even harder now.

"You're being so good my love" Neuvillette speaks into your other ear, "I'm sure we'll get you out of here now" he assures, caressing your waist with his thumb as he holds you up, his cock slowly hitting the gummy spot in your pussy, completely opposite of Wrios animalistic thrusts. "Right, Wriothesley?"

"Fuck- you feel so.... Huh? Oh yeah just- don't worry hun...I'll..." Wriothesley rambles incoherently, drunk on your pussy.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[togglesbloggle]

Why do you think tumblr will die in only a few years?

Answer with jargon: a strong correlation between recent economic shifts and chaotic choices by major tech companies is most easily explained if the 'traditional' social media platforms of 2005-2020 are mostly a zero-interest rate phenomenon.

Longer answer, with less jargon: Even though Musk's takeover is making all the headlines recently, the last year has in fact seen major shakeups at many social media platforms, so Twitter is actually part of a trend. Almost inevitably, these are cases of social media companies trying to find a way to squeeze more money out of their userbase (Reddit), cut costs dramatically (Twitter), or both. This marks a sudden departure from a much more relaxed attitude towards revenue in the Pictures Of Cats industry, where the focus was historically more on expanding the userbase to a global scale and then counting on world domination to sort of <????> and then the company would become profitable eventually.

We joke, correctly, that Tumblr has never been profitable. But the entire structure of ad-supported content curation between human users is deeply suspect as a business model; IIRC Twitter was never profitable either, and Facebook has been juicing its numbers in very shenanigany ways. Discord was actually making money on net last I checked, at least a bit, so they're not all completely in the hole. But even if you take the accounting figures at face value, none of these companies has anything like the amount of money that their cultural prominence would suggest. Instead, they're heavily fueled by investment dollars, money given by super-rich people and institutions in the expectation that fueling the growth of the company now will pay off with interest later.

So what changed?

I'm not an expert here, but I'll do my best to muddle through. The American Federal Reserve has one mandate that dominates all others (sometimes called the 'dual mandate'), and one primary tool that it uses to enforce that mandate. The goal is to maintain low (but nonzero) rates of inflation and unemployment, which in their models are deeply interlinked phenomena. The tool is 'rate hikes', or more specifically, tweaking the mandatory rate of interest that banks charge one another when making loans.

As a particular consequence of this, hiking the rate also means that bonds start paying out much better. When the rate hike goes through, that affects people who let the government borrow their personal cash- that is, people who buy bonds- as well as institutions like banks that lend to one another. A rate hike means that you, personally, can make a little extra money by letting the government borrow it for a while. The federal government of the US is a rock-solid low-risk choice for this kind of moneymaking scheme, so the federal interest rate sort of defines the 'number to beat'; to attract investors, a company has to give those investors money at a better percentage than whatever the feds are offering. Particularly since a company is a lot more likely to go out of business than the state!

To wrap this back around to the Pictures Of Cats industry: the higher the rate hike, the better your company needs to be doing (or the less risky it needs to be as an option) to attract big investment dollars. Very high rates make it very hard to convince people to invest in business activity rather than the government itself, and very low rates put moonshots and big dreams on the table, investment-wise, in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible. Social media companies were one of these big dreams.

In the great financial crisis of 2008, the Fed took the dramatic step of reducing their rate to zero, trying to juice the economy back to life. And ever since then, they've kept it there. This has produced an unprecedented amount of funding for very crazy stuff; it's part of what has allowed so many weird new tech companies (Uber, streaming services, etc.) to get so much money, so quickly, and use that to grow to massive size without a clear model of how they're ever going to make money. This state of affairs kept going for quite a while, with no clear stopping point; that zero-interest environment has been one of the shadowy forces in the background that shaped fundamental contours and limits in how our Very Online World has grown and developed. Until COVID.

Or rather, the bounce back from COVID: we suddenly saw a massive spike in inflation and an incredibly strong labor market, as employees quit in record numbers, negotiated higher salaries, and found better work, and at the same time supply chain issues and other economy stuff caused prices to climb dramatically. Recall the Fed's 'dual mandate', to control the employment rate and inflation. This was, basically, kicking them right in the jooblies. They responded in kind, finally finally raising their rates for the first time in 15 years. For some of the people reading this, it'll be the first significant shift in their entire adult lives.

The goal, as I understand it, is to fight inflation by reducing the amount of outside investment into private companies, forcing them to hire fewer people and pay smaller salaries, ultimately drawing money out of the working economy and driving prices back down by lowering demand for everything. You get paid less, so you eat out less, and buy at cheaper restaurants when you do, so restaurants have to compete harder by lowering their prices; seems pretty dodgy to me as a theory, but it's the theory. And the first part will almost certainly work- companies are going to see less investment.

For social media companies that are still paying most of their salaries with investor dollars instead of revenues, this is especially catastrophic. Without outside investment, they're just a massive pile of expenses waiting to happen, huge yearly costs in developer salaries and server fees. This is why, all of a sudden, every social media company is suddenly making bonkers decisions. They're noticing that nobody wants to give them any more money! So they're trying to figure out how to live a lot more cheaply, to actually somehow for reals turn their giant userbases in to some kind of actual revenue stream, or both.

Tumblr is kind of the ur-example of this kind of thing, supporting a very large userbase with no coherent plan whatsoever to start paying its staff with our dollars instead of investors' dollars. When interest rates were low and Scrooge McDuck had nowhere else to hide his pile of gold coins, a crazy kid with a dream was the best alternative available to him. But now, unless something changes, he's going to notice he can just buy bonds instead, and that crazy kid can go take a hike.

That's why I think Tumblr is living on borrowed time, though I don't know how much. Like all cartoons, the economy doesn't really fall off a cliff until somebody looks down and notices they've been standing on thin air this whole time. But they always fall eventually; that's the gag.

[akoyaxs]

Tì'eylan ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Word Count: 16k ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) ✮ A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>﹏<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Never in a million years would you have suspected that you’d end up close friends with Aonung.

When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Lo’ak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awa’atlu.

All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.

You weren’t sure if it was Neteyam’s near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the “pretty traitor” as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.

Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.

It was a little rough, but of course he didn’t mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure – so much so you were practically drowning in it – but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.

“Thank you.”

Your whisper – feeble and weak even to your own ears – would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of na’vi’s superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.

“Yep.”

And that had been just that.

No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.

You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.

It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the other’s life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.

Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.

You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldn’t tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. It’s not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.

Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Olo’eyktan – something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.

It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandora’s biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you aren’t entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.

“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of me myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. Lie.

But you weren’t about to admit the truth – that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.

“And what do you keep in that little book of yours then?” Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.

You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. He’s sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.

“What book?” you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.

“You know,” he snickers. “The one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-”

“If you ever read that Aonung,” you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? You’re an adult! “I swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.”

Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.

“If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And finally he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.

“What’s up with him?” Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonung’s fading back, which is unmistakably tense. “What did you do to him?”

“He just found out about my romping around,” you shrug. “And he-”

“He what?” Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. “Oh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?”

“Yes…?” you say slowly, confused why she’s so shocked. “He’s my friend.”

“So is Lo’ak, so is Neteyam,” Kiri points out. “But you aren’t telling them that you’re going around with-”

“That’s different,” you say quickly. “Lo’ak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung… is not.”

“Right,” Kiri says unconvinced.

There’s an awkward moment of silence in which she’s clearly waiting for you to say more.

“He’s infuriating,” you finally burst out.

“Yes he is,” Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally can’t take it anymore.

“Fine!” you snap, face flushed. “He’s absolutely irritating in every way, and now he’s suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE AREN’T EVEN A THING-”

“Are you sure about that?” Rotxo grins from the other side. “Just think about the way he acts when you’re around.”

“Annoying and cocky?” you huff, but you know what he means.

“Come on,” Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, “don’t tell me you’re this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?”

“That’s not a word,” you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.

“Okay enough,” Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. “No more obliviousness.”

“Where are you taking me?” you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.

“To get you changed,” she says carelessly. “We’re going out.”

Aonung wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.

You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadn’t know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure – barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awa’atlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing – that you were his.

But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.

The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.

On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.

He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasn’t the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.

But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.

They were Aonung’s people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.

They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.

Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?

Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he can’t be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldn’t smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.

So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?

They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and he’s not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. He’s already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why – when he sees you next, across the fire at a party – Aonung doesn’t take any chances.

It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach – cool in the clear night breeze – is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.

“What were you thinking?” he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friend’s arm to face him. “Why is she here?”

“Kiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,” Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friend’s continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.

“I thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?” Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. “But now you bring her here?”

Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonung’s hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.

“And what is so terrible about her being here?” Rotxo counters. “She’s been hanging around the village for ages, she’s been to these parties before. What’s your problem now?”

Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is – what Aonung’s deal is, why he cares, why his gaze can’t seem to stop drifting towards you, but he’s waiting for the words to be spoken.

Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.

Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.

You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.

He didn’t quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that na’vi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.

He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.

It’s hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.

You’ve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh… cress… dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonung’s heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.

It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonung’s view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. It’s wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he can’t pull away from his view.

He had always known tawtute bodies were different to na’vi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but he’d always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.

But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.

You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.

Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.

And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what he’s doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, he’s beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.

Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away – the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.

“What are you doing here?” Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.

“Same as you,” you shrug. “I’m here to have fun.”

Aonung is not happy to hear that.

His glare moves straight to Kiri, who’s watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he won’t have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.

But he can’t think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then you’d doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he can’t just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.

From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonung’s pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.

Just as he thinks maybe it’ll be over – that no one will bother you anymore – people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the na’vi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.

And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.

So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log you’ve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiri’s slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.

Kiri certainly doesn’t miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you don’t notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.

You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.

Yet when some stupid warrior – Tsu’kae, Aonung thinks his name is – blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?

Slowly so he doesn’t attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, you’re closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.

When you finally notice Aonung’s stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.

Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.

“Yeah,” he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isn’t exactly easy to scare off any other guys when he’s already about to explode just having you this close.

He feels slightly stupid; you’re watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, he’s watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.

It’s only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsu’kae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, he’s on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.

With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm – the one caging you beside him – sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so you’re gently slid along the long till you’re pressed against his solid side.

You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsu’kae finally makes his way besides you.

“May I sit here?” he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.

Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.

Unfortunately, Tsu’kae misses Aonung’s glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsu’kae can join you.

The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.

“Sure,” he rumbles to Tsu’kae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasn’t expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.

Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonung’s reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsu’kae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonung’s plain message – you cannot have her.

Yet maybe Aonung didn’t completely think this plan through.

You’d never sat on his lap before, and although he’d often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate you’d be against him, this was completely different.

He can feel everything about you. Your thighs – almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass – are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.

And he can smell you. It’s warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. There’s something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.

He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck – your soft hair falling around him – and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.

It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsu’kae. To remind himself that it isn’t just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.

You’re finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like there’s a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.

Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.

Eywa, he really didn’t think this through.

Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart – never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.

But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called “friend” is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.

What if you think he’s some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Lo’ak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?

Fuck.

From the corner of his eye – Aonung’s too scared to move enough to properly turn his head – he can see Tsu’kae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.

Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friend’s lap, you’re starting to settle back. You’ve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.

Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back – nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing – is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.

The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell you’re wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you won’t notice how he’s breathing in your scent.

But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isn’t getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Tsu’kae offers after a moment of tense silence that you don’t seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just don’t pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, shifting to give him a little smile.

A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsu’kae’s face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.

Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.

There’s a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.

“Do you mind?” you grumble. “If you’re going to try cockblocking me, at least don’t nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.”

Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didn’t notice. Eywa, he’s never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.

 “I’m not trying to cock block you,” he says instead, and you scoff.

“Please,” you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. “You really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.”

“I am not,” Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesn’t understand. “Besides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsu’kae.”

“Really?” you say coolly. Aonung suddenly can’t picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though you’re trying to make it even, hiding whatever you’re actually thinking right now. “And what is so terrible about Tsu’kae?”

“He’s dim-witted,” Aonung points out. “Slow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-”

“Ah yes,” you interrupt, “everything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.”

“And he’s obviously just horny,” Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsu’kae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.

“So someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?” you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. “There’s nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?”

“No,” Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words – ones that don’t give away his own… excitement. “There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Who said anything about there being something wrong with me?” you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he can’t quite make out.

“No one- nothing- what?” Aonung stammers, confused at why you’re suddenly so upset. “You are just far too good for Tsu’kae. He does not deserve your time.”

“Then who does?” you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still don’t pull away from your seat in his lap. “What about Sokzu-”

“He is arrogant,” Aonung shoots the idea down.

“What about Ta’ru-”

“Incompetent,” Aonung interrupts again.

“Or Kayo-”

“Lazy-”

“Zäki?”

“Seriously,” Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. “Do you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?”

Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what you’re thinking.

“What are you trying to say, Aonung?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

You’re still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He can’t look away.

“I brought you unilpay,” a voice interrupts.

You both turn to see Tsu’kae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he’s drunk now, and Aonung doesn’t fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.

Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsu’kae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, “Would you like to come for a walk, tawtute?”

Instantly, Aonung’s blood has turned to ice. He doesn’t even look at you before snapping, “She’s good.”

Tsu’kae’s face falls in a small frown, and he, – stupidly – drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he slurs. “I was talking to her.”

“And I gave you an answer,” Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. “She’s not going to go anywhere with you.”

Again, Tsu’kae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.

“And what are you going to do to stop her?” he leers. “If she wants to come?”

“Do you want to go?” Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. You’re all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsu’kae who scowls.

“Of course she want-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you want to go with him?”

Your lips part. You don’t seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsu’kae’s drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.

“Come on taw-”

You’re no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than he’s on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsu’ake’s jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.

“Let her go,” Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.

It’s a little awkward, and you’re wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and you’re struggling to free yourself.

“Now,” Aonung adds.

Reluctantly, Tsu’kae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonung’s heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.

“Touch her again,” Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, “and I kill you.”

Tsu’kae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t shift in the slightest, and Tsu’kae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsu’kae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.

“Pathetic,” Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. “You actually thought you’d get to have time with her.”

Tsu’kae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonung’s cheek. It isn’t particularly painful,  but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where he’s met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. You’re still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsu’kae’s laughable punch. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you don’t feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.

When he drops you off at your marui, it’s with a strange ache in his chest.

You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong na’vi alcohol is to you, and before you know what’s happening, he’s turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.

“Here,” he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. “Drink this before you sleep.”

“You’re looking after me,” you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.

“Well, I didn’t go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,” Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. “Eywa, you’re just going to have to sleep in this.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.

Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him – and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.

Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, “Just get some sleep.”

You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure there’s water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.

Aonung turns back. You don’t say anything, just continuing to stare at him. It’s a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Aonung doesn’t reply, just giving you a soft smile.

It’s not until Aonung’s back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.

It’s filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment – the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap – his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.

This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he can’t help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.

Eywa, just the thought of you at that party – hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one that’s now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.

Fuck.

Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. It’s just to take the edge off. It doesn’t mean anything.

Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.

But he can’t bring himself to process all the copious issues of what he’s doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.

There’s a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.

Ones in which you’re squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where you’re arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.

When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.

There’s something just so filthy about this.

You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?

Even so, he can’t help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then he’s speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.

Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.

His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.

Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much… more.

Your words come to cross his mind again; “Why would people be attracted to me?”

The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.

But that wasn’t entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.

His little friend.

That same blazing shame doesn’t go away after a restless nights’ sleep.

Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he can’t bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, it’s just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, he’s met with you.

“Morning!” you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that you’ve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. “Tsireya’s forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.”

Aonung’s about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.

“You will go swimming?” he asks dubiously.

“Yup.”

And that does it.

Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that it’s Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.

You’re chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.

You’ve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you aren’t hiding as much of your body as you typically do.

The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top you’re wearing – a simple white tank – is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.

The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.

When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.

You don’t follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.

Oh.

Fuck.

You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.

Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.

After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonung’s sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.

But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. “Should- uh – should we get in?”

You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesn’t watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesn’t need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.

He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean – especially beside na’vi – slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that you’re not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isn’t going to complain.

You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.

After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sully’s, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you can’t reach the bottom).

“You good there?” he grins, wading over to you.

“Yep,” you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.

“Need a hand?” he snickers. “You look like you’re having a little trouble. Do yo-”

“Just get over here skxawng,” you grumble.

The moment he’s in arms reach, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you – your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.

“You know,” Kiri says with delicate mirth, “we should be heading back soon, right Ro?”

“Yeah,” Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. “You coming Neteyam?”

“We’ll come too,” Tsireya grins, tugging Lo’ak along behind her.

You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why they’re leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.

Tsireya has to give Lo’ak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boys’ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.

“Are you alright?” Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.

And suddenly, he notices something.

There’s none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, you’re just staring at him with complete and utter… something.

Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and na’vi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but you’re just completely unreadable.

Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. You’re inches away.

He clears his throat.

No no no.

Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.

There is something different. Something off.

And there’s a sinking feeling that tells him things just won’t go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.

It’s green.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement.

“What for?” you reply quietly.

“For causing a little scene,” Aonung says quietly.

He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.

“Right.”

“And cutting you off,” he adds in a mumble.

He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.

You don’t reply. He still doesn’t risk a glance at you.

“And for upsetting you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.

“I’m not upset,” you say quietly.

Aonung turns to look at you. You’re also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.

“You aren’t?” he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.

“Nope,” you sigh, wearily popping the p. “It’s just- um… why did you do it?”

“Do what.”

“The whole thing,” you say, gesturing in front of you. “Of protecting me and making sure I didn’t make a mistake. Plus the… the um…”

Aonung stares in disbelief. He’s never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.

“The whole kill him if he touches me thing,” you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.

It’s Aonung’s turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.

“You are small,” Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. “And delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-”

“I am not weak,” you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.

That’s who he was – he protected you, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.

Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.

You must have noticed how those words hit him – how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.

“Aonung?” you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No,” he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you whisper. At Aonung’s bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. “At least - you could never convince me.”

“Fine,” Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that there’s no going back.

He knows you know something’s wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else – something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.

“They are not fit for you, tsawksyul.”

You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if it’s because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.

“Then who is?” you say dully.

“Not anyone here,” Aonung tells you.

Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. It’s strange really, that he’s gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly… fluffy he feels right now.

But apparently you aren’t finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.

“So… I don’t get anyone,” you say.

Aonung isn’t stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.

“Right,” you snap.

“Have I upset you?” Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though it’s made of jelly.

“Nice observation sherlock,” you huff. “You’d want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I don’t fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that you’d be that much better?”

No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonung’s body betrays him – reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.

“Well…” he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. “Yes?”

“And why is that,” you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. “You really think you’re that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that you’re the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.”

Aonung’s brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.

“No!” he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. “I’m sorry-”

“You know,” you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, “I thought you weren’t like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I – as an adult woman by the way – was not some little … celibate fucking nun!”

“In what way?” Aonung asks, confused.

You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.

“Are you fucking serious?” you snap. “You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be… UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass I’ve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aonung says, frowning.

“Well there obviously fucking is if I love you!”

You freeze. So does he.

Your words – irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.

The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.

Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, you’ve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasn’t said anything, and even though he can see that’s breaking you, he just isn’t able to speak. “Please… say something skxawng.”

Silence.

“Oh god,” you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m just going to-”

“I love you too.” 

“Please just forget- wait what?”

There’s a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.

Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. He’s vaguely aware of his heart thumping – so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it – but he can’t summon any thoughts into his brain.

“Since when,” you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadn’t been na’vi, if he hadn’t been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.

“Since fucking forever,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.”

“Just because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,” you scoff, “does not make me a genius in comparison.”

“So we’re just two little lovestruck idiots, then?”

“Guess so.”

There’s a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonung’s head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.

When he catches you, he’s sure he’ll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.

“God, I love you.”

Aonung doesn’t even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.

Fuck.

Eywa.

How had he managed to go this long without this.

All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. There’s something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that you’re melting on his tongue.

Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.

Well, good riddance.

Aonung’s hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.

You’re making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.

When he’d imagined this – during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock – you’d been different. Sometimes you’d be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others you’d be desperate and ravenous and impatient.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.

He’s so hard he thinks he might actually die, but he’ll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.

When he’s worried you’re quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.

As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand – splayed out to hold you up – spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.

Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses he’s shared in his lifetime, that’s never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.

“You good?” you smile against his lips, but he suspects it’s more of a smirk. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. It’s an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.

You’re still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he can’t read your expression. He thinks for a moment you’re going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.

“Let’s get back,” you breathe exultantly.

“Why-”

“Because I don’t really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,” you grin.

“So we’re going to fuck?” Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.

“Up to you,” you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. “I mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-”

You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.

He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight – you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.

He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.

You laugh – sweet and clear and loud – as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. There’s barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.

When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if he’s in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.

He’s extremely pleased to note you’re already starting to smell like him – a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isn’t about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.

And then he can’t stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.

You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then he’s lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.

And then he does it again. And again – adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesn’t know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but he’ll make sure you know that you’re his.

“Aonung,” you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. “Aonung!”

“Yes?” he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.

“Not yet tsawksyul,” he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. “You are not ready yet.”

“Yes I am,” you snap, scowling at him. “I’ve taken na’vi men before, just-”

“Patience,” he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.

You look like you’re about to shout at him when Aonung’s hand leaves your face and finds it’s way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then you’re nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.

Fuck.

His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one he’s been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, he’d prefer this heaven over anything else.  His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.

“Do you want this tsawksyul?” he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Ye- yes,” you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.

“Are you sure,” he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. “We can do something else- we don’t have to-”

“No!” you gasp, eyes widening at those words. “No- I want this.”

“You have to tell me,” Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, “if you don’t like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe, and he grins.

When he finally dives between your legs, it’s without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.

He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction – accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp – he can guess you hadn’t been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.

He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.

Fuck yes.

He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair – curls and kuru and all – and you tug.

Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.

But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. You’re already squirming and gasping for breath – only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and don’t stops.

He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when you’re making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure – the sounds and taste and scent of it – is nearly tipping him over the edge.

He can tell you’re close, and that’s what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.

He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing you’d feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.

When he knows you’re about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.

You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.

It’s only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.

He isn’t sure why that’s what does it – though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips – but then he’s also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.

But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, it’s a marvel it hadn’t happened earlier.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.

“A- Aonung,” you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.

His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, “Open these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.”

He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before he’s diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you – stubborn as ever – continue the struggle of attempting speech, “You-”

“Just one more,” he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.

You’re whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of don’t stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.

Aonung’s moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.

All that exists is you. You’re so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.

His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge he’s working.

It isn’t exactly best-friendly; the thoughts he’s having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.

“Aonung!” you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. “you need- slow down - ‘s too much.”

“You’re doing so well,” he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.

Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.

Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.

Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.

“God- Aonung!”

Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.

“Oh my…” you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. “Oh my god- I’m so sorry.”

Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.

“Aonung?” you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.

“Mm?” he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.

“Care to fuck me now?”

Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.

“Are you sure?” he questions gently. “I mean you just-”

His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to – tortuously slowly – pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when you’ve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.

A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.

He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike na’vi, and he’s never been gladder that your aren’t just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.

With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesn’t miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.

The second you’re balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though it’s what you need to live. He’s a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.

Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.

“Oh baby,” you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. “Was this all for me?”

Before he can answer – though he doesn’t think he’d even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him – your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.

“Take these off.”

“Are you su-” Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.

“Yes,” you whisper impatiently. “It’s not fair that I’m here all naked and you still get clothes.”

“I’m basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,” he protests.

“What, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,” you snap, and he knows you’re growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.

He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.

“Just take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.

“You already did, tsawksyul,” he whispers.

“Not properly,” you press. “I want to do it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because you’re grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.

The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonung’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Fuck yes.”

Your words explode from you as though you didn’t mean to say them, and a moment later you’re flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before he’s lifting you back onto him again.

It’s bare – skin on glorious skin.

He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. You’re so soft – thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement – but you’re also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks you’re killing him.

It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, he’ll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.

He always knew patience wasn’t your strong suit, but you’re growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.

With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.

You’re clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. You’re tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like he’s being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.

When you let out a hoarse whine – the stretch is evident even to him – Aonung winces. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.

He can’t look away from where you’re swallowing him whole. It’s a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesn’t come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.

And then finally, Aonung’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.

He’s dying. He has to be. Because there’s no damn way he didn’t just go to paradise.

The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. “You’re all the way here.”

“Taking me so well syulang,” Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. “Doing so good for me.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you don’t know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. You’re gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.

Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesn’t need to be a genius to see you’re in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well you’re doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.

“Oh god,” you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonung’s chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. “Oh god, Aonung.”

The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, tsawksyul.”

The words fall on practically deaf ears. You’re so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts you’re even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.

You’re clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesn’t know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether they’re of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.

Aonung couldn’t care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.

“Eywa, they didn’t do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,” Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. “You don’t need any of them ever again, you got that? You won’t ever need anyone else.”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he groans, hardly even aware of what he’s saying anymore. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be there with you.”

“Ao- Aonung?” you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. “I wa- I want-”

“I know, I know,” Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. There’s no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isn’t greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. “I’ve got you.”

It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.

It’s with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.

The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.

His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently – a softness at complete odds to the way he’s fucking you.

It feels sinful – the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.

He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you – all stretched and beautiful – around him, taking everything he gives you.

The sounds you’re making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.

Eywa, you’re so much tighter than he ever imagined – ever dreamed of. He’s pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.

The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.

You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it – all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.

He knew from the start he wasn’t going to last long, but he can see that you clearly aren’t going to either.

Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you aren’t cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesn’t almost fuck you straight through the bed.

Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. He’s wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that there’s no slowing down now.

Nothing – not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires – could compare to this. To you.

And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him it’s bordering on sinful pain.

He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh god-” you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“I know, I got you,” Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isn’t even sure he’s physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.

It seems to almost go forever, and there isn’t a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.

He’s grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. He’s so proud of the way you took him that he’s actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.

That’s that.

It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.

He’s hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point it’s spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.

Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.

When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesn’t bother to pull out.

You’re still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You don’t protest – though he’s careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.

You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.

You’re also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.

Here you are, the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, when he’s regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.

You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good,” Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. “You won’t need anyone else ever again.”

“Oh, really?” you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way you can’t stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.

“Can I kiss you, tsawksyul?”

You don’t respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.

“What?”

“You just fucked me near boneless,” you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, “and now you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

“Yes…?” he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.

“Yes,” you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

And he does.

Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.

He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.

Then you’re giggling against him and he’s laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.

He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.

But this is the same then ever – albeit you’re naked. And in love.

Aonung smiles.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment you’ll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.

So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyone’s reaction to you and him. He finds he couldn’t care less.

Eywa, he’s so happy to have you here.

His little friend.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

[txttletale]

My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 1

*clears throat* ...hi. i present to you, the first part of the fic that @schemmentis are co-writing. and damn, if i do say so myself.

Summary: You're a part of the mob. Melissa is a part of the mafia. Together... it makes for an interesting life.

Let us know what you think because we are having an absolute BLAST with this!

WC: ~3k

You really don’t know how you ended up in this position. 

One day, you were working at the local hair salon, the next, you learned that your boss was tied up in the mafia and needed some help getting out. Luckily for him; you already had contacts. Just not on the side he was with. Which means you couldn’t entirely get him out of trouble but you could help. And you did. You had called your “Uncle'' Joe for a favor. A big one. Taking the loans of your boss at the hair salon off the Italian’s books and claiming them to the Irish instead. At least then, you knew exactly who needed to be spoken to for the loans and what was owed. And that’s how you met Melissa Schemmenti.

Melissa had been sent on behalf of the Italian’s. To negotiate taking the salon’s books. She hadn’t given it up easily. The only saving grace was the fact that the Irish taking the books meant the Italians didn’t have a problem to worry about anymore. It was hard not to want to agree from the Italian side of it. They had nothing to lose. And you were indebting yourself a great deal to your own “family” by taking it on. Except you knew you could turn a profit if you were given the chance. You argued with the red-head spokeswoman tooth and nail, like your life depended on it. Yours didn’t, not yet. Your boss’ life did, though. 

When Melissa finally agreed to turn over the books, she’d shaken your hand with an all too satisfied smile. One that you hadn’t forgotten since. You went around everyone in your extended “family” to ask her out. You half expected her to cuss you out and make it extremely well known you had tried. Instead, she’d said yes and told you to pick her up at six.

Fast forward seven years: you now own the hair salon, that red headed woman is your wife, and you have two beautiful little girls together. Everything is great- you would even dare to say perfect. Your front is working perfectly while still being one of the best hair salons in all of Philadelphia, your wife’s restaurant has taken off and she’s been named one of the most up and coming restauranteurs in the city, and your two children are well on their way to blossoming into two of the smartest kindergarteners you know.

The day your daughters were born is second only to the day you married Melissa in the happiest day of your life. Deciding to start a family as soon as possible, you began to lay down the foundations for a family. It had been decided that you would carry while attempting to find a donor that was as similar to your wife as possible. 

The two of you had tried a few times before and hadn’t managed to get pregnant. The day that you went in to take a test and the doctor told you that were indeed pregnant was one that you’ll never forget- Melissa jumping out of her seat and tackling you in a hug, her hand already resting gently on your flat stomach. And when you found out that you were blessed enough to be pregnant with twins, Melissa had gripped your hand, making a cross over her chest with the other. She thanked God for blessing you with two; she thanked you for carrying them since she couldn’t imagine being the one to. 

Having you carry was risky though, and it never left either of your minds through the entire pregnancy that you were technically on the forefront of this illegal business that you found yourself a part of now. But you were able to make it through your entire pregnancy without a hair on your head touched (you’re fairly certain Melissa had threatened both sides that if you were even looked at the wrong way they would be taken care of). 

Melissa, even five years later, is positive you were only flattering her when you had requested to name one of your girls in honor of her. She was the love of your life, after all, you had argued. Caterina Ann had been born first, and two minutes later her sister followed. Melissa named her Rosalina Marie. Gifting one of her sister’s middle names despite their estrangement. When the two of them did finally reconcile and Kristen Marie met your rays of sunshine, she wept at their names.

And then, it all comes crashing down on you. You’re out with your wife to pick up the girls from their day at school when your phone rings- and not your personal phone: the phone that you use specifically for your business.

“Hello?” you answer softly.

“Y/N,” the manager on call replies. “We have a bit of a problem over at the salon.”

“You can handle it,” you roll your eyes. “I’m out getting ready to pick up the girls.”

“They ain’t takin’ no for an answer,” he says lowly. “Insisting you come speak to them directly.”

You hazard a glance at your wife, who is looking at you with furrowed brows. “Let me pick the girls up, drop the family at home, and then I’ll be in.”

“Make it quick.”

“Don’t speak to me like that,” you reprimand your employee. “Don't forget I can fire your ass.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you don’t get down here sooner rather than later, there’s gonna be a much bigger problem on our hands than we have now.” He hangs up.

You stuff your phone in your pocket, look up at the sky, and audibly ask the question, “Why?” All you wanted to do was pick up the girls and have a nice family night. You’d finally been able to take the day off after almost a month of straight work. Now though, that was being taken away from you, and you couldn’t even get a clear answer as to why.

“Why what?” your wife asks you, clearly concerned.

“After we get Cat and Rosie, I have to head down to the salon,” you huff. “Tony called and said someone is down there specifically asking for me over some sort of problem. So, I’m either giving out a ridiculous credit or I’m dealing with...” you trail off, knowing she’ll understand.

Melissa squeezes your hand. “Go. I can handle ‘em. Just... please be back for bedtime, because then I have to head to the restaurant to prep for tomorrow."

“I’ll do what I can,” you promise her. You peck her lips, and you turn in the direction of your business wondering what the hell you’ll be walking into.

You walk in through the staff entrance of the salon, swiftly ducking into the back office before anyone up front can notice. You dig through desk drawers and the small filing cabinet in the corner. You quickly slip one binder, the ledger of the illegal side of the business into the space between your belt and back before you tuck your blazer coat back over it. You grip the other binder you’d grabbed, the legal ledger, as you step back out of the office and towards the front.

“Tony,” You greet your manager with a big smile. Your eyes flashing your annoyance at him. “Who do we have here?” You quickly turn your attention to the two individuals standing in front of Tony. You hold your hand out to shake. 

Instead of a handshake, a badge is flashed from each of the suits now focusing on you. “Agent Danik, and this Agent Shaw, FBI. You own this establishment?”

“I do.” You confirm. “What can I help you with?”

“We have reason to believe this salon is laundering money. We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Danik tells you lowly.

“I’d be happy to answer what I can.” You say, attempting to seem cooperative. You know it won’t help you to dig your heels in. “But I can’t imagine where you’d get the idea of money laundering. I’ve owned this salon for almost a decade.”

“And you bought it from Bobby Esposito, is that right?” Shaw asks, brow raised.

“That’s right,” you tell them honestly. “I worked for Bobby for a few years before that; managing the office and schedules. All that.” What you’re saying is true- for years you had sent out schedules, managed different finances, and became the best stylist your business has to offer.

“Were you aware Bobby was murdered a few years ago?”

You blink. You did know. It would be next to impossible for you not to know. “Uncle” Joey had ordered the hit on Bobby and informed you about it so you wouldn't be surprised. Now, you make an effort to look shocked. “Bobby? Murdered?” You echo, your brow furrowing. “Why would somebody do somethin’ like that? Bobby’s just…an old man by now.”

The agents’ faces don’t change. You feel a shot of ice down your spine at the thought they don’t believe you. “We were hoping you might have an idea about that. The PPD has been kind enough to lend us a room. You mind coming down to the station with us, have a chat about all this?”

“I don’t mind.” You answer as calmly as you can. “But I have two little girls waiting for me at home. I promised them a bedtime story and all, you know how it is. Couldn’t I meet you down there tomorrow?”

“I know how it is.” Agent Shaw answers with a sigh. “I have a little girl myself. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to miss the stories tonight.” He does seem a bit regretful at the knowledge of you having children, but it doesn’t change the fact that they need you down at the station tonight.

You curse in your mind. Not only are your girls going to be disappointed; so is your wife. Not to mention the binder you’re still hiding that is definitely going to be noticed at some point.

“Right…” You murmur, glancing away from the agents. “Tony, call Mel for me, won’t you? Let her know I’m gonna be late tonight.” You say before starting to follow the agents out. “Oh,” You say, pretending to remember something. You glance over your shoulder. “And tell her to take that ziti of hers off the menu, huh?” You pretend it disgusts you to even think about it. It’s something you’d never dream of saying seriously. Which is why you say it now. When Melissa hears you said to pass that along, she’ll know something is wrong. Very wrong.

As you make your way out of your business and are escorted to one of the cars out front, Tony practically shits himself inside. He knows what’s happening, and he does not want to be the one to have to relay this information to your wife. Still though, an order from the boss is an order from the boss. He calls her cell phone on his own.

“Hello?” she answers as she juggles making dinner, assisting the girls with their reading, and making a list of things she needs to purchase for her own business tomorrow.

“Melissa? It’s Tony,” your manager sighs into the phone. “Don’t shoot the messenger when I tell you this, but Y/N ain’t gonna be home for bedtime stories tonight.”

Your wife nearly fumes. “What do you mean she isn’t gonna be... yeah, Rosie, that says ‘think’, good job sweetheart... What do you mean she isn’t gonna be home tonight?”

“She’s handling her business,” Tony states. “And you need to handle yours. Y/N said to take your ziti off the menu- it’s lacking.” And then he hangs up.

Almost immediately, the redhead knows something is wrong. That anger that had been there just a few seconds ago disappears in a flash- you’re in trouble somehow. You would never, ever tell her that her ziti is lacking. It’s your favorite dish of hers, and has been- it was the first dish that she ever made for you and had secured a place for her in your heart. It was the dish that you insisted be at your wedding because you knew that it would only make the one of the happiest days of your life even better. 

She knows she has to call her manager and let her know that she won't be in until late tonight, if at all. The restaurateur is able to relay this information, along with the ingredients that she’s managed to put on a list to go shopping for, before turning her attention back to your girls and the meal that’s being made.

Once dinner is on the table, Cat and Rosie chat your wife’s ear off about their days- and while she would usually listen avidly, her mind wanders to you and what you could be dealing with right now.

“Mommy?” Rosie waves a hand in front of her mother’s eyes.

Melissa blinks a few times. “Sorry, baby. Mommy’s a little distracted thinking about the restaurant right now. What were you saying?”

She makes an active attempt to stay as engaged with the girls as possible. And they’re fine, up until bedtime. They know you’re supposed to be home by now; you had promised them that you would be home for a family night and to read them a story like you haven't been able to for a bit now.

“Mam is running late,” Melissa tells them regretfully. “But I’m sure she’ll read you a story another time, so can you please just let Mommy read and get to sleep? You have school tomorrow.”

That throws both of your girls into absolute conniption fits, and your wife can only get them to settle with her in the bed that the two of you share, each of them clinging to one of your pillows. The woman who so desperately needs to attend to her own business sighs as she settles into the middle of the bed, one of your twins on either side of her, and prays that you’re okay.

You rub your eyes as you sigh. Both Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek are sat across from you at the small table. The small interrogation room feels even smaller than it did when you entered. It’s warm with its lack of windows. It takes a good portion of your concentration every few minutes to remember you can’t remove your blazer despite the Agents having removed their’s a long time ago.

“For the fifteenth time,” You grit out between your teeth. Your hand falling away from your eyes to thunk onto the metal table. “I have no idea who would wanna hurt Bobby. He was a nice enough boss even if he was clueless about how to balance his accounting. I didn’t wanna hurt Bobby. I bought the salon from him years ago, which would have been the only thing he’d have that I’d want anyway.”

“Y/N, you know that just telling us the truth would get you out of here a lot faster.” Agent Dinek says. She doesn’t lean forward or uncross her arms that are over her chest as she looks at you. She looks bored now.

Your hand on the table curls into a fist. You’ve let the interrogation go on this long, hoping it would just be a few questions you could bat off. A couple answers and then home. Now, it’s nearing three in the morning and you’re still sitting in the uncomfortable chair. The agents are still staring at you from their seats next to the door. You swear the thermostat has risen a couple times since you’ve been here.

This, being in an interrogation room at the PPD with FBI agents, is dangerous. Asking for your lawyer is even more dangerous. If you have to resort to that; you’re well and truly fucked. In the few times you’d been in interrogation rooms, you’d only had to answer a few questions, clear up a timeline. That was it. Those moments though were never with the FBI. 

They had only been with the PPD. Police officers you were more than familiar with. People from your neighborhood. People who knew you. People that came to the salon or your wife’s restaurant. A small handful on the force know exactly who you are and what your business really is. Those people though are in the families pockets. Irish or Italian, or both. Paid for their information their unique positions give them access to. 

Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek aren’t in anyone’s pocket. They seem to know exactly who is, at least on the streets, though. They’ve brought up plenty of names you’re overly familiar with over the last twelve hours or so. Triple checking how you know them, and how well you know them.

You’re reaching your limit. If you don’t ask to speak with your lawyer, force the “interview” to end, your only other option is to come clean. You think about emerald green eyes. The eyes you fell in love with practically the first time you looked into them. You think about little faces that look like little minis of your wife even though she claims they look more like you. If you come clean it isn’t just you paying for this. Nevermind the people beneath you and the rest of the families. 

What kills you to picture is your wife and your daughters paying for it. You don’t really care what happens to the Irish or the Italians at this moment. The entirety of Cosa Nostra could fall apart and you wouldn’t give a damn. If your wife or your girls are touched even the slightest, even just inconvenienced, you would raise hell. 

You slowly lean back in your chair, feeling the binder beneath your blazer press into your spine. “I’d like to speak with my lawyer.”

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[hotgirlgraps]

Risky Business | Part One

Your family’s restaurant is on the verge of shutting down, so you make a dangerous deal with the loan sharks in town and find yourself in some sticky situations

Warnings: angst, violence, one non explicit death (mob!au so it may not be for everyone)

this will be a series

You heard your parents bickering like usual, but once you entered the kitchen, they both went mute. You already knew what it was all about. The restaurant had been on the verge of collapse for nearly a month now and despite every attempt in the book to pick business back up, you were still struggling to keep it afloat.

You awkwardly avoided their eyes as you slipped past your dad and grabbed a stack of foam cups to stock out front. The tensions were thick enough to cut with a knife, but you had a plan to save the restaurant that they didn’t know about, and you weren’t going to tell them until you pulled it off.

You just hoped it didn’t mean you’d be putting your life on the line in the process.

You quickly left the kitchen and heard the echos of their voices pick up again. All you heard for the last month was them screaming at each other over the bills they couldn’t pay, the inventory they’re losing because they simply can’t afford to keep the restaurant stocked, and now your dad is ready to up and sell the place, even though it was supposed to stay in the family for generations to come.

You couldn’t stand seeing your family fall apart over this. Your mom and dad put their blood, sweat and tears into getting the place up and running and you left college to help them out. There was too much invested to simply let it slip right through your fingers, so you came up with a plan that you were putting into action as soon as you clock out.

You quickly stocked the cups and and silverware over by the drink station and headed back into the kitchen. Once again, when your parents heard your footsteps, they went mute but you already knew the second you leave they’d be right back at it.

You peeked through the door and said, “I’m heading out. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Have a good day, sweetie.” Your mom called out to you.

“Love you.” Your dad added.

You hurriedly clocked out, noticing that it was already two and you needed to be on the other side of town in less than half an hour, and you knew if you showed up late you wouldn’t even be considered by Mr. Senerchia.

You felt your stomach twisting into tight knots and had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths once you got on the road. The gps was telling you where to go but your heart beating in your ears was making it hard to hear.

You never thought you’d be doing something like this, but you didn’t think you had another choice. You knew the reputation this man upholds and wouldn’t dare crossing paths with him under any other circumstances.

You pulled up in front of a brick apartment complex twenty-two minutes later with only eight minutes to spare and took a second to look in the mirror, attempting to make yourself presentable despite the fact that you looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

You remembered the instructions given to you by Mr. Senerchia over the phone. Go into the complex, take the first set of stairs to the second floor and wait. He’ll send someone to come get you.

You took a deep breath before sliding out the car and heading in. Your knees felt like they were going to give out from under you each step you took but you tried to push past that.

You walked through the door and the staircase was right in front of it, so you did as you remembered and headed up to the second floor.

There were four doors, two on each side and another set of stairs. You could hear distant conversations being had behind one of those closed doors and rock music behind another.

You glanced down at your phone and had only two minutes left before you were supposed to be meeting with the loan shark and debated whether or not you should call him so he knows you’re there, but before you had to think about it too much, you heard some footsteps descending the stairs and looked up from your phone to see a tall, messy haired guy coming down.

You took a step to the side to let him pass you, but he stopped on the last step.

“Y/N?” He asks in a low, almost hushed tone.

You nodded back and slid your phone in your pocket. He tilted his head to the side slightly and eyed you with a look that left you feeling a bit judged.

You felt nervous under his gaze but tried to hide it. He simply nodded his head towards the stairs and started making his way back up, and you followed behind him.

He lead you to a door off to the right and pulled some keys out of his hoodie pocket to open it. You waited for him to step inside and wave you in. You felt like any wrong move could be detrimental.

He silently started heading through the apartment. You could easily tell that it wasn’t anyone’s home. There was no couches or tvs, the only source of furniture were a few fold out chairs aligned along the walls.

You followed him down a short hall until he stopped at a door and knocked in a specific pattern. You heard a deep voice on the other side call him in and felt your stomach twist into those tight knots all over again.

He opened the door and walked in, catching it with the tips of his fingers to hold it for you and you took that as your invite.

You stepped into a small office that you never would’ve expected would be in that bare apartment, but you supposed with the things this man does, it has to be as low-key as possible.

You knew the man behind the desk wearing a sharp black suit and orange tie had to be Mr. Senerchia. The guy in the hoodie stepped around the desk, standing off to the side with his hand clasped over his wrist, watching you.

Mr. Senerchia lifted his eyes from something he was writing down, his shades so dark you couldn’t even see the formation of his eyes behind them. He dropped his pen and stood up, shooting a warm smile but it didn’t make you feel any less anxious.

“Ah, Y/N, glad you could make it.” He greets you, extending his hand for you to shake. “Please, have a seat.”

You tried to hide your nervousness as you sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. You took a deep breath and forced a smile.

“So, if I remember our conversation correctly, you’re here about your family’s restaurant, no?” He asked, clasping his hands together atop the desk.

“Yes sir.” You nod.

“And what’s going on with that?” He asks.

“We’re struggling to stay afloat.” You answered honestly, trying not to show the sadness that admitting it caused you. “We’ve tried a lot of things but we just can’t… we can’t afford it anymore.”

“I see.” His voice lowered. “That’s a shame. I used to go to that restaurant back in the day. Your dad made the best philly in town.” He half-smiles.

You nodded back and looked down at your thumbs nervously twiddling in your lap.

“That’s the thing, Mr. Senerchia. My parents put everything into that place and I just can’t sit by and watch it fall apart. My dad’s considering selling it to the Mercado’s and… That’s just something I can’t stand to let happen. It was supposed to be passed down to me, and my kids if I ever have them. It’s supposed to stay in the family.”

He rubbed his hand over his beard as he processed your words. The warm smile on his face was wiped away and a straight frown was left in its place.

“I see.” He taps his fingers against the desk. “Let me ask you this. Say you had the funds to keep the business going. How would you sustain it? Money doesn’t last forever, it runs out fast if you don’t have a way to keep rejuvenating it.”

“We lost most of our customers because we couldn’t afford inventory. We had to tell people that we were out of almost everything except sandwiches at one point. If we can start keeping the place stocked up again, we’ll have our business back on track.”

He nodded once before he leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands behind his head, slightly swiveling his chair.

“What caused the tight funds in the first place?” He asked, and you felt the sudden guilt in the pit of your stomach.

“I wanted to go to college.” You lowly said, dropping your eyes down to the desk. “I didn’t want to run the business at one point. I wanted to be a nurse instead, so they used their savings to put me through school… but I left when the business started failing to help them try to keep it afloat. Since it was my fault they were struggling in the first place.”

You looked back up at him, seeing your poor reflection in his glasses once again. He didn’t speak for a moment, and you nervously anticipated his next words while you waited on his response.

He leaned back up and folded his arms over the desk, looking down at the pen he set aside earlier.

Your eyes wandered over to the guy standing beside the desk, but instantly looked away when you noticed his eyes were still trained on you.

“I tell you what.” Mr. Senerchia says as he taps the pen against the wooden desktop. “I admire your loyalty to your family. I tell my son all the time that a family business can’t run without that.” He points over at the guy and you collect the new information.

“And since I can see that you’re being genuine about this… I’ll grant you the funds to get the joint back on its feet. Now, before you get too excited, I have some stipulations to that-“ He holds up his hand and you quickly feel your hopes shattering.

“I don’t expect this money back immediately. Truthfully, I’m a bit nervous about this deal, given the fact that the restaurant industry is always a gamble. I won’t add interest to this loan, if-“ he points, capitalizing on the stipulation, “once the business is in your name, you give us ten percent of the profits. That’s it. Pay me back weekly as you’re able to, and give me a cut for my leniency.”

You weren’t sure how that would ever work out. The business wouldn’t be in your name until your parents retire from it, and you weren’t even sure how long that was going to be. On top of that, with the shakiness of it right now, you knew it wasn’t guaranteed that the restaurant would even be running in the next ten years.

“I- Mr. Senerchia as much as I want to accept your offer, I have a couple concerns.” Your voice trembled slightly.

“Voice them.” He nodded, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms.

“For one, this business won’t be in my name for a while. My parents are signing it over when they retire and Im not sure when that’s gonna be. And with the way things have been, I don’t even know if there will be a business a couple years down the road. I know I can pay you back regardless whether or not we sustain for a long time, but I don’t know if I can shake hands on giving you a cut when I don’t even truly know if we’ll still be in business.”

“That’s the thing about making a big deal. You gotta be willing to do whatever it is you need to do to uphold your end of the bargain.” He says. “Your family’s restaurant has the potential to be one of the best on that side of town. If I can see the opportunity for growth, then I don’t see a reason why it won’t happen.”

You nodded back, pondering his words.

“How about this.” He reasons, “I loan you the money and get the word out about the joint. I bring the business to you. You give me twenty percent once it’s in your name.”

You blinked twice and calculated in your head how much that would be.

“If I can assure you that business will start booming quickly, and your family won’t be troubled with this no more, do we have a deal?”

He extends his hand with another grin, and you didn’t feel like you had much time to think on it before you were shaking it.

He stood up and you stood up with him, letting his hand go after a moment.

“I’ll let Hook go over everything with you.” He says as he picks up a folder and steps around his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Senerchia.” You say, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you were feeling.

“Please, call me Taz from now on. Looking forward to doing business with you, kid.”

He exits the room and leaves you with the guy who’d been silently staring at you the entire time, who you now knew the name of. Or the street name most likely.

He sits down in his dad’s chair and opens a drawer off to the side, pulling out a stack of papers.

You watched him read some things and write his signature on a couple dotted lines as you sat there in the awkward silence.

He slid some papers off to the side and stacked them neatly in his hands, then he looked up at you with that same, perplexed expression he had since you encountered him on the second floor.

“You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” He surprised you when he asked, nearly making a chill run down your spine.

“I- yes.” You stammered, internally kicking yourself for it.

His dark eyes stayed trained on you for another moment before he glanced down at the papers in his hand.

“I’m not sure you do.” He muttered. “We don’t usually make deals with people like you. I’m surprised my dad didn’t tell you to leave the second he saw you, honestly.”

You felt offended by that, knitting your brows back at him, but too nervous to ask him what meant by that. Your reaction made him further explain, anyway.

“This is a serious business we run. We deal with shit that you probably wouldn’t even know the first thing about. Not family restaurants on the verge of foreclosure type shit.”

You stared back at him, a bit appalled to say the very least. He placed the stack of papers down and leaned up in the seat, zoning in on you.

“I’m only telling you this because serious shit requires serious repercussions if you can’t keep your word. My dad might have cut you a sweet deal but there’s always fine print when you read between the lines. You might be biting off more than you can chew and if that’s the case” he slides his tongue between his lips and raises his brows back at you, “you’re gonna put yourself and your family in jeopardy.”

His words turned your blood to ice, swallowing thickly as you stared back into his cold, dark eyes.

“So ima ask you one last time. You sure about this?” it was almost as if it were a fatal warning, but you nodded back at him, watching as his lips folded in and he shook his head slightly.

He took one of those sheets and slid it across to desk, spinning it to face you and placing the pen down on top of it.

His finger landed on the first paragraph and he went on to explain what you were signing.

“This is stating that you won’t use our name in any of your statements. If you’re ever asked, cops of anybody, you got the money from anywhere else.” He says, then points to the dotted line that required your signature, and you nodded as you signed it.

“This is stating that you will pay the full amount back in the timeframe that you and my dad discussed.” He points, and you sign there too.

“Sign here and here.” He adds.

He slid the pages off to the side as you signed them and then you came to the last page underneath the stack.

“This is stating that you understand the… consequences if you fail to uphold your end of the deal.” He slowly speaks, and you look back at him.

“We didn’t go over the consequences.” You were scared to say.

He eyed you for a second before he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“It’s clear you’re not familiar with how this works. That’s why I asked if you even know what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m just trying to save my family’s business.” You snapped, even though catching a slight attitude with the shark’s son was probably the stupidest thing you could’ve done.

“You won’t have a family business if you fuck up. Or a fucking family. I’m just trying to make sure you get that.” his voice was stronger, more rough than it was before.

You sat there staring back at him, failing to process the words that he just spoke. You were pretty sure he just admitted that they kill people, but that was something you already somewhat figured thanks to the fact that multiple murders seem to somehow get tied to this family, yet they always go down as cold cases.

He composed himself a bit and leaned forward, holding that strong stare on you as he spoke.

“Look. You can back out right now. I’ll tell my dad you changed your mind before the papers were signed and take all the heat for it. No ties to this whatsoever.”

You were on the verge of accepting that offer, but you knew this was your only hope for your family. You hesitated, but shook your head and signed along the last dotted line before sliding the paper back to him, feeling like you’d just signed your soul to the devil.

“You and your dad have my word and my signature on that. I might not look like someone who can keep my word, but I assure you I am.”

He pursed his lips before he stacked the pages up and opened the drawer off to the side, filing them away.

“But I want my family left out of this, please.” You pipe back up, causing him to still with his hands in the drawer. “They don’t know I’m doing this and they never would’ve let me come here if I told them. They have nothing to do with this. I don’t want them having any part of it.”

He slowly sat back up and shook his head at you, balling his fist over his lips as he ran out of patience.

“You don’t get to call the shots here, Y/N. That’s what you’re not understanding. If you fuck up, that’s it. It’s done. My dad might seem like a nice guy, but the man doesn’t play about his money. He’s not gonna care about you or your family if you fuck him over. This isn’t small business shit. This is your debt to my family’s company.”

You took in his every word with complete and utter fear sinking into your heart, but by this point you felt so deep in that you couldn’t change your mind.

You were so close to having exactly what you needed to save your family’s business and you weren’t going to let that slip, even if it meant doing drastic things to make it happen.

“I understand.” You quietly say, staring just as intently into his eyes as he was yours.

He didn’t break eye contact for a couple seconds, and you held your breath until he finally dropped his eyes down to the desk.

He silently got up from the seat and walked out the door, coming back a couple moments later with a briefcase in hand.

He placed it down in front of you and put the code in.

“It’s 0504” he muttered, “don’t change it. i’ll be coming to get this back when I collect your first payment.”

He opens the top and reveals the neat stacks of hundreds before you.

“30K” he says. “Count it if you want to.”

You took his word for it though, and inside he was checking off another reason on the list as to why you weren’t cut out for doing business like this. You always count the fucking money.

He eyed you for a moment before he closed the top and reset the code, then walked back around to sit in the seat.

“Ill let you know before I come to collect. We’ll arrange to meet somewhere next week. You can see yourself out.” he quickly excused you, nodding towards the door.

Again, you were unsure how to respond so you simply grabbed the briefcase and stood up, but that’s when he stood up too.

“Actually, i’ll walk you out. You’re carrying a briefcase full of money. let me see it.” He holds out his hand and you pass it to him.

He heads for the door and you follow behind him, letting him lead you out the apartment as he keeps the briefcase close to his side.

He stops when he steps out onto the sidewalk and looks at your car parked out front.

“Next time park in the back.” He mutters before he heads towards it.

You fumble with your keys to click the unlock button and pop the trunk, and he places the briefcase down before he slams it shut.

He steps back onto the sidewalk and looks you over one last time, and again, you couldn’t quite tell what the hell he was thinking, and he wasn’t willing to give you any clues either.

He silently made his way back to the complex, looking to both sides of him to make sure nobody had wandering eyes.

“Next week.” He reminds you when he reaches the door, keeping his back turned to you.

“I know.” You say before you make your way around the the drivers side door.

————

Later that night after he got back from a couple collects, Hook stopped by his dad’s office to deliver the money, and to also have a discussion about the girl he signed a deal with earlier.

He knocked in a code and his dad called him in. He pulled a wad of cash out of his hoodie pocket and tossed it on the desk before sitting down in the seat in front of it.

“That Michael dude didn’t have the full amount. Told him i’ll be back for the rest tomorrow.” He tells his dad, who stops writing to look at the cash set in front of him.

“How much did he have this time?” He asks with clear aggravation.

“Three fifty”

Taz wipes his hand down his face and grabs the cash, slipping the rubberband off and tossing it to the side as he fans out the money.

“This is the second time, Tyler.” He cuts his eyes at his son. “You know I don’t let shit slide twice.”

“He said his kid needed new clothes for school. He gets paid tomorrow and we’ll get the rest.”

“And if we don’t?” Taz was running out of patience. He had no sympathy for the excuses.

“Then i’ll handle him.” Tyler keeps his eyes held on his dad, ensuring that he’ll keep his word.

“You should’ve handled him today.” He gravely speaks. “if that money isn’t sitting on my desk by six o’clock tomorrow, i don’t want to hear no more excuses for the man. get rid of him.”

Tyler swallowed thickly, but nodded back. Taz went back to filling out a form until his son asked him a question that he wasn’t expecting.

“Do you think making that deal with the restaurant girl was a good idea?”

Taz looks up, and Tyler can see his tense jaw reflecting in his shades.

“Why do you ask?”

“We don’t usually do shit like that. It’s a small business on the verge of shutting down.” He explains.

“If it does, it does.” Taz shrugs his shoulder. “I’m gonna bring what I can to the table, if it succeeds then great. If it doesn’t, you’ll deal with that.”

But that’s what Tyler was secretly concerned about. He knew that if all else failed and y/n couldn’t uphold her end of the deal, it wasn’t Taz who was going to be making her face the consequences. It was him.

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing.” He blurts out. “I don’t see that restaurant going anywhere. She basically signed her life away and she doesn’t know it.”

Taz removed his glasses and set them down, staring back at his son.

“What are you getting at, son?” his aggravation was getting stronger by the minute.

“I’m just saying I don’t think it was the right choice.” Tyler admitted, even though he hardly ever went against his dad’s decisions.

Taz’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was. She signed the contract and took the money, did she not? Too late to go back now.”

“I still don’t think she should’ve even been considered.” Tyler argues, and it was then that Taz lost all patience.

“Well it’s not your choice to make, Tyler.” His voice deepens, “When I sign this business over to you, then you can call all the shots. Right now, you’re here to learn the way I expect this company to run when I can no longer keep it going. You’re not here to tell me how to run it.”

Tyler clamped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth behind his lips.

“We done here?” Taz asked, and Tyler wordlessly nodded tightly before he got up from his chair and left the room.

He went back down to his apartment on the second floor where his boys were waiting.

The blunt Andretti rolled just started getting passed between the three of them when Tyler walked in.

“Yo” Darius called out to him, and Tyler walked over to the couch and took a seat next to Anthony.

“You good?” Andretti asked when he picked up on his energy.

Tyler leaned back against the cushions and pulled the collar of his hoodie up some, nodding, but not saying anything back.

They all knew when he was in a bad mood it was best to leave him alone about whatever it was that pissed him off, so nobody asked questions, and simply passed him the blunt out of rotation.

He took a couple hits and held the smoke in his lungs until he felt the burn in his chest, then exhaled it above his head.

Anthony and Darius started talking about the cars they had their eyes on and debated which vehicle models were better, but Tyler couldn’t pay any attention to the conversation.

He took two more hits and passed the blunt to his left, then stared down at the coffee table littered with cigar packs, weed crumbs and empty plastic bags while he pondered his dad’s words echoing through his mind.

————

Taz wasted no time getting the word out about the restaurant. Within just a span of five days, every table in the building was full.

Your dad walked in a little after eight, and you’d already been serving and preparing orders since six. He took one look at how packed it was and his eyes widened.

“What? Where did all these people come from?” He asks, “How are they all eating? We don’t have nearly enough inventory to feed them.”

You finished writing down a couple reminders for table six on your notepad while you conjured up something you could say.

Your mom walked through the door a couple seconds later and had the same astonishment on her face. They hadn’t had business that steady in months.

“Where did these customers come from?” She asks, and her and your dad both waited on your reply.

“They just came in out of nowhere. I don’t know, but isn’t it great?” You sent a smile, but they didn’t know what to think.

“Well… Yeah, it’s amazing but how are they all- how did you manage to-“

“Dad, Mom, I’m just gonna be honest. I used some of my savings to replenish this place, okay? I don’t want to hear anything else about it. The business is steady and we’ve made more money this morning than we’ve made in the last week.”

You tried to leave it at that in the case that they’d be able to call your bullshit, but they followed you back to the kitchen.

“Y/n, what do you mean you spent your savings on this? You know we never want you to use your own money to clean up mine and your dad’s mess.”

You could see the pain behind your mom’s eyes and it killed you inside.

“This is my business one day too.” You remind them, making sure to look both of them in the eyes. “Dad was talking about selling it to the Mercado’s and I couldn’t just sit here and let that happen. I love this place just as much as you do. I did this for our family.”

You could see that they had no idea what to say, but the gratitude in their eyes spoke volumes.

At least that part wasn’t a lie. You did do this for the family, but they just didn’t know the half of what you had done.

“We will talk about this later.” Your dad gruffly states before he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side. It was a silent thank you and you knew that.

“Love you dad.” You muttered, “And you, mom.”

Your mom joined in on the quick group hug before it was time to tackle the task at hand. You headed back out to check on some tables and they both headed towards the grill to start cooking the orders you had pinned to the board.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, business only just started slowing down.

You counted the register down and calculated how much you made in just over twelve hours.

You figured if you could keep this up, you’d have Taz paid off in no time.

————

Tyler’s gloved grip around the steering wheel was tight as he sped away from the bridge.

He kept glancing in the rear view, paranoid that he was being followed even though he made sure nobody was around when the act took place.

He ground his teeth as he took a few backroads back to the complex to make double sure that he was covering his tracks.

The sound of the splash when the body hit the water was echoing in his mind and he couldn’t put a stop to it. He could feel it eating him alive from the inside out and made a note to get as drunk as fucking possible when he gets back to his apartment.

He pulled around back and stayed in the car for another few minutes just trying to recollect himself, but he failed at doing so.

There was a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, something along the lines of gut wrenching guilt and hatred towards himself but he knew just like all the other times he’s felt it before, he couldn’t let it get to him.

This was just business, as his dad always says.

He slowly made his way in through the back door and up to Taz’s office. He knocked in code again and didn’t bother stepping in when his dad said to.

“It’s done.” He muttered, about to shut the door and head down to his apartment but Taz stopped him.

“Tyler” he made him pause before the door fully shut, hanging his head. “Let’s uh.. Let’s talk, son.”

He didn’t want to and that much was clear to Taz, but he knew how Tyler gets when he has to handle people. He always tries to avoid it, but that only leads to the business losing money and sometimes the consequences have to be faced for that.

Tyler sunk down in the chair and kept his eyes trained on his mud stained shoes. Taz walked over to one of the cabinets on the far side of the room and pulled out a bottle of Bourbon along with two glasses.

Tyler glanced up when he heard the clink of the glass against the wooden desktop and watched his dad pour his to the brim before sliding it over.

He hesitated for a moment but he knew that was the one thing he needed above all else tonight, and wasted no time downing that entire glass and sliding it back for another round.

“I know these things are tough on you-“ Taz says as he fills the glass. “It’ll get easier with time.”

But Tyler wasn’t entirely sure about that. He couldn’t imagine being cold and ruthless like his dad. As much as he wished he could flip a switch turn his humanity off, he couldn’t. He’s tried and failed miserably.

“You got your mother’s heart.” He chuckles. “That’s not a bad thing, but it’s not gonna work if you plan to take over this business one day. You know that already though.”

Tyler silently listens, but the sound of the splash keeps washing over his dad’s words every time it comes back to haunt him.

“You didn’t kill the guy.” Taz shrugs. “If he’s lucky enough he’ll regain consciousness before he drowns. You just… you just knocked him out and… well, he lost his footing and fell over the bridge.”

Tyler felt sick at those words. He knew that wasn’t true and couldn’t ever understand how his dad could falsify the events like that.

Michael wasn’t coming up for air. He was knocked out cold with the brass knuckles stuffed in Tyler’s back pocket. He watched him sink. He was dead and there was no justifiable way around that.

But he didn’t argue with his dad. He simply sat there and downed another shot until he felt his body start to buzz.

“Just business son.” Taz reminded him for the millionth time. “Don’t take it to heart.”

————

You woke up bright and early, ready to tackle another day at the restaurant. You knew that at some point Hook would be getting in contact with you and something about that made you feel a little nervous, but you tried to avoid it.

You had a good bit of money ready for him that you kept stashed away in his briefcase in your trunk. After deducting everything for inventory and bills for the next few months and hoping you were calculating everything accurately, you managed to have a good chunk left over to go towards your debt to them.

Your parents were already at the restaurant preparing breakfast orders. For the first time in a while, they had smiles on their faces when they talked to each other.

They noticed you when you walked in and waved you into the kitchen.

“We’re going to pay you back every penny.” Your mom says. “How much did it take to make this happen? Your dad is going keep track of how much we owe you.”

You shook your head though, already knowing that you were the one who handled the profits and you were already taking cuts to pay Taz back in the first place. The last thing you needed was for them to figure that out.

“I don’t need the money back. It wasn’t much, and I don’t care. I’ll make it back working here.” You offered a convincing smile but your dad shook his head.

“Absolutely not.” He says. “You used money that should’ve been put towards a new car or house, anything else but here. We are paying you back. Just give us a price and we’ll take it out of the monthly profits.”

“No.” You quickly blurted, but tried to recompose yourself. “I’ll just.. If you’re not gonna budge on this, i’ll take out a couple hundred each month until I get the money back. Sound good?”

They both eyed each other but then shrugged, accepting it. You felt a little bit of relief, but not much. Lying to them was never something that you were good at. Nine times out of ten your mom always found out everything without even trying to. But this wasn’t something you could let them get into and you knew that.

A few hours later, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket while you were pouring some glasses of tea and nearly dropped the entire pitcher.

“Shit” you muttered under your breath as you scrambled to take the phone out.

On the screen was a message from an unknown number that had an off the wall area code but you knew exactly who it was.

106 clarkson drive. 3pm.

You didn’t know whether or not you were supposed to say anything back so you left the message on read and pulled the address up on the gps.

It was nothing but trees it looked like, and nearly forty minutes away from you. You were unsure how to feel about that. Part of you kind of wanted to be sick, but there was no reason, right? You had the money ready.

It was already almost two and you had to think fast for a reason why you needed to leave early. It was the dead middle of lunch rush and you weren’t sure how your parents were going to react, but you didn’t have a choice.

“Hey” you called over to your dad. “I’m gonna leave in about fifteen minutes, but i’ll be back. I just- Skye called and she’s having some issues with Kyle and really needs me.”

“Awe” Your mom comes up from behind. “I love those two together. I hope they work it out.”

“I’m sure they will.” You sent a smile. “But you know, I just need to be there for her. I won’t be out all day and when I get back, I’ll stay late and close so you guys can go and do something. Maybe go on a date?”

Your dad laughed at that as he prepared a philly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your mom tells you. “You’ve been showing up at the crack of dawn every morning. Go take the rest of the day off. Your dad and I will be fine.”

You felt relief at the success of yet another lie, and thanked them before you stocked the front and clocked out.

You were getting that familiar twist in your stomach again once you pulled out of the parking lot. Your hands were clammy, smearing sweat against the steering wheel as you headed towards a location you were unfamiliar with, to meet a man you may or may not have feared a little.

You tried to keep reminding yourself that everything was fine. You had the money you needed to give him and there was no reason for anything horrible to happen to you.

But Hook gave you the feeling that he could be unpredictable at the same time. He wasn’t someone you wanted to piss off, and you knew that.

You turned on a beaten down dirt road and noticed that there was nothing but thick woods around for miles when you checked the gps.

You were only two minutes away from this destination and wished you could simply just drop that briefcase off in the middle of the road and tell him to come pick it up after you bolt out of there, but obviously that wasn’t an option.

A sleek black car was parked off to side in a sandy spot and you recognized Hook when he stepped out with his hood over his head.

You felt your heart race and pulled off the dirt road, parking behind him before you popped the trunk and opened your door.

He was slowly walking towards your car with his hands tucked in his pocket. His hair was falling over his eyes, so you couldn’t see them.

You tried to keep your hands from trembling as you pulled the briefcase out of the trunk, and he looked both ways to make sure nobody was around, even though you were out in the middle of nowhere.

You closed the trunk and set the briefcase on top, about to put in the code he told you a week ago, but his hand slammed on top of it.

You jumped back from him, and he silently grabbed the case and spun it towards him, putting the code in himself.

“I doubt you would have a gun in here, but I don’t know you like that.” He mutters, explaining his previous actions as he opens the top and looks down at the cash stacked.

“Two thousand.” You inform him, and see his eyes glance over at you before he takes the first stack out and starts counting for himself.

You watched nervously. You know you counted and recounted that money at least ten times but what if you made a mistake? Then you lied to the shark’s son.

He could hear your uneven breathing and as he reached down to grab a second stack, he asked, “You nervous?”

You felt your chest tighten, holding your breath until your blood rushed to your head. He didn’t look back over at you, continuing to count the money in hand.

He placed another stack down and moved on to the next one, tilting his head to the side as he quickly counted that one too, but slowed down when he reached the last bill.

You felt your body stiffen, wishing you would’ve counted one more time to make sure it was all there. He went back through that stack once again and pulled out one of the bills, placing it in the last stack.

You watched with confusion as he counted that one too, and again one more time before he took another single hundred out of the combined and passed it over to you.

You looked down at it, then up at him.

“A little over.” He muttered. “unless you want me to add this to it.”

You nodded back and he eyed you for a second before he tossed the bill lazily in the briefcase and closed it.

You felt a slight bit of relief but knew you wouldn’t be fully in the clear until you left him and that dirt road all together.

“Count more carefully next time.” He tells you. “If my dad was the one collecting he probably wouldn’t have told you it was over. But you would’ve known if you were short.”

Your blood ran cold at those words and all you could do was nod back, hoping that this encounter was about to be over.

He grabs the case and tucks it under his arm before he turns around and leans against the side of your car.

You can see his face better when he pushes his hair out of it, and from the looks of the dark circles you didn’t recall seeing before, he must not have been sleeping very well.

You stood there awkwardly, hiding your trembling hands by crossing your arms over your chest, but he already knew you were a nervous wreck.

“Is it the location or just me?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

“…what?” You weakly asked, and he turned to fully face you, taking one step closer but not getting too close.

“The reason why you’re so scared right now.” He clarified, “Is it the woods, or is it me?”

“it’s- I don’t- I’m not-“

He narrowed his eyes in on you when he watched you fail miserably to produce the words. He didn’t like the affect he was having on you but he wasn’t gonna let you know that.

“You kept your word this week. My dad will be happy, so I’m happy. We’re all happy here.” He says with a dead tone. You didn’t see a single trace of happiness on that man’s face. You weren’t sure he knew what happiness even was.

His eyes were lifeless as they could be. Cold and bone chilling. He had a stern yet somehow emotionless expression each time you looked at him, and you couldn’t ever imagine a smile on his face, either.

“Okay” you whispered simply because you didn’t know what else to say, and he nodded tightly before he took a step back and spun around.

“Next week.” He calls out without glancing back at you.

“Okay.” You shakily say back before you’re finally able to get in your car and drive off.

—————

Taz wasn’t in the office and Tyler knew he wasn’t permitted to be in there without the permission, so he took the briefcase to his apartment and waited for his dad to return the text he sent, letting him know he’s got money waiting.

He slung the case down on the couch and collapsed onto it himself, leaning back against the cushions, staring blankly at the fan spinning on the ceiling.

He kept thinking about how nervous he was when he had to meet up with that restaurant girl earlier. He was worried she wouldn’t have the money, like he expected, and he didn’t know how he’d have to handle that.

It relieved him to no end when he opened up that briefcase and saw that she had more than enough to suffice for the week.

He thought there’d be about two or three hundred dollars at most and even though his dad told her to pay back what she could each week, Tyler knew himself that his dad was not a patient man and wouldn’t be too fond of getting paid in little increments at a time.

That’s why it confused him when he offered that part of the deal in the first place, but he knows what happens when he questions his dad’s decisions.

He waited around for about an hour, then got a text. He grabbed the briefcase and headed up to his dad’s office almost immediately.

He almost wished he could’ve taken a picture of the look that crossed Taz’s face when he saw the stacks of cash.

“Restaurant girl’s collect.” Tyler says as he sits down in the chair. “Twenty-one hundred.”

Taz glanced at his son and nodded, clearly satisfied with the weekly pay.

“Looks like business started booming.” He says as he takes the cash out. “That’s what I appreciate about having connections. Pretty soon they’re gonna have to open a bigger restaurant, and that means more profit for us when it’s signed over to her. if they know how to sustain it.”

Tyler pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. He didn’t know much about that restaurant in the first place and that alone told him that it obviously wasn’t anything special. He didn’t care to have a cut when y/n takes it over but maybe that’ll be so far in the future that his dad won’t even care about it anymore either.

“You know, I was thinking about what you said the other day.” Taz says as he skims through the bills. “About how you didn’t agree with me making a deal on a small family business. You remember.”

“Yeah” Tyler nodded.

“It wasn’t so much the business as it was the girl herself.” Taz tells him. “She really cares about her family. Seems to me like you were wrong when you said she didn’t know what she was doing. I think she did, but her loyalty to her family was more important to her.”

Tyler’s eyes drop down to the desk. He already knew his dad was right about that stubborn girl who just wanted to keep the family’s business afloat, but that didn’t change the fact that she was treading on dangerous territory trying to make it happen.

“I kind of admired that, I won’t lie to you. I really hope she’s able to keep this up.” Taz says as he finishes counting the cash.

Tyler had already pondered all the scenarios that would come if she wasn’t able to, though. Truthfully that was the first thing he thought about the second he saw her.

He knew a girl like her had no business getting involved in anything such as this, but he was pretty sure she didn’t understand that, and for that reason he just didn’t want to bring her up to his dad’s office at all to begin with.

But he realized that she was stubborn as hell when he tried to get her to come to her senses. It wasn’t solely for her, but for him as well, because he didn’t want to have to deal with her after she fails to keep her word.

That’s something that he thinks about quite a bit now, but he won’t tell his dad that. It’ll just be another one of those, you can’t take it to heart lectures that he’ll receive and he’s sick of hearing that shit.

He hopes that everything works out the way restaurant girl and taz agreed on, but he can’t deny the fact that he doesn’t have a lot of faith in that.

————

You were about six hours in to your eight hour shift, feeling the ache in the soles of your feet from constantly being on them all day but you appreciated it nonetheless.

Business was still steady even though it was storming outside and each day that passes, the restaurant doubles it’s money.

You weren’t sure how Taz managed to bring in so many customers but you were thankful for it.

Skye dropped by around seven that evening to grab something to eat to take home to Kyle, but the second you saw her you knew your mom would ask about the problems they’re not even having and had to come up with yet another lie to tell another person.

“Hey” you grabbed her wrist, pulling her off to the side. She looked at you with a concerned look.

“So I had to leave early the other day and I used you as an excuse to my parents” you quickly rambled, “I told them you and Kyle were arguing so you needed me to come hang out with you. Just, if they ask, I was with you all day last Friday.”

Skye’s brows knitted together. “Okay” she draws out. “But where did you have to go that you couldn’t be honest with them?”

You couldn’t be honest with her either though. It was clearly stated in the contract.

“I just had to run some errands and didn’t want them, like, asking where I was at and whatever. Nothing big.” You blurt out, but it was clear as day that she didn’t buy it.

“Do I know these errands?” She smirks.

God you hoped not.

“It was nothing like that.” You rolled your eyes. “Literally just simple shit like getting my car washed and running to the store. I just didn’t tell them cause… I don’t know why. I just didn’t.”

She pursed her lips, eyeing you skeptically and you did your best not to show how nervous that made you feel.

“Hm.” He hums. “If you say so.”

She grabs the bag with her and Kyle’s to go boxes and was just about to turn and leave before your mom just had to walk out from the back last minute.

“Skye!” She greeted her. “It’s been a minute since we saw you. Look at this place, it’s finally picking up huh?”

Your mom flashed her proud smile at you and it left an aching feeling in your heart.

“Yes ma’am, it definitely is.” Skye smiles back. “You guys deserve this so much! Everyone in town should be coming here, honestly. My favorite place to get lunch any day of the week.”

“Awe, you’re sweet.” Your mom says. “You know you don’t have to pay here though. I don’t know why you keep insisting.”

“Doesn’t feel right if I don’t.” Skye shrugs.

Just then, you heard your dad call your mom back into the kitchen and felt an ounce of relief.

“Well I hope we see you again soon honey.” She says, then looks down at you. “You can go ahead and clock out if you want to, also. Your dad and I can take it from here. Go out and do something tonight. You deserve it.”

There was that pain in your heart again. All the pride your mom had for you just extended the guilt you felt, but you knew there was nothing you could do about it. You just had to try to force it away and keep doing what you had to do.

“I think i’ll stay. I don’t have anything to do anyway.” You say before you look back at table nine, who were getting low on their drinks. “Gonna go check on my tables.” You quickly blurted before you walked around the counter.

Skye left right after that, bidding a quick goodbye to your mom before she headed out.

You were over by the drink station refilling some glasses when you caught a glimpse as someone fairly recognizable, even from the back came in and took a seat at the last table.

How you knew it was him before you even got a good look at his face was something you didn’t understand, but you assumed it was the black hoodie you only ever seen him wear.

You tried to avoid making eye contact so maybe he wouldn’t know you noticed him come in until you served drinks to your tables and checked up on some customers, basically just buying yourself time while you wondered why he was even there in the first place.

He was watching you, you could feel it. His stare was burning a hole right through you, and you couldn’t help but to struggle just trying to do your ordinary tasks.

You wrote down one last order and it came out a little bit hard to read, but you turned it in to your dad anyway before you had no other choice but to go approach the last table.

His arms were folded on top of it while he looked around the restaurant, observing. He didn’t look back at you until you slowly approached him, standing a bit at a distance and he noticed that.

“What can I get you to drink?” You asked. It was always the way you start off. You placed a menu down in front of him but he pushed it back towards you, bringing his eyes up to look into yours.

“I’m good.” He gruffly mutters.

You awkwardly picked the menu back up and let the confusion you were feeling wash over your face. You kept your voice to a minimum as you leaned towards him slightly, ensuring that nobody else around would be able to hear you.

“Do I owe you something?”

He simply shook his head, remaining silent.

“Then why are you here?” You managed to ask, but felt like you shouldn’t be asking this man any questions in the first place.

You saw the way his lips pulled slightly to the side. “I’m just seeing what this place is about.” He tells you.

Something about that didn’t sit right with you, but you knew you wouldn’t ask him to leave anyway. He locked his eyes on your dad when he called out a table’s order for you to come pick up.

When you did, he just watched you. Watched how you talked to the customers and how you were clearly unable to focus on anything after talking to him. He watched the people filing out when a party of nine left, and he watched you clean up all the empty plates and cups afterwards.

You felt those eyes on you the entire time, but you didn’t look back at him. You were so nervous under his gaze you couldn’t even keep your hands from shaking until you were out of his sights completely.

You stayed in the back for a while doing some dishes, stalling for time basically.

You were wondering why Hook was even there, and if something bad was meant to happen for some reason. Any time you’re around him you just have this strange feeling of impending doom that you can’t shake.

You knew he was keeping an eye on you, probably to make sure you were doing everything you needed to do to keep the business booming. Considering that you were well over your head in debt to his dad, you could understand that. Still didn’t change the fact that you disliked him even stepping foot in the restaurant, though.

“Go ahead and start closing out front. I’ll handle the rest.” Your mom broke you from your thoughts as she grabbed a plate from your hand that you were barely even washing.

You were reluctant but you knew you couldn’t tell her why, so you stiffly nodded before you grabbed a washcloth and spray and headed back out front.

By this point, the restaurant had cleared out significantly, and the only two tables left were a family of three on one side and Hook on the other.

You wiped down all the tables around the two that were occupied and tried your best not to acknowledge his stare when you were finishing cleaning the table in front of his.

There was only a few things to do before you were able to start breaking down the drink station and officially call it a night, but you weren’t sure if he knew what time you closed or not, considering he was just sitting there pointlessly.

You grabbed a few empty plates from the family of three and took them to the back, dropping them in the sink where your mom was finishing up the last of the dishes.

“What did that guy in the back order?” Your mom asks. You felt your stomach knot up at the mention of him, but kept it as cool as you could on the outside.

“Just a drink.” You lied.

“He’s cute.” She says, like she usually does when an attractive guy who looks to be around your age comes in to the restaurant. She always tries to get you to talk to them, but you don’t know how many times you have to tell her you’re not trying to be in a relationship with anybody right now.

On top of that, Hook wasn’t cute. He definitely wasn’t the sweet, charming guy that she would love for you to bring home for her to meet. He was the one she’d certainly tell you to stay far away from, if she knew the first thing about him.

“Not really.” You tell her before you leave that conversation all together.

When you walked back out front, the heaviness lingering in the air had disappeared, and so did he. It was crazy how his mere presence brought on a shift in the atmosphere that you could immediately feel the weight being lifted when he was gone.

The family of three was just getting up from their table and heading out. You told them to have a great night before you grabbed that washcloth and spray bottle you set down earlier and cleaned off the last table of the night, all the while staring over at the empty seat Hook was sitting in before.

————

Tyler knocked on his dad’s office door around midnight. He was dead tired, but that was usual.

When he was called in, his dad was expectantly waiting, waving him in. He sat down in the chair and tried to keep his eyes from crossing, but he was nearly on the verge of passing out from pure exhaustion, thanks to some things keeping him up at night.

“I stopped by the restaurant.” He mutters.

“And?” Taz urges.

“It’s on the right track.”

Taz nods as he files some papers away in his drawer.

“I expected as much. Gonna have you check in a few times here and there to make sure everything’s straight.” he tells him.

“Don’t you have people doing that already?” Tyler asked. He couldn’t help the aggravation in his tone. He was dragging and grouchy and his dad could see it.

“Yes, but what’s one more?” Taz shrugs. “I prefer all eyes I can get when my money is involved.”

Tyler wanted to roll his eyes but he didn’t. He truthfully wanted no part in any of this when it came to the restaurant girl and the deal his dad had with her. But he knew it wasn’t working that way.

“Still distraught over the other guy?” Taz asked, noting his son’s rather poor condition. The dark bags under his bloodshot eyes were a dead giveaway of the state he was in.

Tyler shook his head dishonestly, and Taz eyed him, choosing not to call his bluff.

“Go get some sleep. Need you in better shape than that in the morning. We got a run to make to the east side of town around nine.”

Tyler was more than just a little displeased to hear that.

“To do what?”

“Starks has an issue we need to help him out with.” Taz informs. “Someone’s been caught snooping around his property.”

Tyler knew what that meant. Another body to get rid of. He didn’t mind it as much since he wasn’t the one taking the life. If anything, it was somehow refreshing. At least he wasn’t being sent to catch the person lurking around.

“Alright.” He lowly speaks as he stands up from his seat. “I’ll be up.”

Taz watches as his son drags his feet across the floor, making his way towards the door.

“Tyler” he calls out to him right before he leaves. He glances over his shoulder back at his dad.

“Business is business.” He reminds him yet again. “You didn’t do anything wrong. The guy knew the deal when he signed the papers. Stop letting it eat you up inside and go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

But Tyler couldn’t help but to think about it. It was haunting his dreams, so he didn’t sleep.

Another bottle of liquor was downed and two blunts were faced after he got back to his apartment, just in an attempt to turn the shit off that was eating away at him piece by piece.

————

You knew today was the day you were supposed to meet Hook with another payment, but last time he texted you to meet him around three, and it was already six-thirty and you still hadn’t heard anything from him.

You were getting ready to clock out as you counted down the drawer. You had another two grand to go towards your debt and counted it six times to make sure it was the exact amount.

You had plans to go out with Skye, Willow and Anna later on and were starting to get anxious. You knew you probably weren’t supposed to text him first, but when you clocked out around seven-fifteen, that’s exactly what you did.

Instead of saying anything about the money, you simply sent him a question mark. At least you knew you made the attempt even if he never texts back, but that alone made you incredibly nervous. That would mean you were late on the second payment, even if it is his fault. Right?

You went back to your apartment to start getting ready, and had a couple texts come through as you were doing your hair. You rushed to grab your phone but a bit of disappointment sunk in when it was Anna, already a little tipsy asking where you were at.

You sighed, stressed to the point where you could feel your stomach twisting up in those knots you’ve been getting a lot lately, as you sent back your reply.

You made pretty quick work of getting yourself ready before you headed out to the bar, but made sure you kept your phone volume up so you wouldn’t miss the text if Hook ever does decide to send one. You had the money stuffed in a purse you never used in your trunk, so it was ready.

You were still anxious but hoped a couple drinks with the girls would take your mind off of it. You didn’t intend to get too drunk but every time the four of you get together, it seems like that’s always inevitable.

“Hey!” They all greet you in unison when you finally get to the bar. They were sitting at the round table in the middle, with one seat left open for you.

“Hey” You smiled as you took that seat, hoping they wouldn’t be able to tell that you were internally more anxious than you’ve probably ever been in your life.

“We ordered you crown and coke” Willow tells you, sliding the first shot your way and you were so thankful for it when you downed that glass.

“Congrats on the restaurant” Anna says, “Skye was just telling us how much it’s been thriving lately!”

You had that weird sensation of guilt hit you, but you forced it away and feigned a proud smile.

“Thank you.” You say, tapping your fingers anxiously over the table. “Yeah it’s- it’s really been doing great lately. We got lucky.”

“We’re all gonna stop by Sunday and eat.” Willow adds. “Tell your dad we missed his phillys”

You smiled at that, then Anna turned around to order another round of shots.

“Kyle said if it keeps going at this rate, you guys are gonna have to hire some extra help around there.” Skye says, “And he has a little cousin who’s looking for a job. She’s nineteen and never had one before but if it’s something your parents would consider, you can tell them about her.”

That was something you thought about already too. You definitely felt like you needed to hire extra employees with the way business picked up but under the circumstances, you didn’t want to add anyone else to the mix. In the case that everything ends up backfiring. You didn’t even want your parents there anymore. You would’ve carried the whole restaurant on your back if you could.

“Yeah, i’ll talk to them.” You lied.

“Guess who texted me the other day.” Anna says as she pulls out her phone.

“Who?” Skye asks, “Wait, don’t tell me… Jack?”

You watched the smile spread on Anna’s face and a bit of a blush creep to her cheeks.

“Just hook up already.” Willow rolls her eyes. “You’re like two lovesick teenagers too scared to tell each other how you really feel.”

Anna rolls her eyes back and continues typing, and that reminds you to check your phone too, but there was still no message from Hook.

“I’m tired of hearing you talk about him honestly.” Skye teases. “All you need to do is tell him you want him and he’s all yours. It’s really that simple. How do you think I got with Kyle? He didn’t confess his feelings for me, I did. Men need you to do that in order to make a bold move, trust me.”

“Agreed.” Willow chimes in.

Just then, another round of shots was delivered by a guy with warm brown eyes and a bright smile. You noticed him when he reached the table and immediately felt yourself smiling back when he shot that grin your way.

Skye and Willow both watched the way you were grinning, blushing, the whole nine, and when he dropped the drinks off and walked back over to the bar, they both had the same idea.

“Go get his number.” Skye was the first to say it, causing Anna to snap back into the conversation. She was too caught up texting Jack to realize the guy was even there in the first place.

“Who?” She asks, glancing between you, Skye and Willow.

“The cute bartender guy. Y/n was eyeing him pretty hard.” Willow adds in, but you rolled your eyes at that.

“I was not eyeing him. He’s cute, I was just appreciating his attractiveness.” You shrugged, grabbing your drink and taking a few sips.

“Go appreciate it some more. Looked like he was doing the same thing.” Skye tries to encourage you, but you really didn’t have the desire to.

“Nah, no guys tonight. I’m here with you three for a reason. It’s girl’s night.” You held up your glass up and they all cheers it.

“Still think you should do it.” Skye mutters before she takes a sip of her drink.

“Agreed.” Willow adds. “It’s about time you start putting yourself out there again. I know you said you never wanted to after what happened with…” You shot her a look and she avoided your exes name all together.

“I’m just saying, not every guy is gonna fuck you over. You won’t know that until you see for yourself, and you won’t see it unless you try.”

You shrugged your shoulder and downed the rest of your drink. You didn’t want to think about any of that stuff. It’s been two years since you got your heart completely shattered by a man you had all intentions to marry, and the wound still burned when you thought about it.

“She’ll do it when she’s ready.” Anna adds, sending you a soft smile. “You can’t rush these things. We all know one day Y/n is gonna be the one to find a man and fall hopelessly in love with him, get married, have a ton of babies and live happily ever after while we’re still sitting here wondering why we don’t have rings on our fingers yet.”

Skye laughed at that, a little louder than she normally would which meant she was definitely starting to feel the alcohol.

“You’re probably right.” Willow shakes her head.

“Yeah, Kyle and I talk about getting married all the time but he never fucking asks me!” She dramatically shrugs her shoulders.

“He’s just nervous babe.” Anna says. “You probably have to be the one to ask him.” She jokes.

“At this point, most likely.” Skye shakes her head.

It was then that you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket and quickly went for it. On the screen was finally a text from Hook.

behind the apartment. soon.

“What?” Skye called you out when she caught your reaction. You quickly locked your phone and stuffed it back in your pocket.

“Nothing” you shake your head. “Just my mom wondering where I went.”

“You moved back in with your parents?” Willow asked. “since when?”

“I didn’t” you blurt. “She just stopped by my apartment to drop off some stuff and saw that I wasn’t there. You know how she is.”

It was insane how easily you were beginning to come up with these lies. It didn’t make you feel good about yourself. You’d never had to lie to your best friends about anything before, but this was just something out of your control and you knew that.

Another round of shots was delivered by the same bartender and Skye and Willow both sent you knowing smirks when he set yours down in front of you and sent that warm smile your way again.

“Thank you” You beamed, and he nodded before he passed the other drinks around the table.

“Um, excuse me, sir-“ Skye called out to him before he got the chance to leave. You instantly felt your cheeks burn and kicked her under the table, but she acted like she didn’t feel it.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” She asks, and clearly the guy was a little taken back by that question, but he answered it anyway.

“I don’t.” He smiled back at her.

“Interesting.” Skye taps her fingers against the table, letting her eyes purposely wander over to you, and the bartender clearly picked up on that.

“Sorry about her” You blurt out when his eyes land back on you. “She’s drunk. Don’t pay her any attention.”

“I’m a little tipsy, not drunk, and my friend thinks you’re really hot.” She laid it all out on the table and your mouth dropped.

The bartender’s smile widened, cheeks flushing a bit.

“This is y/n” Skye points at you, and he turns his head to look at you again.

“Nice to meet you, y/n” he holds out his hand, and you take it despite the way you were nearly imploding from Skye calling you out and putting you on the spot like that.

“Nice to meet you too. And sorry about her, again. We’re not trying to bother you.” You managed to chuckle, but he shakes his head.

“Not a bother at all. Just let me know if you need anything.” He smirks before he lets your hand go, and you only nod back before he heads back to the bar.

“Wow” Willow gapes. “Skye, I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What? Broke the ice? She clearly wasn’t going to.”

“Because I didn’t want to.” You cut in, “You know I’m not trying to get with anybody right now. Why would you do that?”

“Because I know what you need.” Skye retorts. “You have got to stop avoiding guys all together just because of what Friedman did to you years ago.”

You rolled your eyes and the tensions at the table escalated when she mentioned Max’s name. They never did that.

“Sorry.” She huffed. “I was just trying to help you out. I want you to be happy. That’s it.”

————

Tyler shot up straight out of bed after he finally woke up from a serious crash. After him and his dad got back from handling Ricky’s little problem, he hit the bed and didn’t wake up until almost nine at night.

“Fuck!” He shouts when he notices the time and the message on his screen from the restaurant girl. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.”

He quickly typed back before he headed up to Taz’s office, rushing to it, more so.

He knocked on the door and when his dad called him in, he could see the clear aggravation on his face.

“If you don’t have money in your pocket I don’t know why you’re standing in my office right now, son.”

“I’m getting it.” He says.

“It’s late already. This is only the second week.”

“It was my fault. I passed out when we got back from Starks’ place. She’s coming to drop it off.”

Taz tapped his fingers against the table and pulled the glasses off his face.

“No more of this.” He demands. “These excuses and the slacking you’re doing lately. It’s really starting to piss me off!”

“It’s not an excuse.” Tyler’s voice raises, making his dad shoot him a look. “She already has the money. I just didn’t text her letting her know where to meet cause I crashed. I’ll bring it to you as soon as I get it tonight.”

“I understand that.” Taz says. “Maybe she’s not late, but you are. That’s still just as bad to me. You need to be on top of this shit, son.”

Tyler’s mouth clamped shut, grinding his teeth against each other.

“What about Callis.” He tacked on. “You gonna remember to collect from him tomorrow, or are you gonna be too busy sleeping?”

“I’m meeting him at noon.” Tyler said, balling his fists inside his hoodie pocket. “You’ll have the money around one.”

“I better, son. I wanna see you straighten up. All this moping around you’re doing and forgetting your collects isn’t gonna work around here. Don’t let this happen again.”

Tyler tightly nodded and turned back to the door, rolling his eyes when his dad wasn’t looking. He headed back down to his apartment and felt the weight of the whole fucking world bearing down on him.

All the pressure he felt to keep his dad’s business in line was something he knew he would never escape from. The fact that one simple mistake on his part could be detrimental to anyone involved was never something he could fully accept without feeling like the devil himself.

He waited around until ten minutes to eleven, then got a text that said almost there, and headed out his apartment and down to the back.

He stood off in the corner, covered by the shadows and waited until he saw headlights slowly turning in. He only pushed himself off the wall when he was sure it was her car.

She stepped out with a bit of a stumble and stood there awkwardly. Clearly she was nervous again, but something else about her was a little off too.

He eyed her for a moment while she didn’t move, standing still as stone in front of her door.

“You got the money?” He asked, and she quickly nodded before leaning down to push the button to pop the trunk, and bumping her head on the inside of the car when she stood back up.

She stumbled back a little and he just watched her, knitting his brows.

He walked over to her trunk and lifted the top, finding a black purse laying inside. He grabbed it, shaking his head.

“Should really invest in a briefcase with a lock.” He muttered as he slung the purse on top of the trunk. “Anyone could steal this shit.”

“Nobody knows it’s in there.” She slurred her words and he noticed. He paused with his hand in the bag and glanced over at her.

“Are you drunk?” He asks, and she simply stares up at him like she’s done something wrong. Wide, round eyes filled with all kinds of worry.

He shakes his head again before he starts counting the money, but gets interrupted when she can’t help but to say something that’s been on her mind all night long.

“Taz knows i’m not late, right?” She blurted, and he eyed her again, seeing the genuine concern on her face.

“He knows.” He muttered before he goes back to counting. She felt a little relief, but not much.

She wondered how he managed to accurately count the cash when it was nearly pitch dark outside. The only source of light was the dim streetlight off a little ways.

He skimmed through the cash and stacked them accordingly off to the side, and she just watched as he did it.

She wasn’t as nervous as before and maybe that was just because of the shots she had at the bar, but she appreciated it. She wasn’t scared to really look at him this time.

He felt her staring though, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He kept his eyes trained on the money while she was observing the way his lips moved when he silently counted.

She also noticed that he had some tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his hoodie and wondered what they were, but of course she wasn’t going to ask him.

“Two K.” He nods, stuffing the cash back in the purse. “wait here.” He says before he walks past her and through the door of the complex.

She leans against the car and stares at that door, waiting for him to come back. she didn’t know why he told her to wait, until he came back with that empty purse about five minutes later.

She grabbed it from him and tossed it in the trunk, then stood there aimlessly because she wasn’t sure if she was excused to leave yet.

He stood a little distance from her, wondering why she showed up so drunk in the first place, but that wasn’t his business, and he didn’t know why he was thinking about it in the first place.

“So everything’s okay?” She asked, and he knitted his brows back at that.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Like, Taz knows I had the money and… Everything’s okay?”

He could tell that she was scared, she wasn’t good at hiding it even with who knows how much alcohol in her system.

“Yeah.” He nods. “He just got it. Told him it was me that was late, not you. Its all good.”

“Okay.” She breathes out a breath of relief and he could tell that immediately. It just reminded him of the fear he puts in everyone’s hearts, but that’s what he’s supposed to do. It’s not like he has a choice.

“Next week, restaurant girl.” He says before trying to turn back and go inside, but her voice stops him.

“Restaurant girl?”

He pauses with his hand on the door knob and glances over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?” he shrugs.

“You don’t know your client’s names?” She asks, and he turns back around to face her, crossing his arms.

“Restaurant girl.” He shrugs again. “and you’re not my client. You’re my dad’s. I’m just doing the work for him.”

“But I still have a name and it’s not restaurant girl.” She shuffles on her feet, looking at the ground. She wouldn’t have said anything if she wasn’t so damn drunk.

“It’s y/n.” She says as she picks her eyes up to look at him again.

His lips form into a tight line and brows knit together again, wondering why he’s even standing there listening to this wasted restaurant girl in the first place when he could be inside smoking a blunt like he wants to.

He didn’t even know what to say back to her, so he just stared at her until she started feeling nervous all over again, ten times worse, like she’d overstepped and pissed the shark’s son off.

“I just- i’m gonna go.” She quickly excused herself, and he watched as she stumbled to her car.

“You’re gonna drive like that?” He calls out before she got the chance to open up the door. “Cause my dad’s not gonna be happy if something happens to you and he can’t get the rest of his money. Kind of a stupid choice you’re making.”

She pauses, slowly turning back to face him.

“I’m just gonna go home. It’s not that far.” her voice was a barely there whisper, but he rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out his pocket.

He types something up and she just watches, until he lifts his eyes to her again.

“Uber’s on the way. You can pick up your car tomorrow morning before my dad wakes up and sees it out here. So be here before six.”

“I don’t need an uber, I’ll be fine.” She adamantly refuses, about to open up her door, but his strong voice stops her in her tracks.

“Y/n, don’t get behind the wheel like that. That’s fucking stupid. Just wait for this uber and come get your car in the morning.”

She turned back around slowly, taking her hand off the door handle in defeat. She leaned against the car and crossed her arms over her chest, and he leaned back against the wall and did the same.

There was a moment of tense silence between them. She stared down at the pavement and he stared at her.

“Make sure you’re here before six.” He reminds her, knowing she was drunk off her ass. “I don’t want to have to explain to my dad why your car is out here. That’s bad for business.”

She looked back up at him and nodded, pulling out her phone and already setting a five o’clock, five-fifteen and five-thirty alarm so she’ll make sure she’s up.

He watched as she stuffed the phone back in her pocket and stared back down at the ground, clearly avoiding eye contact with him.

He glanced down the alleyway and then back at his phone, noting that the uber was only a few minutes out and pushed himself off the wall.

“Come on.” he muttered, heading out from behind the complex, towards the sidewalk.

She followed him, and stopped when he stopped out in front of the apartments. He looked to both sides of him, and there were a few people on the street but none of them paid any attention to him and her.

He silently leaned against the wall and she awkwardly stood next to him, anxiously rubbing her hands together as she waited on the car to come and pick her up.

They heard two gunshots ringing in the distance. She jumped, he didn’t flinch.

She looked up at him with worried eyes, and he didn’t look back down at her when he said, “Happens all the time.”

She was more than ready to get the hell out of that side of town, so when the uber pulled up, she was more than just relieved.

He pushed off the wall and stepped up to the driver’s window, leaning down to say something to him but she didn’t hear what it was.

He tapped the hood twice before he looked back at her, then proceeded to open the back door.

She was a bit surprised by that action, but she didn’t say anything about it except a quick, “Thank you” before she slipped inside.

Before he closed the door behind her she heard him say, “Tomorrow morning, don’t forget.” But before she could respond, he slammed the door.

————

The next morning, just fifteen minutes before six, the uber dropped you off in front of the complex, and when you went to pay, he denied it.

“Covered.” He simply said before he unlocked the door. You looked at him confused for a second before thanking him and getting out of the backseat.

Your car was still parked where you vaguely remember leaving it, and you were thankful nobody stole it in the middle of the night.

You weren’t smart about leaving the keys in it, but that’s something that happens when you get drunk off your ass, you assumed.

You went to open the door, but it was locked. You tried again, and then moved onto all the other doors, and they were locked too.

You paused for a moment, trying to remember if you actually did have your keys when the uber picked you up last night, but you were sure you didn’t.

You leaned down and looked into the window, but there were no keys in sight.

“Fuck” You breathed out, pulling out your phone to see that it was getting real close to six and Hook was pretty adamant about you getting your car out of there before then.

You debated whether or not you should text him and tell him what was going on. He probably wouldn’t care in the first place, and if anything you’d probably just piss him off.

You tried to come up with a plan and realized the only thing you could really do was call your mom, since she had a spare… so basically, you couldn’t do anything.

You were starting to panic a little. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, just about to type a message when you heard the door click behind you.

You spun around and saw Hook standing in the doorway shirtless with sweatpants sitting low on his hips. Your eyes slightly widened and he noticed that, wasn’t quite sure what that reaction was for but he didn’t ask questions.

“Here.” He steps out, tossing your keys. You looked down at them after the initial surprise of seeing him in the state he was in wore off.

“Went to make sure your doors were locked and realized you left your keys in the ignition last night.” He raspily mutters, “Would’ve either had a dead battery or no car today.”

You looked down at the keys, simply because looking at him was making you feel some strange sort of feelings.

You noticed that he had tattoos littering his skin. His chest, torso, arms and probably many more from what you assumed. Not to mention the sculpted abdomen he clearly put a lot of work into.

It was strange considering you only ever saw him in that black hoodie, and even stranger that you were feeling your heart race when he was standing so close, but not from fear like usual.

He tilted his head to the side, brown eyes staring down at you. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the effect he had on women, but didn’t expect you to be one of them.

You fumbled with your keys and dropped them like an idiot, and he stared at them on the ground before you bent down to pick them up.

It was funny to him, but he didn’t crack a smile.

“Well” you tried to play it all off, successfully looking back up at him and trying your best not to let your eyes wander elsewhere. “Thanks for not letting anyone take my car.”

“Mhm” he hummed, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Should be more careful about that. Maybe don’t drive drunk next time and you won’t have that problem.”

You vaguely recalled him basically scolding you the night before when you tried to leave. It was a distant memory thanks to the haze of the alcohol, but you know it happened.

“Yeah, I won’t.” You tell him, and he tilts his head back, peering his eyes at you for reasons you didn’t understand.

“We won’t tell my dad about this.” He says, and you nodded back.

If Taz would’ve known that he hit up one of the getaway drivers to take a drunk girl home, he would’ve lost his shit.

He already made sure Hobbs knew not to say a word about it, but he needed to make sure you knew not to as well.

“I mean it.” He sternly states, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes when he expresses how serious he is about that.

“Okay.” You tell him. “I won’t say anything. I wasn’t going to in the first place.”

He eyes you for a little longer before his gaze drops down to your keys that your nervously fidgeting with. The sound is annoying to him but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“My dad’s about to be up.” He tells you, and you take that as your time to get in the car and leave.

“Alright.” You say. “Uh- next week i’ll have more money. So, just let me know when to bring it to you.”

He nods before he spins around and makes his way back towards the door, and it’s then that you noticed another tattoo at the top of his spine.

You tore your eyes away when he glanced over his shoulder, watching as you unlocked your car door and got inside. He said nothing more before he went back into the complex, and you pulled out of the alleyway.

That whole Saturday was spent nursing a serious hangover, but by the time Sunday rolled around, you were back at work.

Skye, Anna and Willow all came in for lunch like they told you they would and since it wasn’t too busy, you were able to sit down and talk with them for a little while.

“So” you said as you took a seat. “That guy from the other night-“

“Cute bartender guy?” Skye asks.

“Yeah, him. He found me on instagram and followed, so thanks for that.” You said sarcastically.

“Did you follow him back at least?” Anna chimed in.

“Nope.” You shook your head, earning Skye’s eyes to narrow.

“Why not?” She asked.

“Cause I don’t even know him like that.” You retorted.

Skye’s eyes rolled. “You can still follow him back. He clearly was into you. Why else would he look you up and follow?”

“I get that, but I’m not trying to get with anyone right now. I told you that the other night.”

“It’s a fucking follow on instagram. It’s not like you’re jumping on his dick behind the bar.”

You were a little taken back at her sudden irritation and choice of words, to say the very least.

“Damn Skye.” Willow comments.

“I’m just saying.” She shrugs her shoulders before she plops a fry in her mouth.

“She’s just not ready yet.” Anna softly spoke up.

“She’s not doing shit if she just follows him back-“

“Why are you so concerned about this?” You interjected. Skye looked across the table at you when you interrupted her.

“Because I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to be happy again, y/n. Ever since Max you have literally been lifeless. I just want you to find someone who brings your smile back. That’s it.”

You dropped your eyes down to your phone and Anna and Willow both eyed you, waiting for a response. The tensions at the table were escalating and the silence was speaking volumes.

“Max isn’t the reason why i’m like this.” You spoke up after a moment. “Think what you want, but i’ve got more to worry about right now than a man. That’s the last thing on my mind. This restaurant is my biggest priority right now.”

Skye’s shoulders sunk. “I get that, but-“

“But you don’t, Skye.” You shook your head at her. “Because if you did understand, you wouldn’t even be worried about me having a boyfriend right now either. You’d be more concerned about the weight on my shoulders trying to keep this place up and running.”

Your snappiness made everyone drop their heads and you immediately felt bad for it, but you didn’t take your words back.

It wasn’t entirely Skye’s fault. Truthfully you knew you’d been on edge for the last few weeks thanks to having to keep so many secrets and lie to everyone you cared about. You constantly feared that your deal with the Senerchia’s would be found out and that led you into a spiral just contemplating what would happen next.

“I’m sorry.” Skye says, her voice barely audible and you thought you felt your heart crack when you heard it.

“It’s okay, Skye.” You softened up. “I just have a lot going on right now and I don’t want to add anything on top of it all. I love you, and I appreciate you just wanting me to be happy, but right now a man isn’t in the cards for me.”

————

Tyler walked into the bar late Tuesday night. He needed to take his mind off things and the liquor stores were closed, so he assumed he’d pay a visit to that old place he used to frequent before life got complicated.

Dante was tending so he took a seat in one of the barstools and waited for his friend to finish serving drinks.

He noticed him when he walked back from the other end and immediately started making his signature. He passed it to Tyler who wasted no time downing it and sliding the glass back for another round.

“Everything cool?” he asks, and Tyler stiffly nods. He fills another glass and passes it back, and it was just another one that Tyler tipped back and downed in half a second.

Dante leaned against the bar and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his feed on instagram, which reminded him about the girl he followed not too long ago.

After checking his notifications, he saw that she still hadn’t followed back.

Tyler was staring at the glass in between his hands, waiting for his friend to get off the phone so he could get it filled again.

“Hey” he decides to turn to Tyler for some advice. “I met this girl the other night and her friend was… I don’t know, I think she was trying to get us to talk or something.”

Tyler’s eyes cut over to Dante, brows knitting under locks of messy hair.

“Anyway I found her on instagram and followed her but she never followed me back.” He says. “Think I should send her a message or something?”

Tyler blinked twice. It wasn’t common for him to be the one his boys turn to for any type of advice whatsoever. It felt weird to him.

“I’ll show you a picture of her.” Dante adds as he goes to the girl’s page.

He clicks on one of her at the beach over a summer. The picture was a year old but it was the most recent one on her account. He turns the phone to Tyler and when his eyes dropped down to that photo of restaurant girl in a bikini, he had to do a double take.

“She’s hot as hell.” Dante says before he turns the phone back. Tyler looks back down at his glass and thinks for a minute. He was debating whether or not he should tell him to shoot his shot or not. Leaning more towards not.

“Apparently she went to college too. Or maybe she’s in college still.” He says as he turns the phone to show Tyler another picture of her standing with two other girls in front of the university.

He thought back to when she told his dad she had to drop out to keep the family restaurant running. But he didn’t say anything.

“What do you think?” he asks before locking his phone and setting it down on the counter. “Should I message her or just take her not following me back as my answer.”

Tyler wordlessly slid his glass over to him, then tapped his knuckles against the countertop when there was nothing to occupy his hands.

Dante made another drink and passed it back, and that’s when Tyler finally spoke up.

��Up to you.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t chase after her, but you’re not me.”

Dante picked up on Tyler’s vibe. His attitude was emitted stronger than it usually was. He just assumed he had another bad day. It wasn’t unusual for Tyler to be grouchy six days out the week. He didn’t take it personal.

“I mean, I don’t wanna seem pushy but this girl was something else, man.” he says. “I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

Tyler thinks back to something that struck him the moment he remembered it. The gears start turning in his mind, and a question amounts from it all.

“What night?” He asks, trying to make it seem like he was just keeping the conversation going, but he was curious.

“Friday.” Dante tells him, and it all made sense when restaurant girl showed up drunk off her ass.

“Mm.” Tyler hums before he downs the glass he was holding. “Did you uh.. hook up with her?”

“Nah” He shook his head. “Would’ve if she wanted to, but I didn’t get that vibe from her. It was her friend who was trying to start stuff. She acted like she was too nervous to talk to me.”

Too nervous. Made sense. That girl was always nervous.

“So what happened?” Tyler asks as he coolly passes the glass back, silently requesting yet another shot. Now that the liquor was working through his system he was forgetting about the horrible day he had and focusing more on the interesting conversation instead.

“I served them their drinks and her friend started asking me a bunch of questions. She was hot too. They all were, actually.” He chuckles as he slides another shot to Tyler’s waiting hand.

“But she asked if I was single. Stuff like that. Then she pointed at the girl and was like, this is y/n and she thinks you’re hot.”

Hearing Dante say restaurant girl’s name was kind of weird to him, but he didn’t really know why. Hearing him say she thought he was hot wasn’t exactly weird, but it made him feel something he was unfamiliar with.

“So I just introduced myself to her. She kept apologizing for her friend and looked so embarrassed.”

Tyler pictured it all playing out in his head. The liquor was starting to go down a little too smooth at this point and even with that, it left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“So what happened after?”

“Nothing.” he sighed. “She left not long after that. Her friends stayed until the bar closed but when I served them more drinks they didn’t say anything else about her. I wanted to ask if I could get her number but she was gone before I got the chance. Found her on Instagram though, but, y’know, she never followed back.”

He nodded tightly, knowing exactly where she went and not bothering to inform Dante about it either. He tapped his fingertips against the glass three times before he took a slower sip.

“Sounds like she’s not into you.” Tyler decided on. Voicing it out loud, he sounded kind of harsh, but it was better than telling his friend to send her a message.

Dante had no idea the kind of shit Tyler does or the people he knows. All he knew was that he worked for his dad and was under the impression that Taz was a bondsman and he just took phone calls for him. He told all his friends that three years ago and the lie somehow stuck.

There would be too much explaining to do and things could get pretty messy.

“Think so?” his hopes were clearly let down, but Tyler nodded back.

“There’s other girls.” Tyler added. “You work at the most popular bar in this town. Could have a new one every night of the week if you wanted to. Don’t worry about that one.”

Dante nodded back before he picked up a washcloth and started wiping down the counter.

Tyler was thinking about everything he’d just learned, and concluded that it was just the liquor sinking in when he got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach over it.

At least that’s what he was hoping.

————

taglist: @madhatterbri @730hook @multi-fandom-things730 @willowgreens @shawtys-things @justdamnpeachy @wickedval l @730bliss @theworldofotps @madds-97 @gethooked @benjaminka @5secondsofmoxley @cypherpart15 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @littlemissbliss06 @m-jay-f

let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started doing sex work while still living with my mom?

Warning for sexual mentions(nothing heavily explicit though)

I (18F) can't get a typical job like working in customer service or physical labor because of a mix of reasons. I'm both physically and mentally disabled, for one. I have chronic pain & chronic fatigue so extensive physical labor or any job that requires being up for a long time is out of the question for me, as it would cause me a lot of pain and put me at risk for collapsing or falling asleep due to exhaustion. I also have heavy social anxiety and sensory issues, and despite being in therapy since I was around 11, this hasn't gone away. I still have problems with stuttering when talking to people I don't know, and feel on the verge of panic the entire time. I also can't handle loud noises well- I carry around a pair of headphones constantly but that does mess with my hearing so I couldn't really use those in a customer service focused environment. I'm a full time student as well, and will be for several more years, as I'm going straight into college out of high school. On top of all that, I can't drive yet, as the process was delayed due to concerns that my health issues would make me a hazard on the road, so I won't have my full license until late this year.

I've tried looking for other job types before, but nothing I've been able to find works. I've tried doing art, but it's not easy to get people to actually commission you- I've only gotten 1 so far and I've had commissions open for almost half a year. I've tried content creation but have yet to build a platform big enough to make money from it. I've looked for online focused jobs such as creating captions or proof-reading others work but realized very quickly I'm not equipped/qualified for that job due to my problems with processing audio correctly, and my problems reading and writing correctly first try- I often have to re-read things many times over and re-type things at least once to get it at all correct, as words and letters get mixed up in my brain sometimes or I just accidentally skip over entire words or even sentences. And even then I sometimes still get it wrong. So I'm a pretty slow worker with things like reading, and something that requires listening to something and then writing what was said took so long it wouldn't meet the time requirements a lot of places are looking for in workers for that (that I've seen).

So the only idea I have left for making money so I at least have something to help pay for college and to go towards me being able to move out someday is some sort of sex work. I'm not planning on doing anything super risky, like meeting up with real people or anything that would show my face. So I wouldn't be worried about this bothering my mom since she's not really sex negative or strictly against sex workers or anything if it wasn't for one thing. I'm not sure if this will work either. I have a lot of acne problems all over, and problems with picking at my skin that leave scratch marks in a lot of places. And I'm not sure anyone would be willing to pay to look at that. It's not something that bothers me on an individual level, it's just a part of me, but that doesn't really change what other people do or don't find attractive. So it just kind of feels disrespectful to be selling that kind of thing in my mothers house if it's not even going to be significant enough for it to matter financially. And, of course, there's always the risk my mom could see it, and I worry it would upset her to see her daughter selling that kind of thing. But I don't see other options left for how I could make enough money to not end up drowning in student loans down the line, or end up living with my mom for many years into adulthood- which wouldn't be fair to her since she's not financially well off either. I don't plan for it to be a permanent job, just something to help me through my college years till I can start working in the field for what I'm getting a degree in or until my issues get well enough I can work a more typical job.

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[argumate]

One thing I wonder about is: If you were designing a financial system from scratch, in 2024, would you come up with banking? That central traditional trick of banks — that they fund themselves with safe short-term demand deposits, and use depositors’ money to invest in risky longer-term loans, with all of the run risk and regulatory supervision and It’s a Wonderful Life-ness that that involves — would you recreate that if you were starting over?

Part of me feels like, if you started a new civilization and put smart but ahistorical tech people in charge of designing a financial system, it would never occur to them to recreate traditional banking. It is so messy and opaque and imprecise, using a shifting pile of demand deposits to fund long-term loans. Plenty of people — insurance companies, retirement savers — want to earn a return on their money and don’t need it anytime soon; their money can be locked up in long-term loans. The money that people keep in the bank just to pay rent and buy sandwiches doesn’t need to be pooled and invested in risky loans; it should just sit in the vault.

This idea — that bank deposits should just sit in the vault (or, realistically, in electronic money at the Federal Reserve), while risky loans should be funded by long-term investors who intend to take those risks — is sometimes called “narrow banking.” It has a long intellectual pedigree, it came back into vogue after the 2008 financial crisis, and it got attention again after last spring’s US regional banking crisis. All those crises! The traditional business of banking is necessarily crisis-prone; using risky long-term loans to back risk-free short-term demand deposits involves a fundamental mismatch, and every so often that flares up into a crisis.

And so, since 2008, but more visibly since last spring, banking really has become narrower. Private credit is the lending side of “narrow banking”: Private credit firms raise dedicated funds, with locked-up money, from investors who intend to invest in long-term loans to earn a return. And private credit is the hottest area of finance, making buyout loans and investment-grade corporate loans and funding consumer loans. And private credit is booming not just as a competitor to banks, but as a funding source for banks: Banks have the relationships and technology to make loans, but not the money, so they partner with private credit to fund the loans.

Meanwhile the deposit side of “narrow banking” is something like banks taking their customers’ money and parking it at the Federal Reserve. And in fact some money has shifted out of banks (which are not narrow) and into government money-market funds (which park the money in Fed repo or Treasury bills). Even within banks, there is less lending.

...

That’s narrow banking. I admit I have a certain emotional soft spot for traditional banking. There is something magical about how banking transmutes risky assets (loans) into risk-free liabilities (deposits). “A banking system is a superposition of fraud and genius that interposes itself between investors and entrepreneurs,” wrote Steve Randy Waldman in 2011; it allows society to use the money of risk-averse depositors to fund risky investments in growth. But it is possible that this magic no longer works: In a world of financial transparency and fast communications technology and flighty deposits, you can’t really expect to hide the risks of the banking system; you have to fund the loans with people who know they’re funding the loans.

I will say, though, that I have also written a lot about crypto over the last few years. Crypto really created a new financial system from scratch, and it started with a very strong philosophical bias against traditional banking. And then it really did recreate traditional banking! And also traditional banking crises: In 2022, it turned out that one of the main uses of crypto was to turn customer demand deposits (of crypto) into extremely risky loans (of crypto), which ended as badly as you’d have expected. “One possibility,” I wrote last year, “is that fractional reserve banking is deeply rooted in human nature.” If you started the financial system over, maybe banking would develop again. Even if actual banking is getting narrower now.

Matt Levine on narrow banking, we talk about this a lot as banks are so fundamental to how our entire civilisation currently functions and yet they're basically just hacks that lurch from crisis to crisis, more evolved than engineered

[lunajay33]

Change Part.6

•🎀🩰🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.5

•Masterlist•

It had been a week since the incident with the walker, Daryl refused to let me go out alone again and I didn’t blame him I didn’t want to be alone either it was too risky, it wasn’t just my life in danger, I had a baby to worry about and I refused to leave Daryl alone in a world like this, I rolled over in bed admiring his sleeping form, his hair all crazy, I love him so much and the fact that our family was just about to begin tore something from me that I always dreamed about

“Mornin” he grumbled as I ran my hand through his hair

“Sorry did I wake you?”

“Nah I was up a while ago just waiting for ya”

“Mmmm” I didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or what but my mood was at an all time low and I didn’t wanna drag Daryl down too

“What’re ya thinking about” he asked as he squeezed my hip

“Nothing”

“Angel I know ya like the back of my hand, I know when yer over thinking”

I sighed hating that he’s always been able to crack me out of my shell he shown me time and time again that I can trust him with anything, he’ll we’re having a baby together why shouldn’t I tell him

“Just been thinking where my family are now, I know I haven’t talked to them in like a year but I still wonder if they’re even alive”

“The last time you talked to them they called ya a selfish slut, ya shouldn’t worry about them, all they’ve ever done was hurt ya angel, we got our own family now, one that’ll love ya more than they ever could” Daryl wasn’t much of a big speech kinda guy but when he knew I needed comforting he pushed that side of him away to be there for me

“Yeah I guess you’re right, like usual” I said laughing as he pulled me closer so I could lay my head in his chest

I was sat in the living room curled in a blanket reading the new twilight book hearing the rain patter against the windows, the smell of a roast in the oven that Daryl had put in, right when I got to the part where Edward was leaving Bella the phone rang, Daryl at my side handed it over scoffing at the caller ID

Caller ID: Jackson L/N

“This can’t be good” I sighed clicking answer and putting it on speaker

“Hello?”

“You need to come home” not even a hi or nothing

“Why? None of you have bothered to contact me in months what is it this time?”

“Dad lost his job, mom and dad need money for rent” I could see the anger written all over Daryl’s face

“Jackson I have my own life now, I can’t be helping you guys out ever time you need money, I have bills of my own and I don’t wanna waste my money on people who don’t even care about me”

“Are you serious right now?” He asked enraged

“Why can’t you help, you’re the one that got that football scholarship, I had to work my way through university and I’m still paying off student loans, plus Daryl and I have to pay for our house and car and motorcycle”

“You know what this is done, you’re out of this family for good this time, mom and dad should’ve gotten rid of you when they had the chance you selfish slut” the phone disconnected signalling he hung up

I looked at Daryl feeling my chest tighten, I never wanted this I was never the golden child in their eyes, I only ever felt like I mattered when Daryl came into my life

“He’s lucky this was over the phone or I’d beat him into the ground” Daryl groaned rubbing my legs over the blanket

“Why am I never good enough for them?”

“Ya got that wrong Angel, they ain’t good enough for you”

As I sat outside eating breakfast Daryl and Merle got ready for the day, Merle was going to Atlanta with some people from the camp and Daryl was going out hoping to find a deer he’s been tracking for a while

“I gotta go now Angel” Daryl said as he stung his crossbow over his shoulder

“But I don’t want you to go” I whined getting up to wrap my arms around him

“I know but I’ll be back later this evening just try and stay around the other, don’t want another problem like last week” he said placing a kiss to my cheek

“Fine just promise me you’ll be safe out there, that you’ll come back to me”

“Promise”

He picked up some extra arrows and disappeared through the tree line

“Ya got him wrapped around yer lil finger don’t ya” Merle mocked

“Come on Merle can’t you just be happy that he’s happy, I know you don’t like me much but you’re my family now and I’m yours, plus I’m carrying your niece or nephew can’t we just be cordial for once” I said exhausted from his constant bickering

“Don’t matter ta me ya got knocked up, ya made my brother soft and yer gonna see ya ruined his life” he picked up his weapons and left the camp site leaving with the Atlanta crew

“God when do I catch a break?” I sat back down in the camp chair not noticing someone sit next to me until they talked

“You okay sweetie?” It was Lori

“It’s just Merle, always a pain in my ass, just been thinking about what’s gonna happen now with the baby and everything I’m just scared” I looked at here to see if she’d give me advice but here eyes were wide

“What?” I asked confused

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah, I guess we never really mentioned it”

“You know when I found out I was pregnant with Carl, I was a wreck I was young and scared and didn’t know what to do with myself, but the moment I saw him curled up in my arms so little without a care in the world, I knew what I had to do to protect him from harm, everything will be okay” she smiled patting my back

“Thanks, that helps a bit I just wish it wasn’t in these circumstances”

“How far along are you?”

“About 4 months now, I’ve been taking my prenatals and everything”

“Well I’m always here if you have questions about the baby or changes you go through, but I have to go cut Carls hair”

Something clicked, maybe since this was a new start for Daryl and I and with the baby in this new world maybe I needed a new look, something to liven my spirits

“Umm Lori, would you be up for cutting my hair too!” I asked as I ran up next to her as she walked towards her camp

“I’d love to”

I sat next to Shane as Lori worked on Carls hair, he couldn’t stop complaining but it was adorable

“One day you’re gone wish you had her cutting your hair” Shane said laughing

“Doubt it”

“Trust me Carl, one day you’ll crave to be have these moments again with your mom, it may not seem like it but you will” I said seeing a little smile on his rosy cheeks

“Alright you’re all done” Lori said as she swiped off his extra hair on his shirt

I sat down in front of her as she wrapped a towel around my shoulders

“Alright how short do you want it?” My hair was down to my mid lower back

“How about just below my shoulder”

“That’s quit a chop”

“Well I need it”

She held my hair back and it a split second it was chopped, she straightened out some uneven pieces and it was done

“Well what do you think?”

“It’s really nice Mrs. Dixon!” Carl said with a beaming smile

“Well thank you but you can call me y/n sweetie” he was adorable I hope my child is as sweet as him

“It suits you perfect dear”

“Thank you! I should go clean some clothes done at the quarry, if you need anything I’ll be down there!”

I spent most of the evening down at the quarry cleaning and scribbling mine and daryls dirty clothes, laying them out on some rocks to let them dry, meanwhile dipping my feet in the cool water helping to sooth my ankles that have been getting a bit swollen

I looked around hoping no one was near, I haven’t been able to get a good proper bath in a while so I stripped down my clothes leaving only my bra and panties, submerging myself in the lake floating belly up watching the clouds pass by just like the time Daryl took me here

“Daryl Dixon did you drag me out here just to see me naked?” I asked smirking as he started taking off his shoes and pants

“Come on it’s nice out yer gonna love it” he said as he was stepping into the lake

I bit my lip feeling that thrill shoot through me, I stripped to just my panties and bra, I walked over taking his hand

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

“Ya sure?” I knew he was embarrassed about his scars but they weren’t his fault

“You know they don’t bother me, I love you for you, not what happen to you” I said squeezing his hand reassuringly

He lifted it over his head and threw it back over to my clothes pill

“Come on Dixon show me how great this’ll be, better not let me drown” I laughed as I dragged him in

“Still can’t believe yer my girl”

“And I’ll be your girl until you’re sick of me”

“Never”

“Well well well what do we have here?” I heard behind me as I pulled on my clothes after drying off

“What do you want Ed?” I groaned feeling that touch of fear he instilled in the women of the camp

“Showing yourself down here for the whole camp, you’re asking for it” he said stepping closer

“Leave me alone Ed”

“Ya ain’t got your man around who’s gonna stop me?”

“Don’t you touch me or you’ll be sorry”

He stepped closer squeezing my jaw now face to face

“Like I said ain’t no one gonna stop me” he said as his other hand started to wander down my arm

Before he could get any further he was ripped away Shane throwing him to the ground

“Touch her or anyone else again Ed and I’ll beat ya to death I swear, come on y/n” I gathered up all the clothes I washed and ran to Shane’s side as he lead me safely back to the camp

“Thanks, I didn’t know anyone was around”

“Ain’t your fault, Ed’s one sick man you stay away from him, stay with the group until Daryl or Merle gets back”

I sat down next to Amy folding up the laundry still to shaken up to have conversation that’s when a car alarm was ringing around the quarry, the group was back and it felt a little better knowing Merle would be here while Daryl was gone, Shane shut off the car alarm and others filtered out of a cargo truck

Lori and Carl had their moment with their “back from the dead” father and husband which was incredibly heart warming but then I realized something

“Where’s Merle?”

Part.7

Please please please give me some ideas for this story going forward🩷 How should I incorporate the ballerina story line into the new world??:)

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @deansapplepie @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken @minnie-min @writer-ann-artist @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @lettersfromyourlove

[bitchesgetriches]

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

It’s a fucking travesty that the leading cause of bankruptcy in these United States is medical bills. Not credit card bills nor risky investments. Not even student loans, but hospital bills. Invoices racked up through freak accidents and diseases the patient certainly didn’t ask for and would probably prefer to live without.

To our readers in other, more civilized countries, you’re dismissed. This week we’re going to be dissecting a uniquely American problem: exorbitant medical bills and how to pay them.

The CEO of GoFundMe, an online crowd-funding platform, never dreamed that his company would become synonymous with “I’m broke and need $300,000 to pay for my child’s cancer treatment.” What he envisioned as a way for entrepreneurs and artists to raise money for their passion projects has become the last desperate hope of sick and injured Americans on the verge of total financial ruin.

It blows, dear readers. It fucking blows.

Keep reading.

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