#when johnny shows up and throws him into the pit

[pinazee]

Does this end with johnny pushing Kreese into a pit of snakes of his own making? Cause it should.

[oceantornadoo]

welcome home (johnny mactavish x f!reader x the lucky third simon riley)

slightly dub con (only kissing tho)

—

“hi bonnie.”

johnny crushed you in a bear hug, wrapped up in the feeling of your body against his. he’d been gone for three long, torturous weeks, full of spotty phone calls and one or two dirty texts.

his hands groped you up and down, cheek nuzzling your neck with new stubble. you closed your eyes at the feeling of your man finally home in your arms. when you opened them, you were staring into the bottomless pits that were simon riley’s eyes, all hulking silence behind johnny.

“simon i-“ johnny shut you up with a sloppy kiss, grabbing your jaw with his right hand as he groped your ass with his left. you closed your eyes and moaned on instinct, forgetting about your ghostly audience right in front of you. you could feel johnny’s erection poking through his cargo pants, three weeks of frustration at the loss of your wet cunt clenching around his cock. “missed ya, lassie.” he murmured in your ear, hand traveling from your jaw to your tits, squeezing hard at your pointed nipples. “don’t be rude, johnny, your friend is watching.” he gave you a low chuckle as your hands ran through his mohawk. “‘es enjoyin’ the show. tha’ righ’ l.t.?”

johnny turned and smirked knowingly at his lieutenant. “go’on.” he nudged you. “‘e gets a welcome home too.” you’d been friends with simon for years ever since you and johnny had started dating, but for some reason the energy felt different today. you approached simon with doe eyes, suddenly nervous around a man who’d seen you throw up after too many shots. “hi, si.” you reached up on your tippy toes, giving him your customary cheek kiss. he grabbed your jaw with the same ferocity as johnny, turning you to look at his eyes. “no kiss?” you nervously turned back to johnny, who looked up from unlacing his boots. “‘es practically me, lass, jus’ more lonely. go’on now.”

you lifted simon’s mask with shaking hands. you’d seen his face hundreds of times, but it always made your breath catch when you saw his rugged scars. he heard it too, lips stretching over bone into a smirk. he brought you in for a kiss, a real one, opening your lips by sheer force. you moaned as his lips slotted with yours, the unfamiliar texture turning you on. his hands traveled to your ass and hiked you up against him, your legs scrambling for purchase around his thick torso. he was bigger than johnny, more tree trunk than man. he reached with one hand in between you two to adjust you against him, his paw cupping your pussy and ass as he pulled you against him. it was completely inappropriate, so many lines being crossed as his hand stayed there, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, applying pressure. your core clenched around nothing, the unfamiliar feeling of wanting a man who wasn’t johnny rolling around in your head. then, quick as lightning, he put you down, separating your lips with ease. “thanks, dove.” he grunted as he passed around you, giving your ass a small smack as he toed off his boots and made his way to your kitchen.

you turned around bewildered, hand covering your lips as if you couldn’t believe what had just happened. johnny was watching from the hallway, that smug look ever present on his face. you caught his eye and the bastard winked, not helping the confusion and guilt roiling around in your gut. you were in for a very long welcome home party.

[mockerycrow]

Please could I have Ghost with a fem reader and "You'd better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to god I'm gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can get you to, and I know you don't want anyone to know what you sound like when I'm fucking you."

Thank you luv!!

HOUSE PARTY (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; no sex but very suggestive, alcohol ingestion, maskless simon.]

You sip your glass of alcohol—you don’t recall the name, some brand Kyle had brought to the house as a gift. The team managed to score a collective leave after a very successful mission; a mission you of course, were not allowed to know the details of. Whatever happened during that three month period though, left Simon incredibly pent up. After learning they managed to all get on leave together, you decided it was time to throw a party for them; to have some downtime. 

Of course, Simon lives with you, so you had gotten his approval. Nothing too big, just you, himself, and the rest of his team. Simon wasn’t interested in having strangers in the house which you could understand. He’s probably sick of seeing faces he doesn’t know after whatever he did on that mission. You’re all sitting in the backyard together around a firepit Simon had built about a year before. The pit and crackling with life from the fire; you’re all sitting on logs as seats. 

You’re sitting next to Simon, who has been unusually touchy tonight. Simon doesn’t keep his hands to himself when you’re alone, but the arm wrapped around your waist with his fingers sliding under your shirt to touch your skin is very out of character for him. You enjoy the touch, unable to resist your urge to lean into his side. You laugh at a joke, your body gently shaking against his. Simon thinks your laugh is absolutely beautiful. His heart warms from the sound, squeezing your waist gently.

Simon is quiet, which isn’t unusual. Even when you’re alone, Simon isn’t a man of too many words. He’s more of an action man, showing and instead of saying. You know this, which is why he doesn’t understand why you’re not getting it. His fingers are gently moving back and forth on the skin of your waist under your shirt, right above the waistline of your pants. His leg is pressed up against yours, and he’s barely said a word tonight.

You laugh once more and say something to someone—something he doesn’t really pay attention to. Not when he indeed absolutely adores your laugh, but he would much rather hear a different, breathier sound leave those lips of yours.

Simon takes a long sip of his drink, licking his lips afterwards. His eyes trail over his team; Kyle, who is sitting on one side of Johnny on the log—Johnny opting to sit in the grass and to lean against the log—with Price on the other side of him. Both Kyle and Johnny are nursing on whatever alcohol Kyle brought whilst Price stayed sober, opting to be the designated driver for tonight's hangout. 

Simon’s cock twitches underneath his jeans as his thoughts slowly turn more filthy. He inhales as his hand slips from your waist down to the curve of your hip, where your ass and thigh starts and gives you a steady squeeze. You shoot Simon a look which he returns; except his is with heavy, lidded eyes that scream ‘fuck me’. You swallow and look away, your heart thumping harder from his gaze. You didn’t expect that at all. You take another sip of your drink to wet your quickly drying throat—but your cunt is certainly soaking your panties.

You feel Simon shift and lean into your ear, his lips just barely brushing against your ear.

“You'd better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to god I'm gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can get you to, and I know you don't want anyone to know what you sound like when I'm fucking you.”

You shudder, his words sending a hot drop of thick honey liquid of pure arousal deep into your stomach, right down into your clit.

Yes sir, you mentally reply.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ ₵₳₦ĐɎ ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: lead singer!boyfriend!yuta x chubby!fem!bassist reader (you get mark & johnny as bandmates too so that's fun)

♥︎ Genre: rockstar au/fluff/angst/smut

♥︎ Summary: Joining your favorite band was a dream come true. That is until you fell for the lead singer who has no shortage of groupies throwing themselves at him. He says he loves you but can you really trust him? I mean, you used to be a groupie too after all.

♥︎ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♥︎ Warnings: Strong language. If you don't like curse words I'm sorry babes. I'm a potty mouth. Unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, rough sex, a lil choking, nibbling, scratching, fingering, marking, oral sex (f receiving), tattoos/piercings, pet names (daddy, baby, etc), a lil drop of mutual possessiveness.

♥︎ A/N: I've really been trying to have more fun with my fics and just let my brain do it's thing so I hope y'all have fun with it too, darlings.

“Yuta, I fucking love you!” an obnoxiously tipsy female voice screams from the crowd.

A bra comes soaring from the sea of bodies packed into the pit at the edge of the stage. The pink lace fabric lands at Yuta’s feet, draping itself across his scuffed black combat boots. Any band knows that when you stop the show to do something — tune your guitar, take a sip of water — it’s prime opportunity for anything to happen. And it almost always will. 

It’s not like you can blame her. Once upon a time you’d been one of those girls in the crowd, lost in the chaos of the night. There’s nothing like it, the rush that you get when your heart seems to sync with the violent bashing of the drums. The distorted guitars like electric coursing through your veins. Every lyric floats through the air, becoming more and more a part of you with each breath you take in. 

Then there was him…

Nakamoto Yuta. When your friends were all drooling over him you’d pretend you weren't interested. You’d never be so basic as to fall for the lead singer of the band. Maybe he did have the sort of voice that makes a girl melt even when he’s growling the filthiest lyrics. Especially when there’s growling. And maybe he did have bone structure to die for.

Then there were the tattoos, piercings, and the way sweat glistened on his chest halfway through a show. You weren’t won over by any of that. It was all about the music, one artist appreciating another. So when Yuta’s bassist quit the band and your manager broke the news that she’d gotten you an audition your intentions were purely artistic.

In this industry, a girl’s gotta work twice as hard as the guys to prove she can do half of what they can. You worked your ass off session after session, easily demolishing any other bassist their label could’ve suggested. You earned your spot in the band ten times over. Made sure no one could question why you were there. Then and only then did you let Yuta fuck your brains out. 

Before shows, after shows. Tour buses. Hotels. Airport bathrooms. Green rooms. Whenever. Wherever. However. In the studio and onstage it was still about the music but everything else? All of it was driven by how much you lusted for and, much to your dismay, loved one another.

Recalling the heavenly experience it is to be bent over a bathroom sink with Yuta so deep inside of you that you feel it in the back of your throat, you can’t really blame Ms. Pink Lace for tossing her bra at him. 

Kneeling down to pick up the bra, Yuta takes a look back at you. The most innocent face in the world, his baby angel, geared up and ready to commit murder. 

You can’t really blame her but—

Fuck it. You do. 

“I think she wants to come backstage after the show!” a guy shouts from the other side of the stage, garnering laughter from the crowd. Yuta smiles as he approaches the mic stand, the bra dangling from his fingers by the strap. “I think she wants my girl to kick my ass,” Yuta laughs, pushing his messy hair back out of his face.

“Kick his ass” Johnny whispers into his mic from the safety of his drum kit. Nearly spitting out the sip of water you’ve just taken, you toss the rest back at Johnny. The years of experience he has over you come in handy as he expertly dodges it.

“Boo, she doesn’t like to share!” Ms. Pink Lace shouts, not quite ready to back down.

Yuta steps aside and turns to you once more, “You wanna come answer this?” You unplug your bass and stroll to Yuta’s side with the sweetest smile on your face. “Do I share him?” you ask as if it’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard in your life. It is. You lay your hand flat on his chest, running it all the way down to the waist of his pants. Looping a finger around his belt, you pull him closer and into a kiss deep enough to make you both forget you’re on stage.

When you finally break away, you borrow his mic for a quick announcement. “Our next song is called ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’!” Taking the bra from Yuta, you put it on over your dress. Ever the supportive boyfriend, he clasps it in the back for you and plants another kiss on your lips before you skip back to your spot. 

“Well, then…” Yuta sings, “This is ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’” Mark laughs, strumming his guitar to warm up, “In your fucking dreams, parenthesis, thanks for the new bra.” The crowd cheers, basking in the chaos of it all. You plug your bass back up, ready to shred hard enough that your fingers bleed. You’re pissed, all of the boys know it, but the show must go on. 

There’s no crying in punk rock.

“Are you crying?” Mark asks, spotting you amongst the legions staff shuffling around the halls backstage. “No” you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “The lights were just hot and—” He grabs you by the arm, turning you to face him. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Overhearing the conversation as he passes, Johnny doubles back. “Are you—” Johnny starts but figures it out before he has to speak another word, “Wait, don’t tell me you’re upset about that bra thing.” Feeling cornered, you try to push them aside but they don’t budge an inch. “Look, no. I don’t know. I’m just—fuck just leave me alone okay!” you snap, another wave of tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Yuta finally catches up, his exhaustion turning to concern when he sees you. If you’re upset, even over the tiniest thing, everything stops for him including the urge to pass out after a show. He takes you by the hand, bringing you into his arms. He’s sticky and wet but his embrace is comforting all the same. “Baby,” he says softly, petting your hair, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” With so many eyes on you, you aren’t quite sure how to admit that Johnny’s right.

You are upset about the bra thing. Upset, embarrassed, angry, hurt — every mixture of things — and you can’t make sense of any of it. “Can we just go back to the hotel?” you ask, gathering whatever composure you have left. Yuta hesitates but gives in when he sees your eyes begging “Please”. “Uh, yeah. You guys—” he sighs, looking to the others. Johnny and Mark nod, getting the hint.

Mark pats him on the shoulder before walking ahead, “Got it, bro. We’ll catch you tomorrow.” Johnny hangs back for a second, leaning in to whisper into your ear, “Don’t worry, he’s so whipped for you. It’s, like, super sad.” Johnny’s comment gets a giggle out of you which is all he needed to feel okay walking away.

Yuta leads you back to the green room where he stays glued to you as you wait for the okay from your manager to leave. You’re relieved when you can finally go, the fresh night air soothing the suffocating feeling that’s been terrorizing you for the past hour. The ride back to the hotel is quiet with most of your time spent zoning out in the kaleidoscope of lights cast on you as you pass the local shops.

You can feel Yuta watching you, his hand firmly and lovingly holding yours, but can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not only are you the only girl in the band, you replaced someone fans already loved. Each night you have to fight for their respect, you knew this already. Now falling for him meant you had to fight for it in more ways than one. The girls will always be there in numbers your brain can’t even fathom, willing to do things that your brain, unfortunately, can fathom in nauseating detail. 

“A girlfriend to a rockstar is like a bicycle to a fish. Fucking useless.” 

That’s what one of the producers had advised him when you were supposed to be in the booth cluelessly recording your portion of a song. Those words crawled into the pit of your stomach, spreading doubt like a disease ever since. 

By the time you’re done spiraling, you’re upstairs seated at the foot of the bed in your hotel room. Contrary to popular belief, your band’s not the type to trash hotel rooms. That’s why you get to book places as beautiful as this with little to no resistance. Everything’s sleek and modern with large three-panel windows that overlook the city. Abstract paintings adorn the walls making it feel more like an art gallery than a place you sleep but the warm overhead lighting saves it from feeling too stuffy.

“Hey, uh, could you shower with me?” Yuta asks, drawing your attention to the bathroom door. It’s only now that you notice the shower running and Yuta standing there in a towel. “I’d shower alone but I have a fear of showers” he adds, “Shower phobia. I’ve had it really bad since I was a kid.” “And Mark says I’m a shitty liar” you tease, flopping back onto the bed.

You can’t see Yuta but you hear him shuffling across the smooth carpeted floor. He stops at your feet, dropping to his knees and laying his head in your lap. Almost on their own, your fingers find a way into his hair and silky strands swirl around them. Yuta breathes in deep, hoping what he says next will soothe you. “You’re enough for me. You know that, right?”

Time seems to freeze and you along with it. Something you love about him, his ability to seemingly always know how you’re feeling, has finally come back to bite you in the ass. Why can’t he just be content pretending nothing happened? 

“Yuta, I—” you say, sitting up enough to catch him staring at you the same way he had in the car. Only this time you don’t dodge his gaze, you let it pull you in. The man looking up at you isn’t the one in the magazines or on stage. There’s no act, only him and a heart pledged to you before you'd even known it. “What happened tonight, I’m sorry” he apologizes, “I can do better. I will.” 

“What? No!” you gasp, bringing you both up so that you’re eye to eye, “Please don’t apologize. That’s not what I wanted.” Still on his knees, Yuta slips his hands beneath your dress, fingers massaging your plush thighs. Touching you isn’t always sexual. Sometimes he just wants to be connected to you. This is one of those times. Feeling your body warm against his palms eases the anxiety knocking around in his head. Even though you’re upset your body still responds with pleasure to him, giving into his touch. That’s how he knows he hasn’t lost you. The day it doesn’t—well, he tries not to imagine that. 

“Do you think I’d cheat on you?” he asks, catching you off guard with his directness. You place a hand on each of his cheeks, squishing them together so his lips purse like the cutest fish you’ve ever seen. Yuta makes little smooching noises and you give him a peck on the lips. “I know you wouldn’t do that” you sigh, relaxing your hold on his cheeks, “But there’s a million girls out there who want you. I’m only one. What if someday you meet a girl and she’s everything you never knew you wanted?”

Yuta says nothing in response, simply staring at you for so long that you want to shake him to see if he’s alive. “There are a million other girls…” he admits, “Which is good for all of the guys I know want you because there’s only one of you and you’re mine.”

“Oh, Yuta, come off it—”

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit how many girls are out there. You never have to worry about me finding what I never knew I wanted” he promises, gripping your hips to bring you in so tight that your legs are already wrapped around him. His lips brush yours, hitting you with a wicked mixture of chills and hot flashes. “I know who I want,” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Who I love. I choose you. No one else. Can you trust that? For me?”

The sincerity in his voice, how it trembles with emotion when he says that he loves you, resonates more than anything he’s ever sung. His hands ease towards your inner thighs and they part for him instantly. The pad of his thumb brushes your clit through your panties and you shudder. “Yes,” you moan between his lips as his mouth captures yours. His kiss is like quicksand, the more you move the faster it drags you in. But there’s nothing to be done about it.

You’re ravenous for each other, your tongues performing an intricate dance that tangles you together. The movement of his thumb against your clit quickens, your hips arching to beg for more. “You love me baby?” he asks, trailing kisses down your chin. Tugging your panties to the side, his fingertips tease the slippery warmth of your entrance. “Yes, I…” you squeak, shivering when his fingers plunge into you, “Love you so much.”

Yuta’s tongue tickles your neck, love bites marking his way to your cleavage. “Tell me I’m yours,” he says, making no attempt to hide how desperate he is to hear you say it. Your walls clench around his fingers. He flexes them in response, the stretch so satisfying that your eyes nearly roll back. “I want you to own it so say it” he urges, pushing in deeper, “Tell me I’m yours.” Your arms come around his neck, your best attempt at staying upright.

“You’re mine. All mine” you moan, the faintest hint of possessiveness peeking through. It’s music to his ears, turning him on to the point that the towel’s virtually useless now in hiding how hard he is. Reaching between your bodies, you take him into your hand to delight in what you’ve done to him. Stroking up and down you feel the blood rushing up his shaft — veins throbbing, his arousal decorating your chipped nail polish.

“Is this mine too?” you joke, teasing the head of his cock with light circular movements. “Fuck, yes. You want it?” he mumbles, his face buried between your tits. He can barely breathe, he’s probably lightheaded, and it’s worth it. Gripping him by the back of the head, you bring him eye to eye with you again. “I want it” you grin, the fullness in your lower belly intensifying.

Yuta sticks his tongue out, curling it to wet his lips. Catching you off guard, he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back on the bed. Keeping you pinned by your neck, his free hand tears your panties to the side. His mouth latches onto your clit, licking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re completely at his mercy, only able to shake and moan as he devours you. His tongue runs between the petal soft lips of your pussy, your juices the best drink he’s had all night.

“Find someone else?” he scoffs, taking a handful of your belly, “Who else’s pussy tastes this good, hmm?” His tongue slams into you, the hand around your throat bringing you flush against his face.

 “Yuta, oh god — fuck — you can’t say things like that” you whimper, clawing at the sheets.

“Or what?”

Yuta pulls back, his face soaked with your juices, “Is my baby gonna cum if I tell her how good she tastes?” Refusing to wait for your answer, his tongue dips back inside of you. The ridges of your walls glide across his tastebuds, pulsing each time he swirls around and around. He’s relentless, letting up only for quick breaths of air. “So wet and so — mmm — fucking good” he groans, kissing your inner thigh.

When his tongue meets your core again you feel tingling in the tips of your toes and fingers. The tension in your stomach rises, your breaths growing shallow. Yuta releases your neck, locking his arms around your thighs to keep them spread. “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Cum for me.”

Pulling his tongue out, he drags it across your clit and sends you crashing over the edge. You throw your hand over your mouth, suppressing the incoherent moans that spill from your lips. Yuta snatches your hand away, holding you by the wrist just in time to hear those last few moans escape. Not missing a beat, he hops up and brings your limp body with him.

Disoriented, the rubbing of your thighs against your core causing some aftershock, you struggle to gain your footing. “You’re trying to kill me” you pout, leaning on him for support. “Why would I do that?” he asks, putting on his best innocent face, “We still have 10 more stops on the tour. The label would kill me.” 

“I can’t stand you!” you say, slapping him on the cheek as softly as you can. Yuta winks, pinching you on the ass, “You’ll live. Now about that shower—” Shaking off the post-orgasm brain fog, you manage to hold yourself up enough to lock lips with him. It’s the clumsiest thing. Kissing, caressing, peeling away your clothes. All while blindly making your way to the shower.

You step into the shower first, expecting Yuta to follow immediately after but he stops short just outside of it.

“Were you, like, serious about that shower phobia thing?”

“No,” he laughs, “I just want to look at you for a second if that’s okay.”

Standing alone in the shower, steamy droplets of water running down the curves of your body, you’re pure perfection. A vine of cherry blossoms travels across your left shoulder, riding your love handles, your hips, down your thigh. He knows how long it took to finish that tattoo. All of the tiny gorgeous details missed by the naked eye. It’s been a secret mission of his to explore every aspect of it. And of you. 

The admiration radiates off of him and you find yourself overcome with shyness. “Dude, come on. You’re making me nervous!” you say, hiding behind the shower curtain. Yuta jumps into the shower, hugging you from the side, “Oh my bad, dude. I call you ‘baby’ and I get ‘dude’?” Paying him no mind, you grab the body wash and begin to cover him in rose-scented bubbles.

“Don’t be a brat. I call you other things too. I call you baby—” Your fingers trace his collarbone. “I call you honey—” They travel across his shoulder, drifting down his back. You pause halfway down, “I call you…daddy.” You don’t even try to hide your amusement when your nails press into his lower back and he whimpers. “You—why would you do that?” Yuta asks, knowing very well why.

It does something for him when you call him that. Something that makes him want to tear you apart in the best way. Leaning against the shower wall, you play with his belly button piercing. “Did I do something wrong, d—ah!” Yuta lifts you up, bringing your legs around his waist. Catching your breath, you hold on tight, terrified to fall.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Yuta giddily shifts your weight like it’s nothing, thrusting into you, “I know.” Still dripping from your last orgasm, he slips in easily. Almost too easily. There’s no teasing, no taking it slow. Every inch of him is buried deep inside of you. You can’t cover your mouth and the shower does nothing to conceal your overstimulated moans.

Yuta bounces you up and down on his cock. The water raining down on you causes a sharp slapping noise when your bodies come together. “Fuck me harder” you beg, knowing it’ll only make the sound louder. Always here to give you what you want, he fucks into you harder and harder. With every thrust you seem to get tighter, your body so needy for him that it can’t let go. 

They say there’s nothing like it. The rush that you get from a concert. Your heart syncing with the violent bashing of the drums. Well, whoever said that, has no fucking idea what they’re talking about.

Yuta presses your legs back, the head of his cock thick and throbbing as he stimulates your sweet spot. “Baby, it feels too good” he pants, knowing he’s on the brink of coming undone. Purposely clenching as tight as you can, you rock your hips down onto him and he can’t hold out any longer. Now this rush? There’s nothing like this.

The fullness as he cums inside of you makes your second orgasm all the more intense when it consumes you. The two of you float in a state of euphoria somewhere between being out of your body and being hyper-aware of it all at once. Kissing you on the neck, Yuta carefully sets you down on your feet. Unable to hold himself up, he sits down in the bathtub. He holds his arms out to you and you make your way down, cuddling up to him.

“I love you, dude” he mocks, tracing the petals on your tattoo. You groan, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” You share a laugh at your mutual silliness and then…nothing. Only silence. Your breathing. The running of the water. Your heart and his. You may be in the business of noise but together you’ve found meaning in just being. 

“Our band doesn’t really have a concept, you know? We kinda just do what we want. It’s a vibe” Mark explains to the journalist holding a mic way too close to his face.

When your label booked you for a weekend at one of the biggest festivals in the country they failed to tell you that you had interviews lined up. Let alone ones this painfully boring. So here you are, half dressed outside of your tour bus baking in the summer sun with a camera pointed at your faces.

“And vibes are important!” Johnny throws in, “People…they need vibes because without vibes, who are we? Am I right?” Mark stares into the camera, his mind truly blown, “Bro, that’s…deep.” The interviewer nods, pretending that he understood any of that, “Vibes. Right. So you guys are on another level and—”

Just that moment a group of girls pass by behind the camera. Dressed in their skimpiest festival gear, it takes zero effort on their part to reel Mark and Johnny in. “We are so sorry” Mark apologizes, quietly flirting with the girls, “We gotta go get ready for soundcheck.” “Soundcheck, yes! Gotta keep that sound checked” Johnny says, throwing up a peace sign.

As Mark and Johnny ditch the interview to recruit groupies, the interviewer turns to you and Yuta who’ve been praying that he’d forgotten you were there. “Well, uh, I guess it’s just me and the happy couple, huh?” the man asks, plastering on a smile. The two of you are collectively unmoved, though you’re a bit nicer about it than Yuta.

Like a shark, the interviewer smells blood in the water and the mic is in your face next. “Some would say you’re pretty brave dating a rock star. Aren’t you worried someone might try to steal him away?” You and Yuta share a knowing glance before you snatch the mic from the interviewer.

“No. I mean, have you seen me?” you ask, almost glowing as Yuta showers you with kisses, “Next question.” But there is no next question. You hand the mic to Yuta and walk off to avoid saying something you’ll regret. 

“And then there was one. So I’m here with lead singer—”

“Yikes, sorry. I have…interview phobia? Yeah” Yuta lies, beginning to back out of frame before you get too far away. Nearly defeated and totally at a loss, the interviewer tries one more time to bait Yuta back in. “I was hoping we could finish this. Maybe I could ask a few more questions.” Yuta pretends to consider it for dramatic effect. “Better idea, you should pull out your phone and stream our new single ‘Don't Ask My Girlfriend Stupid Shit’.” 

Noticing that Yuta’s still holding onto the microphone, you run back to steal it. “Parenthesis, thanks for the brand new mic, asshole!” you cackle, holding the metallic purple equipment up like a Grammy. You disappear again, this time with some new equipment. Yuta just shrugs, waving goodbye to the camera, “Love of my life.” 

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 13: ‘You Can Do No Wrong’ 

Warning in this chapter: You finally meet the Shelby family, and come face to face with Polly Grey herself.

Masterlist: 

---

The Shelby family always knew how to throw a proper party. 

You recall that it was a family party, but you knew that meant anyone who was in close ties with the Shelby family. Nevertheless, you felt the pressure already building. The dread of intimidation and the increasing fretful pit in your gut forming with only the thought of what they might think of you. When he first proposed his idea of the party, you hesitated even attending. Fearing that his family would show the most hostility to you and your ‘broken; family since you were not married and you were pregnant with his child. But, even with the storms of scenarios that ran through your mind, Thomas made sure to clear the clouds and reassure you that his family did not give a single fuck if you were married or not yet. 

‘I call the shots, okay? No ones going to fuck with you if you are with me,’ 

He had told you while he held you in his arms. His words made you feel only the slightest bit less anxious. The party was in celebration of their business finally taking off, which brought your stress and worries even higher. You wanted everything to be perfect. 

“B-but I don’t have a dress to wear, the kids need new formal clothes, the cooks still haven’t bought the meat for the main course and-” You rambled. You and Thomas both knew you had plenty of dresses to wear, but you felt as though none of them were good enough. Each one didn’t fit the way you wanted, or didn’t match the jewelry you had planned on dawning. 

“Sweetheart, please...: He held your heated face in his cold and rough hands. Taking a deep breath with you. “Don’t worry about that...I will have everything taken care of, when I get home tonight I’ll buy you a new dress and some clothes for the kids...okay?” You only looked at him, gathering your thoughts. 

“And I’ll make sure Francis has everything ready...Please, I want them to meet you,” 

You nod. Reluctantly agreeing. 

The day of the event came quickly. 

With each passing hour and the closer you were to completing your appearance, the more the realization began to creep up on you. You stood there in your shared master bedroom, giving yourself one last look over of yourself in the mirror. The deep blue dress was heavy with the beaded detailing but hugged your body in just the right way. It was especially comfortable around your midsection. Your neck was decorated with the jewelry that reflected under the dim lighting. Exhaling, you run your hands down your sides to smooth out any wrinkles in the dress. A timid knock at the door caused you to jump a bit. 

“Ms. (L/n), the guests are arriving,” Francis stated from behind the heavy wooden door. 

“Thank you Francis, I’ll be out in just a moment,” You had called back. Taking a deep breath once again and fixing any stray hairs before turning to open the door. Laughter had echoed through the house as you closed the bedroom door behind you. 

“They will be gathering in the drawing room,” She told you once you reached the bottom of the stairs. You nod once again, thanking her with a smile as you walk to the open doors. Peering in to see just how many people were attending. Your eyes had scanned the room for anyone familiar, as most of the people who were there were people you had never seen before. Elizabeth and Henry were talking to two other boys around Elizabeth's age as they sat around a chess board on the small table. John and Esme were attempting to calm down and round of their own children as they wondered and ran around the room with Johnny Doggs’ flock of kids. You made an effort in getting to know everyone’s names that were attending beforehand, making sure you didn’t make any mistakes when meeting them. There were only a few you could point out. Uncle Charlie, Curly, and Johnny Doggs were in one corner. Sitting on the couch next to your children was the second youngest Shelby sibling, Ada. The brunette was speaking to one of the boys, which you only assumed was her son Karl. Across from her was Linda Shelby, Arthurs God-devoted wife. She watched the other boy carefully, her son Billy, as he was introducing himself to Elizabeth and Henry. Your eyes scanned some more. Beside Thomas was Arthur himself, speaking quietly but yet his gruff voice still carried throughout the room. Then there was Aunt Polly, who sat in one of the chairs as she smoked a cigarette with elegance and grace as her son, Michael, stood beside her as he talked with Finn, the youngest Shelby sibling. 

Shaking slightly as you squeezed your hands together. When you had fully entered the room, you held your head down a bit and laid your hands one over the other. Gracing them with your very presence, the room almost went silent. You had only glanced up when you felt Thomas stand beside you, clearing his throat as he held a hand out for you to take to join his side. Handsome as ever in his suit. You walked to him, taking a few strides to interlock your hand with his. 

“Everyone,” He started. “This won’t take long, I figured there will be no better place to introduce this amazing woman by my side, rather than tonight,” He looked at the guests scattered around the room. 

“Throw her to the wolves, why don’t you,” Polly was the first to comment through the silence, a scoff and a snicker following her words. “Pol...” Thomas sent her a warning glance. His patience wore thin and you couldn’t help but hide a giggle and pat his chest gently. ‘Relax darling’ You mutter to him. He takes a deep breath before he finally was able to introduce you, you earned a small round if applause and some whistling when he revealed that you were expecting. 

“You might want to relax Tommy, it seems like you’re the one who’s pregnant,” His sister, Ada, joked as she approached you with a smile. You chuckled as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Ada... ” He spoke. If she didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have noticed how stressed he looked. But, the slightest bit of tone changed in him when he introduced you to his sister.

“This is (Y/n), (Y/n) this is-”

“Ada Thorne, his sister,” She interrupted as she held your hands in hers. She seemed the calmer, pleasant sibling out of the bunch, but you knew looks were deceiving when it came to Shelby women.

“Ada, it is so nice to finally meet you,” You smiled happily, feeling yourself instantly become more comfortable. “Oh I hope my children aren’t causing too much trouble for you?” You said, glancing at the four children playing games and entertaining each other.

“Oh? Those two are yours?” She asked. You hum and nod. “Oh of course not, they’re absolute angels!” You humbly smiled at her.

“They get along so well with Karl, you should consider letting them come over once in a while, Karl does need more friends his age and he seems to enjoy being around them,” She explained. You raised your brows in slight surprise.

“I- yes, yes that would be nice, they have many activities outside of school but how about this upcoming weekend?” You asked.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll have Tommy bring em over,” She winked. Before you could continue the conversation John then came up to give you a tight hug as he greeted you.

“Oh, John it’s so good to see you,” You laughed, he let you go as he looked down at you, holding your hands. 

“Look at you, (Y/n) You look amazing, absolutely glowin’' Tommy rolled his eyes as he tried to get his younger brother away from you. You chuckled before looking off to the side where Esme stood. She stood a few feet away with her arms crossed. You attempted to give her a small wave, which she ignored and with a glare and a quick swig of alcohol, she walked off to find her husband.

You nod once and look up at Thomas as he returns to your side, placing his hand on your shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze, letting you know that you were doing just fine.

Better than himself.

After getting introduced to the rest of the guests, and Tommy's younger brother taking a noticeable liking to you, you were finally left to meet his aunt.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, (Y/n)” She gave you a sharp smile as she held her hand out to you. You held her hand in yours as you shook her gloved hand.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Polly,” You smiled, feeling the blush rise to your face once you noticed Thomas wasn’t standing behind you like he was just a moment ago, instead he was jokingly roughing up Finn with John and Arthur. You turned to look back at Polly and chuckled nervously.

“May I?” She asked as she motioned for your stomach.

“Oh, no of course…Everyone seems to find joy in touching it these days,” You commented light-heartedly as she took a small breath and held her hands on your clothed stomach before looking up at you with a faltering smile.

“She’ll be a beautiful baby,” She told you with a calm voice.

“She?” You repeated. She nodded with a hum.

“You should name her ‘Evelyn’, she’ll be just as talented as her family,,” She told you confidently as you both glanced at your children as you overheard Elizabeth telling Ada and Linda about her part in the ballet and Henry telling them how he wanted to play in the orchestra when he gets older. Your heart swelled as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You looked back at Polly Gray.

“It’ll be a beautiful name in lights, don’t you think?” She smirked at you. You nodded.

‘Evelyn Shelby’

‘Evelyn (L/n)’

You thought, but deciding to keep your thoughts to yourself, in fear of offending anyone around you with the last name Shelby.

“I hope my nephew is behaving himself,” She arched an eyebrow at you.

“He is,” Your mind then wandered to the day you found out about Lizzie, and you wondered if he was still seeing her behind your back. but you quickly shook the suspicion away. “Since I’ve moved in, he’s been nothing but supportive and generous to my family…not to mention helpful with our little one coming soon,” It was only a little exaggerated, he was helpful and caring but sometimes you were lonely on those long days he was gone at work.

“How far are you?” She asked.

“A little over 21 weeks now,” You told her. She hummed.

“And how have you been running that bakery all on your own?”

It caught you off guard, you didn’t think she would know your career but you only assumed Thomas had probably mentioned it at some point, but then again why would he?

“Oh I’ve been just fine, it’s been a little difficult since I’ve gotten bigger but I’ll manage,” You shrug.  

“And you prefer it that way? If not we are more than happy to provide some help for you until the baby comes,” She showed her concern.

“My mother did the same with me, I’m just following tradition, and I can’t bare parting from something I love doing everyday but when the time comes I promise I will get help,”

You hear a scoff from your right, as you see Esme roll her eyes and walk out of the room.

It wasn’t much longer until you were sitting at the dining table, Arthur pulling your chair for you since he was sitting next to you. It was the gentleman thing to do. Especially after Linda scolded him for not offering you, a pregnant woman, a seat in the first place.

“Thank you Arthur,” You gratefully smiled as you sat down in the chair, the pressure and pinching in your back slowly easing the more you rested in the cushioned chair. Tommy stood at the head of the table beside you as John sat across from you with Esme beside him. Her dark eyes barely shared a glare at you, but you were too busy noticing that the dining room was filled with chatting from all ends. You had never seen it so full and busy before, it suddenly made the room seem so much smaller than its actual grand size.

Tommy stood up, clearing his throat once again. Thanking his family and friends for joining and for the success of their company taking off after they started off from nothing but a small betting shop in Small Heath. At the end of his speech, everyone held up their drinks and cheered happily before dinner was officially served. The many conversations and loud talking threw you in a spin as they were asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You shared laughs with his siblings, which seemed to ease your tension as well as Tommy’s as he watched you smile and crack jokes. It was enough to make him feel confident in his relationship with you. It solidified his feelings for you and that you were in fact the one for him.

After dessert was finished, they were serving drinks in the drawing room once again. You took this chance to break away from the crowds and take a breather outside on the patio. You let out a small relaxed sigh from your nose as you felt the cool air hit your hot skin.

“Needed a break?” A smooth voice asked behind you. You turned to see Polly, watching in silence as she took a few steps to stand beside you, lighting a cigarette. You hastily shook your head when she offered you one from her cigarette case. She blew the smoke up towards the night sky.

“Are you using my nephew?” She asked. Her voice sounded so different from before. Her voice was deeper, calmer, yet intimidating. It made you shift a bit, having your loyalties questioned and being interrogated after the hectic night you had already endured. 

“No…” You answered calmly, you only faced her again when she asked you another question.

“Did you get pregnant on purpose?” This time her tone was a bit more harsh. Then it finally clicked, she was asking all those questions before dinner to get some kind of answers out of you.

“It was purely a coincidence…I never planned on getting pregnant again, at least until I remarried,” You explained.

“You’re much younger than him and you already have two children to support on your own and you run a bakery all by yourself…kind of hard not to believe you don’t want something out of this relationship with him…Thomas is not the smartest when it comes to beautiful women,” She shook her head in disbelief. “Surely you must want something from him,”

You chuckled.

“I don’t need a man to get what I want…I am more than capable of getting what I desire on my own and I don’t need your nephews money to get it either,” You answered. “I don’t blame you for suspecting me of ill intentions…Anyone in their right mind would have some questions about a young woman starting a relationship with the front man of the Peaky Blinders, but there was a silver lining that got us to where we are today…”

You sighed, preparing your words carefully.

“I thought long and hard, if I wanted to keep her or not just for the sake of saving our careers and reputations but that small sliver of hope is what made us work it out in the end, and trust me I made this decision myself,”

She stared at you for a moment before slowly putting the cigarette to her lips. Tapping the ash into a glass tray.

“And did you know about Lizzie while you were fucking him?” She asked, a sly smirk slowly forming on her face, thinking she caught you. You swallow the words you were about to shout in defense. 

“No...I left him when I found out that he had lied to me...to both of us,” 

She hums. “And you still went back to him?” She questioned. 

“What can I say? I adore him,” You answered honestly. 

She stood close to you, holding one of your hands.

“I like you (Y/n), but trust me when I say this family is dangerous…we get ourselves into a lot of shit and I don’t want to see you and your family in the middle of the crossfire if Thomas fucks up,” You nodded in understanding.

“I know Polly…I intend to do right by your nephew,” You told her, looking into her eyes. She smiled slightly, creating small creases by her eyes, suddenly making her look warm and comforting.

“I know you will sweetheart, after all that he’s been through he needs a good woman by his side, don’t let him fuck it up,” She finished her cigarette and placing a hand on your cheek before she walked away to rejoin her family inside.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relieved that you finally got through the much anticipated and dreaded family dinner, but still reeling from all of the pointed questions, scoffs and glares from Esme, suspicions of your intentions, and judgmental thoughts of your relationship with Thomas.

A small tear spilling from your eyes as the realization hit you.

The realization that you loved him.

More than you could ever imagine.

---

Tag List:

Read Pinned Post If You Would Like To Be Added

@violet-19999 @micarinitodemiel @dilfsandtherapy @shelundeadxxxx @dragons-are-my-favorite @trixie23​  @babayaga67​  @iambored24601 @heythere-06 @lothbrokcore @joliettes

[thegettingbyp2]

What Did You Do

Johnny Knoxville x reader

A/N: I just have this need to write for him at the moment!

Buy me a coffee :)

‘So what are you doing today?’ You asked your boyfriend as you lay in bed, naked aside from the sheet covering you, watching him getting ready to leave for set.

‘Just a couple of small ones today, honey,’ Johnny replied, looking at you through the mirror as he tried to get his hair to co-operate with him. ‘Though with you looking like that, you’re making it real hard for me to leave this room,’ he said as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

‘Well if you hurry up and go to work, you can come back here and keep me company,’ you said, stretching, purposefully making sure the sheet fell further down you chest, just stopping before it showed anything. You couldn’t help but let out a quick laugh as you took in Johnny’s expression through the mirror; it was obvious he wanted nothing more than to dive back underneath the covers with you. He walked over to the bed and sat on your side, throwing his arm across your body, effectively caging you in as he leant down to kiss you. You gripped his arm that was propping himself up over you as he made an attempt to deepen the kiss. ‘Go to work,’ you said, lightly slapping his chest when you pulled away.

‘Or I could stay here with you and make sure you never leave this bed all day,’ Johnny said, waggling his eyebrows at you and leaning in again to peck your lips.

‘Go. To. Work,’ I said, laughing.

‘Just one more time before I go honey, for luck,’ Johnny said, completely focused on you, hooking his finger in the sheet and starting to pull it down.

‘PJ!’

‘I’m going! I love you,’ he exclaimed, his manic laugh being let loose as he kissed your forehead and left the room, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes.

---

You heard the door close behind you and you walked from the kitchen into the hallway to greet your boyfriend. ‘Hey, how was you’re - PJ what the fuck did you do!’ you exclaimed when you saw the bandages that covered both of his forearms.

‘Before you start to panic, it isn’t as bad as it looks okay?’ Johnny said, walking over to you and trying to wrap his arms around your waist but was stopped when you put both of your hands on his shoulders.

‘What did you do?’ you asked again, leading him through to the living room and sitting down on the sofa with him.

‘So we did this skit called the Anaconda Ball Pit and it looks great and,’

‘PJ.’

‘Okay. So I managed to get hold of one of the snakes and it kinda turned its head and bit me a good few times but I’m fine! Just lost a little blood is all and these bandages are just to make sure they stayed clean, I can take ‘em off now I’m home.’ He quickly took the bandages off of both arms and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth when you saw his arms completely littered with bite marks.

‘PJ,’ you said a little sadly, something that Johnny was quick to pick up on, looking down at the marks on his arm, and he gently took my chin between his thumb and finger, pulling your head to look at him.

‘Hey, none of that ‘kay? I’m fine, like I said, it was nothing major and I got patched up real quick. You don’t need to worry, they don’t even hurt. I even put a strip of electrical tape around both wrists so they wouldn’t get my wrists, now I realise that it would have done absolutely nothing but at the time I,’

‘PJ, stop,’ You cut him off when you noticed that he had started rambling, ‘I don’t care about any of that, I’m just happy that you’re okay.’

Johnny looked at you with so much love in his eyes and he pulled you into him straight away, tucking your head underneath his chin, ‘I’m so fucking lucky to have you, you know that?’

‘Course I know that,’ I replied lightly.

‘I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it stresses you out when I come home all banged up.’

‘As long as you’re okay, it doesn’t matter,’ you said, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Johnny hummed against your lips and moved you until you were laying on the sofa, his head buried in your neck.

‘How about I show you just how okay I am?’

[lustbile]

possible for you to write something with johnny railing oc n breeding her https://twitter.com/lovelyiust/status/1551462621546745856?s=21&t=3VoTTic3_kifXcApUgx9cg

Im combining this with this ask. I hope that’s okay with you both. also I’m afraid that linking the tweet will stop it from showing in the tag, so for anyone curious, I will reblog with the link instead

warning: anal sex, johnny kind of getting tunnel vision, and maybe dubcon if you squint

——

——

“Just relax,” Johnny hums as he sinks into you, his hips stuttering and making you squirm as he stretches your ass with his size. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, and all you can do as he presses into you at his chosen pace, is let out deep pants of air. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs to himself as his hips finally press against your ass. You claw at the sheets below you as you try to adjust to his size, and when he reaches one hand to press against the curve of your neck, you sink deeper into the mattress with a groan. 

When he starts to move his hips back, you feel your eyes start to roll back from the friction of him inside you. Your entire body feels like it was built with jelly, and as he starts fucking you deep and slow, you can feel yourself depending on his hold to keep you tethered to earth. 

“Look at that,” he sounds so detached as he speaks, his voice gravely as his eyes are locked on where your body sucks him in, “I knew this pretty ass would take me so well.”

“Johnny,” you call out, your stomach tensing as foreign pleasure rolls up your spine, “plea- fuck, please.”

You’re not sure what you’re asking for as he leans down until the side of his face presses against yours, but as his hips grind against you, you can’t help but continue to let out soft chants on his name. 

“Touch yourself for me baby,” he commands as his blunt nails dig into your skin, “need to know what it feels like when you come with me deep in your ass.”

You let out a choked sound of shock from his vulgar words, and all he does is let a breath of amusement out of his nose as he turns to nip at your heated cheek. You do as he says though, your hand struggling to wiggle between your shivering body and the mattress below you, and when you finally feel the brush of your fingers against your clit, you let out a cry and you bite down on the wrinkled sheets. 

Your wrist aches almost immediately as you roll sloppy circles against your clit, the rough thrusts of his hips throwing you off of your attempted rhythm. You squirm as you try to push your hips back to meet his movements, and when you finally get more space to rub at yourself wildly, you feel a tight knot forming in the pit of your stomach. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he praises as the sound of his skin slapping against yours rings out along with the slick noises of you playing with yourself, “so good, wrapped so tightly around my dick. You love it don’t you?”

He sounds so mean as he speaks to you, his voice taunting and gruff as he approaches his own finish. You babble around the thin fabric that sticks to your drool coated tongue, and seems pleased enough with your response to groan in agreement. 

“Gonna come so deep in this pretty little ass,” he promises, using his hold on your hip to force you back in time with his thrusts. You can feel yourself squeeze around him when his words hit your ears, and when he fights against your body to push fully into you, you feel your body start to tense at the beginnings of your orgasm. 

Your nose pushes almost painfully into the mattress below you as you release the sheets from your biting teeth, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as your fingers quicken. 

Your thighs want to slam shut as you start to come, but the way he keeps you shoved down forces your legs wide open. You jerk in his hold as pleasure floods your brain, and when your legs kick up to hit against the back of his thighs, you feel his thrusts start to become sloppier against you. 

“Fuck,” he swears, his breath puffing hotly against the side of your face as he keeps himself pushed as deeply as he can go, “gonna fill you up so nice.”

He sticks true to his words, as the second they slip off his tongue, you feel the warmth of him coming inside you. The way he stuffs you full has new waves of pleasure licking at your skin, and it feels like something’s possessed your body as you can’t seem to pull your hand away from your sensitive skin even though your body begs for mercy. 

He still rolls his hips against you even after you’ve both collapsed, his arms wrapping tightly around you to keep you pressed tightly to his chest as his leg pushes to slip between yours. You gasp and let out soft whining moans as he keeps your body stretched around him, but as you twitch and squirm against his firm body with your neck curving to lay your head against his shoulder, you just sink against him. Needing his body to remind you that you still occupy your own.

[jennajaeger]

My general feelings on my F/Os' canon love interests and how I picture my dynamic with each of them:

Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid):

Eric is MY GUY. BESTIE. HIMBO EXTRAORDINAIRE. We high five each other as we pass each other in the hallway because we both have the best wife in the world. Literally the epitome of this meme:

Me: "The stars are so beautiful tonight."

Eric: "You know who else is beautiful?"

Both of us in unison: *sighing dreamily* "Ariel~"

Keyleth (Critical Role: The Legend of Vox Machina):

So admittedly I have not finished the series yet but as far as I can tell, Vax and Keyleth have a very "right person, wrong time" type of relationship? Like, I get it, they're always gonna love each other, they're just never going to be in a place where they can BE together? And I mean......that works for me :P I feel marginally bad about stealing her man because she's so sweet and deserves a break, precious bean, but if it works it works <3

Meryl Stryfe & Milly Thompson (Trigun Stampede):

I felt so bad the moment I started watching the show because I was like "oh god another female character I'm gonna have to throw under the bus in the name of self shipping" but honestly so far in the 23 version I read their dynamic as platonic?? And just in general, I love her <3 She's a tough little cookie; and I haven't properly met Milly yet but I just know I'm gonna love her :P girl frankly you deserve to have Nick maybe you'll mellow him out a little good heavens XD

Helen Wick (John Wick franchise):

I will always have a moment to pay homage to our lord and savior Helen Wick who died to give us the best action franchise of the modern age, girl you were a real one and rest easy knowing I am going to RIDE THE TRAUMA OUT OF YOUR HUSBAND

Tess Marshall (Barbarian):

SHE DESERVES S O MUCH BETTER OH MY GOD I mean they both do, they're stuck in this terrible movie :P In a better world I would love to be friends with Tess, and act as Keith's filter because good lord boy you're cute but you're dumb as fuck sometimes XD Also if I ever see Keith's ex-gf I'm throwing hands

Alt Cunningham & Rogue (Cyberpunk 2077):

god I'm glad these two are Johnny's exes XD I'm sure I would have liked Alt a lot more had I known her when she was, y'know, alive, but as a......tech ghost or whatever, she's not a lot of fun :P As for Rogue, she's a bitch, I KNOW she's a bitch, and I respect her for it. She DID stab Johnny in the back though and I'm not about to let her forget it.

Alys Rivers & Helaena Targaryen (House of the Dragon):

I haven't properly met Alys yet but I'm looking forward to it, I feel like I'm gonna like her :P And Helaena is A SWEETHEART, an absolute darling, I would love to sit with her and have tea while she does her embroidery and listen to her talk about anything that comes into her pretty little head because THE GODS KNOW SOMEONE HAS TO. I will also be her "dump your shitty husband" friend so fast XD Like, LOOK AT AEMOND. LOOK AT HIM. HE'S RIGHT THERE GIRL I WILL SHARE.

Anyone Dream has ever been romantically involved with and yes I'm including Hob Gadling (The Sandman):

I have nothing but love and respect for Dream's past partners (Calliope babe I'd die for you) and I just love the idea that we have like, dinner together and they all just spill the tea about the shit Dream got up to in past decades :P

Vision (Marvel Cinematic Universe):

I have no problems with Viz, he was a good man. Wanda really could have done BETTER in my opinion, but y'know, she could have done a lot worse too, so :P And thanks to Viz we have the boys, Billy and Tommy <3

Martin Blackwood (The Magnus Archives):

I don't hate Martin. He's a sweetheart. But I need him to not even BREATHE in Jon's direction, because that is MY MAN. Nothing personal :P

Mikasa Akerman (Attack On Titan):

I will meet that bitch in the FUCKING PIT IT IS ON S I G H T LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!!!!!

[your-divine-ribs]

I’m With the Band Part 8

Words: 1.5k

I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

There's an air of excitement over breakfast the next morning, and it's not just the loaded glances that me and Johnny share over the cereal boxes.

Larry has his mobile phone out on the table and it vibrates with a message every few minutes.

"For goodness sake Larry, can't you put that away whilst we're all eating?" My aunt sounds exasperated.

"But mam, it's Reading and bloody Leeds!" Larry exclaims. "Everyone's buzzing for it! First the UK tour, and now this. The band are gonna hit the big time, I just know it!"

"And what are you going to do then if they do?" My aunt says, a serious expression on her face. "Are you going to go and get yourself a proper job?"

"I've got a proper job!" Larry protests, and then he goes into great detail about his role in the band and how important he is, not that my aunt's listening. She's tutting and rolling her eyes, much to Larry's consternation.

"Don't worry son, I think you do a fabulous job!" My uncle says, giving Larry an affectionate slap on the back.

I catch Johnny's eye across the table and he shoots me a huge grin which I return and a warm glow spreads through me. What's wrong with me? I never let guys get under my skin and now here I am, exchanging secretive smiles and blushing like a silly school-girl!

I need to be careful of this one I think, looking down at my cup of tea.

Johnny and Larry disappear soon after breakfast on 'important band business' and I resolve to spend the rest of the day pampering myself ahead of the Manchester gig.

To be honest, even though the whole indie band boy thing really attracts me, I've never been much into going to gigs. The idea of dancing in a sea of sweaty bodies and being pressed up against someone's armpit at the barrier doesn't really fill me with excitement, but I suppose I need to show willing if I'm going to try and get invited on tour with the lads.

I rifle through my wardrobe but everything just looks too dressy, and as for my shoes? I like to impress but the thought of getting my Louboutin heels scuffed makes me feel nauseous. Also I'd be likely to break my neck if I got caught up in a mosh pit. I hate to admit it but I really need to tone it down for tonight.

The good news is my dad has topped up my allowance, and thankfully my aunt has a free day so she agrees to takes me into Liverpool city centre for a shopping spree. Llandudno's High Street just doesn't cut it unfortunately.

"Come on Bells. You ready? All the lads are waiting for ya!"

I'm just finishing applying little wings to my eyeliner when Larry knocks on my bedroom door.

"You can't rush perfection!" I shout out to him, standing back and appraising myself in the full-length mirror.

I had the best intentions of buying purely casual clothing, but something just doesn't feel right when I'm not dressed to kill. I've opted for a skin-tight low-cut tiny black dress which I dress down a little by throwing a denim shirt on top. I finish off the outfit with some fishnets and the docs that I bought grudgingly when I'd asked the shop assistant for some advice on footwear.

I'd cringed at the idea of wearing them rather than my signature heels, but actually, now I'm all dressed up with my make-up just right and my long hair cascading down my back in soft waves I've got to admit I do look the part.

The boys certainly agree. Well... Van in particular is very vocal in his appreciation. Johnny's a little more subtle with a small smile and a modest compliment, which Benji echoes. Bob doesn't say a word after greeting me, but the surreptitious glances he snatches at me make me smile to myself. He's definitely checking me out.

"What the hell? I'm not getting in that!" I wrinkle up my nose as Van grasps the back door handle of a huge white transit style van that's sitting on Larry's driveway.

"Come on Bella! It's not that bad. We've been around the whole country in this. Slept in it and everything!"

I imagine going on tour with the boys in a week's time. Them coming off stage, drenched in sweat and in dire need of a shower, bedding down on sleeping bags in the back of the van. Me lying there, sandwiched between their clammy, stinky bodies. When I envisaged getting hot and sweaty with the boys it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

Benji steps forward to slide his bass guitar case into the back and then turns to me with a smile. "Don't worry, this isn't what we'll be travelling around in next week! We have actually got a proper tour bus booked for that. And we've got a hotel booked in Manchester for tonight. We're only travelling down in this for tonight as the crew are meeting us there."

"Yeah, of course, we wouldn't expect Princess Bella to rough it!" Larry sniggers.

"Princess Bella? I love it!" Van laughs loudly, whilst I glare daggers at Larry.

"Got a massive suite booked for tonight!" Van carries on enthusiastically, using his hands to demonstrate the grand scale. "Wait till ya see it. It's gonna be dead posh. I've already bagged the master bedroom..."

He sidles over at that point, draping an arm over my shoulder and grinning cheekily at me. "Bet the bed's gonna be huge... plenty of room for sharing!"

I steal a glance at Johnny who quickly looks down, fiddling with the fastenings of his guitar case. I side-step quickly away from Van.

"Perfect - there's plenty of room for Larry to share with you then!" I announce.

When we arrive at the venue I'm astounded to see a hoard of fans waiting outside and a queue snaking itself around the outside of the building. I'd not thought for one minute that the band would be so well-known. A little spark of pride lights inside me as we all clamber out the van and immediately hear the fans start to call the boys' names. The girls all seem to be going crazy over Van in particular and it's really not hard to see why. Despite him annoying the hell out of me, I can't deny how gorgeous he is. He stands there waving at the crowd with a dazzling grin, positively glowing as he basks in their adoration. I find myself automatically moving towards him and snaking an arm around his waist. Seeing all these girls losing their shit over him has suddenly made his attractiveness increase a hundred-fold.

"See that Bella?" He says, wonder in his voice. "This is what it's all about. Making music for the fans. Look how excited they are!"

"I didn't realise there'd be so many, there must be hundreds of people here," I say in awe.

"Venue holds 4000 and we've almost sold out," Van says proudly. "Not bad for saying we've not officially released any music yet, eh?"

Some crew from the venue appear and start unloading all the lads' equipment and Benji, Larry, Bob and Johnny all disappear inside, but I hold back, lingering near Van. I can feel the eyes of some of the female fans burning into me with envy and I'm thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

"So how did you get so popular then?" I want to know.

I can see Van practically puffing his chest out as he talks, eager to talk about his band and their increasing popularity.

"We've worked so hard for this, we've not taken any shortcuts. Me and the lads would be out the night before a gig putting flyers up all over town, and then we'd go to festivals and stick CDs of our music under everyone's windscreen wipers in the car park. We turned up at one university campus dressed as ninjas! We just piled out the van, hooked up to a generator and started playing! Shit like that gets you noticed... and of course the music's class!"

"Well... we'll see about that," I say, impressed by his obvious passion but not wanting to show it.

Van looks surprised. "You've still not listened to us?"

"Thought I'd wait until I heard you live. See what all the fuss is about!"

Van grins and grabs hold of my hand tightly, urging me to follow him into the venue. "Well Princess Bella... you are definitely in for a treat!"

I make a show of rolling my eyes but my insides are actually teeming with excited butterflies. I glance back at the fans before I duck inside, shooting them a smug smile.

[just-call-me-johnny-archive]

WARNING: The following content contains explicit descriptions of violence, physical/emotional abuse, torture, captivity, drowning, waterboarding and voyeurism. Reader discretion is advised.

He was resistant at first, just as he expected them to be. But he’d never back down from a project. 

There was a lot of refusing. Refusing to speak, refusing to eat, refusing to leave their room. And he’d been patient. Every day he would come visit them. He’d sit in a chair on the farther end of the room, busy himself with a tablet or a book. He wouldn’t leave for hours. No matter how much Johnny had yelled at him to just go. And he did a lot. 

He’d throw things at Edgar. Cups of cold coffee. Books. Pillows. He’s sure that if they had the means, he’d have sawed off his own leg and thrown that too. 

And the entire time, Edgar had taken hit after hit, blow after blow with a calmness that was more unnerving than the memory of his yelling and his anger. 

Johnny wanted him to fight back. It escalated to going right up to Edgar and clocking him in the jaw, over and over until their knuckles were stained with blood and split raw. He wouldn’t even notice the pain flying past him as he unleashed as much of his anger as he could. 

He yelled. Demanded. “Do something! I know you want to! Aren’t you even going to fucking shield yourself?!”

Edgar didn’t respond, didn’t do anything besides maybe grunt a few times when the tissue became abused enough to swell. 

Johnny kept going, the bones of his knuckles peeked white underneath the blood. They cracked. His fingers bent at horrible angles, fractured and continued to be punished. Still, he pushed on through the agony, because he wanted a reaction. He needed one. He wouldn’t stop until Edgar begged or grabbed his wrist and yanked him off. Slapped him aside, anything. 

He alternated fists when one was too inflamed, too painful to form at all. He felt his wrists snap, felt his shoulders cry out for a moment of peace. Felt the blood that was drying on his cheeks along with the tears. Felt his heart racing. Felt his knees begin to ache from being knelt over the man on the cold, hard ground. 

When the pain becomes too intense to ignore, Johnny stops, falling onto his side, his useless hands curled in toward his chest. The feeling is excruciating. He’s had his fair share of hand injuries- a gash on his palm, driving an icicle through his wrist to escape Harmonia’s shackles, burns from his own fire powers. This is right up there with the Harmonia incident. 

He shuts his eyes tightly and kicks himself into a sitting position, scooting back to the mattress. 

After what feels like hours, Edgar breathes a little too loudly and forces himself upright. Johnny watches him, and his eyes widen at the amount of damage he’d inflicted. Edgar’s face is one big pulp of bruised, bloody skin except where bone fragments show through. His glasses are shattered, showing two pits of darkness where eyes should be. Johnny shudders. 

Edgar picks up one of his teeth from the ground. He examines it with clinical fascination. 

Johnny’s chest feels tight and he only realizes he’d been holding his breath the entire time. 

“For your outburst, you will be put in the hydrobox for seventy minutes,” Edgar says, rising to his feet, removing the mangled wire from his face. He walks to the door, and already his teeth are completely affixed in pink gums. 

Johnny glares but says nothing. His head is too busy trying to process what just happened. 

“The Doctor will heal you after you are finished with your punishment.” 

“After that, you are to report to the dining room or you will be escorted by Prae.” 

Edgar doesn’t say another word before exiting the room, leaving Johnny to smart on the floor. The Prae come in a moment later, hauling him onto his feet to get to the punishment room. It’s a small room that changes consistently to match the method. 

Today, there is a glass box barely six feet tall and six feet wide. Johnny is shoved into the container, secured to a shackle on the ground, and sealed inside with a hiss. He takes notice of the faucets surrounding him on almost all sides. There are seven. There are always seven. 

Suddenly, they go alive with giant rockets of water, filling the bottom of the box with an almost impossible swiftness. He struggles onto his feet and as he stands, he realizes that the water has reached midway up his shin. 

He quickly realizes what the hydrobox is. 

Within a few more seconds, the water is lapping at his thighs and the sound of it gushing and filling the box is deafening, like a raging storm. He moves but there is no place to go. His anxiety builds inside of him as the waves lick at his hip and then navel and rib cage. 

It’s up to his sternum when panic sets in, he tugs at the shackle holding him down. It doesn’t give even a little. His hands reignite with pain at his writhing. He knows it’s fruitless to try, but dammit he has to. 

He tilts his head back, struggling to breathe as the water rushes into his ears, soaks his hair. If he didn’t, his mouth and nose would have been flooded and while he knows that’s going to happen probably sooner than he can prepare himself, it’s instinct. 

He gulps a greedy bit of air right before the water slips over his lips and fills his nostrils. It’s like fire and he squeezes his eyes shut tight as his entire body is swallowed by the liquid. He hears the thundering noise of the faucets continuing to gush and then suddenly it’s silent. He cautions to open his eyes and finds that the surface is just a mere inch away. If he gets on his toes, he could maybe drink in some oxygen. 

He attempts the maneuver, his ears popping and lungs beginning to burn, but it does nothing to help, the only part that breaches is the very top of his head. The little bit of air he’d been able to steal before being submerged is running out. He tries not to breathe in through his nose. He’s not good at this. He’s never swam before. 

No, he’s not swimming, he’s drowning. 

His muscles give out and water rushes in. 

His lungs feel like they’re going to explode, the ache from his nose reaches up into his brain. His body feels heavy, heavier, then suddenly lighter. Thoughts crowd and then disperse. The feeling of numbness travels all the way up his body until he realizes that he’s no longer on his feet, he sinks down, down, and the pain fades. He welcomes the release of death. Not that it will last. 

Then, a drain opens at the bottom. 

Johnny gasps as air rushes to his face, floods his systems. Awakens them again. And then he’s coughing and vomiting the water from every orifice on his head. It leaks out his ears, bursts from his mouth, sprays from his nostrils. 

He isn’t sure whether tears are wetting his face or water is dripping down it. He chokes and hyperventilates. He wrenches himself onto his feet again. His hair hangs down, antennae nearly blinding him and he can’t wipe them away. He squints past curtains of blue strands and looks at the counter across from him, blinking red numbers, a countdown to his release. 

The Prae wrench open the door once the water has dripped its last drop down the drain. They hold a black bag in their hand, it is dripping, leaving fat droplets. Johnny backs himself into the corner, still hacking, still barely breathing, when they hold him down and shove the fabric over his head, cinching it tightly around his throat. 

Immediately, it conforms to his face and hugs it, Johnny screams and coughs and shakes his head violently, but it doesn’t budge, it doesn’t let go of his skin. Doesn’t give him another moment to breathe real air. 

The faucets turn back on and Johnny stumbles as he unknowingly stands directly in front of one. 

The water rises once more, and this time, Johnny lets out a roaring scream before his voice is taken by the water. 

This time, it doesn’t matter how hard he fights to keep his lungs free of the substance as long as he can. The bag ensures that he can’t. It smothers him. 

He feels it again, after several minutes of taking in more water than can fit inside of him, the sensation of being carried away, of his pain receding and his mind fleeting. Please, oh please let it actually happen this time. Let me leave this body. Please. 

The water lowers again just as he feels his eyes roll back. The sensation is nothing short of agonizing, even though the water is rushing down his body, leaving the box quicker than it filled it, the cloth on his face keeps him from breathing fully. Every drag, every cough is met with more water, just enough to choke him. Just enough to make it excruciating. 

Johnny hears the door of the box being opened again and with a tug of the string around his neck and a rough yank, the bag is ripped from his face and he sobs as he takes in oxygen. More water leaves him, mixing with bile. It burns as bad as it did entering him. He swears that there’s still some water left inside of his brain. 

He doesn’t hear the sound of water splattering against the ground as the Prae wrings out most of the excess water from the bag. Preparing it for another round. It’s just soaked enough to cling back onto Johnny’s face as they shove it back over his head. The string is tighter this time, almost like a noose, but not enough to make him pass out. Not enough to end this. Just to make it worse. 

This time as he floats in that space of calm and weightlessness, he knows better than to hope it will take him under and away. He understands now. They will drown him but they will not kill him. To kill him would be mercy. 

The cycle repeats for the next sixty minutes; Johnny doesn’t bother to check the timer. Time means nothing anymore. All that exists in this box is pain.

The final time that the box drains, Johnny slumps in the corner, his head hung low, throat raw from coughing and screaming. He’s sure he’d done that a few times. Ironically his eyes feel dry as the bag is removed. His neck spasms when the rope is untied. His clothes weigh him down to the floor, drag his shoulders and arms and legs. He can’t move. 

The shackle is removed and his arms drop down, he barely registers the pain that erupts from his wrists slamming against the glass. 

The Prae haul him onto his feet and when they let him go, he falls to the ground, his feet numb. He’s forgotten how to use them. They laugh and drag him back up. This time, although he wobbles, he stays upright. 

“Go report to the Doctor, now,” the Prae instruct him. 

Johnny nods if only to feel his body again. He takes slow steps, leaving a trail of water as he exits the box. The coolness of the ground is both welcomed and met with a grimace as his bare feet tremble. His entire body is trembling, he realizes as he walks past the Prae and exits the room. 

He isn’t sure if it's from the cold of the water still sticking to his everything or something else. He decides that he doesn’t want to think of it. He walks gingerly to the Doctor’s office. 

The Doctor has to restrain him when they put the oxygen mask over Johnny’s face. Soon enough another gas leaks out and into Johnny’s nostrils and his head thumps back onto the operating table as unconsciousness finally, finally embraces him. 

When he wakes up, his hands are functional, flexible, and completely unscathed. As if he’d never injured them at all. 

He would be surprised, but he’s used to it now. He’s used to being broken and put back together. 

He slides off the table and the Doctor mutters something about him leaving a mess with all that water. They dismiss Johnny. 

His mind is a little clearer now that his breathing is regulated and the pain has disappeared. He makes a decision to go back to his room to change into something dry, something light. 

When he gets to his door, it doesn’t budge. A message appears. 

Report to the dining room. 

Johnny balks. Somehow it didn’t occur to him that Edgar would be so cruel as to not allow him to change out of his soaking wet clothes. He should have known better. 

“Fucking prick,” Johnny murmurs under his breath as he shuffles towards the dining hall. His clothes make it hard to move much faster. 

When he enters the sprawling dining hall with its mahogany table and high chandeliers and heat, Johnny finds that the place is empty as usual. Save Edgar, who sits at the far end with only one other chair adjacent to him. 

“Ah, Johnny,” he says pleasantly, voice soft but loud in the reverberating room. It surrounds Johnny. “Please have a seat.” 

The smaller man sits down slowly into the plush chair. He almost melts into it, it’s so comfortable, absorbs his limbs and does the work for him. 

“We’re having your favorite tonight,” Edgar announces. “Sushi. I hope it’s to your liking.” 

Johnny says nothing at first. His voice sounds foreign to him, scratchy. “You couldn’t have at least let me change before this?” 

“Apologies, we are on a schedule,” Edgar says with a smile. Not cruel. Not kind. 

Johnny doesn’t respond. 

“However, that doesn’t mean that I intend to make you sit in your own puddle. I have some clothes here, so that you can be comfortable.” Edgar places a neat stack of clothes with a towel. A blouse and some pants. Nothing fancy.

Johnny stares at the clothes and looks back to Edgar. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” 

Edgar says nothing this time, just keeps eye contact with Johnny until the person decides that they are done being soaked. They collect the pile in their arms and look around. There’s no place to hide and change. No curtains, the table is a solid slab of wood, no place to crawl under. Not even a fucking plant. 

Johnny’s face flushes. Of course. 

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” Johnny says, his voice as unsteady as his hands as he clutches the clothes tighter to his chest. 

Again, Edgar doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking with that barely there smile on his face. 

“I am not fucking changing in front of you,” Johnny states, putting the clothes back on the table. 

“That is your choice. If you wish to remain in your wet garments, you may.” 

“I don’t want to- I don’t have a fucking choice,” Johnny growls. 

“I just gave you one. You can change or you can not. You may not like the options, but that does not mean that the choice wasn’t given to you.” 

Johnny opens his mouth to say something, but closes it. Edgar is right. He does technically have the choice. 

He weighs the options in his head. Either continue to shiver and sop in his clothes or brave just a few seconds of exposure and embarrassment to get dry. 

Finally, he makes a decision. It’ll be quick, like ripping off a bandaid. Or several. 

He breathes in deeply before grabbing at the hem of his thick sweater, this is the easy part. He pulls it up his chest and then over his face, and panic paralyzes him for a moment as the shirt clings to his face, suffocating him just like the bag. He rips it off with such fervor that the sweater makes a wet ‘twap’ noise when it’s flung to the floor. 

Johnny is shaking again. The air of the dining room hits his damp chest and he almost covers himself. But he can’t keep stalling. 

“The staff will be in any moment with our food, so I would advise that you finish quickly,” Edgar says, a lazy smile on his face as he continues to watch Johnny’s every movement. 

The terror of being caught naked in front of literally anyone else spurs Johnny to unbutton his jeans and in one jerky movement he shucks them down his knees and lets them fall to his ankles.

He is not wearing underwear, he hasn’t had a pair since he was first brought here. 

He whips the towel open and frantically wipes himself down, sighing in relief as the fibers pick up every last droplet. He does not bother with his hair, instead opting to put on pants as fast as he can. He can see Edgar staring at him from the corner of his eyes. 

The blouse is a rusty red color and feels light and breathable even under his fingers. He slips it on and hates how comforting it feels, like the lightest hug. The sleeves fall just short of his forearms. The neckline plunges down to his breastbone. 

But he is clothed and he is warm and dry. 

Johnny leaves his mess on the floor, only taking the thick towel and laying it over his seat to keep the residual wetness from soaking his pants. Just as he sits, the staff pours in holding trays of colorful maki rolls, hand rolls stuffed almost to bursting, fat slices of naked fish. 

His stomach growls loudly. 

They place everything down in between Edgar and Johnny before leaving a singular pair of metal chopsticks near the Operator’s plate. Johnny’s brow furrows when they leave. He does not have a plate or utensils. 

When Edgar doesn’t speak up, Johnny clears his throat. “Uhm, I think they forgot about me.” 

“They didn’t,” Edgar assures him. It does little to actually quell Johnny. 

Johnny gives the man a calculating look before sitting up and reaching for the nearest roll. It looks like a rainbow roll. Then, his knuckles are rapped by a singular metal chopstick. He pulls back quickly and rubs his offended skin. 

“What the fuck was that for? I thought this was for both of us,” Johnny hisses. 

“It is,” Edgar answers with infuriating conciseness. 

Johnny is about to protest again when Edgar speaks once more. “You cannot use your hands.” 

“But they didn’t bring me any chopsticks,” Johnny says, exasperated, hungry. 

“I know.” Again, just two stupid words. Johnny is starting to miss his rants. 

“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? Eat it from the plate like a fucking dog?” Johnny is half-expecting that to be the answer. 

“No. You can’t do that either,” Edgar twirls the metal chopstick in his hand. He waits for Johnny to come to his realization on his own. The person’s eyes widen and then narrow. 

“No. No, fuck you. I am not letting you fucking feed me like a child,” Johnny says, reaching his hand out again for another roll. 

This time, Edgar drives the tapered end of the chopstick right through Johnny’s hand and lodges it into the wood of the table. Johnny screams and blood splatters onto a few of the rolls closest to it. 

Tears sprang to his eyes and his other hand goes to grab the chopstick embedded through the back of his palm, but Edgar slams another chopstick down through that hand as well, trapping the person to the table effectively. 

Edgar tsks. “Look at that, you’ve gotten blood all over the spider rolls.” 

“FUCK!” Johnny grunts and tries to pry his hand free but all he accomplishes is causing himself more pain. His head is spinning. “FUCKING DAMN YOU. FUCK.” 

“Are you going to cooperate now?” Edgar’s smile remains unkind without being malicious. Frustratingly neutral. 

“FUCK YOU,” Johnny shouts again. “I WILL NEVER COOPERATE WITH YOU.” 

Edgar sighs, like it’s the greatest tragedy and so very taxing to discipline the experiment. 

“If you had just listened to me in the beginning you could have avoided this,” Edgar reprimands like Johnny is a stubborn child. 

Johnny glares and seethes. He’s full of so much fury that he can barely think of words to say let alone voice them. 

Edgar looks at his watch. He picks up a spider roll, blood flecking it like an added garnish. Spicy mayo runs down his fingers. “Dinnertime is almost over. I know that you are hungry. All you have to do is open your mouth for me and I will feed you. Is that so difficult?” 

Johnny’s jaw locks so hard that it races a stripe of pain up to his temple. His stomach growls once more, sounding more like a moaning ghost than a disgruntled bodily system.

Edgar watches him for a moment before lunging over and wrapping his hand around Johnny’s throat. The resulting yelp gives him enough room to cram the roll into Johnny’s mouth. 

Johnny can almost handle it, he can almost forget that he’s being force fed and just enjoy the roll when Edgar’s hand leaves his already bruised throat. He can almost make it through as he positions his mouth to chew, when Edgar purposefully glides two fingers along his tongue. His entire frame snaps shut. 

Edgar curses sharply as Johnny digs his teeth into his fingers and doesn’t let go, his open palm goes flying and lands squarely on the side of Johnny’s head, disorienting him before he falls from the chair from the force of the blow. 

Johnny spits out the two amputated fingers from his mouth and although his head is ringing and his mouth is stained and pungent with blood, he smirks up at his captor. 

Something flashes in Edgar’s eyes and before Johnny knows it, the entire spread is being swiped off the table and down to the floor. Glass dishes shatter upon impact around Johnny’s head and and he shields his head with his fractured hands, the chopsticks had been ripped from his skin, shredding tissue. 

Edgar kicks Johnny’s hands away from his head and stomps on one as Johnny grabs for his foot. 

“You want to act like a dog, then you’ll eat like one,” Edgar says, his tone dark. He shifts his foot to press down onto the back of Johnny’s neck.

Johnny groans as his face is squished into a gathering of destroyed rolls, the scents of eel sauce and copper flood his nose. When he doesn’t move, Edgar moves his foot, sticking the toes of his shoe under Johnny’s chin, lifting it to face him. 

“Aren’t you hungry? Or did my flesh fill you up?” 

Johnny doesn’t answer, he glares through his disheveled hair at Edgar. When Edgar tires of the silence, he plants his foot right back down onto Johnny’s neck. “Clean up this mess or it’s another seventy minutes in the hydrobox.” 

He relieves the pressure off of Johnny’s neck when he doesn’t hear any argument. 

At first, Johnny doesn’t move, but slowly he picks his head up and pushes himself up onto his knees, sitting on the backs of his legs. He unfolds a hand and reaches for a piece of glass when Edgar crushes it beneath his shoe again. 

“With your mouth,” Edgar demands. 

Johnny’s head whips up to look at Edgar, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“There’s… it’s glass,” Johnny says, his voice disconcertingly timid. 

Edgar looks down at him, that smile affixed again. “Yes, there is. You should get to work, dinnertime ends in five minutes and if this floor isn’t spotless by then, you’ll start tomorrow with seven minutes in the hyrdobox on top of the other punishments you’ve earned this evening.” 

Johnny shudders, being brought back to the sounds of rushing water and the feeling of the bag clinging to his nostrils and mouth. He shakes his head before dropping down to all fours again and lowering his mouth to the floor. 

He takes another breath before finally opening his mouth around a large piece of glass. He tries to balance it in his mouth to keep the sharp side from slicing the corners of his lips. Thankfully, he is successful. He rises back to a kneeling position before furrowing his brows. 

Edgar hadn’t told him where to put the trash. Is… is he going to make him eat it?

Suddenly, Edgar lends a palm down to Johnny and the person looks up at him. It is clear what he wants him to do. Johnny shuffles over to Edgar and before he can impulsively spit the glass into Edgar’s palm, he gently releases it. 

Edgar smiles and pats Johnny’s head. “Good boy.” 

Johnny feels his soul die. 

Just like a dog, Johnny continues this method until every last piece of glass is picked up. His mouth bleeds from minor cuts, the blood lines his lips and stains them a cherry red. 

When he is done, Edgar lifts his head with the tip of his finger under his chin. Johnny looks up into those circular glasses, his gaze hazy and unfocused. 

“You’ve done very well, Johnny,” Edgar praises. “And with a minute to spare. I think you’ve earned your dinner.” 

Johnny’s stomach growls again almost as if in relief or joy. Both of which he feels not even an iota. Saliva stings the cuts in his mouth.

He begins to rise from the floor when Edgar pushes him back down with a steady hand on his shoulder. “Ah ah- you have plenty to eat down there.” 

Johnny’s stomach twists itself into such intricate knots that he’s afraid they’ll never unravel. 

He wants him to eat off the floor. 

“Your minute is almost up, Johnny. I would hurry if I were you,” Edgar advises, popping a fresh slab of salmon sashimi into his mouth. 

Hunger grabs hold of Johnny and restrains him, restrains his pride as if he had any left. He hits the floor before Edgar can even finish. 

His mouth closes around anything that he can find. He chews only once or twice before swallowing. He licks up stripes of spicy mayo, sucks roe off the floor. He crunches glass in between rice. Seaweed sticks to the lining of his throat. Salmon and tuna and soft shell crab and escolar meld into one taste. He barely registers the taste of his own blood on some of the rolls. It mingles with the rest of the food in his mouth like an extra seasoning.

Edgar rises from his chair and pushes it in. The staff file in and clear away the uneaten food. Johnny watches them take it all away with despair. 

“Come now, Johnny. Dinner is over. It is time for bed,” Edgar announces. He huffs out a laugh from his mouth. “What a messy boy you are.” 

He kneels down to Johnny and takes the handkerchief from his breast pocket, using it to wipe away the stray pieces of rice and smears of sauce. 

“Better,” Edgar announces with that familiar smile as he throws the handkerchief into the pile of Johnny’s previous clothes.

Johnny watches him rise onto his feet again and doesn’t turn to see him walk past him to the door. His eyes seem stuck in the same position, staring at nothing. 

“Oh and Johnny,” Edgar begins, his voice louder to make up for the distance between them. Johnny looks over his shoulder at the man. 

“Be sure to visit the Doctor tomorrow morning for your hands,” Edgar finishes before closing the door behind him. 

Johnny’s neck is stiff by the time he turns back around, long after Edgar has left. He stares down at his bloody hands, they shake and then blur as hot tears distort his vision. 

He clenches his hands into fists, rams them into his hair and tilts his head back, letting out an ear-splitting scream until his lungs give out. 

[neochan]

GENRE | smut, idolverse!

WARNINGS | smut

WC | 2.6k +

A.N | this is a repost of my older work. i hope you enjoy it <3

You could still hear the unintelligible screaming of thousands of fans as the boys filtered off the stage and into the greenroom. Another successful concert in the long string of tour stops. You couldn’t even remember what state you were in because the days of traveling, unpacking, setting up, and doing it all again the next day ran together.

The boys were dripping sweat, immediately grabbing bottles of water and towels to wipe themselves off. They had worked harder than normal today since during one of the sets the microphone cut out and they had to perform acapella. Someone was getting fired for that.

Taeyong flopped onto the leather couch dominating the center of the room, water in one hand, phone in the other. “People are already uploading photos.” He outstretches his arm so the others could view the pictures pulled up on his screen.

“Johnny you look ridiculous,” you point out, laughing as a fan had caught Johnny in the act of wildly waving his light stick.

“I was having a good time, okay?” He chuckles and walks into the dressing rooms to change out of his stage outfit. Half of the group filtered out to change and half stayed to peruse through the gifts left by venue staff and play on their phones until told otherwise.

You were wondering where Hyuck was when you heard his voice from the hallway. He saunters in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Enjoy the show?” His golden skin was tainted pink, hair matted to his forehead by the sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He grabbed his shirt and lifted it to swipe at his face, revealing his cute tummy. You had to resist the urge to poke it.

“I enjoyed hearing thousands of pretty fans scream your name” You give him a smirk knowing that he hates when you downplay your relationship.

He nudges you with his shoulder, “You know I meant the songs,” his doe eyes look into yours, his long lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinked “Besides, you know I love you and only you.”

Mark began to nervously giggle in the corner while Doyoung made fake gagging noises from the vanity he sat at. “Oh, shut up.” You say, throwing empty water bottles at the two, “And hurry up I wanna go swimming before it gets too late.”

The ride home was peaceful once the swarms of fans cleared a path for the bus. Per the managers request you slouched down in your seat so know one could see you through the window. It didn’t make much sense because the windows were tinted, but Haechan had to argue for his life to allow them to let you tag along on the tour, so you didn’t question them. Once you were on the road, you sat back up and snuggled close to Haechans side. He rested his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking you with his thumb. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, listening to music. It was so loud you could almost make out the words but you didn’t say anything – you let him stay in his post concert utopia for the whole trip.

The hotel was about an hour away from the venue so that no one would find them, and they’d be closer to their next destination. It was nicer than the others because it actually had a pool. You and Haechan made an agreement to go swimming after the concert, and you couldn’t wait. The staff also rented more rooms, so instead of four people to a bed, it was just you and Haechan.

After checking in everyone filtered off to their rooms leaving the both of you to freely do whatever you wanted - within reason of course. You both got changed, your gaze admiring the hard lines of Haechans back. “Don’t stare.” He blushed, wrapping a towel around his upper body.

You pulled on your bikini which made Haechan go silent. You specifically picked this one because it brought out your skin tone well, and cupped your features beautifully. “Now who’s staring?”

It never failed. The butterfly feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when Haechan watched you with loving eyes. You wrapped a towel around your waist, allowing Haechans eyes to roam the tops of your breasts, peeking out from the almost too small bathing suit.

His cheeks turned pink once he noticed he was caught, “Let’s go”.

The hallways were quiet since it was almost midnight, so you wordlessly made your way down the stairs and out into the night air. It had grown considerably cooler than when guys first arrived that morning, but the sky made up for it. Pretty stars pricked the vast expanse of dark blue and black infinity. You could see the moon peaking out from behind a single cloud, casting a shadowed glow on Haechans honey skin.

The gate was closed when you walked up to it so you stopped to read, “Aw man, the pool closed an hour ago,” You set your lips in a pout, “no wonder the lights weren’t on.”

“Hey it’s okay, no lights, no cameras, they probably wont even notice we’re here if we keep quiet.” He moves closer to you, eyebrows raised expectant for an answer.

You hesitated wondering if you really could pull it off, after all you’d been looking forward to this for the whole day, “I don’t wanna get in trouble..”

“You said you wanted to swim and I’m going to make sure that happens,” He gets down on one knee, “step on my leg, I'm gonna help you jump the fence.”

He boots you over, and grabs your arms to help lower you on the other side, but his hand slips and his nails dig into your shoulder. “Ow, fuck.” You wince rubbing the spot he scratched.

“Sorry, sorry” He says giggling, jumping the fence with such quietness and ease that it looked unreal. “Come on, dare you to do a canon ball!?”

He ran ahead throwing his towel on one of the pool chairs and jumping in the water. You cringe away from the loud slap his body hitting the water made. You walk slowly to the chair, deeply inhaling the addictive chlorine scent.

He finally stands up waist deep in the water and pushes his hair back. The blue water reflected against him, making his skin sparkle. “Come into the water y/n” he splashed some water into your general direction, but not enough to touch you.

“Okay, Okay.” You drop the towel and slip into the water. It was cold. Really cold. You gasp and recoil away, but not fast enough, because Haechan has wrapped his arms around you and started carrying you towards the deep end. You struggle a bit in his grip but his arms provide an iron cage that you can’t get out of. “Haechan let me go!”

He presses a warm kiss to the back on your neck but doesn’t comply with your wishes, instead making a curve and bringing you towards the underwater benches. He fixes his hold on you so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. You stare up at him, water droplets falling off his chin. His eyes were already red from the chlorine and you hoped that it cleared up by tomorrow nights concert. His plush lips sat in a pout, strong jaw set. He was so very pretty; and all yours. You smiled to yourself, deciding to keep that image locked away in your memory forever.

Once he gets to the benches he sets you down and glides in beside you. “You know It’s colder than I thought it was going to be.” He lifts a hand and sheepishly rubs the back of heck, “and you look way hotter in that bikini than I thought you would.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a dig or a compliment.” You scoot closer to him so that your thighs were pressed against each other. Finding his hand underwater, you intertwine your fingers with his own.

“A compliment babe.” He chuckles and slouches in the water so that only his head sat above it. You both sit there for a moment until it becomes too cold to sit still.

“Well I’m going to put it to use and go swim.” You push off from the cement and paddle around. The only way to stay slightly warm was to keep moving. Haechan watched you, eyes crinkled in a smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It was fun to watch you play in the water but the bathing suit was making him think of other things you two could be doing.

And that was how it stayed. Haechan watching while you performed for him.

A while had passed, the calm exterior of the pool getting to you, making you drowsy. The cold blue water washed over your hands while you gently skimmed the surface, making your way over to where Haechan was. You hummed a short tune under your breath, trying to keep yourself distracted. it was close to one in the morning now, but Haechan still sat on the bench, slightly shivering from the brisk air, hands gripping his thighs under the water while his mind wandered far away from the present.

“Watcha thinkin’ about” you ask, moving closer to him, hoping to catch some lingering body warmth.

“Fucking you ,” he moved off the seat and dove under the surface, only leaving small ripples in his wake. You stand there for a second wonder how he could be so blunt, so forward in his desires; he was never like this.

He swam a single circle around your body before popping up in front of you, giving you a mini heart attack. He pushes you back against the tiled walls, “I’ve spent the last hour thinking about fucking you. Thinking about how pretty you’d sound.” His head dips down to kiss along your collarbone, and your hands grab the back of neck, holding him there while his tongue sucked bruises into your tender skin. His hands grazed the bare skin of your arms, giving you goosebumps.

He moaned into the side of your neck, biting and sucking away, wanting you to yearn for him like he did for you. He lifted his head so that his mouth hung over yours, his small puffs of breath fanning over your face while he tests the waters. “Can I kiss you?”

Without giving him an answer you pull him closer by the roots of his hair. His kissing was messy and sweet, and while your tongues moved together, his hips began rubbing circles against you, trying to gain some friction in the cool water. Small heavy breaths were the only sound you could hear, aside from the occasional splash as Haechan moved restlessly.

Your hand wandered down his chest and below the surface to where you could feel him straining against his shorts. You began to stroke him over the fabric, his hips pushing against your touch. He broke the kiss to watch as you peeled down the elastic from his hips, his cock freed from the restricting material of his swim shorts. You watched him twitch slightly as the cold water met his length.

“You can’t make any noise.” You place a single finger against his lips.

“No promises.” He whispers, a devilish smirk breaking way on his face. His hands caress you thighs, pushing your bottoms to the side. The cold water hit you, making you gasp and push into Haechan who just whimpers against your touch.

He tried to stay quiet, only soft grunts between gritted teeth and muffled moans as his hips pushed into your own. The water created resistance but it just enhanced how good he was feeling. He hurriedly grabs at your legs, pulling them up so that they sat around his waist. Your back dragged up the tiled walls, scraping your tender skin, but you could only focus on Haechans cock thrusting deeply in and out of you. He stared longingly into your eyes, filling you up completely, wanting to savor the way they fluttered in the back of your head.

“You love the way I fill you up huh?” He groans into your ear, a hand falling forward to grip the cement ledge of the pool.

You couldn’t respond without fear of moaning so you nod your head wildly. He began to bite and suck at your collarbone, pushing you closer to the edge. Looking down he sees your nipples, erect, poking through the wet fabric of your bathing suit. His eyes grow wide, hips stuttering into you. Fuck you were hot.

“Haechannie, I think I’m going to come.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Not yet.” He growls, hands moving to pin your wrists against the cement ledge, “Hold it princess, I know you can.” The water began to slosh around faster as Haechan thrusted harder into you. The sound was so loud its no wonder you didn’t hear the keys jangling against the hip of the guard making his way towards you two.

“Hey!,” he shouts running towards you, “The pool is closed! Get out! Are you two-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you and Haechan spring up out of fear and take off. It was easy to push yourself up onto the pool deck. The guard made the mistake of following you two and leaving the gate unattended. You and Haechan ran out, giggling, making your way back into the hotel. You didn’t stop until you got into the room and slammed the door behind you.

With your heart hammering in your chest you lean against the dark cherry wood . “Holy fuck we could’ve gotten in serious trouble.” You gasp out, clutching a hand against your wet bathing suit top.

“Babe we’ll be gone by morning, no one is gonna know.” Haechan paces in front of you trying to catch his breath. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, it was miracle he got them up in time.

“We’re so banned from this hotel.” A knock on the door makes you jump away from it, the worst of punishment's filling your mind. What were they going to do? They couldn’t arrest you, could they?

Haechan walks forward and turns the knob slowly, revealing a sleepy Doyoung. His oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder showing off his gaunt collarbone. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What do you want Doie?” you ask softly.

“How was getting chased by the guard?” he gives a sleepy chuckle, still half in his dreams.

“How did you-,” A look of realization hits Haechan, “You reported us?” He whined, pushing Doyoungs bare shoulder so that he stumbled back.

“Sound travels over water dumbasses and you guys were loud, I was trying to sleep!” Protesting, he pushes Haechans wet shoulder back.

“Well, now we’re going to be twice as loud.” Haechan slams the door in Doyoungs face and grabs you, throwing you on the bed. You give a squeal, and hear Doyoungs fist hit the door.

“I swear I’ll make a noise complaint.” He sounded more irritated than sleepy now.

“Go ahead, you’re just mad I’m getting laid and you aren't.” You playfully slap Haechans arm, but he nips at your hand. The other side of the door grows silent, Doyoung either going to report you two, or going back to his room defeated.

“Shall we pick up where we left off princess?”

[thunderfox85]

The Thunder Breaking In Your Heart

Raiden x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, jealousy, mentions of violence, rough sex, NSFW

————————————

Raiden stands in the entryway to the chapel, fumbling with a small cluster of buttercup flowers that made up the boutonnière. No matter how hard he tries, he can't get it to stay in place.

You watch from the doorway of the room where Sonya is putting her finishing touches on as she prepares to walk down the aisle. As you watch Raiden struggle with the flowers, you briefly wonder what it would be like to have him look at you the way Cage looked at Sonya, but dismissed it just as quickly as it appeared in your thoughts. Raiden was beyond such mortal feelings. Deciding he had struggled enough, you moved out into the hallway and towards the chapel doors.

" Here,let me help you," you says you reach him. You look up and pause, waiting for him to give permission. You know he doesn't care to be touched if not necessary. He looks down at you, even with the 3" pumps, you're barely eye level with the massive expanse that is his chest.

" Assistance would be greatly appreciated," Raiden says calmly, neither his voice nor his face give away any of the thoughts swirling in his head. Almost imperceptibly, he held his breath as you took the boutonniere from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you do so. You try to hide the hitch in your breath at the contact, you vowed no one would never know of your attraction to the Thunder God, including Raiden himself. If he noticed, he gave nothing away as you affix the flowers to the breast of his pale, silvery blue tabard.

"There," you say as you smooth out the fabric around it.

"All set." You look up, flashing him a brilliant smile, the light dancing in your eyes, blushing ever so slightly. Realizing your hands were still on him, you quickly withdrew them.

"I'm sorry! Forgive me, Lord Raiden, " you manage to mumble out. His silence causing you to further kick yourself mentally for overstepping the carefully set boundaries.

"I appreciate your help, " Raiden finally answers. Standing rigidly, his face showing no emotion.

"I should see if Sonya is ready, it's nearly time. " you retreat back to the bridal room to finish any last minute details.

Raiden's composure nearly broke. His thoughts racing as he struggled top calm the pounding of his heart and maintain his even breath. The moment you had stepped from the room across the hall, you had captivated him. It caught him off guard at how breathtakingly beautiful you looked in the pale, silvery blue dress,with its buttercup yellow sash carefully wrapped at your waist accentuating the curves found beneath. The color complimenting your skin. The Thunder God had never seen you in makeup before. Your eyes shown bright, enhanced by the smoky shadow and winged liner. Here could have stared into their depths forever. Your lips were the softest of pink and he found himself wondering how they would feel against his own. Before he had realized it, you were before him, offering help with the pin. The way you had paused waiting for permission briefly had him wondering if you would be this submissive beneath him. He immediately had to rein in his wayward thoughts. He had answered curtly and held his breath at your touch, so as not to alert you to the impurity of his imaginings. He thought for sure you would feel the thunderous beat of his heart as you smoothed the fabric surrounding this ridiculous accessory. Then you smiled.

By the Elder Gods, it was as if you held the light and warmth of the sun! He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He barely managed to voice his thanks before you retreated to the bridal room again. He stood there lost in thought, not noticing Johnny Cage's approach.

"Earth to Rai-dude! Everything on okay? You're not having more visions are you? " Cage asked with a concerned look. Raiden shakes his head to dispel the intruding thoughts.

"No, Johnny Cage. There are no visions this day, " he says avoiding Cage's gaze.

"Well, whatever, or " Cage says with a wink, "whoever has you so distracted, I hope it works out for you, Sparky." Cage laughs at Raiden's disdainful look.

"I assure you, " Raiden begins sternly, "I am above such temptations. The situation is of low concern. "

"Whatever you say my dude, " Cage smirks. "I see how you look at her when you think no one's watching."

"With her propensity for getting into dangerous predicaments, I am merely watching out for her safety. " Raiden responds exasperatedly. Johnny Cage was irritatingly observant sometimes.

"Sure....." Cage says skeptically while checking his watch. "Alright, Rai-man! It's showtime! " he says excitedly, throwing jazz hands. Liu Kang and Jax had joined them and the four of them made their way into the chapel to take their places.

A hush fell over the guests, as Kung Lao and another Shaolin Monk opened the double doors of the temple wide. Vera Briggs, Kitana, and yourself walk down the gilded aisle. You look up at the altar and immediately lock eyes with Raiden. He is absolutely stunning, towering over the other three men easily. Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, you tear your gaze away from him as you take your place on the dais. You miss Raiden's expression change from stoic to wide eyed and slack jawed as you moved into position. Fujin catches your eye from the throng of guests seated before you, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

He must really like weddings, you thought. You didn't see Jax reach over and lift Raiden's chin, effectively closing his mouth. Cage notices and whispers, "Hey man, that situation had moved up your priority list? " he jabs chuckling. Raiden had no time to bite out a retort as the music starts. Two flower girls walk down the aisle gently flinging white petals about. Sonya makes her entrance.

The ceremony becomes a blur. Every time you let your eyes roam, they always find Raiden watching you. The blue- white orbs taking on an intensity you have never seen before. It causes you to feel entirely too warm and butterflies to work up from the pit of your stomach and into your chest, where they remain for the duration of the ceremony. You barely register the officiant announcing "You may kiss the bride!" exuberantly . You look past the happy couple, tho find Raiden still has not taken his eyes off you. Blushing profusely, you try to look anywhere but him. You catch Kitana's eye and she gives you a knowing smirk. You look away quickly only to find the Wind God watching you with a mischievous glint in his expression.

Oh no! You thought knowing that look. Fujin was planning on irritating his older brother. You nearly miss your cue to follow the newly weds off the dais. You move as if on autopilot, following the other bridesmaids as they each paired up with their partners.

What is Fujin planning this time? you thought mildly panicked. He had pushed Raiden to near violence with his pranks and teasing in the past, especially where you were concerned. Raiden didn't tolerate jokes played on him at your expense. He defended your honor as fiercely as he did Earthrealm. You feel a sudden touch at your elbow, startling you out of your worried ponderings. You hadn't noticed Raiden had fallen in step beside you, and even though it had been rehearsed nearly to death, you still flinched at the sudden contact. Raiden gently took your elbow, coaxing your arm to intertwine with his, just as it had been practiced. You breath shallowed as your pulse quickened. You weren't sure if the shiver that ran up your spine was from his electric touch or from your own excitement. He looked down at quizzically.

"Are you cold?" He asked in a barely audible whisper.

"A little," you whispered your lie. The truth was you felt entirely too warm, your heart pounding in your ears threatening to drown out all other noise. You were sure he could hear it too. Raiden seemed to accept your answer and disentangled his arm from yours only to drape it across your bare shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. Your sharp inhale gaining another glance from his intense blue-white eyes but he says nothing. Instead, he grazes his thumb over the exposed flesh of your shoulder. Intense, heated desire flushed your skin and made its way deep into your core. You shuddered again and his response was to pull you closer still. You were practically glued to his side. Once outside, the bridal party began to disperse. Separating into groups, and piling into vehicles that would take them to the reception venue, a mountainside resort with cabins for those few invited and a large dining/event hall over looking the valley below. Raiden didn't immediately let go as you made your way to vehicles. Instead, he let his hand skim from your shoulder, down your side, and finally came to rest at your waist where it lingered but a moment before his touch left you. As you climbed into your vehicle, he watched you with the same unwavering intensity he had at the altar. Fujin appeared behind him and said something that must have caught the Thunder God off guard. Judging by the frown on Raiden's face it couldn't have been anything good. The last sight of the two as you pulled away, was Fujin laughing at a scowling Raiden.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The trip to the reception party was only an hour's drive, but it was long enough for your thoughts to comb over every detail of your interactions with the Protector of Earthrealm. Most notably how his hand had felt caressing you. The way it felt like he was undressing you with his eyes. Again you imagined what it would feel like beneath him. Those hands travelling to forbidden places. You blushed at the realization of just how illicit your daydream had become. Pulling into the parking area, you took a moment to collect your composure before exiting and collecting your bags from the trunk. The next three days were going be a much needed vacation. Johnny and Sonya had planned this mini retreat as a thank you to their closest friends for not only defending Earthrealm, but also putting up with Johnny during the planning stages. You smile remembering how much of a diva he is. More than once you and Sonya had to remind him that this wasn't some major blockbuster he was putting out but an intimate gathering for them and their friends. You make your way to your cabin to put away your bags and change into a more comfortable dress for the reception. The cabin was pretty spacious, with its open floor plan, the living area and kitchen were divided by a breakfast bar. The bedroom was mostly occupied by a king sized bed and a chest of drawers along the opposite wall. The bathroom was ensuite and was decorated just as rustic as the rest of the place. Save for very modern looking shower with multiple heads. You placed your bags down and fished out the dress, you hoped it wasn't terribly wrinkled. Placing the yellow dress on a hanger and hanging it on the bathroom door, you begin to undress. The zipper decided now would be a good time to snag and get stuck. You suddenly hear a rustling behind you and spin around, dropping into a fighting stance, only to find Raiden frozen in place at the bedroom door,his massive body filling the doorframe. Your mouth goes dry and suddenly you can't string together and sentence.

"I...I'm s-sorry. There must be...a mistake. I thought. ..I mean.." Raiden stammered and for the first time ever, you see him flustered. Yet he still couldn't take his eyes off you. He had come to speak with Liu Kang, but had found himself in the wrong cabin. He took in every detail, barely contained desire coursing through his every cell. He had indulged himself a little earlier, thinking those small touches would suffice and then he could put distance between the two of you. But they had only fueled his need for more. He was on the edge of a dangerous precipice and all it would take is one nudge to send him over. Out of the blue you find your voice, but you have no control over the words. No filter to stop you from uttering your desire.

"If you're going to stare, you could at least help me with the zipper," you purr, giving a small smile before turning away.

What are you doing, fool!! He's not interested in you like that! He's a God ! You scream at yourself subconsciously. There it was, the final push. He moved with lightningl speed to clear the space between you.

"Then I shall assist you," Raiden whispers in your ear as he places one hand on the zipper and the other at your hip. When did he cross the room? You thought hazily

Your breath hitches and desire runs through your veins like fire, pooling low in your belly. The heat of his breath at your ear sending a shiver of excitement through you even as his knuckles set fire to your spine as he slowly, and effortlessly, unzips your dress. With the task now complete, he removes his hands from you, an involuntary groan of protest escapes you before you even have time to reign in your wonton thoughts.

"It appears as though you may need further help discarding this garment, " he says silkily as he comes around you, his gait reminding you of a big cat stalking its prey. It is your turn to stand unmoving, staring hungrily at the God before you. He steps closer, his hands skimming up from your hips, past your sides, brushing along the outer most part of your breasts, and finally coming to rest on your shoulders. His blue-white eyes taking in the swell of your bosom, watching the the rise and fall of your shallowed breaths. A smile hints at the corner of his firm lips. He has you, his prey. And the gleam in his eye says he plans to devour your every quiver and moan. You stand there hypnotized by the grace with which he moves and the predatory look on his face as he glides his hands off your shoulders and down your arms, the dress falling and pooling at your feet, leaving you in your lacy bra and matching thong. He looms over you, offering an appraising look. Finally, you find your voice.

"We're going to be late," you barely whisper. "They'll probably notice if you're not attending the afterparty. " Your pulse is pounding in your ears, neatly drowning out all other sound. Your mind a riotous swirl of emotions and desire. You want him to fuck you, dominate you, own you.

"We have time yet, mortal, " he says haughtily. He leans in, one arm snaking around you to hold you in place and his other hand tips your chin, his lips capturing yours. All the air leaves you, the floor pitches and you are dizzy in his arms. Intense want illicits a moan against his lips. At this, he darts his tongue into your mouth, coaxing yours to dance. You capture his lower lip with your teeth, this time it's his turn to hum out a low rumble of desire. Suddenly he scoops you up, not breaking the kiss, and deposits you on the bed. His seven foot tall frame engulfs you, and you take this opportunity to run your hands down his chest and along his sides, feeling the rippling muscle beneath his clothes.

"You have far too many clothes on, Lord Raiden," you break contact to pant out.

"Have patience, sparrow," he growls as he begins to trace a path along your sensitive flesh with his lips, starting from your neck and gliding down to your breasts. He takes care to shower each equally with softly planted kisses and playful nips, bringing each bud to a peak and sensitizing the tender flesh until you shudder with need.

He makes his was lower still, his fingers tracing a winding path his mouth hungrily follows. You squirm and quiver beneath his expert touch .

"Be still, or I shall have to start again from the beginning," Raiden threatens, giving the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh a tight squeeze. You immediately try to bring your rebellious body under control but failing miserably once his mouth begins it's lazy descent. Before he makes it past your navel, there is a loud knock on the front door and you bolt upright in shock. Raiden quickly stands pressing a finger to his lips, indicating you should be quiet. Another knock is quickly followed by Fujin's voice.

"Brother? " Fujin calls out from porch. Raiden has left you in the bedroom, making sure to close the door silently, and made his way to the front door to confront his brother. You quickly scramble off the bed and shimmy into the yellow dress. You can hear the muffled sounds of conversation as you fix your hair so as not to looked quite so mussed. Snatching your makeup bag from your duffel of toiletries, you dart into the bathroom to fix your lipstick. Once put together, you made your way out into the front room.

"And what brings you to her cabin, instead of our own?" You can hear Fujin ask, knowing he's fishing for information.

" I simply came to escort her to the reception. " Raiden replies rather curtly. " She was not quite ready, so I waited here," he explained, gesturing to the breakfast bar. "What brings you here, brother?" You could hear the accusatory tone in Raiden's voice. The Wind God smiled brightly as he caught sight of you. You briefly met his gaze before blushing brightly and looking elsewhere.

"I also came to escort this beautiful little sparrow to the reception," Fujin responded,using the pet name Raiden called you but a few moments ago, the mirth dancing in his glowing eyes. The muscle in Raiden's jaw twitches with irritation. "But I see I am too late. Save a dance for me, will you? " he grins at you, all but laughing.

"Of course," you agree. You catch sight of Raiden's face, his lips hardened to a thin line. He is not happy hearing you agree to Fujin's request so readily. " But the first one belongs to Raiden, " you quickly amend so as to smooth any ruffled feathers.

"But of course," Fujin agreed with a wink. "It's always good to save the best for last, " he laughed as he turned away, making his way to the reception hall.

"We had better make our way as well, or we shall be late, " Raiden said evenly. His face once more unreadable as he too starts to leave. You fall into step beside him, wondering if he was somehow angry with you.

"I am not angry with you, my pet," he said barely above a whisper as if reading your mind. He said no more the rest of the short walk. Once inside, the two of you made your way to the bridal party table. You noticed it had been rearranged so that each maid and groomsman was paired. Frowning a little, you looked over at Sonya questioningly.

"It was last minute," she started matter of factly. "I didn't want to be caught between lovers' stares," she finished rolling her eyes.

"Oh, " was all you could manage as you took your seat awkwardly next to a very tense diety. You stole a quick glance at him and noted he seemed lost in thought, frustration radiated off of him, making you squirm uncomfortably in your chair. You could still feel the heat of his mouth and hands on you, and your own unmet desire boiled just below the surface barely masked.

I'd like to kick Fujin's ass for interrupting, you thought sourly. You caught a movement out of the corner of your eye and turned to see Kitana and Liu Kang seating themselves next to you, murmuring to one another. Liu looked over at his mentor and then whispered something to Kitana who shook her head. She caught you looking at her and smiled brightly, leaning towards you.

"Perhaps the two of you should go somewhere private and talk before whatever is between you boils over," Kitana whispers.

"It is fine, " you whisper back trying to reassure her and yourself. Her smile falters and as concern flits through her eyes. She leans back nodding and returns to her whispered conversation with Liu. He glances at you and offers a tight smile which you return. Raiden shifts in his seat, drawing your attention. You find him watching you, his face impassive. He shifts his weight in his chair again, this time his thigh brushes against yours as he does so, a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth as he watches your pupils dilate. You can feel the hum of his touch like static electricity racing along your skin right to your core. You reach for your glass as take a gulp of your moscato. Raiden turns his gaze to Cage at being asked a question.

"Yo, Thunder Bro! Remember that time we were tracking Black Dragon in the Outworld mountains? " Johnny asked excitedly

"I remember all things, Johnny Cage. " Raiden replied evenly folding his hands in his lap.

Jax chuckled, knowing where Johnny was going with this. " Well, I was wondering if you could teach me how to get one of those big cats, " Johnny grinned. From somewhere by the desert bar Kung Lao's voice echoed, "There's NO way that was a CAT !!!"

"So anyway," Johnny said ignoring Kung Lao's outburst as Sonya and Jax snickered at the memory of that interesting mission, "is just the pspsps or is there some secret to it?"

"There is no secret, Johnny Cage," Raiden began, shifting slightly and placing his hand atop your thigh under cover of the tablecloth, giving a firm squeeze and causing searing heat to coil uncomfortably in your sex. "Cats simply gravitate to me. Perhaps we are something of kindred spirits." He smiled wryly at Cage.

"On the next trip to Outworld, I'm getting me a thunder cat!" Johnny quipped and Sonya sputtered her wine.

"Oh no," she said sternly "pump the breaks there hot rod, we are NOT bringing home some Outworld beast"

" Aw, c'mon doll, " Johnny whined. "Think about it, you could train your very own battlecat! "

"No!" Sonya rolled eyes and lovingly smacked Cage on the arm. While they were all discussing whether or not Johnny could actually train an Outworld felid, Raiden brushed his thumb over your thigh. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, earning you another, firmer, squeeze from his massive hand warning you to be still. All through the meal, which seemed to drag on forever, Raiden teased you, discreetly sliding his hand further up your leg and shifting it to rest on the innermost side. Unconsciously you press your legs together to stop his ascent. Suddenly his hand left your thigh, leaving you wanting more. He stood, looking down at you expectantly, offering his hand to you. You realize everyone is making their way to the dance floor in the middle of the event hall to watch the first dance.

"I do believe you promised me a dance. " Raiden's tone was commanding. Glancing up coyly through your lashes, you run your tongue over your bottom lip before smiling shyly.

"Of course, Lord Raiden," you begin silkily, "I am all yours." You take his proffered hand. His grip is vice-like on you as he pulls you to him. His eyes taking on more blue than white in a way like pupils dilating. He leaned close to whisper in your ear, "Not yet, but you will be," his breath sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. Realization dawned on him as he recognized it from your earlier encounter. He now knew you had lied and he was going to punish you for it. He led you to the dancefloor just as the newlyweds finished up their dance. Fujin pounced as soon as you were within range. Sweeping you away as soon as the music began with an impish grin and a wink at his brother. Raiden could only watch with murderous intent as he would not cause a scene here, and Fujin knew it well.

"Fujin! What are you doing?!" You whispered angrily. For the second time this evening, the capricious Wind God had denied you what you truly wanted.

"I am merely dancing with a beautiful woman, " he replied feigning ignorance.

"You know what I mean. I promised Raiden the first dance. Now you've made me break that promise," you stated sourly. You caught sight of the Thunder God prowling around the edge with all the gracefulness of a powerful predator. The only hint of his displeasure was the hard glint to eyes as he watched Fujin dance with you.

"Ah, I'm just having a bit of fun. He's never been the jealous type, it's quite humorous to see him beside himself ," Fujin laughed, his raspy voice like the wind through the trees.

"I really wish you wouldn't antagonize him so much," concern for Fujin's safety becoming more apparent.

" I can handle my brother, dear one. " Fujin gave you a brilliant smile. He was attractive, witty, and fun to be around. But nothing about him captivated you like Raiden did. Fujin's laughter and impish delight was infectious and you found yourself laughing too. He suddenly lifted you up above him and spun you around causing you to squeal out a laugh. Then, the mood shifted as he brought you back down, sliding you down his body before setting you down. You could feel him growing hard against your belly. "Fujin, what the f--" you were cut off by a vice grip on your arm as you were dragged back from the Wind God.

"You have taken up enough of her time, brother." Raiden said tightly. There was a threat in the way he spoke to Fujin that the younger brother must have understood. He paled under Raiden's hard gaze.

"Ah, of course. I shall take my leave," Fujin said contritly, bowing to his elder. " Perhaps another time, little dove." With that he stepped lightly away to engage with other guests. Raiden's grip remained tight as he led you out of the reception hall and down the short path to your cabin. He remained silent the entire time. You wanted to say something but the warning in his eyes made you forget how to speak. He flung open the front door and roughly ushered you inside, slamming the door behind him and tossing his hat to the floor.

"Raiden," you breathed out, "what..." you were cut off second time tonight as he hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes slapping your ass hard, earning a yelp of pain mixed with arousal. You had never seen him act in such a manner. It was feral and fucking hot.

"You will learn your place, mortal. I will make this very clear. I do not share," he said whispered threateningly. " I also will not tolerate lies." You were stunned into silence, trying to figure out a time you had ever lied to him. Then you remembered you had told him you were cold. Was he really that mad about it? He strode into the bedroom and dumped you on the bed. He stood there, glaring at you, his frustration barely contained. He began to disrobe, stopping only to motion at your dress. " Take it off," he bit off sharply but you could only stare wide eyed at this feral god before you. "Or do you need assistance removing this one too?"

You only nodded, seemingly forgetting how human speech works. Free of his belt, tabard, cowl, and shirt Raiden was on you in an instant. Gripping the thin material, he ripped it in two down the middle. Once you were free of the dress, Raiden pushed you to the mattress, pinning you with his large frame.

"Now...where to begin?" He growled into the crook of you neck. He inhaled your scent deeply as he traced his lips up the side of your neck to your ear. He nipped at the lobe and you audibly hitched your breath. He took advantage of your parted lips and brought his own down hard on them. He robbed you of breath as the world around you faded away until there was only him.

"Hmmmm," you moaned into his kiss and arched into him wanting to feel more of him. Your hands skimmed along his naked torso and around to his back, feeling the rippling muscles beneath your fingertips. Raiden pulls back from you earning a whimper of protest, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above your head.

"Be still," he commands. Locking your wrists tightly with one large hand, he runs the other down the side of your face. Fire runs through your veins and soaks your already molten center. His fingers trace along your pulse, feeling its heavy beat, his lips soon follow. His hand glides down to your hip, running his thumb along the laced band of your panties. You squirm under him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as his mouth moves from your throat to your collarbone, nipping sharply at irregular intervals. Suddenly he let's go of your wrists and hauls you up into a sitting position and moves in behind you, pulling you to recline between his legs. You can feel his hard length pressed into your lower back and shift purposefully against it, making the Thunder God rumble his desire.

"You would still dare to provoke a god, my dear?" The tenor of his voice dropping and octave.

"Yes," you whisper, "if it means being the reason he comes undone."

With a low rumbling groan that sounded more like a growl, he fisted a handful if your hair and yanked your head to the side, giving him access to the tender flesh of your neck. As his mouth traces a heated path from your jaw to where your pulse can be felt beating heavily, his other hand skims up from your waist to your bra, yanking each cup down exposing the supple mounds. He bites down on your neck at the same time his fingers give a sharp pinch on your nipple, sending liquid heat directly to your quivering center. You brace your hands on his thighs and and arch into his touch, crying out as he assaults the other nipple. He nips his way down to your collarbone, so too does his hand travel farther down, tracing out each curve until he comes to rest at the top of your mons. Your hips buck into his hand, desperate for friction, but his other hand lets go off your hair and he bands his large arm around your waist, pinning you to him.

"Raiden! " you cry out in frustration and dig your nails into thighs.

"Shhh," he soothes, "All in good time." His voice even and sultry, even as you feel him trembling. "Let me hear you," he whispers as his large hand cups your sex, his middle finger tracing its delicate folds.

"Ah! Lord Raiden!" You cry out grinding against his hand. He slips his finger into your molten heat, his own breath hot and ragged against your neck. Your hips buck up to meet his skillful ministrations. His arm tightens its grip around your waist and he rolls his hips at your backside, letting out his own growl of desire. He slips in another finger and sets a methodically slow pace, curling them on the outward stroke to drag across your deepest erogenous spot, a slight vibrating hum building where he touches you.

"Let go, my dear. I want to hear your desire," he says hoarsely as he presses his palm against the sensitized bundle of nerves at your apex, diving his fingers deep into your already soaking cunt. This is your undoing and you convulse around his deft fingers, your head thrown back against his broad chest with a strangled iteration of his name.

" Good girl," he whispers darkly. Moving with a speed and gracefulness that comes from eons of careful practice, Raiden slips out from behind you and strips his pants all in one fluid movement. And before the world can right itself, you are pressed to the mattress, the Thunder God pushing your legs wide and coaxing you to wrap them at his waist. He leans down, one arm supporting his weight and the other snaking under your hips to angle your opening to rest against his rigid length, your heat causing him to pant lightly. "Who do you belong to?" He asks, his bright, pale eyes roaming over your face, taking in every detail, before settling on your mouth, waiting for you to answer

"You, Lord Raiden. My Thunder God, " you whisper, trembling with need. "I belong to only you. "

Raiden draws back his hips so as to drag his aching length across your slick folds until the wide crest of his cock sits just at your entrance, and there he hovers, watching you pant in frustration, a devilish smile on his lips. "You feel frustrated? Good," his voice like dark silk as he leaned in closer, "Now tell me, my caged sparrow, what do you want me to do?"

Your hands coming up to meet his broad chest and running down the length of his torso, you look up at him with heavy lidded eyes, your voice husky with desire "Kaminari ga watashi o tsureteiku" you breathe out, watching as his gaze darkens with intense carnality. Slowly, he pushes into you, never breaking eye contact. He watches as you arch your neck and your eyes roll back as guttural moan escapes your lips, that is his undoing. The final shred of control he had on his own need for satisfaction dissipated as he finally hilted himself deep inside you. He uses his free hand to interlace his fingers with your yours, pinning your hand next to your head, your other hand free to travel over and trace every dip and hollow you could reach. "You truly are mine," he rasps out and begins to move with long, fluid strokes. His hips rolling each time he fully sheathed himself in your core.

"By the Gods, yes!" You gasp, leaning up to nip just below his collarbone, raking your nails down his back. The Thunder God above you moves his arm from under your hips to steady himself as he picks up the pace, rolling his head back to moan loudly. You reach up to cup the side of his face, urging him to look back at you, "I want to see you come undone for me, Raiden. Take me with you. " you say as you feel the pressure build. Raiden tightens his grip on your hand, his brow furrowed with concentration, sweat misting your bodies as his rhythm becomes erratic. All control finally broke as he lost himself to pleasure, deep growls and grunts reverberating off the walls, mingling with your soft whimpers and throaty moans. Your sex quivering around his unrelenting cock had you tightening your legs around his waist drawing him further in. Raiden pressed harder and undulated his hips, hitting your sweet spot again and again until you saw stars streaking across your vision.

"Oh, RAIDEN!!!!" you screamed out as your orgasm ripped through you. Pleasure wracked your body, as your hands scrabbled to hold onto him. He slammed into you one last time before stilling briefly as the first wave of his climax came. Raiden gave four more deep strokes, bottoming out in you as he emptied himself of his seed in you.

"By the Elder Gods ! " he said through clenched teeth. The Thunder God shuddered, finally spent, withdrawing and lying to the side you. No words were spoken, as he drew you into his arms, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. Breathing in his scent as you returned the tenderness by placing a kiss above his heart, you both drift off.

You are the one temptation I would gladly give in to he thought to himself before sleep took over.

Outside the cabin, the winds whipped wildly as thunder rumbled in the distance.

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jeno another late, sappy birthday gift for mr. lee jeno. i promised to finish the ot21s so....... find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten | jisung | renjun tw: mention of ankle injury

summer is supposed to be a time of happiness, of adventure and goofing around under the constant sunlight

and so when you start summer, you are all smiles and big dreams! unfiltered energy to do whatever you want!

and whatever you want is definitely

NOT spending even a day (actually three) in the hospital after you end up falling off your bike and breaking your ankle like the absolute unlucky person that you are

"that is so gnarly dude, my condolences"

chenle mutters, skateboard under hand and shaking his head

jisung nods in agreement beside him - still wearing his helmet even after your nurse gives him a look about it

"hey, at least you're getting all this free candy?"

jaemin motions, picking up a 'get better soon' box filled with chocolates from your uncle

he pops one in his mouth and haechan swats his hand away before he can steal any more

mark sighs and gives you a sad smile, renjun puts the flowers they all bought together in a vase by your bed

it's all a little too much - and you tell them it's fine, it's just an ankle and you'll be out of here in no time

they all agree, except for jeno who is sitting at the foot of your bed with his volleyball uniform still on and his duffel bag between his legs on the floor

you keep throwing glances his way because you have never seen jeno so quiet in your life

mark - who is the brains of your friend group (oddly enough) - catches the looks of worry

so he does what any good friend would do, he tells all the remaining members he saw a machine with snacks out in the hall and they all excuse themselves with 'see you soon!'s' out of your hospital room

jeno doesn't move a muscle

"how was practice? jaemin looks happy so im guessing you guys are going to be in great shape when school starts again?"

there isn't any response and jeno is almost hidden with the way his head is hanging low and his hands are clasped on his knees

"jeno-"

"it's my fault you're in here."

you puff your cheeks and cross your legs

"oh please! it's my own fault! is that why you're acting all sad?"

he doesn't answer and the lack of communication is making you nervous more than it is making you angry

jeno and you are close, to the point of knowing each other's parents by their first names and who your first kisses were back in middle school

he has never been one to lack the words for a conversation - at least not with you

you wish you could scoot closer and pinch his cheek or poke his forehead

but your cast is restricting movement and these days touching jeno feels......different

"i should have stopped you before you went down that hill, i was there and i couldn't save you-"

"jeno, im not made of glass and plus im not even that hurt!"

he finally shifts so he can look at your leg, propped up on the pillow and covered in its cast that has been brightly decorated with signatures and doodles

the way his gaze travels up your hospital gown and to you, you know he isn't registering anything you're saying

you sit up a little and hide the wince behind another set of promises to jeno that you are ok and you don't need him to blame himself when he has so much more going on on his plate

"you and jaemin are going to graduate after the upcoming semester and that means it's your last year with the volleyball team. you should focus on practice and being the best you can be - when i can get myself up on those crutches ill come visit to see how you guys are doing!"

he seems to soften, the sharp angles of his face that have just gotten more handsome as he ages still somehow manage to look sweet and youthful

he picks his duffel bag up off the floor and leans toward you like he's going to push some hair from your face or kiss your forehead

he's done both before - but this is the first time the gesture has made the blood in your veins stop and something imaginary clog in the back of your throat

instead of doing either jeno seems to buffer as he hovers above you, reaching out to fluff the edge of your pillow

"ok, but also you have to be serious about your recovery."

he pulls back and the same concern as before washes over him, his vocal tone lowers

"don't go doing anything dangerous."

you point to your cast with a half-smile

"i don't think that's going to be possible."

you get discharged from the hospital the next day, not that it brightens your summer any further, you basically just end up trading the hospital bed for the four walls of your own room

the group chat explodes with more well wishes

but you change the subject, all the pity makes you cringe

'how was volleyball practice?'

several people start typing - except for jeno

jaemin's reply comes first, 'it was good!'

followed by jisung's, 'but.....jeno didn't show up...'

renjun adds 'he said he wasn't feeling well - don't worry!'

you furrow your eyebrows

'has anyone visited him? does he need medicine?'

haechan texts something before anyone can really stop him, 'im pretty sure he's just being sad - if he had the stomach flu we all be sick. we eat together everyday.'

'haechan!' mark replies as jaemin sends a shaking his head emoji

'wait. jeno is sad?'

it goes silent and then suddenly jeno is typing

'im not sad, im fine. ill be at practice tomorrow.'

you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding in

it's only natural that you, as jeno's friend, would be worried about him. at least, that's what you tell yourself.

to be honest - now that you're not out enjoying summer - you're more than ever stuck with your own thoughts and the most recent string of them is: what changed between you and jeno?

for years it had been easy going fun, the simple enjoyment of each others company

but ever since it started getting warm enough for t-shirts - there has been a shift in the central point of you and jeno's friendship

you are suddenly hyper-aware of how strong the outline of his arms looks.

you notice when he wears different cologne.

you see the way other people turn their heads to look at him when he walks by, the way they pick up on the handsome features that make up your best friend

and you can't help but feel something cruel and cold fester in the pit of your stomach when you think jeno might one day look back at that stranger ..... and notice their features too

you sit up, which is a mistake because you shift your foot and it makes you yelp, but you look at your phone again

the gc has moved onto topics of video games so you message jeno outside of it

'hey, if something is wrong you can tell me'

he reads the message and doesn't reply. you tell yourself that's totally fine.

a couple of weeks pass before anyone lets you limp out of the house by yourself

you've mastered crutches and when you really need something, one of your friends delivers it

although recently, it seems to be everyone but jeno

everything otherwise seems normal

no one really talks about volleyball - which is fine, you just assume they're busy practicing

and so you hobble down to the school gym that's still open for the student-athletes during the break and are secretly happy to bump into mark who helps you with the stairs

"by the way, don't be upset with him ok."

mark says before you enter the gym - you look at him with a raised eyebrow

"upset with who?"

mark swallows - just tilts his head and when you go inside you look everywhere, you see everyone, but you don't see jeno

"im guessing he isn't in the locker rooms?"

you ask mark with a deflated tone of voice, mark shakes his head

"he hasn't been to practice at all."

you can understand why no one had told you.

like mark said, they knew you'd get on his case about it - which is what you plan on doing when you end up on his front porch

jeno comes down with messy hair and basketball shorts on. he's not wearing a shirt and immediately you think you lose the ability to speak

"you shouldn't be walking around just yet."

he says and you frown

"it's been a while now, plus im not here about me. im here to ask what you think you're doing."

jeno crosses his arms and you hate the involuntary flex of his muscles.

actually, you don't hate it, you hate that you stare when you don't mean to.

he ushers you into the backyard and motions for you to sit on one of the patio chairs

he's still being the same thoughtful guy you grew up with but you're beyond confused

"are you quitting volleyball - why aren't you going to practice?"

"im not quitting. i just don't feel like it - i don't feel like doing anything."

you reach out with one of your crutches to poke him, he makes a face

"im the one with a broken ankle - im the one who gets to be depressed. c'mon, tell me what's really wrong."

jeno falls silent, you notice that he hasn't completely shaved and there's a bit of a shadow on his jawline

you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat

this is your best friend since you were kids. you are literally not going to think anything but pure thoughts from now on. ok. stop. don't you dare.

"that's the thing. you have a broken ankle, you can't even go to the beach and im supposed to do what - enjoy the summer without my best friend?"

he throws his hands up and you see an expression you barely ever get from jeno form on his face

"i could have stopped you from being reckless, i could have made sure you weren't in that stupid cast and that you could-"

"jeno!"

you cut him off and he looks at you, the momentary distraction of your newfound attraction to him dissipates as you grind your teeth

"i told you that it's no way your fault i got hurt - plus it's not like you personally broke my ankle and im not suffering torturous pain. things happen like this in life - don't beat yourself up about it!"

you wish you could get up to make your point, but the best you manage is a shaky lift grabbing onto your chair

jeno gets up to help you but you shoo him away

"it hurts me more to see you moping around on my behalf! did you think about that, how it would make me feel to hear that my injury is making you slack on the things you like?!"

he blinks and you suddenly feel a rush of different things

one is that you hate how he seems to be so full of pity for you, another is that you hate how he's kind of right about this summer being pointless now that you can barely move, but the last is that because of all these things happening you can't even properly wrap your head around the fact that you think you like him

and not in the platonic way you'd been beating on liking him your whole life

so to add this to the pile - you take your crutches and give him a stern look

"just start going to practice. i told you when i was in the hospital, i'll always come to cheer you on when i can. that doesn't change for me, broken ankle or not because you're my best friend and i want to see you succeed."

and i love you

you don't say the last part, you bite your lip back and although you can't storm off in your usual fiery passion, you make it out of his backyard and let a heaviness fall off your chest as you somehow manage to get back home

the sound of messages incoming on your phone are drowned away by your tiredness

i just want to be a source of happiness for you, i never wanted to be your burden jeno.

the next day there's a knock on your bedroom door - you tell them to come in and go wide-eyed when you see jeno there

he's in his volleyball uniform and he's holding something in his hands

"jen-"

"im sorry. you were right, i can't use you as an excuse to be lazy anymore. i brought these."

he hands you the tupperware of cookies and you are about to ask him if he made these when jeno's familiar, warm laughter fills your room

"i didn't make them, they're chipsahoy but i thought the gesture could count."

you look down at them - he's so silly.

you look back up at jeno's smile - i really love him.

"good. now go have fun at practice, ill visit you guys later in the week."

he comes closer to you and suddenly the air in the room stills, he leans over and you think you can feel the temperature of your skin rise to an unsafe level when he hooks his pinkie with yours

"promise?"

you nod and he disappears with a wave. you sit in your bed and hold the cookies.

maybe breaking my ankle and not spending every minute around him might actually have been a good thing.

as you promised, you show up to practice at the end of the week.

jeno is there and he lights up when he sees you, helps you with your crutches and everyone gathers around to tell you how thankful they are that you went and got jeno to comeback

jisung randomly sputters a, "the only person who can control him is you. it's like he's your boyfriend."

mark catches the look on your face before jeno does and flicks jisung on the head, "what do you know about dating - c'mon lets go get water for everyone."

the comment swims around your head for the entire time you're there - and you don't know it, but it swims around jeno's as well

when practice is over, jaemin offers to drive everyone home - no one agrees because they're probably terrified of his driving

and jeno says he'll be the one to walk you home

it's nothing unusual, you've been with jeno throughout your whole childhood, but there seems to be a weird pause among your group when he announces it

when you and him set off toward your house, mark does something weird - he winks at you and you take a second before

oh - he knows i like jeno doesn't he?

you can only go at the of the equivalent of snail's pace, and jeno matches it without complaint

you don't say anything and it makes it that much harder to distract the chanting about how good he looks and how you can't believe you're that person who fell in love with their best friend and how this summer is so confusing its almost vomit-inducing and-

"hey, would it be weird if i liked you?"

it feels like the earth itself has been dropped from the shoulders of atlas, you think suddenly all the gravity has gone and disappeared

you stop and look at jeno who sets his bag down on the asphalt

the boy you met when you were young is suddenly not a boy anymore, his shadow is tall and mature against the setting summer sun

"liked me?"

he scratches the back of his neck and then nods

"i had said i can't use your injury as my excuse to be lazy. i actually wasn't being lazy, i was just going through a hard time because i thought i had hurt the person most important to me in the world."

your heart thumps against your chest so hard it kind of hurts

"me?"

"yeah, and i realized your friend can be the most important person in the world - but i think it's different the way i feel about now......i like you."

"i love you."

you blurt it out before you can even really stop yourself, jeno looks shocked for about a second before it breaks into a big smile on his face

the one you haven't seen in what seems like forever, the one that feels genuine and right

"oh cool, i actually love you too - i just didn't know if i should say it-"

"can you come over here and kiss me, these crutches are kind of making it hard for me."

no one is surprised when you and jeno announce in the gc that you're going on your first date

mark tries to act it, but literally everyone is like finally - you do ask mark if he knew all along about how you felt and he goes i knew how you felt and how jeno felt. you two are open books.

the date isn't as thrilling as you both might have wanted, the broken ankle is still kind of getting in the way, so jeno takes you out to the lake and does all the rowing himself

you offer, since it's your hands, but he insists he can do it himself and he does. seriously, he's way stronger than you remember him being a year ago.

you guys eat on the grass when you get back and he effortlessly picks you back up onto your feet, you swoon everytime but try not to show it

and when jeno drops you off - he kisses you again, and this time he doesn't have to have you tell him to - he picks the perfect moment

being his best friend and dating him doesn't change too much, it's just you're now holding hands everytime you hangout and you're kissing in the back of jaemin's car much to his disappointment and well

it's just made everything easier - you're not wrapped in your head about what's different, because nothing is, you just are honest with how you both feel

jeno and jaemin even get visited by scouts for volleyball and when jeno tells you about it you try to jump up to hug him and he's like bABE CAST but too late you're like OW and he's like oh god oh god let me hold you

you're like jeno let's learn to bake cookies for real so we don't have to buy chipsahoy to give each other and he's down for it but then you both almost set the kitchen on fire and call renjun like ten times to ask about the recipe and basically you are both banned from baking again

your cast gets filled in with hearts from jeno...you let him lay his head on you when he's playing games on his phone and you're like watching him play and when you get bored you're like let's kiss instead

jeno leaves all his hoodies 'accidentally' over at your house because he knows you like wearing them but won't admit it outloud

the summer continues on until suddenly it's colder outside and the reality of school coming back dawns on everyone

and also, you get the date for when your cast will be removed

jeno asks if you're going to keep it once it gets cracked - you say you might, you woulnd't want to lose all those cute hearts he scribbled on them and he just smiles and kisses your forehead

"i'd scribble all the hearts everywhere for you."

"that's cute, we should save that for when we get married."

and you do save it for then - years later when you're showing jeno the design on your invitations

beside both your names is a cluster of different hearts, all doodled by jeno himself

"how'd you get these?"

"kept a part of my broken cast."

he stares at you with wide eyes

"im joking, i got them off a napkin you doodled on when we were at dinner."

jeno pokes his tongue out at you and you giggle as he wraps his arms around your waist as to not let you get away

the softness of your love and silliness of your friendship is still there

it'll always be there - through all the broken ankles, casts, and doodled hearts to come.

[pilvimarja]

Drabble | Ficlet | ●●● | teen Lawrusso | adult Lawrusso |

Prompt used: “I’ll kick his ass.” and “Breathe with me. Come on. Breathe. You got it - there you go.”

(Post-season 3, content warning for panic attack, Terry Silver makes an appearance)

LaRusso makes Johnny arrive at the dojo almost an hour before the students so they can go over whatever new lesson plan he’s cooked up in his over-excited head. Johnny would rather shoot from the hip, but LaRusso could be right about some of their teaching methods clashing a little too hard, and even Johnny doesn’t want a repeat of the balance wheel incident from last week. He’s got no idea what going viral means, but he’s pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with catching a cold.

He parks his car next to LaRusso’s polished Audi and turns his eyes to the rear-view mirror as he fits his headband over his forehead. It might be smaller than LaRusso’s with the fancy lotus flowers, but it’s from Ali and that’s all that counts.

There’s movement behind his reflection and Johnny watches as the gate to the garden is pushed open. A man walks to the dusty yard, tall and well-dressed, his silver hair almost glowing in the afternoon sun.

Johnny gets out of the car and watches the guy over the rim of his shades. Could be that they’ve scored a new student, but the guy looks more like the rich Encino pricks that used to kiss Sid’s ass at the country club than a karate parent.

“You must be Sensei Lawrence,” the man calls out, walking across the yard with his hand outstretched, smiling at Johnny like they’re old friends. “Two-time All Valley champion! John has told me all about you.”

“Who?” Johnny frowns, feeling like he’s missed some crucial part of the conversation.

There’s something unsettling in the guy’s expression as he takes in Johnny’s appearance, lifting his brow into a skeptical arch. “Well. I guess the 80s were a while ago, huh, Champ?”

The whole interaction turns instantly sour as Johnny’s brain connects the dots. “Wait, you mean John Kreese?”

“Yes, John and I go way back.” The man grabs Johnny’s hand and gives it a firm shake, his shark smile stretching from ear to ear. “Terry Silver.”

“Look, man, I don’t give a shit.” Johnny yanks his hand away and stands up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. “I think it’s time for you to vacate the premises, buddy.”

“You know what, you're right," Silver lifts his arm and makes a show of checking his over-priced watch, “John and I have a class to teach. And I must say, your son Robby is already making a lot of progress. We think he's got potential to follow in his father’s footsteps, become Cobra Kai’s next champion.”

Johnny digs his nails into his palms and glares at Silver through his shades, tastes a burst of iron on his tongue as he buries his teeth into his cheek.

“I’ll see you around, Mr. Lawrence. And let Danny-boy know I enjoyed our reunion,” Silver says, grinning like a maniac as he gets into his Tesla.

Danny-boy? What the fuck? Trust LaRusso to be friends with rich creeps like Silver.

Silver speeds away, leaving Johnny to stand in a cloud of dust. He makes his way to the dojo and the knowledge that his kid is being taught not just by one, but two geriatric karate maniacs kind of makes him want to throw up the cold burrito he had for lunch. He’s failed Robby from the moment he drew his first breath, but allowing him to fall into Kreese’s snake pit might be his worst fuck up yet.

“Hey, LaRusso, you in there?” Johnny calls, toeing his shoes off on the deck. “Who the hell was that asshole? Don’t tell me you’re actually friends with—” he pushes one of the shoji doors aside and stops dead in his tracks when he spots LaRusso, hunched in the middle of the dojo on his hands and knees, trembling like a leaf.

“What the hell?” Johnny rushes to Daniel’s side and drops down on his knees. “You hurt?”

Daniel stares at the tatami with vacant eyes, sucking in labored, wheezing breaths, his fingers digging into his thighs, and Johnny’s not sure he’s even aware of his presence.

“Hey, hey, Daniel, look at me.” Johnny snaps his fingers in front of Daniel’s nose until he finally looks up with huge, wet eyes. “What’s going on, man? Are you having a stroke or something?”

Daniel shakes his head and wraps his fingers around Johnny’s forearms, his grip almost bruising. “It’s a—a panic attack.”

“Panic what?” Johnny feels like he’s been tossed into the deep end of a pool with his hands tied, and shit, he really needs to apologize to Miguel for that. “Can I-can I do something?”

Daniel squeezes his eyes shut and drags his hands up to Johnny’s chest, slipping them inside his gi, and Johnny does his best not to flinch when there are suddenly two ice cold palms pressed against his pecs. “Just help me—breathe.”

Johnny nods, wrapping his fingers around Daniel’s hands in a gentle hold. He thinks of all the breathing exercises Daniel has forced him to do after class, filling his lungs as slow as he can, in and out, in and out.

“Yeah, that’s it. Breathe with me. Come on. Breathe.”

Daniel’s hands tremble against Johnny’s chest, his blunt nails digging into tender skin, but he starts to get his breathing under control one agonizing inhale at a time.

“You got it—there you go.” Johnny reaches out to push Daniel’s lopsided hachimaki up on his forehead and wipes his thumb over the droplet of sweat clinging to his cupid’s bow. “You good, man?”

Daniel slumps forward and rests his forehead against Johnny’s shoulder, his muscles still twitching every few seconds. “Yeah, I think it’s passing. Thank you, John.”

“Jesus Christ, LaRusso…” Johnny splays his fingers between Daniel’s shoulder blades and gives his back an awkward rub. “What the hell was that? And who was that Terry Silver guy?” He flexes his fingers against Daniel’s spine, his cheeks prickling with a hot flush of rage. “Did he do this to you?”

There’s an awkward stretch of dead air between them as Daniel stands up and straightens his gi, his face still sallow and clammy. “Can you grab me an Evian from the fridge?”

“A what?”

Daniel’s mouth pulls into a weary smile. “A bottle of water, Johnny.”

“Oh. Okay.” Johnny gets up on his feet, ignoring the sting of pain in his knee joints, and rushes into their shared office. His lungs feel like they’re seizing under his rib cage, and trust LaRusso to almost give him a goddamn heart attack.

He grabs Daniel's fancy water and a Banquet from the fridge, fixing his face into a blank mask as he heads back into the dojo. He finds Daniel on the sunny deck, hachimaki untied and his gi hanging loosely around his hunched form, and he finally looks his age, the usual aura of healthy living and inexplicably good looks replaced by tear-reddened eyes and blotchy, swollen skin.

Johnny hands Daniel his water and pops the cork off his beer, downing half of the bottle in one.

"Sit with me?" Daniel says, patting his palm against the deck.

Johnny empties the rest of his beer and drops down next Daniel, squinting his eyes against the bright afternoon sun.

"So..." Daniel rags the toes of his slippers against the gravel, watching Johnny from the corner of his eye. "You probably want to know what happened.”

Johnny turns to face Daniel, tempted to grab him by his skinny shoulders, because yeah, he sure as hell wants to know what happened. “Who was that guy?”

Did he put his hands on you?

Daniel lets out a quiet chuckle, dry and humorless. “Believe it or not, but he used to be my sensei.”

Johnny shakes his head, because what the hell? That guy? LaRusso’s sensei? “Mr. Miyagi was your sensei.”

“Yes, but so was Terry Silver, for a while, when I was in...” Daniel looks away, trailing his fingers over knots of faint scar tissue on his tan knuckles, “when I was in Cobra Kai.”

Johnny blinks at Daniel, pretty sure the words he just heard from his mouth were some kind of an auditory hallucination. “You. In Cobra Kai. You’re—you’re serious?”

Daniel nods, his eyes fixed on the damp label on the side of his water bottle. And the bomb he’s just dropped should have Johnny laughing and calling him out on his bullshit, because Daniel LaRusso being a member of Cobra Kai is like some cosmic level of hypocrisy. But he doesn’t feel like laughing, because Daniel looks fucking gutted. And scared.

He tears at the label on his bottle with nervous fingers, the Jersey in his voice stronger than normal as he begins to stumble through a messed up recount of his time in Cobra Kai, and the more he speaks, the more Johnny wants to hit something.

He’s met his share of wackjobs, but the way Daniel speaks of Terry Silver makes it painfully clear that the guy is more than a prick with a checkbook. And how dare that fucker come to their dojo and mess with Daniel?

"Goddammit!" Johnny shoots up to his feet, tearing his headband off his forehead as the violence in his blood boils over. “I’ll kick his ass, right now.”

Daniel turns to look at him, and there’s something like awe and relief in his eyes, but he shakes his head. “Johnny, no.”

“No? The guy’s a fucking lunatic!” Johnny argues, bouncing on his heels. “He disrespected our dojo, gave you a goddamn panic attack, and he’s got my kid.”

The mere thought of the nightmare duo of their former senseis messing with Robby’s head fills Johnny with dread, immediate and heart-wrenching.

Daniel wraps his fingers around Johnny’s hand and pulls him back down, his touch grounding. “Trust me, Johnny, I know.” He takes his hachimaki and shocks Johnny into stunned silence as he fits it under the mess of his blond hair and reaches behind his neck to tie it in a firm knot.

"We’ll beat them at the tournament," Daniel says, his face hardening into a determined scowl, “and we’ll get Robby back, together.”

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Narcos

Ship: Javier Peña/OFC (Eva)

Tags/warnings (whole thing): slow burn, h/c, a bit of violence (nothing as bad as canon), guns, knife injury, pain and suffering, the loss of a parent (both actually), angst, ptsd, javi being a lil prick but also soft!, (safe) piv sex, masturbation (female AND male), fingering, unprotected piv sex (in the words of the Spice Girls: be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on), pregnancy risk, death of an animal, talk of cancer, so much internal conflict, insomnia, killing coyotes, snake bite, oh my god just get over yourselves already, some eye fucking if you squint.

Summary for the whole thing: Javier Peña has resigned from the DEA and is back at his dad’s ranch in Texas. Life is slow and uneventful, until an unfamiliar face shows up at the local watering hole one night. Eva is retired from the army and lives in her old pickup truck with more than one ghost. She’s looking for ranch work and when her path crosses Javier’s, maybe they can help each other along in their lives?

Chapter summary: In the heat of high summer, life at Big River Ranch is pretty slow and uneventful. Plenty of time for yearning.

A/N: There are baby cows.

Tagged: @amneris21 @chronic-nosebleed

It was not until after Eva got her period that Javier realized just how on edge he had been since That Day. The news of her bleeding melted away some of the stress and shame. He noted with some amount of relief that Eva seemed less tense around him after that night when he offered her what meagre home remedies he had available. He didn’t do it for redemption, but he’s happy the gesture seemed to have bought him some. Her demeanor was still wary, but she would look at him and speak to him. The way she had carefully avoided his gaze was a strange move for someone who had studied him so fearlessly during their first encounter. Javi was glad they were back to some kind of normal.

The cigarettes that he chain smoked while waiting for a verdict for the copulation are forgotten on the dresser in his room when the days turn warm and humid. Sweat glistens on Eva’s muscled arms when she rides Zorro through the herd, eyes out for renegades. Javier forgets himself every now and again, and catches himself staring at her. She always stares back, honey-chocolate eyes narrowing in a silent, provocative Just what the hell are you looking at? He likes that, likes the challenge, but would never let her know that. He can’t break this ceasefire.

She drives into town a lot to visit the library, returning with novels that he sees her reading on the cabin’s small porch in the evenings, when the lingering heat still makes Javi’s shirt stick to his back despite the sun having disappeared below the horizon. He comes over with two cold beers but catches the tightness in her jaw at being disturbed in the middle of reading, so he doesn’t do it again. He misses the evenings on the porch they enjoyed together at the beginning of summer.

He sees Johnny throw glances at her when leaving the homestead after his workday has ended. He’s painfully curious about what has transpired between Eva and the younger man, but would never ask. It’s none of his business – although he’s secretly very happy about Eva and Johnny now seemingly enjoying a strictly professional relationship.

Eva’s energy levels seem to multiply with the rising temperatures. When everyone else grows slow and lazy, she seems to flourish. She clears out the weeds in the back garden, finding herbs that have fought through the invasion of unwanted plants and self-sowing flowers. Despite the late season, she buys chilis and tomatoes, planting them with great care and lots of water. She also cleans out the barbecue pit and treats Javier and Chucho to vegetarian burgers one night, when a welcome breeze cools the air slightly.

“More?” she asks when the men’s plates are empty. Javier has already eaten two. His belly is straining against his jeans, the belt buckle an uncomfortable pressure, but the burgers are lighter than the ones he’s used to and so good that he finds himself asking for a third one.

Chucho declines the offer, leaning back in his seat with a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You spoil us with these meals, Eva,” he tells her, clearly happy with being spoiled. Eva throws him a rare smile from the barbecue pit. Her face is flushed and hairline shining with sweat from the excess heat. It’s a good look on her.

“You’re welcome. Happy you liked it.”

“It’s delicious,” Javi acknowledges. “Almost makes me want to become a vegetarian.”

“Almost,” Eva repeats meaningfully before returning her attention to the grill. Javi leans back in his seat and burps discreetly before taking a swig of his beer. He watches Eva, the back of her olive tank top dark with sweat, and imagines what it would taste like to trace his tongue along her spine. Savory and sweet, with a hint of smoke, he reckons, just like barbecue sauce. A little spicy, just enough to make him thirsty, but not so much so that he’d abandon it altogether for something more refreshing.

He catches a look from his father, and realizes he’s all but whipping his dick out and beating off while drooling over her. Frowning, he looks down at the weather-beaten table, traces an old crack in the wood with his finger.

When Eva returns to the table, a third burger for Javi and some grilled vegetables for herself, Chucho clears his throat.

“I’m looking to buy a stud from a farm near San Antonio,” he tells her. “I’m driving up there tomorrow. You handle the cattle.”

“Sure,” she nods. “Western pastures?”

“Yes.” Not much changes in his weathered face, but Javi can read the look in his father’s eyes: Chucho is very pleased with Eva. And why wouldn’t he? In the field, Eva is everything Javi is not. He knows Chucho enjoys her few-worded company, her initiative, her work ethics. She’s a perfect fit for the ranch.

“What’s the horse?” she asks before bringing the fork to her mouth. A little bbq sauce stains the corner of her mouth, and Javi has to fix his eyes on Chucho. As his father and Eva talk horses, Javi focuses on the third burger, learning quickly that he shouldn’t have insisted on having it. It’s left half eaten on his plate.

“Wasting food is a sin,” Eva points out to him when they clear the table together. He hates that he can’t tell if she’s joking or not.

“Wouldn’t be my worst one.”

“I can imagine.”

Javi detects no hint of judgment in her voice. She doesn’t even look at him, busy as she is stacking plates and collecting cutlery. He desperately, pathetically wants her to look at him, to be engaged in a conversation with him. To acknowledge that he’s not a bad person despite his sins. Some ends do justify the means, don’t they?

Maybe she caught him ogling her earlier. Maybe she knows that he was thinking about catching the drops of sweat on her neck with his tongue. She knows he’s a creep. She knows about the women he fucked on the job, the ones he was supposed to protect but couldn’t –

“Are you taking these?” Eva interrupts his descent into self pity with her demand masked as a question. Javi follows her nod to the tray of condiments and empty beer bottles.

“Sure.”

She disappears into the air-conditioned house before him, and with a deep sigh as his full stomach makes itself known with a digestive rumbling, Javi follows. He shouldn’t have tried to have that third burger. He’s getting pot-bellied. He was always slender, flat everywhere, hips ridiculously narrow against the broad expanse of his shoulders. Now there’s a roundness above his jeans that didn’t use to be there five years ago. He should cut back on fried food, and beer.

Eva is rinsing plates in the sink and glances up at him when his stomach complains again.

“Need something to settle your stomach?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“There’s plenty of mint out back.”

“Mint?”

“Mint tea. For indigestion. You didn’t know that?” Now she has a tone. Javi’s jaw tightens when his heart clenches.

“It’s too hot for tea,” he tells her abruptly as he shoves the condiments into the fridge and leaves the bottles on the kitchen table before stomping off. The lingering heat of the day is like a punch in the face when he steps out of the house.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Erratic thoughts swarm his brain and make it impossible to hold down any reason. She’s going to think he’s an absolute asshole now, for sure. And she would be right.

He hears the door open and close behind him, and draws a deep breath. He turns around, ready to apologize, but Eva just pushes past him towards the table to collect what’s left after dinner.

“Eva.”

She slams down the bowl she was holding, and lifts her chin. Dark chocolate eyes pierce into his. There’s a trio of vertical lines between her eyebrows.

She waits, and Javier holds up his hands in a gesture of reconciliation.

“I’m sorry.” In his mind, he doesn’t only apologize for being brusque, but also for his lewd thoughts earlier. Not that she’ll ever know, but he feels better about it.

Uncompromising and still silent, Eva stares at him, making him even more uncomfortable. Fuck. She’s just so utterly fucking relentless –

He scratches his head and moves his gaze to the resplendent greenery of the backyard. It looks almost as good as when his mother was alive.

“My… mom used to make me mint tea when I was a kid and had a stomach ache. She’d sit with me and gently blow into the cup to cool it down for me.”

The smell and taste of mint is so intimately woven together with this image of his late mother that Javi hadn’t been able to even chew spearmint gum since she died, but he doesn’t tell her that. In the periphery of his field of vision, he sees Eva turn her face away and bite her lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Javi.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s on me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Should I maybe not have touched the garden?”

“It’s good that it’s looked after,” he confesses. “Mom would have liked that.”

He’s still looking at the garden, realizing that he’s now unsure about its layout. Did the tomatoes grow against the trellis over there, or did his mother plant them against the fence? The mint surely didn’t take up this much space twenty years ago? The cornflowers had not spread across the path, which is now invisible to the eye?

He has been away for so long, and looked without seeing when he returned. Slowly, he walks through the dense brush of mint, stirring the leaves into surrounding him with their strong, fresh aroma that hits him right where it hurts the most. He walks over to the tomato plants and crouches next to them. The smell of mint is still strong, but the rich scent of tomatoes does its best to fight against the coolness. There are several ripe tomatoes waiting to be picked, and Javi wants a taste of them all.

He always wanted that. He wanted it all.

Eva appears right next to him, arms crossed over her chest. As Javi picks a tomato, firm yet yielding under his fingers, she holds out her hand. He gives her the red fruit and watches her lift it to her nose. She draws a long, deep breath, smelling it.

“It hands us the gift of its fiery color, and the totality of its coolness,” she murmurs, as if to herself.

“What?”

“Neruda. He wrote an ode to the tomato.”

He peers up at her, not seeing her face against the setting sun.

“He liked tomatoes that much?”

“He saw beauty in everything around him.” She bites into the tomato. “But they are good.”

Unable to hold back a labored groan, Javi straightens his legs, pulling himself back to standing. He looks down, weighs his words, silently cursing his inability to find the right ones in her company.

“You… see it yourself?” he asks eventually, staring stubbornly at a blazing red tomato on the stalk in front of him. “Beauty around you. After what you must have seen… is there any beauty left?”

Maybe he’s asking because he wants to know if he himself could find it again. Sometimes it seems impossible.

“Sure there is.” The answer is instant and filled with certainty. “Even if I don’t see it all the time, there’s lots of things that make it all worthwhile.”

“Like tomatoes?”

“Like tomatoes,” she confirms. Javi thinks he hears a hint of amusement in her voice, but can’t be sure. He rubs at his mustache. The tomato smell invades his nostrils. Hesitantly, he meets her gaze.

“I… wouldn’t mind that cup of tea.”

Eva raises her chin a little and regards him for a second, forehead slightly furrowed, as if in thought. She then nods.

“Go get the kettle on, I’ll pick the mint.”

///

His pain hits so close to home.

Dawdling, Eva picks the fragrant mint, selecting the largest and finest-looking leaves with exaggerated care in order to prolong her stay outside. Inside her head, there's a whirlwind of over-activity. She and Javi have been good with each other – or at least she thinks so, it’s hard to say what with him sometimes just staring at her like that – since she was certain she wasn’t pregnant. She got herself checked, as well, driving into Laredo to go to a clinic as soon as she could.

It was okay for as long as he didn’t show any feelings. But the second he started talking about his dead mother in that quiet voice which reminds her of her own loss, it got complicated. It makes her feel for him, and that, in turn, brings back memories of that day. The day they shared some of their old wounds, and she actually felt for him when he bared another side of himself to her. The day they kissed. The sex. She wishes she could say the sex wasn’t good, but damn it, it was good. Unplanned and not ideal, but good. He knows how to use his hands. He knows how to kiss. He has a really nice dick, she can’t argue with that. It all reminds her of what she’s missing out on.

It was the day she almost broke down. The sex, Javi, Chucky. It was almost too much for her. The nights sleeping out with the cattle helped her, and once she returned to the homestead, making herself busy in the garden kept her from thinking too much.

Figures that mint would be to Javi what café de olla is to her. That thing which pulls at her heartstrings and makes her want to be a little girl in an intact world again, comfortable and taken care of. Not having to worry about anything but bedtime and even that was nothing but a pleasure because her mother would join her in bed and read her poems.

Sighing deeply, Eva stands up and braces herself to go back in. There’s no use thinking of the past, of things that happened thirty years ago. She has to deal with the situation at hand.

Coming back into the kitchen, she finds Javi pouring hot water into a pot. Two mugs are already waiting on the kitchen table.

“You want one, too, right?” The question is hopeful, and Eva doesn’t have it in her to deny him the company, so she nods. Disposing of the leaves into the pot, she puts the lid on and takes it to the table, sliding down onto one of the chairs. Javi follows, taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“Did you grow up with a garden?” he asks. Eva’s not sure if she likes the subject matter. It feels too risky. But Chucho is within hearing distance, comfortable in his recliner in the living-room, listening to the radio on low volume. If there’s a chance of him overhearing, Javi would surely not step into too hostile a territory, would he?

“Small one,” she shrugs. “I was so young when the farm was sold. Don’t remember much.”

It’s a lie. She remembers a lot, but is still not willing to talk about it.

“For me, it’s the smells,” Javi admits. He suddenly looks tired. His eyelids droop heavily, the lines in his face appear deeper than just moments before. He rubs his forehead and passes his hand over his head, drawing back the thick, full locks before they fall down over his forehead again. “I don’t necessarily remember specific things, but smells trigger the… grief, I guess.”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Eva finds herself filling it. “When you’re so unprepared for it.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her candor, but he finds himself quickly.

“Yeah.” A slow nod, and brown eyes that tear into her own freckled ones. There it is again, that stare that she can’t figure out. It’s not the one a guy uses to undress her with his eyes, it’s not the hostile looks of enemies, whether they be in Kuwait or in old pickup trucks outside roadside diners stateside. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s curious but hesitant, definitely a little flirty but… no, she can’t read it. And it drives her nuts.

“Why are you always gawking at me like that?” she snaps, but without vehemence. Javi winces visibly and lowers his gaze.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Javi clenches his teeth, clearly uncomfortable with the development.

“I guess I don’t know I’m doing it.”

She knows it’s not true but that momentary recklessness she felt when asking him has disappeared as quickly as it showed up, and she’s not ready to pursue the matter. Instead, she has a peek inside the teapot and decides that the brew is ready. Stretching across the table, she fills Javi’s mug before pouring some for herself. Sipping the hot drink carefully, she looks at him over the brim of the mug.

“I remember the mistflower covered in butterflies in July. It was… like they grew on the plants. Like they were the flowers. And when you came up to the flowers and disturbed them, it was like petals flying away.”

She looks down at the mug, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth at the memory.

“I think I remember that the butterflies disappeared when she died. Just like that. Gone, each one of them. I’m sure I’m wrong, but that’s the image I have. Mistflowers without butterflies.”

Javi’s head is slightly cocked, his eyes soft and condoling. Eva meets his gaze across the table, and shrugs. Sips the tea.

“We had to sell quite soon after.”

“I sometimes wish pops would’ve done the same.”

He presses his lips together after that confession, glancing towards the living-room, evidently alarmed that Chucho may have heard him. The radio program is playing Johnny Cash, and a loud snore is heard. Eva wonders if it’s fake; is Chucho listening in? Or is he really deep in a post-dinner nap?

“Less hassle?” she asks quietly.

“Less memories.”

“You have the chance of taking the good with the bad. I had to pick which belongings I loved the most, and leave the rest. I was a kid, and all I wanted was my mom back. I had no idea what to pick.”

She doesn’t want to compare miseries, but for a moment, she’s jealous. Javi still had a functioning father, the ranch. But he chose to run away from it all. She was never given the choice.

He looks pensive, takes a sip of the tea. Nods at the mug when he puts it down.

“Good tea.”

“Just water and leaves,” Eva shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

“You offered.”

His voice is so quiet she can barely hear him.

“That’s what counts.”

She shrugs again, unable to look at him. Quickly, she drains her mug, burning her mouth on the hot drink but doing her best to not show it.

“I’ll check on the horses. Good night.”

Heart pounding against her ribs, hands sweaty like she was sixteen and being asked to prom, Eva hurries out of the house and takes her refuge in the stable.

///

Chucho took the Ford truck, leaving Javier with the old Toyota with no working AC. The sun’s beating down from a clear blue sky and Javier’s lavender shirt is dark with sweat in no time when he takes lunch out to the crew. He opens the windows, hoping for at least the slightest breeze when driving.

They have herded the cows to the man-made lake surrounded by trees on the west side of the property. The animals drink, rest underneath the trees, and the cowhands are lazily trotting by the water’s edge, keeping the horses on long leashes to allow them to drink. Javi parks the truck underneath a live oak, startling a few calves that get up and leave. Their antipathy towards him disturbing them is expressed in upset mooing, and Javi throws a muttered curse their way. He wipes his sweaty brow and draws a deep breath, only to have his lungs fill with heat. He gets out of the car and hopes for a breeze, but finds none. With heavy steps, he walks to the back of the car, and grabs the cooler.

Eva, riding Zorro, comes trotting towards him. She looks flushed and tired when she dismounts and ties the horse to a low-hanging branch.

“Water,” she says curtly, and Javi hands her a bottle. She drinks greedily before breathing deeply and removing her hat so she can hold the cold bottle to her glistening forehead.

“The cattle okay?” Javi asks, knowing by now that she’s unlikely to answer any questions about her own well-being, but will talk about the cows until the second coming. And the cows don’t handle heat very well.

“Yeah, at least so far. They’re taking it easy.”

Miguel, Pete, and Johnny come over as well, and Javier catches a glare from the youngest man. Or does he? Maybe he’s imagining it. Whether or not there is a rivalry, he’s tired of thinking about it.

They eat in silence underneath the oak, insects buzzing around them, the high whine of crickets punctured every now and then by bovine sounds. The heat is pressing Javi’s eyes shut, making him sleepy and sluggish. It’s hard to focus on anything.

The two seniors are slumbering, backs propped against the tree trunk, and Johnny is chewing on a long grass straw. Eva is keeping an eye on the cattle, fingers drumming quietly against her thighs. The back of her t-shirt is dark with sweat, and when she bows her head to wipe her forehead, Javi catches droplets running down the back of her neck.

He looks away, ashamed by the thoughts that form in his slack brain.

A loud bellow disperses his thoughts. Frowning, Eva comes to her feet and starts to walk in the direction of the sound. The cattle move nervously, letting her through. When Johnny gets up as well, and the two older men start to shift, Javi feels compelled to not be worse than any of them. They all follow Eva until she stops and holds out her arm to the side, elbow bent in a ninety degree angle, fist closed. The order to stop is so clear that even if Javi hadn’t seen it in the field in Colombia, he would have still understood it.

“I think we have a snake here somewhere,” she calls out. “Watch where you put your feet.”

Eyes trained on the grass in front of her, she resumes her walk, now at a faster pace. As the cattle disperse, Javi sees a calf on the ground, its muzzle already swelling up.

“Shit.”

Eva is kneeling by the animal, looking it over.

“It needs antibiotics,” she tells the men. “You have any at the ranch? Tetracyclines?”

Johnny nods quickly. “Medicine cabinet in the stable.”

“Javi?” Eva looks up at him. “Can you go get it?”

“It’ll take me forty minutes there and back again,” he tells her, hesitant about the calf’s chances. Its breathing is already sounding strained. “Can we get it onto the truck?”

“That animal weighs close to 300 pounds!” Johnny protests, but Miguel and Pete are already working something out.

“Tarp at the back of the truck. Get it under her, and we’ll all try to shift her.”

Javi dashes off to the truck to get the tarp.

“Ropes, we need to bind her legs so she stays still – “

“Get the tarp!”

“How’s her breathing?”

“Truck, Javi, get the truck here!”

Barely fifteen minutes later, Javi’s speeding through the grounds as fast as he dares to, Eva and the calf on the truck bed. It took every ounce of strength the five of them had to lift it, and his arms and back are aching. But now at least the poor critter stands a chance.

He keeps throwing backwards glances in the rearview mirror, never seeing anything but the back of Eva’s neck, and her shoulders. When he’s back at the homestead and pulls up next to the stable, she’s swinging over the side of the bed before he’s even come to a full stop, and is inside the stable before he’s even out of the car.

She’s back in a heartbeat, a first aid kit in hand. Pulling out a syringe and a little vial of liquid, she checks the instructions in the kit before filling the syringe, and shooting it into the calf’s neck. The animal’s labored breathing and swollen muzzle stay the same, and Javi doesn’t really know what to expect. Eva pets the calf’s head, murmuring soft words in Spanish, and when he shifts unsurely, she looks up at him.

“Call the vet and let them know what’s going on.”

He nods, grateful for something to do, a chance to be useful. Walking up to the house, he once again tells himself that he needs to get a cell phone.

The vet gives him instructions and promises to come out a little later to check on the calf, and Javi brings back the news to Eva, who’s now sitting on the edge of the bed, the calf’s head in her lap. The animal is still breathing with difficulty, but it doesn’t sound as bad as it did earlier, and the dark, moist eyes seem a little more curious.

“Is she better?” Javi asks, a little surprised at the development. Eva smiles down at the animal and scratches it behind the little horns.

“It looks like it.” She sounds relieved, almost happy. Javi smiles as some of the tension starts to leave his shoulders. He starts to feel his body in a different, yet more unwelcome way: his soaked shirt, the tremble in his arm muscles, his hurting back, his hair plastered on his skull. He’s thirsty and warm.

“The vet’s on his way. Said we did everything right.”

He passes his hand through his sweaty hair and down his slick neck.

“How did you know what to do?”

Eva scoffs. “You think this is my first rodeo? I’ve been here before. Adult cows are so large that they usually don’t react at all to the poison, but little ones like this…”

“300 pounds is not that little,” Javi grunts, leaning against the truck. “My back’s going to kill me tomorrow.”

“It’s hardly her fault if you don’t know how to lift with your legs.”

He likes the bickering. It makes him think that she trusts him. He hopes that she does.

By the time the vet arrives, the calf is already on its feet and has been coaxed down a ramp. After a check-up, the vet gives it a clean bill of health, and by the time he leaves the homestead, the sun is getting low. Chucho returns, having struck a deal about the horse which is to be transported to Big River in the following week, and the ranch hands come back, Zorro in tow after Johnny. The calf, now increasingly unhappy, is placed in Chucky’s box for overnight observation, before being returned to the field the following morning.

///

Javi recounts the day’s events for Chucho over dinner, and the old man seems pleased.

“Quick thinking,” he praises Eva, who just shrugs.

“Not the first time I’ve been in that situation,” she brushes it off. She’s seen many a snake-bitten animal in her life, and while the amount of venom won’t affect a fully grown cow or horse, the young ones don’t have enough body mass to fight it off. And as the bites usually occur on the face, it often leads to breathing difficulties.

“And it was a team effort. Wouldn’t have been able to shift her on my own, or just with a couple of us there. It was dumb luck that Javi happened to be there with the truck.”

“Miguel said he spotted the snake, and killed it,” Javi fills in. “Copperhead, apparently.”

“Many more where that one came from,” Chucho adds. “They usually stay clear of the cattle, but the heat makes all animals act strange.”

Eva hums, finishing up her dinner.

“I gotta go check on the calf. She wasn’t happy about being in the stable. Thanks for dinner.”

The miserable cries of the calf travel out of the open stable doors, and only when Eva gets into the box with it, does it grow more placid.

“You miss your mama, don’t you?” Eva speaks softly to it, scratches it between the budding horns, passes her hands over its soft ears, accepts its tongue in the palm of her hand. “Have you eaten at all? No? You are weaned, you poor little thing. You can have whatever the horses are having.”

The calf whines as Eva leaves the box to feed the horses, and it doesn’t eat until she comes back to it to pet it over the back.

“I’m going to be stuck with you all night, aren’t I?” she sighs. “Okay, then. Bring it. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

She doesn’t mind. The stable with its ventilation and concrete floor is cooler than the cabin, and she enjoys the company of the animals. Returning to the cabin only to pick up a book, she makes a quick detour to the main house to get a treat for the animals. Finding Javier doing the dishes, she stops momentarily at the sight of his broad shoulders, slightly hunched over the sink. The house is pleasantly cool, and he changed his shirt before dinner, but she can still smell his sweat, sweet and musky. The t-shirt is olive green, and tucked into his jeans, bound by a belt around his narrow waist. There is something so contradictory about his masculine body, the way he moves it, and the traditionally feminine chore he’s currently engaged in. It makes her curious, gives her the impulse to slowly peel him open, like an onion. Expose every layer. Smell whatever it is that makes him him.

“You okay?”

She never saw him turn around and catch her staring at him. A small smile in the corner of his mouth tells her that he knows.

“I’m fine,” she replies immediately. “Came to get some apples and carrots.”

“You going to spoil those animals again?”

“You bet.”

“The calf will be fine, you don’t need to sit with it all night.” Javi puts the last items to dry in the rack next to the sink, and reaches for a towel.

“I won’t,” she guarantees, before slipping out of the kitchen with several apples and a couple of carrots.

///

It’s midnight, and the lights are still on in the stable when Javier makes his way across the yard to it. Cricket song and the occasional snort from a sleeping horse is all he can hear. Softly, he makes his way to Chucky’s old box, and looks into it.

Eva and the calf are asleep, curled up in the hay, her spooning the animal with an arm thrown over the round belly, her other arm serving as a pillow to both herself and the animal. He almost bursts out laughing, but manages to pipe it down, instead grinning widely when remembering her promise about not staying there all night.

Silently making his way out of the stable, he turns off the lights, closes the doors, and returns to the main house, where he showers before falling into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep.

[thegirlwhowritesfics]

This Hurts Like Hell - Chapter Forty-three

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |Chapter Four |Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty- One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six | Chapter Twenty-Seven | Chapter Twenty-Eight | Chapter Twenty-Nine | Chapter Thirty | Chapter Thirty-One | Chapter Thirty-Two | Chapter Thirty-Three | Chapter Thirty-Four | Chapter Thirty-Five | Chapter Thirty-Six | Thirty-Seven | Thirty-Eight | Chapter Thirty-Nine | Chapter Forty | Chapter Forty-One || Chapter Forty-Two

Sabella’s POV

Two weeks later

“If you hadn’t pre-warned me about the new look, I would never have realised it was you,” Bishop says with a chuckle as I get out of the car.

“That's kinda the point of a disguise” I reply dryly as I walk around the passenger seat, gently walking up Charlie “Hey, we are here.”

She grumbles but slowly opens her eyes, letting me help her out of the car. “She’s going to need to rest, where can I put her?”

“In there” Bishop nods towards what I assume is their clubhouse, walking past me he pops the trunk grabbing out the duffle bags. Charlie manages to stay upright with my help as we make our way inside.

Bishop pushes open the door as we stagger through a dusty bar area and down the side leading to a handful of rooms. He pushes open a door “you can put her in here, come meet me at the bar when she’s settled”

I put Charlie down on the bed, pulling off her shoes, looking around the small room. I notice a bathroom off to the side, it’s incredibly cramped but I throw myself through a quick shower, scrubbing off the dirt and bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. I quickly throw on some denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt out of the duffle and tuck Charlie into bed, muttering a quick prayer she gains her strength quickly.

Walking back out to the bar I slide on to a chair across from Bishop.

“Red hair suits you” he says sliding a beer towards me “though I don’t like that you cut all your hair off”

Touching the much shorter length I sigh “I’m not exactly thrilled about it either but it will grow back”

“So has he met his maker yet?” I ask taking a swig of the beer.

“No, we need to be smart, we need to be prepared” Bishop retorts “I want nothing more to end this, but I am not willing to lose my brothers”

“So then what's the plan?”

“We have reinforcements on their way, we need to figure out how to get into their systems, take Galindo down from the inside”

“I have someone, but I need to reach out to my sisters, let them know I am okay and that we need them” I tell him.

“I took the liberty of contacting Azara she’s organising the daughters and they will start trickling in over the next few days”

My jaw clenches and my lips purse, my eyes narrowing to Bishop “taking over the daughters are we?” I cock my head to the side.

“Sab, I have no intention of taking over, you know that” he says, sighing “I want to help you, and I don’t know what else I can do to convince you of that.”

I just sip my beer watching him

“Look we couldn’t have multiple charters of two different clubs rolling into town at the same time, it would raise suspicions. We are doing staged and slow roll-ins to make sure everyone is safe and we don’t tip anyone off” sipping his beer he continues “we’ve got various safe houses set up and converted shipping containers into bunks, I can show you if you like?”

“Maybe later, I’m exhausted and need some sleep soon”

“How’s Charlie doin?” he asks, draining his beer, standing up and heading to grab another.

“Can you grab something stronger?”

He walks behind the bar grabbing a bottle of Johnny and two glasses, heading back to me he puts the two glasses down filling them both to the top.

I take a deep swing, the liquid burning in all the right places.

“She’s doing better, but she’s still weak and she needs to recover. She’s angry”

“What did you tell her about Angel?” he asks, peering at me over the top of his glass.

“She didn’t ask, I told her Tranq was okay but she hasn’t mentioned Angel once and I would prefer to keep it that way”

“So what now Sab” his eyes bore into mine, I feel my breath catch in my throat, I drain my glass.

“Right now? I want you to take me somewhere and fuck my brains out and then tomorrow? Tomorrow we will start planning how we bring Galindo to his knees.”

Bishop smirks, draining his glass he stands holding his hand out for me “I know just the place”