#yes Miles is told that to flirt with a woman he just needs to picture Phoenix nothing could possibly go wrong

[tusktooth]

"Didn't you call your lover something—bird? Can you use that to try to flirt?" "Er, I suppose... I'd need to call her that in German, though. Calling an older woman a bird in English is... fairly rude." "Vöglein, then," Ale replies. "You'll be speaking to her in German anyway." Miles hums in agreement, but his mind is on how he would flirt with Phoenix. What could he possibly say? It's not like he could compliment this woman's superb use of evidence in court. Or how incredibly desirable it was that she adhered to her principles and tried to find the true path to justice. Or that she was particularly well-endowed and no man he'd seen in all of Berlin's gay bars could compare. Ugh, Miles groans to himself. This is ridiculous and would be too painful. Perhaps it would be best if he imagined she was Agent Lang?

Miles gets a crash course in motorcycles and love from Ale.

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 3

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers / bug gets meta

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Mia.

Mia, Mia, Mia. 

Oh she was lovely. You’d been chatting with her on Baekhyun’s phone for the better part of an hour and for a moment you forgot all about the man who now laid with his head on the other end of the sofa with his feet stretched over your lap and a phone held up to his face.

He was scrolling through something, giggling and typing. 

The phone you had down in your lap vibrated with another incoming message. 

Laughing emojis, a row of them. She was sharp. Wit and charm came through in her messages and you found yourself responding with an equally long string of laughing faces. The ones with tears leaking out their eyes. She felt so damn familiar and comfortable the moment you got past the awkward introductions and you really started talking to her; the jokes were easy and the topics were something you knew enough about to fake your way though thanks to Baekhyun’s many passions and his absolute inability to shut up about them. He’d held you hostage with so many video games and anime episodes, you knew exactly what she was talking about now. You felt like a complete pseudo pro. A well-read scammer. A faker but a weirdly genuine one. 

You went back to her profile and dragged each of her pictures across the screen with the tip of your finger, switching between them all. She was pretty. She was smart. She was interesting to talk to. She was perfect. Just perfect. A steady warmth had seeped into your chest as you looked at her. It was welcome and actually felt nice at first; if not a little bit unexpected. But the longer you looked at her smile, the more intrusive that warmth felt. After too long, it was sticky and almost too warm. You struggled to breathe deeply. You were breathing normally, there was absolute nothing off about your breathing, but each breath you took suddenly failed to satiate. Why were your lungs suddenly missing oxygen? They were misbehaving without any reason to. You closed out her pictures and returned to the chat window. 

She was asking about the latest episode of an anime. Something that was in its final season. Something you were sure Baekhyun would also be watching soon if he hadn’t seen it already. You could feel her excitement in her words. Something epic must have happened.

“Baek did you watch Attack on Colossatron last night — the latest episode?”

“Not yet—no spoilers, I’ll kill you.” His response was quick and you responded in a similar fashion in text to Mia; without the death threats. You weren’t quite that comfortable with her yet. 

Baekhyun shifted and moved a foot behind you, digging it under your butt into the gap of the couch cushion. You ignored the intrusion because you were talking to Mia. His soon to be brand new girlfriend by the looks of the conversation. You caught what you were certain was subtle flirting just below the contexts. Then outright flirting. She was sending you a picture from the dating profile you’d set up for Baekhyun. She had to have saved the picture to send it. It would now be saved on the camera roll of her phone where she would likely look at it again and again, admiring how good Baekhyun looked in it. 

She was commenting on how unexpectedly handsome you were and how most of the men who shared interests with her did not look like you. 

She was asking for a picture of you—err, of Baekhyun. She was having trouble believing such an attractive man like you was real and she actually used the word catfishing, careful to insist that she wasn't accusing you of anything; just that she was sure you looked just like some celebrity she saw on twitter and one couldn’t be too careful. 

But you were quick to cooperate and to agree with her need for assuredness. As a woman, yourself, you understood her suspicions instantly.  Yes, Baekhyun did look shockingly attractive in the profile pictures you posted of him. You could see how someone might doubt that he was real and he lived only 5 miles away and was now sweeping her off her feet with his engaging conversations and hilarious jokes. You’d be sure and make him thank you well for this later. 

The pictures of him were surprising, even to you, and you lived with the guy. You saw him every single day. Yet something about seeing him in these pictures, dressed in that black button up shirt and jeans and looking at the camera with a breathtaking natural smile; one he gave you so easily that night when you told him just how good he looked all dressed up. 

“Peanut, look at you! You look so fancy.” 

“Wow, I cant believe how handsome you are.” 

It only took a couple of sincere compliments for the man to unfold before you and the results on camera pulled you into an uncomfortable and unwelcome thoughtfulness when you looked at them alone later. Of course you knew he was handsome. You just hadn’t been prepared for how very attractive he would look on camera. 

You got all his best angles and the man had taken you off guard when you’d bravely asked him to give you a sexy look. 

It happened just at the end of your little makeshift photo-shoot. You were both a little tired, you could tell with the way he slowed down with his talking and his movements. You could always tell when Baekhyun was tired. Sometimes before even he knew it. 

The sun had gone down and you’d pulled him from your room into the living room where the lights from the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, creating a soft glow on his face. The moon was full outside. It was a chilly winter night and snowflakes drifted down to the street below. You were feeling perhaps a bit romantic. Perhaps you were a little bit grateful to be inside and warm and spending your time capturing the pretty face of your annoying best friend. 

You’d gotten a bit bold with the pictures and he’d been behaving so well, not even complaining when you asked him to lay down on the floor so you could capture the beautiful city-scape in the background of the shot. He’d gone still while you set up; moving furniture and turning on a lamp in the corner for more lighting on his features — you wondered briefly if maybe he had fallen asleep. 

You laid down beside him holding your camera up in the right spot to get something nice. His eyes had closed up and his breathing was even and slow and when you’d softly called his name with your camera acting as a barrier in between your faces, you’d expected it to act as more of a buffer than it did. 

“Baekhyun?”

When he heard you call him, his eyes opened and he turned his head toward the sound of your voice; the shift in his eyes was stark and breathtaking and he blinked them closed and then very slowly he opened his eyes again for you. 

“Hmm?” His lips stayed closed when he hummed a response.

What exactly were you going for here? The mood was set. The lighting and the scenery were in place. Hell, even the position of him was set —him laying beside you on the floor in the middle of the night like this when everyone knew it was much too late to be entertaining any of this nonsense. The longer you looked at him the more shades of pink you saw in his cheeks. The pinkness matched his lips and the lighting made every bit of warm flush on his face tell such a romantic story. He looked so very warm and inviting. 

You took a shot and you said it. If the picture came out well, that would be rewarding enough. 

But, you didn't actually expect a real sexy look. Not really. You’d expected something silly, or something goofy or something with an awkward smile. Maybe it was the nighttime, or the way he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and just let it hang open with the clear smoothness of his chest visible, but when he pulled his chin down and ran a hand through his styled hair, bringing it down just a little bit; giving it a messy and tousled look, you had to grip the camera tighter to keep from doing something dumb like accidentally dropping it. You could not understand the flash of nervousness you felt run through you. 

He lifted a single eyebrow. You had called him and it was clear from the inactivity in the camera that you weren’t taking any pictures of him. 

“Hmm?” He repeated the hum that came from the back of his throat. His eyebrow danced and it was the only movement on his face.

You inhaled a breath and you did it.

“You look incredibly sexy right now.” 

Despite the camera, despite the props you’d placed around him just so, his eyes seemed to seek out yours with purpose; one hand on the floor was within touching distance and the other hand rested over his forehead from when he’d ran it through his hair, the tips of his fingers landed over one of his eyes and it was so perfect. You felt goosebumps all over your skin.  

The moment his eyes locked into yours you gripped the camera as if your life depended on it. When his lips slowly parted with a gentle exhale and the tip of his tongue appeared between his parted lips and slowly touched against the corner of his bottom lip a surge of heat rose up the back of your throat. 

“I do?” He said with his eyes on yours as if he was looking directly at you; as if the camera did not even exist. 

You hit the button and you heard the shutter click. 

You allowed yourself a moment to look at the picture Mia had sent you. Only a moment though because she was talking again. She was instructing you to send a new picture right now, with your left hand holding your right earlobe. It was the kind of specific sort of picture that would prove that you really did exist. 

“Peanut,” you reached down and tapped his leg three times quickly, “Peanut, our new girlfriend wants a picture of you right now with your,” you held up your hands in front of your face, figuring out which was the left one, “left hand holding your right earlobe.” You held up your left hand for him to see and he pulled the phone down from his face to look at you. After a second his opposite hand was raised and he gripped his earlobe with his fingertips. 

“Is that your left hand?” You raised your left hand higher and lifted your eyebrows as you shook your head once. You felt a sense of urgency in getting this picture to Mia as fast as possible to calm her doubts. 

“It’s my left. My left is your right, stupid. Why do I have to do this?” 

You snapped the picture close enough that it would look like a selfie and sent the image to Mia. She was satisfied enough to send an emoji with heart eyes and you could feel victory at your fingertips. You could hardly believe this was working. 

“She thought you weren’t real.” You said in between messages and Baekhyun’s leg was shaking behind your back. He’d been sitting still for too long here and the nervous energy was building, you could feel it trying to escape from his limbs. He probably needed to go for a run or something or you were in for a long and noisy night of singing or dancing or whatever other shenanigans he thought you needed to suffer though. He hummed a non-response to your answer, clearly so distracted by what was happening on his screen that he couldn’t be bothered to give you any more of his attention right now. 

Baekhyun was not so quietly giggling under his breath and you looked up caught by that very particular sound of it. Something felt familiar in the sound of that giggle; more, the intentions behind it. The particular sneakiness of it maybe made you look up and it took you another second of listening to the way he stifled himself, tried to control the sounds of his laughter before a realization dawned and recognition struck you on the head. 

Baekhyun couldn’t have been giggling, laughing, texting, having a grand ol’ time on his phone because you had his phone in your hands. You had been talking to Mia for a whole damn hour, who in the hell was Baekhyun talking to and was that your phone he was using? 

“Baekhyun who are you talking to on my phone?”

His stomach bounced with stifled laugher below his shirt and he was typing again. His eyes secured on the screen of your phone and not at all looking at you. 

“Baek, who is that. What are you doing?” It wasn’t that you didn't trust him with your private conversations. He knew more about you than probably any other human being on the planet. It wasn't the problem with him knowing it. The problem was with that laughter. The problem was with what Byun Baekhyun might do with all of the things he knew about you and with whoever the hell had the misfortune of texting you at the exact moment when he had your phone.

“Ben,” Baekhyun said after a long pause and you searched through your recent memory for a person who had that name. You’d matched with some guys last week but you were certain there was no one with that name. 

“Ben? Who the hell is Ben? I don't know a Ben” You were leaning now and Baekhyun bent his legs up as soon as you moved, blocking your lean with his knobby knees. You leaned on the other side of them and he moved them to block again. 

The maneuver brought out the panic in you. He was blocking you from your own phone. He was up to something and he was now blocking you from reaching for your phone and you had just nearly murdered him in the kitchen over cheese, did he really want to do this again? 

“Give me my phone. Baek, who the shit is Ben?”

“I don't know. Some guy named Ben. Said he was some lady’s nephew or cousin or something. He knew your number and he knew your name, and wow he is—”

Oh god. Your co-worker Susie had done it. The son-of-a-bitch had actually given your phone number out this time even though you had successfully, you’d thought, dodged their high pressure tactics to set you up with some eligible bachelor who would probably be 10 years too old for you, balding, with bad teeth, or bad habits, or would be obsessed with his car or his muscles or some sports team and you’d have to make nice small talk with someone who’s interests, frankly, bored you to death until you could politely let the man down. 

And now, what was Baekhyun telling him? What kinds of horrific lies was this little gremlin giggling about over there. You tilted and reached for him again and he moved his knees again. 

“Bug, how- how do you spell hemorrhoids? Hem—hem—er—roids, no that’s not right. Let me look it up. It’s important that I represent you well. A strong, intelligent woman who can talk about her hemorrhoids.” 

You leaped then, over the stupid knees you flew and you landed hard — seated across his belly and the pained grunt he let out was satisfying to hear. He doubled up in pain while simultaneously shoving your phone underneath himself into the softness of the couch cushions and you watched it disappear somewhere below his butt where he assumed you would not dare to reach. 

“Baekhyun,” you said in as calm a voice as you could pry from your lips. Your teeth gritted together as you spoke and much of the sweetness was lost in the delivery.

Your hands were feeling the softness of the cushions that he laid on. You followed an arm that went down and disappeared behind his back and your fingers traveled to the end where you felt no phone at all, only his empty hand that you pulled up. You did the same on the other side, moving to the other hand and bringing it back empty too. On his face he wore a smug, self-satisfied smile. 

“Peanut,” your next attempt at a compromise pulled his name out in a sweeter tone and his lips turned up into a mischievous grin with teeth bared and all. To your own ears though, you really laid it on thick. This was your darling Peanut. You let your whine come through and you pulled your lips into a pouty frown.

“Bug,” he said, mimicking your overly saccharine tone with a tiny lift of an eyebrow on his face and a fake frown that didn’t touch the rabid joy in his eyes.

“Give me back my phone,” you said and your hands dug into his ribs hard as he reached for your wrists and quickly grabbed to hold you still with both of his free hands before you could do any actual damage to him. 

You struggled against his strong hands, reaching with out-stretched fingers despite his hold on you for a few more tickles before he tightened the grip and you could not connect any more attacks. 

“Give me back my phone,” he giggled back, again mocking your ineffective attempts to overpower him. You simply couldn’t do it. He was much stronger than you were.  

The childishness of this brat! You closed your eyes up tight as you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath. You could feel close to the edge again. Close to losing control. How many murder attempts did you need to commit today? Maybe you needed to enroll in anger management classes. You tried to count to ten again but gave up halfway through to threaten him again. 

“I’m going to get mad, give me my phone.” The friendly tone you had forced was gone and you could hear the actual anger in your voice now. Any reasonable person would concede. Any normal human adult would laugh it off playfully, say ‘okay, okay, I was only kidding’ and hand the thing over. A normal person would even apologize for taking it in the first place. 

Baekhyun was not a normal person.

“Ohhh, I’m going to get mad,” you heard him say in that same mocking voice and no amount of calming breaths could touch it. You could count to ten thousand and still want to destroy him. You squirmed all over and pulled at your wrists that he held in his grip and his hold tightened the more you moved until you could only lean, you could only fight back with one thing. The more you fought him, the tighter his muscles constricted and it became evident that you simply could not win this way. Your hands were useless to you. Only your head was free. You’d have to use it to your advantage, but how? 

You could headbutt him; break his nose. Break your head. Make both of you take a trip to the hospital during a global pandemic. Catch the dreaded disease. Lose your sense of taste and smell and potentially infect someone vulnerable that you loved. 

He was like a cat. Only interested in playing with something until it was dead and then losing interest after he couldn’t torture it anymore. You couldn't simply play dead. He had you trapped and you needed that phone back. 

You could bite him. Break the skin. Mean business for real. Make him bleed and make him cry. Make him pay for all of it. Give him a nasty scar on his hand, or on his neck or on his chest, maybe rip off his earlobe like Tyson did to Holyfield. Send him to the hospital during a global pandemic. Go to prison for assault charges. Get a nasty infection from a prison tattoo. Die.

Your struggle for a plan made you go physically still and you looked at his face; into his eyes and in those eyes sat all the usual bullshit and toddler behavior that you usually saw when he had latched on to something to tease you with, something he could play with and have fun with at your expense. Something he could exploit. 

You could use your mouth. 

You could use your lips.

You could use your tongue. 

What is this? Some sort of trashy rom-com? Would you really stoop so low, so early in the story? Kiss him to distract him, become a walking, talking, kissing cliché and an unoriginal failure of a human being? Get scolded and told to leave his home. Become homeless during a global pandemic. Without high speed internet access, lose your easy breezy data entry job. Get hungry and get cold. Possibly end up selling a kidney on the black market to make ends meet. Get a nasty infection from the shady surgery. Die. 

No. This wasn’t a cheesy romance story. This was your life. You’d have to live with the consequences of your choices and there was no way you would steal his first kiss just to get petty revenge.

This wasn’t enemies-to-lovers, this a violent revenge plot and you were pissed off god-dammit. How dare this idiot get you into such a compromising, such an undignified, such a frustratingly suggestive position and hold you captive like this. 

How dare he still be smiling through your entire inner monologue?

Didn't he know anything at all about women and the powers they possessed in their bodies? 

He flinched visibly when you dropped down; lowered your chest to his chest and you were face to face with the man. Your quick movement startled him and he loosened the grip around your wrists enough for you to rotate them before he tightened his hold again and watched you with wide eyes. That grin finally, finally fell from his mouth. His lips sat down-turned and pink. He’d gone positively pink with your quick movement. Your plan to move into him instead of struggling to get away clearly startled him. You felt the advantage at once. 

When you moved again it was only your eyeballs and it was to look pointedly at his lips before you pulled your eyes back up to look into his eyes. The slow movement made a bold statement, even to someone as clueless as he was. You were on top of him. He could most definitely feel the entirety of your weight on his body and your breasts were flush against his chest. And now, you had just looked down at his pink lips. 

Whatever steady and in-control breathing he had, stuttered and his body below yours went rigid with his eyes wide; obviously unsure of what you were about to do and much too on edge to take his eyes off of you. 

What became clear as you stared at his flushed face up close was that he had not thought this far ahead in his plan.

He probably didn't even have one to begin with. 

You moved closer to him and his hands released their hold on you again. You heard a gasp for air when his hand let go. You weren’t convinced he let go on purpose. There seemed to be a disconnected look inside his eyes right now. 

Instead of going straight for his earlobe and squeezing the shit out of it to teach him a lesson, you kept this going. You could not help it. You felt drunk on your own power and you didn't actually want to hurt him. You just wanted the damn phone so you could see what damage he had already done and begin cleaning up the messes. 

He swallowed and his lips opened to speak.

“W-What are you doing?” 

Nervous and trembling and uncertain; oh he was all of the above. Your free hand was moving now, traveling down the length of his arm to his flank when he moved again, this move felt much more frantic than the last. He grabbed your wrist more gently than before when you got close enough to touch him and he pulled your hand back. A feeble attempt it seemed, made by a man who had just come to his senses again after being in a daze. 

You leaned in. “Peanut,” you said directly into the space below his ear. You could smell him here. He smelled nice. Clean, and vaguely familiar. You remembered your shampoo that he still had and made a mental note to get it back from him. The scent of it on him was different than on you. The breath you took at his neck definitely smelled different. 

He was frozen stiff and when you pulled up to look at his face, his eyes were closed. He swallowed again and you reveled in the realization that you had not heard a single peep out of him since you began your counter-attack. Not a giggle, not a mocking laugh. Not a silly impression of what your voice sounded like to him. He was as quiet as a mouse. It paid to be pro-active. You felt free, as if you’d just been armed with some new very effective weapon that you had no idea would work so well. 

He had your hand again and was pulling — keeping you from reaching below his body to reach where you were certain your phone was stashed. Right here below his left butt cheek. Maybe even inside his back pocket. Either way it was there and you were centimeters away from it. 

So you went in again. This time it was a whisper. This time you went too far. You felt the softness of his neck brush against your bottom lip.

“Give it to me, while I am still being nice.” 

It was the exhale from your lips after you spoke that seemed to do it. The puff of air from your parted lips that drifted over his ear and warmed his neck, you felt him squirm below you and his hands moved releasing you all over and all at once. 

He was going now. He was leaving. You felt it happening below you. 

It was a tactic you’d used before when he tried to grab a hold of you and throw you onto your bed, or when he tried to wrestle something away from you in the kitchen. 

He went boneless. When you did it he would shout and laugh and lose his grip on you and you’d use the distraction to drop to the floor and roll out of his grip in one motion. It was much more difficult for him to do right now, being directly under you on the couch like this, but somehow he was vanishing fast. 

He moved so quickly it was like he melted from beneath you and he was pushing you off at the same time as he rolled, simply rolled from the sofa down onto the floor below in a single motion of retreat. 

You know that was where he went because you heard the rough thump of his body hitting the floor hard and you heard the grunt as he vocalized the pain of gravity having it’s final say. You were pushed with a force that made you roll onto your butt and below your legs you felt the rectangle of plastic and glass of your cell phone. 

He was moving fast. But he was also talking as he did it. 

“You are mean,” was what he said and he was halfway through the living room by the time you registered his complaint. 

Something about his fit irked you though. Was it such a big deal — so out of the question? Did he hate the idea of you kissing him, even if on accident that he had to overreact like this. 

“Oh settle down, It’s not like I was going to actually kiss you, Baekhyun.”

You’d expected to hear his bedroom door slam shut but he’d stopped with his hand on his door and turned his face in your direction. His expression was odd. 

Baekhyun was rarely upset with you, so you had very little experience with what he looked like when he was. He had been upset with others around you, but it wasn’t ever directed at you.

“I know you weren’t.” 

You could see it from where you sat and it made you stand up. Wait, was he really upset? At you? Because you pretended like you were going to steal his first kiss? Because you took something so precious to him and weaponized it against him? 

He was breathing hard and you took a step in his direction. 

“Baek, I was just—” 

“—trying to get your phone, I know.” His voice was cold and his words were short.

You suddenly felt like absolute shit. It moved fast and it overwhelmed you. You’d made a mistake and Baekhyun was upset at you. You’d acted carelessly and thoughtlessly and you’d hurt him. 

“We...we were playing around, I was just playing around, I didn’t mean it, Peanut. I’m sorry.” You could not help the thickness in your voice. You could not help how your voice cracked as you spoke up quickly, needing to get the apology out into the air before he could misunderstand any further. 

Before he could wake up and realize how low of a person you could be when you really set your mind to it. Before he could understand that maybe you didn't deserve so many chances to get your life together and get a better job, or be a better roommate, or make more money and pay more rent, or delete your facebook, or create better passwords. 

You realized you were crying when the wetness dripped down your chin and landed on your arm and as soon as you noticed you lifted both of your hands up to cover your face — before he saw, before he noticed or heard. You held your breath to keep from hiccupping or making any sort of sound at all and you closed your eyes and tried to stop the quiet gasps. 

You succeeded for the most part. 

It was the smell of him though. You did not notice that he moved, but you smelled him again, only this time it came with a warmth that enveloped you where you stood.  

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispered over your head and you inhaled through the snot that filled your nose, unable to get any air through. You gasped through your mouth instead and hiccupped through the breath. 

“You seemed mad at me,” you said into his shirt, the same shirt you’d cried into hours ago. This shirt would have so much of your messes on it by the end of the day. What in the world had gotten into you today? Maybe you were going to start your period soon. This was getting ridiculous. 

His hands rubbed slow and steady circles over your back and until the gasping stopped enough for you to lift your head and look into his face. 

“I’m not,” he said with more conviction the second time and you almost believed it. Had it not been for the strange way his eyes dropped yours so easily you would have. 

You didn't say that though. 

His lips parted once and his eyes grasped yours in that flimsy way again and his lips closed up again as he swallowed it away and didn’t say what he was about to say. 

You shook your head. He had to tell you. Whatever it was, you could work on it, do some self reflecting, or read some self help books. 

“What is it? Tell me.” Your insistence was desperate and his damn eyes refused to stick. It was making you crazy the more you noticed it. 

His mouth opened again and this time he inhaled deep enough to speak for hours and hours. 

“Peanut, what?” 

“Don't—” he began and you closed your mouth and looked into his face, dipping to catch them when his eyes dropped again and again. He noticed the dance you did and you saw the light dance inside his eyes. 

“Don't what? I’ll do it. Or I won’t do it. Whatever, just tell me.” If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking to this man. You could always pull it out. Whatever he had been sitting on, keeping from you, whatever he had deep down inside that was begging to be let out. You could talk to him. He could talk to you. It’s as part of the magic you shared with him. 

“Peanut,” you said again, refusing to let him close up again, refusing to let this go. He had to say his piece for the upset to move behind you both, so you could get past it. 

“Don't use your beauty as a weapon against me.” 

As soon as the words left so did his eyes, but that did not matter because you could not look into his face anymore after he said it either. 

Your…beauty?

Baekhyun didn’t look at you and see beauty. Impossible. You were a mess. Some days you showered. Some days you did your hair. These two events rarely happened on the same day. 

Outside you could pull off some-what put-together and even downright attractive when you wore the miracle bust enhancing bra you bought off some shady website he definitely told you not to enter any credit card info into, but inside you felt like a circus clown wearing a respectable young woman suit. Every day you worked to stuff the oversized shoes into your feet and struggled to zip them up. Every day you painted over your honking red nose with concealer in the hopes that it wouldn’t rain today and give you away. 

“It’s really shitty and really unfair to do to me.” He kept talking and you felt like maybe the ceiling had caved in on you. “I know who I am. I know my place and I know what league I am in.”

He said the word league with a whisper and you stared at his mouth as he spoke such nonsense words you hardly had any thoughts that made any sense inside of your own head. 

League? He was such an amazing person, but league? You’d heard some serious bullshit come out of his mouth in the past, but this? Seriously? 

He was a genius. He was beautiful inside and out and he was such a good person, a good person to you, a good person to his grandmother, a good person to his online friends. He was so good at whatever he wanted to do and he was really fucking sweet when he wasn’t being ridiculous. And even when he was being ridiculous it was so funny you usually didn't mind the ear deafening noise involved. He was a great dancer and an even better singer and he had so much to offer. 

He was shy. He was terribly embarrassed and debilitatingly nervous at the mere idea of talking to any other girl that wasn’t you and he took a whole lot of warming up to until he opened up to you even, but when he finally did, after tiptoeing around him for 4 months after you’d moved in and he finally grabbed a bowl of popcorn and sat beside you on the couch to watch lifetime movies with you, making fun of the writing and the acting the entire time until he was making fun of you for crying at the happy ending. 

He was reliable too. He refused to even entertain the idea of you moving out just because you could no longer afford the previously agreed upon rent after you lost your job. He searched for something to hold you over until you could get back on your feet and while the data entry thing was mind numbing, it was genuinely saving your life most days. You could at least pay your bills. You could at least force him to accept the much lower rent you started paying him again after you got your first paycheck. 

Oh god. League? 

You could feel it building again. The burning in your eyes peaked and you felt your face frowning down dramatically and the tears were flowing more freely than before. 

“You’re such an idiot.” You cried openly and his face changed at once into one of extreme concern. His hands waved over you uselessly, occasionally connecting to pat over your back in some attempt to stop this. 

“You are such a catch, you stupid idiot!” You were wailing very loudly. You could not help it. He was such an idiot. And he was such a catch. 

“Oh my god, are you yelling at me right now? After everything you’ve done to me today, now you are yelling at me and calling me names. Great. Just Great. Here, my face doesn’t hurt, why don't you punch me in the face too.” 

The sarcasm made you half laugh half choke in the middle of a particularly strong sob and you coughed with your mouth open to be able to breathe. Your nose was still useless. 

“Jesus,” he said to himself, “my mouth was open.” 

You were being steered. Your eyes were still closed and you were pushed now. You didn't really want to move but your stubborn legs saved you by taking a step instead of letting you fall flat on your face. You opened your eyes when you felt a fresh cold breeze against the wet surface of your cheeks and you saw in front of you the contents of the freezer. 

There were some frozen veggies. Some ice in a bin. Something meat-like in a freezer bag. And about six different boxes of various ice creams. Most of them chocolate. 

“Get one,” he said and his hand was pushing your elbow up and steering your hand toward the open box of chocolate popsicles. 

You grabbed with your open hand and he pulled your elbow back like you were a claw machine and he was working the lever. 

You grasped the popsicle between both of your hands with a small smile building against your will. 

“Eat it,” he said from behind your head and you were already ripping at the plastic wrapper. You didn’t even have a chance to throw away the wrapper when his hand was pushing at your elbow again. It bent upward and the chocolate plopped right into your open mouth. 

“Bite,” he said. 

You bit. He didn't have to tell you to chew and swallow. You knew how to do the rest. 

After the ice cream you were seated on the sofa next to him and he pulled out a portable game system to keep him entertained while he pressed play on the movie he’d put on the big tv on the wall. 

It was Bridget Jones's Diary. You had seen it enough times to know the entire movie by heart and still, still you laughed at every joke, swooned at every steamy look, and squealed like a piglet at every kiss scene. It literally did not get old. You could fall asleep and wake up watching this movie for the rest of your life and be as happy as ever. 

After he’d felt you’d been babied enough for him to trust you not to dissolve into a fit of disaster without him, he left you alone to finish your movie. He said something about a bug he was working on fixing and you could hear him working from behind his closed door in his room. 

He had been quiet as he worked. He usually was, save for the occasional song he sang along to, or work sounding phone call he took. 

The credits were rolling on your happy ending and you could feel the beginnings of the first few period cramps twinging inside of your abdomen. 

Everything made sense now, as it usually did whenever your period began. 

You’d just stood to head toward the kitchen for some pain medicine when Baekhyun’s bedroom door was abruptly pulled open.  

He bolted through the doorway and his phone was in his hands, his eyes were wide. Panic was written all over his face as he searched the room for you and finally made eye contact with you in the kitchen. 

You had a bottle of pain reliever in one hand and another popsicle in your other and you were trying to figure out the logistics of getting the bottle of medicine open without having to put the sticky melty treat down anywhere and things weren’t going so well. Things were getting drippy. 

Baekhyun arrived then and you beamed a wide and genuinely happy to see him smile. He would help you. He would open the pills. He would stuff you full of them to stop the pain. 

At this point you didn't even care how many. You’d take however many the Gods decided to shake free from their plastic prison. 

“Help,” he said, walking by the medicine you held out to him with his phone displayed in his hands. “Help me, she...our girlfriend, Maya, she—”

You gasped at his mispronunciation and you lifted your popsicle hand toward his face as you made the sounds with your mouth, “Mia. Like Mee-uh.”

“Mia, Maya, Moira, She is — she is talking to me.” His eyes were wide and they were crazed. 

“She’s saying things and she’s really fucking smart and clever and she’s saying things to me, Bug. She’s, oh god, -the fuck didn't you tell me she was cute. Fuck. You have to help me. She thinks I’m cute too. Oh God. What do I do? What’s next?”

He was breathless when he was done and both of your hands were still full. Your popsicle was beginning to drip down your wrist. You would have to clean it up before you got ants. You still had some medicine to take too. 

He was pacing. He thought she was cute too, it wasn’t just you who thought so. He said it himself. Although he reacted this way with nearly every girl you had seen him interact with. Hell, just last week he made you answer the door for the delivery chicken because the girl was cute and he wasn’t about to scribble his signature all over her hand by accident. 

“Baekhyun, I already laid the groundwork for you.” Maybe the day was finally catching up to you but you felt suddenly very tired and in no mood to play make-believe with him right now. 

“What does that mean?” His face betrayed his utter cluelessness and you sighed deeply, feeling much of the same melancholy mood return to you despite the chocolate and your favorite movie still fresh on your tongue. “What does that mean? I don't know what to do. You were going to help me.” 

He was right. You shouldn’t just abandon a friend in need like you’d abandoned the popsicle in the trash can just now. 

“You have a new episode of your show to watch. She also likes that show. Why don't you stream it together?” 

His eyes lit up and his smile was wide and beautiful. Then he was spinning on his heels without even so much as a glance back. He typed into his phone and had nearly reached the door of his bedroom without even acknowledging your help when at the last minute you caught the look he shot you. It was a bright smile. He was excited and his smile reached his eyes. 

“She said yes,” he said, “thanks, Bug.”

His door closed and you reached for the bottle of pills. Grabbing just two today, you downed them quickly and retreated to your room with a gloomy, lonely, little storm cloud floating stubbornly over your head. 

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff​​  @byunbabybaek​​  @beg0neth0t420

[marsbutterfly]

Skyfall

Summary: When you are hired to kill the most dangerous mafia boss, things get a little complicated.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

|◁ II ▷|

“This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again”

7:34pm

The clock on your wrist tics quietly but in the silent room, it nearly sounds like bombs being dropped from above. Not a word is exchanged between you and the man sitting across the room but you know exactly what he wants.

In his hand rests a dark colored suitcase, you can barely tell until the light hits his belt ever so gently but you finally see the gun he’s been carrying.

You take a deep breath, getting up for your seat. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor fills the atmosphere as you walk towards him, the smirk on his lips is undeniable and you don’t understand what he has to be smiling about.

He stands up a second after you and walks in your direction, bumping against you and dropping his suitcase and the papers in his hand. In response, you throw on the floor the suitcase you once held. 

The man apologizes profoundly as you help him collect the papers on the floor. You say over and over that it is ok, while all the curious eyes in the room land on you. As you stand up, you hand him the suitcase you once had in your hand and he nods, thanking you for the help and apologizing one last time.

You begin to make your way back to your car, the smirk on his lips still engraved in your brain as a chill travels down your spine. “Why was he smiling?” You ask yourself not wanting to admit it but you are a bit scared of knowing the answer.

Though once you open the suitcase, you understand why. Inside, rests the pictures and information of your next target, the millionaire leader of an enemy gang. Though you don’t enjoy taking sides, you’ve been paid a large amount of money to take her out, more than you have ever made.

The war between these two gangs has been going on for the longest time and you have killed enough people on both sides to earn a fair amount of enemies, but this time you couldn’t help but feel a sinking hole opening in your heart.

Hanji Zoe has always been the deadliest member of the underground group. Her kill count is even higher than yours, at least 500+ heads under her belt. They say her torture methods surpass even the ones they use in hell.

She’s known as the Devil herself.

“For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue, I owe them

Swept away, I'm stolen”

8:15pm

Your keys unlock the heavy doors of your house and somehow the marble floors feel colder than ever. Your shoes rest in their designated spot by the coat holder and you throw the suitcase on the couch.

Two cups rest on the counter near the bar area inside your home. One of them contains what you assume is whisky, due to the color and the amount of ice in the cup, it has always been her favorite after a work day.

The lipstick marks are fresh meaning she has just now gotten home. Upon paying closer attention, you realize the shower is on and steam is coming out of the bathroom. You think about joining her but ultimately decide to have a drink first, trying to forget about your next target.

Gently, you take two rocks of ice and place them in the clean cup specifically placed out for you. Pouring yourself a single shot of whisky, you walk towards the balcony feeling as the cold air of the night hits your face.

You knew this day would come but you hoped it would take longer. 

Deep in your own thoughts, you don’t realize the water has been turned off in the bathroom and wet footsteps approach your body.

It’s not until her wet arms wrap around your black dress that you realize you are no longer alone. Her face is buried in your back and you can see steam leaving her arms as the hair on her skin stands up.

The tattoo of your initials on her hand still brings butterflies to your stomach. The memory of the night she got it is still one of your favorite moments you spent together, especially since it was after your first date and she told you she knew you were the one.

“I missed you.” She says, placing a kiss on your skin. You can feel as her breasts are pressed against you and a gasp leaves your body.

“I missed you too.” You reply, a disobedient tear rolling down your face as you chug the contents of the cup in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, placing her hand on your waist as she turns your body around so you can face her. She is a few inches taller, nothing too extreme but enough to make you look up at her gently.

Her thumb brushes the tear on your cheek before rubbing it above your lips. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell her the news you just received.

“You are my next target.” You say and Hanji nods, a sad smirk on her lips.

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together” 

9:00pm

The brush goes through her hair with ease for the first time, as if she took care of the tangles in the shower already knowing what the news you were bringing would be. After shower moments were the ones where Hanji was the most vulnerable.

She would simply close her eyes and appreciate the attention she’s been given as she fades in the echo of your voice. You hum a melody quietly, Hanji’s favorite song in the hopes to bring her any comfort at all.

Your tears drip down your nose onto her scalp as you put her hair in a ponytail, attempting to help her get ready for the party she will be attending in an hour. At the highest floor of the second tallest building in the entire city.

“How are you going to do it?” She asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up in the air while trying to make rings out of it. You giggle, touching her shoulders before sliding your hands down her arms.

You notice the goosebumps rising on her skin and can’t help but smile at how she reacts to your touch. “Must we talk about it?”

“I need to know.” She replies and you nod, sighing heavily while finally agreeing to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I’ll be on the roof of the Paradise building. I am pretty sure they will send someone to watch me do it.” You begin, spraying the bottle of perfume around her and noticing as the drops of liquid fall on her tan skin, masking the smell of the cigarette.

“But they might not.” She says and you shrug your shoulders.

“They might not.” You say quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from this city’s top 1 assassin.” She says, taking your hand in hers and planting a soft kiss on your palm, leaving behind the red mark of her deep colored lipstick.

She stands up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor and reveal her naked body. You can’t look away from the perfect shape of her breasts, the line that goes through her abdomen from a previous surgery and all of her battle scars.

“Make me yours one last time.” You say, pulling your shirt above her head as you expose yourself to her and she nods, a devious smile curling up on her lips.

You see a few old bullet wounds, some healed while others are still healing. Every single one of them tells a story about who she is and how she has lived her life but your favorite story has always been the one of how she lost her eye.

It was three years ago, the day you met. How could you ever forget?

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

Since you were a teenager, you’ve been good at killing. First your shitty parents and every family member who sided with them, including your own brother and sister. Finally being able to control your life, you decided to make a living out of it.

This career put you through college where you earned a chemistry degree, learning how to mix your personal kinds of poison, some of which no one has ever even heard of which makes it hard for the police to find who was responsible for it.

At first, you would go for basic targets: rapists, animal abusers, anyone who dared hurt another soul but word got out of how excellent and quick you were at your job and your number of clients tripled and your name was in everyone’s mouth.

One day, you got a call from a blocked russian number. A smile creeped on your lips as you heard a familiar voice over the phone, Erwin Smith. The man who gave you a chance to grow in this life and made you who you are today, your mentor.

“Y/N, I’m dying.” He says, his voice is faint and you notice his life force is fading away. 

“I can tell.” You reply trying to lighten the mood and he laughs.

“Will you still work for the next boss?” He asks, coughing out a liquid which you could only assume was blood. 

“If that is your dying wish.” You respond and he hums in agreement over the phone, “Then yes.”

Later that week, two men showed up to your house to escort you to Erwin’s funeral. The rain poured over his coffin, hiding away the tears of those who loved him.

Surrounded by at least five men sat a woman in a black coat, her eyes looking in your direction as she took the cigarette to her lips. The tattoos on her leg on display for anyone to see, you could’ve sworn she was silently flirting with you.

And in a moment of weakness, a car drove by shooting up the place completely. Of course they were received with a buffet of bullets as well, but nearly a third of the people around the casket were now dead.

As a bullet makes its way towards you, the brunette with danger in her eyes rushes forward to protect you only to receive the bullet with a glass platter. Needless to say, an uncountable amount of shards found their way into her eyeball.

While she bled in your arms, you tried to make sure she remained awake.

“What’s your name?” You ask and she smiles, bringing your hand towards her lips and licking your thumb with a palpable sexual energy.

“Hanji. Hanji Zoe.” She replied, “The new boss.”

“Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you'll never have my heart”

10:05pm

Once you are finished redoing Hanji’s hair, she stares at the closet before finally picking out a blood colored suit. No shirt underneath, she places the blazer right above her nipples, only enough to cover them while allowing the rest of her breasts to be exposed.

You on the other hand plan to dress yourself in a completely black outfit hoping to blend into the darkness of the night. Luck was on your side for there were no stars to brighten the sky, allowing you to take complete cover.

As far as you know, nobody is aware of your relationship with Hanji, not even her subordinates. Keeping business away from your private life has always been a priority, even before you committed your first paid killing.

She places a final kiss on your hands and one of your lips, though it does not feel like a goodbye and you sadly accept any kind of comfort you can find.

When her car is out of view, you decide to go up and take a shower by yourself. You wanted to decline this job, to throw everything away: your reputation, the money and simply run away with Hanji to a place where you could live your lives.

But you can’t. Before even knowing who your targets are, you are always made to sign a consent form and if broken, it would cost you your life.

The warm water hits your face and you can still smell Hanji’s strawberry shampoo in the air mixed with the fading smoke of her cigarettes. You begin to remember every shower you spent together, every kiss you shared at the most exquisite places around the world.

Hanji always knew how to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eventually, you can no longer if the water streaming down your face comes from the shower or your tears.

As you finish your shower, you begin to get ready. The black outfit had never been colder and the unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach still remains. While putting a mask above your face, you look at your rifle.

It has your initials and Hanji’s secretly carved on the side and on the other it has the date you started dating. A good luck charm, as she liked to call it.

Tonight will be a fucking awful night.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

1:53am

Hours have passed since you've been sitting at the top of this building by yourself, looking through the binoculars at the party happening not too far away.  In the end, they decided not to send anyone to watch over your shoulder as you do your job.

The richest and most powerful people in town were all attending and, even though they wore masks, you could still tell exactly who they were. The years of analyzing and recognizing targets from afar has given you the extraordinary ability to identify covered faces.

By the bar, you see her as she rests her arm on the glass top. She looks beautiful. Her whiskey brown eyes match the liquid in her cup as the black mask covers her features. For a second, you could’ve sworn she looked directly at you.

The instructions were clear: at 2am, a single bullet should be shot directly to her head, killing her instantly. So you position your gun, looking through the lense as Hanji disappears in the crowd for a bit before returning to her usual spot.

You sigh, stopping the tears that attempt to cloud your vision. Your finger slowly moves towards the trigger, as if time itself is desperately trying to stop you from killing your loved one, but it doesn’t matter. No one could stop you now.

Counting the seconds, you make sure the shot to her head is clear and you pray she won’t suffer at all. “Goodbye, my love.”

Time nearly stops once you pull the trigger. You watch closely as the bullet goes through her brain and blood splatters across the clear counter causing every person in the room to desperately run for their lives, not knowing they are all safe.

Only one man stands in the room and he raises his glass at you for he is the only one who knows no more shots will be fired. The asshole who hired you to kill the love of your life. Fucking Zeke Yeager.

With every ounce of your body, you decide that killing him isn’t worth it. He deserves to live to suffer in the future.

You bring your body back up, beginning to disassemble your rifle. It takes you less than a minute to be on your way and you can hear as police sirens approach the building in front of you.

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

Finally getting back to your house, you throw the bag containing the gun on the couch before plopping your body right beside it, a long sigh escaping your lips.

Your eyes then notice the packed bags, all ready to leave as soon as possible. The clicking of heels comes from the other side of the house and you smirk, rushing your thumb through your lips.

“I feel bad for the lady you hired to die in your place.” You say, turning around and propping your chin on the back of the couch.

“Would you prefer if I had died in her place?” Hanji asks, rushing her hand through her freshly shaved head in an attempt to get rid of any hairs that still remain attached to her.

“Of course not, love.” You reply, walking towards her before taking the glass of wine from her free hand.

“Hanji Zoe is dead and the witness to it is Zeke Yeager himself.” She says, a devious smile on her lips.

You can’t help but link your mouth with hers, tasting the delightful mixture of alcohols she has had tonight. Her hands travel through your body, exploring every inch of your skin before gently brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasp gently, nearly melting in response to her actions. God knows you want to melt but you don’t have time.

“It’s 4:25am, the plane leaves in 35 minutes so we should go.” She says and you nod.

You grab one of the packed bags plus your rifle and she grabs the rest before extending her hand to you, hoping to walk away from this life with you by her side but not before staging your own kidnapping and death, everything so no one would ever look for either of you.

Once done with arrangements, she smiles. 

“So where are we going to make our new home?” You ask.

“My home is wherever you are.” She replies and you feel your cheeks getting warm before she continues, “But I was planning the Carribeans.” 

“Fuck yes.” Is all you say and she laughs, squeezing your hand as you both say goodbye to the apartment you’ve shared for years. Leaving behind a life of danger to live together in the house of your dreams, far away from all the negativity.

Just you and Hanji. And maybe a few cats and dogs along the way.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

[hamiltonimagines]

I Promise

Pairing: Daveed x Reader

Request: “would you be willing to do a daveed x reader where you guys are out and having fun and you run into your ex (who is not nice) and you get all shaky and scared so daveed is super protective and reassuring? lots of fluff please!!” - @winchesteralvez

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of verbal/physical abuse. Arguing and angst and everything else is just so so so much fluff!

I woke up to the feeling of someone poking me. I opened my eyes and once I adjusted to the light, I realized it was Daveed. I had fallen asleep on the couch watching some documentary on Netflix. Daveed was standing next to the couch.

“Wake up, sleepyhead” he said, with an adorable smile on his face. “Give me a kiss first” I said, with a smirk. “Well I guess, if you insist” he joked and sat next to me. I sat up til we were face to face.

“Come here love” he said as he cupped my face with one hand and leaned in and gave me a sweet kiss. We pulled away and I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I love you” I whispered to him. “I love you too darling” he said, sweetly.

“So why’d you wake me up?” I asked him. “It’s time to go on our walk” he said. We had starting going on a walk every night. It let us spend quality time together and also get in some exercise. “Okay, let me go grab my shoes” I said as I stood up and walked into our bedroom.

I met Daveed back in the living room, “you ready?” he asked me as he grabbed the house keys. “Yep” I said, smiling. He interlaced his hand with mine and we walked out the door. We were walking in comfortable silence.

“So how did that song go? The one you were writing last night?” I asked him, remembering hearing him in our home studio, late last night. “It went great, it was probably the quickest I’ve ever written a song” he said. “So what was it about?” I asked, curiously.

Daveed and I were both in the music industry. Him more on the rapping side and me on the singing side. So we were both always interested in songs the other had written.

“It was about you, as always” Daveed said, smiling. “Aww you big softie” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. “What can I say? What’s a better muse than you, the stunning woman I get to call my girlfriend. I’ll have to play you the song tonight” he said, and he planted a kiss on the back of my hand.

“You are always so sweet to me” I said to him. “Well you are the love of my life” he said. “And you’re mine” I said, honestly.

Throughout our relationship of three years, Daveed and I have never had an issue with being sappy or telling the other how much we love them.

I truly felt lucky to have such a loving and supportive boyfriend. I knew he had my back no matter what happened.

We began to walk over this small bridge, it had the perfect view of the sunset. We both stopped to look at it. “Wow, it’s so beautiful” I said, in awe. I let go of Daveed’s hand and walked up to the side of the bridge. I placed my hands on the cold cobblestone and admired the view. The vibrant colors were so beautiful and awe-inspiring.

Then I heard a camera click behind me. I quickly turned to face my very guilty-looking boyfriend. “Did you take my picture?” I asked him. “You looked so pretty with the sunset, I couldn’t resist” he said as he walked closer to me.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me. He held me there in his embrace while we looked at the view.

He moved one his hands just a little bit, but accidentally touched a spot on my stomach that was ticklish. I instinctively squirmed and let out a giggle.

“Oh, are you ticklish? What a surprise” he said, sarcastically. Daveed knew me better than anyone, he had used his knowledge of how ticklish I was against me on many occasions.

“Daveed Diggs, don’t you dare” I threatened him. “Or what?” He asked with a smirk. I knew I had no upper hand. He turned me around to face him. I was absolutely trapped, with his arms on both sides of me.

He attacked my stomach with his fingers. He had the biggest grin on his face and I was trying to move away while having a laughing fit.

“Dav...Daveed...stop...pl..please” I begged him, in between fits of laughter. “Beg for mercy” he said, chuckling as he continued to tickle me.

I managed to get out of his grasp and I jogged away from him. Then up in front of me I saw a face that I would recognize from a mile away.

I froze right in place, I couldn’t move a single muscle.

It was my ex-boyfriend, his name was Eddie. He was a jerk when we dated and he was constantly flirting with other girls. He also loved to tell me how much I needed to wear makeup, lose weight, or whatever insult he chose that day. We went to a party once and he got drunk and he hit me. I raced home and grabbed all my stuff and moved in with Daveed.

I hadn't seen Eddie since that night. Daveed knew all about what happened, but he never met him so he didn’t know what he looked like.

“Ha I caught you” Daveed said and went to pick me up, but I swatted his hand away. “Hey, don’t be upset that you can’t outrun me” he said, laughing. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know what was going on. I couldn’t even form the words to tell him.

I started taking short, shallow breaths and I felt like someone was cutting off my air supply. “Woah darling, what’s wrong?” He asked, very concerned. “That’s....that’s Eddie” I whispered. He quickly looked to where I was looking and saw him.

Eddie hadn’t seen us yet, he was too busy checking his phone. “Come on baby, let’s go” he said grabbing my shaky hand. Just as he did that, Eddie looked up and made eye contact with me. He started to storm over toward us.

“Daveed, he’s gonna hurt me” I said, worried out of my mind. I had no doubt that he was furious after all these years.

“No he won’t, I won’t let him touch you, I promise” he said. Daveed held tight on to my hand and started to back up. Eventually, Eddie just ran over to us. Daveed stepped in front of me and got between Eddie and I.

“There you are, you little bitch. I’ve been looking for you for three years now” Eddie said, furiously. “Leave her the hell alone, Eddie. I swear I will the not hesitate to beat the crap out of you” Daveed said, protectively. “Oh who are you? Are you the new guy? Nice to see Y/N is still a slut” Eddie said, with such anger in his voice that I flinched.

Apparently Daveed noticed, because he put his hand behind him and grabbed a hold of my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He knew that I was panicking and knew how to calm me down.

“Listen here, you’re going to leave me and my girlfriend alone” Daveed threatened. I had never seen Daveed so aggressive. “And what if I don’t?” Eddie questioned. “You don’t want to know” Daveed answered.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it. Don’t be shocked when she leaves you though. As soon as there’s someone new, she’ll leave you like she left me” Eddie said as he walked away.

As soon as he was far enough away, Daveed quickly turned and pulled me into his arms. I broke into tears, that had built up from staying strong in front of Eddie. “Shh it’s okay darling, he can’t hurt you now” he said calmly, as he rubbed my back.

“I was so scared he would hurt me or hurt you” I told him. “I’ll never let you get hurt, I promise” Daveed said, reassuringly. He held me there for a while, just holding me tight, rubbing my back, and whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

“Can we go home now darling?” He asked. “Yes please” I replied. He let go of me and held my hand and we began to walk home. “Thank you for being so protective” I told him. I was so grateful for him. “Of course, you know I would never let anything happen to you. You’re my priority, always” he said, rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of my hand.

“You know all that stuff he said about me leaving you wasn’t true. I love you so much and I’ll never leave you” I confessed. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being worried about me leaving.

“I know, I love you too. I know you like the back of my hand. You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Y/N. I know you and I know you are so kind and caring and compassionate. You’d never do anything like that” Daveed said.

“I love you” I told him and without a second thought he said “I love you too”. That was when I knew we were soulmates, when neither of us had any question of our love for each other.

We went home and we cuddled in bed. And when I woke up with nightmares about Eddie, Daveed was right next to me helping me through it.

[rpf-bat]

Tell Me I’m An Angel

Pairing: Ray Toro x Reader

Genre: Drama

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 6.  Prompt: “Not An Angel.”

Ray is your bandmate, and one of your best friends. In your opinion, he’s an absolute angel. But, after your boyfriend does you wrong, Ray shows you a side of himself, that you never saw coming. 

You had just played another sold out show, and now you and your bandmates were outside the venue, busy signing autographs for your fans. A nervous looking teenage girl approached you, holding what looked to be a handmade plush toy in her hands. 

“Look, Ray, it’s you!” you pointed out, chuckling. 

“Whoa, you made a doll version of me?” Ray realized, taking the knit figurine from the excited fan. “That’s so cool! Thank you!”

Kids gave you art all the time, but you never stopped being impressed by the creativity of your fanbase. 

“I’m so glad you like it!” the fangirl squeaked. “I worked really hard on it!”

“It looks just like him,” you complimented. The girl beamed, delighted that her favorite drummer had praised her. 

“Why do I have wings, though?” Ray asked, pointing at the doll’s back. 

“It’s because you’re an angel,” the girl explained. 

“Me? An angel?” Ray repeated, blushing. “Come on….there’s no way!”

“It’s true,” you grinned. “You really are pretty angelic.” 

You’d known Ray for a long time - even before Gerard formed the band. He was one of your best friends, and he had the biggest heart, of anyone you knew. He seldom swore, and never raised his voice, even when the guys were getting on his nerves. You really didn’t know anybody sweeter.

“You guys are too much,” Ray mumbled, flattered. “Did you want a picture?”

“Yes! Please!” the doll maker said excitedly. You and Ray posed with her, and the camera clicked. Then, you sent her on down the line, to get pictures and autographs from Frank, and the Way brothers. Another fan - this time, a college-aged guy - approached you. 

“Hey. Y/N, will you sign my CD?” the fanboy asked. 

“Sure!” you nodded, grabbing a pen. “Anything special you want me to write on there?” 

“How about your number?” the guy flirted. 

“Sorry,” you laughed, “I can’t! I have a boyfriend back home!” 

Tomorrow, you’d be playing a show in East Rutherford, New Jersey - just fifteen minutes from your hometown in Belleville. You’d finally be able to see your boyfriend, Jesse, for the first time, since the tour started. You’d been on the road for three months now. You couldn’t wait to visit Jesse, and give him a hug and a kiss. You’d missed him so much. 

“Aw,” the fan shrugged, “your boyfriend is a lucky man.” 

“Isn’t he?” Ray agreed, surprising you. 

You were so caught up, in your daydreams of seeing Jesse again, that you didn’t notice the hint of sadness, in the guitarist’s eyes. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The next morning, you parked your car in front of Jesse’s house, giddy to surprise him with your return. It was so good to be home again. You had so many stories to tell him, about how the Black Parade World Tour, was going so far. You wanted to know how he had been doing, since you last saw each other, too. Had he missed you, as much as you missed him? 

I’m gonna give him the BIGGEST hug, as soon as I walk in, you thought happily, bouncing up the steps to his front door. You pulled the spare key that he had entrusted you with, from your pocket. But, nothing could have prepared you, for the sight that met your eyes, as soon as you walked through the door. 

Jesse was half-naked on the couch….and he was straddling some random, blonde woman! He was kissing her, with a disgusting passion. 

“What the hell?!” you gasped. 

“Y/N?!” Jesse’s head snapped up, as he dragged his lips away from the mystery girl. “Fuck!” 

“Who the hell is Y/N?” said the blonde, climbing off the couch. 

“I’m his girlfriend, you whore!” you screamed, feeling horrified and betrayed. “Jesse, how could you?!” 

“His what?” the blonde girl gasped. “Jesse, you said you were single!” 

Hot tears stung your cheeks, as you stared at the man, you thought was your soulmate. “I can’t believe that you would cheat on me…..you said you wanted to marry me, Jesse!” Had it all been a lie?

“Lady, I’m sorry,” the woman stammered, buttoning her blouse. “I swear to ya, I would never have banged him, if I knew he had a woman….” 

So they’re definitely having sex, you realized. How long had been this going on? Had it started, even before you went on tour? 

“I’m outta here,” the blonde decided, heading for the door. 

“Andrea, wait!” Jesse cried, getting up to go after her. 

“Are you kidding me?!” you gasped, grabbing him by the arm. “You’re going to fight for your stupid side piece, and not me?” 

“Y/N, I’m really sorry,” Jesse sighed. “I didn’t mean to sleep with Andrea...It just sort of happened. I still love you, though…”

“Bullshit!” you cried. “If you loved me, you would have been faithful to me, you scumbag!” 

“I still want to be with you,” Jesse insisted. “I can stop seeing her, now that you’re home. She’s nothing. You’re the one who’s really special to me.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” you cried, barely able to see him, through your tears. “If you do this to me, while I’m on tour, then what we had was never special to you at all. You and I are done.” 

You stormed out of his house, slamming the door behind you. You felt as if you’d left your shredded heart on his floor. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You were driving down the road at ninety miles an hour, desperate to put some distance between you, and what you’d just seen. The image of him, on top of that girl, was burned into your retinas. It made you want to tear out your eyes. Not knowing what else to do, you picked up the phone, and called your best friend.

“Hi, Y/N,” Ray answered the phone immediately. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“No!” you cried. “I’m not!” 

“What’s wrong?” Ray asked softly. “I thought you were going to spend the day  with Jesse, until it was time for soundcheck?”

“Jesse’s two-timing me!” you confessed, your heart breaking over again as you said the words. “I just caught him in bed with some other girl!” 

“Oh my god!” Ray gasped. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious!” you sobbed. “I seriously wanna drive off a fucking cliff, after what I just saw!” 

“Don’t say stuff like that!” Ray said, sounding concerned. “Where are you? Do you need me to come over there?” 

“No,” you sniffled. “I’m gonna pull over, and collect myself, before I do something stupid.” You could barely see the road, through your tears. “Once I calm down, I think I’m just gonna drive to the house. I want to be alone for a little while.” 

“Are you sure?” Ray asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “You’re with your family right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m hanging out with my brother, and my abuela today,” Ray admitted. “But, if you want me to come over, I can…”

“No,” you interrupted. “Your abuela hasn’t seen you since February. I’m not going to make you ditch her, and come help me, deal with my problems.” 

“I would, if you really needed me to,” Ray said seriously. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now…Jesse’s a bastard, for doing this to you…”

“It’s okay,” you sniffed. “I mean, the show must go on, right?” 

“Can you really play a show, in this state?” Ray questioned. “If you want, I can call the venue, and ask them about postponing the gig.” 

“No, Ray,” you shook your head. “We can’t cancel a gig, the day of. I won’t do that to the fans.  I just have to find a way to deal with it. I’ll see you at the venue.” 

“If you say so,” Ray sighed. You disconnected the call, and prayed that your hands would stop shaking, long enough to let you hold your drumsticks. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Hours later, you’d dried your tears, and put on a fresh coat of eyeliner, to replace what had streamed down your face. Your heart still felt stomped on, but you were ready to rehearse. You hoped that practicing for the performance, would take your mind off of Jesse’s infidelity. 

“Hey,” Ray said, putting a hand on your shoulder, as you walked into the venue’s dressing room. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay tonight, Y/N?” 

You pulled him into a hug, desperate for his reassurance. He held you close, and  rubbed your back gently, trying his best to comfort you. 

“I gotta be okay,” you shrugged. “You guys are depending on me, to keep the beat. If I can’t drum like I’m supposed to, it’s gonna throw everybody else’s timing off, and the set will be ruined.”

“I’m not worried about the set,” Ray shook his head, pulling away from you, so he could look you in the eye. “I’m worried about you, Y/N. Not as my drummer, but as my friend.” 

“...You’ll be my side, right?” you said, your voice wavering. “If I start to lose it, I can just look across the stage, at you.”

“Of course I’ll be right there,” Ray promised you. 

“As long as you’re with me,” you assured him, “I can get through the night.”

“Okay,” Ray nodded. “I know it’ll be hard, but you can do it. Have you got your show clothes?” 

“Fuck,” you realized. “I left them in the car.” 

“It’s okay,” Ray replied. “You still have plenty of time to go grab them, and get changed. The others aren’t even here yet. It’s not like we can start rehearsal without them.” 

“True,” you agreed. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You grabbed the garment bag from your backseat, cursing yourself, for being so distracted. 

I really am gonna screw up the show tonight, if I’m not careful, you thought miserably. Your heart still ached. Why wasn’t I good enough for him?

You told yourself to stop thinking about it, and walked with the bag, back into the venue. You were about to turn the corner, and walk back into the dressing room, when you heard the sound of raised voices. You stopped to listen. 

“Jesse?” Ray gasped. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. He was here? Now? 

“Last week, Y/N sent me a ticket to the show, and a backstage pass,” Jesse explained. “So, security let me right on through.”

“Yeah, she gave that to you, before she knew you were a cheater!” Ray snapped. “Get out of here - you’re no longer welcome.” 

“No,” you heard Jesse refuse. “I want to see her. She didn’t let me explain what happened…”

“There’s no explaining what you did,” Ray said coldly. “I can’t believe that you would sleep with some other girl, while she was away on tour.” 

“You guys were gone, for three months,” Jesse reminded him. “A man gets lonely.”

“A real man, would stay true to his girl!” Ray argued. “Y/N is such a beautiful, kind woman….if you had her, I just don’t understand how you could possibly want anyone else.” 

You blushed. Did he really think that highly of you?

“She’s been on a tour bus, with four big ,strong men, this whole time,” Jesse accused. “I wouldn’t be surprised, if her loneliness got the best of her, too.”

“She wouldn’t do that to you,” Ray defended you. “You should know her better than that. She never laid a finger on me, or anybody else.”

“That’s because I got a bigger cock, than any of you nerds,” Jesse smirked. “No matter how many other girls I fuck, Y/N is gonna come crawling back to me, at the end of the day, because I….” 

His cocky words, were cut off by a loud crashing sound. You ran into the room, wondering what it was you'd just heard. 

You found Jesse on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. Ray was standing over him, with a raised fist, and an expression like nothing you’d ever seen before, on his face. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “Ray, did you punch him?!” 

“I told you, Y/N,” Ray said quietly. “I’m not the angel that you think I am.” 

Jesse stood up, spitting blood from his mouth. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you for that, Toro!” 

“No!” you cried, jumping between him and Ray. “You leave him alone!” 

“Get out of my way, Y/N,” Jesse commanded. “Your friend sucker punched me - I need to pay him back, by breaking his jaw.” 

“Don’t touch him,” you growled, staring him down. “You get out of here, right now, or I’m calling the police.”

“Fine,” Jesse spat. “You’re not worth it, anyway.” 

You watched him walk out the door, knowing that you would never see him again. 

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You and Ray were now alone in the dressing room. You stared at him, still scarcely believing what you’d seen. He was the tallest, and physically strongest, member of My Chemical Romance. But, you’d never expected him to throw a punch at anyone. 

“I’m sorry that you saw that side of me,” Ray apologized. “You know that I’m normally not a violent person.”

“Of course not,” you shook your head. “Ray, you’re one of the most peaceful people I know.” 

“I just couldn’t stand it,” Ray explained. “He had hurt you so much, and he didn’t even look sorry! I couldn’t let him get away, with hurting somebody I love.” 

“Love?” you repeated. “I mean, I know you love all your bandmates, like they’re your siblings, but…”

“No,” Ray sighed. “Gee, Frank, and Mikey...they’re my brothers, but the way that I feel about you, is different.” 

“Different how?” you asked. 

“Y/N, I love you,” Ray confessed. “The way you loved Jesse….the way he was supposed to love you.”

“.....Oh,” you gasped, not knowing what to say. 

“I’ve loved you, for so long,” Ray went on. “But….you were with Jesse, and you seemed happy with him. I’m not the type of guy who would ever steal someone else’s girlfriend.”

He’d been burying his feelings for you, all this time, you realized. That must have hurt him….

“I’m sorry for telling you this now,” Ray said, shame-faced. “You’re already trying to process, everything that just happened with him, and now I’ve dumped my stupid feelings on you, too. It’s okay, if you can’t love me, in the same way, that I love you. As long as you’re still my friend, I’ll be happy.” 

“But….what if I do love you, in the same way?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek, in your hand. 

His eyes widened in confusion. “Y/N…..you just ended your last relationship, like, eight hours ago. There’s no way that you’re ready to jump into another one.” 

“I should have been with you, all along,” you whispered. “Ray…..you’ve always been so good to me. You were always by my side, through thick and thin. You would never, ever hurt me the way Jesse did.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Ray said, his brown eyes staring into yours. Why had you never noticed how gorgeous they were? 

“But,” Ray hesitated, “I don’t want to be  just some rebound to you.” 

“No,” you insisted. “Ray, you’re so much more than that. You’re the one who always had my back, even when nobody else did. You’re kind, and loyal, and selfless. And….I never let myself think about it, because I was taken. But, god, you’re so handsome. You’re the only man, who truly deserves me. You’re the one that I want.” 

You pulled him into a kiss. He hesitated at first, as if unsure this was real. But then, realizing it was true, and not a dream, he wrapped his arms around you, and held you tight. He tasted like coffee and churros. His lips felt incredible against your own. 

“.....Whoa!” a voice interrupted. You pulled back, embarrassed, as Gerard and Mikey walked into the room. 

“I was gonna say, that I’m sorry we’re late,” Gerard blinked, “but, what the hell, did I just walk in on?” 

“Y/N, are you cheating on Jesse?” Mikey gasped.

“No,” you shook your head. “Jesse was cheating on me. It’s a long story, but….he and I broke up. Ray and I are dating now.”

“A-Are we?” Ray stammered, an edge of hope in his voice. 

“We are,” you confirmed, and sealed the commitment, with another brazen kiss. You didn’t care who saw it - it would be far from the last.

[artificialqueens]

Run, Joey, Run! (A'whora X Joe Black) - Plegdoctor

A/N: Hiya! First time submitting on here so I’m a bit nervous but here we go! This is for the rarepair song fic challenge, based on the song Run Joey Run (glee cast supremacy). I hope you enjoy :) x TW for major character death.

*

Daddy please don’t, it wasn’t his fault, he means so much to me! Daddy please don’t, we’re gonna get married…

“Joe Black?”

His head shoots up in surprise at the sound of his name. He’s been at the table for so long that he thought, perhaps hoped, he might’ve become a ghost. Maybe everything would be easier to deal with then.

“That’s me.” His once melodic voice is now ever flat, an out of tune piano that would fall to dust if you pressed a key.

“Can I call you Joey?”

The girl is young – she doesn’t know, she couldn’t know. It’s not her fault that she’s enthusiastic, bubbly, and upbeat in a way that most teenage girls are. Assigning nicknames must be one of her favourite things when she volunteers here, something that all the other residents love and remember her for.

But his just brings pain.

“I haven’t been called Joey in a long time. It’s Joe.” He says firmly. She nods, undeterred, sits down with a flourish and crosses her legs. He can’t help but notice how full of life she is. She flips a blonde curl behind her shoulder, a simple gesture that snaps his heart in two. “Are you new?” He asks. Something about her seems so familiar.

She nods. “Yep. Saw the ad on Facebook and thought it would look good on my CV.” Her grin is mischievous and her honesty makes him smile. “Plus my grandma used to be in here before she died last year. I always liked visiting her. Do your family come here often?”

“I don’t have a family.”

“Really? No wife or children?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He grimaces. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“And a sad one.”

Her eyes soften and she places a gentle hand on his. He hasn’t told his story to anyone in a long time. Perhaps he’ll never tell it again.

She’s the right person to hear his tragic tale.

“It started when I was just 18…”

The rain is bloody miserable as Joe heaves a sigh. It was a silly idea and he knows it – no one wants to employ a gardener in February. His mum always warned him that this would happen. He can hear her voice in his head now: “Joseph, if you live your life with no plan then you will never get anywhere.”

He will never admit it, but she’s right. It’s hopeless. If only he had been proactive, done something sensible in school like his friends who are now becoming Lawyers and Doctors.

“But then I wouldn’t have met her.”

He goes to turn around, begin the long walk home, when he hears a tap from a window. He looks up at the house he’s in front of to see a girl standing in a window on the top floor. She shouts something and he shakes his head. She sighs dramatically and disappears.

He hates the people who live in these massive houses. That girl will probably never have to work a day in her life. Selfish, spoiled, little- The front door flies open to reveal her again.

“Hello there! Do you want to come in?”

He thinks for a minute that he’s misheard her.

“You what?”

“You’re soaked! Come in and get dry, so you don’t catch a chill.”

His acceptance is hesitant but grateful. Trooping around Brighton in sodden clothes and a failed business plan weren’t his plans for the afternoon, but neither was being rescued by this angel of a woman.

And that’s what she looks like. An angel. Her hair is long and blonde, caught up in a bun but the tendrils that escape frame her face so prettily. She’s got a pretty face too, pale with small features. Pink cheeks and red lips. If her house wasn’t an indicator of her class then her dress certainly would’ve been. Joe doesn’t know much about women’s fashion, but he’s lived with his mother long enough to know that she would gladly tear every hair out of her head to get her hands on that fabric.

“My father won’t be home for a while, he’s still at work. Here, come sit by the fire, I’ll fetch you some of his spare clothes.”

She runs off before he can say anything.

When she returns he is seated by a roaring fire, looking around the house with a sense of wonder. Her arms are full of clothes. “I don’t know your size so I just had to guess.” She frowns, handing them over to him.

“Uh, thank you.”

“You can change in the bathroom.’ She points to a door underneath the stairs. ‘I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The bathroom is small but overwhelmingly grand. Her grips the shining sink and laughs at the absurdity that is his life. He pulls the angel’s father’s jumper over his head. It’s made of soft green wool, soft on his skin in contrast to his jumper made of harsh material. The trousers are a good fit too. The girl has an eye for fashion.

He says this to her as he exits, watches the way her face lights up. “Do you really think so? I would love to go to fashion school.”

“But your mother won’t allow it?”

“I have no mother. It’s just me and daddy here.”

“I’m the opposite. Just me and my mum.” It’s bizarre to try to relate to someone like her. Someone who would’ve given him dirty looks in the schoolroom. Someone who has more than one bathroom and calls her dad ‘daddy’.

She laughs, the sound like silver bells. “We have so much in common already. But I don’t even know your name.”

“Joe. Or Joseph.”

She’s not satisfied with his answer, shaking her head. “That’s far too serious for you. Your voice is like… like music! You cannot say Joe in such a beautiful way.”

“What then would you call me?”

“Joey. Doesn’t it sound much more fun? Joey, Joey, Joey.” She sings.

He bites back a laugh. “And what is the name of my saviour?”

“Aurora.”

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Flirting has never come naturally to him. He doesn’t doubt that that certainly translates.

“What are you doing around these parts, Joey?”

He raises an eyebrow. Does she mean it judgementally? No, probably not, her tone is more inquisitive than anything. But he allows the silence to grow awkward before he answers. He’s rewarded with a flush that crosses her face.

“I’m looking for a job. As a gardener.”

“You don’t look like a gardener to me.”

“What do I look like?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

Joe uses the silence to look at her again. He’s been with girls before, kissed their rough chapped lips, laid his hands on their waists. But Aurora is incomparable. He wishes to take a million pictures of her, carry them around as inspiration. When artists talk about their muses, they are talking about her.

“This garden could do with a gardener.”

Her statement is unlike anything else she’s said so far. Shy.

“And would your daddy be alright with me coming to help you out?”

The way that her lips contort makes him think that she knows he’s mocking her slightly.

“He’ll have to be.” She replies lightly.

“I’m confused. You said you weren’t married. This sounds like the sort of story you tell your grandkids when they ask how you met.” She’s almost accusatory.

He shakes his head. “You’re too impatient. There are other oldies in here that like a short and easy chat. You’re welcome to speak to them.”

“No, I’ve heard the start, I need the rest of it. So Aurora hires you without her father knowing.’ She pauses and then grins. ‘Daddy has different connotations nowadays, did you know?”

“I have no idea what the youths say anymore.”

“I’ll teach you some slang next time. Anyway, what happens after she hires you?”

“I’d been working there for two years when she first confessed it to me…”

Employment under the Boyle family was like living in luxury. Joe showed up twice a week and worked for four hours. Aurora brought him a drink after the first two hours, and they would talk and laugh together for some time. He learnt more about her than he ever thought: She was the same age as him. Her mother died in childbirth. She missed her in a way, but never really knew her. Her life was devoted completely to her father whom she adored. She volunteered at the hospital, she wanted a little white dog, she loved fashion and often made her own dresses, her favourite flowers were lilies. He crammed so much information into his head that by the time they were twenty he could’ve written a book on her life.

There was something electric about her. The way she sang his name, “Joey” called across the (obscenely large) garden as she came out with a glass of cold lemonade. The brightness of her eyes and the ever-present blush in her cheeks. She possessed a vitality like no other.

The fact that he was deeply in love with her had not escaped his notice.

Such a shame that she would never feel the same way.

Until a summers day when the sun was beating down upon them. Her dress was white cotton, her hair was loose, her forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat. “You know Joey, I really thought you would have noticed something by now.”

“And what would that be, Miss?”

“Oh don’t call me Miss, you know how that bothers me!” She cries out. Her delicate face contorts into a frown as he chuckles. “You are such a tease.”

“Oh no Aurora, don’t withhold this information! What should I have noticed?”

“Well it’s just we have spent so much time together over these past years I just… I thought men were meant to notice things like this.”

He squints at her. Her appearance has not changed, he would have noticed that. Every inch of her is burned into his mind. But he can hardly say that. “Are you wearing a new lipstick shade? Or is that your hair has been cut? Ah, I know, you have new shoes!”

She huffs and leans moodily against her chair, arms folded across her chest. “Daddy was right. Men really are dense. Must I spell it out for you, Joey?”

He opens his mouth to say yes but is cut off by her laugh. “No, you wouldn’t even get it then. Daddy said that if you want a man to know that you are in love with them then you should just tell them plainly. What do you think Joey, should I just boldly tell you that I am in love with you?”

The blonde across from him emits a squeal so high pitched that dogs 20 miles away must be howling.

“A bit of respect for my elderly ears please.”

“I’m sorry. That is so adorable! Oh she sounds brilliant, I think me and her would’ve been friends. What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She sounds outraged.

He smirks slyly and shrugs. “I just kissed her.”

He would never grow used to the feeling of her in his arms. It’s not that it felt unnatural. It felt like thunderbolts and lightening strikes, a wave of emotions flooding through him, a storm that left him breathless. Ivy sprouted when their lips met, thick vines that wound through their hearts, binding them together. His skin flowered under her touch.

She made him promise not to tell her father.

“Daddy wouldn’t like it. He likes you but as… as an employee.”

Joe understands.

He has no other choice.

Aurora is his precious jewel, a secret treasure that he must keep hidden from the rest of the world. He remarked to her once that he has never known any flower to bloom quite like their love does when shoved into a dark corner of a greenhouse.

She laughed and shushed him with a kiss.

Her lips taste like cherries.

Nature too powerful can be destructive.

A new life has begun.

His phone rings. The sound surprises him to his core – the fact that his wages brought a phone for him and his mum is something he will forever be proud of. He’s considering asking them to put the fact on his gravestone.

“Joey.” She’s whispering. He can hear sniffles that indicate the tears that surely must be running down her pretty face.

“What’s the matter, Rory?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“You can’t tell anyone. Oh my God, Daddy is going to kill me!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay darling! We can figure this out. We can solve this.” Joe has never forgotten the way that Aurora saved him that day when they first met. For two years he’s been hoping to repay her.

But he never imagined it would be like this.

The phone rings again. It sounds more urgent than any other time, despite being the exact same ring. He snatches it up.

“Joe, don’t come over. My dad and I, we had a fight, and he stormed out the door. I’ve never seen him mad this way, my God, he’s going crazy! He said… he said he’s going to make you pay for what we’ve done. He’s got a gun. So run, Joey, run, Joey run!”

He runs. Straight to her house.

He hammers on the door with the force of a hurricane. “Aurora! Rory!” He sounds unhinged, frantic, but he needs to see her. He needs to be sure she’s safe. The door flings open and she runs out. Her brown eyes are filled with tears and - oh no, oh God why? – there are bruises on her face. She flies into his arms where he holds her close.

All at once he sees him, her father, sneaking up behind them. Aurora notices too.

“Daddy please don’t, it wasn’t his fault! He means so much to me! Daddy please don’t, we’re gonna get married!”

Time moves in slow motion.

“He’s got a gun! Run, Joey, run!” She yells.

He lifts it to aim.

She steps in front of him.

Suddenly a shot rings out.

Aurora falls.

“No!” A guttural scream rips Joe in half. He catches her falling body, cradling her like a child. He looks down to find that his hands are red.

Her cherry red lips part. “Daddy, please don’t. It wasn’t his fault. He.. he means so much to me. Daddy, please don’t. We’re gonna get married.” Her breathing is laboured. The light in her eyes dims. “Run. Joey. Run.” She chokes out.

Tears fall down her face. She does nothing to interrupt them, letting them create a waterfall on her cheeks.

“I told you it was a sad story.” He says gently. His heart is heavy too. Telling his story never gets easier.

“She saved you again.”

He nods. “My guardian angel. My perfect angel Aurora.” He pulls a necklace from under his shirt. She leans closer to see a small angel carved out of rose quartz on a chain.

“Do you miss her?”

“Every day. When it’s rain or shine. When thunder crashes and lightening strikes. When waves surge in oceans. When storms dominate the air. When ivy wraps around buildings. When flowers grow. When I savour sweet cherries.”

“I’m so sorry Joe.”

“It’s been almost 70 years and my heartache has not loosened. But I know my angel is watching over me.”

The girl nods hurriedly, her soft hand still clutching his wrinkled one. A small bell goes.

“It’s time for you to go.”

She stands. “Thank you for sharing your story with me Joe.”

“Thank you for listening.”

He catches her wrist as she goes to turn away. “I don’t know your name. May I know the name of the girl who listened so carefully to my tragic tale?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Why not?”

She smiles softly. Tears still spill from her light brown eyes, blonde hair bounces on her shoulders. “Aurora. My name is Aurora.”

[horrorslashergirl]

Chromeskull x Cop!Reader x The Collector

A dark themed erotic novel for the twisted minds

Resume: Some things bring you nightmares and unwanted memories back. They say you can’t bury the past, because at some point it will come back. You weren’t prepared for this.

Chapter 1: Nightshift Turn Out

Chapter 2: Twisted Tongue

Chapter 3: Rising from fire like the Phoenix

Chapter 4: Video Shadows

Chapter 5: New beginning and Past memories (You are here)

Chapter 6: Lovers Reunion

Chapter 7: Sweet Blackmail 

Chapter 8: False Freedom

Chapter 9: Ugly Jealousy

Chapter 10: Sinful Ecstasy

Warning: This one contains violence and slight gore.

After three months in Jacksonville, you couldn't deny the loneliness that crawled up your very being; work was great and it paid all your necessities, so you couldn't whine about financial problems, but outside work, you were pretty much alone, saw for the fact that you took on a poodle dog to ease some of that depression. Dating just wasn't your department and most guys couldn't even live it up to put on a great conversation. You still kept in touch with some old friends from Illinois and occasionally chatted up with them to get the time going. One of your girl friends gave you some cheap advice about entering dating sites, but you knew from high school that most of these sites were full of creeps and old perverts who wanted to jack off to under-age girls. It made you almost throw up, but you took on her advice and entered one, putting on a single picture of you, but a very decent one. You weren't going to be found on a dating site with nude pictures of you, just no.

That's how you found yourself now on a Saturday night on the couch with a glass of red wine, your white-furred pet next on the couch, sleeping after a day of running with you in the park. Your laptop was on your lap, listening to some music, a separated opened window of the dating site. So far just a few guys entered to chat with you. One was living in Oregon, so too far away, another one was just flirting cheaply with you.

You wondered how your brother managed to get a girlfriend so easily. He told you that he meet her when he went to buy a new laptop; so far he was very happy with her. Her name was Spann and she worked in the business industry, you haven't met her but your brother sends you a picture of her. Definitely pretty and very professional looking. You were glad he finally found someone who will cherish him, she always came by to his apartment to help him and even cook for him. To you, it sounded like a dream partner.

You were pulled out from your thoughts by the sound of a ding, signaling that someone entered on your chatroom on the dating site. You only hoped it wasn't some creep who wanted your nudes; so you opened the window.

JSkull: Hello there.

Well, at last, it wasn't a direct 'I wanna see your boobs' message.

TattooedKitty: Hey there.

You sometimes hated your choice of username, but it was completely random, plus it had a bit f truth behind it, having your whole back tattooed. You did that in high school when you had that rebel phase, still deep inside you enjoyed the freedom you had back then.

JSkull: What's a girl like you doing on this site?

TattooedKitty: Trying to find a guy who can manage to keep a conversation, at last.

JSkull: Sassy. I like it, but trust me. You won't find that type of person here.

TattooedKitty: So, you say you cannot manage to keep up an intelligent conversation?

JSkull: Smart girl. I was joking. You don't seem like the type of woman to seek out dating sites.

TattooedKitty: Then what type of girl do you peg me as?

JSkull: Daddy's good little girl.

TattooedKitty: I'm not little and what about you? Why are you on this site?

JSkull: Kill some boredom.

That was his last reply, then he logged off. Well, that was weird and when you looked at the clock your eyes widened, remembering that tomorrow you had to go to work. You closed your laptop and went straight to bed before you filled your dog bowl with food in case she was going to wake up and be hungry later.

Somewhere else in Jacksonville...

Jesse smirked; he couldn't help but tease you and you took the bait. So, you were single? Perfect, all the easier way to get his hands on you. He looked at the silver clock on the wall of his office. After so many weeks of stalking and getting all the little information about you, tomorrow night when you will get off your shift he will strike, plus tomorrow Asa will arrive in Jacksonville.

The bald man chuckled silently, remembering how Asa always asked him how his tracking on you went. Jesse knew Asa like no other and he knew that the nerdy collector got obsessed over the little things. Jesse couldn't blame Asa, you were a piece of candy for the eyes, and he almost forgot of how many men he had to put off the dating game that was trying to get to you.

Jesse twirled one of his twin knives, looking at his reflection on the blade, scowling as the disfigured image of his face was shown. The thought of your face full of disgust when you would see him made his insides turn, a bitter feeling setting into his throat, but he pulled that feeling aside. He had to focus on the job at hand; getting his hands on you.

Yes, tomorrow would be a perfect day.

The Next Day...

Work had gone just fine, no problems and you could eat lunch in peace; you had some pizza with extra cheese and your favorite dessert, strawberry cake. It seemed like a perfect day and you were looking forward to getting home and having a bubble bath, making pour a glass of wine. You smiled as you saw the clock 10:30 AM, meaning that in just half an hour you will get off work and could head home, so you began to clean up your desk of remaining files and empty plastic coffee cups; you hated to come back to work with a mess for a desk.

You cursed yourself for having your car break and had to walk. All you were glad was that it wasn't raining tonight and it was quite a warm night. After 15 minutes of walking, you passed an alleyway but stopped when you heard some crying; it sounded womanly and your heroic heart had to make you step into the shadows, a little reluctant.

"H-Hello? Is someone there?" you asked, the whining continues and you gulped down, your instinct telling you that something bad was going to happen and you needed to get the hell out of there.

Before you could listen to your gut, a hand wrapped around your throat, slamming your body into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of you. Whoever it was, was strong, because it knocked you as you were a ragdoll.

Your eyes opened and were meet with silver metal, probably chromed. A skull mask? He was tall, very tall, you reached just his chest. He was dressed in all black, your eyes a little blinded by the red light on his shoulder. A videocamera? His gloved hand on your neck tightened, making you gasp out, your hands grasping his arm.

"W-What? What do y-you want?" you managed to ask before you felt a sting on your neck, whatever he injected into you, making you feel dizzy and weak, until you blacked out, your body falling onto the cold ground.

After 30 minutes...

He couldn't believe how easy this was; it was like stealing candy from a kid. Jesse smirked as he was driving to one of the warehouses he owned for his 'little' hobby, your body knocked out in the backseat of his Chrysler. Nitrile covered hands gripped the steering wheel as he was thinking what he will do to you once he gets there. Oh, he hoped you would scream and cry, even beg; that would be cheery on top.

After getting on the outskirts of Jacksonville, he finally got to the building. Even if you could get away, the closet town was 30 miles away, plus it was night, and cars hardly passed by here; another reason for why this was one of his favorite places.

Parking the car and stopping the engine, he got out and moved to pick up your limp body, getting inside the warehouse where many coffins laid there, some having dead bodies of past piggies inside, some of them so badly disfigured you need the dental-prints to find out who they are.

He put you inside one of the coffins, shutting the lid and waiting for you to wake up. By the dose he injected into you, you should wake up at any moment. After 15 minutes of setting up his mini-camera, he heard a groan from the coffin, a smile pulling at his lips behind chromed skull-mask.

Jesse got the drill and walked to the coffin, making a small hole into it so he could record you. You whimpered as you saw the lens of the camera, feeling like you would suffocate. Memories of when you were trapped into the red trunk came back to you. Outside, Jesse smirked seeing your panicked face and wide eyes.

"L-Let me out!" you screamed, banging on the lid, tears running down your face. This was too good.

His gloved hands were running on the lid of the coffin, his breath picking up as he saw all your reactions, the fact that he could re-watch them again and again, so much sweeter.

He loved to see you trapped, but this wasn't exactly what he was looking for, although it was highly arousing, he wanted you to fight. Taking the camera off and setting it up onto his shoulder, he opened the coffin, taking some steps back, knives in each hand.

You got out from the coffin and looked around, your eyes looking on the shiny silver mask.

"W-What do you want?" you asked, eyes puffy from crying. He twirled the knives, practically mocking you.

Then you felt your gun on the utility belt, hand grasping it and pointing it at the tall man, your eyes now pulled into a glare. Jesse tilted his head to the side, then took a step forward and a loud bang was heard, your finger pulled the trigger and shot him three times. You weren't going to make the same mistake as you did back in Illinois.

The only problem was that the man was still on his feet, a little take back that you actually used the gun on him.

Jesse wasn't dumb, and he had under his clothes a bulletproof vest. He huffed, then before you knew it he threw one of the knives at you, the sharp blade piercing your shoulder, making you release your gun and fall down on the ground.

The hit wasn't fatal, but God, did it hurt like hell, your breathing increased and you gulped down, feeling the warm blood soak your shirt. Your eyes looked up as the masked man approached you, his hand grasping your pony-tail tightly, making you stand up.

Even trough the latex material Jesse could feel how soft your hair was, and he was so tempted to use that mouth of yours on something much better than screaming, but he was a patient man.

"S-Stop it! You piece of fuck!" you screamed, only for him to tug harder on your hair, making you swallow your words. Jesse's other hand that wasn't fisting your hair, pulled out a mobile phone, typing on it very fast, then showed you the screen.

'Quite the mouth on you, piggy. Don't make me use it for something else that cursing like a whore.'

Your eyes widened, then looked from the shiny screen to the chromed mask. You were turned around, your back towards him as you felt him take your handcuffs from your belt, and with precise moves, he locked your hands together behind your back, making you completely useless.

His foot kicked one of yours, making you fall down on your knees. You could taste the blood on your mouth, the knife still impaled into your shoulder, then you heard the double doors of the warehouse open and you prayed that someone came to save you.

That wasn't it. You almost wished you were dead when you saw the bulky form dressed in black entered the building, black-gloved hands on the knives at his belt, black foam mask covering his face, and the eyes that haunted your dreams for months. Obsidian eyes looked into your eyes, your mouth open in shock.

'Finally, you came. She put up a fight. Quite the feisty kitten here.' the robotic voice came from the phone, the message directed to The Collector.

The Collector rolled his eyes and began to walk towards you two.

"Traffic. So, you got her." he said, stopping in front of you, your still shocked face making him smile, a smile that made chills creep up your spine.

"Miss me?" he asked, voice deep and mocking you.

This has to be a nightmare. Sure, and you would wake up in your bed, with your poodle cuddled by your side. Yes, it had to be.

"N-No...T-This cannot b-be real." you said in a whisper, afraid if you spoke any louder, your tongue will be cut off.

"Not real? Does this feel real?" The Collector said, gripping the knife from your shoulder and twisting it a little, making you scream and shut your eyes, more tears falling down your cheeks.

'We are gonna have lots of fun, little piggy.' the robotic voice spoke, a dark chuckle coming from The Collector and you almost fainted when the skull masked man was running one hand down your hip.

This was only the beginning, little piggy...

To be continued...

[itsmydreamlifethings]

Prompt five with lots of Henry fluff, pls! 😊

5. Henry begging the reader to take him back! 

GIVING IT ALL UP FOR YOU PART I

Warnings: Cursing and lots of fluff.

I liked the way this prompt developed, so it will be continued IF you guys are interested in reading more. Let me know!

Your phone rings for the hundredth time in an hour. With a long sigh, you decide to take a break from work and check your inbox. It is Henry, again.

4:02 pm: Babe, please pick up your phone.

4:15 pm: Y/N, I just want to talk. Please. I am so sorry. I want to explain.

4:21 pm: Can you please give me ONE chance to explain? That’s all I’m asking for. Just hear me out.

4:36 pm:   She kissed me!!! It was sudden, I was drunk, and she leaned in and kissed me. That’s when they took the fucking picture, Y/N. I know it’s upsetting to see, and that it hurt you, but you’ve got to believe me.     

You wipe the tear threatening to escape your eye, and place the phone down. Relieving the moment your friend sent you the picture of Henry and some girl kissing at a restaurant during a celebratory dinner with his crew members, you shiver. Yes, it did hurt you. A lot. You texted the picture to Henry with one simple caption: It’s over. It was harsh but not as harsh as finding out he was cheating on you.      

Of course, Henry had called you instantly as he received the text, but you never picked up and promised yourself you never would.

You get into your car, thankful it’s Friday and you can leave work early. You hear another text chime but ignore it. All you want is to get home, slip into your PJs, eat a tub of ice cream and cry as you watch Netflix. And that’s what you are doing the next hour. You’re watching your favorite show, but your mind keeps thinking about Henry. You had told yourself he was a big celebrity. He played you like a fool, making you think he was different...a gentleman, even. But he was like every other guy you dated. A lying, cheating asshole.

The doorbell rings, and you startle as you didn’t expect any friends to come over. Leaving your ice cream on the table, you head to the door and look through the peephole.

Henry’s face appears on the other side and your heart skips a beat. 

“Henry, I need you to leave,” you warn. What part of it’s over does he not understand? 

“Y/N, please, can we talk?” Henry’s voice is muffled on the other side of the door, and although it’s deep and husky as usual, it sounds pained. 

No, no I won’t fucking fall for it.         

You open the door a crack but refuse to unlatch the chain.   “There’s nothing to talk about. Henry, for the last time, you cheated on me and it’s over.”

He slams a hand against the door, rattling it. “Babe, I did not cheat on you. Yes, what you saw was a girl kiss me. She is the director’s assistant. She has been trying to flirt with me for...”

“...So what, Henry!?” you shout, irritation and anger mounting. “Every fucking girl on sets wants to get nailed by you. That doesn’t mean you have to nail every single one of them!!”

“I didn’t nail anyone!” His eyes search yours desperately.

You laugh. “Maybe, maybe not, but you DID kiss her, right? That’s still cheating in my book. And there it was...right in my face. I knew dating you was a mistake. You have too much temptation around you and you’re too weak to handle it...”

“She kissed me! It was unexpected. They snapped that picture in that very moment....of course they had a field day with it. Claiming I was kissing a ‘mystery woman’, but I did not kiss her back! Y/N, I swear to you, I did not kiss her back, in fact I told her...”

“I don’t care what you told her! Go talk to her some more.” You go to slam the door but his foot gets in the way and he presses closer, close enough for you to see his eyes clearly. They are filled with tears.

“I know you took a huge chance dating me. I know you have reservations, and fuck don’t I know that my being who I am makes everything hard....but I swear to you, I am not some prick who flirts and dates everyone he meets. I am just not like that...”

You had hoped the tears wouldn’t come (again), but standing there, listening to Henry’s voice at the verge of a meltdown, and seeing his gorgeous blue eyes looking at you with tears, you can’t help it. You whimper a bit and let a tear roll down your face.

“You’re not like what, Henry?” you ask, sarcasm heavy in your voice. A big part of you wants to believe him. There’s something in his voice that screams he’s being genuine, but how can you truly believe him? The picture still haunts you. 

“Please let me come in,” he begs, his voice lowering even more.

You sigh and stand there, chewing your lip. You don’t want him to come inside. You don’t want him to explain anymore, to swear up and down, to tell you he’s not the same....to make you want to fall back into his arms.

With a reluctant move, you unlatch the chain and open the door. Henry gets inside.        

“Thank you,” he whispers. His hands are in his pockets and he’s fidgeting like a nervous schoolboy.

“You have five minutes,” you warn, your arms crossing in front of you. 

 He inhales deeply and chews on his lip before he begins. “Y/N, I am so sorry. I did drink a bit too much during dinner. I let my guard down. I knew Shelly had been flirting with me all night, and when I saw her join me and the director in the VIP area, I should’ve just got up and walked away. I guess I didn’t think, I was feeling buzzed, talking to Michael about the next season, and just honestly feeling pretty good. I just brushed off her flirting, not thinking much of it. The paparazzi had found a way inside the restaurant, as usual. Suddenly, I turn around and Shelly is kissing me...or trying to. That’s when they snapped the picture. I swear on everything I love dear, Y/N. That’s exactly how it happened.”

You stay silent, looking at him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. His face is turning redder, his expression turning from nervous to downright scared.

Henry inches close to you, and takes his hands out of his pockets. “Babe, I told her it was inappropriate. I didn’t kiss her back. I explained how I am...”

You chew your lip, shaking your head. “You are....?”

“I told her....I am in love with someone.” His eyes fill with tears, and look at you desperately. There’s a quiver in his voice, one you never heard before. You try to process what Henry just said....he is ....in love? With....? 

He closes the space between you. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t want to tell you like this....but I need you to understand that I never, ever would cheat on you or hurt you in any way.” He places his hand on your shoulder, tucking a lock of hair off it. “I would never do anything to lose you....please,” he inches closer, his tear streaked face leaning into the crook of your neck. “Please tell me I didn’t lose you. I didn’t do anything wrong. Please. I will do anything to prove it to you.”

You stay frozen for a few moments, the silence revealing Henry’s strangled sob as he’s trying not to unravel in front of you. The honesty in his words is palpable. You’ve always been able to read people well, and could catch a man’s bullshit lie a mile away. Henry isn’t lying...this photo, this girl, this incident...is just the price to pray for dating one of the most gorgeous celebrities in the world. Henry looks up at you, a look of defeat on his face, yet he still searches into your eyes. He’s hopeful, unable to give you up.

“Y/N....” 

“I don’t know if I can be with you, Hen,” you cry, tears falling freely. “I believe you. But....this is always bound to happen. You are in the spotlight more than the pope, for fuck’s sake. Girls will always throw themselves onto you.”

“And I’ll always cast them aside,” he adds.

“You’re always followed by the paparazzi...you’re constantly being talked about...this is just not how I want my relationship with someone to be.” 

“We’ll keep things private. I don’t even care about going to these events, anymore.”

You sniffle, the tears growing thicker. Yes, Henry was being truthful, but this whole experience brought to light the ugly side of dating an actor. This isn’t you. You can’t handle this, no matter how much you care about Henry. Denying him the chance to be in the spotlight, to mingle with his fellow celebrities, to experience his career fully...it wasn’t fair for either of you.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter through a sob. You wipe your tears and Henry leans in to kiss you. You pull back, knowing that if you don’t end this now, it will be even harder later on.

“Please don’t do this. I just told you I’m in love with you,” he begs. His tears run down his chiseled face. He doesn’t look like the well composed celebrity right now. He’s just Henry, a humble man whose heart is breaking in front of you...because of you...and you can’t take it.

You head over to the door and open it for him. “I’m in love with you too, Henry. That’s why I need you to leave. This is best for both of us.” You let out another soft cry, and as you open the door wider for you, you say, “Good bye, Henry.”                                               #henry cavill fiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader                  

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

It’s been a loooooong while on this one.

I thought this smut might kill me. This is the problem with smut: I love reading it, writing it almost ends me... hahahah

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

So remember: THERE’S SMUT AHEAD.

Also, here are the lingerie sets mentioned (the add is for one part or the other, but in the pictures you can see the full set): La Perla, Bordelle.

***

Chapter 5

On Saturday, Sansa was ridiculously nervous as she looked for something to wear.

After she got dressed the night before, Vortigern had called his driver and asked him to take Sansa home.

Even as Sansa showered and got ready to sleep, she couldn’t believe that what happened had actually happened.

She sat on her bed for one hour just staring at the wall, trying to convince herself she wasn’t delirious; that Vortigern -her boss -had really fucked her on that damned ebony desk like she’d always dreamed he would.

She could still feel him all over her body, especially between her legs. She knew she wasn’t crazy, she knew it was real and yet…

How the hell was it even possible?

It seemed more like something straight out of her fantasies. She’d never thought that he would even look at her much less…

Anyway, she couldn’t sleep that night. She also couldn’t eat properly in the morning, and now she didn’t know what to wear.

This was shaping up to be a great disaster.

Vortigern had said they needed to talk and she supposed he was correct. Sansa didn’t know exactly what he planned on saying to her, so it was difficult to decide on what to wear. 

Should she dress as if it was a date? Maybe a bit sexier -like a naughty secretary? Perhaps he wanted to tell her this was all a big mistake, so she should dress more modestly?

Sansa took a deep breath in and tried to calm herself. Whatever was going to happen, they really needed to talk first, so she had to keep that in mind.

The devil on her shoulder told her to wear her best lingerie set, and Sansa succumbed all too easily to its voice. She didn’t have a lot of expensive lingerie, but Marge had gifted her a set from La Perla on her birthday two years ago. It was so pretty -and expensive -that Sansa had hardly ever worn it.

The lingerie made her feel braver somehow, and on top of it she put a simple summer dress. It was delicate, modest without being prudish and it looked really nice on her. It was something she’d wear normally, so she didn’t feel as though she was trying too hard.

She called an Uber and during the ride tried to come up with answers to all possible scenarios.

If Mr. Pendragon said this was a mistake, she’d politely agree and change jobs. Perhaps move to another country.

If he said it wasn’t a mistake, but it couldn’t happen again, she’d just change jobs. Maybe cities too, but not the country.

And if he said they should do it again…

She’d have no pride and just jump on his bed.

What was wrong with her?

Sansa had never been like this for any man. Ever!

Even when she was young and believed herself to be completely in love with Joffrey, she’d never felt this giddy feeling, this crushing anxiety, or this desire to please someone.

When she fawned over Joffrey, it was different. She wanted him to love her -at first -, later she just didn’t want him to get angry and be cruel to her.

Sansa might want to please her boss, but it was for a completely different reason. Every time he complimented her, a warm feeling took over her. It was really weird. It was as if, the sex was already great, but when he went on and said she was good, it just became that much better.

Maybe he was just a better lover than the others she’d had. It wasn’t like Sansa had that much experience anyway.

When the car dropped her off in front of Mr. Pendragon’s building, Sansa took a deep breath in and prepared herself to be mature about this whole thing.

As much as fantasies and daydreams were nice, and as much as she’d kept saying she’d change jobs, reality was a whole other business. She couldn’t actually predict what Mr. Pendragon was going to tell her once they started talking.

She also couldn’t predict how she’d really react.

As soon as she’d stepped in, she was directed to the private lift and told that Mr. Pendragon was waiting for her.

Sansa took one last breath in, before pressing the only button there.

Vortigern’s apartment consisted of the last two floors of the building, and it was like nothing Sansa had ever seen in her life. She’d been there very few times, but she was very impressed by it all the same. Vortigern’s taste was quite minimalist, with dark colors and just a rare splash of color. Even the paintings around the house tended to be abstract pieces, with more dark colors in it.

Sansa was wondering if he’d be waiting for her in his office, when the lift’s doors opened and she came face to face with him.

“Mr. Pendragon!”

“Miss Stark.” He nodded at her, seemingly quite serious. “Good to see you.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” She stepped out of the lift, her eyes looking around. “Is Catia…”

“She went out with a friend.” Vortigern was quick to assure her. “So we can talk privately.”

Sansa just nodded and followed him to his office in the house. At least this one didn’t have an ebony desk…

Almost by reflex, Sansa started walking towards his desk, only to see he was going towards the sofa. She hurried after him.

Vortigern sat down on the sofa and indicated the armchair for her, so Sansa sat down.

“Are you nervous, Sansa?” He asked once they were both somewhat comfortable.

“Yes.” She answered immediately. “I’m trying not to…”

Vortigern made a gesture for her to continue when it became clear she wouldn’t.

“I’m just confused.” She finally admitted.

He nodded his understanding. “I figured you’d be.” He gave her a long look. “Sansa, when I spoke to you after the wedding, I meant every word I said and I had no intention of letting anything happen between us. As I said then, I don’t chase after my younger employees.”

Sansa wanted to say she believed him, but it was quite clear she was supposed to just listen for now.

“I didn’t plan on what happened yesterday, but it’s become quite clear to me that I have a hard time resisting you.”

Some of her bewilderment must have shown on Sansa’s face, because Vortigern smirked. “What?” He wanted to know.

“I… I mean, I wasn’t doing anything…”

He chuckled. “I know, Sansa. I can spot a woman trying too hard from a mile away, and I know you weren’t flirting with me.”

“Good.” Sansa sighed. “I respect you a lot, Mr. Pendragon. I’d never want you to think that I was just trying to play 50 shades with you.”

Vortigern snorted. “I know. And we already had this conversation: I’m not Christian Grey.”

“Well, if you were we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Vortigern arched an eyebrow. “Because it would be easier to walk away?”

“What happened yesterday wouldn’t have happened if you gave me a NDA and a slap to the butt.”

He was amused. “I don’t feel the need to have NDAs. I trust you. If I didn’t you wouldn’t work for me and I certainly wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“So…” Sansa dragged the word a bit. “What now?”

“There might not be a NDA, but we do need to talk about how things will be from now on.”

Sansa just nodded.

“You know I don’t date and I’m not starting now. I’m not saying this is what you want.” He assured her. “I don’t see myself as that big of a prize that you could only be thinking of dating me. However, since Elsa died, I hadn’t felt the desire to be with someone long term again. That means that, if we do this, it’d be casual.”

“Wait.” Sansa asked. “So you’re saying we can…” She made a vague gesture between them.

“Fuck?” Vortigern suggested, his face so completely emotionless that Sansa knew he was messing with her.

“Yes.” She replied dryly. “As long as it’s casual…”

“Exactly. As I said, I’m having a hard time resisting you, and I do trust you and your discretion, so…”

“But even without a NDA there would be rules.” She guessed.

“Yes, because those are important. I have mine and you can have yours, of course.”

“What are yours?”

“This goes without saying, but this is between us. That means that there will be no pictures, Facebook status, family dinners… Which brings me to something really important: Catia can never know.”

Sansa agreed easily. She really didn’t want to think about Caita knowing about this.

“At work, this won’t ever be mentioned. I know I started what happened yesterday, but it can’t happen again. In the office, we’ll remain professional. No conversations about this, no kisses…”

Well, there went her fantasy about being bent over the desk, but she knew it was for the best.

“We’ll have dates, places to meet, but we’ll always discuss time and place beforehand. No surprises.”

Sansa nodded again.

Vortigern gave her a curious look. “You don’t want to call me ‘daddy’, do you?”

“No!” Sansa gasped. “I’m not into this.”

“Good.” He did look a bit relieved. “As I said before, I’m not interested in BDSM, but I do like getting my own way, so I might get bossy.”

Sansa cleared her throat. “I enjoyed that.”

“Oh, I know you did.” His smirk became wolfish. “And I also noticed you like being told you’re a good girl, and I have no problems with that. I just wanted to make clear I won’t be tying you up to the bed anytime soon.”

“Well, that’s actually good.” Sansa cleared her throat. “That’s one of my rules: no tying me up, no blindfolds and…” She licked her lower lip. “Just don’t be too rough.”

Vortigern stared at her in silence, his eyes digging into her soul. Sansa feared he’d see the truth if he looked too closely, that he’d understand what she was scared of.

But, in the end, he just nodded. “Okay.”

“And I’m not looking for a sugar daddy.” She added. “I don’t want you giving me money or very expensive presents.”

“That might be a problem.” He hummed.

“Why?”

“Because I want to shower you with expensive lingerie.” He told her simply.

“Hm…” Sansa bit her lower lip. “Define ‘shower’.”

Arthur arched an eyebrow, then pointed to the side of her armchair. Sansa hadn’t noticed the bag on the floor when she sat down (probably because she was nervous), but once she picked it up, she saw it had ‘Bordelle’ written in it.

As in, the really expensive lingerie brand. That ‘Bordelle’.

“Is this…”

“For you. Yes.”

“You were really confident on how this was going.” She pointed out.

“I prefer to think I was hopeful. Open it.”

Sansa didn’t want to! The box was already gorgeous! The bras from that place cost over 300 pounds!

But she was curious, so she opened the box.

He’d bought her a full set: bra, thong, suspender belt… It was the whole thing. Sansa was pretty sure this was from the new collection and it was on one of her favorite colors from it -tundra.

“I can’t.” She spoke softly.

“You can.” Vortigern insisted. “Think of it as… Something I’m doing for myself. So it’s not a present for you, it’s something to please myself.”

Sansa snorted. “Yes, of course.” She bit her lower lip. She’d really liked it. “Just lingerie?”

“You’ll fight me if I say I want to buy more than that, won’t you?”

“Yes. Especially if all you want to buy me is this expensive.”

He sighed. “Fine. No shoes and jewelry then.” He said nonchalantly, but Sansa could see he was fishing for a reaction.

“Exactly.” She said firmly.

If he started buying her a lot of expensive stuff she’d feel way too much like a sugar baby and it wasn’t why she was doing this -even though she was curious to know what shoes he had in mind.

“Perfume?” He pushed.

“No. Only lingerie.”

He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Stark. But I accept it.”

“Okay… That’s all I can think about.” She finally said.

“You can always talk to me if something else comes up.” Vortigern pointed out. “Today isn’t the only day we have to discuss this. Whatever happens you can always talk to me. I’m too old for games and to guess, so just come to me with your complaints.”

Sansa grinned at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. And when you don’t want to do this anymore, just tell me. Okay?”

“Of course. And about your job…”

“Can we cross that bridge when we get to it?” Sansa asked. “I don’t want to think about practical things now.”

He was once again amused. “Right. What do you want to think about now?”

Sansa put the box carefully on the ground and stood up. Her hands went to the first button on her dress. “Is this alright, Mr. Pendragon?”

Vortigern rested his elbow on the sofa’s armrest, and out his chin on his palm. “Yes, Miss Stark. But do it slowly.”

Sansa was trembling, but it wasn’t out of fear. She was nervous, but it was because this didn’t normally happen to her.

Later she’d have to think long and hard about this stupid decision she’d just taken, but for now?

She opened the buttons slowly, then pushed the sleeves off her shoulders, until they were free and she could push the rest of the dress down her body.

Vortigern’s eyes took every inch of her, a smirk pulling at his lips once he noticed her lingerie. “You’re full of surprises, Miss Stark.” He commented, before making a gesture for her to come closer.

Sansa approached him, unsure of what to do next, until he grabbed her hand and gave a slight pull.

She understood what he was after, so she straddled him, chest to chest.

Vortigern put his hands on her waist. “You enjoy it when I call you ‘Miss Stark’, you like knowing you’re a good girl and you love my fingers…” He teased. “But what else do you like?”

“I…” Sansa cleared her throat, feeling herself blushing. “I don’t have that much experience.” She confessed. “So… I like kissing, and being touched.”

Vortigern nodded, seeming reflexive. “Do you like being kissed between your legs?”

“Well…” Now she was feeling really embarrassed, because she couldn’t believe she was about to tell him this, but… “I’ve never… Never tried that one.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Never.”

“We can’t have that.” He decided.

He moved Sansa from his lap to the sofa next to him. Sansa was going to ask him if there was a problem, but when slid to the ground and knelt in front of her, Sansa realised that he really intended to…

“Really?” She asked, in shock.

He pulled at his tie. “I insist.” His hands went to her knickers. “And as much as I liked this color on you, we need to get these off.”

Sansa watched transfixed as he pulled them down her legs. She raised her butt from the sofa to help him along.

Once that was out of the way -he even threw the piece of clothing over his shoulder - Vortigern pushed her legs wide open.

Sansa felt embarrassed but at least he was looking into her eyes. If he were looking at her cunt, she’d probably die of shame.

“We haven’t done this properly before, and I never had much chance to really appreciate how beautiful you are.” He said as his thumbs drew circles on her knees. “Today, we have a lot of time. Keep that in mind.”

Sansa nodded eagerly.

Vortigern grabbed her legs and yanked her body, making Sansa squeal -and blush.

He chuckled. “Put that pillow behind your back so you’re more comfortable.” He indicated, and Sansa complied.

Her ass was on the edge of the sofa, her cunt right in front of his face.

Vortigern started kissing the inside of her left thigh. Soft kisses, making his way up. By the time he reached halfway, the kisses turned into gentle bites.

Sansa couldn’t take her eyes from him.

He threw one of her legs over her shoulder and she felt his breath on her cunt. His tongue gave a teasing lick at her clit and she let out a small gasp of surprise.

Then he started putting some work into it.

Sansa hadn’t known exactly what to expect from this -she’d read about it, but had never felt it. It was ridiculously hot to see him with his head between her legs and feel his tongue playing with her so.

From the long slow licks, to the hint of his teeth occasionally, everything he did to her, made her feel like she was about to fly off that sofa.

When he pushed her leg higher up, Sansa couldn’t even think about the embarrassing position anymore, because he was fucking her with his fingers, sucking on her clit. And she came so hard, she thought she was about to die.

He gentled her down with slower licks, soft kiss, until he finally pulled his fingers away. He didn’t even have time to move, before Sansa launched herself forward and kissed his lips, still wet from her.

Vortigern bit her lower lip and pulled back. “Good work, Miss Stark.” He got up, took off his jacket. “Now turn around.”

Her legs were still shaking, but she did what he asked, kneeling on the sofa, hands on the backrest.

She heard clothes rustling, the sound of a wrapper being opened. After what seemed like an eternity, he kneeled behind her, his hands caressed her back, then opened the claps of her bra.

He helped her take it completely off, then kissed her shoulder blade, her neck, the spot below her ear. “Hold on tight.”

He put his hands on her waist and positioned himself. At first, he pushed his cock in slowly, then just shoved the rest of the way in.

“Oh my…” Sansa grabbed harder on the backrest.

He pushed her hair over her left shoulder. “Too rough?” He asked by her ear.

“No.” She tried to catch her breath. “Just perfect.”

His hands caressed her ribs, teased the underside of her breasts. “”You’re remarkably good, Miss Stark.” He whispered to her, biting her ear gently. “Really good.”

Then he fucked her.

It was as if his hands were all over her at the same time; she could feel his fingers on her hips, her belly, her breasts, her neck. But more than anything, she could feel him inside her, hot and hard and so good.

He did fuck her hard, but it was just enough, just right as he said how good she was, so sweet, so beautiful.

The moment built inside her, and part of her wished it’d last forever, even as she was desperate to come.

Then, Vortigern grabbed one of her hands and took it to her clit, made her play with herself the way he wanted her to do it. It was all too much.

She came and she screamed and held on as he fucked her through it, until he was grabbing her harder and following after.

He held her while they both recovered their breath, and Sansa was pretty sure she could hear his heart beating.

Vortigern dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Wait a minute.” He asked.

He lowered her to the sofa, then picked his jacket up and covered her with it. He moved out of sight for a minute -Sansa figured it was to take care of the condom -then came back. He moved her so he could sit and pull her to his lap to cuddle.

“You’re the king of after-sex cuddling.” She commented, her voice soft and sleepy.

Vortigern snorted. “I just fucked your brains out, Miss Stark. And seeing you were so good about it, the least I can do is hold you.”

She liked his logic.

[breanime]

Quality (Part Two)

Request by @kind-wolf:  Ask for requests and you shall receive! 😉 I would absolutely love a sequel to "Quality". Like maybe the next time they're overseas and about to go home, Billy’s again nervous because this time he wants to ask the big question 💍 Idk. I just thought about that immediately after I read the story back then. If you're not inspired and can't write it, that's ok too! ILY ❤ Also: Your new ink is great! 😍

Thanks for the request, sweetheart! And thank you--I love my tattoos!

*gif not mine*

“You put in your PTO?” Billy asked you, smiling as he leaned closer to the computer screen.

You smiled back, and Billy wished he was with you, wished he could feel that smile against his own. “Yup,” you answered, “as requested, even though you still haven’t told me what you’re planning.”

“You’ll see,” he said back, “Five more days, and you’ll see.”

He and Frank were coming off of another tour and were currently in France awaiting their flight back to the States. As much as he liked being a soldier—a Lieutenant now—Billy really enjoyed this in-between time. He wanted to go home to you, of course, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard. He always felt a little off when he came home from active duty, like he needed to practice being a civilian again, and he felt guilty as hell bringing his shit home to you. So, he appreciated the time between active duty and going home, liked that he was able to talk to you and have time to come down from soldier mode before he got to you. Especially now. It was almost insane to him, thinking about two years ago when he wasn’t even sure if you’d be at the airport to now; living with you, telling you he loved you, being loved in return… It was a crazy turn of events—the best kind of crazy.

Which is why he bought a ring in Paris.

“Usually, when you get home,” you said with a smirk, “We don’t leave the apartment for the first few days…”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” Billy assured you, “But I’m gonna take you out, too. Show you off.” Get down on one knee and ask you to be with me for the rest of our lives. “You get that package that I sent you?”

“The one with 300 American dollars stapled to the teddy bear?” You asked back, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I did. I told you about sending me money—”

“Yeah, yeah. But this is a part of my plans,” he said, “I want you to get your hair and nails done, okay baby? And buy something pretty and lacy that I can tear off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “I don’t get why you like to spend money on lingerie when you just ruin it the first time you see it.”

Billy grinned wolfishly. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about your body pressed against his, your mouth on his, the way you sighed and moaned when he was touching you, inside you…the look on your face—devilish and scandalized—when he tore off your lingerie, devouring you with his eyes and hands and mouth. “Ruining it is kind of the point,” he answered.

The two of you talked for a little while longer, alternatively flirting and discussing your plans and making arrangements for his arrival, before Billy had to go. Your “I love you” rang in his ears long after you’d hung up, and while he knew your words were true, he also hoped you loved him at least half as much as he loved you. He hoped you’d say yes.

“What if she doesn’t say yes?” He asked hours later. He, Frank, and Curtis were in the hotel bar, having a few well-earned drinks before they had to head to the airport and hop another plane. Neither of them was drunk—the hooch in Afghanistan was way stronger than anything he’d get in France or the U.S—but it was nice to sit and drink like regular guys.

“She’s gonna say yes,” Frank said, not missing a beat. He and Billy had this conversation at least once a week since the thought of proposing popped in Billy’s head…over a year ago.

“Y/N is absolutely crazy about you, Russo,” Curtis added, “She’s definitely going to say yes.”

“Yeah, but…” Billy rotated his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood. “But what if she doesn’t?”

“In what world would that happen, Bill?” Frank asked, leaning back in his seat.

“It’s possible…”

“Show us the ring again,” Curtis prompted.

Billy took the black, velvet box out of his pocket and popped it open. The diamonds glittered in the light, shining almost as brightly as your smile. That was why he chose it; it glittered like your smile, it gleamed like your pretty eyes, it was almost as beautiful as you. Almost.

“Oh yeah,” Curtis said confidently, “She’s gonna say yes.”

“Hell, give me a rock like that, and I’ll say yes.” Frank added, eyes wide even though he’d probably seen the damn thing nearly every day in the last few weeks as Billy’s nerves grew worse.

Billy laughed back, tucking the ring back into his pocket where it was safe and secure. “That’s why you’re my back-up, Frankie. If things don’t work out with Y/N, I’ll just marry you and make Curt my side chick.”

“I’ll be expecting a ring, too,” Curtis said, “And a candy thong.”

“Well now I want to have Curtis for my side chick, too,” Frank mused.

Billy laughed again, letting his friends distract him with their nonsense. In five days, he’d be back with you, and he would take you out and romance you, get down on one knee, and ask the only woman he ever loved to spend the rest of her life with him…

…or he’d just keep the ring in his pocket until you were both old and grey. He still wasn’t sure.

As the days approached, and Billy got closer and closer to New York, he wrestled with the idea of proposing. Originally, when he’d come to the conclusion that he wanted to marry you, he’d pictured himself taking you out to a nice dinner and giving you a big speech before he asked. Then he thought about doing it at home, in case you said no, so he could nurse his wounded pride in private, but that thought depressed him, so he tried not to dwell on that. He thought about doing it at Frank’s place; Maria always had a nice barbeque with family and close friends a few weeks after they got home, but the thought of you rejecting him there, in front of the only people he cared about, was way too terrifying for Billy. The thought of you rejecting him was too terrifying. But Billy was a pessimist at heart, and he couldn’t think about proposing without thinking about the worst-case scenario. It was almost enough to keep him from proposing at all, except… the best-case scenario—you saying yes, becoming his wife, becoming Mrs. Russo and maybe one day even bearing his children—God, that simple possibility was so damn appealing, he had to chance it.

He needed you.

He sat next to the window on the plane back to New York, staring out at the clouds and thinking of you. Frank was next to him, knocked out with his head on Billy’s shoulder, and Curtis was in the aisle across from them, reading a book and listening to music. Billy had his headphones in, too, but he wasn’t listening to music. He was listening to voicemails.

“So,” your voice was clear, “Remember how I was bragging about you to Gavin because his boyfriend’s a model and he’s always insufferable about it? I showed him a picture of you—and I probably shouldn’t have, but he needed to know! Like, his boyfriend looks like an uncooked noodle with a whole tomato for lips, or like, like that monster from Monsters Inc—have you seen that movie? Did they let you watch movies during your sad childhood?” Billy chuckled to himself as he listened. You had found a way to hook his cell to his email and had gotten into the habit of leaving him rambling voicemails on days you weren’t able to talk. He saved them all on his phone, his email, and a separate USB, and listened to them religiously. “Anyway,” you went on, “Remember the week before you deployed? And we went to the wine and canvas and you kept being unnecessarily sexy and whispering all those dirty things to me while I was painting? Of course you do, you pervert. Remember how I got all obsessed with painting and we bought a bunch of supplies and took them home because I, after one session at a wine and canvas where we painted a sunset and I turned it into a horror movie scene, was a natural expert? And we brought all those canvases and paint and wine and tried to paint each other? Well, I showed him the picture of you after we got into that red paint-blue paint fight, you know the one where you were shirtless, and had my hand prints all over your chest and your hair was all messy and you were smirking at me and you looked so hot? Yeah, I showed Gavin that one.” The smile was evident in your voice. “Man, that was a good night. I don’t think my legs stopped shaking for hours after… Anyway—Gavin agrees that you’re way hotter than his boyfriend, and has asked if he can borrow you for a night. I declined on your behalf. Mama don’t share.”

The next one played immediately after. Billy loved this one, your voice was soft and sleepy, and he always imagined you in bed, wearing one of his shirts hanging off of your shoulder, no pants. He loved you like that, soft and sweet, a picture that was for him only. He closed his eyes as he listened, imagining you in real time talking right into his ear. “I miss you, baby. I went to that café you like, the one with all the paintings of professional, artsy cats wearing people clothes, and it made me miss you more than usual. I love you. I know you’re doing good work, and I’m proud of you, but I miss you. Do you remember when we went to Miami and ended up doing it in an alley behind the club?” You laughed, a musical sound that Billy wanted to hear for the rest of his life. “My knees were so scrapped up after that.” You sighed. “I miss you so much, baby. I dreamt of you this morning. I love you, and I hope you’re safe. Talk to you later.”

The next message was short, but it was exactly what Billy needed to hear. “My mom called asking about you again,” your voice sounded irritated, “She went on and on about how it wasn’t fair for me to wait on someone who was thousand of miles away, and how you were ‘a nice enough man’, but you’re gonna hurt me and blah blah blah… I tried to ignore it, and I even tried to tell her about your idea for the security business, and how you, Frank, and Curtis were going to partner up and stuff, but she just… Ugh,” you sighed, “She was just committed to being negative, and…” Another sigh. “She just doesn’t get it. I mean, she married my dad when she was 17 because she got pregnant, and when he left, he took all her notions of love with him, and… I mean, I get it. I felt that way too, you know? Like love was a lie, a waste, a weakness, but… Then I met you. And the way you make me feel, Billy… I know love is real. I know you love me, and I love you. And yeah, this… This is hard, loving you and being away from you, not being able to talk to you for days at a time, worrying about you… It’s so incredibly hard, Billy…” There was a pause. “But you know what? It’s worth it. You’re worth it. And if I had to do this for the rest of my life, waiting for you to come home, talking to your voicemail until you got a chance to write me a letter or send me an email or whatever… I would do it. Because I’d do anything to be with you. Anything. And I’m sure Mom’s gonna bitch for a while longer, but she’ll see. You mean everything to me, Billy…” There was a brief pause, and the sound of cloth shuffling. “That’s Mom on the other line. Talk to you later, baby.”

Billy opened his eyes as the next message (you updating him on your latest TV obsession Love After Lockup), and stared at the clouds. You loved him so much. You were willing to go against your mother just to wait around for him. After that day, when he’d called you back, you cried on the phone with him, and he’d tried his best to soothe you, wishing he could hold you in his arms and kiss your tears away. After he’d gotten off of the phone with you, Billy had called your mom, and a few weeks after that, he called her again and asked her for her blessing to propose. She’d given him her blessing and promised not to ruin the surprise, and Billy had sent her a picture of the ring when he bought it. She called him crying, overjoyed, and called him “son-in-law”. Thinking back on that, and your voicemail saying how much you loved him, Billy knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and slept for the rest of the flight.

Billy, as always, walked a few feet behind Frank and Curtis as they walked off the plane and into the lobby. And, as always, Maria and the kids tackled him in hugs; crying and laughing. Curt’s brothers were there, and they greeted him with hugs and laughs as well. There was a small crowd watching from the sidelines, cheering as the vets reunited with their families. Billy frowned; he hated having an audience like that, it made him feel like an animal in a zoo.

“Billy!”

The sound of your voice muted everything around him; the laughing and crying and cheering all melted away. The people melted away, the crowd and his brothers alike. All there was, all that mattered, was you. You launched yourself into his arms, and Billy held onto you tight, taking in your sweet scent, the concrete feel of you against him, the sound of your laughter and heavy breathing as you said his name over and over. No matter how many times he did this, he would never get tired of this moment, the reunion. He pulled back and kissed you, an act that he knew he’d be able to do for the rest of his life. Your eyes were still closed, and he reached out and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. You opened your eyes, and he wanted to drown in them, wanted to wake up and go to sleep to those eyes staring at him until the day he died. He never wanted anything more in his life—and Billy had spent almost his entire existence wanting and coveting and desiring, so that was saying a lot. Now he knew, all that time wishing and wanting, he’d been wishing for you. And now you were here: his dream come true. He stepped back from you, eyes focused on you and you only…

…and dropped down to one knee.

Your mouth fell open, and he could see tears shimmering in your gorgeous eyes. His vision spread, he could see Frank, kneeling on the ground, arms around his kids, grinning widely as Maria stood behind him, practically jumping up and down. Curtis had his phone out, getting it all on video. The crowd was still on the edge of his peripheral, but you were the center of his attention. Billy reached out and took your hand in his; your hands were soft, recently manicured like he’d asked, and his brain supplied an image of your hand with his ring on it. He had to make that happen.

“Y/N,” he said, taking a steadying breath as he took out the ring, opening it and feeling his heart race as your eyes widened at the ring, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

That was all he needed to hear. Billy jumped up and crushed you to his chest, kissing the side of your neck. His heart was pounding. He heard shouts and cheers and clapping, and normally, he’d be embarrassed and probably irritated at the attention, but right now all he could feel was relief. You said yes. You were going to marry him. You were going to be his wife.

You pulled back and kissed him, long and hard and slow, and Billy wanted to rip your clothes off and take you then and there. In fact, he wanted you wearing nothing but his ring for at least the next 72 hours. That in mind, Billy, grinning from ear to ear, slid the ring on your waiting finger, kissing your face as he did so.

“I was so nervous,” he whispered against your lips, still smiling.

You were engulfed in a huge group hug before you could respond, Maria, Curtis, Frank and the kids wrapping you in their arms and giving congratulations and “I knew it”s all around. As you all walked out of the airport, hand in Billy’s, ring proudly displayed on your pretty finger, he felt, for the first time in his life, like he was a complete man.

He bent his head so that his mouth was by your ear. “You’re really gonna need your time off now,” he whispered.

You grinned up at him. “Don’t I always?” You put your hand up, admiring the ring. “I can’t believe I’m going to be Mrs. Billy Russo.”

Billy glanced over at Frank, who shot him a proud smile. He turned back to you, his fiancé, his future wife, and saw his entire future standing next to him. “Well, you know,” he shrugged, smiling, “quality over quantity, baby.”

*******************************************************************************************

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! 

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[prairiesongserial]

11.10

Friday continued to flirt with Emile the rest of the way to shore. She didn’t ask any more questions, even though the need to know what had happened to Adams, or what Adams had done - something so bad that his own colleagues wouldn’t even talk about it - burned right on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t about to test her luck again.

The rowboat rounded a rocky outcropping which boasted the biggest of the old world mansions. Friday got a good look at it as they passed; it was black stone, unlike the other buildings inland, and Friday thought it had the sort of grace of an aging matriarch. Emile pulled up to a small pier jutting out from the side of the rock. The pier hadn’t been visible from the rest of Everglades City, tucked away on the far side of the outcropping, and was empty of any other boats at the moment. Emile started to tie the rowboat to a post.

Friday couldn’t quite help herself. Emile had bounced back, cheerful and slimy, as long as she stuck to the topic of how strong and handsome he was, and now that they had arrived, it was time to push her luck a bit.

“Is it true that the water around here is dangerous, Emile?” she asked as he helped her out of the boat.

“Who told you that?” Emile said.

Val climbed out of the rowboat by reaching up for Friday’s hand instead of Emile’s - not that Emile had offered to help him. He stood half in front of Friday, staring down at Emile expressionlessly.

Friday wasn’t a snitch, and she got the feeling from Emile’s icy look that the dangerous water was another off the table topic. She couldn’t single out the old fisherman, not when she didn’t know what the consequences would be. Far as she knew, Everglades City might run itself like Macomber’s gang in Outpost.

“Johannes,” Friday said smoothly.

Emile paused, as if trying to figure out who she meant.

“The ringmaster of the circus,” Friday said. “He said it wasn’t safe to go in the water. Is that true?”

Emile looked past her, dead silent. Friday hadn’t paid much attention to the lay of the land around the pier, but she followed his gaze now. Another ring of water circled the mansion, despite the outcropping it was built upon already being surrounded by water on three sides. Extra security, Friday supposed. Though from what?

Emile started to untie the boat.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “None more so than any other water you’re likely to find.” Emile dropped the rope into his boat and got himself seated, ready to pick up the oars.

Friday suddenly got a sinking feeling.

“How do we get back to the...to downtown?” Friday gestured across the water.

Emile relaxed his posture for a moment, looking not at the mansion behind her and Val, but right at Friday.

“There’s another pier a quarter mile down the road from the courthouse. Can’t miss it. Borrow a boat.” Emile picked up the oars and dipped them in the water. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but turned away, letting the opportunity pass.

Friday frowned at him as he pulled the boat farther away. She had been faking her concern, mostly, over Cody and Adams and this whole strange city. Sure, there had been a mystery to solve, but she had kind of thought she and Val would find out that Adams had moved to a new town or had felt like a change in career - maybe become a cobbler, or something. More and more, though, Friday felt a coldness creeping over her. She looked back up at the mansion with its gaping black windows and dusty black stone.

“Is that where Cody’s working, do you think?” she asked Val.

He didn’t hear her. Val was pacing a little ways down the pier. Friday approached him.

“You are not going to knock on the front door of the Bellamy mansion,” Val told her, before she’d had the chance to say anything. “You’ve been pressing your luck so far, and you’re not taking it any farther. It’s like you - everyone is just pretending we don’t have massive bounties on our heads!” Val was talking more quickly, his pacing abrupt and anxious. “We don’t know who put the bounties out on us, other than someone at Hemisphere, and this is a Hemisphere town. And not like Vegas was! No gang in Vegas had the kind of money and power these people have. And you just gave your real name to that guy - ”

“You’re right,” Friday said calmly. “You’re right. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Val stopped pacing long enough to puzzle over her. Friday was staggered by the unexpected weight of hurt feelings. She and Val had gone through the paces of this argument, or one like it, a dozen times before. The last time had been New Orleans, the time before that, who knew? It all blurred together. The woods in Colorado where they’d holed up in the church until dawn? Or Macomber? She should have been happy to see Val fired up, back to his normal self. That was the whole reason she had brought him out here.

“I…” she began, and tensed in embarrassment as she realized she was going to cry. She had been teasing Val by flirting - literally flirting - with danger. Of course he was going to react. This was what she had wanted. This was the pattern. Friday swallowed. She had always liked the pattern. Like a question and an answer, the pattern just made sense.

“No, wait,” Val said. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge.” He paused, and looked away. “This whole circus thing.”

“It’s over the fucking top,” Friday said, laughing sharply, and ignoring the fact her eyes were leaking, as if that would prevent Val from noticing.

Friday wanted to say she didn’t like travelling with so many people either. That she missed when it was just him and her sharing a bike. Val had so much more to worry about than she did, having just left his convent - his family - behind, that she couldn’t bring herself to say something so childish: that she missed having someone to hold on to as the bike rumbled down the road.

“What if I break into the courthouse?” Val asked.

His eyes held hers in that sometimes unsettlingly brilliant, mutant way.

“You...what?” Friday said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Val shrugged. He started walking down the pier, toward land. Friday was so startled that whatever foreign feeling that had brought her nearly to tears was gone now, and she hoped it stayed that way. She hurried after Val.

“Why, though, Val, because - why?” Friday asked.

“I just think I’m going to break into the courthouse,” Val said calmly. “Do I need a reason?”

“Yes!” Friday shouted. She had caught up, nearly jogging to keep up with Val’s pace. She caught the corner of his eye - and the odd twinkle in it.

“You’re fucking with me,” she said.

“Am I?” Val asked distractedly. They had reached the end of the pier, and now walked past the Bellamy mansion, down toward the lonely cluster of brick buildings that made up this oddly set-apart section of Everglades City. There were no other residences here. Just the kinds of buildings where business was done - and business of some kind was going on. Friday just wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing.

A swarm of people - Bellamy men, most likely - stood in a half circle near the center of an old, crumbling stone plaza, creating a wall between any onlookers and what looked like an ordinary plaza bustling with activity. Only, the plaza was silent. None of the fifty or so people - not the half circle of Bellamys, and not the thick crowd of richly dressed people they surrounded - said a word.

Val kept walking, as if he didn’t even notice. He wandered ahead of Friday, reading the symbols and signs as he looked for the courthouse. To break into. Friday tore her gaze away from him for a few seconds, and back to the curiosity of the plaza.

The plaza burst into life and noise suddenly, making Friday jump. A small convertible car turned the corner out of nowhere, driving off the road and into the busy plaza. No one was hit - the people there parted like the Red Sea, almost as if they had known the car was coming. The car came to a jolty stop right in front of the arc of Bellamys - none of them had flinched. Friday was close enough that she could see the driver’s face as he stood up in his seat. He wore thick eyeliner, and a black mustache waxed into a curl. In the seat next to him, a bound figure struggled against his ropes, blindfolded and gagged.

Friday started to march through the line of Bellamys - then paused. A Bellamy approached the car, pushing an odd device ahead of her, which leveled with the mustache man’s face. No one seemed alarmed at all. Even the crowd in the plaza were milling about silently, as if bored.

“Your love will never find you where we’re going, Captain,” the mustache man sneered. “And by midnight, it will be too late.”

Friday squinted at the mustache man as he projected his line. This was a play, she realized. Well, sort of. The Bellamys here were probably making one of the moving pictures that the carnies had been so excited about.

Val had wandered back to her at some point, and tapped her arm.

“What is this?” he said, and pointed to the gagged actor. “Is he…”

“He’s fine. It’s like a play,” Friday whispered back.

“Cut!” rang a cry from right next to Friday’s ear.

Friday found herself facing several glares from the Bellamys.

“One more for safety. Without commentary, this time,” snapped the Bellamy right next to Friday. She stood only a few inches taller than Friday, with eye-piercing green hair cut in a severe bob, and mutant irises to match. “Hart, emphasis on midnight, this time. I want this whole sequence filmed before we have Madeline back tomorrow, understand?”

Friday shot the woman an uneasy smile and let Val tug her out of the crowd.

“I think that might have been a moving picture,” she said once the two of them were far enough away from the plaza. Val was back to reading the signs on the buildings. He walked several paces ahead of her, making her hustle to keep up.

“Can you pause for a second?” Friday said. She didn’t have to ask, though. Val had stopped in front of a white stone building held up with columns. A matching stone statue stood at the base of the steps, like a carnival barker announcing a stall’s attraction. The statue was of a blindfolded woman, standing square and proud.

Val’s gaze slid from the statue back to Friday.

“I’m going to figure out what’s true,” Val said. “This courthouse means that crime happens in this city. Just having a courthouse should prove it.” He pointed to the statue of the blindfolded woman, as if accusing her. “There are too many mysteries, and I don’t like it, so I’m solving this one,” Val continued. “I’m going to read files until I’m satisfied there is zero crime, or something is being covered up.”

He paused for breath, and Friday watched as he got himself back under control, his wide gestures becoming square, perfect posture.

“So then at least we’ll know one thing,” he added.

Friday smiled at him. “Well, hold on. You can’t solve the whole mystery yourself. If you’re looking into the no crime thing, I want to look into what that old fisherman was talking about. With people disappearing. I think I’ll go down to the pier Emile mentioned and ask around there, see if anyone saw Adams take a boat.”

Val frowned, then nodded, slowly.

“Emile said the pier was near the courthouse, so why don’t you meet me down there when you’re done?” Friday said. She didn’t say she still thought breaking into the courthouse was a crazy risk, and that she wanted Val to come with her instead - or that the whole point of this outing was supposed to have been Val and her together. Just the fact that Val was interested, not staring off into space, was going to have to be enough for her.

“Okay,” he said.

“And - ” Friday began.

“You be careful,” Val said, anticipating her. “Don’t catch Everglades Madness and take a boat out to sea.”

Friday hadn’t realized she’d been clenching her jaw, but she realized now as she smiled.

“Okay,” she said. “Don’t get caught.”

11.9 || 11.11

[kackmack]

Fake Smile

Rowan x Aelin

Chapter 5

“What?” Aelin didn’t think she heard him right.

“Oh. I just thought since it is morning and you’re off from work. Unless you don’t want to…” Rowan was stumbling nervously over his words as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure but, um, I’m not really dressed,” she said, pointing to her outfit and comparing her large t-shirt to him being in a grey button up and blue jeans. She laughed a bit and said, “Just give me 15 minutes.” She ran to her room down the hall, leaving him in the living room.

Aelin wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t have better clothes on her laundry days. All her jeans and nicer tops were dirty. She gave an outward sigh as she realized the only options were either leaving in what she had on now or putting on a dress.

Trying to reason with herself, Aelin finally settled on a blue sundress. With it being summer, it was the only option that wouldn’t cause her to sweat.

As she looked in the mirror with the dress on, she noticed the bruises on her face and she frowned. She’d have to wear at least a little makeup to distract from the purple marks on her cheek and lip.

….

Rowan walked around her living room with his eyes roaming over the full bookshelves that covered every wall. He realized her apartment looked bigger and homier than it did last night, with a large cushioned couch, a multicolored rug, and a coffee table stacked with even more books.

As he paced he found a small framed picture with four people in it. There was Aelin with a young brown haired man’s arm slung around her shoulder in a casual way as she stared at his face instead of the camera. Beside them was an almost clone of Aelin but male, holding a brunette girl with a huge smile. Although the brunette looked nearly like a model, he couldn’t help but stare at Aelin; she had a huge genuine smile on her face. Rowan tried to think over the past week, with every instance he’d seen her, he had yet to catch a genuine smile from her. Rowan frowned at the thought and put the picture back down when he heard her walking down the hall.

He turned to see her in a sky blue sundress with a boat neckline that pulled in at the waist and flared out to her mid-thigh.  He was stunned to see the color against her tan skin. He trailed up to see her face with a little makeup on and her hair put up in a loose bun.

She looked so stunning that he was at a loss for words.

“So where were you thinking about going?” Aelin said to break the silence.

Rowan cleared his throat as he said, “I saw a nice café on the way here. Would you like to go there?”

“Sure!” she answered as they made their way out of her apartment and walked the few blocks to the café.

….

One week later

“Wait, what do you mean he just left you there? Are you serious?” Lysandra spat.

Aelin had just gone over the events of the last Saturday as they both sat on the couch eating chips. “I honestly don’t even know. We had a nice breakfast, and after that we walked around the park. He looked like he was going to kiss me and then he just snapped and walked off.”

“So weird. Did you offend him?”

“Lys, all we talked about was college and my competitions. I don’t see how I would offend him,” Aelin answered.

“Maybe your breath offended him when he got close.” Lysandra laughed as Aelin tossed a pillow at her face.

Aelin had been going over what happened in her head the whole week. When they had gone to breakfast, he had been nothing but nice, asking about her degree, her favorite classes, her hobbies, any small things. How Rowan had insisted on walking around the park to keep the conversation going well into the afternoon. Talking to him felt easy to Aelin, unlike anything she’d experienced. She found herself wanting to share with him, small things yes,but it was still a huge step, she never wanted to talk to anyone about herself.

After what felt like hours, he had gotten close and put a hand on her waist. She then placed a hand on his cheek as they looked at each other’s eyes hooded with hunger. She let her fingertips trail his jawline and run down his neck over his tattoo when suddenly his expression darkened and he snatched her hand away from his neck “No, we can’t do this!” and stormed off, leaving her shocked in the middle of the park.

It served Aelin right for thinking she could get close to someone again.

“Did he at least call you to apologize or explain?” Lysandra asked, calming down from her laughter at her earlier joke.

“Nope. I haven’t heard from him all week. I honestly doubt I’ll ever see him again,” Aelin trailed off, looking at the hem of her shirt. “Which I can’t say is a bad thing. It’s for the best. I didn’t like him anyways,” Aelin lied.

Lysandra raised an eyebrow and said sarcastically, “Yeah, sure, Aelin, you totally don’t sound hurt by it.” And another pillow came flying at her face. “We really need to find a date for you to take to the wedding. It’s coming in a few weeks, and I’m not having my maid of honor dateless,” she whined.

Aelin frowned at that and said, “I don’t think I should be dating; I don’t think I can deal with anyone else’s bullshit when I can’t even deal with my own.” Lysandra opened her mouth to say something but Aelin cut her off, “Plus, I’ll take Dorian. He loves parties. I’m sure he’ll make things even more fun, and we can get drunk.” Aelin winked and they both laughed.

“Oh, come on, Aelin, at least let me set you up with my coworker Archer,” Lysandra said, and Aelin rolled her eyes in response. Lysandra had been trying to get Aelin to meet Archer for months, but Aelin had blamed it on scheduling or her getting over Chaol to get Lysandra off her back.

“Um, no, Lys. You once called him a male hooker because of the girls he flirts with,” Aelin said, remembering a conversation they had almost a year ago when Lysandra had gone on a rant about every coworker she had.

….

“Pay attention Rowan!” Lorcan roared, snapping in front of Rowan’s face. Rowan had realized it was the third time he zoned out during the meeting in the conference room. He had been thinking about the same thing all week, pulling himself a little deeper in embarrassment and guilt every day. Rowan balled up his fist under the table to keep from punching Lorcan in the face for pointing it out again. It seemed Rowan found it harder and harder to suppress his anger by the day.

He had avoided calling her to apologize to her. Even though every nerve in his body told him to contact her, he told himself he wanted nothing to do with her, that he didn’t care what happened to her or what she thought. He lied to himself, trying to make this insufferable feeling go away.

Rowan knew why she had leaned in to kiss him. He had given her every reason to: asking her out, talking to her for hours, letting himself show his lust in his eyes, but when she touched the tattoo, when he felt her fingertips on the words of Lyria, he couldn’t take it, couldn’t take having someone else touch him the way Lyria did. Even though Rowan lost his wife five years ago, he still had this seething, constant pain in his soul. Everywhere he went, every day, he never forgot the woman who held his heart and would forever hold his heart even in death.

He knew he needed to get his mind off this so he went to the only place that always had him forgetting his own name, the army base where his old colleagues still had been stationed. He knew one training session with them would make him forget about his outburst at the girl who had done nothing wrong.  

 After work, Rowan went straight to the base to train with the new recruits. For hours on end, he did all the obstacles, sparred with three of them and ran two miles. None of the young men could keep up, which made the sergeant pissed off enough to make them do more and more. Rowan didn’t feel bad at all for them because he had been in the same place 10 years ago.

Even being exhausted out of his mind, drenched in sweat, and barely able to walk out of the base on his own two feet, he still couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t stop thinking about Aelin. It seemed like the training he did during the day had done nothing but make it more clear he needed to talk to her, when his intentions were the opposite.  

Before he knew what he was doing, he was on the other side of town, driving down the street he hadn’t seen in a week but knew by heart now. With it being two in the morning, he really had no idea what he was doing. He knew she probably didn’t want to see him. He wouldn’t if he were her. But still, he decided to see her anyways.

Parking the car, he picked up his phone and dialed her phone number. Doubting she would even answer, he told himself he would let it ring three times before giving up and going home.

It rang once.

She’s probably asleep.

It rang twice.

She won’t want to see me. 

On the third ring, Rowan was about to hang up when he heard her voice.

“Hello,” Aelin’s voice was raspy as if he had just woken her up.

Shit. He didn’t know what to say.

“Hello, Rowan?” she said, her voice still laced with sleep.

“Can I come over?” he said, his voice coming out a lot deeper than he meant it to be.

“Why? It’s late.” She sounded unsure.

“We need to talk,” Rowan spoke fast as if preparing himself for rejection.

“Um, sure, I guess, Rowan. What time?”

“Now. I’ll be up in two minutes.”

….

When Aelin woke up to her phone ringing, she thought it was a wrong number, but when she flipped her phone to see Rowan’s name, her stomach completely dropped. She told herself to ignore it, let it go to voicemail, but she just couldn’t. It wasn’t just curiosity that had her answering the phone; no, it was a surprise because she thought she would never hear from or see him again. So she had answered, and now she was letting him come in to her apartment. 

Gods, she hoped this wasn’t going to be an awkward rejection. He could have easily ignored her for the rest of her life, ghosted her to no end, and it would have been better than hearing words of disappointment.

 When he knocked on the door a lot faster than she thought he was going to, she slung her legs off the bed and walked to the door. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she opened it.

Rowan looked like a mess, sweat dripping off of him and eyes bloodshot. This took her by surprise, a complete difference from the clean-cut man that she had seen.

“Rowan?” she croaked out as she opened the door wider and moved to the side to let him in.

“Aelin… I’m here to explain.” He paused as he met her gaze and looked into her eyes in the dim light of the entrance to her apartment.

Authors note: A big thank you to @tangledraysofsunshine for revising and editing and also giving me so much advice. This chapter looks so much better with their help!

tag list: @flowersinvegas @shadowstar2313 @heir2chaos @heymichelle360 @aelinchocolatelover @captain-timetraveldreamer @rowaelinforeverworld 

[gaycrouton]

Prompt: Scully’s thoughts during “the scene” in Small Potatoes

s4 // small potatoes // angst

Hahaha so #1, so sorry I was #ThatBitch and brought angst into it and #2 I’m sure this is probably heavily subconciously influenced by all the Small Potates fics I’ve read, but I still hope it’s a little different.

—————————————————————————-

Last night, alone in a second-rate motel room, she tended to a nosebleed so bad that she was afraid she might pass out if it lasted any longer. By the time it’d ended, she had several blood-soaked napkins littered around her, and a shirt with blood on it that told her the effort to save it had been fruitless.

With a sigh of resignation, she’d gone into the bathroom and stripped off her shirt, but before she had a chance to grab her spare, her breath caught in her throat.

Who was that?

She usually changed in her bathroom at home, leisure time was a luxury, so it was usually done in haste. The mirror there was above the sink, and relatively small. This one, however, showed her everything she’d been avoiding.

When her hands slid over her body in the morning, she felt it, she knew. She used to pride herself on her lean muscles, but now she felt like a skeleton with skin. Her ribs protruded grotesquely, her hip bones felt like knives, even her breasts seemed to be shrinking. She didn’t feel like Dana Scully anymore.

She felt like a personified death rattle. Looking into her face was no better. Her eyes looked tired and there was dried blood all over her nose.

Deciding she couldn’t face herself anymore, she quickly splashed water on her face, the red running clockwise down the sink reminding her of the time she had left slipping away from her. She had to brush her teeth twice to get the taste of iron out of her mouth from the rivulets that’d caught on her lip. Part of her hesitated though because it was one of the first times she remembered tasting something that the meds didn’t dull.

Then, with a sigh, she pulled her spare shirt over head and ignored the way it sexlessly draped over her, nothing to cling to, nothing to emphasize. She turned the light off, crawled into bed and listened to the lively sounds of Mulder on the other side of the wall. Undoubtedly he was still working. Every part of her wanted to go and ask him if he needed help. Maybe they would order a pizza while she laughed as he tried to find something to watch. Maybe he’d smile at her in that way he did when she hung out in his room that made her feel like a teen who’d snuck out of her parent’s house - doing something she knew she shouldn’t, but loving it too much to leave. Maybe he’d even flirt, he’d been doing that more often.

No.

He had been doing that more often.

Now she knew if she went to his room, she’d just get the same thing she always did nowadays. Those fucking sad eyes when he saw her that he tried to compensate for with the world’s weakest smile. “How are you?” he’d say gently, stopping everything he was doing to accommodate her. He’d look sad when she said “fine” but not early as sad as she’d know he’d look if she said “Sometimes the pain medicine doesn’t work and it makes me want to crawl out of my body. All I want is for you to make me feel better, but there’s nothing you can do and you’d kill yourself trying and there’s no use in both of us dying. I’ve had to throw away three pillowcases because I wake up and they are covered in blood. My  hair’s thinning. My mom cried last time I saw her. I didn’t even say anything, she just saw me. “

He didn’t look at her like a woman; he looked at her like a half-written epigraph.

So, instead of going to him, she’d laid in bed and cried herself to sleep.

That was yesterday. Tonight, he’d come to her.

Tonight she felt like a woman.

His self-conscious approach initially had her worried, but it quickly turned to endearing. He came over just to see her, just to spend time with her, just because he wanted to talk.

She’d been hesitant when he mentioned that they never talked. She feared it was “You never tell me how you’re doing living with cancer” in disguise. But it wasn’t. It almost felt like he was pretending the cancer didn’t even exist, and it was a dream come true. It was like the past few months hadn’t happened. It was just good ol’ Mulder and her talking. And he’d brought wine - what a plus.

Now she was tipsy and felt oddly exposed, yet not unpleasantly. She’d always thought of how nice it would be to reveal some of herself with Mulder. She knew so much about him - what drove him on his mission, what upset him, even little memories he’d occasionally share with her offhandedly. Maybe it was her mortality nagging at her every move, but she sometimes regretted spending so much time being so prudent on maintaining their professionalism. Mulder was her friend, her best friend, and in her dreams so much more. She wanted him to know little things she loved in her childhood, stupid things she did with her highschool sweetheart, what she dreamed of at night.

Apparently he wanted too as well. He was being so attentive, hanging off her every word, and he was staring at her face like it was the first time he’d ever been this close to her. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked it.

He’d been acting pleasantly differently, but then “-you ever wish that you could go back and do it all differently?” Suddenly she couldn’t connect the dots of his logic through her tipsy haze. He dismissed the career comment as if it was a footnote, as if it wasn’t the very foundation of their relationship. She couldn’t make sense of a Mulder who disregarded the X-Files.

He brow furrowed in confusion and she asked, “Do you?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She always knew how he was feeling.

He started moving towards her and she felt her heart starting to pound out of her chest. Did he mean he wished he could have done everything in their relationship differently? But-what could be changed? Every single moment led them to who they are, every moment led to the intensity of the bond they had - regardless of how tense it’d been lately. She was thinking a mile a minute as he started slowly moving towards her, that strange look in his eye. She could just turn her head, if she turned her head he would know right now, but his hand was already pressing in between her legs for stability. He was just going to go with it and she didn’t even know how to respond other than to put her own hand in between her leg, instinctively acting as a barrier.

When he was close enough that she could feel his breath hit her lips, she realized she didn’t smell much wine coming off him , and she realized he’d been filling up her glass all evening. His own glass was behind them with wine from his first fill still untouched. Why did he want her to get drunk?

She could feel her heart beating in her ears as he leaned in further. Something wasn’t right. That was her last thought before she heard the loud splintering of wood. Turning her head over, she saw Mulder standing in the middle of her busted door frame.

Mulder? Oh my god.

She turned back in shock and Eddie Van Mulder had the audacity to smile at her. She raised her hands and pushed him away in disgust, practically jumping from the couch.

She saw her Mulder look like a million thoughts were running through his head. Shock, anger, hurt, confusion, betrayal, they all painted him like a portrait of a man mourning the loss of something that could have been and he hadn’t even known it. She probably looked the same.

Eddie morphed back on the couch and shrugged. Fucking shrugged. As if he hadn’t tried to violate her. As if he hadn’t just messed up their already fucked up relationship. With a terse voice, she heard Mulder start, “Eddie Van Bluhnt, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will-” he droned on as she mentally retreated. She watched the same mouth that had smiled at her joke earlier, purse when he looked in her direction - the same eyes that had affectionately wandering her face now looking at her with the words “you couldn’t fucking tell” screaming at her.

How ironic, the cancer probably wasn’t even on his mind and yet he was still looking at her with pity. She felt her throat closing up as the realization that none of tonight even mattered. It wasn’t him. Mulder had pulled out his phone and was calling for the police to come pick him up as she all but ran over to the bathroom to have a moment to herself.

By the time she came out, she’d prevented a breakdown, for now at least, and Mulder was talking to an officer who was currently bagging the wine glasses. He looked up and pointed at her, “She the vic?”

“Nothing happend,” she snapped before the “yes” that had formed on Mulder’s lips had a chance to be verbalized.

“Scully,” he started with a sigh.

“If my statement is needed for anything I’d prefer to give it tomorrow. I’m tired,” she sighed.

“Alright, we just need to take a few pictures and then we’ll be out of your hair miss,” the officer nodded.

“Scully, can I talk to you in the other room?” he asked, already making his way over to her and putting his hand on her side. Already making the decision for her.

He lead her into her bedroom, much like Eddie Van Bluhnt had hoped to do, and closed the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

His trademark.

She felt the question like a stab in the heart even though she knew it was warranted and in a different context. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything,” she bit. She was being mean to him and he was just worried. She was just sick of him always being worried.

“Are you sure?”

“He brought over wine and we drank it. Big deal,” she said, knowing she was avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Did he touch you?” Mulder asked, his voice softening only fueling to her aggravation.

“No, Mulder. Were you even listening to me?” she snapped.

“I just wasn’t sure. His hand seemed pretty friendly from where I was, and you didn’t seem to be too upset about it,” he snapped back. They were both upset about what just happened, but instead of it bringing them together, they were fighting. Of course.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take a rapist trying to make me his next victim and somehow manage to make it my fault.” She didn’t want to be fighting anymore. She was tired and she was starting to feel pain in her muscles.

“I didn’t,” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “I just feared the worst when I realized he’d gone with you.”

“Yeah. Apparently you were so certain he’d come over and try to seduce me like the other women that you felt the need to bust through my door without even knocking.”

He looked embarrassed at that, but before he could defend himself, she was already adding fuel to the fire. “What? You were so certain that I’d fall for the charms of some low-life creep masquerading as you that you came here immediately. Let me guess, you were urgent to get in here because you thought you’d find me getting fuc-”

“No!” he interrupted, looking flustered at his instinctive actions being called out as well as the crudeness of her words.

“Then why didn’t you knock?” she almost whispered, her tone sharp as a knife.

“Why were you about to kiss him?” he cut back.

“I froze, Mulder. He was being pushy and flagrantly ignoring my discomfort at the end, and I couldn’t understand why you would do that and I was confused. That’s when you barged in. Is it even possible for you to try to put yourself into my shoes for even a second? To imagine how confused I was when you were acting so weird.” He looked like he was about to answer, but she wasn’t done.

“Do you think I couldn’t tell, seriously? Do you think he just came in here and I didn’t think anything different? You can even ask him, I mentioned he was acting different several times, Mulder,” she explained, she stumbled a little bit from the wine in her system, and she saw him resist the urge to reach out and steady her. “You shouldn’t have been drinking on your meds” evident in his gaze. Heaven forbid she make a decision for herself.

“So you thought I was acting different, and yet you spent how long with him?” he asked defensively.

“I didn’t say it was a bad different,” she replied.

He looked like she’d slapped him.

The thick tension only lasted for a minute before there was a knock at the door. They turned and it was the officer standing with a camera and a few other baggies. “We’re done here, Agent Mulder.”

“Thank you, Officer. Where are you taking him?” Mulder asked, his voice sounding exhausted.

“I’ll have to confirm that with my partner,” he answered. He looked like he was about to say more when he focused on Scully and his brow furrowed. “Ma’am, you have a nosebleed.”

She raised her hand to her face and when she pulled back, her index and middle finger were saturated with blood. When she looked up she saw Mulder was looking at her with so much pity she could drown herself in it. “Scully-” he started softly, going towards her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, raising one hand to cover the bleed from his gaze and raising the other to prevent him from coming any further. “Thank you for your help officer, but I’d like to be left alone.”

“Of course,” he nodded, leaving.

She turned to Mulder and said, “Close the door on the way out, I’ll lock the deadbolt later. You didn’t break that off at least.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but she didn’t want to hear it. She just turned and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She saw herself in the mirror and her face crumpled in silent agony.

If her nose had started bleeding an half an hour ago, she’d have let Mulder help her. He probably would have grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her face and she might have let him. She might have even told her about how she was feeling lately and he would have listened to every word. That was the last thing she thought as she listened to Mulder sigh, clearly upset, as he left her apartment.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Your Love Harry Styles AU (Part 31)

Part 30

You were sitting in a car, outside of Harry’s flat building. You hadn’t told Harry you were coming, which meant you were one showing up completely unexpectedly and two you had no idea if he was even home at the time. Or what if he was at home? But what if he wasn’t alone? What if his sister was there? Or another girl? 

No, he wouldn’t do that. Even if you two weren’t together, surely he wouldn’t have jumped in bed with someone else. However, it didn’t matter because you were there, in London, outside of his flat. You didn’t fly thousands of miles to just sit outside in a car like a stalker. You took a deep breath before getting out of the car and walking towards the building. 

The sun was out, but it was still a bit chilly whenever the wind blew. You pulled your jacket around you a little tighter as you walked to the back door. Harry had given you the code before, and lucky for you, you remembered it. Once you were inside, you legit felt nauseous. You kept taking deep breaths as you walked towards the elevators. Just before you got there, the elevator dinged, opened up, and out walked Harry. 

Who wasn’t alone. 

He was chatting away with a woman. They both were dressed in athletic wear and carrying gym bags. You couldn’t really hear their conversation, but there was a lot of smiling and laughing going on. You heart sank down into your stomach as a twinge of both hurt and jealously filled you. You watched them walk out of the building and down the sidewalk before turning the corner. 

You shook your head, holding back tears before making your way out of the building and back into the car. How could you have been so stupid? You set yourself up for this. You just arrived without any sort of announcement and this all made sense as to why he never called you back. 

He was obviously done with you. 

**

Harry was currently at his favorite boxing class. He had a lot of pent of energy that he needed to get out. He needed to figure shit out, but he couldn't do that until he hit something. On his way out of his apartment, he ran into his neighbor, who takes the same class, so they walked together. It was nice and refreshing having a simple conversation and not something that entailed making a huge ass decision. 

Once class was over and sweat dripped down every inch of his body to the point that even he was grossed out, he guzzled down his water before walking over to his bag. 

“So, have any plans today?” his neighbor asked. “Because if you do, I suggest you shower.” 

He laughed, “Showering and food are next on my to-do for sure.” 

“Good,” she smiled. “Who were you picturing the bag as?” 

“Pretty much ever annoying shit that’s going on in my life,” he sighed wiping his face off with a towel. 

“Wow, that bad huh?” She asked. 

“Yep and now, I’m going to have to go face the music,” he sighed. 

**

When you got back to the hotel, you quickly started packing your bags. Not that there was a ton to even pack since you literally just landed a few hours ago. 

“Woah, what the fuck is going on?” Your friend asked coming out of the bathroom. 

“We’re going home,” you mumbled. “Or at least I’m going home. This was a waste of fucking time and money!” 

“Wait? What happened?” he asked. “Did you see Harry?”

“Yes,” you answered. 

“And I take it your conversation didn’t go well?” He sighed. 

You crossed your arms, “Well, I mean... technically we didn’t have a conversation.” 

“Okay, wasn’t that the fucking point of coming here? So, then why are you wanting to leave?” He asked. 

“Because he’s moved on. I saw him flirting with another girl!” You groaned. “They were leaving his apartment building together.” 

“Seriously?” He asked raising an eyebrow. “You’re upset over that? And are wiling to just throw your relationship with him out the fucking window because you think he moved on? Does he live in a fucking all male building? And since when is just having a random ass conversation flirting? Now, I’m not saying you didn’t see what you saw, but what I am saying is that you fucking don’t know what you saw because you’re running away!” 

“Why did I bring you again?” You mumbled sitting on the bed. 

“Because you knew I’d call you out on your shit,” he said. “Y/N, I know you feel something for this man because there’s no one I know that would flying thousands of fucking miles if they didn’t. I also know that you’re scared of getting hurt again, so you’re trying build up your walls again. But I’m not letting you do that. We came here for you to figure shit out with Harry and get closure and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” 

**

Harry had just gotten out of the shower when his phone rang. He wrapped a towel around his waist and saw Nick’s name across it. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Harry answered putting it on speaker phone. 

“DID YOU KNOW Y/N’S HERE?” He shouted. 

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach, “Wait...what?” He asked. 

Maybe he didn’t hear him right. 

“Y/N’S HERE IN LONDON. THERE ARE PHOTOS OF HER ARRIVING AT HEATHROW LIKE FOUR HOURS AGO,” Nick shouted again. 

“Are-are you sure?” Harry asked. “Are you sure they’re new?” 

“YES! NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD, HARRY STYLES YOU BETTER USE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE SHIT RIGHT WITH HER,” Nick said. 

“Why are you yelling?” Harry groaned. 

“BECAUSE SOMEONE’S GOTTA TALK SOME FUCKING SENSE INTO YOU,” he said. 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Fine. Fine. I just... thank you for letting me know.” 

Harry hung up the phone and walked into his bedroom. He sat down on his bed debating what he should do next. Nick was right. This could be his only chance to see you in person and figure out what he wanted and what you wanted. He thought about calling you and seeing if you wanted meet up, but he was afraid you would say no. 

So, he went to his next idea. The last time you were in London, he remembered where you had stayed. He also knew the fake name you used whenever you were staying in hotel’s so that no one would know which room you were in. He quickly got dressed, honestly not worrying with how he looked at the moment, and headed straight for the hotel. 

He just hoped you were there when he arrived. 

**

You sighed sitting outside on the balcony with a cup of tea. You were still going over in your mind what you wanted to do and what you wanted to say to Harry when you called him. News had broke that you were currently in London thanks to some fan photos from the airport, so you knew it was only a matter of time before Harry found out you were in London. 

You hoped he didn’t take it to heart that you didn’t tell him prior to your arrival, but again it was because of him that you were even there in the first place. The wind started to pick up again, so you decided to head inside. Just as you walked into the room and set your things on the table, there was a knock on the door. 

You figured it was your friend, who had gone out for takeout, and he always forgets the key. You walked over to the door, not bothering to check in the peephole, and opened it to reveal Harry standing there staring at you. 

“Uh.. Hey,” Harry whispered. 

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen. Never would you have thought Harry would be the one showing up at your doorstep, yet there it was and all you could think of it say in that moment was.... 

“Hi,” you whispered back. 

[cliquestitsandicks]

Tracking Kat

Episode 1: Kat is mourning the end of her relationship with Adena. It has been 5 weeks since the breakup in Paris. She's still looking at old pictures of them and posted one. She still hasn't sent Adena's equipment to her, even though Adena has been texting her asking for it. By the end of the episode, she's admitted to (in order) Alex, Patrick, and Jane & Sutton that she is not okay. She is still sad about the end of her relationship. Alex tells her "you're so hard on yourself. You got your heart broken. There's no expiration date on heartbreak. You move on when you're ready to move on and when you *are* ready, you will find someone amazing. Someone who will never leave." Then Patrick is an entitled, invasive dick. She told her girls she wasn't ready for it to be real yet and that's why she hadn't told them... but she broke down in front of them. She'd finally accepted it was over. End of the episode, she makes an instagram post exposing her vulnerability to the world and packs up Adena's things for good.

Episode 2: Kat injects Jane for fertility treatment. She is very familiar with Jane's reproductive system at this point - best friends. She learns the Wild Susan, a club Adena took her to that became a safe space she frequents and which happens to be 1 of only TWO lesbian bars in the city, is closing. She learns the only reason it's happening is because developers want to gentrify the neighborhood. We learn Kat has a lawyer (not sure how that may come up later) that she met through the #BeReal campaign. Anyway, Kat throws a queer prom as a fundraiser to help save the Wild Susan. It ultimately fails because $42,000 in one night from poor people is a bit much. But it was a valiant effort and, as Kat learns, the gentrifiers were well aware of its impossibility. This episode is leading up to her political career. "I've been so into my feelings lately, it feels really good to challenge my energy into something that really matters". I am so proud of Kat. In Season 1, I would have worried she was avoiding her feelings, but the writers made a big deal of showing she's done the exact opposite of that in the prior episode.

Episode 3: Kat has been researching councilman Reynolds and he's a total piece of shit - helping gentrifiers, cutting funding to parks, and voting against paid maternity leave. She's fired up. Our girl is P A S S I O N A T E & informed! We meet the councilwoman for whom she plans to volunteer and her campaign manager, Tia. Tia's a tiny, bubbly boss with natural hair and a bright smile and we see Kat brighten up. We later learn she and Kat have more in common, both being NYU grads (actually overlapping while there) and both brilliant. Tia, however, is not from a wealthy and connected background. In their initial meeting, Kat tells Tia "I'm just looking for something to channel my rage and depression". Kat enlists her besties to help get the councilwoman to unseat problematic Reynolds. Sutton clearly sees something between Kat and Tia because she does a friend's background check (checking the social media) and tells Kat she looks very single to which Kat responds "it really doesn't matter because I'm still getting over Adena" and Jane seems skeptical of Kat's protestations with her silent smirk. We learn Kat has really soft lips. Kat is the voice of reason for Alex, being the first one to acknowledge the hypersexual "dangerous" Black man depiction that will likely be projected onto him if he admits he is the man in his friend's story. Then we see her naturally command the crowd at the rally. Again, I am so proud of Kat. She isn't holding back when she knows she should speak up. She's taking control of her narrative. She's fighting for what's right in a constructive manner. And now Tia, who has way more experience with this than Kat, is recommending she run for office.

Episode 4: We start the episode with Kat describing what would be her district and job description to her best friends. She's looking excited about the potential to do something that matters and really help people. In her conversation with the Toby (?. don't know, don't care), we get to see more of Tia being supportive of Kat and Kat being confronted with whether she's motivated to actually run or just wants someone to beat Reynolds. We learn Kat had an abortion in 2013 when she was 20 AS IS HER GOTDAMN RIGHT BECAUSE IT'S HER BODY, but it's something she's felt some sort of shame/concern over seeing as nobody close to her knew about it. Then, and this is so great, after telling her friends she has the conversation with Tia. Tia shares that she's had one as well and completely understands not wanting it to be public knowledge, but in sharing her experience educates Kat on yet another way vulnerable people are having their rights stripped, this time through manipulation and "crisis centers" that shouldn't exist. Tia remains supportive and doesn't pressure Kat at all with her decision. "I am by your side if they come for you, but you gotta do what's right for you". When we get that great speech from Jacqueline we see Kat being moved my the statement that you'll never know what you're capable of if you don't take a leap faith to face challenges that frighten you, then you'll never know what you're capable of. [i'd like to pause right now to say Jacqueline is fucking wonderful and i love her like my white auntie. also Sutton needed to hear that again just as much as Kat and i really appreciate this entire moment.] When Kat leaves Jacqueline's celebration, she passes by one of those "crisis centers" Tia told her about and decides to use her voice to help others. "I like to think of myself as a pretty strong, empowered, forward-thinking, open-minded woman. But, up until now, I haven't been able to talk about my abortion. If me putting myself out there helps even one woman to feel less alone, less ashamed, and less guilty then it's worth it." And just like us, dear Tia is blown away. She actually exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding and biiiiiiiitch (!!!! excitedly). and then they're dancing! This is the episode, upon rewatch, when i recognize how often Tia touches Kat unnecessarily.

Episode 5: Kat's entire recap includes Tia, ending with Sutton saying "she seems to be very single". Her very first scene, Tia is complimenting her walking out of some campaigning event we later learn was a Town Hall. Can we just talk about Kat's blazer for a second? First of all, i want it. Second, how did they find something so perfectly her? It's colorful but still semi-professional, fun, but still about her business. Heart-eye inducing. ok. So the next time we see Kat, she and Tia (whose last name they finally mention as Clayton) are reviewing campaign platform and doing debate prep at Kat's apartment. Tia's complimenting Kat almost continuously at this point. Clearly she's impressed, borderline gushing. and Kat tries to brush it off. Tia's not letting her. And there's this moment when Tia forces herself to break eye contact with her (around 5:40 of the episode). The show tells us Kat still hasn't dated since Adena, but Sutton brings up the "stupid smile" she gets whenever Tia's mentioned. She's making better decisions than Patrick and her being compared to Patrick is lowkey happening a lot. I'm starting to wonder if they're setting up Kat taking over digital if she doesn't win the campaign. Ok, the song choice as they pan to Kat and Tia... "I never normally check my phone 10 times in a minute. I'm not the girl to be kept on hold 10 miles from the finish." Again, Tia is very touchy with Kat, never anything inappropriate of course, but the hand is always on the back or the arm. and their interaction is just.. lovely. I squeal. it's so cute. they're so comfortable. Kat invites Tia to the dinner BEFORE (i got the timing on that mixed up before) Tia says she's "a boring straight girl" [the test determined that was a LIE... nah, my good sis Tia is dealing with some internalized homophobia which is no joking matter, but we don't learn that until the next episode]. Apparently, Kat can cook now? So she just liked Adena's food better i guess? idk... anyway. I get why some of the things Tia said can be taken as flirting, but i still believe that you accept what someone says is their sexuality until they say otherwise. yes, that's even when they're saying things like "when i see what i want, i go for it" and "Annndd she can cook. it's hot" and looking at you like that. Kat telling Jane to apologize because he's her boss and she got suuuper disrespectful and would absolutely deserve getting fired makes me proud. She's the mature friend now. She's the one with a level head on her shoulders. Kat finally makes her feelings known to Tia, but this is after Tia has already stated she's straight. Tia reiterates that this is a professional relationship and apologizes for Kat getting the wrong idea. I'm reminded of when Alex Danvers told Maggie Sawyer she was into her and she was rejected... but in that example i was floored and heartbroken for Alex because ugh, i just didn't see that coming. With this, however, it felt like Tia was clear in her words even if it shocked the hell out of me what the words were. So i didn't feel heartbroken for Kat. I thought... tbh... she brought it on herself for refusing to respect Tia's "no", however soft it was. But the writers did let us know it wasn't over with the music selection... Kat looking at "You and Tia make a great team :)" as "I'll go to war for you" plays.

Episode 6: All the emails have been released and Kat has no worries at all about that because she's a professional. And we get to see her be a boss addressing the entire group. Patrick isn't there this episode (YAY for our sanity!) and i think Kat being a boss so often when Patrick isn't around is intentional. When we see Tia, she says last night is forgotten but she thinks it's a bad idea to remain Kat's campaign manager... which is clearly a hard rejection. One can argue that it's too harsh for someone merely admitting they were into you. But it's just as easy to argue that it's appropriate after telling someone, very clearly, that you are not into them romantically and them ignoring that and saying that you were flirting with them on this date they never called a date before you were already there?? so i'm not mad at it. At the end of the episode, we find out that Tia was rejecting herself, not Kat. Turns out, Ms. Tia Clayton has known she's attracted to women since she was in high school, but she "didn't want to want it". Tia is so TINY AND ANXIOUS ABOUT HER SEXUALITY AND MANY OF US HAVE BEEN THERE. But... and i say this in jest... for someone who is really trying not to be out in the open with her gay, she sure was comfortable kissing Kat all outdoors for anyone to see. My good sis is smitten. I'm excited for the story. Again with the music during their scenes though... "I cannot fallll in love with youuuuu. I cannot feeeeel this way so soon, so soon." Also, my girlfriend and I have watched the gifset of the kiss over the phone and swooned (we live in different states for now). This episode, we also got the flashbacks (i missed Lauren so much). Kat's got red streaks in her hair, is a friend to strangers, has regrettable sex with men who taste like pickles, and is cute as a button. She also called Jacqueline "Mama Jackie" and that's it; that's her name now.

[jacksonroseroth]

Welcome To The Neighborhood Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first chapter of mine and @badwolf-in-the-impala ‘s SOA collab! We’ve both written parts of the story, so we will be alternating as we post chapters. Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: Sibling arguments, flirting

Words: 4,099

Moodboard made by @badwolf-in-the-impala , none of the pictures are ours

~

“Kacey, if we’re gonna make it out of the heat, then you have to push harder!” Harper called from the cab of the truck as they slowly inched their way along the shoulder of the highway. Kacey glared at her sister and stopped pushing, both out of exhaustion and to piss her off. Harper stuck her brown and blonde curls out of the window, looking back at her. “Hey!”

“Listen, it’s your truck! You should push it!” Kacey said, pulling herself up and walking to the driver’s side door. “I told you, you should have just asked him to trade it in before you-”

“Don’t even mention him, Kay!” Harper said, shoving her finger in her sister’s face and climbing out. “I’ll push until we hit the next road marker, then we’re switching.”

Kacey scoffed and looked down the road at the marker that stood only a few feet away. She growled at her sister, but got into the car anyway. “If I end up dying of heat exhaustion cause of all this pushing, I’m haunting your ass!”

Harper snorted and braced her hands on the bumper, giving everything she had, grinding her feet in the gravel to find some sort of traction as they inched their way closer to the marker. Behind her, Harper heard the rumble of a motorcycle and whipped her head around. Kacey also stuck her head out of the window, both sisters waiting and praying it wasn’t what they thought.

As Half-Sack rode down the asphalt, he slowed as he approached the beat up blue pick up, stopping just behind it. Harper and Kacey exchanged glances when they saw the Kutte. They could tell he was just a prospect, but they didn't know what club he was with. Grabbing the small pistol Harper kept in the glovebox, Kacey shoved it into the back of her pants and got out, going to her sister. Half-Sack hung his helmet by the handlebars and got off his bike, going over to the girls.

“Hey. You ladies havin’ some car trouble?” He asked, giving them a charming smile. The sisters exchanged a look then back to him. Harper took a good look at the patches on his Kutte, or rather, lack thereof as the only one present read ‘Prospect’. Neither of them recognized the colors which made Kacey reach a hand back to take the gun from her waistband and slip it into her sister’s.

“No. No, we’re okay.” Harper said. Kacey rolled her eyes and sighed. Half-Sack chuckled and said, “Well, you’re pushing your car.”

With another exchange between the sisters, Half-Sack chuckled and clarified, “I work at Teller-Morrow Auto. I can call one of the guys? Get the tow truck out here.”

Kacey gave a soft chuckle with a shrug and said, “We’ve already tried that. No service.”

“Well, I can help bring you guys back. We’re not too far from town.” He said. Kacey looked at her sister, who studied Half-Sack, worried about his patch. With a nod of her head toward his Kutte, she asked, “Who are you prospecting for?”

Half-Sack glanced down at the patch and chuckled as he said, “Oh, uh, Sons Of Anarchy. They’re the local MC. They actually run Teller-Morrow. Real good mechanics, those guys.”

Kacey sighed as she leaned a little closer to her sister, saying quietly in her ear, “You didn't fucking remember they ran out of Charming?!”

Harper gave her a look and retorted, “I didn't look up local MC’s while I was house hunting. There’s no site for that!”

Half-Sack couldn’t quite make out what was said, but the looks on their unsure faces said enough. “Hey, look, I, uh, I just wanted to help. I mean, it’s hot out here and everything…”

Kacey gave Harper a look, one telling her that when will they get someone else passing by to stop and help, to which Harper nodded and gave the gun back, Kacey hurrying around the car to stash it back in the glove box. Harper turned to Half-Sack and gave him a sweet smile.

“Sorry,” She said. “We’ve...Had a few run-ins with some MC’s so...You know. Just a little wary.”

“It’s all good,” Half-Sack said with a chuckle. “Uh, lemme just stash my bike and we can get going.”

~

Jax and Opie stood just outside the shop, enjoying a much needed smoke break when they watched an old beat up Ford pickup truck being rolled into the Teller-Morrow lot. Both men exchanging a brief, confused, glance when they realized it was Half-Sack sitting in the driver's seat steering. The unspoken question of who was pushing it soon answered as two dark-haired women bailed out from behind the truck at the first sight of shade.

“I swear. To fucking God, Harper! I’m gonna light that piece of shit on fire one day!” The lighter haired out of the two women swore as she all but collapsed onto the ground; the coolness of the concrete a welcome feeling.

“Would you stop fuckin’ whining already? We got it here, Jesus Christ.” The darker haired woman, Harper, replied as she sat down a few feet away, shoving her sunglasses into her hair.

“Six fucking miles, Harper! Six!” The other woman yelled back. “And I did most of the pushing no thanks to you!”  

“The hell is goin’ on?” Jax asked Half-Sack as he hopped out of the truck.

“Yeah, and why the fuck weren’t you the one pushing?” Opie chimed in as he stamped out the last of his cigarette with the toe of his boot. Turning just in time to catch the lighter haired woman take off her boot and chuck it at the other woman -- catching her in the back of the head --who had turned her back in an attempt to ignore her.

Half-Sack was about to start explaining, ‘I tried’, being the only thing he was able to get out as the darker haired woman yelled, catching everyone's attention. “Jesus, Kacey-- what the actual fuck?!”

“That’s for making me push most of the way, you bitch!” Kacey shouted. Harper rolled her eyes and chucked the boot back at her. Half-Sack turned to the guys and pointed at them, saying, “That’s why.”

Jax and Opie chuckled and went over to them, after calling over a few more of the mechanics to steer the truck to the shop. Jax helped Harper up as Opie offered a hand to Kacey as she shoved her boot back on.

“Thanks,” Kacey said, giving Opie a sweet smile and checking him out as she glanced at Harper.

“No problem. You guys got engine trouble?” Opie asked. Kacey snorted and looked at Harper.

“Yes, because someone’s dumbass didn't get the car checked out before we left Oakland,” Kacey said, smiling a little too sweetly at her. Harper kept her calm smile and looked at Kacey.

“Yes. Well, if someone hadn’t gunned it down the fuckin’ highway and blew my fucking gasket, then we wouldn’t be here either.” She said, making Kacey lose her smart ass smile and grumble at her.

“Bitch, if you didn’t drive like our fuckin’ Grandmother, I wouldn’t’ve had to drive!”

“Seriously? What are we, five?!” Harper shot back with an eye roll as her sister stuck her tongue out, earning a chuckle from the guys who were watching with amused grins at the scene that was playing out before them.

“If you would’ve just let me pay for a fuckin’ trailer, we’d have our bikes.” Kacey grit out through clenched teeth. The thought of what could potentially be happening to her bike right this second, pissing her off even worse.

“You mean with the money you lost in that round of poker?” Harper scoffed.

“I was gonna win it back!” Kacey shouted.

“By getting your ass kicked in a fight ring?”

“I don’t fuckin’ lose, if you want me to prove it-” Kacey growled as she took a step towards her sister.

Jax took a step in between the two girls with a smile as he tried to defuse the situation as calmly as possible. “Ok, ladies.” He chuckled lightly. “How about we find you some air conditioning and get your paperwork started?”

“Air conditioning sounds fuckin’ amazing…” Kacey muttered, ignoring the looks she was getting from her sister as she stuck a cigarette between her lips and started fishing for a lighter. Opie offering her a light when she couldn’t find hers.

“Sounds like it’s settled then.” Jax rubbed his hands together with a grin before gesturing back towards the garage and what looked to be an office. “I’m Jax by the way. This is Opie.”

Harper smiled at him as they broke off from Opie and Kacey, heading to the office. “Harper. That’s my sister, Kacey.” She said, taking the hand he offered and shaking it. As Jax and Harper headed up to the office, Opie gestured to the clubhouse and led Kacey inside.

“What brought you to Charming?” Jax asked as he led her inside and offered her a seat, beginning to root around the filing cabinet. Harper took off her sunglasses, folding them up and holding them in her lap as she said, “Just wanted a fresh start. New town, new faces.”

Jax glanced back at her, looking her over. He chuckled and said, “Running from your past?”

Harper gave him a look but smirked nonetheless. “Maybe…” She said. “What makes you say that?”

Jax smirked as he stuffed a bunch of papers under the metal clip of the clipboard and sat down in the chair behind the desk. “Well, the only people in Charming are the people who grew up here. We don’t get too many outsiders looking to move in.” He said, handing over the clipboard and a pen. Harper sighed, with a smirk, and took the clipboard, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Shit. Are we that obvious?” She teased, ducking down her head to fill out the paperwork. Jax chuckled and checked her out as her pen scritch-scratched away.

“Your sister mentioned bikes?” Jax asked, with a slight turn of his head. Harper glanced up at her from behind her eyelashes and smirked.

“Uh, yeah.” She said, sitting back and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “She did.”

Jax’s smirk grew and he added, “Do you guys ride? Or are we talkin’ bicycles here?”

Harper chuckled and nodded, going back to the clipboard. “Yes. We ride.” She said with a teasing chuckle. Jax chuckled and asked, “What do you girls got?”

“We’ve both got Dyna’s. I ride a Street Bob and Kacey’s got a Super Glide.” Harper said. Jax gave a low whistle, impressed, making Harper glance up at him to give him another smirk before going back to the paperwork.

“Wow. Here I thought you were gonna come back with a dirt bike or some super-sporty model.” Jax teased. She smirked and shook her head.

“Nope. We both kind of got into cruisers from our exes.” Harper said, offhandedly. Jax smirked and sat back as he said, “Ah...That’s why.”

Harper cursed herself in her head as she looked up at him.

“Running from old boyfriends?” He teased. Harper half glanced at him before clearing her throat and shifting in her seat, not giving him an answer. Jax saw her become visibly uncomfortable and shifted as well as he said, “Hey, I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to pry, darlin’.”

Harper shook her head as she signed the last page and looked up at him with a sweet smile. “It’s fine. We just...Don’t particularly like to think about them is all.”

Before Jax could say anything else, an older woman with black hair and blonde streaks walked in. “Hi, baby.” She said with a sigh, carrying in a small box and setting it on the desk. Jax nodded at her and smiled.

“Hey, Mom. What’s all this?” Jax asked, standing up to inspect the package. She sighed, gesturing at it, and putting a hand on her hip as she said, “Not sure. Somethin’ Clay ordered probably. Got delivered to the house from a Harley-Davidson store.”

As Harper stood and handed Jax the clipboard, the woman turned to her and smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.” She said. Jax picked up the box and took the clipboard from Harper as he said, “It’s all good. Harper, this is my mom, Gemma. Mom, this is Harper. She’s new in town and had engine trouble on the highway. Half-Sack drove them in.”

“Ah. The One-Nut Wonder to the rescue? He’s pushing for early patching, isn’t he?” She said as Jax passed, kissing her cheek before he went to the side door that connected the office to the garage, offering Harper a soft ‘I’ll be right back’. Gemma set down her purse and took Jax’s empty seat as she fired up the old computer in front of her, slipping on a pair of glasses. “So, you’re new in town? Where are you heading from?”

“Um, Oakland,” Harper said, earning a surprised glance from Gemma.

“What made you pick Charming?” She asked. Harper sat back down, but not before casting a glance back out to Jax who was talking with the mechanics that worked on her car.

“Uh, well, I said we should get out of state, but my sister wanted to stay close to home.” She said. With a quick raise of her eyebrows, Gemma said, “Oh, you’re moving in with your sister? That’s good. Gotta keep family close.”

She smiled at Harper, who gave her a small smile back. Gemma glanced out to the truck that still held all their moving boxes strapped down to the bed. Taking off her glasses and gesturing with them she said, “Where are you moving into? I’m sure we can wrangle a few of the guys to go out there with the van.”

“Oh. No. Thanks, that’s sweet, but we couldn’t impose like that.” Harper said, with a soft chuckle. Gemma smiled and said, “It’s no trouble, sweetheart. If you’re moving in, we take care of our own in Charming.”

Harper blinked, surprised, and gave a small smile. “Well...Thank you, uh, Gemma, right?” She said. Gemma smiled and nodded as Jax walked back in.

“Alright, it looks like it’s just the gasket and you guys seemed to have picked up a nail on the way in. Front right tire is flat.” Jax said. Harper smirked and gave a soft chuckle. Jax smirked and said, “What’s so funny?”

Harper stood and shoved her sunglasses back into her hair and said, “Nothing. Just that now there’s a reason why I can rub it in Kacey’s face that I was pushing the whole way. It got a lot harder once we rolled into town. Now, we know why.”

Jax snickered as Harper went to the door, glancing around the lot at all the bikes and cars. Jax handed the clipboard to Gemma and asked, “Hey, Mom, can you put them into the system?”

“Sure, baby,” Gemma said with a smile, taking the clipboard from him. “Oh, and give those girls a drink, will you? They pushed the whole way here? No help from Half-Sack? Smack him for me.”

Harper looked at Gemma and giggled as Jax nodded with a smirk. “Sure thing, Mom. Already planned on it.” Jax said, kissing her cheek again before going to Harper and gesturing to the clubhouse, mentioning a nice cold beer that made Harper quicken her pace.

~

Kacey was more than willing to wait at the clubhouse until the car was fixed, Jax and Harper having walked into the clubhouse to find Kacey sitting on Opie’s lap, sipping a beer.

“Well, don’t we look cozy?” Harper teased as she leaned against the bar, Jax slipping onto a bar stool beside her, smirking and snickering at his best friend. Kacey flipped her off as she smirked and took another sip of her beer. She climbed off Opie’s lap and made her way over to the bar, Harper swiping the bottle from her hand.

“Rude,” Kacey said, bumping Harper’s hip with a smirk. “Hey, Half-Sack, can we get two more?”

“Yeah. Sure thing.” He said with a smile, ducking down to feel around in the cooler. Kacey slipped onto the barstool on Harper’s other side and turned to her as she said, “So what’s the damage?”

“Well, you’ll be delighted to know,” Harper said, turning to her with a smirk. “We picked up a nail. Flat tire. That’s why it was harder to push.”

Kacey made a face at her and mimicked her softly as Half-Sack came over to them, opening the bottles and handing one to Jax, then one to Harper once Kacey swiped her bottle back. Jax took a sip of his beer before he said, “You girls shoulda just let Sack push. He’s strong...Enough.”

Opie chuckled as Jax swiped at Half-Sack, catching the back of his head. Half-Sack rubbed his head and gave a small smile. “Hey, man. I told them I could push. I offered to even hook up my bike and try to ride back! They didn't let me.” Half-Sack said. Harper giggled and pointed her bottle at him as it left her lips.

“We didn't let you because we just needed someone to steer. If our cousin had been with us, he’d be steering too.” She said. Kacey chuckled and shook her head as Opie leaned on the bar next to her with a smirk.

“Next time, just be a man and tell them you’re pushing. Don’t bitch out.” Opie said. The group laughed at Half-Sack’s expense, who half-heartedly laughed along with them before going back to sweeping up behind the bar. Jax shifted in his seat and turned to the sisters.

“So, Harper tells me you two ride,” Jax said, taking another drink. Kacey shot a glare at her sister and said, “We used to ride. But we are, as of now, sans bikes…”

Harper gave a small sigh and said, “Listen, bitch...If you didn't gamble every dollar you got, we’d have the bikes and we wouldn’t have my truck in the shop.” Turning to look at her sister as she spoke, pausing for effect, she added, “Do not. Start with me.”

Opie snickered and shook his head, glancing at Jax, who was equally amused.

“And like I said earlier, if you would have just trusted me, I’d have won it all back; plus interest!” Kacey shot back. “I mean come on, Harper, you don’t miss; I don’t lose?” She nudged her with a shoulder. Harper simply rolled her eyes.

“Or you know...if I could’ve grabbed all my tools, I would’ve just fixed that damn truck myself,” Kacey added.

“And who’s fault was that?” Harper replied, shaking her head as Kacey’s hand shot up. Earning a chuckle from the guys.

“And you can bet your ass I’d do it again in a fuckin’ heartbeat,” Kacey added, mumbling the last part more or less to herself. “Bitch fuckin’ deserved it.”

“So, you’re a mechanic then?” Opie asked, opting to change the direction of the conversation in an attempt to ease the tension building again between the two sisters.

“No, not technically.” Kacey chuckled with a soft grin as she pushed a hand through her light brown locks, turning to him. “But I know enough to usually get us by...most of the time.”

“Well, maybe I could show you around the garage sometime. Teach you some stuff?” Opie stated, earning sly grin out of Kacey as she finished off her beer. Opie motioning for Half-Sack to grab another as she set the bottle at the edge of the bar.

“I’d like that.” Kacey gave a genuine smile that time around; Opie was about to offer to show her around now, if they had the time, when Gemma came strolling in through the main entrance. Both woman turning to look at her, hoping for good news of the truck. Only that wasn’t the case.

“You girls want the good news or the bad news?” Gemma addressed Harper as she leaned a hand against the bar; propping the other on her hip. Both Harper and Kacey gave a collective groan as they braced themselves.

“Well, the tire was an easy fix,” Gemma stated. “We have all the necessary parts to fix the blown head gasket…but, you’re radiator is shot. I had to order a new one and it won’t be here till Thursday. Early next week at the latest.”

“Jesus…” Kacey sighed. “Please tell me that wasn’t the good news?”

“No.” Gemma chuckled softly. “Good news, for you girls, is I saw on the paperwork that your address is only a couple doors down from my place.” The girls exchanged a glance before turning back to Gemma, who had turned her attention to her son and Opie. “And you two have the pleasure of giving the other guys a hand loading up their stuff into the van and taking it over.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary. I mean, I feel like we’ve probably already imposed enough--” Kacey tried to politely decline, stopping when Gemma held up a hand to silence her.

“Nonsense, Sweetheart. Like I told your sister here; you’re movin’ to town, and we take of our own.”

Kacey nodded and gave her a smile before reaching out a hand to introduce herself. “Kacey. And thank you. We really appreciate the hospitality...it’s a pleasant change.” She chuckled.

“Gemma; and anytime. You girls seem like decent people.”

“That could be left open for debate.” Kacey chuckled as she climbed off her barstool and stretched a little before grabbing her beer. Turning her attention to her sister. “Meet you outside?”

“Yeah, Taz. Be there in a sec.” Harper said. “I wanna be able to enjoy my drink?”

Kacey stuck out her tongue at her sister and giggled as Opie escorted her out as they followed Gemma. Harper gave her sister a small smile, it growing a little more when her gaze fell to Jax for a brief minute before she stared down at the bottle in her hand, picking at the label. Jax smirked and called out, “Sack. Go help Kacey and my mom. Don’t make her do it.”

“Right. Yeah.” Half-Sack said, dropping his broom and running out after the trio. Harper sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, slightly, and her smile grew to a smirk. She took a drink then turned to Jax. Jax chuckled and gave her a small smirk.

“So, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of you ladies soon.” He teased. Harper chuckled and crossed her legs as she turned in her chair.

“Yup. Looks like it.” She said. Jax’s smirk grew and he chuckled.

“Well. I meant that you’re living next to my mom.” Jax said. Harper nodded and teased, “Right. Forgot about that.”

Jax chuckled as he slid off his barstool and offered her a hand. Harper chuckled and polished off her beer before taking his hand and slipping down. Jax led her out to the lot where they saw Opie directing the van back to the garage, while Kacey chatted up Tig and Juice.

“Hey. Jackie Boy.” Chibs called, as he approached them. “Yeh’re mum’s demandin’ yeh’r assistance. Won’ get off our balls till we get yeh out here.”

Chibs chuckled and slung an arm around Jax’s neck as he accompanied them to the garage.

“Mom. You’re making all of these guys come with us?” Jax asked with a chuckle as Juice opened the van doors and Half-Sack and Tig started transferring the boxes. Gemma turned to him and smiled.

“No. ‘Course not. But these girls have been through a lot today. They can take a break. We’ve got big, strong men just crawling around this place.” Gemma said with a chuckle. Kacey stood at her side and snickered.

“Yes. Yes, you do…” She said, giving Juice a once over as he leaned into the van to hand a box to Half-Sack. She turned down the corners of her lips, before turning back to them. Jax and Gemma chuckled while Harper rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smirk at her sister.

“Hey, listen, Gemma. We really appreciate all this help. If there’s anything we can ever do? Dinner, lunch...Super Bowl?” Harper offered with a chuckle. Gemma chuckled as well and gave Harper a hug.

“Don’t sweat it, doll. You’ll get used to Charming hospitality.” She said. Harper smiled and stepped closer to her sister to begin whispering about the guys as they packed up the van.

~

Chapter 2

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