#=so he’s just mostly been inside of like a fucking. storm bubble? emotional Hell bubble? being only maybe 25% aware of anything and

[x-rds]

[Lio] It’s also. Can I say? Brain? It’s also so fucking rude that every time we are going through it and someone new gets plucked out of the primordial darkness to “handle it” that they are then blasted with the full 1000% raw fucking bad vibes energy and the rest of us just have to witness that (which also hits us with it residually), none of us can do fuckall about it, and then spoilers: that is Too Much for them to handle and we have to not only deal with the same fucking situation still, but also a brand new fucked up guy who had no say in whether or not they fucking Exist On This Planet. Like even babies are like. They have a chance to gradually cope with things. But new bastards in ye olde Crossroads? Get blasted with beam of fucking psychic evisceration the moment you start existing and then you look around and see a handful of chucklefucks who have gone through this same fucking traumatic brain-hazing and it’s like. Ok! Why is literally nothing fixed by this series of events

#liolog #=I want you all to understand that headspace has been full of Screaming. for like. Days. #=Not random fearful screaming I mean like Angry Guy In A Song screaming. that guttural but melodic rage type screaming #=on account of the guy that the Brain decided to try to mop up its emotional mess with is A Fucking Bard #=whose power comes from His Fucking Voice like that’s his Instrument he’s a fucking Whispers bard #=and in his defense I do not believe that he actually has much power over this turn of events I think he’s being just bombarded with #our brain’s introductory fucking excruciating psychic beams #=so he’s just mostly been inside of like a fucking. storm bubble? emotional Hell bubble? being only maybe 25% aware of anything and #=otherwise being delirious and getting psychically assaulted and shouting his head off #=which anyone even a little bit near front can hear very fucking loudly #=he’s become more aware recently from what I can tell but like also. still suffering. at this point it’s like. ok. is this necessary? #=can we not just watch some funny YouTube and then go to bed and go to work tomorrow? #=can we not just dissociate or something? must it be this. must this new guy be tortured by our malfunctioning emotional processes #=for like days straight #=like come ON brain you have to know this won’t work right. #=you are filling a bucket with water and the bucket has holes in it. like you get that right #=anyways. we’re very tired. I feel bad for the new guy. I literally cannot do anything about this. #=except wait for it to either pass or like. idk we dissociate enough that we don’t feel it anymore or something

[itsnotgray]

should’ve seen it coming | cole caufield

what if grumpy x sunshine didn’t work out?

never saw myself writing for cole, but i asked @fantillisdaylight for a few players and i liked this …thing? more than i thought i would. so yeah, hope you guys enjoy!

~

what if sweet, ball of sunshine cole started going out with this grumpy, not so easily impressed girl.

and for a while, it’s perfect, just like all the movies- but then reality sets in.

their differences that they thought they could move past, were too big for the couple to overcome.

cole, who feels like he can’t be anything but sunshine. with her hardened demeanor, he’s terrified that if he gives in to how he really feels, she may not be able to console him.

and she, who feels so intimidated at the thought of letting cole into her head. she’s the complete opposite of sunshine- and the idea of letting cole into the storm cloud she calls her brain is frightening.

eventually, it all comes to a head after a bad game. he comes over to her apartment, hoping her presence can work its magic like usual. but it can’t. cole’s upset, he’s been upset, and he can’t be bothered to hide it anymore.

“cole i’m here to help you-“ she starts, before she’s cut off.

“are you really though? because you don’t seem like it. most people that want to console someone don’t stand there with that blank fucking look on their face,” he bites back, frustration bubbling off of him like steam off a boiling pot of tea.

and she recoils, because there it is. it always happens eventually. she can’t be as expressive as her partner wants her to, and they leave, frustrated that something as simple as a smile or enthusiasm is so hard to draw out from her.

“i’m trying cole, i swear i am. i want to help you, i mean it. let me be there for you,” she begs, trying to stop the outcome she can sense is looming on the horizon.

but he can’t. he’s frustrated, he wants to advertise his fears, his struggles, but that fear of his emotions being too much for her to cope with creeps up again. and so he shuts down, putting up walls he didn’t know he had.

“just- forget it. we’re done here,” he frustratedly lets out.

“what do you mean we’re done here cole? you’re clearly upset- let me be there for you,” she exasperatedly states, tears of frustration building at being stone walled by her normally joyful boyfriend.

“not just here. we’re done, period. i can’t do this anymore,” he says, headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, hoping that’ll cool the accumulated rage that’s been simmering inside of him for so long, silenced by his need to keep up happy-go-lucky appearances.

his hand grips the cup tightly, as he quietly mutters “i’ll sleep on the couch and be gone by the morning.”

“cole, i- why the hell are you- forget it. clearly i never meant jack shit to you if it’s that easy to call it quits,” she says, mostly to herself, storming off to her bedroom, only letting her tears fall once her back is turned to the boy, who’s walls are now crumbling as he sobs quietly in the kitchen.

but his walls, defense mechanisms he’s never really engaged before, make one final move at protecting his heart.

“fucking avoid it like you usually do. real fucking nice that our relationship is crumbling before our eyes and you can’t utter one fucking word that makes it seem like you’ve ever given a shit,” he practically yells into the darkness of her house, but despite the darkness, the words reach her ears.

there it is. the final nail in the coffin. at his rage-filled words, her back hits the door, hand coming up to muffle the cries building in her throat, emotions begging to come out and scream “i’m here, i promise! she may hide me, but im here!”

her hand is practiced in the action though, and her cries of despair never reach the air.

two lovers that in any perfect world could worked.

two lovers torn apart by a beast that king eurythesus should’ve forced hercules to face in his labors, for then the hero surely wouldn’t have been successful.

a beast by the name of miscommunication.

#cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fics #hockey imagines #nhl #montreal canadiens imagine #gray writes #nhl fic #nhl hockey

[wouldpollyapprove]

Don’t Go

Summary: Y/n and Arthur’s relationship wasn’t one that anyone talked about, she was married and he was a Peaky Blinder. As forbidden as the romance seemed, they loved each other more than they could ever express. But what was unknown to everyone, was that Y/n’s marriage was no bed of roses and life at home was a nightmare. That comes to light, though, when she shows up at Polly’s all black and blue.

Request: Can you write one with Arthur - 8, fluff from the prompt list? Where Arthur is the one asked to stay, him having thoughts of being incapable to calm somebody else while being emotional himself in the situation.

Requested by @kotkameow

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: language, domestic abuse

A/n: This turned out real well, not as long as I wanted it to be but I’m happy nonetheless. Requests for oneshots are still closed but feel free to request gif imagines, headcanons, and/or prefrence. I should have those out quickly.

Masterlist

Blood poured out of the cut in her lip, the room spinning around her while she tried to push herself off the floor. She winced once weight was put on her feet, the adrenaline that had been in her system moments ago dwindling. 

Only an hour ago she had returned home from work. And only an hour ago her life hadn’t been complete hell. 

Y/n worked at the Shelby’s betting shop, mostly doing numbers as she had always been good at math. It wasn’t an ideal job in her mind, but once her husband lost his job at the bank, she was forced to find work to stay afloat. You would never hear her complain though. 

Working for the Shelby’s had its ups and downs, but she loved the job. Perhaps it was the fact that it kept her busy or perhaps it was the fact that she’d developed a rather personal relationship with her boss’s brother. But no matter, it was always better to be anywhere than home. 

Y/n’s husband wasn’t a violent man when she first married him. He was gentle, but never very loving. His work, his money, always meant more to him than anything in the world. Jim came from a wealthy family, one linked to the long-gone French monarchy, but that didn’t make him a gentleman. Y/n wasn’t aware of what her husband had done, but he’d done something bad enough to get him stripped of all his family’s money. So, he practically hoarded all the money that came into the house. Once he lost his job though, that’s when things started to go downhill. 

The first time he raised a hand to her was when their plumbing needed repairing and it cost more than Jim liked. What was Y/n to do, though? She wanted running water and didn’t care how much it would cost. But Jim cared. He always cared about the money that was spent and made sure Y/n knew it. Her husband became so angered by her spending, mostly over household items, that she started to save away a quarter of her paycheck to buy things that she needed for the house. 

It had never been bad, though. A bruise on her arm or cheek that would fade in a day. It was never more than that. His violent bursts were easy to conceal under the sleeve of a dress or a bit of vouge and for that she was thankful. She never wanted people to look at her, pity in their eyes, for what she dealt with at home. Y/n knew she was one of the lucky ones. Most women with abusive husbands had more wounds than she. She also knew that luck always ran out, just never expected her’s would run out so soon.

But one day, Jim had completely lost it. 

Being a fool, he thought it a great idea to put all his money in during a game of poker. Jim wasn’t one to gamble, he knew nothing when it came to cards, yet he wanted to test his luck. Turns out the man was clean out and ended the game with a few small coins to his name. When he came home, Y/n was cleaning the kitchen, about to start dinner when he started yelling at her. 

Leaning against the kitchen table, Y/n brought a shaking hand up to her lip, moving it away to see blood-covered fingers. She sighed as tears started to roll down her cheeks. What was she supposed to do now? Jim had stormed out of the house once he was finished beating her, but she knew he would return, likely drunk. 

In fear of his return, Y/n fetched her coat and slipped out the front door. Her face was black and blue, she knew, with cuts littering it from the rings Jim wore and that was likely how the rest of her body looked. She couldn’t look, though, not at the damage done. It made her feel weak, trapped in an unhappy marriage that would probably end in blood.

Y/n didn’t care much about her appearence once out on the streets of Birmingham. It was near 7 o’clock, most people would be in their homes, so she didn’t really care who saw her stumble down the street. Those on the street were men getting heading to the factories or children scavenging for food. None of them would even bother to glance at her, let alone ask any questions.

Anywhere was safer than home,she repeated the words like a mantra. Over and over to help calm her down. 

It was starting to get cold, a slight breeze sweeping between the buildings when Y/n came upon Polly’s house. She didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, but she was freezing and exhausted, home was far behind her and she refused to turn back. Her knuckles brushed against the door, fear bubbling up over the fact Polly might be home. After a minute or two, she heard shuffling and then the sound of a lock click before the door opened to expose the home’s owner. 

“Y/n,” Polly exclaimed, looking the girl over. Shock in her eyes, she frowned. “Come inside-” she grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her in. Once inside with the door shut behind them, Polly finally asked, “What happened?”

Y/n shook her head, not willing to expose the secret she’d kept so guarded. Polly gave her a sympathetic smile and guided her into a chair at the kitchen table. The older woman then put on a pot of water and grabbed two cups out of the cupboard. 

“How long has this been going on?” she asked, pouring the hot tea into the cups.

She bit her lip, tears threatened to spill once again, taking a cup out of Polly’s outstretched hand. “A while, I guess.” A sigh escaped her after taking a sip of the warm beverage. “It’s never been this bad, though.” She choked on her words, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “But it’s always been over money.”

Polly shook her head, men were the downfall of the world. “Does Arthur know?”

“No.”

God, he was the last person she wanted to know, but the first person she wanted to run to. She couldn’t risk him seeing her in a different light, though. Seeing her as weak and small. Y/n was more than that she knew but didn’t appear that way covered in bruises. What would Arthur do anyway? He would only want to kill Jim, not what Y/n was looking for at that moment. 

“Let’s clean you up, dear,” she said tenderly, reminding Y/n of her mother. 

Standing up, Polly grabbed a washcloth and turned the faucet on, once tamp she wrung it out and brought it to the table. “It’s gonna sting, okay?” Y/n nodded before Polly placed the damp cloth against her skin, wiping the dried blood away. The two fell into peaceful silence before the front door opened, hitting the wall, and loud voices carried down to the kitchen. 

“I don’t see why I can’t,” John grumbled loudly, entering the kitchen. He was the first to lay eyes on the pair of women, quickly falling silent. Tommy and Arthur were right behind him, bumping into their younger brother, too involved in their conversation to see what had to stop him. 

“Fucking move,” Tommy shouted at him, shoving him out of the way. He was about to yell once more before his eyes fell on Y/n and the bruises that covered her face. 

Then Arthur saw her.

He didn’t say anything as he looked her over. He didn’t know what to say. His eyes quickly found something else to look at as Y/n made eye contact with him. Shame and embarrassment were evident in her eyes.

“What happened?” Tommy inquired, coming closer to the table. 

Polly stood, facing her nephew. “Nothing, now go. Out,” she tried to wave them out of the room.

John nodded, motioning to his brothers that he would be outside. It didn’t look like something he wanted to be involved in just yet, especially if Polly didn’t want them in the house. That woman was scary and he knew better than his brothers to make his aunt angry.

“That means you two as well,” Polly pointed at Tommy and Arthur. “Out.”

Tommy sighed and told Polly that they’d talk bout it later. “Come one, Arthur.” He patted his brother’s shoulder as he passed by him. 

Arthur turned to follow his brother outside when a hand clasped around his wrist. The man turned, hair falling in front of his eyes, to see Y/n looking up at him with tears in her eyes. 

“Stay. Please,” her voice was hoarse when she spoke, instantly reaching for her cup of tea when she finished.

Arthur just stood there, frozen. He had never been good with his own emotions, so how was he supposed to help someone with their own? Y/n looked like shit, worse than shit actually. But what could he do? What did she want him to do? The two were intimate but it never went further than bedroom activities. He wanted it to be more than that but she was married. 

“I-I,” he stuttered, unsure of what he should be doing. Tommy gave up waiting for his brother and went out to see where John went. 

Polly walked over to her nephew, handing him the washcloth. “Help clean her up, okay? She’ll be fine, you just gotta help her.”

He nodded, taking the cloth from her. Kneeling in front of Y/n, he took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. “I got you, Y/n, I got you.”

Y/n gave him a weak smile as Polly left the room to give them some privacy. “I know.”

“Did Jim do this to you?” he asked, anger starting to build up. Arthur took a deep breath, doing his best to calm himself down. The last thing Y/n needed was for him to get angry.

She looked away, instead focusing on her cup of tea. 

“It’s okay, love.” He dapped a small cut under her lip. “You should have told me.”

Leaning into his touch, she nodded. “I don’t wanna go home, Arthur. I can’t.”

His heart broke at her plea. He never wanted to hear her so broken. Y/n was always the happiest person at the shop, never had he expected her to ever be in this position. “You can stay with me if you want.”

She nodded, “I’d like that very much.”

Arthur tossed the washcloth on the table and wrapped her in an embrace, kissing her forehead. “I’ll make sure this never happens ever again.”

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.

@amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee  @multi-fandom-iimagines

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder fanfic #arthur shelby #arthur shelby imagines #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 16

Well, it’s late AF but I SAID I’d get it posted! And it’s a monster. And, pardon my French, but I’m damn fucking proud of it. (And thank you SO MUCH to @what-does-mine-say for her help!!!)

I just hope you all don’t hate me (or Alex for that matter) after reading it *nervous laughter*

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 16/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Language because it’s me; tremendous amounts of angst; anxiety; drinking and allusions to alcoholism; … and cheating *cries*

Word count: 7.7k

Catch up on previous parts here.

When Callie arrived back at the house from her run, she’d expected to hear the lawnmower. The grass was getting bad, and she’d asked Adam last night to please cut it that morning before it got too hot. But as she walked up the front porch and back into the house, it was silent. Too silent.

She pulled out her ear buds and set them with her phone on the kitchen island before marching upstairs to their bedroom. It was nearly 11, and if he was still asleep—

But when she burst into their bedroom, she found their king-sized bed empty and unmade. Her brow furrowed. She glanced toward the master bath; that was dark and empty, too. She turned and went back downstairs, searching through the house. He wasn’t in the den or the garage, or anywhere else that she could see. Finally, she peered through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Anger bubbled up inside her. Adam sat at the patio table, an open beer can in his hand.

The glass door gave an angry whir as Callie slid it open. Adam didn’t even so much as glance in her direction, too occupied with his phone. “Are you seriously drinking? It’s not even eleven, Adam.”

“It’s Miller Lite,” he dismissed with a roll of his eyes. “It’s practically water.”

Callie’s eyebrows arched. The question flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “But is it your first?”

Adam’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “Are you serious?”

For a moment, Callie was struck dumb by the darkness in his eyes. They held a storm of emotion—anger, hurt, betrayal. He’d never looked at her like that, and a wave of regret surged up through her. But she steeled herself against it. As much as it hurt her to see him in such a state, she knew it would only get worse if she didn’t say something.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she returned. “I know you’re upset about all the shit with Kenny and Alex, but it’s getting out of hand, Adam. You’ve been drinking more and more the last few weeks. I don’t think I’ve seen you without a drink in your hand since we got back from Jacksonville. Do you know how many empty beer cans and whiskey glasses I’ve cleaned up the last few days?”

He looked back down at his phone. “Well, no one asked you to clean them up,” he bluntly returned with a sip of his beer. It stunned her again. And then, it angered her.

“No, they didn’t,” she shot. “But I guess I’m the only one around here who cares. Do I need to mow the lawn, too?”

Adam abruptly slammed the beer can down onto the table, making Callie flinch. When he spoke, his voice came out eerily calm. “I’m a grown-ass man, Callie. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child in my own damn house.”

He stood up and stalked toward the patio door, not looking at her as he passed. She followed after him as he went inside. “Babe, please just talk to me.”

“I really don’t want to,” he said, moving toward the garage.

“Why not?”

He whirled around to face her. “Because I just don’t! Okay? Just let me deal with my shit how I want to deal with it!”

He glared down at her, and the look on his face sent Callie’s heart into her throat.  If his eyes had been dark before, they were downright unrecognizable now. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. She didn’t know who this person was.

“Well if this is how you want to deal with it, then I don’t want to be around it.”

She pushed past him and grabbed her phone off the kitchen island and her keys off the hook on the wall next to the garage door. Tears filled her eyes as she left and climbed into her car. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse: knowing that Adam was hurting, or knowing that he didn’t want her help to take away the pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex was trying every trick in the book to clear her head. She’d gotten up with the sun and gone for a run despite absolutely hating it. She’d cleaned her kitchen and bathroom and vacuumed the entire house. She’d taken a long, hot shower. Now, she was going through her entire wardrobe, getting rid of the things she didn’t wear and reorganizing the rest. But no matter what she tried she couldn’t distract herself from what she’d done.

She’d kissed Kenny, not the other way around. She’d grabbed him and kissed him, aching to feel him in that moment, and she’d only broken away at the prospect of getting caught. How much further would she have gone if she hadn’t heard those voices in the hall? Would she have kept kissing him? Would she have straddled his lap, let him carry her into the bathroom and fuck her on the sink? She liked to believe she wouldn’t, but she wasn’t sure. And she hated herself for that.

And Cash. She’d hidden it from him—all too easily. After his match she’d kissed him like her life depended on it, and he’d changed without even taking a shower so they could get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. She’d had bruises on her thighs from how hard he’d gripped her, her back pressed flat against the shower wall, teeth biting into his shoulder and her legs wrapped tight around him as he’d thrust deep into her. It had been the best sex they’d had yet; and she’d thought of Kenny as soon as it was over. She hated herself for that even more.

She grabbed a dress she hadn’t worn in over a year from off its hanger and walked out of her closet to toss it onto the quickly growing donate pile on her bed. It was probably a side effect of her guilty conscience, but she felt like purging everything and buying a whole new wardrobe. She walked over to her dresser and jerked open the bottom drawer where she kept all the t-shirts she never wore and started pulling them out onto the floor. But she suddenly stopped when she grabbed a pink and orange tie-dyed shirt that had been shoved into the back.

She sat back on her heels and smoothed out the fabric across her lap. The words “Daytona Beach” were printed in arched white lettering across the front. She’d completely forgotten she had that shirt; Kenny had bought it for her that day at the boardwalk. And now that she saw it, all the memories tied to it came flooding back in a rush.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to her nightstand and pulled open the drawer. She’d dropped Kenny’s locket in there as soon as she’d gotten home two days ago, and she’d managed to leave it there, out of sight and out of mind. But now she pulled it out and opened it.

Her stomach fluttered as she looked at the picture. She remembered that moment like it was yesterday. Kenny had put his arm around her waist and hugged her close on the photobooth bench. He’d smirked down at her and asked, “Are you really mad at me?” She’d pouted and turned to tell him, “Yes,” but he’d kissed her before she could. And she’d forgotten all about him wiping the floor with her on every game in that arcade.

She closed the locket and slipped the chain over her neck as she moved to her full-length mirror. The chain was long, and the locket hung below her chest, halfway to her belly button. She was impressed with how well Kenny had done; it was exactly her style. And as she looked at herself in the mirror, she had a thought.  

She grabbed her phone off her bed and walked back to the mirror. She mussed her long brown hair just so and half-tucked her oversized tank top into her cutoff shorts, adjusting it so that her lacy bralette peeked out of the low-cut neck, and struck a flattering pose. She must have taken twenty photos before she finally got one she liked. It was definitely a little bit sexy; but honestly, that was what she wanted. She opened up Instagram, chose the photo from her gallery, and typed up a caption. Feeling cute, might delete later #ootd. And then she hit “post.” To everyone else, it would just look like a typical girly Instagram post. But when Kenny saw the locket around her neck, he would know.

She tossed her phone back onto the bed and went back to cleaning out her dresser. She got through the rest of the t-shirts and most of the next drawer before she couldn’t stop herself from looking anymore.

She picked up her phone and opened Instagram. The picture already had a few dozen likes, mostly from fans but a few from friends. Trent had already commented. Your pockets are longer than your shorts. She rolled her eyes.

A new notification popped up and she immediately opened it. Cash had liked the photo and commented with a heart eyes emoji. Alex’s heart sank, suddenly feeling guilty for even getting the idea to post the picture. But, suddenly, another notification came in: kennyomegamanx liked your photo.

Her heart sped up. A few seconds later, her phone chirped with a text—from Kenny.

Fuck, Alex. I wasn’t expecting that. Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?

Alex bit her lip as she read the message, over and over again. It was bold, and she had enabled it. But before she could decide what the hell she should do, if anything at all, another text came in—from Cash.

Good lord, sweetheart. I’m about to get in my car and not stop until I’m at your house and in those cutoffs.

Alex threw her phone to the bed like it was on fire. She ran her hands through her hair. “What the fuck are you doing?” she breathed. But, suddenly, her phone rang. She stole a glance at the screen, terrified it was Kenny or Cash—but it was Callie.

She picked it up and answered it, welcoming the unexpected interruption. “Hello?”

“Hey. Are you busy?”

Her voice was thick; she sounded upset. Alex’s brow furrowed. “No. I’m actually trying to make myself busy,” she admitted with a wry laugh. “Why? What’s going on?”

Callie drew in a shaky breath. Was she crying? “I know this is last minute and you don’t exactly live right down the road… but I’d really appreciate it if you came over.”

“Yeah,” Alex immediately said. “Of course. Should I pack a bag or anything?”

She didn’t answer right away. “If you want,” she eventually said.

Alex chewed her lip. “Okay. Is everything alright?”

It seemed like a stupid question; it certainly didn’t sound like everything was alright. But, whatever it was, Callie didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. “We’ll talk about it when you get here,” she said.

“Okay,” Alex said again. “See you in a couple hours.”

They said goodbye and hung up. Alex navigated back to Cash’s text and typed up a quick reply. Hold that thought. Callie just called and asked me to come over. She sounded upset.

She hit send—and then she pulled up Kenny’s text again. She opened the emoji keyboard and looked at the frequently used tab. The very first one was the kissing face emoji. She’d recently sent it—to Cash. Her thumb hovered over it, tempted to send it to Kenny. But she thought better of it and closed out of her messages and locked her phone, hurrying to pack a bag and get out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had texted Alex to meet her at a grocery store parking lot about twenty minutes from the house. If there was one complaint she had about living out in Middle-of-Nowhere, Virginia, it was that it took at least twenty minutes to get to anything; it certainly wasn’t like that where she was from in California, and she still hadn’t gotten used to it. But she’d trade every convenience in the world for Adam. He was her world. But, right now, she didn’t feel like she was his.

She sat in her car staring at her phone, hoping he would call or text, getting angrier by the second. Didn’t he care where she was? She’d been gone for hours. She opened up Instagram and started scrolling, hoping to distract herself, and when she got bored with that she turned to Twitter. She was typing a snarky reply to something Britt had tweeted when someone knocked on her window, making her jump. She looked up. It was Alex.

She jumped out of the car, nearly hitting Alex with the door as she opened it, and threw her arms around her neck.

“Okay, you’re kinda scaring me now,” Alex awkwardly returned; she clearly hadn’t expected to be ambushed with a hug. “What’s going on?”

Callie could feel the tears rising from her stomach to her throat, threatening to spill. “Adam and I got into it this morning. I walked out right before I called you. I’ve been gone for hours and he doesn’t even seem to care.”

Alex relaxed and returned the embrace. “Why’d you get into it?”

“His drinking.” Callie sniffled as she pulled away. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “It’s gotten completely out of hand. It’s all he ever seems to do anymore, and he won’t talk to me or let me help him…”

Her voice broke, and Alex immediately pulled her into another hug as the tears finally broke forth. “Why is he drinking?” she asked.

Callie pulled away again, wiping her cheeks dry. “Kenny,” she said. “He feels guilty about setting you up with Cash now that he knows how Kenny feels. And Kenny’s behavior isn’t helping.”

Alex seemed to freeze when she said that, her eyes wide and her jaw tight. But before Callie could ask, she said, “Come on. I’ll take care of it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Alex didn’t wait for Callie before she climbed out of her Jeep and moved toward the front door of Callie and Adam’s house. Callie hurried to catch up with her as she let herself in.

“Where is he?” Alex asked.

“I’m not sure,” Callie said. “Probably in the backyard.”

Alex walked into the kitchen and got a glass out of one of the cabinets. She turned on the sink and filled it to the top with water.

“What’re you doing?” Callie asked.

She gave her a look. “Sobering him up.”

She walked purposefully toward the back of the house and out the sliding glass door. Adam sat with his eyes closed on one of the patio couches in front of the fire pit, his boots propped up on the ottoman, a beer can clutched in his hand. He didn’t even stir as Alex marched right up to him and threw the entire glass of water in his face.

“What the fuck?!” He sat up, sputtering. He blinked his eyes open against the light and water. “Alex?” he asked in confusion and anger. “What the fuck was that for?”

“For being a fucking jerk,” she returned. “For being passed out drunk in your backyard.”

“I’m not—” he cut himself off with a groan as he wiped the water from his face. “What the fuck are you even doing here?”

“Callie called me crying and asked me to come over,” she said with a motion toward Callie. “Did you even realize she was gone for more than two fucking hours?”

Adam cast his gaze regretfully at Callie. But he had nothing to say for himself. Alex let out a breath. She walked over to Callie and squeezed her shoulder. “Give us a minute, alright?”

She nodded. Her eyes were full of hurt as she looked briefly at Adam before turning and going back into the house. Alex made sure she’d closed the door behind her before she walked back over and sat down next to Adam on the couch, setting the empty glass on the ottoman. Adam spoke first.

“Did she really call you crying?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he breathed. “What did she say?”

“That your drinking’s gotten out of hand. That you’re self-medicating because you feel guilty about me and Kenny and won’t talk to her about it.”

For a long time, Adam didn’t say anything. When he finally did speak, he couldn’t look at her. “He blames me, Alex. He thinks I’m the reason that you two aren’t together anymore. And he’s not wrong.”

Alex’s face fell, suddenly becoming conscious of the weight of Kenny’s locket around her neck. She hadn’t bothered to take it off before running out of her house to meet Callie. She gripped the locket in her hand, worried that somehow Adam would know what it was. Know what she’d done after Dynamite that week. “Why do you think he blames you?”

“Because he fucking told me he does,” he returned with a look at her. His eyes were glassy. “He called me a guilty drunk.”

Her brow furrowed. “When?”

“After the fight at the hotel. I went to his room to talk to him. He thought I’d called him over to rub you and Cash in his face.”

Alex’s heart sank when she saw the look on Adam’s face. He was lost, broken, hurt. And then she realized: this wasn’t really about her and Kenny. It was about him and Kenny.              

She scooted closer and pulled him into a hug. “You’re not a guilty drunk,” she assured. “You’re a good friend. Everything you did was done with good intentions. I know Kenny can’t see that now… but he will.”

Adam didn’t say anything in return. He just gripped her tight, clinging to her like a lifeline. It worried Alex. She’d never seen him like this. She’d witnessed his anxiety countless times before, the way he tended overthink and constantly doubt himself, but this was deeper. She wished she could take some of it on herself, help unburden him, if only for a moment.

Eventually, he let her go. He looked so tired. So defeated. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s better this way.”

She cocked her head at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve felt like a black sheep for six months now,” he said. “Maybe longer. I don’t fit in with Kenny and Matt and Nick. That’s why I’ve been hanging out with Dax and Cash; I fit in with them. I know them, they accept me for who I am. And I feel like Kenny and the Bucks don’t. So I don’t know. Maybe I should just cut my losses.”

Alex frowned. “Trust me, I know how you feel.”

“What?” He gave her a confused look. “You and Best Friends are four peas in a fucking pod.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up. “No, I don’t mean them,” she clarified. “When I was… involved with Kenny last year, the entire time I felt like Matt and Nick hated me; especially Matt. It just seemed like they didn’t think I was good enough for Kenny. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if they influenced him against me.”

“Like I did with you against Kenny,” Adam muttered.

She pursed her lips. “The point I’m trying to make is that I know exactly how exclusive Kenny and the Bucks can act. But they let you into their circle for a reason. Yeah, you’re different from them in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t mean you don’t fit in. It just means you bring something unique to the table that none of them do. And if they don’t appreciate that… then that’s on them.”

Adam looked down at the ground. Alex wasn’t sure if he believed what she was telling him, but when he looked back at her his eyes seemed a little brighter. “Remember how we always used to talk about being a tag team? Maybe it’s time we finally did it.”

Alex gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure Kenny would love that.”

He returned her grin, but it faded fast. “Thank you for being there for Callie,” he said. “I know I’m in the fucking doghouse now.”

She shook her head. “Just talk to her. That’s all she wants.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Thank you, Alex,” he said again. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

She squeezed his hand back. “I know. Don’t let Chuck hear you say that, though.”

“I don’t care, I’ll fight him.”

She smiled and pulled him into another hug. “No more drinks the rest of the day, alright?”

“Deal,” he agreed. They unwrapped their arms from around each other. “Do you want to stay for dinner, or something? You came all the way out here.”

Alex shook her head as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “No; I’ll give you two your privacy. Besides, I think the drive back will help clear my head.”

His brows knitted together when she said that. “Is everything alright?”

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. No, everything was not alright. But there was no way she could tell Adam what had happened with Kenny, not after what he’d just told her about all he was going through with The Elite. So she just said, “It’s just stuff. I’m an anxious millennial, too.”

Adam looked like he didn’t quite believe her; but, thankfully, he let it go. “Alright. Well text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Alex went back into the house and exchanged a few reassuring words with Callie before going out the door and climbing back into her Jeep. And as she got on the road and started the two-hour drive back home, she rolled down the windows and cranked up the music, hoping it would take her away to another place.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex closed her eyes and pulled her legs into her chest as she sunk back into her cubby hole in the locker room, making herself small. She breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, trying desperately to just focus on the moment in front of her. She’d been ruminating all day—all week—teetering on the edge of an anxiety attack ever since she’d set foot into Daily’s Place. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Cash knew something was wrong. She’d told him she was nervous about his match that night, which wasn’t entirely untrue—FTR was teaming with The Elite against Dark Order in a 12-man tag match. He’d assured her that it would be alright; he was more than capable of putting his issues with Kenny aside for the sake of the match. But his assurance had only made her feel worse. The issues he knew were just the tip of the iceberg.

Alex had tried not to text Kenny back after he’d responded to her Instagram post. She’d tried to put it out of her mind, and she’d damn near succeeded. But, later that night, long after she’d returned home from Callie and Adam’s, Kenny had sent another message: Why’d you post that picture? And she hadn’t been able to stop herself from answering: Because I was thinking of you.

It had been a slippery slope from there.

I can’t ever stop thinking of you.

We shouldn’t do this.

You’re the one who posted that picture. You wanted me to see it.

I’m going to sleep.

Goodnight, baby.

I dreamed about you last night.

A good dream or a bad dream?

A good one. A not PG one.

And what did you do when you woke up?

Do you have to ask?

Did you think of me?

Yes.

Do you think of me when you’re with him?

Kenny, stop. This isn’t right.

That’s not a no.

She’d deleted the texts before going to Cash’s place the next day; and, somehow, that made her feel even guiltier than sending them. It meant she had something to hide. It proved that Kenny still held a part of her heart even while she was falling in love with Cash. And she knew that if she didn’t figure out who she wanted to give her heart to completely, she’d be left with nothing but a gaping hole in her chest.

Someone nudged her knee. She opened her eyes. Chuck stood in front of her. “Hey. Are you coming out with us for our match against Santana and Ortiz?”

Alex chewed nervously on her lip. But she nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He smiled. “Cool. We’re on second in case you haven’t seen the card.”

Alex just nodded. She knew they were on second—right after FTR and The Elite’s match against Dark Order. The thought of that alone made her anxious.

 Her phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down at the screen and felt herself stumble closer to the edge. It was a text from Kenny.

Meet me in the EVP room. Please.

Her mouth went dry. She knew she shouldn’t go even as she stood and told Chuck she’d be right back. She knew she should turn around with every step she took closer and closer to the EVP room. She knew she shouldn’t raise her fist and knock even as she did, and she definitely knew she shouldn’t have gone in and closed the door as soon as she saw Kenny sitting on the couch, alone.

“Hey.” He stood and met her halfway, and the next thing Alex knew his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. It was a different kiss entirely from the one they’d shared last week, tender and slow instead of desperate and hungry, and, for a few seconds, she returned it. But then she thought of Cash and pushed him away.

“No; we can’t do this, Kenny.”

She took a step back, afraid that if she didn’t he’d pull her right back into his orbit. Even now she could feel it tugging at her heart.

He breathed a laugh. “Yeah, you keep saying that. Yet here you are.”

Her shoulders slumped. She had no good answer for that. He was right.

He took a step closer. She didn’t move. “Why post that picture?” He gripped her hips, drawing her into him. “Why tell me that you got yourself off thinking about me if you don’t want this?”

“I’m not cheating on Cash.”

“So break up with him.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “It’s not that simple.”

He looked to the ceiling, let her go and took a step back. “Right. Of course it’s not,” he breathed. “But it was simple when you ended things with me to start seeing him.”

Alex’s eyebrow arched. Hurt. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” she repeated. “That was the hardest fucking conversation I’ve ever had. And it’s not fair of you to compare that to this. That was different.”

“How? How was it different?”

“Because we weren’t together. I didn’t cheat on you with Cash.”

“Oh bullshit, Alex,” he shot. “We were together.”

“For a week. I’ve been with Cash for over a month now.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Again, she was at a loss. She was here with him because a part of her wanted to be. But another part of her knew it was wrong.

He stepped forward again, cupped her face in his hands. He looked into her eyes, and Alex felt it all the way into her soul. “What do you want, Alex?”

Her answer came out barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

The door handle suddenly turned. Alex and Kenny jumped apart from each other just as Matt and Nick walked into the room. They both came to a halt just inside the door, staring back and forth between them. Alex flushed and looked away. If the conspicuous distance between her and Kenny wasn’t a dead giveaway that they’d interrupted something, the awkward silence certainly was.

“Uh, hey guys…” Nick said just to say something. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Alex quickly returned. Too quickly. She glanced at Kenny, “I just had a question… about the women’s tag team tournament. So, I came and asked it.”

Matt and Nick stared blankly back at her. That was a blatant lie; she wasn’t even in the women’s tag team tournament. Her heart pounded in her ears. She needed to leave.

“Well, I’m gonna go,” she said. “Gotta get ready for Chuck and Trent’s match against Santana and Ortiz.”

She didn’t look back at Kenny as she moved toward the door. Matt and Nick stepped aside so she could exit, and she hurried out the door and into the hall, stumbling on the edge, using what little strength she had left to at least make it somewhere private before she broke down.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex stood next to Callie at Gorilla, her eyes trained on the monitor in front of them, chewing her lip so hard that it started to hurt. Neither of them had said so much as a word to each other since the 12-man tag match had started. They were both far too wrapped up in their own thoughts and concerns about the men in the ring.

She held her breath as Stu Grayson and Nine set up Adam for a double vertical suplex; but Dax and Cash came in for the save, catching Adam before he could hit the mat. Kenny joined them, and they all lined up and hit a four-on-three triple vertical suplex against Grayson, Nine, and Evil Uno. Adam went for the pin—but Colt Cabana flew in and broke it up.

Callie let out a breath. “Well, they’ve actually been working pretty well together so far,” she remarked.

Alex didn’t say anything in response. Much to her surprise, they had been working well together so far, and Dark Order hadn’t been able to get in much offense at all. But Kenny and Cash had also largely avoided each other. It was an easy thing to do in a match with so many people.

Smack!

Shit.” Alex’s hand flew to her mouth. After Colt had broken up the pin attempt, Kenny had given chase to him around the ring—and he’d run straight into a massive superkick from Brodie Lee.

The domination by The Elite and FTR ended at that point. Grayson and Uno isolated Kenny in the ring, taking turns beating him down. Alex almost didn’t want to watch. But then Five tagged in, and Kenny managed to dive for a tag to Dax.

Kenny rolled to the floor outside the ring while FTR went to work on Five. He charged Cash in the corner, but Cash floated over him, rebounded off the ropes, and caught him in a resounding powerslam. Then Grayson ran in, but Cash hit him with a back suplex, followed by a powerful clothesline to take out Evil Uno right after.

“Damn,” Callie smirked at her. “That’s your man.”

Alex’s stomach churned. That was her man. And he had no idea he was sharing her heart with someone else.

They turned their attention back to the match. FTR and Adam were all in the ring. They looked like they were attempting to put simultaneous figure four leg locks on Five, Grayson, and Uno; but before they could, the three members of the Dark Order all kicked them away at once, sending them crashing into each other.

After that, The Elite took over. Kenny returned to the match and worked impeccably with Adam against Five and Grayson, and Nick showed off why he was the best high-flier in the company. But Alex’s eyes were on Cash, watching him as he stood on the ring apron with Dax. It was subtle, but she could tell that he didn’t like standing by while Kenny and the rest of The Elite took all the glory. She was certain it didn’t help when Kenny and Nick started pandering to the camera, chanting, “The Elite! The-the Elite!”

Eventually, Dax tagged in. He grabbed Five and held him across his knee, setting up for Demolition Decapitation. But when Cash delivered the tandem move from the middle rope, Dax fell to the mat, clutching his right knee.

“Oh no,” Callie gasped.

Alex watched in concerned silence as Cash went to check on his partner. Meanwhile, Kenny tagged in and hit a Dr. Wiley Bomb on Five; but other members of Dark Order broke up the pin attempt.

After that, Kenny was left to fend for himself. Cash and the ringside trainer helped Dax to the back—as did Adam. Nick and Matt watched after him as he went, completely confused as to why he was going with them.

So was Callie. “What is he doing?”

Alex didn’t know what to say. She thought back to what Adam had told her that weekend, how he felt more comfortable with FTR than he did The Elite. She wondered if he’d said as much to Callie after she’d left. But then Adam appeared, passing through the Gorilla curtain after FTR and the trainer. Callie sent him a perplexed look.

“Adam, what are you doing?”

He didn’t break his stride as he looked at her over his shoulder. “What?” he returned, as if he didn’t understand why she was asking such a thing. “He’s hurt, Callie.”

Callie gaped back at him. “But your tag team partner is still out there…” she said, more to herself than him. He was already gone.  

They both turned back to the monitor. It was a six-on-three match now, and Dark Order was taking turns beating down Matt. Colt nearly scored the victory for his team after hitting a big splash off the top rope, but Matt kicked out. He got a last burst of energy and did his best to fend them off; Callie cheered when he hit Five with a springboard stunner. Seeing an opening, he tried to tag in Nick—but Evil Uno pulled him to the floor and delivered a brutal belly-to-belly suplex that flattened him.

Once again, Matt was left to keep his team alive. But then a blur ran past Callie and Alex. Adam. He hurried to the ring apron, extending his arm out to Matt. He tagged him in—and Adam went ballistic. He delivered lariats to Grayson and Five before launching himself over the ropes and taking out Colt with a crossbody. Then he jumped back in the ring and delivered another lariat that sent Five over the ropes before running and diving through the ropes in a suicide dive to take out Nine.

Alex stole a glance at Callie. She expected her to be wildly cheering Adam on with the crowd—but she looked confused still. “Where the hell is Kenny?” she suddenly asked.

“There,” Alex said with a nod as he appeared on the other side of the ring apron from where Adam stood. But then Adam climbed atop the turnbuckle and did a moonsault onto all of Dark Order except Brodie—and Mr. Lee was not happy.

Adam picked Five up and tossed him back into the ring, climbing in after him. He threw him face-first into the turnbuckle, goading Brodie to tag in. It worked. He stepped through the ropes and the two men sized each other up. Adam started talking shit, and Alex smirked; that was the Hangman she knew. But then Brodie struck. They started trading big blows in the middle of the ring, but Dark Order gained the upper hand by opening the ropes just as Adam tried to rebound off them, sending him falling to the floor below. Brodie dove through the ropes and hit him like a battering ram, and Adam slammed into the guardrail. But Brodie didn’t waste a second; he immediately threw him back into the ring. The next thing they knew, Adam was draped across Colt’s shoulders as he stood atop the middle rope, a soon-to-be victim of the Chicago Skyline.

He hit the move. Callie and Alex both winced as Adam ricocheted off the turnbuckle and rolled lifelessly to the center of the mat. “Okay seriously, where the fuck is Kenny?” Callie asked again as Colt went for the pin. Her question was answered went Kenny suddenly dove into the ring, breaking up the pin attempt at two.

“Finally!” Callie breathed. She was obviously frustrated. Maybe Adam had told her how he’d been feeling about The Elite, Alex thought.

Kenny and Adam did their best to regain control, but Grayson and Evil Uno hit them with a combination 450 splash and corner cannonball. Kenny rolled out of the ring while Grayson covered Adam—but he kicked out a two.

“Yes!” Callie and Alex both proclaimed. They exchanged a grin.

Grayson tagged in Brodie. But before he could hit Adam with a discus lariat, Matt and Nick jumped into the ring and delivered a Superkick Party just as Adam ducked out of the way. They did the same to Uno and Grayson, clearing the ring of everyone but Brodie.

Kenny slid back into the ring while Adam rolled out of it onto the ramp. Kenny charged and locked his arms behind Brodie’s head, and he and the Bucks hit a combination Superkick Party and snapdragon suplex to the leader of Dark Order.

Kenny pulled Brodie to his knees in the center of the ring and pointed at Adam as he climbed to his feet. Adam ran toward the ropes and flipped into the ring, going for the Buckshot Lariat; but Brodie ducked out of the way, causing him to nearly hit Kenny instead. Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach as Adam turned around. Brodie hit him with a massive lariat that sent him flipping head over heels onto the mat. He covered him, and the ref counted one-two-three.

“Fuck,” Alex breathed. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Oh my God.” Callie ran her hands through her hair, gripping at the ends. “This is the last thing he needs right now,” she said, just above her breath.

Kenny and the Bucks moved to check on Adam as Dark Order assembled victorious on the entrance ramp. Alex couldn’t watch anymore. “I’m gonna go find Cash,” she said to Callie.

She nodded. “Yeah, go. I’ll deal with this.”

Alex gave her a tight smile as she turned and hurried out of Gorilla. She really did want to go find Cash and see if Dax was alright. But she also just didn’t want to be there when Kenny came back through the curtain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Alex laid in bed with Cash in their hotel room, scrolling through her Twitter timeline on her phone. The room was quiet—almost awkwardly so. But there was far too much weighing on her right now. Keeping her mouth shut seemed like the safest option, no matter how much it pained her.

Her timeline was inundated with tweets about the 12-man tag match, hours after it had happened. She came across one speculating about Dax’s injury; thankfully, he’d just tweaked his knee. But it was bad enough that the trainer had told him he needed to rest it for the next few days.

She abruptly stopped scrolling when she came across a video of Adam nearly nailing Kenny with the Buckshot Lariat. She watched it a few times over with the sound off, trying to gauge Kenny’s reaction; but it was too hard to tell. She hoped Kenny knew it was a complete accident. She hoped Adam didn’t blame himself for the loss.

Suddenly, Cash took her phone and gently pulled it out of her hands. She gave him a confused look as he set it on the nightstand with his. “What’re you doing?”

He didn’t say anything; he just pulled her closer and kissed her. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Alex welcomed his touch. She ran her hand up the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of him. He moved his mouth to her neck. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured against her skin.

She went rigid and then instantly tried to relax again, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Nothing’s wrong,” she lied.

“Yes there is.” He pulled back and looked down at her. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach. There was more than just concern in Cash’s eyes as he stared into hers. There was love. And suddenly, she knew she couldn’t hide it from him anymore.

“I kissed Kenny.”

She almost couldn’t hear herself say it, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. But she didn’t miss the way Cash’s expression changed. Confusion. Disbelief. “What?”

Tears sprung into Alex’s eyes, burning her sinuses. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.    

He sat up, pulling away from her. His sudden distance made the air feel cold. “When?”

“Last week,” she said. The rest of it came tumbling out in a rush. “I went to talk to him during your match about something Matt Jackson had said to me earlier in the day. But when I got there he gave me a locket he’d had made for me. He told me he’s in love with me.”

Cash sat up further. “What?”

Tears fell from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I was overwhelmed and I wasn’t thinking—”

She abruptly stopped when Cash flung back the covers and sprung out of bed. Alex watched as he haphazardly pulled on a pair of sweats. She felt herself start to panic. “What’re you doing?”

He didn’t justify her with a response. Instead, he charged out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Alex sat there for a second, stunned in the deafening silence. And then she realized exactly what he was doing.

She scrambled out from under the covers and ran out the door after him. He was already halfway down the hall. Headed straight for Kenny’s room.

“Cash, wait!” she begged, shouting after him. But he didn’t stop—not until he was in front of Kenny’s door. Alex moved her legs faster.

He balled up a fist and banged so hard on the door that it reverberated down the hall. “Open up, Kenny!” he yelled, deep and angry in his chest.

“Please don’t do this,” Alex pleaded. Kenny opened the door just as she reached him.

“What the f—”

He didn’t get to finish before Cash punched him hard in the mouth.

Kenny stumbled back into the room and fell to the floor. Cash was on him in an instant. He grabbed him by the hair and hit him again.

“STOP!” Alex bellowed. Suddenly, Matt and Nick came flying from next door. They charged into the room and forcefully pried Cash off of Kenny.

“Get the fuck off me!” Cash shouted as they struggled to hold him back. He was enraged. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Kenny? Huh? Telling another man’s girlfriend you’re in love with her?”

Kenny smirked up at him. His mouth was red with blood. “What?” he taunted. “Are you worried about it?”

Cash tried to lunge at him again, but Matt managed to force him out the door and into the hall, nearly bowling over Alex in the process. Nick slammed the door closed, staying in the room with Ken. Matt gave Cash a final hard shove before pointing a stern finger in his face.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck outta here.”

But Cash wasn’t intimidated. “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do, Matt? Suspend me?”

Matt took a threatening step forward. “I’ll fucking fire you.”

Alex stood rooted to her spot, petrified, afraid to even breathe as the two men stared each other down. She’d never seen Matt so angry, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would fire Cash. But, thankfully, Cash swallowed his pride and turned and stalked back off down the hall without another word.

It took a second for Alex to get her legs to work so she could follow after him. “Cash, wait,” she said again—and again, he didn’t stop or look back. She hurried to keep up with him. As soon as they were back inside their room, he whirled around to face her, stopping her dead. His eyes were hard.

“You kissed him?”

She had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could answer. “Yes.”

He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair. He turned and walked further into the room. “Did anything else—” but he cut himself off, shaking his head. “Actually, no. I don’t even want to know. Because I knew—I knew you weren’t over him.”

The accusation knocked the air from Alex’s lungs. She felt hollow. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe.

He looked back at her. And as they stared at each other from across the room, Alex realized that the hardness in his eyes wasn’t out of anger. It was out of hurt. “Alex… you need to figure out who you want: me or him.”

She took a step forward. “I want—”

“No,” he shook his head, cutting her off. “Don’t say you want me because it’s the right thing to say right now. You need to think about it. And so do I.”

He turned away from her again. “Cash…”

“You should probably sleep somewhere else tonight.”

That was the final blow. It cut her legs out from underneath her, gutted her from pelvis to sternum. And it felt like she’d done it to herself.

She walked over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. Their gaze met as he sat down on the bed. His eyes were glassy.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, and she turned and went out the door with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should have been.

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[fanficsandfluff]

Emotions Get the Better (17)

I’M BACK BITCHES

Okay, I rewatched Joker again and I got a little bit of a spark. This is literally such a bad chapter tho, I’m so sorry. I’m so out of practice. It’s just angsty filler lol. Still, I hope you can see past that and just cringe at the awkward, uncomfortable angst I’ve provided all of you with. 

~~~

You made it home the following day, sleeping over at Arthur's another night. It was crazy, you knew it. Especially since he had to keep lending you clothes because you didn't exactly pack for the unexpected stay-over two nights ago. But you took those borrowed clothes home with you, promising you'd wash them for him. Upon getting home, you realized you had a lot of missed messages on your answering machine. One of those was from your older brother, explaining how he and his wife, as well as your younger brother, would be in town this weekend. They planned on surprising your mom as an early birthday gift. Oh shit, her birthday was next week! You really did love your family, as much as you fought with them and you all remained apart. You loved them all.

Well, guess you have new plans for the weekend.

Going to work felt strange after the Arthur incident. Truth be told, life felt strange after Arthur. But you'd think of him and you'd see the crinkled eyes and awkward smile, and that sent your heart racing.

Your family would never approve of Arthur. Especially your brothers. But you were a good bullshitter and knew how to seduce the family. Maybe you could get them on your side.

On the way home from work that night, you stopped by a payphone. You heard the ring go on and on, no signs that anyone was home. Then on the final ring when you were about to hang up, the ringing stopped and shallow breathing was heard on the other line.

"Hello?"

There was no answer immediately. Maybe you had to clarify, "Arthur? It's me. Y/N."

"Hi," he said softly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you could barely make that out with how mumbled he was speaking.

"I was just going to ask you something over the phone, but do you want me to come over?" you purposely wanted to sound worried about him.

Another pause. You heard him exhale as if he was putting all of his energy into thinking of a response, "If you want."

That didn't sound good. You hung up without saying goodbye and walked as fast as you could to Arthur's apartment. Part of you was afraid. Would he be hurt again? Did something happen to his mother? No, he would've told you. You climbed the stairs since the elevator had an Out of Order sign plastered to it. When you reached Arthur's apartment, you knocked probably a little too forcefully.

You heard the lock coming undone slowly and then finally, it creaked open. You forced your way inside and looked Arthur up and down. It was clear he hadn't showered all day, but luckily there didn't seem to be any signs of injury.

"Hey," you walked in and cupped his cheek, leaning in for a kiss, but he leaned away from you and walked into his apartment. You frowned.

"Arthur," you followed him, dropping your purse by the door, "Arthur, what's going on?"

He paced the living room floor, running his hands through his hair. It was late enough that Murray started on TV.

"Come on, I don't really have the patience for this tonight," that probably came out bitchy. But fuck it, you were allowed to be a little annoyed that you came all the way here and now he wasn't even talking.

"Fine, I'll wait," and you stood in the entryway, arms folded across your chest.

Arthur stopped his pacing and looked straight at you. The first time he did that since you arrived. You raised your eyebrows at him, expecting an answer.

"I..." Arthur sighed, a hand shooting up to rub his own chest. He was about to have a fit, you could tell. "I had a bad day," he croaked.

You exhaled and rubbed your hands over your face, looking at him with a much softer gaze. It was like dealing with a child. Like after one has a nightmare and they want to sleep with you. Except this child lived several subway stops away from you and you wouldn't always be able to comfort this child. Then a slightly darker thought entered your mind. Pity. You pitied Arthur so much. And as much as the other part of you would deny it and say, 'oh no, I love him! It's love! which yeah you knew there was definitely love and affection there but ---- god, stop rambling. Your relationship basically started with pity. You felt sorry for this skinny guy on the train, dressed like a clown. It was the perfect scenario. And then you provided comfort for him. You comforted, and he spiraled back, and you pitied, and you were back at square one. You supposed you took too long to show him a reaction or give him a response, so the laughing started.

You went over and made him sit on the couch so you could hug him and try and let the fit ride its way out of him, whispering, "Shhh..." over and over again slowly.

The storm quelled and you asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur seemed.... well, you didn't even have the words. You've seen him beaten, broken, crazy, kooky, demented, even. But this was just a dead space. He was nonexistent in the present world.

"Whenever you're not here," Arthur began talking, his head leaning on your bosom, "It's like I can't... I don't know how to do anything. I forget," he shifted and looked up at you, "I feel like I'm changing."

You stared at him, brow furrowed. You didn't know how to approach this.

"I know it's hard. You're not used to living without your mom, and I have my own life to live sometimes so I can't always be here for you. You'll have to figure something out, Art," you rested your hand at the base of his neck and toyed with the ends of his hair. Then something clicked in you, "Have you been taking your medicine?"

Arthur's eyes snapped toward the kitchen where you knew he kept the meds. He stayed quiet though. You got off the couch and found the mostly full pill bottles on the counter.

"Y/N..." Arthur began.

"Okay, what the fuck!? Arthur, you..." you were angry, "You can't just stop taking your medication. There's a reason they prescribed this to you."

"But I feel better now!" Arthur got his voice back and he stood up, approaching you.

"You're delusional," you stated matter of factly, checking the tags and the refill dates on all his medication, "How long ago did you stop taking them?"

"I dunno."

"How long, Arthur?"

He looked at you and you could sense his own anger beginning to bubble inside him, "A week, maybe."

You shook your head, "Here, take these now. Please. So I can see."

"You don't understand--"

"Like hell I do! If I stop taking my meds, do you know what happens? I can barely wake up in the morning without crying. And then I'm stuck in bed the whole day wishing I could just get out of bed and start my day. And then the day's over and---" you swallowed, not wanting to cry. But fuck, you got emotional over everything so what the hell.

"I don't feel that way. I feel like I have a new seat in life. I used to be way up in the balcony, and now I'm so close to front row it's unbelievable. All these people," he pointed at the TV, which had been interrupted by a special news alert about a new wave of protests in Gotham. Some had raided a higher up's house, "They heard me."

"What are you talking about?" you didn't want to talk about the protests, as much as you pretty much agreed with them. Arthur had killed those guys. You had to keep reminding yourself of that once you figured it out. And you wanted nothing more than to keep him safe. They harassed him and he did it in self-defense.

Arthur came right up to you and cupped his large hands over your cheeks. He was shaking. Or were you shaking?

His thumbs shifted and they hooked the corners of your mouth. You knew what he was doing and you shook your head, "No," your hands came up to hold his, "Arthur, stop."

"You're so close to seeing it, too."

"Arthur, you're scaring me," you finally had to say. You all of a sudden remembered the whole reason you ended up here. It was so dumb compared to what was happening right now.

Arthur didn't seem like he knew how to act. He stood there, a smile on his lips, but his eyes were wide and glossy.

"I was, um," now you didn't know how to swerve subjects so hard, "I was going to tell you that I'd be away this weekend--"

"What?" his demeanor flipped like a switch, "Where are you going?"

"I'm visiting my family."

"No, no, I-I can't be here without you that long."

"You'll be okay."

"You don't understand, I couldn't survive one day without you. Y/N, please..."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me," you had purposely shifted yourself so you were at least five feet away from him. Arthur didn't give you an answer. He just stared at you with those sad, intense eyes of his.

"I can't."

"Now you can't?"

If Arthur was quick-thinking, he could just use his mother as an excuse, but fuck that he didn't even really want to think of her on a normal day.

"It's just one weekend," you tried reasoning with him, taking a step closer to him, "I think it'll be good for you. Get you out of the city."

Arthur was on the cusp. Of what, he could almost taste it but he didn't know. He had things to do, he couldn't go. He felt her touch his arms.

"If you just take your medicine and take a day to relax, I think you'll be able to clear your head. I want you to meet my family--"

"No, thank you."

You made a face, unable to help it. How fucking rude was that!?

"Um..."

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Arthur, I want to do what's best for you. I love you," you reminded him, leaning up so you could give his cheek a kiss. He let you.

"Go," was his curt reply.

You frowned, biting your lower lip. You didn't want to let him know how much his behavior was hurting you. You walked around him and went back to the door, picking up your purse, "I'll, um, I'll be back in time to see you on Murray."

Arthur laughed, throwing his head back. That was a real one. You sniffled and opened his door, closing it behind you. You continued hearing his laughter echo through the halls as you left his apartment.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #reader insert #joker #joker x reader #arthur fleck x y/n #joker x y/n #arthur fleck x you #joker x you #angst #uncomfortable #relationship on the edge #fight

[banashee]

Another Part of my @badthingshappenbingo​ is done.

Part 10.

Square: Cry into chest.

Please check the end notes on AO3 and the bottom of this post for more detailed trigger warnings!

*+~

 Raw around the edges

 Clint startles  awake with a gasp, shooting up into a sitting position with his heart beating too fast, reaching for the knife that’s always wedged in between the wall and the mattress. He looks around and realizes that he’s home, in his own bed. The uneasiness doesn’t quite disappear though. Despite the throbbing headache, pain all over and heavy weight on his chest, he forces himself to get out of the bed.

 Slowly, too slowly really, he makes his way through the entire apartment, checking every single room, every hiding place and every door and window - it’s all secure, and he breathes a little more easily. His hand holding the knife is shaking, though. He sits down, trying to get his heartbeat and uneven breathing back under control.

 ‘They will come for you’ a mean voice in the back of his head whispers, and the tremors running through his body get worse.

 He’s not entirely sure how long he just sits there, holding the stealth knife in a tight grip and trying to pull himself together. The apartment around him is silent, since it is still night or at least very early in the morning, but he can’t make it out - if there was anything really loud going on he might be able to tell, or if something was happening very close to him. But as it is, he sits in silence and stares ahead, unseeing and with his eyes glossed over. Clint is exhausted, and all he wants is to crawl back to bed, but it takes him a while to gather enough strength for the way.

 Once he’s back under the covers, he notices the blink of his phone in between the sheets. He fishes it out, and is incredibly relieved to find that he’s got an answer from Phil. Multiple texts actually, the first one sent soon after Clint reached out, but he must have been too out of it to notice it then.

 ‘Are you OK? On the way back now, I’ll be there ASAP.’

 Then, a few more texts follow, increasing worry clear in them since he never answered. Clint feels bad about that - he’s never sent a text like he did last night, never outright asked for help like this, and it must have freaked Phil out for sure.

 His latest text is from two hours ago and it reads,

 ‘Got a hold of Nick, he told me what happened - I’ll be there soon, will call when I’m in the car.’

 The relief is immediate, and Clint can feel his emotions bubble back up. He types a short reply.

 ‘      Fell asleep, sorry. Thanks Phil’  

 Instead of an text, he gets a call next and doesn’t need to look at the ID to know who it is. He pulls one of his hearing aids off the bedside table and answers the phone.

 “Hey.” His voice sounds rough and unused.

 “Hey. How are you?” Phil asks, worry clear in his voice, but it feels so good to hear him - it’s been too long since they talked or met, and Clint had missed his best friend the entire time. Hearing him now, the calm and familiar voice that helped him through so many fucked up missions and bad days is an instant relief.

 “I’m alive.” he says, truthfully. He’s about to say more, but there is a lump in his throat, rising up painfully and he swallows it.

 “It won’t take long, only a few minutes until I’m there.” Phil promises. Then, he asks, “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until then?”

 Clint nods, even though Phil can’t see him right now, and he’s unable to hold back tears any longer. They’re hot and salty, dripping down onto the bed sheets while he fumbles on a lose thread with one hand.

 “Please.” he says, and hates how desperate he sounds.

 What exactly it is that Phil is talking about until he reaches the apartment building, Clint wouldn’t be able to tell. He's mostly focusing on the sound of his voice, the familiarity and comfort that it is. He’s never had many friends to begin with, but right now, it looks like Phil is the only person he’s got left. Trusting anybody else doesn’t feel right, and the thought of it nearly sends him panicking, for a number of different reasons.

 But then, Phil says, “Okay, I’m outside now. Is it alright if I use the spare key you gave me?” and it kind of brings Clint back to reality. He looks up, pausing. Then he simply replies,

 “Yeah, sure.”

 It doesn’t take long at all until Phil is inside and announces that he’s right in front of the door, asking if it is okay to come in and waits for Clint to say something. Waiting, just to give him an option - the control to decide to let him in instead of being forced to accept a decision that isn’t his own. It’s a small thing, but it means the world to him.  

 “Come in. I’m upstairs.”

 When Phil walks into the room, he sees Clint in the half dark and his heart drops. He is sitting on the bed, looking way smaller than he actually is. He’s hunched over, clearly exhausted and when he looks up at the movement by the door after Phil told him he’ll come in, even in the low light it is clear that he’s been crying.

 Clint doesn’t say anything, just reaches out with one trembling hand and Phil settles down next to him - close but not yet touching, leaving that choice to Clint. But as soon as he’s there, he leans forward until he rests with his forehead against Phil’s chest, wrapping both arms around him and holding on for dear life.

 Phil hugs back and holds him close, keeping his hands at an awkward angle as to not directly touch Clint with them. It seems to be the right call, judging from the way he presses close to him - trusting and vulnerable in a way he’d never allow himself to be around anyone else. Soon, he’s shaking and sobbing in his arms.

 It’s all that Phil can do to hold him close and keep him from falling apart at the seams, as he patiently waits for the worst of the storm to pass.

 He keeps talking to him in a low voice, about nothing and everything but most of all reassuring Clint that he’s safe and that it’s okay to let go. Phil knows from experience that he needs this kind of reassurance, permission really, for not having to hold back and process emotions when years and years before have taught him the opposite.

 How long they remain like this, seated on the bed and wrapped around each other, neither of them would be able to tell.

 Clint needs time to break down in peace and in a safe environment and despite the pain and the fear that is still lingering in his chest after everything, it feels good. He doesn’t have to watch his back and keep and eye on the surroundings, because he knows that Phil will do this for him for as long as he needs him to. So it’s safe to let go for a while.

 When he is worn out and beyond exhausted from crying, he nearly dozes off, still firmly wrapped around Phil who let’s him cling. They end up laying down sideways and Clint falls asleep then, knowing that at least for now, he will be safe.

 Clint ends up talking to Phil later, when the sun has vanished on the horizon and the cool night air is flowing through his apartment.

 They’re seated on the couch, mugs of black coffee in their hands, and it feels good to focus on the warmth seeping through the porcelain.

 He looks down and into the dark liquid, and his voice sounds far away, almost robotic as he starts talking about the mission, how it started out and how everything went wrong. The words and descriptions are clinical, without any attachment or emotion - it’s the only way he can get through this.

 The fact that Phil knows at least the broad picture, has been filled in by Fury, helps a lot. But Clint doesn’t leave anything out this time.

 He talks about the way the plan had been changed without his knowledge or consent, and how he was forced to go undercover in the first place.

 He talks about the first encounter there and being strip searched, just a routine really, but traumatizing nonetheless - there are a number of reasons why he doesn’t usually do any work that requires close physical contact and Phil knows about them. After all, he was the one who pulled the right levers to protect Clint from these kinds of missions, always making sure he’ll get assigned to OPs that don’t require seduction or any kind of other intimate work.

 Shit happens sometimes, they all know this. But at least they try and weed out the biggest risks in that regard. And even if Phil hadn’t insisted it be that way, there is no use in needlessly traumatizing an agent with certain, specific triggers and have him unable to do his job as a result. So SHIELD is usually accommodating of this sort of thing.

 Clint talks about the man in his cell, about what happened there and what happened all those years ago when he first met him. He talks about old memories and recent reminders, both equally painful, and by the end of it his hands are shaking too much and he needs to put down his mug, to avoid pouring hot liquid all over himself. But he keeps going on, keeps talking even when his entire body is trembling.

 He talks about pushing through and forcing himself to endure day after day in his own personal hell, even when he was convinced all of this has been a ploy to get rid of him. He's rushing through that particular part, because it hurts too much to linger there. Clint stops to take a deep breath when he finishes his report, trying to pull himself together. But he needs to ask, needs to know. So he does just that.

 “Was this planned? Was all of... this” he gestures helplessly, “was all of this an attempt to get rid of me? I just, I know I’m not the easiest person to work with, and I know what people say behind my back. Dumb useless criminal and all that. Just… I need to know the truth. And I can’t trust anyone else. Please.”

 He doesn’t look at Phil, not yet. He fiddles with the fabric of his pants, with pillows and blankets on the couch next to him - anything soft he can reach. Clint keeps breathing very carefully. If he doesn’t get this conversation done soon, he’ll start to freak out all over again. The lump in his throat is growing, and he dreads to hear an answer.

 Phil, on the other hand, looks directly at him and he is stunned by the question. His answer is firm nonetheless, and he remains calm, even when he wants to tear something apart.

 “Clint. Look at me, please.”

 He does.

 “None of this was planned, no one in any place of power want’s to remove you from the agency. I’m sorry this happened, but I promise you, no one ordered this. Taylor acted on his own. He was the one to give out your name and blame those crimes on you. We are looking into that, and Director Fury will update me as soon as he knows more, but you are safe with SHIELD and we will make this right. We will protect you. I will always protect you, Clint.”

 His asset, one of SHIELD’s most capable and successful agents, but most of all, his best friend is sitting in front of him in a broken, hurting heap of a person. Silent tears are dripping into his lap and he looks back down, wringing the corner of a woolen blanket in his shaking hands. Clint is afraid for his life and safety after this, afraid to lose everything he’d worked and fought hard for in the past few years. And understandably so - anyone would be if they were in his position.

 “Okay.” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he fully believes it.

 If Phil ever finds out that any of this was caused by more than an incompetent, backstabbing handler and a lot of bad luck, then he will make people disappear.

 As it is now, he still might - no one hurts who he cares about and gets away with it.

 Then, Clint starts laughing. It’s far from happy, the polar opposite of it really - it sounds like he’s about to lose it at this point.

 “I was actually dumb enough to think I could be anything other than a hired gun, or simply entertainment for some sick fuck. I thought that part of my life was over, but obviously not.”

 He shakes his head, laughing once again while his eyes are dull and dark with a sadness that is creeping through every single cell in his body. Clint pulls in on himself, refusing to be touched when Phil quietly offers him comfort, in an desperate attempt to help.

 The words keep pouring out of his mouth, and it’s like he has lost all control at this point. Clint is  talking, choppy and out of breath. Cold sweat makes his clothes uncomfortably sticky against his skin and he’s freezing cold - he doesn’t care or do anything about it.

 “I wanted to go. Fury wouldn’t let me. Said I should talk to someone.” He laughs again, and sounds more broken than ever. It’s even worse than before, when he’d spend many hours sobbing uncontrollably into the chest of Phil’s shirt.

 “Sure, go talk to someone.”     Clint spits out. “Let them find me to throw back into this hellhole. No big deal.”

 Shaking his head once again, another awfully broken laugh leaves his throat and it turns into desperate, hysterical sobs.

 He buries his hands in his shaggy blond hair, tugging on it and slightly rocking himself back and forth. He’s out of it, doesn’t seem to notice he’s even doing it. But he’s barely holding onto sanity with his fingertips.

 Phil needs to sit on his hands. Everything in him, every instinct is screaming at him to do something, to comfort, hold him close and to protect. But Clint has made it clear that he doesn't want to be touched right now, and he will respect that.  Instead of invading his space, he keeps talking to him. Repeated assurances that he is safe, mostly.

 After a while, he seems to get through to him, and the muttering stops, as does the rocking. Clint leans closer to him again, and Phil asks if it is okay to come closer, getting a nod in response. He carefully, slowly, wraps both arms around his best friend once again, and despite everything,  Clint is leaning into the gentle touch and hugging back as hard as he can, refusing to let go.

 It is a long and hard way to go from there, but it’s a start.

 Over time, Phil manages to get through to him enough that he finally believes that no one is after him anymore, which is big. He also helps him find a professional to talk to, to work through old and new issues that this mission has brought to light - some days are worse than others, and Clint has a hard time trusting then. But Phil is right there, helping him in any way he can.

 One day after a therapy session, Clint tells him over coffee,

 “I don’t know if I want to go back.”

 Phil nods, knowing exactly what he’s talking about and waiting for him to go on.

 “I don’t know yet. But I might.” he admits then and drinks a few sips of his coffee in silence. He sits with his legs folded up under him and in a cozy corner of Phil’s couch. It’s evening, but time means little to him these days. And he needs the caffeine to stay alert, even more now than he did before.

 Phil nods again, considering his words for a moment.

 “That’s okay, you don’t have to rush that decision.” is what he settles on - it’s vague enough for Clint to choose on his own terms how much he wants to say about the matter right now. He hums into his mug, thinking about that for a moment.

 “It’s just-” he begins, and it looks like he might leave the sentence unfinished. But then he thinks better of it and continues,

 “I still don’t know for sure who I can trust. Don’t wanna test that, really. But I also worked my ass off to get where I was - am. Whatever. Don’t wanna lose that, or waste anything.” Clint is chewing on his bottom lip for a few moments, and Phil waits patiently for him to get his thoughts in order and to continue on his own terms. This is how a lot of their conversations go these days, but it works out and that is all that counts, really.

 “Don’t wanna lose you, most of all.” Clint quietly admits then and he doesn’t look up.

 “You won’t lose me, no matter what you want to do in the end. Just so you know. I’ll have your back and support you regardless of your employment at SHIELD.” Phil looks over at his friend, who is slowly but steadily healing and getting better. He’d do anything for Clint - he’s known that before, but he’s even more certain of it now.

 Phil has had the opportunity to deal with Agent Taylor shortly after his return - this man won’t do harm to anyone else, never again. He also made sure that Taylor will be neither found nor missed.

 “You mean a lot to me, Clint.”  Phil says then, and the younger man smiles at that. It's a small, real smile that actually reaches his eyes.

 “You, too. Thanks by the way. For being there.” he replies, and leans over to rest his head on Phil for a moment. In response, he simply wraps an arm around him and leans back into him - the two of them don’t need a lot of words.

 “Anytime.”

 *+~

 Square: Cry into chest

*+~

Trigger warnings:

- Nothing graphic, but Rape Aftermath - Breakdown, mental health issues, PTSD - Trauma processing - paranoia

#banashee writes #bad things happen bingo #marvel fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #tw rape mention #tw mental health issues

[the-everlasting-dream]

The Revelation - Chapter 15, TRR AU

Summary: Olivia takes things into her own hands and thank goodness she does. 

A/N: Two chapters in three days, who even am I? We are FINALLY getting to the fluffy part and eeee i’m squealing, scrapping the original plot was the best decision I ever made lol

Word Count: 5300+

Warnings: language

MASTERLIST

‘Tea Elizabeth?’ 

‘Yes please Hana.’ 

‘Sugar?’ 

‘One… please. Um.. could you.. could you pass the biscuits?’ 

‘Of course.’ 

’Thank you.’ ‘

You’re welcome.’ 

 ‘Enough!’ Olivia Nevrakis slammed her hands on the table top, finallly voicing her frustration. ‘I can’t take it anymore! How can you just prattle on like nothing’s happened?' 

‘Olivia I don’t…’ Hana tried to interject, but was silenced by a dismissive wave from the redhead who turned on Elizabeth. 

 ‘So..?’

She paused, eyes wide with a biscuit half way to her mouth. The three of them were seated in the gazebo in the main garden, taking tea at Hana’s suggestion that the fresh air would be good for Elizabeth. She’d been back in Cordonia for about a week and was still nervous about everything, only leaving her Atlantean mansion if necessary. Hana had offered to move in with her to keep her company and eventually Elizabeth had confessed what had happened at the hospital. Her best friend of course had been very understanding and accommodating to her reclusive wishes. Perhaps a little too accommodating, Olivia thought, one red eyebrow arched as she waited for an answer. 

Elizabeth set the biscuit back down on the table, obviously uncomfortable under her scrutinising gaze. ‘Olivia I don’t know what you want me to do.’ 

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘You can drop the pathetic act. It doesn’t suit you. Get over yourself and stop playing princess in your ivory tower. I want you to do something, anything Elizabeth.’ 

‘I did,’ Elizabeth replied, voice soft but holding a slight edge to it. ‘I went to the hospital, I saw him, he obviously didn’t want to see me. Or did you miss the part where Savannah slapped me?’ 

‘And you’re just gonna let that little tart get away with that?’ Hana gasped in alarm. 

‘Olivia!’

The redhead ignored her raising both eyebrows now, glare trained on Elizabeth who stubbornly refused to respond. After a few seconds, Olivia lost her patience.  

‘If you insist on being difficult, I’m not going to sit by an watch the two of you go in circles.’ With that she stormed off back to the house. 

Though she didn’t say his name, Elizabeth knew what Olivia was getting at but she couldn’t get over the image of Drake’s accusatory gaze on her. If he really wanted to see her, he would have called right? A stab of regret shot through her which she immediately pushed down. Her feelings were a mess and lately it was just easier to push them down and pretend they didn’t exist. This was usually easier said than done especially now as she could feel tears welling in her eyes, hating herself for being reduced to a pathetic blubbering mess.

‘Elizabeth…’ Hana consoled gently, sliding over to comfort her. 

 ‘Its fine. I’m fine,’ she replied, dabbing away the moisture before taking a big gulp, steeling her shaking voice. ‘I think I’ve had enough tea for today Hana. Thank you for organising this. I’m going back to my room to rest.’ 

Turning her head to avoid her friend’s disappointed look, Elizabeth hurried into the house, feet carrying her to her room as if on autopilot while she struggled to keep her composure at least until she was in private and the tears could fall freely. Once the door slammed shut, Elizabeth sank onto the bed, extremely aware of the pounding headache that threatened to split her head open. Popping a couple of painkillers, she sank down onto the pillows and cried herself to sleep.

-

A sharp insistent knocking woke her from the thin sleep she’d fallen into and elizabeth frowned curiously, knowing everyone knew not to disturb her when her door was closed. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she opened the door to find Olivia standing on the other side of the threshold. 

 ‘You look like hell,’ she pronounced upon seeing her. ‘Clean yourself up and get downstairs. Don’t even think of arguing.’ 

‘Wh-what’s happening?’ Elizabeth queried, taking in the redhead’s casual outfit. 

‘You’ll see.’

More out of curiosity than anything, Elizabeth obeyed, sliding into her old college hoodie and a pair of jeans only to come down to find voices coming from the parlour. Pushing the door open, she found the room set up with snacks, drinks and a huge stack of boardgames in the background music was playing softly. 

‘What’s all this?’ She asked, directing her question to Olivia and Hana who were adjusting a tray of small shot glasses filled with a substance that looked suspiciously like chocolate. 

 ‘I’ve planned a boardgames night,’ Olivia announced before her usual confident facade dropped a little. ‘I’ve never actually hosted one of these but apparently this is what commoners do for fun?’ 

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Elizabeth mused, perusing the selection of boardgames on the coffee table. before the doorbell rang. ‘Are we expecting someone else?’ 

Hana opened her mouth to answer before the redhead cut her off. ‘That’s probably the pizza, Hana can get that.’ 

 Elizabeth watched her retreat before turning back to Olivia as she strolled around the room. ‘Wow Liv I’m… impressed. I wouldn’t have take you to be the type to organise something like this. Its more like the kind of thing you’d go out of your way to avoid.’ 

 ‘Hmph I needed to do something to pull you out of that bat cave of yours. Come help me get the rest of the snacks,’ she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. 

 ‘LITTLE BLOSSOM!’

Maxwell’s cry of enthusiasm reverberated so loudly inside Elizabeth’s head that she almost dropped the bowl of marshmallows she’d been instructed to carry before she was enveloped in a bear hug, marshmallows and all. ‘I’ve missed you so much!’ He exclaimed before looking sheepish. ‘I would have brought Cooper too but Olivia said no.’ 

The redhead rolled her eyes and gestured behind him. ‘He did bring someone else..’ 

 Elizabeth followed her gaze, behind Maxwell and Hana, behind the couch stood… Drake. 

He gave her a small uncertain smile when her eyes landed on him. For a moment she was frozen still, taking in his dark eyes, usual denim shirt and jeans that she assumed was his uniform by now. She watched him wipe his hands nervously on his clothes as he let her take him in. A host of emotions bubbled up at the sigh of him and she balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms to distract herself from crying and tore her gaze from his. 

 ‘Um.. Olivia can I talk to you for a minute?’ 

‘I’m sure whatever you need to say can be said in front of the entire group.’ 

Elizabeth gave her a pointed look, internally cursing her friend’s stubbornness while at the same time not wanting to create a scene, knowing Drake was still watching her. ‘I think this is more of a private thing.’ 

 ‘Nonsense, we’re all at least acquainted here right?’ She replied brashly. 

 ‘Ol-‘ 

‘It’s fine,’ Drake interrupted, heading towards the door, ‘I think I left something in the car anyway.’ 

Elizabeth winced at the look on his face and once he was out the door, she grabbed Olivia and yanked her into another room. ‘Olivia what the fuck?’ 

‘If you do not the your hands off my arm, I will not hesitate to hack. Them. Off.’ 

She hastily released her forearm, her fingernails having left little crescent shapes in her pale skin. 'Olivia… you… you ambushed me?’ 

 Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Please that’s nothing compared to what I really wanted to do. Look,’ she stared Elizabeth in the eye. ‘You weren’t getting anywhere on your own. I had to step in.’ 

 ‘I was perfectly fine!’

‘You were miserable and you know it. You know I’m right. Now you’re going to go back in that and we’re going to have some actual… ugh… fun.’ The redhead rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘You guys need some closure and this could be it.’ 

She immediately turned on her heels and Elizabeth had no choice but to follow. ‘So what are we playing first?’ 

 ‘Maxwell has already set up Monopoly so I guess we’re playing that first,’ Hana chimed in as they settled back into their seats. Halfway through the game when Maxwell had unsurprisingly landed in jailer six times, the air was still tense between Drake and Elizabeth who had barely glanced at each other twice the entire game. 

‘I think we could all use a drink,’ Hana intervened wisely, making for the drinks cart. 

‘And a change of pace,’ Olivia put in. ‘At this rate I’d rather watch Drake attempt perfect fork placement. That would be much more entertaining.’ 

‘Ha ha,’ he replied sarcastically. 'How about Snakes & Ladders? can’t go wrong with a tried and true?' 

'Ooo dibs on lil green guy!’ Maxwell chimed in, grabbing the gamepiece. 

 'I’ll take red… obviously,’ Olivia grabbed the corresponding token. 

 Not realising it, both Drake and Elizabeth reached for the blue piece at the same time and their fingers brushed slightly before they simultaneously jumped back, making her inhale a little at the heat of their skin against each others. She hadn’t touched him since..   

‘Hang on we’re one person extra.’ Hana observed, yellow token in hand. 

‘Richmond and I can share,’ Drake put in abruptly before looking at her in askance. ‘If you’re okay with that?’ 

Elizabeth nodded, still not recovered from their brief touch and now that his dark eyes were on her, suddenly found herself unable to speak. 

 ‘Lets play!’ Maxwell announced, grabbing the die. An hour later, they were on their fourth round of the game with all of them having won once before except Olivia to her chagrin but the atmosphere was much more relaxed, the awkwardness having mostly worn off and Drake reached for the die and handing to the Elizabeth. 

 ‘I trust you,’ he declared knowing that they were very close to winning again, except for two long snakes that stood in their path. 

 ‘I’ll try to make you proud,’ she grinned back and rolled. All eyes were on the little white cube as it spun across the board to finally land on…

‘Six! That means we win!’ Elizabeth chirped, moving the blue token six places to the finish line. 

 ‘Awwww,’ Maxwell whined. 

 ‘Ugh I hate this game,’ Olivia groaned. 

 Drake’s eyes sparkled when he looked over at her. ‘Nice moves Richmond.’ 

‘I had a good teammate,’ she grinned back at him, feeling at ease for the first time in months. When their eyes met, there was a kind of magnetic attraction sparking in the air between them and she took a moment to really take him in. Despite her fragmented memory, there was something about him that was just so familiar and… comforting. Realising she’d been staring a little too long, Elizabeth turned away, hoping her hair covered her face enough to hide the blush. 

 ‘Anyway what do we win?’ 

 ‘I didn’t know we were playing for a prize,’ Hana observed turning to Olivia. 

‘Don’t look at me, I don’t do all… this,’ she gestured vaguely to the room. 

 Drake rose to his feet and grabbed a packet of graham crackers and the bowl of marshmallows from the table. ‘Maybe its a good time to break these out.’

Elizabeth watched over his shoulder as he carefully roasted the marshmallow over the fireplace until he deemed it perfectly cooked before trapping it between graham crackers and a piece of chocolate and presenting it to her. 

‘A s’more,’ she reasoned, looking up at him. 

‘The best you’ll ever eat.’ 

He gave her a reassuring smirk as she took a tentative bite. Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the explosion of sweetness in her mouth, the gooey texture of the marshmallow mixing perfectly with the chocolate, complimented by the crunchiness of the graham crackers. 

‘Told ya,’ Drake’s grin widened, turning back to make another for Maxwell who was already bouncing in anticipation. He looked questioningly towards Olivia who shook her head. 

‘Count me out. I’ve had enough peasantry for one night.’ 

Elizabeth took another bite just as the tingling sensation she’d come to associate with memory recall buzzed in the back of her head. Instead of the usual pain that she experienced, this time it seemed much more subdued and instead of fighting it like she usually did, she let it flow. 

-

She could feel the breeze of the night air brushing her hair as the warmth of a fire warmed her cheeks. Drake was there, sitting next to her, hands on hers to adjust the way she was holding the stick over the fire so that the marshmallow wouldn’t burn. 

‘That’s better.’ 

‘So you’re the s’mores expert?’

‘Damn right. i’ve made hundreds of these.’ 

The way his face softened in the firelight was fascinating as he recounted a story of going camping with his dad as a boy.Despite that, we loved it. He smiled shyly at her, a little embarrassed to be caught so tender. She watched him affectionately, he looked so happy talking about his family, she could tell it was important to him.

‘That sounds so wonderful… and simple.’ 

‘The best things in life usually are, Richmond.’ 

A strong urge bloomed in her chest and she was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, to feel his lips on hers even for a moment. He must have seen it because he was leaning in too before checking himself and pulling away, though his eyes betrayed the front he struggled to put on, telling her he wanted this as much as she did. The memory seemed to skip forward a little and Elizabeth guess that Drake must have just told her about the scandal at the coronation that she’d read about in the newspapers but still had no memory of. 

‘I never knew you wanted to come after me.’

His face was bashful. ‘Oh well yeah.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘You were worried about me..’

‘Honestly, I still am.’ His head dropped before he turned to look her so deep in the eyes she thought she might never escape his intense dark eyes. ‘I don’t know what I would do if something like that ever happened to you.’ 

‘Oh Drake..’

She was already leaning in again, his cautious glance over his shoulder warned her against giving in but she couldn’t contain her affection for him. He cares… 

‘A kiss would make me feel better.’ 

‘Richmond..’ War broke out on Drake's face as he debated between duty and passion. ‘We can’t..’ 

‘But I want you right now.’ The need to feel him against her burned hotly inside her so badly that if she didn’t have him she would have exploded right there and then. 

‘Dammit Richmond.’ 

The look on his face told her his resolve was breaking down. She couldn’t stop herself from leaning even closer and he responded immediately, closing the gap, his lips finding hers gently at first quickly giving into the heat and desperation that dwelled in both of them. His hand came around her waist to pull her closer as hers wound into his soft hair. This was all she wanted, all she ever wanted for the rest of her life. 

-

'Richmond, you okay there?’ Drake’s voice pulled her out of the memory. ‘Do I.. do I have something on my face?' 

 Elizabeth shook herself, realising she’d spaced out and was staring at him intently. ‘Yeah.. I’m fine,’ she mumbled before looking closer. ‘Actually you gotta little something..’

He used the back of his hand to brush at his mouth. ‘Gone?’

‘You completely missed it,’ she couldn’t help but giggle at his failed attempt to wipe away the large chocolate streak. 

Before she knew what was fully happening, Elizabeth raised her hand to his face and in gentle motions, swiped the chocolate away from his mouth. She heard Drake’s slight gasp as her thumb softly grazing the skin in an intimate gesture that sparked that feeling in both of them, like in her memory. 

She looked up into his eyes and found that the spark lead to a tiny lick of flame in her belly now was present in his. His eyes dropped to her lips and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was. Like in her memory, Elizabeth found herself leaning forward a little, wondering how the feeling of his lips compared to what she remembered. Both of them drew closer and closer as if magnetised by an invisible force, movements slow and hesitant, lips inches awa-

CRASH!

The pair immediately pulled away from each other to find a very tipsy Maxwell bending down to pick up the bowl of popcorn he’d tipped onto the carpet. 

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ he exclaimed, trying to help but knocking over more empty cups in his intoxicated state. 

Drake leapt to his feet. ‘Looks like someone’s ready to go home.’ 

‘Drake buddy.’ 

‘Don’t call me that,’ he grumbled, slipping Maxwell’s arm over his shoulder and looking apologetically towards Elizabeth. ‘I should get this one home. Can someone walk us out of this maze?’ 

 Receiving a meaningful prod from Olivia, Elizabeth stepped forward. ‘I’ll do it.’ 

When they’d found their way out the front door, Drake shifted a sleeping Maxwell on his shoulder before turning to her. ‘Thanks for tonight Richmond. It was… I had fun…’ 

‘Me too..’ 

 He paused as if he wanted to say something and thinking better of it turned away instead. Elizabeth’s stomach dropped as she watched him leave, emotions in a twist after her memory recall and the moment they’d shared in front of the fireplace. It  had left her breathless, hungry for more and overall confused about her feelings towards him. Whatever they were, they were certainly strong but he didn’t seem to thi- 

‘Richmond!’ 

She snapped her head towards Drake who was jogging back to her, having put Maxwell in the car. ‘I had fun tonight,’ he declared again, confusing her even more. ‘Would you… that is… do you… Um.. what I’m trying to say is… Would you like to go out with me?’ 

 Elizabeth felt her eyes widening. ‘Like on a date?' 

‘Yeah, like a date,’ Drake affirmed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. ‘Only if you want to.’ 

 Doubt flicked for a second before she recalled her memory and the undeniable attraction between them earlier. ‘I’d love to.’ 

 Relief flooded his face as soon as the words left her mouth. ‘That’s… uh… wow. D-does tomorrow work for you?’ 

She nodded, speechless by the goofy grin on his face. 

 ‘Seven good?’ 

‘I’ll be waiting.’ 

 Drake’s grin widened. ‘Great. Tomorrow then.’ 

‘Tomorrow,’ Elizabeth promised, standing in the doorway until he’d gotten in the car and drive off before shutting it and leaning against the wall, unable to contain her smile.

-

‘So no indication of what activity he’s got planned?’ Hana called from where she was seated on the couch in the boudoir.

‘Nope, just that he’d pick me up at seven,’ Elizabeth’s voice was muffled as she wrestled herself through yet another outfit suggested by her friends. 

‘I don’t think this is the one.’ She emerged from behind the screen in a frilly pink dress with lace ruffles and immediately wrinkled her nose at the sight of herself in the mirror. ‘I look like a bakery threw up on me.' 

‘You’re right, you’re right,’ Maxwell chimed in, pacing the floor, past the numerous discarded outfits on the floor, waving his hands theatrically as he spoke. ‘We need something versatile, yet elegant. Functional yet fashionable. Simple but classy, understated but not too understated, just the right amount of uh... stated-ness.’ 

‘What about this one?’ Elizabeth asked, stepping out from behind the screen having grabbed another dress and changed into it during his external monologue. 

 Both of her friends lit up at the sight of her. 

 ‘Oh Elizabeth,’ Hana gasped. ‘…that’s perfect,’ Maxwell finished.

-

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Elizabeth murmured to herself, smoothening her hands down the front of her dress to dry her sweaty palms. ‘He’ll be here any minute now.’ 

With her hair done in loose waves, braided to frame her face and a touch of makeup on, she tried not to pace in anxiety. She’d been on first dates before and this one was no different right? Still she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was important somehow, that it would either make or break their entire relationship or what was left of it. A couple minutes past seven, the doorbell rang and she gave herself a final glance in the mirror before heading to open the door for Drake. His eyes went wide when he saw her. 

‘Wow, you look…'

'Over dressed?’ She offered, smoothening down the front of her green dress again. Out of all the outfits they’d tried on, including her new selection of duchess clothing, her old green dress felt the most right. reaching far back in her memory, past the haziness, she could recall wearing it on that first night in New York when she’d taken Drake, Liam and their friends to the secluded beach. It had always served her well and she’d almost come to think of it as lucky. 

 ‘Stunning,’ Drake finally finished before handing her a bouquet of flowers. ’Not to be cliche but I got you these. I didn’t know which ones you liked..’   

‘They’re perfect,’ she assured him, lifting the lilies to smell their fragrant aroma. ‘You look nice too.’

‘Oh,’ a blush appeared on his cheeks before Drake smoothened down the navy button down he was wearing. ‘Thanks.’

‘So where are we going?’ She piped up, curiosity brimming since the day before once they were in the car. 

 ‘All in good time, Richmond.’ The smile he gave her from across the centre console was enough to warm her inside. 

-

'Watch your step now, it gets a bit finicky here,’ Drake warned. 

They’d only driven about twenty or so minutes before he’d parked the car and grabbed a picnic basket out of the back and gestured for her to come with him. Elizabeth glanced around warily at her surroundings, they were in a different part of the city now, more crowded and congested than she’d seen before, one of the poorer areas she guessed. 

 ‘Are you sure you know where you’re going?’ she asked suspiciously as Drake paused yet again to gather his bearings. 

‘I wouldn’t lead you astray Richmond,’ he assured her before indicating towards a set of stairs. ‘Watch your step now.’ 

 Doubt still sat in the pit of her belly as they picked their way up the narrow staircase that opened up to- 

‘Wow.’ 

Elizabeth took in the view from the spacious rooftop where she could see the entire capital in all her splendour, lights twinkling out like a carpet below her. She turned in a slow circle to take in the fairy lights casting their warm glow down from the canopy hanging over their heads to soft blankets and collection of pillows that was to be their setting tonight. 

 'Would you like a drink?’ 

 She glanced nervously at the green bottle he was holding. After her accident she’d stayed away from any and all forms of drinking and she wasn’t about to test her limits now.   

‘Don’t worry its non-alcoholic,’ Drake added to reassured her. 

 ‘Oh then yes please. This is amazing,’ she breathed accepting a glass. ‘How did you find this place?’ 

He shrugged from where he was kneeling, unpacking the picnic basket. ‘My mum used to buy her spices from the lady that lives downstairs and we used to play up here while waiting for her. It's got the best view of the whole city. Thought you’d like to see.' 

‘Its a phenomenal view,’ she repeated. 

‘Yeah it is,’ he replied and Elizabeth glanced over to see his eyes on her. She coughed nervously, nodding to the two plates of spaghetti carbonara he’d set up. 

 ‘You made that?’ 

'I do have some talents you know..’ 

 ‘You mean something other than hanging in the back of ballrooms and sulking?’ The quip was out of her mouth before she realised and Elizabeth watched an identical look of surprise bloom on Drake’s face before it morphed into a smile. 

 ‘Guess you’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.’ 

‘I guess I’ll be the judge of how good you claim to be,’ she nodded towards the plate, raising a mouthful and taking a bite. 

‘Well?’

‘Not bad, a little too heavy on the salt but I guess that’s to be expected,’ she replied cheekily, testing the waters between them again. 

‘Everyone’s a critic,’ he gestured in mock exasperation but his eyes gleamed back at her.

‘In all seriousness though, this is pretty good. You do good work Walker,’ Elizabeth replied, feeling much more at ease now, a thrill running through her as Drake winked. 

‘You can always count on me to find the right food.’The words rang a distant bell in her head as a strange sense of de ja vu hit her. Where had she heard that?‘

You okay?’ He asked, noting her changed expression. 

‘Yeah it just feels like I’ve heard that before..’

Drake was looking at her more carefully now. ‘That’s probably because I’ve said it before.’

‘Oh?’ Elizabeth leaned forward, ready to hear about this. 

He cleared his throat nervously, a habit she was beginning to recognise as one of his hallmarks. ‘See this one time we were in Italy-‘ 

‘We went to Italy?’ 

‘Yeah with the royal engagement tour,’ he informed her. ‘I’d invited you out to dinner, not unlike this but I didn���t want to call it a date for some reason, probably because...' 

A cool breeze floated through the air, ruffling her hair a little as Elizabeth listened to him recount the story of their first non-date, between bites of spaghetti. 

 ‘Wow,’ she replied when Drake was done. ‘That sounds like me alright… we.. I sound happy.’ She couldn’t help smiling faintly. 

‘Yeah happy that you caught me off my guard for once..’ 

‘Sounds like you didn’t mind too much.’ 

His eyes glittered as he took her in. ‘Yeah, I didn’t.’ 

He was just about to say something else when a string of shouts in Greek rang out from below them, the locals getting into a disagreement of sorts over produce. Drake’s ears went red as the profanities grew louder and louder. 

'Sorry.. not exactly the kind of atmosphere I wanted to have for a first date,’ he laughed nervously.   

'Its okay,' she giggled now that the shouts were dying down. They sat in silence until the sounds of a band playing filtered up to their vantage point. 

 'Would you like to dance?’ Drake asked suddenly. 

Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. 'You can dance?' 

'Uhh.. yeah I can,’ he mumbled. 'You taught me actually.'

'Oh I did?’ 

There was still so much she couldn’t remember and that reminder scared Elizabeth to her core. She’d liked all she’d heard and remembered so far but what if there was something she didn’t? What would she do then? 

'Yeah I mean if you don't want to,’ Drake’s ramblings brought her out of her introspection, his voice flat.’It's fine.' 

Elizabeth watched his face fall a little before she made a split second decision, taking a leap of faith. 'No Drake I'd love to.’ 

His head picked up and she nodded again to affirm him before he stood up and held a hand out to her. They made their way to the middle of the rooftop, where under the stars Drake gently positioned them into the starting position for a simple waltz. Elizabeth could not help but inhale sharply at the sensation of his hand in hers, skin warm as he guided her slowly across the floor. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord now, body reponse to his guidance and soon enough they were gliding across the floor in the traditional Cordonian Waltz, Drake’s eyes never leaving hers. 

 ‘I remember,’ she breathed softly, looking down at where their feet moved in perfect complimentary movements. 

 He nodded encouragingly. ‘Your brain may not remember but your muscles do.’ 

 Elizabeth allowed him to spin her into a delicate twirl, her hair and dress trailing behind after her as a sense of peace settled over her for the first time that entire night. Drake was tucking a lock of her hair out of her face from where it had come undone, a small gesture but strangely intimate, fingers gently grazing her ear before dropping back to her waist. Entwined so closely, the word and all her problems seemed to fade away and she took a moment to really take in how handsome he was, slightly fragile in his own way just like she was but handsome none the less. She couldn’t describe it but being right here, right now in this moment just felt inexplicably right..  

‘Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?’ He murmured softly. 

 ‘You have,’ she whispered back just as quietly, not wanting to break the spell they’d weaved together. ‘I think I’ve mentioned how nice you look too. I thought you said you only dress up if there’s someone you wanted to impress.' 

Drake’s eyes never left her as he turned her in another graceful turn before guiding her back to him. 'Yeah well... I guess I found someone worth impressing.' 

She cocked her head to the side. 'Wait why does that sound so familiar?'

He sighed deeply before answering. 'Because I said the exact same thing to you on the night of the Coronation.

'Tell me more?'

As Drake talked the memory took shape in her mind and suddenly she could see it all clearly, playing out in her head as if she was watching a movie. Elizabeth was suddenly hit with the realisation that it was that night that had changed everything for her. Even if he hadn’t been sure about them, she was. And even if Liam had proposed that night, she knew what her answer would be. It was standing right in front of her now. 

 Once again there was that magnetic pull rekindled between them as Elizabeth and Drake stood face to face, lost in each other’s eyes, barely swaying to to music that had long since ceased. If she’d made the choice once, what was stopping her from doing it again. Elizabeth thought to herself, taking him in for the tenth time that night. He was closer now, merely a couple of inches away, close enough for her to reach forward but unmoving, waiting for her to close the gap. Suddenly the prospect of them, of him seemed much too overwhelming as all her insecurities came crashing back in, causing Elizabeth to turn her head away. 

 ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, ashamed and embarrassed. ‘This is too fast.’ 

 ‘It's okay,’ Drake’s chest rumbled form where it was pressed against hers as he gave her a small reassuring smile. ‘I’ll wait as long as you need to.’ 

‘Thank you for understanding,’ she murmured back, meaning every word. 

‘Besides its getting kinda late, I should be getting you home.’ 

She nodded and a short drive later they were back at the door to her duchy, both standing on the porch, unsure of what to do until Drake finally spoke up. 

'Can I…um… May I kiss you goodnight? On the cheek of course.'

'Oh! Sure,’  He drew in close, planting a chaste kiss on her face. 'Goodnight Richmond.’ He gave her a soft smile. 

 'Goodnight Drake,’ she replied, watching his broad backed figure climb back into his car and drive away before closing the front door and leaning against it. Elizabeth raised a hand to her cheek that radiated warmth from the spot where his lips brushed her face, smiling to herself as she made her way upstairs for the night. 

The smile remained on her face long after she was well asleep. 

-

Tags:   @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa @quartzandarrow , @drakewalkerwhipped , @ooo-barff-ooo @meeraaverywalker , @littleblossom-18, @boneandfur , @lizeboredom , @topsyturvy-dream , @american-duchess , @withice , @majesticmintyj@ninamckenzie22 , @drakelover78 , @h3llostrang3r , @cocomaxley , @zarina-x-zig , @nicestrokepam  , @enmchoices ,  @kellyale1804  , @mrswalkerreynolds, @kamybelen-blog ,  @hhiggs , @jenjosh5 ,  @bruhvs ,  @natalievgoodehenry ,  @choiceswreckedme ,  @laniquelove , @theroyalweisme  , @jamielea81  , @penguininapinktuxedo  , @tmarie82 , @crookedslimecreatorpasta ,  @asprankle  , @drakewanker  , @client-327  @graceisgone56 ,  @mfackenthal  , @smritysriv , @drakewalkerfantasy, @bobasheebaby , @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread  , @srawesleyghuewrites , @ekhw1989 @mymandrake , @writtenbycandy , @andy-loves-corgis , @alwaysthebestchoice , @snyggflicka @mrsdrakewalkerblog , @moodygrip , @barbaravalentino , @agent-zephyrkah , @radpicklebakeryhero  , @innerpostmentality ,  @fairydustandsarcasm  , @speedyoperarascalparty , @debramcg1106 , @gardeningourmet , @blackcatkita , @meladoridarcy @lovelylittlewren @walkerduchess , @caz1003 , @annekebbphotography , @guilia3272 , @eileendannie , @jovialyouthmusic , @wickedgypsymoon , @sirbeepsalot

#how come you updated so quick you ask #coz i finally had a day off and a bunch of inspiration #bout time i got this show on the road #been wanting to right this part for a while #gotta be careful coz tru reads the tags #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x elizabeth #elizabeth richmond #olivia nevrakis #maxwell beaumont #hana lee #The Royal Romance #the revelation fic #the revelation au #choices #playchoices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 4 - Uninvited

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Chapter Text 

The shower tiles were cold as steel slabs.  Rey leaned into them as she stared at the stark white ceiling, gashed with cracked paint. Scalding water dripped over her skin, making her shoulders and chest flush with a crimson burn.

Grey water pooled at her feet, bubbling with soap. She had lathered herself in it—all over her body, inside her—everywhere.

And yet she’d never felt so filthy.

She turned off the tap and stepped out amidst vapours of steam. Overheated and sluggish, she wrapped a towel around her body, and another folded in a tight cover over her hair. She moved on autopilot, her mind trapped in the events of the night before.

Flashes of ecstasy, smouldering eyes, gentle touches, rough thrusts, and a haunted face, stacked together in a kaleidoscope of sights and sensations.

To be honest, she was still in shock. Last night’s experience had rocked her, from being fucked by that soulless robot, to being held so tenderly and … yeah, that. Whatever that was.

In the kitchen, her phone was ringing.

She peered at it, hesitating to even touch it.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. It vibrated loudly on the bench, the name on the caller ID: Phasma — Brothel

She needed to answer that call...

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

She picked it up, holding it a fair distance away from her ear and with her bottom lip caught firmly within her teeth, pressed “accept”.

“Hello?”

“Rey, It’s Phasma. I’ve called you three times this morning already. Are you ignoring me?”

“No, of course not. I was in the shower—”

“It doesn’t matter. What time are you coming in today?”

“Coming In?” Rey gulped, quashing down the way her stomach did nauseating somersaults. “I thought you didn’t need me tonight, seeing as—”

“I’m not paying you $200 an hour to sit on your arse at home! There’s plenty else you can do other than sleep with guys. It’s a full house this evening, and we’re booked back to back. I need you in here at 5 pm or don’t bother picking up your paycheque this week.”

A feeling of cold water washed over Rey’s head.

“Are you coming or not, Rey?” Phasma asked.

Rey swallowed and looked at the spring-flower calendar she had bought from the dollar shop.

“Well?” Phasma snapped again.

“Yes, yes,” Rey almost stumbled over her words —  just one month —the silent promise was her secret mantra, clinging to her every negative thought and fear.

She could do this. She  had  to do this. And with a deep breath made one more promise. “I’ll be there.”

The night passed in a blur.

A gag-inducing, revolting blur of lap-dances, massages with a happy ending, and giving head to guys that made her skin crawl.

Phasma had worked her harder than any of the other girls, a game of Russian roulette that neither of them would back down from.

But there was one thing Phasma hadn’t counted on.

Rey was a survivor. And by God, she would survive this. She hadn’t lived on the street, scavenging meal scraps through her teenage years, just to give up at the first sign of hard work.

So every hour, Rey marched down the stairs, dressed in some ridiculous fetish costume to ask which client would be next. Phasma’s perfectly shaped brow arched at the sight of Rey each time, daring her to give up.

Not a chance .

It was exhausting work, and Rey had spent more than one trip to the toilet dry-heaving in utter misery.

The only clients she could think about without wanting to projectile vomit was the guy who wanted nothing else than to watch her eat pizza. He wasn’t too bad, as long as she didn’t focus on his dopey, slack-jawed expression, and the way his arm straddled between his legs, pumping wildly.

Then there was financial domination Thomas, who’d insisted she tie him up while she robbed him blind by going on a shopping spree courtesy of his credit card. He could come back again.

But mostly, her clients were walk-ins: drunk, bored and horny loners who wanted nothing more than to watch her, suck her, and grind their bodies up against her.

There was only one rule:  no penetration.

All ages, all sizes, one after the other, they came through the doors, scouring over the menu before pointing to Rey, and following her up the stairs.

None of them was anything like Kylo Ren.

And whether that was a good or bad thing, Rey had no idea.

All she knew was by Friday night she would be with him again. Most likely pinned beneath him like some kind of limp sex doll.

Dappled light streamed through naked beech trees into the courtyard of the Taco-dana Restaurant, as serving staff bustled around the tables in their subtle black slacks and white t-shirts, taking orders and placing oversized sombreros on eager children, and the occasional adult.

Kylo Ren shifted uncomfortably in the coal-coloured wicker chair, his knees bumping the table as he tried to stretch his legs underneath it. Snoke had insisted on the restaurant, and they’d travelled half an hour to get here in place of their usual lunch spot.

That alone was enough to put Kylo on edge.

“Comfortable?” Snoke asked with a smirk that created smile-lines beneath his eyes.

“Of course,” Kylo lied. “Why the new place?”

“I like the scenery,” Snoke gazed around the courtyard nonchalantly, but Kylo noted the way his pale blue eyes never stopped searching the faces around him.

“Funny. I never pictured you as a ‘scenery’ guy.”

“I appreciate beauty as much as any man.” Snoke’s lips curled into a sneer. “I dare say as much as  you  do, Kylo.”

Their eyes met again and Snoke smiled at him. A chill darted through Kylo’s veins.  What was this?  Snoke turned on his favourites as easy as flicking the lights off, and everybody was expendable. Even him.

“So, how was your evening the other night? Phasma mentioned you came in,” Snoke asked, his words smooth and venomously friendly.

“Fine,” Kylo answered brusquely.

“You had the new girl, didn’t you? I haven’t had the pleasure yet. How was she?”

“Fine, like I said.” Kylo looked away indifferently, but inside his heart was racing.

Snoke laughed. “She must have been more than ‘fine’. By all accounts, you booked her out for the entire week!”

“What of it?”

“It’s just curious. You’ve never shown a preference for any of my girls before.”

“There was no preference. She was nothing special. I have a boring week ahead and—”

Snoke looked up at that, eyes narrowing. “ Boring? ”

Kylo froze. That was the wrong word to use.

“Have you forgotten what your job is this week?”

“Of course not.” Kylo swallowed down a lump in his throat, drying his sweating hands on his thighs.

“There can be no screw ups on this one, Kylo.”

“There won’t be. San Tekka is due to arrive tomorrow night and everything is prepared,” Kylo said, working hard to keep his voice from wavering. “He’s a dead man.”

“And yet you’ve booked this girl for the same evening.”

“I like to unwind afterwards.”

Snoke stared at him unmoved, those baleful eyes never shifting from him. Kylo could feel them peeling back his layers, cutting deep into his words, his mannerisms, the speed of his breath, and even the rate of his pulse.

Kylo worked to blank any expression from his face. Snoke knew he could find the truth there, in those subtle micro-expressions that always betrayed him.

Snoke laughed, an undulating wave that carried through the courtyard. Light enough for Kylo to relax.

In the periphery of his vision, Kylo noticed a waiter approaching. He didn’t bother looking over at her until the sweet British accent filled the air around him.

“Hi there. My name is Rey and I’ll be your server today, can I start you off with some drinks?”

Fuck! Kylo avoided her gaze, devouring the menu below as if it was some kind of sacred text.

Snoke began. “A black coffee for myself, and my friend here will have…?”

He let his words hang in the air, pulling Kylo into the conversation.

Kylo looked up at her, blank and indifferent.  “Just give me a cup of water, no ice.”

Rey froze at the sight of him, her lips parting in shock. The pen between her fingers slipped to the floor although she didn’t notice.

“Do you need me to repeat it?” Kylo asked, forcing an edge of aggression into his voice.

She flushed, the bloom of colour spreading onto her cheeks, down her neck, and dipping beneath her shirt.  

“Water and a black coffee.” She slid her notebook into the pocket of her slacks. “Got it. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and sped away from them as Kylo watched her go, realising his eyes had lingered on her far too long.

Snoke chuckled as she left.

“What the hell is this?” Kylo asked, turning back to face his boss.

“I just want to make sure you’re not straying again,” Snoke purred, a smile breaking across his face, exposing his yellow-stained teeth, gold fillings glinted in the light.

Kylo’s heart raced, blood rushing through his body like a boiling rapid. “So it was all a test?”

“Do you think you passed?”

“You’re a perverted fuck, you know that?” Kylo spat.

“Stop! it hurts too much!” Snoke cried with a high voice, struggling between fits of laughter. “She played her part well I thought.”

Kylo’s eyes stung, unsure which betrayal was worse, Snoke’s or the girl’s, or the fact he had fallen for it all. Muscles twitched beneath his eye and he bit on the inside of his lip, turning away to hide the emotions fast betraying his features. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

“And what did you do to her? God, I almost vomited when she phoned me. How could you defile yourself in such a way?”

“Shut up.” Kylo gripped the menu, his skin blanching at the knuckles. He’d been fucking played.

He tried to breathe, to meet Snoke’s gaze without hesitation but his vision faltered. Rage, deep within, building, burning, churning like a storm breaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, the motion producing bursts of white light beneath his lids before he opened them again to face him. “What is your point?”

“The point is you are unbalanced. What is it about this girl that makes you so incapable of being a man?” he spat out the last word with utter disgust. “And to think after all these years, she still—”

After all these years? Kylo looked up, his heart stopping.

“Yes Kylo, don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

He didn’t. There was something the other night that triggered him, the faintest flicker of a memory, a fleeting feeling of déjà vu the moment those hazel eyes pleaded into his own to stop. It had stunned him, to say the least. But…  Fuck!. His hands trembled as he clutched them together.

“Kira,” Kylo said breathlessly, slumping in his chair with defeat.

“She’s changed her name now—obviously,” Snoke leaned back in his chair, fanning his fingers together before his chin like a Machiavellian mastermind. “Turns out there isn’t much she won’t do for a bit of cash.”

After everything he had done this had come back to haunt him. His dark gaze wandered over to the coffee machine, noting the way her palms rubbed at her eyes, the way she clutched the bench where she worked. Her lips were pale and her cheeks sallow. She was exhausted.

“You think she is beautiful?” Snoke asked with a velvet voice.

“Yes,” the word escaped him, hushed and low. It was automatic, forced out of him at a question he couldn’t deny. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but there was a fiery spirit in those embattled eyes that was attractive to him. Not to mention, the way loose strands of hair fell across the sun-kissed brow, her child-like freckles, her athletic body and the way it felt beneath his …

Yes, she was beautiful in his eyes. Far too much so.

“Just think, if you had done as I asked you might have had her much earlier. She could have been your own. I would have gladly gifted her to you. A reward for work well done.”

Kylo was silent, gaze still fixed on her. “Why are you doing this? I’ve given you everything I proved—”

Snoke reached his hand towards him, reaching out in a fatherly gesture, but Kylo just looked at the pale disfigured mass on the table with disgust. “I’m trying to help you son. To show you they all lie. Your parents…  your uncle… this girl… But I will never lie to you. That is my promise.

“I have sensed in you these past few years a loss of purpose. Ever since that night, you have questioned your path, your worth. We are on the cusp of something great together you and I. But I worry your compassion for this girl is part of a larger epidemic.  And with the Santecker job coming up this week, I don’t know if I can trust you any more to pull it off.”

Snoke paused for effect, tucking a serviette beneath his chin. “And if I can’t trust you—”

Snoke glowered in the direction of Rey, holding his sentence unfinished. “You know more than most that things don’t go so well for people when I lose my trust in them.”

“I told you,” Kylo leant forward, his voice in a loud hiss. “I will do what you asked me.”

“I know you will,” Snoke relaxed.

Kylo’s gaze returned to Rey, the gravity of her presence pulling him toward her.

“Oh, and here.” Snoke slipped his right hand into his pocket, searching around for something. “If you doubt me about her. Search for her old name using this. I’m sure you’ll find it very … enlightening.”

“I think your coffee is done!” Jess Pava laughed, bumping Rey along with her elbow.

“Huh?” Rey jumped, realising she’d been staring into the distance with one hand gripped on the portafilter of the coffee machine and the other holding a full cup of black coffee beneath it. “Oh shit. Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Yeah, so I see.” Jess leaned forward, switching off the grinder. “You look terrible, what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay, just a little tired.” Right on cue, Rey’s mouth gaped open in a slow yawn, causing her eyes to water and her shoulders to hunch. “Hey, Jess, how much do you love me?”

“Not much,” Jess deadpanned, as she steamed a jug of milk.

“Is it enough to take table 20?”

“That depends,” Jess drawled as she turned an appraising eye to where Rey pointed. “Ew, creepy bald guy, no thank you.”

Rey sighed resolutely, dying a little inside.

“Wait, hold on!” Jess raised her hand, a mischievous smile lighting up her heart-shaped face. “Look at his friend though. Did someone order tall, dark and mysterious?”

“Not me,” Rey added sharply, leaning back against the counter with arms folded.

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t want to wake up to next to that in the morning. I mean, look at the size of him. I can only imagine how big his—”

“Oh God, don’t even say it,” Rey cried, the blush on her face blotching all over again. “Trust me when I tell you that guy needs a complete personality reversal and possibly many years of therapy before he is anything close to passable.”  

“And he’s hot as—why are you bailing?”

Rey bit her lip, shoulders slumping at the question. That was one story she was not prepared to share, even with her closest girlfriend. “ Please  Jess, I’m begging you. I’ll give you my tips for the day.”

Jess clicked her tongue, pulling the clipboard of table bookings towards her from the counter. “Alastair Snoke. Table for two.”

Rey’s heart plunge into the cold tiled floor.

“What did you say?”

“The guy you were serving, Alastair Snoke. Do you know him?”

“No,” Rey breathed, clutching her stomach as a wave of nausea radiated through her body. “Please Jess, I can’t—”

Jess put a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Listen, if you can take their order while I settle up some accounts, I will take it from there.”

“Thank you! I owe you, Jess.”

“You owe me an explanation!” Jess said a little too loudly. “Now get over there. Tall, dark and mysterious has been staring at you this whole time.”

Rey’s feet shuffled along burnt orange tiles as she slowly made her way to table 20. Snoke and Kylo were deep in conversation, they hadn’t even noticed her coming towards them.

Snoke leaned across the table like a hook-necked vulture leering towards its prey. Rey shuddered as she came closer to him, his bald head scabbed with skin cancers, crusted and corroded. Her throat closed at the way his yellow-stained fingers scratched along the table towards Kylo.

There was something too unsettling about the image before her, it almost felt …  violating  in some way. Even more so, when she noticed how Kylo leaned away from him, his face surly and his stormy eyes glued to the floor.

Mr Snoke will want to try her out, Phasma’s words banged in her head. The reality of that statement sent a visceral fear down Rey’s spine. It wasn’t even Snoke’s looks that bothered her so much, or his tall, spindly body draped in a sleazy gold-satin shirt. No, there was something far more menacing beneath the surface. An unspoken thing. Invisible but ever present and unnatural

Not safe. The words spiralled in her mind over and over again. Years surviving alone, having no-one to watch out for her or keep her safe mean she had recognised it almost instantly.  Snoke was a predator.

Had Kylo Ren tried to protect her that night? Was he protecting her still?

She came up to the table and cleared her throat. “Are you ready to order?”

Snoke beamed at her with a crooked smile, carefully watching the reactions of his companion. “I think we both know what we want, don’t we?”

Kylo dragged his head up, right eye twitching as he looked between them. If rage was a tactile thing, she was sure she could have felt it all around him.

“Let me see, I think I’ll have the enchiladas, with extra chilli,” Snoke said.

“Sure,” Rey repeated the order back to him until a rogue yawn escaped her once more. She smiled awkwardly, covering her mouth and apologising.

“Young Rey, late night was it?” Snoke asked.

“You could say that.” Rey jotted down his order, holding her pen so tightly the words came out in a messy scribble. “And you?”

Kylo snapped the menu shut with a loud slap, and this time he looked up at her with resolve. A look exchanged between the two men as Kylo gave his order with a tenuous sneer. “I’ll have a stuffed taco.”

Rey stiffened at the private joke and Snoke chortled. With lips pursed she read back his order, venom lacing every word. “And what kind of meat would you like in your stuffed taco?”

“Ladies choice,” he said lazily, eyes meeting hers again, unblinking.

She met his gaze, head keening to the side as she stared daggers at him. “For you, I’d recommend the crab.”

Snoke laughed out loud, while Kylo simpered in her direction. She felt her face glowing, at their attention, hot tears razored the corners of her eyes. “Is that everything?”

Kylo nodded, but as she turned to leave Snoke’s voice arrested her again.

“Wait, come back here child,” the old man cooed at her, hooking his finger as though to lure her in. Rey hesitated,

“Come here, I said,” his voice was flatter this time, and far deeper. Rey took a slow step closer to Snoke, her shoulder curving forward protectively.

“I’ve changed my mind. I like the idea of that stuffed taco too.”

Rey felt her body shaking, she clasped her hand upon her elbow anchoring it. “Fine, I’ll change your order.”

“Extra hot, remember?”

She nodded slightly and turned away as she felt long fingers sweep across her arse.

“Don’t you touch me again,” she hissed at him, head pounding as blood rushed through her body.

Snoke laughed. “Don’t be angry with me, Rey. You had something there. I was merely trying to clean you up. You want to look pretty for your next customer, don’t you?”

The table moved, a shuddering scrape as though it had been kicked and Rey finally breathed again. She snatched the menu from Snoke, her chin creasing and her breath coming in uneven waves. And then she turned to Kylo, reaching for his menu but it wouldn’t move, his fingers locked around it in a steel grip.

“I’ll take that for you,” she said quietly, but he wasn’t listening. Head bowed, dark curtains of hair falling across his temple and cheeks, and then she noticed his eyes, they had almost changed colour, they were so black and focused. She pulled it away again, and he released it suddenly, causing her to stumble backwards. It was the only thing to break him from his concentration.

She turned away from them and didn’t look back. Throwing the order into the kitchen on the way before bolting out the back doors before anyone could call her back.

Behind the restaurant, in a gloomy alley bound by faded graffiti-lined walls, Rey sat crouched in a sitting fetal position. She had backed into an alcove, curling her body to fit in the small space, just as she had done as a child on the street.

Her fingers madly tapped onto her phone, searching for any kind of distraction that might stop her head from exploding. She rubbed her eyes, roughly wiping away the hot tears threatening to spill over.

But she wasn’t going to cry, not over them. She wasn’t going to cry over anyone.

The smell of rotting food wafted through the laneway, radiating from the steel bins lining the backside of the restaurant. Rey wrinkled her nose as she continued playing with her phone until the screen went blank.

Damn! Rey rubbed her eyes harder this time. She certainly wasn't going back in there to get her charger, not while he was--

Rey jumped as a loud crash bellowed through the narrow alleyway like the sound of metal smashing into the wall.

She sat bolt upright, just in time to see another metal bin fly past her, spewing its contents all over the street. She jumped out, just as a lid flew past her like a frisbee, narrowly missing her shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” she shrieked.

Kylo Ren froze, body trembling, muscles twitching, wide-eyed and wild.

Their gaze met in the gloomy shadows and Rey stopped herself from looking away. There was so much intensity in the way he looked at her. She took a step back, shrinking away from him.

“What are you doing back here?” he demanded.

She gaped at the sharp tone in his words. “You better clean that up!” She shouted, pointing to the rubbish spread all over the alleyway.

He glanced at the mess around him, his lips puckering as he considered his answer. Which of course was silence.

“You worked last night?” He changed the subject.

“Phasma wants me to earn my keep.” Rey leaned against the wall, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, there’s plenty of other work to be done that doesn’t involve ...  penetration. ”

Kylo stiffened, his hands clenched into fists at the base of his sleeves. “I’ll fucking kill that bitch.”

“Right,” Rey stretched the word, feeling like she had found some exposed wound that she could irritate. “Let me guess … psychotic tendencies?”

“Anger issues.” Kylo smiled sardonically as he took a step closer, edging on the boundary of her personal space. “No one else was supposed to touch you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Rey hissed.

“I’m not protecting you. I’m keeping what belongs to me.”

“You’re a monster! Both you and your fucking boss."

Kylo stared at her, lips parting softly as he took another step closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look at him. His eye twitched again, lips tightening into a thin line.

Bring it on, she thought. “How dare you both come down here and—“

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he snapped at her.

“Well don’t you dare come back here again,  ever!” she cried, her voice shrill and unsteady.

Kylo turned away from her robotically, making his way back to the restaurant as though her emotions were nothing. But she wasn’t done yet.

“And another thing. You don’t own me. You don’t own any part of me. If you ever—“

“You’re right!” he spat. “I don’t own you. Snoke does. And once you finish spying for him you can crawl right back to him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You told him what happened between us the other night,” he hissed, pointing his finger to her chest menacingly. “I  know, Rey. I know about the whole fucking thing.”

She gaped, completely blindsided. She had never seen or spoken to Snoke in her life, where was he even getting—

“And you’re wrong about one thing.” He towered over her even closer now, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back so she could take in his full height and mass.

“I own your nights.” He lifted his hand to her face, gently brushing his thumb across her lower lip. “Every fucking one of them.”

She bit him on the thumb, hard enough that he pulled it away with an audible curse. Then she pulled her hand back, torpedoing it to slap him hard across the face but he grabbed her wrist yanking it away from him, leaving himself vulnerable. Suddenly, her knee shot up, sharply hitting him in the groin. Kylo stiffened, a muffled groan come out of his mouth and his eyes watered, but that was all, no buckling over or howling in pain. He only released her, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

Rey braced herself for the repercussions, but she was startled to see him smiling at her.

“What’s so amusing?” she demanded.

“You learned to fight after all,” he said, face blank of expressions. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

Rey looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Forget it, I’ll see you tonight, Rey.” Kylo turned to walk away from her, picking up a garbage lid as he went.

“I thought you weren’t coming in until Friday,” she called out after him, voice shaking much more than she wanted it to do.

“Change of plans,” he said, barely turning back to her as he replaced the lid. “And I'm planning on getting my fucking money’s worth this time.”

#crimson lane #reylo #reylo au #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfic rec #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfiction rec

[thinkyoureholy]

Your Name Remains The Same [8]

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Pairing : Park Chanyeol/ [Fem] Reader

Genre : ANGST, some fluff, future smut...maybe?, Mafia! AU

Words : 2.4k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

The next few hours were...interesting. I went through a range of emotions, anger being the first thing I felt. I put all the blame on Chanyeol, wholeheartedly believing that my child being taken was his fault.

I pushed Chanyeol away from me roughly, hitting his chest every so often, “This is your fault! All of this is your fault!”

“Y/N…”

“If you weren’t a fucking criminal Jihyun would still be here. We wouldn’t have to be involved in this mess! Jihyun would still be here, safe and sound!”

Chanyeol took a step towards me, a few tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed onto my shoulders, “You think I wanted this to happen? Y-You think it’s not tearing me apart inside knowing that son of a bitch has our son? God...I don’t even want to imagine what that bastard could be doing to him. I’m hoping, praying that Jiho has some form of humanity in him to not lay a hand on Jihyun.”

I looked away from him, shoving him away from me, “Get out.”

“Y/N please...dont--don’t push me away, not now.” He pleaded with me, his voice breaking.

“I said get out!” I yelled.

His shoulders slumped in defeat as he headed out the door, slamming it behind him. As soon as the door closed I collapsed to the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest, hugging them to my body as sob after sob wracked through my body. I didn’t care who heard me, my heart breaking at the thought of my precious Jihyun in the hands of that monster.

-Chanyeol’s P.O.V-

I leaned against the door, running my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots roughly. I was devastated, but mostly I was angry. How dare that bastard lay a hand on my son. Jihyun had nothing to do with this yet he was the one that was put in harm's way. Y/N was right, this was all my fault.

I cursed in anger, marching over to my office. Once there I pulled out my laptop, bringing up the feed from the security cameras around the house. I clicked on the camera that gave me the best view of what was going out outside, more specifically the camera that captured everything that happened. I felt my anger bubbling over as I watched someone I recognized as one of Jiho’s men climb up to the second floor. They had no intention of hiding who they were, their faces as clear as day on the tape.

I clenched my fists tightly as I watched them take a squirming Jihyun with them. Jihyun put up a fight but with him being only a child the men were able to overpower him easily. Before getting into the car one of them looked directly into the camera, a smirk on his face before he drove off. I slammed my fist onto the desk in anger, throwing everything on my desk to the floor in one swipe of my arm. I was absolutely livid, how dare they, how fucking dare they touch my son. Without thinking I flipped my desk over, kicking my chair to the ground. I was consumed by a blinding rage, destroying everything within reach.

By the time I destroyed half of my office the rest of the guys had all filed into the room, alerted by all the noise. I didn’t notice them until I heard Kyungsoo call out my name. At that I looked up, nostrils flaring as I breathed in and out heavily. The one my eyes landed on was none other than Kim Minseok, the man that was in charge of watching over the security feed and keep us all safe from any and all threats. I stormed over to him, ignoring the others and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. I dragged him to the middle of the room and roughly threw him to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing?!?!” I shouted, leaning down to grab onto his collar again and lift him off the floor slightly.

“Chanyeol, calm--calm down yeah? You getting worked up isn’t going to help the situation.” Yixing said, grabbing onto my arm.

I yanked my arm out of his grip harshly, pushing him back as I slammed Minseok back down to the floor, “Calm down? You want me to calm down? After this motherfucker failed to do his job?!”

I turned back to Minseok, kicking my leg out at his stomach, hearing him groan in pain as he curled into himself. I ignored the others and bent down to pick up Minseok, pulling my hand back before swinging it forwards and punched him square in the face. I punched him, over and over again, until his blood coated my knuckles. Minseok didn’t dare fight back, knowing that it’d only get worse for him if he did. Once I thought he had enough I threw him back to the ground, grinding my jaw as I gave him one last kick for good measure. Minseok groaned loudly as we all heard something crack, knowing it was probably one of his ribs. I didn’t care how badly beaten I left him, turning to the others, my anger still very much evident.

“This,” I paused, looking over each and every one of them, “Is what happens when you fucking fail in doing your job. He had one, one, fucking job. Any of you--any one of you fuck up like he did I won’t stop here. I will make sure you fucking suffer and have you beg for me to kill you and I will gladly grant you that wish. Do I make myself clear?”

They stayed silent causing me to take a step closer to them, “Do I or do I not make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Junmyeon said, his face stoic as he looked directly into my eyes.

I could tell all of them were pissed off with how I dealt with Minseok. In all the time that we’ve been a group I had never lashed out. I never laid a hand on any of them, but this--this was a different situation all together. I didn’t care if I had to beat the shit out of all of them for disregarding the jobs I gave them. I don’t expect much from them but when they fail, at protecting what’s most important to me, the only task I had given to them over the past few days I will not hesitate to punish them.

“Wipe those fucking looks off your faces. Make sure nothing like this happens ever again. I will not tolerate it, and if Jihyun is hurt in any way shape or form, the only ones that will pay for it are you lot. Now get the fuck out, all of you, and take this asshole with you.” I said, turning my back on them.

I heard them pick up Minseok off the floor, Minseok groaning in pain. Not much later I heard the door close. Hearing that I turned back around, wanting to see how Y/N was doing. I stopped mid step, seeing Jongdae and Baekhyun were still standing in the middle of the room. Jongdae looked beyond pissed meanwhile Baekhyun just looked disappointed.

“Did I stutter? I told you to leave.”

“You went too far Chanyeol,” Jongdae said, taking a step towards me but was held back by Baekhyun.

I scoffed at seeing this, resisting the urge to laugh, “So what? You gonna do something about it, huh? Tell me, what the hell are you going to do about it?”I said as I walked up to him, pushing him back with every word.

Baekhyun could tell this wasn’t going to end well, getting in between the two of us. He placed a hand on my chest, making me take a step back as he protected Jongdae from my wrath. Jongdae however wasn’t going to just stand by. He stepped out from behind Baekhyun, pushing at my chest roughly and making me stumble backwards.

“You’ve gone completely insane! You think they’re gonna follow you after you beat one of their own?! Minseok can barely breathe properly because of you! As they walked him out Kyungsoo could already tell he had one broken rib and a few fractured ones too!” Jongdae yelled, looking ready to give me the same treatment I gave Minseok.

I smirked, pushing him back, “So. What. You think I give a shit about how they feel? They all owe me their lives, the two of you included.”

Jongdae chuckled at that, “You should care you son of a bitch. Without them you’re nothing, without us you’d be dead in a ditch so don’t try and act all tough now.”

I clenched my jaw at that, trying my hardest to contain myself, “Get out now, before I do something I’ll regret later. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the shit you just pulled with Y/N. I’ve told you before and if I have to tell you one more time after this I swear to you I will forget about everything we’ve been through and kill you. You pull a weapon on Y/N again I swear to you and everything that is holy I will slit your throat in your sleep and watch you drown in a pool of your own blood. Don’t fucking test me, Kim Jongdae.” I threatened him, my voice dropping several octaves showing how dead serious I was.

Jongdae set his jaw, wanting to say something and oh how I wish he did. I wanted him to talk back, I wanted him to talk some more shit, my anger still very much there and if I didn’t get it out of my system I knew I’d go completely insane. But just as I thought he was going to say something he swiftly turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him as he left.

“You know Jongdae’s right, Chan. You went too far, you could’ve killed Minseok.” Baekhyun said, the disappointment clear in his voice.

“I wanted to, I should’ve killed him. It was his fault that Jihyun was taken.”

“You know for a fact that’s not true. Jihyun wouldn’t have been involved in the first place if it weren’t for-”

I cut him off, taking a step closer to him, “Finish that fucking sentence Baek and just watch what happens.”

Baekhyun sighed, my threats doing nothing to scare him, “Oh drop the act already, that’s not gonna work on me.”

I scoffed, “Get out.”

Baekhyun just rolled his eyes before leaving. As soon as he closed the door I bent forward, resting my hands on my knees. I felt my whole body shaking as the walls I had built up came crashing down. My breathing became irregular as I tried to keep my tears at bay. I groaned as I brought my hand up to my chest, trying to alleviate the pain. As if my mind knew what it took to amplified my agony I was suddenly reminded of the time I had with Jihyun just this morning.

-Flashback-

“Hey buddy, you ready for school?” I asked with a grin, ruffling his hair as I walked passed him.

He laughed and swat my hand away, returning to his breakfast before he frowned. I became worried at seeing the frown on his face, putting down the bowl I had in my hand and walked back over to him. I crouched down next to him, being eye level with him as I asked what was wrong.

“We have this thing at the end of the month and our teacher told us all to bring our dads….but I don’t have one.” Jihyun answered, his eyes welling up with tears, “Why don’t I have a dad?

“I don’t want to ask mommy cause she always gets sad and I don’t want to make her sad.” Jihyun continued, his words making my heart shatter.

I had to mentally yell at myself to hold back, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea if I told Jihyun I was his dad without telling Y/N first. There’s not many things in the world I'm afraid of but angering Y/N was at the top of that short list.

“I don’t know, buddy. But I have an idea, wanna hear it?”

Jihyun nodded enthusiastically my heart swelling at the grin that took over his face. I resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks, his bright smile making a wave of adoration wash over me.

“Why don’t I go? Mommy doesn’t have to know, it can be our little secret.” I said in a hushed tone.

I didn’t know it was possible for Jihyun to smile any wider but he managed to find a way. The biggest and brightest smile took purchase on his face as jump on me, his little arms wrapping around my neck as he hugged me tightly.

-Flashback over-

I felt my whole body shaking uncontrollably, my shoulders heaving with emotion as I tried to keep the tears at bay but it was useless. All it took was one lone tear to trail down my cheek and the rest followed unrelentlessly.

Wave after wave of tears came flooding out, my hand placed over my mouth to keep any noise from escaping. My vision blurred as my tears blinded me, my sobs making it harder and harder to breathe. The pain I felt radiating from my chest intensified by the second. The stream of tears seemed to be endless as I let everything out, knowing that all the blame was on me. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that is wasn’t I was only deluding myself. I am the only one to blame.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo angst #exo smut #exo fluff #park chanyeol imagines #park chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #kim minseok #xiumin #kim jongdae #chen #kim jongin #kai #sehun #oh sehun #d.o #do kyungsoo #kim junmyeon #suho #zhang yixing #lay #mafia au

[yes-sir-mr-tom]

Prompts: #62, 76, 180 & 182

“I want to protect you,” “you’re one hell of a guy.” “You have no idea what you do to me.” And “i've wanted this for so long.”

Requested by: @pumpkinfriend

Warnings: implied violence and some smut. So please read on with caution lol. (Hope you like it, its my first time writing real smut for anyone else to see lol)

Going through a break and being kicked out of your own home for the past four years seemed like the worst thing that could happen to you. You had been lucky enough that your friend Tom Hardy had offered to let you stay with until you got back on your feet. He was mostly gone throughout the week for training, interviews and filming his new movie “Venom.” Sometimes you loved being alone with his dogs and the nights he was home you always enjoyed his company.

Things were feeling pretty good despite your haunting feelings and thoughts of your nasty break up that would occasionally get to you. That was until the paparazzi found out you were living at Tom’s house. The two of you kept it light and informed them you were only friends but they weren’t having it and after two incidents Tom had you on house arrest. You could feel yourself slowly slipping deeper into insanity after just one week of not leaving his house in fear you’d have fifty cameras and rude comments or awkward questions in shoved in your face.

Today in particular you were feeling oddly restless. Deciding you had enough you got dressed and grabbed your purse storming for the door. Just as you reached out for the door handle it swung open to a flustered Tom who gently gripped your arms, he pushed you backwards into the house.

“Tom! I need out of this freaking house!” You snapped. He paused giving you a wide eyed blank stare in surprise at your little outburst.

“ that’s not a good idea love. They’re extremely rowdy today for some reason.” He said calmly ushering you to sit with him on the couch. He sunk in taking a deep sigh.

“No, I don’t want to sit… i want to go out!” You whined nudging his leg with yours. He looked up at you with a smirk as he grabbed you causing you to fall awkwardly into his lap. You tried to scramble out his clutches but he playfully held you in place and being stronger than you he didn’t have to try hard.

“Tom stop! They can see in the windows this isn’t helping.” You whined with a little anger bubbling up in your voice. Tom let you go realizing that you were actually upset. He sat in silence a moment as he scratched his beard and huffed in annoyance at the whole situation.

“I’m going out and you can’t stop me!” You stood your ground before marching towards the door. You weren’t sure how someone his with his muscular mass was so silent but his arms wrapped around your waist and picked you up. You started kicking and yelling to be put down.

“I want to protect you Y/N!” He raised his voice loud enough for you to hear him over your own protests.

“One of them hit me in the head on the way in when Ignored him.” He informed you, putting you down. You stared at him knowing he was probably right but you felt feisty and flustered! So feeling trapped you decided the only way for any kind of solution to fix your explosive feelings was to pick a fight and Tom was the only in your way that was safe enough.

“I’m a big girl Tom, not one of your little dates!” You snapped a part of you felt bad but the other half needed desperately to defuse if you couldn’t escape. Tom just scoffed at your remark and shook his head.

“What are you doing love?” He asked trying to figure out why his best friend was trying to butt heads when he felt as though he was trying to do the right thing.

“I’m trying to leave!”

“Well you can’t.”

He had meant that as in it would be impossible to leave with the paparazzi outside but it had come out wrong.

“Fuck you Tom! I am not yours to keep.” His face flashed a bit of anger at your rudeness. He stepped forward challenging you to back down but you were as stubborn as he was.

“What does that mean?” His voice low and threatening. More of a “I dare you,” than a question. You swallowed feeling a new emotion wash over you as his breath ghosted across your lips from his closeness.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” The words left your mouth before you could realize what you just said. Tom’s eyebrows knitted as he studied your face. You tried to hold an angry poker face but your voice and body language gave you away. Tom could read you like a book.

“Yeah and what does this do?” He asked his eyes dropping to your lips before his hands grabbed the sides of your face pulling you to him as his lips found yours. Instantly you parted your lips allowing him access and he wasted no time invading your mouth with his tongue. A breathless moan left your lips when your tongues first touched.

Tom became more aggressive as he kissed you hungrily his hands gripped you tighter but not enough to hurt. He lurched forward pushing you with him until your back hit the wall and part of a bookshelf. To lost in the moment to notice, books fell hitting you and him in the shoulder. You both grunted into each others mouths before laughing.

“Well that always seems smoother in the movies.” He chuckled provoking another laugh from you as he scooted you over to wall and kissing you passionately as if nothing else happened. With you balanced and trapped against the wall he drops his hands and moved them to your hips as your kiss deepens his hands begin to explore your skin just under the hem of your shirt.

You hum loving the feel of his large strong hands gently but firmly caressing their way up to the under line of your bra. He gently massages the area focusing on nibbling on your lower lip, for moment. His hand snake around and you arch your back off the wall pressing your hips and breasts against him to allow him access so that he can unhook your bra. For the first time you can feel his hardness straining against his jeans and pressing into your hips.

You whimper as he mouth leaves yours so he can remove your shirt and bra at the same time. Tossing them carelessly across the room.

“Tom.” You whine as he takes a moment to look at your beautiful breasts and hardening nipples. He smirks at you before bending down to capture one of your nipples between his lips. His fingers find the other one, his thumbs lightly tracing over the hard pebble causing you to moan as your head tilts back against the wall.

“TOM! The window!” You hiss. The two of you got carried away and forgot about the huge window looking out at the street. Your face flushed red with embarrassment that paparazzi or anyone may have seen you and Tom trying to devour each other. Another part of you found an aching between your legs as the idea of being seen also turned you on.

“Oops.” Tom smirked as he stood back up he grabbed your thighs just under your ass cheeks and hoisted you up, your yelp of surprise turning into a giggle as you wrapped your legs around his Waist and held on to his shoulders.

Your mouths were caught in a slop and eager kiss. As Tom began to walk, he almost fell into the couch using one hand to grip the back of the couch and the other one was holding your ass. Tom pivoted on his heels and took another step before he slammed you against another wall after losing his balance again. You moaned as your back thudded against the wall. Picture frame fell and broke but the two of you would worry about that later.

Tom pushed off the wall standing straight for a moment before you two continued to bang into things and make quite a mess. Tom turned and made it into the hallway Before he lost footing again and both you went down with a hard thud and groans.

“Maybe you would do better if stopped kissing me for two seconds.” You laughed propping yourself up on your elbows. Watching Tom who was laying on your hips. You tried to scoot back to stand but Tom had other ideas. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and yanked them down hard. You looked at him in shock, he had just fully undressed you in his hallway.

“Tom the bedroom.” You tried to scoot away but he locked his arms around your thighs spreading them his lips were inches away from your burning core.

“Friends don’t let friends kiss and walk.” He said making you cackle with laughter at his dorkiness. Just as you were about to reply to him you felt his tongue swipe long and slow up your wet and swollen folds. A moan snagged in your throat as it made contact with your clit. You dropped your head back as he lazily lapped at your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

“To-oomm.” His tongue was driving you insane as it teasingly ran along your clit just enough to make you moan and ache but not enough to push you to the edge. You almost grunted when he hummed in pleasures against your folds sending vibrations through you.

When you couldn’t take it anymore you grabbed the shoulders of his shirt and tugged.

“Tom, please! I want you inside me.” You spoke quickly before his tongue could make speechless again. Tom licked slow circles around your clit making you groan before he listened to your request.

He smiled as he slid up your body. Pausing to lick your nipples each before he tickled them his beard as ge made his way to your collarbone. He peppered wet little kisses from there to your neck.

“You taste fucking good.” His words dripped into your ear. His voice was low and raspy making his accent even sexier. You pulled him up to kiss you wanting to taste yourself on his lips. He struggled to get his belt and pants undone while he deepened the kiss.

He put his hands on each side of your head breaking the kiss as he laid his forehead on yours. You stared into each others eyes, he lined himself up to your entrance watching you intensely as he began to slide inside of you. He grinned when your eyes became half lidded with lust and a long throaty moan escaped as he pushed deeper into you until he reached the end. He paused a moment before pushing himself up leaning his weight on one hand he reached down and lifted your leg up holding against him and you placed the other around his waist.

His slow and long thrusts made you arch your back into him. The hardwood floor rubbing against your bare skin made you even more eager as you tried to meet his thrusts. You felt tight and hot around his hard cock. He started grunting as he quickened the pace eliciting delicious whimper and moans from you.

Tom shifted slightly on his knees causing him to drive deeper, angling him so that every time he pushed in and out it hit your sweet spot.

“Oh! Tom! P-please don’t stop!” Your begging told him all he needed to know. He made sure to stay where he was but he began to drive himself harder and in deeper into you. When he was rewarded with louder moans he arched leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

You could feel that familiar feeling building deep inside. The only noises that could be heard now were your loud moans, his grunts and the smooth squishing sound of him thrusting into your tight velvety walls.

You grabbed his shirt and balling your fists into it, the feel of his strong muscular back as your toes curled in from the pure bliss of your orgasm cascading down your body. You trembled beneath him as your walls clenched and spasmed around his dick milking him and sending him closer to his own climax. You couldn’t help but scream his name as he kept thrusting while you ride your orgasm out clinging to him. His thrusts became quick jerks of his hips as he buried his face in your neck. He let out a primal growl as he bit down on your shoulder and his movements stilled. You could feel his hot cum spill deep inside of you.

“Guess the paparazzi have their story now.” You panted running your fingers through his sweaty and messy hair.

“Nah… they just know how loud my name can be screamed now.” He chuckled trying to catch his breath. The comments caused you to laugh as you hit his shoulder playfully.

“Ooh Tom, you’re one hell of a guy.. you know that?” You sighed looking down at him wondering why it took the two of you so long to do that.

“I've wanted this for so long!” Tom hummed as he slowly pulled himself out of you as he sat up and leaned back against the wall in the hallway taking a moment to admire your beautiful yet messy and sweaty body.

“Well next time hurry up so you don’t have to wait so long.” You both laughed as he stood pulling you up with him. Kissing your lips softly.

“Shower?” He asked you nodded before both of you walked up the stairs to your destination.

@sparklemichele

[yourslovinglecter]

The Duchess - Part 3

Summary: She hated him, for everything he had done to them, the damage he had caused, the suffering and pain he had left behind. She hated him… Didn’t she? Emilia comes face to face with the leader of the Saviours and is confronted with his true nature, which in turn has her questioning her own.

Warning/s: Eventual smut, slow burner, profanity/swearing, graphic descriptions of violence.

Pairing: Negan/OC

Part 1 | Part 2

No gifs are made by me unless otherwise stated. All credit goes to the original creators. 

Part 3 

“Olivia.” He raised his voice only slightly, but poor Olivia jumped, letting out a frightened squeak as she clung to her clipboard. “Go get somethin’ to fix up the lady’s lip.”

As Olivia scurried away he stepped closer, his eyes half lidded as he bent his head to hers. “Though i’d be happy to kiss it all better for you right now, if you’re up for it.”

“You’re disgusting.” She sneered and Negan leaned back and clutched his hands to his chest mockingly.

“Oh Duchess, you’ll break my heart.” His eyes traced her body admiringly and he sat down on the couch, tapping the space next to him with a deliberate flourish.

She forced herself to sit, her posture was rigid as he threw his arm across the back of the floral couch, his fingers grazed her shoulder.

“So tell me, where in the UK are you from?” He asked and she shot him a condescending glare. He raised a single brow in warning and so she sighed and answered.

“London. Are we indulging in small talk now?”

“Huh.” He leaned back as he observed her. One hand toying with Lucille as it rested against the arm of the couch. “London. So a real Duchess then?”

She rolled her eyes feeling exasperated. He’d be asking if she’d had tea with the Queen next. “Not everyone from London is royalty.”

“No.” He whispered, leaning in and taking that lock of hair in his fingers again. “But you most certainly are.” He grinned again, that disarmingly charming smile that had her looking away from him. Someone like him, she thought, who had done the things he had and was capable of such horror, shouldn’t have a smile like that.

Thankfully the swift footsteps alerted her to Olivia’s arrival, with antiseptic and a cotton pad in hand. She bent toward Emilia before a large, tanned hand intercepted her.

“I got it, thank you Olivia!” Olivia seemed a bit off balance as Negan took the supplies from her. She gathered herself and let out a watery sniff, before taking a seat at the table in the corner of the room.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch darlin’.” He said as he shook the bottle and placed more antiseptic on the pad. He put the bottle on the table and took her chin in his thumb and forefinger again, just as he had when examining the initial damage, this time holding her still as he dabbed at the cut.

He was surprisingly gentle but it still stung like hell. She remained still and didn’t say a word. If letting him play nurse meant that he was leaving Olivia alone then she vowed to endure it.

“There, much better. Though it might be a little swollen for a while. No kissing for you, doctors orders!” There was that smile again accompanied with a wink, then suddenly his expression darkened as he continued. “I’ll be sure to tell Rick he needs to respect my professional diagnosis.”

She frowned in confusion as she looked at him, he was staring at her intently as though he was waiting for a confirmation of something. “Rick and I aren’t-” She broke off mid sentence, changing her mind. She didn’t need to justify herself to this maniac and she wouldn’t put Michonne in the firing line by revealing their relationship.

“No?” He seemed genuinely intrigued as he used the other side of the pad to wipe away the dried blood which had trailed down her neck to her collarbone. “Well, that tender little scene I witnessed earlier had me believing otherwise. Especially seeing as he was so keen for me to stop flirtin’ with you.”

“That’s just Rick, he’d do that for any of the women.” Negan discarded the cotton pad and sat back, his fingertips grazing her shoulder again as he contemplated her words.

“I wonder how they’re gettin’ on… Who d’ya reckon took ‘em? My money’s on the jumped up little prick who opened the gate. What’s his name… Steven, Stuart?”

“Spencer.” She ground out, feeling fury bubble up again. If it had been him she’d kill him herself. The little weasel.

“Ohh… Not him then.” Negan watched her reaction to the name carefully and rubbed his face with his hand, his beard scratching against the leather glove. “Ok I give up guessing! So who is your boyfriend?”

Her eyes flicked to him for a moment in confusion as she forgot to keep her rigid posture, her tone was both condescending and sarcastic when she spoke. “Excuse me?”

“I’m interested.” He shrugged his shoulders and his eyes drifted to Olivia, some twisted realisation lit in his eyes. “Unless you’re…” He paused, pointing with his gloved hand between the two women. “I mean that’d be totally cool if you were, you know… I mean you’re a little outta her league.” He leaned into her side and whispered this from the corner of his mouth in a hushed manner, as if divulging a secret.

“I’m straight.” Emilia said coldly, hating the look of self disgust on Olivia’s face. “So is Olivia.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He said, looking right at her before he swiftly stood from his seat. “I need a little fresh air ladies. Lets go take a seat outside, it’s such a lovely day!”

Both women glanced at each other as Negan swung Lucille up to rest on his shoulder and sauntered outside, expecting them to follow. Which of course, they did.

Negan directed them to the picnic table and chairs which were set up on the small patio, once Olivia was seated he took the chair beside her and draped his arm over the back of her shoulders, stretching his long legs out in front of him. She told herself she was glad to be away from him, but felt sorry for Olivia, who currently had Negan pressed against her side and conflicting emotions on her features. She was so easy to read, which was why Negan was tormenting the poor woman. She wasn’t used to being the focus of attention, especially the attention of a broad shouldered, well muscled, tall and masculine psychopath. Emilia could tell Olivia felt flattered at the attention, the deep red blush which had suffused her face was evidence enough of that.

Emilia turned where she stood, unable to witness how he was affecting poor Olivia, she folded her arms across her chest as she looked up to the window of the nearest house, the curtain moved and the familiar piercing blue eyes of her leader were visible for a split second. It only took her moments to realise whose house that was and that Rick had come to the same conclusion as Negan, and so was searching Spencer’s home.

She clenched her jaw in fury at the thought of Spencer double crossing them, she knew he had it in for Rick. He was a spoiled little boy who thought he knew best. She knew only too well that people like him didn’t last very long in this world now. He was spineless and a coward and she despised him.

She had tuned out most of what Negan was saying to Olivia, mostly because he was baiting her and deliberately trying to make her uncomfortable, that was until his raised voice caught her attention and she turned back to him as he called out.

“Am I borin’ you sweetheart?” He asked her, his espresso eyes showed a brewing storm as he observed her. He leaned forward, removing his arm from around Olivia as he pushed off his knees to stand, picking Lucille up as he sauntered toward her.

“Actually, don’t answer that. Knowin’ you you’ll probably say yes…” He leaned sideways, his much taller, broader form casting a shadow over her. “And that’ll just break my heart.”

“You keep talking about your heart like you actually have one.” She said, unable to keep the thought to herself which had occurred to her the first time he had mockingly clutched at his own chest.

“Ohhh! Straight in the nutsack!” He jolted backward, looking at her with barely suppressed glee. He smirked again, one side of his mouth tilting upward to showcase those even, white teeth again. “We’re gonna have fun Duchess, I can tell.”

He took in a deep breath and surveyed the area around him. His body language was always so at ease, she noted, like he was so unfazed and unthreatened, it screamed alpha male and dominance and she had quickly realised since meeting him why everyone feared him so much.

“Come on girls.” His deep, rough voice intruded on her observations. “Let’s go see how ol’ Rick is doing with his search.”

They followed him from the patio to the road out front. He opened the connecting side gate and motioned them through ahead of him in an act of chivalry so brutally at odds with what he was capable of that the thought made her dizzy.

His men were loading up their haul onto the large vans they had brought with them, Emilia cringed as she saw their chairs, mattresses, guns and most other furniture piled high inside. She glared sideways at Negan, who was watching her expression closely with a smirk on his face. Then Rick was approaching, a small corded bag in his hand. This diverted Negan who turned away from her to face the other man, his hands taking the bag as he asked.

“What’chu got for me Rick?” He opened it and looked down, a dark chuckle left him as he continued. “Well would’ya look at that, they were here after all.”

He turned to Rick, leaning sideways again as if to emphasise his height advantage as he sought to catch Rick’s gaze, she noticed a vein in Negan’s tanned neck pulsate as he spoke. “Funny how a little ‘Holy shit somebody’s gonna die!’ lights a fire under everybody’s ass.”

Olivia whimpered and Emilia clenched her jaw and closed her eyes momentarily in frustration at the her weakness. Now Negan’s attention was back on them as he stood next to Rick.

“Tell me Rick, which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?” Rick kept his eyes on Emilia, refusing to look at Negan as he answered.

“Doesn’t matter anymore-” He Rick began, but was quickly cut off by Negan.

“No! It matters, see you need to get everybody on board.”  He sent a pointed glance Emilia’s way as he repeated “Everybody.”

“Or we just go right back to square one.” He handed the bag to the man with the scarred face, Dwight she thought his name was, who was stood next to the truck. They loaded the final weapons up and pulled the large metal door down, shutting their belongings away for good.

Negan banged his leather clad fist on the iron twice, she felt Olivia jump beside her, the engine started and the trucks rolled their way down the hill and outside the gate. Negan gestured that they all followed him as he walked his way down, looking around in apparent enjoyment at his surroundings.

“Helluva place you got here Rick.” He gestured with open arms and turned to them, his eyes lingering on Emilia before looking to Rick.

She watched as Rick glanced to their left and she followed his gaze to see Michonne stood in the broken window of one of the outbuildings, an animal slung over her shoulders. Her gaze went quickly back to Rick as he asked Negan to give him a second, she frowned as she wondered what he was thinking.

Negan rocked on his heels and his eyes narrowed as he turned around to follow their gazes, Michonne quickly ducked away from his line of sight

“No…” He spoke softly and with a smile, she could tell by his tone he was waiting for something and she ground her teeth in frustration as Rick sighed, she could almost feel him swallowing his pride as he looked up.

“Please..” He ground out. “Can you just give me a second.” He raised his eyes to Negan and she saw the taller man’s lip twitch in a smirk as he got exactly what he wanted. Negan nodded once as he smiled at Rick, again winning the power play between them, who quickly took off toward the outbuilding still holding Lucille.

She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared inside, again leaving her with Negan, whose eyes were roaming her from head to toe. He leant back against the car behind him and folded his arms, one hand, the gloved one, raised to his face as he stroked his bearded jaw in thought.

They remained in almost silence in Rick’s absence, with Negan merely observing her and humming an unrecognisable tune. She refused to move, to break eye contact and so she stared him down, aware of the twitch of his lips as he enjoyed their stand off.

She only broke eye contact when Rick came back, Lucille still in his hands and Michonne storming ahead of him. Her eyes flicked back to Negan who was eyeing the new development in consideration.

“Look at this!” He crowed as Michonne stormed passed him, deer draped over her shoulders toward the last van belonging to The Saviours, only faltering in her step when she saw Daryl.

“I thought she was scavenging but she was hunting.” Rick’s voice drew her attention and Emilia watched in disbelief as he held out the uncatalogued rifle to be taken by Negan. “This one never came inside, we kept it near the line.”

Negan seemed thrilled whilst she was stunned, there was no need for that and she didn’t understand why he had given them the last weapon they had. Her faith in her leader shook for a moment as Negan looked the gun over.

“This is somethin’ to build a relationship on! Good for you Rick, this is reading the room and gettin’ the message! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” He leaned sideways and pointed toward Rick with the rifle. “You sir, are special.”

“Now that you know we can follow your rules…” Rick began and Negan pivoted on his foot, his head tilted as he spoke. She knew what he was trying to do and she wanted to tell him not to give Negan the satisfaction, but her heart ached at the thought of her friend stuck with these animals.

“Yeeees?” He drew out, his eyes darkening with warning as if he almost knew what was coming next.

“I’d like to ask you if Daryl can stay.” Emilia looked back to Negan to see his reaction. He smirked and shook his head once.

“Not happenin’.” Then his mouth turned down in contemplation as he appeared to change his mind. “You know what, I don’t know. Maybe Daryl can plead his case. Maybe… Daryl can sway me?”

They all turned to look at Daryl, his head was bowed and now she could she fully took him in. He looked worse than she’d ever seen him, he was sickly pale and his hair stringy and lifeless. His face was an amalgamation of black and blue bruises and she felt her hatred for The Saviours consume her as he only bowed his head in submission and remained silent.

“Daryl?” Negan prodded, a large self satisfied smile stretching his lips. He chuckled at the silence and turned back to Rick. “Well, you tried! Now what you gotta do is get over that tall wall of yours and try harder out there. Earn for me. Cause we’re coming back soon and when we do you better have somethin’ interesting for us… Or Lucille, she’s gonna have her way.

“I want you to hear that again.” He leaned into Rick again, enjoying it as the other man turned away from him, submitting to his dominant body language. “If you don’t have something interesting for us… Somebody’s gonna die… And no more magic guns.”

“Alright!” Negan turned on his heel, his back to Rick again and his tone suddenly jovial. “It’s gettin’ late, grab that deer and lets go home.”

Michonne threw the deer from her shoulders, glaring at Negan and Emilia couldn’t help it as she huffed out a soft laugh. Only Michonne could deposit a dead deer with so much attitude.

Negan span on his heel to look at her, answering her quickly fading smile with a large, cocky grin of his own. “Well, darlin’ I do believe that’s the first smile I seen outta you since I got here. Since it’s such a pretty smile I’ll let your friend there get away with the way she’s lookin’ at me. If she’s still lookin’ at me like that when I turn around again… Well even your pretty little face wont stop Lucille makin’ sure she can’t ever look at me like that again.”

Emilia quickly glanced to Michonne, who grit her teeth in disgust and lowered her eyes, quickly walking back the way she came and as she passed Negan, her eyes averted from him, he laughed and pumped his fist once in victory.

“Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out!” Negan chuckled in Rick’s ear as they watched Michonne leave, those dark eyes slid over to Emilia and he winked at her once before he spoke again to Rick.

“So nobody died… And you know what I think, I think you and I refined our understanding. Lemme ask you somethin’ Rick. You want me to go?” He stood face to face with Rick now, no longer stooping but showcasing his full height and build. This was the first time she realised that she’d seen him in all his ‘glory’… For the first time he wasn’t relaxed, leaning to and fro or using his body language to show just how unthreatened he was. For the first time he had drawn himself up and she realised just how tall and broad he was, at least 6 ft 2 she thought.

“I think that’d be good.” Rick drawled, his face pale and drawn. He looked so much smaller in comparison, so beaten and broken.

Negan smiled. “Then just say those two magical words!”

Rick looked down to his feet, grinding his teeth together as he stepped forward once. His voice was low, but not low enough that Emilia and Negan’s men didn’t all hear him when he said it.

“Thank you.”

Negan’s posture relaxed and he leant back and chuckled along with his men, his hands in his pockets as he responded. “Don’t be ridiculous, thank you.”

Emilia watched, feeling the tension in the air. A beat passed and a shuffling, gurgling sound came from between the vehicles behind Negan.

“Another one! You need our help.” He spoke condescendingly to Rick before turning to one of his men. “Davy, hand me that candlestick over there.”

“You know what I think Rick, I think we’re both gonna come outta this winners. Watch my form!” Negan span on his heel, candlestick in hand as he raised it over his head. Emilia glanced to Rick to see his gaze darkening, his fist clenching rhythmically around the handle of the weapon which had bludgeoned two of their group to death. She was sure he was considering the poetic justice of beating Negan’s head in with Lucille.

She waited. Negan brought the Candlestick down on the walkers head and sighed in satisfaction as it caved inward and the body collapsed, he stood, waiting with his back to Rick. Almost daring him to act. A moment passed and Rick stepped back, lowering his head again as Negan finally turned, discarding the weapon to his left.

“Ye-up. Win, win.” He levelled his dark eyes on Rick, his eyes said he was fully aware of what Rick had been about to do, and it only made his power greater that he hadn’t. “Clean that up for me for next time. Lets move out.” He walked passed Rick as his men made their way to their vehicles before he suddenly stopped.

“Oh wait…” He chuckled, spinning and looking at Rick again. “How careless of me! You didn’t think I was gonna leave Lucille did you? I mean after what she did I wouldn’t think you’d want her… Thank you for being so accommodating my friend.” His tone was mocking as he leant down and took Lucille from Rick’s barely there grip.

He looked at Emilia once more, licking his lips before speaking again to torment their leader, to humiliate him one final time before he departed. “In case you haven’t caught on, I just slipped my dick down your throat… and you thanked me for it.”

Rick’s eyes were still averted but she saw him blink as his emotions almost broke free from his stone wall facade. Negan turned away and stepped into the van, his eyes now wholly on Emilia as the engine started up.

“Until next time, Duchess.” He watched her for a moment, as if committing her to his memory and she scowled at him fiercely in return. He laughed, flashing those perfect white teeth as he winked at her one final time, before turning to face the road as the final van left Alexandria.

Part 4 

Tags: 

@negan--is--god

​ @negans-network

#negans thirst squad #negan fanfiction #negans-network #negan x reader #twd fanfiction

[thenctcults]

High on You

Pairing: Yuta x reader Genre: fluff, smut Warnings: drug abuse Word count: 3,714

Sighing, you put your phone inside your bag, ready to head home for the night. Bidding the last remaining people at the office goodbye, you headed off towards the elevator. Heaving a sigh, your back slouched as you waited for it to come up, the tiredness of a very long day evident on every inch of your body. You had told yourself that this internship would be a fun and an educational experience, a sample of what your dream job would be like. 

However, it seemed that things didn’t really run so smoothly. Today, had marked one of the worst days here, yet. Mostly because your supervisor had made it their goal to make your experience here a living hell. 

Two more months, you thought to yourself. 

The elevator doors slid open, breaking your train of thought. Clicking the 0 button, you rested your back against the mirror, your bag resting against your thighs. A nice relaxing bath sounded great at that moment, maybe a nice massage too. You definitely knew where you could get the latter one, a smile inevitably creeping onto your lips at the thought of Yuta’s hands on you. 

Just that simple thought had your body tingling, your toes curling in eagerness and anticipation. Maybe what you really needed right now was to bask yourself in Yuta’s presence and mold yourself in his embrace. Mustering up any last remnants of strength, you quickly got out of the building only to be met with a raging storm that you were somewhat unaware of. 

“Fuck, I don’t have an umbrella with me.” You whined lowly to yourself, hugging your bag close to you; it was your most prized possession and you by no means could not let water ruin it. Trying to shield yourself with it would be pointless, you would end up looking like a wet koala regardless. Once inside your car, you slid the car key in the ignition, the car roaring to life. 

Driving around the city at nighttime was one of your favorite things to do when bored- you loved the way the city lights blurred as you sped down the empty streets - but not when it was pouring like this. On rainy days, you’d rather be at home curled up against Yuta. The thought is very cheesy, indeed, but you loved it. So, since the weather was more than suitable for a night like this, you drove towards his studio apartment, where you knew he’d be at this hour. 

The drive lasted longer than usual, not only was everyone driving extremely slow due to the terrible weather conditions but the ongoing traffic made things worse. Tapping your fingers along to the beat of the song that was playing softly on the car radio, you let out a sigh as you began to feel your patience running thin. If you could teleport yourself right inside Yuta’s apartment that moment, you most definitely would. Scoffing, you noticed that you had been excessively needy for him today; not only had he been on your mind all day but you made sure he knew of that, too; texting him every now and then, telling him how much you longed for him.   

About thirty five minutes later, you found yourself standing in front of his door. The already soft melodies echoing from his apartment grew fainter as he lowered the music down once you rang the doorbell. A smile impulsively made its way on your lips just at the simple thought of him. His effect on you was so intense that he had you turn into soft, gooey mush at just a simple touch or glance; it truly drove you insane. 

The door swung open to reveal Yuta’s form; black hair laying messily atop his head, his gray shorts hanging loosely on his slim frame. 

“Babe.” Yuta smiled at you; for it to fall just as quickly as it appeared. “Wow, don’t you look lovely.” He exclaimed, followed by a soft laugh, pulling you in by your wrist, the door closing shut behind you. 

Without uttering a response back, you opened your arms wide open, ready to flung yourself at him only to have Yuta dodge you expertly. 

“Oh, no. Don’t think I’m hugging you when you’re drenched like this. Let’s get you changed first.” He finished off with a smile once he noticed your disappointed scowl. Any hint of feigned disappointment fading away at just a mere smile. 

Yuta made a move to open the drawer designated for you, for when you stayed over so you wouldn’t have to inconvenience yourself with carrying your clothes back and forth. However, you stopped him from doing so, insisting that today you were in the mood to wear his clothes only, earning a smug smirk in response. 

Hugging the soft material of the shirt he handed you, you wasted no time in putting it on, enjoying the way you could swim in it. Placing the collar of his shirt under your nose, you inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet essence that defined your boyfriend. 

“Here.” He covered your head with a soft towel, ruffling your hair in an attempt to somewhat dry it, laughing at your squeals. “Much better.” he mumbled absentmindedly once he got the result that he desired, taming the tousled strands with his fingers. 

“Can I get my hug now?” You asked rather impatiently, tugging on his hands. 

“You can get more than that.” He responded mischievously, scooping you up in his arms and throwing both of you on his messy bed. You laid like this in silence, limbs awkwardly intertwined, arms tightly wrapped around each other’s torsos and your head resting against his firm chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

“Today was horrible.” Your whines broke the short moment of silence. 

“Want to talk about it?” Yuta asked gently, moving his head back to peer down at you. 

Humming softly in response, you began ranting about your day and mostly about your supervisor, Yuta nodding in understanding every now and then. Just the fact of knowing that he was there to listen to you vent was comforting enough. 

“So I thought,” you spoke, your rant now coming to an end. “the best way to for me to cheer up is stay over at Yuta’s and here I am.” 

“Well, looks like you made the right choice. Plus,” he paused, his voice trailing off. “I have something else that may be of some help.” He said, untangling himself from you and reaching out to his nightstand drawer, pulling something out before closing it again. He wriggled a transparent plastic bag in front of your face a devilish grin gracing his face. Upon noticing your shocked expression, his raised arm fell limb against his side in defeat. 

“It’s not like it’s our first time.” He pointed out and he was in fact right. It wasn’t like the two of you were perpetual smokers but there were a few times when you shared a joint. 

“It’s been long since we’ve smoked one, that’s all.” You took the small bag out of his grip, reluctantly taking one joint between your fingers before resealing it again. Motioning him with the joint in your hand, you ushered Yuta to grab a lighter. Wasting no time in his movements, he grabbed the bag out of your hands and put it back its in original place, hidden in the far back, and grabbed a lighter. 

Placing the joint between your lips, you stared intensely into his eyes, then your gaze falling on his lips, watching carefully as his pink tongue ran over his plump lips smoothly, leaving them glistening and ready to be kissed. But you held back and, surprisingly, so did he. Surprisingly, because knowing Yuta, he would never miss a chance to steal a kiss or two from you, if your faces were this close; whether it was the quickest of pecks or a longer kiss, filled with so much love and intensity it had your head spinning and toes curling. 

He took the joint that was in between your fingers, encircling the tip with his luscious lips and taking a long drag. A cloud of white smoke covered Yuta’s handsome features for a short second as he exhaled, before quickly dissipating; his face emerging from the now diffuse smoke, a lazy smile playing on his lips. As minutes passed, you took turns, taking drags one after another; the effect of the drug already having kicked in. Redbone was softly playing in the background, but the sound being loud enough to be heard throughout Yuta’s quiet studio apartment. 

Yuta hummed softly. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, threading his fingers through your almost dried tresses. 

“Like,” you paused, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of Yuta’s hand lovingly caressing your hair. “all the time.” you giggled softly. 

“How about how much I love you?” 

“Hm,” you pondered, recalling all the times he’s professed his love for you in your hazy mind. “not as often.” You admitted, lips forming into a pout. 

“Then I’ll take this as a chance to let you know how much I love you.” 

A giggle bubbled from your chest once again. “How much is that?” 

“There’s no limit to it.” He replied, words coming out slightly slurred. Turning on his back, with legs splayed across the mattress and one of his hands rested against his bare stomach, he stared intently at the ceiling, the smile on his lips unwavering. Only now, you could detect a deep emotion behind it. 

Mimicking his actions, you now found yourself laying in the same position, the knuckles of your left hand brushing against his lightly, the miniscule touch of his skin against yours set your body ablaze. Even after all this time, still, whenever he touched you it felt as if it was the first time. The smooth guitar licks of The Night Me and Your Mama Met, gave this setting a more romantic feel to it - as romantic as it could get with the both of you intoxicated like this. 

“I still remember the first time we first talked.” He rasped out, casting a glance at you, before resuming to staring at the blank ceiling. His eyes skimmed over the stray dots on the wall above him, each connecting slowly with the other and intricate patterns taking form inside his mind. 

“Your cheek was smeared with sauce that none of your friends were kind enough to point it out. So, I did.” he recalled with a nostalgic smile, most likely tracing back to that day he had approached the table you were sitting at on the college cafeteria and bluntly informed you of the dried up sauce on your cheek. To say you had been embarrassed at that moment would be an understatement, but Yuta’s outgoing and flirty nature held no room for further embarrassment; in a matter of minutes you were a squirming and blushing mess due to his flattering words. 

His attention was now fixed on you blinking slowly at you with hooded eyes. The lower half of his body was somewhat turned towards you, knees awkwardly resting against your leg. Even though you could feel his kneecap digging in your thigh, you couldn’t be bothered to address the matter. “I think it was love on the first sight.” 

You let out an unattractive snort upon hearing his words. “There’s no such thing as love on the first sight.” you countered. 

“But I felt it when I saw you.” He retaliated faintly.

Despite the eye roll you granted him in response, your heart thumped frantically against your ribcage. You swore you could feel your heart swell, ready to burst from all the love you harbored for him. A soft pink hue rose to the apples of your cheeks, which you desperately tried to hide from him by covering your face with your palms. Seconds after, you felt slender fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands away from your face. 

Yuta heaved a sigh of content as he looked at you, taking in your every feature. Although, it was quite unnecessary, since after all this time every little detail about you was engraved in his mind so well. “I love you.” he mumbled lowly, a laugh slipping out of his lips as he heard you groan and hide your face in his side. 

“I love you.” He repeated his previous words, earning yet another whine from you. His side shook as he breathed out a low chuckle, obviously loving the reaction he got out of you, adoring the way those three words left you flustered. 

Loving the warmth that radiated off of his body, you made no attempt to move your face from his side. “I love you too.” You mumbled softly, your voice vibrating against his skin. 

Yuta shifted his position, his movements slow, and was now hovering over you, peering down at you with hooded eyes. Softly resting your palm open against his chest, you felt the once steady beat of his heart increase steadily. He lowered his elbows, bringing his body closer to yours. You whimpered softly, disliking the fact that your upper half was dressed and his wasn’t, yearning to feel his burning skin against yours. 

Your boyfriend shook his head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful. God, I’m so lucky to have you.” He breathed out astonished, as if it was the first time he saw you, fingers reaching out to brush a few stray strands that lay on your face, the pads of his fingers sliding across your face, sending a tingling sensation from your face all the way down to your toes. 

“Yuta,” you sighed out his name, closing your eyes, basking yourself in his soft caresses. “I want to feel you. Take me.” You pleaded, wrapping your arms around his back, scratching on his shoulder blades, your nails leaving a trail of angry red marks in their wake. 

Without having to be told twice, his lips hungrily attacked yours, teeth awkwardly clashing together in the process. His lips molded perfectly against yours, his tongue slithering in your mouth when he found the chance. Your already clouded mind blurred, as Yuta’s fiery kisses made their way down to your jawline and all the way down to your neck, the tip of his tongue flicking over the protruding vein on your exposed neck. 

His right hand traveled south and paused at your hipbone, his fingers digging in the cotton material of his shirt on you, harshly applying pressure on your skin, eliciting a quiet whimper from you. Judging from Yuta’s angry kisses on your neck and his tight grip on your hip, his dominant streak was coming out. 

Yuta loved being in charge during your intimate moments and you couldn’t deny him, guilty of loving this side of him too. He slid his knee between your pressed thighs, pulling them apart so as to position himself between you. Wasting no time, he ground his hips against yours, the friction making your mind go haywire; already feeling your underwear pooling with your essence. 

The pace of his hips against yours was uneven and sloppy, unable to concentrate well enough on his movements. Every now and then you’d try lifting up your pelvis to meet his halfway, only to be forcefully pushed down by his hands. 

Yuta let out a guttural noise. “Stay down.” He growled, his voice laced with a hint of authority. Barely gasping out a breathy reply in the affirmative, you complied without any complaints. 

Moving the hand that was once gripping on your hipbone towards your inner thigh, he indicated you to open up your legs wider by giving it a light slap. Lowering himself on the bed, he positioned his face down on you, pressing soft open mouthed kisses on the soft expanse of your skin and littering your skin with a few bite marks here and there.

Long fingers slipped through the boxers you were wearing, running smoothly along your folds. Yuta’s lips parted at the feeling of your essence dripping from your core and onto his fingers, loving the way you became putty in his hands. 

A stream of whimpers slipped past your parted lips as he entered two fingers inside and began pumping slowly. Faintly urging him to pick up his pace, you felt your walls clench around his slender digits as he quietly complied to your request. His hand moved in an inconsistent manner, but it was enough to bring you in a state of euphoria. 

Breathy moans drowned the soft melody of the music emitting from Yuta’s speakers. With a shaky hand, you reached down, grabbing a fistful of his hair and gave it a soft tug. Yuta hummed against your stomach, from where his lips were placing slow kisses on you, the vibrations of his voice on your skin increasing the pleasure. 

Much to your dismay, Yuta removed his hands from inside of you, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, asking you to get a taste you you. A raging fire rose on your cheeks at his lewd request, but you still did as you were told. Your eyes were set on his as you licked yourself off of his fingers, watching him closely as he parted his lips the moment your tongue licked on his fingers. Groaning out your name, his hand reached down to his crotch, palming himself through the fabric of his pants. 

The sight of him touching himself in front of you had you trembling in pleasure, it being enough to get you off. His movements halted and he resumed to pleasuring you, this time, sliding the boxers down your thighs and past your ankles. His hungry lips found your thighs again, prepping you for what was to come next. 

You could feel his breath getting closer to your core slowly and yourself growing impatient of his teasing. 

Whimpering, you latched onto his hair, bringing his face closer to where you wanted it to be. “Yuta, please.” you begged faintly. His lips grazed you slightly as he smirked at your words. Not bothering to say something in return, he got straight to the point, his lips encircling your clit, making you to let out a loud cry of pleasure. 

Yuta worked his way on you just like he always did; knowing just what to do, where and how. His tongue glided across your slit, getting a taste of you. Yuta hummed in content, not once stopping his actions. His tongue delved inside you, moving in and out in a way that only he knew how, in a way that drove you to the edge so easily. 

His front teeth grazed your hardened nub and had you clenching around his tongue. The tips of his hair tickled your inner thighs as he moved, his fingers digging into your skin as he unsuccessfully tried to pin you down. Your hips rose up a little, craving for more friction. 

In a matter of seconds, his fingers replaced his tongue; skillfully pumping in and out, hitting the right spots inside you that had you chanting his name like a mantra. His lips remained around your clit, sucking on it lightly. 

The grip on his hair tightened and he groaned in slight discomfort, but you paid no heed to it as you felt your climax approaching. Your moans turned into shallow gasps, when you felt Yuta add a third finger inside you and picking up his pace. Albeit sloppy, it was more than enough for you in that state and moment. 

Your eyes were trained on him when he looked up and met your gaze with bloodshot eyes. The sound of your soft moans and his hand hitting against your wet skin mingled with the soft music in the room. 

Yuta held your gaze and watched intently as your jaw slacked open, nothing but choked gasps coming out of your mouth. You felt the wave of pleasure starting to pool in your lower stomach and you let out a silent scream right when you reached your high; a whole other different one from the one you were in that moment. This felt more intense, deeper and sensual, given the state you were in, everything seemed amplified. His fingers stilled inside you for a second, before moving slowly, dragging out your orgasm. 

Your head fell against the pillows, chest heaving as you came down from your high. If your mind was hazy before due to the weed, right now it was cluttered, your thoughts all over the place. Yuta got up and disappeared into the bathroom, before he came back with a wet towel in his hands. Slowly cleaning you up, he threw the towel across the room, where it fell on top of some strewn dirty clothes of his. 

He climbed up on the bed and flopped next to you, resting his head on your chest with a relaxed smile. The pair of you laid in silence for a few minutes, neither of you bothering to speak up. He hugged you closer to his body, his grip tight around your waist. 

Yuta was the first one to break the silence. “Do you feel better now?” 

“I feel like I’m in nirvana.” You replied truthfully; that moment you felt so calm, so serene. It was the best you had felt in a while. 

You ran your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, humming soft tunes. Yuta craned his neck to look up at you from where he was laying on your chest. 

“I love you.” he flashed you his signature dazzling grin. Groaning once again at his sudden display of affection, you pushed him off of you, causing him to whine like a little child. 

“Goodnight, Yuta.” 

“I...” Yuta paused for a few seconds, returning to his previous position. “love you.” he snickered. 

“Goodnight, Yuta!” 

#yuta scenarios #yuta fluff #yuta smut #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #ihaven't proofread this </3

[blancheharlow]

Hello From the Other Side || Marley & Blanche

TLDR: Marley and Blanche deal with some real bottled up emotions.

GORE TW. Message if you need a real TLDR xox

Backdate: 8/29/17

Marley 's hand breached the portal and for the first time in what felt like eons, her hand touched something cool and soothing. A cement floor. Her other hand flew out and grasped for something else. The side of a threshold, wood splinters digging into her hand. With all of her might and a great cry, she pulled the rest of herself through the portal. Her body steamed and sizzled, the effort of it making a very audible noise, like after you put cold water in a hot pan. She slumped against something, panting, even though she wasn't tired and didn't need oxygen. It felt good to breath for the first time since she'd fallen in. She took in large gulps of air, breathing out sulfur and blood and steam as her lungs regenerated and healed for the last time. Her skin was covered in chemical burns, raw and red and boiling, but it barely hurt. Her clothes clung desperately to her body, but she was alive, and standing, and back in her own dimension. Back in Ashkent. It was only then that she realized someone was screaming. That girl, the one whose house she'd burst in to. Marley opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was still raw and recovering from inhaling so much sulfur and acid. "Car," she croaked through grit teeth, "my office." Pushed away from the wall and started dragging herself over to the car outside. "Now." They were going to settle this, no more waiting.

Blanche was screaming, scrambling back as something angry exited the portal. Her skin was bubbling she looked awful-- burns and, and.... Holy shit. It was the woman that fell through the portal. And she was alive and walking and--- were those wounds healing?! Blanche's screech stopped in her throat and her mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at her as she was ordered..... Blanche scrambled to her feet, trying to crutch as fast as she could to her car parked behind the now ruined Mercedes. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD." Blanche immediately tossed her crutches in the back seat, and slid as best as she could in the front. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Blanche finally wipped to he, grabbing her keys and starting her engine. "There are many things I was willing to deal with today: burning friendships, possession, the existence of a powerful fucking demon, portal to monster rates, but man--- what the fuck? And where the fuck is your office I need directions and do you, like, need pain killers?!"

 "Main street," Marley croaked out again, giving a good cough to help clear out the blood and scar tissue. She rolled down the window and spit, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "Across from bakery." She didn't bother to answer her questions when she could barely say more than three words at a time, but also because they were stupid questions right now. "We're closing....the portal," she managed again, clearing her throat a little more. Shook her head, started peeling bits of charred cloth that were seared into her skin off and flicking them out the window. It would heal. It all always healed. She glanced over at the girl as they sped down the road. "You hurt?"

Blanche jerked out of the drive way and sped towards Main Street. She was lucky she lived so close--- Blanche was trying to look at Marley. “Why are you healing so fast and thanks for not spitting in my car??? I guess??” She said, nervously taking a turn. Blanche was definitely speeding, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “We’re what?!” Blanche squeaked. “How?! Do you even--- The paper posted how to do it. Do you think… I don’t know, do you think we can do it?” Blanche glanced at her again. “Other than the broken leg? I have a nasty scratch on my shoulder but you look like hell.” Blanche swerved onto main street, and she just prayed she wouldn’t have to parallel park.

"I'll heal," Marley growled, her voice still a raspy gurgle. She pulled her entire jacket off, then, and tossed it into the back, started picking out the little pebbles and stones that had lodged into her skin during the dust storm her first day there. She'd need a haircut after this, too-- the ends were charred and the entirety of it felt sticky and burnt and oiled. She couldn't wait to shower, but first, they needed to close that portal. "Was in Hell, so..." she said, pulling out her phone. It was completely fried. She held out her hand. "Phone," she demanded. "Show me the--" cleared her throat, "article."

Blanche stared. “Any explanation on the healing like motherfucking superman?!” She barely blinked at the mention of hell. So her theory to Reed had been right. Blanche glanced at Marley, shuddering slightly she Marley puddled stones out of her skin. Gross. Blanche swerved again, ignoring someone that beeped at her as she dug out her phone and passed it to her. “I screenshotted it. My passcode is 4525, should be the first picture in my photo gallery.”

Marley took the phone without a word and unlocked it, clicking on the gallery icon. The first photo, however, was not of an article. It was of a half conscious Blanche, wine bottle stuck in her mouth, taking the world's worst selfie, autoflash and all. She just turned the screen to show it to her, one brow (the one that had been mostly burned off) half raised. She took the phone back, and flicked to the next picture, which was the article, thankfully. And just as she'd thought-- she'd been through it twice now-- it could be closed with a massive amount of energy. When she closed her eyes, the inside of the portal was still burned into her eyelids. It probably would be for a while. She opened them slowly, just as they were pulling up to her office. Tossing the phone back at Blanche, she leapt out of the car quickly, heading over to the door and fumbling for the keys in her pocket. They'd rusted and half melted, but she still jammed the thing into the nob and turned until it clicked open, ripping it off and leaving half of the thing behind in the slot. Fuck it. "Bag," she snapped back at Blanche, going over to the cabinet and grabbing it, shoving it away from the wall to reveal a hidden compartment. Locked, as well. She paused, just for a moment, then looked up at Blanche. "Not human," she said simply, then looked away and continued to fumble the compartment open.

Blanche glanced over, and immediately winced when she saw the selfie. The barely faded bruises on her face weren’t the reason that selfie was ugly. She didn’t remember taking it. That was embarrassing. “Uh—rough night?” she said, dryly. Whatever, it had been a rough couple of weeks. Blanche pulled up, parked, and did her best too keep up with Marley. “Bag??? What do you mean—uh..” Blanche scrambled, for the first canvas bag she could get, craning her head over him. “Whoa…. What is that???” Blanche looked at Marley. “Well, good thing I’m just peachy to be able to accept the decision today!”

"I didn't decide--" Marley huffed roughly as she yanked the compartment open, "to not be human." Hey, she could say more than a few words now! Her voice was still rough and guttural, but she could speak. She held her hand out for the bag. "What you see here today," she said, looking squarely into Blanche's eyes, "you will never tell anyone about." And it wasn't a question or an offer, it was a demand. Once she was sure she had Blanche's discrepancy, she started pulling jars from the compartment out, each a containing a different colored liquid, each with their own label. A name, a date, and an emotion.

Blanche didn’t reply, realizing that was probably not the best thing to say. She also thought that maybe asking “what are you” was rude. “I know a vampire,” she blurted out, stupidly handing her the bag. But as her eyes locked with Blanche, she swallowed. “I can see ghosts and I am a exorcist in training.” She word vomited at Marley. “We’re good.” Blanche stared at the jars as they came out. “What are those? And—does that say anger?”

 "They're exactly what you think they are," Marley mumbled, clearing her throat and turning to spit up the last little bits of blood that had gathered in her throat. "And they're exactly what we need to close this portal." Because there was more energy and magic in these little jars than most witches had in their entire beings. Marley was an immortal, all powerful demon, after all. She could grant any wish, make any words come true, if only for the sake of vengeance. And ripping the very essence of an emotion from a person and shoving it in a jar took extremely powerful magicks and it certainly stored up a lot of energy. And she almost-- almost-- felt a sense of remorse at pitching them. At having to start over again. But maybe this time, she wouldn't ask for so much from people. Maybe there was something else she could get from them that she needed more. She tossed the last one into the bag and turned back to Blanche. "You're a medium?"

“Bottled emotions? Like… Real emotions?” Blanche gulped. “That’s taking the bottled emotions quote thing to a whole new level holy shit…” She had never heard that before. “Why are they going to close the portal?” Blanche was so done with this. She had verbally ripped off every head she could just because she was angry at this portal, and really, she wasn’t ready to be done. She was still pissed at her parents, and now she was pissed at Rebecca from keeping a huge thing from her. And she was pissed that her leg was broken and she was going to be practically immobile for at least two months. Blanche swallowed as Marley looked at her. She had a whole bunch of people know that about her and she wasn’t sure if she was ready. “Um. Yeah. I’m a medium.”

"Real emotions," Marley confirmed, hoisting the bag over her shoulder and leading them back out to the car. She snagged another jacket on her way out, just an old one-- no way was she risking any of the ones she actually liked after what had just happened. "Oh," she said simply to Blanche's reply. She paused, then. "I'm Marley, by the way," she said, pointing to the window that had her name printed on it. "Marley Spi-- er, Caplan." Yes, Caplan. She was Marley Caplan, not Marley Spitzer. She dug a pen out of one of the drawers at her desk and came back out, scratching out the Spitzer, then pocketing it. "Let's go. Before something worse happens."

Blanche crutched after Marley. “How do you bottle real emotions?” she asked, carefully. Blanche frowned slightly, staring at Marley…. “Hi, Marley.” She said, nodding. “I’m, uh. Blanche. Blanche Harlow.” She watched Marley scratch out the name, and raised her eyebrow. “Um. Ya know, I’m just going to let you…. I’m not going to ask. Yeah. Come on, I’m ready to go.”

 "It's complicated," Marley said shortly. And then, "magic." She threw the bag into the back then slid into the passenger's seat again, checking her body. Most of it was all healed, save for the chemical burns and the laceration on her stomach. But they were severely less than before, and they'd be gone by the time they made it back to Blanche's. "The jars are magic, not complicated. The name is....complicated." She sat back and closed her eyes for a moment, realizing this was the first time she'd allowed herself to rest since being thrown in that portal. It swirled in her vision and she opened her eyes quickly again. "How'd you break your leg?"

Blanche was examining Marley. “Complicated magic.” Got it. Great. Oh no. Blanche shifted, tossing her crutches in the back and sliding back into her car awkwardly. She shifted her cast, wincing. “Not complicated magic?” Her eyebrows rose, examining her. Everything was healing on her, and it was quite…. Fascinating to watch. Blanche put the key in the ignition and turned the car on, pulling out of her spot. She glanced at Marley again, trying to relax slightly. “Uh… a demon girl broke it while she was trying to drag my sorry ass into hell. That was last week, though.” Blanche was speeding again, but she didn’t care. “We can…. Um. We can put the jars in the other car in my drive way and roll it in, okay?”

"Sounds like you get dragged off a lot," Marley half-teased. But visions of the other side of that portal were still flitting through her head, pressing up against the backs of her eyelids. Her fist clenched slightly. That place had been so desolate and barren and empty. Even the living beings barely passed as such, more like animate rocks or objects that weren't supposed to have true life. She shook her head. "It looks expensive," she said finally, "the other car. You sure?" She'd hand deliver the bottles into the portal if she needed to, but not going near the damn thing again sounded a lot nicer. "If anyone else gets thrown into that portal, they'll die instantly," she tacked on, in case Blanche was having second thoughts about sacrificing a car.

/Blanche couldn’t help it, she started laughing. “Yeah, that’s the reoccurring theme this month.” He let out a sigh, taking another turn. They would get back any second now. Blanche glanced at Marley, her lips twitching. “It’s my dad’s car.” Blanche said, simply. “And him and my mom both fucked off to Florida because of either possession or because some monster screwed with their heads and left me here alone.” She pressed her lips together. She glanced at Marley, nodding. “So we’re definitely sacrificing the totaled Mercedes then. Because I don’t care if you survived, you look like hell and I’m going to guess it hurt—” Blanche turned onto her street, and then speeding up before she swerved into her drive way. “— Alright, let’s go. I’ll go but the Mercedes in neutral and we can…. Roll it in??”

"Could be a hunting technique of those lizards," Marley said, remembering the sounds they made as they devoured the flesh of their own brethren. She shuddered quietly, but something in her churned. She'd never been as prone to anger as Josephine was, but the thought of parents leaving their own child behind struck something deep within her and she felt a sudden rush of anger boiling in her stomach. "C'mon," she said, slamming the car door shut and grabbing the bag of jars, "let's finish this shit." She jogged up to the totaled Mercedes and tossed the bag into the front seat, then thought better and went around to the trunk, tucking them in safely. That way they wouldn't fall out. "You gonna be okay to push with that leg?" she asked, nodding at Blanche's cast. She wished she could heal it for her. But only so that this would be easier for them, that was all. They needed to get this done before more of those monsters came out.

Blanche wrinkled her nose. “What?” Why would a lizard send the parents way from there—oh. Their nest. With their child. Or eggs or something. That made some sense—the aroma of flowers was probably what had leaked from The Lizard King’s pores. Blanche almost dry heaved at the thought. “Gross. “Blanche groaned as she got out of her car, watching as Marley put them in the front seat, and then change her mind. “Yeah, I’ll just ditch one of my crutches and hobble alone. I’ve been moving stuff around all day.” Blanche said, grimly sliding into the Mercedes, snatching the keys she had left on the passenger seat, and sliding it into neutral. Blanche slide out of the car, nodding as it began to move ever so slightly. “Alright! We are goo—” Blanche never got to finish that sentence as a roar came from the portal. A lizard—bigger that the stupid Lizard King—came roaring out, straight onto the car. And this one looked like it was spitting acid.”

Marley gave the car a good shove as soon as Blanche popped it into neutral. It groaned and heaved forward a bit, rolling slowly towards the portal. No, it needed to move faster. She went to shove at it again when a sudden roar overtook the garage. That low, gurgling noise, rattling her bones and her brain inside her skull. Shit. No. "Get back!" she shouted, leaping over the trunk of the car, grabbing Blanche's arm and yanking back and away from the lizard as something yellow dripped from its mouth onto the car. Right where Blanche's hand had been. It ate away at the metal and sizzled as it went down, like something straight out of a fucking Alien movie. She shoved Blanche back and picked up the nearest thing to use as a weapon-- which happened to be a golf club that had been laying in a pile of "To Be thrown into the portal". "Keep pushing the car! Don't stop! I'll distract it!" she shouted, swinging the club once and watching as the head of the club shattered over the monsters rock hard hide and flew off into the garage.

 “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Blanche swore in disbelief, watching as the acid dribbled down the side of the Mercedes, the body of the car ruined. She really appreciated Marley dragging her out of the way, but shit, she had to get her balance. “What?! What do you mean, distract--- oh my god!” Blanche swore as Marley crashed a gold club over the monsters head and she immediately did as she was told. Blanche ditched one of her crutches and hobbled to the car, using her free hand to push the car. The brace on her hand told her she probably shouldn’t be pushing cars, and the pain that shot up her wrist agreed with her, but honestly fuck that. “Damn it---” Blanche gave it a good shove, before almost losing her balance and losing contact with the car. She cussed, going forward again and giving the car another shove. She regretted pulling it out so far now—but soon, the nose of the car was in the portal, and it seemed to be pulling it in all by itself now. “Good--- Marley?!”

The lizard's weight made the front of the car groan, and the hood bent under the pressure. Marley swore, still holding the shattered golf club by the grip, watching as the lizard lifted it's massive front claw and brought it down on the front windshield, instantly shattering it as it climbed its way down the car, towards Blanche. It was trying to escape the pull of the portal, but Marley wouldn't let it. She gave a cry and jabbed what was left of the golf club into its eye, hoping her theory was right. And it was. The shaft sunk into the creature's eye with a squelch and it roared, collapsing onto the roof of the car, bending the metal of it under its weight. But it was still alive, trying to claw its way out of the portal. So Marley cursed, and turned to dive for the crutch Blanche had abandoned, but she stopped when a sudden burning sensation lit up her mind. For a moment, she didn't really believe what she saw. It was a puddle of yellow, steaming, bubbling liquid, dripping from the monster's mouth, to the ground, eating away at the cement of the garage floor. Eating away at the cement...and her foot. All of it. All of her foot. She screamed. Stumbled. Caught herself on the car, almost face planting in the puddle. Blood poured from her leg. She couldn't stop screaming. Something heavy pressed down onto her arm. A bone snapped. Her eyes widened and her head swiveled just in time to watch the lizard's jaw snap shut on her arm. It pulled, ripped, and she heard it. Heard the snap and tear of her arm as the lizard ripped it straight from its socket. In the moment, she didn't feel the pain, not at first. Black dots ate at her vision and a dizziness made the world around her tilt. Her back hit the garage floor. She was staring up at the flickering light, a string swinging back and forth. The world was completely silent. She screamed.

Blanche watched in horror, everything moving in slow motion. Blood spluttered from her like a fountain, and Blanche could only watch as Marley hit the garage floor with a disgusting thump. The screaming was the worst part, Blanche was disoriented as she watched the Lizard turn to her. It’s beady yellow eyes with acid dripping from it’s mouth…. IT was coming for her next. The Lizard hissed, lurching forward, the metal of the car groaning under its weight. Blanche backed up, stablizing herself against the wall and she smashed it in the nose with her crutch. It’s roar mingled with Marley’s screams. There was a sizzling of metal and she barely had a crutch at all—Blanche turned, realizing it was getting ready to spit at her again, and she snatched the broken rake from before. Thank god she thought to make something that would be useful to fight. But she only had one shot--- She dove to the side in an awkward one-legged hopping motion as acid came flying at her. It snatched at her cast, and Blanche snatched the make shift spear and launched forward as she tried walking. Pain shot up her leg, and she could smell burning plaster. But her aim was good, the sharp blade plunging into the soft spot in between his eyes, a sickening splurging sound. The thing roared, but it was too late, the portal sucked in the car and the lizard. Acid flew over her head and the only reason why it missed her head was because she fell—her leg collapsing under her and she smashed against the cement in Marley’s blood. Blanche barely registered the portal swirling closed, the glittering lights slowly disappearing. Blanche sat up, and upon a quick self check she knew she definitely reinjured her wrist and her leg was killing her--- thank god for her cast. IT was all melted and she felt it burning… but she still had her leg. Blanche dragged herself to Marley, hurriedly digging out her phone, dialing 911. She snapped her address, said she needed two ambulances, and began paying attention to Marley. “Marley?! Marley?! Wake up!—” Blanche struggled with her sweatshirt. Could she die? Blanche was covered in Marley’s blood, and she didn’t know what to do. “Come on, Marley, there’s help coming—"

#gore cw #chatzy #touchoffinale #chatzy marley #chatzy marley 2 #Chatzy 7

[motleymoose]

That Lonesome Song

Fandom: The Ranch

Pairing: Beau x Maggie

Prompts: Half of the songs on Jamey Johnson's album "The Lonesome Song" went into writing this fic.

Summary: Beau tries to mend fences with Maggie.

Words: 1,500+

Warnings: LANGUAGE; all the freaking angst, like seriously; heavy drinking

A/N: I had to write this because of the fact that there are like two fics for this fandom, and both of them are Colt x Rooster, which makes me feel squicky. So, yeah, I kinda had to write this. And because hellooooo, this show is basically what it was like growing up on a farm, minus the laugh track.

*gif not mine

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thirteen days.

It had been thirteen fucking days since Maggie had taken the boys and gone to her parents' place in Cañon City.

It had also been almost that long since Beau Bennet had been sober. Sure, there were the first couple of days after she'd left him that he had woken up with a hangover strong enough to kill a horse, but now he had a solid drunk going. As long as the beer and the whiskey didn't stop flowing, it was unlikely he was going to feel anything for a while.

He hoped he wouldn't feel anything, anyway.

Sprawled out on the couch, Beau squinted blearily at the rough-hewn ceiling beams as he tried to stop the room from spinning. It'd been late when he had gotten in from doing chores, but that hadn't stopped him from finishing off a half a case of Bud and a couple snifters of Jim before passing out in his coveralls on the worn-out sofa. Going to bed drunk was one thing, but waking up... that was a little harder on the senses.

Rolling onto his side, Beau fumbled with the beer box he had shoved under the coffee table.

Empty. Goddammit...

He heaved himself into a mostly upright position and dug around in the couch.

Bingo.

Pulling a Tall Boy from between the cushions, Beau cracked it open and began gulping the warm beer down like a dehydrated man to water. It wasn't going to clear out a hangover completely, but it was just enough to get him going on breakfast. .......... After a slapped-together PB&J and a cold shower, Beau was up and going, an Irish coffee sloshing in the thermos stuck down the front of his coveralls. Cows were starting to holler, and the forecast was calling for snow later in the morning, so he plugged in the tractor battery first thing. The old Allis-Chalmers was a bitch to start when it was cold, but warming up the battery beforehand usually cut down on the cussing and wrench throwing.

Once he was able to turn the engine over on the tractor, he set to work filling feeders and stacking hay for windbreaks. Colorado winters could be fierce, and he tried to do anything he could do to protect the herd from the gusting wind.

There was something about the routine of feeding and stacking bales that put thoughts of Maggie and the boys to the back of his mind. The monotonous sounds of the tractor coupled with driving almost the same exact path back and forth put him into a zen-like state. Not that he believed in that meditative hippy bullshit. But it was kinda nice not feeling guilty for a bit.

The whole fucking mess was all his damn fault, not doubt about it, but he wasn't going to own up to it.

Especially not to Maggie.

Cursing himself, Beau stopped the tractor just outside the gate and pulled the thermos from his coveralls. Taking a swig of the cooling liquid, he forced himself to make a list of all the other things he needed to get done before the storm hit.

It wasn't easy, but Beau was stubborn like that. Once he put his mind to something, he sure as hell wasn't going to let up on it until he saw it through.

Even if that meant that he was going to be sleeping alone for the foreseeable future.

"Fuuuck," he breathed, his mustache bristling as the anger and the hurt began to unfurl inside his chest. He took another long pull off the thermos, twisted the cap on, and put the tractor back into gear. There wasn't time to waste mulling over his feelings when shit needed to be done. He was going to have to wait until the evening to drown his heartbreak. ............... "Hello?"

No amount of booze could numb the pain he felt hearing her voice. "Hey, Maggie," Beau murmured into the receiver, his free hand twirling his glass on the table top. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels stood uncapped in front of him.

"Beau? What... Are you drunk?" Maggie asked, her voice shaking in anger. "I told you not to call here."

Sighing heavily, Beau closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get a handle on his thoughts. He took another sip of whiskey before speaking. "Come back, Mags. I miss you so... so much." His voice cracked as he held back the emotion bubbling up in his throat. "Please, baby. Come home."

There was a long, drawn out silence. Beau wasn't sure if she was still on the other end of the line. He opened his mouth to repeat himself when Maggie finally spoke up.

"How dare you. How fucking dare you call and beg me to come back," she spat, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Goddammit, Beau. I fucking told you we weren't coming home 'til you straightened your shit out." She paused, her breath coming out in quick, angry bursts that made the receiver crackle.

"Just... I love you, baby. Please," he slurred. The glass lay on its side, lazily rocking back and forth on the scuffed tabletop. His free hand was fisted in his hair as he tried to hold it together.

"Don't you pull that bullshit on me, Beau. It ain't gonna work this time."

Biting back a sob, Beau tried a different tactic. "Can I at least talk to the boys?"

Maggie cursed before relenting. "Fine. Just. Be quick."

There was a muffled holler followed by a scuffling sound. "Hey, Daddy!" Rooster shouted excitedly into the phone. "Whatcha doin'? Gammy's takin' us to see Santa! Papa's ear thingy isn't hearing, so we have to talk real loud at him. Did Whiskers have her kittens yet?"

Smiling crookedly, Beau scrubbed at his eyes before answering the slew of preschooler speak. "No kittens yet, but she's getting close. I'm just sitting down to dinner. Have you been a good boy? Don't want Santa leaving coal in your stocking!" He liked to tease his boys; it was his way of showing them affection, something his father never seemed to do. Shaking his head, Beau returned his focus to his son's rambling story.

"... And then Colt fell into the feed bunk and the steers spooked! But Papa said it was okay cuz the kitties always get in there huntin' mice. Oh, and me an' Mama an' Gammy made cookies while Colt and Papa took a nap. Don't tell Colt, but Gammy let me lick the spoon!" Rooster giggled conspiratorially, and Beau felt his heart swell with love. "Oh! Colt wantsta talk to you, Daddy. Lovyabyee!"

There was a thump and a shriek as the two youngsters fought over the receiver. Finally, the youngest Bennet picked up the phone. "Hi, Daddy. When we gonna go home?"

Beau's heart skipped a beat as his drunken brain scrambled for an answer. "I-uh. When your mama's done at Gammy and Papa's, bud."

Colt sniffled on the other end. "M'kay. Daddy?"

"Yeah, Colt?"

"I miss Whiskers an' Bones an' Misty an' all my toys an' riding on the tractor an' feedin' cows." Colt stopped, and Beau could hear him fidgeting with the phone cord. "Hey, Daddy. Will Santa Clause know where we're at if we don't go home on Christmas?"

Laughing quietly, Beau nodded. "Santa will find you, don't you worry. Do you think he'll pass up filling your stocking full of coal?"

Giggling, Colt chided his father. "Oh, Daddy! I'm not gettin' coal! You're gettin' the coal!"

Beau started to chuckle when Maggie's voice came across the line. "Okay, get on to bed, Colt. I need to talk to your daddy some more."

Colt said a hasty goodbye, and Beau was once again fighting off the hurt in his chest. "Listen, Mags, I-"

She cut him off. "We'll talk about this when you're sober." There was another silence in the long string of silences that was becoming their conversations. Finally, Maggie exhaled into the mouthpiece. "Take care of yourself, Beau."

Click.

Beau sat that for several minutes with the phone's receiver dangling from his hand. After a while, he stretched and replaced it in its cradle before standing and scrubbing at his face with his hands. Grabbing the the neck of the whiskey bottle, he shuffled into the living room and sank into the couch. Taking a long pull straight from the bottle, Beau closed his eyes and tried to forget Maggie's harsh words. He knew he needed to sober up, even if just for a little while, to get her to come back to the ranch.

Holding the Jack Daniels bottle at arms length, he squinted at it for a moment before leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table. He stood back up and looked around at the pyramids of cans and the mountain of dirty dishes and the clothes he had strewn about the place. Nodding resolutely, he began to weave his way into his bedroom.

No doubt about it, he was a stubborn man. And once he put his mind to it, Beau Bennet could do anything. Even if that meant he was going to have to survive one hell of a hangover in the morning.

#the ranch #netflix the ranch #the ranch fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #beau x maggie #beau bennet #maggie bennet #rooster bennet #colt bennet #moose fic #angst #all the angst