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angelgoeslewd · 2 months

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Angel, hello, as you may have noticed I'm a slit for Wren and Landry so if i could request something with Wren Landry and Mickey like maybe a mission that requires the three of them or just play cards or maybe both like playing cards will talking about a mission, sorry if it's too loose just tell me and I'll try to add to it, thank you!

I was FEELING this one!!! the new dol update has me thirstin for Landry + Wren hardcore (and Whitney….. and Kylar…. but SHUSH.)

Wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be lewd or not so made it suggestive but open for more endings ;3 still an 18+ rating because of the game itself tho

enjoy!

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI!, the use of the c-slur, lots of suggestive flirting, open ending, GN!Reader, lots of swearing

🌟 this work is being REWRITTEN! check back for the completion check ✅ and a new story with extra content!

ever since the new laws came into effect, your petty thievery seemed to have less and less… appeal.

your repeat offenses from before had your fingers too quick for any cops to actually gather hard evidence against you. there was nothing like the threat of being caught. would they put you in the stocks? would they punish you off the table? even their degradations did something to you that you couldn’t explain. the risk was high, even if the prize was mediocre. but Quinn was cracking down on the corrupt officials and honestly? it bored the hell out of you.

no longer was there a risk of any… hard justice. what little morals you had prevented you from diving too far into a life of true hard crime and the small acts of terror you did manage no longer paid off in terms of satisfaction. even messing with Whitney seemed more appealing than any small acts of crime around town now.

so here you sat, utterly bored out of your mind and tipsy off your ass (you might even be drunk out of sheer spite of Quinn himself, but you’d never admit that to anyone), the only patron allowed into the pub this early into the day. your sharp wit and constant theft had made you good friends with Landry, enough so that he rewarded you with access to the pub even when it was technically closed. sometimes it felt like he was the only man you felt really understood you.

(Robin was too innocent, Kylar idolized you too much, Whitney’s retribution had a weird tinge of softness now, and Sydney nagged too much about how you needed to change your character- too much too much toomuch.)

of course, even Landry’s understanding of you and what you desired was only an arm’s length, only reached so far under the surface that it was impossible to tell what you really wanted.

and that was your need. that never ending desire. the heat that pooled low in your stomach when you lifted something. endorphins swirling. how shaky your hands felt when they rushed through you, despite knowing your fingers were as calm and still as always.

you wished to be caught.

you wished to held against your will as you struggled and punished.

you wanted to see how his eyes somehow managed to sparkle and darken with absolute delight at your newest prize. you wished to be rewarded.

but… how could you even bring that up? the man was almost a decade older than you, if only that. how could he ever get that dark part of you? to see you in that sort of light, when you were eternally shrouded the dark cloud that loomed over this town.

it was why you were even here, at his place of business. bitterly loitering around for some sort of thrill. a cat, pacing endlessly at the rat’s nest, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

but Landry was no rat, however. and you were more of a lap cat playing tiger. you know this.

your face soured at the thought. ridiculous. your need was going too far this time, maybe due to the fact you no longer had any outlet. and with that, you raised your finger for another shot — whiskey to damper the dullness of what your every day life had become thanks to fucking Quinn and his idealistic political agenda.

“Hey, kid.”

You heard Landry’s call, and despite the little worm in your brain aching to ignore it, you raised your messy head from the bar’s countertop and stared at him in response. his hazel eyes looked concerned as he ran them over your face, most likely catching on the dark circles under your eyes; it was nothing more than a slight wrinkle of the forehead to indicate such, but you knew him well enough at this point to know his tells. he was worried. “Don’t ya think that’s enough? I mean… it’s still so early.”

your brow raised at the man, a scoff erupting from your throat. you pointedly ran your own eyes over him. typical bartender, thinking they knew what ails you, polishing a pint glass, but you knew what those rough hands were capable of. you had seen what passed through them and goddamn, you were fucking jealous of those musty old jewels. “You’re complaining about me spending money…? At your place of business? Who are you and what have you done with Landry, ‘he who doesn’t ask questions’?”

despite his concern, he barks a laugh, his face relaxing at your humor. Landry sets down the glass behind the counter and picks up another. “No,” he states, very simply, quickly turning the wet crystal in his toweled hand. “I’m complaining about your appearance.”

“Not fit to be seen in your be- bar?” you hiccup, hoping your inebriation hides the slip of your tongue.

“Not in the slightest.” His eyes flicker back up to you, taking in your state once again. “You just seem… off, yeah?”

You don’t really know what to say to him then; like him, everything with you costs a price. You both stare at each other for a moment, silent.

It’s a challenge.

It’s a game.

It’s the most thrilling experience you’ve had all day.

and you hate it. emotionally held hostage by the man you want have a clean slate with. but without payment, you weren’t budging. Bailey had at least taught you that resolve.

so like any brat would do, you spit back, “I asked for fucking whiskey.”

Landry rolls his eyes.

you once again find yourself in an empty bar, late this time, after everyone has been kicked out by the owner himself. everyone except for you. it’s almost like deja vu. your head slumped against the counter, Landry washes glasses yet again (how boring being a bartender must be, you think, no wonder he’s gotta get his rocks off with fencing.)

“Bailey’s gonna be worried.”

your head shoots up this time, a look of incredulous disbelief smeared across your features. “Bailey?” you ask, huffing a laugh. “Please. The man could not give less of a shit about any of us.”

Landry himself seems as calm as ever, not even bothering to look your way. but you don’t base anything off of that. you yourself do it all the time.

he shrugs, “He’s called a couple times, looking for ya.”

“He’s making sure I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere so he can properly balance his ledger,” you say bluntly, picking up your glass and taking a swig. your voice is raspy when you begin again, “Besides, if he cares so much, he can come look for me himself.”

“Don’t say that.”

you’ve looked away from Landry when you feel it. the tension that lines the air. the shift of the mood to something dark and heavy. it’s so sudden that you turn your head back to him; the water is running, but his hands are still in the sink as he gazes down into it. “I don’t like you thinking like that,” he says softly. you blink a couple of times, wondering where the hell this is coming from, open your mouth to reply, but you don’t get anything out before he starts again, “Look, something’s the matter with ya, and if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But that’s no reason to do- this-!” he gestures at you, haphazardly. “It bothers me seeing ya like this. You used come in here with a spring in your step and pawn off whatever goodies you’ve gotten those pretty little hands on, throw a few punches, then disappear like you got somewhere to be. So what’s going on? Boyfriend dump ya? School stressing you out? Fuckin’- get it off your chest or something, stop acting like a wet cat and-”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you. Thought you didn’t care.” The smirk on your face is there to piss him off. If one of your skills was spitting back at any blessings thrown at you, you’d be a master at it. And it works. Landry looks downright offended at you when-

when he laugh? he’s laughing. at you. your smirk turns into a pout.

“‘m sorry, doll,” he manages, “I didn’t- I’m not laughing at you- I- I just love that about ya. Always trust ya to be a little brat.”

“Yeah… well.” Landry continues to bubble with laughter, wiping away fake tears from his eyes.

“And- and as a side note, never said I didn’t care- just knew I had to push you a bit to find out more.”

“You are such a fucking asshole.”

“No wonder we work so well together, huh?” he says, a toothy smile growing wider by the second, “The cunt and the asshole. A perfect system.” Landry turns off the water, drying his hands and making his way to stand in front of you. there’s so much about this conversation you don’t want to dissect. an uncomfortable feeling of standing on ground that you don’t know will hold. why is he doing this to you? playing with your goddamn emotions, like he knows. he can’t fucking know, you’re sure of it. there’s no possible way. but the way he’s looking at you now. proud. that look in his eyes the same you saw when you got your hands on that microchip, but now he’s looking at you.

isn’t this what you wanted?

you don’t know.

“So… you gonna tell me? Or do I gotta buy you another drink?”

“You own the place. That doesn’t count.”

“You askin’ me out?”

you choke on your drink. fucker.

“Hey.”

you stare at your phone. after last time, you expected things to go back to being a little more normal between you and Landry. he got what he wanted. finally able to pull out your disillusion with life. yeah, you knew he could feel you were hiding more than you let on, but he didn’t push any farther than that, nodding while you spoke, letting you vent your grievances with Quinn and his stupid fucking town. it was kinda nice, to get it off your chest. but you were positive nothing would come about it. Landry was just a friend, you reminded yourself. a good friend.

“Who the hell said you could call me on this phone?”

Always up to your level, a crackling laugh came through the speaker. “I did,” he said. “Now listen- I think I got a way to cure that little bug of yours.”

You were intrigued. “Uh huh.”

“Come by the bar tomorrow. 8am. You were probably already plannin’ to but I want you there sharp, ‘kay?”

you showed up at 8:15.

“There they are!” Landry’s voice seem to echo across the bartop, booming through the empty pub as if through a speaker. He stood to greet you, with arms open as if expecting a hug. You begrudgingly gave him one.

“Why am I here.”

“Aren’t you usually?” it’s a unfamiliar, bored tone that has you looking over Landry’s shoulder, landing on a thin boy, who looks not much older than you, black roots that melting into wild electric blue hair, choppy and chin length. he’s wearing a black and grey hoodie, slumped back in a bar chair, thin fingers clasped around an equally blue drink. he looks at you, expressionless, and his eyes surprise you. they’re bright yellow. cat-like and gleaming. those lithe fingers raise the glass to his lips, sipping it, and coughing just as quickly. “Fuck- Landry! I fucking hate this shit, you know that!”

“Hey now,” comes the smooth purr of a unrecognizable voice. the owner was a man who’s face was obscured by a dark cowboy hat, tipped just so that his eyes were hidden from your gaze, he was draped over the chair, like a sweater that had been forgotten and sat casually enough to feel like such, easily blending in to his surroundings despite the bar being empty. he held a highball glass filled with golden liquid, swirling it around, making the metal accents of his outfit clink with every arm movement. “You be nice. Ol’ Landry’s already putting out with these free drinks, the promise of a fair game, and…” His hat suddenly lifted, his eyes piercing as he finally met your own. You felt very naked as they trailed down your body. “—some very nice company.”

You immediately turn to your hospitable host, whose arm is slung over your shoulder and hiss, “What the hell is this-!”

He just smiles, a bit apologetically, his eyes shifted away from you as he answers. Not a wonderful sign. “Just a… little get together. Some old friends-” A scoff erupted from the blue-haired boy, who still sipped on that god-awful colored drink.

“We’re gambling, darl’,” the cowboy stated, gesturing loosely at a stack of chips on the table.

Your eyebrows knitted as you blinked, mouth parted, but for once in your bratty life, you felt… speechless. The bar owner’s arm is slightly tensing and relaxing around your neck and that’s when you realize —

That’s when you turn to him, letting his arm drop between you two, and lower your eyes to the floor shyly —

Your voice, a whisper, to ensure the other two don’t hear, because you’re sure Landry wouldn’t like them catching onto this —

“You did this… for me…?”

Landry won’t look at you, his own gaze fixed onto the table as the cowboy reaches for the blue drink and the smaller man smacks his hand away. But his head gives a small tilt downwards, before it just as quickly tilts back up.

You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t either, judging by the way he sets and unsets his jaw.

“Come onnn,” The smaller one says, “Are you guys done whispering over there?” He fixes on you, “Done having daddy issues? Ready to get your ass kicked?”

The effect is immediate. “Yeah fucking right,” you bite back, moving to take the seat next to him. “You’re going to regret saying that when I bust your bank-!”

“I think he would rather you bust something else of his-”

“Shut the absolute HELL up, Wren! Like you weren’t undressing them 2 fucking seconds ago!”

Landry figures he should start the game before Mickey starts throwing stuff at Wren…

Again.

(But you fit in so perfectly. You look so at peace, content with this thrill of adrenaline that he really couldn’t ask for much more. Even if it costs him another set of glassware.)

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol mickey #mickey the hacker #landry the criminal #wren the smuggler #dol wren #dol landry #🍩 of dol #angelic songs #.SMS SENT

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