#Continuing the long legacy of head boys being fucking pricks
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Why is it that every person I like turns out to be an unrepentant asshole??? Am I really that bad at judgement calls??? What the fuck
#I actually thought this one was nice#And he was! Emphasis on the fucking past tense#Christ almighty this motherfucker#Somehow he's still so uptight even though someone clearly jammed a twelve inch rod up his ass#Self important fucking corporate jerk#Continuing the long legacy of head boys being fucking pricks
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opinions on riordanverse ; my edition
a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!
- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG
- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)
- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up
- PIPABETH
- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?
- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny
- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him
- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear
- luke didnt go to elysium
- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such
- tratie shldve been canon idc idc
- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.
- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing
- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks
- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone
- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while
- tkc and mcga need more love
- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes
- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was
- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute
- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own
- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND
- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.
- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.
“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below)
for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/
as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture
i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry
- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong.
- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up. the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic
i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more
#riodanverse opinions#frank zhang#hazel levesque#leo valdez#piper mclean#jason grace#percy jackson#annabeth chase#grover underwood#tkc#the kane chronicles#mcga#magnus chase#magnus chase and the gods of asgard#pjo#pjato#hoo#Heroes of Olympus#the seven#octavian#luke castellan#meg mcaffrey#apollo#trials of apoll#travis stoll#connor stoll
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Number 7
Your body ached from the past days with Bucky but you weren’t going to let him see it. You knew tonight could be restful if you stayed at the party long enough. As you covered your hickeys with concealer you sighed while rubbing your shoulder. Hearing the door click open you regained your balance and smiled at Bucky.
“I have your dress.”
“But I already have one?”
“Tonight you wear this…” Bucky flipped a paper up through his fingers and laid down a white sweetheart dress with a dark blue lace accent that would curl around your hips. Sapphire sparkle heels were held in the air with his metal hand.
“Okay…”
“But, this is going to be under it.” Bucky pulled an icy white lingerie set from his side of the closet and laid it over the dress.
“I don’t have to put it on alone do I?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it Doll.” Bucky kissed your lips softly before slipping your small top off and over your head. His fingers grazed over the covered marks and pouted. “I like seeing these..”
“Press pictures..” You rolled your eyes while your skin pricked into goosebumps after his touch. You leaned your head back for him to kiss the other side of your neck and pressed your body against him.
“Turn around.” You followed Bucky’s commands and gasped as he bent you over the bed. His tongue trailed down your spine while his hands cupped your cheeks. His hard member was already pushing against you while he dug something out of his pocket. He wrapped his arm around and up to your mouth. “Open.” Your tongue darted over your lips as they welcomed an unfamiliar object. Coating it with your tongue Bucky drug it gently down to your center. Your hands gripped into the sheets as he carefully pushed the small object into you. Bucky carefully pulled your underwear down to bring the white boy shorts up your thighs. Pressing hot kisses against your skin you whined for him to take you. Bucky ushered you to stand up and face him. He lifted a small lace trimmed bra over you and adjusted it to cover your chest. Your boobs were cupped perfectly and you noticed Bucky’s eyes were attached to the sight. Pulling his lips into your own he sucked in a large breath as he kissed you. His fingers fumbled with his pocket to get something else out. Hearing a small button click you felt an intense vibration inside of you and held onto his suit jacket that matched the blue accents in your dress. You angled your eyes up at him as he picked up the dress on the bed and guided you into it. You rested your head against Bucky as he zipped the dress up for you.
“You don’t cum until you are on my dick.” Bucky chewed on your earlobe as he turned the device off and helped you into your heels. Kissing up each leg, your head fell back in pleasure.
“Whatever you say Sarge.” Bucky pulled you up to stand before he pushed a strand of hair away from your face. Bucky offered his metal arm out to you with a devilish smile attached. You bowed playfully and wrapped your arm around his. As you two walked down the hallway you clenched your thighs together and took a few breaths. You smiled as you turned the corner with Bucky into the full room of people. Cameras flashed as the two of you walked through the room and to the bar. Bucky waved a hand over to Steve across the room with a wink he motioned you the other way. Pulling a chair out for you Bucky went behind the bar and grabbed a wine glass for you. Filling it halfway with your choice of red he picked up a bottle from the cooler and popped the cap off with his fingers. You chewed your lip as the metal tab flew off and he took a sip. “That’s always so hot.” You whispered against the glass Bucky had given you. Taking his hand he led you through the crowd to where Steve and Sam were talking with Sharon. She looked as if she had just gotten out of bed and her face was red as a beet.
“What’s up guys?”
Sharon completely ignored you and slapped Steve across the face.
“Whoa! Carter calm down!” Sam warned as Bucky stepped in front of you.
“Fuck you Rogers! We were a legacy meant to be! Carter and Rogers, The founding families.”
“He’s not a prize Sharon.” Bucky’s voice chimed up which only seemed to infuriate her more. You growled behind Bucky as he held his arm back to you.
“He's too interested in saving the world to even think about me.”
“He’s Captain America, what do you expect?” You crossed your arms with a smirk gracing your lips.
“You don’t get it, You are part of the team.”
“Exactly what I’ve been telling Steve. Date someone on the team. Not some whiny Agent who has somewhat of an ass.” The three men hyped up behind you and watched you defend Steve.
“At least I can try and be a homemaker instead of a home wrecker. Or should we bring up the issue with Clint?”
“Clint was a perv and I would like to bet that Stevie has thought of me while doing you..Oh wait! You two haven’t still.”
“You little cunt!” Sharon raised a hand before you caught it and pinned it behind her back.
“Doubt you could even handle a super soldier.” Pushing her forward you picked up your glass you had discarded and took a large sip. “Leave before I hurt that fugly face of yours.” You cleared your throat and moved yourself to grab Steve wrist. “Come on Steve I want a dance.” You winked over at Bucky before pulling Steve to the middle of the floor and held your hands against the back of his neck. Steve's hands went to your hips very politely as you two swayed along to the quiet jazz. Bucky licked his lips and pressed the device on in his pocket. He watched as your smiled closed and your eyes darted over to him. You took a sharp breath as you smiled back up at Steve who had a sultry look on his face.
“You okay, Angel?”
“S-Steve?” Your voice stumbled as Bucky clicked the device higher and you accidentally gripped Steve’s shoulders tightly. Steve’s tongue darted over his lips before he leaned down to your ear.
“Ya know, I helped Buck pick out that little thing inside of you.” His head leaned against your own as he dug a matching controller out of his pocket. Pressing the button again to go up higher you stopped your movements and held onto the front of his jacket. “Thanks for handling Sharon. I’ll let you go this once.” Steve turned off the device and escorted you back over to Bucky who had a delicious smirk on his face. Steve kissed your forehead before departing over to a group of veterans. You turned to tuck your face against Bucky’s side and took in a deep breath to compose yourself.
“Had enough Princess?”
“You wish. Glad to know Steve is gonna be nice to me.” You pecked Bucky’s cheek before heading over to Wanda and some press. Bucky tucked his hands away before moving Steve off to the side to speak with him. Bucky stood in front of Steve and cleared his throat.
“You weren’t supposed to tell her until our last dance.”
“What can I say Buck, her angel eyes got me.”
“Poor Stevie, Always smitten by the eyes.” Bucky tugged Steve in for a hug before pointing his attention over to you. You were smiling and laughing as the press snapped photos and tripped on your every word. Steve and Bucky shared a look before Bucky took out the small controller and turned the device on again. As soon as the light came on they noticed your eyes darting around the room for them. You adjusted your stance and cleared your throat before answering another question from the press. You motioned Wanda off and her questioning eyes before waving them bye. Heading over to Steve and Bucky with a sway of your hips three reporters shoved you against them and snapped several photos. Steve’s hand rested on the small of your back while Bucky rested right under his at the curve of your ass. You slipped closer to Bucky and let Steve close the gap between you.
“How is it being America’s trio?” All of the reporters held a recording mic up to you all.
You stepped forward and cleared your throat to speak.
“We are very honored to be the world’s heroes. It just is not us three, It takes everyone as a team to get one step closer to destroying evil.”
“Bucky?! How is the first year of marriage going?”
“Great. We have never been closer!” Bucky smiled as he pulled you against him by your hip. At that moment a plus ran up your spine and you clenched your teeth together. You growled under your breath and balled up a fist under Bucky’s suit jacket.
“I’m sure you all have something to say about Clint’s sudden departure from the team?”
“We are all very saddened by that news, but he needed time off to be closer with his family and get away from the danger.”
“Well Sharon Carter, Agent 13, Gave us a different insight. She said that Clint was working with HYDRA to get Barnes back to them.” You rolled your eyes at the reporter and laughed.
“Sharon Carter no longer works for SHIELD and hasnt for the past two years. She is just upset because her boyfriend was hanging around us two hotties all day. Oops I meant EX.” Just before another reporter could interject you pulled Steve by his tie and pushed Bucky with his shoulder out to the dance floor. You winked over to Natasha who changed the song. You pulled Bucky closer behind you as Steve kept his distance. Feeling Bucky grinding with you, you reached out an arm and pulled Steve against your front. Bucky’s hands were tight against your hips as Steve held one on your shoulder and interlaced his other with Bucky’s. You leaned your head back against Bucky’s shoulder as the song continued. You smiled as you felt both of the men's growing urges against you and moved over to kiss Bucky’s neck. Steve reached into his pocket and turned the toy inside of you up to full power and felt you quicken your movements against them. Bucky and Steve positioned themselves over one ear and quiet gasps escaped their lips.
“Fuck Princess, Are you gonna come right here in-between us?” Bucky held you tightly against his aching dick as Steve moved closer.
“I wanna see my Angel’s face when she comes undone from that toy.” Steve’s voice was low and you felt your pleasure rise with every word. Your hand held Bucky’s neck as your other was twisted in Steve’s shirt. Your legs tighten as your coil wants to snap. Keeping your hips moving you held back and pulled Steve’s lips against your own.
“Better not cum yet. I have another surprise.” Bucky pulled you along and urged Steve to follow back to your shared room. You were moved onto the bed as Bucky undressed and Steve hovered over you. “Kiss her again Steve.” Your breath hitched at Bucky’s orders and you never thought he would be telling his best friend to kiss his wife. Steve pushed his lips against you with passion but it was sweet and kind. His way of showing you he wouldn’t hurt you. You parted your legs and moaned as his hard member pushed against the vibrating toy. You moaned into his mouth and bucked against him. Steve held your wrists above your head as his tongue asked to explore your mouth and you agreed. Moaning as his movements continued you gasped a bit at the feeling of Bucky’s metal hand trailing down your legs.
“Mmm, Please, please fuck me. One of you.”
“Oh that’s my surprise.” Bucky chimed up as he helped you out of your dress. As you moved back Steve pulled your under him. He grinded against you roughly as he chased his finish and you whined for more. “You don’t get Steve until I use Number 14...Until then You get to see him cum for you and miss it. I will make you miss my sweet boys face as he comes undone just by the thought of you clenching around him. The thought my pretty girl is going to have his filled he can make her tight little pussy.” Bucky leaned down with a harsh kiss as he played with your clit. You moaned out as your peak was being reached. Steve’s hips hot against your own hard and you gripped his shoulders. His face tucked into your neck and chewed a small mark to blend with the others.
“Please Daddies. I need dick.”
“Finish and then you can have all of Daddy’s dick you’d like.” Bucky twirled his fingers faster against you making the small toy scratch by your g-spot. You moved your hand over Bucky’s pinned cock and heard a groan release against the walls. As you pumped your hand over him he quickened his pace and you felt your back arch as you fell down. Gasping as you fell over the cliff Steve came undone and you felt his hot cum leaking down your thigh.
“There’s my good girl. And my sweet Stevie too.” Bucky hovered over you to kiss Steve and your eyes widened at the sight. Bucky kissing Steve was hot, Hotter than you had imagined and you couldn’t wait to see how Steve tasted with Bucky mixed in. You pulled Bucky down forcefully to kiss him roughly and grinded up against Steve’s hips.Bucky pulled your hips down as Steve moved away and Bucky quickly took his spot. You were still squirming at the feeling of the toy and whined to have it taken out. Bucky kissed over your soaked underwear as he hooked two fingers into the lace and pulled them down. Your legs opened and Bucky trailed a finger through your folds. You whimpered at the over sensitive feeling and chewed your lip as Bucky touched the toy slightly.
“Please, Buck. I need to feel you.” Bucky left the toy on as he slowly guided it out of you and ran it over your sensitive clit. Earning a whine he shushed you softly as he worked his needing tip over your dripping entrance. Steve moved next to you and trailed his fingers over your nipples. His mouth tucked against your ear and you held your breath as Bucky pushed inside of you. Moaning mostly into Steve’s ear he pushed your head up to look at Bucky as his eyes examined your aching body.
“Does my Angel like her Daddy’s dick deep inside of her?” Your mind couldn't form words, just moans and movements for more. Steve worked his fingers against your clit and you held your arms over your face. Bucky quickly moved them above your head and Steve ran his tongue over your exposed nipples. Your back arched and you felt yourself coming undone again. Bucky thrusted hard against you, he brought his metal arm down and held it against your throat. Holding his wrist your eyes darted to Steve who had moved away and was watching his best friend get off where he just did.
"Shit, right there, Buck. Oh god! Don't stop!" You pulled his hot chest against your own and dug your nails into his back before feeling that coil snap and he pushed deep inside of you. You sucked a small mark on his neck as he kissed Steve sweetly. Steve leaned over your mouth and kissed you once more.
"I think Angel needs her rest. I'll be back tomorrow." Steve excused himself as Bucky tucked himself behind you. Curling into him you easily drifted off against him.
SERIES MASTERLIST
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Screwed (A Destiel AU)
Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)
Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.
notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug)
read on ao3
At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.
Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.
Dean’s not sure why he’s here.
If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.
Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.
Dean’s the only one left.
So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.
Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.
Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.
Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)
“No, thank you.”
“Excuse me?”
“You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.”
"As you wish, Winchester.”
Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.”
“Whatever.”
Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.
Apparently that was this asshole.
They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.
But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.
Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.
Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.
He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.
Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.
The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”
“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, “Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”
Castiel.
Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.
He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.
Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.
Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.
He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.
He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.
Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.
Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.
As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.
But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.
Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.
“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.
“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.
“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.
“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”
Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”
Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.
Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...
Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.
Whoa, Dean.
“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.
“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”
Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.
The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.
Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.
They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.
“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.
But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.
“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.
“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.
He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.
Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.
But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.
“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”
Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”
As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.
. . .
They work surprisingly well together.
His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.
“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?”
"Cas?”
“Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”
Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.
Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)
He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.
At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.
He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.
“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.
He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.
“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.
“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.
Shit.
“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.
Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.
As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.
“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.
“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.
Bastard.
They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.
He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”
The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”
Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”
“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.
“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”
“Awesome, thanks! My names–”
“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”
“Mom!”
“Lisa…”
Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.
“Lisa, look, I can explain–”
“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”
Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”
That kid just saved Dean’s ass.
Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.
He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.
They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.
Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”
Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.
Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.
They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.
#Destiel#destiel ff#dean winchester#castiel#deancas#castiel owns my soul#where the fuck did destiel come from?#capthamm#please be kind I've only watched halfway through season 7
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Cross my heart - part 1
Warnings: the extensive use of the word fuck, war, (probably) historical inaccuracies.
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fenton!OFC, platonic!John Shelby x OFC.
Read Part 2 here
The station was practically empty, only a few stray people lingered around the grimy platforms. Ready to escape the hellish streets of Birmingham, although no major city was any better. London was just as much if not more of a shithole, as was Liverpool now that Eliza thought about it.
But Birmingham was the worst. It was dirty and crime-riddled and unless you had the money (which most did not) you were almost entirely fucked.
Eliza Fenton grew up with her brother in Small Heath. Harry, was a good few years older than she was and he was always supportive of the actions and plans in her life.
He was there right by her side when she was accepted into aviation school, he knew about her dream to become a pilot. Harry was always there, always there to support you.
Well - most of the time. Enlisting in the war as a pilot was the only time Harry had been completely against an idea of hers.
The fact that she, a young woman, had even been allowed to enlist was enough of a reason for Eliza to sign up. She knew she was a damn good pilot and she never turned down an opportunity to prove herself.
So on the 7th of August 1914, Eliza Fenton enlisted into the 35th RFC squadron. At first, when she arrived at the base it was strange- it was foreign and new. A lot of the other pilots didn’t understand why there was a woman on site.
Eventually, they understood why- Eliza was the best at routine checks, mechanics and overall fighting skills.
Little Tigress they’d call her- Small but feisty.
When Eliza came back to Small Heath, it was nice to see that not much had changed. The streets were still stained with ash, and the people were still absolutely fucking horrible.
It may look the same, but Eliza knew better than that- she knew that everything had changed.
That the men were all struggling to keep up their jobs because of the trauma from the battlefield. That the wives and widows were struggling to keep their heads above the water as the financial weight kept pressing down onto them.That the children would cry out to their fathers and brothers, not knowing they would never get a response. As much as everyone didn’t want to admit, the war had changed the people and not for the better either.
//
Opening the door to the garrison, Eliza allowed herself to become familiar with the loud chatter and smoky atmosphere. She didn’t know how much she had missed the pub before- how much of a comfort the rowdy crowds were.
She walked up to the bar, watching as a young blonde-haired woman served up drinks.
‘She’s new’ Eliza thought to herself. But to her left, she could see the back of her brother’s head, Harry was making small talk through the hatch to the private room.
That could only mean one thing. At least one of the Shelby’s were here.
As much as Eliza hated to remember, the memories kept flooding back in ongoing waves. But she pushed it into the back of her mind.
Instead, the brown-haired beauty walked behind the bar, she had always been allowed behind it- considering she was the sibling of the owner. But as soon as Eliza stepped foot in the area that was off-limits to the patrons, she felt a strong grip on her arm.
“You can’t be back here, Miss.”
Eliza looked up to see the blonde barmaid, she stared coldly at the woman. There was something about her that made Eliza’s body tingle with mistrust.
Ripping her arm away, she continued her walk to her brother. Eliza found herself picking up a bottle of whiskey from under the counter and unscrewing the cap, she took a large swig. The liquid burned her throat but warmed her insides.
The Irish voice spoke again, “Look if you don’t get out from behind the counter. I’ll be forced to ask you to leave.”
Eliza just chuckled, “Aye, good luck trying love.”
The small argument had obviously caught the attention of a few of the drinkers of the Garrison. It slowly fell hushed and the men at the end of the bar turned to face the two women.
Eliza smirked at her brother, “Afternoon, you ugly bastard.”
“Liza?”, Harry paced over and embraced his younger sister in his arms. They swayed gently and soon broke apart. The barman held the young woman at arm's length checking her over for injuries. “You’re back for good, Aye?”
“Aye- I’m back for good.”
//
“Why’d it take you so long to come back?”
They were sat in the private room, it had been left empty after the oldest Shelby left to conduct “business”. It was now occupied by the two Fenton siblings.
“Bloody war office.” Eliza inhaled deeply, the cigarette smoke-filled her lungs, “They said they couldn’t give me a Victoria Cross- said it’d cause too much controversy, ‘cos I’m a bloody woman.”
A look of anger washed across her brother's face, “Bloody bastards, half of ‘em didn’t even go through what you an’ our boys did. Bloody cowards the lot of ‘em.”
Eliza nodded her head in agreement and silently took out a small stack of letters from her purse, she handed them to Harry and motioned for him to read them.
She watched as his eyes skimmed through the writing, his face contorted in anger as he read the contents.
“Fucking, bloody bastards!”
Eliza just replied with a simple shrug, as she watched her older brother rant.
“What do they think their playing at ‘ay? Bloody bastards know what you did for our fuckin’ country for fuck's sake and they can’t even publically acknowledge it.”
Harry was pacing at this point, his hands flailing wildly in anger, “What horseshit! ‘We regret to inform you that your services on March 7th, 1917 must stay within your person.’ They make you sound like a fucking whore- not a bloody soldier.”
“Who sounds like a whore Harry?” A cold voice came from the doorway. Thomas fucking Shelby.
“Ah sorry Mr Shelby, I was just off on one. It’s a family matter you see, government are being bastards.”
Eliza snorted, “When are they not being bloody bastards Haz?”
Her soft voice caught the attention of the middle Shelby. He smirked slightly, “I like her.”
He walked into the room as Eliza began to put away her things, the opening of the door indicated the appearances of the other Shelby brothers.
“Eliza bloody Fenton!”
Eliza’s head shot up at the sound of the familiar voice.
“Y’alright Johnny boy? Still a pompous prick I see.”
The two other brothers looked at the woman incredulously, ready to come to their youngest brothers defense.
John just barked out a laugh, “and you’re still a frigid bitch.” Eliza laughed softly as John wrapped an arm around his old friend, “I say we need a bottle of whiskey and a catch-up.”
Tommy, knocked on the hatch, only for it to be opened by the blonde-haired girl. She glared at Eliza, jealousy radiated off of her face.
“Aye up Grace, can we get some whiskeys in here?”
‘Grace’ nodded silently a flirty smile working its way to her lips. Eliza just rolled her eyes.
John’s voice pulled her back to the room, “So how’ve you been El?”
Eliza let herself laugh, “Oh brilliant,” she said sarcastically, “The post-trauma just really makes my life amazing.”
“That’s what you get when ya’ sleep with our John.”
The youngest Shelby glared at his brother and a low rumbling of laughter momentarily shook the room, as the two older siblings looked back at the young woman sat next to John
“And how do you know our John ‘ay?”
This time it was Eliza and John who shared a look.
Eliza cleared her throat, “We were stationed together for a bit, in France. I saved good old Johnny’s arse on the field.”
Arthur and Tommy just turned to look at John, seeking the truth from their brother. John just gave them a nod- rendering your story to be true.
“Eliza Fenton, flight Seargent and lieutenant of the 35th squadron of the RFC.” She introduced herself and saluted jokingly.
“Some of her squadron were pulled in for ground support in the Somme, Eliza shot down a most of the German artillery men who were shooting at us.” John expanded on his friend’s wartime legacy, “Saved my arse on several occasions.” He clarified.
The room was silent for a moment before Tommy spoke up, “Well I suppose we owe you one Miss Fenton, We’re forever grateful for you actions and saving our John.”
“It’s no problem really. He’d of done it for me.” The sentiment was cut short when Harry knocked on the door and returned with the remaining letters, he was angrily muttering to himself.
“Harry!”
The older brother was red in the face, “I’ll fucking kill them- I swear it!” He slammed the letters on the table.
“You need to calm down.” Eliza chastised her brother, “There’s nothing we can do- believe me I’ve bloody tried.”
She took another deep inhale from the cigarette between her fingers, “there’s no point getting into a piss when you can’t change their minds- just let it go for now, aye?”
Harry just turned and exited the room mumbling profanities under his breath.
“The fuck was that about?”
The pilot turned to her friend, “Read these. They’ll explain everything.”
//
John had the same reaction as Harry.
“What a fuckin’ pisstake.”
Eliza rubbed her temples- it was like deja vu.
“They won’t award you a Victoria cross because you’re a fuckin’ woman.”
She just sighed again, “I always found it funny though- they didn’t even want to give me my fuckin’ ranks when I was over there. Even though I worked hard for the fucking things.” Eliza found herself reaching for the crystal glass once more, “the fuckin’ polish artillery squadron gave a bloody bear a rank with no issue.” The liquid burnt her throat, “but me? It might’ve caused controversy so they took their bloody time deciding.”
“It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”
Eliza laughed shortly, “you’re tellin’ me. And after all the shit I went through too.”
The girl took a short breath, “look there's absolutely no point in getting annoyed over something out of our control- we’d just be wasting time on something other than getting piss drunk.”
Arthur sent a smirk over in her direction, “I like the way this one thinks.”
//
The rest of the night consisted of the Shelby boys and Fenton girl, knocking back countless bottles of alcohol. It was a nice feeling, to be carefree and not have to worry about the past or future.
Although Eliza had a high alcohol tolerance- she could safely admit that the Shelby brothers were several levels higher than her on the drinking scale.
And if there was one thing that Eliza Fenton knew- it was never to try and outdrink a Shelby.
She knew her limits, and after the 8th round of drinks, Eliza decided to settle instead for her hand-rolled cigarettes.
She and John caught up over the course of the evening- Christ, even Arthur was engaging in conversation.
But the one thing Eliza couldn’t shake off was the cool and calculating gaze from the middle brother. Thomas had barely spoken two words since they’d started drinking.
Any other girl would have been put off by that fact, but Eliza was different. She wasn't there to impress the men of the garrison, she wasn’t beckoning for the attention either.
And yet here she was with Tommy’s full attention and gaze on her frame. Watching her like a meal, or how a predator would look at their prey. Eliza was aware of their past meetings together, even if Tommy didn’t.
#peaky blinder imagine#peakyblinders#peaky blinders#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky blinder fanfic#shelby#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby#arthur shelby#john shelby#harry fenton#grace burgess#grace shelby#ada shelby#polly gray#michael gray#micheal gray#finn shelby#tommy shelby x oc
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Of Saints and Sin
Fall Out Boy mob boss AU
**FORMERLY TITLED MASKING OUR BRUISES**
Summary: It shouldn’t have worked. But it did. Pete, Andy and Joe. Together they were deadly. They controlled the Chicago underground. Patrick is the new boss. Taking over the gang war that killed his brother, the former leader. The mob is his new family. Trust, secrets and brotherhood complicate things. How can they cope with their sins?
Warnings: a lot of cursing, violence, sexual situations and general angst
Read on AO3 here
Chapter 1
-
“Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want, but you can’t kill him! He’s all I have!” The woman groveled at his feet, begging for the life of her worthless son. The two men held him fast, his face bloody. Dominic looked bored, fiddling around with his knife, hardly paying attention to the woman.
“Well maybe you should have thought of that before encouraging him to steal from us. Ya know, we’re a pretty generous group considering the state of this fucked up city.” He stood, hands resting in the pockets of his eight-hundred-dollar dress pants.
A knock came from the door and he frowned slightly. His guys knew better than to bother him during these interrogations. He signaled to his right hand-man who stood with a gun pointed at the crooks’ head.
He made his way to the door, paused a beat, before yanking it open and pointing the gun at the intruder. The new kid stood there, horrified. The boss was surprised he didn’t piss his pants. Of course, his little brother had never been that weak. He glared at the seventeen-year-old.
“What the fuck are you doing here? This better be fucking important.” He watched as Patrick gulped. He couldn’t show his soft side with these two little shits in the room. Otherwise he would never talk to Patrick like this. It burned his throat. Reminded him too much of the way their father treated them.
“Sorry boss, but the intelligence learned something.” Patrick stood stiff as a statue. There was a moment of silence.
“Well spit it out, Trick,” He snapped. He tried not to stumble over his words. Patrick was not cut out for this business. Dominic would make sure he never had to take over. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here now.
“The woman. She’s the wife of the Snakes leader.” A beat passed as the information settled on the room. Dom knew there was something off about this whole thing. He rolled his shoulders and turned back to the woman.
“So, what was the plan, eh? Where’s the camera? Gunna try and show my guys I’m weak? That I spared a crook cause his mommy pleaded for his life. Our rules are clear.” He called his right-hand man over once again. “Get rid of them both.” The woman began screaming.
“You’ll regret this! They will come after you! You will suffer! I’ll make sure of it!” One of the men holding her son pushed a gun to his head. The bang was quick, Dom hardly registered that it happened. That happens in this business. You get desensitized.
Patrick
He panicked. He might have been desensitized but Patrick wasn’t. He spun back to face his little brother. His face was blank, mouth open slightly. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes.
“Get out of here, Trick. Right now.” He stood frozen, Staring at the scene in front of him. “Trick!” He jumped and began to back away slowly.
A thud came from behind the boss. The woman had fought her way to her son, and in doing so, stole the gun from his one of his men. Tears poured down her face as she aimed it.
“You will die.” She pulled the trigger just as his right-hand man did. She fell to the ground in a pool of blood.
The warmth spread through his body. He looked back at his brother, horror covering his face, tears flowing freely. He fell to his knees, pressing a hand to his stomach. He wouldn’t last long. Patrick was at his side, holding him up.
“You’re gunna be fine. Absolutely fine. Come on, don’t leave yet.” Patrick pressed a hand against his own. He attempted a smile.
“It’s alright, Trick. You’ll be alright. Just stay away from this business you got it? The boys will help you for a bit. But don’t you dare get more involved.”
His eyes began to drift shut. He could vaguely hear Patrick calling to him. He did everything he could. But such is the life in the mob.
-
Six Years Later
“What the fuck, Pete? I told you exactly what to get!”
“It’s not my fault you’re so god damn picky with your coffee!”
“You had a list! A list!”
Patrick groaned at their bickering. Why did he have to deal with this? There was actual important stuff that needed to get done.
“Would both of you shut up? Joe stop being an ungrateful shit and Pete pay attention for fucking once,” he scolded. They both straightened right away. Patrick placed his hat on the desk before running a hand through his hair.
He had only taken over recently. The rest of the members weren’t quite sure what to make of him. He only had to live up to his brother’s legacy. He involuntarily flinched as the memories raced across his mind. The gang had been left in charge of his brother’s right-hand man, Smyth.
His brother had been right though. They took care of him. Provided him with the funds he needed while finishing school. A major in business only made sense. But when he wasn’t in class, it was Smyth that taught him how this all worked.
Patrick made a promise to his brother at the burial. He would end this. He would end this war unless it ended him first.
He knew that his brother told him not to get involved. But what else did he have? His mom was killed in a gang related incident when he was young. His father was a fucking horror story. His brother was the last thing. And the gangs took him too.
“Yo, boss. Hey. Trick!” He looked up at Andy. Shit, he’d been day dreaming.
“What is it?” Andy held out the phone to him. A man of many words as always.
“Talk,” he snapped into the phone.
“Chill little guy. You don’t need to sound so scary.” Patrick cracked a grin. Smyth. He knew Patrick hated it when he called him that.
“Shut up. What is it?” There was a chuckled from the other end.
“I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. Honestly, I thought your brother taught you manners. Especially to those much older than you.” Patrick’s smile faltered slightly.
“Stop acting like you’re some sixty-year-old geezer. You’re thirty-eight.”
“Yea, yea. Anyway. There’s rumors on the street that are calling attention to you. Young boss means you’ve got a lot of reputation building to do. You should meet with your guys and lay down some rules. We’ve been following your brothers’ rules but you’re the boss now. As much as both I and your brother are against it.”
Patrick glanced over at his inner circle. You can’t see it, but under the nice jackets, each held a gun. They all knew how to wild a knife and all knew how to shake someone down. Patrick opened his desk drawer to see the small revolver he had there. He knew how to fire it. Could hit a target without even blinking.
“Got it. Call a meeting.”
“You got it, Boss.” A few seconds of silence. “I got your back, kid,” Smyth said, almost gently.
Before Patrick could let his emotions get to him, he hung up the phone. The three guys in the room looked at him expectantly. They trusted him and he trusted them.
He had known Pete the longest. Both of their families were part of the high ranks of The Overcast. Pete’s family in it much longer than Patrick’s but they were respectful and trusting when his brother took over. They were friends and Pete was the one who helped him through his brother’s death the most.
Joe was friends with Pete but his family moved back to Chicago recently. Patrick’s first interaction with Joe involved Patrick telling him how much he sucked at shooting. That ended up with a gun pointed at Patrick’s head but then knocking it away. He later discovered that the safety was on. It was a test to see how he responded. Joe never doubted him after that. He also didn’t hesitate to call Patrick out when he thought he was being a dumbass.
Andy was the strong and silent type. He didn’t say much but was brought back by Joe. There was some uneasiness at first but he had done his job well many times. He helped keep Pete and Joe from arguing and honestly that was enough for Patrick. They might have been friends but god did they argue.
“What’s the story?” Patrick looked between the only people he could really call his friends.
“New rules. I’ve been doing this with the help of my brother and Smyth so far. Now it’s time for me to put my foot down. You have been the ones to stand by me so far. It would mean a lot if that continued.”
A moment of silence before Andy raised his hand with the back facing away from him. A smiled threatened to come out as the other two guys raised their hands too. It was their symbol. Patrick joined the other three and they all pressed the backs of their hands together. A chuckle resonated through the group as they all hugged. No one but them would see or know about this.
-
Quiet voices filled the small auditorium. It wouldn’t fit more than fifty people. The leaders of the different sections milled about. Some snickering, never having seen their new boss. Patrick expected that kind of reaction. You have to build a name for yourself in this business. He had to be prepared to do that.
“Heard the kid can hardly hold a gun. Some shit about seeing his brother get shot messing him up.”
“Dude. He was young. That would fuck any kid up.”
“I been seeing that shit since I was ten. Maybe he just needs to get a backbone.”
“Keep talkin. Don’t be pissed at me when he puts a knife to your throat for questioning him.”
Patrick ignored the banter. Maybe he should do that. But it was his brothers’ policy to never raise a weapon against your own. Patrick stood by that sentiment at least.
He stepped up onto the small stage. People immediately went quiet. He took note of the questioning glances he was receiving. Some weren’t sure if he was the right-hand-man or the boss. He took a breath, hoping no one could tell how nervous he was.
“My brother didn’t have a chance to tell me what his policies were before he was murdered before my eyes. I only have second hand knowledge from Smyth, his right-hand-man who has been running this thing for the past six years.
“Now, I see the looks on your faces and I know that some of you are skeptical. But I hope you can extend the same trust to me as you did my brother. I know what my brothers’ legacy is and I know what his rules were. But I’m taking the lead now.” He paused a moment to try and read everyone’s faces. They were all listening intently so far.
“First of all. Stay the fuck away from minors. They don’t need this shit.” A small murmur of approval. “Second. Don’t any of you touch the meth or any sort of equivalent. I will not tolerate that kind of poison. I’m working us out of that business so don’t go setting us back.” Less approval this time.
“So where do you suggest we make up that lost revenue?” Patrick recognized the voice from before. The ass hat that had no consideration for a child watching his family die. He was going to be a problem. Patrick crossed his arms and stared the guy down.
“Why don’t you try doing something beneficial for the community that you seem so intent on running into the ground. My brother wanted to fix the community. Not destroy it. The point was to get rid of the other gangs so Chicago is safer. If you don’t believe in that idea then I will personally escort you out.” The room was deadly quiet. The guy didn’t say anything at first. Then he scoffed.
“You haven’t the slightest idea what your brother wanted, kid. And you will never be him.” Patrick didn’t even blink. The comment hurt but now was not the time to grieve.
He hopped down from the stage. The crowd of people parted for him. No one in the room dared to breathe. He stopped in front of the intimidating man. Patrick wasn’t very tall which made being a leader harder than it needed to be. The guys eyes flickered off of him for a second. Patrick assumed Joe, Andy and Pete had made themselves known.
“Rule three!” Patrick called loudly so everyone could hear. “Do not raise a weapon against one of your own. That rule still stands.” The silence was deafening. Patrick refused to break eye contact. Eventually, the jack ass standing in front of him broke. He turned away and crossed his arms. Patrick had won this one.
“Your name,” Patrick said. The guy raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Well don’t just stand there and stare at me. What’s your name?”
“Bult,” he spit out.
“Full name.” He glared at Patrick.
“Vinn Bult. The fuck you trying to prove?” Patrick sighed.
“Well if you’re gunna make problems for me and everyone else then I want this to be personal.” He ignored the look of anger that passed over Vinn’s face. Patrick made his way back to the stage. The people moved out of his way much quicker.
“Rule four! Any new alliances are to go through me first. I am in the middle of reviewing all alliances made in the past six years. I will cut off any that I think are harmful to the group. Five, don’t fuck with law enforcement. We have a relatively peaceful agreement with them. But I know which districts have been causing problems.” Patrick took a breath. “Dismissed for now. Anything else I deem to be a problem will be handled by either me or my guys and you will be informed promptly.”
Everyone stood still for a moment before filtering out almost silently. Patrick stood and watched them leave. He caught sight of Vinn again. He was glaring at Patrick and mumbling something to another guy who didn’t seem interested. Patrick wondered if this was the guy Dom and Smyth were always complaining about back then. Pete came to stand next to him.
“When you get the chance, get me any information you can find on our friend Vinn Bult,” Patrick said as the last of the people filed out. Joe came up on his other side.
“You want us to keep an eye on him, too,” Joe asked.
“Maybe pay him a little visit,” Andy added. Patrick shook his head and turned to them.
“Keep your distance for now. I don’t need to release the trio from hell on him just yet. I just think we should be cautious is all.”
-
Smyth watched the four young men from the door. They were all so innocent. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Least of all Patrick. He was the youngest of all of them. Smyth had tried to steer him away from the Mobs of Chicago and this stupid war.
At least they had noticed Bult. He had always been sketchy, even when Dom was running things. Patrick was nothing like his brother. He doubted Patrick could really do anything to end the decades long feud.
Smyth made his way over to the small group. He knew he had to back up Patrick. Protect him. That was the one thing Dom had told him to do if he ever kicked the bucket. Protect him from everything he didn’t need to know in order to be the boss.
“Hey, kid. Why don’t I take you out do some of your new businesses?” Smyth slapped Patrick on the back.
“I’ll get to that eventually. I still have to go through some paperwork,” He said, shrugging.
“Come on, boss! You seriously need to unwind or something,” Pete encouraged. Smyth chuckled at the banter. And for once he agreed with Pete.
The guys bickered back and forth, all of them trying to convince Patrick to, “have some goddam fun” in Joe’s words. They were still teenagers in some sense. At least that’s what they looked like right now. Smyth rolled his eyes and injected himself into the conversation by grabbing Patrick’s arm.
“Let’s go. I agree with the young people in the vicinity. Chill for a bit why don’t you?” Patrick grumbled as he yanked his arm away and followed Smyth. The other guys in a tow behind him.
-
Patrick looked around the ally. Trash littered the edges of the buildings. A homeless person sat huddled in the corner. He couldn’t quite tell if it was a guy or girl because of all the jackets they had. He sent Andy across the street to buy a couple burgers from McDonalds for the person.
“You can’t help everyone, Patrick,” Smyth muttered to him. His brother had pointed that out to him several times.
“Maybe not, but I can try.” Smyth shook his head as he pounded his fist against the metal door.
“I will never understand why you decided you wanted to get into this business. You’re good to a fault, Trick.” Patrick raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t have time to respond before the door opened.
“What do you want?” A huge muscled guy blocked the door. He was easily six-four and covered in tattoos. Patrick was used to the tattoos because of the other three guys being covered in them. Perhaps it was just the height thing.
“Depends, do you wanna meet your boss tonight?” The guy scoffed.
“Please, I heard he was a puny, overconfident shit.” Patrick watched the muscles in Smyth’s back tense. Perhaps Patrick didn’t make as good of an impression as he thought. He pulled Smyth back and stepped up to the giant.
“Depends who you hear it from I guess.” The guy looked down at Patrick and tried to contain his laughter. So, this was how it was going to be.
“Get out of here, kid. Runts like you don’t belong here. Careful Smyth, I tell the actual boss you’re trying to get kids into a strip club.” The guy shoved Patrick back, hard enough that he stumbled. Patrick sighed.
There were instantly three guns all trained on the giant man. He froze, but only for a moment. He was trained to deal with these situations after all. Patrick smoothed his jacket and pulled his wallet out.
“I’m not offended that you think I’m underage. You’re not the first. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t insult my guys by thinking they would try to undermine my rules.” Patrick flashed his ID at the guy and made a show of putting his wallet back. In the pocket next to his gun. The guys eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then he refused to look at him.
“Alright boys, stop freaking the nice man out.” Pete, Joe, and Andy took the guns off him. He stepped to the side, letting them all pass without another word. Patrick was the last to enter and he stopped in front of the bouncer. Patrick didn’t even open his mouth before the guy tried to rush out an apology.
“I’m sorry, boss. Won’t happen again. I should have known better.” Patrick paused a moment, then pat the bouncer on the arm.
“Mind telling me who passed that information along?” Patrick rested his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting while he thought.
“I didn’t know him. Seen him hanging around with your guy Vinn. Course he wasn’t here with him.” Made enough sense. Patrick nodded and handed the bouncer a fifty.
“You’re doing your job well. Keep it up. Let your manager know I’m here.” He nodded quickly and radioed for someone just called “V.”
Patrick followed his friends to a booth. Not in front of any of the stages but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t looking. Some whistling came from a stage off to the side. Dollars fluttered about a girl. She would have been less provocative naked.
She was bathed in a red light. She danced about the pole in the center, dropping low and biting her lip at the crowd of older men. Patrick was mildly disgusted but this was her job. And she wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for the old rich guys who were for some reason unsatisfied with their wife. Her skirt could hardly be called that, pleated and not even covering h.er ass. She turned away and he saw a tattoo snaking its way down her spine, dipping into the cloth around her hips. Anything else she wore was lace.
Patrick shook himself out of the daze and hurried over to the table. Pete grinned at him. Patrick glared, trying to stop the comment before it even left his mouth. No such luck.
“Aren’t you glad we made you come out?”
“Shut up, Pete.”
They ordered their drinks and sat chatting. The thumping bass seemed to keep time with his pulse. Patrick had a hard time keeping his attention away from the stage where he saw that dancer. He had never been to a strip club before. He shook his head at himself. Was he a fucking sixteen-year-old or something?
“I’m just saying you should practice more. You can’t throw a punch for shit. Why do you think Andy does that?” Joe glared at Pete.
“And you should learn to shoot straight! Oh wait…” Pete had come out to them as bisexual a while back. None of them cared but that made for jokes that weren’t always appreciated.
“Hey, watch it,” Patrick scolded, but he was chuckling slightly. It could have been worse.
Smyth nudged Patrick. He looked over to where Smyth was looking. His breath almost caught in his throat. The girl from earlier was making her way over to the table. She had changed though. Jeans and a tank top. She stopped at the head of the table.
“So, which of you wanted to see me?” Patrick could have fallen over. This was V? He just never thought of a woman owning a strip club. He supposed that was why the bouncer did his job so well. He knew women who took no shit. This one was definitely one of them. Patrick stood, trying to not stare. He offered his hand. She looked down at it and then raised an eyebrow.
“You’re V, right?” She nodded hesitantly.
“Yea, what do you need?”
“My name is Patrick Stump.” There was a beat as recognition passed over her face. The look of indifference replaced it soon enough.
“Ok? What do you need?” Patrick blinked and he heard snickering behind him. He sighed but he intended for it to be silent. She caught it anyway. “Sorry, am I supposed to call you ‘boss’ or something? I don’t really roll like that.” Patrick tried to keep the smile off his face.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just passing through. Familiarizing myself with our various… Businesses.” She nodded in understanding. She glanced behind him.
“So, which one is the ‘right hand?’ Or am I not allowed to know for security reasons?” Patrick shrugged.
“They all kind of are.” I wouldn’t be able to do this without them. He added mentally.
“Well they can’t all come along if you want a tour or something. Gotta keep my promise to the girls. No guys allowed in the back.” She rested her hands on her hips.
“I get it. Wasn’t here for a tour but if—”
“—If you’re offering, he would love a tour.” Patrick thanked whatever god there was that the lights were dimmed enough so she couldn’t see the blush. Pete was trying to keep his laugh under control. Patrick cursed him. He looked down at Smyth and he shrugged.
“Welp, follow me then. I can send one of our girls over here if you’d like?” Patrick’s three friends agreed excitedly. He tried to stop from rolling his eyes. Of course, he couldn’t judge them.
“You better behave, and tip her well, got it,” Patrick lectured. There was a chorus of “yeah” and “got it.” Patrick hurried after V.
“Hey Nat, if you’re feeling up to it, head over to table thirteen,” she said into a headpiece. They made their way to the bar. She pushed open the door to the kitchen and greeted the cooks. “Hey guys! Boss man is here!” They all looked up at Patrick, they waved or said some other greeting but didn’t pay much attention otherwise.
There was another door leading to a small office area. She bounced up to sit on her desk as Patrick looked around the small space. A laptop and a stack of papers sat on the desk. Not much different from his office back at headquarters.
“Ya, know I should kick you out for bringing guns in here. I’m sure you saw the sign. Also, try to not threaten my bouncer in the future. I don’t take kindly to that.” She leaned back on her hands, relaxed.
“Sorry, bout that. Won’t happen again.” A moment of silence. “I’m happy to see someone running a legit establishment. Can you pay your cooks well?” She scoffed at him.
“Of course, I can. What kind of owner do you take me for? This is a sex industry Mr. Stump. Just because you got in for free doesn’t mean those old guys gawking at our girls do.” He raised his hands in surrender.
“I have a question though,” Patrick said. Maybe she knew Vinn and his buddies. She encouraged him to go on.
“Do you know anyone by the name of Vinn Bult? Or anyone who associates with him?” She gripped the edge of the desk.
“We have a policy to not reveal the names of paying customers,” she said. That wasn’t a no. Patrick ran a hand through his hair.
“Well, he’s spreading rumors. And I’d like to keep those to a minimum if I can. Don’t need an uprising that would require force and bloodshed to squash.” She clenched her jaw.
“I get it. I’ll see what I can do.” The silence following was awkward. Something wasn’t right. But she clearly wasn’t going to give him any information now.
“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, why do you dance? I saw you when I walked in.” She released a breath, relieved the previous conversation was over. The spark returned to her eyes.
“Why? Does that make me a bad business owner? Just because I strip for men I don’t know? Because they throw money at me?” She jumped off the desk and stood in front of him, her heals making her slightly taller, of course that wasn’t hard. She was daring him to challenge her. Patrick smiled and shook his head.
“That wasn’t what I was suggesting at all. Simply curious.”
“Besides, you were watching, right? I must be good at my job.” Patrick cleared his throat and broke eye contact with her. Shit.
She stepped away from him and moved to a cabinet in the corner. She pulled out a glass and poured herself a glass of whiskey. Patrick didn’t recognize the brand. He had never seen it in stores of any kind. She glanced at him over the glass.
“Oh, sorry, did you want some?” Patrick shook his head.
“I can assume all the girls you hire are over eighteen, right? And here of their own free will?” V shot another glare at him.
“Again, what kind of company do you think I’m running? Yes. All at least twenty-one actually. Considering we sell alcohol. All here of their own volition.”
“Just things I need to ask. I’m trying to clean up the city, not make it worse.”
“So, I’ve heard. I admire that. Good luck with that—” She was cut off by dishes shattering. Patrick turned and rushed out to the main room. There were patrons huddled in against the wall. Patrick noticed the masked person holding a gun to a dancer’s head. Tears streamed down her face.
Patrick immediately looked for his group. They had their guns trained on the intruder, but the dancer was in the way.
“No one move, or she dies! I got a message for the little boss.” Patrick glared at the guy but he didn’t move. “Say something you coward! Let me know you’re here.” Patrick still didn’t move in the hopes he would just leave. The masked man sighed and shifted his gun, pointing it at a bartender. Patrick jumped but couldn’t reach her fast enough. She fell to the floor, shoulder bleeding. The guy was either a terrible shot, or he was baiting. He propped the girl up and V rushed over to help stop the bleeding.
“They don’t know what you look like yet. Don’t say a word,” She mumbled to him.
“More people are going to be hurt if I don’t speak up.”
“We don’t need to go through another loss like we did with, Dom,” she scolded.
“Let’s go, pipsqueak. Heard you were noble and shit. Don’t want anyone else to get hurt now.” Patrick grit his teeth. V shook her head.
“What do you want?” Patrick’s eyes widened at Smyth’s voice. He went to stand but V yanked him back down.
“You? I was promised a funny sight when I saw the new leader,” the masked man sneered.
“Shame you think I’m not good enough for you.”
“I’m amazed you were stupid enough to speak up” A gun fired and Patrick flinched. He shook V off and jumped up in time to see Smyth fall to the floor, clutching his leg. Andy rushed to break his fall.
“Now that I have your attention. You better give up this nice little establishment over to the Snakes and everything south of it. That won’t be too hard now will it?” The masked man shoved the girl away from him and ran out. A beat passed before all hell broke loose. The girls that had been dancing rushed over to help their coworker.
“Smyth!” Patrick had to restrain himself from jumping over the bar. Not again. Not again. Not again. The lone thought raced through his head. He fell to his knees next to Smyth. The bullet looked like it was lodged in his leg. They needed a doctor.
“Chill, kid. No use getting teary over me.” He tried to joke but the humor was lost with his grimace. Patrick wasn’t even aware his eyes had formed tears. Nothing fell but he wiped at his eyes furiously.
“You idiot! Why’d you do that?”
“Promised your brother I’d keep you safe.” Patrick looked around the room, V was busy escorting people out, offering free entry the next time they came.
“I’m supposed to be protecting you guys! I’m the boss and this war is my responsibility damnit,” Patrick scolded. Smyth’s face scrunched in pain. He would worry about the lecturing later. He called over to V as she shooed the last patron out.
“Call an ambulance!” She shook her head and hurried over to them instead.
“Not enough time. Losing blood too fast,” Joe informed him. Patrick grit his teeth.
“One of you ditch your shirt. We need to cut off circulation.” A moment passed before Andy had taken his jacket off and handed it to V. She wrapped it around his leg as Patrick applied pressure to the wound. V pointed at Pete.
“Now call the ambulance. And someone get something so we can elevate his leg. I’m going to see if I can get the bullet out myself.” Joe and Andy shared a look. “I went to nursing school now hurry up and move!” Joe jumped up and grabbed a few pillows.
Smyth groaned in pain as they maneuvered him so he was laying down. V pulled out a utility knife and cut a hole in his pants. She tried her best to be gentle around the wound but she could hardly touch it without him flinching or hissing in pain.
“For fucks sake, someone knock him out,” she complained. She moved around the hole again. Patrick watched as Smyth bit his lip to stay quiet. V watched his face occasionally as she looked around the hole. “Alright. I should be able to get it out. It’s not that deep.” She switched her utility knife from scissors to tweezers. “Someone go get the hundred-proof vodka.” Pete rushed to grab it. “This might hurt. I’m sorry.”
She poured a bit on the tweezers and then over the wound. Smyth squeezed Patrick’s hand to keep from crying out. She dug around, but not for long, she pulled the small bullet out and dropped it on the floor. Smyth was sweating and his eyes were squeezed shut.
The paramedics came rushing in, a stretcher prepared. They lifted Smyth carefully. They acknowledged the work V had done to prevent him from bleeding too much. Patrick watched as they wheeled him out. Blood covered his hands and when he looked down at them, he felt sick.
It almost happened again. Because he was too much of a coward to stand up and face the Snakes pawn by himself. V was handing him a towel. He took it hesitantly. The group stood around him, as if waiting for some sort of direction.
“Not your fault, you know,” V said quietly. The guys nodded in agreement but Patrick couldn’t think like that.
“But it is. I told myself that I wouldn’t let anyone else that I care about die. At least, not from this stupid war. I’m going to end it. And I’m going to start with this deal those fucking Snakes think they can hold over me.”
#mob boss au#fall out boy fanfiction#fall out boy#patrick stump#pete wentz#andy hurley#joe trohman#original characters#fanfiction#fandom#bandom#multi-chapter#feedback always appreciated#fall out boy au
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Once a Frat Boy, Always a Frat Boy. | Calum Hood - Part 7.
Summary: In which a new student, (Y/N), finds herself becoming the toy to popular frat boy Calum Hood. The only problem is that (Y/N) was warned about Calum her first day on campus, and Calum just so happens to be dating (Y/N)’s best friend, Callie Mitchell. She hates him. She hates him more than she’s hated anyone ever before; however, she can’t help the growing feeling inside of her stomach after she finds out some very interesting things about Calum that no one had ever known before.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Callie/Calum (break up)
Requested?: Yes, a few times. I’m so glad some readers are taking interest!
A/N: This is a Calum chapter! The reader will barely be mentioned, but it is all in good taste, I promise.
Calum sighed as he looked down at the suitcase before him. He knew this was an irrational decision, but he didn’t know another way out. If his father was on his way to him, then he had to hurry and get away before he would show up. He gritted his teeth, zipping up the suitcase in a hasty fashion before he stood up straight, looking around the dorm room he’d become so familiar with in the span of almost four years.
A smirk came to his lips as he thought back to the countless nights he’d had in the bed. How many girls he’d had on top of him or underneath him. Calum was going to miss having those kinds of nights, as he knew it was going to be hard to have a life that crazy wherever he was going. He was going to miss being able to persuade girls to sleep with him; and he was definitely going to miss having Callie to go back to after every time he messed up. He wondered if he’d have the chance to get a new girlfriend, or if he was going to have to worry solely about himself and no one else.
“Damn, I hope all this is worth it.” He muttered to himself as he moved to the side of the bed, where his bedside drawer stood. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling out a piece of paper from his drawer and a pen. It was sort of a girlish thing to do; to sit and write a letter telling everyone goodbye. But it was something that Calum knew he had to do. He couldn’t just leave without telling them he was gone. What would they think of him if he did so?
Listen,
I know this is probably the worst timing. I know that we’ve got a lot going on for us right now. We’re at the top of the popularity pool, guys. We’ve got girls in our beds every night, beer in our blood and smoke in our lungs. We’re living the absolute life right now. But, all good things must come to an end, and our time together is the one thing that has to cease. Of course, our friendship did kind of end long before this sudden departure, but, I still love you boys like brothers.
Since I am leaving, I have to be honest. There’s a lot of things I haven’t told you lot. Including the fact that my dad has been in prison since I was nine years old. He used to be abusive towards my mother and I, but he left my sister alone. He wanted her to be the successful child, but he wanted me to live out his legacy as an alcoholic gambler. When I was eight, I told him I didn’t want to grow up to drink and gamble, and for another year he continued to try to beat some sense into me about what kind of life I needed to have. My mother got it worse than I did, because she would usually try to defend me. I was her little boy, the only one she had, and not long after he started to abuse her, she called the police and had him arrested.
He stayed in prison all these years because my sister testified against him. She knew he was wrong in everything he was doing to us, even though he had never once touched her. Mali helped us out and kept my father where he belonged; but, he got out just about a week ago. The only person I’ve told was (Y/N), and she said something to me that made me realize she was right about me. I’ve got ‘daddy issues’, and my father is on his way to the university to find me. That means I’ve got to get out and far away from the university to keep myself safe. I bought myself a plane ticket back to Australia, but I’m not sure if I’ll use it. I just need the reassurance that I’ve got choices on where to go. I’m sorry that I’m having to up and leave while you’re all gone, doing whatever the fuck it is you do, but I didn’t want to have a mushy goodbye. That’s for girls.
So this is it. This is my goodbye to you all. Oh, and tell Callie that I love her and I’m sorry that I’m having to break up with her this way. She’ll understand.
Calum.
He sighed, resting his hand from deeply imprinting on the paper. His heart felt sad, and he wanted more than anything to stay and continue out the rest of his college career. But, the last thing he wanted was to come in contact with his father. He didn’t want the man that had ruined his childhood to know a single thing about his adult life.
Calum turned, taking one last look at the dorm room he had slept in since he was seventeen, and he sighed as he shut the door on his way out. He walked down the stairs, forgetting that he had left without both of his suitcases, and groaned. He turned on his heel once again, walking up the stairs and back into the dorm room. “I tried to make a dramatic exit and I couldn’t even fucking do it right.” He grumbled as he stomped along the red carpet, bending to grip the handles of the suitcases. He stood straight back up, his hands heavy with the weight of all of his belongings being stuffed into the two cases.
“I wonder if Calum ever woke up,” He heard from downstairs. It sounded like Luke and Michael to him, and Calum panicked as he searched for a way to get out of the frat without them finding him. He wanted them to find the note; he knew if he stayed long enough for them to see him that he would end up acting too tough and the goodbye in the letter would be a sappy waste.
“Check his room, mate. He wouldn’t leave without telling us, so he’s probably still out.” Michael laughed, and footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. Calum let out a yelp as his eyes automatically went to the window. If he knew Luke, he knew that he had no longer than two minutes before the blonde haired idiot waltzed into his room and saw him standing with his suitcases.
Calum hurriedly ran to the window, unlocking it and pulling it up as the footsteps got closer and closer to his door. He was running out of time and his heart was hammering against his chest as he threw one suitcase out of the window and down to the ground on the first floor. He threw the other one, not thinking of all the noise he was causing until the footsteps stopped and Luke let out a sigh.
“What the fuck is that?” He called, and Michael retorted that he didn’t know. The footsteps stayed halted, and Calum took this chance to throw his leg out of the window so he could straddle the window seal. He looked down at the ground, seeing his suitcases almost busted open with the impact they made as they hit the ground, but he wasted no time. He ducked his head underneath the window, making sure his snap back stayed on his head, as he jumped off of the window seal and down onto the ground.
However, when he landed, he did not roll. As in, he did not think to curl his body during his fall. Calum landed right on his back, with his head hitting the corner of the steps to the frat house. It felt as if blood was seeping through his hair, and it probably was, but Calum was much too concerned about getting away from the campus before any of his friends, or Callie and (Y/N) saw him. He groaned at the pain coming from the gash he’d probably created on his scalp, but he stood up anyway, grabbing both handles to both of his suitcases as he began to run off of the lawn of the frat house and to the exit of the college campus.
Calum called an uber once he got far enough away from the campus buildings. He stopped, placing his suitcases down as he sat on top of them, resting his burning legs. He grabbed a cigarette and lit it, telling the Uber the directions to get to him as he sat and pondered about what he was truly doing. He was running away. He was leaving behind the live he’d built for himself. He was leaving college, not going to be able to just come back and pick up where he left off.
He knew of everything that he was sacrificing all to get away from his dad, and yet, he didn’t care. He was happy that he would not be found by the man that had taken every bit of sincerity and hope that he had and crushed it before he was even ten years old. The Uber came in a span of fifteen minutes, and as soon as Calum got his suitcases into the trunk and himself sat in the back, he looked back towards the campus. This was his last time ever seeing the campus and the people. He wasn’t sure how he felt about leaving the most important things about his life, but he was happy either way.
Meanwhile, Luke finally made his way into Calum’s dorm. He noticed the window open and the faint breeze coming in. “Jesus Christ,” Luke sputtered out, walking over to shut the window. He wasn’t sure where his friend was, but he knew that he was going to kick his ass when he came back. He began to walk out of the room, until a glimpse of a pen and paper on his bedside table caught his attention.
“What the hell?” Luke cursed to himself as he walked to the side of the bed, picking up the paper and opening it. His eyes scanned over the neat handwriting, reaching each and every word carefully as he toyed around with his lip ring. By the end of the letter, his emotions were a wreck and tears were beginning to prick at his eyes as he stormed out of Calum’s room and down the stairs, where he found Michael eating cereal and Ashton just now entering the frat from his day out.
Michael’s eyes widened as he saw Luke’s distressed state, and he choked on a piece of his cereal as he stood to try and calm Luke down. “What’s the matter with you?” Michael yelled, and Ashton dropped his bag as he jogged over to the two, taking the note quickly from Luke’s hands as his own eyes scanned over the letter.
“Calum’s gone.” Ashton said.
“Of course he is. He’s been by himself all day, he probably went to-”
“No, Michael. Calum’s gone. He left the university, and he’s not coming back.” Luke stuttered, trying hard to hold back the frustrated scream he wanted so badly to let out. He couldn’t believe that Calum had left them, especially on such bad terms.
Ashton sighed and shook his head, slinging the letter down onto the counter where Michael once sat. He thought of a million things. Did he even care that Calum was gone? They hadn’t talked much since they fought at the emergency room with Callie. Then again, he figured they probably would’t talk until Calum took a stand to apologize to Ashton for acting so foolishly. He let out a breath, rubbing his hand over his face. That’s when he realized that Callie still had no idea that her boyfriend had left her.
“Someone has to tell Callie.” Ashton spoke, instantly bending so he could put his shoes back onto his feet. Luke and Michael both stood together, staring incredulously at their friend. “Look, if he’s gone, she deserves to know. He even said it in the fucking letter.” He spat at them before running out of the door, not thinking of anything else than how this would both be bittersweet and an opportunity.
Calum was gone, but now Ashton was going to have his chance with the girl he’d loved since their freshman year. Was this him being a bad friend? Probably. But, Calum wasn’t coming back, so Ashton was going to waste no time trying to mend Callie’s broken heart.
While Ashton ran to find Callie, Calum was looking through his phone to find a very specific number. He needed to talk to someone, to let them know what was going on. He wanted to make sure he was on good terms with this very person, even though he was sure the person hated his ever living being. He found the number in his old messages with Luke, a small smile coming to his face as he dialed it into his phone and let it ring.
“Hello?” Her voice chirped through the other end, causing Calum’s breath to hitch in his throat and his mind to lose track.
“(Y/N), it’s Calum.” He said.
“Why the fuck are you calling me?” She spat back, still angry about the comment he’d made to her just a day before.
Calum sighed and shrugged his shoulders, because he honestly had no idea what he wanted to say to her. He just knew that he wanted to make things right with her; he needed to have her on his side as he went through this, even if that meant he had to beg and plead for her to forgive him. He didn’t know why he felt the need to have her, but he did, more so than he ever felt that way for Callie. He felt guilty for it, but Calum knew he had a connection with (Y/N) that he’d never had with Callie, and he wanted to see what would blossom from it. Perhaps she would be the girl to calm him down from his wild ways; but he was ruining his chances of finding out by leaving the country. He bit his lip, fumbling with the button on his jeans as he watched the scenery pass him out of the Uber window.
“I just need to make amends with you.” Calum told her. (Y/N) sighed and he heard ruffling on the other end, as if she was lying down to listen to him.
“You’d better be one smooth talker, Hood.” She warned him.
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