#dopeman x arkangel
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Masterlist
Dopeman
Part 1
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8
Part 2
Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16
Interlude in Paris
ArkAngel
Part 1
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,
Part 2
Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16
#poppy writes#poppy edits#dopeman#machine gun kelly#mgk#mgk fanfic#poppy#arkangel#dopeman x arkangel
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Succubus
Tags: smut, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!).
Rating: E
Plot: Molly and Wes are living their new life together in Canada. It’s only been a week since they moved to the new house, and they break a couch by accident.
Word Count: 1271
Author’s note: I know I’ve should keep posting Bite Me, and I’m sorry for not doing it, but have this story in the meantime. Hope you like it.
Also, I know at the end of ArkAngel they change names, but I decided to keep their old names in this so it won’t be confusing. Let me know if it is better like this or I made it worse, and also if I forgot to tag something.
On with the show!
It was exactly a week ago that they had moved to Merlin, Ontario, and had finished unpacking their things just the day before. The house was fine: it wasn't too big, but it was sturdy, it had a garden and it was on the top of the hill, slightly away from the others, and it had views of the lake and the mountains. It was an idyllic place, but Molly was uneasy and Wes could tell. Especially at that very moment when she was wriggling beside him on the couch, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position.
“Gorgeous, are you okay?” he asked her.
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good,” she answered absently, without taking her eyes off the TV. “Why?”
“Because it looks like you've sat on a porcupine,” he laughed. Molly snorted, but she couldn't help but smile. Wes glanced at the calendar by the kitchen clock. “Oh... I get it now.”
“What?” She snapped suspiciously.
"Your period is coming up, right?"
“How do you know?”
They hadn't been married long enough for him to have learned that fact, and she didn't think he remembered it from when they were dating, especially because of the break in their relationship of almost two years.
“Because I remember that when we were dating, the previous days you were always… restless.”
“And what does that mean? Restless?” Molly repeated, still wary.
“Well, I was trying to say it subtly, but if you insist… I mean you seem to become a succubus trying to suck my soul through my penis.”
“Oh”. It was more or less true: her libido always violently raised just before her period came down. “Yes, I'm a succubus, and you know what you have to do,” she added, sitting on his lap.
“Huh?”
Molly kissed him intensely as she rubbed her crotch against his. She smiled with satisfaction when she felt him get hard under her.
“Feed me,” she whispered into his ear without stopping moving.
She kissed him again, caressing his lips with the tip of her tongue, gently.
“Yeah... yeah, okay... do you want me to go get...?” Wes asked between kisses.
“No need. All I need is you, now.”
She kissed him again, fiercely this time, tugging at his clothes blindly. Wes pulled away long enough to remove his shirt and grapple with his pants and his underwear. Breathing hard, Molly pulled her dress off her, tossing it over her shoulder; she was not wearing a bra under.
“You may be the succubus, but I'm going to devour you anyway,” he told her, caressing both her breasts.
“You're under my spell,” she replied, following with the joke as her hand closed around Wes's cock.
She dropped a trickle of saliva on his glans, which she spread with her thumb, lubricating the entire delicate surface. She began to kiss his neck as her hand moved slightly, and the pad of her thumb continued to stimulate the sensitive tip. Wes bit his lip, suppressing a groan.
“We need to level the ground; don't you think?” he said. And without waiting for her to respond, he reached into her panties, gently brushing her labia minora and her clit. Molly didn't hold back from vocalizing her pleasure. “You are so wet…!”
She gasped as he inserted two fingers inside her easily and began to gently massage her G-spot.
They stayed like this for a few minutes, giving each other the minimum amount of pleasure, trying to get the other to surrender first and ask for more. As Wes expected, it was she who gave in first.
“Enough! I need to have you inside now.” He smiled. “Don't get so cocky; remember I'm going to suck your soul through your dick.”
“I'm looking forward to it,” he replied, a defiant note in his voice.
It was a tone Molly knew well: he used it when he wanted to tease her. Ha! As if he needed to.
She peeled off her panties and guided Wes's cock toward her entrance. Slowly, she began to lower herself, until he was all the way inside her. She assaulted his neck with kisses; he tipped his head back, easing her access, and his hands trailed down her back, stopping at her rear. She smiled and sucked a small mark at the base of his neck.
“What are you doing?” He laughed, looking at her; Molly had never done that before.
“Mark you, so the other succubi know you're mine.”
“Oh! I get it.”
Wes kissed her again as she began to move, riding him, frantic. However, after a while, he could sense her growing frustration.
“What's wrong, gorgeous?
“I do not know!”
“Do you want me to be on top?” She nodded. “Do you want me to pound you from behind?”
“No, I want to see your face when you come.”
“Okay. Lie down, I'll take care of it from now on.”
Molly nodded and did what he had suggested; Wes allowed himself to gaze at her for a moment before getting on top of her. When they were connected in that way they could almost feel what the other was thinking, like a faint trace of what the fairy dust did with them. Maybe that was why they liked to do it so much, but this was not the time to think about philosophical questions, not while he had Molly bare in front of him, as pure and intoxicating as her name (all her names) suggested.
He penetrated her again just as she opened her mouth to protest, but whatever she had thought to say about died halfway through, and the only thing that came from between her lips was a moan of pleasure.
“Oh yes, like this!” she encouraged him, stroking his back. He kissed her, his hips rising and falling like a piston.
Still not satisfied, Molly lifted one of her legs, resting her ankle on Wes's shoulder, allowing him to go even deeper. He smiled and kissed her instep without stopping.
There was a creak as they both reached their orgasm, barely five minutes after they shifted position, and the couch snapped in half under Molly's butt.
“Wes? I think we broke the sofa.”
He got off her and helped her out of the wreckage of the couch; she grunted in annoyance as she went to the bathroom, his semen dripping down her leg. Wes went to the fridge and poured a couple of glasses of cold water while he waited for her to return. He stared at the sofa as he drank one of the glasses: the wooden frame had somehow snapped in half.
Like most of the furniture in the house, the couch was second-hand, but it was in good shape. Probably someone, somewhere, had broken a couch by having sex with their partner before, but for Wes and Molly was the first time.
Molly returned to the living room wrapped in her robe and drank the water he handed her before saying anything.
“What are we going to do?” She asked, looking at the couch.
"Go to the city and buy another?"
“I suppose. Shit, I didn't think we could fuck hard enough to break a piece of furniture!” She marvelled.
“We'll have to be careful with the bed,” he joked.
“I think we're pretty safe, the frame is metal.”
“But we could still break the panes,” he pointed out.
“True,” she agreed.
“Anyway, I hope my succubus is satiated after this.”
“Satiated, yes,” she replied, smiling, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “For a couple of days, at least,” she added.
Wes smirked.
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Interlude in Paris
Tags: angst, heartbreak, alcohol consumption, partial nudity, possible mistakes in grammar and orthography.
Word Count: 1262
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: So this story is supposed to go between the end of Dopeman and the beginning of ArkAngel, and I know I should have written this sooner, but honestly, it only recently ocurred to me that this was something the story needed. Hope you like it, and sorry for being so inconsistent with my writing recently.
On with the show!
The show had been a success, both in general and in a personal way. Everyone adored him and Wes was grateful to be surrounded by so much love. Or he would have been, if he didn't feel like he was hollow inside. He knew exactly what, or rather who, was missing, and he couldn't have her.
When they finished, they returned to the hotel. Wes shared a room with a French guy named Jean Luc, who proposed he went partying with him.
“There's a new club in Le Marais, I'm sure you're going to like. It's very... how do you say les Américains? Very cool.”
“Yes, okay.”
After showering and getting dressed, they took public transport to the well-known neighbourhood. Wes was aware of the looks he attracted on the subway, but unlike his companion, he paid no attention to them.
“What's the matter with you? You're always so sad after the shows,” Jean Luc asked when they were leaving the subway.
“I miss her,” he said.
“That ex of yours? Why don't you try talking to her if you miss her so much?”
“I have. She has blocked me and does not answer my calls,” he explained, between exasperation and despair. “She may have blocked my number too. She clearly doesn't want to talk to me.”
“Then fuck that bitch!” Jean Luc exclaimed.
“Don't you dare talk about Molly like that!” Wes replied, grabbing him by the collar of the T-shirt and smashing him against the station wall
“Sorry,” the French hurried to add, raising his hands in peace. Wes let him go. “I'm just saying, if she doesn't love you anymore, you have to move on.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“That's the spirit! Let's drink, dance and we'll find you a girl to make you forget your ex, okay?”
“Okay.”
The club was close to the metro stop, so they soon arrived. It was in the middle of a busy street, and there was a queue to get in. The facade was dominated by a couple of fake Doric columns and the huge blue neon sign with the name of the place, Elysium.
They had been in line for about ten minutes when a young woman with long blond hair came out the door and lit a cigarette. When she took the first puff, her face came to light. Jean Luc called her.
“Marina! Marina!”
She looked in her direction, smiled and then said something into the bouncer’s ear, which beckoned them to approach, skipping the queue altogether.
“I didn't know you were in Paris,” Marina said to Jean Luc.
“I arrived a couple of days ago. This is my friend, Wes; let's see if you can get him to cheer up a little bit,” Jean Luc said, introducing him.
“Are you sad?”
“He is nostalgic for his ex-girlfriend,” Jean Luc replied for him. Wes nodded.
“Well, you'll get over her after a couple of drinks, here they make some cocktails to die for how good they are!”
They came in, and after leaving their jackets in the cloakroom and having their hands sealed, they went to the dance floor.
“Wait here, I'll get our drinks,” Marina said.
She returned with three identical cocktails, and immediately hooked to Jean Luc like a magnet to a fridge. Wes gave a sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would work for him quickly and stop caring about being alone in Paris.
When he had drunk more than half a glass, he saw a pastel blue-haired girl walk past him in the direction of the bathroom.
“Molly?” He whispered to himself.
It couldn't be her, could it? But the blue hair... even the clothes she wore resembled when she was dressed as ArkAngel. Without much thought, he followed her and went into the bathroom with her. Obviously it wasn't Molly, and the girl didn't like a stranger doing something like that: she started yelling at him in French, pushing him out.
“I'm sorry!” He tried to apologize. “I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
She seemed to soften enough to stop pushing him.
“Wait outside! Outside!” She ordered him.
Wes nodded and left the women's restroom, leaning on the wall by the door, breathing agitatedly, his heart beating at a high speed. He took a deep breath and finished his drink in one gulp to calm down. The girl with the blue hair came out a couple of minutes later.
“I'm so sorry,” he apologized again. “I mistook you for someone I know.”
"Your girlfriend?” The girl asked; Wes shook his head. “Your ex-girlfriend?”
“Yes. She had... she had blue hair, just like yours.”
It was a bit of a white lie, but it was easier to say that than to explain that he had met his ex-girlfriend because she was a cam girl who put on a pastel blue wig to come out on camera.
“Elle te manque?” She asked; Wes looked at her without understanding, since he didn't speak French. “Do you miss her?”
“Yes.”
“I might be able to help you,” she said, in a mellow voice. “I'm Élodie, by the way.”
“Wes.”
Instead of with the usual kisses on his cheeks, Élodie greeted him with a kiss on his lips. Her mouth tasted sweet, like fruit, and her lips were soft, so after the initial shock, he kissed her enthusiastically.
“Your place or mine?” She asked mischievously when they parted.
“My roommate is busy with an old friend, so...”
“Perfect,” she replied, smiling.
They made out all the way to the hotel, while a sense of emptiness grew within Wes. Feeling that intensified later, when they began to undress each other while still kissing and touching each other. He tried to reach out to her, to feel something, anything, but he couldn't. She wasn't Molly, and he wasn't connected to her.
“You're as hollow as I am.”
“Quoi?”
“Go away,” he told her, turning away.
“You're kidding, aren't you?” Wes shook his head, turning his back on her. “Come on, what's the matter with you? We were having a good time!”
She approached, resting her hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her.
“As much as your hair is the same, you’re not her,” he told her.
“I can be,” she replied, trying to kiss him again.
“No, you can't,” he replied, pushing her away, gently, but firmly. “I don't want you here anymore. Get the hell out of here!” He yelled at her.
She recoiled as if he had hit her and dressed in a hurry.
“No wonder she left you, you fucking little dick!” she yelled at him before she left, slamming the door on her way out.
As soon as he was left alone, Wes dropped on the bed, tears running down his face. He retrieved his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket; still had a picture of Molly as his wallpaper. He stared at her for a moment before accessing TeleGram and writing a series of messages that he knew weren’t even going to get to her, but he was drunk, he was lonely, and he needed to vent.
You (00:10):
I miss you, gorgeous.
I feel empty without you.
You (00:12):
I saw a girl with blue hair today, and I can't stop thinking about you.
You'd love Paris, for sure. I wish you were here.
I'm sorry, I'm drunk and sad, and I miss you so much.
Shit, I miss you so much it hurts.
You (00:15):
I still love you, you know?
I'm always going to love you, Molly.
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ArkAngel Part 2 - Chapter 16
Tags: happy couples, fluff, cats ruining the moment, catching up with the past, fulfilling a promise, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 1424
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Final chapter of this adventure! I hope you like this ending and thank you for reading.
On with the show!
The Hartwins had moved to Merlin, in the province of Ontario, Canada, less than a year ago, and although they were reserved to be Americans, they had integrated quite well. She worked as a karate teacher at the gym, and he worked at old Pete's hardware store. They interacted with the other neighbours more or less regularly, although neither of them spoke of their past, ever.
Other than that, they were just a couple of young nonconformists with tattoos and dyed hair. From time to time, it seemed to someone that they had seen Will's face somewhere, but they could never remember where.
That morning, the cat woke up Will, who looked at the clock sleepily, and then at his wife, Maeve, still asleep beside him; the blue of her hair was beginning to approach a pastel shade, and her brown roots showed. He kissed her on her shoulder, stroking the tattoo on her hip: a round red pill with a heart inside it next to a green butterfly shaped one with a W; he had an identical one.
She grunted something and rolled onto her back, but she didn't wake up. The shirt she wore to sleep had holes in it and was so worn it was almost transparent; Will could see her nipples through it.
“Wake up, gorgeous,” he told her.
“No…” she grumbled, covering her eyes with her arm.
“But I'm hungry, and so is the cat,” he protested, and to emphasize his words he nibbled at one of her nipple through the fabric.
“Well, eat the cat then, you’ll kill two birds with one stone,” she replied, pointing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
He smiled and put her ankles on his shoulders; Maeve squealed in surprise and snapped her eyes open, wide awake.
“What are you doing?” She asked, amused.
“What you told me,” he replied, hooking his index fingers on the rubber of her panties, and beginning to slide them down.
“I said cat, not pussy," she pointed out, but she didn't resist when he pulled her panties down to her ankles.
"Cat, pussy... different words, same thing.”
She giggled, but her laughter turned to moans as he started sucking and licking in that way he knew she liked it. She grabbed a handful of his hair as he inserted a finger inside her, gently pressing her G-spot.
“Dopeman!” She accidentally let out.
He lifted his head from between her legs to look at her and outlined a lewd half smile.
“My ArkAngel,” he replied, before resuming his ministrations.
They had sworn they would never use their old names or nicknames, but she couldn't help it, especially when they were alone and he was trying so hard to please her.
The cat chose that moment to meow really loud.
“Stop,” Maeve said to Will, somewhat reluctantly, pushing him away from her.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, emerging from between her legs.
“We have to feed the cat first,” she said, pulling up her panties and standing up. “You coming?”
“I'd rather wait for you here.”
“Are you sure? We haven't used the new sofa yet,” she pointed out.
Will waited until he heard the cat food rattling over the bowl and then he ran into the kitchen and lifted her wife up into the air, carrying her over his shoulder like a sack. Maeve let out a little cry of surprise, but she didn't resist.
“I like the view from this angle,” she commented. It was an excellent position from which to observe his ass.
“Me too,” he replied.
He just had to turn his head to kiss the adorable pale blue panties, patterned with outlines of pink butterflies, and right in front of him were her adorable feet.
He spun her around, making her laugh, and laid her carefully on the couch, kneeling in front of her. Maeve caressed his face, and her hands slid down his neck and his torso, caressing the numerous tattoos that covered nearly every inch of skin available. She looked into his eyes, those eyes so like hers, so light blue they almost seemed white.
“I love you,” she told him.
“And I love you, gorgeous,” he replied, and kissed her. “After this, we will only have the garden hammock left.”
“Keep dreaming, handsome,” she replied, lightly tapping him affectionately on the nose.
In Lakewood, Ohio, one week before her 18th birthday, Claire Guerrero received an unexpected visitor.
“Hi, Claire. Remember me?” The woman at her door asked.
It had been a little over six years since she had last seen that woman, but Claire remembered her, just like the pink backpack with a unicorn that the woman carried in her hand.
“Of course I remember. Come in.”
“Is your mother at home?” The woman asked her.
“No, she's out on errands. Hey…”
“Qweenie.”
“That. Why did you come?”
“Because in a few days you'll be legally an adult, and I'm tired of waiting,” Qweenie replied, handing her the backpack. “Molly asked me to keep it until you were old enough to decide what to do with it. This is your inheritance, Claire.”
Claire opened the backpack, pulling out a hard drive and a folder from inside it. She remembered well the night her father had put those things in her backpack and sent her to hide in the basement panic room. That had been the last time she had seen her father, and also the night she had met Qweenie.
“My inheritance,” she repeated. “If this is my inheritance, I don't want it.”
She took the handwritten sheets out of the folder and looked at them: they were full of formulas, and she had never been very good at chemistry. She methodically broke them, put the pieces in a bowl, and set them on fire with a match. She then opened the drawer where the kitchen utensils were kept, took out the meat tenderizer (the metal one, not the wooden one), and proceeded to smash the hard drive into pieces; Qweenie winced.
“My father… he wasn't a bad father, but he wasn't a good person. He tried to teach me all that chemistry stuff, you know? But I was never interested in formulas, exothermic reactions, endothermic reactions or whatever they are called. I liked watching him mix ingredients, but for another reason,” she told Qweenie. “Next year I am going to cooking school, and I plan to be a famous chef. And people will remember my last name for a good thing, for a change.”
“I'm sure he would have been very proud of you,” Qweenie said.
“I don't think so, but he's not the boss of me anymore. Being the Chemist's daughter it’s over.”
“The decision has always been yours, I only came to fulfil a promise,” Qweenie replied, shrugging.
“Yeah. Glad to see you, Qweenie, will you come to my restaurant when I'm a famous chef?”
“If I can afford it, count on it,” she joked. “Goodbye, Claire.”
“Goodbye.”
Qweenie got into her car, where her wife was waiting for her behind the wheel, and as she drove off, Qweenie texted a contact she hadn't written to in a long time.
You (10:23):
It's done. Claire has destroyed everything, but I have done what you asked.
ArkAngel (10:25):
Thanks, Q, you are the best.
You (10:25):
I know 💅
How are you?
ArkAngel (10:26):
We're OK.
Nobody here knows us, or knows anything about fairy dust.
And the FBI has done a good job erasing all traces of me or Wes from the web, so it's like we don't exist.
You (10:27):
Oh, they are very thorough when they want to.
Anyway, give Wes my regards for me, will you?
ArkAngel (10:26):
I will.
Thanks for everything, Q.
Goodbye.
You (10:27):
You're welcome.
Goodbye, Molly.
She deleted the conversation and the contact from her phone.
“It's over?” her wife asked.
Qweenie took a deep breath; it was like putting an end to a story that had started almost seven years ago, when Wes had decided to treat himself to a session with a cam girl for his twenty-fifth birthday.
“Yes, it's over,” she confirmed. “Let's go home.”
That night, the night that Dopeman and ArkAngel met, neither of them imagined anything what was going to happen, nor that their relationship would affect other people in their lives, but it had.
Qweenie was convinced that if alternate realities existed, Wes and Molly were together in all of them, because that was how it should be. After all, they were connected.
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 6
Tags: some fluff, some angst, sexual talking, oral sex (male receiving), sexual scenes, men in skirts, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 3123
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: I had promised some sex scenes and it’s time to deliver! The whole chapter is Wes and Molly being happy and having fun, so I hope you like it ^^
On with the show!
As soon as they were alone, Wes gave her a spin in the air, making her scream and laugh.
“Put me down!” she laughed.
He spun her one more time and laid her on the bed. Without saying anything, he took off the jacket and t-shirt he was wearing; however, before he could continue undressing, Molly stopped him.
“The skirt stays,” she said.
“I wasn't going to take it off,” he smiled. “But I'll have to take off my shoes and socks, right?”
“Yes.”
So while Wes took off the rest of his clothes (except for the skirt and underwear) Molly began to undress as well.
“You've switched to bralettes, I see,” he commented.
“Underwired bras are an instrument of torture, and as such, they are only for special occasions, accompanied by heels,” she joked, taking off her jeans.
“Another instrument of torture,” he pointed out.
“Indeed,” she said, slipping her hands under his skirt and pulling his boxers down. Wasting no time, she began to stimulate him with one hand, while with the other she got rid of her bra. “If I suck you off, will it go like the last time?” She asked.
“What happened last time? I don’t remember.”
“You really don't remember how a lot of your semen got into my eye?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Oh, that...” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. “You know I can't always control it.”
“Aim lower this time, or I'll have to start wearing goggles,” she joked.
“I'll try,” he promised.
“You better do that,” she warned him, just before starting to suck him.
Wes gasped of satisfaction and closed his eyes, revelling in the pleasure she provided.
Molly hadn't given Wes much oral sex in the past, partly because of incidents like the semen in the eye, but mostly because his size intimidated her. She still had the feeling she might choke if she tried to put it all in her mouth, but now she had learned a trick or two, and in just a couple of minutes, Wes was moaning uncontrollably and praising her skills.
“Gorgeous stop, please,” he gasped, grabbing a handful of her hair.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, moving away. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no, you were doing very well,” he reassured her, brushing her hair out of her face. “It's just that I can't wait: I want to be inside you now.”
“Oh, okay.”
Molly went to remove her panties, the lime green lace to match her bralette, but he stopped her.
“The panties stay.”
“Okay,” she replied, amused.
She watched Wes put on a condom, and then he grabbed her arm, forcing her up, and laid her against the table with her back to him. Pushing the fabric aside, Wes stroked her sex a couple of times and inserted a finger inside her.
“So wet for me…” He said hoarsely, pleased. She arched her back, bringing her rear to him in a mute plea. “Soon, gorgeous. First I have to prepare you well.”
“You cut me off because you couldn't wait, and now you're going to torture me?” She whimpered.
“I see you're still as impatient as ever,” he laughed, inserting a second finger; Molly stifled a moan.
“I only want what you promised me: a fuck on the table,” he replied.
“And you will,” he replied, pressing his crotch against her ass. “Open your mouth.”
She obeyed and he slipped his fingers into her mouth, drenched in her own fluids; Molly closed her mouth around them, sucking on them. Wes lined up with her entrance and entered her at last, slowly; the feeling was exactly how he remembered. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth with a wet sound, and his hand moved down her neck, brushing her hair away.
“So soft and warm…” he whispered, kissing her under the jaw. “My Molly... My ArkAngel...”
“Oh, Dopeman!” She moaned.
Then he began to move and she could no longer think of anything else other than him and the sensations he caused in her body; his hands caressing her, his mouth kissing, licking and nibbling, and his penis in and out, drawing her moans with each thrust in a frantic rhythm.
“Wes! C-close!” She stuttered after a while.
He came out of her and turned her around, penetrating her again before she could think to complain. Molly wrapped her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles, and clung to his back, looking into his eyes; those eyes that were so much like hers, and that, at that moment, seemed to sparkle. Her hands slid down his torso, caressing the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of his skin, and she gripped his ass tightly, pulling him even closer.
“Are you gonna come?” He asked her. She nodded, pursing her lips.
He sped up his pace and kissed her, swallowing her cry of pleasure as she finally climaxed. He felt her tighten around him, her internal muscles contracting in delicious spasms, dragging him with her. A guttural growl escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes, feeling himself emptying into the latex sheath.
“Wes?” Molly called, bringing him back to reality. “Can you help me get off the table, please? I think I got a cramp in my groin.”
“Sorry, gorgeous, I'll help you right now.”
He grabbed her around the waist, laying her on the floor, and watched with some satisfaction as she limped to the bathroom as he disposed of the used condom. After a couple of minutes, Molly peered into the room again.
“Are you coming to the shower with me?” She asked.
He didn't need to be told twice, he took off his skirt and followed her. She stepped into the tub and waved him over, grinning mischievously.
“How's that cramp going?” He joked, closing the screen behind her.
“Better,” she replied, following the joke. She turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature; when the water was at the right temperature, she switched to the shower head; the water began to fall on both of them, taking the sweat from their bodies. “I've missed you so much…!” She sighed, hugging him. “I didn't even know how much I missed you until you came back.”
“You had a distraction,” he argued, pouring soap into the disposable loofah and beginning to lather it up. “Collin seems like a nice guy.”
“He is, but…”
“But?” He repeated, urging her to continue.
“He’s not you,” she replied. “I didn't have the same connection to him as to you. And he couldn't… he couldn't feel me like you do, nor could I feel him. I missed being connected to someone like that, you know?”
“I've missed it too,” he admitted. “I thought that, being apart, the effect would be lost, but it hasn’t been. I knew you were the one coming in with the coffee even before I saw your face.”
“We only had it once… Well, one and a half. Why do you think some effects have persisted?” She asked, turning around for him to rub her back.
“I don't know, it might be because we were exposed to it in the uterus,” he replied, shrugging. “I wonder what would happen if we took it again...”
“I don't want to know,” she said, turning around. “It's my turn,” she added, snatching the sponge from him.
Wes let Molly lather his back and torso, but had to stop her when she wanted to go lower.
“Not in the shower, gorgeous,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
“I wasn't going to do anything,” she replied, but he knew she was lying. “Well, if you don't want me to do it, do it yourself,” she added, handing him the sponge.
“You first,” he replied.
They finished washing in turns, and once rinsed, they got out of the shower and dried off. Molly had to use the hotel blow-dryer to keep her hair from dripping everywhere. He waited patiently, sitting on the toilet, pinching and kissing her ass from time to time, making her laugh.
After leaving the bathroom they lay on the bed, on their side, looking into each other's eyes.
“I thought I could get a new tattoo,” she said, stroking his collarbone.
“Yes? Which one?”
“I could… I could get a tattoo like yours,” she said, and her hand lowered to his hip, where he had the tattoo of the pills that represented them.
“Are you sure? I mean, do you really want to wear me forever in your skin?”
“I already wear you forever on my skin, Wes,” she replied, referring to the scars on her own hips. “If you don't want me to, just say so.”
“Of course I'd like you to do it, but… maybe it's not the design for you,” he pointed out, stroking her cheek.
“Because I'm a good girl?”
“Yes, that's the main reason.”
“Do you really think so, after what just happened?”
“Sex doesn't define whether you're good or bad,” he countered. “You are still an angel, even if you fuck like a porn star.”
Molly laughed, hiding her face in her hands, in that gesture that Wes found so adorable.
“You tell me the most beautiful things…!” She sighed, reaching out to kiss him. His stomach chose that precise moment to roar. “Wait, did we have dinner?”
“No, we haven't had dinner,” he laughed. “How about we order some room service?”
“Sure, I'm starving too.”
After a quick glance at the menu, they ordered some food.
“Right away, Mr. Harker,” the receptionist said. “But I have to ask you to lower the noise level.”
“Have there been complaints?” He asked, glancing at Molly, who covered her mouth so the receptionist wouldn't hear her laugh.
“Yes, sir. Several guests on your floor have complained of a rhythmic knocking against the wall.”
“Don't worry, it won't happen again,” he assured.
As they waited for their food to be delivered, Molly remembered the bag.
“What else have you bought?” She asked. “You said you'd show me.”
“It is true! I forgot,” he admitted, reaching for the bag from the side of the bed.
He tipped the bag onto the bed, spreading its contents so that she could see his purchases. There was a pair of nail polish bottles (black and matte top coat), an eyeliner pencil, a paper package with a fabric store logo, and a plain black cardboard box wrapped in a silver bow.
“This is for you,” he announced, handing her the box.
“Did you buy me a gift?” She asked, undoing the tie.
“I saw it in a store as I passed by and I thought you might like it.”
On the velvet bottom of the box rested a silver and rose quartz necklace in the shape of angel wings, with the stone carved in the shape of a heart set in the middle.
“Oh Wes! It's beautiful, but you really didn't have to buy me anything.”
“I know, but I wanted to,” he replied, smiling.
“Can you put it on for me, please?” She asked, turning around and brushing her hair back. Wes took the pendant out of the box and put it on “what's in the envelope, by the way?”
“Fabric,” he said. “I'm going to take it to a dressmaker so she can make me a kilt. A real one.”
“You could have bought one already made, don't you think?”
“Not really,” he replied. “I have found a woman in the Village who makes traditional Scottish clothing, so we agreed that I would bring her the fabric to make me one.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. Wes winked at her, quickly wrapped himself in one of the robes, and opened it.
“Your dinner, sir,” Molly heard someone say from the corridor.
“Thanks, I'll put the cart in,” Wes replied. “Uh... I'm not carrying any cash right now, but leave me your name and I'll be sure to tip you when I leave.”
“No need, sir. Have a good night.”
“I think he's mad,” Molly said as Wes dragged the cart into the room and closed the door.
“I've offered him a solution,” he replied, shrugging.
They ate sitting on the floor, just in their underwear (Wes had to lend her some briefs), chatting about work and their future plans. He would stay in town for another two or three weeks while he did an underwear campaign for Karl Cline and then the fall-winter shows would begin.
“I've never understood why this is so,” he said. “I mean, summer hasn't even started yet, but have we already walked the show in those clothes?”
“It's for ready-to-wear brands to keep up with new trends and design accordingly,” she explained. “In addition, they have to produce their collections ahead of time so that they are ready when the corresponding season arrives.”
“I guess if you look at it like that, it makes sense,” he admitted. “And what are your plans?”
“Work, work, maybe ask you on a date someday, work a little more, go out again, and go back to work,” she replied. “My life is not as interesting as yours.”
“Liar. Your work in itself is interesting.”
“I suppose, but I would like to have some time for my own artistic production.”
“We can stop by your apartment tomorrow, grab the camera and go take some pics,” he suggested.
“I like the idea. Will I be able to do your makeup for the photos?”
“Sure. You know? If you had told me three years ago that my face would be in the magazines and that I would be wearing makeup, I would have laughed in your face,” he commented. “And it's amazing how much they retouch the photos.”
“Tell me about it,” she sighed.
“I suppose you're sick of softening people's skin.”
“You do not even imagine it. Sometimes there comes a point where it doesn't even look like skin anymore.”
“They should put a warning, even if it was in small print,” he said. “These images have been retouched and do not reflect reality, or something similar.”
“That would be the least, yes. Hey... now that we've finished dinner... can you paint my toenails?” She asked, rubbing a foot against his leg.
“But we don't have a base coat,” he protested. “Are you sure you don't mind that your nail can get stained?”
“It will go away with time,” she replied, making a dismissive gesture. “Anyway, it's not like you’re going to stop liking my feet if it happens, is it?”
"Of course not," he assured her. "But I will use the base top coat, in case you have to wear open shoes at some event or something like that."
“Okay! I see you’re very informed,” she commented, amused.
“What can I say? After two years, I have come to absorb all that new vocabulary.”
Painting Molly's nails was quite an experience, especially since she didn't stop squirming, laughing, and she didn't stop rubbing her free foot against him, distracting him.
“Stop!” He said, tapping her on the instep. “I'm going to paint your fingers if you don't stop moving!”
“You’re tickling me!” She exclaimed, laughing.
“Well, stop rubbing your foot against my cock, that doesn't help.”
“No? I thought you liked it,” she adduced, twisting a lock of hair playfully.
“And that is precisely why you have to stop; It's hard for me to concentrate with only half the blood in my brain,” he replied, unable to suppress a smile.
“Okay, I'd try to be still, killjoy!”
“So I'm a killjoy, huh?” He replied calmly, putting on the lid of the bottle of nail polish.
“Yes.”
“Oh, now you'll see how much I can kill your joy!” He exclaimed, throwing himself at her and starting to tickle her.
She tackled him and slipped out of his grasp. They played chase for a while, and in the end he caught her and threw her on the bed.
“Fancy another round before bed?” He asked, grinning.
Molly considered it for a second, staring at his glorious almost naked form.
“Fuck yeah! Come here.”
The phone rang around ten, waking them up. Molly rolled over, covering her ears with the pillow in an attempt to drown out the noise, but Wes turned to face the source of the scandal; after all, it was his cell phone that was ringing.
“Hello?”
“Wes, it's me, Qweenie.”
“What’s up, Q?” He asked, sitting up.
“Something bad, something very bad," she said.
Wes glanced at Molly, who seemed to have gone back to sleep, and went to the bathroom.
“Tell me everything,” he asked, closing the door.
Qweenie told him about the Irishman, Hardy's warnings, and the Chemist's hard drive, still hidden in the 7-Eleven's safe. She also told him that Molly had sent herself a copy of the formula from his laptop that night.
“I don't know if she kept it, but if she did… I'm so sorry Wes, I should have told you earlier, but you seemed so happy in your new life… I didn't mean to spoil it.”
“It's okay. Thanks for warning us.”
“Tell Molly, okay? Don't hide it from her,” she told him, her voice serious.
“I won't, although I think we're safe for now.”
“Just ... stay alert, okay?” Qweenie said, and he could almost see in his head how she was biting her lip.
“Sure. Thanks for calling me, Q,” he repeated.
“Take care of yourselves.”
“You too,” he replied, and hung up.
When he came out of the bathroom, Molly was awake, sitting on the bed.
“Wes? What's going on?” She asked worriedly.
“Our grace period is over, gorgeous,” he replied, sitting down next to her. “But before I explain, I have to ask you one thing: what did you do with the fairy dust formula?”
“I downloaded it onto a USB stick, along with all the other things I wanted to forget, like your photos, encrypted the folder, and put the pen drive in a safe at KeyBank,” she explained. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to hide that I had it, but...”
“I know. Don't worry, I'm not mad. At least while it’s in the bank it is safe, right?”
“Only I can see the contents of my box,” she confirmed, “not even my parents can access my box, except with my death certificate and the key.”
“Good. Let's take it easy, okay? Normal life, but going out as little as possible at sunset. Only work and essential activities.”
“Agreed. I'm so sorry, Wes,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands.
“None of this is your fault, my love,” he countered, kissing her palm. “We will be fine, you'll see.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 8
Tags: Jake and his weasel face appearing to ruin the fun, Molly being a badass, kidnapping, drinking, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 2498
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: We’re in for a journey with this one! And, like how happens with gravity, all that is up has to go down. But don’t worry, it’s not going to end like that.
On with the show!
On Friday they left work and had dinner at TFC, because the important thing was not the food, but the party after that. If Tessa had known that almost all the expensive brand products in the bathroom were things that they had obtained for free thanks to their jobs, she might not have envied them so much. After all, they lived in an apartment shared by four, with only one bathroom.
By the time Wes arrived they were still getting ready. James opened the door for him half-dressed and with damp hair.
“Mol, your boyfriend is here!” He yelled over his shoulder. “Come in, handsome.”
Wes had donned artistically ripped black jeans, a see-through black T-shirt, white boots, his favourite chains, earrings, and rings, and a silver faux alligator jacket.
Molly came out of the room in her underwear, makeup and hair already done, and dragged him inside.
“Help me decide: blue or mauve?” she asked him, pointing to the two dresses on the bed, both quite similar.
“What else are you going to wear?” He asked in turn.
“Well, the black leather jacket or the white fur coat, it depends.”
“Blue brings out your eyes,” he said. “And if we are going to go to a club with a Russian ambiance... the coat suits you better.”
“Okay, I'll be done right away.”
She put on the blue dress and did some finishing touches on her makeup in the hand mirror on her desk. Finally, she put on a few drops of perfume (Wes's favorite, with the skull cap and skull and rose motifs all over the bottle), her coat, and took her purse.
“Aren't you forgetting something?” Wes asked, amused.
“The shoes! Thank you, my love” she said, putting on her sandals.
“You're welcome. You look gorgeous. Well, more than normal” he said.
“You look very handsome too,” she said, kissing him.
“Mol, come on!” Carla yelled.
They asked for an Uber to the Moskova, because as Carla said, one turns twenty-five only once in a lifetime. They arrived at the club and thanks to bringing two beautiful girls and a relatively well-known male model, the doorman let them pass without queuing. Once inside, they were approached by the waiter that Carla liked.
“I'm Ivan, how can I help you tonight?”
“We want a booth and a bottle of champagne. It's my birthday!”
“Happy birthday,” Ivan wished her, smiling. “Come this way.”
He led them to one of the booths that surrounded the dance floor, the furniture of which consisted of a U-shaped leather sofa that could seat six, a low wood and glass coffee table, and a pair of floor lamps with red lampshades. The booth itself consisted of wooden panels, the lower half of which was padded in red velvet, and the upper half was carved with famous Russian buildings, such as Saint Basil's Cathedral in Moscow or the Palace of Saint Petersburg.
Shortly after they settled in, Ivan brought the champagne in an ice bucket and glasses for everyone.
“If you need me, don't hesitate to let me know,” he told them, even though he was looking directly at Carla.
“He likes you!” James exclaimed.
“No way! He sure is just doing it to be nice, because he's working. But I wish...!”
“Come on, let's have a toast,” Wes said, opening the bottle and starting to pour the drink. “For Carla!” He added, lifting his glass.
“For Carla!” The others exclaimed, clinking their glasses.
They drank until the champagne was finished, and then Carla ordered shots of vodka. By the time those were done, Matt and James seemed to be glued by the mouth, so Molly suggested going dancing.
“Okay. You, do something useful and find me a dance partner,” she ordered Wes, pouting.
“As the birthday girl wishes,” Wes laughed. “How about that one over there?”
“He looks like a mobster.”
“Okay... and that other one?”
“Very short. I'm sure I'm taller than him with these shoes.”
“And that one?” Molly suggested, pointing to a redhead near the bar.
“You see? She knows. Bring him here, slave!”
Wes was reluctant to part with Molly, but it didn't seem like there was any danger in there, so he rolled his eyes and went to talk to the redhead at the bar.
“Hey man, my friend likes you,” he said, pointing to where Carla and Molly were.
“The blonde or the brunette?”
“The blonde. She's hot, huh?” He said, and the redhead nodded enthusiastically. “Do you want to come dance with her?”
“Yes!”
They went to where the girls, who had started dancing, were waiting for them.
“Carla, this is...”
“Luke. Nice to meet you.”
“It's her birthday, so treat her well,” Wes whispered into Luke’s ear, “because if I find out you've treat her bad, my girl and I will beat you up, and my girl is a black belt in karate.”
“Sure, I'll treat her well,” Lucas assured her.
“Have fun.”
From the mezzanine, Leo, Johan, Jake, and Tessa watched the two couples. Wes and Molly moved perfectly in sync, kissing from time to time while still dancing.
“The girl knows has moves,” Johan commented.
“If they get closer, they'll end up merging,” Tessa laughed.
Jake frowned; in his opinion, Wes did not deserve Molly: he was nothing more than an orphan, the son of a couple of drug addicts, and a former drug dealer with no education, plus he had been to juvie several times. Jake did deserve a girl like her, and when it was all over, she would see that too.
At last they separated enough for some air to flow between them, and Molly reached up to say something in Wes’ ear, to which he nodded. From their position, Jake could see perfectly how she kissed him on her cheek and then parted from him, going in the direction of the bathroom.
As if it were the signal they were waiting for, they descended the stairs as one. Leo would stay close to Wes, watching over him (and entertaining him if necessary), while Tessa and Johan went after Molly and Jake went for the car. The whole operation had to be carried out in ten minutes maximum, and then the girl would be brought to the boss and he would paid them for a job well done.
Molly was finishing drying her hands when they entered: a man and a woman. She knew they were coming for her when the man put the latch on the door.
“Girl, we don't want to hurt you,” he said, with a slight German accent. “If you don't resist, no one has to get hurt.”
“But I do want to hurt you,” she countered, getting into position. “So if you want me, come get me, you bastard!”
She kicked off her shoes as they lunged forward; the man dodged one of them, but the other hit the woman in the chest. Molly smiled as she backed away, rubbing a tit where her heel had jabbed into her skin. She tried to hit the man, but he blocked her.
“You're not the only one who knows how to fight, pretty girl,” he told him.
Molly threw a knee to his crotch, forcing him away from her. The woman pulled a gun from her purse. Molly rolled over and knocked her to the ground with a kick to her ankles. She tried to open the latch, but the man grabbed her by the neck. She didn't have room to knock him to the ground in her usual manoeuvre, so she hit him on the instep and elbowed him in the stomach, but he didn't let go, at least until she dug her fake nails into his arm.
“Scheisse!” he said.
But just as she was about to open the latch, she felt a prick on her neck and everything went black. The man caught her before she hit the ground and took the dart from her neck; meanwhile, the woman put away her gun.
“I hate these kids,” she commented.
Wes was starting to get impatient. There was this man who had started talking to him, saying that he had seen his face in a magazine a couple of days ago, and asking about his work. And then there was the fact that Molly was taking a long time to get back, and it didn't look like there was a line at the restrooms.
So while he was nodding vaguely in the direction of the stranger, he was keeping an eye on the bathroom door over the heads of the crowd, most shorter than him. Just when he decided that he would go find her if she didn't come back in five minutes, the door to the ladies' restroom opened and a woman came out, and behind her a man holding an unconscious Molly. Before he could go there, however, the stranger stopped talking to him amiably and punched him in the stomach, and then another time in the jaw. He stood both of them with some difficulty.
“I'm sorry, Wes, your girl is coming with us,” the man said, and kneed him in the groin.
Wes fell to his knees, nauseated from the pain. He wanted to scream, warn someone, but all that came out of his mouth was half-digested food and alcohol. Carla knelt beside him; she hadn't seen the blows, only that he fell.
“You're okay?” she asked him.
“They took her,” he managed to say.
“What?”
“They took Molly.” He leaned on Carla to get up and took a couple of wobbly steps toward the door. “I have to go…”
“You're drunk.”
“No, they took her. Go to the bathroom if you don't believe me.”
Carla left him leaning against a column and went to see. There were some signs of struggle in the bathroom, and she found Molly's shoes. She returned to Wes, Molly’s sandals in hand.
“Why? Why did they kidnap her?” she asked him.
“Molly is special, she knows things. I have to get out of here,” Wes said. Between the music, the conversations, and the people, he was starting to get overwhelmed.
“Let's go home and you can tell us.”
They rounded up the boys and got into a taxi to the apartment. Wes didn't talk the whole way, checking his cell phone constantly in case the kidnappers were sending him a message through her phone. He knew they had Molly's cell phone because she was carrying her purse with her when she entered the bathroom and Carla hadn't found it along with her shoes.
“What's going on, Wes?” Carla demanded when they reached the apartment.
“I don't know how much Molly told you about how we met, but about five or six months later, we got caught up in a drug affair,” he began, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “Well, I got involved, and she went to rescue me and got caught up in it. I don't even know how we got out of there alive.”
“Wait, wait, rewind,” James said, cutting him off. “What do you mean with ‘a drug affair’?”
“Did you think Dopeman was just a nickname?” He replied, grinning. “No, I used to be a semi-independent dealer from Cleveland. One of my suppliers discovered something, a drug, that my former boss wanted, and I was the only other person who knew about it, so they kidnapped us both.”
“I was prepared to die that night. But then she appeared, followed by my two best friends, and she saved me. Because it was her plan that ultimately allowed us to get out of there alive. And then she kept saving me by helping me change my life.”
“And now the past is back to bite your asses,” Matt said.
“Yes. There's a man in Cleveland… They call him The Irishman, and he wants to take over the territory left vacant after the death of my old boss,” he explained. “I'm not sure, but he probably knows about the drug. Chalky or Hardy must have talked, or maybe they think I know something, and that's why they took her away, to make me behave.”
“We have to go to the police!” James exclaimed.
“No cops,” he said.
“But she was kidnapped!” Carla protested.
“If we call the cops, they'll hurt her, maybe even kill her. No cops,” Wes repeated firmly.
Just then a notification warned him that a message from TeleGram had reached him.
“It's a message from Molly's cell phone,” he said, opening it. “It's a video.”
ArkAngel (00:21):
IMG_887873.mp4
Wes turned up the volume and set the phone on the table for everyone to see before hitting it.
“Hi, Wes, do you remember me? I guess not,” said a boy with black hair and glasses. He looked like he was inside a car, and someone else was holding the phone as he drove. “We met about five years ago, and you refused to sell me coke because I was a minor. Imagine that, a dealer with principles! Anyways I’m digressing. What I want to say is: we have your girl.” The camera focused on Molly, unconscious in the back seat, between two men, then turned back to the boy. “If you want her to stay safe, you're going to do what we tell you, and the first instruction is not to talk to the cops. If they get involved in this, she will suffer. She'll suffer a lot,” he added, and the camera focused on Molly again; one of the men stroked her face. “Well, I think that’s it. Ciao!”
“What are we going to do?” Matt asked.
“I'm going to go get Molly, and you guys are going to stay here and cover for her for as long as you can,” Wes said.
“But we can't just stand here doing nothing!” Carla protested.
“Are any of you an elite marksman?” he asked. All three shook their heads. “Do you know how to fight?” They shook their heads no again. “Well then you are of no use to me. The best thing you can do for Molly is keep her from losing her job.”
“And you? You're going to lose yours if you don't show up on the runway,” Matt reminded him.
“I don’t care! But if she dies because of me, because I decided to be selfish, I would never forgive myself,” he replied. “She went looking for me then, so I'm going to go find her now. And if you'll excuse me, I have to make a call.”
Without waiting for the others to respond, he locked himself in Molly's room and dialled Qweenie's number.
“Wes?” She asked. From her voice, she seemed like the phone had woken her up.
“I know it's late, but they've taken her, Q,” he said. “O'Shea's men have taken Molly.”
“I'll gather the others,” she said after a pause. “Take the first flight you can and I’ll see you at the 7-Eleven.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 3
Tags: mentions of sexual assault/rape, men in kilts, having lunch with your ex and your current bf, some angst, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 3428
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: This is a long one, sorry, but lots of things happen in this chapter, including Molly interacting with Halsey. Regarding the trigger warning, no one gets hurt here, but a character mentions it, so I thought it was worth mentioning.
Also, I have been informed that my English is OK, but I still feel the need to warn y’all that I am not a native English speaker (I am, in fact, Spanish), and that I use Google translate to do the heavy work for me and then I edit that, but some things may have slipped through (like incorrect pronouns). That being said...
On with the show!
Molly was right on one of her assumptions: Collin knew how to handle his jealousy better than she did. He had learned to identify and dismiss it as it presented itself, for the intrusive thought that it was. However, that day, Wes was going to take it upon himself to put Collin’s skills to the test.
He had left work a little late, so when he finally got to the restaurant, the two of them were already at the table.
“Hi, honey, I'm sorry I'm late,” he greeted her with a kiss.
“It’s okay. Honey, this is Wes. Wes, this is Collin, my boyfriend,” she said, introducing them.
Wes got up to shake his hand. The model was not as he expected: he was very tall (taller than him), with blond hair combed into a Mohawk and dressed in a kilt and vest ensemble, both made of black leather (who the hell wore a leather kilt?), and tank top, also black. Furthermore, as he couldn't help but notice, his arms were fully tattooed up to the wrists, and a few more tattoos were peaking at the neck of his t-shirt. Collin knew Molly had some tattoos and that she liked them, but he didn't have any.
“Shall we order?” He said casually, sitting down.
“Actually, we've already ordered,” Wes said cheerfully.
“I ordered you your favourite, don't worry,” Molly told him.
“Thanks, honey,” he said, kissing her again.
“Tell me, Collin, what do you do for a living?” Wes wanted to know.
“I'm a photographer.”
“Oh, now I understand why you guys get along so well," replied him. “Molly really likes all that too.”
“I know.”
“Obviously,” Wes said, rolling his eyes. “I just meant to say that you have a lot in common. Speaking of things in common, I forgot to take off my lenses... I'll be right back,” he added, getting up.
“So that's Wes,” he commented.
“Yes,” she said, and took a sip of her water.
“It's not how I expected.”
“And how did you expect him to be?” She wanted to know.
“Not an airhead, that’s for sure.”
“He's not an airhead!” She protested.
“Well, it seemed to me he’s like all the male models: big bulge, small brain.”
Molly, who had taken a sip of her water again, choked, coughing heavily. Collin patted her on the back.
“Are you okay, honey?” He asked, frowning in concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she gasped, her face red. “But you are jumping to conclusions.”
“Who is jumping to conclusions?” Wes asked, returning just then.
“No one,” Molly said quickly, still coughing.
“Are you okay, gorgeous?” Wes asked, rubbing her back.
“I'm fine, I just choked.”
Collin said nothing. He was too busy assimilating the fact that the model had exactly the same eyes as Molly, that special colour that had caught his attention when he met her.
The waitress then brought their food, drawing his attention to his empty stomach.
“The Caesar salad?”
“For me,” he indicated.
“The mushroom ravioli?”
“Mine,” Wes said, smiling.
“Then the spaghetti Bolognese must be yours,” the waitress said, setting the plate in front of Molly. “Are you okay, miss?”
“Yeah, don't worry, I just choked on my water.”
“Well, how did you two meet?” Wes wanted to know, and picked up a ravioli, putting it in his mouth with deliberate slowness.
“My boss went to do a job at VOGUE and asked for volunteers to accompany him,” he said, after taking a bite of his salad. “As soon as I saw her, I knew I had to ask her for her number, whatever the cost. Three months later, we started dating and still today. How did you guys meet?”
“Online,” Molly said quickly. “In an anonymous chat.”
"Yeah, that,” Wes confirmed; for some reason that answer seemed to amuse him a lot.
They ate in silence for a while, though Collin couldn't help noticing that Wes was keeping an eye on Molly. After a while, she announced that she had to go to the bathroom and left them alone. Wes stared at her ass as she left.
“Does she still have the scars on her hips?” He asked
“Yes,” replied Collin, trying not to think that the model had probably seen her naked many times before him. “Do you know how she got them?”
“Didn't she tell you?” Wes asked, surprised.
“She told me they were connected to a somewhat traumatic night, and she didn't want to talk about it,” he replied.
“It's true, although it wasn't all bad.”
Wes smiled wistfully, which made him fear the worst; he knew perfectly well what situation could be traumatic for her, but not for him. He clenched his fists, but forced himself to keep his voice calm when he spoke again.
“What happened?”
“It's not my job to tell you the story, man,” Wes said, shaking his head. “If Molly doesn't want to talk about it, I won't be the one to betray her trust like that.”
“You hurt her, didn't you? That's why you don't want to tell me.”
“What? What are you talking about, man?”
“You gave her the scars,” he accused Wes.
It was true, but not for the reason he believed. Wes backed away, as if Collin had punched him.
“Do you think I'd be capable of something like that?” He asked, disgusted at the very idea. “Of raping her? Believe me, if that were the case, I wouldn't be eating with you two. I probably wouldn't even be breathing right now.”
“Molly is strong, but you're bigger,” he argued.
“I've seen her knock down guys twice her size without even batting an eye. If I'd tried something like that, she would've beaten me,” Wes replied. “Anyway, how can you think I'd do something like that? I loved her. I still love her. I would never hurt her.”
“Yeah, well, do me a favour: stop touching her and calling her ‘gorgeous’, okay? She is with me now.”
“You don't give me orders. I'll stop if she asks me to.”
Molly came back at that moment.
“Excuse me for taking so long... Guys, what's wrong?” She asked, sitting down apprehensively. She felt the tension emanating from Wes like ripples, and Collin seemed about to throw a punch.
“What happened that night, Molly?” Asked her boyfriend. “The night you got the scars on your hips.”
“Even if I wanted to talk about it, which I don't want to, I couldn't tell you, it doesn't concern just me,” she said.
“Does it concern him?”
“And more people who aren't here right now,” she replied. “Why are you asking me that now?”
“Because he mentioned them,” Collin replied curtly. “He said it as if they were his doing. Like he's proud that you wear his marks.”
Molly punched Wes on the shoulder, and Collin bit back a smile.
“James was right, I shouldn't have agreed to eat with the two of you,” she said, as Wes rubbed his arm where she had hit him. “You are bloody kids!” She exclaimed, exasperated.
“But it's true, isn't it?” Collin insisted. “He gave you the scars.”
“Yes, he did, on the most amazing sex night of my life,” she replied, annoyed. This time it was his turn to back off. “And no, that has nothing to do with previous events, which I don't want to talk to you about.”
“But I don't understand why not!”
“We've been dating for eight months; you can't aim to know everything about my past. Much less something like that.”
“But he knows,” he replied.
“Because he was there with me. You weren’t. Stop insisting, please,” she begged.
“Okay. I'll see you later,” he said, getting up, and without waiting for her to answer, he left.
Molly turned to Wes, tempted to punch him again.
“You've done everything you could to provoke him, haven't you?”
“Guilty,” he admitted. “But Mol, that guy doesn't deserve you. It is true that I poked him, but he escalated the situation by himself. He really isn't worthy of you.”
“And you are?” She replied mockingly.
“I still love you,” he said. “And I don't know if I'm worthy of you, but at least I'm not that dumb to think I can control you.”
“Oh, Wes…!” she sighed, then looked at the restaurant clock. “Oh shit, we're running late, we have to go back to the studio,” she said, getting up.
“Are you mad at me?” Wes asked her once in the elevator.
“A bit.”
“Do you want to hit me again?”
“No.”
“I deserved it,” he admitted.
“I know, but once is enough.”
Halsey was finishing changing when they arrived, and the makeup artist dragged Wes aside to do the last touches on his makeup. The session that day had the singer dressed in red boxing shorts, a grey sports top and a necklace that mimicked barbed wire.
This time she had was in charge of recording and editing the behind the scenes video of the shoot, so she stood at her position without saying a word, adjusted the frame and pressed the record button as the photoshoot began again. It was supposed to look like Halsey was beating Wes up, but, from her position behind the video camera, Molly couldn't help but laugh.
“What's wrong, Molly?” Asked the photographer, annoyed.
“I'm sorry, it's just that… it's not realistic at all,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Neither of them are in the right position. And Halsey should have her hands bandaged.”
“Well, why don't you show us how it's done?”
She kicked Wes into position first, then took the bandages out of her own bag and bandaged Halsey's hands like she did on kickboxing days.
“Okay, position yourself like this,” she instructed the singer, striking the correct pose. “Remember, feet apart; the more you put them together, the higher your centre of gravity is and less balance you have.”
“Like this?” Halsey asked, mimicking her position.
“Exactly. Now move your arm like this,” she said, grabbing her wrist and guiding her arm in slow motion to connect her fist with Wes's face. “That is what is called a right hook. And if you do the same, but from below, you have an uppercut.”
“Do you practice boxing?” Halsey asked, impressed.
“Karate and kickboxing,” she replied. “But I did two years of boxing.”
“I want pictures with this girl,” Halsey said.
“Really?” Molly and the photographer asked at the same time.
“Yes.”
“Okay, go change and get your makeup done,” the photographer ordered her.
She returned shortly afterwards, wearing blue shorts, a top like Halsey's, and with her hair combed into two root braids.
They took several photos pretending they were hitting each other, then a couple more of Halsey hitting Wes (in the middle of those, the photographer asked him to remove his shirt and finally his vest as well), and then Halsey wanted to have pictures taken of the two of them. Wes smirked.
“Come on, gorgeous, let's give them something real,” he said, waving his hands in a ‘come get me’ motion. The makeup artist had painted his knuckles in a way that looked like he had skinned them.
“I'm not going to hit you,” she rejected.
“But you want to. Do you remember what we used to do? First, you beat me up, and then you fu-… ” He said, but was interrupted by a punch to his belly that made him double over. “That's it!”
Molly began to jump on the mat like a flea, dodging punches and punching in turn, always careful not to hit too hard. He managed to hit her a couple of times, and she realized he was holding back, too.
Meanwhile, the photographer kept shooting in a burst and Halsey watched the scene from behind.
“These two already knew each other?” She asked the makeup artist, amused.
“Apparently, he’s her ex.”
“Now it all makes sense,” Halsey laughed. “Ow! That had to hurt,” she commented when Molly knocked Wes down on the mat by throwing him over her shoulder, totally ditching the subject of boxing.
“Foot on his face, put your foot on his face!” Said the photographer enthusiastically.
Wes stayed on the floor, staring at the camera with a defeated expression, and Molly put her foot on his cheek, still breathing heavily from the exercise and smiling triumphantly.
“We’re done!” The photographer announced.
Wes sat up and Molly held out a hand to help him up, but he smiled and pulled her, causing her to fall on him. He started tickling her, making her giggle and squirm on his lap, begging him to stop.
“I don't know what's supposed to come after the beating, but you should get to it,” Halsey joked.
Molly untangled herself from Wes, red as tomato, and leaped to her feet.
“I liked working with you,” she said, holding out her hand to the singer, in an attempt to be professional.
“Same here,” Halsey said, shaking it. “Pity we have already recorded the music video, because if not, I would include you.”
“Thank you.”
“And if I were you, I wouldn't think twice,” Halsey added in a whisper, glancing at Wes. “I don't know why you broke up, but you still have a lot of chemistry.”
Chemistry. Yes, it was true, she still had chemistry with him; her heart still beat fast when they were close, her body still moulded to his when he held her in his arms... and seeing him with the leather kilt had awakened something in her. She wanted to jump on him right there, but then she remembered who was supposed to be her boyfriend.
Collin, with his black hair so soft, his adorable thick-rimmed glasses, and his body without tattoos; he always made love to her as if he were worshiping a goddess. She touched her hips; he had kissed those scars, four half-moons on each side, without knowing that someone else had made them.
She huddled, hiding her face against her knees.
“Gorgeous…”
She looked up to find that Wes had knelt beside her.
“Is what you said earlier true? You still love me?” She asked.
In response, he pulled up his kilt and lowered his underwear a little on one side, showing her a tattoo on his hip: two pills, one round and pink with a heart inside, and the other green, in the shape of a butterfly, with a W.
“It's you and me,” he explained. She dared to brush over the drawing with her fingertips, sending a shudder down his spine. “Always you and me.”
Molly drew in a ragged breath, feeling her heart melt.
“I'm not going to cheat on Collin. You're going to have to wait for me to break up with him, but it won't be tonight,” she warned him, looking into his eyes again.
“I've waited almost two years, a few more days are not going to kill me,” he replied, and kissed her forehead. “Text me, I will be all yours the moment you tell me.”
At the end of the day, Molly went to the flat she shared with James, Matt, and Carla, almost wishing her boyfriend wouldn't show up, but he arrived at dinner time, with takeout from her favourite Japanese restaurant.
“I'm really sorry,” she apologized as soon as she opened the door.
“No, honey, I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't fall for your ex’s provocations. How about we eat dinner, and then, with a full stomach and a cold head, we talk about it?”
“OK, yeah.”
They had dinner talking trivialities, with the TV in the background, and Carla and James chattering about the latest gossip. The talk of the magazine was the photoshoot that afternoon, but James had the good sense to redirect the conversation each time Carla brought it up. Molly gave him a grateful look, and he winked. Then she looked at the lettering Matt was working on and almost choked again when she saw the word DOPEMAN.
Alone in her room, Collin walked over to her and kissed her. A slow kiss, a kiss goodbye.
“Collin, I...”
“No, don't go on. You still love him, I've seen it, and despite James's efforts, I've found out what happened this afternoon,” he said. “Halsey took some pictures of you with her phone and posted them on Insta. Oh, and there is also a video. I would have to be blind not to see how well you fit together.”
“Oh, my love…”
“I'm not your love, he is. Tell me, why did you start dating me if you hadn't forgotten him yet?” He asked, hurt.
“I thought if I found someone I liked enough, I could get over him,” she said. “And I really liked you.”
“But it didn't work.”
“No, it didn't work. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, that's how it should be. Just tell me one thing, was it really the best sex of your life?”
“Several factors came together,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “On one hand, the immense relief of having come out of the experience alive, and on the other... the fact that we were high on something very close to ecstasy.”
“And the scars?” Collin wanted to know.
“The marks of his nails. I guess he got too excited… I didn't even notice them until later.”
“Wow, I didn't think you were the type of girl to do drugs.”
“Usually no,” she replied. “And I thought you were the type of guy to control his jealousy.”
“Usually, yes.”
“You've been a good boyfriend, and any girl will feel lucky to have you,” she assured him, kissing him on the cheek.
“Yeah. Goodbye, Molly.”
He hugged her one last time and left. She stayed there, sitting on her bed. She picked up the phone and typed a text.
You (20:38):
Collin broke up with me.
Dopeman (20:40):
Give me your address, I'll come see you.
She sent him her location and burst into tears, lying down on her side, curling up. Although her intention had been to break up with Collin, it was still painful. Before long, she heard someone enter her room and sit on the bed next to her.
“It's better this way,” Matt told her, rubbing her shoulder. “You have to be with your Dopeman.”
“I almost died when I saw you writing it,” she said, looking at him.
“I was trying to subtly signal you,” Matt laughed. “Will he come here?”
“Yes, I think so. But please don't call him Dopeman. His name is Wesley, so call him Wes.”
“Copy that. Oh, that must be him!” He said, hearing the doorbell, “I'm going to open the door.”
“I think Carla already did,” she joked.
“I'd better leave you two alone.”
“Thanks, Matt,” she said, when he was almost leaving. “For coming to comfort me.”
“Hey, we're friends, right?” Molly nodded. “It was nothing.”
Matt left almost as Wes entered.
“Hello, gorgeous, how are you?” He asked, sitting down next to her on the bed.
“I know I wanted to break up with him, but… it hurts,” she replied.
“It's normal, breakups are always painful,” Wes said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Did he yell at you?”
“No. He seemed… resigned,” she told him. “He said he saw the photos and video from Halsey's Insta shoot and realized that I still love you. I've hurt him, Wes, I've hurt him a lot.”
“He’ll get over it,” he assured her, lying down too.
“We were more or less fine, you know. But when you showed up...”
“You can't escape the past, especially when it comes back to bite your ass,” he joked.
“I see that now.”
“I've thought of you every day, gorgeous,” Wes said, resting his forehead on hers. “Every day. I was thinking of you while I was walking the runway in Europe, while I was going to parties... While I was having sex with other women.”
“I thought of you sometimes too when I was with Collin,” she admitted. “I compared him to you and he did not come out well. This time I'm not going to be a coward, I'm going to go all out,” she promised.
“You and me till the end, gorgeous,” he said, and kissed her.
Kissing him again was like a drink of fresh water after a long time in the desert. And Molly didn't know how thirsty she had been for Wes until their lips met.
“I've missed you so much …!” She sighed.
“I’ve missed you too, my sweet Molly.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 7
Tags: Jake, Tessa being the Qweenie of the bad guys, mention of guns, spying on people, mentions of abuse, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 1775
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Can Wes and Molly have peace for five minutes?? Well... if they had, this would be a much shorter story. For what is going to come, I preemtively say: I’m sorry. But I do love happy endings, so I hope you stay to see the end, because I think you’re going to like it this time.
On with the show!
It was Sunday when Jake and three of his father's men arrived at La Guardia airport. They had rented a four-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, near Molly's work. Every day they saw her pass in front of their windows, sometimes with Wes, sometimes with co-workers, but never alone. They had taken turns following her to her apartment, and found out that she lived with three other co-workers.
“Do you think she suspects something?” Jake asked Leo, looking out the window.
Molly was passing by at the time, accompanied by Wes and one of her roommates.
“It's probably just a common precaution,” said the man, watching her go by as well. “This is New York, after all.”
“The girl isn't stupid,” Leo's sister, Tessa, added, cleaning her gun. “I mean, she exposed you the first time, right?”
Leo and Johan laughed.
“I love you too, Tessa,” he replied, showing her his middle finger. “Can we go get her now?”
“We've been here a week, not yet,” Leo replied.
“But we already have the pattern of her comings and goings!” He protested.
“And she's never alone,” Johan pointed out. “If we try now, we're going to head headfirst into a cell.”
“Berlin is right,” Tessa said. “We have to wait for her guard to drop, and then we'll catch her.”
“Then you do think she’s is suspecting something.”
“I think you were such a fool to go threatening Hardy like that,” Tessa replied, starting to mount the gun. “And that we must not rule out that she has warned them.”
“I just wanted to get the cat out of the bag.”
“Not true,” Leo countered. “You were an idiot; the whole thing turned out well by pure chance. Today we will go to her apartment and put some microphones on,” he added. “Hopefully with a little patience, we will get information that tells us when we can go for her.”
Except for Jake, everyone else on the team had a skill that made them valuable: Leo was adept at planting bugs, tapping phones, and cloning SIM cards. Johan was an expert pickpocket and more than good at picking locks. Tessa was a firearms expert, an excellent markswoman, and had handled a hostage situation before.
The three of them knew that the only reason the boss' son was there was because The Irishman wanted the kid to learn something. Personally, Johan believed that he was too arrogant to learn a thing, but he was not going to be the one who would contradict the boss.
They arrived at Molly's apartment around noon, and after making sure that no one was there, Johan guaranteed them entry.
“Don't touch anything that isn't absolutely necessary, and if you do touch anything, make sure you leave it exactly where and how it was,” Leo ordered.
Jake just watched as Leo and Johan bugged the main rooms and tapped the landline. Unfortunately, Molly always carried her phone on her, so cloning the SIM card was not going to be possible at the moment. He wished once more to have Hardy on their side, so they could get into her email accounts.
“I hate posh kids,” Tessa commented, leaning into the bathroom. “Have you seen the amount of creams and makeup they have here?” she added, opening the cabinets. “And almost everything is expensive brands.”
“Couldn't we put up cameras?” Jake asked. “I mean, maybe that way we could get a more complete idea of her routine...”
“You want to see her naked, right?” Said Johan. He shrugged. “Trust me, it won't seem like such a good idea when you see her fucking Wes.”
“I'm not opposed to amateur porn, especially if it's free.”
“You're fucking gross,” Tessa commented.
“Ready!” Leo said then.
“Let's get out of here,” Tessa said.
They left the floor; fortunately, the door was one of those with a security lock that closes automatically from the outside, so that none of its inhabitants would suspect anything when they returned.
From that day on, they took turns listening. There was not much movement on the apartment, because most of its occupants spent the day outside (except Matt, who two days after the bugs were put on caught the flu and was working from home), and when they returned they were dedicated to normal activities: eating, watching TV, chatting, having sex...
“Damn, these kids are boring!” Tessa complained. “I know it's Monday night, but hell, a little more fun!”
“Are they watching Desperate Housewives again?” Her brother asked.
“Yes! Wait... this might be interesting.”
“Hey, I know you haven't been out lately, but it's my birthday!” Carla was saying. "Please."
“I don't know…” Molly said.
“Come on! It will only be one day, and then you can go back to that curfew that you have imposed on yourself.”
“Come on, Mol, we’re all going,” James encouraged.
“Even me,” Matt pointed out.
“Invite Wes if you want, I don't care as long as you come,” Carla insisted.
“Okay, I'll tell him.”
You (20:35):
This Friday is Carla's birthday and she has invited us out.
We could go.
Dopeman (20:36):
I don’t know…
You (20:36):
Please!
We've been like this for almost a month and no one has come for us.
And neither have there been any warnings from Q or any of the others.
Dopeman (20:37)
That does not mean that nothing is happening, just that they don't know.
You (20:37):
We were supposed to go on dates: go dancing, to the movies, to museums… and all we have done is order food delivery and watch movies on my laptop.
Dopeman (20:38):
It's not the only thing 😉
You (20:38):
You know what I mean.
Please.
If we go together, what could happen?
Dopeman (20:39):
Okay, but we will be moderate with the drinks.
You (20:39):
Of course.
I'm a good girl 😋
Dopeman (20:40):
Of course.
And if we are going to go out, put on the black sandals, the Roman ones.
You (20:40):
And I'll go get my pedicure done the day before.
Dopeman (20:40):
Don't tease me, woman xD
See you on Wednesday for lunch?
You (20:41):
Of course.
I love you ❤
Dopeman (20:41):
I love you too ❤
“Okay, we'll go to your party,” she informed Carla.
“Yes!” She exclaimed, hugging her.
“I think I'm going to read for a bit before I sleep, I'm running late,” she informed, getting up.
Matt waited half a minute before getting up and knocking on Molly's door.
“Mol, can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Matt walked in and closed the door behind him. Leaning against the wood, he watched as she braided her hair.
“Hey, I don't want to stick my nose in your business, but is something going on between you and Wes?” he asked. She looked at him blankly. “I mean, is there something wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong between Wes and me,” she replied, starting the other braid. “Why you think so?”
“That new schedule that you have... You almost never leave the apartment for something other than going to work, going to the grocery store, or your karate and kickboxing classes, and he comes to walk you many days,” he pointed out, sitting in the chair of the desk. “I don't want to accuse him of anything, but… it doesn't look good.”
“Do you think Wes is trying to isolate me from my family and friends?” She asked incredulously.
“It's what it looks like,” Matt replied, shrugging. “I just… I want you to know that if you need help, you can count on me.”
“Matt, Wes isn't trying to isolate me from you guys. I know it might look like that from the outside, but… there's one thing in our past, and it may not have stayed there,” she said, finishing the second braid. “Wes is afraid something will happen to me. I'm a third Dan black belt, but my boyfriend is scared and… I'm just trying to reassure him.”
“That thing from your past… is it from the traumatic night you never talk about?” he dared ask.
"Exactly. If I tell you something, will you promise to keep the secret?” He nodded. “You can't tell anyone, not even James.”
“I won’t, I swear on Basquiat.”
“‘Dopeman’ wasn't just Wes's chat alias, it was what he really did for a living,” she whispered. “I helped him change his life after the traumatic night, but before that, he was selling drugs.”
“Oh… I understand. You're a box full of surprises, Mol.”
“You don’t even imagine. Thanks for caring about me, Matt,” she said, hugging him.
“James and I were talking about it, but he didn't dare ask. He said it was none of our business.”
On the apartment of O'Shea's goons, Tessa let out a triumphant cry.
“Well, yes, but sometimes you have to meddle a bit in other people's business,” she said. “You can tell him not to worry, everything is fine.”
“They are going out this Friday,” she informed them.
“Wes too?” Jake asked.
“Yes, but it's not a problem. We just have to separate her from her friends and she will be a piece of cake.”
If Tessa or any of the others had been listening to Molly and Matt's conversation, they wouldn't have thought that, but they didn't. Tessa put her headphones back on and caught that Carla couldn't decide between going to the Chat Noir club or going to the Moskova.
“They both appeal to me, you know?” she was saying. “The Chat Noir has a Parisian setting, and that's a huge point in its favour, but the Moskova has cheaper drinks and that handsome Russian waiter… Ivan, I think his name is.”
“Well, you have time to think about it,” James replied. “Personally he is not my type, but if you think you can be lucky, I vote for the Moskova.”
“What are we talking about?” Matt asked, returning.
“About the waiter Carla likes.”
“I don't know if I like him, I've barely spoken to him,” she defended herself. “But you have to admit that he is a sight for sore eyes, with those muscles and those eyes... I would do a lot of bad things to him if he allowed me.”
“I hate these kids!” Tessa exclaimed, taking the headphones off.
“You can rest for today; we already know where they will be.”
“I can take over for you,” Jake suggested.
But he didn't hear anything relevant, and soon after, Matt, James, and Carla went to bed. He switched to Molly's room, hoping to hear her having phone sex with Wes (it had happened a couple of times before), but she was already asleep.
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ArkAngel Part 2 - Chapter 9
Tags: kidnapping, unwanted touching, threats, Jake being a POS, Wes coming back to Cleveland, probably not good use of Cleveland slang, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 2080
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Well, at this point we all know this is more of a thriller than anything. No one gets badly hurt in this chapter, but Jake is being Jake, so there’s some unwanted touching (take your hand off her knee, you twat!). I’ll put asterisks at the begining and end of it, in case you want to skip it.
On with the show!
Molly woke up two hours later, on the highway, tied with duct tape to the back of a car, surrounded by strangers: the man she had fought with in the Moskova ladies' room, the woman, and two other men. One of the unknown men looked a lot like the woman, from which she deduced they were siblings, and the other was a boy younger than her, with glasses and a rodent face. The boy smiled widely in a way that she didn't like at all.
“Hi, Molly,” the boy greeted her. “Or should I say ‘ArkAngel606’?”
As soon as he said her old nickname from the cam girls page, she knew where she had heard his voice before.
“It's you! The pervert with the panting voice!”
“I didn't think you would remember me,” he replied.
“I'll never forget the bad vibes you gave me,” she said. “And it turns out that I wasn't wrong about you.”
“Oh, but I'm not that bad. I've let you talk, right? You could have woken up with the gag on,” he pointed out. “Or I could have fondled you while you were unconscious.”
Molly began to squirm, trying to free herself, but her bonds wouldn't budge.
“Don’t worry, he hasn't,” the woman said, turning from the front seat. “I haven't let him do it.”
Molly stopped squirming and looked at her, remembering the prick on her neck.
“Did you shoot me a tranquilizer dart?” She asked, incredulous.
“Yes. You didn't want to come with us for the good, it had to be for the bad. I'm Sedona, this is Phoenix,” she said, pointing to the driver, “and that's Berlin and Dublin.”
“If we're going to use our superhero names, I'm ArkAngel,” she replied mockingly.
“The girl has a sense of humour!” Laughed Berlin.
“What are you going to do with me?” She asked apprehensively.
“We're going to take you to the boss, he'll ask you some questions, and based on what you answer, he'll decide,” Phoenix replied.
“I don't know who your boss is, but I think you've got the wrong girl,” she said. “I work in a fashion magazine, no...”
“No, we were not wrong,” Dublin countered, cutting her off. “You are exactly who we want. And when Wes comes for you, we'll have you both.”
“Leave Wes alone!” She yelled.
“Or what?” He asked with arrogance. “What are you going to do, with your hands and feet tied?”
“I don't know yet, but when I'm done with you you're going to beg me to kill you.”
“You think you're very tough, eh? You are nothing but a weak foolish girl. When I'm done with you, you're going to kiss the ground I walk on,” he threatened, but they were empty words and everyone knew it. He went to kiss her, but she head-butted him. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, rubbing his forehead.
Despite her pain, Molly laughed and the others with her. She realized that whoever the boy they called Dublin was, they didn't like him. Very angry, the boy took out a roll of duct tape and gagged her.
“Phoenix, stop at the next gas station, I'm trading seats with Dublin,” Sedona said.
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” agreed her brother.
*
But it was still another hour before they stopped. Sedona looked straight ahead again, watching Dublin in the rear-view mirror, but the boy took advantage of the fact that she couldn't see all of him and that Berlin had fallen asleep to put a hand on Molly’s knee, which made her skin tingle in a very unpleasant way, like she had a bunch of bugs running around. When he started circling his thumb, she would have stabbed his hand without caring if she stabbed herself, as long as that made him stop.
*
Molly closed her eyes and, in an effort to escape, conjured Wes's face, every little detail so vivid behind her lids: the three earrings in each ear, the nose ring, the isosceles triangle shape it had, the almost completely straight eyebrows, the line of his jaw and his lips, so soft, so often drawing a half smile. As usual, however, what stood out the most was his eyes, with that colour that seemed from another world, and if she concentrated, she could almost hear him saying:
“Everything is going to be fine, gorgeous, you'll see.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“What are you doing?” Sedona asked Dublin, her voice cracking like a whip over the radio and starting Berlin awake.
The boy withdrew his hand from her leg surreptitiously.
“Nothing,” he hastened to say.
“And why is she crying?”
“What do I know!”
“Berlin, remove the gag,” Phoenix ordered. The man obeyed, yanking the piece of tape off her, causing another tear to fall. “Why are you crying, girl?”
“Is it reason enough to be tied up and gagged in a car with strangers and one of them is touching you?” She asked in turn. “And I don't want to be a difficult hostage, but it would be very nice of you if you would let me go to the bathroom when we stop.”
“Are you going to try to escape?” Sedona asked. “Because if you do, I'll shoot you. Not at a vital point, so you won't bleed out immediately, but it will hurt a lot, and we still have more than half of the way to go, so it may take four to six hours for you to get medical attention.”
“Six hours of constant pain, consider it,” Dublin added.
“You shut up,” Sedona snapped.
“You can't tell me to shut up, I'm the boss' son!”
“Boy, I was already working for your old man when you were still wearing diapers, so yes, I can tell you to shut up,” the woman replied. “And I wasn't talking to you anyway, I was talking to her.”
“I won’t try to escape, I swear,” Molly said. “Besides, even if I got away, where would I go? We are in the middle of nowhere.”
"All right, you can go to the bathroom and maybe if you behave we won't tie you up when you get back."
Shortly after they stopped at a gas station and Berlin untied her. While Phoenix poured gas, Sedona walked her to the bathroom.
“Was he touching you?” She asked Molly from the other side of the stall door.
“Yes.”
“He's a fucking pervert,” Sedona sighed. “I'm really sorry. We may be criminals, but we don't do that.”
“Yeah, sure,” she scoffed.
“I'm serious. It's true that we told your boy that if he went to the cops we would, but it was just to make sure he didn't say anything,” Sedona explained. “The boss is much more likely to order Berlin to beat you up if you don't cooperate than the other stuff.”
“Excuse me if I don't believe you,” she replied, leaving the stall.
“Well, at least as long as you travel with us I won't let that brat touch you again, I promise.”
They got back to the car, and Phoenix handed out drinks and snacks. It was Berlin’s turn to drive, so Dublin rode shotgun, with Molly between the Arizona siblings in the back. Since she had not tried to escape, they did not tie her again, for which she was grateful.
“Do you have my purse?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What about my shoes?” she wanted to know, shuffling her feet into her borrowed sneakers.
“No, the ones you're wearing are Sedona’s,” Phoenix said, amused.
“A pity. We really liked those sandals.”
“We?” Sedona asked, puzzled.
“Wes and me,” she sighed. “I wonder what he is doing now...”
Wes was coming to Cleveland around the time Molly was wondering about him. He had bought a ticket for the first flight he could, and after stuffing some clothes into a gym bag that he didn't need to check in, he left the rest of his luggage in Molly's room and went to the airport. Now the plane was landing and he woke up when the wheels touched the ground for the first time.
He turned on his cell phone, but there were no new messages sent from Molly's phone. Sighing, he alerted Qweenie that he had already arrived with a message.
Qweenie (3:03):
Come to the 7-Eleven directly, you will stay at my place.
You (3:03):
Thank you.
As soon as he could, he ran out of the arrivals hall like his life depended on it and called for a taxi. Qweenie was waiting for him in the store and walked him to his apartment without saying anything.
“I'll wake you up at six, and then we'll see how we handle this,” she said at last, showing him the guest room.
“Qweenie?” Asked a voice behind them.
Leonor was in the hall, wrapped in her robe and looking sleepy. Qweenie felt guilty, but what else she could do, ditch her friend?
“I'm sorry I woke you up, honey, go back to sleep.”
“What's going on?” Leonor asked, frowning.
“You remember Wes, right?” Qweenie asked; her girlfriend nodded. “Well, he's going to stay a few days while he solves some business in the city.”
“And you didn't think of telling me? This is also my home.”
“It’s my fault,” Wes said. “I didn't give her enough notice.”
“Wes, I teach children, I know when someone is lying to cover for a friend,” said Leonor, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
“She caught us, Q.”
Qweenie sighed.
“Go to sleep, you need to rest,” she ordered Wes. “I will solve this.”
“Thanks.”
She waited until he disappeared into the guest bedroom to turn to his girlfriend.
“Let's go to the bedroom and I'll tell you,” she said.
“Okay,” Leonor agreed.
“Do you remember the fire that broke out two years ago, which burned down a warehouse and four bodies were found among the remains?” Leonor nodded. “Wes, CC, me and Wes' girlfriend provoked it.”
“Why?”
“To get rid of the evidence,” she replied. “We were kidnapped and threatened in that warehouse for hours and… I killed three of those men, Leni.”
“Tell me everything from the beginning, because I have a feeling you're entangling it up.”
“Okay.”
While Qweenie told her girlfriend the whole story from the beginning and without leaving any details, Wes was lying on the bed, trying to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Molly, whether she would be okay, and whether that boy Jake O'Shea had touched her; if he had, Wes intended to break both of his hands, although realistically, it was probably Molly herself that will do it.
He turned on the light, sitting up suddenly. It was probably stupid, but he had to text her, he had to let her know that he was going to rescue her, so he turned on the camera and recorded a video for her.
Molly's phone ding. Jake took the cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it.
“You have a message from your boyfriend,” he informed Molly. “It's a video, shall we watch it?”
“Put it on, Dublin.”
The video showed a close-up of Wes’ face with a plain white wall behind.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted. “Well, I guess you probably won't see this, at least not immediately. Don't worry, I'll get you from wherever they have you. And as for you, Jake, (yes, I remember your name) if you even put your hand on her shoulder, I'll break all the bones in that hand with a fucking hammer,” he threatened, with a maniacal look. “And then the other's, just to be sure. Anyway, I love you, gorgeous,” he added, softening his expression. “See you soon.”
The others laughed too, although Johan didn't understand the joke (he had never gotten the sense of that phrase), but her laughter was too contagious.
“Is your name Jake?” Molly asked, trying to keep from laughing. “That's Jake!” She exclaimed at last, bursting out laughing.
“Shut up!” The boy yelled at her, his face red with anger and shame. “Shut up, you bitch! Do you think it's funny that my father gave me that stupid name? You have the name of a drug and you used to be a prostitute on the internet. Just because you've changed your life now, don't think you're better than me. You and your boyfriend the dealer are going to bleed for me!” He finished off, spitting everywhere.
“Sorry, I still have two weeks before my period… Jake.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 2
Tags: probably bad English (this text has not been proofread by an English native speaker, so it might contain spelling and grammar errors).
Word Count: 1298
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: If this chapter had a title would be “The past has come to bite your ass, Molly!”. Wes is back in Molly’s life and he’s about to rock her world. Hope you like it ^^
On with the show!
Almost two years after the day Molly broke up with Wes, she had moved to New York and had been working for VOGUE for almost a year in the photography and graphic design department, and that summer internship seemed so far away.
She had a new life: new hairstyle, new city, new friends, new job ... new boyfriend, and everything that had to do with Dopeman, ArkAngel and the night they almost died, was in a warehouse in Cleveland, stored in boxes, with the exception of the fairy dust formula, which was stored on a USB stick in a bank safe.
It was mid-April and Molly was returning to the office with coffees for her colleagues. Every day one of them was in charge, and that day it was her turn. She was distributing the coffees around the office, until she arrived at the study.
“Hello, gorgeous,” greeted a familiar voice.
“Wes?”
She almost dropped the tray with the last few coffees, but managed to put it down on the nearest table in time. It was him, there was no doubt about that, although his hair was different now, he had gained muscle (although he was still quite skinny) and he probably had more tattoos; Molly didn't dare look too much to verify that last guess.
“Is that for me?” The makeup artist asked, pointing to one of the coffees as she finished the last touches on the person next to Wes.
He smirked at her and for a moment Molly felt like she had two hearts beating in her chest.
“Yes. Excuse me for a moment...”
She ran out, found the closest cushion, and stifled a scream against it. She was still breathing hard when Carla appeared.
“Oh, there you are! Have you seen the model Halsey brought in for her shoot?” Carla asked, sitting next to him on the sofa. “He’s so hot!”
“I've seen him,” she replied. “It’s my ex.”
“Wait, is that the bad boy from Cleveland?” Carla asked. She nodded. “Oh my God! How did you let him get away?”
“I didn't let him get away, I broke up with him.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid,” she replied. Carla arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Afraid of not being able to bear the distance, of becoming one of those possessive girlfriends... of loving him too much.”
“Well, you're with Collin now, right? I mean, you've gotten over him.”
Molly looked at Carla. The receptionist was her friend, but at times, it seemed she was too focused on the gossip to realize what was really going on. She was also the most superficial person Molly had ever met, but usually that didn't bother her.
“Do you think this is the reaction of someone who has gotten over him?” she asked.
“I don't know,” Carla replied, shrugging, “is it?”
“Yeah, it's just... I didn't expect to have to see him again, that's all,” she lied.
“Girl, he's a model, and you work in a fashion magazine, sooner or later you were going to cross paths,” Carla said, getting up. “Come on, you have to go back, they sure have already started without you.”
She was right, of course. When Molly returned to the studio, they had started without her. The photographer gave her a disapproving look, but said nothing, and she began to work as if nothing had happened.
Wes came over at the end of the session, as she busied herself storing away the equipment.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.
“I'm fine. I didn't expect to find you this way, that's all,” she explained, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “But I’m glad to see you,” she added.
“Me too. Long hair looks good on you,” he commented, smiling.
“Thank you. I also like your new hairstyle. Can I ask you a question?”
She hadn't noticed at first, but now that she was close to him again, Molly could see that he was wearing coloured lenses: his eyes were still blue, but of a more natural hue.
“Sure, gorgeous, shoot,” he said, smiling.
“Why are you wearing coloured contact lenses?” She asked.
The smile faded from his face almost instantly. He looked at the ground uncomfortably, and then at her.
“It was my agent's idea,” he said at last. “He says my eyes are too… weird.”
“I thought that was the fun, right?” Molly pointed out. “In being different.”
“Yes.”
“You told me not to hide, and now the one who hides is you,” she scolded him.
“Don't think I don't see the hypocrisy of this, because I do, but I have to do what they tell me.”
“I know. I was just curious.”
“Do you wanna come eat with Halsey and me?” He proposed.
“I'm sorry, I already agreed to eat with someone today,” she said. “With my boyfriend,” she added.
“Oh, well, maybe another day? I'm going to be in town for a while.”
“Sure”
“You still have the same number, right?” He asked her. She nodded. “I'll text you. I'm glad to see you, gorgeous,” he repeated, smiling, before leaving.
Halsey was waiting for him at the door, and Molly watched as they left together. She felt a pang of longing, but she pushed it away quickly. Wes was no longer her boyfriend, Collin was, and although their relationship lacked strong emotions (or wild sex), it was comfortable, somewhat safe, a haven of peace.
She was five minutes late at the restaurant, but he hadn't arrived yet. In the end, she had to eat in a hurry by herself before heading back to the office. While going up in the elevator, she received a message:
Collin (13:05):
Sorry, I couldn't go.
The shoot took longer than I expected.
I'll make it up to you, I promise.
Molly sighed and locked the phone; it wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and she knew he wasn't expecting an answer. Just a couple of minutes later, she received a message from Wes.
Dopeman (13:07):
Shall we meet for lunch tomorrow?
Invite your boyfriend, I'd like to meet him.
You (13:08):
Sure, I'll tell him.
See you at twelve at the restaurant on the tenth floor?
Dopeman (13:08):
I will be there.
I've missed you, gorgeous.
“Carla told me your ex is in town,” James said, leaning on her worktable.
“Yes,” she replied without stopping working.
“And what are you going to do?”
“Tomorrow I'm going to eat with him and Collin.”
“Have you gone crazy?” James asked. “You can't put your boyfriend and your ex in the same room, let alone sit them down to eat at the same table!”
“It was my ex's idea,” she replied, shrugging. “He said he wants to meet my boyfriend.”
“Can I go? I mean, if they start fighting, I want to see it.”
“Maybe another time, Jamie. God, what am I going to wear?” She wondered aloud. “I don't want either of them to think that I have dressed up for him, or the other.”
“Then don't dress in any special way,” James said. “By the way, weren't you meeting your boyfriend for lunch?”
“Yes. He didn't show up,” she said.
“Again?” Molly shrugged. “Honey, you shouldn't tolerate these things.”
“It's because of work, I've missed lunch several times too,” she said.
“The difference is that you let him know in advance if you’re not going to make it.”
That night she told Collin what had happened in the morning (omitting some details) and her boyfriend agreed to go eat with Wes. Molly expected him to put up some kind of resistance, but he didn't. Collin was not usually jealous, but Molly never knew if it was because he handled jealousy better than she did or because he just didn't feel it.
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ArkAngel Part 2 - Chapter 15
Tags: plans not going entirely like they should, FBI agents, a wedding, faking your own death, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 1915
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Last one until the end! You coud say this is the season finale part 1. We’re heading to a somewhat happy ending.
On with the show!
Several things happened in the following weeks. Wes took Molly to the hospital, where she had a lot of tests done and she had to stay overnight for observation, but it turned out that none of her hits were too severe and the pain when she breathed was due to bruises.
Detective Hannigan exposed his partner as O'Shea's mole in the apartment. Leo, Tessa and Johan agreed to plead guilty to the charges against them (kidnapping, conspiracy to commit a crime and burglary, among others) in exchange for a reduced sentence. All three agreed that Jake had an accidental overdose because the boy underestimated the potency of the drug, and the evidence, rigged by Hannigan, corroborated it.
“A weird place to inject, don't you think?” The coroner commented.
“He had no patience to find the vein in his arm,” Anthony replied.
Chalky had destroyed the recipe for fairy dust before Hannigan called for backup, and he turned over the rest of the drug to the police without protest. He and Hardy were not jailed because the detective said they were part of his operation to uncover the drug plot. Given the fact that Castle had proven himself to be a mole, the captain turned a blind eye to why he had organised such an operation on his own. Everything was going more or less well… until the FBI got involved.
There were many interrogations, and forensic examinations of the evidence, and the cracks in the story began to show.
“Hannigan!” Special Agent Miller greeted him, running up to him.
“Agent Miller,” the detective greeted in turn, sipping his coffee without looking at him. He didn't like the agent.
“Special agent, if you don't mind.”
“I'll use his rank when you use mine," Hannigan replied.
“Hey, I know you know what really happened at O'Shea's mansion, and for some reason you're lying, but I can't imagine what that reason could be,” Special Agent Miller said, ignoring his reply.
“Fabricati diem, pvnc,” Hannigan said.
“Excuse me, I don't speak Latin.”
“It is quite an achievement that you have recognized that it is Latin. That's my personal motto, for when ‘to protect and serve’ falls short,” Hannigan said. “It means something like that, sometimes, you have to find the ins and outs of the law for justice to be done. Do you know what justice is, Special Agent Miller? The reason we are supposed to go to work every day?”
“I know what justice is,” Agent Miller replied coldly. “And also that it doesn't always coincide with the law, but my hands are tied, detective.”
“You guys at the FBI are big on making deals, right?”
“If it benefits the country, yes, sometimes we make them,” Miller acknowledged. “Is there something you want to tell me, detective?”
“No, I can't think of anything right now.”
“Well, if you remember anything, you have my card.”
As soon as the agent left, Hannigan took the phone from his pocket and texted the number he had called to let him into the furniture store.
You (16:35):
In half an hour at the GRLC.
? (16:35):
Copy that.
At five o’clock, he met in the cafeteria with CC, Qweenie, Hardy, Chalky, and Molly; the latter's bruises were fully healed, and she and Wes were taking a vacation from their respective jobs while all this was resolved.
“What is happening?” Wes asked, after the waitress brought them their drinks.
“Damned Special Agent Miller is onto something, right?” Said Hardy.
“Yes, I'm afraid so. I thought we could make a deal with him: I take the blame in exchange for you two going free,” he said, turning to Hardy and Chalky, “and you two entering the witness protection program,” he added, looking Wes and Molly.
“Why?” She asked.
“Too many people know about fairy dust and your relationship with it. You cannot stay in the area of influence of the drug.”
“What about us?” CC asked, pointing at Qweenie and himself with his thumb.
“We continue as before: you have never been involved in this,” replied the detective. “You are innocent citizens, whose only connection to the case is that you know those involved.”
“Do you think you can do it?” Chalky asked. “A deal that frees us from jail.”
“We know we've broken a lot of laws,” Hardy added.
“Neither of you has fired a gun, so yes, I think I can, as long as you promise not to use your powers for evil,” Hannigan said.
“We have legal jobs; we haven't done anything illegal since Tar Pit… except Operation Rescuing Molly,” Chalky replied.
“Well, I think that has been using them for good,” said the aforementioned.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we're going to see Agent Miller, the four of you and me,” Hannigan said. “And even if it costs me my damn badge, I'll get you out of it.”
Wes didn't like Special Agent Miller. He didn't like the way he looked at them, as if they were all self-confessed criminals, including Detective Hannigan, and he didn't like the way he spoke to them, with such a patronizing tone, but sometimes you had to do things you didn't like, like meeting an FBI agent in a suit.
“Did you remember anything, Detective?” Miller asked sarcastically.
“Yes. I'll tell you the story of what really happened, but you have to promise me three things.”
“Three, no less!”
“The first is that you will not imprison the Rossini siblings; everything I'm going to tell you they did was under my command, and I take the blame,” Hannigan said, ignoring Miller's intervention.
“Yes, your captain has already told me something about that...”
“The second is that I take the blame for the deaths of Killian O'Shea and his son, Jacob,” he continued.
“And the third?”
“The third is that you have has to promise to protect Molly Davenport and Wesley Harker.”
“You want us to put them in the witness protection program?” Miller asked, puzzled. Hannigan nodded. “Why?”
“When I tell you, you’ll understand. But for that, we have to go back a bit in time... to the eighties. Although before, you have to promise me that, whatever I tell you, you will fulfil your part.”
“OK, I’ll do it.”
Tony talked about everything: from the original creation of fairy dust, fostered by his father's organization, the rapid rise and fall of the drug until its disappearance, the Chemist and his recreation of the recipe from his father's notes, the children of addicts, Tar Pit and how he had kidnapped Wes and beaten the Chemist to death, and finally, the more recent events. As they had agreed, he left out Qweenie and CC; in his story, he had been the one to press the plunger on the syringe, causing Jake to overdose.
“Do you realize that you’re confessing to murder, having tampered with evidence and convinced civilians to lie to the FBI? Among other things,” Special Agent Miller said.
“I realize, and if I have to go to jail for the rest of my life, so be it, I don't care. But you have made a deal with me, and you have to keep it.”
“Damn it. Fine. You two, the FBI will keep an eye on you, so don't do anything stupid, or we'll have to arrest you,” he said, addressing Hardy and Chalky. “And as for you... it will take a while, but we will get you new identities and delete everything about you on the web.”
“Thank you,” Molly said.
"But the program comes with a number of conditions, the most important of which is no social media,” Agent Miller said. “I don't care if you open an Insta where you post a photo of a different cake every day, but nothing with your names, whether old or new, or with your usual nicknames, and most importantly, nothing with your faces,” he stressed. “For it to work, your new identities have to be completely disconnected from Molly and Wes, got it?”
“Yes sir,” Wes said.
“Oh, and… you're going to have to get married.”
“Get married?” Molly repeated.
“Unless you want us to send you separately, yes.”
The wedding was intimate and civil. From Wes's side came CC, Mei, Qweenie, Leonor, Chalky and Hardy. From Molly's side came her parents, Anne, Carla, James and Matt.
“We're going to miss you a lot,” Carla said, hugging Molly after the ceremony.
“And I’m going to miss you; you have been the best friends and roommates a newcomer to New York could wish for.”
She took turns hugging them, and then Anne moved closer, somewhat self-conscious.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “I know that when you went to New York we weren't on the best terms...”
“I was a fool,” Molly interrupted. “And I am very sorry.”
“No, I… did it wrong too,” she replied. “I don't regret calling your parents that night, but… when you broke up with Wes, I should have been there for you and… I wasn’t,” she finished, starting to cry.
“Oh, Anne ...! Come here, silly,” Molly said, hugging her.
“What? People cry at weddings,” she joked, wiping away her tears.
Meanwhile, a similar scene was taking place between the groom and his friends.
“I'm going to miss you, man,” CC said to Wes, patting him on the back.
“And I’m going to miss you too. All of you,” he rectified. “You are the best friends I have ever had.”
“Hey, when are you getting married?” Chalky asked Eleanor and Qweenie.
“Yes, you will invite us to the wedding, right?” Hardy added.
While Wes and his friends joked, Mr. and Mrs. Davenport took Molly aside.
“Special Agent Miller has told us that we won't be able to contact you once your new identities are assigned to you, so we thought you'd like to have this,” her father said, handing her a velvet-lined box.
Molly opened it: inside, there was a pendant in the shape of a blue eye set on a gold chain.
“It belonged to my sister,” her mother said. “She bought it on a trip to Morocco that she took with some friends from college, before… well, you know. It is supposed to bring good luck. And look, it opens,” she added, showing Molly.
Inside the locket was a photo of a woman about her age. She had long wavy brown hair, like her, and green eyes. The shape of her face, and her lips were identical to hers. Up to that point, Molly had only seen photos of the one who was supposed to be her biological mother in adolescence, and not many, since her parents did not keep any at home.
“Thanks. It's beautiful, thank you,” she repeated, hugging them.
Only ten people in total knew the truth: Molly's parents, Agent Miller, Detective Hannigan, Hardy, Chalky, CC, Mei, Qweenie, and Leonor. CC and the others would sometimes meet at the Grim Reaper Lovers Club and have coffee in honour of the couple.
The government had a very effective way of making someone disappear: faking their death. So two weeks after their wedding, Wes and Molly ‘died’ when their car fell off a cliff; their bodies were never recovered, but there was a nice headstone that their family and friends could visit in the West Park Cemetery. As an epitaph, a phrase: legends never die.
“To the health of the dead!” CC would say, raising his cup. “Because they are still alive in our memory.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 5
Tags: fluff and domestic scenes, men in skirts, some angst, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 2460
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: They’re back together and we’re gonna have a good time... for now.
On with the show!
It was Wes' day off, so he was going to take care of Molly. To begin with, he got up before her and made her breakfast.
“Gorgeous, it's time to wake up.”
“No…” she growled, turning around.
“Come on, I know you've had a bad night, but you have to go to work,” he told her, sitting next to her and rubbing her shoulder.
“Five more minutes…”
Wes spanked her, causing her to wake up suddenly, looking at him in shock.
“Get up,” he told her before she could protest. “Go shower! And then, let's have breakfast together and I'll take you to work.”
“What are you going to do today?” She wanted to know, getting up and putting on her robe.
“You’ll see. Come on, your coffee is getting cold.”
He waited patiently as she showered, fighting the urge to get in the shower with her, and then as she dried and combed her hair. She came out of the bathroom wrapped in the robe, with only her underwear underneath.
“You're a sight to behold,” he commented as she sat down and served herself pancakes.
“Look who's talking,” she replied, sipping her coffee. Wes smirked. “Oh, blessed be the caffeine!”
They ate breakfast in silence, simply enjoying each other's company and hot coffee. She knew it was wrong because Collin had broken up with her the night before, but Molly was looking forward to sleeping with Wes again. And the way he looked at her, he felt just as eager.
“Thanks for staying over to sleep yesterday,” she said, lacing her fingers with his. “And for this nutritious breakfast.”
“Whatever for you, gorgeous,” he replied, kissing her knuckles. “Come on, get dressed and I'll take you to work.”
Molly kissed him on the cheek, went to brush her teeth, and then went back to her room. She emerged shortly after, dressed in tight black jeans, a light green blouse, black ankle boots, and a dark green blazer.
“Very pretty.”
Going to work on Wes's motorcycle was quite an experience, and although Molly was scared, nothing happened. She thought he was going to leave, but he parked the motorcycle and entered the building with her.
“Are you going to accompany me to my desk?” She asked, amused.
“Not exactly,” he replied, tapping her gently on the nose. “I need to speak to James's boss.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see. See you at lunchtime?” he asked.
“Of course.
“Good, I'll come get you,” he promised, kissing her briefly. “Have a good morning.”
“So you guys are back together?” Carla asked, giving Molly her messages. She nodded. “I'm glad, really. You look happy.”
“I guess I look like a whore for getting back to Wes the same day Collin left me,” she sighed.
“Hey, screw them!” Exclaimed Carla. “What if everyone thinks you're a whore? You have your hunk of tattooed model, so be happy!”
“Thank you. I think.”
She worked all morning on retouching the photos from the Halsey shoot that the photographer had selected; he was too important to do something as mundane as developing the photos, even digitally, but that allowed her a bit of freedom when it came to playing with contrasts, lights and colours. She always left a simpler version, just in case, but in general, they used to trust her quite a bit.
While Molly worked, Wes was in the wardrobe department, negotiating. Or rather, begging.
“Please, come on!” He pleaded the head of the department. “It will only be a few hours.”
“And then what?” She replied. “In what state will you return it to me? It's real leather, Wesley, you can't put it in the washing machine and call it a day. Also, smells stick to it.”
“What do you think I'm going to do, Christina?”
“You're not the first to ask me for a garment because his girlfriend has a fetish with it, Wesley,” she replied. “My answer is still no, and now, if you'll excuse me, I have to keep working.”
Wes turned, defeated, to find James.
“Sorry, I hadn't seen you.”
“I can help you,” James said. “You want the leather kilt, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well... it won't be on sale until next week, but Zara has a faux leather skirt close enough, and I can let you have that one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sure. I'm pretty sure they don't need it today. I can do some touch-ups to make it look good on you.”
“Would you do that for me?”
“Not for you, for Molly. We are friends and I want her to be happy.”
While fixing his skirt, James ventured to ask:
“Why did you broke up last time?”
“She broke up with me. I think she thought that if I went to Europe by myself, I'd find someone else,” Wes said. “I don't know if you've noticed, but Molly is insecure about her looks sometimes.”
“Well, she's not a model, but she's pretty and in great shape,” James said.
“I know. When we met, it was in an environment where she could allow herself to leave her insecurities behind,” he told him, “and it was great, but when we started our relationship seriously, that was over. I know it's going to sound cliché, but the truth is that the least I care about her is her appearance.”
“But it helps that she's pretty,” James pointed out.
“Obviously, but I've been with a lot of women, before and after Molly, and they've never been anything but sex to me,” he explained. “The kind of people you can have a good time with, but as soon as it's over, you want them to get out of bed and leave you alone. That doesn't happen to me with Molly. I don't want her to get out of my bed, I want her to stay, and for us to talk for hours until we fall asleep.��
“That’s very sweet.”
“Molly inspires me; you know? She makes me want to be the best version of myself.”
"Well, she's better off with you than with Collin,” James said.
“You really think so?”
“He was too absorbed in his work to give her the attention she deserves,” James explained. “If you knew how many times he stood her up for lunch… Well, you're done. Go surprise your girl,” he ordered, handing her a bag with his pants.
It was almost lunchtime when Wes leaned against Molly's desk. She didn't take her eyes off her work, so he had to cough to get his attention.
“Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Well, it won't be because I'm short,” he joked. “What do you think? Does the skirt fit me?” he asked, moving away from the table and turning around so that she could see him well.
Molly bit her lip and gestured for him to come closer. He leaned down and she whispered in his ear:
“I'd let you fuck me right here, as long as you promised not to take it off.”
“Isn't it too early to be so horny, Mol?” He asked, amused.
“It's your fault!” She accused him, sticking a finger in his chest. “You come to my desk with that skirt and those legs...”
He kissed her.
“I'd love to fuck you on the table,” he said, “but I don't want you to be fired, so you're going to have to wait until tonight. Come on, let's have lunch.”
They went to the same restaurant as the other time. While they waited for food to be delivered, Molly asked Wes about his old friends.
“CC has been engaged to Mei,” he informed her, “and now he works in a carpentry, in the shop part, I think. He says he wants to get married and have a couple of kids.”
“I never would have expected it from CC.”
“Really? But if he's happy like this…” he added, shrugging. “Oh, and Qweenie's aunt retired and left her the store. Now she has even one employee and everything.”
“Do you talk to them often?”
“Occasionally; the last time was last week, and we also text each other. I wanted to send you a message when I got back from Europe, but you had me blocked,” he commented.
“Yes, I'm sorry. I needed to resist the temptation somehow.”
She had unblocked him when she started dating Collin, but he hadn't written to her.
“Did you delete my photos from your phone?” He wanted to know.
“And my laptop. But I keep them on a pen drive, although I don't have it here; in New York, I mean,” she explained.
It had been kind of stupid to keep Wes's photos in the same place as the fairy dust formula, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea, in case she ever wanted to get them back.
“Is it in Cleveland?” He asked curiously. She nodded. “Well, you can take a lot more pics now that we're together again.”
“I'll take a lot of pictures of you,” she assured him, smiling.
Her phone rang just as the food was brought to them.
“Sorry, I have to answer. It’s my boss.”
It was good news and bad news, depending on how you look at it. The Cintiq was broken, which was bad, but they needed someone to pick up a new one from the store, which was good, because she could go with Wes and spend some more time with him before going back to work.
“When you finish eating, come by my desk and I can give you the company card.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Oh and, congratulations on getting back with your ex,” she dared to tell her, with a hint of humour in her voice.
“Does everyone already know?” She wailed.
“Gossip spreads like wildfire,” laughed her boss. “By the way, how are you doing with yesterday's photos?”
“I have a couple left, I'll finish them when I get back,” she assured her.
“Well, make sure you leave them on my desk before the day is out. Ciao!”
“Problems?” Wes asked as soon as he hung up.
“More or less. Apparently someone has fallen on top of the Cintiq, throwing it to the ground, and it broke,” she explained. “Miss Whitaker wants me to go to the store for a new one.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Sure. You'll help me carry it back,” he joked.
“My muscles are at your service,” he replied, following the joke.
Molly picked up the company credit card and the note with the monitor specifications and other things to buy on the trip, and met Wes in the lobby.
“Where’s the store?” He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.
“About fifteen minutes from here.”
“It's not far then, we can go for a walk.”
“Just what I was thinking,” she smiled.
Collin was leaving for coffee with his boss after a particularly long session when he saw them, walking a few feet ahead, chatting and laughing. He was wearing a leather skirt again and she was carrying a rather large cardboard box and some bags. He smiled; she hadn't let him carry anything, she was that proud.
“Isn't that your ex?” His boss asked.
“Yes.”
“And that's the guy she left you for?”
“Molly didn't leave me, I left her,” he clarified.
He turned on the camera and took a few photos in quick succession. He might be hurt, and it would still take a while to forgive her, but he knew how to recognize a scene worthy of being photographed, and that was it; the couple stood out strongly from other New Yorkers, as if they were movie stars, or members of royalty.
“Whatever. If they're together that fast, one of two: either she cheated on you, or she planned to leave you for him.
“Molly is not the cheating type,” he replied, looking at her smiling face in the viewer. “Besides, Wes hasn't been in town that long, and before that they didn't speak to each other.”
“They weren't talking to each other and are they that lovey-dovey? That is a recipe for disaster.”
“I'm not sure; I think for her it was like hitting the play button after a long pause,” Collin argued. “They have picked it up right where they left off.”
“Are you not angry?”
“No, I'm not angry, just hurt,” he said.
Then they crossed paths, and she had the decency to lower her gaze, embarrassed. Wes, however, met his gaze, serious, as if expecting him to make a scene or something, but he only gave a bitter half smile and nodded slightly, acknowledging their presence.
Later, when he got home, he transferred the photos to the computer, and decided to upload some of them to Insta, cropped and in black and white. He tagged Molly, and it didn't take him long to find Wes, so he tagged him too.
Molly came to the office again and handed the credit card back to her boss. The rest of the afternoon was spent plugging in and setting up the Cintiq, finishing her work, and doing a couple more tasks, like putting blue flames in Wes's eyes in the photo of him with his forehead resting on Halsey's, growling at each other.
Wes picked her up on the way out, still wearing the skirt (he'd gone shopping after dropping Molly off at work).
“What do you have in that bag?” she asked.
“My jeans. I have returned James the loaned skirt, but I think it looks cool, and you like it, so I bought one of my own,” he explained, smiling. “Oh, and I've bought other things too, you'll see.”
They got on the motorcycle again, but instead of going to Molly's apartment, they went to the hotel where he was staying. She protested, claiming that she had not packed a bag for an overnight stay.
“I thought it was better if we were alone… but if you want to go back, we turn around, I don't mind sleeping in one place or another.”
“No!” She exclaimed hastily. “I prefer the privacy of your hotel, thank you.”
Wes just smiled and took her hand as they passed through the hotel's automatic doors.
Jake was gossiping on Insta when he saw her. It was a bit difficult for him to recognize her, because she was no longer wearing the pastel blue wig, but it was certainly her, and she was accompanied by the man they had been looking for: Wesley Harker.
“Father! I have found them!” He exclaimed, getting up to show his father the photos.
“Look who we have here…” O'Shea murmured, looking at the images. “They're in New York, huh? We will send someone to watch them, I want to know all their movements.”
“Yes, father.”
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ArkAngel Part 1 - Chapter 4
Tags: criminal talk, a weasel making threats, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 1782
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Here I introduce some new characters... You’re probably gonna hate Jake. That’s normal, I made him to be hated. And yes, it is based in a dude I know.
On with the show!
The death of Lee ‘Tar Pit’ Hannigan had left a power vacuum in Cleveland. His criminal empire had disintegrated like a sugar cube in the rain, and his men had gone to other organizations. Now, even two years later, three drug lords were fighting for control of the old territory of Tar Pit. The one who was winning was a man named Killian O’Shea, who was nicknamed The Irishman by everyone, even though his family had been in the city for more than five generations.
Hardy looked up from the programming manual she was reading when the bell that announced a customer had entered ringed, and prepared to say the corporate welcome with some enthusiasm, but the words died in her mouth when she saw that it was Jake. O'Shea, the Irishman's eldest son.
“Hi, Gina, what's up?”
Unlike his father, Jake was not physically intimidating: he wore glasses, had a certain weasel face, matching voice, and was slim as a stick. He was quite tall, but that was the only good thing she could say about him in terms of his physique, and from what she knew, he had a horrible personality. If people did what he wanted, it was because they feared his father; Hardy herself had always been afraid of the consequences of upsetting either of them.
“Hello. What can I do for you?” she asked. After all, this was a store.
“I need your hacking skills, and maybe your brother's as a cook too, you get me,” he replied, winking at her.
“We don't do that anymore,” she replied coldly.
“Wouldn't you like to earn a lot of money?” He asked. “It would only be a one-time thing.”
“That's what Tar Pit said, but it wasn't a one-time thing then, and I don't think it's going to be now,” she replied sharply.
“You were there the night the old man kicked the bucket, right?”
“No. Do you think if I had been, I would have made it out alive?”
“Maybe someone was sympathetic to you,” Jake pointed out. “Someone like... Wesley Harker. Someone transferred some of the old man's money to him right after his death, and I know it was you.”
“Tar Pit owed him money, I just did justice,” she replied, shrugging.
It wasn't true, Tar Pit owed Wes no money, but it seemed to Hardy that a thousand dollars was the least she could do to thank him. After all, Wes could have ordered her and her brother killed to tie up loose ends, and CC probably would have shot them without hesitation. She didn’t know how Jake could know that, since the Tar Pit accounts had been frozen and audited by the police, and she didn’t believe that the bank or the police had simply given him that information.
“Yeah. Did you know that Tar Pit had a brother?” Jake asked cheerfully; Hardy shook his head. “They weren’t on speaking terms, but he still lives, he is a cop and I am sure he will be very interested to know that you and your brother had something to do with the death of the old man.”
“You don't scare me,” she said, straightening up. “You want to tell the cops about me? Go ahead. I know a lot more about you than you do about me. Let's see who they lock up first” she challenged.
The smile was instantly wiped from Jake’s face, making Hardy feel satisfied, and in a way, powerful. She would no longer be afraid of that idiot.
“You have no proof of anything, and even if you did, you wouldn't dare,” he said threateningly.
“You think so? Try me.”
“See you, little hacker,” the boy said goodbye.
Hardy flipped him off as soon as he turned around, and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
You (11:24):
We have a problem.
Chalky (11:25):
What happened?
You (11:27):
The Irishman is on the trail of what happened that night, and I think he believes we were at the scene. His son has been here, making a lot of vague threats and talking about Tar Pit's cop brother.
What are we going to do?
Chalky (11:27):
First of all, alert CC, Qweenie, Wes and the girl. We owe it to them.
And the second is to start creating insurance.
You (11:28):
I’m ahead of you. I began to investigate that little brat and his father as soon as they showed interest in the old territory of Tar Pit.
Chalky (11:28):
Okay, I'll talk to CC, you take care of Qweenie, see if they can locate the other two.
At three o'clock, when her shift was over, Hardy went to the 7-Eleven now run by Qweenie, after his aunt had decided to retire. She was sitting behind the counter when she came in, pretending to read a magazine while keeping an eye on her new employee, a boy from the neighbourhood.
Hardy admired her: Qweenie was a strong person in every way, she had a business of her own, a loving family, and a wonderful girlfriend. Hardy had only her brother, a shitty job, and she could barely afford to pay the rent for the hole they lived in. She would have liked to have a girlfriend or boyfriend, but so far, Hardy had only encountered perverts who hit on her precisely because she looked underage.
“Welcome to 7-Eleven, how can I help you?” Asked the boy.
“I want to talk to your boss.”
“Why don't you go check if there is enough imported beer left, Major?” Qweenie suggested.
“Sure, boss, at your service.”
Hardy waited for the boy to get lost in the back room to speak.
“Hi, Q,” she greeted.
“I didn't expect to see you around here, Hardy. What happens?”
“You're in danger,” she said. “CC, you, Wes and his girl.”
“To my knowledge, Molly is no longer Wes' girl,” Qweenie pointed out.
“That doesn't matter, all of us who were there that night are in danger. And probably the Chemist's ex-wife and his daughter too.”
“Tell me everything,” Qweenie asked.
And Hardy told her, because that's what she had come to do.
“Chalky went to tell CC, and if you know how to contact Wes or Molly, we should tell them as well,” she finished.
“I'll warn Wes, don't worry about it,” Qweenie said thoughtfully. “He sure can talk to Molly.”
“Okay, great. Hey, is there a copy of the fairy dust formula? Because if it exists, you should destroy it,” she said. “I'm sure O'Shea would be very interested and I've been doing my research. That thing caused a lot of trouble in the eighties.”
“I know, Tar Pit told us about it in her villain monologue,” Qweenie replied, sighing. “I don't think it exists,” she lied, “but I'll be sure to convey your concern to Wes.”
“Thank you. I just try to keep a clear conscience, you know? And pay my debt to you.”
“You don't owe us anything.”
“We owe you our lives!” Hardy exclaimed. “Is that small to you? I know very well that my brother and I are nothing more than loose ends in this whole affair.”
“Only if you fly solo,” Qweenie pointed out, “which you're not doing. We'll get out of this, don't worry.”
“Yeah, sure. Well, I have to go. So long, Q.”
“Bye, Hardy.”
As soon as Hardy left her store, Qweenie picked up the phone and texted CC.
You (15:15):
Call me as soon as Chalky talks to you.
CC (15:17):
OK.
He just came in, so I'll call you in about five or ten minutes.
Major came out of the back room just then. He was an obedient boy, although a little clueless at times. His mother hoped that working in the store would help him focus.
“Do we have enough imported beer?” She asked.
“Yes, boss, five boxes of each brand, except for Heineken, which there’s only three.”
“Well, thank you, Major. I have to make a call; can I leave you alone?”
“Sure, boss.”
She stepped outside, leaning against the storefront, and for the first time in three years, she wished she hadn't quit smoking. At last the phone rang, breaking the tension.
“And well?” She asked CC.
“We have to warn them.”
“Yeah. We're screwed,” she said.
“Not necessarily,” CC replied. “There are only two people right now who have the formula, right? You and her, and the girl must have been smart enough to keep it somewhere safe. What we have to do is stay alert and keep a low profile.”
“Yes, yes, you're right. Sometimes I swear that...”
“What?”
“I'd auction that damn hard drive to the highest bidder and go off to Hawaii with the money.”
“It wouldn't be a bad idea... if the hard drive was yours,” CC said, amused. “And if we don't unleash chaos on the whole world with it.”
“I know. But sometimes, being a good person brings too many problems.”
“Tell me. At least you don't have a criminal past, Q.”
No, that was true, but she had blood on her hands. She was a very good shot, and she used to go to the shooting gallery to practice at least once a week, but until that night she had never shot anyone. And even if it had been in self-defence, Qweenie still had nightmares about it: sometimes Tar Pit and his goons would appear to her in her dreams.
“We'll see you in hell. We've saved a place for you,” they used to tell her.
And worst of all, she could barely talk about it with anyone. She hadn't told her girlfriend what had happened, and if it were up to her, she would never know. As for Wes and CC... the first didn't even live in the city anymore, and the second was trying by all means to put the past behind him: he had moved to another building, he had gotten a job in a carpentry, he had consolidated their relationship with Mei, and usually when they met he never wanted to talk about that night. Qweenie understood that it had been a traumatic night in many ways, but it seemed to her that CC was not talking about it because he did not want the memory to spoil his patina of respectability.
“I have to get back to work,” said CC, “see you Saturday at the barbecue?”
"Yes, we will be there."
“Great. So long, Q.”
She hung up and went back into the store. Major was rearranging the appetizers by colour, which made her smile; at heart, he was the best employee that 7-Eleven had ever had. Apart from her, of course.
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ArkAngel Part 2 - Chapter 11
Tags: beaking of limbs, slut-shaming, violence, sexual threats, not perfect grammar/ orthography.
Word Count: 2537
Tag list: @triplexdoublex @welcometohoteldiablo @rumoured-whispers
Author’s note: Again, with the heavier themes of this chapter, asterisks are your friends. Also, go Molly!
On with the show!
As soon as they reached the house, Jake took her to his father's office on the second floor. The Irishman was a rather tall and portly fellow, with auburn hair, a freckled face, and green eyes; Molly thought that Jake must have resembled his mother more than his father.
“Father, this is the girl,” Jake announced, proud of himself, forcing her to sit in one of the chairs at the desk.
“Thanks, Jake, you can leave now.”
“But…”
“I said you can leave,” his father repeated. “I'll call you if I need you.”
The Irishman waited for his son to come out to pay attention to her.
“I see you are not tied up.”
“I'm a good hostage, sir,” she replied.
“Sure. My name is Killian, but you can call me Mr. O'Shea,” he said, holding out his hand. She shook it. “I'm sorry about all this, but in my profession, you can never take too many precautions.”
“I understand, sir, but you could have asked first.”
“You're funny, I grant you that, but you don't try to pretend that you're stupid, because I know you're not,” he replied, frowning. “Your boyfriend was there that night, right? The night of the fire, when Tar Pit, his two bodyguards and the Chemist died.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Don't lie to me: I know Wes was there,” O'Shea said. “He was probably even the one who shot Tar Pit, and in that case I have to thank him. Because I know it was Tar Pit who killed the Chemist, and I have to know why. What did he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Molly, be a good girl,” he urged.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she repeated.
O'Shea came around the desk to slap her; the big ring on his ring finger broke her lip.
“I know nothing!” She exclaimed in a plaintive voice. “I swear, I don't know anything. I don't know who all those people you are talking about are! I started dating Wes less than two months ago, I'm just an employee of a fashion magazine, I...”
“You're lying,” he cut her off. “Jake!”
The boy peered into the office and his father beckoned him to come in.
“Yes father?” He asked, closing the door behind him.
“Play the video.”
“Yes, father,” said the boy, smiling with wicked satisfaction.
He fiddled around with his cell phone, and on the TV over the fireplace, which was currently showing the 24-hour news channel, Molly appeared. It was an image from two years ago, when she was a cam girl. Jake took the remote control and turned up the volume.
“Hi, Peaky Boy, what do you want to do?” She was saying.
“Take off your clothes,” said Jake's voice, disembodied.
“Sure, but it's going to cost you,” she replied. “Ten dollars a garment.” There was a pause and then she said, “You're very generous.”
The Irishman wrested the remote from his son, stopping the video as soon as she began to remove her clothes.
“That's you, so if you don't speak...”
“What?” She interrupted. “Will you send it to my parents? Will you post it on the internet for everyone to see? Go ahead and do it. But when I joined the page your son took that video from, the terms of service included legal advice against stolen content for all girls, even if they no longer have an account on the page. And his conditions as a user included the prohibition of recording live sessions, constituting the redistribution of said images a crime,” she added, gesturing at Jake. “The lawyers from YourSexyParadise.com are sure to be very interested.”
“By the time they take it down, all of Ohio will know you're the queen of whores,” Jake said.
On his desk, in addition to the computer, a desk lamp and a photo of his family, Killian O'Shea had a chess trophy that he had won when he was fifteen. This trophy was about six inches tall, bishop-shaped, marble, with a square base and a plaque that read: Killian O’Shea, 1st Place, Cuyahoga County School Chess Championship. A long time ago he had also the year, but he had had it erased because he did not like to be reminded that he was getting old.
O'Shea didn't even have time to blink when Molly grabbed the chess trophy and hit Jake on the arm with it, but he was quick enough to snatch it away from her before she used it again. She smiled at him, and when he punched her with enough force to knock her to the ground, she started to laugh out loud. Jake was screaming, his arm broken, and O’Shea was beginning to have a headache.
“Shut up, both of you!” He yelled.
“It hurts so much!” His son exclaimed through clenched teeth. Molly was still on the ground, albeit silent.
The Irishman rolled his eyes and sent a message. A couple of minutes later, Leo and Johan appeared.
“Take my son to the hospital to have his arm fixed," he ordered. “And I want her tied to a chair in the dining room. And gag her too.”
“Yes Boss. Come on, kid,” Leo said, helping Jake up.
Johan pulled Molly to her feet.
“I thought you were a good hostage,” he said to her.
“That little brat deserved it,” she replied.
O'Shea sat back in his chair and sighed. Interrogating the girl was supposed to be an easy matter; they really wouldn't have to use her to lure Wes because she would tell him everything, but she was tougher than she looked. He wrote a new message, and soon Tessa appeared in his office, carrying Molly's purse.
“Yes, sir?”
“Write Wes a message,” he ordered. “Tell him to move his bony ass to Cleveland right away. And send him a photo of his girl, make sure the bruises are visible,” he ordered.
“Immediately, sir.”
“But first punch her in the belly a couple of times for me, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Around eleven o'clock, he went to see Molly again. She glared at him when he entered, furious. He pulled a chair away from the table and sat across from her; sighing, he removed the gag.
“You're not cooperative at all, huh?” she commented.
“Eat my pussy!” She exclaimed. He slapped her again. “All you have are assumptions, so excuse me if I don't want to help you,” she added, spitting blood aside.
“Listen to me well, little bitch,” he said, closing his fist around her neck. “You're going to tell me what I want or Wes will with a gun pointed at his head, so the choice is yours.”
She moved her lips, but no sound came from them, so O'Shea eased the pressure on her neck.
“Your son is a pathetic wimp,” she said. “You gave him the most accurate name of all.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not! But do you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.”
And she started singing ‘99 bottles of beer’. O'Shea got up and backed away, still looking at her. He waited a few minutes, in case she stopped, but since she didn't, he put the gag back on her. Molly began to hum.
“You'll get tired.”
He tried to question her again half an hour later, and again at noon, but despite the blows, the only words that came out of her mouth were the lyrics of the song.
“Ninety-one bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-one bottles of beer...”
Jake came in, his left arm in a cast and a sling, and punched her. She laughed.
“Well, at least it's not the wanking hand, huh, Jake?” She said, smiling.
“Father, please, I know how to make her tamer.”
*
“Do you want her to bite it off?” O'Shea asked him. “Because I think she is capable of doing it.”
“Her pussy has no teeth,” Jake pointed out.
“Bring your dick closer to me and I'll break your other arm,” she said.
“See? She is scared.”
*
“We promised Wes we wouldn't do it if he cooperated, and he's done what we told him to.” To prove he was in Cleveland, Wes had sent a picture of himself at the airport not long ago. “So for now you're going to have to forget about it, son.”
Surprisingly (or maybe not so much, considering only Wes and Hardy came to speak to her), Grace agreed to help them, and without them having to beg.
“Thank you, Snow Queen,” Wes said.
“I've always wanted to hit that bastard where it hurts the most,” she replied. “But we are going to need some things, like information about the house and the garden.”
“I'll get you the blueprints, and I’ll deactivate the alarms,” Hardy said.
“And remember it has to be quiet, so no shooting, just knock them out or whatever,” Wes added.
“Sure, Wes, we'll knock them out,” the Snow Queen replied mockingly.
“Do what you must, but keep it quiet. We go in, we rescue Molly, you keep Tar Pit’s territory, and we’re even.”
“And if the Irishman or his son are killed in the attack… it will be an unfortunate accident,” Hardy added.
“I like the way you think, girl. If you ever need a job, you know where to find me.”
“I'll keep it in mind.”
“We'll be back when we have everything,” Wes said. “We should get her out of there tonight.”
“We will be alert.”
“Okay, prep phase completed,” Hardy said as they left the Snow Queen's house.
“Are you ready for the next step?” Wes asked her.
“Almost. I have a few things to do and we can get started.”
At three o'clock, Hardy was led before O'Shea, who was in the dining room, with his son. Molly was there too, gagged and tied to a chair. Hardy clutched the backpack with her laptop.
“I can give her what you want,” she told O'Shea; Molly glared at her. “Well, I can tell you where it is.”
“Do you? How do you know what I want?”
“Your son told me that you wanted to find out what happened the night Tar Pit died, and why the Chemist died.”
“And you know that?” Hardy nodded. “How?”
“Because I was there.”
“Ha, so I was right!” Jake exclaimed.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were loyal to Wes,” Jake said.
“I'm only loyal to my brother,” Hardy replied, shrugging. “Also, I heard Wes said he was thinking of trying to exchange us for her, and I don't feel like it, so I offer to help you,” she added, turning to the Irishman.
“Very well. Tell us what we want to know and I'll let you stay.”
“The Chemist recreated the long lost fairy dust formula, and gave it to Wes on a USB stick, who in turn gave it to her,” Hardy said, pointing at Molly. “And if I'm not mistaken, that pen drive with the formula must be in her KeyBank safe, right, pretty girl?” She asked, invading Molly’s personal space on purpose.
Hardy winked at her without being seen by the other two. Molly head-butted her, causing her to recoil, rubbing her forehead.
“I think that's a yes,” O'Shea said, satisfied.
“And how do we get that pen drive?” Jake asked.
“Don't worry about it, son, I know who can help us. You'll stay here until we've verified that the formula is on that pen drive,” O’Shea told Hardy.
“No problem.”
“Watch the prisoner, will you?” Hardy nodded. “Come on, son.”
As soon as they were left alone, Hardy removed the gag.
“Sorry for the head-butt,” Molly hurried to apologize. “It had to look real.”
“Don’t worry, I know. Wes has told me to tell you that he has a plan, and that he's going to get you out of here,” the hacker whispered. “He also wants you to know that when he has you next to him again, he will hug you and will never let you go.”
Molly smiled, but then they heard noise, and Hardy hurried to put the gag back on her. Tessa came into the room, carrying a tray of sandwiches and a bottle of water.
“Hi, Gina, I didn't know you were on our side,” she said, setting the tray on the table. She removed Molly's gag and began feeding her.
“And I wasn’t," Hardy replied. “You know I'm always on my own side, but… well, this benefits me more than going alone. Why do you have her tied?” she asked. “Doesn't seem like a big deal.”
“She knows karate,” Tessa argued. “Also, she broke Jake's arm.”
“Oh! I was wondering how that happened,” the hacker commented, holding back a laugh.
“To be honest, he probably deserved it,” Tessa said. “I know he's the boss's son and I shouldn't speak ill of him, but he's a cocky little brat and a most disgusting pervert.”
“Tell me about it… Hey, can I get one?” Hardy asked, pointing to the sandwiches.
“Sure, help yourself.”
Molly finished eating, so Tessa opened the water bottle and let her drink through a straw. Molly greatly appreciated it; she hadn't eaten or drank anything for hours.
“Thank you,” she said to the woman.
“No problem, but if you do something like that again, the boss will get mad and I'll have to hit you again,” warned Tessa. “Please don't make me hit you again.”
“I won't… unless he makes me break his other arm.”
“Girl, you are not fit to fight anyone.”
She was right, of course: Molly’s face hurt terribly, her lip was split in several places and it was swollen and bruised, it hurt when she breathed from the blows, her limbs were numb from how tight the restraints were, and she really had to go to the bathroom.
“Yeah. Hey Sedona, I know I've been misbehaving, but your boss sure wouldn’t like it if I pee in this chair, so can you take me to the bathroom?” She asked.
“Okay. I'll take you to the bathroom, if only to stop the boss's wife from yelling at me when she gets back. Gina, give me a hand.”
Between the two of them they untied her and took her to the nearest bathroom. Getting up and walking was even worse, but she at least got her circulation back in her arms and legs.
“Why do they call you Hardy, if your name is Gina?” she asked as she peed.
“At first the nickname was Hard Drive, but it ended being just Hardy.”
“Oh… what about Chalky?”
“Actually, his name is Ennio, but at school they started calling him that because he always got stained with chalk powder,” Hardy explained. “My brother loves to write things on the board, but only with chalk.”
“Did you already know each other?” Tessa asked.
“I saw her once, two years ago,” Hardy replied with a shrug. “Honestly, I didn't even remember that she existed until now.”
“I see. Well, prisoner, time to get back on the chair.”
Molly sighed, but she let them tie her up again without resistance. As soon as Tessa gagged her again, she closed her eyes and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
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#dopeman#poppy edits#poppy#dopeman x arkangel#mgk fanfic#mgk#machine gun kelly#moodboard#my first attempt at this so please be kind
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POV: You’re ArkAngel and woke up early to go to the bathroom, so Dopeman is still half asleep and asking you to go back to bed.
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