Another party thrown at your house. Another night of your brother dragging you into everything even though all you want to do was leave and find somewhere away from your house where you could read in peace. Not tonight. Never in fact. You are pulled out of your book by your brother calling your name. You look up and see the bottle in the center of the circle pointing at you. "I'm not even playing," you tell your brother. It wasn't a lie. You are sitting on the very edge of the whole party, curled up with a book in your lap and your headphones on, trying to drown everything out. "Rules are rules, sis. And you're at this party. Into the closet you go," he tells you. You start to protest, but he's so much larger than you and just drags you to the closet, shoving you inside. You don't even know who you're in here with. This game was some hellish mixture of Spin-the-Bottle and Seven Minutes in Heaven, just what you needed. You feel a hand reach out to you, settling on your arm. You jump at the sudden contact. "Hey, hey, relax. We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. I'm Ashton, by the way," the guy says. Your breath catches in your throat. Your brother had shoved you in here because he knew you had a massive crush on Ash. You stutter out your name and he chuckles. "Figures. Your brother knows I think you're pretty," he tells you. "You think I'm what?" Your voice cracks at the end. "Pretty. I think you're pretty and different. You've always got a book in your hands and your cute little glasses on and you're never actually part of our parties. You just, you fascinate me and I never thought you'd ever speak to anyone, let alone me, and I'm rambling now, so I'll stop." You don't know how to respond to his confession. "Ashton?" you ask, deciding on a response. "Yeah?" he responds. You reach out for him, finding his neck in the dark, pulling him close to your body. He understands and his lips find yours in the dark, your first of many, many, many kisses.
Your head is on his lap as a stupid movie plays in the background. Your best friend is finally back from months on tour and you both are too busy catching up to watch a movie. "So, any new guys I need to beat up?" he asks casually. "Or are you still into that guy you said wouldn't give you the time of day?" You laugh and sigh before saying, "Still into that guy." Calum rolls his eyes and tells you, "Either man up and tell him or let it go. He's definitely too thick. You're great. He'll definitely go for you." You bite your lip, thinking if you should actually take his advice. After all, Calum is the guy you are hung up on. If that's what he'd want, you figure you should do just that. You sit up, facing him on the couch. "Cal, I love you," you say simply. "Love you too," he chuckles. "Do you want to restart the movie? I mean, neither one of us were really watching it." You let out a frustrated groan before saying, "No, Calum, I'm in love with you. You're the guy I'm hung up on." His eyes goes wide as they move to look at you. He swallows hard and whispers, "You're not serious." Your breaths start to become shaky because you're sure you just ruined over ten years of friendship in two sentences. "I'm serious," you say. Without hesitation, his lips crash against yours. You gasp in surprise, giving him an opportunity to slide his tongue between your lips. He pushes you back on the couch as his tongue moves expertly against yours. He's now hovering over you on the couch as your hands run up and down his chest. "I've wanted you to say that for over a year," he whispers against your throat where his lips now rest. You laugh, running one of your hands through his hair. You gasp in surprise when you feel his teeth dig into your skin. "Calum," you breathe out. "You're mine now," he whispers in your ear. "I'm making sure everyone else knows that."
You laugh at Luke attempting to sing in falsetto to the song playing on the radio. He laughs when he hears you laugh. You can't wipe the smile off your face when your laughter dies down. This has been the best first date of your life. A drive-in movie with a beautiful, funny, talent boy who knew to bring Sour Patch Kids and liked cuddling. Dates didn't get much better than that. You, despite your mother always telling you to never, ever, ever kiss on the first date, hope he will kiss you when he drops you off. You know you're falling for this boy, dangerously fast, but you're not going to stop yourself and you're pretty sure he isn't stopping either. When he pulls up to your house, he surprisingly gets out before you and opens your door for you. He walks you to your front step, still making you laugh with his bad jokes. "I had a great time tonight," you tell him as you reach your front porch. "Really? Good, because so did I," Luke tells you. "Can I see you again tomorrow?" You laugh at his eagerness. "Tomorrow? Aren't we rushing things?" He hesitates before he starts rambling, "Do you not want to see me tomorrow? I mean, that's okay if you don't, but I want to see you tomorrow. Hell, I don't want to stop seeing you tonight. You're just really pretty and funny and smart and so damn amazing and I'm not good enough for you, but I just don't care anymore. I really want to kiss you too, but I know I shouldn't since it's only our first date-" You cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to your level, your lips connecting with his for the first time. He doesn't hesitate to pull your closer, his hands on your hips. You part when you hear the front door open. Your dad is standing there with a disapproving look. You knew he wouldn't like Luke: skinny jeans, lip piercing, in a band. He was your father's nightmare, but he was your dream that was quickly becoming a reality. "Call me?" you tell him. "Oh, definitely," he smiles at you. He nods and waves awkwardly to your father before retreating to his car, your lips still tingling where they met his.
You are sitting next to Michael, Wii remote in your hands and another in his. "Let's make a bet," he tells you. "You win, I have to do something you want me to do. I win, you have to do something I want you to do." You frown and say, "My clothes are staying on, Clifford." He laughs and says, "I promise. It won't be like that." You sigh and give in, making the deal. It's absolutely no surprise when he completely destroys you in Mario Kart. You're terrible at it anyway, let alone playing Michael, who is pretty much the master of Mario Kart. When he wins, you turn to him and say, "What am I doing, Michael? What terrible thing do I have to eat or tweet?" He sighs as he takes the remote from your hands and sets it on the table with his. "I'm not going to make you doing anything. I'm going to ask," he says. "May I kiss you right now?" Your eyes go wide in shock. "You're actually asking?" you choke out. Michael nods softly and says, "I don't know, okay? I'm bad at this romantic stuff. You just, you mean a lot to me and I don't want to screw this up at all." You can't stop the smile forming across your face as you lean in closer to him before pressing your lips to his, shocking him with how forward you're being. He immediately takes over control of the kiss, but doesn't take it too far. When he pulls away, you pout softly. "What?" he asks you, a chuckle in his voice as he speaks. "Why did you stop?" you reply. "Because I'm an idiot," he sighs before kissing you again. This time he deepens the kiss, making you tangle your fingers in his crazy hair as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his body. "My girlfriend," he mumbles when you finally pull away. "That wasn't a question, but I say yes anyway," you laugh, making him laugh with you.
Summary: Gavin’s a hacker, not a fighter. Unfortunately he has a penchant for starting bar brawls he can’t finish, and his lack of combat skills makes him an easy target to get at Geoff. Solution? Get him a personal bodyguard.
Michael joined the Fake AH Crew for the money, the fame, the madcap heists. Ending up as a glorified babysitter wasn’t part of the plan, but it’s a means to an end, right? Take care of Gavin for a few weeks, prove himself to Ramsey, and move up in the crew. Simple as that.
This is where Michael Jones’ life has fucking brought him.
Leaning against the wall in a dark dank alley stinking of refuse, a fucking knife buried hilt-deep in his shoulder, blood running in sticky trails down his arm.
Gavin’s next to him, pressed in close against his side. Michael’s good arm is hooked around his head, hand clapped firmly over his mouth to stop him making a sound. He knows Gavin won’t but right now he doesn’t trust him with fucking anything because it really is his damn fault that they’re in this mess, hiding in some dead-end street filled with garbage skips while a bunch of thugs with guns hunt them down.
If You Close Your Eyes (does it almost feel like you've been here before?)
(The original idea. The drabbles following, in order: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. This would fall as most recent, chronologically.)
Oliver stared around the large space, his boots echoing on the empty dance floor into the exposed girders of the warehouse ceiling. The raw, unfinished feeling was deliberate, he knew, the pipes overhead and the catwalks visible just under the lighting giving a gritty sense of daring mystery to the place. It lent a luxury-swaddled edge to the cool, classy atmosphere of the club’s interior.
“So all of this is mine? I own this?” Oliver couldn’t help the slow grin taking over his face as he dropped his chin back down to look at Thea, who stood with her hands on her hips, loosely curled hair framing her face as she tilted her head at him. “This is my club?”
“Well,” she smiled, one shoulder shrugging laconically, “was your club.” Her smirk widened to a proud, smug grin. “Mine, now.”