Title: Thorns 1/?
Fandom: Black Veil Brides
Rating: not sure how far it will go, but overall: NC-17, just to be safe
Summary: Andy is a dancer in an abusive relationship. Ashley is a mob boss who goes to the club as a favor for a friend. Both are in for one hell of a surprise.
Warnings: Adult Situations, Language, Violence, Abuse
Disclaimer: The members of BVB do not belong to me, unlike Nick and whatever other OCs I decide to throw in here
Author’s note: My friend (you know who you are) and I were talking about how hot it would be if Andy Six and Ashley Purdy hooked up and somehow from that discussion, I got this idea in my head. So, I hope we aren't the only ones to like it. Crossposted on my deviantart
The night was unusually cool for L.A. as I walked hurriedly down the sidewalk, the collar of my coat pulled up to cover my face, my bag hiked high up on my shoulder. I expertly dodged the drunken patrons as they stumbled out of the various bars and clubs, my lip curled up in disgust. This was the last place I wanted to be, but I knew that I didn't have much of a choice, it was better than the hell hole I called home, especially at the moment.
As my destination came into view I hurried down a nearby alley. I expertly ignored the couples lining the brick walls, didn't even blink an eye at the fact that all the couples were males, it was normal here. Halfway down the alley a door stood propped open, a bulky male standing, smoking a cigarette, at the entrance.
The guard glanced at me. "You're late...again."
"Like I needed the reminder," I mumbled as I passed through the door.
The building was dark, the hall barely lit, and was extremely warm, but I didn't remove my coat. It was easy to sneak through the halls without being seen on account of it being so dark and the fact that the other people were either engrossed in each other or were hurrying to change their clothes. The back rooms of The Veil, one of L.A.'s most popular gay clubs, though it wasn't so much a club as it was a bar with stripper poles, a dance floor and a stage, were made up of dressing rooms and "fucking rooms," as most of the patrons and employees called them.
Seeing the door with my name on it, along with someone else's, my step picked up. The door was open and, peeking in, I sighed in relief when I saw that the room was empty. Or at least, empty of people. The room was pretty small even more so with two vanities against the wall to the left, a black leather couch against the right wall, and a small glass coffee table in the minimal space between the couch and vanities.
I hurried to the vanity against the far wall, tossing my coat to the couch, not caring if it actually landed there, and dropping my bag to the floor. The table top was covered in various make-ups and accessories, but I only had one object in mind. I grabbed for the concealer and looked in the mirror, pausing when I finally saw the damage.
My right eye was partially swollen, the surrounding skin darkened to a deep blue, almost black. Considering the fact that I had received the injury a little less than an hour, it was pretty impressive. The sad part? This was not the first injury I had received of this nature. It was for that reason that I needed to hurry. If Jake saw me like this I would get another lecture and I really didn't want one right now. I had assured him and everyone else that Nick had been better, if they saw me like this-
I hurriedly covered my eye with my hand as I turned to the door just as my best friend Jake ran in.
"Andy, there you are," he said sighing in relief. "I've been looking all over for you. We're on in, like, fifteen. You need to hurry, or else Jon is gonna blow a gasket and-" Jake stopped, looking at me oddly. "Andy, why are you putting your concealer on?"
"Cause…as you said I need to get ready for the show," I explained quickly. By the look on his face as he looked me up and down, taking in my street clothes and my hand covering my eye, I knew he didn't buy my excuse.
"You never put your makeup on until after you're dressed." He crossed his arms over his chest, already dressed in his outfit for the night.
Jake wore skin tight leather pants that were ripped in convenient, revealing places, and were very low on his hips; I knew that he was wearing skimpy boy shorts under them. His torso was covered in a thin t-shirt under a leather jacket. Jake's outfit didn't actually stray far from what he wore during the day, while mine did. Mine had to, more-so than his did.
"Why are you covering your eye?" His question brought me out of my thoughts that were getting a little too dark, reminding me why I did this horrid job.
"What are you talking about?"
He rolled his eyes at me. "You're covering your eye, and I want to know why."
His foot started to tap impatiently and I began playing with my lip ring nervously. I knew that if I didn't tell him he would jump me and forcefully remove my hand from my face. Jake finding out was inevitable. So, resigned to my fate, I removed my hand, my eyes closed so I would not see Jake's facial expression.
There was complete and utter silence, and then I heard him gasp. Two gloved hands cupped my face, moving it so that the bruised side was facing him. "Holy…Jesus Christ, Andy." Gentle fingers prodded the flesh around my eye and I winced at the flash of pain that permeated the ache I had grown accustomed to. "Sorry," he murmured as he pulled away.
I opened my eyes and, as expected accusing eyes stared back at me.
"I thought you said he had stopped, Andy."
"I never said that," I responded as I turned my back on him, picking my bag off the floor and pulling out my outfit for the night: a black sparkly halter top, black pumps that rose an inch above my knee, and a black leather mini skirt. "I just said he had gotten better," I murmured.
"'Gotten better?'" Jake asked. I could feel his eyes watching my every move as I started to strip out of my street clothes and started putting on my stage-wear. "You honestly expect me to believe that that jerk hasn't laid a hand on you until today? Your tats can't hide everything, Andy."
"Well they hide enough!" I said as I zipped up the skirt over my briefs. "All that matters is that he doesn't leave a bruise or anything on skin that will show, he knows this." My voice lowered to just above a whisper, "He knows he doesn't get money for roughing me up."
I pulled the halter top over my head. After making sure it was settled correctly, I felt a gentle hand grasp my wrist. I turned to see Jake's eyes looking at me pleadingly.
"Please, Andy, leave him. We all know you can't stay with him, it's too dangerous. You can come stay with me."
I wanted to. God only knew how much I wanted to leave Nick, but I also knew that I couldn't. "I can't, Jake. You know I can't. If I leave he'll follow and everything will just get worse, just like it did last time. I couldn't stand it if he hurt you again because of me."
Jake sighed, unconsciously rubbing along his arm, where, underneath the leather, was a reminder of the last time I had run from Nick. His gaze turned away from me. I could practically see the gears in his head turning, thinking of a way to convince me to leave while keeping everyone I loved safe. I could also see when he had thought of something, his eyes widening as they visibly brightened. However, he quickly covered that expression with one of resignation.
"Ok," he sighed, "Fine, but if you ever need anything, you know where I live."
I gave him a small smile in thanks for dropping it. "I do, and I promise to call if I need anything."
"You better," he said as he started to back towards the door. "Now, you finish getting ready, while I go talk to Jon, see if I can't get him to push us back another five or ten minutes, because you need more time to cover up that shiner." And then he was out the door before I could get snide response in.
My eyes narrowed at the empty doorway. 'Jake Pitts, what are you up to?'
- Current Mood: contemplative
- Current Music:Children Surrender- BVB