#Just some poor John who took a wrong turn down the road to get grabbed.

[ask-the-entity-lovecraften-god]

OCC Because I been seeing this so much on twitter its annoying me: I stand here before all of the Dead By Daylight fandom to say I do not care for Lara Croft in DBD. I do not hate her but felt like we missed the chance for normal people against the odds. I would humbly suggest for Ben From Night Of the Living Dead.

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

[milazka]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 & 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟑𝐤+

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : —

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠. 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭 ! 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬...

─── °• ❀ ───

When I first saw you, I saw love

And the first time you touched me, I felt love

And after all this time

You're still the one I love

The stars were twinkling in the indigo sky, not a single cloud was covering them. Some firebrands were trying to rise towards the sky but were dying along the way. The warm flames of the fire made your cheeks redden, although, the bottle of cheap beer in your hand must have been partly to blame as well. It was normal in the Outer Banks to see fourteen-year-olds drinking alcohol, especially on the Cut.

Sitting on one of the logs, a smile slipped on your lips as you saw your friend Pope running towards the sea, completely naked. A few of your friends whistled at the boy who let out a scream as he entered the salty water. John B had the brilliant idea to play truth or dare with the Pogues and a few other people from The Cut. You all had finished school today and it was a way of celebrating the beginning of summer.

Like she always did, Kiara acted up like the ‘mama’ of the group and got up to threw her beach towel to Pope so he could dry himself before returning into the circle around the campfire.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” A boy named David asked you.

“Dare.” You answered before you took a sip of beer without taking your eyes off him.

“I dare you to kiss JJ.”

You spit out your beer, splashing John B on the way. You were expecting everything, but not this. JJ was your best friend, you couldn't kiss him, it would have been weird.

“I can’t.“

“Oh c’mon, Y/n! Don’t be a prude.” David shouted to provoke you.

You've never been a coward in your life and this wasn't the night you were going to start being one. Everyone started to cheer you, shouting and clapping their hands while you made your way to the other side of the fire where JJ was sit on a log. Your eyes met his ocean-blue eyes that were sparkling from the number of beer cans he had drunk since the beginning of the night. You knelt on the sand with your hands resting on JJ's knees so you wouldn't lose your balance. The alcohol flowing in your veins was taking effect and you were definitely tipsy.

“It’s just a kiss, Y/n/n.” JJ said, cupping your face with his hands as he leaned down. “It means nothing.”

His lips gently touched yours, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you with them. He tasted like a mix of weed and beer, a taste you would have normally hated, but which kind of turned you on in the moment. You felt the tip of his thumb flattering your skin as his tongue slipped into your mouth to move in sync with yours. A feeling of emptiness settled inside you when you separated from each other, completely out of breath. Your eyes met his and for a second, everything around you seemed to have stopped.

─── °• ❀ ───

Lying on the dock, your head resting on JJ's stomach as he ran his fingers through your hair, you couldn't help but think back to the way you felt when your lips collided the other night.

"What's on your mind?" JJ asked you, clearly seeing something was bothering you by the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Y/n, your my best friend and you’re also the worst liar that I know.” He giggled, making you bless your poor lying talents.

“You remember when we kissed yesterday?”

“Yeah.” He whispered, placing his arm behind his head so he could lay rest on it. “It doesn’t change anything between us, if it’s what bothering you.”

"No no, it's not that..." You replied, playing with the edge of your hoodie.

“Then what is it? You know you can tell me everything, Y/n.”

"I don't want it to mean nothing because it was my first kiss." You whispered, willfully neglecting to tell him you had found out that your feelings towards him were more than just friendly.

“Really? I thought you kissed John B during seven minutes in heaven.” JJ said, surprised.

“We made everyone believe that we did because he wanted to make one of the girls jealous." You explained, sitting cross-legged on the wooden dock to face JJ.

“Well, I’m glad I was your first kiss, it’s definitely a much better experience to kiss me than John B.” He laughed, pulling you into a hug.

At that moment, you couldn't be more grateful that the lights were all off because your cheeks were peony red. While still in JJ's arms, you made a promise to yourself that you would never let your feelings for him get in the way of your friendship because it was the most precious thing you had.

Looks like we made it

Look how far we've come my baby

We mighta took the long way

We knew we'd get there someday

Like most days of the summer, you were sitting at the front of the HMS Pogue driven by John B. He came to pick you up first since you were the one who lived closest to the Chateau. Since his father's disappearance, you had gotten closer; you were there to listen to him when he needed it or to comfort him when he cried late at night. This had caused you and JJ to drift apart a little, but it was better that way, especially for your feelings towards him. He was still your best friend, the most important person in your life, but over the past few months, girls had become his top priority and your heart was breaking a little more each time he told you and the Pogues about his steamy nights.

JJ was sitting on the side of the boat, rolling one of his joint. It was probably the moment when the boy was most concentrated, you had never seen him frown his eyes brows like this during an exam. John B slowed the boat down as you approached Pope's dock. Dressed in his infamous cap and barely buttoned shirt, he was sweeping the quay under his father's stern gaze.

“Pope, get in, we’re goin fishin!” You exclaimed as you slid your sunglasses over the tip of your nose.

“I can't, I'm grounded because I came home after curfew yesterday.” The boy pouted, glancing at his father.

“Okay, we’ll see you later!” You replied before JJ or John B spoke, not wanting to get your friend in more trouble.

Once you were far enough into the marsh, John B dropped the anchor in the water. The sun was particularly hot that day, obliging you to take off all of your clothes and just be in a black bikini. JJ also took off his sleeveless shirt, exposing you to the sight of his tanned and perfectly cut body. Thanks to your sunglasses, you were able to check him out without him noticing. Your eyes landed on the scratches on his back when he turned away from you to grab a beer in the cooler.

“Did you sleep with a tiger last night?” John B mocked him when he saw the scratches.

"Dude, she was so into me! I made her come twice in-" JJ started but was cut off by your forced cough. “What?”

"Nothing, the beer didn't go down well." You said innocently, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to run down the corners of your eyes.

The blond boy kept telling you and John B about his night with the wild girl, never forgetting to mention all the details. A sharp pain appeared in your chest, as if your heart was being torn in two, when he said he was planning on bringing her on a date soon. It was too much, you couldn't take it anymore.

“Fuck, my mom just texted me that she needs me at home.” You lied. “Could you drop me at my dock?”

"Yes, I'll pull up the anchor and we will be good to go." John B kindly smiled at you, knowing that it was just an excuse to get away from JJ, but didn't said a word about it.

─── °• ❀ ───

The trees seemed to be moving on either side of the road which did not look as straight as usual. Everything was a bit blurry around you until you blinked a few times. The almost empty rum bottle in your hand was the cause of this. Since you came home this afternoon, you'd drowned your emotions in alcohol, the best way to stop feeling anything according to a reliable source; you. You don't remember how or when you decided to leave your cozy bed to end up on the dirt road leading to the Chateau. When you reached the front of the house, you made your way to the backyard, taking a few sips of the cursed liquid that burned your throat.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" JJ's voice reached your ears, almost making you drop your bottle on the floor.

You were standing on the stairs of the house porch so your back was facing him since he was lying in one of the hammocks. Your hand tightened around the glass bottle as you brought it to your lips one more time.

“I-i’m here to see JB…” You managed to say, despite the sob that was caught in your throat.

“You know he’s at Sarah’s house, he told you this afternoon.” JJ said.

You could hear his footsteps getting closer to where you were, making your heart rhythm increase.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked you gently putting his hands on your bare shoulder.

“Don’t call me that!” You exploded in anger as you pulled away from his embrace.

“What the fuck Y/n?! Are you drunk? Did I do something wrong?” JJ questioned you, his frowning eyebrows reflecting his misunderstanding.

“Did you do something wong? DID YOU DO SOMETHING WRONG?! You are fucking blind, Maybank.” You shouted at him, staring at him with guns in your eyes. “I've been repressing my feelings for two years, two fucking years! Every time I see you leave with a girl after a party, my heart breaks in a million pieces. And when you talk about what you do with girls, I envy them because I wish it was me. I wish it was me you were talking about with stars in your eyes, I wish it was me you were kissing so passionately, I wish it was me you would hold in your arms.”

You were breathing heavily, tears were running down your cheeks and you couldn't control them. JJ was speechless, shocked by what you just revealed to him.

“Y/n…”

“Don’t say it J. I can’t take it anymore.” You whined, not wanting to hear him reject you.

Without trying to glance at him, you walked towards the main street, ashamed of what you had just said to him. You couldn't take it back, you would have to deal with it once you'll have sober up and that wasn't appealing at all. It was once you were walking in the middle of the main road that he stood in front of you, putting his hands on your shoulders to keep you from moving. Head bent down towards the ground, you didn't have the strength to lift it up to face his gaze.

“Please, look at me.” JJ whispered, softly placing his fingers under your chin to lift it up.

Your eyes blurred by the tears met his ocean gaze through which you could get lost for hours. A soft smile made his way to the corner of his lips, those damn lips you had dreamt about more than once.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, I never thought that you had feelings for me.” He apologized, rubbing his thumb on your cheek drenched by the tears.

"I don't want to lose you, Jay. Just forget what I said and let's go back to being best friends." You sighed as you wiped the corner of your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“I can’t, Y/n, I can’t forget about what you just said because I’m fucking in love with you!” He exclaimed, a tear running down his cheek. “I never said anything because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I never go further than one date with the girls I sleep with because my heart has always been taken by you.”

You didn't waste one more second before you crushed your lips against his. Your hands made their way to the back of his neck while his hands slipped automatically to your hips, pulling you closer to him. It was passionate and wild, you'd been waiting for this moment for so long, you had needed this moment for so long. His tongue requested access to your mouth and came dancing sensually with yours. A grunt slipped out of his mouth when you bit his lower lip while running your fingers through his blond hair that were still a bit wet from his surfing session with John B. Breathing heavily, you split up briefly before he hugged you tightly, your head lying on his chest that was rising promptly.

“I’m never letting you go again, sweetheart.”

They said, "I bet they'll never make it"

But just look at us holding on

We're still together still going strong

Tears were flowing down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do about it. The sight of your boyfriend shocked face while you were being handcuffed like him for a crime you didn't commit was destroying him. You both were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the cops wouldn't listen. Being from the Cut had its good sides, but also its bad sides and being constantly doubted by the police was one of them.

“Get in the car.” Ordered Deputy Shoupe, opening the back door of his car.

You didn't even dare to think about what your parents were going to say when they would found out that you we're being held in custody. They had never approved of your relationship with JJ, telling you he would bring you more trouble than love. Your father always said that your relationship wasn't going to last, that it was temporary because you would realize soon that JJ wasn't good enough for you.

Once you were sitting on the uncomfortable little bed of the cell, you let your head fall back against the cemented wall. Eyelids close, you let a long sigh exit; you couldn't believe that what was supposed to be a cute date with your boyfriend turned into nightmare when you ran into Rafe and his two pocket dogs.

“Baby?” Your boyfriend’s voice echoed from the cell beside yours. “I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.”

“Hey, none of this is your fault, love.” You rectified him as you made your way to the grid and passed your hand through it.

JJ's hand slipped into yours, squeezing it to comfort you a little. Just his touched made you feel a bit better and more confident.

“We’re gonna make it, Jay, we’re gonna prove them wrong.”

You're still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You're still the one I want for life

You're still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You're still the one I kiss good night

Morpheus arms were about to grab you as you let yourself go to sleep. You were somewhere between the world of dreams and reality when a boom in your window made you jump. Another knock against your window forced you to get up quickly, not wanting to wake your parents who were sleeping in the next room. You narrowly avoided a worn black boot by bending down quickly after opening your window.

“JJ? What the hell?” You whispered loudly at the sight of your boyfriend standing on the ground down your window.

“Get dressed and join me.” He simply said to you with his stupid smile. “And don’t ask questions.”

You quickly put on a pair of mom jeans, your eternal orange converses and a hoodie that belonged to JJ. The scent of your boyfriend soaked in the cotton made you smile stupidly; it was your favorite odor. Without making any noise, you closed the front door behind you and went straight to JJ who was already on his bike, helmet in hand.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked as you passed the helmet over your head.

“You’ll see. Now, hop on, baby and hold on tight.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, using the opportunity to feel his contracted muscles over tin shirt. The wind was pounding against your skin, waking you up. Riding with JJ on his bike was one of your favorite thing to do, it felt like the world was yours.

You loosen your embrace around his waist when he decelerated in the middle of nowhere. The road was only lit by an old lamppost, no sound could be heard besides the sound of your own heartbeat.

“What are we doing here?” You asked the blond boy as he grabbed your hand.

He didn't say a word, leading you to the middle of the road where he turned to face you.

“Exactly one year ago today, we shared our first real kiss here.” He smiled at you. “Happy one year anniversary, my love.”

Your heart melted when you heard him say those words. You tiptoed yourself so you could press your lips against his. He pulled you closer to him, his hands sliding under his hoodie that you were wearing. The coldness of his hands against your warm skin sent shivers down your spine. You rested you forehead on his, getting lost inside his blue eyes.

“I love you, Jay.”

TAG LIST IS OPEN, JUST ASK IN THE COMMENTS TO BE ADDED!

@milaonthemoon @spilledtee @thebutterflyonhischest

milamaybank’s masterlist

[littlemessyjessi]

Torn: Remus Lupin Story: PS OC: Chapter One: Sordid Sorting

————————-

Remus Lupin Imagine Turned Story

Re-Written and Edit of an old story of mine I had on Mibba that deserved some more love and attention, lol.

Remus Lupin x Vega Black (OC, OFC, PLUS SIZE OC, PLUS SIZE OFC)

————————————-----------

“Yet when books have been read and reread, it boils down to the horse, his human companion, and what goes on between them.” ― Walter Farley

------------------------------------------------------------------

This Chapter’s Song: “River” - Leon Bridges

------------------------------------------------------------------

Vega was eleven when she first met Remus.

She incredibly nervous at the time seeing as how it was her very first year at Hogwarts.

Her aunt and uncle had heavily warned her about getting into any house other than Slytherin....as if she had some kind of control over that kind of thing.

Sirius, her older cousin, who was more like a brother to be honest, had simply wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It'll be fine, V. I swear it. No matter what house you get in. It'll be fine. Maybe you'll even be a Gryffindor, like me." he had told her with that infamous smirk of his.

Twelve years old and full of pride over his house.

But Vega was not convinced.

She'd been home when they'd received the news of which house Sirius had been placed in....and well, it hadn't been good.

She remembered very clearly that she'd grabbed Regulus and they'd ran off to hide until the storm blew over.

If you were present when Orion or Walburga Black were angry....well, you'd likely become a target.

After her parents had died when she was seven, she’d been placed in the care of her closest relatives and that happened to be her Uncle Orion and his family. 

She’d left behind her beloved country roads and enchanting woods of Tennessee in America and was relocated in London. 

She was expected to go to Hogwarts rather than Ilvermorny.  

She was expected to be a respectable pureblood and get sorted into the only reasonable house. 

Needless to say, she was terrified. 

At that particular moment in time, they were racing down the tracks on the Hogwarts express.

To calm her nerves, Sirius had offered to have her sit with him and his friends in their compartment.

She was first introduced to James.

A boy with impossibly messy black hair, glasses and a permanent smirk...almost identical to her brothers.

Next was a small boy named Peter with impossibly blue eyes that were a tad unsettling to her just due to the nature of how piercing they were. 

He looked friendly enough and if Sirius liked him she was sure she would too.

Lastly, was Remus.

Oh, Remus.

He was tall and lanky with very pale skin and light brown hair.

Vega could distinctly see a few scars across his face and on his hands but due to his clothes all else was hidden.

But he had the most beautiful green eyes but curiously enough there seemed to be a very faint golden brown ring around them.

She wouldn't have noticed had she not been so taken with him.

He was much quieter than the others but still quite nice.

Remus John Lupin.

Her very first crush.

Remus would've died from mortification at that time if anyone knew but....he found her quite pretty.

She was a year younger, yes.

And she was also Sirius little cousin, this was true.

One that he’d spent the better part of last year talking about to his new friends.

“Oh, you’ll love Vega, mates.” he could remember him telling them. “She’s a little shy at first but she’s actually from America.  A cowgirl.” 

Remus doubted if she was actually a cowgirl since Sirius had a way of being dramatic.

But she was so pretty.

She and Sirius resembled each other a lot with their thick black hair and big striking grey eyes but her features were softer than his.

She was much quieter with Sirius, although not impolite.

Sirius, whether he liked to admit it or not, had had the same good etiquette beat into him that she had and it often gave him a sort of casual elegance.

Little Vega sat stiff backed, mouth shut and eyes trained determined on her book.

She found reading to be easier.

She could focus on the words there and not on what she might say wrong that could potentially anger her parents.

Books were just by far much easier.

This intrigued Remus.

He had asked her so softly.

"What are you reading?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, even as soft as it had been.

"Oh, um, it's-uh." she stammered.

"Oh that's The Black Stallion." he smiled. "It's a great book. My mum read it to me when I was little. It's a great muggle book."

Fear struck through her.

"Oh, I- please don't tell Aunt Walburga. I just- It looked so interesting and I wanted to know about the horse." Vega rambled as tears filled her grey eyes.

Sirius gave a hard forced smile to his friends before he grabbed his cousin and yanked her out of the compartment.

"Vega! Calm down! Bloody hell!" he snapped.

Tears were spilling, "I'm sorry, Sirius! I'm sorry! I didn't meant to get you in trouble with your friends! Now, Aunt and Uncle will be furious! I'm sorry!"

Sirius placed his hands on the side of her face.

"Vega, V,  look at me. Look. at. me." he said holding her in place and willing her big, frightened eyes to focus on him. "It's fine. No one will tell mum and dad. These are my friends. Remus was just making conversation. His mother is actually a muggle."

He added the last bit with a little smile towards her.

She'd been so frightened.

She sniffled before she hugged her book closer to her for a moment.

"Come on. Come back inside." he said trying to lighten the mood.

She shook her head sending the black tendrils everywhere.

"No." she said. "Those are your friends. I...I'll go sit with someone else."

"V, come on." he said.

But she'd already whipped around and was dashing away.

Sirius shook his head as he entered the compartment.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. Really, I didn't mean to upset her. I didn't think-" Remus began his apology.

Sirius waved him off, "It's fine, mate. V's just....she's a little skiddish is all. Our family can be a bit much sometimes. She just doesn't want to get in trouble."

There was a collective nod around the room.

It wasn't a huge secret that Sirius didn't have the greatest home life...but he was good at hiding it.

Seeing Vega be absolutely petrified by pure conversation....made it all too real for the twelve year olds in the compartment.

The four of them played cards for a bit longer until they train stopped and everyone filed off.

Remus caught glimpse of the silky, black hair glinting in the night and those two big grey orbs that looked like moons themselves.

They landed on him and he could even see her flush red...even in this poor lighting.

He smiled at her kindly and gave a little wave to which she returned...hesitantly before she was bustled along into the boat with the other first years.

He joined his friends and soon they were seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall listening to Dumbledore and waiting for the Sorting ceremony to begin.

Vega almost hid behind some of the first year boys as she entered the Great Hall and her cousin Narcissa smacked into her pushing her way to the front. 

She’d willingly let her take the spotlight and hide amongst the others but it wasn't for long before someone spotted her and the whispered began.

"It's the Black girl!"

"That's Sirius' little sister!" 

“No that’s his cousin! The one who’s parents were killed!”

"Bet she'll get into Slytherin!"

"Maybe Gryffindor!"

"I bet she's evil!"

"She looks just like him!"

“Did you hear about her father being a-” 

She shook her head to try and drown them out and before she knew it...

"Vega Equuleus Black." came the crisp words from the professor.

She gulped and took careful steps up to the stool before carefully settling down on it.

The giant hat was placed upon her head and...

"RAVENCLAW!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Big, grey eyes snapped open in fear and shock.

She could distinctly see Sirius and his friends whooping and hollering on her behalf while her cousins at the Slytherin table looked less than pleased.

If she hadn't been in front of all those people....she would've cried.

Because she knew.

She knew that when Orion and Walburga found out....and she went home for holiday....there would be no escaping it.

They would be angry and she WOULD be punished.

-----------------

Chapter Two

------------------

Hello my lovelies! Here is another rewrite of a previous work of mine that I had on Mibba! I did a bit of reworking on the character, her name and her backstory because I just felt like she deserved more!  I would love to know what you think of little Vega! 

So please comment, reblog with thoughts and/or smash the ask box!  I do so love hearing from you my loves! 

Love, 

Kenny

————————-

@frankie2902

@pleasantdreamqueen   @becrazy–beyou

@littledeadrottinghood @blackirisposts

@therealmrshale @woodworthti666@thegreatirene@fanfictionandjunk

@angelus320

@alanlizzingtonshore@buriednurbckyrd@disneymarina@tubbypeachwriting

@sullybot @georgiagrl1990 @whenallsaidanddone

@mischiefnevermanaged94 @inumorph

@congurl

@centerhabit

@bubblymusiclover13

@qtmeryr

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@tnupsweetpie

@alisoncdariel

@hannahloveslife

@wormyboi

@blackirisposts

@maggyme13

@amethyst09

@ibenkastberg

@fanfics1717 @mrscasnovak

@thickemadame @babygirl-barnes

@theladyofmasks @aengsty

@kalliravenne​

@witchygagirl​

@gruffle1​

@writtenbywolfie​

@kribbydahhufflepuff

@leah-halliwell92​

@thelastwildangel​

@silent-browser​

@simplymagical​@simplymagicalwritings​

@lilac​flicker

@malulucifer

@minxyvixen​

@moncheriemoony

@queenlexusloverofbts​

@criminalyetminimal​

@plus-size-reader​

@owenniasstars​  

@adventuresofnight

@tuutifruuti

Love, Kenny

-----

[eirabach]

Steady As You Go [2/3]

The further adventures of Gordy’s leather trousers for @olliepig and @mrmustachious and @badthingshappenbingo. TW: Implied Drugging / Spiking, Drinking, and the aftermath of violence. 

It’s actually not as bad as it sounds, honestly, I’m just cautious as fuck.

Prompt Gordon + Caught in an Explosion + Penelope (+ jealousy + disaster bisexual)

Gordon doesn’t bring the next bottle to the table, nor the one after that. They just seem to appear, dropped from the darkness by a large, calloused hand to be poured into glasses and down throats at a rate that would make even the most rum-hardened sailor of Gordon’s acquaintance quake with nauseous horror.

Well, some throats.

One throat. Probably.

Penelope, for her part, tips the glass to her lips often enough but her eyes are sharp, her bursts of laughter far too perfectly timed to be anything but by design.

Gordon's playing it a little more -- fast and loose.

Playing is probably the operative word.

He really can’t drink any more of this stuff though, because otherwise he’s likely to fall right off his perch on the arm of the sofa and Penny -- Penny will be mad. Penny kinda already looks mad. Huh. She lifts the glass to her mouth again, narrowing those over-dark eyes as she does so. Mr Gonna-Be-Arrested turns to beckon at one of the two giant goons that are lingering at the edges of Gordon’s vision, and Penny tosses the majority of the glass over her shoulder where it lands - presumably - in a puddle of other sticky, liquidy stuff that some poor sap will have to mop up in the cold light of day. Her eyes flick to Gordon’s own glass and one tightly drawn eyebrow ticks up. Oh. Oh.

He flicks his wrist.

It’s uh. It’s the wrong wrist.

Mr International-Crime jumps up, shaking little sparkles of champagne from his hands. The goons move in closer, fists tight in the flashing lights.

“Oh dear,” Penny sneers. “What an awful mess!”

Gordon would stick his tongue out at her, but there’s a soggy guy blocking his view and anyway it was her idea.

"Oh, whoops!" He pats at Marc's -- because that's his name, apparently, and apparently he thinks Gordon ought to use it -- freshly dampened trouser leg, "Oh man, gosh I'm so sorry boss! Uh --"

“Now, now,” Marc tuts, and one sticky hand covers Gordon’s. Holds it there, against the damp heat of his thigh. “That wasn’t very nice was it?” He smiles, leers, and half of Gordon knows that this is not at all a good thing. The other, somewhat tipsy, half thinks it looks like quite the promise. He might be Penny’s mark, with all the associations that Gordon’s spent several months trying not to think about,  but it’s Gordon who finds himself caressed by one of those sticky hands. Marc’s cool fingers step down his throat, tilt his chin up, and this -- this really wasn’t the plan at all, but Gordon is nothing but adaptable. In every sense.

Either way, he’s gotta get this guy out of this club somehow.

He licks his lips, sends a silent prayer up that Scott never ever hears about this. “Maybe I just want to get you out of the suit.”

“Oh, is that --”

It’s not the first time he’s had a demijohn of very expensive alcohol poured over his head. 

At least it’s not televised this time.

Gordon splutters in shock, shuddering as leatherette sticks uncomfortably under the unexpected shower. Marc for his part, is staring at something over his head, mouth agape. Gordon twists around, but his protest dies on the tip of his tongue.

“As entertaining as it is watching you flirt with the lower orders, we have business to attend to.” Penelope tosses her wig over her shoulder, and drops the empty bottle onto the couch beside him. Gordon blinks champagne out of his eyes and tries to catch hers, but her focus is entirely on Marc, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol she hasn’t drunk. “Or is my money not as interesting as this -- “ her eyes finally flick down to meet his for half a second. “Boy.”

“Hey lady,” Gordon snaps, “it’s the twenty first century, don’t get jealous.”

Penelope’s cheeks flush a little darker. 

“Marc?”

“Of course -- I --” Marc pushes a damp curl off Gordon’s forehead and honestly it’s kinda a shame that he’s a bad guy because there would have been a time -- still. Marc pulls a keycard from his pocket, pushes it into Gordon’s hand. “Here, go upstairs. When I get back we can have a little chat about your career prospects.”

He bites back the FAB, but doesn’t quite manage to restrain himself from a sloppy sort of salute as he half staggers to his feet. There’s an unpleasant squelching as he does so, and he must have drunk a lot more than he thought because he sways on the spot, the room blurring in and out of focus. Someone, a large, calloused, someone, takes hold of his elbow. 

“‘K, I -- hey, I can -- I can --” Penny and Marc fade into the shadows at the edge of his vision, and then he’s outside, released to slide against the rough brickwork of the alleyway, the night air freezing against his exposed skin. “Hey!”

The dark mountain of a man who’s dropped him outside pauses, but doesn’t turn around. 

“Where’s -- where’s the stairs?”

“If you can find ‘em, up you go,” grumbles the mountain, “Otherwise, I suggest you watch out for the wildlife.” 

A door opens into a world of light and sound, slams behind him, and Gordon thinks -- Gordon thinks --

“What the bleedin’ ‘ell happened to you? Get that bloody thing off!”

Gordon squints into the darkness. Something grey and grubby looking floats in front of him. Two somethings. One and a half. There’s a sharp pain in his neck, and his vision clears enough for him to see the grubby grey things coalesce into Parker, his face screwed up in disgust, a clear bit of plastic hanging from one gloved finger. Gordon rubs at the sore patch and glares up at him.

“What was that for? What’s that?”

“What’s --” he rolls his eyes. “For a group of smart young lads you ain’t ‘arf sheltered. Someone took a shine to you, did they?”

Gordon’s never been ashamed of who he is, never, but he finds the thought of coming out to Parker while wearing wet leather in a grubby alleyway is just a little bit beyond his comfort zone. 

“Uh, he --”

“Take an old man’s advice, lad. Don’t go on a second date,” Parker says sagely, and taps his nose. Then he stands, peers out toward the main road. “Where’s ‘er Ladyship?”

A sharp drill seems to have started up right behind Gordon’s right eyebrow and he forces his fist into his temple as he gets to his feet.

“Leaving, I think. Deal’s on.”

Parker drops the square of plastic to the floor and crushes it beneath the heel of his boot.

“Grand.” He claps his hands together, and shrugs off the battered old overcoat he’d been wearing. “I’ll be orf, then. You ok lad?”

Not really, is the answer, but Gordon has Marc’s keycard in his pocket and he knows that if Penny’s operation is to come off she’s gonna need all the evidence she can get. After all they know from hard experience that catching them red-handed rarely seems to be enough.

“Yeah, sure.” Parker holds out the coat, but it smells kinda funky and Gordon shakes his head. “S’ok, I got -- got a plan.”

Parker peers at him, then sighs. “If you say so. Miss Kayo nearby?”

“Totally,” Gordon assures him. “Go. Penny will need you.”

Parker hums, hesitates a moment longer before grabbing at a nearby rusted shopping trolley filled with more of the funky smelling grey fabric. As Gordon watches the fabric shifts, falling away to reveal a complex looking piece of flashing, bleeping electronics. God, his head hurts. 

“Don’t you fret, Mr Gordon,” Parker assures him as he pulls a remote control from the machinery. “I’ll see to her.”

From high, high above them comes the whine of engines, and they both look up to see FAB1, black as the sky above, hovering over the alleyway. Her VTOLs fill the alley with an unearthly blue light, and in it Gordon sees the carefully cut staircase that leads up and away and into the shadowy building above. 

“Right,” he says. “Right.” 

--

He’d lingered long enough to see Parker and his fancy machinery safely away in FAB1, waiting until he’s sure that he’s alone before approaching the staircase. His head is pounding and his legs are still feeling strange, but he presses upward regardless, keeping one hand on the brick wall to steady himself as the ground falls away. He doesn’t even see the door at first, only the flash of a red light then the green as his keycard passes over it, and he’s not beyond admitting the relief that he feels as it opens inwards and he half falls in.

How long do arms deals take, exactly? He could use a nap.

Except -- Except, oh. Someone may have beaten him to it.

“Hello?”

The feet at the end of the hallway don’t move from where they’re pointing up to the vaulted ceiling. Smart shoes, but not over polished. The cuffs of a pair of dark trousers just visible over navy socks.

When they were kids John always used to say that Gordon was too stupid to feel fear, and sometimes, sometimes that was probably true. Sorta. He's always been more about the rush, the adrenaline, fear to him has rarely been a baseline negative anyway. It works for him. Mostly.

Thunderbird four surveys the corridor. Spots the darkly spreading stain on the wooden flooring. Slows his pace to a stop. The air smells like rust and sulphur, the silence is thick as blood.

There’s an old style umbrella stand just beyond the door, and he takes hold of it, grips the central pillar tight as he takes another step forward.

“My name’s Gordon,” he calls. “I’m here to help. Can you answer me?” 

He reaches the end of the corridor, umbrella stand extended like a rapier and the answer -- well, the answer is no.

The man, or what’s left of him, lies sprawled on his back, glazed eyes and mouth wide in a silent scream, russet dried in thick rivulets around the gaping wound in his chest and where it had poured from him to pool around his feet. There’s a gun still loosely held in one blue hand. Safety off. One in the chamber.

He’d been prepared, but too slow on the draw. Poor bastard.

Gordon drops his umbrella stand and reaches down to peel the stiff fingers away from the gun, He clicks the safety back on, and stuffs it, as best as he can manage, into the waistband of his trousers. Unsure of what else to use under the circumstances, he unbuttons his sticky, sodden waistcoat and lays it gently over the staring, screaming face.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am.”

He has to bodily force himself back up to his feet, his body aching something rotten, but it doesn’t matter, not compared to the spark of absolute dread that burns through him as he looks around the apartment proper.

It's wrecked.

Every drawer, every table is tipped over, their contents scattered far and wide and battered by what looks like several pairs of boot prints. There's gunpowder streaked up the walls, smatterings of red brown across overturned sofas, and maybe Gordon ought to give his dead guy a little bit more credit. 

Maybe he's just a shit shot.

Glass crunches underfoot as Gordon cautiously pushes on the closest, half shut door. Behind it lies the bedroom, simple enough with bare brick walls and a grey coverlet on the king size bed, but it's not much better than the rest of the place, not really. The wardrobes are open, contents spilling all over the floor, a pair of handcuffs and a sheet of those funny little bits of plastic hanging from the bedside cabinet -- and wires, dozens of wires, pulled from the ceiling, from the walls and amongst it all, the only life in the whole godforsaken place, a tiny, holographic image of Penny with the words sale agreed flashing above her dark head and beside her, scrawled on a light type by another hand:

That damn girl.

And half drunk and half naked, sticky and cold and yeah, probably coming down from something, with a dead body in the next room and in the middle of a gangland battlefield, that’s the moment Gordon Tracy finally, truly feels fear.

[themaninflannel]

Orgasms and Cold Pizza (snapshots pt1)

summary: reader met dean senior year of hs Bc she looked out for Sam. She kept in touch with both of them (but more Sam). When Sam goes off to college a sad dean shows up on her doorstep with no warning.

word count: almost 4k wtf

warnings: sad dean, drinking, virgin!reader, smut

A/N: this is part one of a new series im starting that is gonna be snapshots of the reader and deans lives together ~~~~~~~~~~ It may have been two am but I had yet to put down my book, so I was awake when I heard knocking at my front door. I wasn’t going to open it-because hello it was two am- but the knocking kept going so I was just going to tell them off. I opened the door to see a familiar face, and a sad one at that. I blearily rubbed my sleep filled eyes, “Dean?” I’m sure he could hear the confusion in my voice. 

“Sammy left,” He said dejectedly.

Without thinking I reached out for him and pulled him into my arms half expecting him to resist but instead he collapsed on to my shoulders. Releasing him, I nudged the door open a little more and pulled him farther inside. Quietly I led him into the kitchen and handed him a beer. 

“He left us, he left the life,” Dean mumbled.

“Yeah, umm he told me a while ago that he got into Stanford. I kinda figured he might,” I guiltily ran my hands through my hair. 

“He did? He sure as hell didn’t tell dad and me,” he stood up, running his hands over his face.

My legs, working on their own, carried me across the room until I was right in front of him, “Dean. You know he didn’t leave because he wanted to leave you, right?” I said putting my hand on his arm. 

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah,” 

“Hey, I mean it,” My voice was soft but firm. “You’ve always looked out for your brother, he knows that.” I was met with sullen silence. 

After a few minutes of quietly sipping on our drinks he spoke up. “I mean I know this life ain’t easy but college, man!?”

“You know the boy’s always liked school,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It did not work. “Alright. Are we getting drunk then?”

“Yep,” he said after downing the rest of his beer, “you got anything stronger?”

“Oh do you doubt me, Winchester?” I got up and opened the pantry to show the assortment of liquor bottles.

“Well then,” he raised his eyebrows as I dropped a bottle of whiskey in front of him, keeping the vodka for myself.

Once Dean had made it most of the way through his bottle he seemed more nostalgic than sad, “Do you remember back in high school…” he paused to take another drink, “when you thought Sammy needed to be taken care of?”

“Hey! In my defense he was very small then! And he did get picked on,”

“Ok, fair enough” he raised his hands in defense, “I’m glad you had his back,”

“Yeah well, someone had too since you kept getting in trouble,” It continued on like this for a while until I had deemed it time to cut Dean off and make him go to bed. “Alright come on, I’ll get you settled in my room,”

Just as I was leaving the room I heard a voice behind me, “do you think he’s gonna come back?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, but I know that just because he went off to school doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you,” I said turning back towards him and sitting on the bed.

“Psh. I know dads not the biggest joy in our lives but why can’t he just suck it up?” My heart broke when his voice cracked. Even in the dark I could tell he was tears eyed. 

“He and your dad have always had a tricky relationship,” I commented, scooting closer to him.

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “you should have seen it the night he left,” I could see on his face that it had gotten bad between them that night.

“I never liked your father,”

“He didn’t like you much either,” he admitted.

“Well, I’d imagine not!” It got quiet as we both remembered the first time I had met John Winchester.

Sam had invited me over to study for a history exam, even though I was a senior and he was a freshman we were in the same class. He was slightly embarrassed to tell me that he lived in a motel but that quickly faded once we got to studying. We were almost done when his brother came back. 

“Heya Sammy,”

“Dean! I thought you were supposed to be gone all day?” 

“Eh, got bored,” he dismissed. Flopping down on one of the beds, opening up a magazine. “Dads gonna be pissed you brought her over,”

“What is your problem with me Dean?” I spoke up, I wasn’t gonna let Sam get pushed around like that.

“I don’t care either way, but dad doesn’t like us having people over,” As if on queue an older man opened the door.

“Boys,” He gruffly acknowledged the boys, not noticing me at first, “who’s this?” He gestured to me, his voice making it clear that there was more involved in his question.

“Oh, umm,” Sam stuttered.

“I’m Y/N, I was helping Sam study but we were just finishing up,” I jumped in trying to help the poor boy out.

“Well Y/N, it’s probably about time you were heading out. I have some business to discuss with my boys.”

In class the next day Sam barely looked at me, and Dean-well Dean never paid me much attention anyway. After the bell rang I ran after Sam before Dean could drive off.

“Sam! Wait up dude,” he ignored me until I was close enough to grab his elbow, “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s like you were somewhere else today,”

“Oh, uh, hey Y/N,” he was clearly avoiding the question. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dean walk up to the car, seemingly hiding his face. 

“Come on Sammy, get in the car,” As he got in the car I caught a glimpse of a purple bruise on his jaw.

“Um sorry, we have to get home before Dad” Sam explained shyly. As they drove away I connected the dots between Dean’s bruise and their fear of their father. Right then and there I decided I was going to protect Sam as much as I could, I doubted Dean would let me but I knew I was gonna try.

“You should probably get some sleep,” Dean’s voice was hoarse, and much closer than I had realized. At some point we had ended up leaning on each other, slumped in the center of the bed. 

“Alright, but I’m not leaving you here to be sad and alone so don’t hog all the covers,” I sleepily shuffled under the blanket, Dean sliding in beside me. He fell asleep almost immediately, but me? I was laying there trying to wrap my brain around this version of Dean, the version thats cocky and tough I’m familiar with but this vulnerable and insecure Dean is a side I hadn’t seen before. Somewhere in the night we had ended up wrapped in each other's limbs, his head on my chest, his arms circling my waist. 

Dean was still asleep when I woke up; I laid there with my hand in his hair, realizing that this was as relaxed as I had been in a long while and I was in no rush to wake him up. We stayed like that until Dean started to stir,

“Morning sleepyhead,”

“Oh uh, mornin’,” he mumbled, rolling away seemingly embarrassed.

“How ya feeling after last night? You downed most of that whiskey,” I teased, poking his shoulder.

“Ha-shut up, I’m fine”

“Well, personally I am severely under-caffeinated so I’m gonna go make coffee,” I said definitively, pushing myself up heading to the kitchen. Dean got up and followed me, pointedly ignoring how we woke up. 

“You wanna coffee?” I asked, reaching up to the cabinet where my favorite mug was.

“Yes, please,” he said emphatically, running his hands over his face to wake himself up a little. 

“Ok, you gotta tell me more about what you and your brother do,” I slid a mug across the island to him, “I mean he told me a little bit about the life, and you’ve filled me in a little, but I’m curious,” 

“Nah, you don’t need to know how fucked up the world actually is,”

“Please. I already know the world is a flaming piece of garbage, you wouldn’t be bursting any bubbles with that realization,” My voice came out more cynical than I meant. 

“You really wanna know? About all the things that go bump in the night? All the monsters who are dying to eat your face?”

“Yeah. If I’m gonna have to live in the world with all that crap then I’d like to at least know what’s what,” I didn’t expect him to actually tell me, but he launched into stories about the creatures that he and Sammy have fought. We talked for hours, me asking questions, him telling stories. By the time he seemed to have run out of stories and he deemed I was sufficiently afraid it was early afternoon.

“Shit, is it already three? I should get on the road soon,”

“Do you have to? You can stay here another night, ya know,” I hoped he would stay.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna over stay my welcome, I already showed up out of the blue-“

“Dean. You’re staying.” I interrupted, “you can show up any time, I like the company,” 

After convincing him to stay we ordered pizza and settled in for a chill night of movies and beer. 

After we stuffed ourselves with pizza and watched as many shitty comedies as we could handle, we were tipsy and sleepy and I made the executive decision that it was time for us (well, at least me) to crash for the night. After telling Dean he could watch whatever he wanted I headed into my room, put on comfy clothes and got curled up under the covers. A while after, when I was just starting to drift off I heard the door open,

“Hey, Y/N? You still awake?”

“Hmm? Yeah,” my voice was thick with sleep.

“Can I- um can I sleep in here again?” He sounded so timid, not at all like the over confident persona he normally put on.

“Of course, come ‘ere,” I smiled, pulling the blankets down on the other side of the bed. He took his jeans off leaving him only in his boxers and climbed in next to me.

“You sure this is ok?” He asked again before fully relaxing.

“Dude, if I wasn’t chill with it I wouldn’t have said yes. Plus, you slept in here last night anyway,”

“I know, and we ended up the way we did this morning and I just- I wasn’t sure-“ I cut him off by pulling his arm over my side and shushing him. With him as the big spoon I think he had gotten it through his head that I wanted him there. 

“Hey dean?” He grunted in acknowledgment, “You show up here after almost four years, I just- I gotta ask, why here? Why did you come to my door?” He was silent for a long time, I thought he may have fallen asleep.

“Honestly?” I nodded, “I don’t know, you were one of the few people who knew Sammy like I did, and who knew about our lives,” he paused, “I think it just seemed the least complicated place to go.” He finished quietly.

“Fair enough, I’m glad you did though. I worry about you boys,” we fell back into a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

“Ok, my turn to ask something,” I twisted until I was facing him.

“Go for it,”

“Why is it just you living here? Doesn’t it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but I like having the place to myself,”

“I always liked to think that after Sammy I left, you would have shacked up with some dude and lived the apple pie life,” 

“Oh please. You know that’s not my style,” I scoffed, “and as far as me and dudes there’s never been anyone of importance,”

“Really? No one?” He seemed surprised by this.

“What? Is it so hard to believe?” 

“But why?”

“You’ve met me, you know feeeelings aren’t my thing,”

“Ok but like what about hookup or something, you did go to college right? Isn’t that part of college life?”

“I don’t like doing new things with strangers, it is what it is. I’m not upset about it,” I shrugged.

“Just wouldn’t have pegged you as a virgin,”

“Oh I give off slutty vibes do I?” I teased him.

“No- I just- never mind,” I could practically see him mentally smacking himself in the forehead.

“Good night, Dean,” I rolled back over and he wrapped his arm back around my waist.

The next morning I woke up with Dean still pressed against my back, I don’t know if we moved at all in the night. I just knew that I slept like a rock. And that there was something poking me in the back. It took me a minute to figure out what it was but when it dawned on me I couldn’t help but giggle a little bit.

“Hey, ummm, Dean?” It came out higher than I meant it to.

“Hmm?” He sleepily responded, “oh shit, Y/N I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- it just-it does that sometimes,” He moved away from me covering his face with his hands.

“I didn’t say I was upset about it,” I slowly pulled his hand down until he could see me.

“What…. Y/N..? Huh?” You’d think he was the virgin not me.

“I said, I wasn’t upset. I just thought you should know that your dick-“

“Whoa! Ok, enough,” he cut me off. Turning his body to face me, our faces closer together than before, “are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” My voice came out thin and whispery, but I leaned towards him anyway. I could almost hear my heartbeat in my ears, but the second that his lips touched mine that was the only thing I could focus on. After a second he pulled back with a questioning look in his eyes, I nodded and he kissed me again. Harder this time, his tongue finding its way into my mouth, my hand to his hair, his hands...everywhere. We stayed like that for a few minutes before he pulled away again, this time taking his whole body a few inches away from mine pulling a needy whine (that I will deny ever happened) out of me.

“Wait...wait, we can’t do this,” he said breathlessly.

“And why the hell not?” 

“You’ve never…your first shouldn’t be me,” 

“Why not. You’re not a stranger and there doesn’t need to be feelings. Checks all my boxes,”

“Oh wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special,” I rolled my eyes and pulled him so his face was close to mine again.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I want this. You’re not taking advantage or anything like that, ok?” That was all he needed to hear before pushing himself so he was hovering over me, mouth back on mine, hands in my hair. Soon his mouth moved along my jaw and down my neck making sounds come out of my mouth that I didn’t think I could make. I could feel him smirking as he moved back up to my jaw. I could feel his hands start to migrate under my shirt, stopping just below my rib cage. I knew he was waiting for permission before going any farther so I pushed him onto his back before tearing my shirt off and leaning over him so I was on top. 

“No bra?” He questioned his hand automatically going to my boobs, flicking one of my nipples.

“Who sleeps in a bra?” I tried to say it jokingly but his mouth found my other nipple making it turn into a gasp. I tried to get back at him by grinding my hips down on the bulge that was now under me. He made a delicious gasp/moan sound that just made me never want to stop. I slowly shifted myself, kissing my way down his chest, giving attention to each nipple as I passed it, eventually making my way down to his happy trail and the edge of his boxers.

“Ahh…..sweetheart… you don’t-you don’t have to do that. Not... for your first time,” 

“Oh, but what if I want to?” The words came out sugary sweet, just the thought of what was about to happen was enough to dampen my underwear. I looked up at him for permission and he nodded, his eyes closing when I turned my attention back to the waistband of his boxers. He moaned loudly when I placed soft kisses on his fabric covered length before I pulled his shorts down and he kicked them the rest of the way off. Once he was fully exposed I took a second to admire what I saw; the toned muscle of his chest, the soft skin on his stomach, all the way down to his perfectly pink cock standing up out of a bush of dark curls.

“Like what you see?” He teased.

As an answer I leaned back down and licked a stripe from his balls all the way up to his leaking head. I earned a gasp and then a groan when I took the whole head into my mouth hollowing my cheeks and taking in as much of him as I could, one hand coming up to pump the part that I couldn’t fit in my mouth and the other reaching up and playing with his balls. 

“Holy….you shouldn’t be..how do you….” He gave up trying to make coherent  sentences when I took his dick out of my mouth and sucked one of his balls. Once I had given them enough attention I moved back to his shaft, lavishing it in kisses and licks.

“Ok...I’m not gonna…. you gotta stop… if you want this to last…” he brought his hand to my face and pulled me back up so he could kiss me. His other hand came around my hip and flipped us so he was hovering above me with a shiteating grin on his face. It was his turn to tease me, he moved down so his face was right above my belly button. His fingers hooked into the waistband of my sleep shorts pulling them off. As soon as he had me naked he went back to kissing and licking everywhere he could, after some pleading from me he finally moved back between my legs where I needed him most. He licked a stripe between my folds, giving extra attention to my clit. I could feel the knot in my stomach tightening already, my breathing getting faster. He was still swirling his tongue in circles when one of his large fingers pushed into me making me moan and arch my back, pushing impossibly closer to his face. I could feel him smiling as he continued to work his finger in and out of me, eventually adding another curling them upward reaching that one spot that I could never quite reach myself. The knot in my stomach tightened even more, my hips bucking on their own.

“D.. I’m close..”

“Let go baby, I wanna taste it,” that’s all it took for me to cum on his face. Blissed out and breathing heavily I almost missed Dean looking smug wiping my juices off of his chin. 

“We don’t have to keep going…” he said and I think he really would have been totally fine stopping if I asked but I was nowhere near ready to be done.

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” was my bold way of saying I wanted to keep going. I could tell it caught him by surprise but before I could say anything else he had plopped himself on top of me to get to the drawer.

“Eager much?”I laughed as his full body weight was still splayed over me. He rolled his eyes and kissed me again rolling the condom on. I could feel his hard length resting against my stomach as we kissed, all tongues and teeth. We had gotten past the timid part and were both ready for more. He shifted and I could feel the tip hit my sensitive clit making me gasp, his cock slid between my folds and pushed into my entrance, he stopped making sure I was good before he slowly pushed the rest of the way in. Once he was fully seated inside me, his head fell down on my shoulder, his lips moving on my neck. I got impatient and moved my hips making him slip out a little bit, Dean took the hint and started to move. His pelvis hit my clit every thrust and he one of his hands came up and played with my nipple, I was overwhelmed by all the new sensations that I didn’t even realize I was making sounds that I had never made before. With each movement dean hit that spot inside that made my eyes roll back, before long I could feel the knot tightening again. Deans thrusts started to get shaky and uneven,

“I’m not gonna last…” he grunted, his face buried in my neck.

“Me… neither,” my hips bucked and with one more snap of his hips I came undone. That was all it took for him to spill himself into the condom. He collapsed next to me throwing the condom in the trash.

“Well….” I exhaled, breathing heavily.

“Yeahhh…” deans breathing matched my own.

“Soo, I’m not a virgin anymore,”

“No you are not,” He sounded real happy with himself. And honesty, and couldn’t blame him.

“Job well done I’d say,” I reached over to high five him. 

We laid there in exhausted silence for a while before either one of us had enough energy to do anything.

“Well, I am starving and there is cold pizza in the fridge,”I declared as I got out of bed and threw on some comfy clothes. I was halfway through my second piece of cold pizza when dean came trudging out of my room. With my mouth full of pizza I gestured to the open box.

“So…” Dean awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, “you’re really good with what just happened?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Organs and pizza is a good way to start the day,”

“I don’t know, I mean it was your first time?”

“Oh D, are you worried I’m gonna fall in love with you?” I mocked.

“What no- I just- I was checking on you is all!”

“Ohhh little defensive much? Maybe I should worry about you falling in love with me,” I teased waving pizza in his face. 

When we had finished making fun of each other the topic turned serious.

“So, you gonna head back to your dad today?” I asked.

“Yeah, I should actually head out soon,” he said quietly. We chatted for a while longer before he decided it was time for him to go. He gathered his things and made his way to the door,

“Just one thing before you go,” I stopped him in the doorway, “give your brother a call, ok? He walked out on your father not on you,”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks sweetheart,” he hugged me and then he was gone. It had been four years since I met him in high school and I wondered if I would ever see the green eyed hunter again. I sure hoped I would. 

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 4 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 4 - A Dip in the Road

Word Count: 2416

The next couple weeks were a blur as you temporarily moved back to your uncle and aunt’s place, just for safety. When the cops called, asking you to identify two men who had been arrested for attempted extortion, you gladly did, and when they were off the streets, the police assured you that it was safe to return to your apartment.

The whole time, John stayed in touch, letting you know that he was here for you. He even came to visit you a few times, taking you out for dinner, but he always stayed a little away from your aunt & uncle’s house.

“They don’t need to see me,” he always said as he waved goodbye and sped away.

You had a feeling that one day, he would need to meet your family, because the way things were going, he was starting to occupy more and more of your heart.

***

Early in the morning, before the sun really rose in the sky, you headed back to your apartment, ready to move back in. You carried your IKEA tote full of your clothes from your car and around the corner to the shop front. 

At the sight before you, you dropped your tote and rushed forward. 

"John!" 

Laying on the sidewalk, groaning softly, John glanced up to see you and immediately tried getting up. 

"Sweetheart…"

Stepping around the broken glass, you reached for him. He looked like he had taken quite a beating. "We need to take you to a hospital."

"No, no, I'm fine, just need to rest," he grumbled, slowly getting up with your help. When you gave him a disbelieving look, he looked at you, his grey eyes hardening with resolve. "I'm alright. I promise."

You finally nodded and helped him into your shop. Sitting him down at your work table in the back, you ran back out to grab your tote, threw it upstairs and grabbed your first aid kit.

John sat quietly, letting you fuss over his wounds. For as bloody as he looked, they were mostly surface scrapes, minor cuts, nothing that would need stitches. He was bruised to hell, and when he took off his shirt to let you tend to his other cuts, your eyes wandered over his chest briefly. 

"Enjoyin' the view, baby?" he teased, winking at you. 

"Why would you call me out like that," you accused, putting some hydrogen peroxide on one of his cuts and grinning ruthlessly as he flinched from the sting. 

"Sorry, just tellin' it like it is."

You laughed softly. A few moments passed before you finally asked, "What happened?" 

John sighed. "You said you were comin' back in the mornin', so I thought I'd surprise you. But when I got here, there were a couple of guys smashing the windows. I tried to stop them, but they got the better of me and took off."

"You should've called the police! What if they killed you?" 

John shrugged. "Cops wouldn't have gotten here in time anyway."

You cupped his cheek. "That wasn't my point. I meant you. You could've been more hurt."

When he met your eyes, saw the care you had for him and the worry that he had caused you, he leaned into your touch, closed his eyes, and sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

You leaned in and kissed his forehead. "As long as you understand. Please take care of yourself."

He shrugged. 

"Please. For me?" 

His eyes softened as he took your hand and kissed it tenderly. "For you? Anythin'."

***

You called the police, filed a report, and called the insurance company, and basically spent most of the day taking care of business. John stayed by your side, helping you clean, despite his injuries, and generally being a good boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. You hadn't really thought about it with everything else going on in your life, but John seemed really devoted to you, making time to see you as much as possible. 

Towards the end of the day, you had appointments for your window to be repaired, and John had helped rebuild some of your display cases, even though you took on most of the heavy lifting this time.

You watched him as he sat down, looking exhausted. Coming over to his side, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Do you want to rest here tonight?”

He looked up at you, surprised. You were surprised yourself, to be honest. You’d never had a man over before.

After a few moments, while John was clearly debating with himself, he eventually shook his head. “As tempted as I am by the offer, I best be goin’ home. Dutch will chew me out if I’m not there in the morning.”

You tilted your head, curious. He hadn’t mentioned this ‘Dutch’ person before. “Is that your stepdad?”

John blinked. “No, not really.” He was silent after that, and you had the distinct feeling that any further questions in that direction would get shut down.

“Oh. Alright then.” You weren’t sure what to say after that. He was clearly hiding his home life. You wondered if it was shame, embarrassment, or something else entirely.

He must have seen the inquisitive look on your face because he took your hand in his. “I’ll tell you everything, some day. Just not right now.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I promise.”

“Awful lot of promises, John. You better keep them.”

He grinned. “I will.”

Standing up, he leaned in and gave you a tender kiss, his lips brushing over yours before he cupped your cheeks and slowly coaxed your lips open, deepening his kiss for a few blissful moments before pulling away. “Good night, sweetheart. Stay safe.”

As he left the shop, he made sure you were right behind him, locking the door before he walked away, waving as he went. You waved back and watched him go, and wondered why your heart felt like it was going with him.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Dutch nearly yelled, his voice cracking slightly when he took in John’s form as he entered the motorcycle club. He stormed up to him and stared him down, waiting for an answer.

“Glad to see you too, Dutch,” John shot back. He glanced around but didn’t see Arthur.

“Arthur’s off doing a delivery,” Dutch said in response to his unasked question. He stood back and crossed his arms. “Working hard, unlike some people.”

“I was busy.”

“What could be more important than the gang?”

“The ODB are coming north. Ran into them while I was riding, stopped them from smashing some poor girl’s shop.”

Dutch suddenly stood up straighter. “Which town?”

John told him.

“I see.” Dutch paced around for a few moments. John stayed quiet, watching him. Then Dutch turned to John and glared again. “They’re serious business, John. You see them again on your own, you come straight back here. Don’t put yourself in danger just because you see some girl getting her shop trashed.”

John bit back his response; he hadn’t told Dutch about the girl he was seeing, and he wasn’t about to mention her now. He merely nodded.

“Good. Now, get your priorities in order. The gang comes first.” He touched his shoulder. “I just want us to be in a good place, and for that, we need money.” Patting his shoulder as he walked past him, Dutch bid him good night and left the building.

John let out a breath. 

The door opened again. He could hear Arthur telling Dutch the job was done, and that he’d see him tomorrow. Then Arthur came in, took one look at John, and shut the door, walking over to him before speaking in a low voice.

“What happened?”

John told him everything, up to when Dutch had left him alone in the warehouse.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Arthur scratched his beard. “You really like this girl?”

“Yeah.”

“You serious about her?”

John swallowed. He’d had his share of hookups in the past, but this girl was different. She was something pure, something wonderful. He wanted to be worthy of standing beside her. 

Arthur tilted his head when he didn’t answer. A few moments of silence passed.

“Would you leave the gang for her?” Arthur finally asked.

John’s jaw dropped as he stared at him. But Arthur’s serious stare forced him to think, to really consider his own priorities. He realized with a shock that he would do anything for her. 

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “I would.”

Expecting to be yelled at, John was surprised when Arthur only smiled wryly before looking serious again. “Then get out of this life, John. Get out and don’t look back. If you want to have a real chance with her, you need to get clean.”

Arthur started walking towards his room, leaving John to wonder what would make Arthur, king of loyalists, to give him that kind of advice.

***

“Boys, we have a problem.”

The gang turned to Dutch as he sauntered into the warehouse as they were all tuning their bikes. Standing to face him, the men shared some discreet glances at each other. Of course, they all knew about John and his girl, and had all encouraged him to start cleaning up his life. And without John knowing, the others had secretly agreed to not breathe a word to Dutch.

“John has told me that the O’Driscolls are comin’ north, towards our turf. Now I know I said that we shouldn’t mess with such a large gang. But I have you boys, the fastest, smartest, toughest gang in the city. I have a plan. We’re going to hit them hard, and let them know to stay south of the county line.”

“How’re we goin’ ta do t’at?” Sean asked.

“I hear they’re trying to open up a new chapter of their club nearby. We blow the place, leave a clear message they are not welcome here.”

The men wore varying expressions of wariness. Arthur, keeping his expression neutral, just nodded. “Alright Dutch, let us know the plan.”

***

As Dutch left the building, he realized that Arthur alone had followed him outside, leaving the others to start gearing up for the mission.

“Dutch, remember the last time we did anything like this?”

“We sent a clear message.”

“We lost Davey and Mac!”

“Arthur, now, if I could take their place, I would. But the gang as a whole survived, thanks to their sacrifice. Don’t let their loss be in vain! We must survive. Don’t you have faith in me, son?”

“...Of course I do.”

***

John looked up when Arthur came back in, his back hunched, his face wrinkled in a scowl. He continued to work, making the molotovs with Sean at the workbench.

When Arthur pulled him aside, he followed quietly until they were out of earshot of the others.

“When we go on this mission, you stay in the back.”

“What?” John nearly shouted.

“Shut up,” Arthur growled. “You have someone waiting for you.”

John glared. “I won’t hide like some little kid.”

Arthur glared back. “Just do as I say.”

“Why the hell should I?”

Arthur reached out to grip his shoulder. “Because you’ll make her cry if you get hurt.” He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing. “Just this once, please listen to me. It’d mean a lot to me if you did.”

John looked at Arthur and suddenly felt the age difference between them. When John had joined the gang 5 years ago, he was only 15, a dumb teenager. Arthur was already 25, probably had his own experiences that he never talked about.

Now, looking at Arthur, a 30 year old man trying to run around as if he was still in his early twenties, John felt his tiredness. He felt the world on Arthur’s shoulders. 

So he nodded, if only to help alleviate even a little bit of that weight. “Alright, Arthur.”

“Thank you.”

***

It was easy enough to find out where the O’Driscoll Boys were starting their new chapter. The building was shiny and new, freshly painted and almost ready to open. So the VDL Riders did what they did best: snuck in, did their damage, and slunk off into the night with no one the wiser.

Except tonight their luck had run out.

As John tossed the last molotov into the smoking building, a bullet broke his left rear view mirror. He immediately ducked and started weaving out of the way, looking in the other mirror to see three bikers chasing after him.

“Shit!”

He twisted and turned his way through town, trying to lose his pursuers, but to no avail. He finally reached for the S&W M&P 9mm in his belt and shot at their tires. He didn’t want to use a gun; attracted too much attention, but if he needed to use it, he would.

8 bullets later, the three men had stopped chasing him, their tires flat. He had some bullet grazes because he had to aim and shoot, but it was worth it. He sped up, seeing Lenny and Sean’s bikes go down, only to see Arthur and Charles turn back around and pick them up, pulling them onto their bikes as they quickly raced away, taking a hard left turn.

From the right, John could see five more bikers barrelling down the hill, coming after them.

He didn’t even think.

John threw his empty gun at the biker at the head of the pack, and swerved into the path of the other four, causing them all to scatter around him. Three of them slowed. One didn’t.

It almost was like slow motion, as the last biker careened into John’s rear tire, sending his bike spinning and John rolling and skidding down the road until he finally came to a stop on the sidewalk. He tasted blood, smelled blood, heard blood pumping through his veins and out of his multiple wounds. 

He bitterly thought about his favorite leather jacket and how it was probably torn up beyond repair. He felt like his limbs had become lead weights, too heavy to move, too numb to feel pain. 

The last thing John saw was blue and red flashing lights coming into his vision, the last thing he heard was the very last thing he wanted to hear.

Sirens. 

And somewhere in the background, he could hear the sound of a Harley come and go. Perhaps he imagined it.

Then darkness and blissful silence.

----------------

Chapter 5

[headfulloffantasies]

Marked From Birth

Dean Winchester was cursed with the Mark of Cain as a child. He struggled with it his whole life. Now it’s time to find the demon who cursed him and make it pay.

Ao3

Rated T for violence

Dean sat in the school counsellor’s office. His toe tapped in time with the clock on the wall. The afternoon sunlight glinted off the counsellor’s purple cat eyed glasses.  The name plate on her desk said “Mrs. Wright.”

“Dean,” Mrs. Wright said softly. She always spoke softly. “You have to understand this is a very serious situation. You’re sixteen; fighting can’t just be waved aside as horseplay gone wrong. You broke that boy’s nose.”

The crunch of cartilage under Dean’s fist had given him a burst of satisfaction. It calmed the rattling hum under Dean’s skin.

“The principal is considering expulsion,” Mrs. Wright went on.

Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t be around much longer.”

Mrs. Wright frowned. “Yes. You move quite a lot. Do you think maybe part of your anger stems from the frustration of not being in one place long enough to make sustainable friendships?”

Low hanging fruit, Dean thought. And completely off target. He had anger issues because Dean Winchester was cursed. The raised brand on his arm had quit burning after the fight. But the pain would come back. It always did.

A knock tapped at the door. The secretary stuck her head in the room. “Mr. Winchester is here.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. He stood quickly. He muttered an apology to Mrs. Wright and hurried out of the office. He didn’t miss the way her eyes followed him like a hawk. Dean needed out of this town. The sooner the better. It shouldn’t be long if John was back to pick up Dean.

Dean’s spine straightened of its own accord the second he caught sight of his old man. John leaned on the front desk; his worn leather jacket covered in dust from the road. He had more stubble than last time Dean saw him.

Dean and John did not exchange words. John jerked his head towards the door. Dean followed him out of the school and into the Impala.

Dean sighed as he sank into the passenger’s seat. The smell of old leather, whiskey, and gun oil saturated the car. It smelled like home.

John turned the keys in the ignition. They drove all the way to the highway before John spoke.

“This is my fault.”

Dean looked at him sharply. John always started like this. Just once, Dean wanted to let John take the blame. But that wasn’t how this script went.

“No, it isn’t,” Dean said. “I threw the first punch.”

“You wouldn’t have all this anger if I could have been there for your mother,” John said right on cue.

“I’m the one who has to learn how to live with this,” Dean touched the Mark on his arm.

John sighed.

Dean waited for the next prompt. John would suggest they leave town. He found work somewhere else. They could have a fresh start.

John stayed silent. The endless blacktop of the highway stretched to the horizon. Dean fidgeted.

  “I want you and Sam to stay with Bobby for a while,” John said.

Dean’s heart jumped. “What?” He blurted out. “Why?”

  “Because it’s time you learned a lesson or two,” John said.

Dean swallowed hard.

“I have a job a few towns over,” John said. “Bobby’ll look after you.”

“I can look after us,” Dean argued.

 “Do as I say,” John instructed.

Dean slumped in his seat. “Yessir.”

  They collected Sam and emptied their hotel room in record time. Sam didn’t argue like he usually did when they packed up. That alone sent sparks of anxiety up and down Dean’s spine. He felt like Sam and John were conspiring about him. They had some plan. They were finally tired of him. Dean had to do something about it. If he didn’t act, they’d hurt him. Hurt them first. Hurt them. Hurt.

  Dean clenched his fists and closed his eyes. It was too soon. He’d just fed the beast. He couldn’t have these destructive thoughts already. Not so soon after breaking some poor sap’s nose.

  The Impala pulled up at Bobby’s driveway. John didn’t get out of the car. Bobby loved Sam and Dean like sons, but he would not tolerate John Winchester in his house.

Dean grabbed his bag from the trunk and tossed it over his shoulder.

John waved from the car and drove off.

Sam grinned at Dean. “So, what’s you do this time?”

“Shut up,” Dean growled. The hot curl of violence under his skin burned.

Sam’s smile wavered. “Hey,” he touched Dean’s sleeve. “You’re good, okay? We’re good.”

Dean took a deep breath through his nose. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Dean and Sam trekked up Bobby’s front steps. Dean lifted his fist to knock. The door opened before he touched wood.

“Boys,” Bobby greeted them. Dean’s chest lightened. The only person who could calm Dean like Sam was Bobby in his worn ballcap and grey beard.

Bobby clapped them both on the shoulder. “Sam, you’re growing like a weed. You eating enough?”

Dean smirked. In the last year Sam had shot over Dean, much to his chagrin.

“I’m great, Bobby,” Sam leaned in for a hug.

Bobby turned to Dean. His face became solemn. Somehow Bobby could always gauge Dean’s condition.

“You’re in a bad way, boy.”

Dean swallowed. “Yeah.”

Bobby nodded. “That’s why your useless daddy dropped you here. It’s time for us to get ahead of this thing.”

Dean startled. “What?”

Bobby led Sam and Dean into the living room. Dean dropped onto the couch beside Sam. Bobby paced the worn carpet.

“We have a lead on your curse,” Bobby started.

Dean leaned forward, a million questions on his tongue.

Bobby held out a hand. “Just let me say this. You know the Mark of Cain was given to you as a child on the day your mother was killed.”

Dean and Sam nodded. The pain lanced like a knife through Dean every time.

“Well,” Bobby continued. “John and I ain’t ever seen eye to eye on anything. But he’s agreed to one thing. It’s time you both learned how to fight.”

Dean blinked. “I can fight. I’m on the wrestling team-.”

“Not that kind of fighting,” Bobby said. “You’re both old enough now to fight beside your dad and me. To fight monsters.”

Sam bounced in his seat. “Like rugarous, and werewolves? And vampires?”

“And demons,” Bobby nodded. “If we’re going to break Dean’s curse, you’ll have to battle demons.”

The hungry fire in Dean’s core roared. It ached to spill blood, any blood. The blood of demons would sate the hunger.

“Yes,” Dean said. “When do we start?”

Bobby eyed him with the caution Dean learned meant he’d been too eager. He’d unsettled Bobby. Dean forced himself to sit back and take a breath.

“The thing that gave you that,” Bobby pointed to the red Mark on Dean’s arm. “Was a demon. John finally found a name. We’re going to find it and kill it.”

“What name?” Dean asked.

“Castiel.”

[thunderbird-one-ai]

Compromised Chapter 1 Part 3

Chapter 1 Part 1 Chapter 1 Part 2

This is the final section of Chapter 1. As of right now I am slowly making my way through chapter 2 where things might get a little spicy. 

part 3: Scott

The prison was a mess, fires littered one side of the building bellowing smoke, making it easy to spot from far away. The walls were at least one metre thick with reinforced concrete to make simply drilling or even using mass produced explosives would not have much effect on the building itself. Scott thought back to Kayos words that the explosives were specially made to affect the building this badly. As Thunderbird One flew across the area, he was made aware of the coast not too far from the prison. Maybe that was The Hoods plan, to escape by sea by means of a boat or submarine. His sensors might not be able to reach the bottom of the coast and there was only one person or machine that could in this short time.

“Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two,” Scott said through comms, he’d rather inform them now before Thunderbird Two got here, the less time they spent changing plans meaning the better chance they have of finding escapees, finding The Hood.

“Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, go ahead,”

“I think we are going to need Thunderbird Four around the coast to see if anyone is escaping via the water, if this is a planned assault they might have thought to use the water as their escape,” Scott said firmly. He could practically hear Gordon smiling.

“F.A.B Thunderbird One,” Gordon replied.

The mission was straight forward. Gordon had indeed been able to find some criminals trying to swim to freedom. However, there were no boats or underwater vehicles waiting for those prisoners. Virgil landed Thunderbird Two and Alan controlled one of Brain’s machines to help with the containment of the fires and aid in restoring some infrastructure to the worst affected parts of the building. Scott and Kayo had also worked together to locate some other missing inmates that had got a little further into the mainland.

John was tasked with keeping the relations with the GDF members and International Rescue on good grounds. It had always been rocky even with their dad’s miracle return to the head of IR. Scott mentally reminded himself to check in on John when he landed Thunderbird One to make sure his younger brother was handling the GDF well. He knew his brother much preferred talking to the GDF through pixels than rather being there in person.

“Everyone this is John,” he began, “All of the staff members are accounted for, but some prisoners aren’t. With the information Gordon has sent me I doubt they are trying to escape by sea still. The same can be said for them being near the prison itself since myself, Virgil and Alan have it covered. I’d suggest Thunderbird One and Shadow should widen their search, going to the small groups of GDF near the more remote areas,”

“Is one of the prisoners The Hood?” Scott asked

“I’ve only got prison numbers so I’m unsure,” John replied. Scott couldn’t completely agree on himself on whether this was a true statement or a false one.

“Maybe run the numbers over the files and see if you can figure it out,”

“The GDF wouldn’t give me permission for that,”

Scott let out a quiet groan of frustration. Of course. They wouldn’t give John any access to their network since they didn’t like International Rescue at all. This lack of trust is what let so many people like The Hood get away with so many attacks in the first place. “I’ll check the North east area see if I can find anything,” he closed the comms before letting John finish his F.A.B statement.

 Scott landed his Bird near the furthest post the GDF has set up, making sure they had the area within covered. To call it a post was an exaggeration since it was merely two armoured trucks, blocking a dirt road, and not even a handful of GDF members. The forest wasn’t too much further and the ground before that was overgrown with small hills poking through the grass. A perfect place if one wanted to hide. He would have to do another fly over and scan the area. This post was the furthest away from the prison, with the least amount of security, if The Hood wanted a quick getaway this would be the place. Scott sighed. There were too many open areas, too many places that someone like The Hood could escape to.

As he started moving back to Thunderbird One, a young boy ran out of the forest crying and calling for help. Scott stopped the boy telling him to calm down and that it would be okay. These words seem to have little effect as the younger one in front of him gulped in air, telling Scott that someone had hurt his dad and wouldn’t let him go. Throughout this entire commotion, the GDF members seemed to have their back conveniently turned away. He wasn’t surprised that The Hood was able to escape the GDF’s grasp and be compromised by the Chaos crew all those months ago with this lack of consideration.

“It’s okay, we’ll get him back, show me where you last saw him,” Scott said sternly. The public were already getting hurt. Maybe this attack on this father and son was The Hood trying to cause mayhem and pain already. The kid started running into the overgrown grass, Scott followed closely behind. He had to stay alert and ready for a possible ambush, something The Hood was well known for. Still, it would be best to update his brothers on the situation. “John I’m in pursuit of some more stowaways. It looks like they’ve taken someone hostage whilst they made a break for it. Going to see if I can spot them,” there was silence, no one responded. “Virgil can you get hold of John?” again nothing but silence, not a good sign, something couldn’t have possibly gone wrong at the prison site, right? He did a quick once over with this communicator, it was working fine, no faults in the system meaning that something or someone was stopping him from sending out the transmission. Scott was becoming more convinced this was The Hoods work. He must have been right in suspecting he would get away. Finally, he saw three figures in the opening, not great odds. The boy ran forward, shouting and waving his arms, making it impossible to even try and surprise them. As he walked into the opening, he could see the man who must have been the father on the floor looking worried whilst two orange clad prisoners looked forward almost shocked. They were opposites to one another. The inmate to the fathers left was tall and lanky whereas the other was short and portly.

“We told you to not bring a GDF person kid!” the taller inmate shouted, sounding a little less angry than Scott was expecting.

“Well I’m not exactly GDF though am I?” Scott replied quickly, although that really didn’t help the situation from an individual who had made it this far from the prison.

“We’re going to be let free you hear! Or this old man gets it!” One of the prisoners grabbed the boy’s father by the collar lifting him roughly.

Scott glanced between the two prisoners trying to figure out which one of them was more likely to be The Hood in disguise. Neither inmate looked like The Hood but that was nothing new with the technology available to him in the past. “Look you’re not going to make it far with two hostages. Let the father go, they’ve done nothing wrong.”

“We need him to escap-“

“Look I know one of you is The Hood,” Scott snapped, his blood rushing through his veins “ Just give up you’re not going to make it far,” with the alteration between his father not an hour ago, Scott’s emotions reached their boiling point. “Which ever one of you isn’t The Hood, why work for someone who doesn’t care. He’s destroyed some families and tried to break others apart. Why would he care about someone he met in a prison cell?”

Both prisoners look to each other unsure on what to say still having a firm hold on the father between them who began to groan softly. “Please, just let me go to see my boy,” the father sounded desperate. Scott couldn’t help but have a flash of parallel to how he felt when his dad went missing all those years ago. It was at this point Scott realised he was way more emotionally invested in this situation then they were.

He took a step forward, “Just let him go!” he tried to force himself to stop sounding so desperate and to keep level-headed.

Again, both inmates looked at each other. Scott could tell that they were going through their fight or flight moment. Either they were going to start to drag the father away or leave the father and make a run for it. He hoped for the latter. Thankfully he was right. As if on cue, the inmates roughly pushed the poor father forward. He would have had a nasty bash to the head is Scott hadn’t moved a split second after, to slow and cushion the older mans fall.

Scott breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he helped the fallen man sit up straight. That was far too close, he got too emotional during that situation. Heck, he’d been emotional during this entire mission. Maybe after all this, it was time to have a proper conversation with his father. He was sure to add his apologies for how he acted today during that talk as well. As that thought came to mind, he did not notice the fathers hand moving around the back of his neck. A sharp sting caused him to physically react and pull away from the father’s hand, gripping the back of his neck defensively.

“I was expecting someone to come and rescue the poor boy’s father. But you, Scott Tracy got here in record time,” Scott watched in disbelief, as the supposed injured father standing up, hand going to his neck to pull away a metallic band. As if looking at an old hologram buffer, the fathers face changed to one he knew all to well.

“H-Hood…” Scott couldn’t even think straight let alone speak straight. As he tried to use his remaining willpower to concentrate, he didn’t even notice the world moving sideways until his face smacked against the ground.

[red-pill-blue-pill]

Fortis Fortuna Adiuvat. John Wick. Part 1.

This took me forever to write, it was so frustrating. Anyway, it was supposed to be just one post but considering it kept getting longer I'm doing a mini-series of two (or maybe more) parts. 

Warnings: lil angsty i guess.

Word count: 2060.

Part 2

Rain poured down as she ran down the street. Fast. Faster than ever. Footsteps following close behind, the water she stepped on splashing her bare legs. She couldn’t remember how she ended up like this, not that she was capable of thinking in that exact moment, her hearbeat was pulsing in her ears, the deafening sound flooding her brain. 

Her soaked hair stuck to her face and her damp clothes restrained her movements as they clinged to her body. She had discarded her heels when she realized they were slowing her down, what a night to dress up.

Her lungs burned with every breath she took, the cold air and the downpour didn’t help. Each step she took felt like a knife stabbing her thighs, each step she found it harder to keep going.

Her brain took in her surroundings, trying to find something, anything that could get her out of this surreal situation.

That's when she saw it. The road split up, a huge building right in the middle. The light in its hall shone upon the wet concrete of the street, so she risked it.

She sprinted using all the will left in her, the footsteps behind her picked up their pace. Her heartbeat echoing inside her head, pushing her to go faster. A hard kick in the back of her leg made her fall face first into the set of stairs that led to the entrance. A man, a big one, pinned her hands to the second step, just above her head, as he hit her face relentlessly. Blood blinded her sight, blow after blow, her surroundings slowly disappearing, her face going numb.

The door opened harshly, a well dressed man stood outside. "You know the rules. No bussiness on Continental grounds." He simply stated, and the continuous beating came to a halt with a loud grunt on the attacker's behalf. She crawled her way to the top of the stairs, the suited man helping her to stand up.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" He asked, his voice laced with concern. She was terrified, she didn't know what was going on, who was that man and what was the continental. She stuttered, trying to understand the mess that was her head in that moment. The knot in her chest finally loosened up for the first time that night, allowing her to finally breathe and spill all the tears that she had been holding in. She sobbed into the stranger's chest, unable to stop herself.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me..." he said as he ushered her into the huge hotel lobby.

___

"Thank you, Charon." She said as he handed her some towels and went back to check if they had any rooms left.

She wrapped herself in the cozy white material trying to dry her clothes as much as she could. She shivered as she thought of what could've happened if Charon wouldn't have made an appearance. The word still ringed in her ears. "No bussiness". Was someone paying for that man to kill her? "Continental grounds". what kind of hotel is this? She heard footsteps. Another suited man entered the hotel lobby. His face was covered in small cuts and bruises, his leg was visibly wounded and his black suit hid the blood stains from his possible wounds.

As he walked, she caught his eye. She was still trembling and considering she was soaking wet it could’ve been because of the cold, but her eyes said much more. Her gaze darted all around the space, nervously switching from a lamp, to a couch, to him and then to the counter. Her red eyes gave away all her emotions. Her swollen face was getting darker by the minute and he felt the need to ask her what had happened but he resisted the urge and just kept walking.

He leaned on the counter and spoke to Charon "Send the doctor to my room.” his voice was strained and barely above a whisper, he was too tired and sore. “Of course Mr. Wick.” He grunted as he walked towards the elevator, making eye contact with her and nodding his head as a way to say hello. She smiled awkwardly, watching him until the elevator doors closed. 

She found herself thinking about him. Mr. Wick. He was a handsome man despite the blood and the strands of hair that were stuck to his face. The fact that he was injured didn’t made him look less dangerous, it did the opposite in fact. 

Charon's voice pulled her put out of her thoughts "The manager would like to see you." he said as he moved his arm, inviting her to go though an open door. She did as he said, still wrapped in the towel. A man was siting behind his desk, his glasses down on his nose as he looked up at her. "Hello ma'am. I've been told you've had some... trouble." He stood and shook her hand. "Yeah, well..." she chuckled pointing to her already swollen and bruise-covered face. The shock she was in before had dissappeared and her usual self was back. Don't get her wrong, she was still worried and scared to death but that little bit of humour made the situation more bareable. "I can see..." Winston didn't know what to say, tense silence impregnating the air. "Look" she said taking a seat in front of him "I don't know where to start. I've got so many questions and I am so scared to know the answers..." she closed her eyes while she pinched the bridge of her nose, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She had already cried too much today, “hold your shit together god damn it.”

Winston took a deep breath knowing the responsability he had. He thought she was in the bussiness, that this came to her with no surprise. She obviously deserved an explanation. 

“Ask anything you want. I’ll answer as sincerely as possible.”

“Who was that man? The one that tried to kill me.” she asked with shaky voice.

“Gianni Lorenzo. One of the best. Whoever sent him must be very interested in seeing you dead.” he chuckled a little, stopping inmediatly when he realized how inappropiate it was. 

A shiver ran down her spine at the mere thought. Who could’ve sent him? Who wanted to kill her so bad?

“What is the Continental? Is this some kind of hotel for assasins?” she asked again, the shakiness now gone, her voice coming out with a more confident tone. 

“You could say so. It is a long story and it's getting late." he hesitated for a few seconds. "How about you go up, take care of that face, get some rest, and tomorrow I'll tell you everything about it during lunch." She didn't answer. Painkillers, a bag of ice and some sleep did sound like a plan to her but she feared he said that as an excuse to not tell her. As if he had read her thoughts he spoke again "I promise." She stood up and secured the towel around her shoulders "Okay" Once she closed the door, Winston sank in his chair sighing loudly "as if I didn't have things to do."

Charon led her to the third floor. "This is your room ma'am. The doctor will be sent once he finishes with the other guest. If you need anything call the check-in, the number is in the phone book. Have a good night." he said as he handed her the room key. She stood there and watched as the elevator doors closed, Charon nodding his head slightly, saying goodbye.

Just as she was about to enter her room, the sound of another door opening caught her attention. A little asian man with a briefcase got out, followed by the same man she saw downstairs "Mr. Wick" she remembered. He was just in his underwear, his upper half bruised and filled with freshly stitched cuts. His hair up in a little bun allowed her to confirm her previous thoughts: he was very handsome. She couldn't stop herself as her eyes roamed his body slowly but thoroughly. Her heart rate sped up when her gaze returned to his face and she saw a little smile tugging at his lips while he looked at her. "Good night" he said to the doctor while his eyes were fixed on hers.

Once the door closed, the doctor turned and saw her face. His eyes widened and he rushed to her side "Come inside. Oh my God, poor girl." he said as he pulled at her arm and closed the door behind them. "It looks worse than it feels, I swear." she chuckled a little bit. He rumagged through his briefcase and grabbed a little bottle filled with pills. Take one of these every 6 hours, it will reduce the swelling and the pain. In a couple of days you'll be fine." He dug his hand inside his briefcase, this time it came out holding a plastic bag with a blue liquid inside "Put this in the mini bar, make sure it's cold and press it lightly to your face, it will relieve you for a while."

___

She woke up the next day, the sun shining through the courtains. For a brief moment, the memory of everything that had happened the night before was lost in her still sleepy brain. She stretched her arms and legs and the pain in her thighs brought everything back. Her eyes scanned the room. Last night she didn't even bother to turn the lights on, her body was too sore and the bed looked too comfy. 

She stood up wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her legs. She opened the courtains, closing her eyes at the sudden light. The city of New York kept moving beneath her but evething looked different in her eyes. The cars went up and down the street and people rushed to get to work. It was right there but at the same time it all felt so distant.

She got dressed, took her meds and tried to fix her face as much as she could. It looked a little better but the bruise in her cheek was getting darker. She sighed as she made her way to the door, double checking the contents of her purse. When she made her way into the hall she heard another door shut and turned around her eyes meeting his. Mr. Wick. Her breath got caught in her throat as she took him in. His hair was slicked back, the thin turtleneck sweater he was wearing made her insides squirm and the only thing that came to her mind was how the black jacket of his suit was hiding the thin fabric of the sweater clinging to his strong arms.

He cleared his throat and she averted her gaze from him. "Good morning." He said as he walked past her, pushing the elevator button. "Good morning." She stood beside him, both waiting for the elevator, both silent. The aftershave mixing with the light scent of cologne was making her head spin, his perfumed aura invading her nostrils.

"You look better than yesterday." he said before correcting himself "Your face. Your face looks better." his cheeks turned a light shade of red but his stoic face remained. "Yeah, I feel better too." The elevator doors opened and the got in. John pushed the lobby button. "You look much better, I must say." She chuckled lightly. He turned his head to her, an amused smile on his face "is that so?" 

The elevator doors closed, and it started going down. "You could barely stand up straight." she laughed. His ears tingled at her sweet laugh, pleading to hear more. He straightened up, his shoulders pushed back, his chest puffed. His stitches pulled a bit at the sudden movement. "Look at me now, the straightest I've ever been." His chest deflated and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a soft laugh that mixed with hers. They stared at eachother, the cheerful aura switched into a sparky one. Silence fell upon the little space and their smiles slowly faded. She licked her lips and he stared, following every movement her tongue made.

The elevator dinged. The doors opened. He cleared his throat. The moment's over.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Trope challenge JohnxHelen

Prompt: I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

Some days didn’t end. This one certainly wasn’t about to anytime soon. In fact, it had successfully earned a spot in Helen’s top three bad days of all time and I once lived in a house with twelve girls and two bathrooms.

Jesus.

I run my fingers through my hair, the stress seeping through me. I slam my fist against the door, fully aware that it will do me no good. I fucked up. I massively fucked up.

I had been in such a hurry to make it to my new job on time after oversleeping that I had grabbed the wrong keys. Rather than my new little house that I had scraped enough together to set a downpayment for, I had grabbed the keys to my old apartment out of habit.

I set my head against my door, eyes closed as the rain pours just feet away. Between the hectic and overwhelming first day at work and the lack of a vehicle, I’m ready to pass out and not wake up. I’m already soaked from the mile it took to walk back from the bus stop.

But I can’t get inside.

I loop around the house in a last, desperate plea to the universe to have had past me leave a window open. No such luck.

“Fuck!” I scream, coming back around to the front.

I’m in the rain now. There is no point in seeking shelter as I am soaked to the bone.

I rub my temple.

I’m locked out.

I haven’t made a spare set of keys.

My best hope was the realtor office in New York City, which was thirty minutes by car, much longer by bus.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. I still have the number of the realtor saved but as I turn the phone on, I am only met with a blank screen. I click it on again. Nothing.

“No, no, no.” I half-sob, trying a hard restart. Nothing.

Water damage. That was the only explanation. I hadn’t protected it and the poor phone hadn’t stood a chance in this utter downpour. I couldn’t even check the bus schedule or call for a taxi to take me to the train station.

I close my eyes and count to ten, even as my body shakes in the cold.

Radical acceptance, I remind myself. I preach it every day to kids I have worked with. Some things are beyond my control. I cannot change the circumstance. I can only accept them and move on.

God, no wonder my kids thought I was nuts.

How the hell was I supposed to accept this?

I don’t know when the next bus is coming but my only other choice is to break a window. And I can’t afford to fix that, not yet.

No point in wasting time. I walk to the end of my driveway. I chose the house because it was affordable. Partially because of its size, and partially because it’s in the middle of nowhere.

The realtor had told me that there were no neighbors close by. There were a few closer to town down by the bus stop but I had been warned that the homes were gang affiliated. The other was a man about half a mile up the road. I hadn’t met him and the realtor told me not to expect to. The old owners had lived at the house for six years and they had never spoken a word.

I like the road itself. On a bright day, it’s peaceful. You can almost forget how nearby Jersey City is just listening to the birds chirping and the quiet rustle of the trees. Today, though, it seemed unending.

I see headlights on the trees before I see the car. It's small and black and must belong to the man up the street. No one else comes this way.

The car slows down and pulls off to the side, coming to a stop ten feet ahead of me.

The door opens and a man steps out. “Need a ride?”

He’s tall and handsome. Dark hair down to his shoulders with a beard to match. He was wearing a three-piece suit. He doesn’t seem to mind that its being quickly drenched in the downpour.

I shake my head, “Just going to the bus station.”

“The bus doesn’t come back around until nine tonight.” That’s what I was afraid of. “Are you the new owner of the little blue house?”

I nod.

“Where are you trying to get to.”

“New York.”

He nods, assessing the situation. “Why don’t you go home and change and I’ll drive you to the train station?”

Fuck, I really don’t want to have to admit this to myself let alone the attractive neighbor.

“It’s okay.” I tell him, “I’m fine with walking."

"And waiting in the rain? At least let me take you back home so you can dry off and wait there."

"I'm locked out," I say, and I'm suddenly desperate to explain myself to this stranger. "I grabbed the wrong keys and my phone is water damaged and I sold my fucking car to get enough money for a downpayment on the house."

He nods, "is there a set of keys in New York?"

I shrug, "it's where the realtor is. It's my best shot at getting in."

"I live a mile up the road. Why don't you come with me, get dried off. We can look up to see if the realtor is even open this late."

"I…" it's far too much to ask a stranger, "I can't ask you-"

"You're not asking. I'm offering. Please."

The rain was pouring down around us. Two minutes to help a stranger and he was as soaked as I was.

I bite my lip, "are you sure?"

He nods and motions towards the passenger door.

I notice the logo on the car as I get closer. He's driving a Mustang.

Fuck.

I open the door and he climbs back in. The seats are leather and I can't imagine what sitting on them soaked will do.

"Don't give a damn about the seats." He says, "come on."

I slide in and he turns the heat up. I only notice now just how fucking cold I am.

He starts the car. I wrap my arms around my middle and clench my jaw to try and stop the chattering of my teeth.

“Thank you,” I say as he drives us up the road.

He nods. “I’m John.”

“Helen,” I reply. “I, uh, obviously just moved in.”

The corner of John’s mouth twitches. “You work in New York?”

“Jersey City. I’m a social worker.”

The twitch becomes a smirk. “That’s a place that needs it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Not only was my new place of employment massively understaffed, but the entire city was also lacking enough social workers to reach all the adolescents in need of support.

He drives through an open white gate and his house comes into view. Christ. It’s modern. Sleek. A mansion in its own right, sloped and slated. I can’t even imagine what he must do. He taps a button attached to his sun visor and the first of a four garage spots opens. He pulls in and I see no other cars.

He puts the car into park and climbs out easily. I unbuckle my belt and follow. Everything is white. Pristine. I’m almost afraid to step on the floor but I am more afraid to make him wait. I hurry after him as he walks up to the door.

We come up into a huge living room.

“I have a shower upstairs you can use. Warm up.”

“Please.”

We go up another set of stairs. There’s a small hallway with a few bookcases and a set of leather chairs. There’s an open door to a bedroom. Plain and white walls with white furniture. He enters and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow him. He opens a bureau and pulls out a dark grey henley and a pair of black sweatpants.

“Shower’s through here.”

I follow him into the room and to the master bath. Christ. The view from his balcony is gorgeous, looking out over the green hills. The bathroom itself is huge. There is a large shower, stand only, with blue tiles. The shower alone was the size of the bathroom at my old apartment. He sets the clothes down on a vanity table and pulls a towel from beneath it.

“Take your time.” He tells me and leaves me alone. As soon as the door closes, I undress, desperate to get these wet clothes off. I let them fall to the floor and cross the room, turning on the shower.

The water pressure is amazing, the warmth spilling from the faucet and over me.

I stay under the water until I no longer feel my teeth chatter and then I wrap up in the fluffy towel supplied to me.

I dress quickly, drying my hair with the towel.

His clothes smell so fucking good.

I step out of the bathroom. His bedroom is empty but his clothes are left, airdrying, on a hook by the door.

I follow the path that I came up, through the door, down the stairs. He walks out from a door as I come down the stairs.

“Feel better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

He nods, “It’s a bit late for coffee but I have some. Or tea.”

“Honestly, with the day I’m having, I’ll take coffee.”

That corner of his mouth twitches yet again. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Cream. No sugar.” I follow him into the kitchen. He has a laptop set up on the breakfast bar. I climb up on a stool. “Can I…?”

He nods and I search up my realtor. Office hours… closed at five.

“Fuck.”

“Closed.”

“Yes.” I rest my head against my hand. Next step, next step…

“I might be able to help.” He hands me a plain green mug and I gulp down the bitter drink.

“You’ve already helped me so much.”

He smiles softly and climbs up onto the stool next to me. “I had… a rocky past as a kid. May or may not have done some breaking and entering. Do you know what kind of lock you have?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s standard in the knob lock.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“Five minutes, tops.”

“Seriously?”

John nods. “Honestly, my advice to you is to get a new lock. A couple. Houses without obvious security, especially away from neighbors, are easy targets. You would have been a classic mark back in my day.”

I smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll go grab my tools. Take your time.”

I nod my thanks.

He comes back with a handful of lock picks.

“Jeez.”

“I was quite the rebel.”

“I imagine. What do you do now?”

“Contracting. Political.”

I hum, “In New York?”

He nods, “Center of political culture.”

“How’d you get into that?”

“I was recruited. What about you? How did you get into social work?”

I sip at my coffee as he sits back next to me. “I was a foster kid.”

John nods in understanding, “I grew up in an orphanage in Belarus till I came to the US at six.”

“Dead or abandoned?” I wouldn’t ask so carelessly for most people but I got the feeling he was like me. It had been coped with and he had moved on.

“Dead. Dad died before my mom even know she was pregnant and she died giving birth. You?”

“Taken from the home when I was four. I had an aunt who tried to adopt me and got in the way of any couples adopting me until I was eleven. And eleven-year-olds in the foster system…” I shrug, “Bounced around some. Group homes for a bit during the teen years. Then back in foster care until I aged out.”

John nods again, “This world is fucked. I ran away the people raising me when I was fourteen.”

“Street life?”

He nodded. “I was lucky that I could pass for eighteen as soon as the beard came in. Picked up jobs where I could find them.”

“Broke into houses when you couldn’t?” I asked, not unkindly.

“Something like that.”

I finish my coffee.

“It’s hard, trying to navigate the world without guidance.”

“But you had a good social worker?”

I shake my head, “God no. He was the fucking worst. Maybe he just had too many kids on his caseload but I was at the bottom of his list. He would ignore my calls, not call me back for weeks at a time. Didn’t listen when things were bad.” I shrug, “He’s why I became a social worker. Because I want the next generation to have it better than I did. So less kids fall through the cracks.”

I stand up from the chair and John leads me back down to the garage. I’m thankful we don’t have to go out into the rain just yet. It barely takes a minute to make it from his garage to my driveway and, this time, John has preppared us with an umbrella. He climbs out of the car with it and runs over to my side to open my door.

Together we rush up to my house.

John takes out a set of lockpicking tools and kneels at my door.

“Really glad no one drives down this road.” I say with a small smile, “I wouldn’t want to have to explain this.”

John chuckles and inserts two of the tools, eyes squinted in fixed concentration. I watch as he wiggles one of the peaces, tilting his head to the side in what looks like slight confusion.

“If you can’t get it, I can look for a locksmi--”

There is an audible click and John twists the knob open.

My mouth drops. I look to him and the open door in awe.

“That was it?”

He smirks and climbs to his feet, “Like I said, you need to get some new locks. Nothing with a tumbler. At the very least, you need a deadbolt. But even that can be picked.”

“Jeez. Thank you. So much. You literally just saved my day.”

“No problem.” He says picking up his tools, “I appreciated the company.” He opens the umbrella, about to walk back to his car.

“Think, maybe, you could teach me to pick locks sometime?” I ask, “You know, if you have the time.”

John gives me a nod with a soft smile. “Tomorrow?”

I nod back. “Tomorrow.”

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 12)

Jemima Jones II

Reader meets a strange new member of the Van Der Linde gang and they pull off a job together! Contains criminal activity, of course.

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

  -

A few long days passed without another word from Dutch. He seemed satisfied enough by my willingness to help the gang make money, and he'd left the ball in my court. It was up to me to get the wheels turning on the robbery, but everyone at the camp was so busy I was starting to worry I'd never get the job done. That was until a new face walked into camp, a man I hadn't seen before but Dutch seemed to recognise. Micah, a slightly ratty looking feller with blond hair and a certain swagger about him that was complacent at best, downright arrogant at worst. Dutch pointed him in my direction first chance he got, grabbing the opportunity to pair us up on my job. 

"Hello, miss, there's certainly a lot of new faces around here. You'd think we were some kind of charity," was his very first greeting. I stood up from where I was kneeling, washing some clothes. 

"Well, I'm not a charity case, Mr, uh, Mr. Bell, was it?" I said, holding my hand out for him to shake. He looked at it for a long time before actually shaking it, and he was a little rough. 

"I've been told you've got some work for me." 

"I suppose I have, if Dutch's given you your orders, I guess we're doing this together. It's a house, quite a ways away. About halfway between here and Annesburg."

"You want me to go all the way over to Annesburg? For what, a few trinkets?" Micah scoffed and shook his head. 

"Only half way there," I cocked a brow at him. "John rode over there before, he said it looked promising. And the woman is expecting me. When she gave me that address she was under the impression I was a servant girl looking for work, she lives there with her husband and her son, my plan is to go over there and meet the family, have myself a little interview, while you–”

"While I sneak in and rob them blind, how very creative," he rolled his eyes, and I narrowed mine.

"If you'd prefer not to do this, I'm happy to wait a while until John is available. I know he's got another job going on right now, but this house ain't going anywhere."

"No, I'll do it. But I get a bigger cut than you," he pointed at me.

"Of course. I'm just a distraction, and I ain't doing this for myself anyway," I shrugged, walking away from him. "I'm gonna get changed, then we can head off now."

Micah followed me. 

"Ain't you gonna explain some of the finer details? How're we doing this, you go in the front, I go in the back, we meet up behind the stables or what?" 

"We can talk about that on the way, John sketched me a layout of the land, where everything is, I have an idea," I explained, picking up the dress Mary-Beth had lent to me once again, since I couldn't go robbing this woman wearing the clothes I'd stolen from her. I walked around the back of the girls' wagon, out of sight from the camp where I usually changed. 

"Are you going to stand there and watch me get undressed or may I have some privacy?" I asked when Micah followed me around the corner. A smirk appeared on his face.

"I don't know, I ain't opposed to watching if you're offering, darling," he sneered, looking me up and down. 

"Get out of here," I waved him off, glowering, and he turned and left with a lecherous chuckle. 

-

It took us a while to ride out there and on the way I told Micah my plan. He listened to me surprisingly attentively, only butting in to ask the occasional question; overall he seemed pretty satisfied by what I'd told him. We were going to stop our horses a fair way away from the house and I'd walk up to the front, get in the house and get settled with the family. Micah would approach only when I was inside, and he'd find a way into the house while I was speaking to them, I'd keep them occupied while he cleaned out as much as he could. Then, I'd ask to see the stables, leaving the house empty for him to finish the job. 

All going to plan, I'd leave after seeing the stables and meet Micah back at the horses, and we'd be out of there before the family even knew there was something amiss.

It was a simple plan, but I didn't do complexities when it came to these things. I wanted in and out work with little to go wrong. Micah asked me how much experience I'd had and I told him the truth; not a lot. But the experience I did have had been successful and pulled off completely on my own, and he seemed assured that I could manage what we were doing. After all, I'd just be distracting the family, having an interview, it wasn't extreme criminal activity by any means. The real work was down to him, hence why my cut would be small, he'd said. 

Fair enough, I'd said. I didn't need cash, per se. I needed weapons, and so I told him to keep his eyes peeled.

We reached the house by mid afternoon and rode past it, getting a good look at the place before dismounting up the road from it. We familiarised ourselves with John's sketch of the layout, and everything checked out from what we'd seen on our pass by. With that, I declared I was ready, and Micah gave me a pat on the back.

"Good luck, Jemima Jones," he said, snorting at my alias. "Hope you get the job." 

I rolled my eyes and smirked before jogging off towards the house. I slowed to a natural stroll as I got closer, making my way up the front path and taking slow, deep breaths to calm myself. The good thing about this plan was, if I was nervous it'd look natural, since I allegedly had a job hanging on this meeting. 

I knocked on the front door and waited, fixing my hair in the reflection of the glass; I was wearing it in two plaits, not perfect but good enough. I'd done them myself and I was getting better each day. Mary-Beth had been proud. 

The door opened and a man answered, I put on my best smile and held my hand out to him. 

"Jemima Jones, pleased to meet you. I met a Mrs. Schwartz a little while ago and she told me to visit this place, it's about a job," I explained and the man nodded knowingly. He shook my hand before calling over his shoulder. 

"Lou! That lady's here!" He turned back to me. "Yes, my wife told me to expect you, come on in. I'm Geoffrey, good to meet you Miss Jones."

He led me into a formal sitting room. The house we were in wasn't hugely lavish but it was certainly the house of a family who lived comfortably. The walls were nicely wallpapered and decorated with framed photographs and artwork, the occasional taxidermy head of a deer or other poor creature. In the sitting room that was located in the middle of the house, there was a fireplace, above which a Springfield rifle sat. I eyed it up as Geoffrey urged me to take a seat on one of the two sofas that took up the middle of the space, and I hoped that Micah would notice it too whenever he was able to loot this particular room. 

Mrs. Schwartz entered the room a few moments later, carrying a tray with a teapot and a trio of teacups on it. She smiled at me and set the tray down on the ornate wooden table between the sofas before sitting down opposite me, next to her husband. 

"Miss Jones, it's very nice to see you again. I thought you weren't going to turn up!" She laughed. "Would you like some tea?" 

"Oh, yes please. I apologise for making you wait so long, I've had rather a busy week, I've moved in with my father," I explained. 

"Ah, that explains it. You know, I was beginning to feel a little uneasy about our meeting," she said, an edge to her voice that made my hair stand on end. 

"Why might that be?"

"I'm afraid my luggage went missing that day, I was starting to wonder if you might've had something to do with that. But you're here, so I realise I had nothing to worry about," she chuckled.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, and I can understand your concerns. You can't be too careful these days. I imagine it was some thug who took your case, I hear there's been more and more undesirables loitering around Valentine lately," I shook my head sadly, gratefully taking the teacup she offered to me. "Thank you." 

Over the lady's shoulder, I saw Micah peer in through the window and smirk at me. I made sure to keep my face neutral and blew on my tea. 

"Such a shame," she sighed wistfully. "Not to worry, it's only possessions."

"That's a wonderful attitude to have," I nodded. "Where's the boy you were with? How is he doing?"

"He's out in the stables, cleaning them out. Which would of course be part of your job if you began working for us," Geoffrey answered. "Louise told me you've had a lot of experience with that," he placed his hand on his wife's knee and I nodded. 

"That's right. I was somewhat of a Jack of all trades in my old job. I'd wake up early in the morning and tend to the horses, then I'd come in in time to make the family's breakfast, and in the day time I'd be childminding, cleaning and other general chores, running errands for the lady of the house, you know.”

"Well that'd be mighty helpful. Sometimes we're just desperate for another set of hands. There just ain't enough hours in the day," he chuckled, shaking his head, watching my lips as I took a sip of my tea. 

I wondered if Micah had made it into the house yet, since I hadn't heard a thing. Of course, that was a good thing, perhaps he was just extremely quiet. I hoped that was the case. 

"Now, I'd just like to explain some of the terms I had in mind," Louise said, placing her own teacup down on a saucer on the table. "You'd be living with us, I believe that's somewhat standard for your line of work?"

"It has been the case for most of my employment, yes," I nodded. 

"We have a room for you. Well… we will have. There's a small shack, uh, building out by the stables that we can make up for your comfort. We can go out and look at that later on but be warned, it's in rather a state of disrepair at the moment," she explained.

"But don't worry, we will prepare that for your arrival and ensure that it's to your satisfaction," Geoffrey added. I felt a touch of guilt at that, suddenly they were being very kind, behaviour that was so unlike what I'd witnessed at the train station. 

I pulled myself together and pushed on. This needed doing for the sake of the gang, the people who'd taken care of me.

"That's most generous," I said. 

The three of us spoke for a while, discussing my 'experience'. I mainly just spoke about the sorts of things I did anyway when I lived in a home, the cooking and the cleaning, general maintenance. It was easy, too easy, the pair of them were eating out of my hand and seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of having me working for them. I had a constant level of guilt in the back of my mind but I kept to it, knowing that Micah was somewhere in the house, cleaning them out. These people were well off, anyway, they wouldn't miss the stuff. Right? 

By the time we had all finished our tea, I was certain that Micah would've had enough time to explore the rest of the house. So I placed my teacup down and smiled at my two hosts. 

"Well, may I see the stables? And the room I'd be staying in?" I asked and they both nodded. 

"Of course! But like I said, your room needs a lot of work so don't let it put you off!" Louise said, rising to her feet and gesturing for me to follow. Geoffrey was right behind me, following me through the house; through the kitchen and out a side door.

"Oh, I'm sure it's no worse than my previous lodgings," I laughed. 

We crossed the grounds to the paddock, heading through to the stables. The boy was in there, just like they'd said, and he was shovelling manure into a wheelbarrow. He looked up upon our arrival, greeting us wordlessly with a nod. Louise walked over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and guiding him over to Geoffrey and I. 

"Sam, say hello to Jemima," she said, and the boy looked up at me and gave me a little wave. Louise smacked his arm sharply. "Say hello, boy!"

"H-hello," he stammered. Louise gave a tight lipped smile and sent him on his way again.

"Sorry about him. He don't talk much, getting two words outta him is like blood from a stone," she sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, these are the stables… got a few horses as you can see, so you'll have your work cut out."

I looked around and counted a total of six. They were all very nice horses, a couple of them were Turkomans, though I spotted a Thoroughbred and an Arabian too. I nodded and let out an impressed sound. 

"These are lovely horses, ma'am."

"Yes, well, Geoffrey's brother used to race them. He's no longer with us, but we inherited them and now they're just… well. They're wasted on us," she admitted. 

"You ever thought of selling them?" I asked. 

"Yes, numerous times," Geoffrey admitted. "But I think my brother would turn in his grave."

"I see," I nodded. 

"We're hoping Sam will grow up interested in riding. Would you like that, son? Riding these horses one day?" Louise called over to him. 

"Sure," he shrugged, less than enthused, continuing with his job. 

"Well, I suppose they're worth keeping, then," she laughed awkwardly. "Anyway, I apologise for my rudeness but I have an errand to run, so I best be off. Sam, you're coming with me."

"I haven't finished," he protested. 

"Then you should've worked quicker! You can finish when you get back. Come on," she hissed, then turned to me, mouthing an apology. "It's been lovely speaking, Jemima. I can safely say I'd be happy to have you. I will leave the finer details with my husband." 

She approached me and shook my hand, giving it a squeeze. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Schwartz," I nodded. 

"You're most welcome. Sam!" 

Then she was leaving the stables, heading off the property with her son on her heels. I was relieved that she didn't go back to the house, not knowing how far Micah had gotten. I looked back at Geoffrey when they were gone to see him staring at me, a little smile on his lips. 

"So did I get the job?" I asked, making him chuckle. He took a couple of steps towards me and I resisted my instinct to back away. 

"You certainly did, Miss Jones," his voice had changed, lowered. 

"Alright, well I sure am glad. Should I, uh, come over on Monday to start, or?" 

"We ain't even discussed payment yet," he pointed out, but the look in his eye suggested that was the last thing on his mind. "You're mighty pretty, Jemima. Lovely name, too. Jemima Jones. Rolls right off the tongue." 

I laughed nervously. 

"I'm glad the wife's gone. Means I can discuss some of the terms I've had in mind," he said, reaching his hand up to grasp my chin. He leaned in and I jolted backwards. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Schwartz, I think you've misunderstood," I exclaimed. He took my hand in both of his. 

"I understand perfectly well. You work for me and my wife, serving us however necessary. Don't worry, I'll make sure it's pleasurable for you too." 

"I'm not comfortable with this, this ain't part of the deal," I backed away, but he drew me in by my waist. I went to shove him away, pushing at his chest with both hands. Fucker wasn't letting go. My leg twitched, I was ready to plow it into his groin, but before I could;

"Get your filthy hands off of my wife," Micah appeared in the doorway. My head darted towards him and Geoffrey let me go, holding his hands up. 

"I didn't realise you were married, Mrs. Jones," 

Neither did I, I thought.

"Come on, Jemima, let's get out of here," Micah stepped forwards, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me towards the door. 

"Hold on," Geoffrey called out. "We uh… we could work out some sort of deal, Mr. Jones." 

"You better not be suggesting I sell my woman to you," Micah growled. 

"You make it sound so vulgar, sir," Geoffrey chuckled anxiously. 

"I'm sorry, friend, but this lady here," Micah wrapped his arm around me, pulling me up against him and burying his face in my hair, inhaling deeply and loudly. It took all of my control not to screw my face up in disgust. "Is all mine." 

The dirty laugh that Micah did right in my ear made my skin crawl, but he led me out of there so it was all shadowed by relief. He didn't release me until we were far away from the stables and leaving the property. I wanted to chew him out for his actions, but no matter how I went to phrase it, he'd still helped me.

I fell back on trusty defensiveness. "I could've taken care of that myself, you didn't have to make such a scene." 

"But that wouldn't've been half as fun, now, would it?" He questioned, mounting his horse, which was holding heaving saddlebags. 

"I guess I should thank you," I said, leaving it at that. "How'd it go at your end?"

"Very, very well. You did good, picking this little job out. It'll make Dutch real happy."

"Good," I nodded, keeping my face straight when I really wanted to smile. 

[milazka]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 | 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :  𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 & 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟒.𝟐𝐤+

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲? 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐉 𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞?

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬...

─── °• ❀ ───

Let's go back to the summer night

When we met eyes, it's like a movie line

Kissin' underneath the city lights

The Outer Banks movie night was and still is one of the oldest tradition of your town. It's one of the few occasions where kooks and pogues are peacefully reunited. Just like last year,  when your family had moved in the neighborhood between Figure Eight and the Cut, you are joyfully attending the movie night presentation which has the 60's for theme. It’s a decade that has always fascinated you, whether it is for the colourful fashion, the music of the King or the golden years of your idol and role model Audrey Hepburn. 

“The first movie is Grease!” Your best friend Tara joyfully says as she sits next to you on the blanket with the presentation leaflet in her hand.

“It doesn't even take place in the '60s!” You exclaim, a little bit offended.

"Doesn't matter, it's a good movie."

"Plus, John Travolta is hot as hell." Adds Ashley, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Who's hot as hell? Me?"

Kelce, as usual, makes you and the two girls burst out laughing with his casual comments. You met him a few weeks ago after Ashley finally decided to introduce you to her boyfriend. They had been seeing each other for a few months already, but she was afraid you wouldn't like her boyfriend, knowing your mistrust of the people of Figure Eight. At first, you had found him pretentious and boastful, like most kooks, but after a few hours of talking and getting to know him, your first impression was all gone.

"Are the boys coming?" Ashley asks in the ear of Kelce to keep you and Tara from hearing, but it's a total loss; the girl is the worst whisperer ever.

"What boys?" You ask, curious.

"Oh, um, I asked Kelce to invite Rafe and Topper so you wouldn't be the third wheel, you know.

"Ashley!" You and Tara both scream at the same time. "You need to stop this!"

“Stop what?”

"Stop pretending to be Cupid!" You shoutback, rolling your eyes.

"I promise you, girls, they're super nice and perfect for both of you!"

"Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it." You answer, still sceptical, before getting up. “I'm gonna go get some popcorn.”

The waiting line is not very long, it is mainly children in need of sugar who are impatient to buy their cotton candy with their little coupons given by a bored woman at the entrance. You giggle at the sight of a young boy whose face is covered by the pink sticky candy. It goes all the way up to his hair and you can't help but think of his poor parents who will have to clean everything up before putting him to bed tonight. 

"What are you laughing at?"

The voice belongs to a boy on your right who looks a few years older than you. He's got light brown hair that are mostly covered by a backward cap. His bluish gaze details your face, causing you to blush a little. You cannot deny that he is good looking.

“I was laughing at the little boy right there." You answer him by discreetly pointing the boy.

A smile that would make any girl fall slips into the corners of his lips.

"He looks funny."

You smile in response and walk up to the order booth, purchasing three bags of popcorn for you and your friends. 

"I guess I'll see you around." You say to the blue eyed guy when you turn back around.

“I hope so." He winks. 

You go back to where your friends are sitting on the grass, unable to repress the stupid smile on your lips. You soon realize your place is taken by a young man with brown hair, obviously one of Kelce's friends.

“Y/n, that’s Topper.” Tara introduces you and you can see the stars shining in her eyes when she looks at the boy.

Looks like someone's already found their prey, you think without saying a word to avoid ruining your friend's chances with him.

“Nice to meet you, Ashley's told us a lot about you.” He says with a nice smile.

"Oh, I have no doubt, she can't keep her mouth shut, can she?"

Ashley tries to hit you, but you duck and laugh at her until you bump into something hard. You look up to meet two familiar blue eyes. 

“We're already bumping into each other. Took less time than I thought.” He says before you take a step back, feeling his arm sliding on your hip. 

You didn't even realize he had wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you from losing your balance.

“Rafe, you know Y/n?" Kelce asks the boy.

“I met her in the waiting line.” He responds before bringing his gaze back to you. "I didn't know you were a friend of Ashley's."

“And I didn’t know you were a friend of Kelce.”

"Well, don't just stand there, the movie's about to start! Ashley exclaims. "Here, there's two more places on this blanket."

“What a coincidence.” He whispers to your ear with a smile as you sit cross-legged next to him. 

You laugh, subtlety has never been your friend's strength. Rafe lies down on his back, standing on his elbows to see the giant screen. The familiar music from the beginning of Grease echoes through the loudspeakers, silencing the spectators. You can't help but observe the boy on your right. The sleeves of his sweater that fit his biceps perfectly, the little strand of rebellious hair that keeps falling out in front of his eyes even though he puts it back in place every time, the cheeky smile at the corner of his lips as he thinks he's stealing a popcorn from you without you realizing it. 

As Dany and Sandy are rocking on the dance floor, you feel a hand on your thigh. With his eyes still fixed on the screen, Rafe pretends not to pay attention to you even though he knows very well that your eyes are on him.

You take a sight at your two friends who are in an intense make-out session with their boys.

"Looks like we're the only decent ones." Rafe whispers to you, making you giggle. 

"Or the only stuck-up ones." You add with a mocking smile. 

"Did you really just call me uptight?" He asks pretending to be offended by your comment. 

“Maybe.”

"Well, I'm gonna prove you wrong."

His hand slips into the back of your neck and he gently makes your head lean down towards him. Your lips press down on his; they are soft and taste like salted butter. His fingertips gently brushes your skin at the back of your neck as you rest on of your hand on his arm, sending shiver through your spine. He amplifies the kiss by sliding his tongue against yours, tasting every part of your mouth as if it was an exquisite desert. Your lips move at the same rhythm, attacking the other in order to taste them more and more. You separate, lips swelled and glossy.

“Still uptight in your opinion?"

“Hmm, I'm still not completely convinced. I think I need another demonstration." You tease Rafe and he pulls you back to him with a mocking smile on his lips.

But now you're laying in another guy's arms

'Cause I'm all gone

But when you look in his eyes

Do you think of mine?

And when you look at that smile

Do I cross your mind?

I know in your head

You see me instead

It would have made a year today. A year that you would have been happy together if he hadn't chosen to spend the night in your bed with another girl five months ago. A tear slides down your cheek as you look back on all your beautiful moments. The first time he told you he loved you, the time you took a road trip on a whim, the first time you went further than a kiss; it all went up in smoke when you opened the door to his room and saw him over a woman's body that wasn't yours. You remember very well how you felt your heart being ripped out when you saw his shocked face when he heard your angry screams mixed with the moaning of the blonde girl he was fucking in your bed.

"Babe, are you ready to go?" Will asks you from your room.

"Yeah yeah, just give me a sec." You wipe the tears off your cheeks and sigh at the reflection of yourself in the bathroom mirror before instinctively grabbing your coconut lip balm; Rafe's favorite one.

Electronic-style music can be heard all the way to the end of the boneyard, the place of choice for kegger parties. Like all parties organized by John B and his crew, this one is a complete success. You're sitting on a log, your head resting on Will's shoulder as he gently runs his hand over your back. He's literally an angel fallen from heaven. You met two weeks after your catastrophic breakup with Rafe. You were a mess, dressed in your oldest clothes. Your parents had forced you to go out, as they couldn't bear to see you moping in bed listening to Grease over and over again. You were a few blocks away from your house when you saw him kneeling on the sidewalk next to a little girl who had most likely just fallen off her pink bicycle. Your heart had melted when you saw him holding the little girl in his arms to comfort her, rubbing his hand on her back. Your gazes had crossed and he had smiled at you, making you blush up to your ears. Three months later, here you are together and happier than ever, at least, in his mind.

"Babe, I'm gonna go get another drink." You kiss him on the cheek before you get up.

You sneak among the bodies that sway on the sand to the rhythm of the music. As you are about to reach the keg where JJ is, a hand closes on your wrist and pulls you towards the wood without you having time to react. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his, filled with rage. 

"What the fuck Rafe?!" You shout to the boy who just let you go of his grip.

"I see you found a good rebound." He tells you, completely ignoring your question.

"He's not a rebound; he's my boyfriend." 

Rafe lets out a fake laugh as you cross your arms and defy his gaze.

"Yeah, sure. I bet you still think about me when he fucks you."

You sigh heavily, not even surprised by his comment. Rafe was always straightforward and harsh during your arguments and that doesn't seem to have changed.

"Just to remind you, you're the one who cheated on me!” You snap back to him.

He says nothing, furiously running his hand through his tousled hair despite the gel. He had stopped wearing gel when you were together after you told him you loved his messy hair. His nostrils swell under his heavy breathing. 

"We don't know what to say, do we, Mr. Cameron?" You toss to him before you start to walk away, but you are stopped by his hands grasping your hips. He quickly turns you over, colliding your bodies together while his lips crash hard against yours. You try to step back, to be reasonable, but the alcohol in your blood and the familiar smell of his cologne keep you from doing so. Your thoughts are clouded by his soft lips brushing against yours, you missed it, you missed him. His hands pulls you closer to him, you could feel the air being knocked from your lungs. The feeling of his tongue tugging on your lips make you moan and you can feel the cocky smirk on his lips. He doesn’t even wait for you to grant him access and slides his tongue in your mouth to meet yours. Realizing what you're doing, you push him away. The guilt overwhelms you as you think about Will who’s inevitably wondering where you've been all this time. 

"It-it was a mistake." You breath out before walking away from him.

"We both know it wasn't, Y/n. Stop lying to yourself!" You hear him shouting at you, but you do not turn around, not wanting him to see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

And I'll admit that I sometimes, maybe, might

Think about you at night, well, almost every night

No matter how I try to hide

And erase you from my mind

I'm dying

To find a lookalike

The thin black fabric of your dress adjusts to your every curve up to your mid-thighs. The long sleeves are made of a partially transparent and you are wearing a pair of high heels in the same color as your dress. 

"It looks like you're on your way to a funeral." Your mother notices when she sees you walking down the stairs.

"Well, it kind of is a funeral; you know I hate formal thing." You sigh on your way to your dad's car. 

"I know, sweetie, but it's an important moment for you father." 

"Don't worry, I'll be a good girl." You smile to her as she close the car door. 

When you arrive at the house, you’re not surprised to see an array of cars, each one more expensive than the next; the people in Figure Eight have no notion of excess spending, especially when it comes to the price of a car. Your heart beats at full speed when you set foot in the garden of the Johnsons, one of the most influential families on the island and whose father is Ward Cameron's good friend. It's been a year and a half since you and Rafe broke up and four months since you left Will. You couldn't keep lying to him about your feelings, he was the sweetest guy you'd ever been with, but you didn't love him. The breakup was handled in a mature way and you're still on good terms. 

"Y/n! You're so pretty my girl!" Ashley's voice takes you out of your thoughts as she hugs you. 

"Look at you! You're stunning! I bet Kelce will be speechless when he sees you.” 

"This is the goal I'm aiming for." She winks at you and grabs your hand, a more serious look on her face." You feel okay seeing Rafe again? If not, Tara and I can sit at a different table with you, Kelce and Topper will understand."

"No no, I'm not going to ruin your Midsummers because of my love stories. I'm a big girl and I can tolerate Rafe for one night." You assure her with a smile.

"Great! Come on, let's go find Tara."

You missed Topper and Kelce, they've been making you laugh ever since you sat with them at the table. There's no sign of Rafe yet, and that's perfect. You still get a twinge in your heart when you see the way Topper looks at Tara with stars in his eyes or when Ashley tenderly kisses Kelce. You miss it. As you take a sip of water, you spit it out almost instantly when you see him on the porch; not alone. 

He is wearing a grey suit matching with a white shirt of which he has unbuttoned the first two buttons. His hair is straightened backwards, it's grown a little longer since the last time you saw him. It's not so much his presence that makes you freeze, but rather the girl who’s standing beside him, her arm hooked to his; she looks exactly like you. You don't seem to be the only one who's noticed it by the questioning looks on Tara and Ashley's faces. Hand in hand, they make their way to your table and you don't deign to look up when they sit at the other end of the table near Kelce. You can't help but feel your chest tightening when he introduces Megan, the girl, as his girlfriend. Ashley clearly saw the change of expression on your face since she stands up and pats you on the shoulder.

"I have to go to the toilet, will you come with me?" 

You nod and get up, thanking her with a glance as you walk away from the table where the so-called girlfriend of Rafe literally devours his face. 

"I'm sorry, Y/n, if I'd known he was bringing a girl, I wouldn't have told you to sit with us." Ashley apologizes while you sit on the bed in the guest room with your face in your hands.

"You couldn't have known he was going to bring my long-lost twin." You sarcastically say.

"She's literally your lookalike." 

"I don't know whether to take it right or wrong." 

"I don't know either." She exhales and hugs you tightly. "I'm gonna go back to the table, but stay here and take your time and join us after."

You let yourself fall on your back on the cozy bed when Ashley close the door behind her and you let out a long sigh. You never thought that seeing Rafe with another girl would upset you so much, considering you've been broken up for over a year. With your eyes still closed, you don't react when you hear the door open again, being certain that it's Tara who comes to see if you're alright. 

"I'm fine Tara, don't worry about me." You whisper as you feel the mattress collapses to your left. 

She doesn't say anything, which surprises you a little, but you still don't open your eyes, being sure that tears will flow if you do. You then feel a hand resting on your belly and a face close to your ear where a deep voice sends shiver through your body.

"I'm not Tara." 

"What the-." You start, but you're quickly cut off by his lips crashing down on yours to shut you up. 

These lips, you could recognize them out of a thousand. Pulpy, a bit harsh and so skillful. His hands are grabbing your hips, almost too firmly. 

"Did you really think you could wear that dress in front of me and I wouldn't do anything about it?" Rafe groans, pulling slightly away from you. 

"I'm not wearing this dress for you." You manage to say, out of breath. 

"You're lying, baby girl." He looks deep into your eyes in a way that keeps you from staying sane. “I can't control myself when I see you in such a tight piece of clothes.”

He moves his hand up to your thigh, stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your dress.  Goosebumps are covering your skin. You're paralyzed; you want to feel him touch you like he used to do. A smirk makes his way to the corner of his lips when he feels you squirm as his hand slowly lift up your dress. He lays his fingers over your core still covered by the thin fabric, applying a little pressure on your clit.

"I bet you've never been this wet for Will." He whisper to your ear with his deep voice.

His wet lips drop into the hollow of your neck, sucking and biting your burning skin. You can't contain your moans when he blows on a sensitive spot that he previously licked. 

"I'm gonna drive you wild, baby girl." He rubs his palm over your covered core, focusing particularly and painfully on your ball of nerves. As you squirm under him, the bottom of your dress comes up, revealing your wet womanhood to him.

"You're not wearing panties? Naughty girl." 

His fingers slip easily between your dripping velvet slits as he bite your lower lip, making you whine. He adds pressure to your clit and you close your eyes, enjoying the waves of pleasure running through your body. He lifts up your dress until it covers only your chest, your naked belly now at the mercy of his lips. His tongue sensually draws a line from the top of your belly to the upper part of your core, tickling you a little. You try to buck your hips up but he pins them firmly on the bed.

“I’m the one in control, baby girl.” He says and you nod.

“Please, Rafe.” You breath out. 

“Please what, princess?” 

“Make me feel good.” 

The color of his eyes changes, becoming a darker blue. He pushes your legs wide open, dipping  his head between them. The feeling of his tongue between your folds makes you see stars; he was the best at this and he was proudly aware of it. 

“Fuck Rafe.” You moan as his lips start to suck your bundle of nerves. You can feel him smirk while he slams his index and middle fingers into you without losing focus on your clit. The familiar knot in your lower stomach grows as he pumps faster and replace his mouth with his thumb and start to making eight figure shape on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“R-Rafe, I’m cumming!” You cry and he moves his lips back onto your core as your ride your orgasm. 

“Mmm, you taste like heaven.” Rafe hums on your sensible folds while your legs are still shaking from how hard he just made you cum. He licks his fingers without breaking your gaze. 

Kneeling on the bed between your legs as you sit yourself, he let his eager eyes running through your half-naked body. He grabs the hem of your dress, mumbling  a ‘we gotta take this off’ as he pass it over your head. Before he has time to do so, you unbutton his shirt and put your lips on his chest to mark it with a hickey like you used to do all the time. You unbuckle his black pants, pulling them down with his boxers. His hard cock springs out, pre-cum dripping from it and you grab his shaft with your hand, jerking it a couple times. He looks down at you, his lips partly open as you pump him. 

“You have angelic hands, baby.” He groans, letting his head fall backwards. You smile, loving to see how well you still pleasure him. 

"I wanna cum in you." He exhales, stopping your movement. He pushes you down back on the mattress, spreading your legs again. The tip of his cock rubs on your wet lips still sensitive from your last orgasm. Without warning, he push himself into you, wrenching a loud moan out of your mouth.

“You’re taking it so good.”He grunts, gripping your hips to slam deeper into your core. His hair, previously styled perfectly with gel, are now going over his eye as he looks down tp watch himself fuck you.

“You missed that huh,” he mutters. “Will never fucked you like that, didn’t he?.”

You don't say anything, moaning with pleasure as he hit your g-spot. 

“Answer me!" He orders you, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. You try to keep your eyes open in spite of the electric jolts that run through your body when he slams and the sound of your skin colliding with his reaches your ear.

“Y-yes, fuck, fuck, you fulfill me better than he ever did!” You manage to scream out.

“That’s what I thought.” He grunts and you clench around him, rubbing your fingers over your clit as he pounds faster into you.

“Fuck baby girl, do it again.” You clench harder around him, making him drop his head in the crook of your neck as he moans your name. He digs his fingers into your hips, surely creating bruises on your skin. You rock your hips at the same pace as his, feeling his cock hit spots that makes your legs shake in pleasure.

“Fuck Rafe, your cock feels so good.” You moan. He lifts his thumb, brushing past your lower lip and you suck it, making him quicken his pace.

“Cum for me baby girl.” He tells you as he thrusts into you, replacing your hand by his on your clit. You cry out his name, releasing yourself on him.

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming!” He grunts and you tightly clench your walls around him, helping him release his cum inside of you. Rafe drops down next to your shaking body on the bed, his chest moving rapidly to the rhythm of his breathing.

"What about Megan?" You mumble, biting your lower lip. 

"She’s just your lookalike.” 

milamaybank’s masterlist

TAG LIST IS OPEN, JUST ASK IN THE COMMENTS TO BE ADDED!

@milaonthemoon @spilledtee @thebutterflyonhischest @ilovejjmaybank @prejudic3 @misssugarpinkliquorliquorlips67 @bananasfromtarget

(if your username is in white, i wasn’t able to tag you).

[milkchu]

❝anyway the wind blows❞ two.

Summary: (Y/N) Mercury’s journey of love, fame, and pain, alongside what would become one of the most legendary bands ever, Queen.

Pairing: Borhap!Queen x Reader, eventual Brian May x Reader

A/N: i was so excited to post this chapter so why tf not. btw, a new character will be introduced (or was already kinda introduced) and i think you all gotta be in love w him for now haha i thought that freddie highmore would be perfect for him bc he’s a f*ckin cutie, also so you can visualize him. happy reading! 💓

Warnings: None.

{previous chapter} {next chapter}

Time has passed ever since your first meeting with your now two bandmates, Brian and Roger. 

It was a pain to find a decent bassist, but it was definitely worth it. You finally found John Deacon, a cute, soft lad that is definitely amazing at playing bass.

Tonight was your first gig with them, and you were nervous beyond measure. You never really performed in front of a crowd before, so this was your first time.

Plus, you couldn’t get that cute brown-haired boy out of your head. You took note of what his friend said the night you went looking for Brian and Roger, so here you are.

It took some time and asking to find ‘Radio Box’ but here you were, currently looking through random records.

Mindlessly flipping through each record, you finally caught a familiar face talking to a customer.

You looked down right away, pretending to look for a random record until, “So, you like Icelandic Rock?”

Letting out a gasp at the sudden voice, you clutched your chest, before looking beside you to find him.

Realizing it was the cute boy you’ve been thinking about for so long, you somehow gathered yourself quickly and said, “Well, you see, I’m not like other people.”

He lets out a chuckle, amused, before holding his hand out to you, “I didn’t think you would come here, I’m Matthew.”

You took his hand, which felt really warm and soft, by the way, and shook it, “(Y/N).”

Matthew smiles, still shaking your hand, “(Y/N),” He hums, which definitely made your heart flutter.

It was the first time you got a proper look at his sparkling, green eyes. They were undoubtedly the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen so far. He really looked like he wouldn’t hurt a soul.

Before things become too awkward, you quickly let go of his hand, conscious that your hand might be too sweaty already.

“So, uh, (Y/N), if you need anything, just call for me,” He sent you another one of his soft smiles.

You immediately felt warmth envelope both your cheeks before nodding, “Alright.”

Before he could walk away, you called out for him, “By the way, um, my band and I are performing tonight. . .at the pub.”

He nods, “I’ll see you there, then.” Then turns away to help out any other customer in need.

When he went out of your sight, you definitely let out a tiny squeal to yourself, the people around you looking at you funny.

Later that night . . .

“Hello, everybody,” Brian says into the mic, as you all enter the stage.

You come out in a flowy, silk, ruffled top that you borrowed from Poppy, immediately spotting Matthew in the crowd.

“We’ve got a few, uh, fresh faces,” Brian points to John, who waves at the crowd with his bass in hand, “This is John Deacon, our bass player.”

“And our new lead singer, (Y/N) (Y-Y/O/L/N), (Y/N) (Y/O/L/N).” Brian added, before small cheers were heard.

“That’s right,” You smile and nod at the crowd, fumbling with your fingers in nervousness.

Lastly, Brian points to Roger in the back, “And uh, Roger, of course, the biggest member of them all.”

Roger then grins at the crowd, a random girl shouting out, “Hi, Roger!”, which you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Hello, all you beautiful people,” You leaned towards the microphone, the crowd becoming quiet before some bloke in the crowd shouted, “Where’s Tim? Who’s the bird?”  

Matthew then turned to you, a worried look crossing his face, but you just chose to ignore the comments.

“Ready, (Y/N)?” Roger asks from behind. You nodded, “Let’s do it.”

Brian began the song, as you leaned down to grab your tambourine and just started banging it against your hip.

Grabbing the microphone, it wouldn’t budge, so you just started struggling to get it out, resulting in the crowd laughing at your attempts.

But you continued anyway, “Keep yourself alive.”

Brian then looks at Roger, utterly confused. But, then you finally got the microphone out, a part of the stand coming along with it.

You almost hit poor John, but you just went with it.

You then started to bang the tambourine against it and just started swaying and dancing across the small stage.

All of your bandmates just stare at you in a combination of confusion and amazement, and just continued on playing.

I was told a million times of all the troubles in my way,

Mind you grow a little wiser little better every day,

But if I rode a million rivers, and I crossed a million miles,

At your side, “No, no,” Brian shook his head at you, “Wrong lyric!”

Sold a million mirrors in shopping alley ways,

The confused guitarist then looks back towards Roger, shaking his head at your mistake.

But I never saw my face in any window any day,

Now they say your folks are telling you, be a superstar,

Tell you, just be satisfied, stay right where you are,

Then the boys join in,

Keep yourself alive!

Keep yourself alive!

You then pointed the tambourine towards the crowd,

All you people, keep yourself alive!

Then you pranced towards Brian because you didn’t quite get what he said earlier, “Learn the song, (Y/N).”

But then you just continued to sway and dance around the stage, unaware of Matthew’s captivated gaze towards you.

He knew, from this moment, that you were born for this.

One year later . . .

Gigs at the usual pub then turned to performances at different locations. Your band was finally getting some recognition, but lately, you’ve been yearning for something bigger.

It has been a good past few months, dates with Matthew then got you closer than ever, eventually evolving into a steady relationship.

You were currently sitting at the bus stop, fresh out of work, thank god, you were out early that day. You were looking through the newspaper, circling the box that advertised a ‘spacious studio.’

You then heard a familiar honk, making you look towards the van that had your bandmates inside.

Walking towards them, You looked at them with an annoyed gaze, “You’re late.”

Finally getting inside, you all hit the road for your little tour around the country.

Then, with bad timing, the van broke down, which all made you stop in the middle of nowhere, John trying to fix the situation.

You were currently leaning on the side of the van, looking at the newspaper once more for some other studio ads.

“This is bollocks!” Roger complained, pacing around the little road, one of the sandwiches that you made, just in case the lads got hungry, in hand.

On the other side, John grunts, struggling to fix the broken down tire.

“It’s, uh, counterclockwise, I think you’ll find, John,” Brian says, as he passes by him.

“Oh, is it? Thank you, Brian, would you like to do it? Please, feel free.” John then shoots back at him.

Brian then holds his hands up, “No, no, no, you’re doing a good job.”

John just looks at Brian with a tight-lipped smile, clearly tired and pissed.

“We sold out every pub and uni south of Glasgow, and I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere eating a ham sandwich!” Roger fumed.

John then positions himself beside you before you said, “Trouble is, we’re just not thinking big enough,” Your eyes not leaving the newspaper in front of you.

“What have you got in mind, (Y/N)?” Brian asks, puzzled.

“An album,” You smiled, before turning back towards the newspaper.

“We can’t afford an album,” John says, still panting from trying to fix the tire.

Your smile then grew bigger, “Oh, we’ll find a way.”

They all look at you in confusion, Roger furrowing his eyebrows at you, before you added, “How much do you think we can get for this van?”

“I hope you’re joking,” Roger replied, raising his eyebrows at you.

After some heavy persuasion and Roger throwing a tantrum, and breaking some windows, here you are, handing over a big stack of money towards the man who works at the studio.

“That’s three months’ wages,” John says, looking at the money in distress.

“And a perfectly good van,” Roger added.

“Don’t be so dramatic, darling,” You beamed, before patting Roger on the cheek, “You’re recording an album tonight!”

You then started walking towards the recording booth, passing by your bandmates and boyfriend, and clapped,

“Let’s go!”

atwb taglist;

@yoonlatte // @alexfayer // @everything-you-dont-wanna-be // @itsametaphorbriansblog // @marequeenii // @ladylannisterxo // @jedi-dreea // @achernarsaa // @nevaeh-potter15 // @banana-tree-freddiemercury // @rogertaylorssunglasses // @pyrotechnic789

other tags; @icantgetnorelief // @b-hardys // @spideyyypeter // @hunterswearingplaid

[notursdutch]

Arthur Morgan x Reader

gif by @arthrmorgann 

Title: “Lost and found.”

Summary: You found a small scared boy, who ran out of the woods right in front of you, and couldn’t just leave him there. Meanwhile Arthur’s devastated by Isaac’s and Eliza’s death.

Word count: 1,7 k

---

It was too windy and sometimes it was starting to rain, so you tried to wrap up yourself in the jacket, but it couldn’t save you from the cold autumn wind, which was making you shiver. The old brown hat kept falling on your face, making you even more annoyed. You sniffed with displease and firmly grabbed the reins, making your mare stop.  

You were at the crossroads and wasn’t sure which way you had to go. John talked you into treasure hunting, but it looked like he completely forgot about it. There’s no soul around, just you and your stubborn horse, which kept flicking its tail. Well, it definitely was great to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.

“John fucking Marston,” you muttered, carefully looking back and wondering, if it was worth visiting the nearest town. Maybe you could get some good cash there? But that was unlikely, that town was known as a dump with no rich folks around.

Nudging the horse and making it go in trot, you decided not to wait for Marston any longer and to star you way back to camp, which was pretty far from here. It took you the whole day to get here, so you definitely would need to stay somewhere for the night.

You noticed a small boy coming out of the woods with a bad cut on his cheek and dirty clothes. Stopping the horse, you tensed and looked around, but didn’t notice anyone else. The boy tensed too, looking frightened and hurt.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” you said as softly as you could, not wanting to scare him even more.

The boy’s eyes were as wide as he just saw a ghost, his face, just as his clothes, was dirty and he had a cut on his cheek which was still bleeding. You frowned, wondering what happened to him, but he didn’t answer. He just kept staring, clenching his shirt in his small hands, too nervous and scared. He was really small- just four of five years old.

You dismounted and noticed how the kid took a step back, breathing heavily and staring at you.

“Look, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you showed that your arms were empty – no knifes or guns. “You look hungry, how about we start a fire and cook something?”

He was unsure, you could see that disbelief in his blue eyes, but in the end nodded and let you take his hand and lead off the road. Your mare followed you, thankfully she was a smart animal and she didn’t do anything to scare the poor boy.

You gathered some sticks and branches, starting a campfire, gladly warming your hands and then returned your attention to the kid. He hesitated, standing near the tree, definitely not trusting you.

“Come here, it’s cold today,” you smiled when you saw the boy sitting down near you.

The kid was shivering, the thin shirt wasn’t enough for being warm on such a cold autumn day. You sighed and got up, taking a blanket from your saddle and wrapping it around the boy, who gladly accepted it.

You also decided to warm up some beans which you two could eat them. You didn’t mind sharing.

“I see you have some blood on your face, can I take a look, please?” you tried talking as soft as you could, noticing that the boy was slowly relaxing and feeling better around you.

He nodded and you examined the cut. Grabbing some whiskey from your satchel you disinfected the wound, getting a slight squeak from a boy.

“I know it hurts, sorry,” you put away the bottle and looked at him with a concern. “Does anything else hurt?”

“No,” he said so quietly that you could barely hear him, but that was the first time you could hear his voice. It was a little shaky, he definitely was running away from something bad. Or someone. He had small cuts on his hands from the branches and bushes he ran through, but they didn’t need any desinfecting, they weren’t deep. They’d heal fast.

“That’s good then. Look, our dinner is ready,” taking a can with beans, you took a spoon and gave it to the boy. He didn’t seem to be willing to talk anymore, so you didn’t want to stress him and didn’t end up asking him any questions.

It was slowly getting dark, so you put up a tent while the kid was eating and warming near the fire, placing your bedroll in it. You couldn’t leave the boy here and decided to take him back to the camp with you tomorrow. Dutch and Hosea wouldn’t mind a new lost soul.

“Feeling better, huh?” you smiled and brushed boy’s hair, noticing that he slightly closed his eyes at that. He didn’t seem to be scared of you anymore, though looking really tired. “How about getting some sleep now? And in the morning we’ll go to the place I’m staying at? I live with good people, you’ll love them.”

As you had only one blanket you didn’t have anything to cover yourself at night, but the boy noticed that and shared the blanket, letting you lay on the bedroll next to him. He quickly fell asleep, quietly snoring, but you couldn’t. You didn’t move, not wanting to wake him up, but kept thinking about what happened to him and if it was dangerous staying here over the night.

But in the morning you packed your stuff, had breakfast with the kid and helped him to get on the horse, sitting in front of you. It was time to go home.

—

Arthur was drunk. Too drunk. He couldn’t stop thinking about Eliza and Isaac - he didn’t protect them. Whiskey blunted the feelings, but they were still too strong and kept killing him deep inside, slowly and painfully.

His vision was blurry as the burning teers kept falling from his eyes, but he just kept drinking.

That’s when John found him in the shitty saloon after a few days of trying to get him back to camp.

“Arthur, everyone’s worried,” John said. He never saw Arthur in such a bad state, but he didn’t know what had to happen to him.

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking,” John tried to joke, but Arthur definitely wasn’t in the mood for that. He took another sip from the bottle, sighing. “Seriously. Let’s go.”

“Tell Hos- Hosea, that I’ll be back tomorrow,” Arthur said, not looking at John. “Leave me for now.”

John cursed, but left. He couldn’t understand what was going on, but Arthur didn’t seem to be willing to talk.

—

Arthur decided to go back the next day, as he told John. He sobered up a little, but didn’t bother taking a bath in the town or eating anything.

He didn’t deserve anything. They were killed because of him.

By the evening he got back, noticing Hosea approaching him with a worried look on his face.

“What’s going on, Arthur? You alright?”

Shrugging, Arthur dismounted and faced Hosea, not saying anything.

“They’re dead, Hosea,” bluntly said Arthur, noticing how Hosea’s face changed. “And that’s because of me.”

Hosea wanted to say something, but then heard Dutch yelling to him.

“Arthur! Go and meet our new friend,” Arthur frowned and looked away, noticing a small figure sitting near the campfire, glued to Y/N’s side.

Not wanting to discuss anything, being too devastated, Arthur took a deep breath and decided to go to his tent. But when he was closer he saw the boy’s face…

“Isaac…” Arthur muttered, not believing his eyes, wondering if he was just drunk or dreaming.

Dutch noticed Arthur and walked to him.

“Y/N found that boy somewhere in the woods,” he explained and frowned, noticing Arthur’s face expression. “What’s wrong?”

But Arthur ignored Dutch, turning around and walking to the campfire, his heart beating too fast in his chest and tears falling from his eyes. He grabbed Isaac and hugged him so tight, scaring the boy, but when he recognized who that was, hugged him back.

“Daddy!” Isaac burst into tears wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck and burrying his face in his shirt. “They killed mummy! They-”

“Everything’s fine, Isaac,” Arthur said, holding Isaac and closing his eyes. He was alive, thanks god. He was alive. “You got me.”

“I was so scared,” Isaac said.

“You’re safe now,” Arthur carefully brushed Isaac’ hair, noticing that he looked clean and was wearing nice clothes. Looked like he was in the camp for awhile, while Arthur was just getting drunk. Idiot.

Nobody wanted to disturb father and son, understanding what happened. You got up and was about to leave, when the kid, now you knew his name was Isaac, called you.

“Don’t go!” he asked, lifting his head and looking at you with his red eyes. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassured him, seeing Arthur turning around with Isaac in his hands.

“So you two know each other?”

“I found him,” you explained. “Brought him to the camp.”

Arthur nodded and got distracted by Isaac, who was saying something into his ear so quiet you couldn’t understand what was it. You smiled and decided to go back to your tent.

Everything seemed to be so unreal. So Arthur had a son? You never heard about that, but was glad for the boy. He looked really sad and scared before coming to the camp, but Hosea and Dutch were really welcoming, just like the others.

You woke up too early, deciding not to lay in bed for too long. Grabbing a cup of coffee, you stood near the trees, watching the sun rise. And then you heard someone’s steps behind you.

Turning around, you noticed Arthur standing behind. He looked nervous and kept looking away.

“So, Y/N, just wanted to thank you. For bringing him here,” Arthur said with his husky voice.

You smiled.

“I’m glad he’s fine. Just like you.”

Suddenly Arthur pulled you into a hug, burrying his face into your neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered again and then left a quick kiss on your cheek.

You blushed and looked at him, not sure what to say, but then you two were interrupted by Isaac, who ran out of Arthur’s tent.

“Y/N! Look!” he stopped in front of you and gave you a flower.

“This is so beautiful, thank you Isaac,” you smiled, noticing with how much love Arthur was looking at his son.

Isaac’s small hand took yours, leading to the campfire.

You smiled at Arthur, who just smirked.

“Sorry, a little busy now,” you said, following Isaac.

Thanks god you found him.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Deacon St. John || The Sarkoski Siblings [1/2]

A/n: If you've played the game, you might know where I got this idea from. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, I'm just gonna slap a spoiler warning just in case I do end up putting in some spoilers! I'm honestly not sure if this does have spoilers in it at all. I'll let y'all be the judge of that.

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

Love you all!!! •••••••••••••••••••••

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

***** Prompt: You are Skizzo's younger sister. Deacon has had a crush on you for a while, but he has yet to express his feelings. When Rippers attack the camp and you're their target, Deacon goes to the extreme to try and protect you, but will it be enough? *****

~3rd Person POV~

Arriving at Lost Lake Camp, Deacon pulled his motorcycle to a stop in front of the garage and was greeted by Buzz. "Hey, Deek. We got some new pieces in if ya wanna take a look."

"Hey, Buzz. Maybe later," Deacon replies, pushing the kickstand down and dismounting his bike. He walked over to Rikki, who was working on her motorcycle. 

The woman heard the drifter's approaching footsteps and smiled as she tore her attention from her bike as she stood up. "What's up, Deek?"

"Fucking Skizzo..." Deacon muttered in response.

"Shit. What does he want now?"

"Something about a "score" he found. I don't really have a fucking clue."

Riki sighed as she felt a foreboding feeling in the bottom of her gut. "Jesus. What the hell could it be?"

"Hell if I know," Deacon scoffed, crossing his arms. He glanced around the encampment, watching people doing their jobs. "Hey, uh, where's—?"

"(Y/n)'s in the infirmary helping Addy," the woman responded with a smirk. She raised her chin slightly with an amused glint in her eyes. "Gotta say, Deek. I think she's the reason we see you so often."

"What—no," the drifter denied rather swiftly.

"Uh-huh," Rikki snickered. "Keep tellin' yourself that. You might just convince yourself."

Deacon ignored Rikki's last comment and walked over to the infirmary. Opening the door, he heard the painful cries of a man sitting on one of the many beds. He wailed at the top of his lungs as (Y/n) tended to his injury. The drifter looked closer and saw the man was missing his right hand. Tears were streaming down his face as the woman was wrapping a bandage around the amputated area. She kept his arm elevated to avoid anymore blood loss.

A grim expression on (Y/n)'s face as she watched the man fall unconscious was a sign Deacon knew the man wouldn't make it. Not wishing to startle her, the drifter cautiously walked over and eyed the deathly pale man laying on the cot. "What the hell happened to him?"

(Y/n) sighed, pressing a hand against her forehead. "He was on marsh duty when a group of Rippers came out of nowhere. By the time we got to him, they'd severed his right hand and took off."

Deacon scowled, eyes trained on the dying man. "What the hell was Mike thinking—making a fucking treaty with those psychopaths?"

"I don't know, but more and more Rippers are breaking away from Carlos every day and wandering into Lost Lake. This is the third time this has happened this week alone."

"What does Carlos have to say on the matter?"

"Nothing. He doesn't care if we kill the Rippers that have gone rogue." (Y/n) lifted her head, meeting Deacon's gaze. "What brings you to Lost Lake, Deek? You've been visiting more frequently."

"Your damn brother is the reason I'm here this time," Deacon huffs.

The woman runs a hand through her (h/c) locks with a deep sigh. "What could Skizzo possibly want you for now?"

The drifter shrugged his shoulder. "Like hell I know what that frat boy wants. All he said was something about a "score" he found."

(Y/n) bursted into laughter at the insult. ""Frat boy," huh? He looks more like a douchbag to me."

Deacon smirked in amusement. "That actually described him better."

Suddenly, the door to the infirmary flew open. (Y/n) glanced behind them and saw her brother stomping towards them. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear," she mumbled for only Deacon to hear. "Or in this case—douchbag."

Skizzo eyed Deacon with a glint of anger in his eyes. "Should've known you'd be here. Wherever she is, you're not far behind."

"Skizzo," (Y/n) hissed. "You're the one who called him here, which means you've got some crazy-ass scheme brewing in that tiny brain of yours."

"This doesn't concern you, (Y/n)," he glared at his sister before turning his full attention back to Deacon. "Follow me and we'll talk on the way."

The drifter glanced between the two siblings. (Y/n) groaned in disbelief before telling him to follow her brother before he blew a gasket. Deacon and Skizzo left the infirmary, walking up the road to the lodge.

"What the fuck do you want now, Skizzo?" The drifter grumbled as he walked a few steps behind the former drug dealer.

"Not yet. We need to find a more secluded spot to chat." Deacon stopped in his tracks, causing Skizzo to ponder in confusion as he faced the man. "What?"

"What's so secretive about this score you found, huh? You couldn't even tell your own damn sister."

"Deek," Skizzo's tone was low and threatening. "If (Y/n) finds out what I have planned, she'll either want to come along or report my ass to Mike."

"Oh, c'mon, Skizzo! She's been on plenty of supply runs with me. She can handle herself out there in the shit. Better than you, I might add."

"Not this time." Skizzo turned his back to the drifter and walked through the grass to reach the banks of the lake.

Deacon had no choice but to follow him. He was curious as to why (Y/n) was being left out of the loop. "What could possibly keep you from telling her? You're brother and sister. Aren't you two suppose to tell each other everything?"

"Like I said, not this time. It's too dangerous. Where we're goin', she ain't following."

"Stop beating around the fucking bush and tell me what the hell is your plan," Deacon demanded with a growl.

Skizzo placed a hand on Deacon's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "There's a warehouse full of supplies. Meds, food, blankets—all that shit."

"And what's the catch, huh? There's gotta be a big one if you're leaving (Y/n) out."

Skizzo glanced around to make sure no one was passing by. He leaned forward, meeting Deacon's burning gaze. "It's located in Iron Butte."

"You want to go into Ripper territory and loot one of their caches?" A faint chuckle escaped the drifter as he glared daggers at the man. "You're off your goddamn rocker if you think I'm gonna risk not just us, but everyone here for some crazy scheme like that."

"Deek, we need that shit to survive! The Rippers aren't using the supplies and it's just sitting there collecting dust. They're too busy shaking their asses and carving their skin to even care about it! We'll sneak in, grab what we can, and get the hell outta there before they even notice. Are ya with me, brother?"

Deacon gritted his teeth in annoyance. "I am not your fucking "brother." And no, we're not risking the entire camp just for some supplies."

"Like hell you're going through with this plan, Skizzo," a feminine voice resonated from behind the two men.

Skizzo and Deacon turned around, spotting a furious (Y/n). Her brother cursed under his breath. "Shit..."

"If you enter Iron Butte, you risk breaking the peace treaty Mike set up with Carlos. We can get supplies somewhere else," she stated, trying to sedate her anger and calmly speak.

"That fucking treaty isn't gone protect us much longer, (Y/n)," Skizzo started. "It's falling to pieces and you know that better than the rest of us. You really think the Ripper attacks these past couple of weeks are just random? I bet Carlos sent the bastards and is just denying his connection with them!"

"I know the peace treaty is falling apart!" (Y/n) yelled back, shocking both men. "But we need to keep the pieces that are still intact from falling, alright? Drop this nonsense and find another place to gather supplies. If I find out you went to Iron Butte for any reason, I won't hesitate to tell Mike."

Skizzo sighed heavily, stepping back with his hands in the air. "Alright, you win. I'll drop it." With that, he left and headed inside the lodge.

As he disappeared from sight, (Y/n) shook her head in disbelief. "When will these ridiculous schemes end?"

Deacon placed a hand on her shoulder. "How're you two related?"

"I've been asking that question for many years."

<————————————<<<<<<<<<

The following day was peaceful besides the small attack at the gate. (Y/n) was in the infirmary, helping Addy with another Ripper victim. This time, they had taken the poor woman's ears and left to bleed out. Luckily, a few people on guard duty found her before it was too late.

"Damn those Ripper to Hell," the (e/c)-eyed woman mumbled as Addy wrapped a bandage around the woman's head.

"(Y/n), may I speak to you?" Addy asked once the woman on the cot passed out from blood loss. "Away from the patients?"

"Uh, yeah." (Y/n) followed the doctor out of the infirmary and behind the building. "What's wrong, Addy?" She asked once they came to a stop.

"We're running low on everything. Bandages, antiseptics, medicines... If these attacks keep up, we'll run out completely in a couple of days."

"Not only are we low on supplies, we keep losing people," she melancholically sighed. "We need to talk to Mike."

"I'll talk to him," Addy replied. "Could you watch over the infirmary while I'm gone?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, (Y/n). I'll be back shortly."

(Y/n) made her way back to the front doors of the infirmary, but she was stopped by Skizzo. "'Sup, sis. Why the gloomy expression?"

"We're running low on supplies and all the victims of these Ripper attacks are dying," the youngest Sarkoski responded. "We lost Jeremy sometime in the early morning. He... He bled out during the night."

Skizzo placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, smirking victoriously. "Then you're gonna like what I found."

(Y/n) arched a brow, curious as to what he was referring to. "What did you find?"

With only a grin, Skizzo moved one of his hands to her back and used the other to open the infirmary door. He guided his sister to the backroom, which was now stocked full with medical supplies. (Y/n)'s eyes widened in amazement. "How did—Where did you get all this?"

"Uh, well, a-a few of us headed to Camp Pioneer and found a huge crate of medical supplies."

(Y/n)'s amazement vanished when she turned to face her brother. "That's not possible. Camp Pioneer was cleaned out last week." Then, her eyes widened when she connected the puzzle pieces. "You didn't..."

"(Y/n), I—"

"You stole it from the Rippers!" She grabbed the front of Skizzo's jersey, yanking him towards her and to her level. Her fiery gaze would have set his soul on fire if it was possible. "You're a fucking moron. What happens when Carlos figures out?!"

"Hey, chill! They won't figure out, okay? We made sure no one spotted us," Skizzo said.

"How can you be sure, huh?!" (Y/n) released and shoved him aside. "You just killed us all, Raymond."

"Where the hell are you goin'?" Skizzo inquired as she stomped towards the front doors.

"To tell Mike what you've done."

"No!" He lunged out and grabbed her by the arm, tugging her away from the door. "You can't tell him." His grip tightened, inducing a whimper of pain from (Y/n).

"Skizzo, you're hurting me," she cried softly.

"I'll let you go as soon as you promise not to tell Mike."

"I can't promise that." (Y/n) tried to yank her wrist out of her brother's death grip, but his strength didn't budge.

Skizzo shook his head. "You might be my little sis, but—"

The door to the infirmary swung open, revealing Deacon. He saw the two siblings and was baffled at what was going on. "What the hell's goin' on?"

"Skizzo stole—!" (Y/n) started to yell.

"Nothing!" Skizzo shouted over his sister. "We were just talking. It's none of your goddamn business, Deek."

The drifter pointed at the hand constricting (Y/n)'s wrist. "Doesn't look like "nothing," Skizzo." He took a step towards the bickering brother and sister. "Let her go."

With a groan, Skizzo released (Y/n) and backed away as Deacon placed himself in front of her. He rushed out of the infirmary, slamming the door behind him.

Deacon trained his glare on the door before it softened and he looked at (Y/n). "What happened?"

"Skizzo took a few of his buddies to Iron Butte and stole from the Ripper's cache. He was trying to stop me from telling Iron Mike."

"That son of a—!"

A bloodcurdling scream and gunfire interrupted the drifter. (Y/n)'s eyes widened in horror as she rushed to a nearby window and pushed the curtain aside. Outside, the people of Lost Lake were running for their lives. A stray bullet shattered the window, frightening the woman. Deacon pulled her away from the window just as more bullets were fired at the infirmary.

(Y/n) and Deacon took cover as they heard the wails of Rippers as they stormed through Lost Lake. The drifter handed his pistol over to the woman while he took the shotgun off his back and reloaded it. "Fuckin' Skizzo and his ideas..."

"Carlos must've figured out Skizzo stole from him." (Y/n)'s eyes widened when she knew what the leader of the Rippers was capable of. "Oh, God, Skizzo!"

"Wait, (Y/n)!" Deacon yelled as she darted out of the infirmary. "Dammit!" He ran after her as she made her way up to the lodge. On the way up the road, he killed Rippers left and right. He noticed how many of the assailants turned their attention to her and ran after her, but something was strange. They didn't use their weapons on (Y/n) as they charged at her.

Fortunately, Deacon was able to kill the Rippers before one of them laid a hand on (Y/n). The woman herself was able to annihilate the enemies who were running at her head-on.

Once safely inside the lodge, they saw Iron Mike and Skizzo surrounded by Carlos and his fellow Rippers. He circled around the two as if he was a vulture waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and feast on its prey.

Skizzo, out of all the people present, was the first to speak. "If you want someone, take me!"

Carlos shook his head. "You stole something from us. In return, I'll steal something of yours—or in this case, someone. It is only fair."

"No," Iron Mike snarled.

"What's going on?" (Y/n) innocently questioned, grabbing everyone's attention. Deacon remained silent as he followed beside the woman further into the building.

"(Y/n), stay back," Iron Mike demanded.

Skizzo tried to approach his sister, but the Rippers pulled out their firearms and aimed them at him, Deacon, Mike, and (Y/n).

"Make this easy on you and everyone in this camp," Carlos said.

"You're not taking my fucking sister!" Skizzo declares at the top of his lungs.

"What?" (Y/n) gasped.

Carlos smirked at the woman as he approached her. Before he could reach her, Deacon stepped protectively in front of her with his shotgun raised and threatened the scarred man. "Take another step and I'll blow your damn head off."

"Wait, Deacon," (Y/n) said. She stepped around him and met Carlos' gaze. "If I go with you, will your people leave Lost Lake peacefully?"

"If that is what you wish, then yes. You will be an honored guest," the scarred man responded.

"Alright. I'll go with you." (Y/n)'s response petrified everyone, even Carlos himself.

Deacon's heart was pounding in his chest. He lowered his gun and immediately grabbed ahold of the woman before she could walk over to the leader of the Rippers. "What the hell are you thinking?!"

(Y/n) locked eyes with the drifter. "If I can save this entire camp, I will."

"If you think I'm gonna let you—"

"You can and you will."

Out of the blue, a horn sounded throughout the camp. The only ones who weren't confused were the Rippers. Carlos was grinning ear to ear as he raised his arms into the air. "A truce has been met."

"What—no, no, no!" Skizzo protested. "You're not taking my sister!"

"Enough!" (Y/n) yelled. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to conceal the fear blooming inside her. "I have to go, Skizzo."

"No, you don't!" He shouted. He wanted to desperately run over and stop her, but the numerous of guns still aimed at him and the others prevented that. "You're all I've got in this fucked up world."

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip before responding. "I'm sorry, but I'm not changing my mind."

Carlos turned to his fellow Rippers and cheered victoriously. He grinned towards the woman, gesturing to follow him. "You will be set on the right path."

The words sent a chill down (Y/n)'s spine as she watched Carlos leave with his army. Before following him, she turned to Deacon and couldn't hold herself back anymore. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Stay safe while I'm gone and try to keep Skizzo from doing something crazy."

Deacon still couldn't calm his racing heart as he wrapped his arms around her in return. He pulled her close, embracing her as if she would vanish if he let go. Morosely, his fears were reality and she would disappear once she set foot outside the door. He leaned down and whispered in her ear before she could pull away. "I'm gonna get you back. Just hang on until then, alright?"

A small smile crept onto (Y/n)'s face. "I knew you were gonna say that." She kisses him on the cheek before pulling away and following after Carlos. Once she walked through the door, she was gone.