#Rest Haven Motel

[williammarksommer]

Rest Haven Motel

66 series 

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[davdcorenswet]

🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them. 

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him. 

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours? 

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin.

With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself.

While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages.

You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into that situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible.

It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group.

Kie, Pope, John B…weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a weird balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence.

You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in your life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the fucking chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst.

It was a burden you bore proudly, protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity.

While others your age worried about stupid matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending beating in his eyes.

You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream.

You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, you knew that. His expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," his tone was condescending, like you were a child, “You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too. And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains in your room, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, clearly growing frustrated with your stubbornness, “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that.

And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, “Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no clipped answer from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing.

He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different.

Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, the frame sturdy.

That’s it! 

You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances.

Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was strong enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

You gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations or politeness.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, “It’s important.”

He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrusted it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him.

Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before running out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline pumping in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a moment.

You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp,“You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden changes in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

“What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe nodded in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. He was being dead serious.

Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, but now?

“I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened.

Oh. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him.

You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into, again. The events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly, "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere.

There were more important things to worry about. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream.

You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe.

The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you

It was a lot to process, and you handy had the time to figure everything out yet.

His fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up.

It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you had been feeling deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead.

All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…”

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead.

Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

His hold tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him. Was he telling you to spoon him?

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you did as he asked, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like some kind of shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you moved again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his hoarse, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head.

Rafe's reaction was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me to stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted.

You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire you needed to reach.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts turning to mush as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening.

His breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me come,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised,“Want to feel you dripping around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz inside you building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your pussy.

Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Shit shit”, you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. 

Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he tried to control himself.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in.

His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so so close.

“I c-can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You tryn’ to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix.

Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn grew into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch.

You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole.

The taste of him filled your mouth, cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours.

The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m s-so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Come for me, pretty. Wanna to feel you drippin’ all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe, jaw slack open as his hands never left your body.

As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips tender. He murmured soothing words and you swore you were on cloud nine.

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the pleasure subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, “Need to feel you come inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass,

"Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open,"You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel your cum."

The pet name did it.

With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his ass as he drove into you in a mean mating press. His pace was relentless, like he’d die if he stopped.

The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, only amplified the passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Come for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising.

And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. Your own body still buzzed with the aftermath of your pleasure.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that left you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as his lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss so different to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but you broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you weren’t feeling so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else.

He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering, "I know, Maybank," he whispered,"I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?"

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you a little strength.

After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[frost-queen]

Don't ever dare (Fem!Reader x Lorraine Moran)

Requested by: Anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

With the window slightly down the wind played with Lorraine’s hair. Her hand resting gently on your lap. Your hands were sturdy on the steering wheel trying to pay attention to the directions. Lorraine seemed to care little for it. Simply enjoying the drive in her own little bubble. To her it felt like a dream. Wind in her hair, the radio playing a sweet song and her hand on yours.

“Lorraine can you check whether it was left or right?” – you asked her keeping your focus on the road. When Lorraine didn’t respond you called out her name. Lorraine hummed loud as if being woken up from a dream. – “Left or right?” – you asked a second time. – “Oh.” – Lorraine released her hand from your lap to reach for the map on the dashboard.

���A bit quicker love.” – you told her already haven slowed down to make sure you didn’t miss the direction. You hated being lost. Lorraine checked the map letting her finger trail the lines. – “Left!” – she called out pointing in the direction. You stepped on the gas, taking the left turn. Lorraine got pushed back in her seat with a loud huff.

She glanced your way with brief shock yet after seeing the focus in your eyes, she curled up a smile. You were still focusing on the road when you felt a touch on your chin. It made you hum confused, turning your head quick to her. Seeing her smile made you furrow your brows. – “What?” – you questioned switching your gaze from her to the road. – “Nothing… I was just reminded of how much I love you.” – She answered.

It took you a second to get it in your head before chuckling. – “You are weird Lorraine.” – you teased her. Lorraine placed her hand on your lap once more. – “And that is why you married me.” – she spoke leaning in to leave a fluttering kiss on your cheek. – “Lor I’m driving.” – you told her keeping the wheel steady.

“But do it again.” – you told her. Lorraine gave you another kiss against the cheek as you asked. Lorraine then let out loud breath, admiring the scenery. Wondering how lucky she was with you. Marrying the one that instantly believed in her.

You pulled over on the gravely path that led up to the house. The house looking ominous between a forest of trees. Lorraine and you got out at the same time. Lorraine took a deep breath looking at the house. – “Hey!” – you called out making her turn her head to you. – “You tell me when you sense something, understood!” – you made clear. Lorraine nodded with a warm smile of your protectiveness.

Lorraine and you went up to the house when you suddenly felt something at the back of your head. Like a little stone flicked at your head. – “Au.” – you said rubbing your head confused. – “What is it?” – Lorraine asked worriedly. – “Something hit my head!” – you let her know looking annoyed around. Lorraine lowered your hand to look at your head. Giving it a soft blow of her breath.

“There love. All better.” – she spoke. – “Probably some annoying kids.” – you mumbled taking her hand. With one last glare over your shoulder you went up to the house with her. As usual Lorraine and you were welcomed into the house. Asked a set of questions. Had a look around and talked to every family member separately. It being the first day, you knew you rarely had any activity if their claims were true.

Lorraine and you made it back to the motel you were staying. You joined her on the porch, moving your arms around her waist. Lorraine inhaled deeply when you kissed her neck. – “Everything alright love?” – you asked. Lorraine hummed soft with a soft nod. She moved her hands on top of yours around her waist. – “I always am when I have you in my arms.” – she teased making you chuckle.

Lorraine turned round letting her hand brush against your cheek. – “I am so happy with you.” – she spoke. You took her hand lowering it. – “You say that every day.” – you reminded her. – “That is because it is true Y/n.”  - she responded with a faint smile. – “I wouldn’t know what I would do without you.” – she breathed out. – “Miss out on all the love I give you.” – you answered taking her hand.

Bringing it up you gave her body a little nudge so she would twirl underneath your arm. It made her giggle as you took her by the waist. Rocking her body against yours in a dance. Lorraine laughed loud when you started to dance with her. No music, no watchers, just her and you. Dancing with all the love you had for each other. Ending it with a loving kiss.

The next day Lorraine and you were back at the house. You walked up to the house once more hit in the back. This time you felt the impact. As if a bigger stone got thrown against the back of your head. – “Au!” – you called out rubbing your head. You looked down seeing a rock on the ground the size  a golf ball. Your eyes widened seeing a spot of red on it. – “Am I bleeding?” – you yelped out. Lorraine’s eyes widened as well seeing the blood speck on the rock.

She immediately turned you towards her, having a look.  She felt around and indeed her fingers were wet with blood. – “Y/n!” – she panicked. – “It’s fine… I’m fine…” – you told her touching your head. Feeling the slight sting of pain. Finger tops stained with your blood. – “Let’s get you inside.” – Lorraine said taking you by the arm. The two of you walked up to the house. Jumping back when a rooftile dropped at your feet. If Lorraine hadn’t pulled you away, it would’ve hit you on the head. Both of you stared in shock at the roof tile.

“It appears someone doesn’t appreciate my arrival.” – you joked trying to find the humour in it. Lorraine slapped you against your arm. – “Something is trying to hurt you Y/n! We must be cautious.” – she filled in with worry. – “Let them try!” – you shouted loud throwing your first up to the sky. – “Y/n!” – Lorraine shouted pulling your hand down. – “Do not tempt them! They are more powerful than you know.” – Lorraine was glaring at you for attempting to mock them. – “I’m just showing them I’m not backing off.” – you told her.

Lorraine sighed soft. – “Let’s… let’s just not upset them.” – she asked hoping you wouldn’t taunt them more. Knowing how brave you were. Not backing down when some spirit or demon would taunt you. You were always ready to fight them, especially to keep them away from Lorraine. She so hoped you would keep it down. Stepping over the fallen roof tile you entered the house once more.

A different atmosphere hanging around. Yesterday it was still light-hearted. Now it felt heavier. The air harder to breath in. The owners sat in the living room with Lorraine. You stood up right behind her, observing. Watching how she talked to them and sensed her way through. 

A sound caught your attention, making you turn your head. Something had been knocked over and you wanted to investigate it. Seeing how Lorraine was still occupied, you decided to go on your own. Leaving the living room you looked around for any clues to what could’ve fallen over. There was another sound drawing you closer. It appeared to come from the basement.

Without any further thought you opened the door. A dark gaping hole staring back at you. You felt at the side for a switch when there was none. So in the dark you went downstairs. Feeling the railing as you went down. Step by step. The darkness swallowing you whole in it’s mouth. Down below it felt cold. So cold your breath formed in front of you. Finding steady ground you moved more to the middle.

Seeing the faint flicker of a metal cord in the darkness. You reached for it, feeling it in your hand. Your breath shuddered as it felt like a presence was behind you. With one hard pull you lighted the small lightbulb above your head. The basement lighted up. It looked less scary in the light. You looked around for anything of significance.

Spotting a few cardboard boxes you knelt down. Moving some old stuff out of the way to reach them. Some had specks of mold below on the edges. You carefully opened one flap of the cardboard box feeling a tingle go up your spine. A cold rush giving you a fright. Sensing something in the corner of your eye, you slowly turned your head. Before you could see it fully a brick got flung at you. Hitting you square in the head, knocking you out.

Your body fell sideways to the ground. Out cold. Upstairs was Lorraine listening to the couple suddenly noticing you were out of her reach. Turning her head with a frown, she wondered where you went. Till a chill went down her spine, making her gasp loud. A grasp of cold wrapping around her throat. It made her jump up. – “Y/n!” – she started calling out.

Taking a run for it she searched around till she noticed the open door to the basement. Her heart dropped feeling something was wrong. – “Y/n!” – she screamed out, running down the stairs. – “Y/n!” – Lorraine panicked nearly missing a few steps. Lorraine came to the basement in full darkness. – “Where is she!” – she called out looking worried around. – “Where is she!” – she screamed out demanding to know where you were. It was clearly taunting with her as she heard a bellowing laughter.

Lorraine revealed her cross necklace. – “You will not have her!” – she yelled holding it tight in her hands. Closing her eyes she thought deep about you. Letting her love for you guide her. Lorraine took a deep breath, taking a few steps. She flicked the lights on having found the metal cord. The lights flashed on as her eyes widened. – “Y/n!” – she screamed going up to you. She dove to her knees pulling onto her lap. Seeing the head wound on you made her scream loud.

She straightened her posture, hardening her expression. – “This will be the last time you taunt anyone. I will cast you from this world and I shall do it with a smile. You hideous creature! I will make sure any existence of you is wiped off this earth.” – she bellowed. The basement felt like shaking. The metal cord bouncing around as dust flew down from between the creaks on the ceiling. – “Lo…Lorraine.” – you slowly gained conscious, waking up.

Lorraine looked down at you with a yelp of relief. You pulled yourself a bit up. Lorraine let her finger brush over your wound. You kissed her hard to cancel out the shaking. Lorraine kissed you hard back wishing for it to go away. The shaking slowed down till it eventually stopped. Lorraine and you pulled away. – “Come for me or my wife again and you will burn for eternity!” – you called out, taunting the demon.

This time Lorraine didn’t discipline you on it. Rather she joined you, calling out her own warning. For if it ever came for you again, it would regret it.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Forget the horror here.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Words count: 1445

Rating: Mature (but there’s only allusions to smut this time)

Warnings/Tags: Javi’s POV for Poison and Wine, Internal conflict, sad thoughts, mention of Javi’s work, sweet Javi, bad at feeling Javi, love bites my friends, sad ending.

A/N: Poison and Wine can be found here, I promised a second part from Javi’s pov and here we are. I hope you’ll like this.

Titles comes from one of the most beautiful gut wrenching song I’ve ever listen, Spanish Sahara by Foals.

You are the easiest thing I deal with during the day. A relief, a safe haven to return to.

When I approached you for the first time I did it almost without thinking.

It had been a terrible day, I had lost half of my men in an ambush and that piece of shit had managed to escape again. The drug lord, may the devil take him.

I had entered the bar with an unbearable weight on my shoulders. I should be used to it but I'm afraid I never will. How could I get used to seeing death and destruction all around all day.  

You were at the counter, you were wearing a dress that slid down your hips in an absolutely crazy way, you were breathtaking.

You were laughing, talking to the bartender.

I had nothing to lose, I ordered a tequila and spoke to you.

We chatted for a while, you seemed so spontaneous, confident, funny.

And you were beautiful, you have eyes that could stop time.

I felt almost clumsy in front of you.

Like a young boy.

A really weird feeling for someone like me, I usually just take what I want.

I've paid for sex several times, I'm certainly not a saint.

I'm not even a total asshole, so I tried to treat you with respect.

I'm sure you knew exactly what I was looking for so I didn't look for excuses, it would have seemed to me to offend your intelligence.

You are a smart, proud, free and independent woman. Fierce and incredibly charming. You smell like sugar and taste like heaven.

I figured it all out that night and it hit me hard.  

That's how it started.

I was convinced that it could be a loophole, a distraction.

 I ask you to see me to shake off the images of devastation that I have to face every day.

It's easy not to think of anything else being with you.

A glance is enough for you to understand what I need.

I would never tell you about my job, I can't and in any case it wouldn't be fair.

That's not what I want to do with you.

I don't want to talk.

I don't want to analyze anything.

I just want to let go and forget the rest.

There’s too much pressure on me and I feel liberated with you.

I always try to be cautious and watch my back for my own safety but most of all because I would never want to put you in danger. You have always lived here so you know well what the situation is like in your country. You are certainly not clueless and you have your own problems to take care of, you don't need mine.

I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.

I leave you in the dark about this but I hope you have understood it.

You did, right?

 Sometimes I think you're too much for me, I don't deserve you.

 You are disarming.

 The way you melt under my hands drives me nuts.

The way we have sex is amazing, every time.

 When I’m with you, I feel like I finally find peace.

Your skin is soft and warm, your neck so delicate, your lips turgid and delicious, your breasts beautifully designed to fill my hands, your legs toned and sensual, your sex wet and sweet under my tongue. 

And your eyes.

 Your eyes are so intense, deep, every time I stare at them I feel a fire burning inside.

I noticed how they try to discover me, to understand something more about me, some secret that I try to hide from myself too.

Every damn time I sink into you I feel like I've been pardoned by God or whoever for him.

 I don't know how else to describe it.

 We are in a shabby motel and you radiate beauty around even in a place like this.

 I fucked you right away, without a word, it was one of the usual horrible days and I wanted to leave it completely behind.

I know I'm not an easy man.

My bad temper gives some problems even at work sometimes.

 I wish I could be more serene, have a more stable life, be able to offer something more than sex.

 I wish I could take you to dinner in a nice restaurant, give you flowers, make you feel like I care.

I would like to take your hands and tell you that you are the best thing that has happened to me in years. 

I would like to tell you how much you are helping me. 

I don't even know how I can think of certain things when the situation makes them impossible.

I became a sentimental fool.

 Sometimes I feel like you want to ask for more and every time I hope you don’t.

I can't, you know I can't.

Should I put up with seeing the same look on Connie's face as she watches Steve leave without knowing if he'll return?

Yes, I am a coward when it comes to this, my courage is all absorbed in work, even though I often feel like it's all for nothing.

I run from one side of the city to the other in an attempt to achieve something, to at least partially solve the chaos, the fear, the guerrillas. 

Every small victory pales into insignificance in the face of another death.

This place has a lot of hidden secrets, I can't imagine them all.

If I succeed in eliminating a small part of its evil, I know that there is still so much that it wouldn't take two lives to defeat it completely.

I feel like I will never be able to hold anything in my hands, like I will never get close to the end.

 I only feel some kind of comfort when I'm inside you.

I've been with a lot of women but none has ever made me feel like you do.

I can't tell you that.

I can't risk it all.

I can't let you walk into my life any more than I already have.

What if I let myself be totally vulnerable? What if you lost me? What if I lost you?

I closed my eyes to make you think I was sleeping.

You were watching me, I could feel your eyes on me.

 You looked away so I wouldn’t notice, but I know.

Damn it.

Please don't do that.

It crushes me.

I'm quickly getting attached to you and I feel it's the same for you.

I have to back off.

 I have to be able to leave you out of all the crap that grips me.

From the horror that haunts me.

Your eyes are fixed on a point on the wall, seemingly careless. 

I still feel your warmth, the taste of your skin, the sweetness of your body, your moans of pleasure.

You have a power over me that makes me restless, hungry, eager.

I reach out to stroke your arm and you give me a smile that hurts my soul.

God, you are so beautiful.

 I would like to start all over again.

I would like to grab your waist with my arm and draw you back to me.

I can't get enough. 

Every time I touch you, every time I kiss you, every time I hear your tongue dancing with mine, every time I bite your neck and feel your smile on my skin, every time I smell your fresh and flowery scent, every time I sense you tremble with pleasure, every time I hear you scream my name I hope it never ends.

I get up without saying anything.

It's time for me to leave.

I take my clothes from the chair, while I hate myself.

My fucking stubbornness, my fear of getting close to anyone for fear of hurting them, my obstinacy in living a lonely life.

I hate all this.

I have to live with it but it hurts like fucking hell.

I get dressed feeling like a bastard.

I just wish everything was different, easier, I wish I could have you every day.

I’m the fury in your bed.

One day I'll just be a ghost in the back of your head.

Tagging @aurorawritestoescape and @thundermartini that were both so kind and encouraging and enjoyed the first part of it ♥️

Thank you so much 🥰

[metalnecklace]

There Was Heaven In Your Eyes

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (plus size)

Word Count: 3358

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Threats of Non-Con, Threats of Violence

Notes: Here’s the first official chapter! Thank you for all the feedback so far. Javi isn’t in the next two chapters as much, but we’ll get there. Also in case anyone missed the tags, the reader is plus sized. She is mentioned as having curves, and later on there is discussion about her weight and clothing issues and whatnot. Other than that the only description of her is that she is female presenting.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Two Years Earlier

“Fuck,” I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples.

I had been searching for teaching jobs everywhere, and I meant everywhere. My hands were shaking as I struggled to sort through the piles of ads on my kitchen table, while I tried not to let the mix of sweat and fear bother me while it stuck my hair to the nape of my neck. At that point I didn’t care where I worked as long as I could get out of Canada. Fast.

The idea of starting over scared the shit out of me, but it had to be done. I had worked so hard to climb the financial ladder in order to get to the top of my position, which was huge for a woman in my field, and I had married a wonderful man. My future was laid out for me and wrapped with a shiny bow. Until…

I shook my head and resumed searching, as there was no point strolling down memory lane thinking about what could have been. I had to think about what was going to be.

Finally my eyes landed on an ad.

‘Wanted: Teachers with any experience, preferably English speaking.’

“Any experience?” I thought aloud as my eyes further down the page.

It was short, but sweet. Due to political tensions there was a lack of teachers in Colombia, so they had begun looking elsewhere. The one that specified English speaking ones happened to be in a place called Bogotà. I hadn’t really heard of that place before, but I kept my eye on the news enough to know what they meant by political tensions in Colombia. Everybody knew what they meant.

I didn’t have much time to weigh the pros and cons, and instead rushed to my room to pack my life into the only two suitcases I owned before I could rush off to the airport. I couldn’t seem to fully breathe until I was seated and the airplane finally took off toward my new life. It was a long flight, but I welcomed the newfound safe space where I could finally close my eyes and rest for the first time in what felt like forever.

With my newspaper in hand and my luggage tucked away in a seedy motel, I marched up to the front doors of where I hoped would be my safe haven. Turns out the school wanted to know even less about me than I had been comfortable telling them. They just wanted someone who could keep their head down, remain non judgemental toward the students and their parents, and could do their best when teaching a new language while trying to learn theirs.

It sounded too good to be true, but I couldn’t afford to turn back. I sealed my fate that morning and went about the rest of the day finding a cheap apartment that was within walking distance to my new job.

Within a few months I had started feeling more and more comfortable with my new role as an English teacher in a school that needed discretion and hope more than I did. Many of the parents were involved in situations that I didn’t even want to begin to think about, but their children got to escape and be with their friends while in my care. The only childcare experience I had previous was babysitting my younger sister's children. She was my only family after our parents had died in our teens, but unfortunately life had gotten too busy and outside forces prevented me from seeing her much. It had been at least three years since the last time we had spoken.

My heart ached when I would recognize my nieces faces in the joy and sorrow of my students, but I poured what love I could offer into them and helped them as much as I could.

One of the children in my class had a father who only showed up every once in a while, but the rumours that had spread throughout the faculty were terrifying. He seemed non-threatening, just a little too comfortable talking to the teachers, including myself, at a very close range. Personal space clearly wasn’t his thing, but apparently working for the cartel was. There were whispers that he was one of the higher ups, but I tried to keep my head down and focus on just getting by.

Until one day when he came to pick up his son. He was acting particularly flighty, his eyes shifting every which way. I usually got the chance to tell him how his son had been doing in school, even though I wasn’t sure he fully understood English, but that day he barely said hello. Almost as soon as his car sped off another vehicle pulled up just outside the front doors of the school.

From my classroom windows I could see two men getting out and making their way inside. One was a tall blonde, who looked like he came straight from the states, considering he stuck out like a sore thumb. The other was also tall, though didn’t look it next to his partner, but he definitely fit in more with the locals with his dark brown mop and matching mustache nestled above his plush lips. As they walked through the doors it was hard not to let my eyes linger down the second man’s loose button up that was tucked deliciously into jeans that fit him like a goddamn glove. I definitely didn’t miss the flash of a gun that was held snugly into the back of his pants.

I shook my head the second the door closed behind them, and made my way back to the front of my classroom. I felt ridiculous practically drooling over another man especially after everything that happened, but I just couldn’t help it. Just as I had my thoughts gathered there was a knock at the door. I turned my head and standing in the doorway was the second man I was trying to forget.

“Perdón por la interrupción, Señorita.” (Sorry for the interruption). The mustache was even more impressive up close, as were his lips, and his deep chocolate eyes that I felt could see right through me.

“Lo siento, no hablo español,” I muttered. (I’m sorry, I don’t speak Spanish). I was used to the phrase by now, even though I had picked up some of the language by now I certainly wasn’t anywhere near fluent. But even with this practiced sentence I felt as though my tongue was too thick to wrap around the letters, especially after watching the way his lips formed around each word. My knees felt weak, and not just because of the badge he held in his hand.

“Of course, my apologies,” he said, his voice smooth like hard liquor, with a hint of smoke and gravel, I was almost waiting for the bite. He held up his badge so I could see he was official. “Agent Javier Peña, DEA.”

I felt a weight I didn’t know I was carrying melt off of my shoulders. Drug Enforcement, which meant he wasn’t here for me. At least not in the way I was worried about.

“I’m wondering if you could confirm whether a certain student is in your classroom,” he spoke so gently I felt comforted, but I wasn’t going to give in.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give that information away.”

He smiled and leaned against the doorway, bringing his head down closer to me. At the nearly intimate movement I could feel a heat creeping up my chest that I knew would blossom into a blush. He knew what he was doing.

“Please, Miss, call me Javi.” I was almost expecting a wink to punctuate his sentence.

“Well, Agent,” I bit back, “I cannot give any information about these students to anybody who isn’t their caregivers.”

I didn’t want to be on this guy's bad side, but I also wanted to keep both the children safe and my job. They weren’t just pawns in the ugly game their parents and government were playing. It was rare that my students had a voice speaking up for them, an advocate for them. When I signed up for the job I was signing up to be just that.

He nodded and dragged his eyes down my body before snapping back up. His jaw was working with frustration over my refusal to back down, but he finally stood back up to his full height.

“Alright then,” he spoke firmly, but still gentle enough that I knew he was more frustrated than angry. “Have a good day.”

He turned to walk away but not before pausing and reaching into his pocket. In between his fingers was a thick card, which he then held out to me. I took the card with his full name stamped along the top, and what I assumed was his number printed along the middle. Even though I had grabbed onto the card he still held it firmly in his fingers, causing me to look up and once again be lost in his dark eyes.

“If you need anything, ever, please do not hesitate to call.”

I bit my lip and nodded. I didn’t miss the way his eyes left mine for a split second to glance at my lips before returning. He nodded back and left. I finally took a deep breath, feeling the stretch of my lungs inflating fully for the first time since I laid eyes on the man.

I returned to my desk and sat down to finish up marking while the remaining students continued their steady chatter while they awaited their parents. The card felt heavy in my hands, but I knew it wasn’t because of the actual weight of the paper. I reached over to the garbage can but hesitated, wondering if it really was the smartest idea to throw away what might be my one lifeline. Almost as if I could sense his eyes on me I looked out the window and saw him watching my classroom before climbing into the passenger seat of his vehicle. With that last glance of Agent Javier Peña I decided better and took out my wallet. I folded his card up as small as I could and tucked it away. I hoped I would never have to call that number, but something told me I couldn’t get rid of it yet.

That evening as I was leaving work I realized I didn’t have a lot of groceries at home. Unfortunately that meant I had to stop at the market, even though it was later than I had wanted. I took too long marking and ended up doing some more stuff around the classroom than I usually get the time to do, but that meant I got carried away. By the time I left there was only one other car in the parking lot other than mine. Everyone else had gone home, I assumed the other car belonged to one of the cleaning staff.

The market was pretty empty, only a few other shoppers moved around with glazed over eyes clearly exhausted from their workday. I absentmindedly threw ingredients into my cart that were easy to prepare quickly that night. I was too exhausted to even think about putting effort into a full meal, grateful that at least the weekend was in a few days.

All of a sudden a cart bumped against mine. I went to apologize even though it wasn’t my fault, but the words died in my throat when I saw who the person was.

“Hola.” The father of one of my students, Luis, the one in the cartel, stood barricading my cart against the shelves in the aisle. His smile was slimy, almost oozing against his face. I didn’t trust him one bit.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I said, flustered. I tried to move back to get away but he stepped forward with me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His smile grew bigger, taunting.

I shook my head and stepped away from my cart. He stepped to the side of his and pulled back his shirt enough to reveal a gun nestled into the front of his jeans. My hands started to tremble and I found I couldn’t focus on anything but the hint of metal in front of me. He nodded his head toward the exit, and I found myself following him without a second thought, leaving my cart abandoned in the aisle.

He led me out to a car in the parking lot that I recognized immediately as the one that had been at the school when I left. I mentally kicked myself for not recognizing it before, but it was too common of a car to have pinpointed exactly who the owner was, especially since I hadn’t seen anyone inside of it.

I was shoved into the backseat before I had time to think about what was going to happen to me. Luis slid into the driver's seat and took off, tires squealing against the road and into the night. I sat up and tried to get my wits about me, but the sound of a gun cocking drew my attention back to the driver.

“Keep your head down and your mouth shut, mi amor,” he spoke harshly, the nickname making my stomach turn. “Eres toda mía.” (You’re all mine)

I did as I was told, but considered whether getting shot would really be the worst thing, especially compared to whatever he had in store for me. Before I could come to a final decision the car lurched onto a dirt road, away from any street lights or other cars. We were truly going to be alone.

Tears sprang to my eyes but I refused to let him see me cry. It was obvious I was helpless and doomed to whatever fate he had in store for me, but I wouldn’t let him see any amount of weakness. I would become a fortress if I could not fight.

The car finally came to a stop and Luis jumped out, running to get to my door. He threw it open and wrenched my arm out, pulling the rest of me to the ground. My skin stung where it made contact with the rough surface, but he had pulled me to my feet before I could think about it any further.

Before us laid a house that was not modest in the slightest. I had to wonder who it belonged to, considering he would probably wear nicer clothes if he could afford a mansion.

“Vamos mi amor,” he snarled, still tugging me along by my wrist, his grip bruising.

My heart was beating in my ears and I couldn’t feel my legs as they carried me closer and closer to the large wooden doors ahead of us. When we got there Luis pushed the doors open with a bang, startling the men behind them. They turned to us, raising their guns before sighing and lowering them once more.

“Oh, Luis, hija de puta,” one of the men said. (Son of a bitch/whore).

Another stepped over and looked at me. I struggled to keep my head held high under his examination and Luis' powerful grip.

“El Patrón no le gustarà está,” he snarled. (The Boss won’t like this.) “¿Dónde encontraste éste?” (Where did you find this one?)

Luis gripped my arm even tighter, in a punishing amount of strength.

“¿Por qué?¿Estás celoso?” He sneered and pulled me off to the side, toward an open door leading into a dark room. (Why? Are you jealous?)

In the middle of the room was a small bed that clearly had only been used for what I was assuming he wanted to do with me. He threw me onto it, the mattress so thin I could feel the springs under my body, and then he slammed the door. I could no longer hear anybody on the other side.

“Finally, it’s just you and me,” he nearly slurred. His accent was thick as he punched out each word. He climbed onto the bed and over me, pinning my wrists above my head. My nose wrinkled automatically as his pungent smell of body odour and bad breath invaded my senses. “Do you know how bad I’ve wanted this? To touch these curves?”

I was surprised by how strong he was as he held my wrists in one hand and stroked his other hand over my waist. I twisted my body, trying to get away but his hold was like iron.

“You don’t get to get away, I’ve worked hard for this,” he growled and slapped my cheek causing my head to turn sharply toward the thin pillow it rested on. I gasped in shock, my body suddenly going pliant. “Stay still, puta!”

The next thing I heard was the drag of his zipper as a tear slid down my cheek, and then the door busted open causing us both to jump. A gunshot rang through my ears before I felt a thick, warm liquid drip onto my face. My eyes had squeezed shut and refused to open while my whole body shook in fear.

I felt lighter once the body that had been pinning me down had dropped to the side, then onto the floor with a wet smack. I couldn’t stop shaking even then, still not opening my eyes. My breaths were ragged, ripping through my throat and getting caught in choked sobs that I couldn’t hold back any longer.

A hand landed gentle and warm on my cheek.

“Abre los ojos. Open your eyes.” The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and surprisingly gentle. I obeyed and immediately felt a new flood of fear. I recognized the man, the monster, that knelt beside me stroking my cheek.

Pablo Escobar.

I remember seeing pictures of him in the paper and on my television before moving to Bogotà, and then seeing his face on almost everything else after. Then, he was right in front of my face.

I scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to put distance between us, ignoring the dead body that was still lying on the floor.

“No hay que tener miedo,” his voice was rough, and rumbled through the room.

“He says there’s no need to be afraid,” another voice, higher and not as threatening, came from the corner of the room. One of the men who had been standing by the front door was still holding his gun, keeping his eyes on Pablo.

Pablo smiled at me, but I didn’t believe him. There were many reasons to be afraid, one of them was still warm and lying on the floor.

“Siento que este idiota te haya traído aquí,” he said looking in the direction of Luis.

“He’s sorry this idiot brought you here,” his translator said.

“¿Que hago contigo?” He looked at me once more, almost waiting for my reply to his question. (What do I do with you?)

I furrowed my brows and looked to the man in the corner.

“He’s unsure about what to do. Luis didn’t follow protocol. One of our lookouts could see that you were in the backseat without a blindfold, meaning you know where this place is.” He took a step toward me, his gun still held tightly. “You’re a liability.”

I shook my head frantically. “N-no I promise I won’t tell anybody, I didn’t really see much. I was too scared and it’s nighttime and I’m new here.” I could feel myself growing more and more hysterical.

Pablo reached down to the floor and lifted up my purse. It must have fallen when I was pushed onto the bed but I hadn’t even noticed. He handed it over to me.

“I heard you’re a good teacher,” he said, hesitating over a few words.

I nodded.

“Tal vez hay un uso para usted después de todo,” he smiled.

(Perhaps there’s a use for you after all.)

[girls-in-bikiniiss]

D o t

Alastor x OC

You hummed along to the easy listening station you had playing on the radio while you wrote in your journal as the evening wound down.

You loved the static sounds that accompanied the music as it swelled through the bell of your gramophone.

You had died fairly young, but you had been raised by your grandparents (may they rest in peace) who had live through the Great Depression. You were certain your grandparents ended in Heaven, the two graciously welcoming you in when your parents abandoned you. You were certain you'd come across your parents here in Hell, but that day hadn't come yet. Nonetheless, you had acquired you grandparent's antique taste.

"And that was Henry Hall and His Orchestra - Hush Hush Hush Here Comes the Bogey Man"

You heard the Radio Demon was back after a seven year disappearance, and bought the gramophone soon after he began his broadcast. You found yourself listening more and more. Something that first became sentimental quickly became an everyday habit. You respected him, especially after his broadcasting battle against Vox. You were never a fan of the Vee's in Pride Ring, but it was hard not to come across them. Their turf had expanded tenfold due to the last extermination. You lived in a border area, but it bordered the Vee's District and has started to be swallowed into the new territory.

"This next song has a similar sound, this is Flanagan & Allen's Run, Rabbit, Run!'"

You let your mind wander as the pen glided across the paper. You began to wonder what he was like, the Radio Demon. He was an Overlord, and yet, you felt like you knew him just by how often you heard his voice on the air.

"And now, a word from the Sponsors, 'Hazbin Hotel, a haven for has-beens like yourselves. Stop here to save a sinner!' 'Looking for something to eat? Stop by Rosie's Emporium, the food is To Die For.' Now, back to our regular schedule."

Who said he didn't have a sense of humor? You mused as you recognized the next song, Jambalaya by Fats Domino.

***

Sitting behind his sound board, the antlered demon checked his ratings, an old sonar looking machine that showed dots on the areas of active listeners. He noticed one dot that's been on the monitor for days now,

'An avid listener!'

His Cheshire smile grew.

He grew a habit, of checking that one spot on the monitor. It beamed, unwavering, even throughout the night.

The radio demon grew fond of this dot. How funny, he mused. You stuck with him through days of happiness, and days of strife. Your dot became his favorite to see. Consistent. Familiar.

Until it was gone.

Alastor felt his smile dull a bit, recognizing a sense of saddness when he first became aware of the absence. At first the thought it was a glitch. After he tapped the monitor, he came to accept his most reliable dot had vanished. He wondered what happened to the listener behind the dot.

'Maybe they got bored listening. Maybe they died. Maybe their radio busted from all of their listening and they're getting it replaced.'

He never stopped looking for the dot.

Until one day he noticed a new dot.

'Could it be?'

The new dot he noticed was just like the last, and unlike the others. While there was nothing visibly different than the other dots, this one stayed on the monitor like his dot. The one located in the Vee's District. But it wasn't in the Vee's district. it was closer.

'Did they move? Is my listener alive out there?' He hoped as he played more lively songs. The more he saw the dot move closer, the more happy he became. So much so it had become visibly noticed by his comrades at the Hotel.

"Hey, You's ever see Red smile like that?"

"What do you mean? he's always smiling."

"Nah, nah, theres sumthin diff'rent 'bout'm. He's genuinely happier."

***

You moved closer and closer to the hotel as you could. This could be your shot at seeing your grandparents again. You couldn't pass it up. Each time you managed to grab a room at a cheap motel, you listened to your radio.

You noticed the Radio Demon's music taste had jumped from easy listening to more bouncy and lively music. Currently, Feeling Happy by Big Joe Turner was playing, next you had heard his song "Hide and seek".

It felt like the closer you got the hotel, the more exciting the music was getting.

'No, that's just you. You're making yourself excited by thinking of seeing your grandparents.'

After a few months trekking to the Hotel, you made it. You were greeted by the Princess herself. The other staff seemed either too bored to introduce themselves, or too excited, like Nifty.

"Well, here's your room! I'll let you get set up!"

"Thanks, Charlie. I really appreciate it. I can't wait to get started."

You happily set up your radio, turning it on while you situated the rest of your belongings.

On the other side of the hotel, high in his tower, The Radio Demon noticed a new dot, coming right from the hotel. He took shadow form to teleport to the lobby.

"Charlie, did we get a new resident?"

The demon didnt even give her a chance to speak, her eyes gleamed as her answer.

Static came from his radioed smile, an electric buzz of excitement.

As he searched the hotel in his shadow form, he neared the room with the radio playing music from the record he left on. He could hear a voice humming along to the music. He fixed himself to look presentable, smile widening (You're never fully dressed without a smile, some may say), and knocked on the door.

With the sound of shuffling, the door swung open and a short figure met his chest. He looked down, finally seeing the face of his avid listener. He felt the satisfaction one does when the hunter finally finds his prey.

"Hello, Dot."

[rehnwriter]

New Haven - The Inception of a Novel

The year is 2016, and I decided to get serious about my writing. Back then, I tried out a variety of techniques to get myself to write, brainstorm, come up with ideas, and be creative. Ray Bradbury mentioned one such technique in his fantastic book ‘Zen and the Art of Writing.’ In it, he suggested coming up with titles and later writing the corresponding story.

I came up with quite a few of these titles, and would quickly set out to write the corresponding stories, albeit their first draft. One such draft was written on the 7th of March in 2016, titled ‘The Organ.’

It was a short little piece of roughly 3.200 words, centering on a number of mysterious deaths in a small religious town.

Many other drafts I’d written wouldn’t change much and eventually become the very first stories I posted on Nosleep and shared here on Tumblr. ‘The Organ,’ however, exploded in size and its second draft became an 11.000-word monstrosity. This draft already included some of the elements that should later shape the story: Claire’s mysterious suicide, Ethan’s obsession with figuring out what actually happened, as well as the narrator’s quest for answers.

The third draft of ‘The Organ’ changed little. It grew by another 2.000 words, to a total of 13.000, but the story stayed the same. While I worked on the fourth and final draft, the final polishing, so to say, I felt there was more to this idea. I’d grown fond of my two main characters, David and Ethan, the mystery they were trying to solve, as well as the small town it was all set in.

And so, for a while, I stopped working on it and put it to rest, until I knew what I wanted to do with it.

In the months and years to come, I’d write more stories, and eventually tackled my first longer work, a series titled ‘Laura Ebert.’ Even now, I think the series’ basic premise is decent enough, but it’s a rather shoddy, and especially boring work.

When I returned to ‘The Organ,’ I took some time off writing and reread and analyzed some of my favorite series on Nosleep. Why did they work so well, and why didn’t my series ‘Laure Ebert?’ It wasn’t long before I realized the problem. My series was happening in a vacuum, and my main character was just moving from plot point to plot point with little opposition. The series I’d read, however, were happening in a living, breathing world. Once I’d realized that, I returned to the drawing board and spent an entire weekend plotting out this new version of ‘The Organ.’

I added many things that weren’t there before. David’s time at school, his conflict with the bullies Craig and Mark, the bible circle, but also David’s church presentation, and his conflict with his mother. The result was a story of about 32.000 words, by far the longest I’d written so far, and one I was rather proud of. I’d eventually post it on Nosleep and share it here on Tumblr as a nine-part series under the title of ‘A guest at my motel asked me to post his story. He looked like he went through hell…’ This was back in 2019.

The series did okay, but it didn’t prove to be the big hit I’d hoped it would be.

A year later, I returned to it once more because I realized it was the perfect basis for a novel. After rereading it, I realized what the series’ major problem was. It had a strong beginning, and a strong ending, but barely any middle part. In its first half, I slowly introduced all the characters, the mystery, and its many elements before I rushed straight into the ending. When I began outlining the novelization, I put a lot of extra energy into expanding its middle part. I extended and deepened the mystery, added a variety of side-conflicts, but also added some new characters or changed the role of existing ones.

I began working on the first draft of this new version of ‘The Organ’ in the middle of 2020, and its third draft was finished in April 2022. The work, however, wasn’t done just yet.

After some extensive peer-reviewing with a writer friend of mine, and after rereading it myself, I identified a variety of problems or things I could improve on. The story itself was set in stone, but certain parts of it, the writing, and the overall style, could use a bit more polish.

This reviewing period ended in the middle of this year, and soon after I began working on its true, and final, draft.

I completed this final draft at the end of last week. It comes down to roughly 90.000 words. By now, I’m honestly pretty tired of the entire thing, and I’m more than happy to have it over with.

What was once a small 3.200 word draft titled ‘The Organ,’ has turned into ‘New Haven,’ a slow-burn horror mystery novel. It’s the single work that I spent by far the most time on over the years, and I can’t wait to see it published.

I hope you’re all excited about it, especially those who read my series ‘A guest at my motel asked me to post his story. He looked like he went through hell…’

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re looking forward to this new novel. More updates to come soon!

Regards, and have a great day!

[helluvaoutlaw]

Seems like you travel alot. Betcha you have you a long list of the best places to eat, especially the places that room and board you. Where are your top 5 places to eat in Hell?

I'll do more: I'll give ya TEN great places where to eat, sleep and hide from the law in general.

Here's my top ten list, startin' from the worst:

10 Pandemonium Pub & Inn:

Set in the Gluttony ring, the food was great but I couldn't get ANY sleep because they kept playin' fucking loud music all night AND day.

Great if you're a party animal, not so much if you're an hired assassin and need sleep.

9 Abyssal Alehouse:

This one's set in the Envy ring, great view of the ocean, but constant bad weather and gloomy atmosphere.

Not only that, but water kept dripping from the ceiling of my bedroom, and I hate cold and humidity. Good soup, but they never told me WHAT exactly was in it. Creepy.

8 Stygian Pub & Inn:

Also set in the Envy ring, this one had really good rum, but they could've done more with the fucking HEATING.

Seriously! What's their problem with warm temperatures??

The food could've been better and the bed had a stupid, goddamn water mattress...which got pierced by my horns. Ugh.

7 Malebolge B&B:

Set in the Greed ring, good breakfast and decent beds, but it costed WAY too much for a simple Bed & Breakfast.

Also, I kept hearin' people shooting and bank alarms goin' off.

6 Hellfire Haven Inn & restaurant:

Set in the Pride ring, a little too fancy-looking for my tastes. Nothin' special, to be honest.

5 Havoc Hideout:

Now that's more like it. This is set in the ring of Wrath, and they make delicious chili dogs and privacy is always guaranteed.

4 The Fiery Furnace Tavern & Inn:

Set in the Gluttony ring, this one had the best stakes I've ever eaten. And it was warm (finally!), but there was a riot every evening. Not that I'm complainin', but after a while, it gets boring.

3 Eternal Flames Motel:

You can find this one in the Wrath ring, great rooms, great view, great beds. Discreet, silent and it was clean, so good service, too.

2 Perdition's Hotel:

Ahh, now THIS place is somethin' alright... it's in the Lust ring, and the "service" is top notch, along with the food and the bedrooms. The first three blowjobs or handjobs are for free, and there's a jacuzzi in every room.

1 Brimstone Lodge:

Of course the best of them all could only be in the Sloth ring.

Let's be honest, if ya are in need of rest and relaxation, along with good food and great service, this place has it all: air conditioning, wi-fi, soundproofed bedrooms, peace and quiet, discretion...and free drugs, if you want 'em.

Great lake view, not a fan of pink, but it doesn't matter.

[omalahsocs]

✏️

It was odd though, that she was out so close to sun rise. Something was likely happening that she couldn’t just drop him off and then run through the sewers to reach wherever her haven was. The sewers weren’t the funnest spot to run through, but in a pinch they were safer than most spots in the city. Of course, his regnant detested the idea of using them, but Mercurio was more pragmatic than that. Safety was safety. But the sewers were Nosferatu territory. And his regnant didn’t get along well with the Nosferatu at the best of times. Toreador just couldn’t handle the sight of anyone who wasn’t beautiful. It made Mercurio wonder why he had been chosen as a ghoul.

When he was younger he’d had his nose broken a couple times, which led to it not quite being set right. He didn’t have the type of beauty that Astaire or Bogart had. Nor the handsomeness that Adonis or Madison held. But he could kick ass when he had to.

The twinge in his side reminded him that as much as he did kick ass, he also could take a beating. Good for him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried his best to adjust the pillows on the bed so it would support him better. Laying in pain on the bed, he wished for a moment that his regnant was from a different clan. Someone who was sturdier and could have passed on a stronger ability to heal through their blood.

But if wishes were horses, peasants would ride, as his mother used to say. He could wish for a hundred different things but it didn’t change the situation that he was in. He was lucky enough that Bubbles had found him and helped him along to a decent motel. And apparently ordered someone to bring him narcotics while she was resting. What a doll.

[pretty-face-breaker]

can i give hayko a hug :(

c.w. whumpees on the run, touch aversion, implied recent torture, sudden (temporary) mutism

They drove for two hours from Chicago. No rest stops or stops to stretch their legs, Vladimir kept a pace that just bordered on breaking traffic laws but kept them inconspicuous enough. 

Right about then, while Hayko drifted, staring dead-eyed at the passing road, Vladimir’s only fear was being pulled over. 

They stopped in South Haven for nothing more than a utilitarian trip in and out of a truck stop. It let Hayko grab two waters, paying in cash while they affected boredom with the cashier, covering up the frantic energy threatening to spill from their seams. 

The blood under Vladimir’s fingernails had long since dried and he hid the flaking by shoving them in his windbreaker. Hayko couldn’t hide his condition as clearly, hunching from where some nameless weapon had wrecked him the night before.

He hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t said a word since they high-tailed it out of Nick’s cabin.

Nick would be monitoring their transactions. Vladimir didn’t know if he had woken up, whether he would ever wake up - the blow had been solid enough for a seizure. Hemorrhaging. Anything, really, to slow him down. 

Another three hours to Waterford.

Nobody followed them. 

Hayko still said nothing but Vladimir could read the tension in his brow, shoulders, knuckles - everywhere, really. Every few minutes, he would exhale sharply as if just then coming back to himself and Vlad’s gaze would snap to the passenger seat and breathe in tandem, asking “Khorosho? Hayko, khorosho?” 

And Hayko would jerk his chin down and drift. Again and again. Vladimir didn’t want to think about what punishment Nick had chosen for the attempt to flee. What was worse was that Hayko gave no indication of the pain, sitting rigidly curled in on himself, gray-faced, holding his shaking arms across his stomach as if keeping in his viscera. As if a single breath would bring the sky down onto them. 

He had tried to pull him to his chest, put his arms around him and ground him, but Hayko had flinched back so violently to him reaching out that Vladimir had smothered the impulse. 

He felt his stomach roil but said nothing.

-

By the time they reached Port Huron, it had been roughly eight hours. Eight hours away was safe, Vladimir thought, or maybe the press of exhaustion made it seem safer than it was. The motel left nothing to be desired because it was small enough to be a pin in the otherwise massive continent and maybe Nick’s reptile fucking eyes might miss it.

If he were still alive. 

Vladimir prayed for his death like he might for supplication. 

They stayed overnight, taking turns in the shower and eating what meager supplies Vladimir had found in the truck they had stolen, a few miles from the cabin - a miracle it had worked at all. It would have been impulsive, hotwiring Nick’s car as there was no doubt that it had a tracker. 

As Vladimir had gotten out of the shower in the morning, he had found Hayko, white in the face and trembling, holding his Blackberry to his ear as a low, droning voice finished speaking on the other end. He looked as if he might be sick, letting his hand drop to the sheets. Vladimir thought he might have been, too.

It had taken them less than five minutes to grab everything and check out, pulling out of the inn before it could strike seven in the morning. 

He had wanted to hold him then, calm his hyperventilation, as unwelcome as it might have been. Hayko must have recognized the desire to reach out and had retreated further in as a response. 

Not dead, then, Vladimir thought grimly. Of course, he wouldn’t be. That wouldn’t be nearly a glorious enough end for the pitiless shadow that was Nick Sinclair. 

He held a conviction that even if Nick had died, parts of him would have followed them. Maybe, he would have found them faster.

-

They were supposed to stop in High Park, some three hours after their hasty retreat from the Huron motel, but Hayko’s hand had shot out when Vladimir went to unbuckle, grabbed his wrist like a vice, and shook his head once. 

“Chto?” What is it? What are you stopping me for? What has he done to you to make you retreat into yourself? 

What are the chances we get out of this alive? 

Hayko had shook his head again, firmly. They had continued to Kingston, Ontario. 

At least he had touched him first. The urge to hold Hayko still gripped him.

-

Montreal was the final stop. Hayko had taken over driving since Kingston, expression inscrutable and silent as they crawled through the city. Vladimir thought it might have breathed, inspiring them to breathe with it, but everything was submerged in such unnatural stillness that he felt watched by the city. 

Two prowlers, fleeing destruction, leaving shards of their past across states and now across provinces. They were practically inviting chaos, dooming centuries of history and the Notre-Dame Basilica and the shores of the St. Lawrence River. 

They stopped tightly against the final motel, run-down enough to satisfy them both, checked in, and all but collapsed into unconsciousness. Hayko had abandoned his phone hours ago so no need to worry about late-night warnings from monsters, states away, preparing to find them both.

They would ruminate on that when they had to.

-

Sometime, in the early hours of the morning, Hayko had jerked awake and thrashed, swinging blindly and flexing his throat in an attempt to scream. Whether it had been for help or mercy, Vladimir didn’t know. 

He had held him then, tentatively, but he had held him. He had shushed him, tense though he remained for some time. He had felt him relax in increments as he repeated their time and location and intentions in Russian, telling him that they were safe, that the cracks were sealed. 

It had taken far too long for Hayko to drift off again, throat tight and eyes burning but Vladimir had held him throughout the night. 

He hadn’t slept but felt a mutated sense of safety - the first in years.

-

@doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna @oh-so-skeletal @whumperfully​​

[voidwritesstuff]

Long Way To The Truth

summary: Lucas' mistakes finally catch up to him, and he finds allies in the strangest of places >Chapter 6: Nevada A/N: Fics not dead! just hit a wall after Utah, i think this chapter is worth the wait.

Lucas drove like a madman out of Utah for at least two days Straight,no sleep and barely any breaks. His mind raced with the horrors of the days before, he had Killed a cop which was just a death sentence of sorts.

Granted,it was sort of self defense. If he didnt act then he would be the one six feet under, he wouldnt change his action- no thats a lie, he knows he shouldve gone non-lethal.

But hes so close to getting to Milton-Haven, he cant let anything stop him. If he fails now....

If he fails now then hes dissapointing Wheeler,and all the people that died or got hurt by Agent Rainbow and the goverment. He wants to go through with this.

Hes got to survive,and if hes got to raise his weapon to do so then he Will.

Eventually exhaustion catches up to him, so as soon as he reaches the nearest town, he gets a room at a motel And he promptly passes out on the bed,not even bothering to change into something comfortable.

Blissful as rest usually is, he finds himself drifting on the edge of dreaming. All he sees is just a large black expanse,nothigness for miles and miles on end.

And then...the sound of rain. No, the sound of a storm, heavy,savage storm that felt like the Sky was coming down on humanity.

Flashes of lightning illuminate the void hes in, showing him hes on a road- Muddy and Rolling Hills of Grass and wet dirt. He hears soft crunching steps behind him and he turns-

Was that noise behind him? What constitutes as backwards? Why does he feel so...disoriented

He feels intense Fear, theres this mercury like smell in the air, something like a spray that sticks to his skin and gets in his lungs.

Theres this sudden bite of intense cold and hes drenched head to toe. His hair sticks to his face and he feels this...Weight in his hands

More steps come from what now he thinks is infront of him--Who are ya?!-- he yells, rising whatever it is hes got in his hands-- Identify yourself!

Nothing,for a moment.

Just the roaring storm.

--I said to tell me who the fuck you are!--He yells over a lightning strike that shows Him a male figure approaching him.

But the light soon subsides and plunges him into darkness.

Then another flash,the figure is closer,now taller,deformed, he hears the creaking of metal and the rustling of fabric.

Lucas' eyes go wide and he screams loudly, reaching for what feels like a trigger. A single bullet shoots out of the barrel with a bright flash of light,and he sees the face of Alphonso...

His captain had wide eyes, gripping his chest and gurglig out seas of blood, he falls back and only then does the moon or some sort of light fully illuminated the road

--No- no NO! Wheeler!--He yells, dropping the rifle that shatters like brittle glass into a million Pieces.

Its the same song and dance, he holds him tight and begs for forgiveness. He leans in to cry,to hug his friend one last time.

And then he hears a click, and something pressing against his chest. He looks to see Alphonso gone and in his place...some cop.

The cop...the cop he Killed.

Lucas sees red and blue lights fill the space,but when he looks to the cars the headlights burn his eyes with bright lights and he has to turn back to the cop.

When he turns he sees the gun now aimed at Lucas,straight point blank to his forehead

--Simply returning the favor-- says the Man, a voice dry as a desert and ghastly as any undead. A gaping,burning hole between his eyebrows.

All he hears after that is the dry,Metallic bang of the gun.

Lucas wakes up with a scream, pushing himself off of the bed and falling back first l to the ground. He Scrambles backwards until his spine presses firmly against the wall of the room.

He looks around with frantic eyes,looking for any threat. Even if there was one he wouldnt be able to do much of anything, he feels frozen in place, his hands clammy And his heart pounding like an obnoxious drum.

All he hears is...nothing,almost nothing. Just the usual car sounds, the soft steps of people outside 

--it was...it was a goddamn nightmare--He says to himself,voice shaking and weak

Lucas tries to get up but he cant, his body is not letting him move. He tries to push himself upwards yet his muscles just tense, not really caring for orders

Quite literally, hes frozen in place by fear.

This is not the first time he gets nightmares with Alphonso, hes grown used to it almost. Its...its the cop that took him by surprise, he wasnt sure he felt guilty or...afraid.

He wonders if that fed Chick he met ratted him out, though what could she have told his superiors that they didnt already know? That he had a weakness for Hersheys?

No, thats just ridiculous-

It didnt make any sense so he quickly discards the thought and moves to whats really eating him up.

Will the guy he Killed be missed? Was he somebody's son?brother?Friend?husband?,did he kill an innocent guy? Will his loved ones miss him at all?

Did he make a mistake?

"Thats the issue,isnt it?he thinks,still not able to process the situation, still frozen in place. "We're all just cannon fodder,replaceable. Send the cops to deal with the conspiracy maddened soldier instead of coming to get me themselves. They dont care who lives or dies as long as im locked up or dead..."

And it reminds him a little too much of the war,how they fought in someone else's names. Ears sweetened by propaganda, the promises of good legacys, of being a hero to their country,of being supported when the job gets done.

No, theyre all replaceable- the system depends on them so much and yet it doesnt care for them.

"This poor guy was just another cog in this machine- Im sorry" Lucas thinks, looking at the floor and feeling his muscles relax.

--finally-- He whispers to himself, standing up and heading to the shower. He better clean up,sleep a little more and go get some food before he loses what sanity hes got left.

Whoever that cop was, he was now a name on the long list of people who got their lives ruined or ended by Mayer,the goverment or whoever is behind Agent Rainbow.

And it only makes that Fire in him grow and burn ever brighter with hate,and the desire for vindication.

Post shower and nap, he gets ready to drive to a nearby dinner for some much needed food. Nevada had welcomed Him with a crisp summer heat, not that it bothered him much- He was from Florida after all,hes seen and dealt with worse.

He can hear the humming of his engine,he even drums his fingers on the steeringwheel to its rythm.,The indistinct hustle and bustle of the town hes in feels oddly homey,and as a few cars pass him by,Lucas realizes he could just turn the his radio on.

And in fact,his hand does reach for the "ON" button. But then he stops and re-tracts His hand, usually he used music to escape reality-But if he wants to get anywhere with this he should be left alone with his thoughts for a little.

Lucas takes a turn following the guidelines of his stablished Route,just taking in his sorroundings. But his mind wanders Back to the possibilty of danger...

First,He did kill a cop.

Second, hes trying to blow the lid off of a goverment conspiracy.

Third, hes Driving around in a white van through the US,sometimes sleeping in his vehicle in small towns or the Open road. Feds aside,he could still get robbed or worse.

Its a lot of things to Keep track of,a lot of things to worry about...

He just wants one peacefull day. Just one.

Eventually he does reach the dinner, He doesnt care to look at the sign, but does note the warehouse between the dinner and the spot where he Parked his van,the dinners parking lot being overtaken-

Lucas walks past it on his way to the Dinnee, thats Probably where they kept the stock for the foods and all.

Our lovely soldier takes off his ballcap of the Jacksonville Jaguars as he walks up to the entrance. Just a small habit he still kept from his army days.

Above him the bell rings as he steps out of the clear Sky and heat of the outside and into the cool air of the dinner. The air smells of cooked meals, of genuine food made on the spot.

First he goes to find a quiet booth to sit, somewhere in a corner where he can make a run for the exit or has the entrance in his line of sight.

He settles on a booth near one of the corners of the wall that holds the entrance. Then he waits to be handed the menu of the place.

Quietly he taps on the table, looking around to the place hes in. Its not too big and not too small, the chairs are wooden with leather cushions and the booths are much the same.

The whole diner feels lived in, earthy colors are found all throughout the place. The Windows are well cleaned and hes surprised the old neon sign above the entrance still works.

When hes handed the menu his eyes drift to the date underneath the dinner's logo. "EST. 1942" it reads,and he cant help but chuckle because thats his birth Year.

--As old as me,huh?--He whispers with a smirk.

Soon he orders some lunch, he was really feeling a nice cheeseburger,some fries and he wouldve gone for a beer if it wasnt for the fact that he needed to drive. So he just settles on some soda.

From here he can see the small TV having its channel swiftly changed to MTV. And hes a little thankful for it, he'd rather listen to music than some news reporter.

《I'm just an average man with an average life

I work from 9 to 5, hey hell, I pay the price

All I want is to be left alone, in my average home

But why do I always feel

Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?》

Comes the music from the TV, making him flinch.

He takes that back, lets switch back to the news report.

But eventually his food does come, and its as he starts eating his food that he notices a guy on a nearby table seem...loopy?

Its an older guy,around 60s,dresses casually with a button up. He has this oily texture on his lips, and it makes the soldier blink in confusion.

Just out of precaution,Lucas checks his food and drink for anything similar. Thankfully,theres nothing off at first glance and he decides to Keep eating. He needs that boost in Morale.

《I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me is it just a dream?》

When hes done with his food,he starts to notice something weird. Theres a lot less people now- which shouldnt be weird given that lunch rush hour is passing, but he notes that the people that are left are sitting a little too close to him.

Theres at least four people behind him, two diagonally a few tables away. And just now three more have sat in the booth infront of him. And worst of all the dinner's parkinglot is pretty much barren aside from standard issue black SUVs, a few of them scattered about yet quite close to eachother,almost in a formation.

He clears his throat, the feeling of being watched setting in. He leaves the money he owes plus a tip and goes to stand up, feeling all eyes on him as he does so.

Quietly he shakes off his green flannel and ties it to his hips. Something tells him he'll need his arms free soon enough, then he grabs his baseball cap and puts it on,making sure his visor covers his face.

Then he walks to the entrance, hearing the shifting weight of some people as he passes them by. And if he could see behind his back, right at the height of the crook of his neck,he'd see one blond girl staring at him concerned.

With the bell clinking above him as he exits, he doesnt allow himself to breathe out,to relax.

And that was a Smart choice

Because Next thing he knows he barely managed to escape from somebody's grip. A guy around his height given he feel the guys chest against his back.

He can feel the forearm dig into his throat,trying to choke him out. He lets out a cough, his first instinct being to try to rip the arm away,but failing to do so.

Instead,he elbows the guy as close as he can to the mouth of his stomach. A dry,solid punch that gives Lucas a brief respite enough to slide away from the grip and hit the ground running.

《When I come home at night

I bang the door real tight

People call me on the phone I'm trying to avoid

Or can the people on TV see me or am I just paranoid?》

He can still hear the music as he runs away,thats how quiet the place around him is. Panic settles in his mind, its so clear- Hes outmatched.

But he cant give up now,hes got to run, find a way to lose them or distract them.

And like a saving grace, or Lady Luck's patient wait to flip Lucas' good fortune on its head, the warehouse comes into view. Its unlocked and he bursts in, finding himself on a labrynth of shelves And boxes with dust in the air and...music?

For a brief moment he hears radio static,presumably from the place that the music comes from. Its brief but strong enough to make his head feel light.

《Follow....me...》comes the voice from wherever the supposed radio is also somehow...somehow it comes from his own head too. Or like whoever is talking,a woman- clearly old as he is or older- is standing right there infront of him.

And he swears he sees sparkles of light blue- or is it Sky- no, Azure blue? In his periphery. Or was that...were those radio waves lighting up his path?

Somehow he knows itll lead Him to a door-A Back door.

His vision doubles, triples but he can hear the shuffling of boots against gravel, the bits of orders being given. And he knows its either run into the maze or get caught.

Like alice chasing after the white rabbit,Lucas follows the music from the radio,down into the rabbit hole- down the Many twisting alleys of the warehouse.

《When I'm in the shower, I'm afraid to wash my hair

'Cause I might open my eyes and find someone standing there!

People say I'm crazy, just a little touched

But maybe showers remind me of Psycho too much

That's why》

And of course the song doesnt help, it reverberates on his skull like a ping pong ball, its disorienting,annoying.

Outside the people after him gather, orders are given, and people Scramble to comply with them. Some go to the main entrance, Two to the back entrance, and three around on the roof.

--I still think this is too much personell--Says one of the guards of the main entrance.-- its just one guy

--This one guy Killed Dwight,Stevenson-- The Man said,eyeing the blond haired girl with him.-- Dont tell me youre growing fond of the guy....

--im not!-- the other Man raised a brow-- I mean it Benett!

--June-- Bennet warns-- Youre a horrible liar

She sighs--Okay fair enough -- truth is she went out of her way to seem suspicious-- Look, Dwights death was unfortunate. He went out there and disregarder orders!--She raises her hands,as if trying to make his attention shift from her face.

And before he can say anything she drops her hands and makes them impact against her walkie. She goes to turn it on to ask for mission status but...it doesnt let out static.

June tries again, and she cant--Oh youve got to be kidding me

Benett looks puzzled--What?

With an annoyed if not embarassed tone she answers-- My walkie doesnt have any batteries

--Huh?! What?!- Gimme that-- He grabs the useless piece of plastic. He clicks the on button,nothing. He goes to Open the back and yeah there are batteries-- Gah,outta juice? Fuck...--He sighs and turns own his walkie-- this is bravo to all units, going back to station to replace-

He stops,letting go of the talk button.Turning to Stevenson he adds-- Hey hold on- You go, its your walkie

--I have a higher Use Of Force score than you

Bennet narrowed his eyes,miffed at the fact that has been brought up-- Youre pulling that card?

Stevenson cant help herself and laughs a little--Listen! Are you going to risk the guy getting away because you wanted to Keep your ego intact?

The Man grumbled--Fine.-- He murmurs, going to push the talk button on his walkie-- sorry for that- Bravo to all units im going back to station to replace sierra's walkie. The batteries mustve died on the way here

--Ten-four Bravo. Make it quick-- comes their commander from the walkie.

--Sir yes sir--Benett answers and lets go of the talk button.-- You owe me -- he says to June who just laughs.

--I dont Owe you shit- Now go cmon.

June watches the Man grumble and hurry away to the car. But shes not relaxed until hes out of sight-

Fine,now that hes gone she can go in.

Meanwhile,Lucas runs out through the maze like corridors of the shelves. In his mildly drugged Addled Mind jumps over a crate,only to trip and roll with a grunt.

His view was hazy, and his ribs burn. Newsflash,the floor is hard and solid- Not wobbly Like his eyes had him believe.

Soon approaching comes the footsteps of the men after him- At least he wont get shot. They wouldnt shoot a gun in such an enclosed space because aside from deafening anyone in the vecinity, it could hit an ally, a passerby or something flammable.

Well,theres not much here thats flammable- Aside from cooking oil but hes not going to bet money on it....

--Goddamnit--He growls, standing up and holding his side for a moment.

--Where the hell is he?--Yells somebody in that maze of shelves.

--I think I see him!--Shouts someone else.

Hes not sticking around to find out- So he starts sneaking through wherever his body might fit. Trying to follow the music just like he was told to do.

《always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me?》

Lucas makes one turn, then keeps going-Another turn- Was it left or right? His head spins- He holds it and stumbles.

Breathing labored, the music echoed through the warehouse and he feels his head way too light-

--Crap crap crap --He mutters, how the hell did he get drugged? His food didnt taste any different- or did his hunger make him ignore the odd taste?

《I don't know anymore!

Are the neighbours watching me? (Who's watching?)

Well is the mailman watching me? (Tell me who's watching?)》

But hes got to Keep running- the Fear was so intense- he could barely breathe.

His steps get drowned out by the music that seems to be getting louder,as if someone was cranking up the radio's volume.

The corridors he runs feel endless,they pass him in a blurr and hes sweating Like a sinner in church- What was going on with him?

Could it be the chemical- Could he have been drugged with the Agent Rainbow? Was this just a panic attack? A PTSD episode? Or was he just really that scared?

--Oh God no no--He mutters looking at the two tall crates that block his path- Who even leaves something like this in the middle of the warehouse?!

《And I don't feel safe anymore, oh what a mess

I wonder who's watching me now! (Who?)

The IRS?!》

Hes trapped, he cant go anywhere-

The steps grow louder and louder- someones approaching fast...

This is it- Hes caught.

Hes failed

And he was so damn close-

--Lucas!--Yells Someone over the music.

--get away!--Lucas shouts right back,scrambling to Grab something, anything to get away.

With a wide swipe he grabs whar feels like a paper bag, he rips It Open and throws it at whoever was approaching him. He heard them cough and just as hes about to run away...

--Goddamnit Lucas! You big fucking idiot!--Hes slammed against the Crates. He feels himself restrained and something is poured forcefully into his lips.

He tried to pull away but he cant,hes held in place and he can tell his assailant is smaller than him. He notices Many things...

First, his attacker is a She-,Of blond hair,grey eyes...

--kid?--He asked, looking at her, a little puzzled.

--About damn time--June says, putting the cap back on her canteen-- I made sure to give you a low dosage- but that didnt work clearly!

--You- you drugged me!--He protested--How-?!

She rolled her eyes--You didnt check the water supply of the motel, did you?

--How shouldve I known-

--Doesnt matter--The woman replied-- Cmon, we gotta GO

Forcefully,she grabs his wrist and tugs Him along. Lucas seems really out of it-Less dizzy now but confused.

--Wont this get you in trouble?--He asked, walking over the pile of flour so his footprints didnt show. Above them the light is a sickening yellow, Either from the dirty lightbulbs or the Sky lights.

--I was in a whole world of trouble the moment I didnt detain you back in Utah-- She replied, non-chalantly-- it was either detention or...

--Termination--He finished,his mind getting clearer-- I mean- you couldve Killed me at the motel back in Utah

--Or I couldve given you the whole dosage

--But you didnt

June shrugged--Im efficent,thats why they trust me. Besides- Rose- She helped out

--Whom?

She cleared her throat- not sure how to tell him who Rose is. Tension fills the air for a moment as they walk, avoiding the Sky lights or barren shelves.

《I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Tell me is it just a dream

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

And I have no privacy (oh oh oh oh)

I always feel like somebody's watchin' me

Who's playing tricks on me?》

--Doctor James, shes the one who made- Or well, helped in revamping AR. She uh- She wants out and I told her I know somebody--June explained,finally getting to the back door-- She gave me the specifics on how much of the chemical to expose you to,yadda yadda

Lucas nodds, finally being let go--Did she also give you something to help calm down the effects or-

She snorted--Nah Man thats just water

--Oh...

The woman rolls her eyes with a smirk,obviously amused--You packed all your stuff back in your van before leaving right?

--Yes...

--Good,then punch me and run

He blinks at her--Excuse you?

--we gotta make this believable,dumbass-- She replied, walking up to him-- itll be too obvious if you leave and im unharmed. Plus my battle buddy Will be back here soon and things Will get worse for both of us

Lucas understands what she means, if her buddy comes back-She'll have no other choice but to play along and detain him- and escaping death or wherever he was going to be thrown into seemed nigh Herculean of a task.

Still, he wasnt going to punch her. It felt...wrong- she did nothing but help him. Even if he did punch her, he wouldnt be able to actually make it hurt.

--You are so sentimental--She teased,a little endeared but also annoyed-- Thats sweet but we gotta hurry it up

Before he can say anything she bangs her head against one of the desks there. He hears a sickening crunch of bone and a smear of red spread across the wooden surface of the furniture she hit.

His eyes widen--Sweet lord,woman!--He yells  seeing her pull back with almost a manic grin. But shes not done,oh no.

She hits the corner of the desk right on her ribs,she yelps in pain and does It again on her arm.

--Kid- Jesus just stop!--He pulls her back but one last thing she does is hit the steel frame of the desk she was just throwing herself at.

--There --June says,blood trickling down her lips--I think thats enough

--Ya fucking think?!--Lucas Shouts, about to look at her hand before being pushed away.

--Fucking leave!

Fast approaching steps reach his ears,he nodds and runs for the door. Though before he leaves he turns and simply says--Hey- whats your name?

"For fucks sake" she thinks,but indulges him nonetheless-- June

--thank you,June. For everything

She smiles and says--Its nothing...

--And also, leave your job- youre too much of a good person for this--And with that,he leaves. Hearing her faint laughter over the music.

Soon he reaches his van,he hops In and like a bat out of hell he drives away. Speeding past none other than Bennet,who by the time he realizes what happened its already too late- Hes being called in to help June,who seems to be either incapacitated or unconcious.

Lucas Cole escapes with his life, shaken, worried, but still alive.

He drives for days on end,barely sleeping (if at all) and eating whar remains of his rations. Next stop he makes he ought to re-stock.

His mind eventually clears up, the radio frequency is quiet. Too quiet.

But one night,just the night he made it to Oregon the radios catch something on another frequency. Weak and quite static filled.

Yet he recognizes the two voices that talk.

--This Empty to Spider --Comes the voice of one Rosemary James, he recognized the voice from when he entered the warehouse. The same woman he heard talking about a shipment.-- How did things go? Over.

-- Spider to Empty, they went well. Poor fucker was horrified when he saw me fling myself to that desk-- She laughs a little,to then yelp-- It still hurts. Over

He chuckles and whispers--Thats what happens when you hit yourself with a desk,Dummy.

--I suppose hes on his way to Washington? Over-- Rose asked.

--Affirmative. Im sure he'll find something or somewhere to stay-- the "over" seems to slip Junes mind.

--Funnily enough theres a spot for a ranger in Elysium Park-- "Empty" added with an audible smile.

--Huh,he'll fit right in,then.

--He sure Will

--Is he safe?--the scientist asked.

--Bureocracy Will slow things down--the fed answered-- by the time they try to catch up...

--He'll be long gone

Then a brief silence.

--Ill handle the situation when it gets to it. Thank you,Spidee Empty over and out

And so,the transmission cuts.

Lucas chuckles,shaking his head and wondering how the hell did his life get so damn crazy... And how lucky he is that June decided to go Rogue.

Quietly,he stands up and checks his sorroundings. Hes hidden away off Road near a small town on the edge of the stateline between Oregon and Nevada. He'd drive a little more If he wasnt so exhausted.

He decided to trust on Junes words and allowed himself a good nights rest. A full eight hours-

And though he wont be able to remember this the Next morning, Lucas dreams of an azure blue Angel with bright round eyes and long,radiowave made wings standing at the front of what seems to be a...bunker?

She turns to him and simply says

《Follow....me》 

[stop-pressing-e]

Home Sweet Haven - Part 1

/Finally decided to post this story I've written nearly a year ago and made edits to update some parts recently. This story will be split into three parts.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Breaking and entering being the main plot, suggestive aftermath

First week

Dullahan was a woman of many secrets and she doesn’t reveal them so easily to anyone. Not even to the man that was once a thorn on her side to becoming an acquaintance. He would soon be a partner in crime when fate would bring them together for missions into something a bit more when it involved motel rooms and diner dates. Regardless of anyone’s relationship with the hitman, no one knows anything about her, from her hobbies to what her favourite colour is. All they have is her personality they could describe about her and what she is to them. 

However, Jack Krauser knew some things people would love to use against her and especially for the fact that he had seen her face during their interactions in their second year. He was given her actual name since Dullahan can be such a mouthful and he rather uses pet names on her as she does with him using ‘Jackie’. Bit by bit he would learn more information about her with his own investigations until he got what he needed.

Her home address.

From afar in his rental, he watched Dullahan, or better known as Trish Odile, leaving her complex for her civilian job as a waitress at a local restaurant and bar via a motorcycle. A Benelli bike. It was a nice model she had there but it was not for him. He focused on what floor she was on from the glass window displaying the elevator, and how to exactly get upstairs as he soon learnt that she uses a keycard and a passcode to enter the building. The only option was the fire escape located inside the compound. It was an easy jump over the fence and he easily avoided the cameras while he managed to pick the lock of the grilled door to enter inside the fire escape and made his way up the top floor Dullahan is located itself.

The glass door was easily unlocked with his knife wedged between the locks and he was inside. Dullahan’s place was an industrial loft with its high ceiling, the tall glass windows, to the open second floor that is basically the whole bedroom itself led up by a spiral staircase. The kitchen was underneath the bedroom floor and the space was big enough to have the kitchen island across the stoves act as a dining table too, allowing more space for the living room. A large couch faced a large screen television mounted on the wall, a nice small rectangular table decorated with only a potted plant that looked to be orchids, to his best guess, and a red plush wingback chair on the left side of the couch and facing towards the glass doors, probably to enjoy the view of the outside at a distance.

Three bookcases lined against each other by a door that led him to a storage room and upon pressing the second switch thinking it was the lights, the wall at the end pulled away revealing a hidden room behind it. He found her weapons hung on the wall along with her equipment, and the sight of a mannequin wearing the infamous blue jacket, the right arm holding the pants, what was left of the left arm was replaced by the familiar black metallic sheen of her robotic arm, and the head wearing the helmet. A training dummy is located across the storage room and it went through quite a lot from the looks of it and from the amount of stitches she must have sewn to repair it looked to be done by a really sharp knife.

Krauser inspected the rest of the area near the glass door he came from and the kitchen and he saw that it was a little art studio. One easel was tucked away and the other one was standing with a canvas left unfinished of a still life of a vase of slowly dying flowers, a few books stacked on top of each other with the spine facing the person, and a half empty amber glass bottle. Against the wall were drawers and tables containing art supplies of paints of various mediums, colour pencils, palettes, palette knives, brushes, sketchbooks, and more he doesn’t have time to inspect. There were also canvases full of paintings leaning against the wall which were still lifes, landscapes, and some were portraits of people he wasn’t familiar with, possibly strangers she had encountered in her passing.

The lower floor was done and he made his way upstairs to the bedroom area. He was greeted with a king size bed, all for one person yet he found it perfect should he need to rest, a bedside table on the right side of the bed with a table lamp and a book on top of it. Upon closer inspection, he caught sight of a knife holster strapped to the front leg of the table and a gun holster strapped at the back, possibly for an easy grab for her to strike an attack if anyone broke into her home such as what he’s doing currently. He smirked from seeing it. Despite being safe in her own home, she was still well prepared. Smart girl, he thought as he moved away to briefly inspect her wardrobe, her vanity table and the full length mirror right against the wall before he moved on for the bathroom. 

It has both a bathtub and a shower with a glass door large enough for him to enter and the tub was big enough for him to sit in it, but he won’t be using it anytime soon. It’ll leave too much evidence. Krauser briefly inspected himself in the bathroom mirror, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, his pale skin, and the stubble that was slowly growing out. He hasn’t gotten a chance to rest properly let alone have a proper meal in quite a while. He doesn’t exactly have a home for himself since he sold his apartment and his safe house was in another country he hardly goes to anymore. If he’s lucky since learning of Dullahan’s home, he hopes she doesn’t mind him crashing her place whenever she’s not around for the time being.

Her office table was the last to be inspected after leaving the bathroom. “Of course you have a password.” He grumbled to himself upon opening her laptop before closing it and searched through her drawers where he discovered a single sheet of paper containing coordinates that looked important to be written down by her. He copied them down on a fresh sheet of paper he found in another drawer and tucked it away in his pocket. Another accidental discovery he stumbled upon was another hidden compartment underneath the coordinates he had copied from containing a file detailing her next mission. A smirk crept on his lips. It seems she’ll be leaving tomorrow and she’ll be away for at least five days by most. 

Perfect.

There was nothing left to investigate in her home other than taking a few things from her fridge and a bottle of water and it was time to leave. He found what was important and he’ll use it to his advantage when she’s away. 

He left it for day one so he won’t accidentally break in while she’s packing her gear to leave for her mission. It was only on day two he repeated how he snuck in with ease and let out a long heavy sigh of relief as soon he entered the empty loft. He dropped his large duffel bag containing his clothes and all of his necessities on the floor, a couple of plastic bags containing the food he purchased for himself to cook with her kitchenware on the kitchen island, and made his way to the couch to rest. It was plush but he didn't care. He got a place to rest and regain his strength. It’ll be his own little secret and he’ll make sure she never knows that someone like him was using her place to crash for the time being. 

Once he was well rested after a few good hours, he went straight upstairs to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Krauser instantly melted by the hot water running down his body, soothing away the tense muscles and aches he had on him, and washing away the smell and grime off him. The smell of her body wash and her shampoo was a bit too strong for him and too scented for his type. Thank god he brought his own products. It did however make him curious how it smelled like on her. None of the scents he smelled on her during their ‘close interactions’ were nowhere close to what she has in her bathroom. It’s a shame he admitted since he can be quite a curious man needing the answers straight away.

The shower was done and Krauser proceeded to shave his five o’clock off with his knife. It was quite sharp that he didn't need to use a razor at all. His knife can get the job done easily without a hassle. 

Sleep was what he wanted again but he was craving to get a proper meal in his stomach after being on the road for quite some time, living off on rations and granola bars until he found a mom and pop diner or a bar that made a decent good meal. The place Trish works at was made as a mental note to visit and eat there again. Only when she’s not there or maybe when he chooses to surprise her by his presence as usual. As of now, cooking his food was his main priority. 

Three months

Krauser doesn’t often sneak into her loft and when he does, he always made sure nothing of his was left behind, the place was deep cleaned free of his prints, he thrown out his own trash into a garbage bag rather than the trash can and dispose of it at the dumpster the next block over, wiped his fingerprints away on anything he touched and used, and anything in her name was not out of place or excessively used to indicate his usage on her stuff. 

Yet somehow Dullahan knew someone had been sneaking into her home. She told him that when they ended their mission in Krauser’s motel room. He saw that distant look on her face illuminated by the large neon sign outside his window, the way her eyebrows furrowed together, her cigarette hanging from her two fingertips, and that annoying knee bouncing she does when she’s agitated on the worn out pleather chair. 

“Why the hell are you telling me this?” He let out a grunt while he rubbed his sore neck from all the hair grabbing she did to make him look up at her face while she was riding him. He was actually glad she told him now that he’ll collect more information to be prepared for next time or lay low at one of her safe houses from the coordinates he wrote down. She has quite a lot in a number of countries and he wasn’t complaining, only the lack of specific necessities but it was simply a pet peeve. 

Dullahan took a drag of her cigarette, thinking on what to say, and blew out two smoke rings. Impressive. She gave him her answer after putting it out. “I know you’re quite an expert in traps and alarms so I’m asking as a favour for some of your devices.” It easily caught his full attention with a raised scarred eyebrow and long exhale releasing a stream of smoke. He leaned against the headboard, crossing his muscular arms against his chest and soon let out a deep chuckle.

“What’s in it for me?”

“It depends on what you want from me in return.” She was starting to dress herself all while keeping her pain subdue at her hips area. Damn him for grabbing them so hard his thumbs left bruises on them but damn does he fucked her so good. She swore could still feel his lingering touches on her skin and those sharp canines when he was marking her on her right shoulder. He always made her melt like a puddle with brute force and she always enjoyed it without admitting it to his face. “If you need me to collect any information for you? Fine. Return the same favour with my own devices? Sure. Name your price.”

Krauser let her words simmer in his head, a smirk almost gracing on his lips Dullahan quickly figured out what he could be thinking. “I need to know if you’re allowing me. If you say no then the offer is off the table. Got it?” “That sounds tempting, dollface.” He let out another chuckle as he leaned onto his knees propped up, cocking his head slightly in her direction as she finished dressing herself but not in that blue jacket and her helmet. Both of them were packed away in her bag and they were replaced with a black leather jacket and biker’s helmet. “I’ll think about it.”

“You have until tomorrow evening to tell me or else you’ll get nothing from me.” She straightened back her shoulders, almost wincing when the fresh bite mark brushed against the fabric of her jacket, forced to exhale softly through her teeth and catching his smirk grew a bit wider revealing part of those sharp canines. As she half frowned from the sight of that damn smirk, it sent a shiver down her spine. No matter what, it always got her. “Goodnight, Major.” She made her way for the exit, her helmet tucked under her right arm and her bag slung over her left shoulder. As soon the sound of his door was closed shut, he let out a heavy sigh to himself, leaning back against the headboard again, tapping the ashes out while smoothing his hair back. 

It had put him in a bit of a dilemma if he chose to allow it to happen and yet it was his own device he created. Surely he will bypass it and note down where she would place them the next time he sneaks back into her loft. However, that is the problem. Two problems whether he accepts or rejects it. Accepting it, she’ll probably rework his traps and that’ll put him in a predicament. Rejecting it, she’ll find either someone else or make her own alarm system. That woman continues to be unpredictable and he was still impressed by it while there’s that lingering annoyance at the back of his head. 

He set up their meeting at the diner across the motel. By the time Dullahan arrived Krauser was already finishing his second plate and requested his third refill of coffee. She ordered herself a strawberry milkshake and curly fries. He had to witness her dipping the said fries into her milkshake and eating them like it was a normal combination. 

The hitman saw his irked expression and she gave him one of her teasing smiles towards him. “It’s good if you try it, Jackie.” “I’ll pass.” He grunted and then brought a small black briefcase onto the table and slid it across her. “Here. I did some quick modifications to it and whoever your intruder is will get a little something without needing to lift those pesky nimble fingers of yours.” Krauser casually leaned back against the booth while Dullahan inspected the traps and alarms with great curiosity. He picked up the remote from the case. “Once you install them, it’ll automatically connect to this once you press this button.” He tapped the green button with his middle finger. “Keep it on you at times, there’s no replacement so good luck getting back inside if you lose it.”

“This is quite kind of you to lend me your traps, Krauser.” Dullahan told him once she put the stuff back inside the briefcase and closed it, bringing it onto her side. “I’ll return it back to you when I have my own alarm system set up.” The milkshake was pushed away so her elbows can rest on the table. “Now for the favour.” She was immediately silent by the raise of his gloved hand.

“Save it. I don’t have anything to ask from you,” he told her, taking note of her expression by his rejection. The way her eyebrows knitted together and her lips pulled into a fine thin line if he was pulling her leg, literally. “Not yet that is. I’ll hold onto the offer until the time comes.” His promise wasn’t enough to satisfy her questions that were currently swimming in her head as she continued to stare straight at him. He casually shrugged his shoulders. “Take it or else I take it back.”

Her hand automatically went over the briefcase. “I’ll take it still.” She stuffed her hand into her pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill onto the table, paying for both her order and Krauser’s while tipping their server handsomely at the same time. “Thank you really, Jack.” It was very rare to hear his first name being spoken and the majority addressed him as either Krauser or Major, nothing more and nothing less. But not her. She calls him with only one particular nickname to either tease the man or annoy him for specific reasons as he does to her in return. At times she will address him correctly and very rarely she calls him Jack unless she was serious or sincere about it.

And she was sincere by what he has done for her.

His hand made a sweeping motion for her to leave. “Just go, Trish.” Simply by saying her actual name in return was his small sign of respect towards her. “And be careful with it.” “I will.” She assured him as she collected her stuff. “Thank you again. Goodbye for now.” 

The mercenary grunted his goodbye right as she left the diner and waiting to see her drive off, he patted the side pockets of his cargo pants to make sure he had given her the right remote which is actually a copy of the original that is in his possession right now. She will have her loft protected when she’s at work but when she’s away, he will still use her place and he can easily deactivate the alarm system from outside the door with the push of the button. He also installed a tracking ware in the devices so he can know where she would set them up. There’s three devices and he’s certain two of them will be installed by both doors and it’s only the third one he will need to check where she’ll place it when he’s there eventually for next time.

[hqmasked]

accepted. ⸻ welcome to haven island, lacey clarke, jae baek, cormac brady, james howard, daniel clarke, antonio ‘tony’ rodriguez, cain perez, nicolina arteaga and addison clarke! i know things are pretty scary on the island right now but rest assured that we’re doing our best to catch whoever is doing this! i made you a little checklist to help you settle in..

chandler kinney, the halycon, gong yoo, the papa wolf, paul mescal, the helping hand, mason gooding, the blabbermouth, jon bernthal, the clean slate, danny ramirez, the trainwreck, xolo maridueña, the cinephile, jenna ortega, the icarian, bailey bass and the prom queen are now taken

꒰ chandler kinney | cis woman | she / her ꒱ is that lacey clarke i see coming out of their home in cozy fields? i heard that the twenty - two year old is night clerk at the nyx motel. they’ve been on the island for her whole life and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the halycon.. i wonder what else there is to know about them.. — piper, 26, she/her, est, n/a.

꒰  gong yoo  |  cis man  |  he/him  ꒱  is that jae baek i see coming out of their home in pleasant ridge? i heard that the forty five year old is a doctor at haven island health center. they’ve been on the island for sixteen years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the papa wolf.. i wonder what else there is to know about them..     —     cait, 33, she/her, est, none.

꒰  paul mescal  |  cis man  |  he/him  ꒱  is that cormac brady  i see coming out of their home in cozy fields? i heard that the twenty-eight year old is a bartender at the bar. they’ve been on the island for five years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the helping hand. i wonder what else there is to know about them..   

꒰  mason gooding  |  cis man  |  he/him  ꒱  is that james howard  i see coming out of their home in golden aparments? i heard that the twenty-seven year old is a radio host at 85.6fm radio shack. they’ve been on the island for their whole life and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the blabbermouth.. i wonder what else there is to know about them..     —     ooc baz, 33, she/her, gmt, none.

꒰ jon bernthal | cis man | he/him ꒱ is that daniel clarke i see coming out of their home in pleasant ridge? i heard that the forty-seven year old is a civil engineer on the mainland. they’ve been on the island for twenty-two years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the clean slate. i wonder what else there is to know about them.. — whit, twenty-six, she/her, gmt, gore.

꒰ danny ramirez | cis man | he/him ꒱ is that antonio ‘tony’ rodriguez i see coming out of their home in cozy fields? i heard that the twenty-eight year old is a bouncer at the pink paradise. they’ve been on the island for his whole life and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the trainwreck.. i wonder what else there is to know about them.. — whit, twenty-six, she/her, gmt, gore.

꒰  xolo maridueña  |  cis male  |  he/him  ꒱  is that cain perez i see coming out of their home in cozy fields? i heard that the twenty-three year old is a/an clerk at the video store. they’ve been on the island for twenty-three years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the cinephile.. i wonder what else there is to know about them..     —     wednesday, 28, she/her, cst, n/a.

꒰  jenna ortega  |  cis female  |  she/her  ꒱  is that nicolina arteaga i see coming out of their home in golden apartments? i heard that the twenty-one year old is a/an housekeeper at nyx's hotel. they’ve been on the island for five years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the icarian.. i wonder what else there is to know about them..     —     wednesday, 28, she/her, cst, n/a.

꒰  bailey bass  |  cis woman  |  she/her  ꒱  is that addison clarke i see coming out of their home in pleasant ridge? i heard that the twenty year old is a college student. they’ve been on the island for twenty years and within that time, they’ve gained the reputation of being quite the the prom queen.. i wonder what else there is to know about them..     —     ali, 32, she/they, est, pedophilia & grooming.

[thehavenedge]

THE CONCEPT

ENG.

Haven’s Edge is a motel located at the edge of a deep forest, far from civilization. The inn was once known as a resting place for adventurers and lost travelers, but in recent years, it no longer appears on maps. The few people who arrived at the place lost or looking for an escape now find themselves trapped there. They were all forced to stay because the surrounding forest made it impossible to get out.

The new residents of Haven’s Edge have no idea that this place has a long history full of mysteries. The motel has an unwritten rule: those who arrive there cannot simply leave without facing an unsolved challenge. However, no one knows for sure what keeps them trapped, whether it’s just the wild nature or a darker force behind it.

For the concept, we use the concept of motel and adventure. So the term for the motel concept is like a temporary shelter. The motel is in the middle of the forest, they come for a vacation or as a temporary stopover but apparently have to survive to continue their lives to get out of the trap in the forest that causes them not to be able to return.

“Will they find their way home at the end of their adventure?”

Representing both a protective haven and the adventurous edge, this concept taps into the idea that life is a balance of serenity and thrill. The place is Haven’s Edge.

[glacierresort]

Exploring Affordable Glacier National Park Motel Room Rates

Glacier National Park is a destination that offers breathtaking landscapes, pristine wilderness, and a chance to reconnect with nature. Whether you're planning a family vacation, a romantic getaway, or a solo adventure, finding affordable accommodations is key to making the most of your trip. For those looking for a comfortable stay near the park without breaking the bank, understanding Glacier National Park motel room rates is essential. Glacier Haven Resort provides an excellent option for travelers, combining convenience, comfort, and affordability.

Why Stay Near Glacier National Park?

Choosing a motel close to Glacier National Park allows you to maximize your time exploring the park's stunning scenery. Whether you're planning to hike, photograph wildlife, or simply enjoy the natural beauty, staying nearby ensures you spend less time traveling and more time adventuring.

Proximity to Park Entrances: One of the major advantages of staying at Glacier Haven Resort is its proximity to the park entrances. Located just a short drive away, you can easily access the park’s most popular trails, scenic drives, and visitor centers without the hassle of a long commute.

Convenience and Comfort: After a day of hiking or sightseeing, having a comfortable and convenient place to return to is crucial. The motel rooms at Glacier Haven Resort are designed to provide a restful environment, ensuring you’re refreshed and ready for the next day’s adventures.

Budget-Friendly Options: Glacier Haven Resort offers a range of Glacier National Park motel room rates that cater to different budgets. Whether you're looking for a standard room or something more luxurious, you'll find options that meet your needs without overspending.

Understanding Glacier National Park Motel Room Rates

When planning your stay near Glacier National Park, it’s important to understand what factors influence motel room rates. Several variables can affect the cost of your accommodation, including the time of year, room type, and available amenities.

Seasonal Variations: The time of year you visit Glacier National Park greatly impacts motel room rates. During the peak summer season, from June to September, rates tend to be higher due to increased demand. If you’re looking to save on accommodation costs, consider visiting during the shoulder seasons of spring or fall when the rates are typically lower, and the park is less crowded.

Room Type and Amenities: Glacier Haven Resort offers a variety of room types, each with different amenities and price points. Standard rooms provide basic comforts at an affordable rate, while deluxe rooms or suites may offer additional features like kitchenettes, larger living spaces, or premium views, which can affect the overall cost.

Length of Stay: Some motels near Glacier National Park, including Glacier Haven Resort, may offer discounts for longer stays. If you’re planning an extended vacation, it’s worth inquiring about special rates for multiple nights, which can result in significant savings.

Booking in Advance: Securing your room well in advance can also impact the rates you pay. Booking early not only ensures availability but can also lock in lower rates before prices increase closer to peak season.

Glacier Haven Resort: A Budget-Friendly Option

Glacier Haven Resort stands out as an excellent choice for those looking for affordable Glacier National Park motel room rates without compromising on quality. Here’s why Glacier Haven Resort is a popular option among travelers:

Affordable Rates: Glacier Haven Resort offers competitive rates, making it a budget-friendly option for visitors to Glacier National Park. The variety of room options ensures that you can find accommodation that suits your budget, whether you’re looking for a simple room or a more luxurious stay.

Comfort and Convenience: The motel rooms at Glacier Haven Resort are designed with comfort in mind. Guests can expect clean, well-maintained rooms equipped with all the essentials, including comfortable beds, private bathrooms, and modern amenities like Wi-Fi and flat-screen TVs.

Family-Friendly Options: For those traveling with family, Glacier Haven Resort offers rooms that can accommodate multiple guests, ensuring a comfortable stay for everyone. The resort also features family-friendly amenities such as outdoor picnic areas and easy access to nearby activities suitable for all ages.

Stunning Location: Situated just outside the park, Glacier Haven Resort provides stunning views of the surrounding mountains and forests. This scenic location allows guests to fully immerse themselves in the natural beauty of the area while enjoying the convenience of nearby amenities.

How to Get the Best Glacier National Park Motel Room Rates

To get the best Glacier National Park motel room rates, consider the following tips:

Book Early: As mentioned earlier, booking your stay well in advance can help you secure lower rates and ensure availability, especially during the peak season.

Visit During Shoulder Seasons: If your travel dates are flexible, consider visiting during the shoulder seasons. Not only will you enjoy lower rates, but you'll also experience fewer crowds and milder weather, making your trip even more enjoyable.

Check for Special Offers: Glacier Haven Resort often runs promotions or offers discounts for extended stays, early bookings, or last-minute deals. Be sure to check their website or contact the resort directly to inquire about any current offers.

Consider Group Rates: If you're traveling with a group, ask about group rates or discounts. Many motels offer reduced rates for larger parties, making it more affordable for everyone.

Final Thoughts

When planning a trip to Glacier National Park, finding affordable accommodation is key to enjoying a stress-free and budget-conscious vacation. Glacier Haven Resort offers a variety of room options at competitive Glacier National Park motel room rates, making it an excellent choice for travelers of all kinds. With its convenient location, comfortable accommodations, and affordable rates, Glacier Haven Resort ensures that you can focus on what truly matters—exploring the natural wonders of Glacier National Park.

Visit Glacier Haven Resort today to check availability, view room options, and book your stay. Whether you're seeking adventure or relaxation, Glacier Haven Resort provides the perfect home base for your Montana adventure.