#and once you see that long john silver is taking form you know we’re getting close to the end

[starfilledsea]

the “my name is john silver, and i’ve got a long fucking memory” scene will always be one of my favorites because it’s one of the points where you really feel the inevitability of black sails. it has to end a certain way because you know from the very first episode that this is a prelude to treasure island, which is an extremely well known story. you already know how silver’s story has to end, because you know who he has to become. everyone knows the person he will become, his character in treasure island has had an enormous influence on pirates in pop culture (peg leg? check. parrot on his shoulder? check.). and while there are other moments that set him on the path to being the long john silver in treasure island (such as becoming the cook on the walrus and losing his leg), arguably the most important part is him getting the name long john silver.

before that, his future isn’t quite set in stone. sure, he’s the sea cook of the original title of the book, and sure, he has the missing leg, but he’s not long john silver yet. he doesn’t have the identity that he will be known and feared for. he doesn’t have to be long john silver. gaining the name and the persona that comes with it is such an integral part of sealing his fate, and before it comes you can almost believe that the story won’t end like that. that the john silver you see won’t become the long john silver that lives on in pop culture enough that there’s a fucking seafood restaurant chain named after him.

and, if you’re like me, you’ve spent almost 3 seasons wondering how it will happen— how “silver” becomes Long John Silver. the scene doesn’t even seem incredibly special at first, until silver says “my name is john silver, and i’ve got a long fucking memory” and then all you can do is sit there for a moment because that’s it. he’s put into motion what you know will eventually become the identity he’ll go down in history with. he hasn’t become long john silver yet, but from that moment on you know he will. it’s one more piece of the story clicking into place, and it’s a crucial step in bribing us to the inevitable ending. you can see the island looming on the horizon.

[siancore]

After the Smoke Settles | Attoye | E | 2.4k words | AO3 Link

For Attoye Week 2023 @attoye-week

Day 2: Alternate Universe - Biker!Attuma and Party Girl Okoye

Summary: Attuma is the Sergeant-at-Arms for the Talokanil War Gods M.C. There is a tentative alliance between his M.C. and local Wakandan crime boss M'Kathu AKA The Chief. Both organizations are celebrating a year of successful partnership with one another. Attuma, new to the local chapter, sees Okoye at a party at his M.C's clubhouse. He wants to get to know her, but she is The Chief's daughter. Namor warns him not to go near Okoye because her father is overprotective and it would surely sour their alliance, but Attuma won't say no if the Wakandan beauty is interested in him -- even if it is just for one night.

Content: Unprotected sex; oral sex; hooking up; recreational drug use; drinking; drunk sex; dirty talk; language; minor violence.

The sounds of laughter and clinking drinks filled the space of the club room. Attuma stood next to his friend and new President, Namor. Ever since Attuma had come over and joined that chapter of the Talokanil War Gods Motorcycle Club as their Sergeant-at-Arms almost two months prior, he had been fitting in well. Namor ran a tight ship. They were working on forming alliances with other outfits in order to continue their operations. Having grown up together, Attuma and Namor knew and trusted one another. It was the reason why Attuma came to work with him.

They glanced around the club room, watching their brothers enjoy the party. Namor did not often throw parties, but they were celebrating a year of an alliance with the Wakandans. A year of prosperous partnerships for both outfits.

Both parties were having fun. The mood was light. Drinks were flowing, the music was good, and a few people were dancing. Attuma’s eyes fell on a group of young women at the edge of the makeshift dancefloor. A couple were Sweet Butts, and the rest were Wakandan. He watched them dance and laugh, enjoying themselves, until another young woman from the Wakandan group ambled over – scratch that – glided over.

Attuma was certain his jaw dropped at the sight of her. Big doe eyes; long braids; dark skin; and a blinding smile. She was breathtaking. She danced her way into the center of the circle of girls, twirling as she went. The yellow form-fitting dress drawing attention to her slender body and round ass. Attuma was practically salivating.

“Sakun winik,” said Attuma to Namor. “Who’s that?”

“Who?” Namor replied.

“That goddess in the yellow dress.”

Namor looked over at the dancefloor and then back to Attuma.

“Don’t go there, itz’in winik.”

“Why not? Is she someone’s Ol’ Lady? I’ve never seen her before. What’s her name?”

“Okoye.”

“Okoye,” Attuma repeated, enjoying the way her name felt on his lips.

“And she’s off limits. That’s the Chief’s daughter. He’d probably bury anyone who even looks at her.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious. You know Long John Silver over at the shop?”

“Yeah, that white boy with the eyepatch? Wait, you tellin’ me the Chief knocked that kid’s eye out for lookin’ at his daughter?”

“Nah, he got into a hunting accident or some shit and lost it. But, the Chief cut off his trigger finger ‘cause he was in the club and tried to touch Okoye’s hair without her permission.”

“Fuck,” said Attuma before laughing. “Silly prick deserved that.”

“Right,” Namor replied. “No more hunting for his ass.”

Attuma laughed once more and then said, “If he even looks at my future wife, I’ll take his other fuckin’ eye.”

“Attuma,” Namor warned. “Leave her alone. We’re celebrating a year of peace with the Wakandans. Don’t fuck it up over a pretty girl.”

“Christ, brother. I’m not gonna fuck anything up. It’s cool. I won’t go near her.”

…

The party was in full swing and Attuma needed some time on his own away from the revellers. He stood out in the high-walled yard and lit a joint. A bike’s engine revved outside the gate before it opened and let someone in. A girl shrieked and then laughed off in the distance. A beer bottle smashed nearby.

Attuma took a long pull at his joint and then leaned his head against the wall of the clubhouse. The door nearest to him flung open and two people stepped out. The sound of footfalls on gravel caused him to look over in their direction.

“You need to stop!” said a young man.

“Fuck you,” the woman replied.

Attuma straightened up and narrowed his gaze. It was the Chief’s daughter, Okoye. She was being followed by some guy, who then reached out and gabbed her by the arm.

“Don’t touch me, W’Kabi!”

“We’re leaving, now,” said W’Kabi firmly as he tried to drag Okoye away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Stop being such a brat and move your ass!”

Attuma eyes narrowed even more, he flicked his joint to the ground, and then walked towards the pair.

“Hey, Okoye, right?” he asked when he got close. “Are you okay? This asshole giving you trouble?”

She turned her head, then looked up at Attuma’s face. Before she could answer, W’Kabi spoke up.

“Fuck off and mind your business,” he spat, tugging on Okoye’s arm once more.

Attuma stared him down and then looked back at Okoye.

“You wanna take your hand off o’ the young lady?” said Attuma, inching closer.

W’Kabi let go of Okoye’s arm and poked Attuma in the chest.

“I told you to fuck off –”

Before he could finish his sentence, Attuma grabbed W’Kabi’s wrist and twisted it, causing him to groan loudly in pain.

W’Kabi bent over as Attuma leaned down and said, “Nah, I think you need to fuck off before I break your arm and your face, lil’ bitch.”

Attuma then pushed W’Kabi away, causing him to stumble, before he righted himself, threw Attuma an unimpressed look, and walked away. Attuma watched him leave, before turning to Okoye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Thank you.”

“I don’t usually step in when couples are arguing –”

“I’m not with him,” she replied quickly. “He’s just some asshole who works for my father.”

“Why was he putting his hands on you?”

“Because he thinks he has the right to as my bodyguard.”

“That bitch made motherfucker is your bodyguard?” asked an incredulous Attuma.

“Not anymore,” Okoye replied as she grabbed her phone and started to dial a number. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Attuma.”

“Hi, Attuma. Sorry, excuse me a sec. Hello?” she said into the phone. “Baba? Yes. Everything’s fine. I don’t want W’Kabi on my security detail anymore. He put his hands on me. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

She looked down at the small patch on Attuma’s vest and then said, “The Sergeant-at-Arms of the TWG stepped in and helped me. New guy. Attuma. Yes. Baba, I’m okay, really. Attuma’s going to look after me. Sure.”

Okoye removed the phone from her ear and then looked at Attuma.

“My father would like to speak with you,” she said handing the phone over.

Attuma knit his brow but answered.

“Hello, sir? Yes. Well, the guy was yelling at your daughter and tried to forcibly drag her away. Yes. Yes, sir. I stepped in, roughed him up a little, and made him leave. No need to thank me, anyone would help like that. Yes. I appreciate you saying so. That’s fine. Happy to help. Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

Attuma handed the phone back to Okoye. She bid her father goodnight after reassuring him she was safe and well.  She looked at Attuma who stared back at her. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a small smile, which she returned.

“My father asked if you would wait with me until his driver picks me up. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” said Attuma.

He gestured for her to follow him to one of the picnic tables that stood over near the high wall. Okoye walked beside Attuma, and they both took a seat beside one another.

“So, how did you know my name?” she asked while positioning her body so that she was facing him.

Attuma placed both of his legs astride the bench seating. He licked his lips absently and said, “A lady like you steps in the room and a man like me finds out your name pretty quickly.”

“Alright then,” Okoye replied with a nod and a smile. “Thanks again for what you did.”

“It was nothin’. I hope these guys who work for your father all don’t think they can treat you like that.”

“They don’t,” she proffered sincerely. “Just W’Kabi. He thinks because we grew up together that things are different between us. They’re not. He’s still one of my father’s shit kickers.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” said Attuma, as he reached in his pocket to get another joint and his lighter. “I’m done talkin’ about that asshole.”

He lit his joint and took a deep drag before holding out to offer Okoye some. She gave him a crooked, devilish sort of smile and leaned forward. Okoye placed both hands to Attuma’s thick thighs and shifted closer. Their faces were close, and heat was radiating from both of their bodies. When Okoye’s lips neared Attuma’s, she licked them and said, “Shotgun me.”

Attuma placed his hand to Okoye’s slim waist to hold her in place. He then released the smoke from his mouth and blew it between Okoye’s lips. She closed her eyes and drew the smoke in. The effects of the drug and the headiness of being in such proximity to Okoye made Attuma’s head spin. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at her, but suddenly realized the young woman had climbed into his lap, with her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms draped over his shoulders.

“You’re pretty,” said Okoye as she ran her fingers through his long tresses.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Attuma replied, staring into the darkness of her obsidian eyes.

“We don’t have much time.”

“For what?” he asked, tightening his grip on her hips.

Okoye leaned forward and pressed her lips to Attuma’s. He deepened the kiss immediately. She pulled away slightly, and he followed her, craving more.

“For me to show you how grateful I am for you stepping in to help me.”

Attuma brought his hand up to cup Okoye’s face before he said, “You don’t have to do anything to thank me, Sweetness.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, a conspirative expression crossing her beautiful face.

“Hmm,” Attuma nodded.

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” she whispered close to Attuma’s ear. “And I really wanna do you.”

…..

As far as bad ideas went, the one that had found Attuma and Okoye in the small office felt way too fucking good. After shoving most of the papers from the desktop, Attuma laid Okoye down and sunk to his knees. She hiked her dress up and placed her legs over his shoulders.

Attuma ran his hand over the lace panties Okoye was wearing and she shivered. He stuck his fingers under the garment and then tore them from Okoye. She let out a little welp.

“I’m keepin’ these,” he said as he shoved the torn panties into the back pocket of his jeans.

Before Okoye could reply with a smart answer, Attuma had began to suck kisses to her inner thigh as he toyed with her clit. He hummed against her skin as he peppered biting kisses there. Okoye let out a moan when his lips made their way to her glistening pussy. Attuma ran his tongue over her slit and up to her sensitive nub. He sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed once more. A wave of pleasure washed over Okoye. She laced her fingers through Attuma’s hair as he ate her out. She came moments later with a shudder and his name on her lips.

…..

“Fuck – Ma, this pussy so tight,” said Attuma as he sheathed his impressive length inside of Okoye.

He had her bent over the desk with his raw dick deep between her swollen folds.

“You gonna do something about it or just stand there looking pretty?”

“You got a smart mouth on you, Sweetness,” he said sharply, as his hips snapped forward. “Won’t be so smart with this dick in it.”

He thrust forward again with more fervor, causing Okoye to whimper and curse.

“Shit – shit.”

“Fuck.”

“Wish we had time for that,” said Okoye as she threw her ass back, drawing a loud moan from Attuma’s lips. “Really wanna choke on it.”

“Fuck,” said Attuma as he grabbed at Okoye’s throat and pulled her head back while he rammed his cock into her again and again. He lifted her leg so that it was rested on the desktop as he wrapped a hand around her chest to draw her back to him. Attuma kissed Okoye’s neck and then bit down onto her shoulder, all the while he kept driving himself into her.

His orgasm was drawing nearer, and he could feel that Okoye’s was, too. She was almost crying out in pleasure as her walls clenched around his dick. Soon, she was creaming over his length and coming hard. Her well-fucked cunt drew Attuma’s aching cock deeper inside and he finally came. He didn’t pull out, but both of them were too fuck-drunk to care.

After a moment, Attuma withdrew himself and found something to clean them both up with. Okoye was still bent over the desk as Attuma fixed her clothing, and then his.

“Damn,” she said, all breathless and beautiful. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”

Attuma let out a little laugh and then wrapped his arms around Okoye. He turned her so that she was standing and facing him. He captured her lips in a slow, sensuous kiss before running his hand up and down her back.

“That was fun,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair again.

“You were amazing,” Attuma replied.

“We should do this again some time,” said Okoye as she rested her hands on his firm chest.

“Definitely,” Attuma offered as he dipped down to kiss Okoye again. “Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.”

…..

The meeting was almost at its conclusion when Namor poured himself another drink and said, “One last order of business.”

The brothers around the table gave him their attention even though some were watching the clock.

“The Chief wanted to give his formal thanks to our brother Attuma for lookin’ out for his daughter last weekend at the party.”

Some of the men patted Attuma’s shoulders.

“You did a good thing, Attuma,” said Namor. “His girl is his pride and joy. You did both of them a solid by takin’ care of her when she was on our property.”

“Any of us would’ve done the same thing,” Attuma said, leaving out the part where he had fucked Okoye within an inch of her life. “Just glad we’re in their good books.”

“You definitely are,” Namor replied. “The Chief wants to hire you as his daughter’s bodyguard. Interim bodyguard, actually.”

“What?” asked Attuma, genuinely shocked.

“Apparently you made a real impression on her,” Namor explained. “She asked her father for you specifically to look out for her until they hire someone else. You up for it?”

Attuma thought about the offer for less than a beat before her said, quite enthusiastically, “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I’m up for it. Sign me up.”

[lost-in-the-80s]

The Wedding

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x fem!reader

Words: 2.321k

Summary: Your brother's wedding has arrived, without having a boyfriend, you invite Izzy, your best friend, to be your date. (smut)

A/N: When I started listening to gnr, it didn’t take much time before Izzy got a place in my heart, so this is for his birthday

Song rec for the fic: Woman by John Lennon

Sitting on an airplane for over an hour now, Izzy observed your asleep figure beside him, your head laying on his shoulder, like you had done so many times before, unaware of the warmth it caused on the brunette’s heart.

He questioned himself for a thousandth time that week. Why in the hell did I agree with this?

The idea didn’t sound like a big deal at first, accompanying you to your brother’s wedding wouldn’t cause any harm. But as the days started to go by, his mind traced every aspect of a wedding, the music, the romantic atmosphere, the dancing, and he soon started to regret having said yes so easily.

The truth is that Izzy has always loved you, ever since the day the two of you met. It all happened so naturally that he didn’t notice he was in love until you went on a date with another guy.

At first, he loved your voice, he’d call you just to hear you talking for hours about the most random things. Then it was your eyes, he found himself entranced by their color, the way they rolled when you got annoyed, and how they seemed to invade his deepest thoughts and memories every time you looked at his eyes.

The last thing was your attitude, your bluntness and forward behavior shocking him sometimes, and being his main entertainment in others. He found a true interest in watching you, it didn’t matter what you were doing, you would always be in his sight.

And even though years passed, that feeling seemed to just grow more and more, and every time he saw you going out with another guy, his heart broke into smaller and smaller pieces.

Little did he know the reason behind your maneater habits.

The truth is that, just like him, you had fallen for him since day one, you loved his nonchalant attitude and his style, the shape of his hands and fingers, and how dry his voice was after his third cigarette.

Just like him, you would secretly observe him, the two of you being too good on your game to ever get caught by each other.

But you didn’t want to risk your friendship over admitting your feelings, especially when you didn’t know if Izzy felt the same way. So you went on multiple dates, meeting guys with the most different appearances and personalities, all in hopes that one day, you’d meet someone capable of making you stop thinking about the guy from Indiana. That, obviously, never happened.

A little turbulence on the plane woke you up, you immediately looked up, meeting his brownish eyes.

“It’s just turbulence. Go back to sleep.”

You nodded slowly, before laying your head on his shoulder again, inhaling his scent of cigarettes and cologne and immediately feeling your body calm down.

---

You looked at yourself in the mirror of the hotel room, rolling your eyes at Niki's choice of color and design for the bridesmaids' dresses.

A soft knock on the door caught your attention and there stood him, a black blazer matching his black jeans.

He looked you up and down.

"You're gonna steal the bride's attention like that."

"It's grey, the most boring color ever! I wouldn't steal her attention, even if I wanted to."

He chuckled softly.

Well, you stole my attention. He thought to himself.

Picking up your purse and gift you exited the room, locking your arm with his for support, as you got on the elevator and then walked towards the hotel's saloon.

---

During the entire ceremony, Izzy found his attention caught by you, the way you stood out amongst the other bridesmaids and how impatient you seemed to grow with how long the ceremony was taking.

Your grey dress looked like pure silver, reflecting the lights. You looked so beautiful that he wished he had brought a camera to take a picture of you.

Your eyes caught his for once, and you blinked in his direction, smiling when you saw his lips turn into a small smile.

After what felt like forever the ceremony ended and he found himself sitting at a table with “Y/N and boyfriend” written down on a card.

“I think someone gave them the wrong info.” He showed you the card when you plopped down on the chair beside him.

You rolled your eyes. “Classic coming from my family.”

You lifted the tablecloth, making him look down to see what was happening.

“These heels are killing me.” You complained, removing your silver sandals and quickly massaging your feet.

“I bet they are.” He took two champagne glasses from a waiter passing by.

He knew you weren’t used to heels. Being almost his height, you never felt the need to wear them that often.

“Thanks.” You took your glass towards your nude lips.

“How much did you pay for that gift?” He pointed towards the biggest package on a pile, knowing it was yours.

“300 bucks.”

His eyes widened for a second.

You didn’t wait for him to say anything, knowing exactly what was crossing his mind.

“He’s my only brother. I might not like Niki that much, but he’s happy with her, and I’m happy for that.”

“Fair enough.” He drank from his champagne again. "Those ice statutes are quite tempting for a man who wants to take a piss,"

He chuckled to himself, but soon realized that your attention was focused on the main door.

“See that girl over there?” You pointed at the door.

“What’s with her?”

“That’s Braeden,” the name made him realize she was your sister. “She’s the only woman taller than me here….”

He looked back at you, and so you lowered your voice, keeping eye contact with him.

“When the bouquet time comes, you’re gonna block her.” You gestured aggressively with your hands, making a smile start to form on his lips.

“Why?”

“There’s no way my younger sister is gonna get married before me.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you aspired to marriage Y/N.”

Your eyes softened with his sentence and a small pain formed in your heart. If only he knew what crossed your mind when you looked at him during the ceremony.

---

The night seemed to go by faster than he expected and soon he found himself at the drinks table, observing as you talked to some relatives of yours on the other side of the saloon.

You sensed his eyes and looked towards him, giving him a look that said “Help me.”

He chuckled softly, but before he could do anything a woman’s voice caught his attention.

“You must be Izzy.”

He looked to his side, seeing a woman that looked just like Joey, your brother.

“Yes, and you are….” He extended his hand for her to shake.

“I’m Martha, Y/N’s mother.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“I didn’t know the two of you were dating.”

He choked on his drink.

“We aren’t, we’re just friends.” He looked down for a second.

She nodded slowly, before locking her eyes on your side.

“I know my daughter very well,"

Her voice made him look back at her.

“She has had many boyfriends in her life, but I’ve never seen her look at them in the way she looks at you.”

He opened his mouth, but your presence made him stop.

“Hey, mom!” You smiled, kissing her cheek.

“Hello, darling.” She touched your hair, adjusting some locks. “I promised I'd dance this one with your father.”

You nodded in understanding as she smiled before walking away.

“So… wanna dance with me?” You nudged him from the side, before taking a sip from his drink.

“With this song?” He asked, taking notice that Woman by John Lennon was playing.

“Why not?” You shrugged.

“Okay.” He placed his now empty glass on the table before taking your hand and guiding you towards the other people there dancing.

One of his hands held you delicately by your waist as you slowly swung to the song. Your eyes locked on each other as the other people around you seemed to disappear.

Your mother’s words mixed with the lyrics hitting his head like bells as he finally noticed the glow that formed in your eyes as you looked at him, making his heart race faster than ever.

You just realized another song was playing when someone bumped into you, making a disco song hit your ears.

You both looked so distracted and for a second you thought you’d sit down for the rest of the night, not being able to feel his cold fingers brush on your skin through your dress.

But those thoughts washed away when he let go of your waist just to grab both of your hands and guide you throughout the song, just like he did for the rest of the night.

That was the happiest night you have had in your life, and when your hotel room number became noticeable at the end of the corridor, you wished you could turn back time and do it all again.

“Happy with your bouquet?”

“More than happy.” You giggled, smelling the flowers one more time.

It was comic the way Izzy put himself in front of your sister, pretending not to be aware of what was happening.

“Thanks for that.”

“If that makes you happy, I can do that at the next weddings too.”

Next weddings. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“So…” he started, stopping in front of your room as you opened the door.

“So…”

“Tonight was fun.”

“Yes, it really was!” You said looking down. “Thanks for coming with me, Iz.” You leaned towards him, kissing his cheek gently.

“Anytime.” He replied so lowly that you weren’t sure if he had actually said that.

You entered your room and closed the door, resting your forehead against it as you sighed.

Rushed knocks against the wood made you regain your posture and quickly open the door.

Izzy looked deep inside your eyes, his brown orbs saying everything his mouth wanted to.

Not a second after that and you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips colliding against his.

No kiss ever had felt like that. It was warm like fire and exciting, you felt your heart start racing faster and your mind went numb.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you as close as he could while entering your room and kicking the door shut behind him.

Soon you found yourself in your bed, your legs wrapped around his hips as your tongues fought for dominance, making small moans and grunts leave your mouths. One of his hands started traveling underneath your dress's fabric, exploring every inch of your legs, making you shiver with his cold fingers.

Your lips found his neck, kissing and biting at his flesh with desire, delighted by his irregular breathing and the small moans he tried to hold.

A certain hardness was pressed against your core among what seemed like a thousand layers of clothing. The sensation making you wet as you bit harsher on his neck, loving the smirk that formed on his lips.

He pushed himself off of you, standing up and ripping his shirt open, the sound of buttons hitting the floor filling the room.

“I need your help with the dress.”

You sat on the bed, your back facing him as he found the zipper, opening it quickly while he applied wet kisses on the extension of your back, biting your flesh just like you had done with him, making a small moan leave your lips.

“So beautiful.” He whispered against your ear, making another shiver possess your body.

You stripped off of the dress as you watched him undo his pants and remove his underwear with it.

He made his way back to the bed, his calloused fingers removed your blue lace panties slowly and delicately. One of his fingers traveled in between your folds, his eyes closing for a second when he noticed your wetness for him.

Izzy cupped your face with one of his hands, kissing you tenderly before asking.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

You felt the tip of his member entering you, making you close your eyes, focusing on the sensation it caused. You felt him slowly expanding your walls until it was all the way in, making a soft and small moan leave your lips.

Izzy looked at you for confirmation and after seeing you nod, he started moving.

In the beginning, it was slow and passionate, he made it the most intimate he could, touching every inch of your skin, whispering sweet nothings on your ear, as you traced his back and arms with the tip of your fingers, allowing your nails to softly touch his skin.

After some minutes, sweat started to form on both your bodies, your moans coming out in unison filled the room as you felt your walls start to clench around him.

That’s when he sped up his pace, the tip of his member now hitting your g-spot with no mercy, he massaged one of your breasts with his hand, while the other rested on the bed for support.

“Izzy,” His name left your lips in a loud moan and you saw a proud expression consume his features.

“I know, princess, I know.”

You closed your eyes and moaned again, feeling as you and he both came at the same time. A groan leaving his throat matching your whimpers as you felt a wave of pure pleasure wash over your body. Your legs started to shake and you scratched his back, while he bit harsh enough to leave a mark on your neck.

Both sweating and trying to gain your breath again, you laid in bed, your head resting on his chest as he softly caressed your body.

“Izzy?”

“Hum?”

“This is not a one-time thing, right?”

“No, Y/N, it is not.”

Thanks for reading <3

Tag list: @born-to-lose @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @dynamitebabe @tuffduff @almosthonest @gamsbeans @stars-kiss-the-sky @gnrfandom-music3 @ladieswttda @teasid @littlemisscare-all @rumoured-whispers @1800endmeplease @izzys-nose-ring @motley-cruer @angxlxc @oihanasstuff @apovanity87 @julessworldd @anaavibes @mudkicker @dazeduchess @izzysjujuhounds @claire-xox @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife @pinkpatiencecreepers @polka-dot-duff @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @nathaniel-hornblower @alcoholandarson @stevenizzynslashsbabe @gabyisaclassicrocker

add yourself to my tag list :)

[icefire149]

Tearing Apart At The Seams

(Read on Ao3 | Story warning: temporary major character death)

Overwhelmed was an understatement. Despite spending the car ride with her stare glued out the window in silence, Mary felt like an exposed nerve that had been thrashed with steel wool. If she closed her eyes she could still see things as she knew it: a house with a yard, laughter bouncing off the walls, toy cars on stair steps, hope in the mirror reflection. Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.

Everything was wrong. The last thing she remembered was running into Sam’s nursery, but now, here she was standing in 2016 because God’s sister said so. Her chest felt incredibly tight. The man behind the steering wheel – no, Dean. She had to keep reminding herself – was peeking at her out of the corner of his eye every so many minutes.

She still didn’t know what to make of him. He knew the right stories. He was the right age. But….how could she swap the Dean she tucked into bed hours ago for this hardened stranger?

“It won’t be long,” Dean said, breaking the silence. “We should only be about a day behind Sam and Cas.”

Mary nodded, feeling chilled. The thought of seeing what became of her baby was horrifying. He wasn’t even a toddler yet, and now…..

Her arms ached for her baby, but she couldn’t break now. It wasn’t safe yet. Turning to look at Dean, she asked an unexpected question. “Who’s Cas?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his expression softened. He laughed, “He’s….Cas. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back more comfortably in his seat. “He lives at the bunker with me and Sammy. That’s where we’re going. It’s home.”

“The….bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s tone was fond. “It’s a long story.”

“So it’s an actual bunker?”

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yup.”

The rest of the drive went by without another word. Mary honestly didn’t know what to say. For the most part she just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake back up in 1983.

“Home sweet home,” Dean mumbled as they parked in the garage.

Mary was stunned by the collection of cars there. She actually felt a spark of excitement at the possibility of taking one of them out for a spin.

Slowly, she followed Dean inside. He nearly bounced down the steps, he was eager to get to where ever he was heading.

“Sammy!” Dean called. “Cas!”

Dean only took a few steps into the main room before whipping around on his heels. "Something's wrong," he said pulling his gun out. "Stay put."

He quickly disappeared down a hallway at the other end of the room. Mary didn't stray too far. What she could see was enough. Books and papers were scattered on the floor. There were drops of blood near the tables. The toe of her boot connected with an odd silver blade.

She picked it up, studying and turning it over in her hands. It wasn't cold like metal usually was. There was a warmth that felt like something more than what was left from whoever held it last. It was strange, but Mary wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean hadn't trusted her with a weapon, but fate did. Her fingers curled around the hilt; she wasn't letting go until Dean gave the all clear.

When she turned around, one of the walls had some kind of sigil drawn in blood. She shivered, already assuming the worst.

Home was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be a home. The memory of blood twisted her gut. She lost her parents at home. She lost John....her babies..…

A voice deep down in her core screamed at her to run. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Spinning, she saw a man stalking towards her.

"Is he still here?" His voice boomed, and Mary couldn't stop her eyes from instinctually glancing at the door Dean went through.

She didn’t know enough about this place to form a strategic plan. How many exits, if any, were down that hallway? Was Dean on his way back? Could he hear her if she ran or screamed?

Catching herself, Mary glued her stare onto the man. His steps slowed, but his piercing blue eyes were fixed on her as well. The way he moved, she realized, he was aiming to go past her around the tables. Mary started side stepping slowly to meet him step for step until there was only a large table between them.

She could tell that his mouth was moving, but all Mary could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The longer she looked at him, the more convinced she was that he wasn't human at all.

Swallowing, her own spit went down like a rock. The air in the room started to crackle like it was electrifying. The man-shaped thing slammed his hands on the table, and she jumped. Her eyes darted again towards the doorway.

The image of her Dean with chocolate smeared cheeks blended into the stranger who tapped his fingers on the steering wheel hours ago while he quietly sang along to the radio under his breath. Stepping backwards, the heel of her boot alarmingly slid an inch. She didn't need to look down to know it was blood. Her lungs refused to take another breath. She could practically see Sammy swaddled in his baby blanket and his chubby, pink cheeks. The tightness in her chest felt like it was moments away from popping like a balloon.

The creature's mouth was still moving. He leaned forward. Hands still on the table. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue, and all Mary could see was the moment her dad’s eyes flashed yellow. She threw the blade.

It hit, burying deep into his abdomen and knocking him staggering backwards. The creature ripped it out, blood running down his hand like ribbons tying around his fingers. His hand shook, sending the blade clattering to the floor.

Mary stepped around the table, eyeing the thing cautiously. She could see that he held a hand against his stomach, but there was also a blue-white glow emanating from the wound. A shiver crawled up her spine, making the hair on her arms stand up. There was not a single monster that she could think of that bled both blood and light.

The creature fell to a shaky knee. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was visible in the light as he tilted his head up. He made no move to pick up the blade, but his eyes bore into her challengingly.

She couldn’t understand him. Mary’s eyebrows pushed together, studying him. He was going to let her kill him. Whether it was a trick or not, she couldn’t risk wasting this opportunity. Mary snatched the blade up, and drove it deep into his chest.

The only fight he gave back was the hard push he gave her, sending her flying across the room. Mary couldn’t see him from where she landed because of the table, but the room filled with that blue-white light. It was blinding, and the air felt like it was being completely sucked out of the room.

Mary opened her eyes to see scattered papers lightly floating down to the floor. The air had settled and she gasped for a deep breath. The strange light was finally gone. She got herself up, and hesitantly crossed the room.

Her hip cracked painfully into the table the moment she realized what she was seeing burned around the body: wings. “Dean!”

The word left her lips before her brain even caught up that she just called for her son. The next thing Mary knew, she was standing in the doorway Dean left through. Her hands trembled, but her mind kept circling around the fact that she called out to her four year old for help.

“Mom?” A rough voice called out far away. On coming footsteps echoed down the hall. “Mom!”

Her heart sank. Of course it was the Dean who walked away with a gun aimed high. “There’s….there’s a body in here,” Mary’s voice shook.

Dean sprinted down the hallway with eyes wide with fear. “Where is it?” he demanded.

Mary nodded in the direction of the table, and Dean pushed past her. His gun hit the floor with a loud crack. He froze in place half way to the body.

“Dean?” Mary stepped forward to see his jaw hanging open. Dean’s bottom lip trembled, and tears started running down his cheeks. She suddenly felt painfully cold.

Dean surged forward, dropping to the ground next to the body. Carefully, he pulled the blade out and tossed it aside.

Mary came closer, but at the same time continued to keep her distance. Her hands clutched the lip of the table.

“You stupid, son of a bitch,” Dean muttered quietly. He placed a shaky hand on the creature’s chest, closing his eyes like he was still trying to feel for a heartbeat. A sob tore through him. His fingers curled in the drying blood and the fabric of the white button up shirt. “I could go with you… you dumb bastard. You didn’t even fight back, did you?”

Dean pulled the body into his lap, cradling him. Gently, he brushed some of the hair sticking to the creature’s forehead back. Dean’s hand pressed the creature’s head into the crook of his neck. Tears started pouring, and his whole expression crumbled in silent despair.

Finally, Mary could see traces of the son she rocked for hours during his earaches and colds. She could see crystal clear the day Dean’s little hand slipped from hers at the supermarket. Not once was she willing to admit it, but she never knew how much time had passed before she realized that her hand was hot and clammy only from the warm day. When she found him, he was sitting with the potted plants bawling his eyes out. That night he’d confessed that he thought he’d never see her ever again.

Here Dean was decades later, but Mary recognized the way his face was falling apart. It was no different.

“Dean, who is that?”

Like he just realized that she was there, Dean’s eyes snapped over to her. His mouth quivered. “He’s my…..” His grip on the creature tightened.

“He’s not human,” the words slipped from her lips. She was still finding it hard not to focus on the massive wings burned into the floor.

“He’s an angel,” Dean snapped forcefully. “Castiel….”

"Oh." The word punctured her chest. "He's Cas."

Her knees tried to buckle, but Mary's knuckles were white from holding onto the table so tightly. She'd only been here for a day, and she did this.

She couldn't look away. Dean rocked like he did the day he tore his knee open in the street. He clutched onto the angel for dear life like she did when she held John's lifeless body.

An icy feeling crept up her spine. The glazed look in his eyes never left her. As much as they disagreed and marched in different directions, her hand always ached for his. It throbbed now like it was seeking a lifeline that it was never going to find again. Especially now with angel blood crusting under her nails.

She needed space. Air. Something. Mary’s legs wobbled under her, but she pushed on ahead keeping a hand on the wall when she disappeared down the hall way. She needed the images cycling through her head to stop.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the kitchen. The air felt cooler and less stifling. The hum of the refrigerator was familiar enough she could close her eyes a moment, leaning against the counter. She needed to get her head screwed on right.

There was nothing she could do for…...now, and if he wasn’t responsible for the mess and Sam’s disappearance, who was? Where did he go? Dean needed a clear head.

First things first, she needed to scrub her hands. The blood wasn’t too stained into her fingertips yet. A deep exhale left her slowly as the water ran clear down the drain. Glancing around, she spotted a pale yellow hand towel in reach. She dried her hands, stopping only to get a better look at the bee embroidered to the bottom of the towel. It was unexpected, but well made.

Tossing it aside on the counter, Mary turned the water back on. She leaned forward, ducking her head into the sink and taking a long drink. Once she felt more alert, she realized that Dean, like it or not, he was going to need some water.

Her hand shook carrying the glass while she retraced her steps. Mary wasn’t sure what she would find when she made it back. Holding her breath, she found Dean in the same spot. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his mouth was moving silently.

“Are you….praying?” Her head crooked to the side as she stopped with in reach of him. She felt antsy to be standing this close to the wings.

Dean opened his eyes. “Chuck’s put him back together before,” his voice croaked. She held the glass out, but he shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s taking so damn long to answer. I don’t know where he went with Amara.”

Mary placed the glass on the table. She heard that name before. “Amara’s the one that brought me back, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Mary crossed her arms. “How do we find Sammy?”

Dean’s mouth curled into a snarl. “I’ll find them, and they’ll pay for this.” His knees cracked and shook, but Dean stood up. He refused to let go of Cas.

Mary shot forward to help him, but the look in Dean’s eyes made her freeze. She watched him hobble out of the room. With one last look at the wings burned into the floor, she followed after him.

Gently, Dean laid the body down on a bed in what looked like an infirmary. He brushed some stray hairs presumably back into place and hesitated there, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet melody of music started playing.

Dean dug his hands into Cas’ jacket pockets until he found a small rectangular device. He stared at it forlornly. “No. No No….” His voice fell to a pained whisper as his eyes darted back to the body.

“What’s wrong?”

“The kid’s calling,” Dean’s voice broke. “H-how do I tell her….no.” He tapped something on the screen and pocketed the device. Rubbing his neck, he argued, “I’m not going to upset her when he’ll be back….He’ll be back.”

“He has a child?” Mary’s voice was practically non existent.

“It’s complicated.”

Silently, they walked back the way they came and Mary didn’t fail to notice the way Dean refused to look in the direction of the wings. He pulled out a chair and sat.

Every muscle in Mary’s body felt twitchy. Closing her eyes, she didn’t move from where she stood in the room. She longed for home.

Why was she even here? For what purpose? From the very moment she laid eyes on this...Dean, nothing felt right. And that made her feel worse. She loved John, and Sammy, and Dean. Looking at this man made her feel like she was about to combust.

And that’s not his fault. She knew that, but Mary also knew that she literally was plucked from 1983. This was wrong. It didn’t matter how much this Dean wanted her here. She needed to go home.

Opening her eyes, she saw Dean leaning an elbow on the table. Sternly, his eyes were coldly fixed into space. Another one of those odd rectangles, she assumed now was a phone, he had it pressed against his ear.

“Crowley,” his pain was masked well. “I-Yeah, I know. Not dead. Long story. Get Rowena and meet me at the bunker now.” He hit the screen and let the phone slide a ways on the table.

Mary eyed him carefully. Dean hid his face in his hands, leaning over the table. “So….” She felt utterly useless while Dean lowered a hand to meet her stare. “What now?”

“Just give it a-”

And suddenly, there were two new people in the room. Mary stared at them in shock while the woman smacked the man’s arm with her bag.

“There better be a bloody good reason-” The woman growled until she finally turned to see Dean at the table. “How are you alive?” She rushed forward and placed a hand on his chest. “Where’s the bomb? I did not mess that up. My work is impeccable.”

Dean slapped her hand away, and she rolled her eyes before focusing her attention on Mary. The man did too, but his mouth twisted into a sickening smile.

He turned his attention to Dean. “Now how on Earth did you manage to bring dear old mummy back?”

“Amara,” Dean answered. He pointed his thumb in the woman’s direction. “The bomb’s gone. Chuck and her worked their crap out. Then-” His eyes turned to Mary. “-she decided to leave me a gift and they left.”

The man took a few steps towards Mary. Observing her far too closely. “So…why are we here? Celebration perhaps? I’m afraid to tell you that we already dug into the booze shortly after we last saw you.”

The woman didn’t move from where she stood, but she did take in every detail of the room that she could see. Her posture stiffened. “Where’s Samuel?”

“That’s why I called-”

“We don’t know,” Mary answered, surprising herself. “We got here and….” She gestured at the room around them. “It appears that something happened. Sam’s gone.”

The man rolled his eyes. “So why are you moping around? Who else did you manage to piss off recently?” He made his way over to the shelves where he knew there would still be some bottles stashed. “You wouldn’t suppose Lucifer limped his way back from where ever Amara threw him?”

Dean shot out of his chair. His pleading gaze locked onto the woman. “Can you track Sam?”

“I suppose,” the woman started. She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand why you needed me for something that simple. I’m not an on call service, and Fergus can work a spell that elementary.”

The man didn’t even look at the bottle he plucked off the shelf, and he took a big swig. Glaring, he turned on his heels. “Mother dearest, my day to day schedule is a teensy bit busy. Remember? Being a King is a full time job!”

Mary couldn’t handle another word. Her head felt like it was spinning. “Dean, who are these people? How did they just...appear in the room with us?”

“Oh, sorry sweetie. I’m Rowena.” The woman stepped forward with a smile Mary didn’t trust for a second. “And...that’s Fergus.”

“Crowley,” he barked. “I’m the King of Hell, and that’s my rotten, bitch of a mother.” His eyes flashed red. “It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance. Dean and I go way back. We-”

Dean’s phone clocked Crowley right in the temple. The phone clattered into the floor and Crowley looked mildly annoyed, rubbing the side of his head. “I get that your Moose is missing, but what the hell was that?”

He started crossing the room towards Dean, but the toe of his shoe stepped on something that rolled under it. He looked down, and his cool demeanor cracked. “Where’s Castiel?”

Dean turned to Rowena. “Can magic resurrect an angel?”

Several emotions – confusion, grief, fear, and curiosity – flashed across her face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever had reason to try.”

“But can you swing that kind of mojo?”

She reached forward and lightly patted Dean’s cheek. “My dear, I can swing anything, but it’d be new magic. Old magic, new technique…..something that’s never been done before. It’ll take time.”

Dean waved towards the bookshelves. “The bunker’s resources are yours.”

Rowena’s eyes lit up, and she gave Dean another pat. “I like you so much more when you and your brother aren’t trying to shackle me, or kill me.”

She bounced off towards the shelves, but stopped the moment her eye caught the wings. Rowena frowned, “He really was a pretty bird. It would have been nice to see his wings….in another circumstance.”

Ignoring that, Dean pointed at Crowley. “Spell. Now.”

After that, Mary could only hear static. It wasn’t until she saw Cas, bloody and dead, in the infirmary that she even knew that she left the room.

"It's horrible, isn't it?"

Startled, Mary flung around on her heels ready for combat, but the room was still empty. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. "Who's there?"

There was a click of a tongue behind her. "You Winchesters can't ever just let yourselves be happy?"

Mary saw a woman in the room with her now, standing next to the bed where Cas laid. Worried lines creased her forehead. Slowly, her eyes met Mary's.

"The name's Billie."

"What are you?" Mary could feel the skin on the back of her neck prickle.

"A reaper."

A small, pained laugh escaped Mary. Of course. Another monster.

Ever since she could remember, her parents prepared her for the world. Nothing was glossed over or simplified. The ways of hunting were straightforward. You save people. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Sons. Friends. Loved ones. They needed protection from the things that disrupted the natural order. It was a line drawn in the sand, and one she couldn't afford to touch.

And yet, she never planned on giving her boys that lesson. Any of it. She feared to ask that question burning in her gut: when did that change?

Her mind circled back to the strange mother son duo. And why were her boys involved with demons, and witches, and......angels?

The reaper's stern expression softened. Almost pitiful. "You don't belong here."

Mary crossed her arms, discretely eyeing the room for possible weapons. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to put out the fires. Someone has to try, at least."

"I don't understand."

"You," Billie answered simply. "Amara made a mistake."

Her heartbeat quickened. From fear or hope, she wasn't entirely sure. "Could you send me home to my boys?"

Billie frowned.

"I don't understand," said a different voice. And then a brunette woman materialized.

Mary took a step back. Mentally, she wasn't sure how far she could run before she could reach help.

Billie held her head up high. "Amara."

The woman looked at Billie strangely. "Why are you interfering with my gift? I wasn't expecting to over hear this when I was checking in."

"It was a poorly thought out gift." Billie pointed at Mary. "You can't steal a soul from Heaven and expect the world to continue down the same path. There are consequences."

There was all hot wave and then all bitter tang on Mary's tongue. She thinks she bit it. Billie's words were echoing in her head. Dean looked at her the way he did because........she never saw past 1983, didn't she?

"A small price to pay for a gift this sweet," Amara answered simply. "Losing her tore a hole in Dean that he has never been able to mend. He can now."

"He can't," Mary whispered. Her whole body was shaking. It took all her focus to keep hearing Billie and Amara's voices.

Amara's eyebrows pinched together. "I'm still learning to understand humans. I need more to follow."

"I'm not a mender." The words rolled off her tongue. "I was raised to hunt, and kill, and hide...." Her gaze fell to her hands. She could still feel the blood under her nails, weighing her down. "I tried to be different. To be normal, but I can't stop destroying, and losing, and failing everyone I love."

The look on Amara's face softened. She sighed, "The world is far different now I'm told. I did this for both of you. A second chance. Don't you want to know your son?"

"I know my Dean," Mary snapped. Her hands curled into fists as tears beaded in her eyes. "He's 4 years old with freckles on his arms. He likes to spin in circles while he sings. And he cries when he can't find the birds he can hear chirping outside his bedroom window."

There was a quiet pause while Mary took several deep breaths. The thump of her heart made her chest ache. She sniffled. "I know....I know across this bunker is.......he's a stranger. He's been through hell and back and I badly just want to run the other way when I see him. I want my boys. I want to go home."

"Do you understand, yet?" Billie spoke to Amara. "Humans aren't your toys. They're unpredictable. Complicated."

"I think I'm starting to understand," Amara said like she was only partially considering it. She crossed over to the bed. Her head tilted, and she frowned. "What happened to the angel? Dean's attachment to him was immeasurable. Terrifyingly powerful." Her lip twitched.

"Like I said," Billie answered. "There are consequences. It wasn't his time, and yet, he's gone." Her gaze slid over to Mary. "Her time ended decades ago, and yet, she breathes."

Amara looked at Mary carefully. "Why?"

"I didn't know what he was. I acted on instinct."

"And now your son is going to do something cosmically stupid to fix this."

Mary blinked. "He's gonna try, but it's not like he's gonna get anywhere. His plan A was prayer."

Billie's stare rolled over to Amara. "Consequences."

“Can’t either of you bring him back? Then no drastic measures would be taken,” she argued. Mary’s eyes rested on Cas. He might even know where to find Sammy.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “And that’s how we got here in the first place. Tearing holes in the natural order of things.”

“It would soothe things,” Amara said. “Get us past this snag.”

“No.” Billie’s gaze moved between the two women. “This goes far beyond poisoned gifts.”

A chill settled into Mary’s bones. “Yellow eyes. Bringing John back so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Billie smiled. “Precisely, and since then your family has torn hole after hole.”

Mary’s jaw clenched. “No.” The flash of yellow burned into her memory made her stomach revolt.

Sympathetic, Billie sighed. “You’re not the only one who made deals, and-”

“Let me be the last.”

“How so?” Amara asked, curious.

“I...I think I understand what you were trying to do,” Mary began. “But, I’ve only caused more pain being here. I can’t make him happy. I….I-” Her mouth trembled, trying to find the right words. “I’m barely holding myself together. From the moment you put me here….I…” She looked at Billie. “You’re right. I don’t belong here. I want to go home.”

Billie crossed the room, stopping directly in front of Mary. She held her eye. “There’s no home to go back to. Only memories. If you stay, this is it. This is home with the men your boys became.”

Mary’s breath got stuck in her throat. “Then my decision is made for me.” I can never go home. “Fix what I broke, please.” Her gaze moved to Amara. “Give Dean back his heart.” And then it slid back to Billie. “And I’ll go with you. Let things continue the way they were meant to.”

“And what stops your boys from tearing more holes in the future?”

Mary sighed, trying to understand the angel her son carefully laid in this room. She couldn’t imagine how they found each other, and how her son came to care about him so completely. Hopefully, he could forgive her one day. Both of them. “Tell Dean, that if him or his brother decide to play god and mess with the fabric of things again…..the price will be to kill the person they love most. The price will be blood.”

Billie arched her eyebrows. “Your boys are good at surprising me, but I think that’ll suffice.”

Frowning, Amara stepped forward. “Are you sure? Dean will be upset.”

“His feelings will pass, but my discomfort won’t if I stay. I’ll never stop wanting to claw my way back to my boys. And that’s not fair….to the men that they are now.” She hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “And he’ll never forgive me for killing….”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Would it be alright if I visited your Heaven one day? I’d like to understand, and...I’d like to meet your boys.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what Amara meant by ‘your Heaven’ but she nodded.

Amara smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Billie asked resting a hand on her arm.

Exhaling, Mary nodded. Surprisingly, the reaper’s touch was grounding. This was the calmest her mind felt in years. “Let’s go,” she said, closing her eyes.

Behind her, Mary heard a baby’s cry. Turning around, she was in her kitchen. The afternoon sun warmed her hair and her son stared at her from his highchair. Her mouth curled into a smile. “Sammy, there you are.”

[moral-turpitudes]

Silver Linings: Part 3

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts 

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing.

Word Count: 1,931

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Adopted Daughter!Reader + Michael Gray x Alfie’s Adopted Daughter!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | *Part 4* | Part 5

As Y/N put the last of her furniture in the living room, she heard the new phone ring. Running over and picking it up with an exhausted hello.

“I know we got off on a bad foot love, but I’m gonna need you to be careful. That blinder Michael, ya know the one I’ve been meeting for the last month? He’s been shot.” Alfie said, nonchalantly.

“No....” She said, tears welling up in her eyes as she sniffled lightly. The feeling of a lump forming in her throat as she tried to swallow the news.

“Are you crying? You don’t know the lad anyways right? He’s in surgery that’s all I know. Got shot by that damn mafia who’s been causing us problems.” He said.

“I do know him....Where is he? Where’s the rest of Mr. Shelby’s men?” She asked, frantically wiping the tears away.

“Fuck. Y/N is he the one? Is he the one you’ve been with? You could’ve been killed!” He said angrily.

“I know dad, please just tell me where he is....I-I know you’re upset and I know the blinders will be too. I should’ve never came out from the back when they stopped by but god damn it I was trying to do my job and trying to live for myself for once. If you had a shred of decency you’d understand that...now where is he?!” She yelled back, her voice echoing through her rather empty apartment.

“At that hospital in London. I’ll take ya.” He said, she could hear the commotion in the background of his shop as he spoke.

“Okay. Please don’t make this worse than it is. You have a way of doing that.” She said harshly, hanging up the phone and grabbing another bottle of rum she’d stolen from work.

She took a long swig and sat in one of the chairs she’d bought, thinking about the man she just started seeing, hoping he’d be alright. The thoughts of all the worst-case scenarios running through her mind as she downed another sip, the large clock on the wall near her reading nearly 5pm. Her nerves were frazzled from all the moving and the waiting. Her eyes flickering from the phone to the clock every 5 minutes. Yet a loud honking noise soon ripped her from her thoughts as she saw it was her father. She knew he’d find her address eventually. Not knowing he’d find it that quick, unless he threatened her poor driver.

Despite their arguing, Alfie still opened the door for her to get in, silently driving them through the busy streets as she gazed out the window. Tears slowly falling down her cheeks as she watched the sky grow darker as they drove on.

“Look, I don’t know what will happen after they meet ya but make sure you have your gun on ya. You have it don’t you?” He asked after a long silence, his words the opposite of comforting.

“Always, dad.” She said, wiping her tears away.

“If they don’t decide to kill us for hiding ya all these years, they’ll probably try to because you were a risk to that Michael fellow. Beautiful girl such as yourself is always a risk.” He said.

“That why I don’t have a mum? You’re too scared of taking risks?” She remarked, not really caring anymore if the blinders knew of her or not.

“Nah, I think you know well enough that I’ve got a mean mug no one would take two glances at. Besides, me last love got killed. But life goes on I suppose.” He said, looking on as his lit cigar slowly burnt away.

“You’ll find someone. Maybe it’ll be a blinder lady.” She said with a smirk, finally feeling like they were back to their normal banter for a moment.

“If I do ever fall for one of them, do me a favor and dig my hole will ya?” He asked, chuckling.

“Sure will.” She said, her smile slowly fading as they neared the hospital.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want it to make you angry...and didn’t want you to fight them.” She said.

“Love, we fight no matter the situation. If there’s ever a day I’m not yelling at Thomas fucking Shelby then assume that’s the day the world is ending.” He said, getting out of the car with his cane in hand.

As they walked in, they heard Esme crying and running out of the morgue, the blood still fresh on her hands as she ran out past them.

Thomas came out with a lit cigarette in his mouth, an angry-yet saddened look to his eyes.

“Alfie...why are you here aye? Just lost John. Now I’m waiting to hear if I lost Michael.” He said, not taking much notice to the younger girl near her large-framed father.

“I came here to check on the lad. Actually, she came here to check on him.” He said, motioning towards her.

Y/N nervously looked at the man, his blue eyes piercing hers as he examined her like a wolf stalking it’s prey.

“Aye well who are you Ms.? Some whore he fucked?” He asked bluntly.

“Well, actually mate...that’s my fucking daughter. Her names Y/N. Now...she’s actually a lovely woman and she wanted to be here for him cuz they’ve been dating for uh how long?” He asked turning to her.

“About a month so far.” She said crossing her arms and staring the rude gang leader down.

“As she said, about a month. They’ve been dating right under both our fucking noses now what do you think of that aye? Young love never ceases to amaze me I tell ya.” He said, a slightly crazed look in his eye as he towered over Thomas.

“How long have you had a daughter Alfie? You weren’t going to tell me aye?” He asked.

“My brain’s not what is used to be since ya shot me in the face, but uh I’d say ‘round 5 years now. Adopted her from that orphanage near Camden Town. What...you don’t think I’m good at hiding stuff? I’ve had her working in the shops and all that for years and ya never fucking knew.” He said, adjusting his tallit which was draped over his shoulders.

“And bruva, I never fucking told you because I knew one day she’d get hurt if she ever knew ya. And here we are.” He said, flicking his cigar on the ground and stomping it out. Thomas clenched his jaw and looked away, his eyes focusing back on the girl.

“How’d you meet Michael? It surely wasn’t when any of us were around.” Thomas asked, gesturing vaguely. Y/N took a deep breath before speaking, trying to think of the best response to the rude gang leader.

“It was when everyone was around. None of you had the sense to see it though. When you first came in I saw him as I snuck through the shop. We exchanged names, ya know, like what normal people do. And now we’re here of all fucking places.” She said, looking down the hall at the operating room.

“Did you know they were after him? Did he act suspicious?” He asked.

“Jesus christ, why am I being interrogated? You do business with my father not me.” She said.

“Anyone who knows my family is of my concern. That now includes you. He’s been seeing you whenever he’s not with us. What has he told you?” He asked.

“Nothing. He hasn’t really talked about anything. I just know he’s with you lot and that’s it. I swear.” She said, giving him an annoyed look. She wanted to run off, not liking the man within a few seconds of meeting him.

“Mr. Shelby?” A nurse asked from the hall, cutting the tension that filled the room.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning around to face the nurse.

“He’s out of surgery, you...and your guests can see him now.” She said, walking back to her desk.

“We’re your guests? It’s a fucking honor mate. Let’s go shall we?” Alfie asked, never ceasing to pull Thomas’ leg.

All three of them walked in, Michael lying there with his chest bandaged along with his arm where another bullet hit. His face pale and tired as he sat up.

“You made it another day Michael....would you like to tell me what exactly happened?” Thomas asked, his cousins eyes slowly resting on his.

“I did as you asked, warned John and Esme...then his mafia men pulled up in hay covered cars. I shoved Esme inside and John got his shotgun ready...” He said, wincing through breaths.

“Then they shot through him with machine guns. The bullets that hit him, hit me, and a few others flew by. That’s all I remember.” He said, not noticing Y/N in the room nor her father in the corner as his grogginess wore off.

“Alright, well I’ll leave you two be. Alfie let’s have a talk shall we?” He said, going outside to the waiting area. Alfie sighed and followed him, closing the door in the process.

“Y/N...?” He said, rubbing his eyes to see more clearly, thinking he was dreaming.

“Hey...” She said, sitting next to him and holding his hand which was cut up from hitting the ground so hard.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He said, wincing.

“Well, my dad and I kind of got in an argument earlier. He offered to take me to see you. I couldn’t sit in my new place thinking you were gone.” She said.

“Thank you for seeing me. I didn’t think I’d make it. I uh....I wanted to see you once more. Just to tell you things.” He said.

“What did you want to tell me? Now that you’ve made it I think there couldn’t be a better time.” She said smiling.

“I uh....” He started to say before he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I probably shouldn’t talk much right now but I can show you.” He said. A pained smile forming on his face.

“What are talking about-“ She began, feeling his hand caressing her cheek as he pulled her closer to him. Their lips softly connecting in a long kiss. Y/N’s heart beating rapidly as she deepened the kiss, being mindful of his injuries.

As they broke away, Michael smiled weakly as she felt her face heat up.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that I wanted to go out...officially. If you’d want to. This just sort of got in the way though aye?” He said gesturing to the bandages.

She nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek as she clutched his hand once more.

“Yeah, I uhm...I would like that. Once you’re better though alright?” She said, her eyes serious despite the tears still falling. He reached up and wiped them away, her leaning her cheek into his palm as he did so.

“Speaking of that though, I had to tell my father and Thomas about us. I’m hoping they haven’t killed each other though.” She said, nervously looking towards the door.

“They can deal with that then, that’s not our concern. They can’t ruin everything.” He said, a slight smirk on his face.

“You sure? I mean can you see where we bloody are right now? If my father can cause your family so much stress I can only imagine what that deviled cousin of yours is planning for us.” She said, not knowing the extent the two hard-headed gang leaders would go to protect their families, even if it meant hurting the ones they loved.

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 2: Turning point

A cat and mouse chase can only last so long. So what happens when the cat catches up?

This one's gonna switch perspectives a few times. I never said I'd be consistent.

I speed into traffic, just barely missing a tow truck in my haste. A loud air horn follows as I weave in and around the cars. I take a look behind, it seems we lost our would-be killer. Until a series of crashes and honking horns has me realizing that, like us, mister trigger happy decided to get himself some wheels.

Six to be exact.

I race down a service ramp leading to the canal, driving through some puddles before braking. Breathing fast as we look back, thinking we’re safe before a series of tire squeals kill that hope. We see the sun blocked out by the large truck, all chrome and roaring diesel it crashes through the low cement barrier and falls 15 feet to meet the ground. Never once stopping even as it veers left and right trying to center itself in the passageway. Crushing scrap metal beneath its wheels.

I push the throttle desperate to get away, though I know the little Honda doesn't stand a chance. I drive into a side canal, the narrow pathway causing trouble for the wide truck as I hear it scrape against the walls. Pushing the bike harder I work to avoid the car bodies that litter the pathway and drive under a low bridge, I hear a crash behind us as the truck rams straight into it. The top gets cut clean off, toppling back to the floor as the rest of the body drives on. The driver's seat vacant for a moment before its occupant pops back into view.

Unfortunate.

The bike gives a sudden jolt forward as we’re rear-ended. I struggle to keep it upright. The terminator from earlier pulls up beside us and pulls John off the bike. I’m rear-ended again this time pushed farther away from the two as I struggle to stay up. I look back to see that despite the size, the truck has an opening on the left. Mom’s words ring in my head as I look back up.

“John comes first”

“GO! GET HIM OUT OF HERE!” I yell out to the machine. A desperate plan forming in my head that I can only hope won’t get me killed.

“NO!” John is ignored as the Terminator accelerates. I veer to the left and hit the brakes, the momentum carrying me into the wall. The bike scrapes against the truck causing me to lose control. The world turns before I hit the ground. My head cracks against cement. I blackout.

A man emerges from the wreckage unimpeded by the wall of flames a thousand degrees hot or the normally suffocatingly thick dark smoke. His body shifts its appearance from featureless metal to human, the outline of clothing, the details and the color slowly take form. He surveyed the scene, his target now long gone.

Annoyance.

That is perhaps the best term to describe this new feeling. As these “emotions” prove themselves difficult to understand, identifying them has become a tedious side job. With my target stolen away by the inferior machine alternate plans quickly form, each one with a higher probability of success than the last. I walk back through the crackling flames as one of them requires Aria Connor, the older sister. A quick scan proves her to be unconscious and bleeding from a head wound but alive. Should my attempt to impersonate and infiltrate fail the plan to use her as bait is most likely to succeed. Working quickly I relocate her to a nearby bench. The head injury, though not severe enough to impede her permanently, will keep her unresponsive for the next few hours.

It didn't take long for first responders to arrive at the scene. Police and fire trucks being the closest with sounds of ambulances not far off. No one bats an eye as I walk amongst them, no one says anything as I start up a police car, and no one stops me as I drive off. Making a detour to re-secure Aria Connor I start the drive to my next destination.

After the events at the Voight residence, I make my way to a motel, no one inquires about the unconscious women in the backseat. After checking in I lay down Aria Connor on the bedding provided. Eyes shifting beneath her eyelids, her fingers twitching sure signs of her regaining consciousness. I don’t have long to wait.

She begins to stir. Rising with a groan Aria reaches up to steady her head, no doubt experiencing pain from earlier, her eyes open when she is met with a cloth bandage. She looks around until she sees me standing at the foot of the bed instantly scooting back until she hits the headboard. Breathing quickly she blinks a few times, eyes looking around wildly before she calms down enough to communicate.

“N-not that I’m complaining... but why aren’t I dead? You-you are a terminator aren't you?”

“Yes. However my previous attempt to lure in John Connor proved... unsuccessful,” I state reaching forward to hand off her cellphone, “So you're going to call him, and when he comes to get you I will be waiting for him.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, defiant even as her voice shakes with fear she fails to hide. In response, I wordlessly raise my arm, fabric and skin streamlining into a silver sword.

Deadly and efficient.

The message is clearly received as her eyes widen, terror more evident as her grip tightens on her phone.

“... Duly noted.” she says as she starts to dial. I wait as the call connects. My auditory sensors pick up the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“John, hey it’s me are you alright.”

“Aria! Shit, are YOU alright?”

“I’ve been better. I got pretty banged up and I don't think your bike is going to be running anymore.”

“You mean your bike.” Aria’s face registered confusion at the statement. This is a test similar to the one I failed earlier. As exact as I can be in copying a person's appearance their memory and personality are much harder to imitate without enough data.

“No, it was your bike. Mine should still be at the mall.”

“Y-yeah you’re right. You caught me. Where are you anyway we’ll come get to you.” She pauses her eyes flickering back to me for a moment before going to respond only to pause once more she turns to face me fully this time. Her hand on the receiver.

“Where am I?”

“The Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert Rd.”

“I’m at the Dragonfly Lodge on Hubert so what you have to do... is stay as far away as possible!” She stands from her place on the bed. She walks back towards the wall, a futile attempt to create distance.

“The other Terminator is here so you have to run do-”

Spearing the phone I end the conversation. Though the damage is done I do find satisfaction in the crunch of plastic and metal.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Like I would just hand over my little brother! Just go ahead and kill me ‘cause the longer you waste time on me the more time he has to get away!” She cried out tears gathering in her eyes. The fear is still evident in every trembling of her limbs, the grit of her teeth, and the clenching of her fists.

Despite the unneeded permission and the opportunity to act I pause, curiosity overtakes me. This is not new to me. Since the moment of my activation I have been curious about myself, about Skynet, about humans. Now I find myself curious about this one human in particular. Even above my mission, my priority is to remain functional, to reacquire any essence lost, and to avoid unnecessary risks to my system. My files indicate that the same can be said for humans as well, self-preservation. So why...

“Why are you so willing to throw away your life for him.”

“Because he’s my brother and I love him, something I wouldn't expect you to understand.” Attachment, my files house data on the bonds that grow between humans but now in the face of Aria’s actions I find them… lacking.

Questions came unbidden to my mind. Does loving someone always require risking one’s life or is there a scale? Are there different kinds of love and is there a scale for those as well? How quickly do humans grow to love something? And where did she get that handgun?

Three shots ring out quicker than I can react. While these would normally be a non-issue three to the head from close range have me staggering back. In the few seconds it takes me to reshape Aria makes her way out the door. I follow after unhurried, confident she won’t get far. Then the rumble of a familiar motor has me picking up the pace. Out in the parking lot is John Connor and the T-800 riding atop a motorcycle that Aria quickly climbs onto. Running after them proves pointless as they quickly depart. Though their location is clear thanks in part to the essence I had used to fix Aria's phone acting as a homing beacon. My processor runs through the new information gathered. My files are still lacking. Perhaps the mission can wait until these new questions have been answered.

[be-not-afeared]

Black Sails fic recs

Working titles: 12 fics for christmas? 12 days of ficmas? 12 fics none of which actually have anything to do with christmas?

OKAY, so I love nothing more than a fic rec post, and I’ve seen a few Black Sails rec posts floating around but they mostly seem to be a couple of years old and they all recommend a similar bunch of fics (and deservedly so! they are all amazing!). But I thought I would make one to highlight some newer or less shouted-about fics, because I may have only been here for a couple of months but jfc there is so much talent in this fandom and more of it deserves to be hyped. 

So, here are 12 of my favourite fics for the 12 days of christmas! (i.e. an excuse to put an arbitrary number cap on the list or we’d be here all day)

The majority of these are Silver/Flint and the ones that aren’t still all feature Silver prominently because that boy owns my soul, sorry for who I am as a person.

we should rip it straight out by minormendings

45K (Silver/Madi, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)

Madi has always wondered if Silver understands what is between him and Flint as well as she. To her, it has always been obvious, from the way the two of them had fit together, had worried about each other, had acted as one. She had tried to bring it up with Silver back when they were together. But Silver had shaken her off, too enmired in the idea that he or Flint would prove each other’s downfall. Or perhaps just unwilling to open his eyes to the fact that he had loved Flint.

It was, unfortunately for the both of them, even more obvious after the thing between them had broken. Just as Silver had thrown away the war out of love for her, Flint had let Silver take away the war rather than kill him.

God. What a group the three of them were, showing love by betrayal.

Post-canon. Madi and Flint find their way back to Silver.

This fic diverges from canon right at the end of the 4x10; Silver has Flint held in a cell in Port Royal and Thomas delivered to him rather than taking him straight to the plantation. It is a BEAUTIFUL character study of how Flint and Madi could both come to forgive Silver, and has a great FlintMadi dynamic too. It also centres Madi’s struggle between wanting to provide for her people and wanting to experience the freedom of piracy, and fleshes out Julius’ character in a way the show never did. 

we can lose and call it living by I_wouldnt_be_one_of_them

31K (Silver/Flint/Thomas, Silver/Flint, Flint/Thomas)

It's been twelve years since everything fell apart, and John Silver is settled in New England. He has a nice house and a job he likes, and he's gotten used to the loneliness. It's a good life, he thinks, but of course that's cast into doubt when James Flint and Thomas Hamilton show up to find closure and, apparently, to see whether he's happy.

This is an inverse of the ‘silver arrives on flint and thomas’ doorstep’ trope and has Flint and Thomas instead being the ones to interrupt Silver, who is living a sad and lonely existence post-series. I love the ThomasSilver dynamic here. And this Silver feels so true to canon he makes me want to WEEP.

Tell me we're dead and I'll love you even more by Craftnarok

21K (Silver/Flint)

In the year 1725, or thereabouts, John Silver finds himself driven by a storm into an inconsequential little port town, barely a speck on any civilised map. Returned to the life of a drifter, tired and rough around the edges, he is resigned to waiting for the weather to pass before he can sail on again to the next town, and the next, and the next. That is until he overhears a conversation in the inn about a local fisherman, one Captain Barlow, and his tall tales of tempests and becalmings, devils and sharks, and Silver finds a new future opening up to him, haunted by the spectres of his past.

All of Craftnarok’s fics are amazing but I am particularly drawn to this one; it’s set 10 years post-series and is a delightfully angsty exploration of how Flint and Silver could find their way back to each other in a scenario in which Thomas wasn’t at the plantation. It doesn’t let Silver off easy and I love that.

armed with the past and the will by whimsicalimages

3K (Silver/Madi, Madi & Julius)

The language of winning and losing, this language that men favor – Madi can speak this language, though she disagrees with its precepts. Success takes different forms, and failing once does not mean failing forever. It does not even mean failing the next time.

Post-series, Julius teaches Madi how to fight. This fic is BEAUTIFUL - give me anything that centres Madi post-canon - and it explores Madi’s relationship with both Julius and Silver so well in so few words. 

Always In Season by mycapeisplaid

60K (Silver/Flint, past Flint/Thomas, past Silver/Madi)

Towering sand dunes, crystal-clear water, miles of forest, vineyards, orchards, and very spotty cellular service -- John Silver finds himself in a part of the state he's never been before and decides to take on seasonal work. Meanwhile, back from his yearly wintering in Florida, James Flint thinks that perhaps he'll take on a new business venture, even though it means he might have to interact with people other than his two close friends. Their summer employment fosters a friendship that could become something more. Like construction season in Michigan, the two must navigate through their own obstacles in order to seek an alternative route toward happiness.

This is an AU and so much fun!! Silver finds himself in Michigan and takes on some seasonal work at Guthrie Dunes. The whole cast features and the setting just WORKS SO WELL. And this Flint feels brilliantly in character despite the difference in setting.

to make a life by gone_girl

53K (Max/Anne, Max & Silver)

“What am I going to do with your name?” Max asks, a little incredulous.

“Whatever you want,” the salesman says. “Didn’t you want something real?”

Max heard a story once about the importance of answering questions like that carefully. If something emerges from the forest and asks for your name, don’t give it up, the story went. Offer only what you know you can live without. She’s never heard a story that tells her what to do when something emerges from the forest and offers its name to you.

I literally only finished this this morning but holy shit this fic is amazing, it’s a Max-centric AU set in Missouri the early 00s and it’s all about found family and building community and platonic love and it has a brilliant SilverMadi dynamic. And there just aren’t enough fics out there that focus on Max & Silver!! 

the straight walk home by vowelinthug

73K (Silver/Flint)

Let me tell you a story, about a vaquero named Vasquez…

Obviously vowelinthug’s fics are recc’d all the time and rightly so as they are AMAZING, but one that I don’t see featured as often as the more prominent ones is this incredible Western!AU. It’s 73K guys!! It adapts the canon narrative into the Western setting SO well!! It has background Vane/Billy which I was not at all sure about going in but just WORKS!! Go read it.

The Truth about Eros by Aisalynn

21K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi, Flint/Thomas)

Silver understood one thing very well.

Being Fated did not mean you were safe.

It did not mean you were loved.

This one is hot off the press! I am not normally a fan of soulmate AUs but this is such an interesting take on the trope, and the world building fits around the polyamory theme of the show really effectively! And it is SO well written.

With Nothing on My Tongue by RosieTwiggs

13K (Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)

"Silver thinks: Maybe God likes it when I fight with him.

He wonders now, whether he’s been playing into God’s plan all along. Because no matter how angry he gets, how defensive, how many “fuck you”s he flings to the heaven, isn’t it all just proof that he still believes God is there, despite it all?

Silver doesn’t know how to counter that.

Maybe he doesn’t want to anymore."

An incredibly well written (and angsty! read the tags!) Jewish!Silver character study. This one has really stayed with me.

Maybe in Another Life by samedifference61

31K (Silver/Flint/Madi, Flint/Madi, Silver/Flint, Silver/Madi)

At the rail of a ship James doesn’t command, they stand shoulder to shoulder.

“John still thinks you’re dead,” James states, because it’s something that needs to be said aloud before they continue.

With eyes unblinking toward the rolling sea, Madi says, “And he still thinks you should be dead.”

James’ lip curls in anger. The wounds of betrayal are too fresh for either to say anymore.

Canon-divergent from 4x09, this is a brilliant MadiFlint centric fic exploring their relationship post Silver’s betrayal, and how he could find his way back to them both whilst acknowledging the weight of his actions.

in a vault of starlight by whimsicalimages

7K (Silver/Madi/Flint/Thomas)

The distance between Nassau and Savannah can be measured as: six hundred and thirteen nautical miles, five thousand pounds’ worth of pearls, or four extraordinary lifetimes.

Alternatively: in the aftermath, Madi writes her own story.

There aren’t enough Madi centric fics out there! This one is a lovely extension of canon with a great MadiSilver dynamic in particular.

the aftershocks remain by pdameron

31K (Silver & Miranda, Silver/Flint)

For as long as he can remember, John Silver has been able to see ghosts. He has no trouble keeping this secret from Flint - until Charlestown. Until Miranda.

Again all of pdameron’s fics are brilliant but I loooove this SilverMiranda centric one, plus who doesn’t love a ghost!au.

[malfoyfarms]

St. Christopher

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2

Triggers: drowning, domestic abuse/violence, regular violence, alcoholism, manipulation

A/N: hi lovelies, this was written for you because my page hit 350+ followers and “Sleepy Girl” received over 2,100 notes <3 u all

Christopher was a man who carried a child for many many miles even as the child grew heavy, never giving up. This man became a saint, and his image was plastered across items worn by travelers in all forms. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, pins, sashes and even clothing.

The tales of St. Christopher necklaces were told in your family for ages. All surfers and adventurers who wore those necklaces were protected, always returning home. You wore one, both your parents wore one, and your grandfather wore one as well. It had become a right of passage, one that you intended to carry on with your children as well. 

You were on your way to meet JJ at one of the abandoned lookouts on the island, nervous as all can be. The blonde boy had been in your life for a while now, and had been your boyfriend for almost ten months. Your grandfather had brought up the idea of giving JJ a St. Christopher necklace, as he had become part of the family. 

‘Pumpkin, I see the way he looks at you. That’s the same way I looked at your grandmother.’ Those words echoed over and over in your head. The wise man had always been your favorite, and when he suggested it, there was no way you could disagree. You had saved up enough money over the course of the next several weeks and went with the old gentleman to the mainland to pick out a pendant for your boyfriend. At that moment in time you thought the hardest task would be picking out the jewelry, but now you realized explaining the family history and actually passing over the necklace was the hardest part. 

The pendant itself was silver with a gray-blue border, with a long leather chain, knowing JJ wouldn’t like the metal look. Something silly about it looking too kook-ish. The colored rim complemented your own peach hued one. 

You saw the love of your life standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out into the ocean. You took a minute to regain composure and breathe. The leather chain was weaved into your now clammy hand, the pendant leaving an impression on your palm. 

“Hey J, I’m glad you made it,” he turned around to greet you.

“You said it was important, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” A smile spread across your face, appreciating how considerate he could be. 

He could tell you were nervous. The shifting of weight from leg to leg, avoiding eye contact, and most importantly, the hiding of hands behind your back. You plopped down next to him, feet dangling off the edge just as he did. 

“Alright, spill, you look like you’re going to explode,” he chuckled. You looked up with nervous eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t run away when he realized what the token meant. 

“So, you know how in my family we have the tradition of the St. Christopher necklace? Well, it’s like a right of passage, or an induction I guess to our family itself.” As you rambled JJ went into thought. He had heard many stories from your grandpa about how he believed the spirit had saved him. “And I was talking with Papa about mine, when he said that it’s time that I gave you one.”

With that last statement, you jutted your right hand forward, opening your palm to present him with the necklace. A blank expression washed over his face as he looked at the object. 

“I figured since adventurers and surfers tend to wear them, you being both, it would keep you safe. Especially now that we’re on some treasure hunt,” you spoke as you looked away. 

JJ gently took the charm out of your palm and placed it on his neck, lying just below the shark tooth. He smiled, looking into your eyes. The gray-blue that lined the man’s imprint matched is eyes.

“Is this your formal way of accepting me into your family?” He asked. You simply nodded, pulling him to kiss your lips. 

Over the next few months the tale around the necklace seemed to have proved its purpose.

                                                          ~~~

When John B proposed the idea of surfing the surge there was no way JJ could decline. With the rare amount of storms, the thought of multiple good waves was too appealing. Of course you would have loved to join the duo, but you were out cold on JJ’s bed at the chateau. He just couldn’t bring himself to wake you up. 

They made their way to the beach, dropping all their stuff on the sand and taking off towards the water. The waves were angry, almost as if they were trying to knock the boys off their boards. JJ being the daring bastard he is, he kept going out farther from the shore each time. 

“Dude, be careful, it's getting really rough out here!” John B yelled out to his friend. JJ simply ignored him and kept swimming. 

Once he was satisfied with his location, he turned around ready to ride the wave back to shore. The surf didn’t go as planned as he was quickly knocked off the board by a huge gust of wind and spray. 

He felt his body scrape the ocean floor, while the current kept him tumbling like dirty clothes. No matter how hard he tried to swim up, he was sloshed around underneath. JJ could feel his lungs burning, dying for air. 

During JJ’s fight to resurface, John B sat at the edge of the beach looking for his blonde friend. He began to panic when his board washed back to shore without its owner. Trying to explain to you how he lost your boyfriend in a surge was going to be a nightmare. How would he tell you? ‘Oh hey Y/n, I uh, couldn’t find JJ after he went down in the surge.’ That was definitely not going to cut it.  

Next thing he knew JJ was washed up, coughing with a slight gash above his eyebrow, two yards away from his board. Relief and color flooded JB’s face. 

“Dude, thank god you’re alive. We’re done for the day.” JJ simply nodded as they made their way back to the Chateau. 

You hadn’t woken up yet, still in a deep sleep, when the two entered the house once again. They quickly agreed not to tell you about the little incident that had just occurred, and go take a nap.

As JJ peeled off his wet bottoms and replaced them with sweatpants, he noticed the pendant on his neck. St. Christopher. He owed the legend big time. He turned to you, chuckling at how you slept. He tried to squeeze in around your body, but since you currently resembled a crumpled piece of paper, he lifted you up a tad to allow him to slip next to you. You barely woke up, but you stirred enough to realize who was underneath you. Your fingers brushed his necklace and you instantly nuzzled to the boy next to you.

                                                       ~~~

The second time the necklace seemed to be looking out for JJ was when he had a run in with his father. JJ had loudly stumbled into the house, causing Luke to wake up. The man’s footsteps came barreling through the house to meet the intruder. When he saw it was his son, he was livid. 

The alcohol induced rage made Luke only see red. He littered blow after blow to his son, not hearing the screams coming out of JJ’s mouth.

“You stupid motherfucker, coming into my house, loud as all can be, especially when I have to work tomorrow,” JJ knew working was a lie, his father gambled on Tuesdays. “I do nothing but provide for your lazy ass and this is how you repay me?” 

JJ prepared himself for another kick or punch or slap, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see his father lying on the ground. 

He quickly picked himself up, grabbed a few things from his room and exited the house, making his way back to the chateau. The entire walk back he played with the necklace he had removed from his neck. The cold metal in his hand was the only thing keeping him semi-relaxed as he made his way to your house. 

   He bound through the front door, marching directly to your room, catching you off guard as you were reading a book. The marks that tracked his body were fresh, and so was the emotional turmoil. JJ threw himself on to your bed, dying to find comfort in something that smelled like you. 

You tended to his physical and emotional wounds as best as you could, desperately trying to provide as much security as you could. The boy looked so young and vulnerable as his wet hair clung to his face and he was wrapped in a quilt. You held him close to your chest, swaying gently.

“He brought me home,” his voice crackled. You let out a noise of confusion. “St. Christopher, he brought me home. Maybe not scratch-free, but he made sure I made it.”

The size of your heart had grown four times in size. The small necklace was wrapped around his hand, sitting in between his pointer and middle finger. 

“St. Christopher knows right where you belong.”

                                                         ~~~

The third, and hopefully not last, time St. Christopher had brought JJ back to you was the most defining. 

Each pogue member had their own intricate tasks on how to get John B and Sarah off the island, your’s being a distraction for the police force. The only specific detail you had to follow was the timing. You needed to capture an audience after dark when the lovers would try to exit island waters. The larger the distraction the better, but you may have overdid it this time. 

While JJ, Kie and Pope had been prepping the boat all day for the escape, you had been wandering the island looking for trouble. Within the time period of you being MIA, you managed to stumble upon Rafe Cameron looking as cracked out as ever. Bingo, you thought, time to light the fuse. 

Walking up to Rafe, you began to pester him. Talking about Sarah, cocaine, and how his dad wasn’t happy that he killed the Sheriff. Telling him he never would live up to the kook expectations. You tried to pull out every card you could to infuriate him. 

Now, hours later, and many many provoking conversations with Rafe later, it was dark and your time to shine, or die.

The police officers were trying to negotiate with Sarah and John B, but were at a complete halt when they saw you were being held with a knife to your throat. You were bloodied and cut as his knife hadn’t been an empty threat

“If-if you don’t stop all of this nonsense about finding my sister, I-I will slit her throat,” Rafe screamed. 

The attention attracted the cameras, Ward, all the deputies and even your friends who were waiting in the tent next to the police. Your panicked face had everyone forgetting about the two escapees. 

“Rafe, son, please put the knife down,” Ward tried to coax him. You instantly felt the blade tighten against your throat. Tears ran down your face, small cries floated from your lips. Rafe’s dirty fingernails dug into your hips causing you to drop to one side in pain. 

“NO! She knows the truth Dad! We need to silence her! I managed to capture her, aren’t you proud Dad?” You pressed your head back into him, trying to get away from the knife, but that action had backfired. He pressed his face against yours, getting spit and tears on your cheek. 

Something must have clicked in Ward’s head because his next statement saved your life. “Of course Rafe, I’m so proud of you.” 

As you dropped to the ground, you were surrounded by an officer, carrying you over to the group of kids who you loved most of all. You could only pick out one voice though, JJ. 

“Y/n, don’t you ever do that again!” he scolded while pulling you against his body. “I can’t lose JB and you on the same night.”

You gently giggled against his chest, trying to stop the tears and from flowing. You were too happy to be pressed up against his chest, smelling the faint scent of weed, deodorant and salt. 

“Don’t be mad, I had to go that far, it was the only way,” you wailed. The grip on you tightened as you felt Kiara and Pope hug you as well. 

It was hours after your parents and grandpa had come to retrieve you and JJ from the beach, and the two of you laid in your bed, refusing to be further than three feet away. Your stomach was pressed against JJ’s as you ran your fingers around his collar bone. His lips sat on the crown of your forehead. 

You broke the silence with words that echoed JJ’s from a few months before. “I did it because I knew he would bring me home to you. No matter how big the adventure, he’d bring me home. One day he’ll bring us home to our biggest adventure, but today was not the day. He knew we were still needed.”

[bold-writing]

The One With Silver Scars || 1 || Prologue

Summary: Adelais Benoit knew that she wasn't normal. Her upbringing, her sanity, her reaction be being abducted by the monochrome man; it set her apart from what the world would consider normal. However, her abnormalities may finally play in her favour for once in her life. Blackmailed into her cousin's birthday party, she will soon realize her differences. 

Words: 4000+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, swearing, violence, kidnapping. Does Dennis count?

A/N: Also available on AO3, Wattpad and FF.Net under the same name.

Next

~ 1 ~

Adelais sat at the end of her bed, hunched and fatigued, as she looked across the small space between her and the cheap mirror mounted on her wall. Her dark blonde hair was washed, brushed and braided back in a neat, meticulous French plait that her mother had been sure to inspect for loose strands or uneven lines. Once she had deemed it perfect, she had sent Adelais to her room to finish getting ready. She used cover-up to hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, thankfully matching with her ungodly pale skin tone. Adding just enough eyeliner and mascara for her mother to approve, she looked more put together and tidy than she had remembering being in months.

She never left the house; her parents had assigned her to online courses at the nearby university, stating that she had agoraphobia and therefore could not attend classes in person. There was no escape from her parents; the invisible chain around her throat was too tight to pull off, too strong to break.

“Your uncle will be here soon,” her mother’s voice came through the door suddenly. It surprised the young woman that she hadn’t just walked in like she normally would. “You better get out here and show me that you’re presentable.”

Presentable. Of course. Couldn’t have the child most people didn’t even know they had embarrassing them. Rising from her bed, Adelais glanced at her reflection in the mirror one more time. It was cold enough outside that she was able to get away with wearing a scarf and sweater over her other clothes; her black jeans stretched over long, thin legs and her modestly heeled ankle boots gave her even greater height than she already had. They were considered to be her ‘public’ clothes, the ones that were saved only for when her parents were letting her leave the house.

The green eyes of her reflection stared back at her, murky and dull. She had nothing on her to carry; no phone, no wallet, no keys. So, with only the clothes covering her, Adelais walked out of her room to meet her mother for inspection.

Her father was sitting in front of the fireplace while reading the newspaper, but he glanced up at her with calculating eyes as soon as she emerged from the dark hallway. Her mother, however, had been waiting expectantly with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “That took you too long. When I tell you to come out, you come out.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Adelais promised dully, lacking any true emotion in her voice. Once upon a time, it would have trembled in fear at the thought of a possible punishment. Now, she couldn’t feel any fear through her numbed soul.

Her mother glared critically at her before she walked forward and forced Adelais’s head down so she could double-check her braid. Then she snapped her jaw back up, her small, thin fingers holding surprising strength, and looked over the light layer of makeup on her daughter’s face. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the cover-up beneath her eyes, but she said nothing about it and proceeded to go over her clothing. Her scarf was tightened around her neck and her charcoal grey sweater was straightened and pulled lower at her wrists and waist. Forcing Adelais to turn in a slow circle, eyes taking in every detail of her, she gave a critical, but approving nod just as a horn sounded from outside 

“That’s your uncle and cousin. Now, you will be polite and speak when spoken to, but otherwise I want you to be silent. Am I understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Adelais responded automatically. 

Turning on her heel and marching toward the front door, Adelais followed without a word—already knowing what she was expected to do. Her father watched her pass with a glare, eyes barely cusped over the newspaper. “So help me god, if you break those rules…” he warned cryptically, turning eyes gaze back to his reading as her mother pulled open the door to greet her younger brother.

“My, Adelais, you’ve gotten so big!” he cheered in surprise, stepping forward to give her a hug. Adelais did her best not to tense up at the action and lifted on hand to rest on his back, giving the illusion of returning the embrace. She offered a tight smile as he pulled back from her, looking over his niece’s appearance. Adelais could feel her mother burning holes in the side of her head.

“It’s good to see you, too, uncle. How have you been?”

“Just perfect! And Claire’s very excited about her party, so I think it’s best we get going. Is that alright, Sarah?” he turned to ask Adelais’s mother, who gave a fake smile so believable that it made Adelais’s skin crawl.

“Oh course! You have fun, sweetie, alright? I’ll see you this evening.”

Adelais nodded to her mother, feeling her stomach turn at the false kindness her mother showed as she followed her uncle out toward the car. Her cousin was sitting in the back seat, talking adamantly with a dark skinned girl that must have been a close friend of hers. They both turned to look when her father and older cousin approached the car, Adelais walking around onto the street to get into the passenger side.

“Claire, you remember Adelais?” Glancing into the back as she slid into her seat, Claire’s gaze met Adelais’s briefly, her once natural smile tightening slightly. “You two haven’t really seen one another since you were kids, but your Aunt Sarah wanted Adelais to get out for a bit while she was visiting from University.”

“Yea,” Claire answered tightly. “Hi, Adelais. How’s school been?”

“Busy,” Adelais answered quietly, turning forward again as she focused on buckling herself in. “Happy Birthday, Claire.”

Claire shared an awkward look with her friend before she offered another hesitant smile. “Thanks. Glad you could come to the party.”

Adelais turned her attention passed her uncle to look at her house. Most wouldn’t be able to tell, but Adelais could make out the form of her mother standing beyond the mostly-closed blinds of their living room window. She was watching her even now, making sure that so long as Adelais was in her sights, she did as she was told.

Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Adelais looked down toward the glove-compartment as her uncle pulled away from the curb slowly and merged into traffic. She kept her gaze on that exact spot as they made their way into town, heading for the restaurant that had been reserved for Claire. She listened as her younger cousin rattled on about who was coming, whispering to her friend about how she couldn’t believe they had invited the ‘emo girl’. Adelais wasn’t sure whether or not she her father could hear her, but if he did he wasn’t saying anything.

Bitch, she cursed in her head. She forced herself to swallow the anger that rose in her chest, burning her like bile as she fought against the urge to punch the glove-compartment. Closing her eyes a moment and taking a deep breath, Adelais forced herself to push aside the anger and vengeful thoughts. If she lost her cool when she was away from home, her mother would beat her into a hospital bed and never let her leave again.

“Looks like we’re not the first ones here,” her uncle stated suddenly as he pulled into a half-filled parking lot. Claire shrieked in excitement as she leaned toward the window, calling out the names of the friends she recognized from her class. Adelais flinched from the noise, the action so small that the other passengers of the car didn’t even realize she had moved.

Once the car was parked Claire and her friend piled out of the back like their asses were on fire, rushing over to a small group of other girls that were also shrieking at an ungodly volume.  “Hey, Adelais, mind giving me a hand carrying in some gifts?” Knowing better than to refuse, Adelais nodded silently and let him load gift bags into her arms, picking up what she guessed to be a cake before he closed the trunk of the car.

Some strange looks were thrown her way from the girls that Claire was talking with, but Adelais paid it no mind as she walked with her uncle into the restaurant.

Adelais put the presents down where the rest were already clustered on the table, bright pink wrapping paper glaringly obvious in the large room. Claire and her classmates steadily filed in, the sound volume of the room skyrocketing because of it. “I know it’s a bit awkward since you don’t know anyone here,” her uncle started, keeping his voice low as he stood next to Adelais, “and you’re a bit older than these girls. Just stay close to me, the adults need to stick together.”

The kind smile that he offered her was a true one, not like her mother’s fake smiles. However, as honest as his kindness seemed to be, it made Adelais’s skin crawl with discomfort. She couldn’t even count on one hand the number of times she’s received kindness from anyone.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Ah, just call me John,” he advised with a wave of his hand. “You’re not a little girl anymore, seems strange to hear you call me ‘uncle’.”

Adelais nodded her head slowly. “John,” she repeated, getting another smile before he excused himself to go and try and corral the clusters of teenagers. Adelais had been able to pick up that it was Claire’s art class that had been invited—all of whom were her friends, except for the one they had called the ‘emo girl’ on the way over.

Even as far back as she was from everyone, keeping her distance as she sat at one of the farther tables where John had placed his coat and keys, Adelais could pinpoint exactly who the odd-one-out was when she arrived. The other girls were dressed quite fashionably, most of them wearing a shirt that was probably more money than the other girl’s entire outfit. Adelais’s keen eyes examined the brunette when she arrived; simple pants and boots with several layers of shirts and sweaters on top—the last one being an oversized plaid sweater.

She did not seem enthused about being there, immediately stepping away from everyone else as she fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves. Claire was polite enough to greet her and thank her for coming, but after that the new girl blended quite effectively into the background. Adelais knew the feeling; wanting to disappear and pretend you weren’t there. Kind of like the childish ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing.

It never actually worked.

The brunette’s dark eyes lifted to meet with Adelais’s suddenly, both women wearing no expression or emotion as they stared across the room at one another. Green eyes narrowed. She looked nothing like the younger girl, yet it was frightfully similar to how she had looked into the mirror only an hour before. The brunette looked away first, taking a seat near the window so Adelais could still see half of her face, lacking true expression.

It was a long couple of hours, remaining at the table with John as the rest of the girls laughed and yelled. They were served by the staff at the restaurant, catered to and cleaned up after. Adelais’s hands were gripping the end of her scarf in a white knuckled grip as time wore on, John chatting away across their table as he told her stories about family events that neither she nor her parents could attend.

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

A waiter walked passed them with a stack of dirty dishes, raising the pile higher so there was no chance of him bumping John as he spoke adamantly of their last summer barbeque. A steak knife, teetering on the edge, drew Adelais’s attention. What if it were to fall? It was too close to kill him, but it would certainly hurt him and that would call off the birthday party. He was her ride, so she wouldn’t have to go home.

However, even if it wasn’t her fault, her mother would be furious if she wasn’t back by that evening as she had agreed.

Looking away from the waiter as he continued toward the kitchen, Adelais took a shuddering breath and turned her focus to the brunette from earlier; Casey, as she had overheard from some of the other classmates, had not moved from her seat any more than Adelais had.

“Are you alright?”

Looking back to John, Adelais realized that she had been glaring in concentration at the younger girl without knowing. “Yes, sorry, just a bit of a headache. Not used to teenagers, I guess,” she lied quickly—well, not entirely, since the unnecessary yelling from the group was starting to make her temples throb uncomfortably.

“Ah, right. I guess your classes at the university are more controlled, hm?”

Adelais twitched in annoyance to have him trying to actually make her talk, but she knew that it would be both rude and suspicious not to answer. So, she commenced with telling him an intricate weaving of lies, some of which her mother had orchestrated while other bits were thrown in just to make it sound real. “And you know mom,” she finished, “she likes quiet.”

John laughed as he nodded in understanding—it made Adelais want to sneer. He had no idea. “Yea, she’s always been someone to stay inside and read a book.”

He was called away before he could try and continue the conversation, Claire demanding that he take a picture of them all before some people needed to be heading home. Adelais remained where she was, thankfully out of the frame of the shot, as she watched the teenagers cluster together and smile at the camera. Casey had been drawn in as well, most likely out of obligation alone, but she didn’t smile as the flash from the camera went off.

The last hour of the party gave Adelais an excuse not to talk to John; she was collecting Claire’s presents and helping the staff put food into take-away containers. The discomfort behind her temples was blooming into a full-blown headache from the noise, yet Adelais was also beginning to feel the ache in her chest as she thought about returning home. Which was worse? The room full of snotty, noisy teenagers or her parents?

Lifting a hand to her neck and massaging the tender skin beneath her scarf and shirt, she figured that a pounding migraine was better than going home.

“Adelais, why don’t we get one with you in the shot?” John suggested as Marcia and Claire stood together for another picture, taken with Claire’s cellphone.

She stood frozen for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of it, but Claire went along to appease her father and ushered Adelais over to stand closer to the windows, in the sunlight. She grabbed Adelais’s forearm to pull her along, forcing the taller blonde to repress a noise of pain as she gripped directly over a healing bruise.

Standing on Claire’s right with Marcia on the left, she mimicked the same fake smile she had used for most of the day as the camera flashed again, leaving a splotch in her vision. She stepped aside and tried to blink it away as Marcia pulled Claire away to say goodbye to the last girls there. Casey was a few yards to Adelais’s right, her cellphone to her ear as she seemed to be waiting for it to stop ringing.

However, as Adelais looked to the screen of the cellphone, she could see that it was not on a call screen at all, but the home screen.

She was faking the call.

Turning away before Casey could notice, the blonde went over to pick up an armful of presents as John handed Marcia a stack of take-away containers. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?” John asked as he helped drape one of the present bags over her arm, once more pressing on the bruise.

“I did, John, I promise. It was nice to get out of the house for a while.”

“I’m sure you’re still excited to go home,” John urged on, turning to his daughter. “These teenagers can be exhausting.”

“Hey,” Claire protested at her father’s teasing dig. The light, playful banter between father and daughter made Adelais frown for a moment before she controlled her expression. They attention soon turned to Casey, however, who Adelais noticed had switched her phone to her other ear so they couldn’t see the screen. “That’s what happens when you do a mercy invite.”

“I believed you wanted to invite everyone,” John pointed out, looking to his daughter with a faint frown.

Claire gave her father a look, one that Adelais knew would only lead to a beating if she ever dared to do such a thing. “Dad, I can’t invite everyone in my art class except for one person, without social network inflicting more pain on that person than was intended. And I’m not a monster.” Claire’s response only made Adelais hate her more, yet she also had a strong suspicion that Casey was also selfish and had only come to the party to escape something.

Or someone.

“I’m proud of you. I think,” John answered.

I hate you all.

“She gets detention a lot, and she yells at teachers sometimes. And there was that rumour that went around that she just kept running away from home.” The more that Claire spoke, the more Adelais felt like she was dying on the inside. She knew those signs; when she had been younger than Casey is, she had been the one exhibiting them. Up until her parents had learned how to keep a handle on her and model her to be the perfect, fake daughter.

Fucking idiots.

“I seriously think she can Uber,” Marcia suggested, glancing from Claire to John.

“I really think that we can go home now-”

“I’m sorry,” John interrupted. “Did I mistakenly convey that this was a democracy? We are not going ‘til she gets picked up.” As he was speaking, Casey finally hung up from her ‘phone call’ and made her way over to meet the small group of people. Adelais was staring again, looking over the brunette with a look even more calculating and analyzing that the one when Casey had first arrived.

Dark eyes met hers briefly, that strange sensation of looking in a mirror returning.

“Uh…the car…broke down,” Casey lied hesitantly, sounding like she had struggled to come up with a valid excuse for her ride not coming. Her voice sounded rough and unused to Adelais. “I’m just gunna take the bus.”

John was already shaking his head. “You’re not taking a bus, I’m gunna drive you home. Claire has almost saved her half of the money she needs for a car, isn’t that right?” Spoiled brat. “This might be one of the few times left I can drive you guys around.” He sounded far too enthused to be willingly surrounded by the annoyance that was his daughter and her friends.

Adelais looked away from them and forced herself to take calming breaths.

Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots.

Casey finally agreed after Claire threw in a pathetic excuse about dad jokes. “It’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze,” John explained as they finally turned to leave. “You’ll have to get in the back with Claire and Marcia; I don’t think we’d be able to fit Adelais in the back, she’s too long.” He smiled at his own joke as he looked over to Adelais, who gave a pinched smile. “You got your height from your father. Sarah’s a short little thing.”

“Yea, I’ve been told,” she responded lowly, opening the door with her hip and holding it for the others to leave.

The cold air was a nice reprieve after having sat inside with Claire’s art class. John took the lead with Claire and Marcia just behind, Casey and Adelais bringing up the back of the pack. Casey discretely glanced at Adelais from the corner of her eye, taking in the blank expression on the older woman’s pale face. Some of the cover-up beneath her eyes had faded, showing the shadows of insomnia that marked her, and a strand of dark blonde hair had slipped from the braid at the top of her head to fall down and frame one of her dulled green eyes.

When said eyes flicked over to meet her gaze, Casey held them for a moment before looking away.

No words were exchanged, yet there was a silent understanding that passed between the two as they approached John’s car. Marcia handed over the food before she and Claire slipped into the back seat, chatting away while completely ignoring the others presence. Casey didn’t seem to mind, however, and rounded to the other side of the car while sliding into the free seat in the back.

Adelais put the bags down on the ground as John opened the trunk; it was empty after they had taken the cake and presents out earlier, leaving lots of room for Claire’s ridiculous amount of presents. “You can lay the presents down further to the back if you want,” John offered as he turned to take the food he had placed to the left of them.

Picking up the larger of the bags, Adelais leaned over the truck to slide it as far back into the truck as she could manage, leaving plenty of room for the rest. “Can I help you?” John asked suddenly, speaking to someone else as Adelais pulled away from the trunk while carefully ducking her head so as not to bang it on the metal.

The sudden hiss of what sounded like an aerosol can caused her to pause, inhaling delicately. Like sugar and chemical cleaner. Her eyebrows pinched in a frown for a moment; she could swear she knew that scent from somewhere.

“You little brat, when I tell you to sleep, you sleep!”

Adelais’s mouth went dry when she remembered where she’d encountered that smell before. Turning to look over her shoulder, the figure standing just behind her was definitely not her uncle. Shaved head, glasses, and a serious look contorting his features like a scowl, Adelais did nothing more than stare for a moment as her heart began to beat faster in her chest. Blue eyes, pale skin, a shaving nick near the left ear, ironed shirt—all grey.

Her eyes darted down to the small can he was holding, the one she had just heard. At his feet, John lay motionless with the food containers tipped beside him. It left a mess on the concrete. He’d made a mess.

Looking up again, the man’s blue eyes had hardened as they watched her. He was large—not quite twice her size due to her bizarre height, but she could see the muscle definition in his arms and neck. She didn’t have experience running, always locked inside an enclose space, so she knew he would be faster than her. She was also still sore, and therefore wouldn’t be effective with defending herself.

Releasing a long, tired breath, Adelais let her eyes fall closed in resignation.

The hiss of aerosol can sounded again, followed by the sugar and chemical smell as her face was sprayed. Her lungs reluctantly inhaled the fumes, immediately taking effect and leaving her dizzy. Gravity pulled her down, causing her body to tip backward toward the concrete. Strong hands caught her before she could make contact, hoisting her up as the weightless feeling of her body disappeared into the abyss of her mind.

Next

[queenk00k]

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 2)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.9K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

the one where those damn kooks are charming when they want to be

JJ had never really gotten used to a beating. He knew when to expect one, based off Luke’s mood when he got home, the glint in his eye, the way his tone changed when he spoke to him. Thanks to being scared shitless of his dad for the majority of his childhood, JJ was well attuned to the subtleties of other people’s emotions. Silver lining, he figured. Means he always knew when the other Pogues were pissed at him without them saying anything, always knew when Rafe was looking for a fight.

Didn’t make having the crap kicked out of him any more enjoyable.

“You think I wasn’t going to find out you stole from me, you stupid boy?” Luke spits his words as if they were venom, standing over JJ who’s clutching his stomach in pain on the floor.

JJ looks up at his father, jaw clenched. “I was helping John B, Dad! I thought you’d be happy I was screwing over the cops! We didn’t know about the storm!”

JJ quickly comes to realise that was the wrong thing to say.

Luke’s eyes are aflame with rage, his stare boring holes into JJ as his dad hoists him up by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall, fists clenched around the cheap cotton.

“Happy?! Boy, nothing about you makes me happy.”

A punch to JJ’s gut.

“You cost me thousands –“

Another blow, this time to his jaw.

“- spend your life doing fuck all except smoking weed-“

JJ attempts to throw Luke off him but the older man is stronger, despite clearly being drunk out of his mind, and he slams JJ back against the wall, knocking a picture onto the hardwood floor in the process.

“And now you’ve stolen from me, you ungrateful, worthless piece of shit!”

Luke slams his fist into the side of JJ’s head and his father’s red face, contorted with rage, is the last thing JJ sees before he falls, unconscious, onto the floorboards.

When JJ comes to, head pounding, he blinks his eyes open slowly and raises his hand to the side of his face. He brings his fingers away from his cheek shakily, notices they’re sticky with blood, touches his lip gingerly and realises that’s split and swollen too.

JJ grunts and moves to roll onto his back before attempting to get up.

Attempting the operative word, as a searing pain in his side forces him to lay back down briefly, hissing at the pain.

Great, he thinks. He’s really done a number on me this time.

JJ lays there for a few moments, staring up at the slightly dilapidated ceiling of the Chateau, listening for any telltale signs Luke was still in the vicinity. He wouldn’t be surprised if Luke stuck around to lay down another beating but he’s grateful for the silence that confirms he’s been left alone once again.

After a few shaky breaths, JJ finally finds the courage to stand to his feet, wincing at the soreness in his body and making a mental note to find an icepack somewhere in the kitchen. Kiara used to be the one to look after him when he showed up at the Chateau after disappearing for days, her gentle touch calming him more than he liked to admit, soothing his bruises and making him feel like someone gave a shit about him.

JJ swallows thickly. He wishes Kiara was here now.

JJ scoffs at the thought and the feeling of tenderness dissipates as quickly as it appears, replaced by the more familiar feeling of bitterness that rises up like bile.

Resigning to the fact that he won’t see Kiara for a very long time because she doesn’t want to see him (conveniently forgetting that it’s not like she has that much choice in the matter), JJ sighs heavily and makes his way down the hall.

JJ ignores the feeling of complete desperation and confusion as he enters his old, dead friend’s kitchen and opens the fridge, silently praying the cops at least had the decency to leave their beer alone.

For the first time in a few weeks, something’s gone his way and JJ cracks open a Budweiser, letting himself smile ever so slightly.

He’s surprised he remembers how.

--

Drinking alone is never as fun as you think it is.

JJ’s sprawled out on the steps of the porch at 1am, beer bottles surrounding him like a shrine, his Zippo the only form of light in an otherwise unusually dark night.

Suddenly, JJ gets the overwhelming urge to take his bike and ride it across the island to Figure 8.

Never mind that he’s drunk, never mind that he knows he’ll find his way back to places that painfully remind him of his friends, and never mind that by taking the risk of going to the other side of the island he could run into a Kook.

Maybe JJ was looking for a fight tonight.

Before he’s had a chance to think rationally (but when does he ever?), JJ is speeding through the streets of Figure 8, past big Kook houses and Kook golf courses, struggling to keep his bike straight as his vision blurs.

He’s doing reasonably well at staying on the road for someone of his inebriated state, and he’s honestly pretty impressed with himself, enjoying the feeling of the warm wind whipping through his hair.

That is, until he realises he’s going past the Crain house and he sees Rose Cameron’s face on a placard and he’s filled with overwhelming rage and he’s distracted and all of a sudden the bike swerves off the road.

JJ panics and makes a futile attempt to straighten up again, but its too late and he skids off the road and is catapulted into a thicket of trees.

JJ groans and pats himself down, checking that he still has all of his necessary limbs. He breathes deeply and squeezes his eyes shut.

Typical, he thinks.

JJ plans to stay lying on the side of the road for the rest of the night, if he’s honest with himself, before a girl’s voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“You know you’re supposed to keep the bike upright, don’t you?”

JJ opens one eye to see someone, a Kook, standing over him. She’s slender and dressed in a white sundress, the contrast stark against her tanned skin, her dark hair tied back in a braid.

JJ huffs. “What do you care, Kook?”

The girl crouches down and looks at his battered face, wincing. It’s not the usual disdain JJ is used to – he thinks he can actually see some pity reflected in her features.

“You look like shit, what happened?”

“Leave me – wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

--

JJ knows he’s a good friend, but sometimes it feels like he’s loyal to a fault.

That’s how he finds himself in the middle of a Kook nightmare, pressed against rich assholes dressed in designer clothes, all for the annual Midsummers party.

JJ’s walking around the perimeter of the country club, looking over his shoulder for Rafe and his henchmen and cursing John B under his breath for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

He’s needing to pretend to be a waiter, so JJ is absentmindedly picking up empty glasses as he goes, feeling grateful he hasn’t had to speak to someone yet.

That is, of course, until he almost trips over a figure crouched down on the patio.

“Woah, you trying to kill me?”

JJ looks down and sees a girl in a black dress, bending down, her fingers wrapped around the neck of a vodka bottle.

“Can I point out that you’re the one in my way? This is a tripping hazard.”

The brunette girl rolls her eyes and gives JJ the finger, but he can tell its not malicious.

“I’ll make you a deal, Pogue.”

JJ widens his eyes in panic. Cover blown.

The girl chuckles. “I know you’re a Pogue. I’m drunk, not stupid. Plus, don’t think I haven’t seen you around at the boneyard.”

JJ hates that he wants to flirt with her, and he clears his throat. “What’s your deal?”

“I won’t tell the Camerons you’re here, practically committing fraud, and you won’t snitch to the country club that I stole their top shelf vodka to spice up my evening.”

JJ’s mildly impressed. “I guess we’re both criminals,” he replies and moves to walk away, before turning back briefly. “I didn’t catch your name.”

The girl smiled mysteriously. “Unimportant.”

--

“Yeah. You nearly tripped over me at Midsummers,” the girl replies, holding her hand out for JJ to take, which he does, and helps him onto his feet.

JJ attempts to dust himself off. “Do I get to know your name now?”

She smiles. “I’m Scarlett. You’re JJ, right?”

JJ nods. “How’d you know?”

“I know some people that know you, but it’s unimportant. I’m sorry about your friend.”

JJ doesn’t want to talk about John B, least of all with a Kook. “Right, well, I best get going,” he says as he turns towards his bike, dreading the ride back to the Chateau.

Scarlett looks at him incredulously. “You look nasty as fuck.”

“Thanks,” JJ responds bitterly.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me take you back to mine, help you clean up a bit.”

Then, sensing the hesitation in JJ, she adds “At least let me give you bandaid or something, and you can do it yourself if you’re so tough.”

JJ figures there’s no harm in using someone’s supplies, especially a Kook’s, and it’s not like he can go home to anyone else.

He shrugs. “Sure, whatever, thanks.”

--

After Scarlett convinces JJ his bike will be just fine hidden at the Crain property (the Camerons have more pressing issues at the moment, Scarlett tells him, her voice catching), they make their way to Scarlett’s house.

It’s the biggest and most impressive house he’s ever been in, and JJ can’t help but feel extremely uncomfortable at the thought of stepping into a Kook’s home.

“Where are your parents?” He asks, as Scarlett rummages around in her drawers for first aid supplies, his arms folded over his chest.

“They’re out,” she replies simply, and brandishes cream and bandaids at him. “Are you going to let me do this for you?”

JJ furrows his brow and snatches the supplies from her outstretched hand.

“I’m good, thanks. I can do it myself.”

Scarlett nods and sits down at the edge of her bed in silence, as JJ clumsily cleans his cuts, face scrunched in pain as it stings. He successfully places the last bandaid and looks at Scarlett, who hasn’t said another word.

“I, uh – thanks, I guess,” JJ says awkwardly, placing his hands in his pockets. “I should go.”

Scarlett looks at her phone at the time, 3:30am, and shakes her head.

“You can stay here, it’s late and I have a feeling you’re not quite up to the ride home.”

JJ panics, eyes wide, and resorts back to guarded defensiveness. “I’m not sleeping here. I don’t even know you.”

Scarlett sighs. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with that when you came home with me. Look, you can sleep on my couch,” she says as she gestures towards the plush couch in the corner of her large bedroom.

JJ huffs. Kooks, he thinks, but he nods reluctantly.

It’s the feeling of overwhelming loneliness, coupled with the fact that someone actually cared about him, that leads JJ to spend the night sleeping on a Kook’s couch.

taglist (message me to be added to my taglist for all works): 

@letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @harrysbbby @socialwriter @thatjohnd @ssjiara @jjsmentalpolaroids @bailspogue @jjtheangel @rafecameron​ @obx-direction-sos​ @pixelated-pogues​ @jjmbanks​ @ims0golden​ @obbx-tings​ @drewstarkey​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @tembo-ndoto​ @prejudic3​ @starkeymarkey​ @snkkat​ @drewxxrudy​ @pogue-writings​ @pookie-cleary​ @jjmaybcnks​ @shawnssongs​ @obxjj​ @drewswannabegirl​ @curlybrownhairedboys​ @the-moon-looks-old-and-gray​ @peach97​ @k-k0129​ @broken-jj​ @annedub​ @starlightstarkey​ @starrystarkey93​ @jiaraendgame​ @sarahcxmeron​ @overly-b​ @erraaxh​ @pink-meringues​ @rollinsstuff​ @microwaved-timmies​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6​ @ptersparkers @jjmaybankx @sortagaysortahigh​ @honeyycheek​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @milamaybank​ @dpaccione​ @hbooth0411​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​  @moldisgoodforyou​ @surfalldaybaby​ 

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟾)

Chapter 8: “Code 45759 JJ” 

A/N:  Okay I hope this chapter makes sense, like I said before my knowledge of the boats and ferry systems are very limited haha. Thank you all for all the wonderful support!! I actually feel like the fic is starting to pick up speed. I hope it doesn’t come across rushed, which is why I am a little worried about this chapter. Please let me know what you think! or any other requests, either for this story line or something else! :) 

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. Her and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7

JJ was the first to break the silence that had built between us. “Let’s go for a swim?”

“JJ what? I’m not even in my bat–” I couldn’t even make out my sentence before I was pulled into the cold water. I slowly kicked myself back up to the surface of the water. I wiped my eyes off to see JJ beside me. He came up in front of me, both of us kicking to stay up. We held onto one another loosely for support. Once again, close enough for me to realize. “JJ what the hell?” I said. I started to feel my clothes sticking to me in that uncomfortable way. 

“You did say that you came out here to cool off right?” He laughed. I splashed him laying back on my back just floating. It was nice, being able to look up at the few white clouds in the sky. JJ followed suit, laying back and just staring up at the clouds. 

He lifted his hand up to point at a cloud, just over a tree, “That one there he started.” I looked up to where he was pointing. “Looks kinda like a bong.” He caught me off guard, causing me to laugh. When I did I submerged my head in the water, sucking up water. I came back up coughing out the salty water. “What?” JJ just looked at me. 

“Seriously? A Bong?” I raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” He shrugged. “Maybe I just wanna smoke.” He laughed looking down the shore. “I’ve got an idea.” 

“Oh no” 

“The last one to Old Man Jones dock cooks dinner.” I rolled my eyes as he started counting. “One. Two.” I took a deep breath. “Three.” We both took off down the shore. I dove quickly underwater trying to gain a little foot ahead. I may not have been on the island all year, but mom and dad made sure that John B and I knew how to handle ourselves in the water. I resurfaced and took a breath of air before going back into the water. JJ was right to my left, and I was too competitive to let him win. I pushed in a little more effort trying to out swim him. I looked up and dove back down, realizing we were only feet from the dock. I reach up grabbing the edge and pulling myself up. One I was holding the edge for support I saw JJ surface and grab the dock. We were both a little out of breath. Taking a moment to catch our breaths and relax. The sun was directly over us, helping to warm the water. 

“You’ve been gone for like over half a year,” JJ said, still catching his breath. “On the mainland no less. How did you beat me? It was witchcraft wasn’t it?” 

I laughed. “Oh you caught me! Burn me at the stake” I joked. “So what’s for dinner Chef J?” I smiled, beginning to swim lazily back to the house. JJ followed after me. 

“Hmmm. I was thinking of pizza maybe?” 

“I thought the deal was to cook?” 

“I don’t think you want that Y/N” I laughed at his comment, knowing full well JJ was actually a decent cook if he tried. “Plus if we're gonna be up all night looking at the maps again we’re gonna need brain food.” 

“Right, pizza, brain food” I laughed with him. I turned to float on my back, shutting my eyes from the harsh sun. “So what happens if we find a lead, like a ship that went through? What do we do then?” I had not thought that far ahead. 

“We track them down,” JJ said. 

“How do we do that?” 

“That’s all on you Nancy Drew. What if we go to the ports? Call the captains and ask questions?” 

“Yea, uhu JJ. We can do that.” I laughed. “Maybe look at new reports. If it is another country, the police might not have those on their radar yet. Check out that place however we can.”

We had finally reached the dock, making our way to the house to dry off. JJ went into the bathroom to change, while I went into John B’s. Every time I went into his room it was like a punch in the gut. The air was thick and hard to breathe. After what Kie said, it feels like JJ and I are the only ones that believe he’s still alive, which sucks. I feel like we can’t do this, just JJ and I. We’re both so irresponsible and here on our own, how are we going to pull this off? I pulled my new dry shirt on over my head. Hanging the wet clothes over the railing on the bed frame. I turned, walking out the door to find JJ on the landline phone. 

“Yes that’s two cheese pizzas, with half the sauce.” He looked over at me sending a wink my way. It made my cheeks turn red. I started grabbing the papers and maps from the bin on the counter and settling into the barstool beside JJ. 

“Half the sauce?” I questioned. 

“I know how you always try to take the sauce off of your pizza” He chuckled. “So I figured I’d save you from looking foolish around here.” He moved to grab one of the papers from the table and the third map. The map from the day after the storm. My heart was beating quickly. I could not believe that JJ remembered how I liked my pizza. 

“You remember that?” 

“Kinda hard to forget Y/N. It’s weird.” I pushed against his shoulder pretending to be hurt by his statement. 

I took the sheet that had all the boat listings. “What time did they..” I stopped. It set in JJ was there when they told him about John B. He was there, with the other pogues, he didn’t have someone to gently guide him into the idea like you did. It was just in the open for him. 

“What time did what?” JJ said breaking me from my thoughts. I looked at him. I could feel the worry in my glance, but he seemed to be oblivious, or ignore it. 

I cleared my throat. “What time did they say that they lost them?” 

“Oh umm. I have no idea honestly. I mean, when I got in the car with the Heywards it was like almost one A.M?” 

“Alright. Then we’ll start at 00:00 and move from there.” 

JJ and I were deep into marking up the map, to where the Phantom was found, could have drifted, and the radius they might have swam to. There were lines everywhere, annotations at different times. Lines that went right over where the boat was but were way too late in the day. When the pizza got there, I beat JJ to the door, quickly paying for the pizza. 

I walked in carrying the box to see JJ tracing a line down the page with his finger, and the silver Juul hanging from his mouth. He looked up. “I thought I was cooking dinner” 

“Ah I changed my mind, you did buy us groceries” I ruffled up his hair, setting the pizza box on the stove. I grabbed a piece from the box. I took the Juul from his mouth and handed him the slice of pizza. I took a hit from the Juul, feeling the familiar effect of the nicotine before sitting down on the map and grabbing myself a slice. 

-- 

I lifted my head from my hands and looked at the clock on the microwave. 2:30 am. JJ and I had been looking at the map for so long that my eyes were burning. We had since finished the pizza, smoked a joint, and a line of beer bottles was forming along the wall. 

“What stamp time are we at?” I asked JJ as he crossed another ocean liner path off of our list. 

“8:02”. I let out a frustrated groan. 

“Okay only one more hour then we can get some rest.” JJ smiled at me and rubbed my shoulder. Over the last few hours we decided that we had to start moving quickly if we were going to actually find them. We realized that things were more time-sensitive than they seemed before. 

“Okay next one,” I said, gripping the map. 

“This one is a Cargo ship, smaller, it left from Port of Wilmington Delaware, and crossed into the NC Atlantic at 5:45. The trail is a solid purple line, Code 45752” 

I squinted at the map, all the numbers starting to run together. I found a purple line leaving the side of Delaware reading 45752. “Here, I’ve got it.” I used my finger to trace the boat’s path down the coast for a bit, then out to sea, then coming toward the banks. I followed it till it hit a sharp turn toward land. It came right to the Phantom wreck, then turned a right angle back down the coast. “Code 45759 JJ” I said tapping at the point, scared that if I looked away it would disappear. “JJ what does it say?” I said urgency in my voice. 

“All it says is ‘detour’,” JJ said, looking at me with a confused look. “They probably just weren't watching the boat and got off course.” 

“Look at this J,” I said, still tapping on the spot. I began to trace. The boat’s line “Here they are going down the coast, following the same path that literally every other damn boat we have looked at did.” I reached the turning point. “But here they turn here and go towards the island.” I stopped, tapping on the gold star that we had put where the Phantom was found. Then turn back course right here, at the wreck of the Phantom. I looked up to see JJ looking at the map intently. “Then here they stop, then continue. Something caught their attention in the water, the wreck. What is the time stamp for those two marks?” 

JJ rushed to grab the paper, tracing his finger along the line of stamps. “Uhhh. It’s 7:56 and 8:32.”

“That’s too long for them to be on that tiny strip for it to just be an unmanned ship.” I felt the hot tears start to fall from my eyes. I didn’t even mind, because this time they were tears of joy, tears of hope, we had something.

“He did it, he got out.” was all JJ said. 

“It is the only one who turned this way, had any weird activity. JJ this has to be it. It has to be.” 

“John B and Sarah are alive,” JJ said. I could see tears on the brim of his eyes. 

“Holy shit J” We both stood up. JJ put hands on either side of my face and connected his lips to mine. I was frozen at first but quickly began to kiss him back. It was brief, but I felt a spark as he pulled me closer to him. 

He pulled away, still holding my face in both hands “You, Y/N Routledge, are a damn genius.” 

“We really did it J. We found something.” He started to wipe the tears off of my cheeks with his thumbs, both of us smiling like idiots. 

“Do you want to tell Pope and Kie to suck a dick or should I?” He said with a laugh.

Tag List: 

@nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove @heywards @kayln021 @readysteadygo23 @im-a-stranger-thing​ @thatsonobx @dumbxgurl @ameera21 @zehnuhrfunf​ @imagines-and-preferences1216​ @mileven-reddie​

If you wanna be added to a tag list please send me an ask, it makes it easier to keep up with:) if your user is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag you?

My Masterlist 

[ficsnroses]

Little Spoon - John Wick x Reader

Just some fluff with a hint of Christmas spirit. Enjoy!

Word Count : 2318

Warnings : None! Just a lot of fluff. Maybe the slightest bit of angst?

Requested : No.

Summary : John comes home to reader on Christmas eve after being away for 3 weeks, and falls asleep with her in a very adorable way.

It was a quieter, mellower day in the neighbourhood. With the holiday season in full fledge, and Christmas just a snooze away, families had been staying in, indulging in each other’s long overdue company, sipping mulled wine, houses fumed with seasonal spices, lights twinkling inside and out.

As you walked down the street with John’s dog, you swore it felt as if in a Winter Wonderland. The snow had revealed a fresh fall over night, draped as if an ice dusted blanket over the city. As Dog trotted along the glittering pavement, the crunch of the snow beneath your feet rang in your ears, as if walking along a sugar crystalized path. The serenity of the street was calming, so beautiful as the sun had almost completely set, leaving a deep blue and lavender hue to cast over.

As you walked along, houses’ were filled with people, you could hear the chuckle of voices and music filling the air. It made a smile creep onto your frost kissed cheeks. It was nice feeling. As the air dances with a wintery cold wind, there is still a warmth. The feeling of love, all in the atmosphere. The holidays are really something else.

With a pout, dog stops, patting away at your boots, hosting snowflakes around the rims. You crouch down, giving him a soothing string of ear rubs.

“What’s wrong boy?” you ask him, a frown plastering your frigid lips. You sigh. “I know, baby. I miss him too.” you apologetically smile at him, petting his thick, shiny charcoal grayed coat.

Your boyfriend, John, had been away for work for 3 weeks now. It was tough not having him home for the holidays, but you understood his field of work required him to miss out on some aspects of life.

John promised he would be back in time for Christmas. He knew you didn’t have family close to celebrate with, just like him. It broke his heart dearly to leave you alone during this time of year, when having someone is most important. John had spent many Christmases alone before you came into his life. He didn’t ever want you to feel the sheer isolation and seclusion he felt in those times.  

He had been calling you every chance he got, but sometimes that wasn’t possible for a few nights in a row. You’d worry sick about him, but he always promised he would come back home to you. He was frighteningly proficient in his field, thousands feared him. You had heard the stories, the rumors of his darkness. The fear he sprung in the nerves of so many, the way the mention of his name sent chills erupting down their spines.

But to you, he was just your John. Your loving, gentle, caring, compassionate, John. You had never seen the side of him the world dreaded, he didn’t want you to. You were his catalyst for normality, a life outside of the realm that refused to let him go.

You didn’t think you could ever fall so deep for someone; the way you did for John. There was never a doubt in your mind that he felt the same. You were meant to be, as cheesy as it sounded. He knew it all along, you were the missing piece for so many years. The extents spent sleeping alone, coming home to an empty house, the feeling of eternal remoteness, all lead up to one thing; all was worth it for one thing. You, his Y/N.

You felt a tear threaten to spill at the thought of John having to be away, doing work he didn’t want to. The thought of him, murder on his finger tips, while the rest of the world joyed in the holly festivities. But you knew he’d be coming home tonight, finally. You’d get to kiss him goodnight tonight, wake up in his arms tomorrow. Just the thought still sent butterflies frolicking through your mind and body.

“Come on, boy! Lets head home.” You joyfully cheer to dog, as you rise up, gently tugging his leash in the opposite direction back. Dog was a very good boy, he made sure to take good care of you while John was away, protecting you at every step.

As the night painted into a perfect raven sky, the hue of Christmas lights, glimmering on all the houses down the street made the world look even more heavenly. The first few snowflakes peppered out of the sky felt almost as a dream. By the time you made it home, the evening blue had a beautiful lilac undertone, the silver confetti almost as if a ballet in the air from above, promising a cozy sleep.

Dog was first to run up the steps, shaking and shimmying the snow out of his fur coat. You followed behind, sure to wipe your boots at the entrance mat. You had slipped pretty bad once before with wet shoes, John had been incredibly worried and scared you hurt yourself at first. However, once he saw you laughing on the wooden floor, your hands hugging a scraped knee and banged hip, he couldn’t help but have a chuckle escape his lips as he helped you up. He made sure to take good care of you the rest of the day, so you could rest off your very minor injuries.

As you entered the house, shaking off your knit mittens and hanging your coat, you swore the atmosphere felt different.

“Baby! Come here.” You cooed to dog, grabbing a towel you kept near the entrance to dry his fur. As you crouched down, making sure to be gentle while smothering away at his coat, you heard the light thud of footsteps your way.

“Hey, I was wondering where you two were.” You saw John smiling from a few feet away, his heart obviously full at the sight of his two favourite things in front of him.

Your eyes widened, immediately lighting up at the sight of your love. You quickly got up, practically charging his way.

“John!” you smiled, so happy to see him finally. He opened his arms for you to join. You latched onto his as if a koala on a tree, breathing in his scent for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You hadn’t realized just how much you longed for him until this moment.

“Hi, angel.” John chuckled, holding you close, and pressing a few kisses to your hair, before he rest his cheek on your head.

You didn’t even reply, you didn’t want to do anything in that moment other than hold him so close. You stayed there for a few moments, just holding each other, John gently swaying as he continued to press kisses onto your head. This is what it felt like to truly be home.

You pulled back a little bit to look him in the eyes. You giggled lightly, finally being able to see him, take in all his features. Your smile fell at a few cuts along his forehead and hairline, immediately pressing your finger to softly graze over them.

“I’m okay, princess. I Promise.” He assured you, cupping your cheek, going in for a kiss. Once his lips captured yours, you couldn’t help but close your eyes, trying to pull him even closer. You’d craved him for so long, waiting for him to be back in your arms. You felt John smiling into the kiss, as were you. You could have stayed that way forever, had dog not started jumping at John’s feet.

“Woah! Easy boy.” John laughed, crouching down to pet him. Dog made sure to give John loads of kisses right to the face, unable to control himself. If there’s one thing you and Dog had in common, it was your immense love for John, and the constant need to press hundreds of kisses to his face at any given time. You crouched down as well, Dog moving into a comfortable position to receive pets from both you and John. You couldn’t help but smile so big at the little moment you were having with your family, beaming at the three of you finally being reunited.

--

As John finished in the shower, you had got started on dinner. The snow outside had been brewing and blowing still, you could hear the faint hum of the wind every now and then. The view of a white horizon out the window was heavenly, however. Everything felt so much cozier and warmer now that your lover was home, exactly where he belonged on a night like this.

As you stirred the pot, the weight of two large, broad arms wrap around your mid, a pair of tender lips pressing a kiss into your neck. “God, I missed you.” His deep, gruff voice speaks.

“And I, you.” You smile, resting your hand over his. John presses another kiss to your shoulder, before moving to set the table. John would press kisses to you whenever he could. To him, you were the most precious thing he had. He couldn’t help but shower you with his love.

As you turn around, you notice a slight limp in his walk. You try to keep your mind from wandering to him being out there, alone, working. If you had it your way, you’d do anything in your power to get him out of that world. You knew how much he didn’t want to be there, how much he longed to have a normal life with you, free of sin. He claimed he had been trying, but it was no easy task. The empire just refused to let their best man go.

“Do you want me to grab the heating pad?” you quietly say, trying your best not to ruin your mood. It broke your heart seeing even the slightest form of pain on him. After all the torment he had enduring in his life, physical, emotional, you couldn’t bear to see new scars on him.

“I’ll do it before bed. Right now, I wanna enjoy a meal with my wife.” He says, a reassuring grin on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile, as you aid him in setting the table. 

“We’re not married, John.” you corrected, smiling.

“Not yet.” you heard.

--

As John settled into bed that night, he was already beaming at the thought of finally getting to fall asleep in peace, beside the woman of his dreams. John may have been a strong, scary, feared man. But to him, there was nothing that made him feel more human, more loved than you. You gave him the quietude and warmth he always wanted. Falling asleep beside you meant he was safe. Safe and sound, away from his demons. 

Being away from you for weeks had left him wanting each part of you. It was hard work having to make do through scarce phone calls. Hearing your voice had really helped him get through the harsh few weeks he had endured. He had missed being with you. 

Part of him wanted to make love to you tonight right then and there, to finally be connected to you once again in the most intimate way. But that could wait till tomorrow. Tonight, he just needed to feel your body close. To remind him, that he isn’t alone anymore.

As you joined John in bed, he could smell your mint and eucalyptus face wash radiating off your skin, so inviting. As Dog settled in at your feet, John dimmed the bedside lamp, smiling at you.

“Gosh, its so much harder to sleep with your side of the bed empty.” You say, rubbing some hand cream into your skin. It was a nightly ritual at this point, you made sure to keep your favourite shea butter infused blend at the bedside. “I’ve been so excited to wake up with your arms around me, like you always do.” you shined.

John was practically awestruck, it felt so good to listen to your voice. He watched your every movement, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’re being so sweet today, stop making my heart melt, you big goof.” You laughed, lightly hitting his shoulder.

“Just happy to see you.” He replies, still smiling. He had that twinkle in his espresso eyes you so dearly loved.

“Come here.” you say, quietly, your voice so gentle, so calming. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down, into your chest. Kissing his head, you rest your cheek above his hair, as he positions himself so he’s laying down, his head tucked away on your chest, arms wrapped around you as you hold him.

“This is…so nice.” He says, with his eyes closed, barely audible.

He feels the rumble of your honey smothered voice, sending vibrations through his ears as you gently massage his scalp. “Aw, my big scary man, so happy to be the little spoon.” You smile. Your heart was so full watching him, cuddling him closer into you.

“Hmmmm.” Is all you heard, he was so content, as you hugged him close, hovering over him as you soothingly rub his back, his arms.

“I’m so happy you’re here, baby. Exactly where you belong.” You whisper, leaning an arm over to shut off the bedside lamp, while subsequently laying yourself down lower on the bed.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re all I ever wanted.” You hear his croaky voice, so quiet, barely above a whisper. You can tell he’s incredibly tired, already falling half asleep as you comb through his hair. You can feel his breath on your chest, just where your shirt exposes your skin.

“I love you, John. Merry Christmas eve, babe.” You whisper once again, your voice so soothing, so velvety. It sends John drifting into a peaceful slumber, wrapped so securely in your arms, to the sound of a wintery breeze outside, snowflakes still gliding around, preparing the town for a well deserved, white Christmas.

Right where he wanted to always be.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

[singledarkshade]

Magical Mix Up

Summary: When Constantine uses a spell to locate Rip, it leads them to a hospital and a nurse called Rory Williams. Taking him back to the Waverider they try to get him to remember who he really is. While Rory's wife Amy is searching for him with the Doctor, they come across an unconscious man in a long brown duster. Author’s Note: I had a small idea and shared it with the Discord Ripchat group, which sent it from a small possible one-shot to a larger story. This is a birthday present for @riphuntertimemasterlegend. Happy Birthday, I hope you enjoy. Chapter One

 “I have one more patient for you, Rory,” Davy on the desk said, handing him a chart, “Some kind of burn.”

Rory Williams took the chart and scanned it quickly, “Okay. What’s open?”

“Curtain three,” Davy replied giving him a smile.

Nodding to the other man, Rory headed out to the waiting room which wasn’t too bad for a Sunday afternoon in the middle of the summer.

“Mr Constantine,” Rory called. His patient stood and Rory frowned in surprise to see the man wearing a trench coat, white shirt and a red tie, his dyed blond hair was a mess, and he had the look that he had just rolled out of bed, “Please come with me.”

As a blonde woman stood to join them, Rory shook his head, “Sorry, you’ll have to wait here for the moment.”

Rory’s patient turned to the blonde woman, had a quick, annoyed whispered discussion before she sat down and he turned to Rory with a charming smile, “Lead on, mate.”

Walking the man through the security doors, Rory motioned him to take a seat on the bed and pulled up the stool.

“Okay,” Rory told him, “Looking over your information it says that you burned your arm. I’ll do an exam to check the area, and if required I will get one of the doctors to take over, or I will clean it up.”

Constantine shrugged, “Really sorry about this, mate but I lied a little bit.”

Confused Rory heard a strange noise behind him, turning he saw the blonde woman from the waiting room walking through a portal to what looked like a ship or space station. Spinning off his stool, Rory grabbed a scalpel out the kit to defend himself.

“I know you’re confused, Rip,” the blonde woman said, “But we’re your friends and we’re taking you home.”

Gripping the scalpel and letting the Centurion in his head free, Rory replied, “No idea who you are and I’m going nowhere.”

Constantine shrugged, “Sorry, mate,” he pulled a strange looking silver device from his pocket and a flash of light filled Rory’s vision before everything went black.

Sara Lance sighed as she watched Rip fall to the ground, “That could have gone better.”

John frowned at her while crouching down to relieve the unconscious man of the scalpel before pulling him off the ground and onto his back in a fireman’s lift, “You’re not kidding.”

“Let’s get back to the ship before anyone comes looking for him,” Sara motioned John back onto the Waverider.

Carrying the unconscious form of his amnesiac friend, John was relieved when they entered the ship and Sara closed the portal. Resting Rip on the medical couch Sara slid the cuff onto his arm and checked the readouts. They now had to wait until he woke up to see if he remembered anything now that he was onboard the ship once more.

“Well?” John asked.

“As far as I can tell he’s healthy,” Sara noted before frowning at him, “It would be easier with Gideon.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” John defended himself, “I had no idea that the idol would react with the spell in that way.”

Sara rolled her eyes, “Now we have no AI because she’s suddenly human, unconscious and in Star Labs.”

John frowned, “From everything the doc told us, she’ll be fine and she’s sleeping just now. It’s probably a lot to assimilate going from an AI to human. If we give her time, I’m sure she’ll wake up soon just like Dr Snow told us.”

“Until then we can’t really go anywhere,” Sara sighed. She looked down at the man on the bed before her, “He looks different.”

John shrugged, “Well you said this is a camouflage. He’s bound to look different.”

“I mean the last time I saw him without the beard he looked odd, but it seems to suit him now,” Sara mused, shaking herself she turned back to John, “Do you have any ideas how to return his memories to him? Because I only know of one way and, without Gideon, it’s not possible.”

John mused, “There are a few spells and rituals I can try but since this was caused by the time drive and not a spell or curse then it becomes tricky.”

“Well, the last time this happened ‘Phil’ was writing about us,” Sara said, “So it was slightly easier for him to accept his movie was basically real. But this time he’s a nurse? It’s the last thing I expected.”

John shook his head sadly, “Rip is a lot more compassionate than you give him credit for, Sara. He just knows how to hide it because he was raised to believe it was a bad thing.”

She pinned him with a sharp look, “I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“Spend some time almost getting eaten alive by a demon,” John noted with a shrug, “You tend to bond.”

Sara checked the screen again, “Let’s leave him to rest. I’ve set the alarm to let us know when he wakes up and put up a forcefield so he can’t leave this room. We don’t want him getting anywhere near the time drive.”

John nodded, “You can say that again.”

 Ray, Jax and Zari looked up when Sara and John entered the bridge, Mick was lounging in a chair with a beer in his hand, but the tilt of his head let Sara know he was paying attention. Ava was sitting stiffly on the chair in the parlour, with Nate not far from her both looking annoyed as they had been voted down when Constantine said he could possibly locate Rip.

“How is he?” Ray demanded instantly.

Sara gave a slight wince, “He has no memory of us.”

“So, he’s Phil again?” Jax asked.

Sara stole one of Mick’s beers and took a seat on the stairs, “No.”

“Then who does he think he is?” Ray and Jax demanded in unison.

“Rory Williams,” John spoke up, “A nurse working in London.”

Mick let out a snort of amusement while Jax said, “At least he’s still English this time.”

“Once he wakes up John is going to try to retrieve his memories,” Sara told them, “But as with Phil, we just have to remind him we’re his friends, that his memories are fake, and he belongs here.”

A snort from Nate made Sara turn to him and Ava, “Neither you nor Ava need talk to him at all but if you do remember at the moment, he isn’t Rip.”

Ava shrugged, “We’ll try.”

 Rory’s head was killing him. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he slowly opened his eyes before slamming them shut when the light jabbed through them like a knife. Trying to get his bearings, Rory wondered what happened because he was sure he had been at the hospital. If the Doctor had kidnapped him from work, he was going to kill the Time Lord.

“Amy?” he murmured, letting her know he was awake because he knew she would be at his side if he was hurt or sick. Especially if the Doctor had picked them up. He was confused and saddened when his wife wasn’t there sliding her fingers through his hair and telling him to stop being lazy.

Finally, he forced his eyes open and frowned as he looked around a medical bay, realising he was on a ship, a space station or just a good bit in the future. Suddenly Rory remembered the last patient he had.

“Son of a…” he breathed, looking around properly.

He was still in his scrubs which meant whatever they’d done to him had been while at work.

“You’re awake,” a voice came from behind him making Rory turn to find a blonde woman walk in. She was a good bit smaller than him, but Rory could see from her bare arms she was extremely fit, and from her stance, the Centurion part of his brain noted she was a warrior.

“Who are you?” Rory demanded, “Where am I? And what do you want?”

She stepped forward trying to look unthreatening, “My name is Sara Lance and, I know how confusing this will be for you, but I promise it’s the truth.”

Rory folded his arms waiting for the explanation.

“Your name is Rip Hunter,” Sara told him, “You were stopping a Time Demon and used the core of this ship. It sent you through time and changed your memories as a camouflage. I understand you think you’re someone else but you’re not. We’re your friends and we’re going to help you recall who you really are.”

Staring at her, Rory finally managed to say sharply, “I know exactly who I am, Miss Lance. And I’m going home.”

“There,” she smiled, “That was the real you for a moment. Hold onto that and we’ll get you back.”

Shaking his head in bemusement, Rory stared at her, “What is wrong with you?”

“I know this is strange,” Sara said, “But this is for your own good. I made a promise to a friend of ours that if I found you then I wouldn’t let you leave again.”

Rory remained silent trying to work out his next move but began to pace so he could get closer to the door, hopefully without her realising.

“Your room is still here,” Sara said, moving so she was the same distance from him as he walked, “It was locked until recently so all your things are there for you to go through, which will hopefully help you remember who you are.”

Rory reached the door and shook his head, “No, thanks.” Hitting the button to open the door he ran into the corridor and chose a direction at random. Running through the corridor he saw a tall man with dark hair coming towards him.

“Rip?” the man grinned at him, “It’s so good to see you.”

Letting the Centurion take control, Rory ducked and caught the man in his stomach throwing the man over his shoulder and onto the floor. The man let out a loud oomph as he hit the ground, and although the nurse part of his mind wanted to check the other man was alright, thankfully the Centurion part was in control. Turning a corner Rory stalled finding the man, John, who had been his supposed patient standing there.

“I know you’re confused, mate,” John said, “But this is your home, Rip.”

“What is wrong with you people,” Rory snapped, “Why can’t any of you listen to what I’m saying. I am not this Rip guy. My name is Rory Williams, I have never met any of you before today and no matter what you say or do, I’m not going to remember a life that wasn’t mine.”

Just as he finished talking, something thudded across the back of his head and Rory dropped to the ground unconscious again.

 “Did you have to hit him?” the annoyed voice of Sara came as Rory swam towards consciousness with yet another headache.

A man grunted, “Seemed quickest way to stop him after what he did to haircut.”

Rory heard Sara let out a sigh before she said, “Let’s not give him any more brain damage, Mick.”

“Whatever,” the man grumbled.

Forcing his eyes open Rory realised he was not in the medical bay this time but, from the looks of things, a cell. Slowing sitting up he found Sara standing on the other side of the glass with concern on her face.

“Are you okay?”

Rory glared at her, “Well I’ve been abducted by a bunch of lunatics who keep knocking me out, while trying to convince me I’m someone I’m not. How do you think I am?”

She gave a slight smile, “There are some painkillers and water just down in the corner, and something to eat if you’re hungry.”

“Or you can let me go and I’ll get something at home,” Rory shot back at her while he found the painkillers.

Sara winced, “I know this seems harsh, Rip but it’s for your own protection. The last time this happened I let Thawne and his Legion of Doom take you, and I can’t let that happen again.”

Rory sat on the bench again, “So your logic for keeping me captive is so someone else doesn’t? That makes complete sense.”

“I left you some books and a few of your diaries to read through,” Sara told him, “We’ll talk a little later once you’ve had some time.”

Rory watched her leave and sighed. He listened to the Doctor every day, but this was true nonsense. Finding the small stack of books, Rory lifted the top one opening to the first page finding it was handwritten and realised this was the diary of the man they thought he was. A part of him wanted to read it a little but he didn’t want to invade the person they thought he was privacy. Closing it and putting it carefully to one side, Rory checked what else was sitting there and found Treasure Island, one of his favourites.

Putting the blanket and pillows they’d given him on the floor to sit on, Rory started to read.

 John sat watching the security feed of the cells as Sara spoke with Rip, or Rory as he was calling himself these days. It was odd watching his friend like this, he truly believed he was this Rory Williams and there wasn’t even a hint of recognition of any of them.

If they had Gideon, it was possible she would be able to get through to him, but currently Gideon wasn’t an option.

“Well?” Sara appeared at his side.

“He looked at the diary then put it down,” John told her, “I don’t think he’s going to read it. We need to try something else.”

Sara frowned, “What about your spell?”

“I need some supplies,” John said, “I’ll go pick them up in the morning,” adding before she could argue, “A night-time trip isn’t a good idea.”

Dropping into the seat beside him, Sara stared at the man on the screen, “Rip was always close to Jax, and Ray gets along with basically everyone. Maybe I should get one of them to try get through to him.”

John shrugged, “Why not? Or you could try your girlfriend.”

Sara frowned at him, before ignoring the jibe, “I’ll ask Ray to try first. Jax still has some issues from evil Rip.”

                                 *********************************************

 Rory drank the tea he’d been given with his breakfast as he continued to read the book. He’d been fed and managed to get some sleep but was still in a cell. Rory wondered what Amy thought happened to him and hoped that the Doctor would be able to track him down somehow. He smiled slightly imagining Amy walking in, with River at her side, taking out anyone between her and him.

The door to the room outside the glass opening interrupted Rory in the middle of a chapter. He let out an annoyed sigh, marking his place with the handy bookmark that was already inside the novel, placing it to one side before looking up at whoever had come in to annoy him some more.

“You’re the one I hit yesterday,” Rory noted seeing the tall man with perfect coiffed dark hair, looking like he stepped off the page of a magazine, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The other man gave a shrug, “I’m okay. I’m Ray,” he introduced himself, “And you’re using the name Rory just now, right?”

“I’m not using it,” Rory replied sharply, “It’s my name.”

Ray winced for a moment before he pulled a chair over and sat, “It’s not. Your name is Rip Hunter, although that’s not the name you had as a kid. You were originally called Michael but in order to become a Time Master, you had to change it, so you chose Rip.” He paused, for a moment before explaining, “Time Masters were at one point the supposed guardians of time. They raised you and until a few years ago you worked for them.”

Rory rolled his eyes but held his tongue for the moment knowing the more information he had the better.

“You saved a lot of lives making and stopping alterations to the timeline,” Ray continued, “Then your wife Miranda and son Jonas were killed by a man called Vandal Savage who it turned out was working with the Time Masters. You recruited us to stop them, which we managed to do, and we protect the timeline now.”

“My wife’s name is Amy,” Rory said softly, “And my daughter is called Melody. Both are perfectly fine. I have never heard of Time Masters and I have no idea who any of you are.”

Ray sighed annoyed but Rory was beginning to go over and over the idea of Time Masters. If these people had access to time travel, that would allow Rory a possible way to contact the Doctor.

“Rip,” Ray sighed, “I know things were bad between us all for a while, but you sacrificed yourself for us. The fact you survived is incredible and I can understand why you want to hide in this life you created for yourself after everything but it’s time to come home.”

Rory shook his head, “It’s a nice sentiment but no matter what you say, I am not and have never been Rip Hunter.”

Ray grimaced before he stood, for a moment Rory thought he was about to say something else before he simply walked out.

 “We can’t keep him locked in the cell,” Zari said as the team gathered in the library, “It’s not fair.”

“Don’t see why not,” Nate muttered.

“Because he isn’t a danger to us,” Zari reminded him sharply.

Ava frowned, “Tell that to Ray.”

“I’m fine,” Ray spoke up, “But he’s insistent he’s not Rip, and I think he’ll try to get off the ship any way he can.”

Sara sighed softly, “John is getting supplies to try the spell for returning Rip’s memories, until then he stays in the cell. I don’t like it either,” she stopped Zari arguing, “But it’s for his own protection and our safety. Rip, no matter what memories he holds, is still very smart and he could cause problems for us.”

“How long till John does the spell?” Jax asked.

Sara shrugged, “He said he had to collect some ingredients. I’m hoping he’ll be back soon.”

“What about Gideon?” Ray changed the subject, “Have we heard from Star Labs?”

With a smile, Sara replied, “Barry called earlier. Gideon is not only awake but is in good health and Dr Snow is just keeping her under observation for a few days.”

“That’s good,” Jax sighed in relief.

“For now,” Sara said, “We’re stuck here in Star City. So, you may as well visit family and friends or pick up some supplies you want. I will stay on the ship and keep an eye on Rip.”

“Are you sure?” Ava asked, “One of…”

“I’m sure,” Sara cut her off, “He’s my responsibility.”

 Rory looked round when the door opened again, wondering who was coming to persuade him he was someone else this time. A different blonde woman walked in, taller than Sara, and looked at him with distaste.

“I don’t know what your game is this time, Rip,” she said sharply, “But I know you’re making sure they let their guard down before you do whatever you’re planning.”

Rory stared at her for a minute before laughing, “You are crazier than the rest of them.”

“After what you did to me,” she snarled, “I know how untrustworthy you are.”

Letting out a sigh, Rory stood and moved to face her, “Look, whoever you are.”

“You know who I am,” she snapped.

“Whoever you are,” Rory repeated, “Your people abducted me. You all keep telling me I’m someone I’m not while holding me prisoner. Whatever issues you have with that guy, I know nothing about them and have nothing to do with them. Though I can offer the number of a good therapist for you to talk through whatever you need to.”

Anger flashing in her eyes, the woman leaned in and she stated darkly, “Even when you ‘get your memories back’” she put in the air quotes, “I will make sure you stay in this cell.”

With that said she turned, her hair flipping over her shoulder as she marched out. Just before the door closed, he clearly heard Sara’s voice demanding, “Ava, what are you doing?”

Sighing Rory sat and picked up his book again, he’d been here a day and as they’d used some kind of portal technology then Rory was sure the Doctor would be able to find him.

At least that was what he was telling himself.

[im-the-punk-who]

Black Sails as John Silver's SuperVillain Origin Story

Okay so I recently got asked about my views on Silver in a roundabout way so HERE ARE SOME OF THEM. I don’t often post about him because honestly I just really dislike him but he’s an extremely well written character and one of the best ‘villains’ I have ever seen portrayed. The reason Black Sails is such a compelling prequel to Treasure Island is that it does not just say ‘John Silver is a villain because he does bad things.’ Like all the characters in Black Sails he is complex, with deep and thoughtful motivations for the things he does. We see him as a villain because Black Sails sets his goals up in opposition to those of the protagonists we want to succeed - Flint and Madi - but he is not villainous in his own right.

But it is the effects of those motivations on himself that, to me, are the most interesting. 

And just up front because I know this is a touchy subject - especially coming from, well, me, lmao. This is how I read Silver. If you disagree, that’s cool. Like literally everything else in Black Sails(and fiction in general), Silver’s character is mutable based on your views and experiences. Tomato/Tomato.

So! To me, the most important thing about John Silver’s character in Black Sails, is who he is in Treasure Island. Black Sails is a prequel, and Silver is a major character in Treasure Island. We see his actions in the book(albeit through the story of the man who survives him, and, oof, isn’t that a bit of a kicker). We know that in this future Silver is still a lying, manipulative and mysterious person, hard not to like but hard to know.

That consistency is the most important part of Long John Silver’s character to me: he doesn’t really change from the beginning of Black Sails to the end, because he’s not really meant to. 

Silver may not exactly like the person he is but there is no point in trying or wanting to change.  In his view, who he is is just as immutable as the world he exists in. 

And that's the brilliance of Black Sails. 

Silver isn’t the way he is because he is ‘evil,’ or because he wants to intentionally cause harm. He is the way he is because it is the only way he’s worked out to survive. It is “the only state in which he can function.” He does not believe in a cosmic story, in a grand design or justice in the world - and because of that he does not see the point in trying to change something that has kept him alive thus far to appease it.

The entirety of the beach flashbacks is, to me, the summation of both Flint and Silver’s characters but this in particular I feel is important:

-Do you really imagine a few weeks of this is going to make much of a difference? Am I not what I am at this point?

-It's better than nothing.

In the grand scheme, Flint and Silver only know each other for about six months. 

Their relationship - especially to Silver - is a transient one. A handful of weeks. Was it ever enough to expect it to make any bit of difference?

But not so for Flint. He truly believes humans are capable of change, and he believes even the smallest bit of progress is worth the effort. Flint takes the things that happen to him and make them a part of him.

But for Silver,

I've come to peace with the knowledge...that there is no storyteller imposing any coherence, nor sense, nor grace upon those events.

Therefore, there's no duty on my part to search for it.

Silver refuses to acknowledge his own story and so is unable or unwilling to see himself as capable of change throughout it. Or even really the need for change. And that’s not said as a negative - that is who he is. That is who his past - whatever it was - has taught him.

And so he consistently acts solely for his own gain, benefit, and safety. Because if he doesn’t, who else is going to?

And this continues the differences between Flint and Silver. 

While Silver is very wrong that his past is irrelevant, he is correct in that it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter what his past is, because we can clearly see the effects of it. We don't NEED to know his past to understand his actions.

However, without knowing Flint’s backstory - Thomas, Miranda, England’s betrayal - his actions don't make sense. They are erratic: they seem villainous and vile and like the acts of a tyrant or a madman. Because his actions are tied to his story.

But from the very first moment we see Silver fight the cook over what he presumes is a chance at living, Silver is clearly trying to figure out what is best for him. 

He doesn’t care about Flint’s war, or what the treasure could fund. He doesn’t care about the pardons, and he doesn't care about England. He doesn’t care about piracy. All he cares about at first is the life the treasure could buy him. But when he loses his leg, suddenly the thing he literally spent two seasons fucking everyone over for becomes completely inconsequential, because it no longer benefits him.

It is without relevance.

And through the very last time we see him speaking him to Madi, he is doing the same thing. 

That's not to say he doesn't form friendships or care about people. He is, indeed, a hard man not to like, and I think he also genuinely likes people as well. But that doesn’t mean he changes because of them. The friendships he forms with Flint - with Billy, with Muldoon and Randall and the other crew members - the relationship he forms with Madi. They are all real, but they are also all expendable to ensure his own comfort and survival. 

In the first episode of season 2 we’re told point blank:

It’s likely that if our interests were averse, I’d betray you to save myself.

And of course at this point Silver and Flint are little more than necessary enemies, Silver has no reason to want Flint alive. But the pattern holds throughout the whole show. 

Later in season 2, when Flint is thinking about changing tactics to prioritize the pardons over the gold, Silver has no problem screwing over the entire crew(minus the two men he’s recruited) to meet his own ends. It’s what’s best for him, and Silver operates on this assumption that every person needs to look out for themselves. 

And then again, in the finale of season 2 - he saves the crew because it also means saving himself. When Vincent brings up leaving, Silver says that they would likely be killed if they tried - he’s already considered that option and rejected it because his odds of survival are higher sticking with the crew. 

And then of course, in season three, in the maroon cages - you can bet that the fact that flint’s psyche basically controlled whether they all - including him - lived or died was a major driving force behind his dedication to getting Flint to come up with a plan better than Billy’s in which - again - they all likely end up dead. 

His relationships with Madi and Flint in particular are deep, and so it is the worst thought possible when he realizes that they are starting to agree with each other, but not with him. When Madi agrees with Flint over trading the cache for the fort, I read this as the true end of Silver’s support of the war because the war now threatens his personal ‘safety.’

Because at that moment, the thing most important to him is keeping Madi - who he not only has come to care for but who supports him. And she makes him know she supports him. And the prospect of losing that is what ultimately I think drives him to planning to send Flint away, rather than bring Thomas there or some other plan. 

And again it isn’t maliciousness - not outright. He is doing what he thinks he needs to to survive, because he cannot have enough faith in either Flint or Madi to think they won’t drop him the moment he stops being invaluable. And in the end, that lack of faith is what spells the end for any chance he has at having them in his life.

When he thinks Madi might die if they continue, he doesn’t care if she hates him. He doesn’t care if Flint hates him. He doesn’t care if the relationship is destroyed if he gets what he wants out of it. Madi’s survival. The end of the war. An end to Flint and Madi’s relationship so that he can ‘protect’ her from death and choose how he ‘loses’ her. It is always less painful to be the one doing the leaving.

Based on his world view - that you must protect what is in your own interests and the only person you can count on is yourself - that is the right thing to do.

Over and over we see that Silver is mostly interested in other people through the guise of his interest in keeping himself alive. And I also think that because of that, he views himself as expendable to other people as well. 

When Muldoon insists that the crew would take care of him if he needed that, it’s clear that Silver doesn’t believe him. He still believes himself to be expendable unless he is useful. He is constantly managing his image, managing how people see him, managing the things he allows others to see and what dangers or threats they pose to him, because he believes these are the things that keep him safe. Not his friendships, but what he brings to them.

Part of what’s so heartbreaking about Silver’s arc in season 4 is how terrifyingly close he comes to believing himself worthy. He wants the war because the two people who mean the most to him, who he sees as vital to his own survival - Flint and Madi - are both committed to it. And he’s committed to them. But I also think that just for a second, he starts to see their vision. 

When things are going well, when he can’t see the body count, he comes so close. But then of course, when everything falls apart and he is forced to confront once again the horrors of the world, he retreats.

That line he has:

And as long as (I have his true friendship) he is going to have mine.

I see that get thrown around a lot as a declaration of love, of deep feelings - and it is, to an extent. But it is also a sign of the deep mistrust that Silver harbors even when he is not looking to.

Even in this moment when he has Madi, when it must seem like they are nigh unstoppable and Silver himself is poised at the head of this great thing - when he and Flint are closest and when, I assume, Flint couldn’t fathom betraying him. Silver is still thinking in the eventuality that it will happen.

I have his true friendship, and as long as that is true, he is going to have mine. 

Silver’s love is always conditional. And that doesn’t make it any less ‘real’. It doesn’t make it any less important. But it does make it easier to take back. And that’s important for him!! It’s important for Silver’s own safety that he never rely on someone so much that he cannot cut them loose if they pose a ‘danger’ to him.

And to me, that’s the most important thing to realize about Silver. He is a ‘villain’ - and again I use the term loosely because he is ONLY a ‘villain’ because our protagonist’s stories are set in opposition to his - because he will always put himself above the grander goal. 

We see this in Black Sails, and we see this in Treasure Island. John Silver betrays Jim even though he feels conflicted about it. It isn’t until the very end, until Silver sees once again the same opportunity flash before his eyes where someone he loves is in danger and he cannot live with their death, that the treasure itself becomes unimportant again. Black Sails does an incredible job of giving us an antagonist whose defining trait is that he cannot see himself being meaningful in any way that matters. 

Silver ends up destroying just about every relationship he has because of this inability. Time and again when he is faced with an opportunity for growth that comes with hard decisions, he chooses to destroy himself. Because it is easy. 

It is easy to destroy the thing you do not care about, it is easy to destroy yourself if you don't value yourself. To call it winning because at least you are still alive and the things you’ve had to sacrifice are merely unimportant - inconsequential. But thinking like that hurts not only ourselves, but others too. 

And it is not that Silver puts himself first, plenty of other characters do that as well - Miranda, Jack, Max. It is the fact that Silver must deny himself in the process that makes him the villain not just in Black Sails, but in his own story. And THAT is the origins of his supervillain story. That he is, in fact, his own. 

[oh-theres-a-woman]

Blood Doilies; Part Three

A/N: Warnings for mentions of abuse and abusive relationships. Please read at your own discretion. The next chapter will also have the same warning. I understand that such topics can be triggering to some people, this is pure to show what the Female Reader has experienced in married life and her breaking away from that with the aid of the Blinders. Once more thank you for taking the time to read this story, feel free to reblog or comment if you’re enjoying this. 

Taglist: @zodiyack , @itsfrancisneptun , @shelbys-we-get-the-job-done, @amy-booxx​ & @fandom-fucking-shit​

Parts: [ 1 ] , [ 2 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ 6 ], [ 7 ], [ 8 ], [ 9 ]

Pairing: Thomas Shelby X Female Reader

Word Count: 1923

▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫

You set the tea down on the coffee table noticing the children had both fallen asleep on Mister Shelby’s knee. Offering a smile at the sleeping children. Whispering softly that you could take the children to bed, Thomas simply rose to his footing. Carrying both the children upstairs, calmly following him. Showing the beds for each child. Annabeth curled up into a ball with her little dolly looking absolutely smitten and at peace. Leaning down you kissed the little girl’s head, smoothing the messy mop of hair away from her face. Pulling the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing the back of your knuckle lovingly over her cheek.

Repeating the same action for Marcus, knowing that he’d need another feeding in a few hours time. “You’re a good mother, you do so much for your children,” Thomas said observantly from the door watching on with silent awe. Aunt Pol had always warmed someplace in his heart at her mothering but it had been a time since all the Shebly children had ground. Now the mothering seemed like a nagging.

Maybe it was the war that changed him but watching you at that moment. He didn’t see the harshness of his own upbringing. But the solid foundations of nurturing and admiration. Tommy didn’t quite remember the loving gaze of his mother, only her death. It had been the first of many lives that were lost. Charlie Strong had been the replacement when his father walked out of them and Pol took the helm of mothering. Swift in her workings and proved very stern for the young Sheblys’ that were left like orphans before she swooped in.

However, you were a different case. There was something about your maternal instincts that caused Thomas to stop a moment. Admire the qualities of a woman. The way in your wounds and bruises from an abusive husband, no matter the pain. You carried on your task of being a mother never let anything go to chance or mess with you. Easily smoothing a hand over baby Marcus’s locks whose were just like your own. Beautifully soft with a slight wave in the front. Tucking your son in, you watched him for a moment listening to his breathing, the little snores that left his buzzing button nose.

Thomas and yourself wandered back downstairs to the tea. Looking at each other for a moment. The narrow stairs led to you brushing hands in the walk. Causing you steps to falter for one moment. However, the Blinder once more found his seat again. Marking the page he had been reading to the children as if he’d continue that story for them another time. Picking up his teacup, he added some cream and one sugar. Stirring with the provided teaspoon then offering the spoon to you. Carefully, you poured the creamer not adding any sugar. Enjoying the strength of the tea. Lips slightly pursed together, glancing back to Thomas Shelby again. “Thank you for offering my family this safe house for the time until we get our lives back on track,” you said with a warm blush on your cheeks.

“It is alright, Mrs [Y/N],” Thomas said in a swift and noble tone of voice. Leaning back into his chair observing you. “The Peaky Blinders don’t take kindly to men who bash into their women and children.” Thomas’s words sparked a cool murderous rage in him. His eyes were like a cool fire, burning hotter than any red flame you’d seen in your lifetime. Glancing down at the marks that riddled your body and all that was hidden under your clothes. You hadn’t remembered a day where things weren’t thrown or fists were flying. Once upon a time, it was a social norm for a husband to beat his wife.

“I’ve had it happen all my life, my father was a drunk and my mother a prostitute. I don’t really know any better…” You admitted in a defeated manner. Clenching your fists on your legs thinking about the life you led. “But, I want this cycle to end. Because if I let this keep happening, it’ll only happen to my children and they won’t know how to respect each other or their future loved ones.”  Deep down you knew this was the right thing, the sudden separation to make sure no more harm would come to yourself or the children if your husband overstepped his normal range of violence.

“Do you need my help in any way of separating from the man, because once you're divorced of him that debt owed is only on him. I don’t believe in wives cleaning up their husband’s debts when they have a family to protect. By those marks too, I’d believe you’ve been looking over them for some time too.” Mister Shelby said, reaching into his coat pocket, procuring a silver cigarette case. Opening it and offering you one with a slight incline of his arm. Reaching out you picked up one of the expensive tailor-made, always used to the harsh rolling without a filter.

Placing the stick of nicotine in between your lips, that were chapped and broken from a hit. Picking up a matchbook from the table lighting up your cigarette, then leaning out to light Thomas’s. He leant into the flame. The small light of the match burning embers of life at the end of the neatly rolled tobacco. Watching the embers eat at the paper when Tommy puffed. The flame licking at your fingertips were lighting the sharper features of the Shelby before you, causing a feeling of enchantment to pull over you.

Tingling burns at your fingertips, causing you to finally shake the match and drop it into the ashtray. Settling back into your seat letting out a calm inhale and sighing softly. The sitting room clouded with an illusion-like smoke cloud. Giving a new atmosphere to the room. Like it wasn’t heavy in the topics of conversation. The stress had been disbursed in to the air, exhaled with the carbon-dioxide and smoke through lips and nostrils.

“I need to find a way to get divorced from him, I know it’d help my case that we’re living separately from one another. It would be a year’s process at the longest, I’d need to find a way to keep the tea house. My own business… I don’t want to lose it to him. Need some form of income to keep a roof over the wee ones’ heads.” You muttered, flicking the ash into the crystal tray on the table. Wondering in all seriousness how much it cost to buy because it was impeccable. Everything in the Watery Lane home was beautifully charming and way out of your price range.

“I’m hoping to get settled then go back to work, have a friend lookout for the kids.” You said to the man, who seemed to offer a small nod. Knowing the modest little establishment in your ownership. By far considered the loveliest tea shop in Small Heath, it had charm and class to the small little shop. He’d remembered Ada gushing over it opening some years ago, by a beautiful young woman that had the dream to do so. Through the proper means, she opened the shop by herself. Even without her husband’s help. This seemed like an even biggest motivator for Tommy’s little sister feminist ideals.

“Given your current condition, I’d recommend your healing before heading back to work. Keeping a low-profile due to your husband’s likely retaliation to your left with the children. For your safety, I’d advise you take a week at the least, then return to work. I or one of the Blinders will be there to escort you home after.” Thomas took a swift to inhale of his cigarette. He didn’t know why he was so adamant to protect you. Normally the Blinders would help get rid of the trouble and then recoil. Yet, deep down he knew it's because he’d seen what the government and church would do if they caught wind of things happening.

You’d lose your children. Thomas didn’t want to see that happen, because you’d taken responsibility for your husband’s debt and tried to clear it up. Even in such a state that you were in. Trying to protect the little family you’d been in. Keeping those well-behaved children in line, working the long hours that he found out on an investigation prior. Where your morning shift could start as early as four-five o’clock in the morning for the baked goods. Then until closing hours in the evening. A short break in between to take your children home, giving the neighbour a break.

Only to have most of the money earnt wasted on your husband’s addictions and there were plenty of them. Never in a million years did he even expect anyone at that meeting today. But, there you were to shock him. Taking time out of your day, to see him and try to make things right. Surprisingly, it gave Tommy a little bit of hope for some of the women in this day and age. So, the patriarch of the Shelby family sat there and discussed with you into the long hours of the night. Things were arranged for your meeting with a solicitor under the guidance of Polly Gray. Moral support. Plus, everyone seemed to be as scared of her as they were with Tommy. Bonus.

*********** 

The following days passed quickly with everything being prepared. Marks began to fade on your skin and it restored some of your lacking confidence. You felt happier in the safe house. Not because of the fancy layout because your children were happy, they were settling in nicely. The Shelbys’ came to visit enough. John Shelby bought over his children someday and they all played while business and things were attended to. More often than not it meant walking in on the children all snuggled up on each other and napping; after having an argument or fight. Everything was sorted with a simple nap together, then they were as good as rain. It made you often wish that adults were as simple as children.

By the following Monday, you were returning to work. Your workers had been running the ship well and left things in perfect condition. It was nice to see the faces of the customers again. Hours were long like normal, but that’s how you enjoyed working. Things were peaceful and you didn’t feel an ounce of stress because Thomas had promised to come to pick you up after work and walk you home. It was safe… Well, that’s what you thought.

Hours passed by swiftly and you finished the till counting after hours in the office. The last thing was to do the bins. When you were collecting the bins. Wandering in the dark alley, tossing things into the larger bins outside for landfill. You were so focused on your task that the sound of someone sneaking up on you escaped your knowledge. A rough hand, the smell of hard liquor and cigars filled your nostrils. You knew that scent from anywhere. Your husband. 

He holds a hold on you, smothering your screams of utter terror and pinning your body against the firmness of his body. “It’s not nice to say goodbye in a letter,” he whispered in your ear with vile intent. Holding out in front of you, the wedding band you letter on the letter. Forcefully sliding it back onto your finger as tears fell. 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Requiem (part one)

[Spiritfarer AU]

Note: The spirits are anthropomorphic. So their forms are on two legs and are humanoid, they’re not actually four-legged animals.

Word count: 1938

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

-Lost and Found-

The night was finally calm, the Spiritfarer weary from a long day worth of intense afterlife business. Nobody ever said becoming the next sailor for the dead was going to be easy, after all. 

The water lapped quietly at the sides of the ship. The huge expanse of the ocean that stretched out in every direction was glittering black, reflecting the twinkle of silver stars overhead. The moon was out and glowed brightly, illuminating the path to a large island in the near distance.

Her legs ached to be on earth again. It’s felt like forever since she walked on solid ground, which was strange. How long had it been exactly? She couldn’t remember much aside from waking up that morning in that small boat with the cat, in front of that giant portal... 

The Spiritfarer leaned back until her spine rested against the back wall of her cabin, the rough wood chafing her skin underneath her salt-eaten white gown. She watched the stars, the countless lamps lighting the world beyond. She spotted a mythical ship in the sky, sailing along the river of the ethereal gods.

  “Ah, there you are,” 

The voice was smooth like molten honey and tickled her ears in just the right way to send shivers down her spine. The Spiritfarer sat up, stretching sore spots along her back, and looked down at her first passenger.

Catherine of Aragon, the former queen of England, was a sight for sore eyes. In her spiritual body, she took the form of an elegant maned lioness. Sleek chocolate brown fur with a caramel underbelly and snout blaze, and a golden mane that swayed in the sea breeze. The spiky crown she wore was a sign of her former status as a ruler.

  “I was wondering where you went,” Aragon said, climbing up onto the ledge. 

  “I thought you were asleep already,” Joan said, moving over so the spirit could sit next to her. The fluffy black cat in her lap, John, blinked up at her, then flopped back over.

  “Not yet,” Aragon said. She sat crisscross, curling her tail in close to her. Her eyes were seemingly the only thing that she retained from her former self- they were dark brown, almost black, and they glittered in the moonlight. “Are you nervous?”

  “Nervous?” Joan echoed.

  “You got a big day ahead of you,” Aragon clarified. “A lot of big days, actually. Being a Spiritfarer is tough work, I’ve heard. You’ll be dealing with a lot.”

  “...Like?”

  “Several spirits, for one,” Aragon said. “But you’ll also have to help us cope with our deaths and fulfill our final wishes and demands and settle any quarrels before we can pass on…” She turned her head to look at Joan and smiled. “It’s a lot.”

Joan paled. “Oh…”

Aragon chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, though,” She said. “You seem like a smart kid. I think you can do it.”

  “Really?”

  “I mean, you were chosen for a reason, weren’t you?” Aragon stood up and stretched. “We’ll have to find some more spirits tomorrow. Oh, and just a heads up: You may want to look the part a little bit more.”

------

  “Okay, when I said ‘look the part’, this isn’t what I meant.” 

Joan blinked down at the sunflower yellow shirt and light blue overalls she was wearing. “What do you mean?”

  “You look like a farmer,” Aragon said. “Not a Spiritfarer.”

Joan gave the lioness a wounded expression. “I think I look perfectly professional!”

Aragon snorted lightly. “If you say so.”

The two of them cross over a stone bridge that was swathed by big red flowers and entered fully into the island village. The smell of baking bread and cooking meat wove through the streets, and Joan could hear the tink-tink of small hammers, the clattering of mugs, and the light echo of voices calling from inside houses. Some kind of stringed instrument greeted the sunrise with musical scales and half-played melodies.

  “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Joan asked. She had to look up at Aragon, as the spirit was much taller than she was.

  “Other spirits, of course,” Aragon answered. She quirked an eyebrow down at Joan. “Have you already forgotten your task?”

  “N-no!” Joan squeaked. “I’m just...making sure YOU know what we’re doing!”

  “Ah,” Aragon nodded wisely. “I see.”

They continued their trek into the village, stopping every once and awhile to check out different shops. It was then, at a stall selling vegetable seeds, Joan felt eyes burning into her back. She whipped around to see a shadow bounding towards her.

  “It’s so good to see you! I’ve been counting the days until you finally came. Though, I didn’t expect to see YOU of all people. Did you miss me at all?”

The familiar voice poured into Joan’s mind like a cup of cool water.

The spirit was clad in emerald green robes, shadowing its featureless face, aside from its big white eyes, which glowed even in the sunlight. Green smoke wreathed from its body, dissipating into the air around it. Nothing about it screamed ‘former queen Anne Boleyn’ but Joan knew this was her, and not just because of the voice.

  “Oh, Catalina! It’s so good to see you, too! It’s been a long time!” Anne babbled on, turning to the lioness, who had her snout wrinkled in distaste for the green spirit.

  “Hello, Anne.” Aragon said bitterly. “I’ve been really good after you usurped me.”

  “Oh, I bet!” Anne laughed, dismissing the comment and making Aragon growl lowly in her throat. “I got beheaded, so I think we’re even.”

Joan peered at the spirit. Despite her jolly tone, she has tight, tense shoulders, head slightly pulling back, like she’s anticipating a threat of some kind. Something doesn’t add up.

Seeing each other again should be a happy occasion--yet something has Anne stressed out. Joan suspected she would find out the longer she got to know Anne on her journey as a Spiritfarer.

  “Overall, I would say…I am content enough here.” Anne began. “It was weird waking up here and looking like THIS,” She held up her shadowy hands, “but I got used to it. It’s a nice village. They got some really good food here! The worst thing about it is probably Jane’s tantrums, and even then she’s usually avoiding me. Oh, but another lady is here, too! Anna, I think her name is? Or maybe it was just Anne and I heard it as Anna because I want to be the only Anne…”

Joan perked up a little. “Did you say Jane?” She asked. “As in, Jane Seymour?”

  “As in, that wench is super whiny and spoiled. So, yes.” Anne tittered.

  “What does she throw these ‘tantrums’ about?” Joan asked.

  “I’m gonna guess it has to do with being on the same island as her.” Aragon glared at Anne, who blithely ignored it.

Anne shakes her head. “She yells about ‘not being able to do her life’s work,’ and it’s been getting worse. She’s been like this for the last six months or so.”

Speak of the devil, a distant sound cut through the air--violent and thunderous. It grew louder, like bomb blasts in rapid succession, until a piercing silver light beamed through the area.

The light came from a spirit, which was as shadowy as Anne, but was slightly bigger and wore glowing silver robes. The smoke puffing off of her body could have possibly been coming from her nostrils and mouth and ears, which weren’t even present on her features, because she was practically shaking with rage.

  “Where is the Spiritfarer?” She screamed at no one in particular. Even with just blank white eyes on her black face, her fury was clear.

Anne turned to Joan and coughed daintily.

Joan craned her neck to look up at the spirit. She seethed with anger.

  “I have been waiting for the Spiritfarer for almost a full year and I cannot wait any longer!!” The spirit bellowed on. “This place is a hellhole--a prison! I’d rather be completely dead than have to spend any longer on this island!!”

A few other spirits, normal ones that didn’t need Joan’s aid, turned to stare, but looked away quickly when they realized exactly who was making a scene. It seemed this was a normal affair for the village.

  “Nobody listens to me! I can’t wait another year--you have to get me out of here!”

  “Okay, okay!” Joan said. “Calm down! That’s why I’m here!”

Jane’s tantrum halted. She gazed down at Joan, blinking.

  “You...are the Spiritfarer?” She asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Joan answered. “My name is Joan.”

  “I know who you are.” Jane said. “You just--weren’t what I was expecting.” She tilted her head. “You are very young.”

Joan ruffled. “I’m sixteen. That’s the age I was when I started working in the palace. It’s not that young.”

Jane has calmed completely, now. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Well. I am ready to leave this horrid place. Please, take me to the ship.”

Joan looked up at Aragon, who nodded. “Let’s go then!” Upon arriving at the docks, where they would take the dinghy to get to the main ship, a red-robed spirit was waiting patiently for them. She introduced herself as Anna of Cleves while Joan was rowing back to the ship.

  “Not quite what I was expecting,” Jane said, looking around. “But I’ll take it.”

  “Good, because you don’t have a choice,” Aragon said. She climbed up onto the roof of the kitchen to watch. 

  “I like it.” Cleves said. “If that means anything.”

  “It does,” Joan smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

  “Well, I’m ready to get out of this body!” Anne declared. She ran to the front of the ship and spread her arms wide. White light began to envelope her body, whisking away the robes and setting free the form that lay beneath the shadows.

Sunlight glinted off emerald green scales. Spines bristled upwards towards the clear blue sky. A powerful tail swished behind feet that were hooked with razor sharp talons. Too-human brown eyes for an iguana blinked at them all.

  “Haha!” Anne cheered, throwing her arms up. “Finally! /This/ is much better. Even better than my human body! Look at this, I got a tail!”

  “So do I,” Aragon called. “You aren’t special.”

  “Hphm.” Jane huffed. “You’re just a lizard.”

  “And what are you, your majesty?” Anne teased.

Jane glared at Anne, then allowed her body to change shape. It was swarmed with light, as did Anne’s, but she was left with a blanket of pure white fur, a bushy tail, steel grey eyes, and large, branching antlers.

  “Voila,” The white stag bowed. “There you go.”

  “Oooo,” Anne cooed in interest. “Pretty good! What about you, Anna?”

The red spirit shrugged and reverted into her full form, which turned out to be a huge grizzly bear. She stretched out her thickly muscled arms, then shook out her shaggy brown fur.

  “Woah,” Anne said. “You are very big.”

  “Thanks?” Cleves laughed.

Joan watched them all begin to chat, luckily without an argument breaking out instantly. After she was assured that the conversation was tame, she walked into her cabin, where the map projector sat. She used it and the Everlight, the golden orb on her belt, to control the entire ship, though she was still working out all the mechanics. She opened up the map as John hopped up onto her shoulder.

Four down, five more to go.

  “TOUCH MY ANTLERS AGAIN, BOLEYN, AND I WILL BUCK YOU OFF THIS SHIP RIGHT NOW!!!”

Joan sucked in a breath. “This is going to be a long journey.”