#gave me a lotta ideas on what areas i wanna pick at and work on. good experience :)

[mortemcatabasis]

Tara'zotl for @snommie

[nikki-writes-stuff]

At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him. 

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here! 

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch 12: How Very European...

Summary: Frank and Fliss set a date for their wedding and, following her all clear at the 6 weeks postpartum check-up, Fliss decides it’s time to get a bit frisky…only a little someone has other ideas.

 Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  Ok, so I had a LOT of fun with this one. I have never had a baby myself, but my best friend tells me some hilarious tales about all sorts of stuff- she has no filter…and neither do I in this chapter. I apologise in advance…

Chapter Song: Whole Lotta Rosie by AC/DC  

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

Wanna tell you a story, about a woman I know, when it comes to lovin’, she steals the show.

 Fliss smiled as she stood looking at the stretch of St Petersburgs beach. The sugar white sands, rustic boardwalks, and the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico had made her fall in love with the place when she has first come here with Frank and Mary almost 2 years ago. It was the place her and Frank had sat on one of their early dates eating Mexican and drinking beer…and it was a stunning backdrop for the beach wedding she had always wanted.

"So the Public Access area has a large metered parking lot for you and your guests. Private condominium rentals and boutique hotels are nearby and can be a great option if you and your guests want to walk to your Wedding ceremony." The wedding planner, a small woman named Bobbi spoke "Or if you fancy there's also Pass-a-Grille or Upham..."

"No." Fliss shook her head and turned round, her eyes shining as she looked at Frank who was stood next to her. "I love this part of the beach and it’s special to us. It’s perfect. " Frank's hand tightened around hers and his mouth turned up into a smile. "I like it too." "Well that was easy!" Bobbi smiled "are you 100% sure you don't want to see the others?" "Yeah." Fliss smiled as Frank pressed a kiss to her temple. "Alright." Bobbie nodded. "So, you mentioned next September?" Frank nodded "We don't need a brunch or reception venue, we got that covered. Just the ceremony." Bobbi nodded and tapped at the tablet she was holding. "Well that makes it a lot easier. Any specific time of day?" "Afternoon." Fliss said. Bobbi hummed before she looked at them "You're in luck. There's a slot at 4pm on the 26th September. Does that work?" Frank looked at Fliss who nodded. He turned back to the woman and smiled "We'll take it." Bobbi nodded. "Alright. Do you wanna head back to the car and I can take the details, get the deposit paid?" "Lead the way." Frank smiled. She turned and walked back over the sand, the two of them following hand in hand. It took them about 15 minutes or so to get the formalities out of the way, but once that was done Bobbi emailed the confirmation over and it was done. They had officially set a date. After she told them a little more about what she would need from them legally over the next few weeks she shook both their hands and said she would be in touch. They both waved her off before Fliss turned to Frank, gave a little shriek of happiness before she flung herself onto his arms. He laughed, picking her up and twirling her round, giving her a soft kiss as he set her on her feet. "363 days to go." She smiled "364" he chuckled "It’s a leap year next year baby." "Details, details..." she waved a hand, her gaze flickering back over the ocean as she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her as the stood looking at the area where they would become man and wife in little under 12 months.

“What time are you meeting Bonnie?” Frank asked, breaking the silence as he checked his watch. She should have been out for lunch with her best friend last but Mary had been violently sick on the Saturday night and really clingy to her, so they had rearranged instead for the following Saturday evening which was now upon them almost.

“Erm, half 7. Why?” Fliss looked up at him, her shades covering her eyes.

“It’s 4 now. Fancy a walk?” he nodded towards the sea.

Fliss hesitated, truth be told she wanted to get back to Alex. This was the first time they’d left him with someone else, and whilst it was her parents and she knew she could trust them implicitly, she was still a little on edge about being apart from him.

“Just a quick 15 minutes.” Frank softly coaxed, knowing exactly what was on her mind “Then we can go and get the kids.”

Fliss nodded and the pair of them removed their shoes before they linked hands again, stepping onto the sand which was hot on their feet. The pair of them cursed and hopped from foot to foot, mumbling about how they really should know better now as they hurried to the cooler, wet sand, walking through the light waves as they lapped around their ankles.

“So where are you going tonight?” “Rio’s.” Fliss said, “Same as we planned last week. Apparently the new menu is amazing. Has a grill section, we should take Mary one night when Alex is a little older.”

“We could go now.” Frank said, looking at her “He’s plenty old enough. Feed him before we go, he can sleep whilst we eat.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She said.

“Why are you so against taking him out?” Frank asked softly.

“I’m not, I take him out during the day.”

“I mean to somewhere like that.” He stopped to look at her. “I’ve suggested it a few times that we take them both out for dinner, a treat for Mary maybe, and you’ve vetoed it.

“I know, and I feel guilty enough as it is, I don’t want Mary to miss out.” “She’s not missing out.” Frank shook his head, “She’s spoiled rotten. I just want to know what the problem is. Talk to me honey, please.” Fliss hesitated and took a deep breath “I honestly don’t know. I just, well if he starts crying or he gets unsettled…” “Then we take him outside until he settles and bring him back.” “And if he doesn’t settle?” “Then we get the food wrapped up and take it home.” He shrugged “Fliss, it’s not a big deal. You’re over thinking all of this. He’s a baby, he won’t know where he is, and if he did he wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled.

“Hey, there’s no need to apologise.” He took both of her hands “I just want us to enjoy our family time, you know. I couldn’t do any of this with Mary when she was a baby and I don’t want that for you.”

“I do enjoy family time.” She shrugged “I honestly don’t know what it is Frank. I just feel safer with him at home you know? There’s no one there to look at me when he starts crying and be sat there judging me about what he’s crying for…” “Babies cry.” Frank shook his head “It’s what they do. Fuck what anyone else thinks.” “I wish I could be as relaxed about it all as you.” Fliss shrugged.

“You keep saying this like I’m some kind of baby guru.” Frank arched an eyebrow over his shades “And I’m not. I had no fucking idea what I was doing with Mary. Still don’t. Look at the mess I made with the court case, sending her into Foster Care…”

“That was different.” “No, it wasn’t” Frank shook his head “I did what I thought was best at the time, yes, but I screwed up. And we’re gonna screw up with Alex along the way and most likely Mary again as she gets older, it’s just a fact of life. But as long as they’re happy, safe and loved…that’s what matters.” “I know, I know.” Fliss took a deep breath as they turned to walk again, “I just don’t want to let him down. I don’t want to let either of them down. And I know I’m being stupid, I mean take earlier for example. When we left him with Mum and Dad…I cried for like half an hour after.”

Frank chuckled softly “I know, I was there.”

“Everyone told me I’d be glad to get some time away, but I’m not. I miss him already and…it’s pathetic, I know.” She shrugged.

“No, you’re just a new mom.” He chuckled, squeezing his fingers around hers “It will get easier, I promise.”

“I thought about cancelling tonight.” She admitted “I was secretly glad last week was a no go, I mean I would have preferred it not to be because Mary was sick but…I wasn’t ready. And that’s not because I don’t trust you with him because I do, and I know I’ve left you with him before when I’ve nipped out but it’s just…”

“Lissy, stop.” He smiled, dropping a kiss to her temple “You don’t need to explain, I get it. Honestly I do, but you said you’re driving tonight so you can leave when you want to.” He said, looking at her “Don’t cancel, baby.”

“I’m not going to.” She shook her head “Bonnie would kill me. She’s really down at the moment.”

“Yeah?” Frank asked as the continued to splash in the shallow water.

Fliss nodded “She hasn’t told me what’s wrong. I’ll see if I can get it out of her tonight.” Frank pulled her closer, his hand leaving hers as he curled an arm round her shoulder and they continued to walk, talking as they did so. Eventually they reached the part of the beach which curved around the bay and headed over to the boardwalk so they could walk back to the car. As soon as she got back to her parents’, Fliss felt her earlier anxiety ebb away completely as Alex was fast asleep in the bassinet in the kitchen whilst Mary was playing in the pool with Bill and Steve. The entire family was over the moon when they announced they’d booked the date and Verity went off at 100 miles an hour talking about dresses and flowers until Bill gently reached over and squeezed her knee, reminding her it wasn’t her wedding. But neither Fliss nor Frank minded, it was nice to have their family so enthusiastic.

When Frank announced it was time to leave, Mary started protesting saying she wanted to stay the night. Frank refused, as she’d stayed the night before and he didn’t want Bill and Verity feeling obliged, but as usual Verity beamed and told her of course she could say. So they left her there and took Alex home. Once he had been fed, Fliss headed up for a shower and then contemplated what she was going to wear. Whilst she had lost the remainder of her baby bump so to speak, she was still bigger than she had been beforehand so her usual jeans didn’t quite fit yet. When she’d complained to Frank about it and said the last time she had been this size was after her accident, he had gotten a little frustrated at her, telling her that if she dared go on some stupid diet to lose it as fast as she had back then he would be seriously pissed at her. She’d bitten back, snapping at him that she knew it was out of the question. She didn’t want to for starters, as she had been so miserable when she’d been emotionally manipulated into doing so by John, and this time there was Alex to think about. If she was feeding and nursing him she didn’t want to be on some stupid crash diet. Besides which, she wasn’t eating that differently to how she had been before she was pregnant. It was the lack of exercise, as it had been back then. Frank had apologised for snapping, and she’d done the same assuring him that she would be sensible. She knew that she would lose most of it once she could go back to work and start riding again and if she didn’t, well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Frank was constantly telling her she was beautiful and besides, what’s a few extra kilos when you have a gorgeous baby boy to show for it?

In the end she opted for a strapless, floaty lemon dress which she had worn in her early pregnancy days that flared out under her breast line and stopped just above her knees. She paired it with a pair of tan, leather gladiator sandals and left her hair down in the soft waves it dried in post her shower. She applied a little make up, smiling to herself at the fact this was probably the first time she had worn it since she had given birth. All in all, she couldn’t deny it was nice to actually feel like Fliss and not just momma bear even though the two went hand in hand now.

Grabbing her purse and dropping her lip gloss and phone inside she headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Frank was sat on the sofa, Alex napping in the little basket which lay on the coffee table. He looked up, blinking at her appearance and smiled softly.

“You look fantastic.” He said, honestly.

“Thank you.” She smiled, heading over to give him a quick peck.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” he offered again, nodding to Alex “He’ll sleep on the way.”

“No, honestly I’m not drinking. Well, maybe just one.” She shrugged.

“Back to grape juice instead of apple, huh?” he quipped and she smiled, running her finger over Alex’s rosy cheeks.

“Something like that.” She said, absentmindedly looking at her baby.

“Liss…” Frank said, watching her and she turned to him “Go, we’ll be fine.” “I know, I know…” she nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m going, I promise…” He chuckled and she gave him another kiss before she headed towards the door, she took a final look back at her baby and fiancée, the latter making a shooing gesture with his hands and she laughed, before she turned and walked out of the room. He heard the front door close behind her a let out a sigh of relief. He’d half been expecting her to back out but she hadn’t, she’d gone. Thankfully. He was desperate for her to go out and enjoy herself, she needed to see other people outside of their little family unit, it wasn’t healthy for her to be as isolated as she seemed to have made herself. He’d actually gotten a little worried to the point that he’d even asked his own Mother for advice and she had assured him that Fliss would settle, pointing out that it was nerve wracking being a new mum. He’d been surprised to learn that Evelyn hadn’t left him with anyone until he was almost 4 months old for fear something would go wrong, and that had comforted him a little to understand that this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It had been slightly different with Diane as she’d leaned on him to help her a lot, but then again most things with Diane had been different.

He leaned back on the sofa, picking up the remote, his eyes falling once more to the basket.

“Just you and me tonight son…” he muttered, flicking to the TV finding the sports channel, selecting a re-run of a Red Sox game. “Time to start your education…” *****

“Oooh, how exciting!” Bonnie exclaimed as Fliss smiled, having just told her about them booking their wedding “It sounds amazing, that’s a gorgeous stretch of beach.”

“Yeah, it’s special to us so…” she smiled, and looked up as the waiter came to take their drinks order.

“Erm, do you want wine?” Bonnie asked.

Fliss hesitated for a second, before she shrugged “Just the one.”

Bonnie smiled and ordered them a bottle of Chardonnay and a large bottle of water. Once the Waiter was out of ear shot Fliss leaned forward “This way I don't need to pump and dump...”

Bonnie laughed “I always find that odd. I mean pumping and dumping doesn't get alcohol out of your system does it?” “No, but if I wanted to go out and get drunk I’d have to wait until I was sure all the alcohol had left my system before I fed him again.” Fliss shrugged “He’s already bottle fed at night so Frank can help and I wake up and my boobs are like fucking water melons so you can you imagine what they would be like after like 12 hours or whatever if I didn’t.” she shook her head. “But one glass, well my mum, midwife and Doctor Google say if I'm not feeding in the next 2 or 3 hours I should be ok.”

Their chat turned to Mary’s adoption, Fliss filling Bonnie in on how they’d begun the process legally now, Greg sorting and filing the paperwork and contacting her biological father earlier that week. So far they had heard nothing but they should start to see things progress fairly quickly once he had given his consent.

“And even if he doesn’t, Greg seems confident the court would find in our favour, Mary having been in Frank’s care since she was 6 months old.” Fliss shrugged, thanking the waiter as he placed the two bottles on the table. “So we’re not concerned, it would just be a lot easier and smoother if he does the right thing, you know?” The waiter finished filling both their glasses then placed the wine in the ice bucket before he then poured them each a water and asked them for their food orders. They placed them, Bonnie opting for scallops and the ribs, Fliss deciding on calamari and the steak. Once he was gone Bonnie looked at Fliss, picking up her glass.

“Do you think he will? Object, I mean.” Fliss paused, pondering for a moment “I don’t think so, I mean why would he? He made no effort to find Mary before the court case and now, even though he knows where she is, he still hasn’t so…” she shrugged, picking up her drink.

“Well…” Bonnie leaned over, holding her wine glass up “Here’s to it going smoothly and your first girl’s night out since becoming a momma.”

Fliss smiled and clinked her glass against Bonnie’s, before she took a sip and let out a soft moan “God that tastes sooo good.” “Well you could always dump the car as well as the milk.” Bonnie gestured to the bottle that lay in the ice bucket and Fliss laughed, shaking her head.

“Maybe next time.” She pulled out her phone and took a snap of her glass, sending it to Frank with the caption “Ok, so it tastes as good as I remember…” before she dropped her phone on the table.

They chatted a little more about general things, what Fliss had in mind for the wedding, the type of dress she thought she wanted, colour for bridesmaids, most of which she couldn’t answer as she had no idea really. It was odd that it was going to be her choice, but exciting none-the-less. At one point, her phone buzzed and she picked it up, letting out a chuckle at Frank’s reply to her earlier message. It was a photo of a beer bottle and a baby bottle side by side on the kitchen counter along with the words “Boy’s night in.” She showed it to Bonnie who gave a snort and Fliss placed the phone down and looked at her.

“So, what’s going on with you? I can tell you’re down.”

Bonnie fiddled slightly with her cutlery, before she shrugged “Simon’s being odd. I mean odder than normal before you say it.”

Fliss smiled and waited for her to continue.

“The last week or so, it’s like his mind is elsewhere. I’m beginning to wonder where it is, or more to the point who it’s with.”

Fliss frowned, her wine glass paused slightly in front of her mouth “You think he’s cheating?”

Bonnie shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know. Something’s going on.”

“I don’t think he would.” Fliss shook her head. “Is he not just stressed with work? Frank can get a little sullen if he’s got a lot on.” “Maybe.” Bonnie mused “He’s just normally so attentive and fun…I’m likely thinking too much into it, it’s probably nothing.”

“You should ask him straight.” Fliss said, looking at her “Tell him how you feel, give him a chance to explain. If there’s one thing the whole Vegas incident with Frank taught me is that things ain’t always what they seem Bon. It’s bound to be something really simple that’s just playing on his mind.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bonnie nodded “I’ll ask him.”

At that point their starters arrived and they both started to eat, and Bonnie grinned. “So, anyway, back to your dress…you’d look fantastic in a straight, little lace number…” By the time they had finished eating and chatting, Fliss was wearing a bright, bubble-gum pink meringue complete with crystals and a sweetheart neckline to get married in-“because, you know- watermelons…” and the bridesmaids were all going to be in lime green. Fliss had told Bonnie to be careful what she was suggesting, as she didn’t think the woman’s skin tone would take kindly to be dressed in such a colour, at which point Bonnie had nearly choked and her eyes had filled as Fliss smiled and nodded, confirming that she’d just asked Bonnie to take the job. After a loud acceptance, Bonnie had jumped up and hugged Fliss, drawing curious glances from the tables around them.

Fliss dropped Bonnie at the condo she shared with Simon, along with an instruction to call her if she needed to chat again, and then she headed back home arriving just after 11pm. Letting herself in quietly, she made her way into the family room and paused in the doorway, smiling at the sight in front of her. Frank was led on the sofa, Alex clutched to his chest with two strong hands, the baby boy fast asleep.

���Before you panic…” Frank spoke, making her jump a little “I’m not asleep. Just resting my eyes.”

“I wasn’t panicking.” Fliss said, honestly “I know you’d never let him fall.”

Frank cracked open his eyes and smiled “You have a nice time?” he asked as she walked towards him. He gently shifted so he was sat up, Alex still held to his chest securely as Fliss sat next to him, peeking at the sleeping baby.

“Yeah, I did.” She nodded “The food was good. We definitely need to go.”

“Did you find out what was bothering Bonnie?”

“Yeah, she said Simon’s being odd with her.”

“Odder than normal?”

Fliss snorted, “That’s exactly what she said.” And she took a deep breath “She thinks he’s playing away.”

“Si?” Frank looked at her, “No, absolutely not. In fact, she couldn’t be further from the truth if she tried.”

“What do you mean?” Fliss frowned and Frank hesitated.

“He told me last week, and this cannot go any further as he will kill me, but he’s gonna propose.”

Fliss’ mouth dropped open before her face split into a grin “No shit?”

“Yes shit.” Frank nodded, smiling “Told me when he was drunk in Fergs.” Fliss leaned back against the cushions on the sofa, and her smile slipped a little “Oh shit.”

“What?” “I told her to talk to him, ask him what the problem was.” “Sensible advice in normal circumstances.” Frank shrugged “Don’t sweat it, it’ll be fine.”

“So when’s he gonna ask her?”

“No idea.” Frank shrugged “He didn’t say.”

“Did he not ask for ideas?”

Frank snorted “I’m the last person he should be asking. I was carrying your damned ring around for weeks trying to find the right moment. I almost did it by the tree at the Rockefeller centre, and then that ass hole beat me to it.”

Fliss gave a soft laugh as she shook her head “The way you did it was perfect.” “Yeah, I got there in the end.” He grinned.

At that point Alex stirred a little, making a few gripey noises before he began to get more restless, rooting against Frank’s T-shirt. “Think he might be hungry.” Frank smiled “Good timing Momma.”

Fliss chuckled and took Alex in her arms, adjusting her top as Frank stood up, heading to the kitchen “You want a drink?” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Yeah, camomile tea if there’s any going?”

Frank flipped on the kettle and watched from the counter as his girl nursed their baby, a deep sense of contentment brewing in his stomach, along with the usual low-key arousal he felt whenever she was doing anything with their son. Seeing her interact with his baby, the baby she’d carried and given birth to was purely amazing and he loved watching it. He made her a tea, grabbed himself another beer and then sat down next to her as she finished up feeding and he offered to take Alex to wind him as she sorted herself out and had her drink. Eventually he settled again and went back down, leaving the two of them to snuggle up on the couch. They stayed together for half an hour or so before Fliss yawned and said she needed to sleep.

“I’ll take him up. You coming?” she asked.

“I’ll be up shortly” he promised as she sat up, cracking her neck.

“Oh, gonna watch porn and jerk off?” she teased and he sighed, shooting her a look.

“You’re not funny.”

“Not trying to be.” She shrugged, leaning over to kiss him softly.

“What would you do if I was?” he mumbled against her lips and she paused, pulling back slightly, arching her eyebrows.

“Well, I’d probably have to remind you that the real thing is much better.” She said, her hand gently cupping at his crotch.

“Ok, you need to stop.” He said, his voice a whisper before he let out a groan as she ignored him completely, her grip growing harder and his hand wrapped gently around her wrist. “Lissy, seriously…” “Oh shut up” she mumbled, before she shook off his grip and snaked her hand into the waistband of his shorts, taking his hardening member in her hand. She gave it a light pump or two before she pulled at his shorts, and he lifted his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down.

“Baby…” he said softly, but his protests died in his throat as she bent down and took him to the back of hers.

*****

“Well, I’m happy that everything seems ok and back to normal.” The Ob Gyn smiled at Fliss as she moved away from where she had been examining her “So if you feel ok in yourself, no physical pain, nothing…” “Nope, nothing at all.” Fliss shook her head

“Well then Miss Gallagher your life can go back to normal” she smiled, “Well, as normal as it is 6 weeks post giving birth.”

Fliss smiled “So I can start riding again?”

“Yup, as long as you make sure you take it easy. As with anything, you won’t have used certain muscles in a while so be careful.”

“Ok.” Fliss nodded.

“Are you going to continue breast feeding?” the woman asked and Fliss nodded.

“Yeah, which is something I wanted to talk to you about. What contraception can I use?”

“There’s condoms obviously, I can prescribe the mini pill or there’s the IUD.”

“Is an IUD safe?” Fliss asked, “I don’t want to use condoms and to be honest, with my baby brain I’ll probably end up forgetting my pill. That’s what led us here in the first place and that was before I’d had a baby.”

The Doctor chuckled. “To be honest, the most effective contraceptives are intrauterine devices and they’re perfectly safe despite what you might read on the internet. The Mirena IUD releases a very small amount of hormone into the uterus, where it works locally and it won’t affect the quality and quantity of breast milk, and it’s also safe and effective for five years. It’s a good choice, one I prefer to recommend when I can.”

Fliss nodded “Ok, that seems like a good choice. How do I get one fit?”

“I can do it now if you want.” The woman smiled “And the best bit is it works immediately.” “Straight away?” Fliss looked at her “So…” “Yep.” The Ob Gyn smiled “You can go straight home and jump his bones if you so wish.”

Fliss laughed, and contemplated the woman’s words for a second. She did want. Truth be told she’d been low key horny since she’d blown Frank off on the couch a fortnight or so ago, but hadn’t wanted to rush anything, choosing to wait instead for the all clear at her 6 week check-up. Now, well, there was nothing stopping them getting physically close again and the thought drew a smile to her face. She couldn’t wait to have her Sailor holding her again.

“Ok, yeah” she nodded to the woman who smiled.

“I’ll sort the paper work, grab my kit and be right back.” The doctor smiled.

Driving home Fliss had all sorts of thoughts about how to make their night special. Romantic candles perhaps, maybe a little nice underwear…that is if she could find any that fit her still.

But of course, best laid plans and all that. In reality, the evening unfolded like any other, with shitty diapers, breast pumping, and a dinner eaten while taking turns bouncing a 6 week old baby in their laps as he had chosen that particular night to be awkward about settling after his feed, it was almost as if he could sense what Fliss had in mind and was doing his best to veto her plans.

Around 9 pm once Mary was in bed and Alex had been bathed, changed and fed, Fliss slipped away to prepare her body for its first round of postnatal coitus. She took a bath to unwind and shaved her armpits and legs. She also considered tackling her lady bush, but realized that her razor wasn’t sharp enough for that jungle right now so Frank was just going to have to deal with the crotch afro if he wanted a bit.

She climbed out of the bath and wrapped herself in her robe, heading into the bedroom where she dried off and set about her skin care routine before she decided to go the whole hog and paint her toenails a deep crimson colour, replacing the shimmery baby pink that she had done a few weeks ago as celebration she could finally see her damned feet again. Then she shed her robe and stole a quick look in the mirror. All things considered she conceded she didn’t look too bad. She wasn’t so much bothered by the extra pounds but more so slightly disturbed by the way they seemed to have positioned themselves on her body. It was almost like small, flesh-coloured bread loaves stapled to her belly. But, like she knew she could sort most of that out with riding and getting more active again, what she wasn’t sure exercise would do anything for was her breasts. They were large, which in itself wasn’t a problem, on the contrary in fact, as Frank was a self-proclaimed boob man, but her nipples had starburst over her breasts without any clearly definitive ending points. She was debating whether or not to try and put a little foundation on them, to tone down the nipple extravaganza but stopped herself, realising she was being utterly fucking ridiculous.

This was Frank she was preparing for. The man she’d been with for years, her fiancée whose baby she had carried and given birth to. And she knew he loved her, starfish nips or not.

She set about finding some suitable underwear. She had a few nice sets, some she had bought for herself, some Frank had purchased for her but as she laid them out on the bed she knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable in any of them. Continuing her search she finally found a pair of black lace briefs that skated along her ass cheeks and a black sheer negligee that she had worn a few times pre- pregnancy, in particular one very raunchy night where she’d surprised Frank by wearing it in the kitchen one evening when Mary had been at Roberta’s, cooking their dinner as if it was perfectly normal to be dressed that way. Dinner had ended up burnt, the smoke detectors going off, and they’d sat curled up with a Thai take out and all the windows open in an attempt to rid the place of the smell of cremated lamb chops and potatoes.

She shimmied into it, and to her delight it fit, even if her breasts were a little larger. They spilled over the top but her cleavage looked Elizabethan in a sexy way, and she grinned as she knew exactly what Frank was going to say about that. Finally, she removed her hair form its high bun, which had served nicely to give it some volume and fluffed it up and decided that the overall effect was actually pretty good.

She lay back on the bed, grabbed her phone and turned it into selfie mode, angling it just right so that she could get the full effect before she checked it, and fired it to Frank with a downright filthy message accompanying it and lay back to wait.

***** Frank had nodded when Fliss had said she was tired and needed to go to bed, and promised he’d be up in an hour or so, wanting to give her the time to just unwind. She’d been for her 6 week check-up and had assured him that everything was fine, but her general demeanour told him she was keeping something from him.

Trying not to think about it too much, he settled Alex down and flicked over to catch a re-run of Game of Thrones. It was the Battle Of The Bastards, his favourite episode of the entire series, and he was just mumbling to himself, calling Rickon Stark a ‘dumb ass mother fucker’ for not zig-zagging when his phone went. He absentmindedly reached for it, wondering if it was Simon telling him he’d finally grown a pair of balls and proposed, but it wasn’t, it was Fliss.

He opened the message and as soon as he saw the image he spluttered and the soda he had just taken a drink of dribbled straight down his shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” he mumbled, wiping at the spilled Fanta, as he stared at the photo. His girl was led on the bed, in a sheer negligee, her hair fanning over the pillow, eyes bright and mischievous and the shot was angled to give a perfect shot of the top of her cleavage. It was accompanied with the words. “Oh I forgot to tell you, your favourite legs are back open for business…”

“You devious little minx…” he mumbled, suddenly understanding exactly what it was she’d been hiding from him, and his cock stirred in his pants. In a flash her was up off the sofa, shoving Thor out of the door so he could pee before he locked up, gathered Alex in his arms and made his way up the stairs as fast as he could, letting the dog into Mary’s room as he was scrambling at the door to get in.

“What kept you?” Fliss asked as he walked into the room, gently placing Alex in the bedside crib, making sure the blankets were arranged carefully.

“Well you kinda caught me off guard…” he said, lifting an eyebrow as he gently lowered himself over her on the bed, gently tugging her hips and pulling her down slightly before he propped himself up on his elbows, caging her between his arms and legs. “You look sexy as fuck baby girl!” Fliss let out a grin as his lips met hers, and his eyes lowered to her cleavage and he gave a groan. “And I’m not supposed to touch these?”

“No.”

“At all?”

“Not unless you want a face full of milk.” She looked at him.

“Is it strange I find that a little kinky?” he grinned and she blinked, shaking her head with a snort.

“You have issues.”

“Yeah and right now they’re in the trouser department.” He mumbled, dropping his lips to hers “I nearly choked when you sent me that message.”

“You like?” she purred gently and he let out another groan and nodded.

“I did, I do. A lot.” He smirked, his lips pressing to hers again. The kiss quickly became heated, his hands tangling in her hair has he held her head still, and then he felt her pull away a little, and he frowned as she looked at him, biting her lip.

“What’s wrong?”

"Is it weird that we’re like gonna have sex with our baby in the same room? Can he see us?” she asked, her head rolling to look at Alex. "No, he can't even focus yet, and it’s not weird. I’m a modern man.” He said, his hand cupping her cheek and turning his face back to his. “This is how it’s done. It’s probably very European of us actually." "Frank I'm from England..." she rolled her eyes. "Lissy..." he sighed softly, “Look, if you don't wanna..."

“No I do, I really do…” she took a deep breath “Sorry, I just…” “It’s ok…” he gave her a soft smile, before his lips found hers again. In between the dizzying kisses Frank moved his right hand, his fingers gently tracing up the outside of her thigh and under the hem of the sheer lace slip she was wearing, and his mouth moved to lightly trail kisses across her bare collar bone. With a soft sigh she nodded, acknowledging his unasked question and his lips moved downwards peppering warm, open mouthed peck across the swell of her cleavage, careful to take his time and stay gentle. Fliss let out a shaky whisper of his name, her hands tangling into his hair as he moved his affections upwards slightly, skimming his nose up her sternum, nudging her chin back so he could turn his affections back to her neck. This time her gentle whisper became a loud groan which she stifled with her hand as he nipped at her neck and he felt her shiver underneath him.

“You ok?” he asked quietly, looking down at her. She nodded and with a wicked quirk of his eyebrow he stood up, scrambling out of his clothes as fast as he could before he fell forwards again, his hands pulling down her underwear, lips kissing at the spot just below her ear.

Fliss was utterly gone now, consumed by the sensations she hadn’t felt in so long and she tilted her head back, sighing softly as he continued to nibble at her neck, settling himself above her. His fingers gently dropped between her legs and he felt her slick against the tips as he gently coaxed at her clit, continuing until she was nothing short of a writhing mess clawing at his back, aching for him. They locked eyes as he took her left hand in his, and slowly worked into her, both moaning simultaneously at the sensation, Fliss’ eyelids fluttering shut as she felt him fill her.

“Go steady.” she whispered and with a gently nod Frank began to move his hips slowly, displaying nothing but absolute tenderness in his thrusts which weren’t measured in the slightest. His free hand kept hold of her hip, keeping her as close as she could possibly be, enjoying the sensation of once more being inside her, in top of her, surrounded by her.

Meanwhile, Fliss was just as lost, but in her own thoughts. For some reason as good as she had felt before, now she was starting to panic a little, that stupid voice in her head mumbling all sorts of dumbass thoughts.

Okay, this feels familiar. Sex feels the same. Does it feel the same for him? Is he taking longer than normal? Oh shit, maybe I’m super stretched out and it’s terrible. Maybe I’m different now, and I’ll never be as good. Maybe I was never THAT good to start with though? I’ll ask… “Is it good? Is it the same as it was?” she gasped out and Frank stilled, looking down at her.

“What?” he panted slightly. "I asked does it feel the same? I mean..." He leaned down, gently rubbing his nose against hers. “It’s great … it feels really good.” He reassured her and she nodded.

“Ok, you can go a bit faster…”

“I don’t want to.” He mumbled, giving her a deep kiss. And he didn’t. He was enjoying the slowness of it all, and he kept his lazy thrusts aimed perfectly on her spot, drawing those delectable sounds from her throat. Fliss’ senses were on fire, and she broke the long, lazy kiss that they were sharing to stifle a moan against his shoulder when she felt herself starting to unravel.

And then…

A loud cry came from the basinet. They both stilled, looked at one another, and glanced over to the side of the bed. Silence, no movement bar the waving of a little arm.

"He's going to cry.” Fliss said between her deep breathing “If he cries, do we stop? Is it child abuse if we keep going until we finish?" "He's stopped." Frank said, turning his head back to her. “What if there's something wrong and we’re here just boning."

Frank shut her up with a languid roll of his hips and she gave a soft gasp, her hands grasping at his biceps.

“Liss, he’s fine.”

“'We’re the kind of negligent parents…oh fuck….” She groaned as he tilted his hips again… “The one’s you’d see in a movie like Trainspotting."

He shook his head, pulling out a little before he sank back into her, her body moving with his slightly and she looked up at him.

“When the police ask what happened, do we lie? Or do we say we were having sex while our baby quietly suffocated a few feet away?”

“For fucks sake Lissy…” he spluttered in frustration “You gave me a blow job the other week on the sofa and he was asleep in the basket on the coffee table.”

“That was different” “How?”

“We were on the couch and I wasn't naked.” “You’re not naked now.” He shook his head “Will you shut up and let me make you feel good?” Her random, stupid worries stopped and she closed her eyes, nodding, and he started his movements again. It didn’t take him long to get them back to where they were, his thrusts deep and he picked up his pace ever so slightly, her hands flying to his bare back as she gripped him tighter, wanting to feel all of him, as close as she possibly could. His lips found hers and she took the kiss, it leaving her breathless as the heat began to rise in her belly and she let out a soft moan, which he swallowed with his mouth where it morphed into his own low, mumble of her name as he felt her clench around him. The sheets rustled underneath them both as their pace continued slow and languid until the very end when Fliss’ let her head tip back, her throat bared to Frank in utter bliss as she came hard, the world spinning around her, her moans soft and breathy as her legs trembled, sheer pleasure spearing through her entire body.

Frank gave a low grunt which tuned into a gasp as he clung to his girl, spilling himself into her, his hips slowing to a stop as he collapsed forward.

“That was fucking great.” he said, voice muffled as his face pressed into her neck, and she felt herself flush. She let out a chuckle as her hands gently slid up his back and into his hair.

“Yeah, we still got it Sailor.”  She said and it was his turn to chuckle as he moved and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

And then Alex did erupt into a full on screaming fit. Frank found himself thanking his son that he’d at least had the good grace to wait until he’d finished. He rolled off Fliss, landing on his back, hand running through his hair as she sat up and scooped Alex into her arms, sitting up against the headboard with him held to her, in the bed where his parents’ sinful deeds were likely still detectable. Frank looked at her, then to Alex whose tiny face was creased up in a loud wail as Fliss held him to her chest, trying to soothe him and he arched an eyebrow. "I take it the post sex snuggling is out?"

[samingtonwilson]

Apartment 8C - Chapter 4

The First, First Date

SERIES MASTERLIST // PREVIOUS PART

Summary: college au. you and bucky are the closest of friends, the most functional of roommates, and… exes. but just because it didn’t work out romantically doesn’t mean he has to move out! it’s not like he’s so deeply in love that he can barely breathe. totally not in love. at all. not even a little. maybe.

Pairing: bucky x reader

Warnings: LANGUAGE, the use of marijuana/pot/weed/reefer/that loud

A/N: i had a bad thought while writing this chapter and i’m not going to share it with y’all because that might put y’all off this story. actually fuck it, i’ll share the thought. isn’t it so weird how obsessed we all are with love? like these are college students with so much more happening in their lives but they’re sitting around and always talking about love. and a lot of us do that shit too. weirdos. 

There’s a knock at the door and Bucky replies to it with a groan. A loud, I don’t give a fuck if the neighbors hear me kind of groan. 

Slumped on the couch, phone balanced on his stomach and remote control set on his thigh, he very nearly snarls. He doesn’t bother to pick up either electronic as he stands, letting his phone fall face down on the area rug while the remote knocks against its corner with a clang. 

His journey to the door is comprised less of steps and more of a slide, a glide, a bit of a skate. He’s thankful he kept his socks on and unlocks the door, eyes half-lidded and heavy head tilted back. “The delivery instructions said to text and leave the bag at the door, not to knock and make me get up.” 

“That how you talk to delivery people? They should ban your sorry ass from Doordash.” 

He straightens his head and glares at Steve— smirking, smug, smart ass Steve who holds a large brown paper bag in one hand and a six pack in the other. It somehow makes Bucky frown deeper. “You intercepted my delivery?” 

“And brought you beer,” he holds the cardboard case up and shakes it, smiling. 

That smile fades, however, when he pauses in thought for a moment. He frowns then, indignant. Pushes Bucky out of the way to cross the threshold into the apartment. “So, you know, you’re fuckin’ welcome, you ungrateful jerk.” 

A sigh and Bucky shuts the door. He watches as Steve appraises the room and feels no shame at the look of disgust on Steve’s face. Instead, he rolls his eyes when Steve fully faces him. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

“You clean out your fridge? It broken or something?” Steve asks. He sets the bag and beer onto the coffee table, shuts Bucky’s dead laptop that he hasn’t bothered to charge. Steve then places Bucky’s phone and the remote control on the couch and begins to gather the empty take out containers still cool from the refrigerator. 

Bucky grits his teeth at the sight. “Steve, just— What the hell are you doing?” 

“Picking all this shit up so we can eat and watch the game,” there’s a cheerful lilt through his words. He sends a smile Bucky’s way, humor in the blue of his eyes, as he passes to toss the containers into the trash. “Thanks for asking, Buck. What the hell are you doing?”  

“I—” Bucky still stands by the door. His arms are crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in incredulity when Steve crosses to the couch once more and falls into the cushions with a sigh of relief. “Steve, I’m not in the mood today, man.” 

“In the mood for what?” The volume of the television is turned up, Steve hugs the elephant cushion to his chest. “You were gonna watch the game anyway, so was I. Might as well do that in the same place and eat a li’l somethin’ while we’re at it.” 

Bucky’s sigh is one of defeat. He takes steps back to the couch rather than skating over, and sits beside Steve with a mumbled, “I didn’t order anything with your fat head in mind.” 

Steve leans forward to pull the bag open, paper crinkling as he pulls a sandwich from the depths. He tosses what remains in the bag onto Bucky’s lap. “Stopped at a deli on the way here. Don’t know what the fuck you’re eating but it smelled like dog shit.” 

He smiles to himself. Wryly. “What deli you stop at?” 

“Shelsky's.” There’s pride in Steve’s voice. Arrogance in his posture. “I didn’t want to cheap out and settle for something worse.”

“That’s where I ordered from, you fucking snob.” 

“Must’ve ordered something nasty then.” 

A sarcastic hum of agreement and Bucky shakes his head. He narrows his eyes at the television as Steve flips through the channels in an attempt to find something more entertaining than the advertisements currently airing on Fox. “Why’re you really here?” 

“It’s Thursday night,” he replies, using a keychain to pop the cap on a bottle of beer. “Titans are playing the Jags.” 

“You don’t care about either of those teams.” 

Steve drops his smile now. He scowls and settles back on Fox, unsatisfied. “Can’t a guy eat a sandwich, drink a beer, and watch a game with a friend without the third degree?” 

“Couldn’t have done that with Sam?” 

“I do a variation of this with Sam almost every night. Wanted to spend time with you today.” 

“But—” 

“Buck, for shit’s sake, let me be here for you without making us both live through me saying why.” He reaches forward to pull another beer from the carton, placing it in Bucky’s lap, and slouches back against the soft grey velvet. “And if you wanna talk about it, I’m here for that, too.” 

“What’s there to talk about?” Bucky asks, more rhetorical than expecting an answer. 

There’s a pause as Bucky gazes at the television with practiced focus. His arms fold over his chest again. His knee bounces.

“She’s on a date,” he continues after the lull stretches for too long. “She was going to start dating eventually. I’m okay with it. Happy for her. T’Challa’s a good dude. Good looking, good soccer player. Smart. It’s nice. Good for her. I’m happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I’m happy for her. 

“He actually came to the door. Didn’t text her to meet him downstairs, didn’t show up empty-handed. We both know how uncomfortable she is with actual romantic gestures and I guess he knows, too, because he gave her a Ziploc of peaches like she had in class the day they met. It’s nice. He’s a good dude. I’m happy for her.”

Through the thick silence that falls over them, Steve blinks. “Christ, you know you just spoke for a minute straight without taking a breath? I think you said ‘I’m happy for her’ thirteen times.” 

Bucky’s inhale is loud and pointed, his exhale a huff. He’s no longer interested in eating the sandwich he’d ordered, suddenly full from all the leftovers he’d tucked into just minutes ago. All he wants is for Steve to leave. 

Well. That’s not all he wants. 

But it trumps his other desires. Momentarily. 

“I know you’re happy for her,” Steve says as Bucky parts his lips to tell the former off. Bucky shuts his mouth now, though. And just listens as Steve’s voice grows softer, eyes no longer dancing in humor. “But I know you’re fuckin’ miserable, too.” 

He knows there’s no point denying it. No point denying what’s so plainly written across his face. 

But he tries anyway. “M’not miserable. I’m ha—” 

“You can be both.” Steve, unwrapping the parchment from his sandwich, keeps his eyes on the television. “It’s possible to be happy for her but miserable at the idea of it all deep down. S’why I thought you might wanna move out.” 

“She’d still go on dates if I’d moved out.” 

“You wouldn’t have to watch her going on them.”

“I’m okay with her dating.”

“I’m okay with a lotta things, too. Doesn’t mean I wanna see it all happen in front of me.”

Bucky watches as Steve takes an impossibly large bite out of the sandwich, Russian dressing smearing over his lips. “I’ve got a date, too.” 

“Buck,” Steve’s mouth is full. Horribly so. And Bucky scowls at the sound of his thick voice. “This ain’t a date. Don’t know how many times I gotta tell you. I just don’t feel that way about you, man.” 

A sarcastic smile and even more dry laugh. “Shut the fuck up. I’m talking about Connie.” 

Steve scowls as he swallows. “That perky little brunette from the bar?” 

“Perky?” 

“I can just look at her and tell she was on her high school cheerleading squad.” Around another bite, he adds, “Seems nice enough, I guess.” 

“She is nice.” He pauses only to mumble more to himself, “And emotionally available.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow and briefly looks at Bucky in skepticism. “What, you determined that from just a few days of talking?” 

“On the second day she told me she’s liked me since freshman year orientation.” He sighs your name then. Slowly. Laboriously. “She was somethin’ else entirely. You know how long it took her to admit she liked me?” 

Steve nods upwards and flips the channel when the commentators on the pregame show begin to argue. 

“Took her three months after we started dating to admit she liked me. And she never said it again after that.” 

Steve drags the back of his hand over his lips, wiping off a bit of stray dressing. In visible disgust, he wipes his hand on the discarded butcher paper. “Some people show their feelings rather than say them.” 

Bucky seems to smile at that. Unbeknownst to himself, there’s a slow grin spreading over his lips. 

He thinks of instances. Instances when silence would act as a wall but actions a wrecking ball. 

The morning after your third date when you’d tried your best— despite your absolute inability to cook— to make the breakfast he always orders at the diner in Astoria. 

The eggs were runny in places, burnt in others and the bacon was traumatically floppy under a layer of not-even-close-to rendered fat and added oil. You’d apologized as he scrubbed the pan and plates, bright yellow dish rag waving as you insisted repeatedly that you couldn’t live if you’d given the guy you’d only just begun to date salmonella. 

Independence day when you’d Irish-goodbyed from Steve’s birthday party only twenty minutes after arriving to steal away to the rooftop of Mama Wilson’s brownstone in Harlem. 

You’d said something about fireworks and pizza, a six-pack of beer already snagged off the kitchen counter. Played it off as Sam’s idea, his house keys in the pocket of the navy blue bomber jacket you’d “borrowed” from Bucky. Nothing about Bucky’s hatred of parties at the Rogers-Wilson residence, though. Not even a hint until he overheard your apologies to Sam’s mother for the intrusion— an apology you later denied, kissing him silly to make him forget any further questions. 

The week before you’d broken up— a week Bucky remembers less for the distance you’d successfully created— when you sought comfort in him after a long day. 

Your boots had been kicked off by the door, your bag and its contents scattered beside them. You’d tearfully slurred words together, words he barely caught, in explanation. Something about work, and school, and your mother’s unnecessary opinions about your major and future. Something which forced sobs from your chest as you set your head against his. You’d wrapped your arms around him tightly, the two of you huddled together on his worn barcalounger as he stroked your hair and pressed kisses to the crown of your head. 

It’s well after the game has ended— Steve vengefully chowing down on your once-hidden stash of This is for when I have my period chocolate, Bucky barely paying attention to the episode of The Office the two had resorted to watching— when you come home. 

Hair mussed, lips swollen with gloss smudged every which way, you stumble through the doorway with a laughed, “No more rule-breaking on the first date, T’Challa.” 

The door is shut and locked just as T’Challa begins to respond. You spin and press your back to it, still laughing but quietly, more to yourself. You open your mouth to greet Steve and Bucky, both looking at you in either confusion or amusement, but shut it as a knock at the door cuts you off. 

“I’ll call you,” T’Challa promises through the wood. There’s a chuckle laced through his words, a smile in his voice. 

Exaggeratedly, you scoff. Still grinning however. “Who calls?” 

“I do,” he replies without concern that your neighbors may complain about his volume. “And you’re gonna pick up.” 

“Oh, am I?” 

“Yeah, you are. ‘Night.”

You don’t respond beyond a hum and stand at the door until you’re sure he’s gone. A nod to yourself and you step away as you remove that navy blue bomber jacket to toss it onto the counter. You also toss a smile over your shoulder to Bucky. “You here just to eat my chocolate, Rogers?” 

“No,” Steve says without a glance in your direction. “I ate your ice cream, too.” 

You shut the freezer. Empty-handed. Frowning. “Your stomach’s just a bottomless pit, huh?” 

“I’m a growing boy.” 

“Have I told you how uncomfortable it makes me when you call your grown-ass self a boy?” you remark, settling for a bottle of water from the refrigerator. You pause before shutting the heavy steel door. “You clear out all the leftovers, too?” 

Steve peers at Bucky, the latter stuck in a thoughtful, sad stare, and nods. “Yeah. We’re all out of food at my place and I don’t get paid ‘til tomorrow night.” 

You’re frowning in consideration as you walk to the barcalounger and fall into it sideways, legs swung over the opposite armrest you’ve set your back against. “Fair enough. How was your day, Buck?” 

The question breaks him from whatever daze he’d fallen into and he blinks. Averts a steady gaze when you shift a bit to look at him. “The Jags won.” 

You smile. It’s warm, a little honeyed. “Is that good or bad?” 

“Neutral.” He can’t help but smile himself. It doesn’t even falter as he asks, “How was your date?”

A shrug. Your eyes narrow at Michael Scott as he attempts to toss pizza dough. “T’Challa got a large popcorn at the movies.” 

“Damn, he’s got money.” 

You laugh, startled. Bucky grins when you do, too. “That’s what I said! I also beat your high score at pinball in the theater arcade.” 

“Went on a date with a guy who’s got money, beat my pinball score. You’ve just had a magical day, haven’t you?” 

There’s a softness and affection in the way Bucky speaks and looks at you, your responding giggles just as sweet. Steve, sitting between the two of you, almost feels as if he’s intruding on something, an empathetic ache in his chest as he watches. “Explain the pinball thing.” 

“Bucky and I went to the movies last month and fucked around the arcade while waiting for our showtime. And he got so competitive.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “We ended up missing the movie because he was determined to beat the high score this poor kid had just set when we got there. Took him hours and, like, forty bucks in tokens.” 

“It didn’t take me hours.” 

“We got there in the afternoon and by the time we left, the employees were cleaning the popcorn machines,” your expression and tone leave no room for argument. “Only took me two hours.” 

Steve looks between you two, fighting the urge to scoff at the satisfaction in your eyes and the combination of annoyance and so much adoration in Bucky’s. “Two hours? You miss the movie again?” 

“No, I snuck out before the movie ended. Said I had to pee and went straight to the machine so none of the kids in our auditorium could take it before I got there.” You ignore Steve’s disappointed gaze. “T’Challa was confused and probably unhappy I made him sit there for so long while I played.”

“Probably unhappy?” 

“I didn’t ask.” A nonchalant shrug and you flash them a knowing smile. “Beating Bucky’s score was my priority so I could come in here and casually mention it like I’m not bragging only to bring it up everyday for the rest of his life.” 

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and, at the look you’re giving him, Bucky has to remind himself that the two of you are no longer in a relationship and he can’t just kiss the arrogance away. “Sucker.”

—

It’s a makeup caboodle. 

Pale pink and lime green. A tropical flower sticker pasted to the clasp. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle— deep magenta velvet in a neat bow. 

It’s unassuming. A little innocent looking. Like it should belong to a seventh grader in the nineties just learning how to use glitter eyeshadow and lip balm palettes. 

It’s when you pop it open, the mirror attachment springing up only to reflect Wanda’s skeptical features, that the pungent smell permeates throughout the kitchen and small living room. Skunky, but a little floral. 

A speckled glass pipe, multicolored glaze splattered over a white base, sits in the top compartment alongside a few toothpicks and a package of rolling papers. In the compartment directly below rests a round steel grinder, three-tiered and emblazoned with the engravement of a manufacturer’s name. 

The biggest compartment holds many small glass jars. Tiny mason jars you’d bought at a flea market. All different colors, all labeled with white circular stickers. 

Wanda sits up in her stool at the sight, pulls the caboodle toward herself and sifts through the jars. She removes three of the jars and looks at you with widened eyes. “You’re insane.” 

You shrug and take the grinder when she hands it to you. “I like being organized.” 

“You should see her room,” Bucky says as he shuts his bedroom door behind him, shoes in hand. He smiles at the two of you, beard freshly trimmed to just barely above stubble and eyes a bright blue. “Most organized mess I’ve ever seen.”

You nod, tearing a bit of the sour diesel bud apart to place carefully between the metal teeth in the topmost chamber. You smile at her from your spot atop the counter, legs folded and back pressed against the shelves behind you. “There’s a method to my madness, Wan. Hand me a toothpick.” 

She complies and removes a blue jar without a label. “What’s in this one?” 

“Blue dream. Jar’s blue and I ran out of stickers.” There’s a click as the lid is magnetically snapped back onto the grinder. You twist it to the left twice, then to the right once. “You picking her up or meeting her there?” 

Bucky, leant against the wall as he slips his shoes on, looks up. “What says ‘This is a real date, not a hookup’?” 

“Going to dinner and not having sex after.” 

He replies with a dry laugh and narrowed eyes. “Which of the two options— picking her up or meeting there— says that?” 

“Picking her up.” You tear the stem off the bottom of the bud and place it as a barrier over the hole in the pipe’s bowl. “Might be too late to tell her that now, though.” 

“Already told her I’d pick her up. I was just making sure I did the right thing.” You see his lips spread into a self-satisfied smirk when you finish filling the bowl. “Looks like I did.” 

You smile back, though sarcastically. “Girls like a little humility in the guys they date, you know.” 

“She’s liked me for three years now,” he says. He pulls on a jacket and pats every pocket on him to make sure he’s got his wallet and keys. “She knows what she’s herself getting into.” 

“Bucky, baby, I live with you and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.” 

Wanda snorts a laugh at that, taking the pipe and a bright pink lighter from you. 

Bucky’s eyes fall into a glare. “So normal first dates don’t end in sex?” 

“No, they don’t. Most people actually wait until after the third date. It’s, like, in the dating manual for successful relationships.” 

“Huh,” he breathes. He takes his phone when you remove it from the charger to pass it to him, smiling up at you. “Looks like we were doomed from the start.”

“Maybe.” You watch as Wanda exhales a steady stream of opaque smoke punctuated by a soft cough. You slide her bottle of water to her. “Or maybe we’re the exception to the rule. Apart, we should follow normal date conventions. But together, we were too hot to wait that long.” 

Wanda hands you the pipe and lighter. “What happened to humility?” 

Before sparking the lighter, you answer, “I’m not dating a girl.” 

Your next inhale, once you’ve adequately charred the top layer of pot, burns in your throat and you hold it in your chest. You smile at Bucky when he shoots you a sly grin, lips in a cirlce as you exhale. “Have fun. Don’t order the tiramisu. They skimp on the espresso.” 

He nods once and straightens his jacket. You watch as he unlocks the door, opens it, and steps through with a simple wave. Your eyes remain on the door even after it shuts. 

It isn’t until Wanda’s fingers brush yours that you break your stare. “What?” the question is nearly barked when she offers you a look of something eerily similar pity. 

“Nothing! You just— You look a little lovelorn.”

Your features crumple. “Ew. No, I don’t. I look amazing, you look lovelorn.” 

“Okay, Queen of the land Defensiva,” she mutters once she’s exhaled. “I’m just saying. You were staring at that door like you want to take it home to meet your mother.” 

“Maybe I do. It’s a nice color. I picked the yellow out myself.” 

“Nat told me about that night at the bar. About how Bucky flirted with that Connie chick right in front of you.” She watches as you take a hit and your head lolls back against the shelves. “That must have sucked.” 

“It did.” You trace the bumps on the ceiling and sigh. “But it’s okay. Larger picture, broad scheme of things. It’s okay.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

A shrug. You take a sip from your own bottle of water. “We’re both okay. We’re both moving on, we’re still able to be friends and roommates. I can sit here and watch him go on dates with her if that’s what it takes. A little pain for the larger cause.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Wanda takes a long drag. You break it as you muse, “Do we talk about this shit too much?” 

“Yeah, maybe. Should we order a pizza?” 

--

CHAPTER 5: ARE YOU OVERCOMPENSATING?

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

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“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

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

On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

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

Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

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

It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating. 

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

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

Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 7

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

THE NEXT DAY

AURORA BASIN

Hauling the last of their supplies onto the back of the wagon, Arthur lifted up the rear guard and secured them in place, making sure that the few things they had left wouldn’t get lost during the long trek ahead of them.

For the time being, their plan was to head south to Manzanita Post and replace any of the resources that were destroyed, as well as trade for some new weapons with the people there. Afterwards, they’d travel north to Strawberry and search for any tips that could lead them to their next big score.

Arthur didn’t know what could possibly be worth stealing in that small, little settlement, but it wasn’t as if their gang had much of a choice in the matter. Whoever attacked their camp left them with next to nothing, and now, the only money they had left was from the bank job. 

If they didn’t find something or someone to rob soon, they’d be at the end of their rope. 

And there was no telling what Dutch would do then.

“Arthur!” Someone exclaimed, causing the man to look over his shoulder. It was Joe, coming up to see him.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, moving onto the horses. 

Joe stepped next to the mounts, resting a hand on one of the hitching posts.

“I wanted to thank you.” He said.

“Thank me?” Arthur straightened his mount’s saddle, giving it a firm tug. “For what?”

“For savin’ my ass yesterday. Dutch nearly blew my brains out after what happened with Cleet. If you hadn’t intervened, I’d be dead in the ground by now. I owe you one.”

Despite the friendly sentiment, Arthur didn’t return Joe’s appreciative tone.

“Yeah, well... if it turns out you were the traitor after all,” he backed up from the horses, looking Joe in the eye, “...you’ll wish I let Dutch shoot you back there.”

Joe concealed his fear with a subtle gulp. “Of course. I understand. But, I was wondering something else...”

Arthur raised a brow. “...What?”

“Well... was anyone missing from the bank robbery?”

“Missing?” He thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Everyone we planned to bring showed up. Why?”

“Because if everyone was accounted for, then it makes no sense to say that one of our own people sabotaged the supplies.”

Arthur gave him a firm reminder. “...Assuming you weren’t the rat, of course.”

Joe nodded. “Of course. But Cleet obviously didn’t do anything, and if everyone was present at the robbery, then how the hell is it possible that one of us poisoned the food? We’re a tough gang, but even we can’t be in two places at once.”

Arthur shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe they poisoned it before we left.”

“I’m pretty sure someone would’ve seen that,” the other man argued. “And besides, I think everyone ate in the morning. If the food was already poisoned, y’all would’ve died long before the Pinkertons cornered you.”

The older man sighed, unable to dispute Joe’s point.

“I’ll admit...” he said reluctantly, “it don’t make much sense when you put it that way. Fine. What d’you think then, Joe? If it weren’t one of us that did it, then who?”

Joe checked their surroundings for a second, making sure nobody else was eavesdropping.

“Well, just based on the timing of Cleet’s death, I’d say the food was poisoned while y’all was at the bank. This means that whoever destroyed the supplies knew our schedule. They knew when we’d be the most vulnerable. And most importantly, they knew the layout of the land. Otherwise, there ain’t no way they’d be able to sneak in so easily.”

Arthur placed a hand on his hip. “So, what’re you saying, exactly?”

“I don’t think it was one of us that poisoned the food,” Joe stated. “However, I do think it’s one of us that’s helpin’ them.” 

The older man took on a more serious tone. “...And who d’you think that is?”

Joe shook his head in uncertainty. “Whoever has the most to gain.”

Arthur fell silent for a moment, taking in everything Joe just said. 

Despite his wariness about the whole situation, he couldn’t deny that the man raised a few good points. 

As far as Arthur could recall, nobody was absent from the bank robbery, and there were no disappearances along the way either. So it didn’t make sense to say that the culprit was one of them. 

And on top of all that, Arthur highly doubted that whoever poisoned the food would’ve stuck around afterwards. It was more likely that they bolted once the job was done, and hoped that the gang would take it out on somebody else.

Arthur had no idea if it was bounty hunters, or Skinner Brothers, or even the goddamned Pinkertons who were responsible for this, but now that he really thought about it... he was inclined to agree with Joe.

There was no way it could’ve been one of their own men that caused the damage, but it was definitely a Van der Linde that talked.

“Well...” Arthur said lowly, not wanting to reveal too many of his thoughts, “I still dunno what the hell is goin’ on here, but... you might be right. I just don’t understand why anyone would do this. Especially now, of all times.”

Joe shared Arthur’s confusion. “It doesn’t make sense to me either, but if we wanna survive this year, we better find the rat soon. I don’t like the idea of wanderin’ into all that civilization with a traitor among us.”

“Agreed. Lemme know if you see anything strange. Dutch is paranoid enough as it is. We don’t need him worryin’ about mutiny too.”

Joe nodded, taking his leave. “Will do.”

Returning to his business, Arthur finished up preparing the horses as they whinnied in anticipation and swayed their heads excitedly, clearly eager to get out of these treacherous woods. 

It wouldn’t be long now before the Pinkertons finally closed in on their location, and if Arthur’s instincts were correct, then Dutch’s plan to get out of Tall Trees wouldn’t go nearly as well as he expected.

There were just too many unknowns. Too many threats lurking in the shadows. For all they knew, the same person who poisoned their food could’ve been watching them as they spoke. 

Arthur just hoped that the limitations of civilization would slow them down a bit. Whoever was attacking them didn’t seem to be working with the law -- Pinkertons usually captured their targets alive -- and he doubted that the Skinner Brothers would be so covert with their tactics either.

No... he had a feeling that this was something different. Something more personal. The saboteur clearly had some sort of history with the Van der Linde gang that was motivating these attacks, and in Arthur’s eyes, it almost felt like they were trying to take them out before anyone else could.

He just didn’t know why.

“Arthur!” Dutch suddenly called from a distance, sauntering up to the wagons. “You ready to go?”

Arthur patted his horse on the neck, giving Dutch a firm nod. “Ready when you are. But what about the route we’re plannin’ to take? Everything look okay so far?”

Dutch coughed a few times, not even bothering to hide the weary look on his face. “You’re not gonna believe it. I sent Bill to scout the path ahead earlier, and he tells me one of the bridges we was gonna cross has been destroyed.”

The other man paused. "The hell? But everything was fine yesterday. How did it get destroyed overnight?”

Dutch was at a loss for words. “I have no idea. But this means we’re gonna have to take a detour. We’ll go along the central road to Manzanita Post instead, then head up north once we got the supplies we need.”

Arthur didn’t like the sound of that at all. “North? That’s where most of the Skinner Brother camps are, Dutch.”

“I know, son. But the only alternative route would take us so far south that the Pinkertons would most likely surround us before we even got near the state border. You know how big the Montana River is. They’d be able to pick us off there no problem. I’d rather deal with a few crazies than get captured by the law.”

Arthur let out a deep sigh, unable to think of any other solutions. “...Alright. If that’s the only choice we’ve got.”

Dutch put a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a sincere gaze. “Thank you for trustin’ me, Arthur. We’ll get through this. Now, c’mon. Strawberry awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

TALL TREES

Traversing the uneven terrain of the forest as the local wildlife scurried around them, the Van der Linde gang pushed through the silent woods as they kept their eye on the seemingly unreachable horizon, doing their best to remain hopeful.

Thanks to the collapsed bridge Bill reported earlier, they had been forced into the area of Tall Trees that was most notorious for disappearances, as well as having an alarming amount of Skinner Brother activity.

There wasn’t a single inch of this forest that felt safe to them, and with the constant threat of being attacked clawing at their minds, it was needless to say that the gang felt somewhat on edge.

It was only a matter of time until they snapped.

“How’s it lookin’ back there?” Dutch called out to the wagons behind him. “Everything seem to be in order?”

Shay gestured to the path beneath them. “Yeah, but I’ve noticed a lotta tracks on these roads, Dutch. Looks like someone’s been ridin’ around all over this place.”

Dutch didn’t seem too bothered by the observation. “Probably just Pinkertons searching for us. You see any sign of the bastards yet?”

“No, but we should be careful. These tracks look recent. I reckon whoever left ‘em is still roaming around here somewhere. They might not be friendly.”

Arthur sighed, lightly whipping the reins as Dutch sat beside him.

“Great. Another thing to worry about. You think it could be Skinner Brothers?”

The older man shrugged. “Who knows. There are plenty o’ things that could kill you in Tall Trees. If we’re lucky, it’ll just be a group of bandits targeting these roads.”

“Let’s hope so. I’d take a good, honest holdup over dealin’ with the law any day.”

Dutch chuckled. “Oh, absolutely. I didn’t think we’d ever see Agent Ross again -- not after everything that happened with Milton -- and yet, here he is. More despicable than ever.”

Arthur thought back to the robbery. “Did you see who his new partner was?”

He shook his head. “No, but he looked like a young man to me. Not as weathered as Milton or Ross. He seemed like the type of feller who would lack experience, but make up for it in brawn.” Dutch smirked humorously. “Kinda reminds me of you, all them years ago.”

Arthur laughed softly at that. “Not anymore, though?”

Dutch let out a tired breath. “Oh, I’m afraid not, son. We’re still strong, mind you... but even we ain’t as spry as we used to be. Time will do that to you.”

The younger man’s tone sunk a little. “...And, erm... how’s your health doing? You been feelin’ alright recently?”

Dutch cleared his throat. “About as well as you can expect at my age. I ain’t got long left in this world -- we both know that -- but I don’t want none of you cryin’ over me. I’m not dead yet. Let’s just focus on headin’ east and finding a suitable doctor who can treat me. Then we can start worrying about my health.”

Arthur decided to drop it for now. “Alright. Just... lemme know if you notice anything strange. I don’t wanna wait till it’s too late.”

The other man chuckled. “Worrying about your old man, are we, Mr. Morgan? Well, ain’t that just sweet.”

Bringing their discussion to an end, Dutch’s attention was suddenly diverted from Arthur when Micah shouted at him from behind, pointing out a peculiar obstacle blocking their path.

“Hey, cowpokes! I think I see somethin’ on the road!”

Squinting his eyes, Dutch peered into the distance and tried to make out the large object barricading the road, only to freeze in shock when he realized it was a toppled stagecoach decorated with corpses.

There were no signs of the culprit as far as Dutch could see, but judging by the freshness of the bodies and the smoke rising from the coach, he assumed they were killed not too long ago.

“...Ah, shit.” He murmured to himself, taking in the morbid scene. “This probably just happened. Poor bastards. Who d’you think did this?”

An alarm went off in Arthur’s head. “Well, I dunno who did it, but I sure as hell recognize those bodies. Is it just me, or do they look like Skinner Brothers?”

Dutch examined their mottled skin and diseased faces, unable to deny the resemblance. 

“No, it ain’t just you...” He replied grimly. “But who in their right mind would attack Skinner Brothers? And in broad daylight? Surely, that would bring nothing good.”

Arthur was at a loss. “It’s beyond me. But... somethin’ don’t feel right about this.”

Dutch raised a brow. “What d’you mean?”

“Think about it. Why the hell would you attack someone as crazy as the Skinner Brothers unless you were tryin’ to get attention? And to leave their bodies lying out in the open, right in the middle of the road...” Arthur put a hand on his revolver. “...I think someone wanted us to see this.”

A sense of dread filled the other man’s eyes. “Who?”

“No idea.” Arthur climbed down from the wagon, readying his gun. “But I’m gonna find out. Wait here.”

“Shay!” Dutch called, signaling the man to follow Arthur. “Go with him, will you? Let us know if you find anything.”

Carefully approaching the grotesque scene, Arthur and Shay quickly started to sift through the carnage that was left behind as they searched around for clues, curious to see who on Earth could’ve caused such a mess.

The stagecoach didn’t appear to belong to the Skinner Brothers -- the postal label on the side was enough to confirm that -- but its lockbox was full of cash and food instead of mail.

Right off the bat, Arthur assumed the Skinner Brothers must’ve stolen the coach and been using it to transport any valuables they looted, but he found it odd that whoever attacked them didn’t take any of it for themselves. 

It just made him wonder even more what the motivation behind this killing was, and for some unknown reason, part of him began to suspect that the person responsible for this also poisoned their food. 

He just couldn’t figure out what the correlation was.

“Hey, Shay,” Arthur said, “you see anything--”

Barely giving them any time to react, a lone bullet suddenly zipped past them and soared straight into a stick of dynamite that had been strapped to a nearby tree, causing it to explode with a bang as the impact sent Arthur and Shay flying backwards.

Meanwhile, the tree’s trunk snapped into two as the upper half collapsed onto the road, separating Arthur and Shay from the rest of the gang.

“Holy shit!” Mackintosh exclaimed, stumbling to his feet. “What the hell is this?!”

Arthur took cover behind the stagecoach, holding his revolver close. “No idea!”

“Hey!” Dutch yelled from the other side. “You boys still alive?”

“...For now!” Arthur answered. “But we can’t stay here! Y’all focus on findin’ another way around! We’ll catch up to you later!”

“But--”

Another bullet planted itself into the ground next to Arthur’s feet, prompting him to become even more frantic.

“--Just go!”

Staying behind while the gang fled in search of a detour, Arthur and Shay remained huddled up by the stagecoach as their pursuer continued to shower them with bullets, scraping off splinters of wood from the vehicle with every shot.

They couldn’t see who was attacking them or where they were, but just based on the direction of the trajectory, Arthur guessed they were firing at them from within the woods.

“Can you see them?!” Shay shouted over all the commotion, peeking around the edge.

“No! But I think they’re using the trees as cover! Keep shootin’ at the woods! I’m gonna try to get this stagecoach back on its wheels!”

Shay threw a bewildered look at him. “What? Why?”

“Because if we can get this thing movin’ again, then we can use it as cover while we make our way down the road. Now help me lift it up!”

“I thought you wanted me to shoot at them!”

Arthur stuttered. “I-- oh, for Chrissake, just lift it!”

Giving the coach a firm heave, the two of them worked together to bring it back to a standing position as their attacker carried on with the assault, trying fervently to take them out.

Arthur didn’t know why, but he got the impression that the assailant was mainly after him. All of their bullets seemed to be aimed in his general direction more so than Shay’s, and the fact that they separated him from the rest of the gang only made him wonder if they were a long-lost enemy he had forgotten.

“Jesus Christ...” He muttered through gritted teeth. He certainly hoped it wasn’t anyone who used to run with the Van der Lindes. Arthur already had a hard enough time when it came to fighting rival gangs or enemies that they encountered on the road, but if this was someone he knew from before... he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to kill them.

“Almost got it...!” Shay groaned in a strained voice, his arms now starting to quiver from the coach’s weight.

Finally tilting the sturdy vehicle back onto its wheels, Arthur hurriedly yanked one of the doors open and slammed his body against it, pushing the coach forward while Shay fired back at their attacker.

Judging by the way the foliage twitched with the pursuer’s movements, Arthur assumed they were venturing further down the path in an attempt to stop them and probably setting up some other kind of trap.

He had no idea if they had a second stack of dynamite lying around somewhere, or if they were going after the rest of the gang, but at the moment, Arthur only prayed he’d live long enough to find out.

“Shit!” Shay shouted as a bullet darted through one of the coach’s windows. “This bastard’s got good aim!”

Arthur pressed harder against the door. “Well, make sure yours is better!”

Forcing the stagecoach up a steep hill, Arthur mustered as much strength as he possibly could and flattened his palms on the door’s surface, trying to ignore the ache that was now spreading in his arms.

The vehicle budged a little bit, but even with all his effort, it wasn’t nearly enough to get the damned thing over the hill. He’d need help.

“Shay!” Arthur grunted out. “Lend me a hand here!”

Putting his gun down for a moment, Shay jogged over to Arthur’s position and helped the man push the stagecoach up the sharp incline, both of them now battling against its unforgiving weight.

With their strength put together, the coach finally started ascending the hill’s abrupt angle and continued to slide along the path, giving them some much-needed cover from the never-ending storm of gunshots.

“You got it?” Arthur checked, his boots now digging into the ground.

Shay gave the vehicle another shove, clearly struggling with it. “I... I think so...!”

Before anymore progress could be made however, another bullet suddenly hit the side Shay’s leg and sent him tumbling to the ground, causing him to cry out in pain as the stagecoach began to roll backwards.

“Goddammit...!” Arthur exclaimed once he realized the vehicle was headed straight for him. 

He tried to leap out of the way of the oncoming stagecoach and dove to the side of the road, but was ultimately rammed directly in the ribs before being thrown into the dirt.

He could hardly breathe. It felt like his heart had just been knocked out of his chest, and the whole world around him looked like it was going black.

He desperately gasped for air and crawled through the slick mud, unable to even see where his gun had dropped.

The only thing he could hear at the moment was his own hammering heartbeat and the feeble croaks that escaped from his battered lungs, accompanied by the muffled sounds of gunfire and shouting.

“...Shay...!” He wheezed, sluggishly rising from the ground. “...Shay...! Where... are you...?”

Scanning his surroundings, Arthur gazed further down the road and managed to spot Mackintosh himself at the top of the hill, scrambling around in panic due to the new wound in his leg. What really caught Arthur’s attention, though... was the fact that he was no longer alone.

Yanking out his hunting knife, Shay frantically tried to get away from the stranger and wildly swung the weapon a few times, only to receive a fist to the face when the assailant grabbed his arm.

The sheer force of the attack sent him reeling back and caused a fresh stream of blood to flow from his nostril, staining his lips and teeth red.

It shocked Mackintosh how strong his opponent was, considering their seemingly young age, but it was more than evident to him now that this man was no stranger to these types of affairs.

There was an undeniable ferocity in the nature of his attacks, and just based on the pure sense of hatred that illuminated from the man’s glare, Shay guessed this was an enemy he had made in the past.

He just couldn’t figure out who he was.

Lunging at the young man again, Shay limped towards the attacker and sliced his knife downwards, cutting a gash in the stranger’s coat but not actually reaching his skin.

He lost balance due to the bullet now buried in his leg and plunged to the ground beside the young man, allowing his opponent to turn the tide of the fight.

Taking out his own knife, the stranger grabbed Shay by the collar and hauled him to his feet, making sure he couldn’t escape. Afterwards, he took hold of Shay’s abdomen and thrust the blade forward, jabbing the weapon deep into his gut.

“...Mackintosh...!” Arthur exclaimed upon witnessing the attack. 

He tore himself away from the ground and weakly approached the violent scene, hoping to help Shay even though he knew it was too late.

The man was already bleeding profusely from the stomach and had hardly any color left in his skin, but even then, it was obvious that the young man wasn’t done with him yet.

Ripping the blade out of Shay’s stomach, he slammed the man against a nearby tree and held him in place, looking directly into his tormented eyes.

There was a sense of despair engraved in the young man’s expression, and the longer Shay studied his oddly familiar features, the more he began to recognize him.

“...Shay. Mackintosh.” The stranger growled slowly, his tone sharp with anguish. “I finally have you. After fifteen, goddamned years... I finally have you.

Shay stared at the young man in fear, unsure of whether or not he was identifying him correctly.

“Who... are you?” He breathed out, still exhausted from the fight. “Why are you... tryin’ to kill me...?”

The stranger gave him a firm shake, his grip growing even tighter.

“Look at me,” he urged. “You know me, Shay. Far better than you may think.”

Taking a minute to sift through his memories, Shay practically watched his whole life flash before his eyes as he thought back to where he was fifteen years ago, trying to reshape the world around him.

At first, nothing immediate came to mind, but upon peering deeper into the young man’s sorrowful gaze, a specific memory suddenly jumped out at Shay, and he felt his entire body freeze.

He remembered three other men. Three other outlaws.

Charles Baumann, Thaddeus Blackmore, and Eli Whitley.

They robbed a cabin. Killed the owner too. She was a young woman, hardly into her twenties.

And worst of all, Shay remembered she had a son. A boy of only six years. He witnessed the whole murder, and ended up being taken in by them due to Whitley’s insistence.

But Shay never watched him grow up. He abandoned the small gang not too long after they killed the boy’s mother. The guilt would’ve destroyed him otherwise.

Now, though, everything made sense to him. The Pinkerton ambush, the poisoning of the food, the sabotage of the supplies... it was all linked to him. It was all because of what he did fifteen years ago.

This young man was that same little boy, and he had come for revenge.

“...Isaac Morgan.” Shay said plainly, finally understanding who he was. “It’s you. You’re still alive... after all this time.”

Isaac clenched his jaw, attempting to hide the tears that glossed over his eyes.

“I couldn’t die.” He replied, his voice trembling slightly. “Not without killin’ you first. You and your men... you took everything from me. You took Eliza from me.”

Shay closed his eyes in remorse, not even bothering to bargain with the boy.

“...I know, Isaac.” He said gently. “I know what we did was wrong. That’s why I left. Eli, too.” 

A morbid thought crossed Shay’s mind. “...Where is Eli, anyway? Are you lookin’ for him as well? Or have you found him already?”

Isaac nodded. “He’s dead, Shay. Him and the others. You’re the last one.”

Mackintosh wasn’t surprised. “...I thought so.”

Interrupting their exchange, a soft rustle suddenly emitted from behind Isaac’s back and caused him to whip around in curiosity, leading the young man to find himself face-to-face with a new stranger.

Isaac recognized the man as the same gang member Shay was riding with earlier, but contrary to what he expected, the man didn’t appear to be hostile. Instead, he approached the two of them peacefully, and kept his gun in his holster.

Still, Isaac wasn’t willing to take any chances and immediately pulled Shay into his grasp, holding the knife up to his throat.

“Back off!” He warned. “I will kill him!”

The other man raised his hands in a diplomatic manner, attempting to calm the boy down.

“...Easy, Isaac,” he soothed. “It’s okay. Just take it easy.”

The boy paused abruptly, unsure of how to react. “What? How d’you... how d’you know my name? Who are you?”

The man steadily approached him, keeping his hands in the air. 

“I heard your conversation with Mackintosh,” he explained. “You... you lost your mother when you was a boy? Is that right?”

That only confused Isaac even more. “How the hell do you know Eliza was my mother? Why do you even care? Answer my question! Who are you?” He pressed the knife harder into Shay’s throat.

The man stopped in his tracks, not wanting to provoke the boy any further. Instead, he decided that actions would speak louder than words in this scenario and simply reached upwards to remove his hat, unveiling the familiar face that hid underneath.

He couldn’t believe it. Mere moments ago, Arthur was dragging himself through the mud, doing anything he could to survive. He genuinely thought today would be the day he died, but now... he was talking to someone who he never thought he’d see again.

He didn’t know if the boy would remember him, or if he would even still love him after all those years of being separated, but one thing was for certain -- Isaac was Arthur’s son.

And against all odds, he was still alive.

“...It’s me.” Arthur revealed, doing his best to keep himself together. “I’m your dad.”

[nev3rfound]

bit of fun : b.b

brief summary: you and bucky being friends with benefits in the 40′s 

requested by: @sebbybarrnes word count: 3.1k (a lot longer than I intended, but I had so many ideas I wanted to use)  warnings: implied smut and a lotta fluff

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

Leaning against my locker Rosie rolls her eyes, “Watch out, Barnes is on the loose.” She grumbles as I turn my head, seeing his bright blue eyes shining in our direction as he walks on over, resting his arm around my shoulder.

“Ladies, how’re you doin’ today?” His accent always gets stronger when he’s trying to wind them up, only making me laugh under my breath much to their annoyance. 

Rosie pushes herself away, linking her arm with Madeline as they leave us to it. “Good luck, Y/n.” Rosie pats my arm lightly before the two of them head down the corridor, leaving Bucky to quickly turn, replacing replace their spot in front of me. 

“For some reason, I still don’t think I’m their biggest fan.” He mutters under his breath before frowning at me. “I’m tryin’ to be a nice guy, what can’t they see?” He jokingly questions as I nudge him lightly, moving him off of my locker as I open it to grab my geometry textbook. 

“I can’t tell you, Buck.” I mumble as I tilt my head back, seeing a smile playing on his lips. “What are you planning Barnes? I know that smile all too well.” Raising my eyebrow I wait for the response, but instead, he leans down to kiss my cheek before heading down the corridor. 

“I’ll drive you home, doll. Meet me at 3 on the dot!” He yells as he disappears amongst students, leaving me shaking my head and smiling into my textbooks at my bizarre best friend. 

*

Rolling off of him I pant lightly as I glance over, seeing him smiling as he sits upright, brushing his hair out of his face as sweat clings to his forehead. “Record timing.” He announces with a smile on his face and I roll my eyes.

“Buck, this isn’t something you wanna be fast at, trust me.” I pat his shoulder as climb out of bed, picking up my clothes before slipping them back on. “Come on, get dressed before my Dad gets in.” Throwing his trousers at his face he chuckles to himself whilst he remains perfectly still. 

“I’m quite comfy, doll. Admiring the view before me thank you very much.” His smile grows to a smirk as he pushes the covers from his chest, revealing his apparent abs before eyeing me carefully. 

Turning my head I groan loudly before walking out of my room, heading down the stairs to make a start on the dinner before Dad arrives. “You better hurry, I have things to do Barnes!” I yell from the bottom of the stairs as I brush my hair back up, take a deep breath and compose myself accordingly as I walk into the kitchen. 

Humming quietly to myself I don’t even notice the pair of arms slinking around my waist as I cut the vegetables. “Mmh, whatcha cooking?” He whispers against my neck, kissing it softly causing me to squirm under his touch. 

“Bucky stop,” I giggle as I nudge him off of me. “and I’m making soup, Dads been on the docks all day, oughta warm him up.” I add the last of the vegetables to the pan before stirring them around, the steam rising into my face making me smile at the smell. 

Behind me I can hear Bucky pull out a chair from the table, sitting down and picking up the newspaper. “Can you ever imagine this being us?” He asks nonchalantly and I turn around, leaning against the counter as he holds the paper open, his eyes peeping above it. “Me getting home from work and you cookin’ dinner. We’d put the radio on, dance a little before heading upstairs in hope of making our parents some grandchildren.” He rises to his feet before walking closer, taking my hands in his as I laugh lightly. 

“Bucky you’re such an idiot sometimes.” I tell him, but he simply shrugs it off as he reaches over, turning the radio on. 

“I might be, but I’m also your best friend which means you have to dance with me.” He states as he pulls me closer into him until my hands are resting on his shoulders whilst his relax on my waist. 

As we sway I can’t help but shake my head at how stupid this all is, but Bucky seems happy enough. “Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in my position right now?” 

He smiles down at me before twirling me around, “I don’t care, because they aren’t you, Y/n.” His words run deeper than a brushed off comment and as I glance up he licks his lips. “I-”

“My god what a day!” My Dad yells as Bucky slips his arms off of mine and I turn back to the stove, a blush rising to my cheeks as he walks in, moaning about the docks. “-and they had the audacity to blame me I just, oh, hello James.” 

I turn back around, smiling as Bucky rises to his feet, shaking my Dad’s hand as always. “Good evening, Mr Y/L/N, sorry you had a lousy day.” 

Pulling a face my Dad walks over, kissing me on the cheek before sniffing the pot on the stove. “Smells delicious sweetheart.” He comments before sitting down beside Bucky, engaging in their usual conversations. “Will you be staying for dinner, James?” 

“If you’ll allow me to Sir, I’d love to.” Glancing over my shoulder I see Bucky smiling up at me. 

“Why’d you have to be my girls best friend, James? Couldn’t you both stretch to being a couple?” My Dad sighs before rising to his feet, excusing himself as he walks up the stairs, leaving me stirring the pot and Bucky’s eyes burning in the back of my head. 

“I wonder if he’ll ever stop asking.” I laugh lightheartedly, but Bucky doesn’t join in. “Buck?” Looking over my shoulder he is focusing on me, staring into my eyes. “You in there Barnes?” Waving my hand in front of his face he snaps out of it before rising to his feet.

“I should erm, probably get goin’. Moms going to worry if I’m not back soon but thank your Dad for having me.” He quickly grabs his jacket before heading to the front door. “I’ll see you in school.” 

Before I can say anything else the front door closes and I’m left in the kitchen, rendered speechless. 

*

“And he just left?” Rosie asks as I nod. 

“It’s so unlike him, never has he just left without a reason.” Lifting my books higher I sigh as I see Rosie glance over to Madeline. “What?” I question as Madeline huffs.

“I know you guys are best friends, but maybe he’s met someone?” She suggests and I slow down, shaking my head.

“I would know if he’d met someone,” My words trail off as I begin to ponder, would I know? I mean, I’ve known Bucky since we were Four, but relationships were always a grey area between us. “No, maybe you’re right.” I nod to myself, agreeing with my friends as we walk over to Rosie’s locker.

“Are you alright? I mean, you didn’t fight or anything?” Madeline asks quietly as Rosie empties her bag into her locker and I glance past her shoulder, seeing Bucky walking in our direction.

Smiling I lift my hand up to wave, but he walks straight past, not saying anything. I lower my hand and my eyes focus on the floor. “I don’t know,” I mumble. “maybe he has met someone after all.” 

“Is that such a bad thing?” Rosie closes her locker and I lift my head back up. “Come on, we both know you two act like a couple, but maybe you need someone for real.” 

I cross my arms as she groans loudly before turning me around in the direction of the Football players across the hallway. “I do not need a jock, thank you, Ro.” I laugh to myself as she shakes her head.

“Trust me, you need a change.” She states and I rub my lips together. 

If Bucky has found someone, maybe it is a good idea if I try and date at last. We both knew friends with benefits wasn’t something that would last forever, but our friendship could go on. At least, I thought it could. 

“Okay,” I brush my hands across my skirt as I step forward and catch his blue eyes from the end of the corridor watching me as I smile to the nearest football player. “worth a shot.”

*

“See you around Y/n.” I tuck my hair behind my ear as I walk out of school, a small smile on my face as I glance back, seeing Jason smiling before turning around and heading back towards his friends for practice. 

As I walk down the stairs and head out of the school grounds I hear the sound of a revving and I lift my head up, seeing Bucky motioning for me to hop on the back of his beaten up bike. I shake my head and he smiles, refusing to let me walk alone. 

“If you won’t get on doll, I’ll walk you home myself.” He calls out and I stop to see a few eyes watching us. “Any day now sweetheart.” He holds his hands up and I groan under my breath before walking over, taking the spare helmet. 

“Thought you’d have someone else to be taking out.” I ask as I wrap my arms around his waist as he starts the bike up.

“What’re you talking ‘bout?” He questions with a confused expression on his face as he begins to drive out of the grounds, riding down the small alleyways towards our neighbourhood. 

As his bike comes to a halt outside of my house I climb off and place the helmet on the backseat. “Well, thanks for the ride, Buck.” I smile politely as if he is suddenly a stranger which he quickly senses as he sits upright, his hands slipping from the handles to relax on his thighs. 

“Why’re you acting all weird on me, Y/n?” His voice is filled with concern and I shrug my shoulders, glancing back at my house but we both know my Dad won’t be home for a few hours at least. 

“I, I’m not.” I stutter but he raises his eyebrows, not buying it by any means. “Are you seeing someone? Because if you are that is totally cool and I’m happy for you, I just, I would like to know since we’re erm,” I motion between the two of us and he chuckles softly before rising from the bike and standing in front of me. 

His body towers mine as he raises his arms, removing the helmet allowing his hair to fall across his forehead. “What gave you that impression?” The words are almost too cold as they hit me and I stumble backwards ever so slightly. 

“Just you left awfully quick last night and I thought I might’ve done something to upset you.” I mutter quietly as I lower my head, focusing on the cobbles beneath our feet.

“Hey,” His fingers glide along my jaw until they’re resting under my chin, lifting my head up so I can focus on him, his soft smile, those bright blue eyes admiring mine so lovingly. “I just, I started thinkin’ too hard about things that’s all. Can we,” He looks around before leaning closer, whispering into my ear. “go inside for a while?” 

I simply nod as I turn around, unlocking the front door as Bucky takes my books from my bag, taking them in his arms to lighten my load as I close the front door behind us. 

“Well, I-” Before I can finish my sentence his hands are on my shoulders, moving me closer against the wall as his lips are on mine, passionately kissing and craving, begging for more. “Buck, I,” I breathe through the kisses, but his body pushing against mine renders me silent as I lift my hands up, burying them in his hair as I pull on down, wanting more. 

“Upstairs?” He mutters and I nod as his hands roam over my body until they rest under my thighs and he lifts me up until I’m straddling his waist and begin to kiss his neck, slowly biting gown, hearing him moan loudly. “Don’t stop, Y/n.” 

“I don’t plan to anytime soon, James.” I state as I lift my head up, that lustful look heavy in his eyes as he takes us upstairs, slamming my door shut behind us. 

*

As I sit beside him for once I don’t want to immediately get up, head downstairs and give him some space to change. I want to sit here, lie against his sweaty chest and listen to him talk about his day. 

There was something different this time. He wasn’t in a hurry, he didn’t need to have a release and neither did I. This was more than just quick sex, this was sensual, caring and gentle. 

“That was,” He breathes as he turns his head, smiling over to me. “something else.”

“Right?” I nod in agreement as I lie down beside him and he lifts his arm up, allowing me to move closer into him as I lean against his chest. “Bucky?” I ask and he hums quietly. “I hate to ask, but are you seeing anyone currently?” 

He sighs quietly but isn’t quick to move this time. “No.” He states and I focus on the crinkles in the sheets, our clothes laid across in a rush. “But there is someone I have in mind,” He mutters and before I can ask, the sound of the front door closing alerts both of us. 

“Y/n?!” My Dad yells and my eyes widen as I turn to Bucky, his eyes screaming in fear. 

“Oh my god. He’s home early.” I rise to my feet, quickly scrambling for my clothes as Bucky does. “Shit!” I mutter as I struggle to find my top. “Where is my blouse?” 

“Here,” Bucky throws me his shirt, leaving him topless. 

I slip it on and let out a quiet laugh. “Like you can go home shirtless, Buck. Plus I doubt my Dad will be happy to see you leaving my room shirtless.” I retort as I slip it off and throw it back to him as I slip on a jumper instead. 

“Fine.” He mutters, putting his shirt back on, hiding his body. 

“You here, sweetheart?” I hear my Dad call as he begins to come up the stairs and I quickly walk out, slamming the door behind me, leaving Bucky hiding. He smiles as he sees me, but raises an eyebrow in concern. “You alright? Why’re you all clammy? Are you getting sick?” The questions increase with worry as he steps closer, feeling my forehead. 

“I’m okay, Dad. Just a little hot.” I state and his eyebrows furrow. “Hormones and all.” I quickly add and he sighs before turning around. 

“I saw James’ bike outside, he here somewhere?” Closing my eyes I mentally curse under my breath. 

“He’s out back, I asked him to help with the rose bush if he had the time. You know, Moms favourite and all.” I lightly laugh as he nods in response before heading into his room. 

Once the door closes I let out a sigh of relief before opening my door, seeing Bucky stood there, struggling to hold back his laugh. 

“Don’t you dare.” I mutter as I point my finger to him and he walks closer. 

“What’re you going’ to do about it, doll?” He tilts his head and I give in before opening my door, and both of us quickly walk down the stairs before my Dad decides to reappear. 

As we both stand in the hallway I lick my lips as I look up at him. “Well, sorry if things got cut short.” I mutter and he smiles, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, I wish I could stay longer.” He sighs before looking up the stairs, still no sign of my Dad just yet. “Listen, Y/n. I have to tell you something.” 

I raise an eyebrow, nerves suddenly rising in my stomach as his smile disappears and a straight face replaces it as the easiness in his blue eyes falters too. “Okay?” I ask and he takes my hands in his, something he’s always done since we were little. 

“I mentioned that I wanted to see someone earlier,” He starts and I try to hide the disappointment in my expression and force a smile instead. 

“Yeah, and that’s okay.” I quickly interrupt, trying to convince myself that it isn’t an issue by any means, as it shouldn’t be. 

“So,” He begins to smile nervously as he can’t meet my gaze. “I’m just going to ask her, right? I mean, it can’t be that hard, can it?” 

I let out a small laugh, placing my hand on his upper arm. “James, she’d be crazy to not want to go on a date with you.” I reassure him and the blue finally meets my eyes. 

“Will you go dancing with me sometime, Y/n?” He asks and I let out a soft laugh. 

“Just like that, see she’ll love you.” I say and then he blankly stares at me. “Wait, what?” 

“You’re that clueless?” He questions and I shrug my shoulders. “All this time, you’re the girl I’ve been after.” He shakes his head before opening the front door, standing in it as his hand slips out of mine. “Should’ve known you didn’t feel the same.” 

He holds onto the door but I quickly snap out of it, pulling it back open as I stand at the top of the stairs. “Saturday, Seven pm.” I call out with a smile playing on my lips. 

Bucky turns his head and climbs off of his bike before walking up the stairs, standing on the one below mine so we’re the same height. 

I place my hands on his cheeks as he pulls me closer, kissing me softly. “It’s a date.” He mutters before turning around and heading back on his bike, a smile evident on his face as he drives away. 

Inside I can feel myself screaming, but I remain composed as I turn back inside and I jump as my Dad stands there with his arms crossed. 

“I told you all along, Y/n. He’s the guy for you.” He states before heading into the kitchen as I close the front door, unable to stop my smile growing. “Took you two long enough!”  

[justlightthefirstspark]

Utd vs Reading 02/02/2020

Or, as @danieljamesmufc so eloquently put it, ‘The Battle of The Baes’ (Baes in question obviously being Amy Turner and Angharad James)

Anywho, there isn’t much of a ~detailed~ analysis like other pieces have had. A lot of the plays (and therefore, issues) are the same every game, and I don’t wanna keep repeating myself by making the same points week in and week out. Also, this game was kinda scrappy and not much really happened - until the end but we will get there in due time. I have a LOT of thoughts about the end of this game.

Few small changes in the XI - due to McManus picking up an injury vs Chelsea, Amy came back in at CB which was just

And then I saw Harris at RB 😐 I think I’ve made my feelings about that very clear, and I don’t wanna start hating on Martha for the sake of it, but Smith is the better of the two imo. And I just can’t see why Casey keeps insisting on playing TWO natural RB’s when she has a natural LB sitting on the bench ALL THE TIME, collecting splinters in her arsecheeks. It’s annoying, and I’m kinda sick of it.

Lizzie Arnot dropped out of the XI, in favour of Jane Ross for this one, and everything else was pretty much the same as Wednesday night.

Also, and I would really appreciate some help/info/whatever you’ve all got for this, but I was under the impression that Amy couldn’t (or at least, wasn’t really supposed to) play 3 games in one week? I’m like 90% sure that Casey benched her a few times in the second half of last season for this exact reason? Apparently that’s down to the knee injury she had a few years ago, but I would appreciate some clarification on this if anyone has anything 🧐

Also (I’m being annoying now, sorry) but this commentator was... bad. Mispronuncing players names (who is Jackie Groinen?), not even bothering to try and pronounce others (here’s looking at you, Angharad James), misidentifying players, just not really knowing what was happening a solid 83% of the time... idk who she is but she needs to not commentate on a United game again, I can’t listen to her. Girl had some, interesting, opinions too, and I’m quoting her directly now, “United will think that they’re due a defeat” 🧐 I’m not entirely sure how, or why, that would be the case, but apparently both United and Reading have alternating W/L runs in the league and today was Reading’s turn to win? I was confused. I still kinda am. And I didn’t like it.

First half:

The first 10 mins of this were pretty boring tbh. There was an awful lot of back and forth, misplaced passes, interceptions and the like. I think United were just on top in the opening few minutes, judging by the amount of time they spent in Reading’s half, and their possession.

‘8 - Corner and a free kick for United in quick succession. Nothing came from either (surprise surprise), but there was a lovely bit of ball control in the box from Ross after the FK. Just couldn’t get it to Sigsworth (who probably would have scored but we don’t need to talk about it)

‘13 - Another potential Ross/Sigsworth link up in the box but Ross just swept it straight into the legs of a Reading player, instead of passing to Jess on her left 🤷🏽‍♀️ I thought she was okay today, so I won’t give her too much grief for that mistake

‘16 - decent chance for Sigsworth, ended up launching it straight at *insert Reading player here.* Foreal, I have no idea who it was. Sorry. Groenen and Zelem both had decent opportunities following this, but nothing came of either of those

‘17 - Another corner for Utd, wasn’t a great delivery to be honest. Was played out and worked back in, LJ managed to get a shot off but sent it behind with a deflection so yet more corners followed. With nothing coming from any of them - this is starting to be a problem. We never challenge from set pieces, and I’m genuinely starting to wonder why that is? Does someone else need to take them? Or what?

There was *a lot* of midfield action around this time, more back and forth, a few fouls, and free kicks. None of this was noteworthy, hence the lack of notes.

‘21 - Amy stop backpassing challenge. I gave Abbie SO much shit for this vs City and Chelsea (as well as vs Spurs, oops), so I guess it’s Amy’s turn now. Sidenote: I think ‘Turner & Turner’ is my fave chant, the original at least. No disrespect to Abbie but seeing Turner x2 at CB on the teamsheet has me like

‘28 - Earps’ clearnances need work. Like, a lot of work. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m never fully convinced by the ball that leaves her feet, and I don’t think she is either which is an issue 😬

‘29 - GOAL - United. I was literally just making a note on how boring I was finding this game - my highlight by the 28 minute mark was Amy lashing her boot into Tash Harding’s face. Lol. - when Lauren James appears literally out of nowhere and lashes one home. A gorgeous strike, cutting in from the left. This kid is lethal.

‘38 - Today I learned that we really only have one fast defender - Millie. Martha somehow outpaced Amy back with Reading on the break and I think my jaw hit the floor.

‘41 - United have the ball in the back of the net again. Amy got under a well struck free from Zelem and fired it home, but somehow was ruled offside. Clearly this ref and I have very, very different opinions about what the offisde rule actually constitutes, cause she was very much clearly onside.

Idk if you can see properly in those pics, but no one is offside in any of them. You can see in this video too, that Amy is in fact, NOT offside. I’m not having that one, it should have stood. https://twitter.com/48hours8/status/1223984745413038081?s=21

I just. I’m highkey so annoyed. And I’m definitely dragging this out but like

Moving on. That concluded a pretty uneventful half, aside from the goal and the offside that wasn’t actually offside.

Halftime:

Reading made a pretty interesting change at the half, subbing Haz off for LMKU. Maybe LMKU offers more of a threat going forward, but I thought Haz was pretty solid in the first half? She was certainly a lot better today than she was in the reverse fixture - she was shredded by Galton on every single run but I didn’t see her do anything like that this time? Anyway. (Also I’m lowkey sad Amy never got to slide tackle her into the middle of next week)

Second half:

‘47 - Quality build up work down the left and a gorgeous ball into the box from LJ, I fortune my it just brushed past Sigsworth and Ross in the 6 yard box/penalty area. So close to a second for United.

‘51 - a pretty poor free kick from Zelem, and a pretty poor decision and back pass from James. Sometimes I wonder if people on this team think about what they’re doing before they do it 🤗

‘53 - decent chance for Reading, which ultimately comes off the back post. United very lucky to get away with that one.

‘59 - Harris was very far forward there for a time. Like in the opposition box forward. Hello, anxiety. Also Amy nearly body checked someone around the same time and I was truly living my best life.

‘61 - Zel with a decent free kick, just couldn’t get the dip it needed to hit the back of the net

‘62 - another good strike from LJ, unfortunately just straight at the keeper.

‘63 - Penalty - Reading. Yellow for Amy for pushing Utland (I didn’t catch who it actually was, but according to Reading’s twitter it was LMKU) and conceding the pen.

‘64 - MARY EARPS SAFE HANDS LET’S GOOOO 🗣👏🏽🔥 What a save, my god. I was sure that was going in, but I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong in my life.

‘75 - another great chance for LJ - a lovely strike, think it could have done with a little bit of a chip, and then surely it was going in. Good work from Jess and Jackie in the build up too

‘76 - ‘82. This is where shit got crazy. And I really have no words for what I saw during this 6 minutes. Well, I do have words - I have a lot of them - but most of them aren’t suitable for this platform so I’ll just keep those ones to myself. Never in all my life have I seen such incompetent refereeing. A free kick awarded to Reading on the edge of the box, due to a ‘handball’ (that didn’t happen) by Lauren James, is cleared and HEADED away by Katie Zelem. The ref then proceeds to book Zelem for handball which, unless she suddenly has a third arm growing out of her FACE (I can confirm - she does not), makes absolutely zero sense, and awards Reading another penalty.

Jess also managed to get herself booked for questioning the ref’s decision and defending Katie sjsjsj, and not a single Reading player made a claim for that penalty. Surely, if she had handled the ball, every Reading player in the box would have appealed for it? You can clearly see the ball hit her head in the video linked below, but apparently the arm bone is now connected to the face bone, at least according to this ref anyway. 🙄

https://twitter.com/48hours8/status/1223996019022626821?s=21

I have no more thoughts on whatever happened after that because I had to turn it off before they scored that penalty, otherwise I would have drop kicked my laptop out my window. For what it’s worth, I did think Martha had a decent game today. I still want Smith at RB and Lotta at LB while Amy’s at CB though. You can’t make me change my mind 🤗

This is the third time this week alone that United have been robbed by poor referees, and apparently the ref of the City/Arsenal game today wasn’t much better. I didn’t see that game so I can’t really comment, but I don’t doubt those claims. The standard and quality of refereeing I’ve seen over the past 2 seasons since my introduction to women’s football has been appalling. And it’s not fair, I think this tweet pretty much sums it up.

The FA has pretty much demanded that every team/club in the WSL be full time, it’s about time that they demand the same qualifications and high quality from their officials, because this just isn’t good enough. And not just from the standpoint of a United fan, and in the context of today’s result, but league wide. It’s just not good enough. I’m completley here for literally everybody calling this shambles out for what it is, and the United girls being salty af on the tl.

Sorry that is this kinda long and ranty, but I’m in my feelings about this ref. ✌🏽

[nevillelongsbottom]

the loop pairing: newt scamander/credence barebone word count: 1849 for the @hogwartsonline february quidditch

This is Newt’s fiftieth February 14; as he gets up, he wonders if he could count it as an anniversary. But it still doesn’t feel like something to celebrate, trapped in one Valentine’s Day for an interminable period of time.

He has bunked off school for the past twenty, so supposes he might as well attend today, even though he knows all of his lessons by heart now. He considers sneaking into other lessons, or spending his day in the library. He sighs.

He hopes he doesn’t die today. He doesn’t always, but he choked yesterday and he can still feel the ghost of it in his throat.

Maybe, he thinks as he scoops his cat Pippa from his bed so that he can make it, he should celebrate Valentine’s Day for his fiftieth day. He gave up a while ago, after eating too many chocolate caramel hearts. Nobody at school has bought himself anything for the chocolate exchange. It disappoints him a little every day, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s half-jealous of Jacob and Queenie being such sweethearts or if he’s feeling a little lonely. He hums, kissing Pippa’s head.

He borrows his mum’s iPod before he leaves the house. As in almost every repeat of the day, he almost misses the bus: no matter what time he leaves the house, he seems eternally fated to have to run down the street, sitting at the back of the forty-two in a cloud of sweat. Today, he’s listening to Kurt Vile and Courtney Barnett’s Lotta Sea Lice. He knows the words off by heart now; the first week or two of his loop, he mostly listened to David Bowie and Buddy Holly, but ever since he’s been jumping around his and his mother’s music tastes. He wonders if he’ll hate these songs if he leaves the loop, if they’ll remind him of the claustrophobia of being stuck.

But as of right now, he still loves Kurt Vile, loves the blues riff that hangs over his repeated day.

In the foyer, Seraphina and Abernathy are manning the Valentine’s chocolate stall. This is one of the only things that isn’t stagnant throughout his loops: the people in charge of the stall fluctuate with no discernible pattern, and Newt has never actually seen this particular pairing of student council members in charge of the stall before. Abernathy isn’t a fan of Valentine’s Day.

“Can I tempt you to buy someone some chocolates, Newt?” Seraphina asks, smiling wirily at him, knowing he’s more likely to say no. “They’re caramel hearts. They’re delicious. Everybody loves chocolate. Even Abernathy is sending some.”

“Hey,” Abernathy sniffs.

“To Gellert?” Newt asks. Abernathy sighs. His unrequited love for the student council vice president has never been particularly subtle. Newt smiles sympathetically. “I suppose I’ll send some.” He hands over a two-pound coin he’s spent on everything from sweets to a terrific bright red sale bowler from Primark.

“Who are you sending them to?” she asks, and with it, the implication of platonic or romantic?

“Credence Barebone,” Newt answers. Seraphina raises an eyebrow. Newt fixedly says nothing in return.

“And would you like to send a note?” she asks, proffering a piece of red card cut into the shape of a heart. “You can write it yourself. I don’t have to listen to your sweet nothings. But maybe refrain from any animal similes.”

“I’m not very romantic,” Newt admits, taking the Sharpie and musing for a few moments before writing carry on, my dear. fondly from Newt. Abernathy peers at it, but Seraphina is professional and turns it over, marking it with Credence’s name. “I hope he likes it.”

“Everybody likes chocolate,” Abernathy says. “Even Gellert.”

Newt has never told Credence that he liked him before. He’s not even sure that my dear and fondly count. But he’s done this day fifty times, watched Credence sit on his own at lunch time eating a pathetic excuse for a lunch, watched him shrink away when the Valentine’s chocolates get delivered.

And Newt can’t watch anymore, not even when he knows that this day will probably pass.

He doesn’t get to see his chocolates delivered - there are deliveries in the classes he shares with Credence, one in maths that the recipient shares around so they eat theirs together over rearranging equations. Credence understands this more than Newt does, still, even though he’s explained it repeatedly. Newt only gets a little better. He smiles at Credence as they eat. Perhaps he’ll never really get the intricacies of it all, or understand why certain things have to be done in maths, or get why he has to be given such stupidly difficult questions, but Credence will always be here to try and explain it through different paradigms.

“Do you wanna stop for a minute?” Credence asks softly, sensing Newt’s acute frustrations over a particularly vexing x. Newt nods, and they take the moment to eat.

“Thank you,” Newt says. “For helping me with maths. I know I’m not very good at it.”

Credence flushes. “That’s okay,” he says, and looks at Newt as if he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. He just finishes eating, turns back to the textbook, and asks if Newt has figured out what to do yet.

Newt’s last class of the day is a double of art, and he is currently occupied with carrying out a series of paintings of animals inspired by the style of John J. Audubon’s Birds of America. The one bonus of the loop, he thinks, is that he’s had time to improve his art, and learn from his mistakes. He’s starting to get adept at this particular painting of a cockatiel, knows exactly the best colours to mix and the best brushes to use.

What’s never happened before, assumedly because Newt has never sent chocolate before, is the arrival of Credence. The art department is relaxed, with students working all across the rooms with a variety of equipment, and so there isn’t a teacher to question his arrival: it’s just Newt, his Bluetooth speakers, and Horchata by Vampire Weekend.

“Hello,” he says, noticing Credence and setting down his brush.

“Hi,” says Credence. “Thank you for the chocolates. That was very nice - they were very nice.” Credence pauses for a moment, and Newt waits, lets his mind turn. “I kept some. I thought you could have some, too.”

“Oh, thank you very much.” Newt gestures to a nearby stool (art departments, of course, do not seem to understand the concept of chairs), which Credence pulls up. “I’m sorry. I know those chocolates were awfully forward.”

“No, I - I know I’m not supposed to like you like that, that it’s not right, but I…” Credence flushes. “I do.”

Newt raises his eyebrows. “Well, ah… that’s good.” He laughs. “I wasn’t expecting that. I’m sorry. Listen, do you want to talk about this more another time? Maybe over coffee? There’s that nice one across the street, the Blind Pig…”

Credence nods. “I would - like that.”

Newt beams. “Okay. Uhm, tomorrow’s Friday, so we could always go after school then, if you aren’t busy?”

“Ma expects me home in good time to go flyering,” Credence says, his voice quieting for a moment, “but I’m sure I can - maybe an hour.” He glances at the canvas. “I told my teacher I was sick, so can I… watch you paint, maybe? Or - or I don’t have to, if that’ll put you off.”

Newt smiles, popping a chocolate in his mouth and picking up his brush. He didn’t expect this day to go so well: what an anniversary, he thinks. The thing that saddens him is the idea that tomorrow isn’t going to come, that he’s never going to make it to that coffee date with Credence in the artisanal coffee shop opposite their school campus. He’s glad that Credence likes him back, that he isn’t completely overwhelmed by his heavily conservative Christian upbringing, that he’s willing to try it and risk it - for Newt.

Newt just has to enjoy the rest of the day as best he can. And tomorrow - the next February 14th - he’ll miss it.

The incredibly loud start to Harry Nilsson’s Gotta Get Up playing on Newt’s speakers jolts him awake, and he jolts out of bed, just catching himself before he topples to the floor. He groans. “God, Mum-”

“Do I look that much like her?” Theseus demands, and Newt looks up, rather surprised to see the tall figure of his brother standing in his doorframe. Nobody told him that Theseus was coming to visit from Durham, and furthermore - this hasn’t happened before. Theseus has never been here. Newt’s heart glimmers with hope.

“Well, when you had that long hair, you certainly did,” Newt answers, climbing out of bed and into Theseus’s obligatory bear hug, which he also uses as a chance to ruffle Newt’s already bedraggled hair. “When did you get here? Mum didn’t say you were coming.”

“I thought I would surprise you,” Theseus says. “Though mostly I’m here for the free lunches. My bank account looks like I’ve been through an economic crisis.”

“Stop buying fancy clothes and that’ll change.”

“I’m not going to be one of those students who shows up to their lectures in tracksuits. I’m here to learn. Seriously. And get drunk. Seriously. And also, I made breakfast, so get the fuck downstairs before it all goes cold and you better appreciate it. I haven’t used more than a microwave in about three months and I almost set fire to the house.”

Newt laughs, hurrying downstairs and sorting his hair as he goes; and as he does, he checks the clock in the living room, the one that has the date.

He’s scared to look, but he has to. Today already feels new.

Friday, February 15th.  

It always rains when Credence wakes up. He always wakes up early, has to make breakfast for himself and a good deal of the area’s children, and the thing that seems to characterise five in the morning is that there’s always a drizzle outside. He sighs, smoothing his hair down and quickly dressing: it isn’t as if he has much variety in outfits, only having a few pieces from thrift shops.

That loop went so well. It disappoints him that it’s over, and that Newt is probably going to go back to never giving him flowers again. It’s just going to be February 14, and Newt will either be there or he won’t, and nothing will change.

He wedges open his window, ignoring the rain.

“Here we go again,” he murmurs to himself, and, as he passes by it, checks his calendar out of habit. At the end of each day, he crosses the day off: it keeps him on top of things, lets him know what he has coming up, reduces his focus on the past. And he’s been doing it every day, every February 14th, just in case he ever makes it to the next day.

His breath hitches.

There’s a cross in the February 14 box.

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 9

Ch 9: Bonding Over Brunch! The Man Who Stepped Out of the 70s!

It took another hour and a lot of twisting, turning, and five narrowly averted disastrous fates before they stumbled out of Petalburg Woods alive. In hindsight, taking directions from a businessman who almost tripped face-first into Cascoon evolution grounds hadn’t been the best idea.

The path led to a long bridge that appeared to be a popular fishing spot for both fishermen and novice trainers. A fisherman yanked up a Magikarp, and Melissa had to grab Zack’s arm to stop him from retreating into the forest.

Zack gulped, eyeing the bridge suspiciously. “There aren’t guard rails on that thing! What’s stopping a Magikarp from feasting on the bones of a helpless passerby?”

“Don’t worry, bones aren’t in a Magikarp diet!” Milo exclaimed. “In Hoenn, Carvanha is the only unevolved fish Pokémon with enough jaw strength to even break a bone.”

Zack made a strange noise in the back of his throat.

“You’re great at this reassurance business,” Melissa drawled.

Milo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ll leave the unnecessary horrifying details out next time.”

“We’re good,” Zack said. “I’m just gonna dip into my happy place for a moment and forget about the existence of fish Pokémon.”

“Can’t ignore them forever,” Melissa said. “Eastern Hoenn, remember?”

“Still a long way off. There’s plenty of time for me to procrastinate on confronting my fears.”

“Guys, I know you’re both a little cranky, but there’s nothing a little food won’t fix!” Milo pointed to a building labeled ‘Pretty Petal Flower Shop and Café’. A brilliant red flower framed the entrance, and several berry trees were lined up perfectly in a dirt field next to the pond.

“This isn’t over, Underwood,” Melissa growled. “I’m only dropping it cause food takes precedence.”

Zack crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Chase.”

A worker greeted them at the entrance. She gave them a dainty bow, her bright red hair bouncing with the motion. “Hello, welcome to Pretty Petal! My name’s Rita, and I’ll be helping you out today! We have a ton of great selections for traveling trainers, but first we ask that you either recall or release your Pokémon into the field. We also have outdoor seating if you need to keep a close eye on them.”

“I say field,” Melissa said. “Poochyena hasn’t really gotten acquainted with everyone else yet.”

“Field,” Milo agreed, knowing that Diogee would never willingly go into a Poké Ball.

“What they said,” Zack replied.

Rita beamed, leading them around the building and into a large enclosure. The gate was high and looked strong enough to withstand an entire herd of Lairon.

“Here we are!” Rita declared, sweeping her arm to a line of Pokémon bowls filled to the brim with kibble and berries. “Pokémon food is complimentary so they can chow down to their heart’s content!”

Diogee immediately dug into a bowl of sliced Pecha berries.

“Diogee!” Milo scolded. “Wait for your friends!”

Rita laughed. “Hungry little guy.”

Mudkip, Poochyena, Torchic, and Treecko were released, and they wasted no time in claiming a bowl for themselves.

“Okay, we’re going into the restaurant to eat, so behave yourselves,” Milo lectured. “We’ll come back for you in an hour or two.”

Only Treecko gave any indication that he heard Milo, since the others were too engrossed in an eating contest.

Rita playfully shooed them into the restaurant, gathering up menus as she passed by a podium. A large archway separated the café from the floral shop, though in terms of decorations the two areas were indistinguishable.

Milo noticed every customer in the restaurant had a glass filled with a colorful smoothie.

“Smoothies are a specialty here,” Rita explained when she caught him looking. “We raise the berries that go into them with a whole lotta TLC!”

She led them in a booth that had a huge metallic sunflower dangling precariously above their heads.

“Um, Rita?” Melissa said nervously, pointing up at the decoration. “Do you think we could be seated somewhere that doesn’t have an object with the potential to cause a concussion?”

Before Rita could respond, the ropes holding the sunflower snapped. The resulting crash drew everyone’s attention.

“Nothing to see here!” Melissa snapped at the curious onlookers. “Please return to your food!”

Several people quickly reseated themselves in tables without dangling objects.

“Sorry about that!” Rita quickly chirped. “Guess we got check that structural integrity, huh? How about over here?”

Zack moved a potentially breakable vase out of the way while Milo and Melissa settled in.

“Could you give us a few minutes?” Milo asked.

Rita put down the menus and hurried off to greet a family who’d just entered.

Melissa flipped to the smoothie section and pointed at one with a wicked smirk. “I dare somebody to try this one.”

Try our Super Spicy Kiss Your Taste Buds Goodbye Smoothie!

Blended with hand-picked Tamato, Cheri, Razz, and Figy Berries!

Special note: We at Pretty Petal Flower Shop and Café will not be held liable for burning eyes and lips. Read the menu yourself before complaining, okay?

“With our luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if it burned the flesh off our bones,” Zack said.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “What is with you and bones today?”

“He’s got a bone appetit,” Milo claimed. He earned a punch to the shoulder for that.

Zack shrugged. “Can you really blame a guy for wanting to keep their insides on the inside?”

Even with Melissa and Zack bickering over the subject of bones at the lunch table, they all managed to find something on the menu by the time Rita came back to take their orders.

“Sitrus Berries are more acidic than Oran,” Rita said helpfully to Zack, who was having trouble deciding on his smoothie. “The Tropical Punch smoothie is all the rage these days. Nanab and Pinap Berries pair really well together, and-oh, Dakota, it’s been a while! How’ve you been?”

Dakota grinned lazily, slipping his hands into the pockets of his red and yellow tracksuit which reminded Milo heavily of ketchup and mustard. “Eh, same old thing. Just realized I left my other tracksuit in our…my old apartment. Had some important stuff in that one.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Rita said sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Dakota agreed. “First time this week I had a chance to slip out from the rest of the team and this happens. These new trainers? Don’t think I’ve seen them around before.”

“This is our first time here. We really wanna try the smoothies,” Milo said.

Dakota nodded in approval. “Yeah, the smoothies are great. Especially the Tropical Punch one.”

“That’s what I ordered!” Milo exclaimed.

“You got good taste, kiddo,” Dakota said. Something buzzed in his pocket, and he ran his hand through his brown curls with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I gotta take a call.”

“You wanna join us when you get back?” Zack offered.

Dakota agreed to the invitation rather quickly, then he headed to the bathroom to answer his cell phone.

“You kids are so nice,” Rita sighed. She lowered her voice so she could barely be heard above the bustle of the restaurant. “He went through a messy breakup recently. He and his partner were a bit of an odd couple, but they were so cute together. And lately he’s been working on a Pokémon habitat restoration project, but he’s been so distracted that he can’t focus on it. Just don’t tell him I told you all this, okay? Oh, and we already know what he likes to order so we’ll be fixing that up. I’ll go ahead and get these to the kitchen! Be back with your drinks soon!”

Once Rita left them alone, Melissa placed a finger on her lips. “Don’t mention the breakup to Dakota. We need to be sensitive.”

“Since when are you-“ Zack cut himself off when Melissa started cracking her knuckles. “Okay, sensitive! Got it!”

“He’s better than Sara,” Melissa said. “When Dr. Magnezone and Time Infernape broke off their partnership, she was sobbing on the floor with a gallon of double fudge ice cream.”

“Then she obsessively read angst fanfics for the next two weeks,” Milo added. “I think she was just making it harder on herself.”

Dakota came back in five minutes, and Rita dropped off their smoothies not long after that.

Milo, Melissa, and Zack glanced at each other awkwardly, waiting for someone to broach a topic of conversation. Dakota seemed oblivious to the atmosphere and sipped at his own smoothie.

Eventually, it was Milo who broke the silence. “Do you have any Pokémon?” he asked, figuring that talking about Pokémon was safe enough.

“Yeah, Sharpedo and Swalot. They’re good loyal partners,” Dakota said. There was a touch of bitterness in his tone though, one that made Milo wonder if inviting him to their table had been a good idea after all. “Huh. I can’t believe I forgot to ask your names. I would’ve been scolded for sure by-well, never mind.”

Milo pointed to each of his friends in turn. “I’m Milo, that’s Melissa, and the worrywart over there is Zack.”

Zack scowled. “I am not a worrywart.”

Melissa and Dakota snickered into their napkins.

“Melissa and I are childhood friends,” Milo continued. “We met Zack at the beginning of our journey. His dad was stuck in the middle of a lake cause this Patchy guy was releasing way too many Magikarp into the water, so we fought him off with Diogee and the Hoenn starters. It was so cool.”

“So you met Patchy then,” Dakota said casually. “Guy’s a real nutcase. He took initiation into the group way too seriously. Talking like a pirate was only required for the first three hours of membership.”

Melissa almost choked on her smoothie. “You know Patchy?”

Dakota shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich as soon as Rita set his plate on the table. “I’m his boss. We banned him from taking part in karaoke night. Couldn’t carry a tune. And he always insists on sea shanties.”

“So…what’s your occupation?” Zack asked, sounding like he’d prefer not to hear their answer.

“Boss of Team Aqua,” Dakota said.

Everyone stared at him blankly.

“Okay, so you’ve never heard of us. S’cool. We’re just trying to revive the ancient Pokémon Kyogre and make it rain enough to provide new habitats for Pokémon. Nothing more to it than that,” Dakota continued to eat his sandwich as if he hadn’t said he’d planned on disrupting the delicate balance of nature. “And between you and me, water’s a ton cooler than magma.”

“Obviously,” Zack muttered.

“So, uh, good luck with that?” Milo said.

“Thanks,” Dakota grinned. His phone buzzed frantically this time. He checked the caller ID. “Sav again. Sorry she keeps interrupting like this.”

He headed for the bathroom.

“Does he look like someone who’s trying to revive a legendary?” Zack asked.

“No, he looks like a displaced time traveler from the ‘70s,” Melissa said. “If I were trying to revive Kyogre, I’d at least wear blue to match.”

“He has more of a warm color aesthetic, I think. Fall colors,” Milo added.

They finished their meal without Dakota, and Milo signaled Rita over for their check.

“Dakota said you’d offered to pay for his meal,” Rita smiled as Melissa studied the receipt closely. “That’s really sweet, you know.”

The receipt crinkled in Melissa’s hand. “Where is he right now?” she asked pleasantly, though there was a dangerous edge in her voice.

Milo hauled Zack away from the table and towards the side door that led to the outdoor enclosure.

“Oh, he left a few minutes ago.”

“HE DINED AND DASHED ON US?”

Rita tapped her chin in thought. “Ah, I remember now! His partner used to have these really loud arguments with him outside cause he always forgot his wallet! Dakota must have a lot of tracksuits if he can never remember which one he put his wallet in!”

She laughed, completely oblivious to Melissa’s irritated glare.

Melissa slammed a wad of Pokédollars onto the table and stomped past Milo and Zack.

“Dakota owes me for the sandwich and smoothie, plus taxes and interest.”

[bob-giovanni]

Title: Long Lost

Main Characters: Simon/OFC (other characters will be mentioned a lot but none will have much of a backstory besides these two.)

Chapter: One

POV: Third Person

Summary: There is a new member of Alexandria that has a bone to pick with Simon.

Warnings: Cursing, Eventual Smut, Hitting/Slapping, May Be A Slightly Slow Build

Notes: This will not match up to the show/comics completely, just FYI. Also, I apologize in advance as this is quite long. I hope to be able to add to this maybe twice a week. Maybe more. We’ll see what happens. I hope you enjoy!!!

-------------------------------------CUT HERE---------------------------------------

Father Gabriel was on watch at Alexandria. A chill had taken to the air so he brought with him a sweater and a hot cup of tea. He also had a book with him, one he found rummaging around his house. “Dead Until Dark” by Charlaine Harris. It was a romance novel involving vampires, shape shifters, fairies, etc. It wasn’t a very good book in Gabriel’s opinion. But with nary another book in sight besides the Bible he didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to take his mind off things. As the sun started to rise Gabriel yawned and saved the page in his book. He stretched his arms above his head and looked behind him to see if his replacement was on their way. That’s when he heard it. The unmistakable roar of an engine. There was a vehicle nearby and from the sounds of it, it was not your average car. Gabriel whistled, giving the signal to those in nearby houses that someone unknown was approaching. Gabe got down on one knee and looked through the scope of his rifle before lining up his shot.

Rick, Daryl, and Carol ran across the field to the perch where Gabriel was. Rick climbed up first, followed by Carol while Daryl climbed up on the opposite side, aiming his crossbow. A few seconds later a large, military green truck pulled up about 20 feet from the gate. Rick leaned down a bit to Gabriel. “Who do you see?” Gabriel focused his scope so he could see into the front of the truck. “The driver. That’s all. No passengers visible.” Rick nodded and pulled his gun from it’s holster. “Show yourself!” He shouted to the person in the truck. Several seconds later a sunroof popped open. Shortly after that a young woman climbed out from inside. She had two machetes in holsters on either leg which she slowly removed and held out a bit so the people currently aiming at her could see what they were before placing them down at her feet. She pulled the bottom of her hoodie up to her chest and did a slow spin on the roof of the truck to show that she had no other weapons before putting her hands in the air.

Rick gave a hand signal to Daryl and Gabriel which told them to keep their weapons aimed while he and Carol put their weapons away. Rick called out to the mysterious young woman once again. “What’s your name? Where did you come from?” “My name is Amber. I came from Fort Washington, Maryland.” She didn’t want to give more information than was requested of her. Not yet anyway. “Where’d you get that truck?” The young woman quickly looked up to catch a glance of the person asking her the questions. “An air force base about fifteen miles east of here.” Rick’s face fell in disbelief a bit. “There’s a military base within driving distance of here?” Amber gave a soft chuckle. “It’s not easy to get to. It helps to have a big ass truck.” Rick felt a smile tug at his lips. He nodded to Daryl and Carol who proceeded to climb down from their perches. Rick leaned down to Gabriel again. “Go get Maggie.” Gabe nodded and climbed from the watch tower before running towards Maggie’s house.

“Two people are gonna come out to you. One is gonna search you. The other is gonna search your truck then drive it in here. Ok?” Amber knew if she wanted to get on the other side of that gate, get somewhere remotely safe, she had no choice. “Ok. I’m gonna climb down from here. I’m gonna leave my machetes on the roof.” As Amber started to climb down she heard the questioner start to speak. “Uh you may wanna grab those. There’s walkers heading your way.” Amber turned and saw about a dozen walkers coming from the woods to her right. She grabbed her machetes and quickly climbed down from the truck before Rick gave a signal to Daryl and Carol to not open the gate completely yet. The three Alexandrians watched in amazement as Amber mowed through the walkers two at a time. She obviously had experience swinging those machetes. Once all of the walkers were taken care of she turned and looked up at Rick before dropping her weapons. “Can I come in now?” Rick told Daryl and Carol to open the gate. Carol did a pat down of Amber and watched as Daryl completed his search of the truck. He walked around the back unlocking and throwing the doors open. “Holy shit.” There were boxes of supplies as well as about half a dozen large gas cans piled in the back of the truck. In the middle appeared to be a sleeping bag and two small pillows. Daryl and Carol gave Rick the “all clear” signal before heading back inside the gates.

Rick made sure to close the gates up tight and walked over to Daryl as he climbed out of the truck. “What’s in the back?” “A lotta shit. Shit we need if we wanna do anything about the Saviors.” Rick walked around to the back and opened the doors so he could climb in. He looked at Daryl. “Bring her around here.” Daryl grabbed Amber’s shirt and pulled her around to the back of the truck. “Hey watch it.” She protested. Rick looked at her. “What’s in here?” Amber sighed softly. “Are you gonna let me stay? Because if you’re not, sending me out there without this stuff is a death sentence. I’ve made it this far on my own. I don’t wanna die because of some asshole.” Rick quirked an eyebrow and was a bit taken aback by this woman’s brashness. He nodded a bit. “We don’t know if you can stay yet. Someone is gonna interview you, get to you know, then they’ll let me know if you should stay or not.” Amber nodded. “Well until that decision is made I can’t tell you what’s in here.” Amber knew well enough that they could open the boxes and figure out what was in there on their own. But she had a couple tricks up her sleeve.

A moment later Maggie appeared. “Maggie, this is Amber. She wants to know if she can stay with us.” Maggie nodded in understanding. “Ok. Let’s go.” Amber followed behind Maggie, walking about a third of a mile before walking up the steps to what Amber assumed was this woman Maggie’s home. Maggie led Amber into the living room and gestured at an armchair. “Please, sit.” Amber obliged, plopping down in the seat. She had almost forgotten what real furniture felt like. Maggie sat in a matching armchair across from her. “So…you’re gonna like, interview me or something?” Maggie nodded a bit. “Just some basic questions to get to know you a little better. Would you like some water?” Amber licked her lips and nodded. She was low on water in the truck and had been trying to conserve so she was incredibly thirsty. Maggie got up from the chair and disappeared into the next room, returning a few seconds later with a glass of water. Amber accepted the glass and took a swig, her eyes widening when the liquid touched her lips. “This is cold. You have cold water here?” Maggie smiled and nodded. “We do. One of many things we have to offer. But these resources are precious. That’s why we need to make sure that you’re a good fit for our community.”

Amber nodded and took another sip of the water, taking the time to savor the coldness. She hadn’t had a cold drink in literally years. Maggie picked up a notepad and pen. “So, Amber. Where are you from?” Amber put the glass down on the table in front of her and crossed her legs. “Bethesda, Maryland.” Maggie scribbled on the pad. “And you arrived here alone correct? How long have you been alone?” Amber sighed softly. “I’ve been alone since the beginning. I’ve never been with another group. People are scarce nowadays. I’ve come across a few groups but I watched them from afar and didn’t like what I was seeing so I split.” Maggie nodded as she scribbled some more. “So why do you want to stay here then? You haven’t had a chance to observe us.” “I know. But you have walls.That’s a hot commodity. It’s getting more and more dangerous by the hour out there. If I’m on my own much longer I don’t think I’ll survive.” Maggie didn’t scribble anything down this time. She just watched Amber as she talked. “Before all this what did you do?” Amber smiled a bit as she remembered her pre-apocalypse life briefly. “I was a tattoo artist most of the time. But I also tutored high school kids in chemistry and taught kickboxing classes.” Maggie raised her eyebrows a bit and nodded. “So you know how to defend yourself then?” Amber nodded in response.

Maggie put down the pen and pad and leaned forward a bit. “I just want to apologize in advance if this question is a little sensitive. But I do need an answer. What about your family? Parents? Spouse? Kids?” Amber felt a tear sting her eye but she quickly wiped it away. “I was married.” Amber unzipped her hoodie slightly and pulled out a chain that was around her neck, her wedding rings secured on the chain. Maggie proceeded. “What happened to him?” Amber shrugged. “No idea. He was at work in D.C. Everything went down in our neighborhood so fast. Some people had already abandoned their homes. But we stayed. We had to. My husband worked for the government so he was desperately needed when all this started to go down. He tried to get me to leave and go to a cabin we had in a secluded area by the Potomac River. But I wouldn’t leave without him. The neighborhood got swarmed by a group of…walkers you call them? I tried to call him but the phone lines were dead. So I just locked all the doors and windows and locked myself in the attic. My husband was a bit of a doomsday preper so we had loads of food, guns, ammo, water, etcetera up there. I figured it’d be the safest place to go. And I waited for him. And I waited, and waited, and waited. And after about six months I figured he wasn’t coming. At first I was so angry that he didn’t come for me. But then I thought, what if the worst has happened? So I packed everything I could carry and made my way to D.C. When I got to his building I was surprised by how untouched it looked. There was no dead ones anywhere in sight. I managed to get into the building and I looked for him, any sign of him, but there wasn’t one. I didn’t see his car in the parking lot either so I didn’t know if he had taken it or if it had been taken after. I holed up in the building, in his office specifically, and I grieved. Then I moved on. Because I had to.”

Maggie let out a breath that she felt she had been holding for hours. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” Amber smiled softly and shook her head. “It’s ok. I’ve made my peace with it.” After a moment’s pause Amber continued. “Anyway, I stayed in D.C. for a short while. The further into the city I got the more dangerous it became so I knew I couldn’t stay there. So I left and just stayed on the outskirts for as long as I could. Then I remembered that there was an air force base not too far away. I’d driven my husband there once or twice. So I made my way there. It took a long time. The main roads were too crowded with cars and dead bodies to navigate. But when I got there I was so relieved. It had tall reinforced steel gates. I climbed over and explored. It was a ghost town. I was the only one who had been there in a while. I let myself relax for a few days then I found the truck I drove here in and loaded it up with as much supplies as I could and parked it at an exit just incase I need to make a quick getaway. But for a while, a long ass while, I was safe. And kinda happy even though my husband was dead and I was pretty sure my whole family was dead too. Then one day a herd showed up, broke down one of the gates in the middle of the night. I barely made it out alive. That was about four or five months ago. Since then I’ve been driving around as little as possible. That monster is a tank but it is a bitch on gas. I observed other groups like a mentioned before. And then eventually ended up here.”

Maggie finished scribbling notes and looked up at Amber with a smile. “Stay here. I’m gonna go talk to Rick. Make yourself comfortable.” Amber nodded and took off her hoodie. Her left arm was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos. Her right arm was about half a sleeve that she never got the chance to finish. She turned over her left hand so her wrist was facing up and ran her fingers over the tattoo there. A date. 10-22-05. The day she got married. She smiled softly to herself but quickly snapped out of it when she heard the front door open. Rick walked in and over to Amber before extending his right hand. “Welcome to Alexandria.” Amber breathed a sigh of relief and felt like she could cry. She stood and hugged Rick tightly. “Thank you so much.” Rick laughed softly and returned the hug. “Ok. Now let’s head out to that truck.” Once there Amber went over everything she had. Food, medicine, gas. All very valuable items. She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated telling them about some things she had hidden. She wanted to keep some things secret just incase. But at the same time she knew that the community could probably use it. She’d overheard Daryl mention something about ‘doing something about’ another group. “There’s one more thing.” She lead Rick and Daryl to the cab of the truck. She pried off the bench seat top and hidden underneath were guns. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, silencers. Rick literally gasped. “Do you have ammo?” Amber nodded. “Well these are all loaded to capacity. There’s close to two hundred guns in there. Also…” Amber trailed off and went to the back of the truck. She hopped inside and moved some boxes to reveal a hidden compartment. She lifted the lid and pulled out a large tool box that was filled to the brim with ammo. Rick grinned wide. “Amber you may just be my new best friend.” Amber smiled and jumped out of the truck and helped the group bring everything inside various homes.

When they got to the pantry Amber whistled as she looked at the bare shelves. “Well it looks like I got here just in time.” Rick turned and looked at Daryl who nodded. Rick turned to face Amber and sighed. “Well since you’ve agreed to stay here and to share your supplies with us it’s only fair that I tell you why these shelves are bare. There’s a group called the Saviors. They are not good people. A while back they killed two of our men, one of which was Maggie’s husband. Their leader beat both of them to death right in front of us with a baseball bat.” Amber’s jaw was slightly ajar and she had a pained look on her face. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.” Rick nodded. “Thank you. Since then we’ve been working for them. They claimed that they provide protection in exchange for fifty percent of our stuff. But really it’s our stuff in exchange for not killing any more of us. Now these supplies are gonna do two things. One is we can use some of it as our offering for the Saviors. Two is we can hide the rest to use when we fight them.” Amber nodded. “The Saviors? I’ve heard that name before. Two of the other groups I was scoping out had deals with them too. One group was called the Kingdom I think. It’s run by a real whack-a-doodle who calls himself King Ezekiel. The other place, the Hilltop. That seemed like a good shot for me. But their leader is a punk ass bitch.” Rick got a laugh out of that. “Gregory. Yeah he’s not great.” Amber furrowed her eyebrows. “So you know about that group?” Rick nodded. “Yeah. And the Kingdom too. Ezekiel is actually a great leader and not as crazy as you’d think. The Kingdom has agreed to fight with us against the Saviors. The citizens of the Hilltop are on board but Gregory isn’t. But we’re working on it.”

Amber absorbed all the information Rick had given her as she helped them unload supplies. After they were done Rick showed Amber to the house she’d be staying in. For now she had the house to herself. About an hour later Carol showed up with a basket of food as well as a casserole. “Welcome.” Carol said before hurrying off. Amber rushed to the kitchen to see what was in the basket. Canned fruits and vegetables, two packages of pasta, pasta sauce, and at the bottom was a small foil wrapped item. Amber dug down and scooped out the item. “Oh my fuck, it’s chocolate.” She said to herself. A few short minutes after Carol had left Maggie showed up with a bottle of wine. “Can I come in?” “Yes! Yes, of course!” Amber opened the door for Maggie. “Thank you so much for the wine.” Maggie smiled. “There should be glasses in your cupboards.” Amber dug around and found two glasses. She placed them on the counter and poured herself a full glass of wine before tipping the bottle over the second glass. Maggie quickly covered the opening of the glass. “Oh, no thank you. I’m…I’m pregnant.” She said as she placed a hand on her stomach. “Oh my goodness, really? Wow. How exciting!” Amber then realized that Maggie’s husband had been one of the men killed by this other group no too long ago. “Oh no, oh I’m so sorry.” Maggie smiled and shook her head.” No need to be sorry. It is exciting despite everything.” Amber smiled and got Maggie some water before the two sat on the couch in the living room.

Amber sipped her wine and licked her lips before turning to Maggie. “Can I…I mean do you mind if I ask you about your husband?” Maggie smiled and nodded. She told Amber all about Glenn, her father, and her sister. How her and Glenn met, fell in love, and lived for each other. Amber wiped away a tear. “That is truly beautiful.” Maggie smiled. “Thank you. What about your husband? Could you tell me more about him?” Amber smiled softly. “Yeah. Well we met when he came in for a tattoo at the shop I was apprenticing at. He walks in all tall, mustachioed, and handsome. Comes right over to me and starts flirting, asks me my name and says he’s gonna get my name tattooed on his chest. I said ‘Well that’s a stupid thing to do.’ and he responds, ‘Why is it stupid? I’m gonna marry you anyway.’ I was twenty one at the time and he was thirty seven so at first I rejected his advances. But we actually became pretty good friends. One day he comes in to the shop with flowers and was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He walks over to me, hands me the flowers, kisses the back of my hand, and tells me how I’m the most beautiful woman in the world and would I do him the honor of having dinner with him. I admit I was a bit swept off my feet so I agreed. And a year later we were married and he did what he said he was gonna do and tattooed my name on his chest. My parents were very against the whole thing because of the age difference. But eventually, as I did, they got over it and realized what an amazing man he was. We tried to have kids but for whatever reason I just couldn’t get pregnant. It caused a few fights between us but after a few months we decided to adopt instead. All of this started happening a month before we were supposed to meet our daughter.”

Maggie placed a hand comfortingly on Amber’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Amber smiled. “I still think about her sometimes, ya know. We were gonna name her Charlotte. Sometimes I’m so mad that I never got the chance to have kids. Other times I’m kinda grateful because I can’t imagine raising kids in this mess.” Amber realized what she had just said and gasped. “Maggie I am so so sorry I just said that. I can’t believe I just did that.” Maggie stopped Amber. “Hey, it’s ok. I’m scared as all hell to have this baby. It’s one more mouth to feed on top of the fact that any cries could attract walkers. But I’m happy too. Not everyone could do this.” Amber nodded and took another sip of her wine. “Do you have any pictures of your husband, Amber?” Amber shook her head. “Unfortunately no. When I left the house I only took necessities. Not too long after I left I regretted not taking at least one picture. But since I was headed to his office I figured I’d just take the picture he had of us on his desk but when I got there it was gone.” Maggie perked up a bit. “Well that could be a good sign. Maybe he grabbed it to keep with him before he tried to go back to the house for you.” Amber shrugged. “Maybe.” Maggie continued talking but Amber zoned out. She kept thinking about him. She couldn’t stop. Maybe he did try to go back for her. But he would have found her as long as he was alive. She just knew that he was dead. Maggie gently tapping her arm pulled her out of her trance. “I’m sorry. What?” Maggie laughed softly. “I asked his name. What was your husband’s name?”

“Simon.”

Sorry the ending was so predictable! 

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 29

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

TWO DAYS LATER, AFTERNOON

BEAVER HOLLOW

Striding across the camp, I quickly paced in Eddie’s direction with my rifle danglin’ off my back as I pondered the best way to approach this robbery, letting out a quiet sigh.

This had to be one of the most reckless ideas Dutch ever had in my twenty years of knowin’ him, and if I was being honest, the thought of running away with Eddie was looking better and better by the minute.

Dutch meant everything to me, it was true. He, John, and Eddie were really the only ones left who I considered to be family -- and despite how much the first two might’ve annoyed me sometimes -- the last thing I wanted was to leave ‘em behind.

I mean, I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for Dutch comin’ to my rescue when I was just a boy. He saved me. Educated me. Gave me a new life. But now...part of me feared he was gonna be the reason I’d lose that life again, and...normally, I wouldn’t care. But with Eddie in my family now, I knew I couldn’t leave that boy alone. I couldn’t get killed.

It was just because of my goddamned loyalty and stupidity that I refused to desert the gang. It was my own conscience that was holdin’ me back, but I knew that if I wanted to keep myself and Eddie alive, we wouldn’t be able to stay here any longer. We would have to run the second we got the chance, and never look back.

Walkin’ up to Eddie, I found the pianist sitting on a wooden crate next to Jack as he helped the kid read a storybook, his finger steadily inching across the page while Jack slowly mouthed out the words.

“...and the wolf guarded the injured deer as his f-fearsome fangs quickly scared...the other beasts away.”

The pianist turned the page, encouraging him to continue. “Good. Go on.”

Jack tilted his head in a puzzled manner. “Wait, I’m confused. Why would a wolf protect a deer?”

Eddie smiled warmly at the kid and glanced in my direction, his eyes twinkling with an affectionate spark.

“Well, perhaps some wolves aren’t as bad as they appear.”

Following Eddie’s gaze, Jack suddenly noticed my presence and perked his head up in excitement, pointing to the book.

“Uncle Arthur!” He greeted. “I finished another chapter today!”

I stepped closer to them and knelt in front of Jack, praising the boy.

“That’s great, Jack. You’re learnin’ fast. How you like reading now?”

He thought for a second. “It’s still kind of hard, but it’s more fun now. D’you wanna read with us, Uncle Arthur?”

An apologetic sigh escaped me. “Ah, I’d love to...but I’m afraid I got a job do to at the moment. Same with Eddie.”

He lowered his head out of disappointment. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time?”

I nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Great! I’ll make some necklaces for both of you. But right now, I have to find momma. Bye Uncle Eddie. Bye Uncle Arthur.”

Hopping off the crate, Jack grabbed his book and scurried off to Abigail who was sitting in her tent before excitedly callin’ for her attention, leaving me and Eddie alone.

The kid seemed to be doin’ okay despite all that was going on -- probably because John and Abigail were sheltering him from it -- and I had to admit, it was nice to see some form of innocence still wandering around the camp. Things had gotten too bloody and brutal in the outside world recently, that it warmed this old outlaw’s heart to be near someone like Jack.

I imagined it wouldn’t last for much longer though. I knew Marston shared Eddie’s ideas of leavin’ the gang -- and considering the direction Dutch was headin’ at the moment -- it wouldn’t have surprised me if he went through with those plans.

I just prayed John knew what he was doing. It was hard enough when the gang lost Lenny and Hosea, but if I had to watch a person as young as Jack fall at the hands o’ those monsters...

...I didn’t know how I’d deal with it.

Slowly standing up from the crate, Eddie took one last look at Jack before solemnly returning to reality and bringin’ his attention to me, his eyes filled with dread.

“...Is it time?” He asked, noticing the weapon on my back.

“...Yeah.” I replied, lettin’ out a discouraged breath.

Eddie nodded in understanding and picked up his own rifle, slinging the firearm around his shoulder.

“Then we should get going. Come on.”

Walkin’ side-by-side to our horses, the two of us hurriedly made our way outta camp before mounting up and galloping off into the woods, eager to get this robbery over with as we bolted past the trees.

“So,” Eddie started, ridin’ in front of me, “what do we know about this stagecoach?”

I scoffed. “Hardly anything. Only that it belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, and  apparently, has somethin’ mighty valuable in it. He’s sent a whole lotta guards to keep it safe. Dunno what it is, though.”

The boy was quiet for a second. “...Leviticus Cornwall. I’ve heard Dutch mention that name before -- in a rather hostile tone, actually -- but I’ve never seen the man for myself. Who is he?”

I lightly snapped the reins. “He’s an oil man. Quite a big one, too. And Dutch...well, he’s got quite a history with him. We robbed one of his trains up near Branite Pass a couple o’ months ago, y’see. Robbed a stagecoach in Rhodes, too -- though that was more Uncle’s idea. And now, it looks like we’ll be hittin’ another one.”

Eddie quirked a brow. “And you think this is a good idea?”

I loosely shook my head. “No. Truth be told, I think it’s one of the worst ideas we’ve had in a while. You ask me, I think we should lie low. Rob folk that no one cares about. But we rob someone as big as Leviticus Cornwall, and I guarantee it’s gonna ruin us more than Blackwater did.”

The pianist seemed surprised at the thought. “You think?”

“Think about it,” I explained. “Back in Blackwater, we only had the law to worry about, and our bounty wasn’t nearly as big as it is now. But these days, we got every Pinkerton in America lookin’ for us, Cornwall’s funding them, and Atticus wants to burn our entire camp to the ground. There’s also the fact that Atticus already knows Dutch is in this area. The minute we hit this stagecoach...it’s gonna be like lightin’ a beacon in the dark. Everyone’s gonna know we’re here.”

Eddie rode across a bridge, his horse’s hooves clacking on the wooden surface. “And there’s no way to talk Dutch out of this?”

I sighed heavily. “Oh, I’ve tried. Believe me. But...my words always seem to fall on deaf ears with that man.”

The boy reluctantly agreed. “Yes...it seems Micah’s voice is the only one Dutch actually listens to nowadays. Why he listens to him is beyond me, but...anyways. Tell me, Arthur, have you...thought about what we discussed? About leaving the gang?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I still don’t like it, but the more Dutch loses his way, the more I’m startin’ to think it’s our only option. If we wanna stay alive, that is. I just don’t know where we’d even run off to.”

Eddie came up with an idea. “Maybe we could go back to England.”

“England?” I repeated. “You think life would be better for us there?”

“Well, there’d be more civilization, so it wouldn’t exactly be the ideal environment for you, but we’d be out of the country and overseas. It could give us a fresh start.”

I still wasn’t sure. “...I guess.”

Eddie instantly picked up on my tone. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know this...isn’t an easy decision to make.”

“Well...if I’m being honest, at this point, I’d rather be in a safe place with you than riskin’ my neck for a Dutch I don’t even know anymore. I ain’t givin’ up on him just yet, but that old man is destroying himself, and everyone in the gang knows it. But...we can talk more about this later. Right now,” I picked up my pace, “let’s just rob us a coach, shall we?”

A WHILE LATER

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE ANNESBURG

Crouching in the tall grass, Eddie and I waited silently beside the road as we used the shady trees to shield ourselves, keepin’ a close eye out for the stagecoach.

I didn’t know exactly how many men were gonna be guarding this damned thing, or what we were even gonna earn from this robbery, but I figured the best way to approach this would be an ambush.

After all, it was just me and Eddie against what would probably be a dozen guards. We didn’t have the luxury of attempting to stop them with intimidation. If even one of them decided to grow a backbone and shoot at us, both of us would be dead immediately. We’d probably just have to shoot them on sight.

I only hoped this would be worth all the trouble.

“...So,” Eddie whispered, “have any idea how we’re gonna rob this stagecoach?”

I adjusted my binoculars, stayin’ low in the bushes. “Well, there’s no way the two of us are gonna be able to fight that many men on our own. I’m thinkin’ we’ll have to kill them as soon as they show up. Take ‘em by surprise while their guard’s still down.”

A look of uncertainty spread across the pianist’s face. “Kill them in cold blood? Are you sure, Arthur?”

I put the binoculars down and looked at Eddie, giving him an apologetic expression.

“I know, but we don’t have a choice, Eddie. We gotta do it this way. Otherwise, neither of us is walkin’ outta here alive.”

Despite still showing signs of reluctance, the boy went along with my plan and got into position, pickin’ up his rifle from the ground as he began to wander away.

“...O-Okay. I understand. In that case, I’m gonna go the other side. That way, we can hit them from both directions.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Remember, shoot them the minute you see my signal. I’ll flash some light your way to let you know when it’s time. Be careful.”

Eddie pulled his bandana up. “The same goes for you.”

Sneaking across the road like a little mouse, Eddie hurriedly made his way into the gatherin’ of trees on the other side and hid behind a thick trunk, peeking out every once in a while to see if anyone was coming.

Judging by the lack of fresh tracks in the dirt, I assumed that no stagecoaches had been through here just yet, and luckily for us, the roads in this area were pretty quiet.

Most of the people here were too busy blowin’ up the mines in Annesburg to spend much time wandering about, and considering the absence of any good meat in Roanoke Ridge, I doubted we’d run into any lone hunters out here either.

I mean, we’d already seen how sickly the animals in this region were. If anyone was gonna do some hunting, my guess was they’d probably travel further west or south. Only thing worth shooting up north was the people...and I already had a few faces in mind.

It was just gettin’ to them that’d be the tricky part.

Breakin’ my train of thought, the distant sound of men chattering and horses neighing reached my ears as I quickly exchanged looks with Eddie, the both of us makin’ ourselves scarce while we waited for the coach to roll into position.

From what I could see, it looked like there was about ten men protecting the vehicle including the drivers, and they were all armed to the teeth just like I expected.

Some of them were clearly Cornwall’s employees -- dressed head-to-toe in the itchiest lookin’ fabrics with flat-caps on top -- while the more conspicuous ones were most-likely Atticus’ boys.

So far, it didn’t seem like any of ‘em had noticed us just yet, and with the speed their coach was traveling at, I assumed that they was in quite a hurry. We’d have to hit them hard, and we’d have to hit them fast.

Now was our chance.

Pulling up my bandana, I cocked my rifle and eagerly waited for the precise moment to strike as the stagecoach approached us, its wheels shaking up and down on the bumpy road while the horses huffed heavily due to fatigue.

I wanted to make sure I had a completely clear shot of the driver just so the horses wouldn’t run off when we started firing, and I also wanted them to be far enough that the guards behind the vehicle wouldn’t be able to shoot back at us in time.

It was gonna be a tricky job to pull off, for sure, but if Dutch was right about this robbery, and the cargo was really worth the risk, then this money would be more than enough to keep us fed for a long time.

Then again though, there was always the chance...that it wouldn’t be.

Tiltin’ my rifle slightly, I reflected a bit of sunlight off the frame and flashed it in Eddie’s direction, silently signaling him to get to work.

Without even a moment’s notice, both the pianist and I instantly started firing into the crowd relentlessly and shot one bullet after another, causin’ the horses to rear in panic as their riders frantically glanced around in confusion before getting blasted in the head, their blood splattering all over the stagecoach’s walls.

“What the hell--?!” One of them shouted, only to receive a bullet in the chest from Eddie.

“Son of a bitch!” The driver yelled, practically flogging the horses as he fled the scene.

Before he could run off though, I immediately aimed my gun at him and fired an array of ammo in his direction, makin’ extra sure that he wouldn’t be able to ride away with all the cargo as he collapsed from the driver’s seat.

“Goddammit!” Another guard exclaimed, desperately tryin’ to pinpoint our location as they blindly rode around in circles. “Keep the coach safe! We’re bein’ robbed--!”

A bullet hit him in the shoulder, leading the man yelp in agony as he clutched his wound and toppled from his saddle, tumblin’ onto the dirt below.

“Where the fuck are they?!” The others called out, getting lost in the gun smoke.

Reloading his rifle, Eddie fell silent for a brief moment as I carried on the fight and gunned down any remaining guards, causing dirt to go flyin’ everywhere with the amount of bullets I was shooting and with how much the horses were trampling all over the chaotic scene.

“They gotta be around here somewh--”

Resuming his assault, Eddie instantly got back to work once his gun was ready and didn’t spare a single bullet as the two of us flattened the entire entourage with a storm of ammunition, turning the road into a newfound cemetery.

By this point, it didn’t look like there was anyone left. All the guards were lyin’ on the ground in puddles of their own blood along with bullet holes and hoofmarks in the dirt as the smoke finally began to clear out, allowin’ us to see things better.

Thankfully, the stagecoach appeared to be intact -- aside from the shattered windows -- and judging by the material of the door, I didn’t think it’d be too hard to break into...but we’d have to move fast.

If there was anyone in the surrounding areas, then it was highly-likely that they just heard the gunfire from all the commotion, and I had no doubts that the law would be here soon. This was our only opportunity.

Rushin’ outta our hiding spots, Eddie and I quickly put our weapons away as we stepped over the corpses, eager to see what was inside the stagecoach.

“You okay?” I asked the boy, lookin’ him over.

“Yeah,” he answered, slightly outta breath. “What about you?”

“I’m good. Search the bodies, will you? I’m gonna open the door and get whatever’s inside.”

Eddie nodded. “Alright, but try to hurry. Who knows how many people heard that?”

Flippin’ my rifle around, I slammed the butt against the lock a few times with a series of metallic bangs, eventually breaking the mechanism off as the door loosely swung open.

It was pretty dark on the inside and I couldn’t see much with the sun glarin’ in my face, but once I climbed through the tight door and squeezed into the small space, I realized it actually wasn’t dark at all...

...It was just empty.

“...The hell...?” I muttered under my breath, digging through the coach’s seats.

Contrary to the piles of lockboxes and chests and cash I was expecting, it didn’t even look like there was a speck of dust in this goddamned stagecoach. Only thing occupying the seats was shards of glass from the broken windows, and even then the vehicle still felt pretty empty.

Where was the cargo?

“Find anything yet?” Eddie questioned.

I took one last look under the seats, hittin’ my hand against the coach’s wall in frustration.

“There’s nothin’ here!”

The boy paused. “What--? Are you sure?”

“I checked everywhere,” I confirmed, circling around the stagecoach. “But...hang on. Maybe it’s in the back. In the meantime, you keep searchin’ the bodies. They might have some money on them.”

Taking my revolver out, I hastily fired a bullet at the box hangin’ off the coach’s rear and damn-near tore the lid off, only to find nothing but a few cans of food and some cigarettes inside.

“...This can’t be right...!” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Leviticus said he doubled the security for this damned thing. Well, what the hell were they protecting? There ain’t shit in here...!”

“Arthur!” Eddie suddenly called out, tearin’ my attention away from the loot. “One of them is still alive!”

Whipping around in bewilderment, I decided to leave the vehicle alone for now and stormed over to Eddie who had his foot planted on one of the guards’ chest, both of us towerin’ over him like a pair of hungry lions.

“He still breathing?” I asked.

Eddie shrugged, observing the man. “Barely. He’s slipping away quickly, but you should still have time to ask him anything you want.”

“Oh, this son-of-a-bitch will talk...”

Takin’ matters into my own hands, I crouched down and grabbed the man’s collar with an iron grip before hoisting him off the ground, causing him to start shaking.

“Where’s the money?!” I demanded.

The guard’s voice heightened with fear.

“W-What?! What money?”

My jaw clenched in annoyance. “The money y’all are protecting -- what else would I be talkin’ about?”

That didn’t seem to clarify things at all, and the other man only continued to whimper.

“...Look, th-there is no money...!”

I fell silent in response and came to a sudden stop, furrowing my brows in confusion as a pang of anxiety hit me.

“...What...?” I said. “What d’you mean there’s no money? What the hell was the point of sendin’ all these men if there ain’t nothing to protect? Answer me, goddammit!”

He coughed a few times, tryin’ to speak through the blood gathering in his mouth.

“You’re...you’re some of Dutch’s boys...ain’t you? That fella...he said you’d try to rob this coach, so Leviticus...d-delayed...the delivery. Decided to bring the shipment on a different one, and use this coach as bait...to lure you out...”

“Feller?” I pointed out. “What feller? You mean Atticus Rose?”

The guard weakly shook his head, clearly wishin’ he was dead already.

“No...not him. I mean...the fella from your gang...”

My blood turned ice-cold at that, and I could’ve sworn my brain stopped functioning for a second.

What the hell did he just say?

“...Our gang...?” I breathed out in disbelief. The guard nodded.

“Yeah...at least, I-I think he’s one of yours.”

I tightened my grip on his shirt, causin’ my knuckles to turn white.

“Who is he?! What’s his name? Say something!”

“I...I don’t know his name...!” The man stammered. “H-He never told us!”

“Well, what’s he look like?”

He frantically blurted out a description. “U-Um...blond! Long hair! Has a m-mustache! Wears a white hat, too! That’s all I know! I swear!”

Freezing with realization, Eddie’s expression turned into stone at that and he glanced down at me, his wild, green eyes widened with a sense of anger and betrayal.

“...Micah.”

Blankly starin’ at the ground in defeat, I mindlessly loosened my hold on the guard’s shirt and retreated into my own thoughts, suddenly realizing how obvious it had been all along.

I didn’t wanna believe what the man was saying, but...the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It explained so much.

It explained why Micah was always tryin’ to stay on Dutch’s good side. Why he pushed anyone away who might’ve been smart enough to expose him, and why he never really seemed to care when someone in the gang was killed. It was ‘cause...it was all his fault. It was his doing.

He was the one who told Atticus about our plans to rob the bank in Saint Dennis. He was the reason Rodrick was able to corner us on the riverboat. He was responsible for the deaths of Hosea, Lenny, possibly Strauss, and the situation that the rest of us were in right now.

All our suffering, all our losses -- every goddamned struggle we had been through these past couple of months -- it was because of Micah.

And like the big brute I was, I had been too stupid to see it.

“Arthur?” Eddie said, bringin’ me outta my head.

Ignorin’ the boy, I dropped the dead guard onto the ground and hurriedly stormed over to my horse, wanting to get back to camp immediately.

“That bastard...” I cursed, climbin’ onto my saddle. “I’ll kill him with my own, two hands! C’mon! We gotta go tell Dutch! Who knows what other secrets that rat has spilled? If Atticus already knows we’re in this area, then there’s a good chance he knows our location, too.”

“W-Wait! Arthur!” Eddie exclaimed, forcing me to calm down for a minute. “Just hold on. How are we supposed to tell him this? It’s not like we have any proof, and we just killed our only witness.”

I sighed in a regretful tone, hangin’ my head low.

“I...I don’t know,” I admitted. “Hell, I don’t even know if Dutch’ll listen to me. But...maybe, just maybe he ain’t completely lost. If the old Dutch is still in there somewhere, I know he won’t be able to ignore this.”

Eddie mounted his own horse and joined me, trotting to my side.

“Then let’s hope he is. But we need to be prepared, Arthur. If Dutch doesn’t listen to you, o-or if things go wrong -- we need to run. Far away. No hesitation. Otherwise, we’re dead men.”

I nodded in agreement, finally comin’ to terms with the end that we had always been powerless to stop.

“...You’re right,” I replied, my voice softer than I expected. “You’re right. As much as I hate to say it, this whole thing...it’s over. ...We’ve spent our whole lives running, stealing, cheating, killing...but it’s done now. This world...it don’t want us no more. The age of gangs and outlaws...is passed.” I gave Eddie a grim expression. “...Our time’s up.”