#gotta let it simmer and look at it with fresh eyes

[ansu-gurleht]

was possessed by a poem i just had to get up to jot down before i sleep and forget it. it’s silly mindless and of course hopelessly alliterative. as to be expected

[delicatebarness]

bridges to burn | chapter one

Summary: Struggling with the pressures of the compound, you seek an escape leading to you meeting another not much less like yourself.

Warning: Sexual Tensions and Implied Sex. Smoking. Uncontrolled Powers.

Word Count: 2030

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Flame on? Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

BTB Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @preeyansha | @thoughstofaredhead | @barnesxstan | @brckenmemories | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @chimchoom | @bstan01 | @starkillazz | @lostinspace33

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan | @lanabuckybarnes

The first few days at the compound you tried to keep to yourself, barely leaving your room. The weight of your situation, and the simmering tension between Bucky and yourself, kept you in your own head, and you found solace in solitude. Yet, as the days went by, the four grey walls of your room started to feel like you were being locked within The Raft. 

The compound was quiet one restless night, and you decided you needed to get outside and fill your lungs with fresh air. The halls were empty as you slipped out of your room, making your way toward the grounds. The cold air of night soothed your flaring skin, a welcomed change from the suffocating indoors. 

As you reached a secluded spot near the edge of the property, you pulled out a cigarette. Fishing through your pockets, your frustration grew as you realized you’d forgotten your lighter. Quickly glancing around, you contemplated using your powers, but the fear of losing control held you back. 

Suddenly, you heard a soft click behind you. As you turned your hand began glowing as you raised it toward the sound, and you saw a man, not much older than yourself, standing there, his thumb ablaze with a small, controlled flame.  He was tall, with a chiseled jawline and an easy, confident grin. He was, clearly, the type of guy who knew exactly how good he looked and wasn’t shy about it. 

“Need a light?” he asked, the flame dancing merrily.

You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face at the unexpected assistance. “Yeah, actually. Thanks–” you said, leaning in to light your cigarette. The tension in your shoulders eased as you took a drag, then exhaled slowly. 

“I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself, extinguishing the flame with a casual flick of his wrist, “Johnny Storm.” 

Recognizing the name, you raised an eyebrow toward him. “Wait, Johnny Storm? As in, The Human Torch, Johnny Storm?” 

“The one and only,” he said with a mock bow before shooting you a wink. “And, you must be Stark’s daughter. I’ve heard a bit about you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded, your tone filled with annoyance. “I’m still getting used to this place, and just needed some fresh air.” 

Leaning against a nearby tree, Johnny's posture relaxed. “I get that. This place can be a lot. Especially with all the… expectations.” 

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, taking another drag. “It feels like I’ve been under a microscope since I got here.” 

Johnny nodded sympathetically. “It’s not easy being part of a team, especially when everyone is watching your every move,” he paused, sending you a knowing look. “But, it’s not all bad, just gotta find your own rhythm.” 

Appreciating his straightforwardness, you chuckled slightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been known for playing by the rules.” 

“Rules are overrated,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes you’ve got to break a few to get where you’re going.” 

You smiled, and a feeling of ease coursed through your body. “I think I’m going to like you, Flame Boy.” 

He flashed that grin again, his gaze wandering over your figure, lingering a moment longer. “The feeling’s mutual, Firecracker,” he said with a playful smirk. “And by the way… you’re hot.” 

You rolled your eyes, taking his comment in stride. “Was that supposed to be a compliment, or are you just making a play on this?” Smirking, you let your irises begin to shift, their usual coloring draining away as they ignited into a fiery, glowing orange. 

Johnny’s smirk only widened as he witnessed the transformation in your eyes. “Oh, I definitely meant it as a compliment,” he said, a notch dropping in his voice. Taking a step closer, his played demeanor added a new edge of curiosity. “I bet you’re full of surprises, Firecracker.” 

You smirked, and Johnny’s eyes lingered on your glowing irises for another moment, intrigued. “Well, it has been a pleasure, but I should probably get back before Reed sends out another search party,” he quipped, flashing that grin once more. 

With a wink, Johnny stepped back, his hands raising in a casual wave. “Flame on!” he called, and instantly his body ignited in a brilliant, controlled blaze. The heat radiating from him would have been intense if you weren’t already accustomed to it. You watched in awe as the flame flickered and danced around him like they had a life of their own. Shooting into the air, he left a trail of fire as he soared back toward the compound, the fiery streak cut through the dark sky. 

As you continued to watch him disappear into the night, a voice from the shadows startled you. 

“He’s an idiot,” the low, gravelly voice of Bucky cut through the quiet, causing your entire body to flinch slightly. 

Turning sharply to see him stepping out from behind a tree, you snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealed by the dim light of the compound, illuminating his features. 

“I’m doing my job, babysitting a dumb little princess,” Bucky replied, his tone dry and laced with sarcasm. For a moment, his eyes flicked down to the cigarette in your hand, and his expression changed, now holding disapproval in his features. “Shouldn’t smoke: Bad for your lungs.” 

The tension simmered just below the surface as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Good job they repair themselves then, isn’t it?” you shot back, defiance edged in your voice. 

“Are you always so quick to talk back?” he asked, eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed but slightly amused. 

“It comes with the surname,” you retorted, the glow in your eyes beginning to fade as you lifted your chin in defiance. 

Bucky took a step closer, hardening his expression. “When Stark said I’d be babysitting, I figured a quiet, sweet kid, not… whatever you are,” he smirked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Ouch,” you replied with an exaggerated wince, feigning a hurt expression. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, and here I thought we were bonding.” 

Tilting his head slightly, Bucky’s gaze unwavering. “I should have known Stark couldn’t produce anything but a little brat.” 

“Hey,” you snapped, your temper beginning to flare as you took a step closer to him, almost closing the distance between you. “You haven’t earned the right to call me that yet.” 

“Yet?” Bucky echoed, his smirk growing as a challenge flashed in his eyes. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tensions locked you in a silent battle of wills. Neither one of you was backing down, your eyes daring each other to make the next move. 

Bucky’s gaze was intense, his eyes searching deeply into yours as if trying to figure you out. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and filled with annoyance. “Just stay out of trouble, Princess. I’m not here to play games.” 

“Please,” you let out a short laugh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “If anyone’s trouble around here, it’s you… Winter Soldier.” 

His smirk returned, this time more amused than before. “At least I know what I'm doing. You? You’re a walking hazard waiting to happen.” 

You couldn’t let him see that his words stung more than you’d like to admit. Your heart pounded against your chest, and you couldn’t place the tightening in your throat. The space between you dwindled to almost nothing as the frustration bubbled up within you, threatening to spill. 

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you hissed, your voice remaining steady despite the storm brewing inside you. You managed to keep your composure, refusing to let him see you rattled. 

His face was mere inches from yours, his proximity caused you to feel his breath against your skin, and his voice was low, almost a growl.  “I don’t have to know you to see what’s right in front of me,” he replied, his tone cold and unyielding. 

His words lingered, sharp and cutting, leaving you torn. For another moment, you stood there, breathing beginning to pick up pace and eyes locked in a fierce stare. But, something shifted in Bucky’s gaze– a flicker of something softer. His jaw tightened as he broke the stare, glancing away toward the compound. 

“Look,” he muttered, his voice gruff and lacking the earlier bite. “I’m not here to make your life hell. I just… I’ve seen what happens when people are careless. I don’t want that for you.” 

Surprised, your defenses faltered for a brief second. Shaking your head, you quickly rebuilt them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten through to you, even if for a second. 

“I can take care of myself,” you scoffed. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.” 

Carrying a weight, heavier than either of you would admit, the words hung between you. Creating a distance, Bucky turned, stepping back, a relieving yet strangely disorienting feeling rushed through your body. 

“Just… be careful,” he said over his shoulder, his voice almost reluctant. Before waiting for a response, Bucky walked back off into the shadows, leaving you standing, the night feeling colder than ever before. 

Your mind raced with everything that had just happened, and for a moment longer, you stood there, staring after him. And, the more you thought about the conversation, the more frustrated you became. 

Then, with a sigh, you stomped out your cigarette, embers hissing as they met the ground. Your thoughts churned as you turned on your heel and made your way back to the compound. 

~

Back inside the compound, the halls remained quiet as you wandered back to your room, your mind replaying the confrontation with Bucky. Wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the large figure leaning against the wall until you almost walked into him. 

“Woah there, Firecracker,” the playful voice of Johnny snapped you out of your daze. Stopping short, you looked up to see his grin, the same one that had begun etching itself into your memory. 

“J-Johnny,” you shuttered, more of a surprise than anything else. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he quipped, his eyes sparking with mischief before sending you a wink. “What’s got you so deep in thought? Looked like you were about to walk right through me.” 

For a moment, you hesitated, but then you shook your head, deciding to not burden him with the Bucky situation. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied, forcing a smirk across your lips, matching his energy.

Clearly unconvinced, Johnny raised an eyebrow but did not press further. Instead, pushed his body off the wall and took a step closer, his gaze scanned your face as if he was trying to read what you weren’t saying. 

“Well… if you’re ever looking for a distraction,” he began, his tone dropping to something slightly more serious. “I’d be more than happy to oblige.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips, grow. There was something about Johnny that made it hard to stay angry but also, made you want to release all that fury and chaos swirling within you, out on him. 

“Is that right?” you teased, your eyes meeting his, an unspoken understanding charging the air between you. 

“Absolutely,” Johnny replied in a low voice, his once playful manner giving way to something more intense. “So, what do you say, Firecracker? Wanna blow off some steam?” 

You felt your heart skip a beat, but the double meaning in his words did not get lost on you. And, without fully thinking it through, you grabbed Johnny by the front of his suit, pulling him closer. 

“Come on, Flame Boy,” you murmured, your voice low and barely a whisper. “I’ve got just the place.” 

Without waiting for his response, you led him through the halls toward your room. His surprise quickly morphed into anticipation as he followed. Then, when you reached your door, you pushed it open and pulled the man inside with you. 

Right then, you didn’t want to think. Not about Bucky, the compound, nor the weight of your own existence. Just the fire, and the heat. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[captain-n-crunchies]

My Zuzu!

Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Let talk about how Izuku would be the perfect boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. Like forgot Bakugo tough but soft love and Kirishima gym rat love and look at how Zuku is like total boyfriend material!

-- Izuku who when he first discovers your pretty face quickly asks you about your quirk and backstory even how you got your hero suit designed! Writing everything you say with a quickness, but he doesn't even notice himself writing notes about your appearance like how your lip pucker when in thought, your eyes simmer when you talk about your favorite thing about your hero design, and how quickly your face animates itself to a new emotion every few sentences. After meeting him he makes a huge effort to get to know you besides your quirk and heroic morals he wants to know everything about you even things about your parents (he used those facts for when you start dating)

-- Izuku after months of being your friend fighting alongside you and you tending to some of his scars he starts to have more unfriendly thoughts about, and no not any freaky stuff more of he hates how you laugh at every flirty joke Denki makes or how he love that you fuss over him and his recklessness he just eats up every new hairstyle you get, every new shoe, new dress he just hasss to complement you making you smiles at him so hard he blushes under that gaze you give him. Too bad it took practically a whole pregnancy for him to confess!

-- Izuku would when makes dates makes sure he gets everything perfect from a small date to a cafe he gets you a tiny allmight keychain as a momentum, dates at the aquarium? a jellyfish plushie is in your arms by the end of shark's exhibit, a concert for the two of you favorite band? Oh, baby got a favor from Bakugo to get you their new album. He makes sure any cuddle dates are so cozy and warm so you can't leave his arms; with pillow forts and fresh popcorn and a cute Disney movie with his strong arms around you warming you up nicely. Izuku who covers you up in his bed is you fall asleep fist and gets one of his allmight plushie and places it in your arms

-- Izuku who is always touching you doesn't matter if it's your leg on his thigh or his hand holding your pinky, he just needs to touch you if you're going to be close to him but what about far away? He has a whole keychain of allmight that everyone knows is his and he attaches it onto your bag and boom now everyone even your teachers know your " Zuzu Baby"

-- Speaking of Zuzu baby, he loves pet names and since his name Izuku has about fifty names in it you choose ' Zuzu' which when you first called him it he face reddens a bit since you always gotta call him babe or baby he naturally registers his name to be Zuzu. He's a boy who doesn't care if his friends hear you call him this name because you call him it out of love and he can't ask for more, I mean your his baby what the need to go getting mad because you didn't call him Midoriya he doesn't even call you by your real name you baby, pretty boy/girl, beautiful, pretty, anything he could think of that remind him of your called it

-- Now even though he's soft he ain't no punk he just doesn't really get bothered by mean commets anymore (he was quirkless majority of his childhood this dude got more thick skin than Bakugo) he just laughs awkwardly and when alone he talks all his shit

" And Bakugo gonna call me useless!?"

" Nooo baby why you didn't say nothing?"

" He got kidnapped and nobody wanted to save him but Kiri! I would be pissed everyday too"

" Omg! Izu stop!"

-- Like Zuzu is messy also he was a quite kid y'all so when you thought he wasn't listening HE WAS, and since your if s/o then bookie he is talking so much shit and gossip with you to the point you look at him differently like where did my softy go? He just said he would whoop Todoroki's ass if he called him a mutt

" Baby really?"

" It'll take a while but I could!"

" Shoto? The fire and ice combo package?? You could whoop his ass?"

" If I was called a mutt! He'll have two scars"

Yea... he talks too much but, he gonna back it up especially if it was about you. He cares about your mental a lot so if you ever tell him you're feeling a bit down simply because a hoe talking shit, he got 508 Instagram accounts to troll them, and you'll never know

-- Izuku who is only a boy so sometimes that cute miniskirt gets the gears in his head turning, in his room right behind the hero journal he got a little book filled with drawings of you so detailed it almost creepy, a small page of you drawn in many lewd styles. Every make out session you feel hi hand twitch trying to stop himself from touching our hips or to fondle your chest when you cuddle

-- Izuku who when the time is right will show you, he isn't just Zuzu baby all the time his mind evreytime you change clothes wondering what will happen if he takes a peek at your naked form?

-- 'That'll never happen though, Izuku is too much of a sweetheart to be a perv right?' You think looking at him scribble in his book today you're in his room studying, you ask to see his book and he blushes shaking his head and hides the page from. After a few minutes he gets up to go to the bathroom now your chance!

Getting up from your spot you take a peek at the page and it just a drawing of you listening to music from earlier with cute love notes along the side, smiling you hide the page again not looking at the page behind it with you drawn with your tits out glistening in the sun.

We love Zuzu!

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 2)

oops my fingers slipped again. now all of a sudden i gotta see this little au through.

The early morning sun cast a golden hue across the park, the rays dancing on the surface of the nearby lake. The park was unusually  empty this morning, a tranquil atmosphere sweeping over the rolling green hills. 

Multiple days have passed since your rather unfortunate encounter with the Duke Simon Riley, the tension lingering like a storm cloud over the horizon. It left you seething, yet most of all, you still felt hurt over his attack on your character, even though he knows nothing about you. That’s what bothered you the most. 

But, today, you were determined not to let his condescension overshadow your day, and so you sought solace in the park. As you wandered, you allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the fresh scent of dewy grass and listening to the cheerful chirping of birds. The empty park allowed you to sink further into relaxation, trying your best to let go of the lingering tension. 

You had nearly succeeded in calming yourself down when, rounding a bend in the path, you came face to face with the very last person you wanted to. 

Duke Simon Riley was sitting high atop of a giant horse, his imposing figure cutting a striking silhouette against the misty park. His expression was inscrutable as his gaze met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved, locked in a silent standoff. 

You felt a surge of frustration and anger rise within in you at the mere sight of him, the memory of your initial meeting flooding back with startling clarity. Just as you were trying to forget the whole thing. But, beneath the anger, there was something else simmering; a nagging curiosity, perhaps, or a stubborn refusal to let him dictate your emotions. 

The Duke’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts or feelings. He sat atop his horse with the ease of a man accustomed to command, his posture rigid and imposing. 

The silence stretched on between you, tension crackling in the air like lightning about to strike. His gaze upon you was heavy and unyielding, and for a moment, you felt as though you were drowning in it. 

But then, with a defiant tilt of your chin, you square your shoulders and met his gaze head-on. If he thought to intimidate you with his stoic demeanor, he had another thing coming.

“Your Grace,” you say coolly, your voice carrying across the distance that separates you. “What a surprise to see you here.” 

Simon’s lips twitched ever so slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “I could say the same for you, my lady,” he replies, his voice low and measured. “What brings you to the park in these early hours?”

You wanted to laugh in his face right then and there. You barely were able to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes in front of him, choosing instead to maintain your steady composure. 

“I find solace in nature,” you say simply, folding your hands together in front of you. “Unlike some, I rather enjoy the company of birds and trees to that of ‘idle chatter and trivial pursuits.’”

The jab was not lost on Simon, and you could see a flicker of annoyance cross his gestures. But to his credit, he remains outwardly composed, his expression still a mask of impassivity. 

No longer wanting to be the object of his hard gaze, you pivot on your heel. The moment you do, and of course, this could only happen to you, your foot catches on a hidden root, causing you to stumble forward with a gasp of surprise. 

With a strangled cry, you tumble to the ground less than graceful, the skirts of your dress now mangled by the dirt. Pain shot through your ankle as you hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs by the impact. For a moment, you lay there, dazed and disoriented, the world spinning around you. 

To your surprise, a shadow fell over you, blocking out the sun. You turn, looking up to see the Duke reigning in his horse, his expression unreadable.

Without a word, he dismounts the steed in one fluid motion, landing beside you with a grace that belied his imposing stature. Strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly to your feet as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly with the smallest hint of concern. 

You shook your head mutely, too stunned by his sudden appearance to form coherent words. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and the way his large arms feel around you sends heat straight to your face.

You meekly look up into his brown eyes, and any hint of anger and frustration now evaporates with every passing moment. You find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze, his eyes holding you captive. There was something magnetic about them, something that drew you in despite your best efforts to resist. His hand lingers on yours, his thick fingers pressing into the palm of your gloved hand. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Simon’s expression softens ever so slightly, the shift barely perceptible. You could’ve sworn his eyes flicker down to your partly open lips. All he does is nod in return. 

Finally, you quickly step back, straightening your dress and trying to regain your composure. “Well, I- I must go home and change,” you say stiffly, mortified by your clumsiness and the fact that he had been the one to help you. 

Simon does a once over of the skirts of your dress, now covered in dirt. “It appears so,” he states gruffly. 

“Try to watch where you're going next time, my lady,” he states plainly. 

You freeze in your tracks, his words like a slap in the face. How dare he speak to you in such a manner after just helping you up?

Swallowing your pride, you turn back to face him, your jaw clenched with barely contained frustration. “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,” you reply through gritted teeth, your voice laced with icy politeness.

With that, you pivot on your heel and march away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had affected you. As you walk, your ankle throbbing with each step, you can't help but seethe with anger at the Duke's insufferable attitude.

But amidst the anger, there's a small flicker of something else. A stubborn determination, perhaps, or a newfound resolve to show the Duke that you were not someone to be trifled with. Whatever it was, you were determined to prove him wrong, no matter the cost.

part 1 < > part 3

[youaintnothinbuta]

I’m so glad I found a person who writes for newsies! Can you write something about Jack being super protective and caring about the reader? They aren’t dating yet but whenever the Delancy bros bother her or another newsie he’s like 🏃 “gotta go protect my girl”

Thank you!!!

“You don’t need to put up with their nonsense.” - jack kelly x reader 

Summary: ^^^

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 413

Warnings: none, fluff, probably typosss you know how I am

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You navigated the crowded sidewalk, your focus set on the task that was getting your stack of papes for the day. You dreaded this point in the morning, as the Delancey Brothers were never particularly kind.

As you approached the gates, Oscar and Morris intercepted your path. A pair of mischievous grins painted their faces as they watched you, you knew their snide remarks were about to begin.

“Look who we got here, you lost little girl?” Oscar quipped, a sly grin playing on his face. You startled slightly as he jumped in your face out of nowhere.

Morris joined in, “What's the matter, sweetheart? You’re not scared of me, are ya?”

“Please, just gimme my papes.” You sighed, trying to brush off their comments, determined to maintain your composure. However, the relentless jabs persisted, wearing down your resolve with each passing word. Amidst the taunts, Jack, who had been preoccupied with sorting through a fresh batch of papes, caught wind of the commotion. His eyes narrowed as he observed the Delancey Brothers harassing you, a protective instinct flickering within him.

Without hesitation, Jack swiftly approached, his stride purposeful and his gaze piercing. “What's going on here?” he demanded, a subtle growl underlying his words.

Oscar, ever the provocateur, responded with a dismissive laugh. “Just having a little fun with the girl, Kelly. Nothing to get your feathers all ruffled about.”

Jack's eyes flashed with a mixture of concern and a simmering anger. He positioned himself between you and the Delancey Brothers. “What a poor excuse of a man you are to be picking on a girl like this.”

Morris scoffed, locking eyes with Jack. “Save the hero act. She ain’t bothered, are ya honey?”

You looked at Jack, your eyes asking him not to leave. Jack reached to your hand and took the pennies from you, he smacked them down in front of the Delancey brothers and snatched a stack of papers from Oscar, handing them to you. Jack's hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you away from the Delancey Brothers with a protective gesture. “You don't need to put up with their nonsense. Stick with me, I won’t let them harass you like that again.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Your cheeks were tinted slightly pink by his words.

As you continued on your way, Jack maintained a protective hold on you, casting a lingering, meaningful glance over his shoulder to ensure the Delancey Brothers got the message.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us - Part 9

A/N: read part 1 ! read part 2 ! read part 3 ! read part 4! read part 5! read part 6! read part 7! read part 8!

Taglist: @midgetpottermills @casssiopeia @flyingmushroomss @amethystwonders11 @hiphopdancer101universe @kiszkawagnerwhore @littleshadow17 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @alm0501 @ch4rcuterie @lodeddiperrodrick @amandalove1355 @laurathefahrradsattel @moshpot24x @middleof-thenight @kettlechips3 @happymakercollectorsworld @alainabooks143 @mikariell95 @superbreadsoull @twd-rocks-blog @livmadsen11 @sage-bunn @emmy626 @somenerdyuserr @vitavenio @yjnicks @littleshadow17 @honeybunzzzz @thenovelcarnival @shypositivitywritinghorse @kik51199 @lovelyygirl8 @adriennemichelle98 @imobbssed @sofsofsposts @axshadows

Warnings: dark themes; substance abuse; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2473 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

You smiled, placing the dark eyes and deep voice of the man who rescued you instantly.

“Damian!”

Seized by a sudden rush of emotion to see him alive, you wrapped your arms around his neck, wincing at the dull throb in your ribs and carefully avoiding the sling he had around one arm. 

“Y/N, it’s damn good to see you up and about. I really thought you were a goner there.”

You released him, feeling flooded with gratitude. He’d been the one who’d found you in the stairwell and carried you all the way back to the QZ. On top of blowing up the propane truck the night before, you now owed Damian your life twice over.

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you agreed congenially. Damian looked cheerful, albeit worn out. In addition to the arm he had hanging limply in a sling, one side of his head and neck was covered in a bandage damp with what appeared to be a mixture of blood and vaseline. He caught you eyeing the wound.

“Burns,” he clarified, dropping his gaze. You nodded, forcing your eyes back to meet his. He’d be scarred for life, you realized with an uncomfortable twinge of guilt, and partially because of you. 

With your eyes no longer on his burn, you noticed that he was wearing a pack, freshly restocked judging by its size, and he had a full ammo belt slung sideways across his chest.

“Damian, you’re not seriously going back out there, are you?”

The remnants of a smile melted from his face.

“We gotta get the girl, y/n. Everything depends on it.”

The gravity of his tone signaled to you that Damian knew about Ellie, just like you and Marlene. 

“That’s ridiculous, you look like you’re fresh out of a warzone.” 

Damian’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his shoulders puffing up a half inch.

“Wars don’t stop on account of the wounded,” he replied blandly, although you saw the flame of conviction simmering in his eyes. Like Marlene, Damian was a true believer. He would die for the Fireflies and their cause. And Ellie was more than that. Ellie was everything.

You swallowed thickly, remembering that you’d let her walk off into the open city alone.

“Well, fuck, I better get dressed too then.”

The words were out of your mouth and your decision was made before your mind had caught up with your body. 

Damian chuckled darkly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, y/n. I may look a little on the well-done side, but I’m not hours off of a near-death fever with three broken ribs.”

Three ribs, you noted idly. You’d assumed two. 

“Yeah, well, I’m the whole reason she’s out there by herself anyways.” 

Regret threatened to turn you inside out. You couldn’t meet Damian’s eyes.

He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“You made the best decision you could. We’ve all been there. Marlene included.” 

Damian gave you a sympathetic smile. His compassion made you hate yourself all the more.

“How’re you gonna find her, anyways?” you asked, itching to change the conversation. 

“Not a damn clue. I got lucky with you. Caught a glimpse of you two from a roof a few blocks over. You were moving so slowly I was able to catch your trail pretty easily. Must have missed the girl by only an hour or two.”

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek as he continued.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky twice. There’s realistically only so much ground that Ellie could cover in a day. Plus we know she’s headed for the QZ. So we’ll start by sweeping the blocks directly between where I picked you up and the wall, and we’ll go from there.”

Damian’s false optimism was difficult to hear. It drove the spike of regret deeper into your chest.

“Three pairs of eyes are better than two. I’m coming with you.”

You squared your shoulders to Damian, expecting him to argue. He gave you a long, thoughtful look before he shrugged.

“I know you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so I’ll save my breath. Here, take this-” he handed you the fully loaded backpack from his shoulders “-we head out in ten minutes.” He gestured to the end of the hallway - presumably the exit.

The pack was much heavier than what you were used to carrying, and the strap pressed uncomfortably just above where your ribs hurt. You grit your teeth and readjusted the supplies on your back, trying to find a comfortable position. With the added weight on your back, you were acutely aware of how weak you felt, your body’s reserves sapped by the infection you’d only just managed to kick. The rational part of your mind raged against you for volunteering for another run when you were quite literally just off your hospital bed.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Damian caught your arm gently as you went to walk by him, his voice low. “This time, if you fall behind, I can’t carry you back to HQ.” You nodded grimly as he released your arm, sidling past you to re-up on supplies.

As he rounded the corner and disappeared from view, you had the bleak thought that maybe the only reason he’d bothered saving you was because he’d expected you to be able to tell them where Ellie was. You tried to brush that speculation from your mind as you heaved the pack up higher on your back, wincing as your ribs wailed in protest, and walked in the opposite direction. Back out into the open city that had almost killed you. 

*****

“God damn it.”

Joel swore to himself quietly as he peeked out through the emergency access door hanging askew from its rusted hinges. Unfamiliar with the T tunnels, he’d ended up making a large arc, skirting the wall of the quarantine zone, rather than the straight shot into the city he’d hoped for. In the distance, he could see the bright halogen searchlights that marked the main gate. 

It was a dismal night, cold with a heavy rain. Joel flicked off his flashlight, heaving against the metal door with his shoulder until it budged enough to let him out. As soon as he stepped into the rain, he felt a bone cold chill settle over him. 

Based on his mental map, his route miscalculation had landed him about fourteen blocks northwest of where the spot Marlene had last seen you. Even though Joel knew the chances of finding you exactly where Marlene had left you were slim to none, it was all he had to go off of. 

Resigned to his fate, Joel zipped up his rifle underneath his jacket to shield it from the driving rain. His hair was already plastered against his head, rain streaming down his face in rivulets and dripping off his jaw. His supplies would get soaked if he didn’t get out of the rain quickly. 

Running his gaze over the nearby buildings, a sudden flash behind a nearby car caught his attention. He froze, eyes narrowing, straining in the dark to make out whatever caused the flash. He saw it again. A brief flicker of light glinting off metal. 

Unable to see through the rain and the darkness, Joel crouched down, hovering his weight on the balls of his feet to avoid touching his knees to the wet pavement. He wiped away the moisture as much as he could from his face, yanking up the hood of his jacket. Another flash.

He’d have to get closer if he wanted to see it. 

He picked his way carefully over the wet pavement, trying to stay out of sight for as long as possible. Caution was the order of the day this side of the wall.

As he moved closer, Joel recognized he was looking at a person, dressed in a waterlogged red hoodie. They leaned against the underside of an old Mitsubishi that had been flipped on its side; their head peering around the corner of the vehicle. They were tossing something up in the air that was catching the dim, diffuse light from the QZ gate. That was the flash he’d seen. Whoever they were, their eyes were glued on the QZ. They didn’t see him - didn’t suspect anything to be moving behind them. Rookie mistake.

Joel snuck close enough to rest the slender muzzle of his rifle at the base of their neck.

“Don’t scream,” he commanded, his voice low. 

The person froze, the switchblade they’d been tossing up in the air clanging to the pavement. 

“Who are you?” he asked. The person’s hands went up in a gesture of surrender. Small hands, he noted. Small, with slender fingers. A woman’s hand, probably. No, a girl’s. 

“I’m looking for the QZ,” came the girl’s reply. 

“You blind or something? You’re staring at it.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, only the sound of the pattering rain filling the seconds.

“I’m looking for a way in.” 

Joel caught the girl’s meaning. She was trying to sneak in. 

“You infected then?” he pressed, cocking his rifle. If she was infected, he’d drop her right now. This was turning into a delay he really hadn’t bargained for.

The girl scoffed at his question, shaking her head. 

“No, I’m not.” 

There was more to the story. Joel could hear it in her voice.

“Then why don’t you walk in the gate?” he asked. Even though FDRA didn’t exactly roll out the red carpet to refugees, he couldn’t think of too many reasons someone would try to sneak past the main gate unless they were concerned about failing the medical screening.

“I’m not infected,” she repeated, although Joel heard the same hint of unshared details. 

He exhaled through his nose, dropping the muzzle of his gun, zipping it back up underneath the protective layer of his jacket to keep it dry. 

“Then use the main gate.” 

The girl turned to face him. She looked pale and wiry thin with dark, wide-set eyes. There wasn’t a trace of fear in her expression. 

“I can’t use the main gate,” she repeated through gritted teeth. 

Part of Joel wanted to ask why; part of him wanted to turn around and leave her. He had other business to attend to. A memory of you smiling sweetly at him over a cup of coffee in his kitchen drifted across his mind, underscoring his antsiness to leave. 

“You can get me in.”

The girl’s statement wasn’t a question. More of an observation, with a hint of command.

“No, I can’t. You say you’re not infected, then walk yourself up to the gate and let FDRA process you in like the rest. I’m not smuggling you in, no way. Besides, I’ve got shit to do.” 

The girl stood up, sensing Joel was about to leave. She was shorter than he’d expected; she barely came up to his armpits. Not like Sarah, who’d been almost as tall as him by her fifteenth birthday. For the second time in as many seconds, the image of another sweet smile - his daughter’s this time - ricocheted through his head. The girl in front of him looked to be about Sarah’s age. Joel’s heart twisted in knots with an obligatory sense of duty to protect her.

“Then take me with you,” the girl insisted. 

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Open city’s no place for a kid,” he replied weakly. He sensed this kid was no stranger to the open city, and all the risks it entailed.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You sure look like one.” 

“I’m not a fucking kid.” 

Joel chuckled. She was spirited, he had to give her that. 

“What’s so funny?” she challenged, puffing her chest up. The action made her seem all that much younger. 

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Whatever was going to happen, he couldn’t stay here any longer. 

“Alright, kid, here’s your options. You can stay here or go through the main gate. Good luck.”

Joel turned on his heel with every intention of leaving her, despite the guilt gnawing at his chest. 

“What about going with you?”

She was following him, her soaked shoes squelching in puddles on the pockmarked pavement.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t afford to be slowed down.”

“I won’t slow you down. I’ll keep up.” 

Joel tried to ignore her as he surveyed the area, trying to get his bearings. The rain was beginning to lessen, although he was already thoroughly soaked. Behind him, he heard the girl’s sopping footsteps keeping time with him. 

“Where are you going, anyways?” she asked.

“Out.” 

Joel hadn’t banked on the girl following him without an invitation. The last thing he needed was someone else to take care of.

“Why?”

He ignored her, stepping over a downed power line and flicking on his flashlight. They were far enough away from the QZ wall that they’d lost the benefit of reflected light. 

“Why are you going out there?” she pressed. 

“Looking for someone,” he replied flatly. He could feel a headache beginning to pulse in his temples. 

“You think you’ll be able to find them?”

The girl’s incredulous tone bit deeper than Joel wanted to admit. The longer he’d been on this rescue mission, the more and more unlikely it seemed that he’d actually find you. He was committed to seeing it through primarily because he couldn’t let himself consider any of the  alternatives.

The rain had slowed to a thick mist, hanging like ghosts in the dark spaces between the buildings. 

“How do you exp-”

“Listen, kid, if you’re going to follow me I can’t stop you, but I won’t have you yammering on the entire time. You’re going to get us killed.”

His voice was sharp as he rounded on her. Her mouth snapped shut, but her eyes burned like coals at Joel’s chiding tone. After a moment of defiant silence, she nodded once. 

Joel sighed heavily as he resigned himself to what she’d already decided: Joel Miller was a party of two now.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he turned to keep walking. They came to an intersection; Joel chose the southeastern-most road option, tracking their progress in a bird’s eye view mental map. 

His plucky travel companion stayed quiet for a beat too long before answering with what was obviously a lie.

“Jaime.”

Joel ignored the lie. He knew a thing or two about keeping secrets himself.

“I’m Joel.” 

Another silence. 

“What’re you doing out here all alone anyways? Aren’t you a little young for that?”

“I thought you told me to be quiet.” 

He shot her an amused glance out of the corner of his eye before he nodded in surrender. They let the quiet mist envelope them as they made their way deeper into the city…

read part 10 here **let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters! ty to everyone showing this series so much love! &lt;33

[yuriko-mukami]

Her Calamity Dark 04

Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl

Chapter Selection

Yuriko was washing rice while Yuuto stood right next to her, watching her every move. Sunlight sparkled from the droplets of water, reminding her how sweltered it was outside. It was slightly sweaty in the apartment, too, for it was only one room, and this tiny kitchen along with a bathroom. And right now, the kitchen felt even smaller than usual since Azusa had come with Yuriko. He was now working on the second counter with a vegetable-cutting task he had volunteered himself.

“It’s not difficult. You should use fresh water and then you just keep washing until the water stays clear.” Yuriko rolled the rice over again and again by her hand while staring at it. She wasn’t the best cook – and nothing compared to Ruki – but she knew how to make a few dishes. “Kareeraisu is a convenient choice because you will eat it for several days and the taste only gets thicker later. I made it often when… when I was still living with… Keisuke. That way I could focus on… hmm… other things because I didn’t need to make meals every day.”

“Makes sense…” Yuuto shrugged. “He should have cooked for you tho. It’s a parental duty.”

“Umh… Mom always said it was a woman’s duty to make sure the family gets to eat…” Yuriko shifted. Not that their mother had done that too often. Yuriko had tried to do all possible household chores while studying in middle school and high school. She had wanted to be good. But it hadn’t been enough.

“Dontcha go there…”

Yuriko lifted her head, glancing at Yuuto. “Eh?”

“I know that face. Dontcha let that happen. There’s nothin’ you could done differently. Our parents didn’t know how to raise kids, that’s for sure. So, dontcha let it get you. You gotta keep your head up high and move forward.” Yuuto ruffled Yuriko’s hair, making her blink heavily. She wouldn’t cry now.

“Yuuto…”

“Oi, no cryin’. You’re a tough vixen who can push through, not a pup.” Yuuto smiled, making even more of a mess of Yuriko’s hair. “Didcha hear me?”

“I… I… yes, of course.”  Yuriko nodded. She turned to look at the rice again and poured it into the rice cooker – the necessity she had told Yuuto should have. “Okay… now, we need to fry the pork and then simmer it with the vegetables.”

Yuuto pulled out a frying pan and tossed the meat on it. After setting the gas, Yuriko showed him how he should constantly move the meat with the cooking chopsticks so that it wouldn’t burn into the pan.

“How do you know all this?” Yuuto scratched his head. “I mean... you said our mother didn’t teach you much…”

“I read books. The library had some about cooking too.” Yuriko handed the chopsticks to Yuuto. “You should try it now. Haven’t you cooked anything before?”

“I know how to make an omuraisu.”

Yuriko tilted her head. “Eh? It’s super difficult to roll perfectly, I always end up breaking it. I bet you’ll manage the meat just fine then~” 

As Yuriko kept her eyes on the frying pan, Yuuto worked on the pork. She was pleased to see there weren’t any problems at all. She should send the recipe later to his phone, and then he could make this dish anytime he wished. Next time she would teach him another easy dish.

“I found a cheap laundry service nearby, so that’s settled too.” Yuuto continued frying the meat. “I just need a steady job…”

“You could… ask Karlheinz-sama…” Azusa commended from his duty.

“Absolutely not. I’m not gonna ask that je–”

Yuriko gasped, clapping her hand on her brother’s arm. “Yuuto! Don’t say it!”

“Fuck!” Yuuto tensed under Yuriko’s touch, and she let go of him. “Sorry… It’s just… damn those bloo– Vampires. I still don’t like them…”

“Azusa-kun is right here…” Yuriko whispered.

“It is okay… Yuriko-chan… I know that… Christina, Justin and Melissa… will always… love me…” 

Yuuto mumbled something, but Yuriko poked him between his ribs and left him alone with the frying pan, roaming toward Azusa. She had always wondered who these three friends of his were, for she had never seen them but Azusa had mentioned them often. Since he had been kind enough to bring her here, she should make an effort to get to know him better.

Leaning her bottom on the kitchen drawers, Yuriko smiled at the Vampire. “Say… Azusa-kun… umh… about Christina-san, Justin-san and Melissa-san…”

“Yes, Yuriko-chan?” Suddenly sparkly eyes glanced at the young Kitsune woman. Azusa held the knife firmly in one of his hands while nicely cut carrots occupied the chopping board with pieces of onion. There was still one potato waiting to be worked on.

“These friends of yours… Can I meet them one day?” Yuriko tilted her head, and her curls tickled her cheek. 

If there had been sparkles in Azusa’s eyes before, now they truly lit up as if he had been waiting for this question all along. To Yuriko’s surprise, he put the knife away and started to roll up his sleeve, revealing his slender arm full of faded… Were those scars?

Azusa drew his finger along his arm. “This here is Justin…” He glanced at Yuriko and continued. “This is Christina… and this…” Azusa gasped. “Melissa… is… almost gone… I must do… something…”

Before Yuriko had time to react, Azusa had grabbed the kitchen knife again, running the blade over the barely visible scar. Crimson elixir poured on his white skin.

“Oh my gosh! Azusa-kun!”

“Fuck! Stop that shit!” Yuuto was on Yuriko’s side within a second, snatching Azusa by his wrist and forcing his hand up. Azusa fought back.

“Please… Yuuto-san… stab me…”

“Fuckin’ hell I’d do that! Now, gimme the damn knife!” Yuuto’s words made Azusa release his grip of the knife that Yuuto caught.

Yuriko whimpered, pushing closer. “Yuuto, please, don’t!”

“Huh? I ain’t gonna stab him!” Yuuto pressed the knife into Yuriko’s hands without letting go of Azusa. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You ain’t doin’ such shit in front of Sis, you hear me?!”

“Squeeze… harder… Yuuto-san…” Azusa sounded almost happy, making Yuuto’s eyes widen as Yuriko simply stared at the view. “Ruki said… I can’t ask… Yuriko-chan… but he didn’t say… I can’t ask you… to hurt me.”

Swallowing, Yuriko tossed the knife on the cutting board and took support from the counter. She didn’t understand what was going on with Azusa. Why had he cut his own arm? That must have hurt so badly, and now there was blood slithering down his arm, soaking his shirt. This was terrible. Yuriko clenched her fingers against the edge of the counter as the kitchen swayed before her. She was gasping for air, almost panting. She didn’t want to lose yet another family member. Azusa shouldn’t cut himself; he could hit a critical place and then… and then…

“Fuck! Sis! Breathe!” Yuuto snatched Yuriko by her upper arms, swinging her slightly.

“Is… she enjoying so much… that she is… out of breath?” Azusa’s face appeared closer. Two pairs of eyes stared at Yuriko, one worried, the other curious. 

“I… I… can’t lose more people…” Yuriko trembled. Yuuto pulled her closer, enveloping her with his arms. For a while, there was complete silence in the kitchen as he stroked her back, swaying her back and forth.

“No one’s gonna leave you… It was just an accident.” Yuuto’s speech was mumbling against Yuriko’s hair.

“Yuuto-san… the meat…” Azusa said behind the siblings.

“FUCK!” Yuuto released Yuriko and dashed toward the stove, lifting the pan from it, and shutting down the gas. The smell of burning danced in the air when Yuriko tried to steady her breathing. 

“Yuriko-chan…” Azusa touched on Yuriko’s shoulder.

Blinking tears from her eyes, Yuriko gaped. Azusa’s skin would heal… He wouldn’t go away because of a single wound. He was a Vampire after all; there was no reason to worry. Everything was alright. They were all safe.

“You okay?” Yuuto patted Yuriko’s head and waited until she nodded. “Listen, Sis. I’m gonna need your help. You know how to do this… So, it’s your task now to finish that dish. I’m gonna patch Azusa up in the meantime. Can you cook?”

Yuriko nodded again. “I… I… can.”

“Cool.” Yuuto grinned, turning around, and taking hold of Azusa’s arm. “You, with me.” Without further explanation, he walked the Vampire toward the bathroom. Yuriko was left alone in the kitchen, and it took a moment before she could cut the potato and start cooking again.

Yuriko poked her portion with the spoon. The atmosphere had changed after Azusa’s incident. It was clear that the Vampire wasn’t truly happy that Yuuto had wrapped a new bandage around his arm, securing the fresh wound under it. Yuriko wondered if she should tell Ruki about this later… but he probably already knew that Azusa might do something like this. At least it had sounded like that if Azusa wasn’t allowed to ask her to stab him.

Who would think such a thing beforehand without a reason? Yes, Ruki must already be aware that something like this could happen.

Shaking her head, Yuriko finally tasted the meal. Spices tickled on her tongue. She had added a bit too much but couldn’t be helped now.

“Yuuto-san… do you have… shichimi or chili?” Azusa looked at the Kitsune as if nothing had been up earlier.

Yuriko gaped. “But… but… there’s so much spice already…”

Azusa shook his head. “I could… add some more…” 

“Haa… just a moment.” Yuuto rose from the table and went to get the chili. He placed the tiny jar in front of Azusa who gladly took it. It was almost disturbing how much of it he poured over his rice and curry sauce. 

Yuriko turned her head and decided it was time to sail to the safer waters. Hopefully safer. “Yuuto… say… were you the only one with the white hair in the village?”

Yuuto was just about to push the spoon into his mouth but now lowered his hand. “Yeah. Why?”

“Umh… I wonder what they look like as foxes then?”

“Usually, the color of their fur is close to their hair. Like you and me.” Yuuto tasted the food and smiled. “Damn, this is good! You really know how to cook.”

“It’s just a simple dish.” Yuriko waved her hand hastily but couldn’t hide her smile. Still, her mind was wandering. “Are… are there other white foxes then?”

Yuuto shrugged. “Within the Yako, white’s a rare color. It occurs at times, like in our family apparently. It’s more common with the Zenko but even many of them have other fur colors too.”

“The Zenko?”

“The Kitsune in the Human World. All they do is cause trouble, so stay away from them. They kidnap the Yako children… I was in a rescue party at some point for gettin’ them back.” Yuuto frowned and explained how the Yako already had problems because the Vampires hunted their females and then the Zenko had made the situation even worse by taking some young vixens. It had been a constant fight and Yuuto had worked to get them back a few years ago. “But then Grandpa told me not to go to the Human World anymore. I did other jobs after that.”

Yuriko nodded. So, the fox she had seen could have been a Zenko. But the fox had only watched. And Yuriko was constantly with the Mukamis. So, there was no reason to worry about this matter, right?

Eating her food, Yuriko listened to the talk. Something felt off but she couldn’t quite put her finger into it. Maybe it was just because there was so much new information. Half a year ago she hadn’t known anything about the Kitsune aside from the folklore tales and now living as one had become her reality. Yet, all this talk about the Yako and the Zenko only sounded confusing. 

“Umh… why… the Yako are living in the Demon World and the Zenko in the Human World?” Yuriko pondered between spoonfuls of rice. “I mean… they are all Kitsune. Why fight? They could just get along and live in peace.”

“The Zenko took over the Kitsune Realms in ancient times and chased the Yako out there. The Founders gave the Yako a new realm, so that’s why…”

“Eh? Shin and Carla-san did that?” Yuriko blinked. “Just when…?”

“Dunno. But it was probably their parents… I mean, those jerks are surely ancient but not that ancient.” Yuuto emptied his plate, starting to fill it again with rice and sauce. “Anyway, the First Bloods were away for the longest time. I only saw them comin’ this year. Suddenly, they walked in and said they’d renew the old vows. Whatever that means. It didn’t change a shit for me. But Grandpa was all ‘Carla-sama’, ‘Shin-sama’, beggin’ for their attention… disgustin’. For me, they’re the same blood-suckin’ scum as —”

“Yuuto!” Yuriko glared at Yuuto and then glanced at Azusa, but the Vampire was focused on eating his portion in silence and didn’t seem even to listen to the siblings’ conversation. “Yuuto… Shin is my friend and he helped me to save you. He made Grandpa give your star pearl back. We… we should be grateful.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Yuuto sighed. “You surely have been busy making such friends. Vampires, Founders… What else?”

“Umh… zombies but humans too.” Yuriko pushed the last spoonful into her mouth. This could be a good chance to mention Nalia. “Actually… one of my friends would like to meet you.”

“Huh? Why?” Yuuto frowned again. “I don’t have time for silly little teen vixens.”

“Hmph, my friends aren’t silly little teen vixens!” Yuriko shoved her plate aside and started to search for her phone. “Besides, you have all the time. And she isn’t a teen or even a fox. She’s a nice human.” 

Yuriko put her phone on the table and tapped Nalia’s picture on the screen, turning the phone to face Yuuto. “She’s around your age and I can assure you she’s good company. She is looking for friends, so…” 

“Haa… dunno… I shouldn’t mess up with people. Humans. There’s enough shit goin’ on without.” Yuuto shrugged but picked up the phone, staring at the photo. “Red hair and green eyes, huh? She’s a foreigner, right?”

“Mhm. Her last name is Wagner, so yes, I think she is.” Yuriko realized that she still hadn’t asked where Nalia was from. She totally should do that —

“Nalia-san… is probably from… Germany then…” Azusa said, smiling over his plate. “Wagner is… a German name.”

“See? Nalia is a pretty human lady from Germany, and she’s interested in meeting you.” Yuriko beamed at Yuuto, wondering how Azusa knew about German names. He didn’t strike her as a person who had knowledge like that, more like Ruki could have said it. But maybe there was more in Azusa than met the eye.

“Dunno…” Yuuto sighed, starting to eat his second portion.

Yuriko leaned in, putting on the best pleading face she could manage. She stared at Yuuto with wide eyes and smiled. “Please? It would make me happy.”

“Haa… You ain’t throwin’ me with such lil’ sis’ stuff! Not a fair game!” But no matter how annoyed Yuuto tried to look, a chuckle escaped him. He lifted his free hand and ruffled Yuriko’s hair. “Fine, I’ll meet her. Tell her to come to that park nearby.”

When Yuriko had put her shoes back on and was ready to step out of Yuuto’s apartment, he grabbed her arm and nodded toward the door. “You sure it’s okay to go alone with him?” 

Glancing at the door, Yuriko frowned. Azusa was waiting for her behind it, but she was aware that he could hear them. She placed her hand over Yuuto’s and pushed to remove it from her arm. “I’m sure… don’t worry, Yuuto. I have lived with them for a while now. Neither of them is hurting me or anything like that.”

“He seems… unstable.” Yuuto sighed. “Look, I’ve seen shitty things. Some people just lose it if too much happens. Dontcha be too near to him when… Haa… if things start to go south.”

“Really, Yuuto?” Yuriko placed her hands on her hips and stared at her brother. “You… you and me… have gone through lots of bad stuff too. We… should get others a chance to prove themselves before judging.”

“He pretty much proved himself today…” Yuuto turned his gaze to the wall. “You’re much more stubborn than a little sister should be. You should listen to me more.”

“I… I… start to listen when you… umh… start to make sense.” Yuriko wanted to kick something. As much as she enjoyed having a brother, she wished that Yuuto didn’t butt in her decisions constantly. It had been enough that she had tried to be good for mother and fath– Keisuke. That hadn’t mattered in the least. Now, she would do as she wished. She would keep the happiness that had been handed to her. Even if she needed to fight for it.

“Hmph, vixens should always do as foxes are telling them…”

This again? Yuriko glared at Yuuto. That was the stupidest reason he could come up with, especially since he had learned it from their relatives who had kept him against his will in the Demon World for years.

“Maybe you should reconsider that. You wanted out of there… Now, you should play by the rules of this realm.” Why couldn’t Yuuto understand? Yuriko had imagined how they would do fun things together, how she would finally have a family member who supported her… but she had gotten an overly protective douchebag of a brother who couldn’t accept how she was living her life. “I… I… will go now. I’ll visit you again later. Maybe with Ruki that time. See you later, Yuuto.”

This time Yuriko was allowed to step out. She pressed the door shut behind her and took a deep breath. The sweltering and moist afternoon air slithered into her lungs while enveloping every inch of her skin, making her feel instantly sweaty. It hadn’t been this bad last summer… or any summer before but this year the heat was really a bother.

The walk through the city did not feel any better since the sun was scorching from above. Yuriko was relieved when they finally stepped into the park which had at least some shadows. She hurried under the trees. Maybe they should have used the limousine, but she had insisted on walking since she wasn’t allowed to go jogging in the woods while Ruki was away.

“Are you… sad, Yuriko-chan?” Azusa’s words took Yuriko aback. She glanced at the Vampire next to her, shaking her head.

“Umh… no, Azusa-kun. I simply wish that Yuuto would see how good people you all are.”

“Good… people…?” It almost looked like Azusa couldn’t quite understand what Yuriko meant. “But… are you… missing Ruki now?”

Yuriko turned her gaze to the path they were walking. Going through here would take them into the forest but perhaps that was for the best. Surely, it was less sweaty there. “I’m looking forward to him coming home, yes. And I hope everything is alright with Karlheinz-sama.”

“The Vampire king?!” The voice bounced behind the trees at the same time as a white-grey head peeked out. Amber-yellow eyes pierced Yuriko but they seemed friendly.

Within seconds, Azusa had moved in front of Yuriko. A young man stepped out, scratching his head, and laughing like he was nervous. He was only a little taller than Yuriko. She was pretty sure they must be around the same age. But the most interesting detail arrived when the wind shifted and made the scent of the man waft toward Yuriko and Azusa.

A Kitsune. Without a doubt. He smelled like Yuuto, yet a bit different. In a similar manner, the Vampires had a distinguished scent but each of them was still unique. 

Yuuto said that white fur is rare for the Yako… So, does it mean that this man is… What was the other name? Yuriko shifted, trying to see better behind Azusa.

“You are… a fox person…” Azusa lifted his hand to prevent Yuriko from dashing in front of him. 

“Yeah, I surely am.” The Kitsune grinned, flashing his canines, and ruffled his hair. “The cutest fox in the city… Though… Now, I’m not sure anymore. You have such a cutie there~”

“Emh… How do you know that I am…?” Yuriko placed her hand on Azusa’s shoulder but stayed put.

“Easy! My brother and I saw you in the cafe before… and that smell of yours. Though, there’s so much Vampire in it too.” The Kitsune stopped for a moment, moving a bit closer. “Now, it makes sense. You sure hang out with these Vampires a lot. Such a cool vixen you are! I hope the blond one didn’t give you real trouble… For a moment I wanted to jump in there but Toshi-nii said it would be too dangerous…”

Just how much did this young man talk? Yuriko tried to keep at his pace and absorb every word. Suddenly, it dawned on her. The two white-haired men in the cafe and later in the street when she had talked with Kou! 

And in the library too. But it wasn’t this man… So… probably this Toshi-san he mentioned…

“Yuriko-chan… we must go…” Azusa took Yuriko’s arm and started to pull her along the path, making sure he was in between her and the Kitsune.

“But… but… He seems like a good person!” Yuriko glanced back. 

“I am a cute person!” The man waved his hand. “Kozima Toru is the name! I’m happy to meet a new vixen in the city, but I can see you’re busy now. Let’s talk more later~ Maybe after the mating season is over!”

Kozima Toru? Yuriko glanced back again but the Kitsune had disappeared. The name didn’t ring any bells to her but at least it wasn’t Nakamura, her grandpa’s family name. Perhaps her grandfather had not sent this man after her. Men. The first time, there had been two of them.  But then… They were tailing her on their own? That didn’t seem alright either, and Yuriko was sure Ruki wouldn’t like the news. Yet, she also knew it was better to tell him when he would come back home. Keeping secrets wouldn’t do any good, right?

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October 2024 Contest #2: Dark Web 2.0

Words: 6,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: drug use, mild violence, some angst, swearing

Tallahassee, Fall ‘22

“You gotta pick up the Molly for Saturday’s party.” 

Lost in her homework, it takes a few seconds for Anna to register Hans’s request. She looks up from a dense scrawl of literature notes and spits out her pen. Clattering through a pyramid of adderall bottles. 

“What?” she snaps. Hans shrugs and takes another toke, adding to the cloud of Marijuana smoke in her dorm. Hoarse coughing ensues. The flamingo-shaped bong winds up in Anna’s hands. Peace-offering for the favour, perhaps. The thought singes her nerves but she inhales a massive hit anyway. Straight through the glass bird’s pink beak. It doesn’t calm her down. Chicken-shit weed. 

“Why me?” Anna spews smoke through her nostrils like Puff the Magic Dragon. Hans smiles and ruffles her hair. 

“Because I’ve got a scholarship.” 

“And I don’t?” 

Hans tips the flamingo at her, “Exactly!” 

“Let’s get this straight, Mr. Esteemed-Scholar - it’s totally fine if I get arrested and you don’t?” 

“C’mon,” Hans reclines in her bed, “hot chick buying drugs. No record. You’re getting a slap on the wrist at most.” 

Anna rolls her eyes, “You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

“And yet you love me-” 

“I don’t-” 

“Enough to smoke my weed, that is.” 

Anna freezes mid-rip. Her eyes roll back and she coughs violently. 

“Fine,” Anna sets the bong against a shelf full of mid-19th century English classics, “what, um, drugs do I need to buy? Or - how does one go about procuring said illegal substances?” 

Hans raises an eyebrow, “Haven’t you bought drugs before?” 

The thought jogs Anna’s memory through old Breaking Bad episodes at home on TV.Suitcases stuffed with cash. Duct-taped parcels of white powder. Cops. Guns. Her throat dries. She slouches into her chair. Vaguely recalls the last time she sat on the family couch with Elsa’s warm presence beside her. Giggling at Hank’s jokes. A simmering wave of hurt wells beneath her eyelids, but she clamps down the memory with numb indifference. Fucking weed’s messing with my head. 

“No.” 

“Get on the dark web,” Hans shoulders his backpack, “find a dealer off Silk Road. You’re a smart cookie-” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Hans pats her head again, like a puppy, “don’t let us down, champ. Party’s counting on you.” 

Anna scowls at the door slamming shut. She heaves a window open to let the smoke out; noon sun and fresh air lending some much-needed clarity. Dark Web. Silk Road. Exactly like Hans to know shady shit like this. What a chump. She boots her Macbook and downloads Tor Browser through the horrendously slow college wifi. Eyes widen in rabid curiosity at exactly what Silk Road entails. 

Drugs. 

Lots of drugs. Filling her entire screen. Anna looks over her shoulder, fearful of campus security waiting to bust down her door. Indexes of suppliers and pictures of powders and crystals. She fumbles around and filters out heroin, crystal meth, cocaine. Until only MDMA remains. Location: Tallahassee. 

One supplier shows up: Adderall-Molly-Oxy-Xanax-Valium - 323 area. College students welcome.

Her hands freeze on the chat window. Hasn’t Chris Hansen caught people like this? She ponders a DEA agent on the other end. Why don’t you take a seat over there? Getting hauled before a district judge. Breaking down in tears while she’s locked away in prison. Anna’s pigtails swish around and she shakes off the fear - just get it over with. A test looms next week. Maybe buy some Adderall while you’re at it. 

Anna swallows the last of her fears and messages IceQueento set up a score. 

***

It’s only ten minutes from Campus. Anna still manages to get lost in the winding dark suburban streets. Cursing herself for nearly driving into Lake Ellis Park instead of Lafayette Park. Despite her best intentions, she’s late. Only one other non-descript black Ford sits in the parking lot. Weird, she thinks. Looking at the car again and trying to place where she’s seen it before. Anna shrugs and dons a face mask. Pulling on a hoodie despite the sweltering humidity and wandering into the park. Streetlights spear the night air. A single, yellow beam broken by a shadow. Streams of cigarette smoke waft from the figure standing stock-still. Her skin crawls at how abnormal this feels. 

Ice creeps up her spine. She looks in the pitch-dark bushes, expecting police to swarm her any moment. Each step towards the shadowy figure feels like jogging a mile. The hundred-dollar bills in her hand are damp with sweat and she’s ready to vomit her thumping heart when the dealer notices her. He scarcely turns. The darkness beneath his black hoodie feels like staring into a void.  All the hairs on her arms stand on end. 

“So, um, drugs?” Anna whispers. Before mentally slapping her forehead. Idiot. Why else would someone stand alone in a park at 1 a.m.? 

Anna’s gaze drags the pavement. Afraid of looking into his eyes. Or the handcuffs inevitably going to lock around her wrists. But the deal happens faster than a drawn breath. A swipe of a palm. Twelve-hundred of Hans’s sponsored dollars gone. Two bottles of pills rattle into her slick hand. Great, phew, that was - easy. Cold metal grazes her skin when his hand draws away. She catches a flash of blue beneath the streetlight and immediately recognises a cerulean-blue Topaz ring on the dealer’s thumb. 

Wait. 

“Elsa?” 

Her voice stabs through the void, expecting to find light. The figure freezes and turns. Glaring, piercing blue eyes behind a facemask. Anna’s breath stops. She’d never forget those eyes in four years. She sure as hell wouldn’t forget how they made her feel. Her nerves splinter. She spews the first thing that comes to mind. A continuation of an unfinished sentence from an eternity ago. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Shh!” Elsa hisses, looking around, “You got your score. Now. Get. Lost.” 

Knees buckle. She barely hears the departing footsteps over the stampede in her ears. 

“Wait, wait, you can’t just go,” Anna cries, stumbling over her Converse sneakers. Flailing fingers catch hold of Elsa’s hoodie and she spins around. Livid rage flares in her eyes. A sudden shove robs Anna’s breath and she slams into the ground. Stars cross her eyes and fade into a gun’s cold barrel pointed at her forehead. 

At least she got the gun part right. 

“Don’t push your luck, missy.” 

Perspiration leaks down her face and she gulps at Elsa’s finger hovering over the trigger. Safety’s still on. She looks up at the glint of streetlights within the Topaz mounted on her thumb. Iridescent blue rays refract like the thousands of memories and unspoken thoughts she’s harboured towards her sister. Right before the hoodied figure turns and clomps into the darkness. The long-dormant sight of Elsa’s turned back shattering each one of those memories into a million jagged little pieces. 

***

Tallahassee, Summer ‘18

Elsa marches through the door. Sweat pours off her brows. Track practice’s killed her. She needs an ice-cold soda. A nap. Some TV and ice cream. Preferably in that order. But one look at Agnarr scurrying about the living room chattering on the phone tells her she’s not getting any of those things. 

A suitcase stands already packed by the doorway. 

“Seriously?” Elsa thrusts out her hands, “Again?” 

“Gotta be in Boston two hours ago,” Agnarr mumbles, before shooting her a glare, “oh yea, I promised Anna’s school I’d pick her up after detention. She fought with some kid again.” 

“Wait, what?” Elsa clutches her forehead as her mind frays, “How are you going to-” 

Car keys sail toward her face and she barely manages to snatch them mid-air. Agnarr brushes past, suitcase in tow. 

“Look alive, kid! Bring her straight home, no mucking about,” he points at her, dress shoes clicking down their manicured driveway. A cab’s already pulled up and ready to go. 

“You can’t expect me to cover your parental duties all the time y’know-” 

Agnarr stops in his tracks. For a moment, Elsa allows herself to hope. Hope that she wouldn’t have to handle Anna’s problems. See her face or feel the ache that comes from dealing with that red-headed girl. But he turns and laughs in her face. 

“As a matter of fact, I can,” he points at the Range Rover, “I paid for your driver’s education.” 

“Dad, stop.” 

The taxi door’s already open. Driver yelling at him to hurry the fuck up. He perches a foot inside and muses, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Right,” Elsa folds her arms, “because I’m the responsible one, yea?” 

“The eldest,” he sneers through the window, “hence, the most responsible by default. Come through for me, kid!” 

Squealing tires and a cloud of smoke drag a father from her life again. Elsa stands there in a daze. Wondering if Agnarr would tell the driver about his two daughters and how he’s stranding them for the dozenth time. She looks over at the neighbour’s overgrown lawn. Mr Macpherson back from a hospital night shift and shooting hoops with his son. Elsa sighs. But forces a half-hearted wave when he catches her staring for too long and wondering about a feeling she’s never felt before. 

She wanders back inside and shivers at their home’s vacant emptiness. Bone-cold despite the burning sun outside. The housekeeper would’ve left enough boxes of pasta in the freezer for a week. Her room’s probably packed so neatly she couldn’t find anything if she tried. Just as Elsa contemplates going back to school and studying in the library, she crosses over to Iduna’s picture on the mantel and lights a candle. Faltering eyes fixed upon her mother’s monochrome photograph; teary ache blossoming at a woman she’s never known. 

“Stop, just - stop,” Elsa seethes at herself. She wills herself to the bathroom and washes her face with ice-cold water. It doesn’t undo the knot of unspoken longing in her chest. But it does help keep her head down as she passes Anna’s room. “MORONS KEEP OUT” sign plastered on the door. 

Focus, chem homework. Elsa plods through chapters of Pharmacokinetics. “…rate of drug metabolisation in a patient’s bloodstream measured-” 

She yawns. Thoughts wander toward her sister. Vacant-minded stare out the window as she ponders how long it’d take to metabolise Anna out of her brain. Right as she tries to focus back on her notes again, the clock strikes three. She’s torn between leaving Anna to her own devices and continuing the homework. 

“…side effects: Euphoria, loss of motor control-” 

Fuck it. 

Elsa heads downstairs and tries to get the behemoth of a Range Rover to Anna’s school in one piece. It’s nothing, her reflection in the side mirror pales, you’re just picking your brat of a sister from detention. She looks at the other Private school students streaming from the glass-concrete compound and makes out Anna walking with her head down. Hands in her skirt pockets. Fjällräven bag dangles from her shoulders and prim red pigtails that make her look like the most precious person ever to grace her world. 

Anna spots the car and immediately walks in the other direction. A surge of annoyance wells within Elsa and she slams the door while getting out. 

“Hey,” Elsa catches up to her, “Hey!” 

She catches hold of Anna’s arm, only to get tugged away.

“Oh, it’s you,” Anna peeks over her shoulder, “Why’re you driving dad’s car?” 

Elsa sighs and tries to phrase an answer that won’t lead to Anna stomping off. 

“He’s in Boston for work,” Elsa crosses her arms, “and told me to get you after detention.” 

“Great,” Anna glares, “so now I’m stuck with you.” 

“What, you gonna beat me up too?” 

A glint of a smile appears on Anna’s lips. Rare and radiant like a ray of sunlight peeking through a hurricane. 

“I might,” Anna sneers, “if you piss me off as much as that fucking bitch during Lit class.” 

“Woah, the language on you, missy,” Elsa snarls, opening the car door, “you learn that in Literature?” 

“No,” Anna rests her knees on the dashboard, “just Shakespeare.” 

“Yea? I got a quote for you: ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce!’” Elsa sniggers. 

Anna smiles, “Twelfth Night!” 

Her sister’s beaming now. The afternoon sun falls across her face. Freckles sparse against glowing soft skin. Elsa’s chest clenches at the sight. God, that girl. It’s only a moment of weakness before she catches her eyes wandering to the smoothness of Anna’s thighs left bare from where her skirt had hitched up. 

Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you? The car behind honks. Her face burns. 

“Pay attention!” Anna chides, fiddling with the radio, “Are you going straight home, or what?” 

“Dad told me-” 

“Could we not?” Anna pleads with pouty, puppy eyes, “It’s the first day of summer, for fucks sake!” 

“Language!” 

“Let’s go to the mall,” Anna gestures at her feet, “my shoes got torn up and I need new ones.” 

“I’m not taking you to the mall, Anna,” Elsa retorts, “and you don’t have money anyway - Dad stopped-”

“I’ve still got money from working over Spring Break.” 

“You what?” 

Anna pauses, “You didn’t know I’d been working at Dairy Queen?” 

Silence stretches thin between them. Your sister had a job and you had no idea? What’d you been doing? Studying? Shutting out the whole world? She looks over at Anna, teal-blue eyes and that broken look on her face which always got her way. Or maybe you just didn’t want to feel weak beneath those eyes. 

“Ok, fine,” Elsa relents, “let’s get your damn shoes or whatever.” 

“Yay! You’re the fucking best!” Anna squeals. Before leaning over and planting a huge, wet kiss on Elsa’s cheek. 

Elsa nearly swerves into oncoming traffic. 

***

Despite Anna’s promises, she still takes her loving-sweet time to choose a pair of shoes. It ends up being another pair of Converse Chucks anyway. Elsa diligently studies lecture notes on her phone while waiting at H&M. Eyes widen when she notices Anna browsing a rack of bikinis. 

It’s summer. Elsa tells herself. 

She wonders if she’d get to see Anna in one. Or if someone else will. The imagination needles at her mind and she heaves in relief when Anna leaves empty-handed. The girl’s doe-eyed persistence doesn’t let up, however, and Anna promptly demands they stop by Baskin-Robbins for ice cream. As per summer traditions. 

Plain chocolate for Elsa. Berryfudge Cookie-Blast for Anna. She struggles to keep the overflowing cone in one piece. Even when Elsa scoops a spoonful to help.

“No stealing,” Anna snarks.

“Fine.”

Anna slathers her tongue upon the pink and blue monstrosity. An evident shudder slices through her nerves. 

“So what’s this I hear about you and that guy, Hans?” Elsa asks. Trying to keep the fantasies at bay.

“None of your business,” Anna pauses and relents, “ok, fine. He asked me out. We might both end up in FSU anyway.”

“And you agreed?”

“I went out with him once,” Anna looks away, sundae threatening to melt onto her fingers, “might go out with him again.” 

Elsa fights the stinging in her chest and maintains a stony expression, “That good, huh?”

Anna shrugs, “Hey, sometimes you gotta be sure.”

“First time I’ve seen you cautious about anything,” Elsa sneers.

Anna waves an ice cream-tipped spoon, “Things done well, and with a care-”

“-exempt themselves from fear, yes yes - Henry VIII.”

A huge grin breaks on Anna’s face, “You’re clever-er than I thought.” 

“-and you’re-” 

Words desert Elsa momentarily. Beautiful. Irresistible. Forbidden. A thunderclap echoes in her soul when they lock eyes. The epiphany shines through clouds of delusion; she’d avoided Anna for so long because it’d inevitably circle back to this self-loathing mess of attraction. The tugging in her chest stops long enough to notice Anna digging at her cone with a spoon. 

“Stop stealing my ice cream, missy,” Elsa complains, “you didn’t let me try yours.” 

The warning’s ignored as Anna takes a second scoop. 

“Stop! And you had to take two bites!” 

“Hey, sometimes you gotta be sure,” Anna licks chocolate off her lips. 

Mischief surges through Elsa and she leans forward to take a huge chomp out of Anna’s cone. A shrill-voiced squeal erupts and Anna lurches after Elsa’s. It’s messy. Two sisters fending the other off until creamy flecks litter the table. 

“Ok! I give up!” Elsa relents, she spots a white smear on Anna’s cheek and reaches over with a paper napkin, “Y-you’ve got crap on your face.” 

Their eyes meet. Elsa pauses midway, before moving closer and wiping it off. The tremble in her hand doesn’t go unnoticed. Neither is the blush spreading between Anna’s freckles. The girl crumples the napkin into a tiny ball and drops it to the floor. Her voice descends to a whisper. 

“So do you.” 

Every muscle in Elsa’s body freezes tight as her sister leans closer and licks the fudge off the corner of her lips. Her heart stops. What’s left of the cone plops onto the table. When her senses swim back, all she sees is Anna’s smile spreading across her perfect lil’ face. All she hears is pounding in her ears. And a stuttery voice leaving her lips. 

“D-did you get it all off?” 

Anna leans in again. Right before their lips touch - she hears those words. Undoubtedly haunting her dreams for years to come. 

“Sometimes, you gotta be sure.” 

***

DarkWeb messenger v2022

091622-0201hrs-RubyRose21: u pulled a gun on me???? 091622-0202hrs-RubyRose21: whr do u get off, gawd- 091622-0202hrs-RubyRose21: wht d fuk - did u chnge ur number??? 091622-0205hrs-IceQueen: Dispute not with her - she is lunatic. 091622-0206hrs-RubyRose21: RICHARD III??? WHAT **RubyRose21 blocked**

092422-1044hrs-Perkins36: howdy stranger. care to indulge an old man’s itch for LSD? I work at FSU 092422-1044hrs-IceQueen: no LSD. PCP/Shrooms. 20/tab 092422-1044hrs-Perkins36: Lets do 10. arts faculty entrance at 1am? I have to work late 092422-1045hrs-IceQueen: k

***

Tallahassee, Fall ‘22

Every one of their childhood memories jogs through Anna’s brain as she crouches behind a pillar. The darkness in her soul mirrors the pitch-dark faculty grounds. She bites her lip. Trying to conjure some misdeed or slight or annoyance that made Elsa abandon her like this. It’s useless - she knows exactly what she’s done. Merely avoiding the obvious in favour of deceiving herself that it’s her own fault things are ruined. 

It was perfect, Anna thinks, looking at the stars. One perfect, blissful summer before it all exploded like a supernova and left behind a dark void where her presence once lived. 

A car rumbles into the parking lot, headlights down. Her jaw clenches. Vengeful words sprout in her mind. Braided through that desperate longing to see Elsa one more time. 

The blonde figure approaches. Hands in her pockets. 

Anna’s breath knots tight in her chest and she emerges into the dark. Face held aloft to her sister. Elsa staggers back and scowls. 

“Fuck!” Elsa hisses, pointing at Anna, “I drove across town to pick up the stuff and it’s you-” 

“You blocked me?” Anna’s brows furrow, “What the hell’s wrong with you?” 

“We’re through,” Elsa turns and walks away, only to get yanked around. She reaches for her hip. 

“Brave enough to sell drugs on campus but too pussy to pack heat in a gun-free zone?” 

“Enough, Anna-” 

“You pulled a gun on your sister-” 

“Let go of me!” Elsa shoves her back. A visible crest of hurt spikes on Anna’s face at the word. Sister. At getting shut out for years. The violent alienation. Every hate-filled Facebook message and unanswered text and hours spent searching for the shadow of Elsa’s presence boils over into a single tear streaked upon her cheek. 

“I…I searched for you, for years,” Anna’s voice strains, “I thought you moved to South Carolina-” 

Elsa looks at the concrete, “Why? What do you want from me?” 

Anna’s mouth opens to answer, but she’s already walking off into the darkness. 

“I want you back, ok?” Anna stumbles after her, “We’re supposed to be sisters! This isn’t normal-” 

Elsa whirls around and jabs a finger, “It isn’t!” 

The glimmering fury staring back halts the rest of her rant. Her heart cracks a little more when she sees her unadorned fingers. No ring. 

“Don’t you get it?” A tear glistens from Elsa’s eyes, “It’s not normal - this thing between us. I’m not normal. That’s why I left.” 

Anna looks down at the fist bunched around her shirt. Palpable hesitation in those slender fingers before she slowly lets go. All at once she feels like falling into a darkness. And already she wishes she’d never stepped foot into the dark web. Only to find hurt and heartbreak waiting within its dark recesses. Spreading through her chest with each step Elsa runs away from her. 

***

Tallahassee, Summer ‘18

Elsa lets out a shrill-voiced scream as she’s plunged into darkness. Her heart lurches. Whiteness floods her vision and she’s left gasping with scarcely a breath left in her lungs. The rollercoaster levels out but her head feels numb. Beside her, Anna’s sneering - not letting up until they come to a complete stop. 

“You were screaming,” Anna mocks. 

“Oh god, I-I,” Elsa gasps, knees buckle as she exits the ride, “my throat is hoarse-” 

“Hah!” Anna giggles, throwing her arms around Elsa, “That was hella fun!” 

“I only did it because you asked me to-” 

“Thank you, sport,” Anna walks ahead through the crowd. Frayed denim shorts hug her hips tight. She’s happy. Elsa thinks. That’s all you want for her. Her eyes rove Anna’s thin waist. Bare strip of skin exposed between her shorts and tank top. Her sister’s strawberry scent still lingers from the hug. When Anna looks back and smiles, her heart’s ready to explode. 

“Waddya wanna do next?” 

Perspiration dribbles down Elsa’s temple. Her heart throbs. She doesn’t know if it’s the rollercoaster. Unease further thrums when her phone pings with Kristoff’s notification. She scowls and mashes a reply before Anna can notice. 

DarkWeb messenger v2018

070118-1422hrs-ZZRudolphZZ: 4th July thing coming - any chance we could score more of that Molly shit? 070118-1445hrs-IceQueen: talk later. with my sister.

“Ice cream,” Elsa suggests, but she points at the darkened clouds, “looks like it’s gonna rain though.”

“Is this your way of getting another kiss out of me?”

Elsa’s face reddens, “What? That was not a kiss.” 

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” 

Anna’s half-smirk shoots straight through her gut. She’s your sister. Temptation stirs in a pool of warmth. She could be wanting it as much as you.

Stop, Elsa clenches her jaw, you’re a sick freak. 

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Elsa feels the first drops of rain on her fingertips, “housekeeper stocked Häagen-Dazs for us.”

Anna gasps, “Chocolate?” 

“Brownie Ganache.” 

“Yes!” Anna squeals, hugging Elsa tight again. And as she squeezes Anna’s slim figure back, feels that coil of warmth within herself latching onto her soul. Rapidly losing its battle against her sister’s forbidden charms. 

***

The deluge fails to drown out Anna’s singing in the car. Bopping along to Rihanna on the radio. Back home, she heads straight to the freezer and retrieves a pint while Elsa tries to remember where they left off on Breaking Bad last night. It’s impossible to concentrate on the show. Taste of chocolate in her mouth. Anna’s legs propped on a coffee table, tanned and soft beneath the living room lights. She looks over at her sister more than once, spoon perched on her lips. Trying not to imagine Anna tasting like Brownie Ganache. 

They make it to the season finale. Credits roll. The storm’s still relentless outside and there’s another one brewing inside Elsa when her sister shifts closer on the couch. 

“I bought something for you.” 

Crumpled packaging parchment sits on Anna’s hand. She finds a glittering Topaz ring set in gold nestled within. 

“It matches your eyes.” 

A ring. Your sister bought you jewellery. Elsa strains to breathe, “This looks really expensive.” 

Anna shrugs, “Dairy Queen paid well, not gonna lie-” 

“But why?” Elsa turns the ring over in her hands, “My birthday’s not until Christmas.” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Anna bites her lip, “for spending summer with me.” 

A well of affection builds in Elsa and threatens to burst. She wants to hug her. Kiss her. Shed that tear on the verge of escaping. All she manages is a terse sputter, “I love you, Anna. You’re my sister - of course I’d look after you.” 

Her lungs clam up when Anna reaches and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Self-control crumbles. Elsa leans closer and presses a kiss to Anna’s cheek. When her eyes open again, the girl reacts like she’s just been shot. Touching that blooming spot of red. You went too far. Anna’s scowl bears down on her. She’s never talking to you again. 

“Sorry, w-was that too much?” Elsa asks. 

The girl softens. Words tug at her lips to be set free, like that dance they’ve teetered around each other all summer. 

“No,” Anna whispers, shifting closer, “in fact - it’s not enough.” 

Her pulse seizes. Foggy gaze centres on Anna’s half-lidded eyes. Lips separated by a held breath. Beneath the forlorn scream of her conscience, Elsa finds enough lucidity to whisper. 

“There’s no going back from this, y’know?” 

“I can’t go back,” Anna’s smile curls against her own, “not from someone like you.” 

Their lips touch. A graze. A flicker. Tentative. Like tasting each other for the first time and not knowing if it be poison or honey they partake. Right before Anna crushes her lips into Elsa’s and pitches her world upside down. A spoon clatters. Hungry hands paw at her shirt. Her soul plummets through a chasm of sin, but all she wants is to pull Anna right into its depths. Together. 

“Why?” Elsa sputters between shallow breaths. 

“Because - she had eyes, and chose,” Anna trails kisses down Elsa’s neck, “Oth-” 

“Othello, yes,” Elsa clasps her sister’s head, staring into lust-soaked pools of blue, “we shouldn’t be doing this. Y’know?” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Anna bites her lips, before kissing her again, “but I’m choosing to. And I’m choosing you.” 

Electricity bursts through her core as Anna hitches a thigh upwards. She hears a moan somewhere. Echoing above the pattering rain. 

Shouldn’t. 

Her heart plunges into a pool of feelings she shouldn’t be feeling. Mouths whisper words they shouldn’t be saying to each other. Lips and fingers going places they shouldn’t be going. 

“Oh my god,” Anna seethes. Arching into her sister’s touch. 

God. 

Elsa screws her eyes shut and sees Him. Only meaning to ask why something so wrong could feel so right. 

***

DarkWeb messenger v2022

092722-2031hrs-JessRabbit: i want crack. Sell it to me. 092722-2031hrs-IceQueen: no crack. read the ad. 092722-2032hrs-JessRabbit: addys den. $500 092722-2145hrs-JessRabbit: HELLO??? 092722-2146hrs-IceQueen: God has given you one face, and you make yourself another. 092722-2147hrs-JessRabbit: Othello. FUCK 092722-2148hrs-IceQueen: you’re not gonna stop, are you 092722-2149hrs-JessRabbit: I want answers 092722-2149hrs-IceQueen: I am not bound to please thee with my answers 092722-2151hrs-JessRabbit: MACBETH? 092722-2151hrs-IceQueen: Merchant of Venice 092722-2151hrs-IceQueen: you’re getting sloppy. im at Hedon on Fridays **JessRabbit blocked**

***

Tallahassee, Fall ‘18

The night sky lights with an occasional flash of lightning and the cold glow of her former home. Within her water-logged eyes, Elsa can’t tell where rain begins and where tears end. It’s not going to end. She looks up at Agnarr’s unmoving shadow on the second floor. Cursing beneath the rumbling thunder as she loads the last suitcase into her new Ford. 

No, she thinks, looking back at the ghost of a house, this is how it ends. 

The rainwater’s pooling in the driveway now. She imagines pieces of her broken heart washing into the drain. Maybe she’ll find them again in South Carolina. Or in a ditch somewhere. Thunder claps through her ears. Dad’s heated words still booming loud within them. She flinches at the door opening. Shit, I swore she was engrossed in a new episode. 

“No!” Elsa screams at Anna, running into the rain, “It’s pouring!” 

“What are you-” Anna peers into the car, “Are you leaving?” 

Elsa wipes rainwater from her eyes. All it does is burn the clarity of Anna’s shattered expression into her memory. 

“I’m going, Anna-” 

“Why?” Anna yells. Hair sticks to her face. Hands outstretched, trembling. Agnarr’s folded arms behind the balcony. Coward. Come down here and look what you’ve done. 

“I-I’ve kept things from you,” Elsa tries to make herself heard over the rain; impossible with how broken her voice is, “I’ve sold drugs from home a-and…dad found out.” 

“What?” Anna shrieks, “You expect me to believe that horseshit?” 

Anna steps closer, only for Elsa to hold out a hand. Fist clenches around her soaking wet shirt. A slight glance at Agnarr, still unmoving. 

“D-don’t make this harder for me,” Elsa’s lips sputter with rain and tears, “Or yourself.” 

“W-was this about what happened between us?” 

She looks straight through blurry eyes into the recesses of Anna’s heart. Sees only purity. But instead of affection, she feels the unbearable burden of knowing she’d never, in a million lifetimes - deserve her sister’s love. Agnarr’s still staring at them. Fuck him. 

“Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love,” Elsa whispers. Pulling Anna into a kiss laced with the bittersweet brevity of their love affair. You chose this. You knew it’d end up like this and you chose it. Salt mixes with rain. It doesn’t matter. If she had to do it all over again, she would’ve chosen Anna a million times out of a million. 

“Hamlet,” Anna whispers back.  

Elsa lets go of her sister. Driving away with nothing set in the GPS. Before she turns the corner from the suburban street where she grew up, looks back one last time and sees the shadow of Anna’s figure kneeling in the driveway. Head in her hands and sobbing in the pouring rain. 

***

Tallahassee, Fall ‘22

Anna pulls up to Club Hedon and realises she should’ve read the Google reviews. Or a dictionary. Hedon. Hedonistic. Friday-night revellers dressed like it’s Halloween on crack. Rampant display of flesh and latex and skintight leather. She watches a bare-chested man walk past her car in a gas mask, nipple clamps flopping in the humid night air. Fuckin’ hell - is this Elsa’s new scene? She digs through her memories. Blonde hair perpetually buried in her books. Now selling drugs to college students and hanging out with folk who look like they belong in an S&M dungeon. Or perhaps this was one. 

Three realisations hit her as she crosses the parking lot. She drove. She left her fake ID in dorm. She’s wearing a college t-shirt and skinny jeans. 

She might as well be a goth at a nursing home. Standing in line with blackclad partygoers plastered in pasty-white makeup. Her head swims at the red-velvet wallpaper. Broken neon lights and the faint thump of rave music behind the door. The queue moves quickly. She quakes in her sneakers before the hulking mass of a bouncer. The skinhead takes one look at Anna and goes red-faced with restrained laughter. He waves her in. 

It’s smoky. It’s loud. Red-and-green lasers lace between raptured arms like an unholy Evangelical church service. Muscle-bound men cavort with ladies dressed in corsets and fishnets and sky-high boots. Her throat goes dry. Chest clenching hard when she spots Elsa staring from across the bar. No more running away. No shadowy ambushes. Just a leather biker’s jacket and that effortless blonde braid she’s dreamt of a million times. 

A shot of vodka sits ready when she approaches. Those eyes. Sultry. Possessive. Shattered with regret. She dives within them, searching for hope. Comes up empty. But finds it in the Topaz ring on her thumb. Anna downs the vodka and stares her sister in the face. 

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” 

“Tempest,” Elsa smiles, “not your scene then.” 

“And it’s yours?” Anna quirks an eyebrow. 

“I’m here for work,” Elsa looks away, “drugs don’t sell themselves.” 

Vodka swirls in her head and she clutches the bar. Words tangle in her throat. She could run away again. Disappear like a ghost in the night, leaving her clutching at a shadow destined to forever elude her. Anna struggles to piece together a sentence. 

“Did you really get kicked out because Dad caught you selling dope?” 

Elsa looks down and fiddles with her ring. 

“No,” Elsa locks eyes with her, “I left because he caught us.” 

Her chest implodes. The music pounds in her ears. 

“Why on earth didn’t you say so?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Elsa’s fist quakes around the vodka, “call Dad a bastard but he was right - this would’ve been way more damaging if neither of us knew how to deal with it and just let it go on.” 

“And you just left?” Anna rifles her hair, “Without saying anything?” 

“I removed myself,” Elsa shoots back, “a-all I meant to do was give you a chance to be normal. We couldn’t have done that so close together-” 

“Yea, right. Normal.” Anna steps closer and closes a hand upon Elsa’s. The bar’s sticky. Sweat leaks down her collar. “Look where normal brought us. Right back to each other.” 

Elsa squeezes her hand back, “I-I’m not normal, Anna. This thing I felt towards you. I’ve tried so long to treat you like a normal sister - and I just couldn’t-” 

A fingertip on Elsa’s lips cuts her off. Cold and sharp like her words. Rife desire flares within her eyes in time with the flickering laser lights. 

“If you can’t be normal towards me,” Anna breathes a vodka-laced wisp on her lips, “then be abnormal.” 

“-abnormal?”

“Hurt me, use me, abuse me,” Anna’s unwavering stare captures Elsa in a trance, “you’ve already messed me up so bad by leaving. I wouldn’t mind a bit more pain-”

“Anna-”

“-as long it comes from you. As long I get to have you in my life.”

Darkness floods Elsa’s eyes.

A tug on her wrist pulls Anna towards the dancefloor. Bodies bump around like she’s buffeted in a stormy, black sea. Guided by an icy-white braid leading through the chaos. Arms close around her waist. Amidst the dense press of flesh and leather she can’t tell where her hips end and where Elsa’s begin. A warmth spreads up her neck as Elsa kisses between each freckle. Terse whisper in the noise somehow audible like she’s speaking straight to her heart. 

“You’ve no idea just how abnormal I can get with you.” 

Anna shudders beneath Elsa’s touch. Her chest stirs. That perverse hunger she’s forgotten bares its ugly fangs. The abnormal part of herself so easily hidden behind the facade of college, literature, Hans. All the normal she’s meant to do in life. Save for the one person who truly made her feel normal. 

Entangled in Elsa’s limbs. Ensared within a dark web of sin. Hips and breasts flushed like that summer afternoon on the couch - feels as natural and normal as breathing itself. 

A hand snakes around Elsa’s neck; eternal blue eyes melt her last resolve. She drags Elsa deep and kisses her with four years of desperate longing from the shadows. Pulling away to gasp for air, Anna awakens on the altar of unbridled surrender to Elsa’s lips. Her name whispered like the thrumming hymn in her heart. Instead of a sacrament, she tastes cigarettes and vodka. Instead of penance, she offers guilt and lust. In place of salvation, Anna darkens her soul with sin. Burying her conscience with each kiss Elsa peppers on her skin. Her lungs enrapture with worshipful piety. Straining to breathe in the holy temple of Elsa’s vanilla scent. 

One more verse flutters through her mind. 

“You have witchcraft in your lips,” Anna breathes against her sister’s neck. 

Elsa’s eyes widen. She ponders for a moment while their fingers interlace.  

“As you from crimes would pardoned be,” her words a mere humming breath against the heartbeat in Anna’s neck, “let your indulgence set me free.”

[galaxyhanart]

OMG?????

y’all gotta read this @impulsivefanwriter wroTE SOME CABINET MAN AU STUFF I LOVEEEE IT AHHHHHHHHH IT’S SO GOOD i’m gonna talk about it more at the end but first read it bc oh my First Master all the writing is by them (which btw THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHH)

~~~~~

The SRJ Club [Beginnings of the Cabinet Man AU]

The club is absolutely roaring with noise, from music to hooting and yelling to the pounding of bodies in a wild dance. Lloyd covers his pointed ears and tucks in their tail, the tip already bruised from one laughing player swinging right over it. 

What should reek of sweat, perfume, and fizzy pop drinks instead somehow smells of fresh rainfall and snappy mint. Bright lights strobe to the rhyme of the bouncing instruments, reflecting off clouds of grey and blue fog from the smoke machines positioned around the stage. Blue sparks crackle around the air without hurting players, one of the many quality-of-life perks of the game.

“Okay, team,” Nya has to raise her voice over the music to be heard, and Lloyd’s grateful she’s taken over for him— they can barely hear themselves think over all this noise. “Let’s keep on track. We’re here for information on the Keytan— KAI!”

Lloyd’s brother has already been swept away by the crowd, yanked into the taffy field of dancing players. Nya storms after him.

A strobe light flashes in Lloyd’s eyes and they hiss to himself, rubbing them. Cole leans down and nudges him, foot tapping to the beat. “Hey. You can lower the game volume in your settings.”

Blinking in surprise, Lloyd pulls up their player settings. Cole directs him to volume controls, and suddenly the bustling music club is more manageable for the teen(?) to handle. 

They crack a small, fanged smile. “Thanks, Cole.”

Cole shoots him a two-fingered salute before going back to vibing to the beat.

Nya drags her dizzy brother back over. “Okay. As I was saying, we’re here for information on the Keytana only. Scott said there was an NPC we could get info from. We’re looking for someone called—“

Microphone tapping catches Lloyd’s ear, the tip twitching like a cat. They turn, squinting up at one of the elevated stages. On it stands one of the club NPCs, and at once, the music cuts to a deep, quiet backing track, the strobe lights dimming. The crowd simmers, attention trained to the stage.

“Are you ready for the star of the show?” the NPC shouts into the mic. 

The crowd cheers. One player climbs onto the soda bar counter in wild excitement, others shooting blaster-like party poppers into the club’s ceiling.

The NPC on stage swings around the mic. “It’s time for the arrival of our hero, our inspiration, the reason for our very existence… Superstar Rockin’ Jay himself!”

If Lloyd thought the crowd was loud before, it simply erupts now. The four ninja are swept into the swarm, bodies jostling as everyone surges forward for a better view of the stage. Lloyd yanks their tail to one side before it can get squeezed in the dense mob, shying into the sides of his older brother and sister. 

At once, all the lights in the club cut out, leaving them in the darkness of an outage. All noise quiets in an instant. Lloyd waits for confused whispers to break out, moments from voicing their own confusion, but the horde of players all seem to hold their breath in excitement, not panic. Lloyd tilts his head, fingers twitching with anticipation.

A blue spotlight bursts to life, then a second, and a third, all pointed at one spot on the stage. The fog machines chug to life, pouring more fog around the shining stage. With a hiss, a trapdoor opens and a platform rises up.

Standing on the platform is an NPC with a glowing blue and yellow electric guitar. The spotlights reflect off glowing yellow markings on a dark blue top, open to reveal a light blue chest with glittering top surgery scars and small darker triangle patterns up one side. A white belt, tied like a ninja’s gi, hangs around his waist, the ends flapping over glowing blue rings on his pants. Heeled yellow boots tap the stage, echoing over the quiet club.

Bright orange eyes open in a jagged mask-like marking of darker blue skin with freckles, and fluffy white hair sweeps over them. Pointed ears twitch, catching the faint track of music. When the NPC grins, wide and bright, fangs glint in his mouth.

“HEY PLAYERS!” He calls, voice amplified like a microphone by the game as he snaps his fingers with the glimmer of blue sparks. “ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?”

“YEAH!” The crowd screams back.

The NPC turns his head, cupping a hand dramatically around his pointed ear as he holds the guitar neck higher with his other hand. “I couldn’t hear that. ARE YOU READY TO SUPER ROCK?”

“YEAH!!!” The crowd screams back louder.

With a pose as striking as lightning, the NPC pulls his arm over his head, poised over his guitar. “ARE YOU READY TO SUPERSTAR ROCK?!”

If this guy asks one more time, Lloyd’s sure he’s going to lose it.

The mob of players already have, breaking into wordless cheers that blend into a single untuned noise. The breakneck energy and hype in the room is choking, electrified.

With a wild cheer of his own, the NPC strikes the first chord of his guitar, and the performance begins.

So this is their NPC informant:

Superstar Rocking Jay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SO HOLY CRAP I’M STILL IN SHOCK HGJKFDSHJGKDFKJ

I love how overstimulated Lloyd is depicted here, that definitely fits with my HC for how he’d be acting rn (that’s why he’s not really the one to engage with Jay in the comic, Cole is) and the way Jay hypes the crowd up!!!! So good!!! The descriptions of the club are so nice, I’m still trying to plan out exactly what the club’s gonna look like (we don’t see much of it in the actual show which is TRAGIC) but I love the idea that because of the game it’s a completely pleasant place to be in, eliminating many of the cons of going to a club in real life

thank you thank you thank you i love this so much :DDD

[mermaidgirl30]

I really, really, really am excited for this Joel one shot I am writing, and I really want to post the moodboard, but I don’t want to spoil it. So here’s a sneak peek of what I’m working on 🥹

You turn back toward the way you came, eyes searching for a hidden door you can’t see anymore. Covered by twisting vines and a sea of green mazes that snake around the overflowing garden. No turning back now.

You feel Joel’s large presence behind you, drawing closer and closer until he’s right behind you as his dark shadow falls across the salmon colored pathway. You inhale a deep breath, but all you smell is pine needles and fresh wood and maybe a hint of fresh cut grass. You smell him.

“You’ve gotta stop lookin’ back from the way you came, sweetheart. I know that’s the last place you want to be right now. You want to be away from the noise, the stress, the fake smiles.”

His voice slides against the shell of your ear, reverberating down to your chest as his words sting your insides. Of course you don’t want to go back to that. So why are you looking back?

“What are you so scared of, sweetheart? Hmm?” he asks quietly, his fingertips grazing the edge of your arm as goosebumps form over the sensitive areas he touches. Wildfire burning in the thick brush of trees is what it feels like. Fiery, tempting, smoldering. You can almost taste the flames. Those stirring, enticing flames you want to burn in, bathe in.

“Everything,” you whisper, pulling all the courage in your gut to answer his question. What are you so scared of?

“Everythin’, huh? Darlin’, you don’t have to be scared of me. You don’t have to fear this place. This is your safe haven, your sanctuary. Take a leap of faith. Come join me. Follow me through the trees. There’s nothin’ to be scared of. The only thing you should fear is time itself. So relax. Can you do that for me?” he asks, his hot breath blowing down your exposed neck as you feel his large hand slip down to your waist, barely grazing your light blue dress as his lips sit dangerously close to your jawline.

You don’t have to be scared of me. Relax. This is your safe haven. The words simmer in your mind as your heartbeat races in your blood. The only thing you should fear is time itself.

“The only thing you should fear is time?” you repeat, the words leaving your lips as you feel his calloused fingers trace a flyaway hair behind your ear, tucking it back neatly as he lines his soft lips up to your earlobe and whispers.

“Time, darlin’. You can’t escape it, can’t run from it. But you can run with the madness, let your mind unwind just a little as you slip away into wonder. Let me show you the way,” he coaxes, a sweet melody that enchants your very soul, pulling you toward him, away from all the noise of the outside world, away from normalcy.

You feel him slip from your grasp as you open your eyes up and turn slowly in his direction, seeking his soft brown eyes and deft fingers again. He smirks over at you, a mischievous grin as he nods his head and holds out his hand.

“Follow me, sweetheart. Let me show you exactly what I’m talking about.”

[imaginewarehouse]

Yandere!Marcus White x Fem!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You're having a thing with Marcus as, just, rebound stuff. He's someone, to you, to have some fun with, and help forget about the guy that broke your heart. And he knows this. He knows what he is to you- what he is supposed to be in this situation.

But he has no intention of letting you go- especially not when your ex starts trying to get you back.

Warnings: Yandere character, Age Difference (Marcus is like, early to mid 30's and you're fresh outta college), Emotional Manipulation, sexual references, a dose of sexism- okay so this got a little away from me XDD I think you'd be better off with your douchewagon of an ex in this one- but I hope someone with just as messed up a mind as I do somewhere, likes this XD

Tags: @flowercrowns-goodvibesand @one-edgy-bitch

🔆🔆🔆

"Okayyy, haha. I've got to go, now," You grin, pulling away even as Marcus tries to follow you, and forcing a giggle at his playful actions before letting him go; Stepping back. "Breaks over, lover boy. Time to get back to work."

"Come on... "

"Don't 'come on', me... I'm coming over to your place after work!- you can wait til then!" Shaking your head at him with a gentle, perturbed grin on your face, you're about to step further away- when your phone suddenly dings. And as you pull it out of your pocket and take a look at the message, Marcus takes you by the hips and guides you back to him as he leans against the wall once again.

The next words uttered are from Marcus, and theirs a marginally more serious tone to his voice. Probably due to your sudden change in body language, getting stiffer, as you read the message. "Who's that?... " He asks quietly, thumbs brushing over the skin showing between your shirt and your jeans. You glance at him, heart racing suddenly, before swiftly pocketing the phone, and flashing a smile; But removing his hands from your body.

"Just a data alert." Yes, you feel bad for lying, but you aren't about to tell him that it was your ex boyfriend saying hi. That would be way too awkward.

What Marcus doesn't know, isn't going to hurt him.

Immediately that dumb, handsome smile returns to his face and you feel relief simmer in you. "Okay! So- you're definitely coming over tonight, right??"

You nod, quickly. "Definitely! Now, I gotta go take over for Garret! See ya!"

"Wait- " You'd already turned around to rush off... maybe to respond to that text you received, if your heart can calm down for a damn second... but Marcus' call makes you stop, turn around. He's now standing up straight, towering over you, and his arms wrap around your body once again; Pulling you up against his.

"Oh. Watch those hands, Marcus, remember we're at work~" You joke light-heartedly, at the advance, but your giggles are cut off abruptly when he kisses you. Its an oddly deep kiss, for the moment; His lips seeming to totally encompass you as he applies pressure, and you almost lose yourself in it. Almost getting dizzy, as you allow yourself to be deterred by him- afterall, that's why you're together. A good old romp to get your mind off a painful ex. A rebound.

The feeling of his hands drifting down a bit too far, though, wakes up. And you end the kiss- snatching up his wrists, and placing them back in front of him with playful wink. "What'd I say?"

Then you turn on his cheekily smirking face, and successfully walk off.

Marcus watches you turn the corner, before revealing your phone in his hand, which was hidden from your view as you had walked off, and switches it on as he leans back against the wall. Just chilling... snooping... Its fine. He had a pal in prison who did the exact same thing with his gal, and they're going strong 30 years, now. "Okay, Y/N... lets see what's really going on, here... "

When he sees the most recent message, not even opened yet, a disappointed frown immediately spreads across his face. He sighs. "Oh, Y/N... " Then, realising you did not start contact with your ex, on further inspection... Marcus' eyes narrow. A dangerously displeased, almost mad look appears in his eyes. "Oh, hell no."

Because he can talk to you. You're maybe having a bad day if you text your ex, and he can convince you that that's a bad idea.

But if its your ex texting you- that's a threat. Marcus has to do something about this.

He's not going to let you get swept away from him- he has a plan, see? Yeah, he agreed that what the two of you had would just be rebound fun... but that's just for now. You're going to fall for him; That's how it works. You two'll be regular romantic comedy material, he's sure. He's just got to convince you that this is right, then you're going to realise what he already knows, that you two are meant for each other, and rebound sex will turn into making love; He'll be your boyfriend, not just your Guy. And your husband, too, one day. He knows it'll work.

But this could destroy his chances entirely. This is a huge problem. He's got to get rid of this.

~

After getting to his place and returning your phone, convincing you that you must have accidentally shoved it in his pocket rather then yours seeing as you two were so wrapped up together- you and Marcus found yourselves in the kitchen... after fucking, that is. There's a tub of ice cream between you as you chat about your days, and Marcus is living. He cant help but think this is how it should be. You in his shirt, giggling at jokes he's made, eating ice cream after mind-blowing sex with him.

Him.

That should be every day!

And it will- as long as he can put you off your ex.

"Hm," He chuckles, loving the sound of your laughter when he throws a zinger at you... but, unfortunately, knowing he's gotta change tact soon, if he's going to make any headway today, with your whole... douchebag ex, situation. "So... when I realised I had your phone... I might have noticed something... "

Your spoon stops on its way to the ice cream, and its a dead give away that you're hiding something. Even though he knows what's going on, he hates that you haven't been honest with him. If you're going to be married some day, you're going to have to trust him. Every sturdy relationship is built on honesty, and trust. Oh, he'll teach you. "... Oh?... "

Feigning awkwardness, which is not hard at all because this is an awkward conversation, Marcus rolls his shoulders back before he starts. "Was that, um, your... ex? That texted you?"

Immediately, you droop. You leave your spoon in the ice cream tub, and avoid his gaze. Its cute. Sighing, you take a deep breath after a moment, and nod. "Yeah... it was." Good girl.

Marcus cant help but wonder whether you're nervous because he found out, though, or because this... guy... makes you nervous.

He wants to be the one making you nervous.

Faking a relaxed demeanour, though, Marcus shrugs; Focusing on the delicious treat between you. "What does that douchebag want?"

"Marcus!" You gasp, and his blood boils. What? He's not allowed to call your ex a douche? He left you!!

Ugh, he has to shut this down now.

"What? He hurt you, didn't he? 'M just being a good friend... Just a little... protective over you, you know? You don't deserve to be treated like that." And with him, you would never get hurt like that. God, why cant you just see that he's the right one for you? Why doe she have to jump through hoops?

Fuck, Y/N!

Marcus blood pressure is definitely rising as he works himself up, but he tries to stifle it; To shut it down. Because you look so fucking cute, blushing and embarrassed. "Yeah... I know." You speak softly, looking down at your lap. "I was just with him for long y-you know?? I just... he has me wrapped around his little finger, and I... I don't know... how to escape." You deflate like a sad balloon, pouting, and it takes everything in Marcus not to squeeze sense into you. He settles for taking one of your hands in his over the table; Being a comfort.

Oh... Y/N, you don't know anything about being wrapped around someone's finger. You've got him in a Chinese fucken finger trap. And you don't even know it!

"Hey," He pushes through the intrusive thoughts, thinking that you're such a bitch for saying these things to him, such a thoughtless, naïve, little bitch. Because he would never say those things to you, never. He loves you, and he would never want to make you feel sad... Even if you destroy him. "I get it. I do. But... its not forever, you know? I'm here to help you." He forces a kind smile, feeling it become real as you give one back; Optimism and warmth in your sweet, innocent face as you look up at him. Him! "And part of that, is not letting you text that asshole back."

"... You're sweet, Marcus."

A bashful grin flashes across his face. "You're sweeter."

Oh, that was such a sweet moment between us, Marcus thinks, grinning at you. That's what he craves.

Days full of cute moments like that between me, and my lovely little stay-at-home, mother-of-my-kids. My little, dumb wife.

A perfect life with her.

... Then you snort. "Haha- that was reeal cute, there. Lets try not to let it happen again, though, okay?" You giggle, visibly cringing as you return to the tub of ice cream, scraping out a nice mouthful of the creamy substance. Marcus feels his heart thud at it, though, and the grin is wiped clean off of his face.

... Stupid fucking bitch. What the hell was that!? That was foul. You really should get punished for something like that- you're just lucky you're not at that point, yet. When you're his, undoubtedly his... then... Well, then you'll just have to learn how to fucking behave.

For now though, Marcus pastes on a smile; Only squeezing your hand a little harder instead of telling you what for.

"Yeah, hah... Kinda dumb." He forces the words out, watching you grin and nod your head, sucking on the spoon. Rolling his shoulders once again to relieve the tension, Marcus moves on. "So... y'think you're gonna text that fucker back?"

Looking thoughtful for a moment, frowning as your eyes fall downcast and your teeth nibble on the end of the utensil between your teeth - honestly making Marcus a little hard at the sight, - , you honestly leave him hanging for a few moments... before you finally shrug. "I don't think so. You're right, he did hurt me, and... the easiest way to get over him, I guess, is to ignore him." Your eyes flicker up, wide and adorable, to his. "Right?"

"Totally."

When you smile, hop off the stool and onto his lap to finish the rest of the ice cream, Marcus smiles for real.

You're fucking perfect.

[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 1 - Under Your Skin

This title is SAFE FOR WORK. Pt. 2, Over the Moon, will be NSFW. I'll link that here when it's written!

You met Bo while you were still presenting as a woman. Suffice to say things have changed, and you can't keep your secret from him any longer. You have no choice but to tell him or leave ... but what if he makes you leave anyway?

CW: descriptions of dysphoria that get very intense, deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, it's 2005 and Bo is from the south so just be advised it's not all fluff and rainbows (but there is payoff, this isn't straight angst, it's just a journey)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 4,175

Part Two

Masterlist

***

Your shoulders were stiff. Your throat was dry. Your leg was bouncing, the only thing you could do to release the nervous energy juttering through your body.

You were going to tell him.

You'd put it off for months now, not quite sure how to say the words. Then, when you'd arranged them in your head, fear had kept you from saying them out loud. But you couldn't wait anymore. You couldn't live like this any longer.

You'd been hiding the secret for too long. Every time Bo called you by your birth name or made some quip about you being his girl, your heart shriveled just a little more. It had gotten to the point where you didn't even want compliments from him ... you didn't want to talk. You didn't even really want to sleep with him, didn't like to think about him looking at you as a woman during sex.

He didn't know, of course. But that almost made it worse. He couldn't stop hurting you and you couldn't yell at him for it. It was always the same: you lost control, you got frustrated, wouldn't tell him why, he'd get frustrated, you'd fight ... it was a mess. You knew all that was putting a strain on your relationship.

So it had to be tonight.

It had to be tonight.

You had everything planned. You'd already gone into town with Lester and picked up some stuff for a nice dinner; there was a fresh, cold six-pack of Bud in the fridge; and Rocky III was sitting in the VHS player, ready to go. Once he was relaxed, you'd talk to him.

You'd convinced yourself so fully that you'd stick to the plan that when you heard his truck pull up and your heart leapt into your throat, you nearly cried. Fuck, not again. Not another night. You were supposed to be stronger than this.

Stomping boots on the porch. You heard the door swing open from the kitchen. "I'm home."

He didn't sound like he was in a particularly good mood, but it didn't sound like a bad one, either. That was good news, at least. Things must have gone okay down at the shop. "I'm in here!" you called back.

Bo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, tracking a little gravel into the house as always. He leaned against the doorframe with one hand on his hip, gesturing with his chin. "Hey, sugar. What you got there?"

You looked down at the meal you were plating. "I thought I'd try a pot roast? I dunno. I don't think it came out very good, but I guess we'll see."

He didn't say anything. You glanced over your tense shoulder to see him simply staring at you, like he was trying to read your thoughts. You could sense the gears in his head turning behind those clever blue eyes of his. He knew there was something wrong; you were guarded.

For a moment, you thought he might say something. That familiar little bit of irritation was beginning to creep into his face, right around his neck and jaw. But after a few seconds, he simply said, "A'right," and straightened. "M'gonna go change."

"'Kay." As he stomped up the stairs, you finished getting the food ready and brought the plates to the living room. Bo usually ate at the table—"I ain't a savage"—but you could tell he liked eating on the couch. It was like a special treat. And clearly, you were short on charm at the moment, so you'd have to use your environment to your advantage.

You pulled up two tray tables and set the food down, then fetched the beer. By the time everything was set up, Bo was coming back down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to look at him. He was wearing jeans and a red flannel, sleeves rolled up. At this point, he didn't care about you seeing his scars. You hardly noticed them anymore.

He came closer and slowed to a stop, forehead wrinkling as he eyed your set-up. "What's all this about?"

"I was thinking dinner and a movie." You paused. "I thought Rocky might get the taste of my cooking out of your mouth."

You succeeded in making him laugh a little, crow's feet crinkling, but as he took a step closer, his smile faded. "Did you do somethin'? Is somethin' broken?" He glanced quickly, running his gaze over the clutter his parents had left behind.

"Nothing's wrong," you reassured him quickly, stepping back into his line of sight in the hopes of distracting him. "I just thought, you know, we could have a nice night. Like ... romantic?"

He stared at you for a moment. Then, his gaze lit, a toothy smile appearing. "Romantic, huh? Well hell, sweetie, why didn't ya say so?"

He clearly thought you meant sex. In fact, the way he was looking at you, you thought he'd jump you right up against the pool table if you let him. Your dysphoria made sex so unbearable that you'd been avoiding it when you could lately, and you were sure he missed it.

You were lucky he hadn't gotten mean yet. You guessed that was a testament to how much he must like you. But who knew if he'd like you after tonight?

Quickly, you shoved a beer into his hand, redirecting his attention as you slid onto the couch and clicked play. He slid into place beside you, relaxing back with his legs spread.

You both picked at your food—you because you were way too nervous to eat, and him because ... well, you assumed it was because he was waiting for you to initiate the "romance." He did eventually finish his meal, though, complimenting you with one of his "So good, baby"s and a boozy kiss.

The movie droned on, and eventually, he wrapped an arm around you. As he did, you relaxed, if only a little. You wanted to settle into him ... you wanted it more than anything in the world. You did love him. But who did he love? The woman he thought he was putting his arm around wasn't you.

"What's wrong?" His tone was firm and sudden after such a long stretch of silence.

You blinked at him. "Nothing."

He wasn't buying it, and he didn't look impressed. "There's no point in lyin'a me, darlin'. I know when somethin' ain't right." Then, with a little edge to his voice, "You know I get pissed when you brush me off."

"I'm just..." You sighed, setting your beer aside and rubbing your forehead. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Let's go to bed, then." In one fluid motion, he stood and turned off the TV. "Hope you're not too tired," he added quietly.

It was equal parts insult, warning, and come-on, and it exhausted you as much as it panicked you. You weren't ready to tell him just yet. You'd figured you still had a few hours, but ... well, if you pissed him off now, all this nice set-dressing had been for nothing. Then you'd either have to tell him while he was in a bad mood or spend another night as someone you weren't.

Biting back a sigh, you stood, too. He was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, and let you go up first.

"Nice view from back here," he said smoothly. "Almost wanna tell you to start runnin'."

Shit. You needed an excuse to buy yourself a little time. "Can you shower first?"

You knew the question ticked him off because he didn't answer it. He followed you to your shared room, grabbed a towel, and left for the bathroom in heated silence.

The shower would make him feel better. It always did. He'd scald himself like he liked, then come out much calmer. Hopefully. You changed and took your place in bed, sitting under the blankets with your pillow propping you up. Waiting.

You were wrong about the calm. When he came back into the bedroom—red-skinned and completely naked, towel occupied in his hair—he was scowling at the floor. You waited for him to yell. It was inevitable.

When he did finally say something, his tone was quieter than you imagined, though simmering. "Why are you doin' this to me?"

You didn't respond, mostly because you had no idea which this he was talking about.

"Hurts my pride, y'know." He began toweling his body. Rather roughly, you noticed. "My girl don't wanna fuck me. You know how that feels as a man? You think I wanna have to— hurt you?"

A pause. "Bo..."

"Am I gonna have to get it somewhere else? Fuck, Deadname."

You shrank in bed. That name made you feel rotten to the core. It was like poison slowly choking your veins. You had to do this ... but you couldn't. But you had to.

Bo was unaware of the war going on inside of you as he turned, leaning against the dresser, arms back to clutch the edge. "Is it someone else?" You could tell he was murderous just thinking about that possibility, gaze aflame, jaw clenched so hard you thought he might break teeth. "Is it Vincent?"

"What? No!" Why he'd think that when you'd only ever expressed mild concern for Vincent's well-being, you had no idea. "There's no one else, Bo, I just—"

"Then what's a matter with you, huh?" He raised his voice. "Am I too rough, am I too— Jesus Christ, you gotta at least tell me what the damage is!"

Your conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm you. You yelled back, "It's not you!"

"Then what the hell is it?!"

"It's me!"

He opened his mouth to shout back, but only managed, "What in the f—" before he lost steam, searching your face helplessly. Something about the way you looked must have given him pause. You meant what you said. Desperately, desperately. It was you. You were the problem.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, glare pointed. "You been off all night. Hell"—one of those incredulous laughs that betrayed his genuine anger—"you been off for a while. Least you can do is tell me what the fuck is goin' on."

He was right. No turning back now. You took a deep, grounding breath. "Okay."

A moment of hesitation. Did you want him close or across the room like that, just in case? Eventually, you decided you needed him close. You patted the bed beside you.

Bo grabbed a pair of boxer-briefs, stepping into them on his way over. His expression was still twisted sourly, but you could sense him relax as he sat in bed next to you. He didn't meet your eye, simply looking down at the sheets. Beneath the anger, a begrudging expectation simmered. Did he think you were going to break things off?

That thought spurred you into taking his hand, squeezing lightly. "I love you so fucking much."

He glanced to the side. At length, he mumbled, "You, too."

You took another deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. "There's something I haven't told you about me. And it's really been stressing me out lately. That's why I've been acting so weird." When he didn't reply, you continued, "It's been making it ... hard to be close to you. I don't like the way lying to you makes me feel, and I've been ... scared, so fucking scared, Bo."

He glanced at you again, brows drawn, this time with confusion rather than anger. "So what is it? What the hell can be so big an' important that you can't stand bein' around me?" A pause. "I mean shit, Deadname, you know I kill people for a livin'. My fucked up twin turns 'em into wax. You know about the fuckin' dungeon—what could be bigger'n that?"

That fucking name. You couldn't take it anymore. Your voice cracked as you whispered, "You need to stop calling me Deadname."

"What? Why?" He frowned deeply. "That's your name, ain't it?"

"It's not the name I want to be called."

You could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what was going on. "Okay ... so it ain't your real name. Why you goin' around using a fake name?" His gaze turned flinty and cold. "You're a cop."

"No!" You held up your hands. "No, I didn't lie about who I was, not ... not in the way you're thinking. I was born with that name; everything I've told you about my life and where I came from, all those things were true. I never lied about any of that."

"Then what is it?" He was getting angry again. "Spit it out!"

Well, since he asked... "I don't want to use that name because ... it's a woman's name. And I'm not a woman. I'm a man."

Bo stared for a few seconds, then scanned you up and down once. His shoulders slumped, just slightly. "You were ... born a man? Then how come your name—"

"No, no." You pursed your lips, taking his hand hesitantly again. "I was ... I guess for simplicity's sake you could say I was born a girl. I was born with a vagina, I developed breasts and started my period naturally. But I'm not a girl. Like, in my head. In my brain, I'm actually a man."

He didn't believe you. You could see it in his face. But you weren't planning on giving up that easily. You knew what he'd be thinking; you'd planned this whole thing out so carefully, chosen your words so precisely.

"It's not ... a delusion or anything. It's actually more common than people think. It's called being transgender. When you're born one gender but you want to be another."

He frowned, obviously completely lost. He wasn't getting it. He just didn't fucking understand. And you were growing desperate.

"Bo." Your throat was raw, tears threatening your eyes. "Every time you call me your girl, or you refer to me as a woman, or you use that name ... I fucking hate it. It hurts. It hurts so goddamn bad to know you're not seeing the real me. It makes me not see the real me. I look in the mirror and I just want to ... tear my skin off. Sometimes I just wanna take a knife and— and fix me. Cut out whatever part of me makes it hurt so bad. I just want to be seen as who I am so bad."

"Okay." You didn't like the way he was looking at you, but the anguish in your voice had at least moved him to speak. You could see in his eyes that he was working overtime to puzzle this out. "So, what? What're you gonna do? What's it mean for us?"

"Well..." You had to break eye contact, staring down at his hand. "What I'd like to do is start living as a man. You know, dressing like a man—which I already pretty much do—going by a different name, maybe cutting my hair. You could call me 'he' ... I might even get medicine later on down the line, like hormones, to make me look squarer. Maybe even surgery."

"You gonna get a dick?" The almost mocking tone of his voice made you want to shrivel up and die. He seemed to pick up on the change in your body immediately and shifted his tone. "I'm askin'."

"No, that's not a thing. But I'm gonna be a man regardless." Finally, you released his hand, though you still couldn't look at him. "What that means for us is ... up to you, I guess. It'd mean you were dating a guy. I mean, you have been this whole time—"

"I didn't fucking know," he cut in firmly.

A jolt of fear lanced your heart. "I know. That's my fault; I didn't tell you. I was ... scared."

"Scared of what?" he pressed, tone growing aggressive.

"I don't know. Of you being mad. Or not loving me anymore." You glanced up. "I love you. Seriously, I do. More than anything. I still want to be with you, just ... as a man."

There was silence. A horrible, stretching, heavy silence that made you want to hang your head and cry. After a while, Bo rose from bed, going to the dresser and pulling on jeans and a T-shirt, all in that silence.

Was he ... leaving you? No, he wouldn't leave his own house, he'd make you leave. Or kill you. But he certainly wasn't opening his arms to you. Waves of sadness crashed over your chest, so intense you thought you'd throw up.

He seemed to contemplate the dresser for an extended period. Then, he glanced over his shoulder, just barely. "I need ta' think."

And with that, he was out the door. He didn't come back to bed that night. The next morning, you found his pillow on the couch.

***

Vincent was next on your list of people to tell. It turned out he was a big help, bigger than you could have ever realized he would be. You had to explain yourself, but he took it in stride, calling you by your new chosen name and even helping you come up with a sign for it.

« Did you tell Bo? » he eventually asked you.

"I told him last night." Your eyes were still puffy and red from your night alone, and the morning following it. You still hadn't seen him, but you could hear music blaring from the garage, so you at least knew where he was.

« How did he take it? »

"He isn't speaking to me."

Vincent paused. His wax face was blank as always, but you could tell he was considering something. « Did he yell? »

"No ... he just said he would think about it."

A low grunt, and Vincent nodded. « Then let him think. »

And he did think. He thought about it every night from then on. You could see him thinking during meal times, when you brought him lunch down at the shop, when he was watching TV. You noticed him zoning out in the middle of reading sometimes: paperback crunched and folded in one hand, other hand pressed to his grim mouth, those blue eyes glassy and staring at nothing. Thinking.

He hardly ever spoke to you outside of necessary communication. Before bed, he told you goodnight, but it was ... heavy. He didn't roll over to touch you or hold you anymore. The distance was yawning and heartbreaking, especially when you were alone. The silence was so pregnant with unsaid words and all his damn thoughts.

You wanted to ask if he was mad, but you didn't dare. He didn't seem mad, and you knew a thing or two about his moods. This seemed ... different. So you simply didn't say anything.

And then, one day...

"Hey, handsome."

His voice practically made you jump out of your skin. You, Vincent, and Bo—and sometimes Lester—divided who would have to go into the houses in Ambrose to dust and clean, and today was your day. He'd snuck up on you in the middle of oiling some of the rigs like he'd taught you.

"Uh. Hey." You managed a hasty smile, uncertain you'd actually heard him call you what you thought he had. "What're you doing here?" After a week of him barely speaking to you, it seemed odd that he'd start now.

Bo took a few steps in, looking away and reaching to fiddle with a knick-knack on a nearby side table. "Just thought I'd come check up on you. You are my, uh ... boyfriend, after all."

You stopped dead in the middle of spraying WD-40, staring over your shoulder. What?

When he felt you staring, he lifted his gaze. There was an uncertainty there, discomfort, along with a challenge. "What?"

"Nothing." You turned back to your work. After a few seconds, you added, "Thank you."

He didn't respond, but he eventually sidled up to you, surveying your work. "Not half bad. Yeah, you're doin' real good." He reached up to adjust his hat, and you could feel his gaze on you. "We'll make a man outta you yet."

You couldn't help it—your face burned. "Girls can maintain machinery, too, Bo."

"Yeah, I know that, but you—" An edge of irritation entered his voice. "Now you're just confusin' me."

You set down the WD-40 and turned, searching his face. By god, he really was trying, wasn't he? It was almost cute how bad he was at it, but he was trying. Vincent had been right.

"You never asked my name," you eventually muttered.

"Vincent told me it. Y/N." He said it again, rolling it around on his tongue. "Y/N ... in'erestin' choice. I guess it suits ya." A pause, and he lowered his voice. "Gonna take me some gettin' used to."

"That's okay," you said quickly. "As long as you're trying."

"Yeah, well..." Bo paused before reaching out, brushing his fingers through your hair. "Gonna miss all this."

You leaned into his hand. "I might not cut it. I haven't decided yet."

He grunted, continuing to brush his fingers through your hair. You could see his expression drift back to that thoughtfulness you'd gotten used to seeing. Eventually, he said, "Guess this makes me gay."

He sounded so begrudging and yet so decisive that you almost laughed in his face. Thankfully, you were able to bite back your reaction. "You don't have to be. You can be whatever you want. But ... if you stayed with me, it would mean you were attracted to at least one man, yeah."

"Fine." He pursed his lips, huffing through his nose. "Bi-sexual or whatever."

"You don't have to put a label on it right now. You've got time." You hesitated before taking his large hands in yours, bringing them to cup your jaw. "This ... you know ... it isn't something that has to happen overnight. I'm not asking that. It's a process for both of us ... a lot to get used to for both of us."

"Sure the hell is." He scoffed and shoved his hat up his forehead, scratching his hairline. "Now I want you to tell me somethin'. Why were you so damn scared of tellin' me?"

You took a breath. "I mean ... Bo."

"What?"

"I'm in the south ... alone, no family ... in a town where you could kill me if I pissed you off and no one would ever know." He made a face, but you pressed: "You know where I come from. Things are dangerous there, and things around here are even—"

"You think just 'cause you're in the country folks are gonna treat you different?" He sounded offended.

"Bo," you said again. "Let's not kid ourselves. How many guys do you know who would beat my ass if they found out? If they found out I liked other men, even."

"Couple assholes. But they ain't gonna bother you with me around. B'sides, plenty a' gays around here, like any other place ... they're just drillin' and weldin' and workin' the factories." He fixed you with a look. "Country don't mean stupid."

"Did you just quote The Stand?"

"No," he said hastily, taking his hat off and shoving it in the back pocket of his Dickies. "All I'm sayin' is ... I'm not some dumb animal."

Your shoulders sank, heart softening. "I know you're not, baby. But you have been known to, y'know, murder people. You can understand why I was scared, can't you?"

His mouth twitched, but reluctantly, he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." A pause. "I can't promise I won't never hurt you, Deadn— Y/N. I know I can be real careless with my words on occasion. But I won't kill ya. Don' know if I could reconcile that shame. And, uh ... I love you."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned forward, hugging him tightly around the middle. It wasn't long until you felt his strong, warm arms enfold you in return, one hand tangling in your hair. His heartbeat was steady and comforting beneath your head, and the heat radiating from him relaxed every muscle in your body.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, hugging tightly while the TV droned in the background. Eventually, he shifted and spoke, his voice rumbling deliciously against you.

"Now if you don't mind," Bo started casually before dropping into a purr, "I'd like a kiss from my handsome lover."

You couldn't help but grin up at him. "You sure?"

"Lay it on me, big boy."

Maybe you were evil for loving him despite it all. Maybe you were complicit. Those weren't your judgments to make. But as you craned your neck to kiss him and euphoria exploded through your chest, you knew one thing for certain:

You were you.

***

Part Two

Masterlist

Tip Jar

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shotgun Wedding

MASTERLIST

Angel Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: angsty angst, language, s3 spoilers, (gif not mine!)

Marisol Reyes’s diamond sparkled underneath the grim lighting of the Mayans clubhouse. The diamond she always imagined resting on her ring finger. Y/N stared blankly at the beaming woman glued next to Angel. Y/N tried her damndest to conceal her heartache keeping a calm demeanor. As if cemented in the very place she stood, Y/N didn’t dare move a muscle at the abrupt announcement. 

Her ears rung horrendously blocking out the unwelcomed laughter and cheers. Her blood simmered rising in temperature every passing second, but Y/N swore her heart stopped beating the moment Angel wouldn’t…couldn’t look at her. Tranq’s eyes searched the room finding Y/N all too easily, a familiar sadness rested behind her eyes showcasing her inner misery.

Nails’s smile continued to irk Y/N as her fingers wrapped around an empty beer glass.

Angel’s voice boomed through the room next; “That ain’t it..we’re havin a baby!”

Hoots and hollers broke out across the room celebrating the surprising news.

Y/N froze too stunned to glance up from the wood counter she was currently staring holes in. Ezekiel’s eyes followed suit; pity filled and genuine disbelief. Didn’t seem like big bro told him either. Suddenly glass shattered forcing Y/N’s gaze downwards, blood danced down her palm moving delicately towards her wrist. Two shards embedded deeply into her hand as her eyes bulged at the growing mess.

Tranq moved quick grabbing a towel. He hesitated sizing up the shards and their removal. His lips moved but Y/N didn’t hear a thing. A minor pinch resonated from her palm glancing down at the removed bloodstained pieces. Angel chanced a glimpse towards Y/N knowing the damage had been long done.

“Y/N?”  

She merely nodded applying more pressure to the cut.

Her voice dead-panned void of any emotion; “Shit, I spaced. Sorry bout the glass.”

His brow scrunched upwards at the overtly monotonous tone. Meanwhile, Y/N busied herself wiping up the crimson liquid. Not more than five seconds later her back was to him as she rushed to the back room. Tranq tailed her closing the door behind him. Her chest heaved unable to catch her breath as she paced in circles.

“Say somethin, anything…”

Y/N stopped, her eyes pierced his gentle ones; “Did you know?”

Without hesitation, Tranq answered; “No idea.”

He sounded just as hurt as she did causing concern to spread throughout her shivering frame; “I thought you and Nails were—”

“Me too. Guess not.”

Unshed tears begged for release but Y/N fought harder. Her voice sounded broken, laced in pain; “I hate him.”

Tranq rubbed her shoulder soothingly; “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Her shoulders deflated; “It’s not your fault. It’s fucking mine for giving him another god damn chance.”

“Stop. They made their choice. Does it fucking suck? Hell yeah, but it’s outta our hands for good. Don’t let that shit spread.”

“Your optimism is annoying as hell.”

His hand grazed over her chin keeping her attention; ““He doesn’t deserve you; he never fucking did.”

“And she’s a total bitch for blowing you off and running back to him the second he turns her damn direction.”

“I don’t want to hurt like this anymore, T. Angel will never choose me and that’s a hard pill to swallow. But seriously? Seriously? He fucking parades her around, proposes to her, and then knocks her up?! What fresh hell did I walk into tonight?”

“You and me both.”

Her fingers carefully grazed along the liquor bottles aligning the farthest wall; “I think I’m going to miss you the most.”

Confusion clouded his thoughts; “You—you’re leaving?”

“I have to. I can’t just stay here and watch him play house. Angel’s left me no other choice.”

Tranq closed the gap between them bringing her into his chest. Her arms wrapped around him trying to memorize every possible detail.

“I still have a phone, ya know. I’ll keep you in the loop, promise.”

“You are worth finding. Worth knowing. And undoubtedly worth loving. Don’t let him take that away.”

“You, my friend, have a way with words. This isn’t goodbye.”

“Just a see you later?”

The hallway light shone brightly as the door swung ajar. Picking up one foot in front of the other, Y/N stride didn’t falter instead focusing her energy straight ahead on the exit until an unwelcoming voice echoed out for her.

“Y/N, wait up!”

She began a light jog attempting to make a clean getaway. Heavy footsteps clogged about alerting her of another presence. Y/N fumbled for her keys but not before Angel Reyes caught up.

“There’s nothing left to say, Reyes. Your announcement made that crystal clear. Now go the fuck away.”

“At least gimme a minute to explain.”

“Explain what? How you told me you loved me TWO DAYS AGO and then proceeded to propose to your fuck buddy? Oh, congrats on the baby by the way. I hope you both burn in hell.”

Angel held her arm keeping her in place; Y/N fought against his grasp; “You’re a selfish, irredeemable shell of a bastard.”

“I know.”

“I love you, all of you so damn much. But I’m sick and tired of the bullshit. You’ve obviously made your decision, Gel. I gotta get out of here for a while.”

Guilt ran down his spine seeping into his stiff bones. Angel opened his mouth but no words followed. Not once in the last twelve hours had he stopped running at full speed. Now with the dust finally settling, Angel’s actions finally caught up with him.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

Her jaw nearly hit the ground at the audacity of this asshole; “I bet your fiancé is looking for you. Should probably head back.”

The words held a finality Angel wasn’t sure he was ready to embrace. His mind screamed at him to be honest, to tell Y/N she was the reason he got outta bed every day. But then Nails told him she was pregnant and the rest of the world became a blur. Angel never actually expected to lose Y/N. Now his reality had shifted, altered on its very axis and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. The car door creaked open and shut in record time. Blurred headlights were all that remained as the distance grew further and further between them. Crickets chirped far too loudly as the silence set in. It was time for Angel to let Y/N go even if his heart resisted.

 ~~~~~~~

Tags:  @twistnet  @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu  @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @lady-pswrld  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @angelreyesgirl89 @cocotheclown @trulysuccubus @janeexo​ @soaronmywings  @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @hermankopusortizorsumshite​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @noz4a2​ @blowmymbackout​ @leathercladmenfics​  @-im-fantastic-​   @bellisperennis0​  @mrsmarvelous1995​ @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @cassandras-nest​ @drabbles-mc​   @est1887​  

[queenxxxsupreme]

A Reunion of Sorts (dad!Arthur Morgan x reader)

A/N: Daisy’s middle name is not May! Daisy May is just something John calls her! I have a great aunt who always called my little sister Maddie May even though May was not her middle name. That great aunt always used May as a sort of middle name for my sister and a couple other cousins and I thought it was cute. Find the rest of dad!Arthur Morgan AU on my masterlist here!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none really, all game canon related

Additional Note: Lupine Valley Ranch is Arthur and Y/N’s ranch/home/farm. We already know Beecher’s Hope is John and Abigail’s. And Lone Paradise is Charles and Lucy’s home/ranch/farm.

***

You rubbed your eyes, struggling to stay awake. The night air was just a little chilly but you wore one of Arthur’s jackets to keep you warm. 

Cicadas and frogs chirped from the woods that surrounded your home. Occasionally, you’d hear a coyote yip or a raccoon chitter and the underbrush would rustle, stirring you just long enough to make your eyes widen. But then you’d start to drift off to sleep on the porch once more. 

“Go on to bed, Y/N.” Arthur insisted, moving to your chair. He was standing at one end of the porch, eyes set on the drive that led to your home. Every once in a while, he’d glance over to you and see your head bobbing as you tried to fight off sleep. 

“No, no.” You shook your head, swatting his hands away as he tried to grab your hands or wrists to pull you to your feet. “I want to stay awake until they get here.”

“I can wake ya up when they get here.”

“You won’t wake me up.”

“Y/N, there’s no sense in you bein’ awake.”

“I want to make sure everyone is well and comfortable tonight.” 

He continued to try to take your hands but you stubbornly refused to let him grab you, knowing he could easily pull you to your feet and haul you off to bed. 

“Arthur Morgan, I want to stay out here with you!”

“What if I don’t want to carry your ass back to bed?” He raised a brow, his tone teasing as he looked down at you. He braced himself on either arm of your chair and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Just go to bed, woman.”

“No.” You closed your eyes as you leaned against him, only meaning to do so for a few moments. But your eyelids were so heavy that it was a struggle to open them. 

“Pumpkin-,”

“Shut up, Arthur. You’re just tryin’ to get me to go to bed so you can leave and go cause all sorts of trouble you don’t need to be causing.”

“I would never do such a thing.”

“Something’s coming down the road.” Hosea spoke from the other side of the porch. 

You stood to your feet, following Arthur to where Hosea stood. You placed your hand on his forearm, watching the light from a wagon. 

“That’s them.” Arthur picked up his hat from an end table on the porch. 

***

You stood out in the hallway watching as John placed a sleeping Grace down in Daisy’s bed. Daisy was wide awake in your room, pouting and upset that Grace was asleep. She wanted to play, but you told her that with it being so late Grace would probably be asleep. 

“Thank you again for lettin’ us stay here, Y/N.” Abigail placed her hand on your arm. 

“It’s safer for you to be up here.” You gave her a little smile. 

“Uncle Johnny!”

“Shh, Daisy May.” John turned his attention to Daisy, who slipped out of your bedroom. 

“Uncle Johnny, when will Grace be awake?” Daisy tugged on his jacket. 

“It’s past midnight, girly.” John knelt down to be at Daisy’s level. “You should be sleeping.”

Daisy scrunched up her nose at him. 

“I’ve gotta go help your daddy outside.” John ruffled her hair and stood up. 

“Can I come with you? You can see Piper!”

“Now’s not the time for that, Daisy.” You put your hand on her head. “Uncle John and Aunt Abigail want to get to bed, I’m sure. If you want to go out and help Uncle John bring their things inside, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the help.”

“Course not. Come on, Daisy May.”

You and Abigail watched the duo make their way down the hall. 

“How has John been since he saw Micah?” You started towards the kitchen with Abigail behind you. 

“He’s been angry and on edge. He hasn’t been able to sleep none. I haven’t either. It’s hard to sleep when you know Micah Bell is nearby.” 

“Well you all are safe now. I don’t reckon he’s dumb enough to come up here.” Hosea joined you both in the kitchen. 

“Depends on how desperate he is for that Blackwater money.” You went to stand at the kitchen sink. From there, you could look out towards the barn. You could only see that the barn doors were open and there was light coming from inside. 

“I hoped we had left this all behind ten years ago.” Abigail rubbed her eyes and then brushed her messy hair back. “We’ve worked so hard to get away from that. John’s worked so hard to change.”

“We all have.” Hosea reminded her. “That was the only life we ever knew. It wasn’t easy making what we’ve got now. But that’s why we aren’t gonna roll over and give Micah what he wants.”

You watched as Arthur emerged from the barn with Daisy on his shoulders. John, Jack, and Uncle were right behind them. 

“I just don’t want anyone hurt.” You murmured. “We’ve got too much on the line this time.”

***

The Next Morning

Arms wrapped around you from behind. A smile slipped across your lips. You leaned back against your husband. He kissed the back of your head, rubbing your side with one hand. 

“You’re up early.”

“Someone’s gotta feed everybody.” You hummed, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“You didn’t sleep any last night either.” 

“Neither did you.” You pointed out.

He tightened his grip on you, arms holding you firmly against his body as he buried his nose in your hair. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it’s something.” 

You tried to move out of his arms but he refused to let you go.  

“Arthur, I’ve got to–,”

“Can you just hold on a second?” He moved to stand next to you, looking down at you with furrowed brows. 

“I’ve got to get breakfast made before the kids wake up, Arthur.”

“Stop messing with the breakfast, pumpkin.” He took your hands and pulled you away from the stove. “You were tossing and turning all night.”

“You know why.” Your voice was low as you held his gaze. “All this talk about Micah coming for Hosea, for us…. I can’t help but get upset and anxious. I’m bound to lose sleep over it. And the only thing that can help me keep my cool is making sure the kids are taken care of and that everyone here has something to eat.”

“We don’t even know yet if he is comin’ for us.” Arthur shook his head. “It’s all just speculation.”

“It would be naive of us to assume he wouldn’t.”

“But it’d be too soon to assume he was. There hasn’t been any signs to point that he was. All John saw was Micah in Blackwater and John movin’ him and Abigail and the kids up here to Lupine Valley is just a precautionary measure.” Arthur brushed his hands up and down your arms. “We gotta take this one step at a time. If we start getting ahead of ourselves and losing it too soon, we’ll just…. Well, bad things will happen.”

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

“Why don’t we go out to the porch for a minute? Just for some fresh air?”

“But the breakfast, Arthur.”

“The breakfast can sit here and simmer for a minute.” He put his hand on the small of your back and began to guide you towards the front door. 

The two of you went out to the front porch and sat on the porch swing. Arthur kept his arm around you while you rested your head on his shoulder. He moved the swing back and forth just a bit.

“You know, I almost forgot how much you used to do this.” His voice was low and quiet. 

“Do what?”

“Worry. You worry now, but this…. This is a different kind of worry. The kind that I always thought would give ya a heart attack or something.” He smiled a little at the memories that came flooding back from his time with the Van Der Linde gang. “Every time I went out, I knew you’d be nothin’ but a case of worry and fret.”

“‘Cause I wasn’t sure if you’d come back to me whole or…. Or missing something or even if you’d come back at all.” You murmured. “I used to drive everyone mad at camp. Always had to keep busy when you were gone. Chores with the girls or with Mr. Pearson. I couldn’t sit still. Not until you came back.”

“And then when I’d come back, you’d sleep for hours and hours.” Arthur looked down at you. “You never slept when I was gone.”

“No, I didn’t.” You shook your head, smiling a little. “But that was the good thing about camp. There was always something to do.”

Arthur nodded his head. Silence fell between you both. The sound of morning birds filled the air. But in the distance, Arthur could hear hooves against the dirt road. 

“Stay here a minute.” He muttered under his breath as he stood from the swing.

Your brows furrowed together and you leaned forward, wanting to follow him.

“What is it?”

“Someone’s coming down the road.” He went to the edge of the porch and paused for a moment. 

You moved to stand just behind him, your hand coming up to his back. A horse came into sight a few moments later. It was a familiar one, dark in color with a familiar rider.

Arthur smiled as Sadie stopped the horse just in front of the porch. 

“I didn’t reckon you folks would be up so early.”

“Well, we’ve got a full house right now.” Arthur nodded. “We can talk about it inside.”

“Have you had a long trip, Sadie?” You asked her. “I’m afraid your room is occupied right now but Daisy is in mine and Arthur’s bed if you’d like to rest.”

“I can rest later. Who are your guests?” She tilted her head to the side a bit.

“John and his family.” Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There might be trouble in Blackwater.”

***

“I haven’t heard anything about Micah being this close. Is John sure he saw Micah?”

“He’s positive.” Arthur nodded his head. 

“I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on the papers. Wherever he and his new band go, they always turn up in the papers. I haven’t seen anything close to West Elizabeth in a few years.” Sadie shook her head, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips. 

“Somehow the standard snuck through.” Arthur muttered, moving towards the window behind the kitchen sink. 

“Maybe he’s traveling with a lighter gang now so he won’t make so much commotion.” You thought out loud.

“That would be unfortunate for us.” Sadie sighed. “Well, I hope you don’t mind one more guest.”

“Of course not.” Arthur shook his head, turning to lean against the sink. 

“But we are running out of room here.” You frowned. “John and Abigail are staying in your room and Daisy’s sleeping in our room while Jack and Grace get Daisy’s room.”

“And Uncle insists on sleeping out in the hayloft.” Arthur added with a shake of his head. “Old bastard can still make it up the ladder somehow. But I know Charles and Lucy have room over at Lone Paradise.”

“Do they know about Micah?”

“Yeah.” Arthur messed with the brim of his hat. 

“How’s Charles taking it?” Sadie shifted around in her seat so she could see Arthur a bit better. 

“He’s on edge, like all of us are. Lucy’s gonna have her baby soon. Last thing we need is Micah Bell”

“Nothin’s gonna happen to Lucy or that baby.” Sadie assured him, shaking her head as she stood to her feet. “I’m gonna walk around y’all’s property a bit then make my way over to Lone Paradise. I’ll bounce back and forth between here and there. You’re separated by a few acres, right?”

“From the house here headin’ west for thirty acres there’s a big oak with an old wagon sittin’ there. That’s where my property ends and his begins. Keep goin’ west for another ten acres and you’ll come up on his barn first. His house is just beyond that.” Arthur explained. 

“It’s quicker that way than it is going the road.” You added. “There’s a trial to follow too so you shouldn’t get lost. We use it often.”

Sadie nodded and began to head for the door. 

“Be safe out there, Sadie.” 

She turned back to look at Arthur before leaving. 

As the front door closed, he let out a soft breath. 

“Feels better havin’ her here.”

You nodded in agreement, standing to your feet. 

“I don’t think we’ve had everyone here since…. Well, since Daisy was sick three years ago.”

“Sure feels like a long time ago.” Arthur mumbled quietly. “It’s funny how time passes but things still…. Things are the same.”

“How so?” You cocked your head to the side a bit as you came to stand in front of your husband. You placed your hand on his stomach, looking up at him. 

“Micah was the problem back then, and he’s the problem still.”

You pressed your lips together as your eyes lowered to the buttons of his shirt. 

“There were a lot of problems back then, Arthur. Micah was just….” You trailed off, unable to think of the right words. 

“He was the root of it all.”

Something moved out of the corner of your eyes. You turned your head to see Daisy standing in the edge of the kitchen. She held in one hand a stuffed bear Hosea had bought her when she was a baby. Carson was right beside her. Her free hand held on to the back of his neck. There were tears in her eyes and her cheeks were damp. 

“Sweetpea.” Arthur moved away from you so that he could kneel down in front of your daughter. “What happened? What’s got you in tears so early in the mornin’?”

“Had a bad dream.” She sniffled. He used his thumbs to gingerly wipe the tears away. His hands appeared so big as he tenderly cupped her cheeks. “I think I accidentally kicked Carson when I was sleeping.”

Arthur looked down at Carson, who wagged his tail and nosed at Arthur’s arm. 

“Was he layin’ at your feet? I know he likes to do that to watch over you while you sleep.”

“Yeah. I-I woke up and he yipped real loud.” Daisy’s voice hitched in her throat. “Did I hurt him daddy?”

“Where do you think you kicked him, sweetpea?” Arthur kept one hand on Daisy’s side while his other rubbed along Carson’s back and then down each of his legs. 

“I think his chest. Do you think he’s gonna be scared of me, daddy?”

“Don’t be silly, sweetpea.”

“Carson knows you didn’t do it on purpose, Daisy.” You moved to be next to them. 

“I don’t think he’s hurt.” Arthur shook his head. “Think you might’ve just surprised him, sweetpea.”

Daisy stepped closer to Arthur, burying her nose in his neck. He rubbed her back and kissed the side of her head. 

“It’s still early, sweetpea. You wanna go back to bed? I’ll lay down with you.”

“No. I don’t wanna sleep.”

“Are you hungry? I’ve got breakfast almost done.” You brushed your hand along Arthur’s shoulder before turning back to the stove. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“After bit here, you can go wake up Uncle John and Aunt Abigail.” Arthur stood up and in the same motion picked Daisy up. He took her over to the table and placed her down in a chair. “Guess who will be here later on today, sweetpea?”

“Who?”

“Aunt Sadie.”

Daisy’s eyes lit up.

“Really? She’s here!”

“No, well not yet.” Arthur rubbed Daisy’s shoulder. “She’s over at Uncle Charles’s and Aunt Lucy’s. After while, she’ll be coming over here.”

“It’s been forever since I seen her last!”

“I know. It’s gonna be an exciting day.”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday  @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[sofreddie]

Stashed Away

Summary: With their biological clocks ticking, the brothers set out to find their True Mates, before it's too late.

Characters: Alpha!Dean x OC!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Unnamed!Omega

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mating, Marking, True Mates, Institutionalized Reader, Heavily Medicated Reader, Implied/Mentioned Sterilization

Word Count: 2,876

A/N: For @spnabobingo 2021 - Free Space. This is my first square on my first ever bingo card. Let me know what you think!

Sam and Dean - Winchesters, Alpha hunters - for years they dedicated themselves to the life. But now that they're getting older, and still without mates, they're starting to go feral. Ruts happen more often, are stronger, and last longer. If they don't find mates soon, they will go feral, hurt a bunch of people, and die. So they do a spell, with Cas's suggestion, to find their true mates. They've always acted like they didn't want it, weren't interested, but there's no pretending anymore.

Following the tracking that the spell gave them - they track down Sam's True Mate first. Dean's more worried about getting Sam right than himself at the moment. The tracking leads them to a small town - a case is here, they quickly learn, vamps - by the time they figure out what's going on, they head to the nest, only to find a woman there, taking the head off a vamp, two other bodies at her feet. She’s a hunter - and a badass one at that, taken three vamps down on her own.

Dean's a little agitated, he needed some blood to help balance out the feral rut that's been burning him alive from the inside. Sam however, is speechless. His blood roars in his veins, pounding in his temples as his eyes lock onto her form. He knows - he can feel it with every fiber of his being - she’s his…his True Mate.

"Mega," he wines, taking a step forward only to fall to his knees in weakness, "Need you," he groans, before falling to his side and promptly passing out - the fever too high and rampant.

After quick introductions and explanations, Dean convinces her to come back to their motel. It just happens that she's in the same one, a few doors down. Dean drags Sam into the room, dropping him on one of the beds with a growl. He's getting too old to be dragging his giant of a brother like a sack of potatoes.

“I’ll get another room,” Dean offered, trying to move around her so as not to set Sam off, “I’ll check in with you in the morning,” he offered with a tight smile, nodding at her before leaving and closing the door behind him.

The next morning, seeing Sam’s much improved condition, Dean smiled before entering the motel room and seeing the Omega sat on the bed, a fresh claiming mark at her neck.

“Well, welcome to the team,” Dean joked, still keeping his distance from her as he knew Sam would still be testy over anyone coming near his Omega, “So listen,” he added a bit abruptly, “I figured you and her could snag a car, make your way back to the Bunker,” he explained to his brother, “I know you two need some time. Fresh bond and all. And I still gotta…you know,” he added sheepishly. Now that Sam’s rut had cleared, he could see how bad Dean was in it.

It was time for him to find his Omega.

Dean sighed as he put the Impala in park, looking through the windshield up at the large facility in front of him. When he and Sam did the spell to locate their mates, they looked up the locations to plan out their routes. That’s when they discovered that Dean’s True Mate’s location - was a psychiatric hospital. He couldn’t imagine why, but he hoped that maybe it was something he could help with.

He tried his best to compose himself, feeling weak and barely holding back from losing himself to his biology. Using his FBI credentials, he was led to a common room, the nurse pointing across the room to a woman sat along, staring out the window. Dean nodded to her and the nurse returned to her duties.

Dean gulped down the hard lump in his throat that threatened to burst into a growl. From the other side of the room he could smell her scent, climbing in and flooding his brain. He tried to shake it off, sweat forming on his brow from the fever, and he urged his body to move towards her calmly.

His scent hit her as she gazed aimlessly out the window. A warmth flowed through her and she closed her eyes, humming in content. She opened them once more, her gaze still outside, as she started gently rocking.

“‘Mega…” Dean breathed quietly, his eyes fluttering closed in small intervals as he approached and her scent got stronger. It was driving him crazy, but he had to be wary of his surroundings, wary of her. He had to stay calm. With long controlled breaths he finally reached his goal, pulling a seat opposite the Omega and huffing out a shaky breath.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes gently rolling over his face and body before meeting his eyes once more. Her face was blank, but she looked pale and tired and afraid.

“W-who are you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

Now he was here he didn’t know what to do. His brain was too full of other ideas. His cheeks had grown slightly pink from the quickly growing fever. “M-my name’s Dean Winchester,” he said quietly, “I…you…” he had to stop and clench his eyes for a moment, swallowing another hard lump in his throat, “You’re my True Mate.”

She looked him over once more, taking a deeper breath, before her eyes turned sad, “You’re dying too?” she asked, emotionless in features and tone.

Dean tilted his head at the question, frowning slightly, “Do you mean turning feral?” he had to gulp again, shifting in his seat as his body ached.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, “Too many meds to really know the difference.” She suddenly lurched forward, her elbows on the table as she looked at him intently and wide-eyed, “They say I’m crazy, you know? That what I saw wasn’t what I saw, but I saw what I saw!” she nodded manically along to her words, “You don’t need a crazy Omega.” she shook her head emphatically, looking down at her lap.

Dean jolted back in surprise at her small outburst, but his rational mind kicked in. He’d seen these places before and the meds they give patients, “I’ve seen a lot of things,” he offered, “So why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“I didn’t do it,” she whisper-hissed, leaning forward on the table and glancing around the room before looking at him again, “He did, he came in and killed her, not me!”

Dean frowned again, his head jumping to ‘potential case mode’, “So, there was a guy?” he pressed her for more information, “What did he look like?”

“He was just a guy,” she shook her head, “B-but his eyes were weird,” she exclaimed wide eyed as if it was happening before her once more, “He killed her and he said I had to come with him because my Alpha was a very bad man. A-and then his eyes…” she trailed off, shaking her head and fighting back tears, “I got away, went to the police…b-but no one believes me.” she whispered sadly.

Dean’s body almost trembled with quickly growing anger. Someone or something knew what he and Sam had been doing. They hurt his Omega.

My Omega.

Mine.

“You’re not crazy,” he growled, quickly rising from his seat and looking down at her, “Omega, we’re leaving.”

She looked up at him in confusion, shaking her head, “I can’t leave,” she stated simply, “I’m scheduled for sterilization to stop my heat hurting me,” she explained as if it were a simple, everyday activity, “Doctor’s orders,” she nodded, turning back to look out the window.

The next thing Dean knew, he had his Omega in his arms and was standing beside the Impala. He was panting for breath and felt exhausted. He had some vague memory of a lot of snarling, roaring and punching Doctors directly in the face.

And now they were here.

“I’m gonna take you somewhere where you’ll be safe,” he breathed, looking down at…uh… “W-what’s your name, Omega?”

“Y/N,” she answered reflexively, still in an emotionless haze through it all, but relinquishing to her Alpha. “You shouldn’t have taken me,” she added, “The man with the eyes, I’ve seen him outside the window sometimes. And my heat is killing me. I’m a disposable Omega.”

“No,” Dean said suddenly and harshly, his arms held her tighter - his splayed out palms squeezing her. He bit back another growl, the scent of her heat crashing into him like a brick wall now his adrenaline fueled outburst was simmering down, “Never say that. You’re my Omega,” he pressed his forehead onto hers, gasping for breath as his body threatened to buckle as he grew weak, “Please…l-let me take care of you.”

She looked at the man, the stranger, the Alpha who had suddenly come in and tore her from her prison, like a knight rescuing a maid from a tower. She wanted to laugh at that, but she’d long ago lost her ability to emote.

They had kept her constantly medicated, to control her heat, her scent, her mind, her actions, anything they possibly could. But for some reason, something about him broke through her constant haze and made her want to just let him take charge.

“Okay, Alpha,” she agreed, just looking at him as she waited for whatever came next.

“‘Mega…” he breathed, voice breaking slightly from restraint. He held her so close, but not close enough at the same time. He could feel her warmth as he held her, her breath fanning across his lips. Some of that restraint slipped. He pressed his lips firmly into hers, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he hummed hungrily.

She pulled from the kiss, her hand gently cupping his cheek and turning his head to see several personnel searching the lot and searching for him, before one of them pointed at him and shouted for his companion.

“Right,” Dean stared wide-eyed before shaking himself back to reality. After ushering Y/N into the car, he quickly climbed in, the loud tire screeching of the Impala tires shortly following as Dean tore the car out of the lot and sped down the road.

When he said ‘somewhere safe’ before, he had meant the Bunker. The way his body was reacting right now however - aching, yearning, pleading to just touch her - he was ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t last.

There was that motel just a few miles out though…

Y/N said nothing during the drive, her eyes out the window as before at the facility. She seemed still and calm, but also fragile and numb. But inwardly she felt trapped in her own head and unable to break free. She had dreamed about her Alpha, her True Mate, many times as had most people. And now that he was here, she was unable to even really experience it.

The next thing she realized, she was waking up in an unfamiliar room. She was somewhat dazed but her mind and body felt clear for the first time in a long time. She opened her eyes, sitting up slightly to two men at the foot of the bed she was lying in. One was the Alpha from before, the other a new stranger.

“I’ve healed and cleansed her,” Castiel explained, “But Dean-”

Dean had stumbled back, leaning against the wall as he eyes remained on fixed on Y/N. Castiel’s words were like white noise to him, he knew she was healed. If he thought her scent was powerful before, now with all the suppressants - and fuck knows what else - out of her system, it was like it had been turned up to eleven.

His head dropped back with a thud against the wall, his eyes clenching with a restrained growl. “‘Mega…” he breathed, his chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow.

She whimpered as her eyes set on him. She hadn’t felt a full heat in a long time and this one was especially bad. She knew it was him. She could remember their words, his touch, his lips.

“Alpha,” she called meekly, tentatively reaching up a hand in invite from her position on the bed.

“-Sh-she’s still in full heat,” Cas finished his sentence, taking a wary step back as he eyed the duo cautiously.

“Out,” Dean ordered, not even turning to address the Angel.

And Cas vanished.

Before Y/N could blink, Dean was there. His hands bunched in the back of her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips.

She moaned as they connected, his heat and weight soothing her ache and need. Her heart swelled, but a part of him also felt familiar, as if she’d known him all along. She pulled from the kiss, gazing into his eyes, frantic with need but also wanting to savor every moment. When she noticed how far gone he really was, she decided to let him take what he needed.

“My Alpha,” she whispered, kissing him once more.

There was a small rumble in Dean’s throat as his bloodshot eyes gazed directly back into her. He breathed, “Mine,” before his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth attached to her neck. He kissed and sucked a trail down to her collarbone, pressing his body into her as he fully mounted the bed and towered over her. He wanted to smother himself in her scent, every touch sending waves of need through him.

His hips rolled into her, his brain fogging as he quickly pulled at her shirt, ripping it clean off in one swoop before he hungrily mouthed at the swell of her breast.

She could feel the tremble in his muscles as he fought to keep the beast at bay, trying not to scare or hurt her. But she knew he needed more and she wanted to prove she could handle whatever her Alpha gave her.

“I won’t break,” she pleaded, pulling his lips from her body, “Take what you need Alpha, please,” she whispered desperately.

Dean’s eyes darkened, staring at her half-lidded before his hands moved fast. As he hungrily devoured her mouth once more, he quickly stripped them both of their clothes. His hands roamed her with need, quickly moving down to her center before two digits swiftly dove into her core.

He growled as he felt her slick, curling his fingers and pressing firmly into her g-spot, his eyes rolling back as she moaned in surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers, moving to grab her hips and flip her onto her stomach. He hoisted her hips up to meet him, letting out a low moan as he rutted his painful hard erection through her folds.

She moaned wantonly, arching her back and presenting for him obediently. She purred, rutting back into him, desperate for her Alpha.

He moaned out, mouth hanging open longingly. “My Omega…” he growled lowly, positing the head of his cock between her folds and gripping her hips tightly, “Wanna knot you…” he growled again - hungrier - before slamming his hips forward with a loud grunt. She was perfect, tightening like a vice around him that he hissed blissfully, quickly pistoning his hips with choked huffs and growls.

She moaned loudly, panting hard as Dean set a brutal pace. His grip was tight, his cock filling her completely, slamming hard into her cervix on every thrust. She reached her arms above her, grasping onto the end of the bed for something to hold onto. Using the leverage, she pushed her hips harder back into him, lifting her head to groan out.

Dean leaned forward, his breathing quick and erratic as he pounded her. His lips grazed and sucked on her neck as he moaned, feeling the muscle at the head of his cock begin to swell. His grunts became strained as fought to keep his pace. “Cum on my knot, ‘Mega,” he demanded, releasing one of her hips to rub hard circles on her clit.

Feeling his knot swell she knew she was close to losing her mind. When his fingers found her clit, she stuttered and screamed as her orgasm washed over her, her walls clenching his throbbing length within her. Dean seemed to draw it out as her pleasure seemed to never end.

As her wall clenched him impossibly tighter, Dean roared through one final harsh thrust, holding himself as deep as possible as he finally came, his hot cum shooting deep and filling her. The hand still holding Y/N’s hip gripped bruisingly tight as Dean suddenly bit into her skin.

As her mind finally broke free of the haze of bliss, she realized he had positioned them on their sides spooning. Dean was nuzzling into the mark on her neck and humming, his hands grazing over her skin.

“Who was that man from before?” she suddenly asked, remembering feeling free of the medications and seeing a man there before he just wasn’t there.

“‘N Angel,” Dean mumbled, breathing in her hair and holding her tightly to him, “Cas. Healed you.”

Y/N smirked to herself, rubbing a hand over his forearm that was wrapped around her, “I see you’re still in caveman mode,” she teased.

He smirked with a small hum, not letting her go, ever.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

[joannasteez]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.7k

Credits to who made the gif @angelreyesgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered

Let me know if you’d like a tag!!!

✞

Your annoyance was simmering, daring to merge into the depths of some irreversible state of agitation. The engine of the classic Dodge Charger RT in your possession had, with incredibly poor timing, began to knock. The unsavory noise resonating into the thick air of the street, stilled heat of the day pushing back the regular ebb and flow of the Santo Padre streets to make way for the obnoxious sound of your engine. Your head was spinning, dazed by the bitter humidity and a steady brew of fear trembling in your fingers to dance just under the surface of your skin. The classic car was given by your father, who'd gotten it from his father, the mass of glistening matte black metal of significant value. If the engine failed, you'd be reduced to tears, wading in the dread of some existential crisis.

Your grandfather had had this car for twenty years, the imprint of his essence etched into the leather seats, and when he became grey and withered, he relinquished it to your father for another fifteen years, till finally, it was yours.

You pulled over just as the last knock sounded, the tremble in your fingers worsening. Your eyes welled, sure to leave a soft red glassiness. The need for air consumed you, the space to walk freely about, a puff of smoke or two maybe.

The pavement was hard under your feet, slam of the door accented by vexation. You picked behind your ear, that nicely rolled spliff safely kept and waiting to be lit. The lighter in your front pocket an easy grab, the flicker of orange a short friendly blaze as it singed the paper. The pull you took was slow, measured, as if to savor this minuscule moment of stillness that lived among others not so still. Not so peaceful. With release, you blew into the air, dried eyes taking in the vast blue of the sky. The never ending expansion blurring your vision as your mind sifted through slim courses of action. If you could just get the car to your garage, then you could figure the battery out on your own, saving time you didn’t have on a mechanics trips you couldn’t afford. All you needed was a—

"Need a boost?"

"Yes". The answer was so quick, it nearly gave you whiplash. The tension in your bones dissipating as you got rid of the sizzling flame around your spliff.

The stranger spun his car from its position just beside yours, the hood of it now facing yours head on before he turned it off and got out.

"Thanks so much for this".

"No problem. It's a nice ride you got, don't really see too many classics rolling around Santo Padre much", he said, eyeing the shine of the paint job. His fingers skimming the hood before he lifted it. "Where'd you get it?"

You step closer to him, a grin stretching your lips at his admiration. The RT was your pride and joy, the height of your ego bursting through to rise above some invisible ceiling whenever folks gave it compliments and stares of approval. "My dad had it for a while, gave it to me when he couldn't keep up with it anymore".

With a nod, he retrieved the cables from his trunk, the wide stretch of his back shifting just under the white fabric of his t-shirt to reveal the curve and ripple of muscles. They traveled down his arms, the bulge of them mixing with defined veins that ran across thick powerful looking fingers. He stretched one of those hands out toward you.

"Ezekiel Reyes".

You considered his hand for a moment, slipping it into your own as your eyes racked him with all the subtlety you could muster. It mustn't have been enough because that innocent friendly smile he gave you had turned into something more knowing. He knew you were checking him out but he didn't mind much. "Y/N".

His thumb skimmed the back of your hand just before letting go, turning his attention to attaching the cables to both cars properly. You minded his movements with the cables closely, triple checking the order in which he connected them with a hawks eye, a concentrated intensity that your dear old Charger RT deserved. Abruptly then, like the quickness of a blink or some single strike of lightning, a thought came to you. "Wait, not Reyes as in Carniceria Reyes?"

"Yeah it's my pops shop",

"Felipe's a real sweet guy. It's not everyday you can look through a deep book collection while the butcher cuts up your dinner". You paused, giving the beauty of his face another glance. "He should've warned me though, never told me both his sons were so handsome".

"You met Angel", he stated, a low dip in his tone. Was it disappointment?

"A couple of weeks ago. He was passing through when I stopped by to pick up somethings. He's a real charmer your brother, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think he's messed up your chances just yet", you flirted.

The assurance produced from him a toothy grin. "I'm not worried".

Silence took ahold of you then, anticipation of the moment charging the pressure in your chest to fall straight to your gut. ‘Please work' you whispered while swinging the door wide to slide into the warm leather of the drivers seat. With the key in the ignition, you twisted your wrist forward, a huff of relief puffing from your chest when the engine roars to life. You close the door quick, that relief bubbling under your skin, your head sticking out the window.

"Thanks again Reyes".

He stepped to the window, those warm endearing eyes taking in the summer glow of your face. His tongue slipped just over the plump flesh of his bottom lip. It was a rosy color, the curving dip of it enticing. He liked the way you said his last name.

"It's no problem".

You put your RT in reverse, backing away from his broad body. "See you around?"

"Maybe", he called.

You speed off, the rev of the engine blending into the ebb and flow of the town once again. Existence dipping into the horizon.

✞✞✞✞✞

You'd saw him again at some hole in the wall you frequented at. The smooth slow tempo of some classic 70s song strumming through the stereo to seep into your ears richly like fresh honey. The atmosphere was subdued, the short clinks of beer bottles and incomprehensible murmurs of frivolous conversations sating the air. It was the perfect place to think, to allow your mind to wander directionless through the never ending abyss of happenings and circumstances that had presented themselves down through the week. You made idle chitchat with the bartender about a laundry list of things of no particular significance, small smiles and light chuckles ringing from you both every now and then.

The night was going good, till you felt a creeping touch just at the low end of your back.

"Let me buy you a drink". The voice was rusted, withered by too much tobacco.

You held up the beer in your hand. "I've got already, I'm good".

This guy was tipsy, blood red creeping into his eyes, body swaying just the slightest bit. "Don't be like that, let me buy you another".

"I said I'm good", you asserted. The coolness of the bottle creating a tingling sensation in your hand. You'd crack it over his head if he touched you again.

"Sorry I'm late, everything alright?", another voice asked, but this one you knew. That deeply textured tone wrapping sweetly around your senses. You tore your irritated gaze set on the almost-drunk guy, softening it as you took Ezekiel in. He looked slightly different, refreshed it seemed, or maybe it was just his barbered hair. A Mayans kutte rested over him, comfortable like a second layer of skin, the black leather accentuating the swell of his muscles. You'd have to figure out later why your eyes diverted to them so often, they were becoming a hindrance to your thinking.

"Everything's good now", you played. Giving him a light peck to the cheek to sell the story. His arm wrapped around you in what appeared to be some reflexive reaction, all natural like he'd done it countless times before. When he realized Ezekiel wasn't leaving, the guy swayed away in true tipsy fashion. Mumbling incoherent things with a griped attitude. Ezekiel took his chair, the proximity of it in regards to yours making the point of his knee knock and slide the smooth plain of your jeans. You watched him take a glance over the bar before he called for a beer.

"Thanks for that".

"No problem", the corner of his lip turning up. "Seems like you've been needing my help a lot lately".

"Don't flatter yourself Reyes, this is just a coincidence".

"Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

Your face screwed up in a show of confusion, but you could guess quickly the reason for the question. "Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

He sipped at his beer. "Outside gets loud sometimes y'know, hectic. It's quiet in here. Good place to think".

"Exactly".

"A little unsafe for you though no?" And there it was.

"Everywhere's unsafe for me Ezekiel, I'm a woman. I mean I couldn't guarantee safety in my own home if I wanted to, but that's just how the world works". You paused, mischief rising in your face. "Don't worry though, I've got a little surprise for anyone who wants to test their luck".

"Oh really".

"Yeah, you men are dangerous out here. I gotta be prepared always".

His brows furrowed. "That's a bit of a big generalization to make".

"But if it's true it's true. Name one thing a man doesn't get dangerous about. Doesn't even have to be rejection", you say, turning to fully face him.

He considers the question for a moment, staring into the color of your eyes as if he'd find the answer in them. "Love".

"A man who loves, whose in love, would do any and everything, no matter how mad the shit is. He'd risk lives, his life even. If that's not dangerous then I don't know what is".

A speck of something lit in the hazel of his eyes. As if your words had brought to the present some memory buried deep within the grave of his soul. What you said hit rather close, closer than expected. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past".

"Humor me".

His jaw ticked before he spoke. "Her names Emily, but that shits all just history now. Doesn't matter". He turned the focus from himself. "What about you. Whose going all reckless about you".

"Who says he exist"

"You just did, I never specified who in particular".

So much for playing dumb. "His name is Jason".

"Sounds like an asshole".

You snort, the teasing of a headache coming as you thought on the insufferable man that was Jason. "He is. He's got that weird alpha male thing about him. Has to be in control of everything, doesn't know when to leave well enough alone".

The muted energy of the bar rose between the two of you, each taking quiet sips of your beer. You took notice of the way he surveyed the room from where he sat. That golden gaze sifting through the space and over bodies with quick ease. He was assessing, the gears in his head turning, calculating and considering every and all the possibilities of danger. It reminded you of someone.

"How long were you in for?", you ask.

"How'd you know?"

"You've been on the defensive since you sat down, lookin’ everywhere like someone's gonna up and shank you for no reason. My cousin was the same way when he got out, always looking over his shoulder". You shrugged. "Grew out of it eventually.

His eyes were a bit sullen, as if the truth would scare you. "Eight years".

"He was in for fifteen, and that prison shit is unbelievable, I mean the stories he's told me are crazy". You laugh suddenly at a memory, the resonance of it making him smile in admiration of the sound. "He did this thing for a while when he got home where he'd only have one knife, one fork and one spoon in his kitchen and I swear it was the funniest shit".

The smile falters, his body shifting awkwardly in the bar stool, embarrassed. 

"Oh my God Reyes don't tell me you've been doing the same thing".

"In my defense I live alone".

"But what if you have a special guest over, you'd be a sorry ass host", you tease.

"If you wanted to have dinner with me then just say that".

You force away the heat daring to rise in your cheeks. "We have to take a trip to home goods before I even consider a dinner with you”.

You both give hearty laughs, till the vibration in your pocket pulls your focus. With a quick slip of your phone, you realize how fast time had gone on. “Shit I gotta go, but it was real nice seeing you again Ezekiel".

"It was good seeing you too".

You press your hand against his patch, laying a sweet lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make it home in one piece for me yeah".

"I have to. You might need me again".

"I'm counting on it".

✞✞✞✞✞

You were a joke it seemed, the universe and fate in a gaming mood, as they were using you as a source for their own amusement. Commissioning their faithful associate to do the heavy lifting of masking their scents. The two of you were at the right place, at the right time again, what a damn coincidence. Before the present week, you'd never even seen Ezekiel's face, just learning of his existence a week or so before that, and now you'd seen him twice in a matter of days. This night being the third.

He was surrounded by men who donned the same kutte as him, curious eyes swimming through the sea of bodies as they did in every other setting, till they met yours. He came to you without a second thought, eyeing the tight leather of your pants and how they clung to your thighs. The cropped cut of your vintage top revealing skin he longed to touch. Since the first time he saw you his mind raced with thoughts of your voice, visions of your lips touching his skin again, plaguing his body with the desire to have you.

You stepped away from your group of friends, meeting him half way. "You're just stalking me at this point. Not that I mind".

He clutched the openings of his kutte, that signature grin lighting his face, even with the casting over of the nights darkness. "Something told me I'd see you again. How's your RT?"

"Good, resting in my garage. I've been kinda scary about replacing the battery".

"Why?"

"I'm good with cars don't get me wrong, but something about fucking it up just makes me sick. It's a lot of history behind that car. I don't wanna destroy it".

"Understandable", he nodded. Noting the caution behind your words, the way you spoke with such passion and care about the thing you loved. It was endearing.

The heavy crunch of gravel and sand tore through the beginnings of some silent stare, an undeniable enticement brewing. It was Angel.

"I see you met this asshole already", the older Reyes said.

"I'm not an asshole Angel, just 'cause I turned you down".

He sent a smirk your way. "You didn't turn me down, we made a mutual decision that you couldn't handle me remember?"

"Right. That's exactly how it went".

A call sounded through the dewy air of the night, signifying the start of a race. You started toward a cherry red car.

"That's me", you said. In regards to the call.

Ezekiel was confused, intrigued. "You racing?"

"Yeah, the mustang", you called, strutting over to your 1970's Mustang, adding the slightest dip to your hips. Giving the brothers something to admire, before dropping low into the leather seats.

With a quick twist, the mustang roared to life, the rumble tearing through the air, growling like a fierce rolling thunder through hazy storm clouds. Another car pulled up on your right, the blue electric color of it dazzling, clashing against the fine cherry red of your own to deliver a sweet contrast for the eyes that watched on in excitement. A woman, with a dangled bandana in her hand, set herself between your car and the other, whistles of admiration thrown her way as she gave the summer evening crowd an alluring smile. At the point of her finger you revved your engine, adrenaline pumping through your veins, rushing from your chest to pulse under your skin. The leather feel of the steering wheel was smooth, the grip you held to it steady. With the downward pull of her hands she set both cars to race and you pulled your mustang swift into the night.

The road before you was a muddled darkness, the outward spreading glow of your headlights stabbing it and tearing it apart as your wheels took a glide against the smooth road. At the mark line, you shifted your car into reverse, whipping left, back into drive, soaring back down the road to where the crowd watched and waited. Their rigid bodies of anticipation lit by your headlights, bellowing screams waning under the busting sound of your revving engine. Your mustang tore through the finishing mark, the tingle of victory surging through you.

Pulling back up to the crowd, you rolled your window down, a slim roll of hundreds placed in your hand by the guy who’d set the race up. You showed up to win and now you were done.

Ezekiel and Angel were a little ways away from your car, your voice carrying over to them. "A little party at my place. You and your guys are cool to come".

They both nodded, heading to their bikes when Angel answered after you. "We'll follow you".

Ezekiel swung his leg, resting on the seat of his bike as he buckled the helmet over his head, his fingers gripping the ape hangers, feeling the vibration of the engine as he followed the sleek vibrant red of your car. The afternoon he met you, he'd been turmoiled, plagued with the natural uncertainties that came with being a member of the MC. That new patch stitched into the upper corner of his kutte had bought a sense of pride and belonging he hadn't felt in forever, it gave him drive, fueled his determination, but as the saying goes, all that glitters is not good. Expectation deceived him, the reality of all things made clear. And that reality was shoveling makeshift graves for men whose names he couldn't even remember, but he remembered yours. Committed himself to it like the loving kiss he gave to the jar that held the remnants of his mother every time he stepped a foot into his fathers house.

He found you flustered, out of yourself with anxiety in the dimming light of the afternoon, and then at the bar, body rigid, eyes wired and ready to do your worst to a guy who could barely keep his posture straight, and now he was following behind you, backing his bike toward the sidewalk that laid just in front your home.

Upon entry, the knock of the speakers bled a thumping bass that pulsated through the floors. Your home had seemed to expand with every new corner that came into view, the walls pushing back to make room for the swell and scatter of bodies. Sweet smells mixed with more pungent ones, the hazy aroma of weed slipping past him as he walked further into the house. A hand placed itself at his side. It was you.

"Can I get you a drink? A beer or something".

"Yeah a beer is cool".

You intertwined your fingers with his, leading him to the kitchen where the sound settled some. Beer bottles clinked, the air releasing as you opened them, handing one over to him.

He gave a quiet "thanks" before sipping, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around the top of the bottle to taste the liquid. They looked soft, full and alluring. He redirected his gaze before the temptation overtook him to do something impulsive that had the prospect of unnerving you. His eyes flitted to the side of your face, an illustration about two inches or so etched into your skin. He hadn't noticed it till now.

You could feel him staring as you tasted the beer, the heat of it tingling your skin. "It's a dagger".

He reached forward, thumb skimming over the finely crafted design, it was a professionals work. With the simple touch of his thumb, your nerves were riling, heat rushing to pulse under your skin, he could feel it. It drew him closer, lured him in. "Did it hurt?".

"Like hell, but when you've felt more painful shit, tattoos like this don't really compare". You lifted the hem of your top some, bringing his fingers to feel the raised skin there. Four inches or so worth of a healed gash rested under his considerate touch. "Got it when I spent a year and a half inside. Grand theft", you admitted.

The reasoning behind telling him wasn't sound in the slightest bit, but what was reasoning when Ezekiel had awakened such dormant feelings inside you. With those beautiful, sunny colored eyes and the warm hand caressing your side, you were liable to tell everything. Truths you hated and dark secrets that laid deep inside your past. You reached up to lay a kiss to those pouty lips, the feel of them mesmeric, dazing. Fulfillment burdened itself onto you, finally you'd got a taste of that rosy pink bottom lip, and now your body was calling for more. Begging for it with such longing that you licked your way through his mouth, his tongue acting in kind. It was slow and all consuming, his body pressing you into the counter to surround you.

"Come with me", your voice airy. Breathless. You lead him to the back of the house. Your room first on the right. A gasp left you when your feet left the floor, body in his arms as he laid you against the fresh feel of the sheets. You kicked your shoes off with ease but the discarding of other pieces left behind a sinking feeling, a pressure forming in your chest to push down straight into your gut. He was glorious, the plains of his skin bound by rich thick tanned muscles and long veins. The dilation of his pupils darkened the air around him, physique imposing. This is what you’d wanted, Why were you feeling so anxious all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

Your body had raced miles ahead of your mind and now you were trying to catch up. "I don't know, I just... I feel..."

"Nervous".

"It's sounds so stupid when you say it out loud".

"But it's not, It's natural, and I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel comfortable baby".

He sounded so sure of it, it made you believe him. You laid against the pillows, beckoning him with the outstretch of your fingers. "C'mere".

He obeyed, body atop yours, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your head tilted up to give those lips another kiss. It was messy this time, fueled by desperation, your tongues slow to lick as they tasted each other's. The remnants of beer still there. He took hold of your lip, sharp teeth pulling before he kissed his way down to the heated flesh of your neck. There he sucked, bombarding your skin with pressure causing your hips to grind against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The thin cotton layer of your underwear leaving you to erupt with a fresh wave of need. He feathered kisses down your body, pushing your legs up and apart to open yourself for him. A shudder drove down your spine, that soft wide tongue of his licking so close to where you needed him. He peeled away your underwear leaving you bare before him.

"Talk to me baby. What do you need".

You could hear the pulse of your heart in your ears. "Take care of me Ezekiel, make me feel good".

He hummed, loving the airiness of your voice. So drenched with need for him you were. He was methodical despite the desire boiling in his blood threatening to burn through his skin, so he'd settled with toying with you for now. Giving that sweet glistening clit teasing licks. They were measured, the constraint of them existing solely to wreck you, to kill your resolve completely till you were reduced to in-apprehensible words filled with air. The wide-ness of his tongue felt so good, your nails running over the faded part of his head as your hips drew tight circles.

The teasing, the game of it all. He didn't know but you loved it so much. "That feels so good baby, so good", you praised.

Your words were disembodied, wandering in another plain of existence as they rolled off your lips. Your senses were bursting at the seems, and then reborn again to erupt on impact when he sucked against your sensitive nub, lapping your slick salaciously. As if he'd been starved for years, only just finding you now. The line of your spine arched, waist swiveling, grinding to meet his wet tongue. A low "fuck" fell in the air as your felt the rise of your impending release. With taut, rough fingers he hooked at the back of your knees, pushing them into the sheets. The action opened you completely to him, no choice but to surrender to his will and the feel of his lips as he drew you closer to the edge.

"Please, I'm so close", you whimpered. Vision splotchy, thump in your ears intensifying.

He sucked at you again, holding his lips still as your body shook. Quivering against the sheets. He reverted back to soft licks, tasting as you rode the high.

He rose when you settled, eyeing the heavy rise and fall of your chest as he did away with his jeans. "You Ok?"

It took you time to register the question but when you did, you threw a pillow at him. "You just sucked the soul out of me, don't ask me that damn question".

He laughed, watching your eyes dim in bliss. You hadn't noticed, but he'd done away with his underwear as well, the weight of him causing the bed to dip as he came up to where you laid. His thick fingers rolled you over, setting your face to rest against the pillows as your hips raised in the air to rest against the hot flesh of his length, the veined skin laying along your slit. You moaned in anticipation, pushing back against him.

He gripped your cheeks, spreading them to see the quivering flesh of your opening, the flushed pink shinning in the dim light of the room. His tongue slipped against his bottom lip again, reveling in the taste of you as he pushed in. He groaned, and you gave a single fleeting "yes" , the thickness of him giving a delicious stretch, rigid length hot as he pushed and pulled in and out of your depths in a slow manner. Wanting to test the waters same as he did moments ago before building you back up again. The squeeze of you made his chest tight, head swimming with delirium.

"You feel so good mama, so tight around me", he groaned.

His thrust were dizzying as they picked up to set a steady pace, your hips rolling and pushing to take him deeper. To reach that place in you that would force your vision to blur and be replaced by disfigured stars. You reach to lay a finger at your overstimulated bundle of nerves, rubbing the soft slick flesh with lazy pleasuring circles that spurred the knot in your gut to grow. A single tear fell to dampen the pillow, your depths tightening at how full you felt, at how unrelenting the stimulation of his strokes were.

The sharp drive of his hips made you go rigid, the vice like grip you formed around him causing him to fall into his own high. Pace going all slow sloppy to ride out the blissful feeling.

He pulled from you, both your body and his collapsing against the bed. His face formed with satisfaction, a beautiful buzz running through him. "You know what this means right?"

"What", you asked.

"We’ll have to see each other around more often now".