#rip fishing gang…. I never noticed the -not once- before… damn

[bleue-flora]

C!tommy to c!punz:

“I thought what we had was special!”

C!punz to c!tommy:

“I was Never On Your Side, Tommy. Not once.” [clip]

C!tommy and c!tubbo:

[kimjongdaely]

The Art of Sin [Chapter 6]

Gang!AU, Racer!AU, Tattoo Artist!AU

Pairing: Chen x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations, vandalism

Summary: He’s an artist. He does it all for the ‘art.’ Tattooing. Racing. Sex. All because he thinks they’re beautiful. There’s no one here that doesn’t know his name, because it’s everywhere. On every graffiti-filled wall, every tattooed skin, every cheer of the crowd. His name is there somewhere, because it’s all his—this world. And when he lays his eyes on you—well, he’s never seen anything more beautiful. And he’s going to make you his masterpiece.

Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3 [M]│Chapter 4 [M]│Chapter 5 [M]│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8 [M]

The sun beats down on you, sweat dripping down the side of your face and you try to quicken your strides, eager to get to somewhere cool. Throwing open the doors of the garage, their AC is a blessed relief. Byun hangs half-way off the reception counter, his bored grin greeting you like always. “Hey there. Here for Chen again?”

You nod while fanning yourself, the tank top you wear practically soaked with your sweat. Summer days are the worst. Byun points to the tattoo parlor, “Well, you know where to find him.”

Chen is cleaning his tools when you enter, and he greets you with his usual smile. “Hey, princess. Visiting so soon? Well, not that I mind.” There’s a sly edge to his tone now, as he leans in to give you a peck on the cheek.

You grin back at him. All you want lately is to see him, every minute feeling longer than the last when you can’t. Being with him makes you calm and excited all at once, and you savor every second with him.

As if you’ve gotten addicted to him.

As if you’ve fallen in love with him—

What a dangerous feeling to have. You know how these stories end, all too well. You’ll fall head over heels in love with this mysterious person and you’ll be ripped apart faster than you can blink. He’ll rip you apart.

He’ll trample on your heart and you’ll be abandoned.

So you have to keep this feeling a secret, no matter what. Just keep smiling like you’ve always have, and you’ll be able to stay next to him. Never take him too seriously, that way you’ll never be hurt.

“Wanna go for a drive, princess?” Chen asks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. Good thing the AC is blasting, or else you would’ve turned into a puddle by now. Still, the garage is much too hot.

“You sure? What if a customer comes?” You raise a brow at him as he begins to lead you out. Chanyeol isn’t here as he usually is, you notice.

“It’s fine.” He answers casually, dismissing it with a shrug. “They’ll be back.”

For the tattoo or for him, you wonder. You wouldn’t be surprised if he gets some returning customers just because he has a pretty face. “Alright then, your call.”

He leads you outside where his white Nissan Skyline is parked. His car is always polished to perfection, several of his designs drawn across the hood and doors. It’s a perfect display of his artistic skills, the white of the car acting as a canvas.

But...wait.

Something’s wrong.

As you get closer to the familiar car, you clearly see that the windshield glass had been shattered. Not only that, but there are several long, deep scratch marks that stretch over the side of his car.

You gasp at the sight, knowing how much this car means to Chen. You glance at him, afraid of his reaction.

You feel a icy shiver roll down your spine, your skin prickling in fear. You’ve never seen Chen look that way before. His face is calm, so calm, but it’s cold. His eyes are filled with a chilling anger, the silent kind, the most deadly kind. Like a snake bidding its time before it sinks its teeth into its prey. The kind of look that insinuates the calm before a world-wrecking storm.

He doesn’t move for what feels like an eternity and a second all at once. Then he carefully fishes his phone out from his pocket, dialing a number and smiles. “Hey D.O. When you’re done with your work, could you take the white Nissan Skyline away? Yeah, you know the one...uh huh...no, I want it destroyed.”

“What?” You gasp, clutching onto his arm to stop him. “But that’s your favorite car! It’s just a scratch, it can be fixed!”

He glances at you, such an frigid look that makes you swallow thickly, your grip on him loosening. He ends the call, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Fixed?” His voice is soft, but there’s a terrifying edge to it. He chuckles darkly. “No. Something broken can never be perfect again. I don’t need anything that’s not perfect.”

Then he walks away, hands in his pockets and humming a tune like he didn’t just destroy his most prized possession. Like nothing just happened.

You shiver—tremble—feeling your knees go weak. It’s only a matter of time before you, too, will be thrown away like that.

So you must hide these feelings. 

Deeper.

Deeper.

“You know who did it?” Chanyeol asks taking a long drag from his cigarette.

Glancing at Kai, Chen nods. “Probably the guys from the last race.”

“Great.” Sehun sighs, rolling his neck, his dark puffy hair falling over his eyes. “I love dealing with sore losers. So what are we gonna do? Should we tell Suho?”

Chen wrinkles his nose at the thought, loathing the idea of a scolding. Hey, it’s not his fault this world works like this. You gotta live somehow, even if you break all the damn rules. “Let’s not. Suho’s been plenty busy himself. They just keyed my car, no biggie.”

“No biggie?” Chanyeol raises a skeptical brow, tapping his long fingers against his knee, the cigarette ashes falling onto the ground. “You loved that car, man.”

“Loved.” He repeats, the word quiet and heavy. A shadow passes through his eyes, a look the others know all too well to comment on.

“So what are we gonna do?” Kai asks, tilting his head at Chen. “I’m not about to let some fucker trample all over us like this.”

Chen grins, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “If they want a rematch, so be it.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Kai scowls. “We don’t do rematches. Our turf, our rules and they lost.”

“Yeah, well, if they’re gonna be stirring up trouble, I’d rather you guys have a rematch rather than fucking each other up, you know?” Sehun grins. “It’ll make my job heck of a lot easier.”

“Fuck that.” Kai says, but Chen only laughs, slapping his back a few times.

“Chill man; I’ll do the rematch myself. I’ll take on a hundred of those bastards if I have to—I’ll still win, fair and square.”

“What a load of bullshit.” Chanyeol snickers. “But I’ll enjoy it for sure either way.”

“Keep it on the down-low, ‘kay? Don’t leave us any messes to clean up. Suho’ll be real fucking pissed.” Sehun says, earning an eager nod from Chen.

They’re still skeptical of this, of course. Chen’s been known to get into a lot of trouble—rather minor ones for sure, but trouble nonetheless. It’s rare to see him so excited about something when he’s usually so uncaring about anything. Still, it’s none of their business and they’re in no position to stop him.

“Alright.” Chanyeol shrugs, putting out his cigarette. “Go for it then.”

You walk into the tattoo parlor again, greeting Byun as per your usual routine now. This time though, Byun tells you that Chen isn’t here.

“What? Where is he?” Another race, perhaps? He doesn’t have his car anymore though...so did he get another one?

“Met up with some people.” Byun answers vaguely. “Don’t worry. You can wait here if you want, but it stinks like hell so I’d recommend you come back later.”

“Um,” you wring your hands against the skirt you’re wearing. “Who is he meeting?”

Byun let’s out a sly grin, looking up at you from where he’s sprawled over his counter. “What’s wrong? Scared he’s cheating on you?”

Your cheeks heat up immediately as you shoo away the very thought, appalled he would say such thing. “No! Of course not. I’m just...worried. He seemed really upset about his car, so...”

“Heh, I guess he is.” Byun shrugs. “He went to have a rematch with those jerks from the last race. He said they were probably the ones who keyed his car.”

You gasp, feeling a wave of anxiousness as you recall the faces of those racers. They didn’t seem to take their loss lightly—if keying Chen’s car is any indication. They’d probably do anything to win this rematch. “Where are they meeting?”

“Whoa there, calm down.” Byun waves his hand at you. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Please, Byun.” You grab his arm, unconsciously digging your nails into him. “I’m really, really worried. Please tell me.”

He winces, seizing your hands quickly in attempt to pry you off. You can see the boys in the garage start to take notice, stopping with whatever they were tinkling with to stare at you.

“Okay, okay! I can tell you, but it’s not where a good girl like you should go. And you can’t do anything even if you go anyways.”

“I’m really not a good girl, Byun.” You say, forcing out a tight smile. “I don’t care about anything, I just want to see him, make sure he’s okay.”

“Well,” he sighs, giving in. He rips a piece of paper from a notepad, scribbling down an address. “Here. Just...I warned you, alright? And Chen isn’t the type to change his mind easily.”

You clutch the paper tightly, thanking him.

You’re not the type to change your mind easily either.

“Well would ya lookie here.” The man from the race hollers when he gets out of his car. What was his name again? Damn, maybe Chen should’ve made an effort to remember their names before calling them up. “Who would’ve thought the cheater would want a rematch? Feelin’ guilty, boy?”

Chen smiles, swallowing the desire to laugh his ass off. Guilty? Him? It should definitely be the other way around, right? “You’re the sore loser here. Can’t take a hit and now you’re calling me a cheater?”

The man scowls, grabbing Chen by the collar. He’s as strong as he looks, but all brawn and no brain.

Chen quickly puts up his hands in a sign of surrender, the smile still on his face, unfazed. “Hey, now. Let’s just have a rematch fair and square. That’s the best solution, right?”

With a scoff, the man shoves Chen back, a confident grin growing on his face.

A red flag for trouble.

“Sure, pretty boy. Let’s have a rematch fair and square.” His friends start to giggle behind him, and Chen mentally rolls his eyes. Yeah, he knew they’d have some underhand tricks up their sleeves. He’s still confident he’ll win though and even if he doesn’t...well, he tries not to think of that right now.

“Rules?” He asks.

“None.” The man answers, gesturing towards the dusty road that stretches on into the distance. “Just get to the finish line.”

Well, his turf, his rules. Chen shrugs and begins to get into his car when he sees a taxi pull up nearby. Odd, he thinks, this place is pretty secluded.

But then the person that gets out makes him nearly choke on his own spit, and he gets out again, jogging towards you.

“Yo, where ya goin’?” His opponents yell after him, but he ignores them for now. He grabs your arm, pulling you to face him.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks shocked, and maybe even angry. It’s a stern expression you’ve never seen on his face before, but you stand firm and stare back at him. “I was worried.” You glance at the parked cars, and at the familiar men with several new faces. You turn back to him. “You gonna race him?”

“Of course.” Chen answers, scoffing. “No one messes with us and gets away scot free.”

“I’m coming too.” You say, resolute.

“No you’re not.”

“I am.” You pull your arm from his grip, storming your way towards the car you recognize from EXO’s garage. Chen follows you closely, a string of complaints that go unheard. You get into the passenger seat and slam the door closed.

“The fuck!” Chen yells, knocking on your window and tugging at the door handle to get it open. “Get out! This isn’t your race. Get the fuck out, now!”

You ignore him completely, turning away. Chen continues like that for a while longer before the opponents begin to grow impatient.

“You racin’ or what?” They snarl out, eyes narrowing on the two of you threateningly. “You makin’ fun of us?”

Chen stops, but continues to stare at you. Even without looking, even with glass between you, you can feel the heat of his glare. He takes a deep breath, perhaps to stop himself from breaking the car window, and finally slips into the driver’s seat.

“You’re going to fucking regret this.”

“I won’t.” You answer.

You see the race flag being raised, and the sound of the starting gunshot rings in your ear.

Previous Chapter [M]│Next Chapter

The Art of Sin Mini Masterlist

EXO Customs Collab Masterlist

A/N: After a bazillion years, things are finally kicking off now. And between you and me, I’d hang on real tight. :)

Tags: @ninibears-erigom @baekwell--tart​ @fairyyeols​ @suhoerections​ @kpop---scenarios​ @skjdln​ @yeoldontknow​ @kyungseokie​ @mint-yooxgi​ @loser-dot-com​ @writingstuffandmore​ @enchanting-exo​ @dear-fake-diary​ @weirdsofagirls​ @wongxiexie​ @lovebuginlove​ @noonaofjungkook​ @soondingieworks @joolsreadsfics​ @bluepsycopanda​ @sebootyforlife​ @yerimdaes​ @the-freefeather​ @xcharlottemikaelsonx​ @shxrl4747​ @uminnies​  @mango-bear​

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©kimjongdaely

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[the-awkward-outlaw]

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Could you please write furious Arthur headcanons? His s/o had been kidnapped by another gang ( your choice) and write him a ransom but he doesn't give them anything, except a killing spree. He's bloodthirsty.

Okay, I only wrote 13 pages and the second half I did while being extremely tired (my fault for having too much caffeine before going to sleep). I hope it isn’t total garbage. 

Warnings: swearing, torture, mentions of attempted rape, blood

Breathe

It’s early morning, the sun’s just risen and you’re kneeling next to the fire. You and Arthur found this place to camp last night while heading back to Shady Belle. It’s not too far from Clemens Point, the campsite the gang deserted a few weeks back thanks to the Pinkertons finding it. Arthur approached you a few days ago, stating he needed to get away from the swamps and that godforsaken city Saint Denis, so you went with him. 

You’re fairly certain Arthur’s sweet on you. Nothing conclusive, of course. It’s just a look here and there, a touch. The way he talks to you. The fact that you’re the only person he invites to come on these hunting trips. You know he has no qualms about going alone. He used to go out by himself for days on end, coming back with loads of pelts and herbs. That was when you first joined though. The past couple of months, he’s liked you to come along. 

You’re sweet on Arthur too. He’s a complicated man, capable of great measures of violence and gentleness. You’ve seen him be kind one second and become scary as hell the next. However, it was his gentleness and his devotion to the gang that first captured your attention. He’d move mountains for most of the gang members, particularly Dutch, Hosea and the other girls. You hope he’d do the same for you, and something tells you he would. Once you got to know him a little better, it didn’t take long for you to develop feelings for him. It was then that you also noticed how handsome he was and there were many nights you went to sleep pretending to be nestled in his arms. 

Arthur’s out now, probably hunting or gathering herbs. You like to sleep in later than he does, so you’re not worried. You straighten your shirt and run your fingers through your hair before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Once you’re a little more awake, you’ll get your bow and go find him. 

The energy in the air shifts suddenly. Or perhaps it’s just the wind, but something feels wrong. You remember once in Big Valley being stalked by a cougar. This feeling is the same, but there are no large predators down this far south. Not that you know of, anyways. You look around the wide clearing and into the trees. There seems to be nothing. So why does it feel so strange?

Without warning, a lasso floats over your head and around your middle, binding your arms to your sides. The rope jerks, slamming you down onto the ground and you begin to panic. Three men, whooping and hollering, come running up. They’re wearing old soldiers’ uniforms. 

Breathe

“You sure she’s the one, Curtis? Part of that gang that took Shady Belle?” the one holding the rope that binds you says. 

A slightly fat man with a big white beard approaches you, grabbing your face hard and he peers at you. “She’s definitely with that gang. I seen her before. That big feller you with, he the gang leader?” he directs the question at you. 

Lemoyne Raiders. No question about it. You knew you hadn’t seen the last of them after Dutch robbed them of their hideout. 

“I ain’t runnin’ with no other feller,” you lie. “Just myself and my horse.” 

“Then how you explain the two bedrolls? You also got enough supplies to take care of two people.” 

You swallow. “I… I like to carry a lot of supplies. Sell them sometimes. You in the market?” 

The man grabs your collar and swiftly punches you, causing starts to blink in your vision. 

“Now tell the truth, girl!” the man hollers. 

You glare up at him and spit blood in his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing.”

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like the alternative.” The man flips you onto your back, binding your hands and feet together. The man named Curtis hollers again back at the other two. “Come on, boys. We’ll take her to our new place. Make her hungry.” 

“But what use is she gonna be to us?” the third man says. He has a rather stupid look to him and his eyes are too far apart. 

“Easy. That feller she’s runnin’ with. I doubt he’s gone far,” Curtis points out. “We’ll leave him a little note. Adam, you know how to write, you’ll make it up. Put down that we want Shady Belle back and $1000 with it. Either that, or we’ll send them a gift made out of this pretty lady’s skin.” 

The men chuckle darkly and you’re beginning to panic. You’re just about to scream for Arthur when Curtis kneels down, takes his pistol out, and slams the butt of it into your head, forcing you into a world of darkness. 

***************************************

Arthur makes his way back to the little make-shift camp. It’s nearly noon; he’s surprised you haven’t caught up with him yet. You’ve never slept in this late. Maybe you’re not feeling well. His horse’s saddlebags are bursting with herbs, Grimshaw will be happy at least. 

He hums softly to himself, excited that your face will be the first one he sees today. You have the brightest and warmest smile he’s ever seen. He’d pay an unimaginable amount to wake up to seeing that smile of yours everyday. He wants nothing more than to ask you out to dinner or some other date, but he’s terrified. No way could someone like you be interested in a dirty, violent outlaw like himself. 

He sees the pillar of smoke that marks your camp and his humming changes to whistling. Maybe today he’ll finally find the courage to ask you out. Unlikely. All you have to do is smile and his legs turn to jelly. Still, he loves your company. The way you point out the beauty of the world where all he once saw was the ugliness of it. Your face litters many of the pages in his journal. If only you knew how many. Probably a good thing you didn’t, he thought, otherwise you’d go running for the hills. 

He walks his horse slowly up the last small rise towards camp. When he sees it, he’s confused. You’re not there, but your horse is still tied to the small tree you hitched her to the previous night. Maybe you’ve gone to pick herbs not too far away or you’re fishing at the lake, which isn’t far either. However, when he gets closer and he sees the blood, he knows you’re in trouble. He hops off his horse and inspects the camp, looking for any clue to what happened. He finds the note. “Give us Shady Belle and $1000 or the girl dies. Deliver alone. LR.” 

His breathing becomes suddenly rapid and his hands begin to shake. He crumples the letter in his hand, the edges of his vision turning red. How dare those bastards touch a single hair on your head? He was angry when he learned young Jack had been kidnapped. It’s nothing compared to the seething hatred he feels now. He quickly throws down camp, grabs your horse and then gallops back to Shady Belle. Dutch will surely help him. 

**************************************

Breathe. 

You’re being dragged by the rope binding your feet. Your head aches and you crack your eyes open. An old, boarded-up house looms above you and you’re flanked by over half a dozen men, all in Confederate uniforms. The man dragging you stops and you look to your left and see the burned skeleton of a barn. 

“What the hell she doin’ here, Curtis?” a slightly fat, balding man demands. Based on his uniform, you’d guess he’s the boss of this group. 

“She’s with that gang who took Shady Belle. We left a note for her companion to give it back and an extra $1000, otherwise we’d send her back in a condition they ain’t gonna like.” 

“You damn fool, Curtis!” the man growls. “And when the entire gang comes up to get her, then what?” 

“We wrote her friend a note to come alone when deliverin’ the money. He ain’t gonna be a problem, Richard.” 

“He better not be. Still, I would enjoy seein’ at least one of those traitors who robbed us suffer. That was our goddamn home.” Richard looks to the house and then back to you. “Put her in the basement.” 

Breathe.

The man holding your feet begins dragging you again towards the house. You grunt loudly as he hauls you up the front steps and they scratch against your back. You start struggling, trying to grab onto anything that might give you an edge. Curtis, who’s walking behind you, grabs your hands and picks you up so now you’re being carried between the two men. 

They drop you in a room with a fireplace, a fire burning inside it. Richard enters the room, shooing most the other men out except for Curtis and the man still holding her feet. He orders them to strip you. You start fighting, but Richard and the other man pin you down as Curtis rips off your clothes, leaving you in your undergarments. 

“You wanna go further?” he asks Richard, a hungry look in his eyes that leaves you feeling cold. 

“Not yet. If they don’t show up with the money in a day or two, we’ll have some fun with her.”

Curtis looks disappointed, but he and the other man pick you up again and Richard opens up a door in the floor. They carry you down into a cellar. There are three pillars, chains attached to them. This house clearly used to keep slaves down here before the Civil War ended. 

The men drop you onto the stone ground and then Richard pulls out two pairs of handcuffs. He binds your hands together and then your feet. Then he forces you to your feet and stretches your arms up, attaching the chain holding your hands together to an old hook hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It leaves you barely standing on your toes. 

“Get out of here, you two,” Richard says to the other men. Again, they look disappointed but they comply. Richard turns back to you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me about this little gang of yours.” 

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” you growl. 

He chuckles and takes out a knife. “Maybe not yet, but you will.” 

Breathe. 

*********************************************

Arthur stomps into camp, still in a fury. He goes to Dutch and explains your predicament. 

“We ain’t givin’ those animals money, Arthur,” Dutch says. 

“No of course we ain’t. But we need to find her. Gather the men, let’s go hunt her down before those bastards have a chance to hurt her.” 

Dutch stands up, glaring at Arthur. He’s never tried to boss Dutch around and he won’t accept it. “No, Arthur. I need them to do work and I know you’re sweet on Y/N, Arthur, but she ain’t exactly Jack.”

Arthur’s vision has remained red the entire time since he found your ransom note but it intensifies when he hears Dutch’s words. “What, because she ain’t a kid who represents the potentials of the future, she ain’t worth savin’?!” 

“Arthur, that ain’t what I’m saying,” Dutch says quickly. Although he knows Arthur’s loyalty would never waver, he knows exactly what Arthur’s capable of. “We’ll get her before she can talk, but I just need a little more time.” 

“She ain’t gonna talk, Dutch. She’s as loyal to you as any of us.” 

“I don’t know that, Arthur. She’s only been with us for a few months and who knows what they’ll do to her. You’d be surprised how quickly people break when subjected to torture.” 

Arthur clenches his fist and Dutch takes a step back. “I’m goin’ after her, Dutch, right now whether you like it or not. I’m gonna kill all them bastards. But if she’s dead, Dutch, I’m gonna tear everything-”

“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch says quickly, knowing how easily Arthur could hurt him if he really wanted to. “Take two men, go find her.” 

Arthur stomps out of the house, still furious that no one else cares about you as much as he does. He grabs Charles and John and rides back to where your camp was in order to track you down. 

*******************************************

Breathe. 

The inside of your upper left arm burns something terrible. At least the bleeding has stopped. Richard tried getting information out of you, kicking and slapping you when you refused. After two hours of attempted interrogation, he lost his temper and carved the word “traitor” into your arm. The pain was indescribable. He left you alone to hang from your wrists after that, clearly needing a break. 

It’s been at least half a day since you saw anyone. You’re thirsty and your wrists hurt like crazy from holding a good portion of your weight, the manacles digging into your skin. 

The cellar door at the top of the stairs opens again and Richard walks down. He’s alone but he’s already pulled out his knife. 

“You gonna talk, traitor?” he growls. 

“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” you spit back. 

He narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb across the blade. “You know, a few years ago, another gang came through here. Guess they wander a lot, don’t stick in one place for more than a few weeks. Called themselves the Skinners. I saw the things they did to the folk they caught. Even learned a thing or two. Trust me, girl, you wouldn’t like any of the ideas I got for you.”

He glares at you. Fear rips through your gut but you won’t give in so easily. Someone will come for you, you’re sure of it, and you’re more scared of what Dutch will do if you talk and he finds out. 

“Do your worst,” you say, a tear sliding down your cheek. 

Richard curls his lip and then slams his knife down into your thigh, making you scream. “Talk, girl,” he demands again. You quiet down, more tears falling. “Talk!” he hollers, twisting the knife which only makes you scream more. He twists, pulls and pushes the knife, trying to work anything out of you. Then, he yanks the knife out, blood spilling out of your thigh. 

“You’re gonna say somethin’! I don’t care how much you’ve whored yourself to those men, you’re gonna break.” 

You can do nothing but cry as your thigh bleeds freely. Richard reaches up and drags the tip of the knife from your neck to your collarbone, finally cutting into your chest. He draws a shallow line, making you scream again. 

Finally, Richard seems to have enough after cutting you in multiple places across your arms and legs. He huffs insults at you and then marches up the stairs. 

Breathe.

*********************************************

At the campsite, Charles picks up a trail of three horses, most likely your captors'. It’s an old trail but he manages to pick it up just fine. Arthur’s still furious and desperate to find you. 

John tries to encourage him. “We got Jack back, Arthur. We won’t have any problems finding her.” 

He couldn’t be more wrong, though. The men who captured you almost seemed to not know where they were going. The trail winds in several circles and sometimes even turns back to the way they’d come, almost like they were afraid of leaving a trail. 

The hunt lasts for hours and the sun begins to set. Charles tells Arthur to rest, but he refuses, stating you certainly don’t have that luxury. He won’t either, not until you’re safe. Charles and John decide not to argue. They know how Arthur feels about you, and how afraid he is of losing you. They agree to go on.

The trail heads further east towards the swamps and then, after hours of following, it turns west again, back towards Scarlett Meadows. Arthur’s even more furious. What the hell were those animals trying to do when they captured you? Charles asks for the note they’d left him, wondering if it could give any clues to where you are. Arthur says there’s nothing but hands him the note anyways. 

“LR,” Charles says. 

“Lemoyne Raiders,” John explains. “We drove them out of Shady Belle.”

Charles nods and his face is deep in thought. “Where would a gang that large go after losing their main hideout?” 

Arthur pulls out a map and inspects it. There’s few buildings that aren’t in a town or a city that are large enough to house a gang. Then he sees a place on the map in the direction the trail is leading. He recognizes it from when Uncle found a lead on a stage that was owned by Cornwall. They’d hid in the barn of the house and it got burned down. Shortly afterwards, he met the former owner, an ex slave catcher. He remembers the old cellar with chains on the pillars, ledgers of slaves and a slave’s old journal describing getting caught. 

“There, Compston’s Stead. My money’s on there.” 

John looks at the map and nods. “Seems big enough. Right in the middle of their territory.” 

“Let’s go,” Charles says, but Arthur’s already riding off. The group gallops through the night, the horses snort and sweat from being pushed so hard. They enter the woods right outside Comspton’s Stead and finally pull to a stop. It’s nearly dawn, the eastern horizon turning light. Arthur dismounts and pulls out his shotgun. 

“We need to come up with a plan,” John says. “What are we doin’, Arthur?” 

“Kill ‘em all,” Arthur says and then starts walking towards the house. Charles and John call for him, stating the obvious flaws in this idea, but Arthur ignores them. All he knows is they’ve undoubtedly tortured you and done God knows what else and he’s going to rip them all to shreds. 

He stops at the edge of the trees and, sure enough, there’s tents and wagons around the house and burnt barn. Hardly anyone’s awake, but two men are sitting around a campfire, sipping coffee. They’re clearly supposed to be on guard as they hold rifles, but they’re taking a break. Arthur aims his shotgun and fires, the slugs slamming into the chest of one of the men. The other hops up, only to be knocked back by another shot fired by Arthur. 

The other men start getting out of their tents, but they’re disoriented from being asleep. Some are still pulling their pants or hats on, wielding pistols or rifles. 

“Raiders!” Arthur screams, reloading his shotgun. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches! Where is she?” 

**********************************

You’re dozing, somehow able to get a bit of rest despite the immense pain flowing constantly throughout your body. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you’re so tired you’re managing to fade out of consciousness to a point and sleep a little. That is until you hear the cellar door open. You look up and out the small window near the ceiling. The sky’s turning light. Richard walks down the stairs, his eyes dark and hungry. He closes the cellar door behind him.

Breathe. 

“You gonna talk, whore?” he growls. 

“Do your worst,” you say again, your voice no more than a soft grunt. You’re so thirsty and weak it’s all you can manage. 

“Oh I plan too. You are a pretty thing. Shame you’re makin’ me carve you up like this.” He stands in front of you and raises his hand, dragging a finger from your shoulder and all the way down your body. The way he touches you is the absolute worst torture and you suddenly realize what he’s thinking of doing. 

He grabs the top of your bloomers and begins to pull down. “Obviously knives ain’t workin’ on you. Maybe I can… squeeze your words out of you another way,” he whispers in your ear. You clench your legs together as hard as you can, but in your position you don’t have much power over what happens to you. 

Richard reaches a hand up to lift your chemise when a sudden explosion echoes outside. It’s coming from the woods. Richard steps away quickly and looks out the window. 

Another explosion and men begin shouting. You hear a man hollering a slew of insults. There’s anger in his voice, but it’s different than the anger in Richard’s voice. A kind of desperation lingers behind it. 

“Son of a bitch,” Richard growls. He pulls out his pistol and stands close to you. “Don’t worry, whore. He ain’t gettin’ to you.” 

Breathe. 

You want to cry out. You recognize those explosions well enough to know they’re coming from a shotgun. Someone has come for you. You have to believe it. 

“Help!” you try calling out, but your voice is so weak it’s hardly more than a whisper. 

“Shut up,” Richard grunts. You call out again and he slams the butt of his pistol in your face, cutting your cheek. 

The air outside echoes with more shots, more screaming. You don’t know how long it continues, but then it suddenly stops. Richard shuffles nervously, his thumb brushing against the hammer of his pistol. He stares up at the closed cellar door. You can see the sweat dripping down his face. 

The cellar door swings open, light streaming in and blinding you. Richard hesitates and then points his pistol at your head. 

“Come any closer, she dies,” he says. 

The person at the top of the stairs darts down them. You gasp when you see Arthur and he’s wielding a rusty old sword. He’s too fast for Richard and he swings the sword down and into Richard’s shoulder, burying it deep. Richard drops the pistol and falls to the ground, Arthur on top of him. 

Arthur pulls out his knife and slashes Richard’s throat, and he gurgles as the blood flows from his open neck. Arthur watches him for a second, his shirt speckled in Richard’s blood. Then he turns and looks at you, a fire raging in his eyes. 

Breathe.

“Ar-Arthur,” you groan. He gets up and grabs your wrists, unhooking them from the rafters. You sigh when your weight finally goes to your feet but you’re so weak you fall against Arthur. He grabs you and holds you tight, kneeling down so you don’t have to stand. He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm tight around your back. 

“I got ya, girl. You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle compared to the violence that he’d just committed. 

You take in a deep breath, his scent of pine and leather flooding your nostrils and then you begin to cry. You sob into his shirt and he just holds you, rubbing circles into your back. He releases you only for a moment to take out a lockpick and take the cuffs off your wrists. When your hands are free, you latch onto him as hard as you can. 

“You’re safe, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt ya now.” 

He sighs, his arms folding tightly around you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, wanting to shut out the world. You swear his lips brush your forehead. 

“Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you out of here.” 

He starts pulling away, but you latch onto him. You feel cold and you’re terrified from everything that’s happened. He’s warm and he represents safety, protection. 

“Easy, girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just need to get these off your feet.” 

He lays you down on your back as gently as he can and then unlocks the cuffs around your feet. He’s back near your head and he picks you up, cradling your head to his neck again as he carries you up the stairs. You’re blinded from having been down in that cellar for you don’t even know how long. He walks slowly as to not cause you more pain and your eyes adjust to the light. 

Curtis and the man who dragged you lie dead in the living room, their bodies resting in pools of blood. Outside, you’re blinded again but you have an easier time adjusting to the light. There’s more corpses. Charles and John are looting the bodies and camp for anything they can use. They straighten up when they see Arthur carrying you. 

“Is she���” Charles begins. 

“She’s alive,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “She’s in bad shape though. We need to get her home.” 

Arthur calls his horse and, with John’s and Charles’s help, lifts you onto the horse, which is extremely painful on your leg. You grunt and gasp in pain and Arthur says words of encouragement. He climbs up behind you and wraps a protective arm around you, grabbing the reins in his other hand. He says nothing to the other two and pushes his horse into an easy canter towards camp. The pain is too much as it rips through your body in fresh waves and sends you into a relieving world of darkness. 

***********************

Arthur arrives back at camp, followed by Charles and John. You passed out within only a few moments of riding, to which he’s grateful for. It meant you would have to endure less pain. Once he stops his horse, John holds you up as he gets off his horse. John makes to slide you off, but Arthur pushes him away and pulls you into his arms. 

Grimshaw’s making a huge fuss, ordering people around to get medical supplies. Dutch walks over to him and is about to say something when Arthur snaps at him. “I don’t wanna hear about it right now, Dutch. She ain’t outta the woods yet.” 

Grimshaw tries to tell him to drop you off on your own bedroll, which is positioned by Karen’s and Mary-Beth’s on the ground, but Arthur says it would be best if you were on an elevated bed, somewhere secluded and warm. He hauls you up to his room and puts you onto his bed. Grimshaw abruptly shoves him out of the warm so she and the girls can change your clothes and begin working on you. 

Most of your cuts and wounds are okay and don’t require stitches, including the carved word on your arm. Your leg is a different situation. The wound is deep and jagged and it’s still bleeding, though not profusely. Grimshaw says the best option would be to cauterize it instead of risk it getting infected. Karen brings her a candle and some gunpowder. 

Arthur’s standing outside his door, pacing near it. He’s terrified to hear about your condition but prays he got to you in time. He’s still wearing his bloody clothes, but as he’s not allowed into his room to change, he doesn’t care. Dutch and Hosea are with him, telling him encouragements. They’re helping until he hears you scream. 

Dutch grabs Arthur as he tries barging through the door to get to you. Arthur’s fighting hard though, so Dutch calls Bill and Charles. It takes all three men to prevent Arthur from going into his room to see you. He yells at them to let him go and after a few moments, Grimshaw comes out, looking furious. 

“Mr. Morgan, she won’t ever be able to get some rest with you screeching this!”

“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” he demands. 

“Fixin’ her leg. Think she’ll be fine and she’s asleep again.” 

“Let me see her.” 

“No,” Grimshaw says. “We’re almost done. Now how about you make yourself useful and get some fresh clothes for her. Bring up some food and water for when she wakes up.” 

Arthur growls but he’s relieved to have something to do. The others let him go and he does what Grimshaw says. She snatches the clothes out of his hand and then slams the door in his face. 

“Come on, son,” Hosea says, patting Arthur on the back. “Let’s get you calmed down. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. She couldn’t be in better hands.” 

Arthur nods and lets Hosea and Dutch lead him into the sitting room where Dutch keeps the donation box. They get him some whiskey and some food, encouraging him to eat. 

***********************************

You don’t know how long it’s been since Arthur saved you. The events leading up to it were terrifying and awful, but the feeling of his arms around you was one of the best things you’ve ever felt. You remember how his warmth seeped into you. 

Breathe.

You notice you’re mostly on your stomach and right side in an upright position. There’s an odd mixture of warm and cool throughout your body and you’re propped against something that's almost hot. You breathe in and smell pine and leather, just like Arthur smelled when he saved you. As you dip again into that memory, the pain of your body begins coming back to you. 

You stir a bit and something moves against your back, rubbing softly. That’s when you feel arms wrapped around you. Your eyes creak open and you look up to see Arthur staring down at you. He sighs as though in relief. 

“Hey, darlin’,” he says. “Thank God you’re awake.” 

Despite the pain, you smile a bit and open your mouth to say something, but your voice doesn’t want to work. 

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. One of his arms unwinds around you, leaving you a little cold. Then he hands you a tin cup full of water and he helps you drink it slowly. When the water’s gone, you start to remember the things that happened to you. 

“Arthur, I… I didn’t say anything to them,” you say, a sob working its way up your chest. He folds his arms around you again. 

“I know, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry about that, okay? Those bastards who hurt you are all dead, they can’t do that again.” 

The shock of the last few days comes to you and you begin to shiver, despite the humidity and the heat from the swamps outside. Arthur grabs the blanket on the bed packed against the wall and drapes it over you. 

“You’re okay, darlin’. I got ya, ain’t gonna let you go.” His words flow over you and the sob finally reaches your throat. He rubs your back as you cry into his chest again. You can’t understand why those men did such horrible things to you. It’s not like you had any hand in taking the manor from them. 

“Why, Arthur?” you sob. “Why’d they do that?” 

He sighs and brushes his lips against your forehead. “I don’t know, honey. They were evil men. You did nothing wrong and you didn’t deserve it, okay? Don’t ask yourself ‘why me’.” 

You nod and nestle closer into him, your left hand clutching onto the collar of his shirt, noticing the bandage around your wrist. He’s wearing his blue shirt but removed his black scarf, leaving the top three buttons undone. He’s done this before and you always struggled to avert your eyes from his exposed chest. However, you press your cheek to his bare skin. The physical contact is soothing and calming. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.

That takes you by surprise. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Arthur?” 

“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just… I was terrified I wouldn’t get to ya in time. That mornin’ they took you, I um, I was going to ask you somethin’ but they got you before I could.” 

He’s terrified and surprised he’s even asking you in the first place. However, when you were kidnapped, he knew he wanted you in his daily life. He was in love with you, he couldn’t deny that. He pauses for a moment, pondering what to say. If you tell him you’ve no interest in being with him, that’s going to make things incredibly awkward. 

“Arthur?” you say gently, your fingers delicately brushing his chest. “What were you going to ask?” 

“I um,” he hesitates again. He can’t look you in the face, his cheeks burn hot. “I was gonna ask ya if… If I could take ya to dinner or see one of them silly plays in Saint Denise.” 

Is he really asking you out on a date? Your stomach skips. You’ve no idea how many times you imagined him saying this, but you never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe you’re suffering hallucinations stemming from your condition, but you don’t care. You smile up at him and cup his cheek. 

“Well, I would have said yes if you asked me then. My answer isn’t changing now.” 

His lips stretch into a wide grin and then suddenly, they’re on yours. They’re slightly chapped and dry, but they’re warm. His lips move softly against yours, parting them just slightly as his tongue flicks over your lips. Your hand moves into his hair, tangling into them. 

Before things can go further, he breaks away. “Thank ya, darlin’. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, not unless you want me to.” 

You smile at him and lay your head on his chest. It feels like a miniature version of the sun has taken residence in your own chest, sending warmth to your limbs. You suddenly can’t wait to be in well enough condition to go out with Arthur, but for now, you’re happy to stay in the safety and heat of his arms. He draws soft patterns into your skin, sending you back into an easy slumber. 

[minnochu]

Interference (pt. 24)

Officer!Jimin x Reader

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 |pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18 | pt 19 | pt 20 | pt 21 | pt 22 | pt 23 | pt 24 | pt 25 

(A/N): Um hi. Turns out summer makes me lazier lol. 

Warnings?: Violence, and a sprinkle of gore if you squint.

..

On the day that Jungkook came home battered and bruised…

“Father, if I may…” The dark haired male bowed his head in respect, keeping his eyes trained on the ground as his ears picked up the soft snickers of the group members that line each wall of the room.

“Out with it then,” his adoptive father bellows, impatient with his son’s hesitation. His brow twitches with annoyance, dark eyes glowering down at the meek male in front of him as he leans back against the sofa in his lounge.

“She.. that girl is not a threat to us,” he finally musters up the courage, raising his head to stare into the steely eyes of his father and boss, “She has lost her memory, she would pose no threat in ousting our crimes when she remembers none of them. There is no use in getting rid of her.”

His mouth shuts immediately, opening and closing like a fish as his father’s stare burned holes into his own. Perspiration beads at his forehead and makes his hands all clammy with anxiety. 

The silence is unnerving. His gaze almost falters as the members on the sides look to the boss for his answer. There’s a chuckle that reverberates against the walls, a throaty laughter that is almost mocking as his father tilts his head in indignation.

“That makes her all the more dangerous you know? Don’t tell me you’re such a failure, you can’t bring yourself to kill her again?”

He opens his mouth to continue when he realizes the emotions that swirl within his son’s eyes, “You… you love her?”

The four letter word is emphasized, almost spat out with the same disgust that is reflected in his glare.

“It wasn’t my intention…” he whispered quietly.

Anger flashed over his father’s expression, the elder standing abruptly as his hands curled into shaky fists. His leg cranked back before launching forward to deliver and kick to the younger’s bowed head. A mangled cry leaves the son as he falls backward, a hand reaching immediately to cup his cheek. Unfinished, he seized the youth by his dark hair, ripping him upwards to face him.

“Bull fucking shit. I gave you one job and you still can’t carry it out!” He seethes, yanking the male by his hair to display him to his underlings, “This will be a lesson to the rest of you to never defy my word.”

Shoving him to the floor, the elder stomps his foot against his temple, an action that causes a gasp of pain to push passed his lips, “You disappoint me, either dispose of her yourself, or I’ll kill both you and her myself.”

It was left at that, but not before the boss had motioned for his underlings a signal to teach the quivering youth a lesson. It was too many to take on at once, but he fought back with fervor and anger at his father. Too many fists met his face. Elbows, kness, kicks. It was torture. He tried, he really did. Dodging as much as he could as he hook punched one in the jaw and grabbed another’s head and smashed their face into his knee.

He coughed up blood, cursing as he caught a punch aimed at his face, twisting the arm of the offender and shoving him back, but not before one of the others smashed their elbow into his face. The sudden attack caught him off guard, his feet stumbling backwards as the arm extended and pressed harshly against his collarbone and slamming him down onto his back with a loud thud. He coughed and wheezed, air leaving his lungs as the others took advantage of his downed body. Shadows circled around him from above, yelling and berating him for his soft-heartedness as they kick at his face and body.

Fuck.

He left that damned place battered and brokenhearted. His heart hurt at his fate. It was no lie that he never intended to fall in love. How could he not with such a beautiful woman, both inside and out that made him feel normal. Like he was no killer, no merciless murderer who followed the orders of his father like it was law. A law that determined whether he lived or not.

In all his life, he wished this was the one assignment he could refuse.

His feet dragged him towards the nearest bar, ordering a screwdriver and whatever the hell he could get his hands on to drink his feelings away. At least until he got home and felt his love for that woman make his heart skip beats and his breath to catch in his throat.

“I’m giving you no more than 24 hours to finish the job. Do it before I take matters into my own hands you impudent little shit stain.”

Those final words from his father causes a sob to bubbles up from his throat, uncontrollable and full of anguish as he hails the bartender for a shot.

“I’m so sorry…”

.

“Google said aloe vera and vitamin C is helpful with reducing bruising…” you whisper as your fingers graze over the shelf lined with different aloe vera gel products. As you pick out one, you headed towards the food section, wondering if maybe you should make a fruit salad or something. Bromelain from pineapples was also helpful... according to Google.

Groaning, you ruffle your hair as you purse your lips at the thought of Jungkook so beat up from the night before. Looks like nothing’s changed from the time you saw in your memories ‘till now. It only made you worry for his well being if he was getting so beat up like so. Who was he friends with? Why didn’t they extract him from the situation? Why hadn’t they defended him instead of letting him look like the whole high school football team just ganged up on him?

For now, you paid for your items, including groceries good for the next few weeks until you had to next make another visit to the supermarket. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook always praised you for the meals, smiling sweetly as his eyes curved into crescents. He ate your food so heartily, always making hums of approval.

You couldn’t help it. It was harder and harder each day to stop yourself from making comparisons between the two men. In the end, even though you’ve started to grow comfortable being around Jungkook, you missed the boys and that call from last night did not help when you heard the rasp of Jimin’s voice, heavily laced with sleep, call out your name instead of one of his insulting but still somehow endearing nicknames for you. You couldn’t stop yourself from responding a soft goodnight to his before promptly turning over to mute a sob against your pillow.

You couldn’t sleep to the point of finding yourself entering the hallway. Anxiety held your breath when you knocked on the door further down the hall. It was no later than ten seconds when footsteps hurriedly bounded towards the door and Jungkook squinted down at you in the darkness. His hair was tousled all over, body clad in a plain tee that hung loosely off his frame and grey joggers. Hand messing with his hair in a failed attempt to tame his bedhead, he blinked once, twice, and a third time before his brown eyes focused on your meek form in front of him.

In the dark, you can make out the ridges of the bandages that are patched over his handsome face, and the beginnings of the wrap that peeks from underneath his tee. 

“(Y/n)?” his voice rasped in confusion, slipping his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time, “You okay?”

“I… I can’t sleep…” you admit, cheeks flushing as you stare down at your feet. You suddenly felt like a child asking their parent to accompany them to sleep. Was this how Jimin felt, seeking out your company at night?

Jungkook didn’t waste a second to invite into the darkness of his room, save for the moonlight forcing its way through the cracks of blinds and illuminating parts of his bed tucked away in the corner of the room. A dresser was situated beside his bed, adjacent to that had been a desk, and then a closet covered by sliding doors. He led you towards his bed, smiling softly as he pressed himself towards the wall to give you as much space as possible. You shook your head at his actions, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and shyly asking if he’d come a little closer.

In your heart, you wanted to keep any spooning to be strictly something Jimin would do for you. But at this point, you realized you needed to let go of whatever thoughts or feelings you had for Jimin. This was your life. You chose to leave them.

He merely nodded, turning over to face you and scoot slightly closer, making sure you were comfortable with the proximity before resorting to brushing his fingers through the hair to lull you asleep. It was sweet, you had to confess.

Maybe, just maybe… you’ll fall for Jungkook once again. You’ll forget Jimin and you’ll have your previous life again, just like how you wanted from the very beginning. Right?

Then why did it hurt so much? You thought as you placed the bowl of fruit salad in the fridge and went to tend to the finished laundry. With not a job yet, you deemed you could at least do the laundry for Jungkook as thanks for letting you stay with him without paying for rent.

After you folded the clothes, you decided to put away Jungkook’s clothes, bringing the basket of his garments and setting it on his bed as you began putting them away. You went about your way until you had to put away his blanket on the top shelf, the movement causing a box to teeter and eventually fall.

“Crap!” You exclaim, jumping out of the way to keep your toes safe from the fallen box.

The cover falls over and its contents spill out from within. Cursing under your breath, you hurry to shove the contents back in when you notice exactly what they were.

In your hand is a picture. You recognize the photograph when yourself is noticeable in the center, holding a younger boy that you recognize as your younger brother. To your left and right are your parents along with an elderly woman that you immediately deem is your grandmother to the side of your mother. Everyone is smiling, grinning, but you wonder why their faces displays x marks drawn hastily over their faces. If that wasn’t already chilling enough, your face is the only one circled.

Your gasp sticks to your throat, your heart beating faster as you shove the picture back into the box and feel your arm brush against the cool surface of the jar that hadn’t shattered completely under the force of the fall when the shirt that was wrapped around it had protected it. You inhale sharply at the dark brown that is blotched and sprayed across the shirt. Bile fills your mouth as you unveil the jar further to find it filled to the brim with four pairs of eye balls suspended in liquid that you assume is preserving them.

Before you go running towards the bathroom to clear your stomach, you notice the gun that had also been in the box. As vomit surges from your throat, it comes rushing back to you. Tears spring to your eyes as you heave and claw at your head in shock and fear.

“Mom? Dad?”

That night, a year or two ago… you didn’t know. You returned home from your part time with a bag of their favorite pastries, hoping to surprise them. You found them in the living room. The television was on and they sat still on the couch that faced away from the entrance. The innocent you had merely smiled and went to surprise them, but you stopped when only the bloody sockets of where their eyes were supposed to be had met you. At that time, your grandma had been out of town. When she came back, you both carried out a funeral before she too had been murdered. And your little brother? He was missing for days before they found his body by the highway with his eyes missing as well.

It was everything you feared. Being left alone but you found your solace in meeting Jeon Jungkook. He became everything to you. Without him, you would’ve withered away with no family

As you continue to heave into the toilet bowl but nothing comes out anymore, that night comes rushing back to you. You were working late that night. When you got off, you began your walk back home to where you stayed with Jungkook. It was painfully obvious that you had a pursuer. Cornered in an alleyway, your pursuer… your supposed killer…

You sob into the toilet bowl as it flushes and you nearly crawl back to Jungkook’s room to put away his things before he comes back home.

You remember now.

The hood fell off his head during the hassle of him seizing you by the wrists and dragging you towards further seclusion. You had fought but he obviously had far more strength than you did.

He.

He was Jeon Jungkook.

A sob tore from your lips as you gripped the photograph.

“(Y/n).”

Your heart fell to your stomach in that very instant. How could you not have heard the door open and close? Why was your very nightmare playing out now? The tears fell from your eyes as you glared down at the picture.

“(Y/n),” his voice called again, this time more heartbroken and remorseful. Why did he sound like so?

“It was you this whole time,” you whispered sadly, almost wanting to believe that it were not so. Your best friend, and once lover if your memories assumed so.

He remained silent, neither denying nor agreeing, but it was enough to tell you that you were correct. His heart tore to pieces at the sight of you. At first, it was a sight he had no care for. He’d let you weep and cry all you want, beg for your life before he’d get bored and put you out of your misery. But now he felt more in misery than you did. His chest tightened and begged him to not go through with it.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you finally glance up at him through bleary eyes.

“It’s either you dispose of her yourself, or I kill both you and her myself.”

There was no other way, he thought. He couldn’t let his father do it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apology!” you spit back, glaring at him as you take the jar of eyes and throw it at him. He doesn’t dodge. Nor does he flinch when the container bounces off his hip and shatters on the floor. The glass flys outwards from the impact, the preservative liquid splashing and the eyeballs bounce and roll away with a sickening squelch.

“Those were their eyes?” you ask as you refuse to let your eyes off of the man in front of you.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deftly and nods.

“I’m sorry,” he says once more, “I love you.”

You can’t react in time before his fingers wrap around your wrist to yank you to your feet. The hold is harsh and painful on your wrist, a contrast to the gentle strokes on your hair from the night before. Yelping, you wince and bite your lip as you step on the shards of glass and disgusting liquid on the ground.

“Let me go!” You demand, clawing at his hand on your, tugging and trying to pull away from him. Tears stream down your cheeks as you dig your heels further into the broken glass on the floor in hopes of keeping you from being dragged along with him. A glint from his other hand catches your eye, you focus on it before you realize what it is in his other hand.

All oxygen in your lungs leave and you sob harder as you recognize the gun gripped in his hand. He was going to kill you.

Was this a joke?

If Jimin saw you now… he would laugh.

You had willingly let yourself into the home of your attempted murderer.

In a last attempt to fend for yourself, you reach back to the gun on the floor, the one that had been kept in that god forsaken box. It points shakily at him, your hand uneasy as you place your index on the trigger.

“You wouldn’t do it if you tried, (Y/n),” he smiled wryly, not moving an inch as you point it at him, “You can’t. You would never kill someone, not me, not your best friend.”

“Please don’t do this Jungkook.”

His smile is melancholic and sad as he takes hold of the barrel instead of your wrist and presses it against his forehead, “Do it. You won’t.”

Blinking through the blur of tears, you feel his hand slide over the gun and his thumb brush over your finger to apply pressure to the trigger. You shut your eyes tight as you prepare yourself for the recoil, the loud explosion of the bullet leaving the barrel. 

But only a click is heard.

“Safety’s on,” He whispers chillingly as he easily knocks the weapon from your hands and repositions his grip on your wrist. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is (Y/n)!” He sighs, shaking his head as you start bashing against his arm and shoulder with your fists.

Huffing, he bites his lip as he shakes his head and slams the side of your head with the butt of the handgun. Your resistance falters, everything going blurry as you nearly cripple at the knees.

The last of your coherent vision catches the barrel of the gun, a silencer attached to it, pointed straight at you.

.

:’) Hope you liked it. Lemme know what you think !! Also so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes ahh.

[claitynroberts]

Leopard Print

Summary: What happens when Sam, Dean, and y/n get some much needed vacation time? Better yet, what goes down after Sam leaves y/n and Dean alone for the afternoon?

Warnings/Genre: Crack, Fluff. Some language and detailed description of nude forms. Sorta 18+.

Word Count: 1925

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo, square filled is Vacation. This is a repost of an a old post since the original was eaten during the Tumblr purge that didn’t do a damn thing.

If Dean was anything, it was an opportunist; and when opportunity came knocking, he answered the damn door. Hell, if he, Sam, and y/n hadn’t saved billionaire CEO Jonathan Thomas from a djinn attack in Kentucky a few weeks ago, they wouldn’t be where they are now; sitting pretty at some private beach house miles away from civilization.

Mr. Thomas had offered it to them for a week, all expenses paid, as recompense for helping get his sorry ass out of the precarious situation he’d inadvertently become a part of. At the time he’d offered them the use of the mansion on the coast, the three hunters had been swamped with case after case, vacation being the furthest thing from their minds. With the strange but welcoming respite the lull in cases brought with it, the three hunters had some extra time on their hands and were already half-way to the promised excursion. One phone call to Mr. Thomas was all it took for Dean to gather the gang and head south.

Now, it was day three of their first vacation in...well, ever. He, Sam, and y/n quickly found and laid claim to their own corners of the house and the sprawling expanse of white sand outside, coming together for meals and the relaxing banter the cool beach evenings offered.

This morning Sam had decided to drive into town, eager to check out the local sites, museums, and libraries the cultural destination had to offer. Y/n had retired to the beach lining the ocean just in front of the large house, chair, cooler, and umbrella at the ready.

Dean had been cleaning up his dishes from lunch when he glanced out the window to see Y/n’s sun hat peeking over the back of her beach chair, her purple string bikini top hanging from the backrest and waving in the ocean breeze like a flag. As he rinsed the plate and dried his hands on the green dish towel, he smirked, a rather devious plan coming to mind. And, well, opportunity just happened to be his middle name.

He’d had a thing for y/n for a while now, but nothing had ever come of it besides some hardcore flirting and drunken make-out sessions in the dark recesses of the ratty motel rooms they frequented. Today, something just might change. Maybe.

Softly, he padded into his room and began to don the outfit he’d picked up for vacation before they left Lebanon. Moments later, after some tugging, jumping, and adjusting of the pinching fabric, he was ready. Looking in the mirror, he smirked to himself before leaving his room to walk across the large living area. As Dean stepped through the French doors and onto the back deck he was instantly met with the warm, humid air and the roar of the ocean waves. As quickly as the sand would let him, he trudged through the stark white powder, plopping down in the extra beach chair beside y/n as he fished a beer out of her cooler.

Devilishly he looked over at her as he took in her body. Her long bronzed legs were stretched out in front of her, the supple skin soaking up as many of the sun's rays as possible. Her full, rounded hips were being hugged by the dainty strings of her bikini bottoms, the modesty ending there. The golden skin of her stomach gave way to the supple flesh of her bosom, full rounded breasts basking happily in the summer sunshine. The areolas were a dark dusty rose and her nipples had become pebbled and erect from the cool ocean breeze. Shadows from the umbrella fell across her collarbones, traveling the length of her graceful neck to fall across her face. Y/n held a romance novel open in her lap as she continued her reading, never once taking in Dean’s presence.

Clearing his throat he caught her attention as a perfect eyebrow rose over her dark sunglasses and she turned her head in his direction. “Can I help you?” She asked in a sweetly, sarcastic tone.

Taking in his incredibly ridiculous getup she stifled a laugh by covering her mouth daintily with her hand. Dean was wearing a white Hawaiian-print button down with multi-colored hibiscus flowers and dark green foliage. The shirt wouldn’t have been completely awful had he not paired it with cutoff jorts, velcro sandals, and a floppy blue fishing hat. To make the scene even more comical, he completed his look with his dark ray-bans and a thick smearing of sunscreen on his nose, making him look like every stereotypical male tourist from every bad movie ever.

“Don’t you think you ought to be wearing a little, I dunno, more?” He asked making a vague motion over his own chest to communicate her lack of coverage.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” She shrieked as she looked down at her topless torso, feigning embarrassment by covering herself with her book. “Have you seen my top? I think someone stole it!” Jokingly she looked around as if it had merely fallen off her body.

“I-I think it’s on the b—.”

“I know exactly where it’s at, Dean, because I put it there.” She glowered at him in mock anger as she attempted to hold back a smirk. “It’s a private beach, and I intend to take full advantage of it.” Y/n dropped her book back down and went back to reading.

Dean attempted to come up with a line, something to throw back at her, but, instead, his mouth ended up gaping like a fish. Looking over at him, his stunned reaction caused y/n to giggle, a full-on body-wracking expression of emotion. “Why Dean, I do believe you’re speechless.” She giggled again and took a long pull of her beer.

Silently Dean stood up and began undressing. First to go were the awful dad-variety sandals, then he threw his gaudy fishing hat into the seat he had vacated. Working to undo the handful of buttons at the bottom of his shirt, he let the light fabric slide from his broad shoulders, revealing the pale, soft but muscled form below. He had a perpetual farmer’s tan from always wearing his t-shirts and flannels, resulting in just his forearms, neck, and face being a deep sun kissed bronze.

“What’re you doing?” Y/n asked, all hint of teasing gone, curiosity taking its place.

“I just thought I’d go for a swim instead of sitting here being insulted by you.” He grinned at her as his hands moved toward the fly of his jorts.

“Oh really, now?” She asked, a bit of mirth returning to her voice as his hands stilled their progress. “Do you know how much sand you’ll get in your cracks and crevices just from being out there? Furthermore, do you understand how hard it is to remove it all? You’d be better off taking a dip in the pool.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before a wide grin split his face. “Well maybe you can help me take care of that later, but right now, I’m going to go swim in the ocean. It’s our first vacation in years. I’m going to enjoy this.” He smiled at her as he made quick work of his fly and dropped the denim abomination to the sand.

Y/n dropped her book as she used both hands to try and hold in the laugh that threatened to rip out of her chest at the sight of Dean in his swimwear. “You like?” He asked, holding his arms out to his sides so she could take in the full sight.

Beneath Dean’s cutoff shorts hid a little surprise he had picked up when they stopped at the head-shop in town to pick up souvenirs from their trip. Clinging to his narrow hips was a small, skimpy pair of swim briefs. Two narrow strips of leopard print fabric hugged the lines of his hips to drop down where a triangular scrap of similarly printed fabric barely covered his manhood. His impressive member was straining against the form fitting material, leaving nothing to the imagination. Grinning he looked down at y/n as he began to step backwards toward the water line. “Why y/n, I do believe you’re speechless,” he said nonchalantly, throwing her words back at her as he chuckled, turning around and slowly jogging to the water.

This time y/n couldn’t hold it in, a loud burst of laughter escaping from her chest as she took in the sight in front of her. Not only did the swimwear barely cover his junk, but in the back it didn’t hide a lick of flesh. Instead, the two straps of leopard material that were hugging his narrow hips simply met at the base of his spine and disappeared between his cheeks, leaving them fully exposed. The flesh and muscle simultaneously bouncing and flexing with the effort of his jog across the sand.

While she didn’t expect the view, she couldn’t deny the fact that it was a helluva nice one. So nice, in fact, she felt a pool of slick gathering at the entrance of her core. “What I would do to that man,�� she mumbled to herself as she picked up her book and readjusted her surroundings.

Glancing up she noticed Dean had stopped and looked over his shoulder throwing her a smirk and a wink that set every girl’s knees to buckling. “You chicken, or do you just like the view?” He called across the expanse of sand as he turned toward her and began to flex his muscles in different poses much like a bodybuilder.

Pursing her lips she shook her head at him as he egged her on. Having had enough of his taunting, she tossed her book down and took off at a sprint, her tits bouncing with the movement and thoroughly distracting Dean long enough for her to launch herself at him. His hands came up to catch her under the ass, his fingers dimpling the soft flesh where her thighs met her cheeks. She looped her arms around his neck for support, her breasts pushing flush against his own bare chest as she leaned toward him.

“I’m not chicken,” she said matter of factly. “And I guess the view was alright.” She finished with a smirk.

“Just ‘alright’, huh?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I mean you—.” She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence because Dean had effectively shut her up by crushing his mouth to hers. She opened up for the kiss, a soft moan escaping her parted lips as Dean pushed his tongue forward to twist and twine with hers. Mirroring his actions, y/n deepened the kiss before pulling back, catching Dean’s lip in the process and nipping at it gently.

“How was that?” He asked breathlessly, his dark green, lust blown eyes meeting her y/ec ones as they each looked to the other for confirmation of what had just transpired between them.

“I’m not sure. Maybe we should try again,” y/n replied on a heaved exhale, attempting to catch her own breath.

“Good idea.” He nodded.

They each dove at the other’s mouth for the second, perfect kiss in a long series of a lifetime’s worth of kisses. The sun, salt, and sand falling away until it left just the two of them clutching at each other with a desperation running deeper and farther than any ocean current.

[baconsoupforthesoul]

Reality Check: Chapter 5

Chapter One: SCARY STORY 101

Previous Chapter: I NEED LEASHES FOR THESE KIDS

Next Chapter: HIDE AND GO SHRIEK

CHAPTER 5: THE ANGEL OF MUSIC SASS

The three humans and toon wolf stood before the entrance of the Angel’s domain. Sydney was still holding onto Jacqui’s left hand, her other hand clenched into a fist at her side, determined not to have another breakdown like she had earlier. Henry was still scowling at the door, remembering all the times he had to hear the deformed angel’s monologue. Jacqui stood looking unamused and uninterested with the door and still slightly irritated with her friend’s hand clenched onto her own. All watched as the metal door in front of them slowly opened. Boris suddenly took off running down the hallway, leaving the three humans in the dust.

“Hey Boris! Wait for us!” Sydney called out as she took off running after him. She never let go of her friend’s hand though and the smaller girl was suddenly lurched forward. 

“GAH HEY!” Jacqui struggled to keep her feet under her as she was once again dragged behind her friend. 

“Wait, girls!” Henry suddenly panicked for a moment as he recalled what lay ahead of them. He took off after the rest of the group but there was no way he could stop them from entering the room before he could prepare them for what they were about to see.

After turning down a couple corners, the two girls came out into a large room flooded with ink. Sydney stopped in her tracks and finally let go of Jacqui to press her hands across her mouth in horror. The room was full of the dissected corpses of toons, the most prominent being a Boris cadaver strapped to a bored with his chest ripped open, his ribs jutting out of the inky remains. There were more Boris clones scattering the area along with other toons who looked like mutated and disfigured members of the Butcher Gang. Sydney stood frozen as she took in the horrid scene, before noticing that their Boris had gone to stand in front of the nearest Boris corpse, staring at it as if in shock.

“Oh… Oh Boris.” Sydney’s lower lip quivered as she started crying again. She approached the toon slowly, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Boris, I’m so sorry.” It was hard to read the toons face but Sydney could still tell that this room was greatly upsetting the cartoon wolf.

Jacqui stood frozen for a moment before taking a few steps closer to the nearest Boris corpse. “So uh… guess they weren’t Halloween props after all.” Jacqui muttered.

“Stop being insensitive, Jacqui.” Sydney hissed, glaring at her friend.

“Ah… right.” Jacqui winced and quickly glanced at Boris before returning her gaze to the corpse. “Uh… sorry Boris.” She apologized and shuffled uncomfortably. She could feel the air growing more and more awkward around her and decided to walk away from the two, looking around at the rest of the large, ink flooded room. 

“Girls!” Henry announced his presence as he finally entered the room after them. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to warn you… about… Sydney are you alright?” His gaze focused on the more sensitive of the two girls. 

Sydney was still pale but she tried to put on a brave face for the older animator. “I-I’m okay. This though,” Sydney gestured to the room around them. “This is seriously messed up! Who did all of this?”

“That Alice we saw before. She’s responsible for this… carnage.” Henry gritted his teeth as he looked out at the fallen toons. “And now it's time to go face her. You two ready?”

“You two?” Sydney tilted her head to the side. “What about Boris?”

“I think Boris is going to need a minute.” Henry’s face was stricken as he looked over at his friend. “We’ll meet back with him after we talk to the ‘angel’, don’t worry.”

“Alright, I guess.” Sydney agreed, turning to Boris and giving a quick hug. “We’ll be back buddy, just hang tight.”

Henry smiled at Sydney before turning to where he remembered Jacqui being… only to find the girl was missing… again. He panicked for all of a moment before spotting the girl casually walking further into the room along the wooden planks. “Jacqui!” Henry called out, a little irritated. “Will you quit running ahead?!” He complained. He gently reached over and guided Sydney towards the planks to follow the smaller girl. 

Jacqui turned to face the man when he called out to her. She didn’t see what the issue was, she had surveyed the room and there were no enemies, no danger… just corpses. Besides, there was nothing really blocking the man from seeing her so she technically was still following his wishes of her being in his sight at all times. Jacqui shrugged at him. “I don’t see what the big deal is.” She complained before turning and continuing forward, not even bothering to wait for the two to catch up.

“Jacqui!” Henry complained when he saw her continuing to walk away from them but he fell silent in defeat. He grumbled to himself for a moment before leaning forward to speak to Sydney who was focused on keeping her footing. “She is gunna gimme a heart attack.” He grumbled. 

“Yeah, me too.” Sydney agreed as she tried to catch up to her friend without losing her balance.

"Look around.” Alice’s voice drifted down from the loudspeaker, causing Sydney to jump and stumble, almost losing her balance and falling into the ink below. Henry frantically reached out and grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Jacqui jumped slightly at the sudden voice but froze in place to keep her balance. “It took so many of them to make me so beautiful. Anything less than perfect was left behind. I had to do it. She made me."

“‘She made me my ass.” Sydney seethed as she looked out at all the ‘angel’s’ victims.

“Beautiful? Isn’t like… half your face melted?” Jacqui questioned to no one in particular. Henry scoffed a laugh at the girl’s remark. Jacqui may give him a heart attack with her bold behavior but she sure had the sass for the record books. Jacqui saw a small branching path and wandered over to investigate. She spotted another one of those audio log tape things and figured it wouldn’t hurt to listen to it. She pressed play on the tape which had Susie Campbell written on it.

"Who would've thought? Me having lunch with Joey Drew! Apparently, times are tougher than I thought. For a moment there, I thought I'd be stuck with the check. But I gotta say, he wasn't at all what I expected. Quite the charmer. He even called me Alice. I liked it."

Jacqui’s eyes widened when she heard the voice. That was Susie’s voice...obviously, her name was written on it… but that voice, it was Alice’s voice! She instantly snapped her head over towards Henry. “Susie is Alice!! Henry!! First Sammy and now Susie?! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN THIS SHITHOLE?!” Jacqui demanded, stomping her foot into the ground. 

“Oh my GOSH! Why didn't I notice before? You’re spot on Jacqui.” Sydney turned to gape at Henry. “And you already knew, didn't you?”

“Uh-huh.” Henry sighed as he looked over at a coffin resting against the wall in the corner. “Susie and Sammy are just scratching the surface of how many lives this damn studio has ruined - but now really ain’t the time for this. I’ll tell you girls more later on.” Henry tried to move the girls along once again, especially after one of them enjoyed shouting so much.

Due to Jacqui taking another path, Henry and Sydney were able to pass the girl in their trek toward the door. Once all three were present, the door opened and they were allowed inside. They walked down a short hallway which had an Alice Angel cutout inside of it. They turned a corner at the cutout and saw the distorted Susie Alice awaiting their arrival. Upon entering the room they discovered that Alice was separated from them by a pane of glass. Jacqui walked into the room and went over to lean against some crates in the corner. She was tired from all this walking around, a little break would be nice. After situating herself she looked over at this new corrupted form of the voice actor she used to know. She tilted her head and made a slightly judging face, she had been right earlier, her face was half melted.

Sydney brought her hands back up to her mouth as she stared at the horrid scene in front of her. She could now finally get a look at this Alice Angel wannabe and she looked horrifying. Her halo was crooked and embedded in her skull and the left side of her face appeared to be melting off, with a gaping hole in the side of her jaw and her left eye missing with only a dark inky hole where it should have been. And next to her was one of the disfigured butcher gang members, Charley, strapped to a table and clearly being tortured by the ‘angel’. This woman was just as demonic as the ink demon and Sydney felt herself shaking with both fear and rage at the ‘angel’s’ despicable actions.

"Hm. Now we come to the question... Do I kill you? Do I tear you apart to my heart's delight?” Alice stared out at them, her face filled with elated malice. “The choices of the beautiful are unbearable. How's a girl to choose?”

“The choices of the beautiful, uh-huh, yeah, sure,” Jacqui muttered under her breath from her corner. 

Unfortunately, Alice seemed to hear her snide remark. The distorted toon turned to glare at Jacqui. “Excuse me? Did you want to say something, girl?” Alice demanded, her voice dripping acid.

Henry’s eyes grew wide and he lept over to Jacqui’s corner. Without warning, he covered the girl’s mouth with his hand before her snarky comments would get them all killed. “She-She didn’t say anything, Alice. I apologize, please continue.” Henry tried his best to cover for her. 

Alice huffed, glaring down at the short girl now struggling in Henry’s arms before continuing her monologue. “Anyway, take this little freak for instance! He crawled in here... Trailing his tainted ink to my door! It could have touched me! It could have pulled me back!! Do you know what it's like? Living in the dark puddles? It's a buzzing, screaming well of voices! Bits of your mind, swimming... like... like fish in a bowl!”

“Fish in a bowl?” Sydney’s eyes widened as Alice continued on her rant. While her long-winded speech was certainly irritating, the information about how the demonic ink in this studio worked was interesting. Sydney wrinkled her forehead in thought as she digested Alice’s words. Were the former employees' souls trapped in the ink somehow? Was there any way to save them from this inky hell? Sydney wasn’t sure but she itching to know more. She just hoped that her curiosity wouldn’t lead them all to their possible demise.

“The first time I was born from its' inky womb, I was a wriggling, pussing, shapeless slug. The second time... well... It made me an angel!” Alice’s voice turned into a tone that was almost too happy.

By this point Jacqui had freed herself from Henry’s hand and was just leaning back against her corner, arms crossed as she listened, disinterested. However, she couldn’t just ignore that tauntingly sick happy voice of hers. “‘It made me an angel!’ Oh yay me!” Jacqui mocked her tone quietly. 

Alice snapped her head to snarl at the smallest of the three. “Say one more comment like that, girl, I dare you.” Alice threatened and jabbed out a finger towards her. Jacqui, in turn, had no time to react before she was pounced by Sydney.

“Don’t listen to her!” Sydney trapped her friend in a headlock and covered up her mouth. “She’s just gone temporarily insane! She doesn't know what she’s saying! Please, pay her no mind!” Sydney pleaded with the angel. 

“What she said.” Henry agreed, shooting Jacqui a livid look. “You were saying, Alice?” Jacqui fought desperately against her friend but couldn't escape.

“Well, see to it that she shuts her filthy mouth,” Alice growled. “I will not be disrespected in my own domain. I will not let the demon touch me again. I'm so close now. So... almost perfect. Yes. I will spare you. For now. Better yet... I'll even let you ascend and leave this place. If you will do a few eensy, weensy little favors for me first.”

“Favors? What could we possibly do for you?” Sydney found herself questioning, unknowingly loosening her grip on her troublesome friend.

Jacqui’s eyes had widened when Alice explained what she had planned for them. Favors? If they had to run all over doing who knows what for this psycho, Jacqui knew she would end up putting her companions in danger again. She was just a walking problem for them. She was not going to be the reason that her friends got hurt. An idea struck her as Jacqui managed to rip herself free from her friend who instantly tried to pounce on her again. “Wait WAIT! No more comments! I promise!” Jacqui waved her arms in front of her friends frantically before turning toward Alice. “I believe you said a few favors.”

“Jacqui…” Henry warned the girl before she could go too far. 

Jacqui gave the man a glance but focused back on her target. “Perhaps, it would be beneficial if you had us split up to get these tasks done more quickly.” Jacqui offered. 

“What are you doing?! That is a terrible idea!” Henry snapped under his breath at the girl.

“S-s-split up!?” Sydney yelped. “We can’t do that! People always get picked off one by one when they split up in horror stories!”

“Hmm.” Alice put a hand to her face thoughtfully as she watched the three before her. The tall girl was in a panic, Henry seemed disturbed, and the thought of the small girl dying brought her much pleasure. “Yes, I think that is a splendid proposal. Now, return to the lift, my little errand runners. We have work to do."

Large metal gates fell behind the glass after Alice finished speaking, cutting off their view of her. Jacqui could feel her companions glaring holes into her back. She tensed and instantly spun on her heels towards the exit. “So! Alice says return to the lift! Let's go! Lift, this way!” She announced and started walking briskly out of the room. “You know I always loved running errands with my mom. Nothing like errands to keep the mind focused. Yep, just thinking of one task at a time. Great way to prevent you from remembering you’re in a hellscape. Yepp. Continuing on. Towards the lift. Where we need to go.” Jacqui just kept rambling on and on as she practically tried to run back to the elevator. 

“Why? Why has this become my life?” Sydney whined as she begrudgingly went after her friend. Henry followed behind but quickly stormed past Sydney to catch up to Jacqui. Once they reached the room full of toon corpses he grabbed Jacqui by the shoulder and spun her around.

“What in the world were you thinking?” Henry’s voice was livid as he looked down at Jacqui. “Do you want to get us killed? And what in god’s name made you think splitting up was a good idea?” 

Jacqui froze under Henry’s grasp. She didn’t want to tell him that she had only said that to appease Alice, or about how she wanted to distract the demon’s attention from the other two. She had a feeling that wouldn’t go over too well. She knew that they both just wanted to protect her, but what was the point of protecting a walking disaster who is just going to endanger them all? The precious ones who cared for each other, who knew how to support each other, who could fight for each other, they were the ones who needed to be protected. But yet, she couldn't say that, she needed an excuse… and a good one. Her eyes darted from side to side before she looked up to him with a nervous smile. “Uh… we… will…” She trailed off as she tried to think, her head dropping back down to the floor. “Make less noise!” She snapped her head back up to Henry. “Yeah! You know, we won’t attract Bendy as much!” She seemed almost proud of her excuse. 

Henry held up a finger, about to start a ‘parental’ lecture when he suddenly froze. He shut his mouth and wrinkled his forehead in thought, his finger still raised up. He then brought his hand to up to rub his chin. He raised his finger again when a thought struck him but he then quickly lowered it again. After opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish for a minute, Henry finally sighed and hung his head. “You have a point.” He conceded, but not looking happy about it at all.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE HAS A POINT?!?” Sydney yelled, looking even more frazzled than before. “How can we all venture out alone with that demon out there?!”

“The best way to avoid Bendy is to be quiet,” Henry explained. “The ink demon has already shown up twice, and I have never seen him appear that often this soon before. It must be because the three of us combined make more noise then we would by ourselves. I hate the idea of splitting up, I really really do, but it might be our best strategy going forward.”

Jacqui shook herself free from Henry and took a step closer to Sydney to nudge her friend on the shoulder. “Besides, what the hell are you worried about?! I’m sure we all know that I make the most noise at this point.” Jacqui puffed out her chest again as if she was proud. 

Henry rubbed a hand over his tired face. “That’s… not something to be proud of, kid.”

“And it’s not a very comforting thought either!” Sydney complained. “I’m just going to be worrying about you the whole time!”

Jacqui froze for a moment and mentally hitting herself. There she fucking goes again, making things emotionally worse when she was trying to make Sydney feel better. Shaking her head, Jacqui rolled her eyes and walked past the two, stepping on to the planks to get out of the room. “Contrary to popular belief I can defend myself, thanks!” She complained, not looking back towards the others and she pressed on. 

“Not against a fucking ink demon you can’t,” Sydney grumbled as she and Henry followed Jacqui along the boards over the inky pool.

The group made their way across the ink and down through the hallway. The exited back into the main area of level nine, the could see the elevator from across the room. Boris seemed to be waiting for them inside. Jacqui gave the wolf a little wave before starting down the stairs. Before she could get very far, a metal gate slammed down in front of her, preventing her from leaving the area. Jacqui turned around towards the others and saw Henry sigh. The man walked over to a cylindrical contraption as if he was waiting for something. 

“My machines are hungry.” The voice of Alice projected through the speakers and poured into the room. “Little miss Blunderbuss can gather me some spare parts.” She snapped and suddenly the contraption in front of Henry opened. Jacqui growled at being insulted but managed to hold her tongue. Looking up at the contraption she saw a wrench waiting for her inside, Jacqui looked at it for a moment longer before grabbing it. She looked up at Henry who leaned down toward her. 

Henry placed a hand on Jacqui's shoulder as he spoke. “She needs three gears, they should all be up on level K.” He explained. “But you’ll need to be c-” 

“Actually,” All three turned their heads back up as Alice’s voice filled the air once again, cutting off Henry. “Why don't you destroy all of those grinning demons while you're up there? In fact, why don't all of you destroy them while you're out running my little errands?!” Her voice seemed way too chipper for the circumstances. 

“Grinning d-demons?” Sydney choked out quietly “I-I hope you just mean those silly cutouts. There isn’t more than one demon Bendy down here, is there?” 

Henry’s face hardened as his brain processed what the ‘angel’ could be planning. He had been through this hell so many times, he knew that Alice was aware that Bendy would show up more often when the cutouts were broken. His eyes widened when he remembered that level K had the most cutouts on it. That was where she was sending Jacqui. Was Alice trying to get Jacqui killed? Trying to get them all killed? His eyes narrowed before he reached out and snatched the wrench from the small girl’s hand. 

“Hey!” Jacqui squeaked in surprise.

“I’ll handle level K in that case,” Henry announced to the room. Jacqui tried to take the wrench back from the man but he gave her a look which caused her to back off. 

“Nah uh uh.” The Angel cooed. “The short one can handle this. Can’t you, Minikin?” 

Jacqui growled at all the insults she was receiving from Alice. She looked up at Henry who seemed distraught for some reason. She sighed before holding her hand out for the man to hand her back the wrench. “Alice wants me ta do it-” 

“No.” Henry shot down her comment almost instantly. “Once the cutouts start breaking, Bendy shows his face the most around level K.” He explained, looking down at her. “You are not going up there.” 

“He WHAT?!” Sydney yelped. “No, no, nonononono, Henry is right. Jacqui you are not allowed to step another foot on Level K!” Sydney shivered when Henry’s words sunk in. “That means whenever any of us breaks a cutout… Bendy’s gonna come after us. Oh no oh no oh no…” Sydney's voice trailed off as she tried to control her breathing so she did not spiral into a total breakdown.

Jacqui was silent for a moment, processing what was said. She watched as Henry took a step towards Sydney to place a hand on the girl’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Jacqui looked down toward her own feet. Bendy would show up the most on level K? That was what Henry said, he had lived through this before, he knew what he was talking about. Jacqui took a breath and clenched her fists, looking up towards the elevator in the distance. She wanted to distract Bendy from the others anyway, this would be a good opportunity for her. Although, if she were to die, the others would have to pick up her slack and finish the tasks for her. She had to survive this and do her part as Alice’s little errand runner, as much as she hated to admit it. Lucky for her, she was the smallest of the three and therefore would be able to find hiding spots much easier than the others. She gave a small smirk. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that before?! She was great at hide and seek! She-she could do this.

“I can do it.” Jacqui suddenly snapped, her head whipping up towards Henry. 

Henry shook his head at her. “No.” He repeated himself before turning back towards Sydney. “You and Sydney will go to the less active levels.”

Jacqui stomped her foot on the boards below her but Henry didn’t turn around. “I can do this Henry! I’m great at hide and seek-” Jacqui began to try an explain herself but was cut off before she was able to.

Henry whipped around and grabbed Jacqui by the wrist. “THIS IS NOT A GAME!” He snapped loudly. Jacqui’s eyes widened in surprise at the man’s sudden outburst. Henry looked at her for a moment longer before closing his eyes and taking a breath. Why was Jacqui not able to see how dangerous this was? It was like he was talking to a brick wall. He was not about to let anything happen to these two girls, no matter the cost. However, yelling at Jacqui wasn’t about to make things any better. Henry slowly let go of Jacqui’s wrist and rubbed a hand over his tired face. “I… I’m sorry for yelling. That wasn’t necessary.  But once again, no, Jacqui. Please listen to me. It’s too dangerous for you. For either you or Sydney.” He emphasized, turning to glance at the other girl. “You girls have your whole lives ahead of you. You can keep growing up, have families of your own…” He trailed off for a moment. “I’m not going to let you throw that all away and die in this hellhole when I know there is something I could’ve done to change that!” 

“Henry...” Jacqui was shocked at how emotional the man had suddenly gotten. She didn’t even know what to say. 

“Oh Henry,” Sydney had her hands over her mouth as she felt herself tearing up. “B-b-but you have to get out of here too. You deserve it just as much as we do! What about your family? What about Linda?”

“Don’t worry about me Sydney.” He turned to the taller girl and tried his best to give her a comforting smile, but he knew it probably looked strained. “I’m not planning on dying. Remember, I’ve done this before. But you two haven't and I promised I would get you girls outta here.”

“How touching.” Alice’s voice pierced through the air, mocking their suffering. “If only you had a choice.” The ‘angel’ gave a small chuckle. Jacqui glanced around the room while Henry glared upwards toward wherever the ‘angel' was watching them from. “You don't get to make the rules around here. You see… I do.” Her voice grew more threatening as she continued. “And I'm not going to give out any more tasks - hell I won't even let you leave until the little bitch takes this task.” She demanded before she gave out a small chuckle that caused Jacqui to grind her teeth in irritation. “I can wait here as long as it takes~” She cooed, her voice echoing hauntingly throughout the room. 

Henry’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the wrench tighter. His other hand went up to his face as he tried to think of a way out of this. Sydney too, seemed distraught, her hands fumbling around and tugging at her hair in unease. Jacqui watched her two friends struggle in their frantic state for a moment before closing her eyes and taking a breath. When she opened them she puffed out her chest and walked up to Henry. Without word or warning, she enveloped the man in a hug. He was surprised for a moment before wrapping his free arm around her. “We'll find a way around this,” Henry reassured her. 

Jacqui snuck her arm around and clasped onto the wrench in Henry's hand. “I promise I won’t die,” Jacqui muttered. 

“What-?” Henry began but the girl suddenly ripped the wrench out of his hand and bolted for the metal gate. The gate started rising when Alice saw her running towards it. “Jacqui, wait!” Henry shouted and took off after her. 

“JACQUI!” Sydney yelled and ran after the other two. 

Jacqui didn't wait for the door to rise all the way. She jumped and dove through the growing opening but before the others could get to her, the door slammed shut. She was now separated from them. This was happening, she about to go willingly risk her life… what the hell was she doing? She jumped when she heard a loud pound on the metal gate behind her. 

“Jacqui! You don’t have to do this!” Henry called from the other side of the gate. 

“Yes, I do Henry. I promise I won't die.” Jacqui called out loud enough for the man to hear as she started toward the elevator. 

“Be careful buddy!” Sydney called out to her friend. “I swear if you die I’m bringing you back from the dead and killing you again! So you better stay safe!”

“I’m nOT GUNNA DIE!” Jacqui complained as she started up the stairs, turning to glare at the two still trapped by the deranged ‘angel’.

“MAKE SURE YOU DON’T! I LOVE YA BUDDY! I’LL SEE YOU WHEN YOU FINISH!” Sydney yelled out to her friend.

Jacqui sighed as she climbed up the stairs. She still was in shock that she was really doing this… but she had to. She wasn’t just going to be dead weight for the others. She would do her part. She smiled when she saw Boris waiting in the elevator for her and walked up to the toon. “Hey, Boris. Sorry it took so long.” She apologized to the wolf, smiling up at him. She then sighed and walked over to press the button that would take her up to level K. Jacqui shuffled uncomfortably as the elevator doors closed before the lift began moving up to its destination.

Henry watched in disbelief as the elevator rose up with Jacqui and Boris. She was walking into her own grave and she acted like she didn’t even care. He turned his head to look at Sydney. Then, of course, rather than fearing for her friend, this one seemed to be cheering her on? What was with these two? “Are you not the least bit concerned here?!” Henry complained to the girl he had thought was the more sensible one.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I’m super scared for Jacqui.” Sydney tried to explain. “She can be a complete idiot sometimes and has no sense of danger. But…” Sydney paused for a second, before turning to look at him. “She’s my best friend Henry and despite everything… I believe in her. While she can be reckless sometimes she’s gotten me out of quite a few binds. She’s dumb, not helpless. I think she… I know she can handle this. She is really good at hiding. And I’d be a pretty lousy friend if I refused to put my faith in her. No matter how scary that can be sometimes.” Sydney gulped, contemplating the terrifying task before each of them.

Henry stared at Sydney for a second, before his shocked face morphed into a small smile. He scoffed a laugh and turned his head away from her. “Look at you being the adult here.” 

Sydney brought a hand up to her face as she giggled at Henry’s comment. “Well, someone’s gotta be~” Sydney chirped.

“How adorable~” Alice's voice crooned over the loudspeakers. “You’re so sweet I might just vomit. Now come back to the door, my little errand runners. I still have more tasks to give you.”

“Gettin’ real tired of your bullshit, Alice.” Sydney hissed, glaring at the giant Alice head over the door. Henry laughed at her comment as they made their way back up the stairs. 

“Alright Miss Chicken-hearted, I have a task for you now~” Alice taunted Sydney, her voice smug.

“Yeah, ha ha very funny,” Sydney growled. “Enough with the damn insults Alice, what the hell do you need me to do?”

“My, my, my… I just can’t decide if you’re a fussbudget or a ginger-snap, my dear, but your fake bravado doesn’t scare me.” Sydney bristled at Alice’s insults but the angel continued before she could talk back. “I’ll make this simple. Look for valve panels. Turn the little wheels. Then bring me their power cores. Please don't make me regret sparing you. I can always change my mind.”

The contraption to the left of the door opened up to reveal a plunger. Sydney raised an eyebrow at it before taking it out. “Is this really all she’s gonna give me to defend myself with?” Sydney looked at the plunger in her hands in disgust.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Henry sighed. “It’s not much but… it’s a better weapon then you might think.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Sydney grumbled. “Now, just where are these valve panels?”

“You’ll find them on Level P,” Henry told her. “You’ll find these panels next to three tubes filled with ink. You have to turn the wheels until the ink in all three tubes lines up in the middle. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of. I’m sure it will make more sense once I see them for myself.” Sydney shivered when she remembered she would be doing this on her own. “I-I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll walk you to level P,” Henry reassured her. “I’m pretty sure I know which task Alice will give me and it’s just a level above yours. Sound good?”

“Yes, thank you, Henry.” Sydney shot him a relieved smile before she walked down the stairs and through the metal gate Alice had opened for her.

As Henry was receiving his task, Sydney slowly started walking towards the elevator. Well, where the elevator had been anyway. Jacqui had already taken it up to Level K. As Sydney walked though, she noticed an audiotape sitting on a shelf that she had not noticed before with the name Thomas Conner written on the tape. Curious, she walked up to it and pressed play.

"These blasted elevators... sometimes they open... sometimes they don't... sometimes they come... sometimes they keep on going to Hell and back. I keep telling these people, if Mister Joey Drew keeps cutting corners like this, someone's sure to end up falling to their death. And it sure ain't gonna be me. I'm taking the stairs."

Sydney’s shoulder went rigid at the mention of the elevator malfunctioning. She now wanted to be nowhere near that elevator. Where were the stairs Thomas Conner mentioned though? Sydney climbed up the stairs that lead to the elevator but she didn't see the staircase mentioned in the tape. Sydney turned around at the sound of the metal gate opening and saw Henry walking towards her holding what looked like a large syringe.

“What is that for?” Sydney raised a questioning eyebrow at the weapon Alice had bestowed upon Henry.

“There’s some swollen searchers up on Level 11. Alice wants me to get some of their extra ink. Apparently, it helps hold herself together, or something like that.” Henry answered.

“Well, it’s not doing a very good job, you know, since half her face is melting off,” Sydney commented.

"There are so few rules to our world now. So little truths.” Sydney jumped and clamped a hand over her mouth as Alice’s voice came over the loudspeaker again. She really hoped she hadn’t heard her last comment. They had angered the angel enough. “But there is one rule we all know and respect down here. Beware the Ink Demon. Stay out in the open for too long and he will find you. For if you see him, you'd better hide. If you don't, well, I enjoyed our date. Now, let us begin our work."

Sydney felt a shiver run up her spine at the Angel’s warning. Her knees shook as she clutched her stomach, feeling as though snakes were slithering inside her. That thing, that demon, was going to be haunting their every step. And she would have to face it alone.

“Hey, Sydney, you feeling alright over there?” A comforting hand squeezed her shoulder and Sydney’s pale face met Henry’s concerned look. That’s right, while she had to do this alone, there were people counting on her. Henry, and Jacqui too, they both needed her to keep her head and get through this. While she was an idiot sometimes, Sydney would admit Jacqui was a lot braver than her. She had been facing the danger head-on since they started and Sydney felt like she had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown this entire time. She had even broken down in the elevator earlier, needing Henry to help calm herself down before they could even move forward. Neither Henry nor Jacqui needed someone like her holding them back, otherwise, they would never get out of here. Sydney could never live with herself if her best friend got stuck in here or worse, died in this hellish studio. And Henry, poor Henry, after being trapped here so long deserved to go back to his wife and family. He had been so kind to them and Sydney swore to herself that she would help him escape this place with them. She had to be brave, for them.

“Talk to me Sydney.” Henry gently tilted Sydney’s head to look at him properly, as she had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she had forgotten to answer his previous question. “Are you feeling up to this? Cause if not I-”

“No.” Sydney cut him off before he could continue. “I can do this. Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a second.” Sydney tried to shake off her fear as she looked around the room again. “With Jacqui taking the elevator we’re kind of stuck here until it comes back. That audiotape over there mentioned a staircase though, do you know where that would be?”

“Sure do.” Henry walked over by another punch-in station and opened the door to the left of it. “Through here. Like I said before I’ll walk you to the level you need to go to.”

“Thanks again.” Sydney smiled and followed Henry through the doorway. As the two of them climbed the stairs, Henry looked over at his nervous companion. While she was putting on a brave face, Henry could tell that she was struggling to hold herself together. It reminded him of what it had been like the first time he had gone through this studio. He’s still surprised he kept himself together as well as he did during his first trek through the studio. By this point, he was so used to the horrors around him that it hardly phased him anymore. However, looking out for the one walking beside him and his old coworker's daughter added back the fear and dread he had felt at the beginning. This wasn’t just about him anymore, he had people who were counting on him, people he could lose if he didn't do things right. This wasn’t going to be like with Boris, where he never got a chance to save him. He couldn’t afford mistakes now or it might cost these two girls their lives. Henry wasn’t sure he would be able to live with himself if he lost either one of them under his watch.

“Henry! Behind you!” Sydney’s startled voice tore Henry out of his thoughts as she pushed Henry forward and turned to face the searcher that had sprung up behind them. Before Henry could do anything or even curse himself for not paying better attention, Sydney was already swinging her plunger with expert precision at the things head. The searcher gurgled, not dead yet and tried to swipe at Sydney. With no hesitation, Sydney swung again and reduced the creature to a measly puddle on the floor. “Damn, I forgot these things were roaming the halls, it’s been so long since I’ve seen one. You okay, Henry?”

“Damn kid. Nice reflexes.” Henry complimented her as he looked down at the searcher’s remains. “Sorry Sydney, I should have been paying more attention.”

“Psh, don’t worry about it. I got your back.” Sydney smirked, spinning the plunger around in her hand. She spun it too far though and smacked herself in the face with it. “Ewwwww.” Sydney groaned, moving the business end to the plunger away from her face.

Henry chuckled at Sydney smacking herself with her own plunger. “Heh, those searchers won’t even know what hit them.” Despite the girl’s brief moment of unintentional hilarity, seeing Sydney take out that searcher with no hesitation calmed Henry’s nerves somewhat. While this girl was easily frightened, she didn't shy away from combat.

The two of them continued up the stairs, stepping softly as to avoid making extra noise until they reached a small landing. The stairs continued on their right with a room flooded with ink off to their left and a “Little Devil Darlin’” poster in front of them. “This is level P. You just have to go around this corner and through a door and you’ll be in the room that will have all the valve panels,” Henry explained to Sydney.

“Got it.” Sydney took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I’ll see you once we finish up the Angel’s chores.”

“Be careful, alright?” Henry put a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder as she turned to look up at his concerned face.

“I’ll do my best. Just make sure you’re careful too, Henry. I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” Sydney told him, as she tried to squish down the thought that if things went wrong this might be the last time she’d ever see Henry.

“Don’t you worry about me, kiddo. I know what I’m doing by now.” Henry shot her a confident smile, before continuing up the stairs. “I’ll meet you back on level 9, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Sydney watched as Henry left, before making her way around the corner, past some machinery towards a closed door. Sydney gulped as she grasped the door handle.

“You got this Syd.” She whispered to herself. “Remember, everyone’s counting on you.” Sydney slowly opened the door, scared but still determined to face what was to come.

---

Coming up next, Chapter 6:

Hide and Go Shriek

A/N: We hoped you enjoyed chapter five! Unfortunately, this marks the end of regularly scheduled updates. Dead and I wanted to make it through July sticking to our schedule but chapter six isn’t quite done yet and we’re really focusing on the Ink Demonth right now. So, it’ll be longer than normal for the next update. Chapter six should still be up sometime in August though. After that updates will happen as we finish chapters so, unfortunately, it’ll be pretty infrequent. We hope you stick around though, cause we still have a whole lot planned for this story.

[thequeenofcronuts]

Secret Santas Part 2

Four Part Series

Catch up! Part 1

Choices: THe Royal Romance

Characters: TRR Gang (MC is Kristina, horse is Enchanting Fate

Type: Fun Fluff, Christmas Related, Game

Word Count: 1,854

A/N: In this four Part series play along with the TRR Gang and see if you can guess who their Secret Santa is along side them.

Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, I just have fun with them.

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Friday morning Liam makes his way into his office. Opening the door he sees a festively wrapped box on his desk. An excited grin crosses his face. Liam studies the gift before picking it up. The wrapping paper is exquisite, but there wasn't a ribbon or bow, it’s just elegant. A card type and printed out is addressed to him from “Your Secret Santa”. Already Liam was enjoying the mystery. What would it be and from whom. He gently picks up the box and feels its moderate weight. Not really getting any clues, he opens the gift to find a gorgeous bocote wood and bubinga wood chess set. It's obvious that this chess pieces are hand carved and the board is beautifully inlaid wood.

He immediately sees that the Cordonian Crest has be carved into the middle of the board. When he picks up a piece and turns it in his hands to admire the craftsmanship he sees that the bottom of the piece has also been carved with the Cordonian Crest. The same is true for all the pieces. Liam sits down in his chair and looks at the set which is a work of art its own right. He imagines a game with one of the guys as he has a glass of scotch. He thinks that maybe it won't be too hard to figure out his Secret Santa.

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Kristina has had a very, very long Friday. She’s extremely tired, and wants a glass of wine and her husband. As she walks down a long hall to her and Liam's royal apartment, she sees something on the floor at the front door. With caution she begins to move forward to see a plain green wrapped present with a bright red bow. She looks to the guard who nods as if to say it's safe. She picks up the gift and reads the tag which is in handwriting she doesn't recognize, which simply reads, “Your Secret Santa”. She had been focusing on her hectic week and finding the perfect gift for her secret Santa gift she hadn't even realized that she didn't receive her gift yet.

She takes the square box, which fits in her hands, into the apartment and excitedly sits on the couch. Not one to contemplate the whole “What could be inside thing” or “How the person wrapped the gift” she rips it open. She finds a beautiful blue leather box that is obviously for jewelry. This just keeps getting better, she thinks. She opens the box to see a striking vintage Art Deco Hamilton cocktail watch. The white gold is as bright as the day it had been originally purchased. The beautiful bracelet band rested at the top and the base of the unique and distinctly Art Deco square watch face. Where the band and face of the watch met, there were three delicate scrolls of white gold each with a round diamond in the center. Kristina couldn't take her eyes off it. Finally she see a note in the box, “A vintage working watch from a renowned American watch maker given to the new Cordonian-American.” She simply cannot wait for the next Christmas event.

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Hana had been waiting for her gift form her Secret Santa all week. She loves this time of year and every aspect of it. She loves giving more than receiving, but this game is too much fun not to get into. Since it's Christmastime she was more than happy to accept Kristina's invitation to stay at the palace so Hana wouldn’t have to travel between there and Valtoria for all the holiday events. It was late in evening that Friday night when she hears her phone ping. She looks at the screen and the message is from “Secret Santa” telling her to look outside her door. She cracks her door to see a package in gold glittering wrapping paper with a matching gold glittered ribbon and bow. She cannot contain her excitement, and picks up the gift bouncing her way to her bed.

Leaping onto the bed she places the gift down and studies it. Every side, every bit of ribbon and bow. She notices the seams meet perfectly and how the tape is virtually invisible. She really doesn't garner any other information or clues from her assessment. Either one of the ladies wrapped it, or one of the guys had it wrapped for them. If it was one of the guys, she wasn't sure that Drake would pick the wrapping even if he didn't have to wrap it. Of course, she knows every aspect of the wrapping and the gifts she will receive tell which friend is her Secret Santa. Hana never guesses, she figures out all puzzles.

She opens the gift so delicately, really only the way that could be done by Hana. After unwrapping and opening the box she sees matching glittering gold tissue paper as the wrapping. She thinks to herself if this is one of the guys they obviously had a lot of help, or is an extremely thoughtful person. Once she pulls back the tissue paper she knows from one glance she loves it. She pulls out a shimmering gold tee length, A-line dress. The sleeves are three quarter length and the neckline is a perfect V-Line. It was designed by the Parisian designer Lancelin St. Claire! She tries it on, and it fits perfectly. The bodice is slightly formfitting, but just right for Hana tastes. She feels like she just stepped off the screen of a 1950’s movie, and she adores it! It’s a beautiful, tasteful dress which is perfect for the holiday season.

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Drake is heading out to the stables to check on the temperature for the horses, and checks in on Kristina's Enchanting Fate. Out of the corner of his of his eye he sees a large, but not skinny, long box wrapped simply in brown paper and tied with twine. He goes over to it and takes it out of the stall and sees written directly on the paper of the package, “From your Secret Santa”. Drake knows the writing, it's Leo’s. Leo has come for a holiday visit and he seems to have gotten himself roped into some Secret Santa’s antics. It's too obvious for it to be Liam. He guesses it could be Hana, she would know the perfect way to wrap a gift that fits his personality. He stops, and thinks to himself what the hell is he even doing. I’m not at all interested in this crazy Maxwell FriendFest or whatever this thing is. He goes on to do what he came to the stable to do.

Before he leaves he sees the box and can't help remember his birthday at the western themed bar with his friends. He still kinds hates admitting it, but it was nice to have them to celebrate things with. He sighs and goes to the box. The twine is tied in a plain old bow that he easily undoes. He unwraps the gift to see another “Leo note” taped to the top of the box which has written “Brown paper packages tied up with string, here's something new for your favorite things.” He opens up the box and sees a brand new fishing rod, line, a full tackle box, and a set of fishing tools. All top of the line quality. This is the nicest fishing equipment he's ever owned, and the gift wasn't whisky, so someone really took the time to figure this all out.

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Olivia received a note from her Secret Santa to be at the boutique at 4pm. She saunters in at the appropriate time only to find it empty. She waits for fifteen minutes, which was fifteen more minutes than she intended to. Oh, real funny Secret Santa, she mutters out loud. As she turns to leave something near the changing rooms catches her eye. She walks over to the red package with a black bow and sees on it, “Yours truly. Secret Santa.” She thought it would be smaller. This is too big for jewelry. It's the size of a shoe box. She rips the paper and opens the box to find a ton of tissue paper. So much that while she pulling it all out she almost missed the red velvet pouch. This is more like it she thinks to herself. She opens the pouch to find a bracelet with the most brilliant black and red stones. The bracelet is an intricate horizontal sword. Engraving on the back reads, “Never underestimate the power of Olivia, fools.” The clasp is easy and she as the bracelet on immediately. Her face is absolutely beaming, until she steps out of the boutique composing herself.

Walking down the hall she is amazed that her Secret Santa actually did a semi decent job. Ok, she admits only to herself, they actually did a damn good job. Definitely someone who knows her well, isn't a screwup, and has taste almost as good as her own. She looks at the tip of the blade of the sword as she admires the bracelet again. Hmm, this is actually sharp, I can use this as a weapon and a piece of jewelry. She smirks as she continues down the hall.

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It’s late and Maxwell needs a snack. Everyone knows, of course, that his go to late night snack is ice cream. Mainly because he tells everyone. When he gets to the palace kitchen and moves toward the freezer he sees an eight and a half by eleven envelope taped to its door. On it is purposefully written chicken scratch which simply reads, “Maxwell - S.S.” Maxwell is now completely fired up. He snatches it and opens it as fast as he can. He pulls out all sorts of paperwork and some pictures which he can't look quick enough. He reads all the pamphlets, certificates, and looks at each picture.

He can't even begin to contain himself and yelling at the top of his lungs, “BEST.SECRET.SANTA.GIFT.EVER.” He looks at the certificates again, each one reading the same way, “We thank you for your love of one of the world’s most amazing creatures, the hippopotamus. We are delighted to let you know that a hippopotamus has been adopted in your name and will be protected by the support of you and others like you.” Each certificate has a different name for a different hippo, five in total. Maxwell scoops all of it up while he runs yelling, “My Secret Santa is on Point!!” He stops running, spins around, and goes back for his ice cream, then heads out with a bounce in his step.

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Next week, Part 3 is the second week of gift giving. Do you, dear readers, have any guesses as to whose Secret Santa is whose yet?

Go to Part 3 here!

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Series Tag: @jyreusser85

[lucifer-lacroix]

Strawberry Chapter 5 (edited)

It's 1898 and Arthur decides to leave the gang for a bit to go on a hunting trip. He stops by the village of Strawberry and meets a caravan of wealthy ladies. The famed Rosalyn Bush is in town, and he starts planning a heist on his own but discovers Isabella Morningstar. His former girlfriend and famed bounty hunter "The Devil in Red." is protecting them.

It didn't feel like morning, with the wind howling outside as rain pounded against the glass. There was little light in the room as the fire had gone out and the lamp on bedside table had run out of oil. Arthur Morgan found himself face down in a mass of soft pillows and sheets which tangled his naked body up. The cotton sheets soft against his skin at the smell of lavender perfume filled his nose. He reached around the bed hoping to grab hold of the woman he went to bed with, but no one was there. That was when the pound of a headache forced him awake, and he groaned lost for a moment in pain. Arthur peeled his face off the sweet-scented pillow and spotted a glass of water. He reached for it after sliding himself across the bed and untangling himself from the comforter. He sat on the edge of the while he chugged down the water. "How much did I drink last night?" He asked himself as he pursed his lips. His mouth tasted like an ashtray, and the water did little to wash away the dryness in his throat. He was replaying the previous night in his head needing a minute to remember how he ended up in this room.

"Poker game, cigarettes outside, Rosalyn's room... Strawberry jam."  No one was inside the room but him, the bed was empty, and his clothes gone. Through the arrangements of techniflavoured jams on the counter were still there except the jar of Strawberry which was split on the ground next to the bed with handprints across the base of the bed. "I remember now," Scanning empty room he searched for where he had left his clothes and was sure he dropped his pants at the foot of the bed, but they were nowhere in sight. His gun was still on the stool where he left it, but his shirt, pants, vest and undergarments were gone. "Izzy." He said with a snarl as he put his boots on and grabbed his gun belt. He looked around the room and spotted a black silk housecoat with purple trim. It didn't look like any regular house coat since it had orange dragon embroidered in it and long cuffed sleeves. It must have been some Asian garb, but it was the only thing in the room that would fit his shoulders.  With a long heavy sigh, he put it on and covered up before leaving the room. Storming down the hallway in search of the devil who stole his clothes. As he crossed the hall to the stairs he passed so many people, the storm had locked everyone in, and now he had to walk across the hotel dressed as a woman to an audience. Gasps followed snickers and giggles as not everyone found his display amusing but rather audacious. Holding the opening of the housecoat closed he kept his hand on the grip of his gun as he headed to the yellow lounge. Once he passed through the curtains, he noticed the tables filled with the same gaggle of ladies from the night before but this time had company. They all stopped and stared at him, some in snickers some full belly laughing, but he did not care. His eyes immediately feel on The Devil. "Izzy," Arthur scowled angrily as everyone's eyes quickly darting to the back of the room where Isabella sat to breakfast with Rosalyn who had her back turned. Isabella had a big old smirk on her face as she watched Arthur come into the room. Sat next to her on the table was a well-folded stack of clothes inside a potato sack. Izzy stared at Arthur with a victorious grin on her face as Rosalyn turned to see what she was smirking about to spit out her coffee immediately. The blonde gasping for breath once she looked at him. "Why are you wearing my Kimono Mr Callaghan?" Rosalyn asked shocked and one of the only people not amused by the situation. "Izzy... my things." Arthur cleared his throat and spoke darkly not amused in the slightest. "I don't know what you're talking about I've been on guard all right. I did find this outside are they yours?" Isabella said and opened the bag revealing his clothes folded and neatly for him. Arthur's eyes narrowed as Rosalyn got up and walked over to him grabbing the stack of clothes and shoving them into Arthur's hands. "Do you know how expensive that is, take it off immediately." She said bitterly to Arthur in a hushed tone to not embarrass him further before turning back to give Izzy an icy glare.   "You happy now?" Arthur asked Izzy as the pair of them scolded her with their eyes. "Delighted... you know you have something in your hair right?" Izzy said pointing to a glob of Strawberry jam caked on the side of his head. "Oh, you tried my jams? Which one was your favourite?" Rosalyn asked as her tone flipped and Arthur just marched away with no response. Arthur stormed back to his room where he fished the key out of his pants, crossing the same crowds of people who wanted to comment but he responded this time. 

"Take a damn picture it will last longer. Now get outta my way!" He spoke loud and bitterly, instilling fear with his march despite his outrageous attire and the crowds stepped out of his way. Once he slammed the door behind him to his room, he wanted to rip the Kimono off but spotted himself in the full-length mirror seeing his reflection. He looked himself up and down and just started laughing. He looked ridiculous, but he had worn outfits worst then this. Arthur's muscular frame filled out the Kimono rather nicely as it draped over his skin delicately. He could tell how expensive it was as he brushed his fingers over the sleeves touching the silk fibres and the small beads sewn into the dragons shaping its scales.  For a tiny moment, Arthur wanted to keep it. 

"No, I will never live it down if Hosea or Dutch saw me in this." He chuckled to himself and delicately took it off. Rosalyn was the only one who sympathised with him, and as she said before, it was best not to force bad luck on those who do nice things. He folded it up to bring it back to her checking to make sure he didn't get anything on it. He got dressed in his clothes and put on his last clean shirt which was a red and brown checkered casual button up. He also scrubbed the jam from his hair using the grooming station water bowl and towel, finally packing his things to leave once he pulled himself back together. "Time to get outta here." He said and searched through his satchel to grab something to eat. Instead, he noticed something else was missing, and he feverishly searched the bag unable to find it.  

Since Arthur had left to change Rosalyn returned to the table where Isabella sat rather proud with herself. The glaring blonde down at the smug red-head with arms crossed and furrowed brows. "What?" Izzy asked. "What are you doing to that man? First, you sleep with him then embarrass him in front of the whole town on top of making it look like he slept with me? Hence embarrassing me at the same time and you have a smirk on your face?" Rosalyn asked. "Hey, that's not what I was." Izzy started, but Rosalyn put her finger up to silence her, and she did. "That's what you did. Your intentions don't matter; it's your actions that speak. You think poking bears in fun?" Rosalyn in front of everyone started to scold her. "Rosie come on." "Don't Rosie me! I'm not going to sit here and let you act like a careless bitter loser who resorts to childish antics instead of acting like an adult. Do you want to come with me to the frontier? Then you will apologise to Mr Callaghan and return everything you took from him. " "Apologize! To him! He should apologise to me! Also, I gave back everything I took." Izzy stood up and threw her chair back "Oh really? Where is his room key?" She asked "In the left pocket where I found them." "So you went looking for them?" "N-No." "What did you do with his keys?" She asked. "Uh..." Izzy went quiet knowing if she kept talking Rosalyn would catch her in a lie. "Give it to me," Rosalyn ordered holding out her hand. When Isabella didn't move, she stomped her foot and shouted. "Now!" "Okay fine!" Izzy said and took out a leatherback journal from her bag and handed it to her. "His diary? that's low." "His journal, whatever. I just wanted to check something." "Sure, Now go find your dog and hunt something for dinner." "It's pouring rain out!" "Take a poncho then," Rosalyn ordered and walked off with the journal headed towards Arthur's room. "Fine! I'll go, I was gonna go anyways." Izzy said and groaned storming out with her bag.

Rosalyn got a few steps out of the room and slowed down a bit, tapping the binding of the journal in hand. Looking around she whistled innocently to herself and checked to see who was around while stepping into an empty lounge. Once Rosalyn was alone opened the book to a random page. Glancing over it she saw a drawing of a racoon sitting on a stump roughly sketched like it was in the middle of grooming. Another sketch was on the page as well of a small songbird and a deer lying in the grass. She scanned each drawing carefully before flipping the page. This sketch was of a giant bison in the snowy hills that took up two pages in the book. "Whoa." She whispered turning the book to get a better view of the well-drawn picture. She flipped it again this time more towards the latest entries skipping the text until she saw the sketch of the gate to Strawberry. "This is what you find worthy of a page?" She asked wondering why he would sketch such mundane items — flipping the page again where she saw the portrait of herself in the book. Rosalyn rested her hand on her heart and was taken back by how accurately he captured her likeness in such a rough sketch. Though next to it was a better-drawn picture of Izzy, and she scowled a little bit. "Lady Rosalyn?" A voice called to her, and she folded up the journal and tucked it under her arm in panic. "I'm in here." SHe responded and stood up to turn and see Arthur of all people headed her way. Fully dressed this time with all his belongings in tow. "Mr Callaghan!" She said caught red-handed. "Have you seen Izzy? I believe she still has something of mine." He said as he handed back the folded Kimono to her. "Oh? What on earth did she take." Rosalyn asked as she clutched the journal behind her back. "Something I can't leave without, can you point me in her direction please?" Arthur asked skipping details. Rosalyn finding herself in a precarious position. She hesitated, knowing that if she gave it back, Arthur would surely brave the storm and leave after everything that happened. "I told her to go hunting," Rosalyn said briefly. "Shit, I better get to her before she leaves," Arthur said and spun on his heels and took off without hesitation towards the stable. "Wait!" Rosalyn said quietly after him and stood dumbfounded he just took off in the middle of a conversation. Once she regained her senses, she ran after him, but he was already out the door. "Oh, That rude son of a! Ugh I shouldn't have done that. No, it's fine they will just run into each other at the stable. He'll come back" Rosalyn said Arthur stopping on the patio watching him walk.  He calmly headed for the stable as Rosalyn looked to the kimono in her hands. "I should put this away." Rosalyn ran upstairs and into her room and quickly drop off the Kimono and get dressed in something cute. "He likes cowgirls fine. I got pants here." She pursed her lips and shuffled through the mess of clothes on the floor. Rosalyn emerged from the mess wearing dark riding pants, a dark blue blouse and Chocolate brown leather jacket. Her riding gloves in hand and rifle strung over her shoulder. "See I'm tough! I'll go after them. I know how to scavenge berries and ride a horse." She talked herself up in the mirror and grabbed her riding bag and stuffed the Journal into it as well as the stable chip for Princess. "I rode her yesterday." Rosalyn triumphantly walked down the stairs and headed out in the rain. "Ms Bush! Where are you going? It's going to thunder again; you should stay inside." William ran up to her wearing his casual shirt wet all over from cleaning the floor. "Oh, I know! I need to go pick up from berries for my pies. I'll be back in an hour or two. Honey will take care of things while I am gone and I'll be back so we can get cooking as I promised." She said in one breath and pinched his cheek and took off out the door before he could stop her.  Down the muddy road towards the stable as she saw Arthur riding away on Duke. "Fuck!" She cursed and ran towards the stable. As she reached the stable Arthur was out of sight, and she stomped her feet. "Dammit! Quick Give me the horse!" She yelled and shoved the chip onto the stableman's hands who was at the gate about to close it. "Ms Bush! I'm sorry Ms Morningstar already came and took Aristotle out hunting." "Not the Mustang the Arabian!" "Oh! The white one! I dunno miss she's been rather panicked this morning, the storm is scaring her something fierce I would wait till Ms Morningstar comes back with Aristotle." "I can't wait! I need to go now! Just saddle her up I can handle her!" Rosalyn said exasperatedly. "As you say, miss." The stableman took her chip and went off to prepare Princess for her, and she stood there tapping her foot stubbornly. Her thoughts were spinning revolving around Arthur and Izzy in the forest alone. "Whoa! Okay, calm down Rose. It's just a book. He's going to go out there, she's not going to have it, and again I'm going to get her laid. Ugh. He's not even that good looking, and this whole thing is stupid, I'm wet. I'm tired. My room is disgusting, and she's going to pay for it, and now my Kimono from Toyko smells like sex. It wasn't even with me" She sighed heavily and crossed her arms over her chest. Alone in the rain now able to let out her frustrations. "Stupid Arthur and his stupid leather sketchbook. See. It's just childish doodles." She ripped it out of the bag and started angrily flipping through it. "Just a bunch of cute little animals what kind of man doodles..." As she was flipping through the pages, she stopped at a ledger marked with a string. She turned it open to the page and glanced it over. There was a list of numerical entries of various dollar amounts in a column, next to it a sketch of a city layout and an x circled by a red dot. A treasure map next to a ledger recording all the savings held by a gang in Blackwater. Dutch Van Der Linde's name among the list. "Uh oh." She said nervously closing the book slowly as the colour from her face disappeared leaving her white as a ghost. "Miss. The horse is ready for you now." The stableman called out to her as she waved to him nervously as he leads the horse to her. Princess who was dragging her hooves in the dirt complained loudly as the two strangers handled her. Rosalyn made a squeak like sound while staring at the horse who seemed a lot bigger than the last time she rode her.  With a deep breath, she shoved the journal into her bag and took the reigns he handed to her. "Alright girl calm down! We have to go!" Rosalyn said holding onto her dominant voice picturing the red-heads face in the eyes of the horse. "You are going to listen to me okay! We gotta get out there fast and come back in once piece alright!" Attempting to bargain with the horse who looked her over and calmed a little bit. "Hey, it worked." She said when Princess shoved her back with her nose and tried to bite the lead and rip it out of her grip. "No!!" Rosalyn shouted holding the reigns tightly and tangled it around her wrist so the horse couldn't pull it from her grip. "Okay! No more Ms nice lady." Rosalyn huffed and yanked the reign down making princess's head bow down. Rosalyn then grabbed the horn of the saddle and climbed up onto Princess despite her jaunting as the stableman assisted in keeping her still. "Are you sure about this!?" He asked when the horse reared a bit. "Okay. Off we go." Rosalyn tapped Princess's sides with her heels and clicked her tongue as the horse immediately set into a fast trot instead of a walk and took off down the road going the wrong way. "Whoa! Whoa, Princess!! Slow down!" Rosalyn panicked horse stomped through the puddles, and she held on desperately. The horse was leading her as people watched he ride in circles, hoping to see her thrown.  Once Princess got her burst of energy out Rosalyn took control and turned her around to go down the road after Arthur. "I got this!" She cheered to herself as they flew down the trail out of control.

Arthur and the Duke were trotting at a quick pace following a trail in the mud left behind by a heavy horse. The rain had cleared the path of all the other travellers, and the single set of hoof prints lead him deeper into the forest headed into a groove. They rode slowly as The Duke manoeuvred around the tightly packed trees with ease. "Well Duke, if she went hunting this would be a good spot to go. " Arthur said out loud stopping the mule as the tracks merged with a second. He dismounted from his Mule to get a better look at the prints. "You think she took it on purpose to lead me out here Duke?" He asked the creature after he fed him common bulrush plant which he lazily chewed. "Yeah sounds rather stupid, why would she embarrass me like that if she just wanted to shoot me? Does she want to steal her money back from us you think?" He asked Duke out loud who kept munching nonchalantly.   "Yeah, she should have just taken the map, not the whole journal, of course, I would notice it gone." He knelt next to a set of paw prints next to the hoof prints. "This must be her... big dog," he said and put his hand next to the paw print which was filling up with water and the size of his palm. He stood back up and grabbed the lead of his mule and walked alongside them to follow the path keeping quiet as they travelled into the forest. "I'm going to need your help to get the jump on her." He rubbed Duke's neck as they climbed over the roots of a large oak tree.

Deep within the trees, the rain was light since the leaves above sheltered the forest floor. On such a stormy day many creatures stayed within their shelters but not everyone. A wild boar was roaming about looking for truffles, his loud snorts pinpointing his location. The beast had stumbled upon a groove of mushrooms and was feasting on his own until a loud crack of a rifle echoed in the trees. The birds flew away, and a deer went scampering off, but the wild boar fell dead on the ground with a mouthful of half-eaten fungi. Izzy who was laid out under a shelter of leaves and brush cocked her rifle which smoked from the last shot she fired. A perfect bullseye on the hog's skull. "Piece of cake." She smirked happily. "She can't be mad at me now. Everyone loves bacon. Why is she so fucking mad at me anyway." She asked her rifle before reloading it. As the bullet punched into the chamber, she noticed in the distance a Mule break through the brush on its own. He was saddled and headed straight for the groove of mushrooms where she had just shot the boar. "Who's a fucking mule is that?" She asked herself and put her scope up to her eye to get a closer look. The creature slid down the muddy slope into the grove and happily started eating the patch of half-eaten mushrooms the boar had found. Izzy looked around to see if the owner was close. "Some bastard trying to steal my kill?" She said out loud hesitant about whoever was its rider was. Fifteen minutes went by as Izzy remained still in her hiding place, the Mule just grazing the entire time. The mule had fed over to where the dead hog laid and started to climb on top of it stomping his feet on the pig which was blocking a patch of mushrooms. "Oh shit!" Izzy said and jumped out of her hiding spot and headed down to scare the Mule away before it ruined her kill. "Hey shoo!" She yelled and ran up to the beast before she heard a gun cock to her left. She slid to a stop and cursed under her breath. "Stupid. Okay, you got me." She shook her head and turned to see Arthur Morgan of all people standing on a fallen tree with a Carbine Repeater pointed at her. "I thought you had a sense of humour Arthur." She shouted and raised her hands her rifle still in one of them. "Hilarious as that morning prank was, taking my things is not. I guess that's on me for trusting you." He said and started to approach her. "Haha yeah, that's why I gave em back. I'm not interested in robbing you. That's your thing." Izzy said and lowered her arms but kept her rifle pointed away from Arthur, but did point it at the Mule. She whistled twice and readied her gun at the Duke. "Hm, you think I wouldn't have noticed you pinch my journal." He asked quickly glancing around him wondering where the dog was since it was not with her. "Yeah I thought you would, so I gave it to Rosalyn to give back to you," Izzy said also looking around for her dog as well but raised her gun to the Mule to stop Arthur from approaching her further. "Don't shoot my Mule, and don't lie. Give it back, and we can go our separate ways" Arthur said with narrow eyes. "Excuse me? I think I deserve the right to take away one of your beloved pets. Besides I'm not lying, go talk to Rosalyn she has your Journal." Izzy said before whistling again a little more desperately, this time hearing a twig snap in the distance. "I did, she told me you were out here," Arthur said and fired a warning shot at her which hit the rocks at her feet and made Duke sprint off. Izzy was going to shoot when Arthur cracked a second shot closer to her feet making her jump. "Hand it over!" He ordered when a dog barked to his right. Before he could change targets, a colossal dog leapt out of the bushes and tackled him. Knocking the Repeater from his hands and taking him to the ground. He was expecting to get mauled, but instead, the giant dog started licking him. She had a squished face with floppy ears and a brown and beige coat of fur. The dog was massive and weighed at least 200 lbs currently centred on his chest. "Hey, Bijou, who's a good girl. Arthur this is Bijou." Izzy said and readied her gun at him as Arthur drew his pistol from his belt and was ready to shoot the dog. "Are you sure it's a dog and not a bear?" He asked with his finger on the trigger, but since it wasn't biting him yet lovingly licking him, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger as she slobbered all over his face. "Bijou, Bijou get off I got it," Izzy said her rifle now pointed at Arthur on the ground.  Arthur grabbed the dog's neck and pointed his pistol at her head. "Fuck off Arthur! Don't you fucking dare!" She said bitterly. "Give me back my journal!" Arthur yelled as the dog started to growl against his grip. "Bijou No calm! I don't have it. Arthur let her go don't scare her!" Izzy tried to stay calm but in the distance, and ear piercing scream broke through the trees. They both stopped recognising the tone of the voice as a female. Bijou was ready to bite Arthur, but at the sound of the scream, he let go and let the dog jump off him. "Rosalyn told you she didn't have it?" Izzy asked her gun still training on him. "She said you went hunting. I... stormed out after that." Arthur said as a second scream was heard this time an English accented voice calling for help. "She didn't come with you did she?"Izzy asked with wide eyes. They both stared at each other for a second. "Shit." They said, and unison as Arthur got up from the ground. Izzy was holstering her rifle on her back heading back for her horse. "How the hell did she get out this far? I have the only riding horse." "I think she took Princess," Arthur said as he whistled for the Duke. "You mean my Arabian?" Izzy said and ran up the hill to a black Mustang horse hitched out of sight from the groove. The muscled horse had a majestic long raven mane and stood proud saddled with a gator skinned set up lined with gator fangs. A turkey already tied off in the saddle off his left flank. "First off, That is a nice horse. Secondly, I thought you didn't want my horse?" Arthur said and saddled up on his Mule waiting for her. "Who would, she's a skittish coward. I went to take her out this morning, and she wouldn't come near me. How could Rosalyn get on her? She's afraid of horses." Izzy climbed up on Aristotle and turned him around towards where they heard shouting. "She didn't mention that yesterday when she was riding her, the road is back that way lets head up by cutting through the trees to see if we can get in front of them before they get lost," Arthur said and scanned the trees. "You know, I wish I never met you," Izzy said sourly ignoring his suggestion and taking off back the way she came. "For Pete's sake, Hold on just one minute. I thought we were getting along just fine last night, what the fuck happened?" He asked. "Now? You want to talk about it now?" Izzy asked. "Yes actually! What the hell is the matter with you? I thought we had sorted things out?" Arthur asked abandoning his plan and following Izzy and Aristotle. The Duke was having a hard time keeping up with the stallion forcing Arthur to shout.

"Becuase we slept together while you were drunk!? HA! Nothing has changed Arthur. You're still an outlaw, a degenerate and a thief!" Izzy shouted back as they dodged around the trees, Aristotle having to go around the obstacles the Duke could squeeze through. "Then why go along? Why lead me on like that? For revenge? To give me a taste of my own medicine?" Arthur demanded, catching up to her. Izzy went quiet as they broke out of the trees and onto the main road. She scanned the ground and noticed a sporadic set of prints charged through not long ago. "Well!?" Arthur finally caught up as the Duke let out a wail having been pushed so hard to follow. "I'm thinking hold on!" Izzy yelled and checked which way the prints headed. Another scream was echoing ahead. "This way!" She called and took off. "Izzy!" Arthur yelled after her and looked to the Duke. "I'm sorry boy. Yaw!" He gave him a hard kick, and the Mule jolted off behind the Mustang. Unable to keep up with Izzy who had launched her stallion into a full gallop after Rosalyn and the runaway Arabian.

[pandatypewriter]

B.A.P Le Noir Au Ch. 17 (Himchan): Family Blood

THIS HAS BEEN TOO LONG! Thank you soooo much to the lovely followers and fans of this series for waiting so patiently for me! I finally got around to work on this haha! This story is a lot longer than I expected, but I promise I will try to make it worth it! As a little gift for all you lovelies, I will post the second part of the rest of the members stories so that you can have a little snippet of theirs. I feel like I’ve made you guys wait too long for their stories and I’ve very sorry about that! Anyways please enjoy! This are about to take a turn!

Himchan let out a sigh, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had called the boys to a group meeting to discuss their current situation as well as how they should proceed in dealing with with the INF. Problem was his children seemed to be at the rebellious age. As in if their asses weren’t in these black leather seats in the next 5 minutes he was going to rip them a new one. “Damn, am I dealing with grown men or children?” He let out an exasperated sigh.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Himchan’s ears and mood perked up at the sound of your voice as you entered the conference room of B.A.P’s hideout. It had become a routine for you for the past few months. Visiting the boys every so often at their hideout (now that you were allowed to know where it was), providing them with some snacks and refreshments now and then since the boys tended to forget to eat since their mission to flush Infernum out began. They limited their business conversations to their hideout, no longer using the back room of Le Noir for meetings in fear of curious ears. “I come bearing gifts.” You smiled sweetly as you lifted up a container of freshly made spaghetti.  

“God, I love you.” Himchan chuckled, pulling you towards him by the waist, and giving your hip a soft peck. You rolled your eyes at Himchan’s over dramatization, but pampered him a bit by running your fingers through his soft black locks. He always found it oddly comforting.

“Did I hear gifts?” Zelo smirked as he entered the room, ending the intimate moment of comfort you and Himchan shared. Himchan let out a frustrated groan as the rest of the boys started to pour into the room.

“When I want you guys here, you’re nowhere to be found.  But as soon Y/N is here you all flock like vultures,” He hissed, but the boys simply ignored his whines as they sat themselves down in their respective spots. “Speaking of vultures. We’re missing one. Where’s Daehyun?”

“I told him to move his ass to the meeting. No response.” Youngjae shrugged, leaning back into his chair to find a comfier position to sit.

“He’s been like this for weeks…” Himchan let out another exasperated sigh. These boys will be the death of him. You looked down at Himchan confused as you turned to Yongguk and cocked an eyebrow.

“Daehyun has been really silent lately. Not eating much and hasn’t left his room for some days. Kinda out of it.” Yongguk answered you mental question, which you thanked.

“Maybe he got dumped by another girl.” Jongup boredly nodded, not wanting to dwell on the mental issues of his members and instead get the meeting going.

“Like that’s anything new.” Youngjae snorted. Despite his smart quips, Youngjae had a boiling concern for his best friend. Daehyun being silent, let alone not eating, was something he deemed very unusual.

“He was fine when he went to that club up on Mercy street a few weeks ago. Weren’t you with him?” Himchan groaned, concerned deeply for the younger member, but at the same time frustrated at the rest of the members lack of cooperation.

“That doesn’t mean I have to follow his ass all the time?” Youngjae rolled his eyes.  

“Noooo, you’d rather tap that ass.” Zelo snickered, causing both Jongup and Yongguk to let out a snort. Even you had to bite your lower lip to contain a chuckle that threatened to escape your lips. Youngjae glared at the maknae for his juvenile joke.

“And you’d rather have a kick in the ass,” Youngjae growled before letting out a sigh to recollect his thoughts. “I saw him head off to the bar and that’s about it. I’m pretty sure he was chatting up with a girl.”

“Where were you?” Himchan raised a brow, wondering where Youngjae could have wandered off to that he would lose sight of Daehyun.

“At the tables. Got a few games of billiards in.” Youngjae smirked. “And guess who won us a shit ton of money?” Youngjae place a large wad of cash in front of the boys before leaning back into his seat, a cocky grin on his face. “Your welcome.”

“I’ll go check on him,” You offered, seeing as the rest of the boys weren’t going to be of much help. “I’m pretty good at getting boys to listen to me,” You winked over your shoulder, causing Himchan to raise a brow and flash you a smirk.

“It’s like we have two moms.” Zelo snickered, causing Himchan to shoot the young boy a sharp glare.

“Except one of them is easier on the eyes.” Jongup snorted in amusement.

“You boys go ahead and enjoy the spaghetti. It was Zelo’s request after all.” The rest of the boys turned their attention to the young boy, confused at the sudden request of spaghetti.

“What? Padrino said she makes really good spaghetti,” Zelo shrugged, scavenging through the package you brought. “Plus I’m getting tired of Himchan’s cooking.”

“I swear to God why do I put up with you guys….” Himchan groaned.

 “Daehyun?” You gently knocked on the door that belonged to the usually boisterous, flirty male. The response of silence was odd and unnerving. “Daehyun? Are you okay?” You knocked a few more times, the door slowly opening on it’s own. You took that as a sign to scope out the room. Usually you would never pry into someone else’s room. It was an invasion of privacy and outright rude. At the same notion, however, the sudden change in demeanor made the rude action warranted. 

“Y/N!?” Daehyun jumped at your sudden presence in his room. “W-what are you doing here?” He quickly scrambled some photos under his pillow, hoping that you hadn’t noticed. You had.

“I just wanted to check if you were okay. The boys were wondering where you were.” Your eyes were filled with concern at the sight of the man in front of you. Your mother bear instincts were kicking in. The once bright-eyed full of life boy was now a hollow shell. He had large bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept for days. The bright spark in his eyes were now masked over by a cloud of confusion, anger, depression. The smile he once wore now painted over with forced, fake pleasantries. It didn’t help that him and his room exuded such a stench of alcohol that the smallest spark could probably set the place ablaze.

“I’m fine. Thanks for letting me know.” Daehyun flashed you a forced assuring smile as he began walking past you.

“Daehyun,” You grabbed his wrist, forcing him to turn and face you. “If there is anything you need to talk about. Anything. I’m here okay? No judgement.” You lightly squeezed his wrist, assuring that you could be his confidant.

Daehyun opened his mouth for a moment, contemplating deeply on the words that were about to leave his mouth. “Y/N...if you had the chance to save the person you loved….would you do anything in your power to take it?” You stared into Daehyun’s eyes, his eyes were pleading for an answer. A part of you wanted to lie. You had a gut feeling that you should tell him a simple white lie. That some sort of pain could be avoided. But you didn’t want to. You couldn’t.

“Yes, Daehyun. If I had the chance, I would.” Daehyun’s fell into a deeper sadness as another empty smile graced his lips. Your grip on his wrist was light enough for him to remove himself from your grasp. 

“Thank you….” Daehyun flashed you one more smile before trotting down the hallway towards the conference room.

“So where are we at so far, Youngjae?” Himchan leaned back in his seat, staring at the projector screen decorated with documents, video, and photos. He took a quick glance at Daehyun and noticed the boy’s sullen demeanor. He quickly looked up at you as you made yourself comfortable on the armrest of Himchan’s chair. You flashed him a reassuring smile that you talked with Daehyun and that at the moment you should simply leave him alone.

“So we’ve cleared up nearly all the goods that belonged to the Emperor Dragons. Their ports, storage units, and territory is all under our control now,” Youngjae smirked, a bit proud of the team's accomplishments. “But still not a peep from INF.”

Himchan’s eyes narrowed at that information. Why weren’t they retaliating? For such a big shot scary organization, Himchan had thought they would have done something by now? Were they still not big enough fish to fry? He was frustrated and annoyed. They were looking down on them. They were basically saying that B.A.P could do whatever hell they want because they were not significant enough to detriment their business.

“How about the special agents? They’ve been on our tail recently.” Yongguk noted. You slightly tensed at thought of the secret agents. Jaebum recently came by the bar lately, inquiring about the recent storage raids. That as well as checking on your well-being. He really was a sweet man, it was only unfortunate that he was trying to put your boyfriend and his gang in prison.

“Hmph, a bunch a bloodhounds who can’t find the right scent,” Jongup snickered as he leaned back in his seat and placed his hands behind his head. “Without any evidence their accusations are just a bunch of smoke.” 

“Jongup’s right. At the moment, the special agents aren’t our biggest problem,” Himchan gripped his hands tightly. “The INF. They’re too quiet...Either they’re arrogant as hell and think nothing of losing some profit or we’re in for one hell of a storm,” Himchan sighed before glancing over to the usually boisterous member, now eerily quiet with a dull stare. “Right Daehyun?” 

Daehyun jolted at the sound of his name, all eyes were on him now. “R-Right…” His voice was merely a mumble. 

“What the hell’s got your tongue?” Zelo lifted a questioning brow, only to receive an elbow to the gut from Youngjae.  

“He’s just a bit tired,” You smiled politely, a smile that you have trained to deceive any man. “Late night thinking.” You gently rubbed Daehyun’s back, attempting to loosen the tension the poor boy was holding up. Daehyun looked up and stared into your eyes. You could see a flash of apologies and guilt go over his dark brown eyes.

“Ahem...well there is this one thing that I found that I think will stir up some trouble,” Youngjae let out a awkward, redirecting the attention of the crowd back to the screen displayed before them. There was something up with his best friend, and though Youngjae would not outwardly show it, he wanted to ease whatever troubles that plagued Daehyun. “I haven’t found the location of this shipment. From what I’ve gathered this little treasure that they’re hiding is on the move.” Youngjae zoomed in onto the a scramble of letter and numbers SA20--V10.

“Do we have any idea of what this treasure is?” Zelo’s face scrunched up as he attempted to decipher the letter and number code placed before him.

“Not a clue. I’m working on trying to figure out though…” Youngjae grumbled, not content that this puzzle that the INF has thrown at them had stumped him. Okay, not stumped, but did make the boy genius pause.

“I think I can help with that,” You gently removed yourself from the armrest of Himchan’s chair as you sauntered over towards the screen. “It’s an information code on what kind of cargo the Emperor Dragons brought in for the INF. This,” You pointed at the SA letters etched on the screen. “South America, the shipment is from South America. As for the 20--, it stands for the worth of the cargo. The two dashes indicate that it’s in the millions, so 20 million,” You tilted your head slight, tapping your chin in contemplation as you racked through your pool of knowledge. Your eyebrows furrowed and your expression darkened as you came to the realization of the code. Something all too familiar. “V...Virgin. 10….they’ll be splitting it up into 10 different locations.”

“Human trafficking…” You could hear the low growl in Yongguk’s voice.

“Virgins? That’s hard to come by unless…” Zelo’s voice trailed off, answering the question that laid heavy in the room.

“Unless they were young,” Himchan growled. “This must be their cash cow. Bringing in young virgin girls from poorer countries and selling them off on the blackmarket…” The white of Himchan’s knuckles could be seen. No, Himchan and the rest of the boys were no saints, but there was a line that they would not cross. Children and the force labor of an innocent. That was something that they couldn’t stand.  “Youngjae, I want you to track that shipment with any means you can okay? Let’s stir up some trouble for them all high and mighty INF,” Youngjae gave Himchan a firm nod before typing away at his computer. “And watch out for Daehyun… he doesn’t seem to be in his right state of mind…” Himchan lowered his voice just so that Youngjae could hear.

“Yeah… I will…” Youngjae murmured, his expression softened for just a moment before going back to normal. “Yah, Daehyun! Get your butt over here and help me out! Quit your moping, just cause you got dumped or someone ate your last piece of cake.” Youngjae could hear a small scoff escape Daehyun’s lips as the boy came over and sat beside him. A small smile graced Youngjae’s face. At least Daehyun was showing some sort of emotion other than depressed.

“Jongup, Zelo, I want you two to hit the streets. What Youngjae and Daehyun can’t find out on the internet, I want you to find out, got it?” Jongup shrugged as he got up from his seat. Zelo took a small gulp as he got up from his seat. Zelo had never really worked with Jongup before and if he did it was always with someone else. It wasn’t like he was scared of Jongup. Of course not! He was a big bad gangster. Why would he scared of his fellow teammate...he wasn’t scared. Just wary. There was something about the dark blue haired boy and that sinister smirk of his that threw Zelo off.

“Come on, kid. I’ll buy you an ice-cream after this.” Jongup teased, causing Zelo to flare with anger.

“I am not a kid! I am like at least two heads taller than you so you better watch your mouth!” Zelo growled. 

“Or what? You gonna sit on me with your giant ass?” Jongup chuckled, enjoying the thrill in riling the younger. The giant baby chick’s emotions were so easy to manipulate. It was quite amusing.

“Quit fighting you two and go do your job!” Himchan groaned as he rubbed his temples. “And Yongguk…” Himchan leaned down, his voice was barely a whisper. “I have some contacts down in South America, get in contact with Benny and see what you can dig up about any illegal shipments.” Yongguk gave a nod in acknowledgement and excused himself out of the room.

“And what are you going to do, Mr. Big Boss Himchan?” You teased, your hands on your waist as Himchan came up to you, a big smile plastered on his lips.

“Me? I’m taking you home.” Himchan pecked you gently on the lips, causing Youngjae to groan at the two of you.

“You two need to get that cutesy couply shit out of here. You’re starting to make flowers and sparkles pop up out of thin air.” Youngjae rolled his eyes as he continued to type away.

“Uhg...why do I deal with you all sometimes…seriously. I should give you all an ass whooping.” Himchan groaned, his arm snaked around your waist. 

“Cause they’ve imprinted on you so you’re stuck with them no matter what, Mama Duck.” You teased as Himchan shot you a playful glare.

“Oh then what are you?” He raised an eyebrow, keen on your answer. 

“I’m the Papa Duck.” You chuckled as Himchan’s playful expression turned blank, an obvious look of ‘what the actual hell.’

“She ain’t wrong. We know who wears the pants in this relationship.” Youngjae snickered.

“That’s it. We’re leaving,” Himchan quickly shooed the two of you out of the room. “And the next time I see you Youngjae, you’re going to have a footprint on your ass.”

“So are you ever going to tell me how you figured out that code,” Himchan chuckled, his warm breath gently fanning you neck, his arms wrapped your waist as you opened the door to your apartment. “Or am I gonna have to pry it out of you?” He smirked, his voice filled with suggestion as his grip around your waist tightened.

“Hmmm, I wonder,” You smirked as you turned to face, playing with his collar. “Why don’t you come in and try to find out for yourself?” You playfully pulled him by the collar into your apartment, pressing your soft lips against his. The two of you just seemed to fit. His lips against yours. The harmonious synchronization of movement. The small playful nips on your lower lips. It was perfection. Himchan broke the kiss momentarily, a big ol cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh I plan on to,” He gave you a peck on the nose before casually walking into your kitchen. Despite what the boys (any thousands of many of other people) may think, Himchan had yet to touch you yet. Well….touch you in the way he wanted to do. He didn’t understand himself anymore. At first he was frustrated. Nothing more to pounce on you and ravage your body, but as time progressed he found himself basking in this relationship you two had. He didn’t quite know what to label it. Domestic? Romantic? He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was happy. Genuinely happy. There was no need to rush his happiness. “Coffee?” He flashed you his sweet bunny tooth smile, that you recently discovered. Only when you saw that endearing smile did you know that Himchan was being sincere. No facade. No tough guy act. It was just Himchan.

“How can I resist your coffee?” You teased as you headed towards your bedroom to dress in something more comfortable.

“So can you at least give me a hint as to how you figure out that code?” Himchan hummed as he began packing the coffee into the machine. He knew better than to pry into your life, yet at the same time the more time he spent with you the more he wanted to know.

“It’s just something I learned on the job.” You chuckled at Himchan’s persistency. The more time you spent with the man the more you discovered yourself opening up. The cold walls you built up were cracking, and surprisingly, you were relieved. Relieved to be happy. To perhaps, actually move on.

“Job? I thought your job was a bar owner?” Himchan raised a brow as he began mixing the perfect amount of cream and sugar into each coffee cup.

“I’m a woman of many abilities and talents,” You chuckled, waddling into the kitchen and peering over Himchan’s shoulder. “Why should I limit myself to just being a bar owner, Channie.” You teased, playfully pinching his nose as you scooped up your coffee cup.

“Channie? Really?” He sighed, knowing better than to argue with you since you would win in the end.

“I think it’s cute,” You shrugged, sipping on the perfect cup of joe as you snuggled into your couch. Himchan rolled his eyes. He was a notorious gangster and last time he checked, notorious gangsters weren’t cute. “Imagine the boys seeing you now, all sparkly eyed and making coffee. Very domestic.”

“And you have a problem with that?” He raised an eyebrow, taking his seat beside you and wrapping his around your shoulder.

“Nope.” You smiled sweetly at him then pecking his nose.

You leaned again Himchan’s chest reveling in his warmth as the two of you began talk about everything and nothing. You both talked about your childhoods, your favorite foods, your least favorite foods, your first dates, the list could go on forever. The occasional peck or two would sneak in between words. A moment of pause for the needed sip of coffee. The sweet lull of jazz music that was playing in the background accompanied your conversation (You always had some sort of music playing in the background). Everything seemed so natural between the two of you. Like things just seemed to fit.

“No, you did not do that,” You could not contain the laughter pouring from your lips, tears of humor threatening to fall. “A bouquet of dandelions? That’s what you gave her?” 

“At the time I thought it was cute!” Himchan defended his case, looking at you unamused as you laughed hysterically. “You blow on dandelions to grant a wish right? So I gave her a bouquet of those so that her wishes could come true!” He slightly pouted, thinking that his gesture was cute as shit. 

“That is very adorable,” You looked up at Himchan, the pout still very eminent on his lips. “I expect a bouquet of dandelions from you.” You pecked his lips causing the small pout to transform into a grin.

“I’ll go pick some right now.” He flashed you a cheeky grin as the both of you bursted out into laughter.

Knock Knock! 

“Huh?” You raised a brow at the sudden intrusion to your blissful. 

“Were you expecting someone? Do I need to start acting like your macho possessive boyfriend?” Himchan teased, causing you to roll your eyes and slap his chest playfully.

“It’s probably nothing,” You placed your coffee cup down and waddled to the front door. You peeked through the little peephole to see a small brown package lying in front of your apartment, a small folded note adorning the top of the box. You raised an eyebrow. Packages were never directly placed at your front door, usually they stayed with the your mailbox downstairs till you checked. Your instincts told you to be wary after the bomb incident, slowly prying the door open to exam the box. You stayed silent for a moment, not a sound of ticking or beeping could be heard. At least you could conclude that the box wasn’t a time bomb. You bent down to pick up the note. You wanted to play, right? Your eyebrows furrowed at the words staring back at you.

“Hey, you okay, Adenium?” Himchan raised a brow at your cautious nature and began removing himself from the couch.

“I’m fine it’s just…” You eyes narrowed as you noticed some sort of ooze seeping out of the bottom of the box. You cautiously reached out and opened each flap of the box. “Oh my God…” You fell back, your eyes wide. Your entire body was trembling and you could feel your stomach churn, wanting nothing more than to release its contents. Everything around you seemed to crash. Reality seemed to set in. The blissful paradise you were in now became a utter living hell.

“Y/N?” Himchan’s voice wary as he approached you, only to have his voice fall silence and his face pale at the sight of the contents in the box. Blood soaked the entirety of the box, seeping its way into the wooden floors of the hallway. The dismembered head beaten, bruised, slashed. Nearly unrecognizable. Nearly. “V-Vincent…”

Thanks for reading! Comments and Critiques are much appreciated!!

[seashellsoldier]

Confessional #3: Thoughts

Reading a book by a newspaperman in Chicago, my old hometown, and despite the telltale narcissism of any memoir, he manages to sprinkle poignant humor and dour insight into his work and witnessings as a white guy:

“Not that swinging by a place is the same as living there. Not close. I’ve been inside every Chicago Housing Authority project in Chicago–the high-rise Robert Taylor Homes and Cabrini-Green apartments, the low-rise Altgeld Gardens and Lathrop Homes, plus senior CHA projects nobody has ever heard of. Most of the high-rises are gone now [2013]–to my vast surprise. I would have bet anything that they’d be around for the rest of my life; I think most Chicagoans would have, and it was a shock when they were pulled down, one after another.

“The projects were not frightening places, to me, so much as they were gritty and depressing and infinitely sad places–people with nothing trapped in airless rooms watching old televisions. Elderly residents who no longer noticed their kitchen was crawling with cockroaches, or noticed but no longer had the strength to care. ‘Their lives are wasted–both by themselves and by society,’ M. W. Newman wrote of the residents of the Robert Taylor Homes in 1965, before the place got really bad. ‘They’re second-class citizens living in a second-class world, and they know it, and hate it.’

“One evening, on the night shift, I was writing about gangs using vacant CHA apartments as bases–they would break through the cinder block walls between units, so they could operate out of one apartment, and if the cops came busting in one front door, they could escape through another, into a different hallway.

"As I was heading out on the story, an editor asked me if I wanted to wear a bulletproof vest. The paper has bulletproof vests, just in case society crumbles and we have to cover it. I stood there and imagined showing up at the Robert Taylor Homes in my bulky blue bulletproof vest, maybe with a helmet and clear Plexiglas face shield too, getting as close as I dared to an exhausted black lady wearing a small hat with a flower sticking out if it and a dark coat, dragging herself home from the bus stop after a long day, lugging two heavy shopping bags of groceries. ‘Madam,’ I’d shout through a bullhorn, assuming a protective crouch, my voice crackling and fuzzy, 'tell … me … about … your … life.’

"I looked at the editor. 'Thanks, Larry,’ I said. 'But I’d rather die. If people can live there their whole lives, I can visit for an hour.’” (pp. 123-4)

*** “That one-thing-leads-to-the-next path of life takes people on stunning, almost ludicrously serpentine journeys. We are dice in Fate’s cup.” (p. 144)

*** Then, at the end, after reflecting on all the billions of souls drowned in the sands of Time, forever forgotten to history, and all the bronze statues to Who-Gives-A-Fucks collecting dust in municipal basements:

“I peer through the glass again. The past isn’t here; it’s not a place. The past doesn’t really exist. Only in our heads, in our hearts, and in books and movies. The past is a thought, a blurred photograph, a scratchy song, a memory no more substantial than the charge on a battery. The past is a big empty room where something once happened. A gutted building where something you loved used to be. You can’t go back–you can remember it, read about it, cherish it. But the past isn’t actually there, not anymore, and any attempt to find it, to hold it in your hands, to return to it in the living world must inevitably be thwarted.” (p. 244)

Damn straight. I wonder if when we truly love someone, completely give our whole spiritual hearts over to a special someone, and they crush it, rip it open and fillet it with a fish knife, that there’s no getting the whole thing back to start again. That inevitably a part of you is lost to that other, a deep and profound part. Sure, we can love again, if ever someone finds connection to us, but can we ever love THAT deeply again? It’s a rhetorical question because I doubt anyone ever sees this, but I wonder if spiritual death’s first step is that lost piece of soul …

Quotes from “You Were Never in Chicago” by Neil Steinberg. The University of Chicago Press, 2013.

[junker-town]

Tom Brady made a website for his TB Times cartoons, and they’re *maybe* starting to make sense?

The plot thickens.

The dots might not be actually connecting, but they are starting to appear in a pattern that might someday yield a picture.

Yes, folks, that’s right: Tom Brady released another edition of the TB Times yesterday. We missed a week when New England lost to the Dolphins, but on Sunday, the Patriots beat the Steelers thanks to an overruled touchdown and the fact that no one in the National Football League has any idea what a catch is.

A post shared by Tom Brady (@tombrady) on Dec 17, 2017 at 4:24pm PST

I’m still pretty confused, but we are starting to see some common themes and characters within these comics that might eventually make some narrative sense. In the meantime, Brady, his Social Media Guy (S.M.G.), and the artist who draws these cartoons (D.K.), unveiled the website tbtimes.org, because these people seem determined to ruin my life. I’ll have more on that at the end of this post, but let’s analyze this week’s images (yes, there are two!) first.

We have to start with the missed one from the Dolphin’s loss last week:

For the first time ever, Brady, S.M.G. and D.K. released the comic that would’ve run last week had Jay Cutler and the Dolphins not smoked the Patriots in Miami. It once again features fidget spinners, and was slightly different from the one I drew last week at 1 a.m. as an embarrassed Patriots fan.

What do we know from this picture? A few things.

Brady and Croc have tracked down the Dolphins’ fidget spinner ring.

It turns out that Croc’s dreadlocks from the original Dolphins comic were a disguise. I am not sure what the disguise is supposed to be. But he can be seen here removing it after he and Brady wrestle the South Beach Spinners briefcase away from the Dolphin.

They then run to a secret lair, which still seems to be underwater, and open the briefcase.

I laughed at the time, but NESN Patriots reporter Doug Kyed was right when he sent me this text last week, the ramps of the Dolphins stadium really do look like fidget spinners.

Now let’s look at this week’s comic:

This is a riff on the movie Zoolander. Ben Stiller, AKA Ben Steeler, is doing his signature modeling move “blue steel,” which sort of makes sense in a word association-type way, given that Ben Roethlisberger is the quarterback of the Steelers. Brady says, “Steeler...so hot right now...” which is from this scene:

The turtle is back from the first Dolphins comic, but the grouper with pink hair isn’t. So is the Narwhal, who first rescued Brady in the comic that ran after the game against the Bucs, when he killed pirate skeletons with lasers.

Speaking of lasers, the plans inside the Dolphins’ briefcase appear to be for some sort of giant, inter-galactic laser.

Oh my god, do you think that because I’ve been imagining that the social media room underneath a TB12 workout facility looks like a lair, they drew a lair?

Sorry, I know this isn’t about me.

Is that guy wearing a lab coat by the picture of Ben Steeler Gronk?

Yes, because in the comic after the Houston win, Gronk showed up wearing that same lab coat. He’s also wearing glasses and says, “the computer data is telling me...”

Get it? It’s funny because Gronk is not generally seen as a rocket scientist. They were in space then. Now they’re underwater. Or possibly underground.

Bill Hader is back from the Bills comic. So is Billy Crystal, who appears on the front page of the TB Times that Hader is reading.

Hader is still wearing the outfit that I couldn’t place based on researching his IMDB catalogue.

The finger game (where you’re allowed to punch your friends if you get them to look at your hand as you do the A-OK symbol) appears again. It first showed up in the comic that ran after the Bills game. This time, you can see Billy Crystal’s hand doing that sign on the back of the TB Times.

QUESTIONS, THOUGHTS, A DESCENT INTO MADNESS

I’m still having trouble figuring out how the Jets, Broncos, Chargers, Saints, and Atlanta comics play into all this.

Who is Croc?

What is Croc?

Why is Croc?

Why is the TB Times team taking all these dude actors from bro movies when I was in high school and putting them into comics? We’ve got Chuck Norris in here, too. These read like Millennial fan fic from 2007.

When I lived in Boston in 2014, I noticed all the guys in their early 20s had lines from Wedding Crashers, Zoolander, Old School, etc. in their Tinder profiles. I wrote an article about it. Maybe that’s relevant here. Maybe it isn’t.

Why are we sometimes in space and sometimes underwater?

And why, in the underwater lair, is there a football with planetary rings around it?

Interesting theory from Twitter, c/o Robbie Vogel: “The alligator steals the top secret docs from the Dolphins and we find out they’re in possession of Steelers-themed military schematics - are we to assume this means the Dolphins know how to beat the steelers? Cuz it kinda makes sense, the last two times the Steelers and fins played (last year and 2013) the fish won.”

Will the show from the Bills comic, Bill’s Got Talent, come back?

Is the key that Croc was holding the key to winning the Super Bowl?

Are answers to this whole thing contingent on the Pats winning the Super Bowl?

If it is, and the Patriots don’t, and we never get answers, will I die?

TBTIMES.ORG

The plot thickens. Usually these comics just get posted to Instagram and Facebook, but on Sunday, Tom Brady, S.M.G., and D.K. unveiled an entire website devoted to it. It’s TBTimes.org, so I guess it’s a non-profit? There’s not much here yet, but let’s dive in anyway.

When you go to the site, ominous music plays. Then all the characters from previous comics appear. We’ve got Brady as a centaur from the Broncos comic. We also have the Jets’ hot tub salesman, the Falcons’ falcon, the Panthers’ cat, the Rams’ ram, the turtle, Gronk with his lab coat on after the Buffalo game...

WAIT. OH MY GOD. I’M FREAKING OUT BECAUSE GRONK WAS IN A LAB COAT LAST YEAR. Not only does he appear in the Houston comic, and now the Steelers comic, wearing his coat, he was wearing it in the comic that ran after the Patriots beat the Bills in 2016!!!!

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Posted by Tom Brady on Sunday, October 30, 2016

The TB Times might be more calculated than I realized. When I started analyzing these a few weeks ago, I hypothesized that S.M.G., D.K., and Tom Brady had no idea what they were doing. I thought there was a good chance this started as a way to mess with indoctrinated Patriots fans who never question anything Tom Brady, prince and savior, does. I wondered if they’ve found themselves in slightly too deep, now that so many people (myself included) are so invested.

But maybe this has actually been planned out for two years.

Anyway, the rest of the gang is on tbtimes.org, too, but there’s a new guy — Peter Pan (or a leprechaun? I can’t tell) ripping his shirt open. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think we’ve seen him yet. He hasn’t been in any comics last year or this year. The closest thing we’ve got to Peter Pan is Brady walking the plank when the narwhal saves him.

When you click on the button in the upper left-hand corner that looks like the logo on a Lacoste polo, the Croc changes (if it turns out that this is all just a way of announcing a that Lacoste is Brady’s new sponsor, I will riot in the streets of Foxboro).

First, Croc changes into his fidget spinner disguise:

Then he becomes a slow cooker, briefly, (hah, get it? Croc Pot? *walks slowly into the ocean*):

Then he lets out a mighty roar:

If you click on the Panther (which someone on Twitter called “a fat cat” in a message to me, and which I can’t stop laughing about), this pops up:

It’s the version of the TB Times that would’ve come out on October 1, had the Patriots not lost to the Panthers. It’s actually fairly disgusting, and also might be my favorite edition yet.

In this comic, the Panther eats Tom Brady. Brady not only has a huge cell phone with him as he sits in the cat’s stomach, but also gets reception in there, so he’s able to call previous Patriots player Vince Wilfork. Vince is wearing the RIBS hat he wears in the commercial he did for Kingston Charcoal commercial (fun fact: I love Vince and that hat so much that I bought one from the Kingston website, I’m wearing it as I write this).

Vince then feeds the panther so many ribs that the Panther forms a hairball in his stomach and throws up Tom Brady so hard that he shoots him into space.

FINALLY! AN ANSWER FOR WHY WE WERE IN SPACE WHEN THEY PLAYED HOUSTON! IT’S ALL STARTING TO COME TOGETHER!!!!!

Wait, except that it isn’t. The Patriots beat the Texans a week before they played the Panthers. The week after this would’ve come out, the Patriots played the Bucs, but that cartoon doesn’t take place in space.

I’m about three paragraphs away from lighting my computer on fire and drop-kicking it out of my window.

But first, check out this cryptic message in the HTML code of the website (yeah, I went there, and yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking, the walls of my apartment are not covered with string and pictures of various species of crocodiles, why do you ask?):

They spell Croc “Krock” in that line of code I’ve highlighted. Maybe Croc is Robert Kraft. Krock. Hmmm...

When you click the console button under the Inspect Element tab, you see this:

It reads:

Hey! Tom Brady here.

Boy, I sure do love playing football. But there’s nothing quite like writing a healthy block of JavaScript.

Anyway, nice to see someone found this site and decided to inspect element.

You won’t find any more secrets here, though...yet.

Go Pats!

Well, damn. This feels like the closest thing to a personalized message I’m going to get. I wonder if they knew I’d inspect element. I doubt Brady wrote this, but it really does read like the gosh-darn-y way he talks.

You better believe that I’ll be checking this religiously as we head into the playoffs.

The fact that S.M.G., D.K., and Tom Brady are releasing previously unseen versions of the comics (from last week’s Dolphins game, and now this) makes me think several things:

Maybe these guys DO know what they’re doing and they need all of the panels in order for the story to come together at the end of the year. So far, characters and narratives just keep reappearing haphazardly, but I have learned to never doubt Tom Brady when he’s trying to execute a plan. It usually works out.

Maybe they were so cocky going into this season that they didn’t think they’d lose a single game and would therefore be able to release these only when they won. Maybe they need this website to ensure all the comics get published.

Alternatively, this could be a very charming version of a midlife crisis. Or perhaps a sign that Tom Brady is starting his own media company once his career playing football is over. If that is true (SB Nation, don’t read this), I would like to know if they’re looking for an editor in chief. Or, hell, even a blogger. I emailed asktombrady@gmail.com to ask about it. I’ve emailed this address before, but I’ve never heard back, so I’m not holding my breath.

On a more serious note, I have to say that I think this is all kind of wonderful. Brady doesn’t have to do any of this, but it’s a fun element to an otherwise pretty garbage NFL season. And not only for Patriots fans — I’ve received a number of emails and tweets saying that people hate New England but love this strange and bizarre story that’s playing out online.

it’s smart, actually, for a QB of a team everyone hates to get a little funky. People might actually want the Patriots to win, if only for this silly reason.

In case you’re worried that the process of figuring out these trippy and frustratingly puzzling pictures is having psychotropic effects on me, don’t be. Here, for proof, is a video I took of myself while I researched the JavaScript of a football player’s fake newspaper’s website and Googled “inter-galactic lasers football”:

Except at the end, instead of turning around and saying, “I need a map,” I just do this:

[wonderofwander-blog]

My Paradise

I told myself a long time ago that I would never have another best friend again. There’s to much to lose and nothing to gain. When I heard the word best friend, I thought rotten things. It was not an appealing title to hand out. 

I used to work for 4Rivers. I worked there just shy of six years. It was my first long term job and I learned a lot there. I met friends. Some really cool friends. We were always together. We would do just about anything and everything together. In my time working for this company, I was able to work almost every position. I began working in the kitchen. Some time after that this weird looking guy started working in the dish pit. His name was Jessie and his hair was slicked back really smooth and shaved on the sides, he had on big bulky glasses (the hip kind) and he was really tall and big. He kinda looked like he could play football only you could tell he was kind and soft at the same time. He was shy. Never talked. I was curious....... so I did what I always do... I began to make more trips to dish just to get a word out of him. He would answer short and awkwardly. He made it obvious he thought I was a weirdo. I was, but like I said, I was curious.

He started talking a little more and I finally went over to the dish pit and invited him to a company picnic we were having. He said he didn’t have a car and I offered him a ride in mine. He accepted. I looked at him and I said “I like you.... we’re going to be great friends.” his response..... “oooooooooookay????” Then I walked away. I immediately went over to Travis(das bae), who also worked with us and told him what just happened. He laughed and said “Cool, I’m down”  

We had a great time. We learned a lot about each other and we may or may not have got in trouble for starting a pre term water balloon fight between about 6 of us. Is was awesome. We learned a lot about each other. We introduced him to our group of friends and we all really hit it off. 

We began to learn things about each other we never really knew. We’re all college aged, right. So we would talk over beer and video games. Jessie was really into board games so he would teach us how to play all these amazing games that made no sense but made perfect sense at the same time. Once we all got the hang of it, we would gang up on Jessie until he lost because he SWORE he was some kind of board game God. He would get so pissed off he would threaten to go home and not come back. We laughed until we cried over those games and how competitive we would be come over wizards and spells. Oh! He had this game that was only dice. I could never win..... he ALWAYS won. I would threaten to kick him out of my house over it. It was serious business. 

Jessie loved art, and he loved black and skulls. He had many knick nacks and collectibles. He was OBSESSED with his E-Cigs. Oh, God was he obsessed. He would make me sit in a car that was so fogged up with smoke I could barely see. He was on only child. He didn’t have a lot of family. He loved his Mom. She was his world and his rock. I admired that the most. He liked animals. I don’t know if he had any before he met us, but he somehow ended up with a scorpion and a fish tank, no fault of mine :) He liked music of all kinds but we listened to a lot of gangster rap. Jessie loved strawberry milk. He drank it damn near every day. He liked the beach and the springs. We did that a lot. We shared many great times. We shared beers and the occasional bong rip. Okay, maybe more than occasional. We watched Rick and Morty and ate WaWa subs with Voodoo chips. If you have ever seen Half Baked, that’s pretty much what we would do. Jessie seemed to be an overall happy person. 

The longer we knew him, we came to learn his story. He had troubles in the past, but he pushed through. Jessie had this longing to have something. I can’t figure out what it was because he was so loved and so appreciated from every angle, but I think he wanted something deeper. He wanted his happy ending and he wanted it now. He started to change a little bit. Not alarmingly so, just enough to question. He always swore he was fine so I shrugged it off. I got pregnant. Yipee!! I was only 22 and I was kind of scared. Not expecting that and particularly excited to be in this stage at my age. But hey, I had a great support system and I learned that it wasn’t so bad. Jessie was with Trav and I through everything. He never missed a  beat. He was the perfect friend. Jessie became someone I could consider my best friend. We did everything together. We were literally together every single day. Travis, too, of course. When I finally popped, Jessie wasn’t there. He was nervous. I anticipated him coming because I couldn’t wait to get a picture with Uncle Jessie. I was mostly excited to see him with his tail in between his legs. He finally came up when Rohan was 2 days old. He brought me flowers and didn’t want to touch the tiny human. I made him anyways. He probably held him for less than a minute and gave him back. He couldn’t handle it. I laughed. Anyways, he would come over and sit with me while I was out of work. If my baby made a noise he would huff and puff so loud and say “Mel, will you shut that thing up!!!?” and in the same breath he would talk to him and rock him in his bassinet. He loved the baby. I have this really sweet snap shot of Jessie feeding Rohan when he was just a week old. I will never forget that photo. Jessie would hold the blanket up for me while I tried to breast feed and it wasn’t even weird that’s how close we were. He was truly a brother. 

Jessie became withdrawn shortly after Rohan was born. He drank a lot. More than usual. Then he started meeting mutual friends of friends and he wasn’t around as often. He frequented.... but he was definitely meeting new people. He would binge and then come  back, put that on repeat. Finally I got tired of it. I loved this guy like a brother, I couldn’t watch him go down this war path. I told him if he couldn’t get it under control, I didn’t want to hang anymore. I didn’t want that around my baby, God forbid anything were to happen. So he pumped the brakes. He knew we were serious. He did well for a while. 

Then it got ugly.

He started using Heroine and Xanax. I noticed right away. He was changed. He was still the same old Jessie... he just got depressed. He would do the Heroine before he came over and then drink on top of it. I didn’t like that. He would say things like “I wish I had what you have” or “your so lucky to have your own place and family”. He would insinuate how he would never be able to afford these things on his own. So we dreamed about getting a nice big house with an extra room for Uncle Jessie. It was gonna be awesome. I would make him promise me he would quit the drugs and get better. It was never constant, he would just binge.... hard. Then cut it out for a while. Once he quit for a long streak. I was so proud of him. But when he came over he would have bruises on his face and skid marks on his face. Kinda like he face planted the ground or something. When I would ask about it, he would just say he didn’t want to talk about it. He confided in Trav once and told him he was punching himself or hitting himself with tree branches because he was so pissed off about his life. He was 20. He had plenty of time. He just didn’t see that.

I watched Jessie get his hopes up and have them slammed to the ground in an instant. I’ve seen him high and I have seen him low. We were there for each other. We all went out one night and texted Jessie to meet up with us. He said he was coming but never made it. He texted Trav at almost 2 in the morning saying he was on his way. He never showed. I didn’t think anything of it becasue we knew he was already drinking that night. Woke up Sunday and didn’t hear from Jessie. Pretty normal because he liked to sleep in. We just went on about our day. 

Monday I went to work, business as usual. My old friend Lanie texted me and said “Jessie died?????!!!!!” and I was like yeah a couple weeks ago... you didn’t hear? (a lady that worked for the company had a brother named Jessie we used to work with and he had just passed away) and she was like “No.... Jessie... your Jessie.” and I was like “NO, what the hell are you talking about???” She sent me a screen shot of a facebook post from Jessie’s mom saying he passed away very early Sunday morning. 

I died inside. My world stopped turning. I couldn’t even cry, I couldn’t function. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. All I could do is call my mom. She answered me which was God sent because she didn’t normally pick up at that time in the day since she was at work. She said “Hello”, I paused because I realized at that moment I was in the grass on my hands and knees behind my job sobbing. I said “MOM” she sank, you could hear it in her voice. She said “Mel, what’s the matter???” I said “Jessie died, Mom, he’s dead”. In a panic she asked me where I was and told me not to leave. She asked me how I knew and how I found out. Of course she went online to confirm. She stayed on the phone with me until I could get it together enough to process. She sent my brother to get me in 5′o clock traffic about 40 minutes out of his way. I didn’t even know what to. I called Travis and told him. He had no response. He told me he would call me back because he needed to process. He wound up leaving work and coming home. My friends gathered around me. I had many people texting me and calling me because they knew how close Jessie and I were. They were just concerned of my well being. I was confused and I didn’t know how to process what I was learning. 

There were news reports, there were stories, there were posts about suicide and depression but I couldn’t accept that. Jessie was a lot of things, but he wanted to live. He loved life, he was just having a rough moment. I learned on the news that Jessie pulled into a WaWa and fell asleep in his car where he died. There was a passenger in the car who was very much alive but was sleeping as well. I knew the passenger. I hated the passenger. Jessie would go to this person when he wanted to get into things because he knew this person would let him. This person wouldn’t judge him. This person admitted to giving Jessie something called Methadone, which he has never taken before. Methadone is very dangerous and combined with other drugs or alcohol is VERY dangerous. This person agreed to be at fault and said Jessie wanted Heroine but he offered him something to get him something off the H.... methadone. I believe that Jessie was unaware of the effects Methadone has on the body and was already slightly intoxicated. After the Methadone kicked in, I think he pulled over, unable to drive and died in his sleep. I do not think Jessie wanted to die. He probably didn’t even know he was dying. 

Again, I lost my best friend. Only this time, Jessie taught me every single thing I would want and need in a friend and that can never be replaced. There is not a person in the would that will ever be Jessie to me. It has been a little more than a year since Jessie left us and I’m still not okay with it. I struggle everyday. I feel guilt when I have fun or laugh or do anything excited because I want him to be here with us. I cried every single day for the first 6 months after his passing. Not a few glistening tears on my cheeks, more like the ugly cry. I cried at work, I cried at home, and I cried in my car EVERY SINGLE TIME I drove somewhere. Especially to work. Jessie and I spent a lot of time in the car... and at work. 

This post means absolutely nothing. Jessie is just weighing heavy on my heart tonight and I wish that he was here. I just needed an outlet. I thought this post might turn into a suicide awareness or overdose awareness post, but it’s not. I just want every person to know Jessie and to have felt his warmth and love. I wish everyday it could have been someone else, but then again, I wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone in the world. 

If you made it through this post, I hope your ever so slight insight of my best friend Jessie was a great one. I hope you find your Jessie. And more importantly, I hope you can become someone’s Jessie.