#she needs another watch - more whiskey - and a leather pocket knife x)

[the-haunted-office]

Stanley suddenly knew what he was going to get the Duchess for Christmas. Now, he just had to figure out how to get to a store.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Embrace (Request)

*Not my gif*

Paring: Dean X Reader 

Pov: Reader 

Warnings: comfort from dean, hunt gone wrong, reader crying, LOTS OF HUGS, mentions of Sam (Briefly) 

Summary: The reader come back from a hunt gone very wrong, and all she want is to be in Dean’s arms tonight. Once she makes it to the bunker, she falls into dean’s arms, not being able to keep it together anymore. 

Word Count: 2k 

Masterlist 

Tag list: @akshi8278​, @deanswaywardgirl​

This was supposed to be an easy hunt. One and done type of thing, but that ended shortly after I got to the motel. Dean and Sam already out on a hunt, I decide that it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I went out on my own.  

Shooting Dean, a quick message. “Dean, there’s a hunt about an hour away from the bunker. It involves kids, so I’m packed up and leaving in 5. Love Ya.” I sent the message stuffing my phone in my back pocket.  

Buzzing I pulled it out seeing a message from Dean “Ugh, I wish you weren’t going by yourself, but I understand it involves kids. Be safe and text me when you get to the motel. Love Ya sweetheart.” Well, that had gone by much easier than previously thought.  

So, throwing my bag in the passenger seat of on the many cars I drove off to the motel. According to the article children were going missing in the local town. The thought of so many parents being scared and missing their children was eating at me, so I thought I’d at least try to help.  

Quickly I learned that kids were disappearing, most disappeared near an old shut down mental asylum. Something about kids and wanting to search places that clearly had “DO NOT ENTER” signs on them.  

It was still early in the afternoon so I made my way over to the parents of the latest missing child. They wore worried expression on their faces as they say the quick flip of the F.B.I badge.  

In short, they had said that their son had gone out with a few of his friends. Riding bikes and being a destructive teenage boy. For a few moments the image of Dean being that way crossed my mind, internal smiling at the thought.

I had figured that it was probably a ghost based on the rather odd story the parents retold me. Saying that their son had told them about how the light were flickering and, all the sudden it was really cold in the asylum. It’s the middle of summer, so cold spots are definitely more prominent.  

When I made it back to the motel, I made quick work of trying to figure out where the old mental asylum was, grabbing way to cups of coffee, and junk food from the vending machines I worked until at least twelve in the morning.  

I hadn’t ever realized how much the Sam and Dean’s help was. It was nice to have a tech nerd at your disposal, and a heater next to you in bed every night. Once I had fallen asleep at the dirty small kitchen table in the motel, I thought it best to move to the bed and text Dean.  

“Hey baby, I made to the motel a while ago. You know me got caught up in trying to help. Fell asleep trying to research going to sleep now. Good night baby, Love Ya.” I sent before plugging it in to its charger and falling into a deep sleep.  

When I awake the next morning, I looked over to my phone seeing a new message from Dean. “Sleep well sweetheart. We will be home today, keep me in the loop. Can’t wait to see you.” He messaged with a winky face at the end.  

Rolling my eyes, I got out of the crappy, not memory foam bed. Hearing the slightly creaks and cracks of my bones. Thinking that it would probably useless if i grabbed a shower before going on a hunt, so I opted to grab one of deans stolen flannels, my pants, and my boots.  

Once I was officially ready for the day, I went right back into researching. Finally, hours later I had found an old document that just so happened to have to the address of the mental asylum.  

It was a picture of a few nurses, a doctor standing proud in the back, and a gaggle of children in front of the nurses. Around the doctors' neck hung a stethoscope. It read at the bottom of the picture  

‘Doctor Ethan Zingler, Nurse Betty, Nurse Lewis, Nurse Andrea, with the many mentally insane children. Doctor Zingler holding his prized possession his stethoscope.’ “Fuck yes” I screamed. Damn that was dumb luck.  

Quickly grabbing the car keys, I slammed the motel door, making my way over to the car. Again, I shot him another text, “Alright, found the address for this place. Should be an easy fix. Be home soon, Love Ya.” Sending it before starting to pull out of the parking lot.  

When I made it to the mental asylum, the gates lock was broken making it much easier for me. Making my way into the mental asylum it was quiet, giving me an uneasy feeling. A scream grabbing my attention, but when I made it their nothing, nothing was there.  

As I walked around more, trying to find these lost kids. Turning around at one point, I saw a figure of a decomposed older women. Her white nurses outfit torn at her heart, all the sudden instead of staring at me she was full speed running.  

Cutting into one room I lost her, standing there for a minute. Re thinking everything that I looked up, and the parents had told me. It clicked it was ghosts, they were ghouls. This means that everything I had on me wasn’t going to work.  

Hearing the should of many children screaming at once, I ran towards it. I saw the Doctor his stethoscope wrapped around the necks of one of the children, I ran in trying to get a shot in, but before I could I had they two other nurses hold me down, one trying to stick me with a needle. The other had her very decade hand around my neck.  

I watched every single missing child be killed in front of my eyes, once the doctor was done, he turned looking at the two nurses. They let me go and he slow staked over to me, his hand covering my mouth. I reached down in a quick and swift motion grabbing a long machete knife I had attached to the loops of my pants. In two swift movements I sliced the heads of the nurses off. Looking over at the once respected doctor I chopped his head, it landing on the ground.  

Swiping the blade over my thigh, I slipped it back into its case. I walked out of the asylum flipping it the finger. Getting into the car, it was starting to hit me, that I had watched at least 3 kids murdered in front of me. I was here to fix this, to bring them home safely.  

I drove, no music, no running thoughts in my mind. I just drove, when I finally made it back to the motel, I grabbed a quick shower, trying to wipe away the images of them dying, trying not to cry. “Y/n you’re a big girl. You’re a hunter, fuck you’re with a Winchester get it together.”  I said to myself.  

“Hey baby, how is everything? I haven't heard anything in a while. Sam says that I should stop worrying, but you’re my girl. Text me back please.” Dean messaged me.  

Climbing out of the bathroom, I grabbed my phone, my arms barely keeping the towel wrapped around my chest. “Everything is fine. I’m okay honey. I will be home tops 2 hours, Love Ya.” I sent him back.  

If I broke down now, here, I’d never be able to leave. I need to get dress, I need to get home, I need Dean, now. Wrapping another stolen Dean flannel around me, I could just barely smell his leather, and whiskey cologne on his shirt, I pulled up my sweats.  

Grabbing the rest of my stuff, and throw it into the passenger seat. I walked down to the front desk; I gave to women her keys back. Starting the engine to the car this time I turned the radio on, finding a station that reminded me of Dean. “80′s rock coming your way. Now playing ‘AC/DC Back in black” Taking a deep inhale I back out and drove down the street, radio blasting and windows down.  

“Can’t wait to see you sweetheart!” Dean sent a message as I inched closer and closer to the bunker. Finally, I slowed down and drove down the darkly lite drive way that led to the bunkers garage. As I inched closer, I started to break down, I didn’t want to be a disappointment. I didn’t want Dean, or Sam to see me as a failure.  

I could feel the prickle of tears wanting to escape from my eyes, but shook my head and pushed them back in. As I parked the car, I only grabbed my phone, not really in the mood to look or see anything hunting wise.  

Slowly I made my way to the garage door. Stopping as my hand made contact with the cold handle. I reached for a deep breathe, and opened the door. Conversation still going on, I walked past the library hearing both Sam and Dean call my name.

But the idea of facing them, after everything was too much. I heard the scratch of the wooden chair against the floor. I walked into Deans and I shared room, plopping onto the memory foam bed.  

I heard the bedroom door, slowly open “Y/n?” Dean’s voice bounced off the cinder block room. “Y/n? Are you okay?” He said shutting our bedroom door. “Y/n? Are you hurt? If you’re hurt, I can fix you up, but... but you’ve got to tell me.” He said coming closer to me.  

My breathing becoming harder for me to control. Deans hand landing on my hips first. “Y/n please look at me. You’re scaring me.” I couldn’t take it anymore, I moved quickly making Dean lose a bit of balance before his hand wrapped around my mid-section.  

A breath that I didn’t realize I was holding came out, “It’s okay, you can just cry. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dean said rubbing circles into my back. “You’ve got me Y/n. You just tell me what happened okay, let me known that us Winchester deal making didn’t rub off on you.” He said a little chuckle at the end.  

“De... Dean I’m so stupid. I let 5 kids die because I di... didn’t know what I was hunting. I watched the gho..uls kill them. De... Dean Please just hold me. Please don’t thi.. think of me any different.” I said, a few hiccups interrupting me from finishing my sentences.  

I felt Dean take a deep inhale, before speaking, “Damn, Y/n why.. You know what you’re so resilient, so brave, you’re no where to being stupid. Me and Sam got the covered for you. It’s okay, I’m so fucking sorry that I wasn’t with you, I’m sorry, but I’m tell you’  

He said pulling me away from his shoulder. Lightly touching my chin, bring my attention to him. Our eye making contact. ‘Y/n I’m telling you that you couldn’t have done anything more then you did. You’re an amazing hunter, an amazing person, you’re prefect Y/n. I don’t to ever hear you say that you’re stupid, or that you think me or Sam will think of you differently because we just won’t. I love you baby” Dean said.  

I reached up to kiss lips, a small, sparked filled kissed. It was as if that kiss was an okay for me. The okay that Dean was being true with me. “Dean, can.. can we just lay together please? I don’t want to let you go just yet” I asked.  

He gave me short smile, and shook his head ‘yes’. “I love you, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He said kissing my temple, “Love Ya too De.”  I said before the tiredness of crying and the beat of Dean’s heart lulled me into a deep and warm sleep.

Completed 02/27/2021 

[sopxhiea]

Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: Alfie stumbles upon a very familiar face around Birmingham and he finds his feelings to alter as he watches her.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

The weather is gentle against the lilies growing around. There are a couple kids running around under the chirpy April weather as the city moves on. The sounds of cars and footsteps fill the humid air while the smell of freshly baked bread escapes the bakery around the corner, inviting any hungry souls with a penny to spare.

The heels of your leather boots create loud thuds against the pavement’s surface while you check your pocket for the watch, eyes scanning the accessory in an attempt to stop time.

It’s a busy day.

There is a small job to be taken care of, a stubborn lad has to be threatened in exchange of some cash. It’s time to take the main road after that, visit the Shelby company to see the familiar man and get as much as you can out of him.

You look like a woman in love.

An outsider could mistake you for a foreigner to this town, your beige coat and airy summer dress compliment your skin as the heavy boots contradict the soft image created by the upper half of the outfit. You look like a kind person from the outside, someone who probably owns a cottage with her husband and lives quietly.

You’re far from that.

Your family business has shaped you into a sharper person than what you would’ve been. It’s made you a person capable of persuading just about anyone whether it’s for a murder case or some expensive jewels. 

There’s no point on dwelling on it. You hadn’t chosen the live you were born into, being the only heiress of a gang was not your first choice anyway but you got on with it. You grew up learning how to conceal how you felt, learned to choke a man to death and even came close to doing it once. 

An hour passes, you run your pretty mouth by a couple people in search of a name and a sweet little lady gives it to you not too long after. You don’t like to think about how all this thrills you, the reason why you’re so good at it is because you enjoy chasing men down.

Not too long after you visit to the given location, you return to the heart of the area with the information you needed and blood on your sleeve. You hide it by pulling the sleeve of the already oversized coat. You flash smiles, the way to the Shelby company is close.

Sometimes, you think of the past.

It’s a bad habit, you know. It makes you feel stuck, like there is war again and you’re the only hope the family has. There’s the horror of being young and helpless when you dwell on the past, it mostly brings doom and desperation from the painful years that cast a glassy look in your eyes.

But there are parts you don’t wish to forget.

You recall his name, Alfie. He had been a rival of your dad’s for a long time even after he’d passed away. He was relentless, stubborn and much bigger than you were. You were a teenager when you’d first seen him, he was a young man then. You had sworn to him that you’d get taller than he was, both in height and the status he upheld.

He was gentle, had been there all along while your family went through some rough patches that only left you and your little brother on the upper part of the soil that coated this earth. There was an understanding you had with the man, almost like your souls were made of the same parts.

He was the enemy.

You often told yourself that when his name came up in conversations. You didn’t have any contact left with him, the jewish community was on the far end of the city from where your business operated so there was no reason to mess with his area. It had been over four years since you’d seen him, the enemy.

You were grown now, respected and very well known. You knew the business, how the thick headed men operated and you were an expert in getting what you wanted, not the shaky small girl he knew you as.

Walking in the bet shop, you heard Tommy’s assistant call your name. You had been long lost family friends and the business benefited from an associate like the Shelbys. You were older than Finn by a couple months, making most of the people in the shop treat you like a small girl but his assistant knew better.

You were escorted to his room by a brunette woman, she seemed nice enough to let you know that he had another meeting. Her remark made you check your watch, you didn’t have that much time if you wanted to get everything done for the day. Your brother would be waiting for you in front of the factory soon.

Shaking your head, you knocked the door once and entered without the approving sound of ‘come in.

It was hard to comprehend the scene before you.

Tommy was sitting behind his desk, leaning back on the chair in a calm state. There was Finn, a smile spread on his lips when he saw you, he’d been a friend since you were kids. You didn’t return the gesture, your gaze fell on to the new blinder next. He had a similar look to John, just broader and he looked more like he was from Tommy’s mother’s side.

Then you saw him.

It took you a minute, his face was covered in the usual scruff but it was kept in a nicer shape. He hid behind his hat, you recognised the velvet fabric first and the owner of it not too long after. The sight of him with wide eyes, looking directly at you made you swallow while Tommy stood up.

“Y/N.” the Shelby spoke and you returned his gaze with a soft smile. It was half-assed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Tommy spoke once more and Alfie got up, shaking his hand and muttering something into Tommy’s ear. You ignored the rush of excitement that washed over you when he passed by, the smell of vanilla and rum evident when he stopped by to greet you with his hat.

You smiled and spoke with a low hum. “Mr. Solomons.” you murmured as he inspected you.

You were not the little girl he saw in pony tails around the mansion anymore. You had grown up to be a woman, a very beautiful one at that. You didn’t look like your family, they were all average looking people with dangerous stares whereas you were much softer to the eye, it was like inspecting a well-done painting to look at you.

His eyes pierced through yours for a few moments, hand tugging at his beard while he spoke. His voice was all the same. “Lass.” he said, making you frown in the slightest because it made you think that he didn’t remember your name.

You were his rival more than anything. Your company ruled one end of the city and he did the same to the other. There was always hunger for more, wars and murders to make sure everyone stayed in their territory but also deals made behind closed doors to make sure one business controlled all over. 

But you’d play nice.

You shook his hand, didn’t reach for your gun and waited a little for him to leave before you got down to business. Your deceased father would tell you to knife his throat if it weren’t for the multiple gang wars that would arise, so you stayed put and let him leave.

Sitting down on the chair in front of Tommy’s table after greeting Finn and learning that the new blinder was indeed Pol’s son, you got to business. There was whiskey drank and deals made as you tried to ease Tommy’s tension behind Alfie’s leave. You didn’t care that the man was stressed but to get what you wanted, you’d have to be patient.

Two hours later, you bid a farewell to the familiar faces and left the building. Walking towards the factory your little brother would pick you up from, you hurried your steps, making the dress swish around your ankles while a car followed you. 

You knew who it was.

When the machine stopped right next to you on the side walk, you watched Alfie get out of the soft seats. He had a cane in his hand but he looked the same he did after the war. You looked right at him when he towered above you, no words spoken because you had to be careful with him.

He was the enemy, and had been for longest time. 

“Why are you following me?” you spat, feeling warmth radiate off of his body at the close proximity. 

He recalled the time you’d said you’d grow taller than him, it brought a smile to his lips as he spoke.

“I remember, yeah..” he said, fingers waving through the air as he spoke. “You were just a small fuckin’ girl then..” he chuckled and you waited for him to finish, arms crossed. “Tellin’ me, yeah, that you’d be taller than me when ya’ grew up.” he said, his smile was infectious but you concealed his affect on you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” you spat back, ready to have a go at him as a look of pleasant surprise flashed across his face.

You’d always been the one with wits. He recalled the times when your teenager self would bicker with him, the playful banters would grow heated but he’d do nothing much after lewd images of you filled his mind. You were eighteen then, old enough to know what you wanted but young enough to mistake an enemy for a lover.

He knew better.

“You’re still fuckin’ fiesty, eh.” he spoke, nodding as he took the image of you as a grown woman.

“How’s business?” you ask, ready to mock him the minute he answered but he spat back another question.

“How’s Jack? he asked, seeing the slight rise of emotion in your eyes and that was enough for him. He knew your little brother well and knew what you went through to protect him.

“Jack’s fine.” you said, voice stern while amusement filled his blue orbs.

“So is business.” he spoke, answering your question and making the fire in your eyes light up once again.

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips while you uncrossed your arms. He’d seen you grow up even though he was the enemy since your parents had always been a fan of the mantra of keeping enemies closer than friends. He’d been there, casting in the shadows when they’d died, too and he was still there when the business had risen from the ashes you’d picked up.

“’s been some time, yeah?” he said, nodding at his own words while you forgot about your brother and the place you had to be

“It has.” you said, feeling yourself grow comfortable at the familiar conversations. They had been missed, he was the only man who knew how to speak to a woman around here after all, had always been that way.

“You’ve grown.

“You’ve aged.” you spoke, earning a chuckle from his lips. The sound of him was still the same.

He had aged, but like fine wine. It wasn’t the same way you’d seen man around here age, he’d just gotten better looking. He was young when you got to know him, barely had half of his might he possessed now. There were less wrinkles on his face than you’d seen a man his age have, he just looked rugged and you hated that your heart did a little flip every time he licked his lips.

“Got somewhere to be?” he spoke, realising that you had been going somewhere before he held you up.

“I do, actually.” you spoke, your voice was breathy and soft and he wondered how you would sound with his head between your legs. He nodded at your words, you looked at the road before you while he got to talking again. 

“Why don’t we go for a cup of tea, yeah?” he asked, much out of the blue as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He was the enemy.

Sure he was attractive and much more pleasant to be around than your brother but your family had spent too much to be where you were. There were too many factors involved and no matter just how badly you wanted to say yes, you knew how to play this game well and that meant brushing arms with the jewish man before you.

He spoke once again before you could start speaking. “For ol’ times’ sake, right, no funny business.” he spoke, refraining from cursing every two words because frankly he wanted to impress you.

He sensed the hesitancy you had, it was only natural that you had doubts regarding the familiar face before you. You smiled first, there were too many ways this could go. He watched as you took in a deep breath, your chest rising as he tried his best to look at your eyes and only, it was amusing.

For old times sake.

“If it’s just for some old company..” you said, liking the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you. “...you won’t mind Jack being there..” you spoke, knowing very well that he would in fact mind your brother being there.

It took him a minute. Of course he minded. He couldn’t show you that though, things were still pretty fresh in his mind. He remembered the way you’d catch him looking during a business meeting and frown, it made him smile to this day. He recalled the days where you’d spend the hours around his office, trying to find a stable deal for what your father wanted. You’d been young then, smart regardless.

“That’d be fuckin’ lovely, yeah..” he said, pulling at his beard as he watched you inspect him. “Missed the lad myself.” he said, clearly lying.

Jack and Alfie didn’t get along as friends but they were compatible enough to be business partners. They’d always bicker around but the words thrown around were much different compared to when you’d mess around with Alfie. It was more aggressive, not as light-hearted.

You nodded, telling him to come meet you in this coffee shop around the corner from his place. He smiled at your words, you still knew the address. You gave him a couple quick glances, one to look at his face one last time as he blushed under the afternoon sun and one to finally say goodbye.

He watched as you walked towards the car.

-----------

In the span of two hours, you’d managed to scold your brother, score a large deal and make it to the shop. Jack, who was a couple years older than you, was being a pain as usual. He wasn’t so unpleasant to the people you were making business with but he was to you, it was the bond you’d developed after everyone in your family had passed away.

You found yourself sitting in a wooden circle table with Alfie and Jack not too long after. They were chatting about the business, the incomings and the outgoings and all that. You listened intently, realising just now that you’d missed the way Alfie said things, not only because of his accent but his charisma and charm that had been mere illusions when you were small.

Alfie’s eyes landed on you as Jack talked about some deal you’d made just an hour ago. He started speaking about the buyers and the receivers of the deal but Alfie’s focus was solely on you as you poured some milk into the coffee cup. He watched as you stirred, not looking up at anyone and purely living in your own world.

You knew when Alfie had something to ask, he would.

You’d liked that about him. He was honest and blunt, didn’t beat around the bush and said whatever was going on in his mind. You only knew a handful of people who were capable of doing that and most were women.

Your eyes met his at last after a few fidgeting moments from your part. You looked at him, thinking that he’d probably asked something but you were living too much in your head to realise that there had been a real conversation going on in the first place. Your eyes were wide open as you spoke, making him want to giggle.

“Huh?” you said, Jack stopped talking and looked at you. “You said something, Mr. Solomons?” you spoke once again, the addressing him with his surname sting him but he’d be gentle.

“’s Alfie, luv.” he spoke and watched you nod, searching for an answer to your previous question. 

“I said, right, do ya’ still got the dog?” he spoke, the question was openly directed at you.

You had a large dog when you were a teenager. It was a great dane, a black creature that would follow you around all the time. Alfie had last seen him in your dad’s office, the thing used to reach above your knee level. 

You smiled at the question, he patted himself in the back for seeing your beautiful smile once more after all these years before he listened.

“No. He was getting too old so we put him to rest a couple years back.” you said, a glint of sadness evident in your eyes but Alfie swore that he almost missed it.

You faced him this time, a little more confident and asked him about his dog, Cyril. He told you about how he got bigger, even though he was already impossibly large the last time you’d seen him. The dull conversation then turned into a lively one, you chatted the day up, asking about anything and everything you were curious about until you looked to your right and Jack wasn’t there.

He had excused himself to go take care of some business, even though there was none to take care of currently. You guessed it was because of how intense the talk was between you and Alfie. It ran smoothly but the speed was much harder for an outsider to pick up, so was the sarcasm and the wit.

He also didn’t quite like the way Alfie’s gaze ran along your body from head to toe every now and then.

You weren’t a little girl anymore so Jack couldn’t boss you around, that was why he’d mumbled a small excuse and left you and Alfie alone. You dismissed the thought and kept on asking him about his new home, the one he’d bought in the years of your absence.

“I got them, right, to do the walls in fuckin’ oak.” he said, smiling at the end of the sentence while you chuckled to yourself.

You had missed this.

There had been a voice at the back of your mind this whole time, it was your father’s, warning about not sleeping with the enemy. You had low intentions of maybe kissing the handsome lad who was currently speaking about his new office, you didn’t know if you wanted to take it so far as to sleep with him.

He was the enemy.

There was flour on the his shoe sloes, he smelled of vanilla and rum. His skin was rough, the experience of life gave him a tougher look than the one in his eyes that were directed at you. He made you laugh, it was silly just how giddy this bear of a man was.

You shook your head, nodding along the words he was saying but you’d missed the question and so you were met with curious eyes of the jewish gangster. This was the second time you were daydreaming about him in front of him and a low colour of pink blush rose on your cheeks.

“You’re not the listenin’ type these days, eh?” he spoke, chuckling lowly when you shook your head.

“Sorry, I just..” you breathed out, your voice was much breathier now and he casted a hungry look in your direction. One you decided to ignore.

You didn’t say anything more, the shake of your head was enough to let him know what had been on your mind. He had always been able to see right through you, more so than the people you were related to by blood. You murmured a small excuse, telling him that you needed to leave and he nodded.

You offered him a smile as he continued to talk, both of you standing up now that the night was near. It had been hours of talking and you’d lost track of time. You needed to take care of some things at home and also listen to your brother bitch about how he’d been left out of the coffee talk you had with Alfie.

“I’ll see ya?” he asked while you waited outside the shop, he’d always been the one to address things a little to quickly than the average person.

“Do you want to?” you asked, the game of push and pull was natural in between the two of you.

He chuckled wholeheartedly and you ignored the small smile on your lips formed by the action. “Do I wanna fucking see ya?” he nodded, repeating the question as if it were something he’d never heard of but you nodded like it was common. It made him shake his head and lean closer to you so that you felt his hot breath against your face.

“I would love to fuckin’ see ya, lass, right, and I know, yeah, that you know that fuckin’ well at this point.” he spoke, eyes moving up and down along your body, just enough to make you forget that he was supposed to be the enemy.

You smiled wickedly at his words, you knew that he wanted to, why else would he be looking at you the way he was?

“Well, then..I suppose you know the rule.” you whispered against his face, making him weak in the knees. He was comforted by the wicked ways your mind worked and enjoyed this game all too well.

“What fucking rule?” he spoke, almost rolling his eyes when your lips ghosted over his.

You’d been waiting for this for so long.

“Mr. Solomons, you’re the enemy..” you spoke, seductive enough to earn a grunt of extreme approval from him and he felt your small hands on his chest. “We’re supposed to be hating each other, not flirting in a public setting.” you smirked as he listened you, eyes never leaving your lips.

“Tell me the fuckin’ rule then, yeah, lass, or else I’ll end up takin’ ya’ right here.” he spoke against your lips, you hadn’t kissed him yet but he was already drowning the moment your lips ghosted over his. You pushed him down by the slightest, making sure he wouldn’t do anything funny before speaking.

“As much I like the idea..” you breathed against his face, watching his eyes glisten with want. “..here it goes.” you spoke before listing the rules almost too quietly. You felt his eyes close when he felt you speak against his lips.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” you said, earning a low chuckle from him, he wasn’t gonna have something half his size order him around, no matter how aroused the idea made him feel.

He shook his head at the idea, he couldn’t deny that you were made to love. He’d been intrigued with the idea all those years back as well but you were entirely too young, no matter just how much you toyed with him at times. The age difference was significant still but you were much older now. Certainly not the rosy cheeked eighteen year old he once found amusing.

“Luv, ya-” he stared speaking but you cut him off, taking a step towards the man twice your size as he towered above you.

“Alfie, I don’t mind all the fuss right..” you spoke, very well aware of the fact that you were on dangerous waters but that made it even more appealing. “I don’t mind the sleeping around either. We just need to keep it casual.” you spoke against his face and he swore he would kill anyone to kiss right there and then. But he didn’t.

“Casual aye?” he spoke, mumbling something under his breath that you failed to catch.

You knew it would be hard and that it was a challenge, you knew he loved to love domestically, to show his girl off and worship her. You’d heard things and while all that sounded blissful, you’d have to do it under closed doors. That was the way go when you were sleeping with the enemy.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy but if you so badly wanna do this..” you swallowed while catching a glimpse of something in his eyes. “We have to be secretive.”

You watched him as he took a good look at you, almost like he was trying to see if doing things behind everyone’s backs would be worth it. Oh, it was so worth it. He tugged at his beard, trying to make some words out without being too blunt, scared of hurting your feelings when things hadn’t even started.

So he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. For a couple minutes, you just stood there, letting the light breeze touch the soft skin of your cheeks and play with the ends of your dress. He watched you while your eyes traveled across his ginger beard, looking like beams of sunlight when the gentle rays hit his face. 

A smile formed on your lips while you walked towards him, close enough so that if you whispered anything, he’d be the first one to hear. You looked around, trying to savour the last moments before the soft sounds of your voice filled his ears. You would walk to your car after speaking and he would watch.

“Let me know if you decide to do this.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive​  @parkbearum​ @sourirez​ @bicevans​ @mollybegger-blog

a/n: First piece since being back and I apologise for how long it is. Lemme know if you want another chapter!

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 20

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

.....

Chapter 20

Arthur was more alert by the sixth day. Deciding to stay seated most of the time but also getting up to wander around camp with the aid of someone else, despite his displeasure of ‘needing to be babied’ as he put it. He was sitting up in his cot, his back leaning against the wagon with his journal in his lap. Sketching something by the looks of it with the way he carried the pencil across the page and his brows furrowed in intense concentration. He wanted the hangings to be tied back during the day now to let in some fresh air and probably not to feel as alone. He was always the most relaxed when he poured his thoughts and scribbled his findings into that little leather-bound book. No doubt keeping him grounded when everything around him became too chaotic to control. Glad I asked last night if I could see some of his newer drawings despite his soft protests that they weren’t anything worth looking at. The real Arthur laid within those pages. His attention turned to me as I made my way over with two bowls of stew. A smile gracing his face as he closed his journal and placed it beside him. 

“Went hunting with Charles this morning. Venison instead of rabbit so hopefully it’s slightly more edible.” I said, handing the bowl to him with a smile to match his. 

We sat in silence as we ate, both of us watching the others go about their business all around us. Abigail and John having yet another argument. Molly with her ever-faithful pocket mirror open in her hand as she fixed her hair for the hundredth time today. I never spoke to Molly the whole time being here, but it didn't take long to realise she only wanted the attention of one person here. Sean and Karen sat eating together by the fire, the latter laughing at whatever the former had just said. Javier cleaning his knife. 

Micah sulking outside of Dutchs tent as usual. Looking like a lap dog with separation issues. 

“Yer hairs nice.” He said quietly beside me, pulling me back from my observations. 

I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips, looking down to continue eating. 

“Thought it could help me be less recognisable.”

“Well, it looks nice on ya. Not that ya didn't before - just - smart idea,” He was stumbling over his words, stopping with a sigh and rolling his shoulder. 

He was starting to regain more movement and he was determined to keep it moving despite the pain. No doubt the whiskey he was constantly drinking helped.  Seeing him in constant pain from even minute movements had the guilt rattling within me. I needed to tell him. 

Placing my almost empty bowl down on the table I looked back out to the camp. Taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking...something needs to be done with Frank.” 

“You still wanting to kill him?”

“Well, yes,” I sighed “But, I don’t know. He won’t give up, that's clear enough.”

“Seeking revenge don’t help anyone. We will deal with him when the time comes.”

“When will that be? When others are hurt from his orders? When someone is killed?” He sighed then, his shoulders slumping. I watched him and waited. Maybe he had a plan or needed time to think of one. One thing was sure, Frank needed to be gone. 

“Let’s go down to the lake.”

We both walk along the lakeside, making sure to take it slow. His energy was still drained from the ordeal and healing and it would take a couple of weeks till he feels more like himself, but he knew that the injury would affect him for months if not the rest of his life. I know why he's suggested a walk and it's not just so he can escape from the constant noise at camp. But no matter how he tries I can't take my mind off what needs to be done. Living in fear until I or someone else is hurt because of this. I took some deep breaths, letting the fresh open air fill my lungs to steady myself in the hopes the waves of panic will be soothed.

“I want to thank you again for bringing me here that night,” I started with a breath, carelessly kicking the rocks at my feet. He hummed for me to continue.

“I’m a different person from who I was not so long ago. You didn't need to entertain what I was asking that night, never mind help me, but you did and it’s a kindness I don’t think I can repay. These people and the things I have learned, I just know I’m a stronger person because of it and it’s mainly thanks to you and I know I have the ability to actually stand up for myself thi-”

“Bella…” He interrupted to stop my rambling knowing full well I didn't even know I was. Total word vomit instead of saying what needed to be said. 

Another breath

“I’m going to go back,”

He stopped beside me but didn't speak. Expecting me to laugh and say ‘haha fooled you’ but this was no joke. I waited for some sort of reply but instead, he gave out an annoyed huff, looking down at his feet and then out over the lake as he shifted on his feet. Either from him still being weak or from the growing aggravation that was evident from the scowl on his face I did not know.

“I have to-”

“No.”

“Arthur I can’t just si-”

“Are you a fool? You really think going back to him is the smartest idea?”

“If it means you and everyone else will be safe. Yes.”

“I don’t know where your head has been all this time but in case you aren’t aware this life we live ain’t been safe for a long time. We been fighting O’Driscolls for years an’ that ain’t stoppin’. Pinkertons breathing down our necks and you really think we will be any safer if you go back to that sorry excuse of a man?”

I tried to think of something, anything, to say, but my mouth just kept bobbing open and closed like a fish desperate for water.

“And what about your safety?” he continued with a raised voice, taking a few steps forward to close the gap slightly. Making sure no words of his would be lost between us.

“You believe going back to him is better than having me and the others here to protect you?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat and taking in an unsteady breath, I looked away from him and out into the horizon beyond the lake. The reds and oranges filling the clouded sky as the sun began to settle beyond the edge. The distant haze dulling what would be a vibrant and beautiful night thus bringing the promise that the day’s end would be a dark and unsettled one. My mind felt just as hazy. 

“This is all my fault,” I whispered to myself, to him and to the descending sun. 

“You’re staying here where I know you will be safe” he concluded with a snarl in his voice then turning on his heels back towards camp.

Keeping my eyes on the lake I couldn’t watch him walk away again. My shoulders slumping and determined to not let tears well in my eyes to the point of falling. What did I expect? I had to tell him in the hopes he would have a better idea of dealing with this. Instead, I just got reprimanded like a child and left in the dirt, again. 

I couldn’t face walking back into camp just yet so I made my way to the jetty, sitting on the edge with my feet just skimming the water’s surface. Keeping my eyes on the haze as it engulfed everything in the distance. 

I must have been there for hours, the nights chill had set in for good and the crescent moon was giving us whatever light it could reflect. Everything was in black and white. 

Footsteps on the jetty behind me caught my attention and a voice followed.

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

It was Abigail, coming to a stop behind me but still giving me some space. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

I just shook my head. 

“Ya know, talking about your worries does help. I know that’s rich coming from me since John and I shout at each other more than we talk.”  

I shook my head again, not able to trust my own voice. It was silent between us for a few moments, the only sound being the water lapping at the shore. I thought she might have left knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of me until I heard her steady inhale. 

“This is a nice place to clear your head or get your head in order. Arthur was sat out here just this morning, drawing in that little book of his... Drawing you.” She paused then, waiting for a reply that wouldn’t come before giving up and continuing.

“I’ve been with this gang for many years. He truly cares about you.” 

Then she left, her slow footsteps getting quieter and quieter until all I could hear was the water again. Lower lip now quivering. 

I stayed in that spot for a while longer, could have been a few hours. The moon now high in the sky when I turned my head towards the camp. It looked quiet. Everyone must have been asleep by now. 

So I made my way over, the chill now felt in my bones as I made my way over to my tent. Glancing around the camp to see it empty and quiet apart from the recognisable snores thanks to Uncle.

Everyone was asleep. 

I didn't have much to pack. A few clothes and my gun. Tearing a blank page from one of the books Hosea gave me I scribbled hastily onto it. 

The coast was clear as I slowly made my way out of the tent, making sure not to wake the girls nearby by keeping my footfalls mute. 

But before making my way to the horses I made my way over to Arthurs tent. No light escaping from the bottom of the drapes that were closed meant he must have been asleep. 

I peeked inside to see him on his back with a blanket thrown over him. His breathing deep.

Step by step I made my way inside, watching over his sleeping form as I placed the scribbled on paper on the table, the flower in the jar taking place as a paperweight.

Glancing at him one last time before leaving and making a beeline towards the horses. 

Someone would be on guard but I wasted no time as I mounted Orion and made my way through the trees so I wouldn’t be seen by whoever was stood on the pathways. Withholding myself from looking back.

@kashasenpai @fallout-cowgirl @averyspicybaguette

[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 9)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 9)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 2,572

Tags: @cosmo-bear, @two-unbeatable-beaters

Author Notes: I really enjoyed writing this one. I’m working my way to the more intimate parts, still not comfortable writing them yet and I know I can’t keep dragging it out where they aren’t too intimate. If anyone wants to be tagged in this let me know. And any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you all for reading and enjoying my work!

Gif by: @elskay​

           You grinned softly as you walked off the commercial plane and into the hub of LaGuardia airport. People were hustling and bustling about you trying to rush for their flights. You held tightly to your little carry rolling suitcase and felt instantly out of place. Your attire was a little too country for this and you felt a little insecure, you wore a multicolored Native American print poncho over a simple white tank top, a pair of light wash denim boot cut jeans, your trusty pair of worn dark brown leather cowboy boots, a pair of silver feather dangle earrings and numerous pieces of turquoise jewelry. You felt you looked cute but you didn’t fit in here. Not with the glamorous New York style that most women walking around you wore.

           Pulling your suitcase along you tried to not let the self-doubt overwhelm you as you made your way to doors that led out to the parking lot and other forms of transportation, you were here on a mission. Thankfully Statesman usually kept a car parked at the 2 major New York airports just in case their agents traveled on commercial flights instead of the jet. Agents usually flew commercial when they wanted to lay low and didn’t want to bother filling out paperwork to take the jet. That was your reasoning for this trip; you hadn’t wanted to tip off anyone in the agency that you were traveling to New York. More specifically a certain senior agent. But you weren’t going to be using the vehicle that Statesman kept here, no you wanted to completely go dark and sneak in without detection. You were going to be using the subway system to travel and walking. It wouldn’t be a long trek anyway since the city was built so close together.

           Champ had grinned and laughed joyously when you had come to him with the request for a few days off. At first he had been hesitant to you let off because the Kentucky HQ was being bombarded with contract work from the FBI as well as their own cases that they were handling. But when you had told him the reason for the time off he had looked at you warmly and agreed on the spot.

           You see there was a particular high-ranking agent who had a birthday coming up and if you knew him at all you knew he wouldn’t be celebrating it at all. So you had taken it upon yourself to plan a few days to come and spend time with him for his birthday surprise. Champ had even called up to the New York and told management that Jack was to be given a few days off and to not expect him in the office for the time frame that you were going to be in New York.

           Walking out of the airport you took a deep breath and wrinkled your nose. You had forgotten what it was like living in the city. You were originally from the New England area; in fact Statesman had found you in Boston, Massachusetts when they had recruited you. It was your engineering and mechanic skills that had drawn the agency to you and when they had researched your background they offered you a position in their lab.

           You turned from the lively airport and began walking towards the nearest Q33 bus stop. It would take you about an hour to get the Statesman New York HQ. There you would be able to speak to the front desk about where you would be staying for your time here and to check in so that the agency had a record of your travel.

           While you waiting at the bus stop you felt your phone beginning to buzz in your pocket. You pulled it out of your back pocket and grinned down at the silly selfie of Tequila that flashed across the screen. Swiping your finger over the screen you held it up to your ear quickly.

           “Hey Tequila.” You said happily leaning against the edge of the bus stop shelter.

           “Hey Cur, just wanted to make sure you got there alright.” Tequila’s deep drawl came over the cellphone and the smile stayed on your lips.

           “Yeah just landed twenty or so minutes ago.” You explained easily.

           “Does he know?” came the question and you flinched softly.

           “No not yet. I was hoping to surprise him. “Do you think he’ll be mad?” you asked quietly beginning to second guess yourself.

           “Cur, o’ course he won’t be mad. It’s you and he’s wrapped ‘round that little finger of yers.” Tequila teased softly. “Anyway I just wanted to make sure that you got there okay and that you were safe. But I’ve gotta get goin’ Champ needs me for another mission.”

           “Ok you be safe Tequila. When I get back you can tell me all about it.” You said as you watched the bus pull up to the bus stop. “I’ll talk to you later.” You said to him as he told you goodbye. Hanging up your phone you easily slipped it into your pocket and waited for people to exit the bus before you moved onto it paying the rider fee.

           The bus ride was uneventful and you were quickly making your way towards the 82nd street subway station to catch a ride on the 7 line. Just as you were nearing the station you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket again. You moved to the side of the station entrance and fished your phone out of your pocket. Blanching slightly at Jack’s picture flashing on your phone you quickly sent it to voicemail and sent him a quick text.

           Sorry can’t talk. Is everything okay handsome?

           Yeah just missed your voice. Wanted to talk before you go into that meeting.

           Once I get out I’ll call you but I’ve gotta run. I love you.

           Love you too.

           You felt slightly guilty for lying to Jack but you really didn’t want to ruin the surprise for his birthday. Thankfully you had already called him earlier this morning before your flight to wish a happy birthday. You knew you were cutting it a little close but as soon as you got HQ in midtown Manhattan you planned on baking Jack a cake and then surprising him in his office with it. You just hoped that the subway was running on time.

           Finally walking into the front doors of HQ you looked around in awe. You had been to the New York office before, there were a few times that you had been sent over to train new lab techs in engineering and mechanics. But it had been awhile since you had been here. They had changed a few things and you found yourself a little distracted as you looked around.

           “Hey Cur!” someone called out behind you and whirled around to see agent Vodka. You had met her while you were training and she had shown your class knife wielding.

           “Hey Vodka! How are you?” you asked excitedly as you both shook hands.

           “I’m doing good. Heading up to a meeting now. What are you doing here?” she asked smiling warmly at you. You blushed deeply and turned your head towards the floor.

           “Uh, it’s Whiskey’s birthday.” You said shyly. “I wanted to surprise him. You won’t tell I’m here will you?” You explained a little worried she’d spill the beans on you.

           “Oh is it?” she said with a smug grin growing on her face. “I didn’t know.” She said teasingly.

           “Yeah he’s not big on celebrating it but I wanted to surprise him. He doesn’t know I’m here at all and I wanted to bake him cake and bring it to him tonight in his office.” You explained.

           “Aww sweetheart. You’re the cutest. Love looks good on you.” Vodka said slinging an arm around your shoulders as she steered you over to the front desk. You blushed deeply again and shrugged your shoulders. “Of course I won’t tell him. And I won’t tease him either about his birthday. Wouldn’t want to tip him off.” She said easily. The front desk clerk quickly checked you in so that Champ had record of your arriving and handed over all the information for where you would be staying. Turning to Vodka you smiled warmly at her.

           “Thanks Vodka I really appreciate it.” You said grinning. You held the key for the place you were going to be staying and looked over the address quickly.

           “Hey when the meeting’s over I’ll send you a text so you know when it’s good to come and surprise him.” She said smirking. You nodded eagerly at her as you shook her hand one more time.

           “Thanks Vodka!” you said happily as you waved over your shoulder and walked quickly out the doors. Quickly making your way towards the apartment you would be staying you stopped at a grocery store not far from the apartment.

           It was about an hour later that you were pulling the baked cake out of the oven in the small kitchen. Grinning softly you inhaled the delicious smelling chocolate cake. Suddenly your phone began to ring and you quickly swooped it up from the counter your grin never leaving your face.

           “Well hello there birthday boy.” You huskily said in a breathy voice.

           “It is so good to hear your voice darlin’.” He said in a deep warm voice with a soft chuckle.

           “Are you done with your meeting?” you asked curiously as you set the cake down on a cooling rack. You pulled out the fudge icing that you had made earlier.

           “Yes darlin’. I’m going to be stuck at the office for a few more hours doing paperwork and won’t be home til much later, so we probably won’t be able to video chat.” Jack said miserably with a sigh.

           “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry. We could do a video chat now if you want I’m free.” You tried to cheer him up. You could only think of how surprised he was going to be when you showed at his office with his birthday cake.

           “No darlin’ I want to get through this paperwork as quickly as possible and just go home.” He said dispassionately.

           “Are you sure?” you asked warmly trying to make him feel better.

           “Yeah darlin’. I just wanted to hear your voice it’s been a rather boring day.” He said disheartened.

           “I’m sorry handsome I wish I was there.” You said softly into the phone. “I miss you Jack.”

           “I miss you too darlin’.” He said lowly. “Alright I’m gonna get started on this paperwork I’ll send you a text when I’m home so I don’t wake you. I love you darlin’.” He said easily.

           “Happy Birthday Jack. I love you.” You responded softly. Jack hung up the phone and you swiftly turned to the cake and iced it with the fudge icing and then used blue icing to spell out ‘Happy Birthday Jack’. You packaged up the cake and set it on the counter before walking over to your luggage and rummaging through pulling out a small box hat was the length of your palm. Slipping it into your purse you picked up the cake box and walked out of the apartment.

           Jack groaned softly as he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Looking back down at his desk and sighed. There was such much more paperwork that he had to get through. It was gonna be a long night, and it was already dark outside. A quick knock was heard on his door and sighed again, he was dog tired and didn’t want to deal with any more problems that came up.

           “Now’s not a good time.” He called out shaking his head. Whoever was at the door didn’t either hear him or care because they slowly opening the door. Looking up with a scowl Jack watched as you walked into his office holding a large box. And suddenly his tiredness and anger was replaced with a sense of happiness and peace. He was up out of his chair and walking towards you quickly. “Darlin’? What are you doing here?” he asked softly as he took the box from your hands.

           “Surprise! Happy Birthday Jack!” you claimed just a little louder than your normal voice. Jack embraced you tightly wrapping his arms completely around your body and twirling you in a circle. You chuckled warmly and placed your hands on both sides of his face before pulling him down for a longing kiss. Jack groaned into your mouth and tilted to his head to deepen the kiss. “Now I know you don’t like celebrating your birthday but I felt it was duty as your girlfriend to come and surprise you with my presence and homemade cake.” You said breathlessly as you pulled away from him.

           “Well happy birthday to me.” Jack intoned to you in a gravelly voice and you smiled almost sinfully up at him before pulling him back into a kiss. “How long are you here for?” he asked softly almost not wanting to know the answer figuring it would only be for tonight.

           “I asked for a few days off. So you’ve got me til Friday night.” You replied easily as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and you fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck. He shivered and pulled you closely to his body.

           “That’s four full days I get you all to myself?” he asked softly to you. One of his hands was trailing lazily up and down your spine just taking in the feeling of your body against his. You hummed deep in your throat to him feeling your body relax into his. “It definitely is a happy birthday to me.” He groaned softly leaning his head into the crook of your neck and began placing kisses against your skin there.

           “Wait. Wait.” You whispered breathily and Jack groaned into your skin.

           “Darlin’.” He warned as his hands gripped at your hips dragging you even closer.

           “I have something for you. A gift.” You said grinning softly as you pulled away slightly.

           “I thought you being here was my gift.” He teased softly as he watched you pull out a small box from your purse.

           “Well part of your gift yes. The cake, me being here with you for four days, and this.” You presented the box to him and stole a quick kiss. He smirked at you and took the box from your hand. Opening it slowly he looked down and began laughing loudly. Nestled inside the box was a new silver belt buckle in the design of a Jack Daniel’s whiskey label.

           “Darlin’.” He murmured to you sweetly with affection. “It’s perfect.” He claimed and pulled you back up against him leaning down for a kiss.

           “Just like you.” You whispered against his mouth before claiming his lips with yours. Jack placed the gift on top of his desk before caging your hips against the edge of the desk with his. “Happy Birthday Jack, I love you.” You sighed against his mouth while your fingers knocked his Stetson from his head and carded into his hair scraping against his scalp. Jack moaned and pressed his hips further into yours.

           “I love you darlin’.” He breathed against your lips before kissing you again.

[hyungbean]

Locusts (part 2) | Riverdale

Summary: The Southside Serpents seek an alliance with one of the country’s deadliest gangs, The Locusts.

Genre: Slight Angst, Humor?, Some Fluff

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Gang Brawl

A/N: oooHh shoot, my Sweet Pea feels are shooting through the roooof.

Read Part 1 Here 

Sweet Pea found himself gravitating towards Y/N the whole time the Serpents were at the club, although she couldn't complain because she found herself being attracted to the giant teddy bear.

“So are you like the second in command?” Sweet Pea casually swung his arms round the back of her seat, drinking some soda. He knew better than to get drunk and possibly embarrass himself in front of her.

“Not officially. I’m going to be initiated on my 18th birthday, but everyone already treats me like I’m one of them. Perks of being the boss’ daughter I suppose. But since Chris is already 19 he’s the official right hand man for my dad.” You looked ethereal in the neon red lights, your hair falling in waves behind your ears, Sweet Pea found himself resisting the urge to run his fingers through your hair.

“Oh? Well what’s the initiation process like then? You guys kind of go hard core on the punishments so I can only imagine what the initiation to get in is like.” 

You laugh shaking your head, “Nah. It’s not difficult. You have to pledge your undying loyalty to the Locusts and it’s members. The second step I guess you could say is fighting me or Chris. The final step is just getting the tat. I was born into the gang so I just got the tat beforehand.”

“What? I mean it can’t be too hard then right?” Sweet Pea joked, earning him a solid punch to the arm which would surely bruise over the next morning.

“Wrong. Y/N here can throw a mean ass right hook. So to make it fair, father dearest said the rule is to try and stay alive for three minutes in the ring. But Y/N goes soft on them.” The pair look up to see a smirking Chris towering over them drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey.

“Now if you’re both done. My dad wants all the Serpents to head to our private room, we’re going to go over some terms and rules and all that good shit.”

Sighing, Y/N stands up first dusting off her pants and linking her arm with her brother’s before turning to look at Sweet Pea,  “Let’s go sweetie.” 

“It’s sweet pea.” He murmurs under his breathe, his cheeks heating up, throwing his cup over his shoulder.

They lead him towards the back of the club where two large bodyguards step out from the darkness, scaring Sweets so much he pulls out his pocket knife on instinct.

“Down boy.” Y/N says slyly to a tense Sweet Pea, the guards eyeing him suspiciously before opening the velvet doors. They walk down a narrow hallway lit by fluorescent purple neon lights, the booming music reduced to muffled thumping. They arrive inside a small room with a few couches and a pool table in the back.

“Nice of you to join us.” Viper remarks sarcastically, his children rolling their eyes before moving to stand behind his arm chair. 

Once the group is settled in the discussion is started by Viper who casually takes a drag of his cigar. 

“You want to know why I chose to associate myself with you instead of the Ghoulies FP? Because I believe that the Serpents have a greater sense of what brotherhood and loyalty means. I respect that. You and me, the Serpents and Locusts, we ain’t that different from each other.”

“True. And because we aren’t a vessel for pumping illegal drugs. Plus that Malachai son’a bitch ain’t exactly my favorite bitch in my contact book.” Chris says bored, casually flipping his pocket knife around. 

“Language you oaf.” Y/N remarks, snatching his pocket knife out of his reach causing Chris to pout.  

Viper chooses to ignore his kids as if this was a normal occurrences, much to the Serpents bewilderment. 

“You guys don’t deal drugs?” Toni asks, causing FP to look at her like this was already common knowledge. 

Sweet Pea narrows his eyes a little.

A high and mighty gang of practical assassins, making it to the top without dabbling in drugs?

“No. We deal weapons and favors. Gangs approach us all the time in our other bases in Vegas to ask for a favor, we happily oblige of course, but they are now in our debt. And we intend to make great use of their repayment.” Viper says proudly while leaning forwards, his eyes gleaming darkly. He looked powerful and radiated an aura of dominance, one that erased all doubts that the Serpents had before. Y/N and Chris grin at them as if sensing discomfort.

“The Ghoulies approached you guys?” FP asked after a few silent moments, also leaning forward in his seat.

“That’s right. Came by a few nights ago.. that Malachai kid got hit real good by my boy here.” Viper says disapprovingly to his son, shaking his head.

“He had it coming. You didn’t hear what he was saying about Y/N. Those wannabe nascar drivers got no respect for us, should have killed that pig when  I had the chance.” Chris huffs, staring daggers at the wall, Y/N setting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Well they can’t be too happy about getting trashed like expired cafeteria meatloaf can they?” Cheryl asks from behind Toni, eyes flickering from Viper to Y/N. 

“Probably not, but we can take them easily, what are they gonna do? Beat us in  a race really hard?” Chris remarks smartly, letting out a snort. 

“Don’t jinx it Chris. I don’t trust those ghouls.”

Before anyone could answer a few men burst through the door, holding brass knuckles and a few knives visibly poking out of their pockets.

“Sir, The Ghoulies are here, pretty sure a fight is about to break out.” One of them says in a dangerously low voice. Viper sighs, rubbing his temples.

“do they have guns?” 

“No sir.”

“A fist fight? My specialty.” Chris says, cracking his neck. 

“Told you not to jinx it dumbass. Now we actually have to kill a few people tonight, and I liked this shirt.” Y/N mumbles, running a hand through her hair.

The Serpents look at Viper, not exactly ready to march into a gang brawl. The siblings strut out, Chris wielding his brass knuckles while Y/N swings around his baseball bat, humming a song.

Sweet Pea’s eyes trail after Y/N, seeing how relaxed and in control she was, and he felt a sense of pride knowing she could take care of herself.

“No worries FP. My kids have this under control, why don’t you and your friends join us upstairs to watch the show, after all you all are the guest of honor.” Viper says getting up and clapping FP’s shoulder, leaving to lead them further down the hall. The serpents follow hesitantly, Toni moving to hold Cheryl’s hand. Once they turn a corner, they see a lone elevator with a couple of body guards waiting. 

“Balcony sir?” 

Viper hums in confirmation, going into the elevator first. Followed by the tense Serpents who look in front of them in anticipation. 

“Oh and make sure to get the mop and my brother on the line. I have a feeling a shit ton of my property is going to be damaged in a few moments.”

“Of course sir.”

‘How are they taking this so lightly. What the hell.’ Sweet Pea thought, watching as the elevator panel beeped and shifted from a 1 to a B. Once they step out, they hear the commotion almost instantly, recognizing Malachai’s voice. He was yelling profanities and as they reached the edge of the balcony they see the Locusts and a few dozen Ghoulies standing on opposite sides of the club, Malachai yelling up at Chris. 

It would have been funny in any other circumstance as Chris was almost a whole foot taller than Malachai. Chris stands there almost amused, clenching his fists while Y/N stands a little behind him, baseball bat over her shoulder. 

The Locusts stand tall, some weilding large daggers and chains. While majority of the Ghoulies looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there.

When Malachai notices that his approach isn’t working, he looks around and sees Y/N standing behind Chris, his face morphing into a shit eating grin. 

“I don’t know how you do it Chris. If Y/N was always around me like that, I have no idea what the hell I’d do.” Sweet Pea feels himself tense and grow strangely furious at Malachai. He wishes he could be down there, pummeling the trash bag into the ground, although Chris beat him to it. The taller boy brings his fist down straight into Malachai’s temple, his body crumpling to the ground. 

Shit. Hope he’s not dead.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose as The Locusts and Ghoulies start engaging in a violent exchange of fists and knives, the noise of tables breaking and glass shattering storms in the ears of the Serpents. 

Jughead turns to Viper, “Will they be okay?” 

Viper quirks an eyebrow, “of course my boy, no need to worry. This will be over soon. But shit! Did they have to break all my stuff! This shit costs money too.”

“What about Y/N?” Sweet Pea asks, eyes searching the sea of black leather and broken tables for the small girl. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Viper looking at him in amusement.

“You have nothing to worry about. If anything I’m more worried for Chris. That boy is strong for sure, but he isn’t as good of a fighter as his sister. He punches first before thinking. Y/N however eggs on her opponent, letting them show off all their moves. She learns their fighting style and knows how to beat them. And she always beats them one way or another. That girl is lethal. You should see her with her knives.. never misses.” Viper says proudly, although it seems as if he were talking to himself. 

Fangs claps Sweet Pea’s shoulder, “don’t worry, she’ll be fine dude, that’s one tough chick if I ever seen one.”

Sweet Pea nods, he couldn’t explain his quick attraction to the girl but he knew that he’d like to have her around in his life for a long time. 

All was going well as it seemed that the Locusts had the upper hand, many of the Ghoulies were laying unconscious around the club, some even bleeding out. 

FP whistles while his eyes raked over the unconscious lumps on the floor. “Y’all some trained fighters? I don’t see any of your Locusts laying around.”

“Not exactly, but we do train them intensely. It’s hard to become a Locust, and even harder to remain as a Locust. A lot of our members drop out because they’re not able to keep up with the life-style. It is what it is. But we still provide protection to those who leave.” Viper says, smiling genuinely at FP. 

“Great. A little gang boot camp.” Cheryl mumbles, causing Toni to crack a smile. 

However their attention is drawn towards the fight again when they hear your voice ring out loudly in the crowd. 

“Chris!”

-

A/N: part three coming at ya soon ! ;)

taglist: (comment if you want to be on the series’ taglist)

@cvvlxx @whenallsaidanddone

[slashhinginghasher]

Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 2: What Beneath Lies

Introducing Stabby McSkullface, everyone’s favorite giant dickhead.

This work is also on Ao3!

The local cops had started sniffing a little too closely around one of his warehouses, which was why Chromeskull found himself burying his most recent piggy deep in the woods outside town. College girl in a tight little dress, drinking her daddy’s money away, but she’d sobered right up when she saw the first knife. Body disposal was normally his underlings’ responsibility, but this one had put up an admirable fight and his adrenaline was still running high, so he opted to do the honors himself. He was tossing the last shovelful of dirt over the remains of her face when he heard the roar of a car engine.

His car.

He sprinted through the woods, making no attempt at stealth as he crashed through branches and underbrush. But by the time he reached the road, the car had vanished, not even a trace of headlights. If he’d had a voice, he would have screamed. He settled for driving a knife into the trunk of the nearest tree. Then he pulled out his cell phone. He could have stopped the car remotely, tracked the thief down on foot, and gutted them on the side of the road. But the insult - the audacity - was too great. That dark little thing inside him, usually sated after playing with one of his piggies, snarled to life. He would take his time with this one.

He texted Spann, who promised to be there in 15 minutes with a new car. In the interim, he pulled up the feed from the dashboard camera to get a better look at his thief. Much of the details were obscured by shadow, but he could make out enough to determine that the brat was small, dark-haired... and female.

He grinned savagely behind his mask.

Oh, little piggy, I am going to have fun with you.

***

The bitch was even tinier than expected. Chromeskull doubted the top of her head would reach past his sternum. He’d needed only one hand to drag her from the car after jamming the needle into her neck. The crowbar was unnecessary - he controlled the locks, after all - but he’d wanted to give her the split second of fear before knocking her out. Besides, the car was obviously defective if this scrawny little piggy had been able to break in. Spann, who had wisely remained silent thus far, was leaning against the passenger side of the second car and tapping away on a tablet.

“Someone will be here shortly to take care of the car,” she said. “I can stay here and wait for them. Police activity is less hot around your facility two towns north if you want to take her there.” She gestured at the girl slung over her boss’s shoulder. Chromeskull nodded and dumped the thieving piggy unceremoniously into the trunk. He slid behind the wheel and drove off, mind already racing with plans for the coming days.

***

He could’ve stripped her while she was unconscious, but he wanted to watch the growing horror in her eyes as he slowly removed all of her defenses, starting with those little knives he’d felt strapped to her wrists when he chained her up. He circled her slowly, gleaning what details he could from her unmoving form. Her clothes were dark, plain, and covered her neck to toe. Ragged and cheap except for her leather boots, which were too nice to be anything but stolen. She had a ridiculous amount of thick, tangled hair. It would make an excellent handle when he dragged her kicking and screaming across the floor.

Chromeskull turned his attention to the shabby backpack he’d taken from the passenger seat of his soon-to-be-scrap-metal car. He upended it with a clatter on the long metal table next to the meat hooks. A quick glance showed his little piggy slumped in the same position. Either she was not yet awake, or she was extremely good at faking it. No matter. He had plenty of time.

He rooted through the contents of the bag with a slowly growing curiosity. Four screwdrivers, two of them broken. A wire hanger bent into a hook. A small lock-picking set. A flashlight. Two pairs of underwear and socks, just as boring as the clothes the piggy was currently wearing. A switchblade and a machete, both clearly well-used. A one-liter reusable water bottle and a fifth of vodka. The former was about half full and the latter mostly empty. Chromeskull gave a small smile as he read the top shelf brand on the label. At least the piggy had taste in something, because it sure as fuck wasn’t clothes. He considered taking a swig, but he’d always been more of a whiskey and cognac man. A small, battered notebook gave him a brief pause; he riffled through it, but all the pages were blank, though some had clearly been torn out. He tossed it aside, next to one of those plastic lighters you could buy at any gas station for a dollar.

Conspicuously absent was any form of identification. No phone, no license, not even a library card or a fucking receipt to say who she was or where she’d been. Where were you running to, little piggy?

Impatience made his jaw twitch. Enough waiting. Either the bitch was awake, or she would be very soon. He abandoned his table of toys and sauntered over to crouch in front of her, careful to keep his movements deliberate and controlled. It never did to let his piggies see how eager he was to play with them.

At least, not at first.

A heartbeat passed. Two. Three. He was debating where to deliver a stinging wakeup call via knife when the bitch’s eyes snapped open and looked him dead in the face. Eye, really; the left half of her face was obscured by hair. He waited, as her gaze danced over him, for questions, for pleading, for terror, but she gave him nothing. Just an infuriatingly blank face and an odd light, at once familiar and unnameable, growing in her visible eye. Fucking bitch wasn’t even hyperventilating.

Nice try, piggy, but I will make you squeal.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, typed a greeting, and held it up in front of her face.

HELLO PIGGY

Her expression remained motionless. The only hint that she’d even read the message was a shifting, an intensification of that gleam in her eyes, and damn it if he hadn’t seen it someplace before…

“This is about the car,” she said. Smart piggy. Her voice was thickly accented. Chromeskull raised an eyebrow behind his mask; you didn’t hear a lot of Russians or whatever the fuck she apparently was around these parts. He nodded slowly and reached out to push the hair out of her face-

The fucking cunt bit him.

Hard.

Her sharp little teeth cut through nitrile and skin, drawing blood like a hungry dog. Rage bloomed in his chest like the pain in his fingers. He wrenched his hand away from her whore mouth and backhanded her hard enough to send piggy and chair toppling to the floor. The clatter of the chair couldn’t quite drown out the smack of her face against the concrete, but still she didn’t scream, didn’t cry. Red flickered around the edges of his vision. Wasn’t that just like a whore pig to think she could just flutter her pretty little eyelashes and get away with anything? Chromeskull flexed his bloody fingers and grabbed a fistful of hair, hauling her upright. She wasn’t looking him in the eye anymore, she was staring at the ground, at his feet, because she knew, she knew, she knew… She knew why they needed him, needed his knives, those sluts who thought they could cruise through life with their tits out and their faces painted, thought that slit between their legs entitled them to anything, and that’s why they needed him, needed that reminder that pretty was nothing and flesh was just meat and their power could be cut away in a matter of seconds. Sure, maybe this one thought she was better, was smarter, with that charade of modesty, but underneath the fabric, underneath the skin, way down where muscle met bone and blood pulsed and there was no beauty to be seen except for those tides of crimson, she was the same, they were the same, they were all the same same same…

The piggy lifted her head and spat a wad of bloody saliva at the lens of his camera with devastating accuracy.

And once again she was on the floor, this time with his hand around her throat as he straddled her waist. He’d seen grown men piss themselves with less provocation, but there was still no fear on her little piggy face, even as blood flowed freely from her nose and mouth where the impact had split her skin. She was breathing heavily, at last, but so was he, so it was no real victory. His pulse roared in his ears, and he could feel hers jumping in her throat like a rabbit kicking against a snare. For a moment there was nothing but heartbeat and breath, brown eye boring into blue, and there was something a bit dangerous in the way her knees brushed against the back of his thighs. With his free hand, he unsheathed his knife and slowly pushed aside that stupid mane of hair, pressing the tip in just hard enough to leave a thin line of red in its wake.

Her left eye was a noticeably lighter blue than the right, a starburst of ice radiating from her pupil. And it was surrounded by a web of scars. Silvery lines stretching from cheekbone to hairline, bisecting her eyebrow in several places. The tip of his knife danced over them, catching on a small ridge that almost looked like a tooth mark…

He pulled her upright by the throat, barely waiting for the chair to settle before he slashed the knife through her thin shirt and boring, utilitarian bra, leaving another stinging red line in its wake, but she still didn’t complain, and he wouldn’t have listened if she did, because what lay bare before him was nothing short of a masterpiece.

One of the oldest and deepest scars started just below her left collarbone, curving above her breast and coming to a stop in the valley of her sternum. Three more began near her left armpit and clawed their way down to her right hip bone, jagged and thick and purple like she’d been ripped open by some monster and sewn back together. Two pale circles, one in each shoulder, he recognized as bullet wounds; he had a few of his own. Another deep line, clearly a stab wound, nestled between two of her ribs. And carved deep into the side of her neck, somewhere between a cut and a brand, a single word in Cyrillic.

He traced a bloody knuckle along one of the claw marks, feeling the girl's stomach muscles contract involuntarily and leaving a stark red mark against her skin. A white hot bolt of something zinged down his spine and settled hot in his stomach and groin, danced down his fingers like flecks of lightning. His stone-faced piggy was no piggy after all. She was a map of pain and one of the most magnificent things he’d ever seen. And now he knew, he knew, what that light was in her eyes. It was fury and bloodlust and hunger and death, and he knew it because he carried it in his own eyes like a raging fire.

Well. This certainly complicated things.

[itschimmychimchims]

Etched – Part 10

♡ jimin x reader

♡ smut, mafia!au

♡ Just kind of plot thickening

♡ Sorry for the long wait!!!!!!!! 

—

You find out a terrible secret.

–

| Part 1 (M) | Part 2 (M) | Part 3 (M) | Part 4 | Part 5 (M) | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (M) | Part 9 (M) | Part 10 |

—

“What do you wanna be when you grow up, Jimin?” It’s hazy. My voice sounds different.

“I don’t know, I kinda wanna dance.” A black haired boy called Jimin shrugged. He was talking to me.

“But your dad doesn’t like you dancing.”

“I don’t really care about what my dad thinks.” The boy scoffed. His eyelashes touched his cheeks as he blinked. He turned to me. “What about you?”

“I don’t know either.” I seemed to ponder over the question for a while before answering. “I just want my dad to love me a bit more.”

“Why don’t you think he loves you?” The boy asked, his face gentler yet more curious.

“I overheard the other day... he said I wasn’t his daughter-“

Jimin’s face started to blur, and so did my voice. The conversation ebbed away and it was as if I was walking away from the scene - it was now distant from me. But as I walked out of the darkness and back to consciousness, it was as if a lock had been turned. I could piece together my lost memories, as if they’d never been gone.

They flooded my mind, overwhelming me. I remembered everything. The explosion, my parents arguing, me running to school... and me being flung from the car after my mother told me she loved me and she needed me to trust her. The last thing I heard before I closed my eyes was the loud explosion of the car as it sped away. I remembered it all.

I woke up, startled, panting as if I’d ran a whole marathon. I tried to move but I was rooted somehow. My eyes trailed down to my body, and I realized my limbs tightly strapped to a chair with leather straps. The more I struggled, the more they dug into my skin painfully.

“Princess, you’re awake.” I heard a voice from behind me. I craned my neck to look backwards, seeing Jimin bound in a similar fashion. Another rush of emotion consumed me, and my chest ached. I remembered him too. The conversations we had on my rooftop, him sneaking me a sip of whiskey and me absolutely hating it. And the night before my mother died, he had kissed me on that very rooftop and I ran back to my room, heart fluttering.

“Yeah, Jimin, I’m awake.” I responded, my voice hoarse. “Jimin... I- I remember.” Silence greeted me for a few moments before Jimin spoke again.

“What do you remember?” He asked carefully.

“April 14th, 2007, that was the first time you taught me how to ride a bike. I came to you crying again because my dad refused to teach me.” I mumbled. “And April 14th 2009, you kissed me on my rooftop. I ran back to my room not saying a word because I was so nervous. That was the last time I saw you before that day I lost my mother.”

“Oh god, you really do remember. Oh thank god, princess, finally.” Jimin sighed. I could hear he was happy. I was happy but the feeling slowy faded as I remembered our current situation.

“Jimin, where are we?”

“Your father’s base.” Jimin’s voice hardened, and I imagined his jaw clenching as he said it.

“What? But why-“ The sound of a metal door opening interrupted my question. My head looked up to see my dad walking in, a stone cold look on his face. His eyes looked dark and wild with a dangerous whirl of emotion.

“Dad, what the hell is going on?” I struggled against my restraints, demanding for answers. “Why the hell did you restrain me and Jimin?”

“Don’t call me ‘dad’.” He sneered. “You’re not my fucking daughter.” The memory came back to me. I did overhear a conversation between him and my mother - and that’s when he started to distance himself from me.

“Dad...” Tears welled up at my father’s gaze - or the man I’d recognized as my father. It all made sense the more I thought about it. He didn’t care. All those weeks I was kidnapped by Jimin, he didn’t have a reason to save me. It was definitely more dangerous with Jimin. He expected me to die.

“I had my suspicions. The night of the rebel attack, you left early.” Jimin hissed. “You’re colluding with them, aren’t you, Kwon?”

“Doesn’t take an idiot to know that now.” My father scoffed.

“They all have something against you, so it’s convenient for me.”

“Why!” I shouted, filling up with rage and disappointment of being lied to and manipulated. More than anything, I felt more alone than ever. I’d lived a lie for years on end.

“Because your mother was a whore!” Kwon yelled. I’d never seen him so angry that his veins bulged from his neck. His eyes were cold and distant, holding not even a fraction of warmth. “She had an affair with someone in White Mist, and bore you, their child.”

“I’d accepted it at the start, but whoever he was, he reached out and wanted to keep you. How dare he? And your mother hid his identity so fucking well.” Kwon sneered, toying with his gun. “So, fuck it, my hatred for White Mist grew so much. Even my old friend Park hid his identity. So much for loyalty. So I vowed to bring them all down, and I did - or so I thought for a while.”

“Y/N was innocent. She had no part to play in this, she doesn’t deserve to get hurt.” Jimin snarled from behind me.

“She was borne from sin. Disgusting. I could never love a child that is not mine.” Kwon spat and my heart ached, even knowing he wasn’t my father. I’d believed and made excuses all my life to pardon his lack of love - searched for it in meaningless actions - only to be slapped in the face with the harsh reality. My heart ached for a whole different reason once pieces started to click in my head.

“If you orchestrated the takedown of White Mist Clan...” I mumbled in shock quietly. “You were the one that killed mom. You caused the explosion. You almost... killed me.”

“She had exhausted her use. I’d simply instigated the rebels to attack us, so I had reason to end Park by my own hands. I didn’t expect you to survive, though.” Kwon huffed. I was absolutely disgusted.

“You’re a fucking monster.” I hissed.

“I should have killed you from the start.” Kwon spat back at me. “I can’t even look at you.”

Just then, Kwon was interrupted by a loud knock on the door behind him. I could feel Jimin shift behind me; his silence previously was unsettling. The door swung open to reveal a black-haired man whose eyes were darker than night. His lips curved downward, almost as if he was sad.

“Ah, Taehyung.” Kwon greeted gruffly. “I need to get out of here, I can’t stand being in here. Take care of them.”

“Yes sir.” The man called Taehyung responded. His voice somehow complemented his dark outward appearance - as if it was smooth black velvet being pulled across a smooth floor. It was like chocolate and honey was mixed together.

“Taehyung.” Jimin spoke up. His voice was soft and held a lot of emotion. He knew this man. “What are you even doing with this bastard...” The man called Taehyung didn’t answer him, but instead walked over to me. I instinctively tensed up, pushing myself against the chair and restraints.

As he got closer, I noticed he didn’t seem to be pulling out any knives, guns or weapons. I was still on guard though. He bent down to study my face at eye-level - his features contorting in slight confusion. Taehyung was even more alluring up close. His features mimicked a comic book character - almost unreal in their proportions. His dark hair fell a little long over his eyes, making him look older, but up close, he didn’t seem much older than me.

“Taehyung, don’t hurt her.” Jimin said softly. “It’s all on me.”

“I’m not going to hurt her.” Taehyung finally spoke, breaking out of his reverie. “And neither am I going to hurt you.” I could feel Jimin shift in confusion.

Slipping a knife out of his pocket, Taehyung cut the binding restraints off of my wrists and ankles, and did the same with Jimin’s. When we were free, Jimin quickly sprung into a slightly more defensive position around me.

“What’s the meaning of this, Taehyung?” Jimin asked cautiously.

“She’s... my sister.” Taehyung replied hesitantly, his eyes never once leaving my face.  There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

“So you’re the son of the man whom my mother had an affair with?” I murmured, now extremely curious at this turn of events.

“Yes. I was born 2 years before you, and my mother passed away giving birth to me.” His face was still stone cold. “My father had found a new love, and before he died in the crossfire between White Mist and Kwon, he told me I had a sister.”

Taehyung took out a small piece of paper from his pocket and it was a photograph of me and my mother.

“He said I’d need to keep you safe one day because Kwon was dangerous.” He said. “I’ve been actively monitoring Kwon and getting up the ranks all these years, watching you from afar. I’ve never seen your face clearly though, until now.”

“I know it’s rude to disrupt a family reunion but we need to get out of here first, Taehyung.” Jimin interceded. “Do you have a plan?”

“We can catch up later.” Taehyung told me with a small smile. It seemed forced but it seemed he didn’t smile all that often, so I accepted it.

“There’s a small corridor that leads out of the basement and into the sewers. It’s a short walk to the main road, but we need to get past 3 of Kwon’s men first.” Taehyung explained, whipping out a gun for Jimin. “I’ve a cell located in a safehouse so you can contact whoever on your side.”

“Stay here. Me and Taehyung will get rid of the men outside and we’ll come back to get you.” Jimin said, loading the gun. His eyes were filled with a sort of rage I’d never seen before. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before silently heading out with Taehyung.

Time seemed to pass extra slowly as I waited in the musty basement. It had to have taken only 5 minutes tops but it felt like a whole hour had passed before Jimin popped his head through the door again, beckoning for me to follow them. We crept past the now motionless bodies on the ground, following Taehyung into the dark sewerage entrance.

Taehyung was very thorough, checking around each time there were noises and inspecting every turn before moving forward. Jimin constantly looked behind just in case, keeping his hand holding mine the whole way. It was a very long walk before we reached the end of the sewage tunnel.

“I hear people at the end, but I’m not sure if they’re Kwon or Jimin’s men.” Taehyung said, trying to get a good look through the metal vent that separated us from the exit. We were silent for a few moments, letting Jimin try to pick up what they were saying.

“They’re my men.” Jimin finally said. “I recognize the voices.”

“Y/N should go up first to safety.” Taehyung said and Jimin agreed. Jimin gave me a small peck on the cheek before helping me get through the exit tunnel. I was greeted by a few familiar guards’ faces. They were quick in helping me to my feet.

“Ma’am.” They bowed as they draped a small coat over me.

“Thanks boys.” Jimin nodded to his team, then nodded towards Taehyung who gave him a small smile. “Let’s go.”

We drove to a separate and more remote safehouse. Jimin was smart enough to not have revealed it to Kwon. As I saw the house get closer, I put my head on Jimin’s shoulder and felt his thumb reassuringly caress my hand that was in his. I had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

Jimin had gotten Taehyung settled in quickly and as much as we wanted to catch up, Jimin told me he had to prioritize planning and safety first. Taehyung gave me a pat on the head as he and Jimin followed a group of his men into a big boardroom. I figured I was too tired, both mentally and physically, to join in and listen properly so I looked around the kitchen to make some food.

“Ma’am please, allow us.” The very polite maids tapped my shoulder, smiling as they offered to cook for me. “Please let us know what you would like to eat.”

“Do you have ramen?” I asked gingerly. The best thing to eat after a stressful day had to be ramen (and boy, was that the most stressful day ever).

“Of course. Please wait for it, we will prepare it shortly.”

I thanked them and found myself lying on the couch, completely blacking out from exhaustion.

| Part 1 (M) | Part 2 (M) | Part 3 (M) | Part 4 | Part 5 (M) | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (M) | Part 9 (M) | Part 10 |

[txladyj-blog]

Chapter 7 - This Time Around

a Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 15/?

Lucky wasn’t something that Jess considered herself to be. Her life hadn’t been unlucky per se, but if it wasn’t for her determined approach to life, strokes of bad luck would have dragged her down altogether. It had taken the end of the world before it dawned on her that maybe it wasn’t responsible for things that went wrong, it was merely that she’d been unable to see life’s small wins, the glimmers of goodness and positivity that shone through when she was too busy occupying herself with the darkness.

She didn’t know if it was luck that had led her to where she was in the city or if it was down to her own methodical and logical approach of planning and protecting herself. She had managed to part drag, part walk Merle back to her apartment, administer enough painkillers to knock out an Ox and forage for enough food to keep them both going for a comfortable number of weeks. Merle did nothing but sleep for the first four days after Jess had painstakingly sewn his stump up and she was glad for it. She needed the peace after fretting he would die on her in the night and feast on the plump flesh of her legs, turning her into one of the mindless monsters that now roamed the streets. She checked on him religiously and returned from every supply run with caution, her knife drawn and a loud knock at the door before she committed to entering.

Jess was smart, it was no small feat to gather medical supplies and weapons along with setting up for a life of self-sustainability and loneliness, but armed with enough self-belief and her weapons from the Faire, she worked her way around the buildings, using the rooftops as her pathways and dead soldiers and police officers as sources of body armor. She gathered herb cuttings from the balconies of other apartments, seeds for vegetables from a gardening store, buckets, tarp and plastic containers to collect water from precipitation and enough wood to carve arrows for her bow. She spent a large portion of her time in her new living space reading books from the library and trying to retain as much information about survival, self-defense, weapons, basic DIY and tools and hacks from books on doomsday prepping as possible. For Jess, knowledge was most definitely power after being thrust into the apocalypse with next to no useful skills.

After 8 days, her unexpected lodger finally woke from his blurred, meds induced slumber and tried to move around the room. Jess jumped to his aid but he quickly waved her off, the two of them having never spoke more than a few words to one another unless they had no other option. Despite their lack of communication, Jess was sure there was a kind of mutual respect forming between them. Merle had protested very little at everything she’d done for him, accepted her help, her food, her desire to keep him in one place until he recovered enough and he tried to explain as much as he could about how he'd ended up sawing off his own hand. He also never made it a secret that as soon as he was well enough, he would be out of her hair and heading back to the camp to find Daryl. Upon finishing up the stitches on his arm, he had thanked her sincerely and told her she had balls for a little, fat kid. She’d accepted the backhanded compliment with a surprising ease and had to admit that she was impressed by his resilience.

“Gotta stretch my damn legs.” He grumbled as he wandered aimlessly around the room, picking up books and throwing them down again with his one remaining hand. He studied her weapons, neatly hung on hooks on the wall, her body armor and boots on a coat stand near the door and squinted at the planters that filled the balcony outside. She had left the door open, needing to air the room out and spare herself the agony of breathing in Merle’s thunderous flatulence while he slept. Another one of his redeeming features, she figured. She watched as he swiped up his leather vest and struggled to slip it on over his shoulders without bumping his stump. Jess stood up from her spot on the sofa surrounded by books and took hold of the back of his vest, holding it out so he was able to thread his arm through with ease. He shot her an irritated look but she decided not to react, knowing that accepting help was probably not something he was used to.

When he sat back down on the opposite couch, she grabbed two tumblers and poured him a whiskey before filling her own glass. His eyes widened when he noted the bottle. A Nice, expensive whiskey. The likes that he would have stolen rather than bought from a store back in the day.

“It’s what you came to the city for, right? Booze?” She queried as she passed him the drink.

He accepted gratefully and held the glass up, taking in the deep color of the liquid and the long-missed smell.

“That’s right.” He grinned before knocking the drink back in one go. “Best painkiller out there.”

Jess scoffed and sipped her own drink. She’d never been much of a drinker, especially not hard liquor, but since she’d been in the city, she found herself able to understand a little more of why Merle sought out something mind altering. It was an escape, one in which she needed sometimes, just maybe not as often as someone like Merle Dixon. She lifted a leg and shoved the bottle across the table towards him with her sock-covered toes, signaling for him to have as much as he wanted.

“Get trashed if you want, better you do it here than out there.” She shrugged.

Not about to argue, he quickly poured himself another helping and this time, took his time working though it. Jess could feel his eyes baring into her soul as she skimmed the words on a page of a book she’d opened in her lap. She glanced up and stared right back at him, no longer afraid or intimidated by the old redneck with the cuss-laden vocabulary. If she could haul herself through the woods and get herself into a safe and seemingly maintainable situation in the middle of a walker ridden city, she could deal with Merle.

“That shit about my brother that barbie doll read from ya little diary that day…” He mentioned.

Here we go. She thought.

 “…It true?”

Jess slapped the book shut and threw it onto the couch next to her as she lay back and huffed, sending strands of her dark hair billowing into the air above her.  

“Been dying to ask me about that, haven’t you?” She sighed.

“Was on the top of my list of priorities, after not dyin’, of course.” He grinned, swirling his drink around in the glass in front of him.  

She was never a liar. Lies always spiraled into something complicated and regretful. Lies were responsible for many failed friendships and she concluded that even now, at the end of days, lies were still as poisonous as ever. But she also wasn’t about to tell Merle the complete truth about her true feelings for Daryl.

“I like him. But I think I was confusing a connection as friends with something more. I was wrong.”

A throaty chuckle emerged from his throat and for a moment, he winced in pain as if the juddering movement of his body had aggravated the life-changing wound on his arm.

“Shame. Kid could use some action. He’s wound tighter than a monkey’s nut.” He quipped. “Can’t recall the last time he got laid. Not that he’d tell me. Always was quieter than a damn mouse about shit.”

Not feeling the need to join him in the direction he wanted to steer the conversation, she just shook her head and smiled at him.

“Barbie, she uh-she tried it with him first, y’know. He turned her down. I was second fiddle but that’s alright with me. Pussy presents itself on a plate n’ who am I to say no?” He said, levelling his gaze at her and carefully observing her reaction. Giving nothing away, she kept her face as nonchalant as possible while her insides churned at the thought of Sarah trying something with Daryl.

“She hit on Daryl, huh?” She asked casually.

“True as i'm sittin' here now. He said no. Might be ‘cause he aint got a scooby what the hell he’s doin’ with the females. Or maybe he was holdin’ out for ya.”

The thought alone made Jess laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. It was outrageous to even consider it now she knew what she knew. Now she’d heard how he really felt.

“Pretty sure he never saw me like that. He made it clear he didn’t give a shit about me” She expressed, finishing her whiskey and contemplating another when Merle snatched the bottle from the table and re-filled his glass. At the rate he was drinking, he’d have the whole bottle down in an hour. Nevertheless, she held out her glass and nodded to it. He dutifully re-filled it and she sat back again.

“One thing I know about my baby brother? He’s always been real off with folks. Don’t trust nobody. No friends, no nothin. But he spent all the hours god gave him with you at that camp. When he found out you’d skedaddled in the small hours, he lost his shit.” He explained with a knowing look on his face which Jess tried to ignore.

“He did, huh?” She mumbled

“Almost shot blondie in the face with a bolt. Got up on his soap box n’ told the whole group what she’s been getting’ up to. Damn good job I don’t blush easy.” He smirked. “He’s lookin’ for ya.”

Jess shook her head again and reached into her pocket, retrieving a packet of cigarettes and throwing them into his lap across the coffee table that divided them. Merle looked down at them in disbelief.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m a good host.” She quipped.

She’d picked up cigarettes and whiskey for him while sweeping a store for food. She had everything she wanted and needed so far save for a few comforts like ice cream and electricity. So, she figured giving Merle something he would be thankful to have once he woke up was only fair.

“He just feels guilty.” She muttered, dismissing his observation of his younger brother.

“Maybe.” He shrugged as he ripped the pack open, propped a smoke between his lips and rummaged in his jeans for his lighter. He paused before he lit the end, peering at her over the cigarette. She offered him a small nod and picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the floor and positioned it in the center of the table, gestures that told him she was fine with him smoking in her apartment and were met with an even more surprised expression. He sparked up, sat back and waved the small, white stick around as he spoke.

“Ahh I don’t wanna talk about no sentimental stuff, but the kid liked ya.”

“No, he didn’t.” Jess retorted straight away.

A flash of exasperation flickered across his face and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Argue all ya want. I practically raised that boy. He’s a little odd but I ain’t never seen him flip his lid like that about some skirt. Should go back n’ find him. Or, let him find you. ‘Cause he will. Could find a flea in a hay bale, my brother.”

It was non-negotiable to her. Daryl had made it clear how he felt and she wasn’t about to go back to a place where she was constantly ridiculed and humiliated with no one to step in and defend her. Jess took a gulp of the liquor and winced at the warmth that radiated from her stomach. Whiskey really wouldn’t have been her drink of choice. She wished she’d picked up some rum, or spent the time bothering to find some Sam Adams.

“I’m not going back there. I know you’ll go and find him and you owe me no loyalty, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him where I am” She requested.

Merle’s eyes dropped to his glass and then back up to Jess’s waiting face, over and over as he thought over the prospect of withholding important information that Daryl would want to know. Jess knew she was asking a lot of him, but the thought of being found and forced to face what had happened before she’d left, along with the heartbreaking confession from Daryl to Merle about her meaning nothing to him was too much for her to handle. She wanted a new start, alone, with no reliance or ties to anyone. Merle was still glaring at her intermittently but she paid it no mind, figuring she would get her answer soon enough and if she didn’t like it, she would be forced to move on and find somewhere else to live.

“Saved my life.” He mentioned. “Got me booze and smokes. Sewed up my arm. Hell, I’m pretty sure ya had me doped up on some pretty shit hot pain meds these last few days too. I may be from the wrong side of the tracks but I ain't no dumbass, sweet cheeks. know when I owe somebody.”

It had never even crossed her mind when she stood in the dark store, gawping down at a bloodied, mutilated and half-dead Merle, that she should just walk away and let him die or kill him herself. Instinct kicked in and she reacted in a calmer, more together way than she had ever done previously, knowing that she had to get him out of there and away from any danger. There was simply no other option. It occurred to her as she was sitting there opposite him that she had already come a long way, she was no longer as scared. She was more accepting of her situation, more tactical and shrewder. Now, more able to survive alone than ever before, simply because she had given herself no other choice. She stifled a small smile when she studied him, looking over his heavily bandaged arm and his bloodstained shirt. She made a mental note to make sure he did some physical therapy and got a new shirt before she let him go anywhere.

“I can’t believe you cut off your hand, you fucking psycho.” She said.

“It was that or be Walker jerky.” He replied.

The two of them giggled and Merle finished his smoke and glass of alcohol while Jess got up and started to prepare him something to eat from the piles of tinned food she’d hoarded. Now, she was providing for two of them for the time being and she’d felt it necessary to stock up. She’d hauled him out from near death, so she wasn’t about to starve the man that had been surprisingly pleasant to her, going against everything she’d expected of him. Maybe, just maybe, there was the same element in Daryl after all. But that no longer mattered to her.

That night, while her houseguest snored noisily on the couch in an alcohol induced coma, Jess settled on her bed and opened her journal. 

Merle has turned out to be much more personable than I ever imagined. Maybe that’s because I saved his ass. Or, maybe it’s because underneath it all, he’s actually OK as long as you know how to deal with him. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I trust him. But right now, I have the upper hand and he is relying on me to get him well enough to leave and go and find Daryl.

Daryl. It’s not like I don’t think about him. I do. I do miss him. Or, rather, I miss the person I thought he was and I remind myself of what I heard that night. I should have known better, it’s not the first time I developed a crush on somebody that was way out of my league. It’s my frequent reminder not to get attached to anyone, not to feel anything for other people or it will be me that suffers. There are only a few survivors left and I have to look out for myself. It’s been five weeks and I’ve not seen another living soul apart from the alcoholic redneck that sleeps on my couch and stinks to high heaven.

Besides this, I have set up quite the fortress here, I think I could live here for a long time. That’s if Merle doesn’t tell Daryl where I am. I’ll be forced to move if he does. I don’t want to be found. Just leave me be. This way, I may get physically hurt but I can deal with that, I’m studying books to deal with every possible outcome. But I just can’t handle more emotional turmoil. As much as I miss him.

I managed to get a punchbag from one of the other apartments in the building along with some weights. I intend to train and improve my stamina, heaven knows when I’m going to have to run and keep running, so I intend to be ready for anything. The herbs are taking and the bell peppers I planted on the roof are well on their way. So far, I’m doing well. I just can’t figure out how to get rid of the Walker behind the grate in the elevator shaft on the first floor. But he’s not a problem right now. His cage keeps him contained and some days I even wonder if he can hear me when I sit on the steps and tell him about my day.

Maybe I am going crazy. 

 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Daryl had been looking for Sophia for hours. Days actually, but on this one particular occasion, in the blistering sun atop of a nervous horse that had bolted at the sound of a Walker and sent him tumbling down a hill into a watery area below, he was sure he’d had better days and was seriously rethinking his belief in Sophia still being alive. But still he pressed on, even injured at the bottom of a ravine, his eyes fluttered open in the stark light of the sun and his body thrummed with pain, but he managed to get up, treat his wounds and carry on.

God damn horse.

Where he got his strength and determination, he wasn’t sure but he could only really credit his terrible home life and childhood for instilling a kind of armor around him. A protective wall that he never let anyone pass. Surviving was second nature to him; he simply didn’t know any other way to be. Sophia was a child, alone in the walker-filled woods and Daryl couldn’t help but think of the time when he had found himself lost, back in the days when Walkers were something one only saw in a horror movie. He was merely a child and was missing for eleven days. Little did his father know, Daryl eventually found his own way home, wandered into the kitchen and fixed himself a sandwich like nothing had happened. It was Daryl’s way, even back then, he relied on no one by himself and as the years passed, he still lived by the same rule; just get on with it.

Of course, nothing was ever easy anymore and his departure from the ravine was trickier than he’d planned. Reaching the top by literally dragging his bleeding body through the mud and shoving away hallucinations of his brother, ridiculing him for not making any effort to find him. He had to keep telling himself it was down to him hitting his head and not insanity creeping in. Slumped onto the flat woodland ground, he was never more grateful to see even terrain before. He glanced down at the state of his body, a broken bolt in his side from the fall sent spikes of pain through his veins that turned his stomach and blurred his vision. His head thudded back onto the mud as he took a minute to compose himself and figure out how he was going to get to his feet with his side impaled by a piece of wood.

“So, you can teach me not to die but you can’t quite manage it yourself, huh?”

Jess’s voice made his eyes snap open and he frantically scanned the area around him, seeing nothing but trees until she stepped out from behind a tree, her pretty smile broad and her clothes clean.

“Jess?” He croaked.

“Time to get up, sleepy head.” She instructed, crossing her arms. Daryl noticed her woolen sweater looked brand new, her hair was shiny and well-conditioned, her skin was clean.

“I-I tried to find you.” He rasped, sitting up and sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth when the pain rampaged through his nerves.

“Took a bolt to the side for the girl, but you just gave up on me.” She pointed out.

Daryl’s sweaty brow furrowed when he peered up at her as the sun shot out from behind her, silhouetting her in the light until she was gone. He quickly checked over his shoulders and rubbed at his face.

“Jess?”

Nothing. She wasn’t really there. Nothing more than a mirage, a figment of his imagination and most likely a result of a hard knock to the head. Seeing her again made his heart hurt regardless of if she was real or not. He missed her and the burden of ceasing to look for her after finding her note was now weighing even heavier on his shoulders. His hands fell to his sides, clawing up clumps of dirt as he drew in a deep breath and pushed through the pain of getting to his feet.

  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Carol rapped softly on the door before turning the handle and quietly gliding inside. The tray in her hand contained soup and water that she’d prepared after hearing that Daryl was refusing food and just wanted to get patched up and back out into the woods. Carol hadn’t ever felt gratitude like it, nor had she ever been so surprised at one person’s sheer selflessness. Her child had been missing for days and Daryl had worked tirelessly, relentlessly and without any decent rest in order to find her. She didn’t know if he was harboring some kind of guilt over Jess and his brother, but as long as he was using it to find her little girl, she couldn’t complain. That was until now, until he’d almost died in the process.

The room was dim, the drapes drawn and the surfaces dusty from neglect. Daryl lay facing away from her, his side sporting a large square of gauze and bandages. Every part of his exposed skin was covered in scars, Carol could see that some of them were new, from the past day. But some, the largest ones were at least a decade old and her chest constricted with thoughts of the violence that she had known and how it could cause such trophies of trauma upon a person’s skin.

Placing the tray on the nightstand, she leaned over him and tenderly kissed the side of his head. Initially, he recoiled but she knew why and waited until he relaxed and let her offer her small token of appreciation and affection. He rolled over slightly, able to catch her eye for a moment and seeing them filled with worry. She sat on the edge of the bed.

“I couldn’t go look for Merle.” He whispered. “Gave up on Jess. Can’t find Sophia neither. Fuckin’ useless.”

Having known him only a few months, it was enough for her to come to the conclusion that Daryl was not like other people. On the outside, he was hostile but inside, he was sensitive, shouldering blame for deaths and caring so deeply about others that it ate away at him when they lost someone. But Daryl never spoke about it, preferring instead to internalize it all and simmer away, alone at the edge of the camp while glaring at the others and trying to understand how they could be so open and free with their emotions. Daryl never uttered a word about his feelings. That was, unless it was to Carol.

He couldn’t figure out exactly when it was that they’d become close but he suspected that his loss of Jess and Merle and Carol’s husband being turned by Walkers had somehow brought them together. He knew she was a broken soul, just as he was but neither of them needed to discuss it. Out of everyone, Carol was the one that seemed to understand him the most without even trying.

“No, Daryl. You did more for my little girl today than her daddy did in her entire life.” She promised.

He continued to look at her, saying nothing but speaking volumes with his expression. He was tired, almost defeated and knew that she would manage to say something to quell the exhausting guilt in his heart.

“And Jess… she didn’t want to be found.” She added.

Daryl resumed his previous position, fluffing up the pillows under his head and settling down.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Like Andrea shot me.” He grunted.

An unfortunate accident it may have been, but Andrea’s trigger-happy attitude from the RV that evening had left Daryl in the dirt with a bullet graze to his temple and in his delirious state, he was unable to fathom exactly what had happened. Carol thought it was no wonder Andrea had mistaken him for a Walker after he’d staggered from the trees, covered in dirt and mud, snarling at everyone with a crazed look in his eye. A split-second decision was all it took and as luck had it, Andrea was still a bad shot with a rifle.

“You need to recover before you go back out there. I know you; you’ll want to push it. You almost got yourself killed. Took a bolt and a bullet today, all for Sophia. I can’t even begin to thank you.” She confessed.

“Don’t want no thanks.” He dismissed “I didn’t do nothin’ that Rick or Shane wouldn’t have done.”

Carol scoffed from behind him, rendering his last sentence as complete rubbish.

“I don’t see them lying in a bed with a hole in their sides. You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit.” She affirmed.

A silence from him told her it was her time to depart, pushing Daryl too much was likely to result in him lashing out, especially when she considered his current state of mind along with the fact that he was physically exhausted. She got to her feet and tapped the glass on the tray, the ringing of her nails on the glass reminding him that she wanted him to eat and drink something. In the doorway, she paused when she heard him speak again.

“Sophia, she's out there, I know it. I found her doll” He murmured.

“Maybe. Maybe Jess is too.” She suggested. “You can admit it, y’know”

He rolled onto his back, craning his neck to see her stood half in, half out of the room with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Admit what?”

“That you miss her. I know you two were good friends.” It was a hazardous approach for Carol to take due to her knowledge of his reluctance to talk about Jess. Every time someone mentioned her name his temper flared and he wasted no time in reminding everyone that she was probably dead and that they shouldn’t bother talking about her anymore. Carol knew it was a defense mechanism and in true Daryl form, his rage expelled itself in a series of abusive and offensive remarks.

“Ain’t gotta admit shit. Leave me alone.” He grunted.

“OK, but just eat something. Please. Or you won’t have the strength to get out of bed, let alone pick up that crossbow.”

With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her. A few hours sleep and some kind of sustenance would undoubtedly help his mood a little, but she wasn’t betting on him becoming a ray of sunshine anytime soon. She knew he had a better version of himself inside, but the loss of his friend and brother had began to chip away at it, eroding it day by day and she worried that eventually, there would be nothing left.

  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A month had passed and Jess was sitting on the steps of the stairwell in her apartment block. She now had free reign of the entire building, every dwelling now empty and safe thanks to her tireless efforts to secure the building and ensure she had enough space to keep any supplies she might need. Her days had become routine, but she liked it that way. The mornings consisted of rising from her bed at sunrise and heading up to the next floor, where she had turned an elderly couples’ home into a gym. An hour’s rigorous exercise a day and a limited diet had seen her weight drop drastically over the four weeks she had been in residence and she was now confident she could run a life-saving distance without stopping at least. Late mornings were spent tending to the growing vegetables and herbs and checking the main street below for any swellings in the number of Walkers. If there was, she would make her way across the rooftops to the other side of town, where she would set off firecrackers or make enough noise to wake the dead all over again in order to draw them away and set them on a different path that didn’t include gathering outside her new home. In the afternoons, she scavenged and spent some time carving arrows on the steps with Ben- The Walker trapped in the elevator shaft. He wore a janitor’s uniform with his name embroidered on one side. She waffled on as if they were two best friends in a bar, telling him about her day and even regaling him with tales from comic cons and her opinions on the best beers in Texas. The evenings consisted of rooftop target practice and tedious conversations with Merle while she aided him with his physical therapy. He complained non-stop, telling her that he didn’t believe in all her ‘therapy shit’ and that he would be just fine without it. Eventually, he yielded and allowed her to help him with the advice of yet more books from the library.

Ben swayed back and forth as she held up an arrow for him to see, although she wasn’t quite sure if he could really see anything. More that he just seemed to know she was there with whatever part of his brain was still active enough to make him walk and want to eat people.

“I’m getting pretty good at this.” She mused with a smile. Ben reached through the elevator grate, his purple fingers with snapped nails grasping at her hand holding the arrow. She quickly snatched it away and slid the arrow into her quiver before standing up and throwing it over one shoulder. Her daily supply run had taken longer than usual after she ran into some unsavory undead in a camping store while trying to bring back more gas canisters. She had returned with her prize but decided to take some time to herself to carve some arrows before she had to endure Merle’s uncomfortable stare and chain smoking.

“Later, dude.” She said to Ben over her shoulder as she stomped up the steps to her front door. She stopped when she noticed the note pinned to the wood.

‘Gone to find my brother. Took some food and meds. Thanks, Sugar tits. M.’

Next Chapter 

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 1~

|| Next Chapter ||

Image credit: Myself

Pairings: Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford X OFC

Rating: NSFW-18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

A/N: Sooooo, Son’s of Anarchy is my latest obsession ((just started Season 3)) and of course, who doesn’t love them self some Scotsman?! Chibs is one of my favorite characters, and there’s so little fanfic of him I felt the need to contribute...I mean come on, that accent? **Swoon** Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this! Let me know what you think, and if you would like to be added to the TAGLIST for future chapters and updates, let me know!

Feedback is always much appreciated!

|| Masterlist ||

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Her old Harley Softtail rumbled to stop just short of the town line into Charming. That welcome sign taunting her as she stared for quite sometime, one foot planted firmly on the pavement as her bike idled deeply beneath her. Six years, it had been since she last saw her home, her friends, her family...god how she’d missed them. Though deep down, she worried that her Homecoming wouldn’t be as well received as she hoped it would be.

“It’s now or never...” She muttered under her breath before speeding off into town. Many heads turned as she rode through the streets of Charming, ignoring the looks and whispers she got as people started to recognize the raven haired woman that speed past them on her way to her final destination.

She was never supposed to come back here; not after what happened all those years ago. But it was her last hope, a safe zone, one that she hoped would still house her in her time of need. Knowing without the family to back her, that she was a good as dead.

Pulling into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair she cut the engine of her bike, but made no attempt at climbing off just yet as she watched the garage carefully for the man she was looking for, and hoping to avoid, all at the same time. Her Brother...

Finally deciding she couldn’t avoid the task at hand any longer, she sighed, climbing off her Harley she hung her helmet off the handlebar as she started walking across the parking lot. Several people paused in what they were doing to stare as she approached, but what she didn’t expect was the voice that hollered at from outside the open office door.

“Teagan Trager! What in God’s name are you doing back in Charming; and why the hell didn’t you call me?!” She turned, giving the older woman a warm smile as she approached to embrace her warmly.

“Hey Gemm.” She greeted softly, hugging the woman back tightly, though it was cut short as the commotion caught the attention of several others that were nearby.

“Holy shit, Raven!” She was suddenly picked up and crushed into hug, wincing slightly as the action caused her side to ache something fierce, but she did her best to hide her discomfort as she was set back down.

“Hi-ya, Blondie.” She greeted Jax before turning to face her next attacker, who despite his size, was surprisingly gentle as he leaned down to embrace her.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were comin’?” Opie asked as he released her, exchanging a concerned glance with Gemma and Jax. Teagan shrugged, digging around in the pocket of her leather jacket for her lighter. Sparking it to light the cigarette that hung from her lips before snapping it shut.

“Figured it was best not to tell anyone...” Exhaling she looked down at the ground, kicking at a rock with the toe of her boot as she avoided the concerned gazes she was now receiving.

“Tig doesn’t know?” Gemma questioned, watching as the younger woman shook her head. Running a stressed hand through her dark mess of hair as she took another drag off her smoke.

“Shit...”

“Is uh, is he here?” Teagan asked curiously.

“No...he’s on his way back from a Repo job outside of town.” Gemma replied. “Won’t be back for a few more hours.”

“Good.” She dropped her cigarette butt on the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of her boot as she looked up, lifting her glasses to reveal the black eye and scrape they had been concealing. Gemma gasped and reached forward, grasping her chin gently as she inspected the injury, brown eyes suddenly fraught with worry.

“’Cause I need to speak with Clay.”

“Christ, I need a fuckin’ beer.” Tig gave a frustrated sigh as he slammed the door to the tow truck closed behind him, rubbing at his newly bruised cheek. The repo job had not gone as planned, the woman they encountered not overly enthusiastic that her brand new Camaro was being repossessed and she wound up taking her frustrations out on him; while Chibs sat back and enjoyed the show.

“I’d say.” The Scotsman snorted as he patted the dark haired man on the back, trying to contain his laughter. “Never in ma’h life ‘ave I seen such’a large woman run tha’ fast!”

“That bitch could’a been a linebacker.” Tig snapped as they approached the club house, shoving Chibs slightly. “She nearly broke my fuckin’ jaw!”

“Aye,” Chibs chuckled. “But it was fuckin’ hilarious’ta watch!”  

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Tig rolled his eyes as swung the door open, quickly making for the bar; ignoring the conversation they’d stepped in on. Chibs leaning up beside him, grabbing the beer Tig offered as he eyed the dark haired woman that was chatting up Gemma and some of the guys across the room.

“Mmm.” Chibs lifted his sunglasses as he took a swig of his beer, dark eyes scanning over the woman carefully. “If tha’s’no a fine piece’a crow eater arse, I don’ know wha’ is.”

Tig turned his gaze briefly, nodding in approval at the woman Chibs was ogling before returning to the cold bottle he’d been pressing against his cheek. Eyes suddenly widening as her laugh carried from across the room.

“Teagan?!” His voice was an octave too high, and touch more than panicked than it should have been as he turned sharply to look across the room at the Raven haired woman that was now staring back at him. Her vibrant green eyes boring into him as her smile faltered, quickly turning into a frown as she watched him approach.

“Tha’ his ex ole’lady?” Chibs questioned curiously as Opie joined him at the bar.

“Worse...” Opie chuckled as he readied himself for the show that was about to go down, Chibs giving him a confused look in return. “That’s his sister.”

“The hell are you doing here?!” Tig demanded as he approached his sister, instantly regretting it as her left fist slammed into his nose, dropping him the floor as he clutched his face. “Alright...ok.” He held up a hand defensively.

“I deserved that...”

“You’re damn straight.” She replied, grabbing a fist full of his Kutte and hauled him to his feet. “Now stop your fuckin’ whining and give me a goddamn hug, Tiggy.” Tig stood and embraced his sister briefly, pulling her out to arms length after a minute and frowning when he saw her face.

“Jesus Christ, Teag. What the hell happened?”

“He’s out...and they dropped the restraining order.” She replied quietly, touching her hand to the scrap on her cheek gently with a frown. “I had to come back...I had no choice.” She added shaking her head, Tig holding up a hand to silence her.

“Clay know your here?” He questioned.

“I’ve already spoken with him.” Gemma spoke up, crossing her arms as she watched the two siblings, the tension in the air between so thick you could’ve cut it with a butter knife.

“And?” Tig asked.

“Well, he’s not exactly thrilled.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “But, he’s not gonna turn her away. Not now at least.” Tig nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Guess that means your back then?” Tig sighed, running a frustrated hand through his already messy hair.

“Yeah...that means I’m back. I’ll not to be such an inconvenience.” Teagan snapped as she stepped forward again, her jaw set in a hard line as she clenched her fists.

“Enough, children!” Gemma stepped between them, pushing Teagan back with a warning glare. “Save your pissing match for after the party, alright?” The siblings nodded and muttered an agreed, ‘Yes ma’am.’

“Good, now go find Tara and tell her to fix your face.” She gestured to Tig before turning back to Teagan. “You have things that need to be brought over?”

“No...” Teagan replied, gazing at the floor. “My bikes the only thing I brought with me.

“Well, guess you and me are gonna have to fix that.” Gemma stated firmly as she looked over at the younger woman beside her. “But first and for most, we got a party to throw.”

Chibs shook his head with a small chuckled as he watched Tig’s sister go shot for shot on tequila with Bobby at the end of the bar, seemingly unaffected by the dangerous liquid that had already claimed one victim; Juice, who was face down on the bar. There was absolutely no denying this woman was a Trager through and through...it was like watching Tig, only she was better to look at.

Not that he should be thinking such things about his friends little sister, but it was hard not to. Her beauty was unmatched against any of the crow eaters that hung around the club house, not that he’d ever had much interest pursuing any of them. Most were nothing but trouble, simply looking to get into bed with biker just to be able to say that they had, and while Chibs didn’t deny their offers for sex; it wasn’t really his thing. Sex was sex, but he also enjoyed being able to have an intellectual conversation with a woman once in a blue moon.

But this Teagan lassie, was not only beautiful, she was also smart. Sharp minded and even sharper tongued, able to keep up with whatever perverted comments the guys could throw at her. Usually rounding back on them with something twice as vulgar, leaving several of the lads that didn’t know her stunned.

But even more stunning, was her voice.

“C’mon Rave, you gotta sing it for us...for old times sake!” Jax pleaded, swaying slightly as he slung his other arm around her shoulders; Tara tucked under the other, holding him up as he swayed drunkenly.

“Yeah Raven, we ain’t heard a good song sung in here in ages.” Opie added as he pulled up a bar stool beside Chibs.

“I take offence to that.” Bobby slurred drunkenly, throwing back another shot of tequila, frowning when Teagan refilled his shot glass again with a devilish grin.

“Not a chance in hell.” She chuckled lightly before knocking back her own shot. “Besides, I don’t even have my guitar anymore.”

“You mean that guitar?” Gemma questioned with a smile from Clay’s lap, pointing to the wall above them behind the couch. Teagan’s cheeks flamed red, hiding her face in her hands as the guys began to chant “Do it” over and over,  beating their fists against the bar as they egged her on.

“Alright, alight!” She threw her hands up in defeat finally. Snatching the old black Ibanz acoustic from the Prospect -- Half-Sack -- as he held it out to her, taking a moment to tune it before climbing onto the bar; cheeks still burning hot as Clay ordered the room to shut up.

“The usual?” She asked expectantly, receiving a collective nod from those who had heard her before and curious glances and whispers from those who hadn’t. Chibs watching intently as she began to pick the strings with ease, the tune to ‘House of the Rising Sun’ filling the club house softly.

“Nah bad.” He mused quietly as he sipped at the glass of Scotch in his hand, shooting Opie a glance as he chuckled deeply.

“Wait for it...”

Chibs gave him a questioning look, but as if on cue, her voice filled the room. The melody that left her lips was as smooth as velvet as it drifted through the clubhouse sending a chill straight through him as he leaned closer against the bar; awestruck.

“Jesus...” He breathed quietly, pulled in by the sultry voice that captivated the entire room. Hanging off the lyrics that flowed softly from her lips. He was hardly able to wipe the dumbfounded grin off his face when it was finally over, standing with the rest of the room as they applauded and whistled loudly.

“Still brings a tear to my eye!” Bobby slurred sarcastically as he wiped sarcastically at his face, Teagan rolled her eyes as she climbed off the bar.

“Oh come on, I’m not that good.” She laughed before downing another shot to settle her nerves, followed closely by another...and another.

“You’ve the voice of a bloody fuckin’ angel!”

Teagan nearly choked on a mouth full of Tequila as Chibs spoke up, mentally slapping himself for saying it at all as the room turned and eyed him curiously. “Well- I mean- er...it’s a, it’s a nice change, yeh know?” He gestured to Bobby who narrowed his drunken gaze, pointing an accusing finger at the Scotsman.

“You gotta problem with my singin?” He slurred.

“Yer fat Elvis fer Christs sake!” He joked. “Listenin’ tah tha’ is damn near a bloody Godsend in comparison to yer fat arse!” The room erupted into a fit of laughter. Bobby hurling the now empty tequila bottle at Chibs’ head, falling short as it clocked the bartender in the head.

“Aye, calm yer’self.” Chibs laughed, raising his hand defensively. “It’s jus’ a joke!”

“It’s ok Bobby, I think you sing beautifully.” Teagan chuckled as she patted him on the shoulder, trying to contain her drunken giggle fit the best she could.

“Kiss ass...” Bobby mumbled in reply.

The night wore on afterwards with many rounds of Jukebox Karaoke, courtesy of Teagan, Bobby, and the three bottles of Jose Cuervo they had demolished. Belting out everything from Queen and Def Leppard to Bon Jovi. Their shenanigans finally coming to an end when Teagan tackled the Prospect, half naked, off of the bar.  

“Al’righ there lassy, time fer bed.” Chibs chuckled as he wrapped her in a blanket before scooping her bridal style up. As the only halfway sober soul still left in the room, he felt obligated to make sure she made it to bed safely. Knowing that Tig would likely have his ass if anything happened to his sister; not that he was sober enough to notice.

“I don’t w-wanna.” She hiccuped drunkenly, hardly able to lift her head up as he carried her down the hall. “M’fine, r-really.”

“Darlin’ yer far from fine.” He replied, tightening his grip as she tried to squirm out of his grasp. “Yer brother would kick mah arse if I left ye ou’ there with those animals.”

“My brother can suck a dick...” She mumbled, eyes closed as she started to give into the booze induced daze that was slowly dragging her under.

“Aye...” Chibs agreed, stopping short as he glanced around the hall. “Shite.” He sighed, realizing she didn’t have a room yet, and not wanting to subject her to any unwanted visitors he decided to give her his room for the night. Balancing her carefully in his arms as he turned the handle, edging it open with the toe of his boot before stepping inside.

“Easy does it lovey.” He assured quietly as he sat her on the edge of the bed, settling her back on the pillows before removing her boots and tossing them aside. Pulling the blankets up to cover her before turning to leave, pausing when he felt her fingers close around his wrist, causing a sort of tingling sensation to travel up his arm as he stared down at it.

“Thaanks.” She slurred softly as he looked down at her with a soft grin, her hand going slack as it fell away from his as she allowed the alcohol to finally pull her under into unconsciousness.

“Aye...” He replied softly as he opened the door and shut off the lights. “Sleep well lass.”

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

House of the Rising Sun by Sandi Thom <------- This is the version I envisioned her singing in case anyone wants to have a listen.

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

The Arrangement: Part 2

Title:  The Arrangement: Part 2

Summary:  He’s a mechanic. She’s a lonely woman with more money than she knows what to do with. Fate brings them together and sparks fly. But only for six weeks. That’s the arrangement.

Author: Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 2421

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst

Author’s Notes:  This is part two of a multi-part series. Read Part 1 here. Shifts between multiple points of view.

Week One, Day One

“She broke your heart,” Sam grumbled. “Why would you put yourself through that again?”

“First of all, she didn’t break my heart, Sam,” Dean sighed, balling up the paper that had been wrapped around his burger and tossing it toward the trash can. “Second, she didn’t hire me to date her, she hired me to restore her father’s car. And third, we need the money. I’m taking the job. I’ll be fine.”

Sam gave him a knowing look. Dean wasn’t fooling him - he couldn’t, he knew him too well. If anyone knew how much he’d cared for Y/N, it was Sam.

But, Sam let it go; he didn’t want to push or browbeat his big brother. Besides, what was he going to say? He knew they needed the money, it would go a long way toward helping them with the mounting piles of bills. Law school wasn’t cheap and Dean insisted he go, follow his dreams, make something of himself, get himself an apple pie life. But it was tough, had been since Dean was eighteen and he was fourteen, when they’d lost both of their parents. Money like this didn’t come around everyday, and Sam knew they didn’t really have a choice. His brother would get up, go to work in the morning and every other morning for the next forty-one days, he’d fix up that damn car until it was perfect, then hopefully he’d walk away and not look back.

Just like Y/N had done to him.

Week One, Day Four

Six-thirty a.m. Another early start. He’d spent most of the last two days crawling all over the Camaro, trying to determine how exactly he wanted to approach the repairs. The car had obviously been in an accident, not as bad as the two that Baby had suffered through, but bad enough. Today was the day he was going to start taking her apart, piece by piece. He pulled to a stop in the center of the garage, put the Impala in park, and rubbed a hand over his face. He wished he’d stopped to grab some coffee; he’d been here until after ten last night, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep even after he was home, his brain in overdrive. But he’d still managed to crawl out of bed at five forty-five this morning, eat a bowl of cereal standing at the sink, and get on the road just a few minutes after six.

Dean pushed open Baby’s car door, and crawled out, the slam of the Impala’s door echoing in the cavernous garage. He shook his head as he walked the length of the garage to the desk in the corner. It drove him crazy that this place sat here overlooking the town, nearly empty, nothing but a black SUV and a busted ass Camaro inside. It easily could have held twenty or thirty cars, and may have at one time. But now it was nothing but a waste of space, a colossal waste, one that set his teeth on edge. He’d give his left arm for a place like this for his shop. He sighed heavily and tried to push the irritation away as he dropped his keys on the desk, along with his jacket, and pulled a clean pair of coveralls off of the shelf. Y/N hadn’t been lying when she’d said he would have everything he needed at his disposal.

He heard a door open and close in the back of the garage, the clock on the wall indicating the time as seven a.m. He’d heard the door at the same time the last two days. A few minutes later, Y/N appeared, two cups of coffee in her hands. She stopped in front of him and held one out.

“One sugar, no cream, right?” she said quietly.

He nodded, eyeing her warily, though he took the coffee from her and sipped it carefully. It was perfect, just the way he liked it. It surprised him that she’d remembered something so insignificant. He watched her over the rim of the cup, watched the way she walked across the room, coming to a stop in front of the Camaro. She reached out to touch it, but pulled her hand back at the last second, as if she’d been scalded, tucking it into the back pocket on her jeans. She turned back to Dean.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

Same question she’d asked him yesterday. Dean yanked a yellow legal pad from beneath his jacket on the desk and held it out to her. “I need the stuff on this list,” he said.

She took it from him and flipped through the pages. “There’s a lot of stuff on here,” she mumbled.

“You want the car fixed, right?” he said. “I believe the words you used yesterday on one of your many visits were pristine condition.”

“Of course I want it fixed,” she sighed. “I just didn’t expect -”

“And that’s only the beginning,” Dean cut her off. “I’m sure I’ll be adding more as I go along. I know what I’m doing, Y/N.” He grabbed a pair of work gloves from the shelf next to the overalls, and a socket wrench from the toolbox. He could feel Y/N’s eyes on him as he stalked past her toward the Camaro. He didn’t understand why she kept coming in here everyday. It was obvious she was uncomfortable around the car and around him. It never took her more than a few minutes to piss him off and vice versa. Same shit, different day.

A few seconds later, Dean heard the door at the back of the garage open and slam closed.

You maintained a steady pace until you hit the stairs at the end of the hallway, then you broke into a run, sprinting up the stairs and across the skywalk connecting the garage to the house. You burst through the door into the gym, raced past the empty machines, down another long hallway, and into the bedroom you’d had since you were ten years old.

“God damn it!” you yelled, picking up one of the overstuffed pillows sitting on the chair and throwing it as hard as you could. It landed a mere three feet from where you stood, making you feel even more like the idiot you most certainly were.

Jesus, that man made you feel...Christ, so many things. Every emotion imaginable seemed to bubble to the surface when he was involved. It had always been like that, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him so many summers ago. Nobody made you as angry as Dean Winchester; nobody irritated you more than Dean Winchester; nobody made your body ache with need like Dean Winchester. Nobody had ever loved you like Dean Winchester.

The bastard.

Week One, Day Five

You hadn’t intended to end up down in the garage, not after yesterday. Every time you went down there, you ended up arguing and fighting with Dean. You didn’t want to fight with him, but the two of you mixed like oil and water, and it seemed to always end in a fight and a look on Dean’s face that cut through you like a knife.

But somehow, you’d wandered down the hall, through the gym, down the stairs, and into the garage, slipping inside close to midnight. You’d had several drinks - four or five, maybe more, you’d lost count - and you’d been drawn to it. You cracked the door, trying to be as quiet as possible, even though you were sure Dean had left, before stumbling inside and weaving none too gracefully across the huge space. You came to a halt in front of a what was basically a pile of rubbish.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled, horrified at the sight before you.

The car was destroyed - the frame was there, slightly bent and misshapen, but the doors, fenders, bumpers, the hood, the trunk, all of it, were scattered around the garage. The seats had been removed and were lying beneath plastic tarps in the corner. It didn’t even look like a car anymore.

You slid to the floor, your legs literally giving out beneath you, your ass hitting the ground hard enough to make your teeth rattle. You felt the tears pricking at the back of your eyes. You stared at the ruins of your father’s car.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whispered, your hands fisted in your lap, rocking back and forth, desperately trying to comfort yourself. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You lost yourself in your tears, the memories of the night of the accident overshadowing everything. You put your head in your hands and let the sobs come. You deserved the pain those memories brought.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting on the floor, bawling your eyes out, when Dean’s gruff voice broke through your self-pitying cries. Startled, you reared back, the top of your head connecting with his chin. He cursed, his hand closing around your upper arm as he fell backwards.

“Fuck,” you squeaked as the two of you fell to the floor.

Dean scrambled to his feet, hauling you up with him. His familiar scent filled your nostrils - leather, grease and oil, and something that was all Dean. He released you and took a step back, but the combination of whiskey and tears had messed with your head, and apparently your equilibrium, because you stumbled, falling against him.

“Whoa, Y/N,” he muttered, pulling you closer, keeping you on your feet, barely. “Why don’t we get you in the house?”

“I don’t wanna…” you sighed. You could hear the slur to your words as you spoke and you couldn’t hold back the giggle at the way your tongue wouldn’t quite do what you wanted. You pressed yourself against Dean, your arms sliding around his waist, your head coming to rest on his chest. His hand was warm on your hip as you leaned into him, the heat seeping through your thin pajama pants. His body was rock hard beneath the coveralls he was still wearing and there was a smudge of grease on his lower jaw.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the feelings you still harbored for the small town mechanic, or maybe it was the need for a respite from the grief that seemed to constantly fill your heart, but you found yourself pushing up and into Dean, rising up on your toes, your tongue dancing across his lower lip. Dean exhaled, a soft sigh, his hand squeezing your hip. His lips parted and then you were kissing him. It was better than you remembered, warm and perfect and a little bit insane.

Dean’s hands came up and cupped your face, hauling you closer. You moaned, the sound swallowed by the man feverishly kissing you. You fisted your hands in the front of his coveralls, holding yourself close to him. He groaned, his arousal growing hard against your stomach, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

“Dean,” you gasped, twisting one leg around his, tugging at the zipper of his coveralls. You pulled it halfway down, your fingers drifting over his thin gray t-shirt, the muscles of his chest jumping under your hand. Your heart raced as you touched him.

How could you have forgotten how amazing he was, how perfect, how beautiful? How could you have forgotten how alive Dean made you feel?

Then he was gone, pushing himself away from you, stumbling backwards several steps. He pressed the back of his hand to his lips, a grimace marring his perfect features.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” he growled. “What the fuck was that?”

Shock reverberated through you as his words registered in your head. What the hell were you doing?

“I-I, I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I was drinking -”

“So, you’re drunk,” Dean spat. “Figures.” He ripped the coveralls from his body, violently kicking at them when they tangled in his feet. “Some things never change.” He scooped up his keys and jacket from the desk and stalked out the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the garage amidst the disassembled Camaro.

Dean had to pull off the road a mile from the mansion, two of Baby’s tires resting in the dirt of the shoulder. He took a deep breath, but he couldn’t calm his racing heart, couldn’t stop his ragged breathing, his frustration eating at him until he let loose with a primal scream and slammed his fist into the Impala’s dashboard, two, three, four times, not stopping until his knuckles were bloody and aching.

He fell back against the seat, his hands falling to his lap. He stared at his bloodied knuckles, anger still rolling through him. He couldn’t believe he’d let her get under his skin. Again. Obviously, he wasn't over her, not by a long shot. When she'd kissed him, it had been like they’d never been apart. He’d wanted to devour her, wanted to peel her clothes from her body, wanted to feel her soft curves writhing beneath him. God, he’d wanted it bad. Then the memory of her last words to him had echoed through his head, jarring him like a hard slap to the face. He’d broken off the kiss, furious with not only her, but himself as well for letting her get the best of him.

Maybe Sam was right, maybe he couldn’t do this. Maybe he wasn’t going to be fine. He’d thought he was in love with Y/N all those years ago, she’d been the first woman he’d ever given a shit about, and she’d destroyed him. How did he think he’d be okay working for her? The words she’d thrown at him when she’d dumped him were becoming a reality. And it fucking hurt.

He scrubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. It might hurt, but he had no choice but to push through it. They needed the money too much, even more than he’d led Sam to believe. Things were bad, really bad, and if he didn’t keep this job, things were going to get a whole hell of a lot worse.  

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself. “I have to do this. I have to.”

Dean put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road, recklessly gaining speed as he raced down the mountain toward town, music loud, engine revving.

Thirty-seven more days.

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