#then we see him shivering and cold later that night wrapped in paper trash

[driftwoodskeleton]

everytime i see that little rabbit thing in the Muppets Christmas Carol i just wanna cry, he is so tiny and he is shivering so much, why does nobody love him :((

[127-mile]

THE PROSPECT.

PAIRING: Biker Hendery x racer female reader.

GENRE: Gang, motorcycle club, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst.

WARNINGS: Car accident (the accident already happened when the fic starts), blood, injuries, strong language, mention of a dead relative, of neglect, illegal race, quick mention of guns.

PLOT: The biker and the car racer, it sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it is not. The biker wants to taste normality, and the car racer is happy to oblige.

WORD COUNT: +6.3k.

A/N: This is part of the Adrenaline rush collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​​ | I'm also working on a fic from Johnny (the club's president)'s point of view.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" you scream in frustration.

You hit the steering wheel with your fists, and you ignore the throbbing pain in your right wrist. There's smoke coming out from under the hood, and you know it's only a matter of a minute before a spark threatens to set the whole car on fire.

You unfasten your seat belt, probably the only reason you haven't gone through the windshield, and you get out of the car, slamming the door behind you, causing the window to explode into pieces.

A car pulls up near you, and you turn your head. "The finish line is a hundred meters away, why are you stopping?"

Taeyong gets out of his car, and he gasps when he sees the condition of your vehicle. "Because I wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt." he responds, rubbing his sweaty hands over his pants. "She's good for the junkyard."

You didn't need Taeyong to figure it out. "If I call a tow truck now maybe I have a chance to still have a car tomorrow, what do you think?"

"If it doesn't catch fire, yes." he whispers.

You pull away from the curb when other cars are crossing the street at full speed, you don't want to get hit by a car after crashing into a fucking pole.

"You could have been first if you hadn't stopped." you say in a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no money to win tonight, I don't care if I win." yeah well, good money or not you would have liked to win, and you were so close, damn it! "And I can always find a way to be accepted for the next race. I know the organizer, I will tell him about you too."

Taeyong walks over, and he takes your face in his cold hands, which makes you hiss. "You are bleeding, you should go to the hospital." he says firmly and you roll your eyes, which shouldn't be as painful as it is.

"Do you really think I have enough money to go to the hospital? You're cute." you take a step back and Taeyong's arms fall to his sides. "Do you think the Neo garage is open at night?"

Taeyong sighs. "Call the garage to check, I'll call Ten to see if he can sneak you in to make sure you're okay." the perks of having a nursing friend who doesn't care about the rules.

You pull your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, and you wince when you see the broken screen, but at least it still works. It takes you a few minutes to find the garage number, and you heave a sigh. You're always doing repairs to your car yourself, but it's way too bad now.

"Neo garage, what can I do for you?" a voice asks after the second beep.

"Hi, I have a question, when someone calls you to pick up a wrecked car, do you have to call the police?" you ask in an annoyed voice, you have no choice but to ask this question which must be bizarre, since the person chuckles on the other side.

"No, we don't call the police unless you ask us to." good to know, you won't end up in jail tonight.

"Perfect. I had an accident, and if you could come and pick it up that would be nice, if it didn't catch fire before you got there."

The person hums. "Where are you?"

You look around, and you shrug your shoulders even though no one can see you. "I am on the main street, in front of the tea shop."

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes." and the person hangs up.

You put your phone in your pocket, and you approach Taeyong who is waiting. "The tow truck is coming." you say, and he nods.

"Ten said the emergency room is empty, you can go, he will let you through without having you fill out the papers."

You have the choice between going to the hospital to check that your wrist is not broken and that you do not have a concussion, or to wait for the tow truck, the choice is already made, you love your car more than you love yourself. "Go, take my car, I'll wait for the tow truck, I'll send you a message later."

You frown. "Are you sure? Weren't you supposed to spend the evening with Doyoung after the race?"

Taeyong hands you the keys to his car. "He will understand." you thank him deeply and get in his car. "Please, no accident with my car or I'll kill you." he says and you nod with a thin smile.

"I'll try my best."

You hope it's not the last time you'll see your car, and you drive to the hospital which is a few minutes away.

Either way, taking Taeyong's car after banging your head against the window was a bad idea, but you park in the parking lot without a hitch. You are an amazing driver. Most of the time.

Ten is already near the glass door when you approach, and he presses his hand against his mouth. "You look like shit." he says, voice muffled by his hand.

"Thank you very much, you should see the condition of my car."

You follow Ten in the hospital, and in one of the emergency rooms, and you sit on the edge of the bed. "You'll have to take an X-ray to see if you don't have a concussion."

You shake your head. "I don't have a headache, I don't feel nauseous, I am not tired, I have nothing Ten. Just clean my wounds and look at my wrist, I have to go to the garage after."

Ten sighs. "Stubborn."

Ten takes care of the wounds you have on your forehead, cheek and lip, then he looks at your wrist. "It's swollen, can you move it?"

You move your wrist, biting your tongue to avoid growling in pain. You can't be in a plaster. "See, it's not even broken."

Ten narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you. I'll wrap it in a bandage, and I'll come see you tomorrow to check to see if it hasn't gotten any worse." he mumbles, wrapping your wrist and part of your hand with a itchy bandage. Great. "If I ask you to spend the night here, you are going to refuse?"

You shake your head and he sighs. "Why are we friends?"

When your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket, you pick up. "Taeyong? Did the car catch on fire?"

He snorts. "No, your car didn't catch on fire. It's in the garage, they'll take care of it tomorrow morning, so go home, I'll come pick up my car later."

"How are you going to get home without your car?" but you don't have an answer since Taeyong has already hung up, he finds that hanging up is much easier than arguing with you. He is right, and you love him for that.

"Thanks Ten, I owe you one." you stand up from the bed, and Ten throws his gloves in the trash.

"Take painkillers before you go to bed, it won't stop making you feel like you're dying, but it will help."

You kiss his cheek, and you walk out of the room, making sure no nurses are around, then you walk out of the hospital. The cold night air whips your cheeks, and you close your eyes, it feels good on your burning skin.

It takes you a little longer to get home, due to the fatigue that has suddenly crushed on you, and when you walk in your apartment the first thing you do is drop onto your bed, ignoring your limbs crying out in pain.

When you open your eyes, your room is bathed in light and yet you have the impression that you have barely slept a few minutes.

You turn on your back, and you growl. Maybe you should have listened to Ten and taken an aspirin before going to bed, because the pain is so bad you can't think straight.

It's like you have an elephant lying on you. Or like you've been in a car accident. Your humor makes you smile.

With your fingertips, you reach for your phone in your blanket, and you sigh when you see your friends' messages. Ten and Taeyong want to know if you're still alive, Doyoung is laughing at you, and Kun tells you that you should never have taken part in the race in a "I told you so" way.

You answer Taeyong and Ten with a simple: Alive.

It's almost two in the afternoon, which means your car should be finished, or at least they should know if your car should be scrapped or not.

You get up, and if you thought you were in pain, it's nothing like the pain when you shower and get dressed. It's horrible, you want to die, just like Ten said you would. Stupid nurse.

Rather than taking Taeyong's car, you walk to the garage, and a strange shiver runs through your body as your gaze lands on all the motorcycles that are parked in the parking lot. You know these are the bikes of the mechanics, and the club members.

This club has quite the reputation.

You approach the small building which contains nothing but a desk and piles of papers which are scattered over it. "Excuse me?"

A young man turns his head towards you, and he smiles. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

You clear your throat, resting your shoulder against the doorframe. "My car was towed here last night, it's a black shelby." you explain, and he nods.

"Oh yeah, I thought the mechanic was going to cry when he saw the state your car was in. Something about the Shelbys needing to be treated with love."

You roll your eyes, but you giggle. "I totally agree, but the pole I hit last night didn't think the same."

"I don't think it's over though, do you want me to take you to see it and talk with the mechanic?" he asks, getting up from his chair, and you nod your head. "Follow me."

You follow him to the garage which is only a few steps away, and you wait when he goes inside. "Hendery, the owner of the Shelby is here."

The young man smiles at you, and he goes back to his office. Immediately, a man arrives, wiping his hands full of grease on a piece of cloth which he stuffs in the back pocket of his pants. "I am Hendery." he says. "I'll shake your hand, but I'm dirty."

You shrug your shoulders. "It's okay. How's the car doing? Will I be able to get it back one of these days?" you ask, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice. You put in so much money to have this car, and to make it perfect that it would be a shame to have to throw it away. Well no, it would not be a shame, it would be absolutely heartbreaking.

"Yeah, there's going to be some work to have it rolling again, but I can do it." he says and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. "Though, the way you treated it, I shouldn't even give it back to you."

You open your mouth, and you see the shadow of a smile on his face. "What? But it's my car! It's not my fault I hit a post."

Hendery shakes his head. "Besides, how did you manage to hit a pole? Considering the condition of the car, you must have hit it at a very fast speed."

You shift from one foot to the other. "I wasn't going that fast, I was just driving around town and had to look at a storefront and didn't see the post." you mumble. You're normally a really good liar but for some reason you just can't seem to do it with him.

"I'm giving you a second chance to tell me the truth." he says in a voice he wants firm, but he can't help but smile, he is clearly messing with you.

"If I told you I had an accident during an illegal race, would you believe me?"

He snorts. "Not really, no."

You smile. "So it's definitely not because of an illegal race. Can I see my car?" you ask to change the subject, and he invites you to follow him in the garage to your car. In bright light, it looks much worse than in the dark last night. "My poor baby."

Hendery looks at you, then he looks at the car, then he looks at you one more time. "A normal person wouldn't drive a Shelby." he suddenly says, and you tilt your head.

"Of course it's not a city car." you answer. He works for a club which is known for its illegal activities, it would be hypocritical if he were to report you to the police, and even then there is no proof, so you have no reason to lie. "So do you believe me?"

He nibbles on his lower lip, and he nods. "Yeah, I think I believe you." he puts his hand on the dented hood of the car. "And that's so fucking cool! I've always heard about the races in town, but I've never had the chance to meet anyone participating in it."

You shrug your shoulders. "I am Y/n." and he smiles.

Hendery walks around the car, and he cites all the things that need to be fixed, or changed, and when he stops talking, the weight is back on your shoulders. "It's going to cost me both of my kidneys."

He laughs. "Oh yeah, it's going to cost you a lot of money." when he sees your worried face, he puts his hand on your shoulder, which he regrets because he knows that there will be a trace of grease from the shape of his hand on your t-shirt. "But I'm sure we can work it out."

"Tell me?"

Hendery seems to think about it, and when he has an idea, his face lights up. "If you take me to a race, and if you can convince someone to let me get in their car, I could take care of your car outside of my working hours, and it will cost you next to nothing."

It's something very simple, it's not like the public isn't allowed to watch the races. "For that you have to promise me that you won't call the police."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why would I do such thing?"

"I don't know! We don't know each other, maybe you are looking for a way to get me arrested to keep my car."

Hendery throws his head back, and he laughs heartily. "I love your car, it's true, I'm mad at you because you broke it, it's true, but I prefer my motorcycle."

You turn your head towards the motorcycles. "Is one of them yours?" Hendery nods, proud of himself. "They're cool. They don't go as fast as my car, but it's cool that you like the quietness of a small motorcycle."

The way Hendery's eyes widen is almost comical, so you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. "A small motorcycle? Are you kidding me? Have you at least ever been on a motorcycle?"

You shake your head. "No. I don't like motorcycles, they don't give you enough adrenaline." adrenaline is one of the reasons you race on the daily, you can never get enough of it. You crave it, it's a bit like a drug. "But I don't have to get on a motorcycle to know you could never beat my car."

Hendery crosses his arms against his chest, and he tries to make himself taller, which is amusing. "I could beat you in a race with my motorcycle."

You giggle. "You could beat me if I had to drive my car in this state, for sure. But otherwise you don't stand a chance boy."

Hendery's cheeks turn red, and you don't know if it's from anger, or from embarrassment. All you know is it's a lot of fun. "Prospect, what are you doing?" you hear, and Hendery doesn't waste a second getting out of the garage.

You can't hear the conversation between Hendery and the other person, so you run your fingers across the body of your car. You hope you can drive it quickly, you don't want to miss the next race. You could of course ask a friend to lend you a car, but it won't be the same. But you would have an excuse.

When the conversation lasts for over five minutes, you decide to leave the garage, and you meet the gaze of Hendery who you smile at. "Thursday, 10 p.m. in front of the garage, don't be late." you say, and you walk away.

"What was that?" the person asks with a laugh, and Hendery has to shrug because you can't hear an answer.

If you want to impress Hendery, you're going to have to find a good car.

"Not even in your dream. No. No."

You sigh, exasperated. "Please? It's just for one race while I wait for my car to get out of the garage!"

Doyoung looks you up and down, judging you without even hiding it. "You will never touch one of my cars." you pout, but he looks away, he knows you too well.

"Why not? You don't even race, you don't even drive your cars, it won't kill you to lend me one!"

He crosses his arms against his chest, his brow furrowed. "You had an accident with your car, I don't want to risk losing one of my cars." it's a low blow, you think.

"It's not like I had an accident on purpose!" you mumble, and he shrugs. "Taeyong, do something! You know very well that I'll be careful." you turn your head towards your friend who shakes his head.

"Keep me out of this conversation." he says.

"It's okay, I'll ask someone else. Maybe Yuto will accept." you turn on your heels but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you smirk.

"Don't go see that idiot, he would be able to give you a car he messed up with on purpose! You know he is up to no good."

You chuckle. "He would do it to you because you're a jerk, but he wouldn't do it for me." you know this is wrong, Yuto knows that you are friends with Doyoung and he will not hesitate to attack you to reach him. Or any of your friends for that matter.

Doyoung mumbles something you don't understand, and he heaves a long sigh. You know you won. "One car, for one race, and if you damage it, you'll pay for the repairs." Doyoung is filthy rich but he acts like a broke bitch most of the time.

You turn to face him. "I promise you'll get your car back in the same condition you gave it to me, and I'll even fill up the tank!"

"You better."

And that's why the following Thursday, you park in front of the garage, sitting behind the wheel of one of Doyoung's cars. A car that will never be as fast as your Shelby, but which could perhaps give you a chance to win the race, or at least to make it to the top 3.

You really don't understand why Doyoung has so many racing cars in his garage when he doesn't do anything with them. Probably something rich people do that you will never understand.

You jump when little knocks are given against the passenger window, and when you turn your head, you smile when you see Hendery. You weren't sure he would come. "Come!"

He opens the door, and he sits down. "I'm not late?" he asks, and you shake your head, making the engine purr, foot on the gas pedal.

"Not at all. I hope you're ready because you're going to be with an amazing racer tonight."

Hendery's smile could almost blind you. "Oh really, who?"

"Me."

Your shoulders drop when Hendery's smile fades and you refrain from hitting him. "Hey! Are you disappointed? Because if you are you can get out of the car and go fuck yourself!"

Taeyong would have gladly agreed to take him in his car, but since you were lucky enough to be accepted for the race despite not having finished the previous one, you thought it would be better to have him with you.

He shakes his head. "No, I just didn't expect you to race without your car."

"This car is definitely not the ideal car, but that's all I could find since a certain mechanic hasn't finished fixing my car yet." you tilt your head and Hendery laughs.

"Sorry for having other priorities besides your car."

You snort. "And what's taking you so much time? Waxing the club members' pumps?"

He rolls his eyes and you decide to get out of your parking space, it would be a shame to be late for Hendery's first race. "It is more complicated than that."

You hum. "A guy called you prospect last time, what does that mean?" you do not know if you have the right to know since you are not a member of the club, but you are quite curious.

He turns his head to the window. "Prospect means prospective member. Basically I'm being given undesirable tasks until they decide if I have what it takes to be a full member of the club."

You scoff. "So you're their maid? You do the dirty work?"

Hendery shrugs, and out of the corner of your eye you see him smile. "That's a way to see it."

"And what made you want to join the club?" you don't know if it's too personal, but it's interesting. Hendery never had the chance to meet someone street racing, and you never had the chance to meet someone wanting to be part of a club like the Neos.

“My older brother joined the Neos when he was very young, so I grew around them a bit. Then when he died the members said they would always be there for me, to meet my needs and they offered me a job in the garage. Of course, working in the garage doesn't mean I had to join the club, but I do enjoy being around them so when I asked, they immediately agreed to make me the new prospect."

You didn't think he would tell you something so personal, but it's a sign that he trusts you, right?

"I'm sorry for your brother, but it's good if you've found yourself a new family with the club."

His  smile is so big and sincere that you can't help but smile too. "Yeah, they're awesome, they take good care of me."

The race is in another city, which makes the trip a little longer, but the silence is not heavy, it is pleasant. A silence that is suddenly broken by Hendery wriggling in his seat. "So what made you decide to start street racing?"

He decided to be sincere and personal, so now you have no choice but to be too. "Uh," you start to say, "my parents decided to have a child to salvage their mariage, not because they wanted one, so they never had that parental fiber." Hendery hums, prompting you to keep talking. "Life at home was not fun, I was basically left on my own devices all the time. And when I understood they didn't really care what I was doing, or where I was, I started hanging out with the 'bad kids' at school and they introduced me to street racing. I did my first race way before I had my driving license, and the rest is history."

Hendery heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry about your parents, but in a way it gave you the opportunity to find something you love and are good at."

You smile. "That's true."

You would of course have preferred to have loving and present parents, but it's too late to change things and you're not unhappy with the way your life has turned out.

You decide to change the topic, you don't want to continue with the delicate and sad subjects. "You are going to meet my friends, and I hope you are ready, they are impossible to live with."

You stop at a red light, and you see Hendery's gaze. His eyes are bright, and you wonder if it's because he's excited. "Really? I can't wait!"

You chuckle. "Do you have friends Hendery?"

His lower lip juts out and he shakes his head. "The members are my friends, of course, but we don't do anything fun together, just garage and club related stuff." poor guy.

"Well you are about to have new friends and they are terribly annoying, you'll soon regret meeting them, trust me."

After ten minutes, you approach the zone of the race and the crowd is already making it hard to drive to the start line. "Oh come on, I can't have blood on the car, don't make me roll you over." you mumble and Hendery laughs.

When you finally park the car, you get out. "Come on!"

Hendery gets out of the car and it's like being with a child, he is looking around with big eyes and a bright smile. "There are screens that allow you to see every corner of the race so you don't miss anything, a group that takes care of capturing the location of the police, this kind of stuff."

"And over there you have the worst human beings." with a nod you indicate a group of people. Your friends.

You approach your friends, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder to get his attention. "What are you doing here, don't you work nights normally?" you ask immediately and he shakes his head.

"No, I asked a colleague to take care of it, I wanted to see you lose the race."

You roll your eyes, and grab hold of Hendery's wrist to pull him closer. "This is Hendery, he works in the garage where my car is. He wanted to see a race in real life." you explain. "Hendery this is my friends, Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten and Kun."

"Nice to meet you guys." Hendery says, and the boys shake his hand. "I'm really excited!"

"He's going to ride with me." you add, and Ten puts his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing at all. Have fun Hendery, because this might be the last time you'll be excited about something. You're going to die tonight. You should give me the number of someone to contact to let them know what happened."

You hit Ten's shoulder. "Come on, I had one accident. And if I crash Doyoung's car, he is going to kill me." Doyoung nods his head.

"She is right."

"The race is about to start." someone says in a megaphone. "To the participants, please join your cars."

You turn to Hendery. "If you want to watch, that's perfectly okay." he shakes his head, and he walks towards your car.

"Nah, I'm going with you." cool cool. You don't remember the last time you had someone riding with you, so you better not mess up, that would be embarrassing.

"One condition," you say, sitting behind the wheel. "you'll take me on a ride on your motorcycle." you never tried a motorcycle before, and even if it was fun telling him he wouldn't beat you in a race, you don't want to die stupid.

"Deal."

You start the engine. "If you feel sick because of the speed, please don't throw up inside of the car." you don't plan on stopping for any reason. And you don't plan on cleaning the car if he gets sick.

Hendery laughs softly, but he stays quiet.

Out of the corner of your eye, to see his mouth open when you press your feet on the gas pedale. "Let's go baby." you whisper.

During the first part of the race, Hendery is mostly silent, only making little surprise noises when a car gets a little too close to his door for his liking, but after the second roundabout he starts to laugh. "It's incredible!" he exclaims, a hand resting on his heart which must beat wildly.

"Do you like it?" you ask, and he nods vigorously. "Being behind the wheel is even better. I'll give you a try someday." not during a race, but on a racetrack, with no other car around, and with a car that you won't have a problem with if it breaks.

You laugh when you drive past Taeyong's car, and he gives you the middle finger which makes you laugh even more. "That's it Taeyong, stay behind, that's where you belong."

You see the finish line, but you also see the car in front of you, but you don't try to overtake it, second place is perfect, especially with Doyoung's car.

Hendery screams when you cross the finish line, and when you brake, he's quick to unbuckle his seatbelt to turn towards you. "Oh my god you are the best!"

You can't help but smile. "So I've been told! You don't regret going up with me?" he shakes his head, and you get out of the car.

"You cut me off!" you turn when you hear Taeyong's voice, and you scoff.

"It's a race Taeyong, not a ride, it's normal that I cut you off!"

He pouts. "I made a bet with Ten that I would finish before you. I lost 100 bucks."

You shrug. "That's too bad."

You congratulate the winner of the race, and you make your way to Hendery who is already talking about his experience with Ten and Kun. Both of them are listening to him with attention, something you are not used to. Did he win the hearts of your friends in less than an hour when you've been trying for years? That's not fair!

"Thanks again for the car Doyoung, I owe you a big one." you say, handing him the keys and he shakes his head.

"Keep it, at least until you'll get your dear Shelby back." how sweet of him, and you wonder if he would have offered his car if Hendery was not around. You hate it here. "Hendery, it was a real pleasure to meet you, I hope we can see each other again." he says, and the other boys agree one after the other. "Y/n, please give us his number so we don't have to go through you to see him."

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Hendery wraps his arm around your shoulders. "We're a package deal. If I come, she comes."

"Already? That's adorable!" Ten cooes and you want to punch him, but not in front of Hendery. Later.

"Come on, I'll bring you back." you mumble, grabbing Hendery's wrist to pull him back to the car.

It's a bit difficult to ride with the crowd around, but you manage to do it, and when you finally find yourself on the road, you heave a sigh. "Will you come back for another race?" you ask, and he nods.

"If you want me, yeah, I'll come to all the races! I'm gonna work hard on your car so you can show me everything you've got!"

"And if you're good, maybe you can even ride my Shelby one day." it's a decision you can change depending on Hendery, but it could be fun.

His mouth opens wide, and you giggle. "It would be such an honor!"

The rest of the road is pretty quiet, and after the hubub of the race, you're not unhappy. When you arrive near the garage, you notice that a lot of people are in the yard. "A party?" you ask.

"Yeah, one of the club members was due out of jail today so they're celebrating his comeback."

You hum. "Didn't you want to participate?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "He was already in jail when I joined the club so I don't know him. And frankly? I'll miss every parties in the world to participate in another race." adorable.

"Good to know. Thanks for being a good co-pilot." Hendery smiles, and he even leans in to kiss your cheek before getting out of the car and waving to you.

Well, that was unexpected.

The next two weeks are pretty much the same. You wake up, and you spend your breaks at the garage, looking at Hendery working on motorcycles, cars, and of course, yours when he is done. And you honestly appreciate his presence. His, and the members of his club, they are all very sweet to you, and to him. They mess with Hendery a lot, but you can see that they cherish him a lot. And weirdly enough, it appease you to know he has a family to look over him.

"Your car is done."

A weight falls down on your stomach when Hendery speaks, but you smile nonetheless. "Already? I thought it would take more time." you say, stepping inside of the clubhouse. Hendery is sitting on a stool behind the bar, a glass of water in front of him.

"The guys gave me more time to work on it." that explains a lot.

You sit down next to him. "I'm happy to have my car back, but it's a shame, I really liked spending time with you here." Hendery turns on his stool, a smile on his face. You wonder if he ever stops smiling.

"Me being done with your car doesn't mean you can't hang out at the garage. I asked, and Johnny doesn't mind." Johnny, you learnt, is the president of the motorcycle club. He is still young, but he was apparently voted in after the death of the past president.

"...we need to figure out how to get the guns out without.." the door of the clubhouse opens, and the conversation stops when your presence is noticed. "Oh hey Y/n! What's up?"

You smile at Yuta, the sergeant-at-arms. "The usual!"

The young man's smile is a bit tensed, maybe because you heard a part of the conversation and as you are not part of the club, you probably shouldn't have, but you don't mention it. "Stay out of trouble, okay?" you nod and he steps inside of the meeting room with a few other members that you saw a couple of time around the garage.

"Did you hear what he was saying?" Hendery asks, nervously playing with his fingers and you shrug.

"Heard what?" you like Hendery, and he likes the club, you wouldn't gain anything by speaking up about the things you hear on the daily.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asks suddenly, standing up from his stool. "I did promise to take you on a ride on my motorcycle."

"Let's go!"

You follow him outside of the clubhouse and to his motorcycle. He hands you a helmet that you put on your head, and you wait for him to get on the motorcycle to climb behind him. "Hold on to my waist, and if you want to stop, pinch me, I'll understand." you don't know how safe it would be to pinch him while he drives, but you accept.

"Yes sir!"

You became acquainted with the sound of a motorcycle engine, but it still gives you chill. It's different of a car, of course, but it still brings you the adrenaline you love so much. Car, motorcycle, as long as it has wheels and purr, it's the same.

Hendery leaves the garage, and instead of driving toward the city, he leaves it.

And you soon understand why. On the hallway, he can drive as fast as he wants without being bothered by cars and trucks. And the feeling of the wind against your face is amazing. It makes you smile, it makes you want to scream.

And just like that, with your arms around his waist, your head against his shoulder blade, you understand how happy you are to be here. To be with Hendery. With the wind whipping your face, and his laugh echoing around. Breaking your car wasn't such a bag thing, it gave you something akin to love.

[copias-thrall]

There’s Magic in the Night

A new year is breaking, and it's full of possibilities.

⬅️ Previous

(Reminder: not Repugnant accurate.)

It’s a 15min walk from the nearest subway stop in a part of the city that hosts low-income and broke college folk, and you’re beginning to wonder if your heeled boots were the best choice—but the shiny patent of them so nicely offset your cheap pink and black tulle skirt and fuzzy black crop sweater with inlaid tinsel that you’d decided on form or function. You’d almost changed your top when Mary had knelt and given your tummy a raspberry where it hung over the waistband a little, but his cute little pout had placated you a little after you’d threatened to do just that.

“You want a piggyback?”

“Nah, I’m all right, Mare. We’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah.” 

Using his chin, he indicates a house down the block with a light on in every window and that’s lit up with string lights. It’s a little run down, but not falling apart. The neighborhood is full of three-story homes that are either co-ops or rented out by various floor configurations. 

You’d tried to follow his explanation on who he knew and how, but the most you’d retained was that of the 6 people who rented the entire house, Mary knew 2 of them intimately. (“Yeah, they’ve had it every year that they’re lived there. I’m pretty sure a good third of the crowd is party crashers, but the more the merrier, right?”)

The closer you get, the louder the din from the house becomes—it sounds like there are 4 different playlists fighting for dominance, and the crowd ASMR is strong. There is a gang of smokers spilling from the front porch, down the cement steps, and clumped into murders in the small yard.

Ed and Dee are leaning against the railing on the steps, shivering in their best band tees as they take drags of their cigarettes.

“Hey, man!” says Mary as he leans forward and engages them both in a sloppy approximation of a cool, secret handshake.

“Hey, Goore!”

“Long time no see, dude.”

You nod at them, and they nod back.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” asks Ed as he strains to see behind you in the dark.

Apparently Mary usually pregamed with his bandmates and then they headed over en masse later in the night. Horrified, you’d tried to convince him to uphold the tradition, but he’d insisted he could break off one year (“I’m not gonna toss you to the wolves, Suey. I see those assholes all the time.”).

Mary blows out a breath, and it hangs in the air like the puffs of smoke.

“Still pregaming. They’ll be by later. I wanted to give Suey the grand tour.”

Mary makes a sweeping motion, then wraps that arm around you. Ed and Dee’s eyes flick back to you.

“He’s a fucking liar; he was afraid one of you would steal me away.”

Ed coughs out the drag he was taking, and Dee snorts.

“You’re killing my street cred, woman.”

“Whatever, dude,” says Dee with a smirk, and Mary glowers at him. “You wanna bum one?” Dee holds out his pack as if in contrition.

Mary’s hand twitches, but he shakes his head.

“Nah, dude. Not unless it’s that chronic shit.”

“Yeah, they got those somewhere.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool.”

A few merrymakers exit the house—laughing and screaming—and they push by the lot of you as they presumably journey on toward another party.

“All right, dudes. We’re gonna go make the rounds, get some cold ones. See you on the other side!”

“Sounds good!”

“Do it.”

Mary ushers you inside, and—despite the open door—the warmth of the house hits you, making you feel suddenly uncomfortable in your winter coat. Like the outside, there’s a general mass of bodies that are sectioned off (in the hall; on the stairs; spilling out of the kitchen; lounging in the living areas) like music notes in a run of measures. You spot a worn-looking chair that’s piled high with coats, and you go to toss yours on, but Mary grabs your arm.

“Geez, Suey. You wanna get your coat jizzed on?”

“I—what?”

“C’mere, let’s not add our stuff to the pile that’s gonna make someone a nice sex bed later.”

He yanks your coat out of your hands and opens a door that leads to the hall closet. A beach ball tumbles out and is joyfully absconded with by a trio of party goers walking by, and Mary catches one golf club in his hand as it falls out from the top shelf and another under his arm. Unfortunately, he doesn’t catch the one that hits his booted foot, but you managed to stand on tiptoe enough to prevent the entire bag from depositing its contents on Mary’s head.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Between the two of you, you manage to get the clubs back in order from whence they fell.

You can see that there’s other junk up there and in the back—whether it lives there permanently or was just shoved in there pre-party, you guess you’ll never know—but there’s an entire row of coats on a rod, which seems to be the closet’s main purpose.

“Here.” Mary rifles through the mess until he finds a free hanger. It takes some adjusting, but he finally gets his leather jacket and your coat onto the same hanger and manages to squeeze it back into the mass.

“OK. Let’s go find Shonda.”

“Not Murray?”

“Apparently he’s elsewhere tonight.” He shrugs.

There’s a sudden squeal of voices, and when you turn, you see Kara and Elsie hurrying toward you. Elsie is in a sequined dress so garish it must be fashionable and Kara sports a sparkly red sweater over black jeggings that she’s wrapped fairy lights around.

“So you’re not dead!” says Kara

“Uh … no?”

“Christ, I would have called you, but I’ve spent the last few days with my head in a toilet,” laughs Elsie.

“Yeah, thanks for that guys,” says Mary. “What I really wanted to do at the crack of dawn was take care of this lush.”

“Pffft,” snorts Elsie. “You’re one to talk, Goore. As if your head doesn’t live in the toilet.

“Yeah, total karma, Mary. Remember that time you got your stomach pumped?”

“Jesus, Mare,” you say at him with a bemused smile. He scowls.

“Look. Honey whiskey goes down easy.”

Elsie and Kara cackle before grabbing up your hands.

“C’mon, let’s get you a drink, hon,” says Kara.

“What about me?” pouts Mary.

Elsie sniffs over her shoulder at him as she pulls you down the hall.

“Sorry, Goore. Girls only. Go set shit on fire or something.”

“That was once!” you hear Mary call down the hall after you.

“Wait—what did he set on fire?”

Elsie looks at you and mimics locking her mouth and throwing away a key.

The kitchen is full of bodies. In one corner, there’s a game of beer pong set up, and in the other, people are digging beer containers out of a giant cooler. On the counter are a few bowls half-filled with various snacks—the other half of which seem to be spilled over the counter and crushed into the linoleum floor. There’s a dark-skinned woman in a black & white plaid rockabilly dress and red cardigan who’s struggling to empty a bag of ice into a second cooler.

“Here—let me help, Shonda,” says Kara as Elsie leads you to the full cooler.

Shonda looks up. “Yeah, could you? Dunno where my asshole roommates are.”

By the time the two of them have the contents of the bag in the cooler—the cubes sliding in with a rough whoosh and plinking softly over the beers in the bottom—you and Elsie have fresh beers that she’s poured into solo cups.

“Thanks, Kar.” Shonda wipes her hands on the bottom of her dress, makes a face, then fumbles for a dingy kitchen towel hanging over the fridge door handle.

“Shonda,” says Elsie, catching the woman’s attention. She pushes you forward a bit. “This is Mary’s new squeeze.”

“Oh, um, hi.” You stick out your hand.

“No shit.” Shonda gives you a once over before giving your hand one firm shake. She nods a few times. “Yeah, ok. I see it.” She pats you on the arm. “Good luck with that.” She turns to Elsie. “Is that little shit here? We need to have words.”

Elsie jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “We left him down the hall.”

“He can run but he can’t hide,” Shonda says as she stomps away in impressively high red heels.

“Do I need to go defend his honor?”

Kara snorts.

“Nah,” says Elsie, waving your question away. “She’ll probably just make him do the heavy lifting the other stooges wheedled their ways out of.”

“He is stronger than those skinny arms make him look,” you muse.

Kara leans in. “Oh?”

You grin at her.

The two of them lead you into what must be a dinning room that seems to be the official set up for the snacks and libations. A bar with liquor and mixers have been arranged in the built-in, and there’s a folding table in the corner with an array of chips, snack foods, and a pile of wilted-looking pizza boxes. There’s a center table—which looks more permanent—that some sort of drinking game is occurring over.

You make a beeline for the pizza.

“I think I need a good base.”

As you juggle the pizza slices on a plate on the top of your cup, Kara and Elsie talk rapid fire across you, sometimes asking you questions (about you, about Mary, about you and Mary), other times going into long-winded stories about people you’ve never met, but are hilarious nonetheless.

“Fuck. I’m not drunk enough for this party yet,” Kara laments.

“Well, yeah,” says Elsie. “I thought we’d get our game on.” She pokes you in the belly, and you suck your stomach in away from her touch. “You done ‘getting your base’ yet?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You dump the paper plate and crusts into a trash bag slumped in the corner.

About the time Elsie is squeezing you three into the game at the table, Mary wanders in. His face brightens when he sees you, and he makes his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“There you are, baby doll.”

“I thought I told you ‘girls only,’ Goore,” says Elsie.

He jabs a finger at her. “I gave you more than enough time to monopolize my girlfriend, Ford.”

“Just keep your dick in check.”

“I do what I want.”

For the next half hour, you engage in a rousing game of flip cup, which you have always been terrible at, but Mary seems to dominate. By the end, Kara and Elsie are hitting their buzz—playfully shoving themselves and others—and you’re beginning to feel more at ease in this sea of unfamiliar people.

Ed and Trevor wander in and motion to Mary, but seem to address the whole crowd.

“Yo!” says Ed. “Wanna go upstairs?” He stimulates smoking a joint at Mary.

“Yeah, man!” Mary turns to you. “You wanna join?”

You shake your head. “Can’t. I get tested.”

“Laaaame,” says Kara, and you jump because you didn’t realize how close she’d gotten.

“You sure it’s ok?” Mary scrunches his face.

“Yeah, Mare. Go! Be free!”

“Don’t worry, Mare,” says Elsie coyly as she drapes an arm around you. “We’ll take good care of Suey.”

Mary looks horrified enough that you think he might change his mind, but then Ed and Trevor are pulling him away. Elsie looks down at you.

“What did you do to that boy?”

You squint up at her. “What do you mean?”

Kara insinuates her way in between you and hands you both disposable shot cups.

“She means you’ve got him pussy whipped.”

You scrunch your face further. “Mary? He’s like a stray cat that shows up sometimes for food.”

“Is the ‘food’ ‘sex’?” Kara jumps her eyebrows at you.

Laughingly, you shove at her. “Maybe.”

Elsie throws her hands up. “PUSSY. WHIPPED.” She downs her shot.

You and Kara follow suit.

“Ok, but seriously,” you half cough as you wipe a dribble off your chin. “Mary does what he wants. I don’t tell him what to do.”

“Aww, hon—we know,” says Kara. “Elsie is just giving you a hard time.”

Elsie shrugs. “I’m a Class A Bitch.”

“She is,” agrees Kara. She turns her cup upside down; a few droplets drip out. “Hey, bitch—go get us more suds!”

“Demanding,” grips Elsie, but she turns to make her way into the kitchen.

You and Kara wander over to the food table to graze, the howls from the newest drinking game dolcet background noise.

“Hey, I know Elsie tends to make people butthurt, but she just has no filter.”

“Oh. No, it’s fine.” You shrug. “People tend to think I’m an elitist snob, so I try to be, um, more open minded.”

Kara grins at you. “‘Splains why you’re dating Mary.”

You throw a withered carrot stick at her. “Don’t fucking call me out like that.”

Kara laughs as she tries to block the attack. The conversation seems to stall after that, so you try and dredge up a question.

“So you guys know Mary from high school or something? Mary was … vague.”

“Just Elsie. That’s why she’s a little protective. He’s seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. You turn to look at Kara. “Did they ever …?”

Kara waves her hand at you dismissively, swaying slightly. “Shit, we’ve all fucked around with each other at some point or other.”

Your eyes bug out. “You and Mary?”

She snorts, and leans toward you at a dangerous angle. “Well I never slept with Mary. But I’ve been with Elsie and Dee, and Mary with her and Trevor, and Trevor and Dee had a thing with Ed.” She screws up her face. “I think I got that right. I can never keep it straight, honestly.” Kara shakes her head out; then her expression changes and she bites her lip. “Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve told you all that.”

You pop a Jax in your mouth. “Mums the word, sister”

As she’s giving you a sloppy, grateful smile, Elsie finally appears—tottering carefully—with three solo cups precariously balanced between her hands and tits.

“Shit—come get your drinks.”

You and Kara scramble to relieve Elsie of her haul without dropping the prizes as the drinking game breaks with an Awwwwwww.

“You guys wanna with another round?” Elsie throws her thumb over her shoulder as she sips from her cup.

“Fuck yeah, you know it!” exclaims Kara as she throws her hands up, beer spilling over the side.

After doing OK in a few rounds of Finger Spoof (you’re feeling the buzz nicely), you look around and realize you haven’t seen Mary in a while. You leave Kara and Elsie to their own devices and head into the kitchen. Grabbing your own solo cup in your teeth—ignoring it as some of its contents sloshes over the side and down your chin—you fish for a lite beer floating in the lukewarm cooler water for Mary.

If you can locate him.

He’s not in any of the rooms downstairs, nor is he outside with smoker’s club. You make your way up to the second floor, hoping he’ll be easy to find up there. There’s a door that’s locked and another where there’s a group hanging out on the bed and each other as Kpop loudly plays.

You find Mary in an open bedroom full of haze. He’s softly strumming an acoustic guitar—his fingers fumbling slightly on the unfamiliar strings as he tunes his way up the frets. He’s propped up in a corner, legs crossed under him, as the others in the room pass a joint around.

Picking your way carefully through the crowd, you make your way over to Mary. People shift and sway out of the way and scoot over when you smush yourself in next to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You lean your head onto his shoulder, and Mary passes off the guitar to someone else. “Where’re Ed, Edd, and Eddy?”

He snorts.

“Went in search of snackies.”

He looks down at the beers resting in the small slick of condensation on the floor and licks his lips.

“One of those for me?”

“Yeah,” you say as you hand him the room-temperature bottle, which he takes up and chugs half of in one go. Watching his adam’s apple bobbing, you lean in to lick his neck. Mary jerks, then coughs, half spraying the beer out his mouth and nose. A few people squeal in surprise as you cackle, and Mary glares at you, wiping at his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his shirt that he’s curled over his hand.

“Fuck. You’re a pain in my ass.”

He drapes his arm around your shoulder, the bottle in his hand resting on your arm. The person who has the guitar now is strumming up a familiar song, and soon everyone is singing along (screaming or shrieking off key in some cases). Under the guise of getting his drink close to his mouth, Mary subtly maneuvers you into his lap—his other hand sneaking up under your shirt hem to rest on the curve of your belly with the tips of his fingers brushing just under one cup of your bra. You’re too loose from the drinking game to really care, so you lean back into his chest, warbling along to the tune as well.

You’re swaying, drink in hand, as you screech along to another song, when suddenly you become very aware of Mary’s erection pressing into your ass.

You turn your head. “Seriously?”

He rumbles into your ear. “Whaddya want? You’re squirming on my lap.”

Giggling, you purposely grind back on him, and he grabs your hips.

“Fuck, baby doll—keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess.”

You lean your head back on his shoulder as you circle your hips.

“You love making a mess, Mare Bear.”

He leans down to bite at your neck.

“I love making a mess on you. Not in my pants.”

“So stop me.”

Mary’s arm comes around your waist, effectively pulling you flush against him.

“FucK.”

More people wander in as the songs turn from nostalgic familiars to those of the drinking variety, and they raise solo cups and bottles in joyful celebration.

Everyone is sloppy; some sway to the rhythm of the songs, others drunkenly half mosh, spilling their drinks everywhere. You grinding your ass back into Mary—and him twitching up into you—is hardly a blip on anybody’s radar. His head thunks down onto the slope of your shoulder, his hips wanting to rut faster than subtlety or your own movements allow.

People are stomping, clapping, and spraying beer on each other as they half mutter words to drinking songs they realize they only half know.

Mary is a mess, trembling as he presses into you and mewling softly with each pass. Conversely, you’re having a grand ole time: rocking your hips as you sway and sing along to whatever the person in possession of the guitar is currently playing. Ignoring your own wetness and the growing throb in between your legs, you try to give him the pressure he needs.

You can feel his chest heaving into your back and the sweat from his forehead on your skin when it’s clear he’s getting close. His limbs shake as his arms squeeze you tighter, his movements almost stilling to nothing—and then he blows out a held breath like a drumbeat, his crotch pressing into you in pulses as he bites down into the juncture of your neck. Gasping, you spill a good amount of your drink as you jerk forward—Mary still rutting shallowly into you.

A few people cheer at your party foul—which hopefully takes any attention off Mary, who is clearly no longer hiding the fact that he’s cumming hard in his pants. He finally slumps behind you, his arms loosening and sprawling open.

“Shit,” he says.

You lean back. “Mmm … good?” you purr.

His hands sneak back under your top to sink into your flesh, and he leans up enough to whisper into your ear.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“You could’ve stopped me.”

He growls. “You know what you touching my dick does to me.”

“Was I, though? Touching your dick?”

Mary rubs his face into your neck as his hands squeeze your chub.

“Close enough.”

“Get a room, Goore!” screams someone before some of the group toss a couple of empty solos your way.

Mary looks up and grins.

“Maybe I fucking will.” He starts to stand up, bringing you with him—probably to hide the wet patch on his jeans. “See you losers later.”

There’s a general chorus of hoots and whistles, but mostly the crowd goes back to their drinking songs.

“Are we really getting a room?” you ask—arousal curling—as Mary directs you around the second floor, hands on your hips to keep you in front of him.

“A bathroom, yeah.”

There’s a slight wait—one Mary fills with his roving hands and lips—before the woman ahead of you stumbles out, wiping her wet hands ineffectually on her party dress.

Mary ushers you in, locking the door behind you. The two of you look down to inspect the damage. It’s actually not terrible. You can hardly tell at all on his jeans, and Mary undoes them so he can half shuck them down. His boxer briefs are a completely different story; they’re visibly soaked through at the top, and when he peels away the waistband, he reveals a sticky, slimy mess coating his stomach and flaccid cock.

“Shit. This may be a lost cause,” he says as he inspects the inside of the fabric.

“TP?”

“Yeah, unless you wanna lick it off …” Mary looks up at you with a smirk. “Which would be kinda hot, actually.”

“Sorry,” you say as you roll toilet paper around your hand, “but I like my jizz how I like my coffee: hot and fresh from the source.”

He runs a finger through the mess and then wiggles it at you. “It’s still kinda warm!”

You wrap your mouth around it because it’s the last thing he expects you to do.

“Uh …”

He’s momentarily rendered speechless as he watches you suck his finger clean and then smack your lips as if appraising.

“Nah. None of that reheated crap either.”

He blinks down at you. “Should I be horrified that I’m rubbing off on you?”

You give him a smile with your tongue half sticking out as you rub the wadded up toilet paper across his belly.

“I’m pretty sure I was just rubbing you off, Mare.”

Mary’s hands come up and sink into your hair. “Shut up.” He pulls you into a deep kiss. “Fuck. Love it when you tease me,” he says as he pulls away.

“I know.” You beam up at him and continue trying to clean him up.

He looks down at himself. “Fuck it.” He goes to toe off his boots, realizes that he’s wearing his “dress boots”—the less-scuffed ones that lace up to his knees—and snarls in frustration.

When he goes for the medicine cabinet, you step out of the way and toss the slimed wad of paper into the toilet. Making an Ah-ha! noise, Mary turns to you and snaps a pair of hair scissors triumphantly.

“Do the honors, will ya?”

“Wait—you want me to … cut your boxers off?”

“I’m sure as fuck not taking these boots off or spending the rest of the night marinating in my own jizz.”

You snort at him. “Whatever you want, Mare Bear.” You shuffle forward and hop up onto the sink. It only teeters a little.

“Hey! Hurry the fuck up in there!” comes a male voice through the door accompanied by banging.

“Fuck off, I’m taking a dump!” barks Mary.

“Dude,” says the voice, but the banging stops.

Mary shifts forward into the V of your spread legs as he hands you the scissors. He keeps his face close to yours. “Try not to cut off anything important,” he breathes at you.

“Of course—you’re no good to me clipped.”

His eyes meet yours, then travel down to his crotch. Carefully (willing your eyes to focus), you start from the top down, snipping the fabric—bunching it up with each shear—until you reach the end of the leg up to the crotch, Mary only flinching slightly (“Careful with the goods, woman!” “Fucking hold still!”). Once each side is cut, Mary and you work together to pull each half free.

As you ball up the front half to toss into the trash basket, Mary uses the back half to wipe up the lingering stickiness coating his cock and stomach.

“Better?” you ask when he’s finished and zipping his jeans back up, the other half of his boxers joining its twin in the trash.

He wiggles a bit. “Eh, it’ll do.” You expect him to back off, but instead he crowds closer. “What about you, baby doll? Maybe I should check on you.”

Before you have a chance to respond, Mary is shoving up the layers of your skirt and pressing his hand into your damp tights. You gasp at the sensation.

“Hmm,” he rumbles, “seems like you could use some clean up yourself.”

And then he’s maneuvering his head in between your spread legs, trying to position your knees over his shoulders. You let out an Oh, as your hands fly down to brace yourself on the edges of the sink; Mary growls in frustration as he tries to first pull down your tights, then to rip them apart to no avail. Before you can stop him, he’s picked up the shears and has snipped a slit in your crotch.

“Mary!” you yelp, but he just dives back down, tongue wiggling through the rip in the fabric to trace your seam before delving into your folds to flick at your clit. At the burst of sweetness, you moan, and your head thunks back into the mirror.

Head swimming, you lose yourself in the feel of his tongue as it swirls around your nub and then presses into it a few times before he’s sucking it in between his plush lips. He repeats this process, sometimes running his tongue down to your entrance and then back up, and at others holding the tip directly on your clit until you start squirming in frustration … only to then flick repeatedly back and forth.

A finger enters you, and you cry out, “Oh fuck,” as you tighten around it. Mary starts to slowly ease it in and out of you as his tongue continues its massage of your hardening clit. You’re really squirming now, rocking into his mouth and down onto his finger—making sure you light up every sweet spot. You feel like a guitar string wound too tight, ready to snap, and your pussy pulsates in warning.

Mary sets his tongue speed to 11, and you feel the tidal wave of your orgasm start rushing toward you. You let out a squeak as your one hand sinks into Mary’s hair right before your climax breaks, and you start bucking into his mouth. Like a good boy, he manages to follow the lead of your hips until your pussy stops popping and your body relaxes—your butt slipping down into the bowl of the sink.

After catching your breath, you look down to find Mary’s twinkling eyes staring up at you from beneath the layers of your skirt. You pet down the side of his head with an Mmm, and his eyes close as he leans into the touch.

“I think you only made me stickier, Mare.”

His head tilts to rest on your one leg.

“Not my fault you get wet as fuck. There’s only so much I can lap up at once.”

You shift up into a sitting position as Mary wipes his face—and the lower part of his makeup—onto your tights.

“Shit. Are the tights a lost cause too?”

“Stand up?”

You hop off the sink, and Mary inspects your backside. He gives it a slap before saying, “Nah, I think you’re good. Just a little damp.”

You crinkle your nose. “Well, I feel slimy. Turn around so I can take care of business.”

Mary peers into the mirror to even out his smudgy face before slurping some tap water from the faucet as you get your situation into a tolerable state.

When the two of you exit the bathroom—Mary’s arm draped back around your shoulders—there are two guys lounging on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the 3rd floor. They look up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and one scrunches his face at you.

“Dude. I thought you were taking a shit.”

He holds up a blackened Yankee candle.

Mary shrugs at him. “We don’t kink shame here.”

The guy’s companion bursts out laughing even as you elbow Mary in the ribs. He just laughs as he says, “C’mon let’s get some suds.”

The two of you make your way back down to the kitchen where Shonda The Beer Færie has replenished the coolers again. Mary shotguns a can—foam spritzing everywhere—as you search for the elusive opener. Unable to locate it, you try—and fail—to pop the top off on the counter.

“Gimme,” says Mary—belching—grabbing for your bottle. After fishing for another bottle in the ice, he aligns the caps and pops them both with the other.

“My hero,” you say in an affected tone as you bat your curled eyelashes at him.

“That’s fucking right.” He makes an arm in an attempt to bulge his bicep.

You test it with your hand. “Nah. Too small, throw it back.”

Pouting at you, he says, “You’re the worst, and we’re in a fight.”

You shrug as you take a swig of beer. “Eh. I got what I wanted.”

Mary makes a grab for the bottle, but you twist out of his reach and bolt out of the kitchen. He doesn’t catch you before you seek sanctuary in the living room. All the furniture has been pushed against walls, the rug rolled and resting in a corner, and more bodies than there should be are packed into the center as a party mix thumps from the speakers.

You wiggle your way into the crowd and run into Kara and Elsie, who shout Hooray! and pull you into their bump and grind. The 3 of you raise your drinks into the air to avoid spilling on each other as you rock and sway, alternating who gets sandwiched.

Suddenly, Mary is at your elbow.

“Hey! Gimme back my girlfriend!”

“Sorry, Goore,” says Elsie. “Finders keepers.”

For a minute he looks genuinely put out, but then he just smirks. “Whatever, I’ll just enjoy the view.”

“Pig,” Kara spits.

Mary shrugs and starts to do a god-awful wiggle that you think is supposed to be dancing. He has the rhythm—and his ass jiggle is pretty nice—but that’s about all he’s got going for him in the moves department.

The mix must be trying to appeal to all types, but ends up being a spastic mix with no eye for continuity. Nineties Girl Pop transitions into Metal, which transitions into Country, then into Alternative, then to 80′s Power Ballad, then R&B, then Punk.

After screaming along to “Toxic”, Elsie leans in. “Fuck, I’m about to pass out. I need to get some air.”

“Want me to come with you?” asks Kara.

“Up to you, dear.”

They look at you.

“I should throw Mary a bone.”

Kara smirks at you. “Kinky.”

Elsie rolls her eyes at her friend. “C’mon you bitch ass.”

Seeing his opportunity, Mary gives a head nod as he seamlessly switches places with them. He pulls your back into him as his hands come round to rest on your hips.

“Good thing you emptied my dick earlier, or we’d have a problem,” he murmurs into your ear.

“Don’t be gross.”

“K.”

You and Mary grind or shimmy or jump depending on what the song calls for, your beer long drunk by now. At some point someone opens a window, and the chill, near-January air curls in—its icy but brisk tendrils working their way through the crowd. You shiver a little as the sweat on your skin tingles and cools at its touch, and Mary pulls you in tighter.

Meatloaf comes on—🎶 On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? 🎶—and Mary snuffles his face into the crook of your neck, you tilting your head to the side to give him access.

🎶 Will he offer me his teeth? 🎶

He worries at you with his teeth.

🎶 Will he offer me his hunger? 🎶

His blunt teeth sink into you, and you let out a pleased rumble.

🎶 And will he starve without me? 🎶

“Yes,” he whispers into your ear right along with Jim Steinman.

You roll your eyes even though Mary can’t see you do it, but you let him spin you out—jostling the other revelers—and back into him (stumbling) as the drum beat drops. He tries to twirl you, but the crowd has packed back in around you, and all you accomplish is tripping over his boots.

🎶 …I was dying just to ask for a taste 🎶 he mouths at you.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you say.

He leans in and nips at your lips, but you turn your head to whisper in his ear.

“I gave you a taste earlier, mister.”

“Mmm, but I’m greedy.”

You let him mouth at your neck as the two of you sway back and forth, Mary’s hands dipping lower and lower.

A sudden commotion is like a record scratch, and everyone turns to the front hall. Mary’s bandmates come into sight—caterwauling with 12 packs of shitty beer held aloft—encouraging the cheers of the other partygoers.

One spots Mary and points his finger at him.

“Goore! Goore! Goore!”

The other band members pick up the chant.

“Goore! Goore! Goore!”

The crowd takes up what has become a war cry:

“Goore! GOORE!  G O O R E !”

Mary points back, then puts his hand up in supplication at you as he backs his way out of the room.

“You’re a goddamned tease!” you cry after him.

He shrugs before spinning on his heel to be assimilated in the group, the chant turning into whoops and hollers as they make their way into the kitchen.

Mary had warned you that the band usually did an unplugged set, and you surmise they must need to set up.

Without Mary or the girls, the dance room has lost its appeal, so you meander around the first floor. The drinking games have devolved into “Never Have I Ever,” and while the pizza is gone, a homemade-looking mac and cheese dish in a tinfoil baking pan has appeared.

You pile some onto a paper plate (whose structural integrity you seriously question) and are content to watch the proceedings until a girl in the circles demands you squeeze in with a slurred “None of this wallflower shit!”. They shove a solo cup into your hand, which is then promptly filled with whiskey from a Jack bottle.

For the next hour or so, the guests on either side of you—Lila and Marty—become the best friends you never knew you had while you all hoot and catcall each other to the escalating scenarios. The bromance comes to a swift end, sadly, when Dee appears in the doorframe, sees you, and points dramatically.

“It is time for the festivities!” he yells in deep baritone.

“I’m being summoned!” you yell, and there’s a chorus of boos as you wobbly make your way over.

“Come, yon neophyte, and join us at the gathering spot.”

“Lay on, McDee!”

Dee leads you out into the backyard, which is done up with myriad bulb lights. Mary winks at you as you pass him on the porch—picking your way around the hodgepodge of instruments—before you join Ed, Trevor, Kara, and Elsie at one side of a well-used iron fire pit on the grass. The girls are passing a flask back and forth as they snuggle you in between them.

It should be fucking freezing out, but with the alcohol, the body heat, and the fire, you actually feel quite cozy. There’s a buzz of voices as the band arranges and tunes the borrowed instruments. You think you can see human shapes on back decks in other lots, but it’s hard to tell through the glare of the lights.

The band members take their places, there’s a countdown, and then Mary and the guys jumpstart into their first crowd favorite. While there are some general cheers at favored sections, the intimacy of the party and the lack of mics or speakers make it a quieter affair than their venue shows. You and the girls sway back and forth in your triplet, and even the guys are fist pumping and mouthing along. They play two more of their own songs before doing a few classic 80′s punk covers that really get everyone hyped.

It’s not perfect—none of them are sober, they’re unaccustomed to the instruments, and the cold air isn’t helping dexterity. At one point the lead singer forgets the words and just la la las his way through the verse, which in turn sends some of the other members into a musical stutter. Not everyone is invested in the whole set—some people went back inside after the first few tunes, and others see the band as just background to their conversations. Those who are fully invested have gravitated closer to the porch—but your group of Mary’s bffls are content to hang out by the fire pit where a few people have started roasting marshmallows.

After an … interesting … mashup of “Rudie Can’t Fail” and “Classics of Love” that sounds like a physical representation of a key smash, the band closes ranks, and there’s some whispered conversation and emphatic gesturing.

“Ok!” says Donnie, the lead singer. “We’re gonna switch things up. Usually on backing vocals, Goore is going to take lead for our last song.” There are some boos that probably have more to do with the set ending than Mary singing, but also some whistles that are probably for Mary. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s a party for us too!”

“Huh,” says Elsie.

“What?” you say into her armpit.

“Mary hates lead.”

You know. He’s mentioned ad nauseam.

Mary steps forward and takes position up front. When he brushes his forelock out of the way, he looks up briefly and catches eyes with you. You give him thumbs up. A grin breaks out on his face, and he winks at you. Slowly, he strums chords until he finds what he’s looking for, and you can tell he’s humming along quietly—it’s a familiar sight now to you, but you wonder how much of this crowd has seen Mary chart out a song.

Finding the key he’s looking for, Mary clears his throat. His voice isn’t rich in timbre, but he rasps out with feeling, and his pitch is near perfect.

🎶 So I hear you been wondering I've been wondering too Just what this crazy world has in store for me and you 🎶

You’re surprised at his choice, and you feel your face burn. Mary’s eyes flick up to you—glinting boyishly—and you stick your tongue out at him. He slows the song way down as he sings, changing the frenetic energy of the original into a soulful ballad to which he can growl along.

🎶 You scratching to find a way A tortured soul back from the grave O Baby Doll back to kill them all Now please won’t you stay 🎶

Mary pauses, looking full up at you before taking in a deep breath. A few heads turn to see who he’s looking at. You scrunch your face at him to convey your mortification, but he just shakes his head at you—he’s not going to stop.

🎶 Baby Doll whoa Baby Doll I need you I love you Baby Doll whoa Baby Doll O Please come back to me 🎶

You suddenly feel naked under the interested gazes of the curious onlookers as Mary continues on. He’s mostly singing at the guitar, but his few pointed glances at you make it clear who he’s singing to.

🎶 The tortures of your soul The rotting flesh pain never dulls O Baby Doll you will kill them all Now please come to me 🎶

You try to sink back into Elsie and Kara, who just push you forward again.

“Dude,” Elsie breaths at you.

“This is awesome,” says Kara.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you mutter through your plastered on smile.

Some of the amassed crowd—which suddenly seems to have multiplied—start clapping to the slowed beat, and it causes a ripple of well-timed claps as well as those who can’t keep a rhythm.

Strumming in deliberate strokes, Mary looks up to hold your eyes once more.

🎶 I see you standing there In the shadows and in the rain A lifeless beauty Nothing could ever ease you of all your pain But Baby Doll the revenge you seek I dunno It will never be sweet But you'll never give it up Now come to me Come on 🎶

You shake your head as Mary continues to repeat the chorus into a soft fade. There’s a moment of silence after he’s finished, and he points out at you.

“Give it up for my very own baby doll!”

Applause breaks out and you give him double Fs.

Mary sets down the guitar carefully as Donnie steps forward again.

“All right! That’s it, motherfuckers! We’re about an hour away from the New Year, so grab a drink and sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already!”

The crowd is whooping and whistling. A few people crowd up on the porch, as do Trevor, Ed, & Dee. Mary shakes hands, shoulder bumps, and backslaps his bandmates and some of the crowd, but his eyes are on you.

“I’d fuck him,” says Kara with a smirk.

Elsie groans. “Please don’t fuck in front of us. At least find a broom closet.”

You turn to her and give her a wolfish smile. “Who says we haven’t already christened it?”

Elsie buries her face in her hands as Kara tipsily attempts to fist bump you and ends up smushing your tit.

“Whoops! My bad!”

“Bitch, we’re cutting you off.”

“No, you’re not. Who would you do shots with?”

“Suey’s more than capable.”

You make a “who me?” face.

“Mebbe, but I think her mouth is spoken for.”

You’re about to respond, but arms suddenly encircle you, a mouth presses to your neck, and you squawk.

“If you’re not Mary Goore, you better watch your nuts!”

“I’m me, and I have to watch my nuts, anyway.”

You squirm around so that you’re facing him.

“Forget your nuts, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Aaaand on that note!” says Elsie, and she and Kara pat Mary’s arm before heading inside.

He looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“Whatever. You’re pleased. You fucking love that song.”

“Oh? Am I?”

“Yeah.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I still have my nuts.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then point your finger in his face.

“You’re on thin ice, mister.”

“Mmm, I can think of a few ways you can take it out of my ass later.”

Your stomach flips, and you press into him, grabbing his jaw.

“Damn right I will.”

Mary bites his lip as you wiggle your hand in between the two of you to palm at his crotch. He closes his eyes and sways a little 

and that’s when you step away from him.

“C’mon—my cup is empty. I need a refresh.”

Mary’s eyes pop open, and he whines while making an exaggerated puppy-dog face.

You snap your fingers at him. “That’s for earlier.”

There are still enough people mingling outside that it takes a while for the two of you to actually make it back inside—some are Mary’s friendly acquaintances he wants to say hi to and others are fans he can’t help but chat up.

“We’re going to be on Instagram again, aren’t we?” you say when you finally start your trek inside, his arm lazily resting around your shoulders.

His head turns to face you, and he gives you an impish smile.

“Tell me if I give a shit.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You might give a shit later.”

His smile turns vulpine. “Promise?”

Your hand slips into his back pocket and squeezes.

It’s actually pretty close to the ball drop by this point, so you and Mary grab up two of the bargain plastic champagne glasses you find lined up in rows on the kitchen counter. When the cheap champagne starts being passed around like you’re all in a pirate shanty, you hold out the glasses (Mary’s already lost the base to his) for a fill.

There’s no way everyone is going to fit in the living room; the majority of the attendees are spilling out into the hall, up the stairwell, and out onto the porch, with you and Mary are squished in by the stairs—but the volume for Rocking New Year’s Eve is turned up so loud the speakers are fuzzing, and a few people are streaming it on the phones.

“T-Minus one minute!” someone screams, and a cheer goes up.

“Oh shit!” you exclaim and start digging around in your bra.

“What?” asks Mary as his eyes flick down to your tits.

You retrieve two silver dollars, warmed by your skin, and press one into Mary’s free hand.

“What’s this?” He holds the coin up at eye level.

“Silver dollar. If you hold onto one as the year turns over, it’s supposed to bring good fortune.”

He looks at you skeptically as he turns it this way and that. “Does it work?”

You shrug. “Can’t hurt. My grandma swore by it.”

“THIRTY SECONDS!”

“Where d’you even get these?”

You grin.

“Amazon.”

Shouts come from the living room: “10 … 9 … 8 …”

Mary turns to face you, and the two of you take up the chant.

“7 … 6 … 5…”

He crowds a little closer, the fist holding the coin draped over your shoulder with yours resting on his hip.

“4 … 3 … 2 …”

You don’t get out the “1” because Mary smashes his mouth to yours—just a hard press of lips to lips—then he’s pulling away to press his glass to your mouth. As you try to sip out of it, you fumble your own glass to his mouth. The two of you only succeed in spilling half the contents all over each other before conceding defeat.

There’s some shrieking a moment before everyone in the hall gets sprayed with foamy champagne. Since there really isn’t any room to escape, Mary and you try your best to duck and cover, laughing as the droplets come raining down. The beach ball from earlier comes out of nowhere, and you punch it back into the air, the plastic of it slick from the champagne shower.

Everyone is still screaming, separated friends are trying to find each other amidst the revelry, and some dude on the stairs is shouting Tennyson over an off-key rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”.

“Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!” 🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶

Elsie and Kara are jumping up and down from where they are in the living room, pointing, and starting to make their way to you.

“The flying cloud, the frosty light!” 🎶 and never brought to mind? 🎶

The beach ball beans you in the face, and Mary takes it and lobs it onto the porch where it hits the back of Donnie’s head, causing the rest of them to cackle and holler back.

“The year is dying in the night!” 🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶

Like magic, Mary procures a half-full bottle of bubbly from the train of people maneuvering in the hall and takes a big swig before passing it to you. You chug the rest, coughing as the lukewarm bubbles fizz up your nose.

“Ring out, wild bells, and let him die!” 🎶 and auld lang syne? 🎶

Laughing, Mary wipes at your face with his sleeve, and you realize he’s still got the silver dollar clutched tight in his hand.

Song List

Next ➡️

[imaginesmai]

Tom Holland-Gift Wrapping

I don’t even know where this gift came from, but I think it’s perfect for the story

Plot: gift wrapping is the worst part of Christmas. Tom is the best one.

"God damnit!” you cursed, throwing the tape dispenser across the table you were sitting at and crossing your arms in a huff.

On the table just in front of you was a mess of a present, ripped wrapping paper with stupid snowflakes and smiling snowmen on it, tape holding bits of it down, and lots of small dents from where you had punched the desk with the scissors. There was a pile of gifts still waiting to be wrapped near you, a few more rolls of wrapping paper, name tags and ribbons, and more tape to be used.

Not that any of it was going to do you any good if you couldn’t even get the damn paper on there correctly.

You were good at buying presents, at thinking carefully and picking out just the right thing for the right person. What you were not good at was wrapping the damn things so they seemed presentable enough to actually give them.

When you lived back at home, your mother had always done it, and once you had moved out and were on your own you had always had a friend who would offer to do it for you. The past few years, you had managed well with the Holland’s, always choosing the correct member of the family to wrap presents together. But you had done the shopping later than any year, and now you didn’t have time to wrap them with the family; hence why you were hiding in Tom’s and your apartment.

You were determinated to wrap your gifts yourself, but the wrapping paper that wouldn’t fold correctly mocked you, along with the tape that was sticking everywhere but the place it needed to. All seemed to disagree with your plan, because you had been trying for at least half an hour to wrap the damn thing. And if you thought things couldn’t go worse, you heard the front door opening.

“Darling?” Tom asked from the living room, and your heart stopped. There was no way you could convince him not to enter the room without raising suspicious. “Y/N, you home? Mom said she called you about an hour ago”

“Just a second, Tom!” you screamed back. With the only piece of paper intact that was close to you, you tried to cover up at least his gift. It was place farther than the rest, which made you slip and hit your chin with the floor.

“Y/N?! Was that you?”

You almost didn’t heard the rushing steps, just the loud bang that the door made when it hit the wall. Tom stood there, wide eyes and scarf still on, looking at you with a contained worried smile. He clicked his tongue, shrugged out his coat and gloves, without saying anything, and approached you. Bu then you were sitting once more cross-legged, staring daggers at the mess on the table in front of you.

You watched him, stubbornly keeping the tears out as the throbbing in your chin pulsed. Your eyes were narrowed in a fit of pain and frustration, but it all went away when Tom kneeled besides you and pulled you close. You relaxed into his arms and wrapped your arms around his middle, finding the too cold clothes not uncomfortable at all.

The first tear rolled down your cheek, and Tom caught it before it touched the ground.

“I just wanted to do it on my own” you sighed, looking at the poor attempt of cover that you had put on Tom’s gift. “It’s – it’s too late to coordinate with the others, and I thought I could”

“You could have asked me for help” Tom said, and started combing his hand through your hair

“There is one for you too, and besides you’re busy enough with spies in disguise’ premier”

Tom didn’t say anything, but reached for the nearest package, the one for his brother Sam. It was the last book of cooking that he had been begging for months. With you still clinging to his side, he managed to wrap the gift neatly and put a beautiful red ribbon on top. Then, he slid the perfectly wrapped gift back over to you, the whole thing looking so wonderful and perfect that you wanted to throw it at his head.

He chuckled when he saw your puffed out cheeks, and placed a frozen kiss to the tip of your nose before tearing a bit away.

“You do the nametags and bows, alright? Think you can manage that?” Tom teased, pushing the ribbons and nametags over to you.

Your made a mocking sort of face, but returned the previous kiss with a quick peck to his lips and filled out the nametag. Bows, you could managed, so you went to work yourself while Tom continued wrapping the things from your pile, his hands working quicker than you thought was humanly possible. You kept an eye on his present, but he knew better than to approach it.

The silence was comforting, allowing you a few moments to calm down and focus on tying the bows, instead of on the fact that Tom was so much better at that than you were.

After a while, Tom slid the final, perfectly wrapped package over to you and stood up, and ignored the last one with a wink.

“Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

“Shut up, not everyone can be as talented as you” you mumbled, sticking the last bow to the package.

“Well, you’ve to be pretty talented to keep me hooked like this”

You rolled your eyes and accepted the hand he was offering you. Being with Tom, was never getting bored. There wasn’t a day where you had thought about leaving him, because you were probably addicted to the British boy. There was something about his smile, the way his cared about you, or just the shine on his eyes, that made you want to stay by his side always.

Tom moved forwards until he was inches away from you, sight so blurry that you could only focus on his chocolate eyes. He was careful of not touching you with his still icy fingers, so he placed his hands on your ass and left them there. All for the comfort, you thought.

“You should probably call my mom back” he murmured, smiling. His dimple showed, and quickly your hand made it to his cheek, caressing it. “She’s pretty worried”

“Yeah, probably. Why are you home so early, by the way? I thought Harry and you were going to the pub”

“Missed you lots”

Tom shrugged and tried to hide the blush of his confession by finally kissing you. You weren’t surprised by him ditching his brothers for staying with you. At the beginning, you had thought it would be hard Christmas with his family, since he would want to stay with his brothers, who he didn’t see too often; and you would be stuck with his mom. Then, you discovered that you had to tear him away from you just to welcome his mom.

The kiss was slow and warm, felt like home. He moved his lips against yours as if it was a natural instinct, and even if you tore away to take a breath every now and then, he went back to kissing you after.

Finally, he broke down and breathed deep.

“I was thinking” he started, hooking his thumbs on your belt loops and bringing you closer. He forced you to change your arms around his neck, and look at him in the eye. “We have a few hours before my mom kidnaps you. What do you say about hot chocolate and some Christmas movie?”

“That sounds more funny that wrapping presents” you laughed, and rested your head on his shoulder. “You smell really good”

The last part was more than a whisper than a laugh, and you felt Tom’s skin turning into gossebumps. He shivered lightly when your breath hit his neck, and moved one of his hands so that he could cradle your head. The clock on the wall kept tickling, reminding you that soon, you would have to appear in Nikki’s house to eat roasted turkey and Tom’s grandma’s pudding; if it didn’t catch on fire.

You sighed, and pouted at him. But you didn’t get to say anything, because he was faster than you.

“I know I smell good” he smirked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s the body perfume you gave me a few months ago, for the wrapping of spies in disguise”

“Mh, I might have to get you more”

At that, Tom pushed you off and crossed his arms in front of him. You frowned when you stumbled back a few steps, almost hitting the bed and falling over.

“You wrap that mysterious present, and I’m in charge of the hot chocolate” he winked at you, and then turned back.

Laughs echoed in the apartment as you chased him with a roll of wrapping paper, until he grabbed you from behind you and threw you over the coach. The film wasn’t put, the chocolate wasn’t made, and you had to rush in order to have Tom’s present ready for that night. Let’s just say, the film that occurred in that hour in your apartment, wasn’t PG.

Tom Holland/ Peter Parker tags:

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips​ 

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“Illusion” ch 7!

Link to the full Ao3 work

Warnings: hangover, mentions of drinking/drugs

Also MC has a moment where she literally does this:

Uh oh... a hint of romance? Perhaps...

"Hey... you okay?"

Someone's voice softly pervades my mind, finally stirring it enough for consciousness to take hold. The first thing I do is wince, scrunching up my face. Ow ow ow! Fuck... My stomach feels like it's full of fire ants, crawling their way up my esophagus and into my throat. I splutter out a weak cough, someone pressing something cold onto my forehead. I can feel liquid dripping; whether it's from a wet cloth or my own sweat, I don't know. It feels good, though, on my burning skin.

"Hey, can you speak? I'm so scared..."

I open my mouth in an attempt to speak, but end up coughing instead. Ouch! It rips through my throat like barbed wire, but I manage to crack open my eyes. I see a familiar (albeit fuzzy) face peering down at me, her eyes full of worry and fear. "...Alice?"

She manages to smile, smoothing down my hair as she crouches next to my bed. "Thank god... I was worried you weren't going to wake up!"

I nod slowly, a little confused as to what's going on. Last night... we went out... and... That's where my memory runs out. "What happen- OUCH!" I cry out a small exclamation of pain as I sit up, my head throbbing. "Ow, ow, ow... Am I hungover?!"

Alice nods slowly, rubbing my shoulder. "Probably... geez, you really don't hold your liquor well, do you? I leave for one second and you wander off and collapse drunkenly in an alley!"

"You left?" I blink slowly, putting the puzzle pieces together with much difficulty. "I-I didn't go with you?"

"No, I asked if you wanted to, but you said no," Alice explains. "I don't blame you, Margery puke is something I don't want to see, either."

Right... Wren came in... he told us Margery was sick... and then... 

Did I drink anything after that? I suppose I wouldn't remember...

"Come on, you need a shower. You probably have alcohol poisoning or something." With some difficulty, Alice pries me out of bed, wraps me up in a blanket when I start shivering, and leads me out into the hallway. "Everyone else is out and about, I managed to get the Captain to give you the day off.

"Oh..." I say softly, for some reason feeling very upset by this news. My eyes even start to water a little. "That's... good, I guess."

Something doesn't add up. I was in an alley? Drunk? Wouldn't I have just stayed at the bar if I passed out? Unless someone dragged me out-

"Oh, good morning, you two! I'm glad to see you awake~"

...huh? That voice...

I look up and have to squint, but finally the face of the taller man grows into focus. OH... FUCK! 

"J-J-Julius?!" I stutter out, a lot louder than I mean to. I feel my face heating up for some reason. Ah! Get a grip! Why am I reacting this way... he literally just said good morning! "I mean... uh, good morning to you, too?" I wish I could shrink down and disappear into the blanket that's wrapped around me.

Despite the fact that I'm definitely blushing an embarrassingly dark shade of pink right now, Julius just smiles and lets out a relieved sigh, but the corners of his eyes crinkle with worry. "Ah, you're probably exhausted, I'll leave you to nurse that... hangover." He pats me on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a few moments longer than normal before letting go to brush past me. I stand there, still kind of stunned, before my senses hit me again. "Oh-" I turn around to see him glancing back at me. "Let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me!"

He finally disappears around the corner, and I let out a heaving sigh. Jesus, I must be really out of it... I hear a giggle and look over to see Alice smirking at me. "What was that?"

I suck in a breath through my nose and look away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"You're red as a beet! And you basically moaned his name!"

"What?! And I'm sick, of course I'm red! There was no moaning whatsoever!!"

"Hmm, whatever you say~"

"Alice!"

Eventually she stops teasing me, and I start to feel better after taking a shower. However, my stomach still feels all wonky and I end up throwing up into a toilet for about seven minutes straight. "I was wondering when this was going to happen," Alice says sadly as she hands me a glass of water after the "tide" has retreated. "You didn't throw up at all last night, and Julius said you hadn't when you were in the alley. I guess it has to happen sometime."

I nearly choke on my water. "H-Huh?! Julius... he was the one who found me?!"

"Yeah, actually. I guess you were lucky, he always knows what to do-" Alice freezes up as I suddenly clap my hands over my face and shamelessly burst into tears. "What? Hey, hey, it's not a big deal!"

I shake my head a little as I feel her arms wrap around me.

"Everyone has this happen... it's not something to be embarrassed about! Julius doesn't care, he's seen it all, I'm sure!"

Her embrace doesn't melt the growing icicle of fear away.

I'm not embarrassed... I'm happy.

Because... I can't put my finger on it, but I think something bad happened last night, I was in danger. But Julius...

I don't know why I can't shake that uneasy feeling throughout the day. A nagging suspicion in the back of my mind keeps kicking me, trying to force me to face the very real chance that I wasn't drunk.

If I wasn't drunk, then what was I?

At about five in the evening, Alice gets dressed to leave our room. "I have a patrol, it's going to go until tomorrow morning," she groans, even though this kind of mission is usual for her. "Are you going to be okay? I know you said that you don't think you have to worry about anyone here anymore-"

"I'll be fine!" I give her a smile from my bed, still sipping water. "See you later!"

Alice bids me farewell before leaving me alone once again. I sigh and flop back on my bed, closing my eyes and scraping the corners of my mind to find an explanation for these badly-fitting puzzle pieces. The dread won't go away, so it must mean something, right?

My friends... they wouldn't hurt me...

But the last thing I remember drinking, the Cinnamon Whiskey, it was bitter, not sweet or spicy.

I open my eyes again to stare at the ceiling blankly.

Did I really drink after that? I don't remember at all...

Suddenly, I get an idea. Without hesitation, I get up and pull on some clothes before running off towards Captain Hervey's office. Luckily, he's inside, working on some papers. "Oh, it's you," he greets sternly, getting up out of his chair as I close the door behind me. "I was wondering when you were going to show up... how are you feeling?"

"Er, good, sir," I reply, feeling my face heat up. "I'm really sorry about being a nuisance... I didn't mean to get so drunk or anything, to be honest, I don't really remember drinking very much, but it happens, I suppose."

Hervey eyes me curiously before letting out a hearty laugh. "It happens! You've got to work up your tolerance somehow, I suppose!" He suddenly grabs my head and shakes me around playfully, a little more rough than my stomach can bear right now. "Just don't embarrass the squad, that's all I ask!"

"Ah! Y-Yes sir!" He finally releases me and I straighten up. "I was wondering... do you still have last night's bar tab somewhere? I'd like to see it."

"Huh? Why?" I shrug, earning a sigh from the captain as he turns to rummage through the trash. "You're lucky... I just paid the tab, and was about to take out the trash." Hervey always pays for our nights out, which is why he has our tab. "Here, now scram!"

I catch the crumpled up paper he tosses me, squeak out a thank you then run back to my room. This should tell me something...

Once in my room, I uncrumple the tab and start skimming through it. There, that's the inn... and there's the drinks we got...

My blood runs cold.

According to the tab, we were served just five cinnamon whiskeys.

Just... five. 

Wait... if we just had five... then what the Hell did I drink later?! 

I loosen my grip, and the paper wafts down to the floor at my feet.

I... I can't have been... drugged?

The cinnamon whiskey was bitter.

No... I-

But, who would have done it? Some random guy at the bar? I didn't notice anyone else come close to us... then, the bartender? No, that would be too easy to trace! Then...

It was one of them... Giles, Elia, Nigel, Alice...

Maybe not Alice, but right now the dark cloud of paranoia won't let me let go of that option.

So... it wasn't just one of my squadmates. It was one of my very own friends...

The hope I started to feel is gone, leaving nothing but an empty, taunting shell. Because, it's not over. Once again, someone is trying to intimidate me, to harm me, to make me fear the people around me. They've succeeded.

Thank goodness Julius found me... who knows what would have happened, then? It explains the severity of my illness this morning. This isn't a hangover, it's the product of some potent, poisonous drug. My hands tremble where they rest on my bare knees, and suddenly my nightgown is not nearly enough to shield me from the chill of this room. 

I'm... still in danger... but why?! I ball up my fists, feeling hot tears on my cheeks again. At this point, I'm feeling more frustrated than afraid. Why would someone target me like this? What did I do?! How do I make it stop...

Suddenly, I've been sitting there in silence for a long time, longer than I meant to. I look up sharply at my door, faint light from the hallway spilling under the crack.

I... I'm alone... Alice... she's going to be gone all night...

The frustration decidedly turns into fear. Visceral fear. I could die tonight. Someone could kill me in my sleep.

So... I won't sleep!

I move mechanically, slipping off my bed and turning on a light. My fingers are shaking, fumbling at the lamp.

I...I'll be fine! I can do this alone... and in the morning, I'll tell Alice, and we'll tell the captain-

No. I won't be fine.

I...I can fight them off... I have magic!

My hands clutch my Grimoire as I sit cross-legged on the floor, staring with wide eyes at the door. There's no strength in my gaze.

They haven't even gotten here... but they've already defeated me...

My blood freezes in my veins as I hear a footstep.

Then another.

I-it's coming closer...

I can it so clearly. They're getting closer.

Okay... get ready...

I hold up my hand.

You can do it... if you cast Fear Landscape now...

The footsteps slow as they near my door. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Do it... please...

My body refuses to move. My magic refuses to move. I'm completely petrified with fear.

I... don't want to die... please...

The footsteps speed up, and disappear down the hall.

I stay sitting there for a moment, before my eyes snap back open, blinking away tears.

I'm pathetic... I'm right, they've already defeated me...

My Grimoire thunks to the ground as I drop it, and I stare at the pair of useless hands I've been cursed with.

There's an escape... maybe I should just leave now... I'll be to the castle by morning. Lawrence will protect me, right?

No. A life with Lawrence would be worse than anything I have to face tonight. No matter how nice or comforting he tries to be, he can't erase the past. He'll never bring me the same warmth from his smile as...

...

That's right... there's someone still here that I can trust!

The realization fills my limbs with purpose, and before I know it, I throw open my door and sprint away as quietly as I can. I turn a few corners, climb one set of stairs, and there it is, that room, his room!

I skid to a stop before I slam into the door and knock on the wood urgently, glancing behind me. Please be here! Please- I feel like a rabbit, being chased down by a ravenous pack of wolves, ready to tear me apart the moment I falter. Please... please!-

Mid-knock, the door opens, and Julius pokes his head out. "Oh! Good- evening-"

He doesn't get to finish as I push my way inside, bursting right past him, and slam the door shut with a loud bang. I gasp in a breath, adrenaline still filling my veins as I lean against the closed door. I did it! I escaped... I should be safe now... now that I'm...

I suddenly go pale.

...oops. I just broke into Julius's room, didn't I?

I turn around slowly to look back up at Julius, who is speechless, his mouth open wordlessly. Finally, he blinks a few times. "Er... to what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night-visit?" He closes his eyes as he smiles, still emanating that comforting aura that I was seeking out.

He looks... so warm... so... safe...

Safe.

It's something I desperately want to feel right now, but even here in this room, locked away from the danger outside, I can't relax. 

"...what's wrong?"

I get snapped from my thoughts as Julius gently touches my shoulder. I slowly look up at him, at his concerned face. He knows something is wrong...

"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me, alright? Even if it's something, er- girly, although I'm sure Malota is better suited for that kind of- Ah! Why are you crying? Did I say something?"

I shake my head, and without another moment of thought I let the tears fall, and fling myself into his warm, safe chest.

OooooOooooOo ;.; Nice! Please comment and lmk what you think 0.0

I’m having so much fun writing this rn  I hope ya’ll like it too <3

[sleeplessphantom]

Blackout (PewDiePie x OC Fanfiction)

Summary: When the power goes out in the flat that Lauren shares with Felix, it ends with them sitting on the living room floor, telling each other how they feel. 

Word Count: 1,516 words

A/N: Hello! This is my first public fanfiction, so please try not to be too brutal in the comments or if you reblog this. Enjoy, and let me know if you want more Felix x Lauren! 

(The outfit Felix is wearing in the GIF is the outfit he’s wearing in this fic.) 

In the flat I shared with Felix, we were the best of friends. We played video games together, we talked about anime, we messed around like your typical pair of best friends. 

However, in my journal, I always expressed how much I want to be more than that. I wanted us to be a thing for so long, but I could never bring myself to tell Felix the truth. Our friends even knew something beyond friendship was there. Felix never showed any interest when it came to a relationship beyond friendship, but Jack always insisted that he felt something between Felix and I whenever we talked over Discord or in real life. 

I was mid-sentence in my latest journal entry when the lights went out. It made me flinch and let out a surprised gasp. “Dammit.” I whispered under my breath. I closed my journal and pen, setting it on the coffee table. I carefully stood up and tried my best to make out was in our living room without lights as I walked to the hallway where Felix’s office was. 

“Felix?” I called out. 

“Lauren?” Felix called out as I heard a door open near me. I moved closer to the voice I heard, before bumping head first into Felix in the process. He stops me from falling backwards by using his hands to grab each of my arms by the middle. I gasped in surprise. 

Something about him holding me feels right. 

“Lauren, are you okay?” Felix asks. 

I feel fantastic. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I reply. 

“Good, let’s find a flashlight or something.”

-Time skip-

The next thing I know I’m in the middle of our living room, sitting in front of a lit, unscented candle, with Felix sitting across from me, looking at the flame in boredom. His legs were crisscrossed, his hands in his lap. 

“Were you working on anything important?” I asked, breaking the silence of the flat. 

Felix looks up at me. “Not really, I was just looking at clothes online.” He responds. “What were you doing?” 

“I was writing in my journal.” I said. 

He chuckles. “I’m not surprised.” He pauses. “What do you write about in there anyway?” 

I jokingly scoffed at him. “That is none of your business good sir.” I said in a sassy tone. 

“Well sorry.” He replies, drawing out the “sorry” in a sassy tone. 

A few minutes later, I began to shiver. It was 8:30 PM in the midst of Fall, and we still had no power, so we didn’t have heat. 

Felix notices my cold shivers and grabs the lit candle from between us, getting up. 

“Hey, where are you going with that?” I asked, crossing my arms in an attempt to be warm. 

“I’m just getting us a blanket, I’ll be right back.” He says, walking towards the hall, leaving me in the pitch-black dark. 

“Felix!” I whined. 

A minute later he comes back with a long, fuzzy blanket in one hand, and the candle in the other. He sets the candle down carefully in front of me, unfolds the blanket away from the candle’s flame, and wraps it around himself. 

My eyebrows knit together as I wonder what he’s doing. 

Suddenly, I don’t have time to think or process what he’s doing. 

Felix sits next to me and scoots me closer to him by wrapping his arms around my waist, throwing the blanket around both our bodies, facing the still-lit candle on the floor. I quietly gulp, feeling instantly warmer. 

Typical best friends do this, right?

“Feeling better?” Felix asks, looking down at me. 

I look up at him, his blue eyes locking with my brown ones. 

“Yes.” I barely say in a whisper.

“Good.” He says with a soft smile, resting his head on my left shoulder.  

After a few seconds of silence and candle watching, I finally say, “Felix, you realize we have more than one blanket in the flat, right?” 

Felix chuckles. “Maybe I didn’t want to get another blanket.” he retorts. 

I can’t stand this tension any longer. I just have to let it all out. 

“Felix, do you really want to know what I write in that journal every day?” I ask, referring to the journal sitting on the coffee table. 

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me if you-”

“I write about you.” I interrupt. 

That statement stung Felix for a moment. Before chuckling off and saying. “What, like, “Felix is a simp, Felix has a big nose, Felix cries about-”

“I write about how much I’m in love with you.” I said, turning away from the candle so I’m talking to him face to face.

Felix’s smile fades away in shock. He knew this wasn’t another one of my jokes. “What?” 

“We’ve known each other for over three years. Over those three years, I’ve gotten to know a wonderful, handsome, hilarious, amazing, nice guy. Every time I’ve tried to tell you how I feel, it overwhelms me, so I kept it all in a journal. I love you Felix Kjellberg, and I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I can’t keep putting it on paper any longer.” I said, tears forming in my eyes. 

Felix is taken back by my words. His silence makes me nervous. Were my worst fears correct? Does he not love me back?

He still doesn’t say anything, making me look down at the floor we’re sitting on, about to cry. 

“I love you too Lauren.” 

My head whips up at him. “You do?”

“I never wanted to tell you because I never thought you liked me that way. I always thought within our years of friendship that my feelings would fade away, thinking it was a stupid crush. But you are far from a stupid crush. You are a beautiful, kind, funny girl. You mean everything to me. I mean it Lauren, I love you too.”

I don’t focus on the blackout in this moment. All I can focus on is is him. That face, his blue eyes, his white hair, only him, nothing else. 

Felix brings me out of focus when he puts his hand on my cheek and his lips meet mine. The kiss I’ve been waiting three years for. 

The kiss brings joy to my heart. It puts butterflies in my stomach. It more than anything I could have ever described in my journal. 

Felix slowly pulls away and smiles at me. “Min vackra ängel.” 

I giggle at him. I like it when he speaks in Swedish. “And what does that mean?”

“My beautiful angel.” 

I smile at him, but it suddenly disappears when the wick in the candle runs out, no longer providing light for the flat. I gasp at the sudden darkness. 

Felix pulls me closer to him, my head on his chest. “It’s okay.” He reassures. “Let’s sleep here. It’s getting late and we shouldn’t walk around in the dark.” 

“Okay.” I replied. I got out of the blanket we were wrapped in and laid down on the floor. I can hear Felix carefully getting up, tossing the blanket up so it lays out on me. He carefully lays down under the blanket next to me. I’m facing away from him, so when he wraps his arms around me, he gives multiple small kisses to the back of my head. 

“I love you Lauren, goodnight.” 

“I love you more Felix, goodnight.” 

We both fall asleep. Three years of tension, gone within a night. 

-Third Person POV-

Felix wakes up to sunlight shining through the curtains, the ceiling lights and the lamp by the couch turned on. The power finally came back.

He sits up, yawning and looking around the flat. He sees the burnt-out candle, but more importantly, his girlfriend. His angel. His everything. 

Lauren was still fast asleep on the floor, softly snoring. 

“Så jävla bedårande. (So fucking adorable).” He thought. 

Felix removes the shared blanket from his body, getting up and looking down at Lauren. He smiles as he gently takes the blanket off of her. Then, he carefully picks her up bridal style, making sure not to wake her up as he carries her to his bedroom. He lifts the covers of his bed out of the way, then he carefully sets Lauren down on his bed and covers her with his blankets. Lauren’s head faces the ceiling as Felix kisses her forehead and walks out of his room. 

Felix returns to the living room, cleaning up from last night. He folds up the blanket they used last night and puts it in a nearby chair. He takes the burnt-out candle and throws it in the trash. When he’s done, he sits down and sees Lauren’s journal sitting on the coffee table, unlocked. 

“I write about how much I’m in love with you.” 

Felix picks up the journal, feeling the faux brown leather. He opens it to the first page and begins to read every single thing Lauren loves about Felix. 

Who knew a blackout could get you and the love of your life together? 

[jj-lynn21]

Castlerock: All Hallows Eve Ch 3

Ch 3: Chaos

Ch 1: Creation   ch 2 accident

Warnings: angst, jealousy, creepiness, creepy kids laughing,  

Song: It's a dead man's party oingo boingo

tags @dragsraksllib​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @sunshineandskarsgards​ @loomis @goblincxnt​  @kaangwoo​     @taintedglass​

 Nadine hobbled out to kitchen. She poured coffee in a mug that her love had put there for her. Genevieve was making breakfast. The Statue of the Kid sat on the counter looking towards Gen cooking. Nadine glared at the statue sticking her tongue. She gasped as she swore, she saw its mouth turn up in a grin and one eye wink.

  “Fuck.” She backed away to the table to sit down. When she took another look the face was normal. “Fucking hell that thing is creepy Gen.” 

Gen turned around with two plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, sausage, and tomato. “I don’t think that is nice of you to say about him.” She put the food on the table, then turned to grab the statue to set facing her. “He is quite a unique expression of my creativity.”

“I’m not having another fight over him.” Nadine took a deep breath. “It is just a statue made of clay.” She mumbled.

 “For now.” Genevieve mumbled back as she started eating. “Are you going to be able to come to the party tonight? I already started decorating while you were in the hospital.”

“How did you have time?” Nadine paused fork full of eggs halfway to her mouth. “You where there with me as long as they would let you. How did you decorate and sleep?”

Gen shrugged. “The point is that I did it. When the veil lifts it’s a dead man’s party as our parents always say.” She laughed. It sounded a bit wicked as she hears the clay figure of The Kid laugh to.

 “I’m still in.” Nadine started eating again. “People rising from the dead wouldn’t really be all that surprising in this part of Maine. Hopefully, they don’t kill anyone, but I guess we will deal with that when it happens.”

Both girls laugh at the absurdity of the subject. Their laughter only masks the truth they well know. If it is a strange occurrence, it is sure to eventually happen in Castlerock.

Nadine insists on cleaning everything up since Genevieve cooked. She tries to argue with Nadine to at least let her help since she still has stitches in her leg and multiple bruises, but Nadine pushes her off towards her art room.  Gen reluctantly gave in and headed to her art room. She left the statue on the table. Nadine glared at it out of his line of sight. She thought this was her chance to get rid of the thing and she would play dumb when Gen was looking for it.

The party would distract her girlfriend. She would not have time to look for it until after the day of the Dead.  Nadine grabbed the thing. Holding it out In front of her refusing to look in its face she dropped it in the trash. The trash collector was only a house away. When the trucks robot arm lifted the trash can to dumb the contents, she felt relieved and went back in the house to wash dishes.

 A few hours later Nadine knocked on the art room door with some pumpkin cookies. She made dozens for the party. “Hey, Gen do you want to be a taste tester?”

“Come in.” Genevieve was working on a poster board sign of the Marsten house. She worked with blues, purples, black and a bit of oranges and yellows for glowing pumpkins. “How do you like our party sign so far?”

Nadine dropped the plate of cookies as she looked over her loves shoulder. Sitting at the corner of the paper was the statue of the kid watching Gen work.

 “It’s not that scary.” Genevieve laughed and helped Nadine clean up the cookies. She even ate one. “I think you out did yourself. This is the best cookie I have ever had in my mouth.”

“Um thanks.” She looked to the picture then came up with a reason she was scared. “Creepy kid shadows got me, I guess. Everyone will love the sign. Did you make more statues also?”

“No silly.” She kissed the top of the clay statue’s forehead. “He is an original. There can never be more than one.”

Nadine’s heart began beating so fast she grabbed her chest. She swore she saw the thing move its head to look at her. Gen was back to working on the sign by then. 

“I will have this finished in an hour.” Gen had her tongue sticking out as she worked on detailing jack-o'-lanterns in the painting. “Then we can take everything to the house before dusk. It is going to be such a wonderful night. Did I ever tell you my parents found me in the woods near the Marsten house?” “No, you never told me.” I thought the Duchamp’s were your parents.”

“Nope.” Gen replied. “No one could figure out who my real parents were so the sheriff just let them keep me. Everyone figured whoever left a baby in the woods was not much of a parent to begin with.”

“I’m sorry.” Nadine didn’t know anything else she could say. Maybe, her head injury was worse than the Doctor thought and she imagined throwing away the statue. Nothing else really makes sense. All the creepiness about it could be all in her head because of how jealous she is of Henry Deaver, The Kid, or whatever everyone wanted to call him. 

“It's okay.” Genevieve grinned wickedly. “Destiny always finds a person no matter where they end up.”

“I guess.” Nadine shrugged. “I’m going to make more cookies. I’ll be ready when you are done.”

“Sure thing, Nadine.” Genevieve said without looking away from her project. 

An hour before sundown Genevieve brings the painting out.  She had a long blood red jacket on with a hood, a black dress underneath with legging and thigh-high boots. “Already for tonight.”

Nadine turns from bagging up the goodies. “That looks great. And you look sexy as Hell.” Nadine had on black jeans and a loose-fitting black hoodie with cat ears. “I’m ready.”

The girls took Gen’s car. Nadine’s car was still at the Duchamp auto body shop. The wind blew the leaves across the path as Nadine and Genevieve walk up to the house.

 “I’m going to put the sign up.” Genevieve troted back down the driveway with the sign.

  “Alright, just be careful.” Nadine laughed changing the tone of her voice to a deep spooky one. “The witching hour will be upon us soon.” She cackled. She went into the house alone.

Genevieve went down to the bottom of the driveway. She set the sign up and looked at the town of Jerusalem's Lot. The chill in the air made her shiver. It was not that she heard him call for help. She felt him need her help.  She walked around the house into the woods. Her ears heard a humming. Then a loud stinging ringing flooded her mind. She dropped to her knees screaming covering her ears. Then there was silence. There he was laying in the leaves shivering naked.

As soon as she opened her eyes Genevieve crawls to him.  She took her long red coat off to wrap him up. “I’m here with you.”

His lips were blue from the cold.  Expressing his bewilderment with his eyes, he looks to her. He hates this part. The travel from the other side. The surprising time it happened as he communicated with her through her art. He didn’t imagine it could happen like this. A thinning happening on both sides while he was in his bath.

 “Let me help you inside where it is warmer.” She helped him to stand. “I’m sorry my coat is not longer on you, but at least it covers what only me needs to see.’

That made him chuckle a little. As they start walking to the Marsten place, guests are streaming inside. More people than were expected. Nadine did not even notice how long Gen was gone until she saw him duck into the doorway. Genevieve was by his side.  

The Kid darted his eyes around nervously. “Too much.”

Gen helped him through the staring crowd as the sounds of children laughing made her skin crawl. She got her man to a bedroom. Genevieve illuminated the scene with only her cellphone. 

The shadows of children lost surround the bed. “Play with us.” 

Genevieve gasped and dropped the cellphone on the bed. “Make them stop. Make them stop.” She buried her head in his chest.

 He covered her ears. “Go away.” He growled the command his face morphing into a grotesque old demon scaring the apparitions.

They screeched so loud as they ran the walls shook. The house not being the most stable residents started to slowly crumble. Hearing the screaming from where she saw Gen go, Nadine rushed to the room. As she looked inside Gen was looking up at her savior lovingly with trust. His hands covered the sides of her face.

His one eye caught Nadine standing frozen as the walls shook.  “Mine.” He murmured before kissing Genevieve passionately as they laid down in the bed.

The door slammed. Someone in another room yelled “fire.” Nadine ran to put it out. A huge part of the ceiling caved in in the kitchen. The punch bowl ignited when someone dropped their cigarette into it. Chaos took over.

The guests no longer thought the children were a creepy party trick. They were trying to keep people from leaving.  Nadine was trying to help everyone out safely. She could not think of what Genevieve was doing. She grabbed a iron poker from the fireplace. As soon as she swung it, nailing three of the children they vanished.

Some people could finally start to leave yet another nightmare party. The next day many would convince themselves it was the best party they ever attended. Even if some people never got home.

Genevieve and her King start to head out of the house. In the chaos no one noticed. No one that is but Nadine who saw them start to leave out of the corner of her eye.

 “Where are you going!” Nadine screamed. “We need to make sure everyone gets out of here safely.”

“Everything will be fine.” Gen continued to walk out. “I’m going home.”

Nadine was pissed but she did not have time to deal with whatever was going on with Genevieve and that damn creepy kid. The Marstan house was starting to crumble again. The roof had not been secured. The dry wall was barely holding up. The punch bowl was on fire and all those kids laughing as people screamed did not help the situation. 

Once Nadine helped everyone out of the house, she was exhausted. Genevieve’s car was still there. She figured her girl, if she still considered herself that, had walked to their home. Taking The Kid to their place just made the anger well up in her again. She drove back to their home as fire trucks and ambulances descended on the scene.

 Nadine tore up the driveway. She stormed in the house ready for a fight. She was ready to fight for her love or lose Genevieve forever. But their place was quiet when she entered. It was to quiet. She stomped through the place thinking she would find Gen in their bed. She pushed open the door, the room was empty. She went to the art room next. No one was there. And even though Nadine never saw Gen take the statue to the party the statue was gone too.

 She panicked. She was sure Gen told her they were going home. Her mind whorled. She concluded Henry Deaver kidnapped her girlfriend. She rushed to the police station.

“My girlfriend was kidnapped.” She was breathing heaving as she approached the women at the desk. “Henry Deaver kidnapped my girlfriend.”

The clerk rolled her eyes. “Which one? I haven’t seen either in over a year.”

 “The kid.” Nadine answered frustrated. “Whatever you want to call him. He left the party at the Marsten house with her. She said she was going home, and she isn’t there.”

“Oh, you were at that house party.” She shook her head. “Who started the fire? How did all those people get hurt. That place has never been good.”

“That has nothing to do with my girlfriend’s disappearance.” Nadine was infuriated. “We need to get a search party in the woods.”

“Well you have two options young lady.” The clerk grabbed some paperwork and motioned another police officer over. “You take a substance test. We find out what you were doing in that house. Or you sleep it off. It is not a kidnapping for her to leave with him of her own free will. She will probably be home tomorrow. If not, I would forget about her. People disappear around here all the time. No amount of searching usually helps.”

Those were like the words she told Genevieve. Now coming back to haunt her. She left but she never planned to let go. She would eventually find her love and take her back from the man, if he were truly a man, that destroyed their life.                             

[jade4813]

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 8

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 8/?

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Zoey rarely awoke with the kind of unbridled optimism that made her feel like the world had her back and everything was going to go her way. Actually, she pretty much never woke up with that feeling. But when she opened her eyes the next morning, she bounced out of bed with a smile on her face that even awareness of the early hour couldn’t diminish. As she waited for her coffee to finish brewing, she poked a nose out her window and saw that the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and it promised to be a beautiful day. A perfect day, in fact.

The perfect day to tell Max how she felt about him.

Maybe they could even call off sick afterwards and spend the rest of this beautiful day in bed. With no pillows or blankets between them this time.

A shiver of anticipation shot down her spine, and she was tempted to start singing again. It took a force of effort, but she refrained, knowing that would only attract Mo’s attention. As much as she loved her friend and treasured his advice, she was eager to get to work and see Max. Her Max. Could she call him that now? She certainly thought about him that way. To see her Max and tell him how much she loved him and that she wasn’t scared anymore.

She got an idea, so after she flipped down the lever to start toasting her breakfast, she grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a quick note for Mo. As soon as the bread popped up again, she grabbed her rather uninspiring breakfast of dry toast and hot coffee and raced out the door. After trying to figure out how she felt about Max for months, it seemed she now couldn’t wait another minute to see him.

Stepping into the hall, she paused long enough to slip the note under Mo’s door. “Next time I see you, I will have earned that bacon!”

With that task done, and feeling incredibly pleased with herself, she hopped up on her toes and raced out the door. It was going to a beautiful, perfect day. Impatient even for the few minutes it would take to see him to pass, she pulled out her phone and reread their text exchange from the night before. In her euphoric, romantic haze, it didn’t occur to her now any more than it had to her then, how uncharacteristically brief and abrupt he’d been in his responses.

“Leif said you weren’t feeling well. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“This isn’t because I stole your side of the bed last night, is it?” she’d joked, ending the question with a grinning emoji.

“No, of course not.”

“Well, I hope you feel better! If you’re feeling up to it, my mom wanted to have a movie night tomorrow. You want to come? I should warn you, there’s a 50/50 chance it ends in a game of charades or something.” It was a family tradition they usually didn’t inflict upon friends and other guests, but they’d long since invited – or, some might say, coerced – Max into joining in. Zoey shook her head, wondering how she hadn’t caught on to the significance of that sooner. “When I talked to David earlier, he mentioned Emily, a rematch, and something about a blood debt.” Unsurprising to everyone, Emily did not take a defeat lying down, and Zoey and Max had always been a formidable team.

She watched the three ellipses flash at the bottom of the screen for a few moments, and then his response came through. “No problem. I’ll be there.”

Worried she was pushing him when he wasn’t feeling well, she texted, “You sure you’re okay? I could bring you some chicken noodle soup if you’re sick.”

A full minute passed before she received his response. “No, I’ll be okay. Just need to lie down.”

“All right, well…I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Feel better!”

“See you.”

Smiling at their brief exchange, ignorant about what was to follow, Zoey slipped her phone into her pocket and picked up her pace. It wouldn’t be long before she saw Max, she hoped. And then… well, and then, everything was going to be all right.

When she walked into SPRQ Point offices a few minutes later, however, her joy morphed to confusion. Max was dressed in a suit, standing by the windows and staring out at the beautiful blue sky. Whether because he heard the ding of the elevator or by coincidence, she couldn’t be sure, but he turned when she walked into the room. Without moving from his spot, his bowed head failing to entirely obscure his expression of sorrow and loss, he began to sing his heart song.

“I know I can’t take one more step towards you, ‘cause all that’s waiting is regret. Don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore. You lost the love I loved the most. I learned to live, half alive. And now you want me one more time.”

Zoey stumbled to a halt, looking at him in confusion. She’d had her superpower for long enough to no longer be surprised at hearing one of his heart songs, but she hadn’t expected to hear this one. After everything that happened between them, after the heart song he’d sung her the morning before, why was he singing to her now of loss and heartache?

He continued, turning back to the window and resting his weight against one arm as he stared out at the city. “Who do you think you are? Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars. Collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart. You’re gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. So don’t come back for me. Who do you think you are?”

“Max?” she asked, taking another step forward.

As always during a heart song, he acted like he hadn’t heard her question as he pivoted on one foot, walking over to his desk. He began to dump items into a large cardboard box as he sang, “It took so long just to feel alright, remember how to put back the light in my eyes. I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed. ‘Cause you broke all your promises. And now you’re back. You don’t get to get me back.”

Desperate to understand what was happening, Zoey raced to his side, reaching out to put one hand on his arm. “Who do you think you are? Runnin’ ‘round leaving scars. Collecting your jar of hearts, and tearing love apart. You’re gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul. So don’t come back for me. Who do you think you are?”

His song trailed off, and Zoey asked softly, her voice uncertain, “Max? What’s – what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Her heart ached from his song, but she still didn’t understand the meaning of it.

“Hey, Zoey!” he said, ignorant of what she had just heard, and though he sounded cheerful, his expression was reserved. “Everything’s great!” He hesitated, giving some item he’d pulled from the bottom of his desk drawer a dubious look before throwing it in the trash. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually. I was offered a promotion a couple of days ago, so I’ll be moving up to the sixth floor!”

Zoey felt like she was drowning, gasping for air. She couldn’t understand how Max could act like everything was fine. Like it was downright normal. First that song, and now he was leaving? Leaving their offices? Leaving her? Of course, he was moving two floors, not taking a rocket to the moon. But after the sorrow in his song, it felt like he was putting more than two floors between them. It felt like she was losing him completely.

Although she recognized that she should be happy for Max for his promotion, which sounded like an amazing opportunity he totally deserved, she was still reeling from his song. She had to admit that she was also a little hurt. He’d been offered a promotion and he hadn’t told her about it? They were supposed to be dating! Well…fake-dating. What was going on?

In a shaky voice, she said brightly, “Wow! That’s…amazing, Max! And very well-deserved. I’m – I’m very happy for you.”

He knew her well enough that she expected him to call her on the fact that her professed enthusiasm was belied by the fact she sounded like she wanted to cry, but he didn’t. “Thanks!”

She wanted to cry, and she couldn’t hold back her confusion any longer. “Look, can we talk for a second? In private?”

Max glanced around the nearly-empty office and then shrugged. “Sure. I need to catch Joan when she comes in, but I have a few minutes.”

Desperately needing answers, she led him to the empty hallway leading between the meditation room and the restrooms before realizing she didn’t know what to say. His heart song was the last thing she expected to hear this morning, as was the revelation he was leaving. It had barely begun to sink in; she certainly hadn’t had the time to get her thoughts in order enough to ask him relevant questions. Should she even tell him about the heart song she’d just heard? She probably should, but she didn’t know how.

In silence, she rocked back and forth from one foot to the other, trying to find the words. Finally, when she watched him glance towards the exit for the third time, she blurted, “Max, I really am happy for you. I swear. But I guess I’m just a little…confused. I thought…well, I mean, I-I don’t really understand why you didn’t tell me about this sooner.”

His fake smile didn’t so much as falter. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I probably should have told you about it, but, you know how things get around here. I guess I just got wrapped up in work and it slipped my mind.”

“Slipped your – Max, what’s going on?” Not receiving an answer right away, she admitted, “I heard you sing out there. A heart song. It was…you sounded so heartbroken. Talk to me.”

His smile fell, and he looked at a spot over her left shoulder as he stepped away from her, saying in a hollow voice, “I don’t know what you mean.”

A tiny sob escaped before she could bite it back, and Zoey pushed her hair off of her face with hands that shook with the agonized grief she was trying not to show. In the back of her mind, she suspected she knew what had happened, but she couldn’t believe it – didn’t want to believe it – so she pushed that thought away. Her breath tight in her chest, she couldn’t bear to look into his face and see him look at her in a way he never had before. He looked at her like she was a stranger, his eyes cold, his expression distant. Like he was looking through her, rather than at her.  “Max…please. I-I don’t understand. I-I just…” Stumbling towards him, she pressed her hands against his chest. “Please. Talk to me. I can fix this. Tell me how to fix this.”

For a few, precious moments, his mask slipped. His eyes were soft and yearning, and she almost flinched at the pain on his face. “Zoey, I don’t – I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“But you are! You are hurting me! Just…I know the two of us can fix this. I know it. Please…don’t…tell me what I can do. Don’t give up on me.” Earlier that morning, she’d been so excited, so eager to tell him she wanted their relationship to be real. In the last ten minutes, she felt like she’d lost everything. She had run from him so long, letting the specter of fear hold her back from even giving him a chance. She’d been terrified she would lose him one day, but having him look at her now like he didn’t even know her brought a pain that was worse than she ever could have imagined. In one last, hopeless gamble, she begged, “We’re supposed to be friends. Aren’t we?”

“We are friends,” he breathed softly. “That’s what I’m trying to be. Your friend.” With that cryptic comment, he raised one hand to brush away a tear as it slid down her cheek, but then he paused. His hand hovered mere inches from her face before he let it fall without touching her.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me? I know it’s not real, but we’re supposed to be in a relationship. People in relationships – even fake relationships – tell each other things, don’t they?”

It seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say, as she felt the muscles under her palms stiffen, and though he was no longer smiling, that cold, detached look returned to his face. She’d never realized before how much love was in Max’s eyes when he looked at her, until now that he’d hidden it away. She might as well have been staring at a stranger, and she flinched, pulling her hands off his chest.

He looked down at his chest, where she’d been touching him moments before, and said softly, “That’s the thing though, isn’t it, Zoey? It wasn’t real. None of it was.”

Through her tears, Zoey watched Max start to leave, and she stumbled after him. She couldn’t let this be the end. “Wait! I know I’ve hurt you, but I came here today…I wanted to tell you that I love you, and I’m not scared anymore. I want to be with you.” He stumbled to a halt, his shoulders stiff, as though he was struggling to hold himself together. But he didn’t turn around. “You told me that if I meant it in the morning, you’d believe me, right? Well…I know it’s a little late, but I mean it. I love you, and I want to be with you.”

With none of the fluid grace that usually accompanied his movements, Max turned slightly to look at her over his shoulder. She expected anger, but there was a combination of agony and despair in his voice when he replied, “Well, then, I guess I need to apologize for being a liar. Because, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.” She gasped, a ragged intake of air, as he stormed through the glass doors enclosing the hall, the hinges making a loud crack as they flew open.

By the time she’d regained her composure and returned to the office, Max and his things were gone.

There was part of Zoey that wondered if she’d never see him again, so she was surprised when, at the end of a long and miserable day, Max walked off the elevator and headed towards her desk. His coat tossed over his arm, he asked, “Hey, are you ready?”

“Ready?” she asked, her eyes itchy and burning from all the tears she’d forced back over the course of the day. “Ready for what?”

“Oh, I thought…that thing with your parents. I thought that was tonight. Did I get the day wrong?” Frowning slightly, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, pulling up his texts.

Rising to her feet, Zoey shook her head. “No, you got it right. I just didn’t think you’d want to do this anymore. All things considered.”

That remote mask she hated so much was firmly in place as he replied, “I made a promise, and this is for Mitch, right? I’m up for it if you are. If you still think it’ll make him happy.”

She wanted to scream at him, pound against his chest, anything to get a real reaction out of him. Tell him that of course she didn’t want to do this anymore, not when he was ripping out her heart with every detached, impersonal look he gave her. But she also longed to be close to him, wanting to grab him by the arms and force him to listen to her. To believe her. To act like he loved her again.

“Zoey? Do you want me to go?” he asked softly, almost sounding like himself again as she stared morosely at her desk in silence and tried to decide what to do.

Those six little words, “do you want me to go,” made her feel like her heart was physically ripping in two, and that was enough to make the decision for her. Even if it hurt to be near him, being without him would hurt even more. If he could carry on with his charade, so could she. And maybe, in the meantime, she could find a way to get through to him again. “No,” she said abruptly. “I don’t want you to go.”

It was strange to realize that it was the little things from Max that she missed the most, Zoey marveled as she took his hand and gave it a tug, silently asking him for a kiss. She didn’t know what compelled her to do it. Was she testing him, or just torturing herself? Either way, he dutifully leaned down and brushed his lips against hers in a perfunctory embrace before walking with her to the elevator.

From the outside, they probably looked like everything was as it had been the day before, but Zoey could feel the difference – in his dispassionate kiss, and the way his hand lay still in her own. She’d never realized before how often the feeling of Max’s hand in hers had felt like a small caress, his fingers tightening around her own, his thumb brushing softly and comfortingly along hers. Now, holding his hand was just another reminder that, even though he was right next to her, his heart was a million miles away, locked up tight somewhere she could no longer reach. Even when he spoke to her, it was to talk about the weather, the rush hour traffic – absolutely everything except anything that actually mattered.

She didn’t know what compelled her to do it, as they headed towards her parents’ house. Maybe it was out of a need to feel some passion from him again, even if it was anger. Just to remember what it had been like when she’d had Max in her life, and not this automaton that wore a face she’d come to love so much. Whatever her motives, she blurted, “Max, we should talk. About the kiss.”

For the first time that evening, that got a reaction out of him. His fingers pressed against hers, less a squeeze than a quick spasm. “I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“We have to,” she pressed. “We can’t just leave things – us – like this.”

His face was averted from her, but she heard his heavy sigh. “All right. Which kiss do you want to talk about? The one outside of SPRQ Point, or the one in Simon’s office? Because I kind of feel like they speak for themselves, don’t you?”

There was a certain measure of relief in knowing that her suspicion was right, and he’d somehow seen the ill-conceived embrace in Simon’s office. At least she had an answer for his coldness, even if it was the absolute last one she wanted. “Max, that kiss…it wasn’t what you think!”

He feigned surprise. “It wasn’t? Was he choking on something and you were trying to dislodge it with your tongue? Because that’s not how I learned the Heimlich Maneuver.”

“Stop it,” she snapped, yanking her hand from his. “You’re doing it again. Don’t make jokes about this. This is serious -”

Whatever control he’d had on his emotions all day, allowing him to present his impersonal mask to her, it slipped as he lurched to a stop, spinning to face her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not taking this seriously? Zoey, I don’t know what you expect from me, but I just can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep putting myself out there time and time again, only to…do you have any idea how it felt for me, seeing that?”

“Max, listen. I know how it looked. I do. But it really wasn’t – it didn’t mean anything! It was just -”

His head jerked as he swallowed heavily. “Well, I wish it did. Because if my heart was going to be broken, I would have preferred it actually meant something.”

Frustrated with him and angry at herself for having brought them to this, she felt her hands form fists at her sides. “I know you’re angry with me, but you know that’s not what I meant,” she snapped.

Like a puncture in a balloon, she watched as the air left his body, seemingly taking his will to fight along with it. His shoulders sagged, and his head bowed as though he carried the weight of the world. Defeated, he said softly, “You’re wrong. I’m not mad at you, Zoey. Not really. I’m mad at me. You were honest with me from the beginning. You told me none of this meant anything. And I knew it; I reminded myself of it, time and time again. But, even still, I stupidly let myself believe it did. I let myself believe…I don’t know. That you loved me. Or maybe that there was a chance one day you even could.”

She breathed his name, hopelessly trying to find a way to make him listen. Knowing he was about to leave. But then, just when she expected him to turn and walk away, he did what she’d so recently come to realize that he always did. He pushed his own pain aside and tried to offer her comfort. Instead of walking away, he moved closer to her, cupping his face in his and leaning down to press his forehead against her own. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” She didn’t even realize she was until she felt him brush his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. “I don’t what to hurt you. I just don’t know how to do…this. I don’t know how to stop loving you, and I don’t know how to kill that part of me that wishes…” His voice trailed off, the rest too painful to say.

“But I do love you,” she admitted miserably, reaching up to press a hand against his cheek. “I wanted to tell you this morning. I realized it yesterday. I don’t know what took me so long, but you have to believe me.”

She could tell that he didn’t in the way he avoided responding, turning his head to press a kiss against her palm as he pulled away. “It’s all right,” he reassured her. “Don’t feel guilty. It’ll be all right.”

She shivered at the press of his lips against her skin, but he seemed to misunderstand the response, as he grabbed the coat he still carried over his arm and slung it over her shoulders. Glancing towards her parents’ house, he murmured, “What do you want me to do, Zoey? If you want me to go in there with you, I will, but if you want me to go, I’ll go. Whatever you want, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

[coyotesongwriting]

Free Falling - Chapter 2

Avengers - Clint Barton/Reader

Chapter 2 - Decisions

Chapter Summary: Your decision is made, and now it’s time to follow through.

Author’s Note: I desperately need a beta reader, and I’m sleep deprived so if there are mistakes… oops and let me know please! haha Also, this chapter hurt me to write. Sorry? I mean, not really because I’d do it again but yeah lol

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!):  @rorynne @proudhufflepuff77 @rhymesmenagerie @redfoxwritesstuff @darthhayber @alwaysadreamingoptimist

Previous Chapter

When your tears finally faded, you made no move to leave the cold bathroom. Thoughts raced through your head as you waited for some idea to hit you. Some way to make everything alright. Nothing came. When four am rolled around, you gave up the idea of any sleep that night and decided that you needed fresh air. You quietly snuck out of the bathroom, pausing for only a moment at the sight of Clint sleeping peacefully before you raced out.

You slowly moved through the quiet halls, pausing in the kitchen and wishing for a warm cup of coffee before continuing out to the balcony. The city lights danced below you as you sat at the railing, your feet dangling over the edge. Watching the cars drive past in the city that never sleeps, you let out a soft sigh. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, watching life pass you by when the soft whoosh of the sliding glass door opening pierced the morning, but you didn’t notice, too wrapped up in your thoughts. It wasn’t until a warm hand settled on your shoulder that you turned, smiling softly at Tony as he took a seat next to you. 

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, resting your arms and chin on the railing in front of you.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he laughed, bumping your shoulder with his own. 

“I’m not the one who got drunk earlier” you rolled your eyes, shivering as a cold breeze blew over you. Fall had well and truly settled in, and with it, the temperatures dropped.

“Well, I’m also not a doctor and yet I’m not dumb enough to be sitting out here in nothing but my pajamas” he snorted, lifting his arm up and wrapping it and the blanket around you.

You huffed, but snuggled in next to him, “At least I’m not the dumbass that lit the kitchen on fire yesterday!”

He poked you in the side instead of responding, and the two of you began to talk about nothing and everything. Quiet mornings like this were the best, no wars to fight and no need to worry about anything. You could just forget everything for a little while in the traded barbs with Tony. As the sun began to rise over the horizon, Tony got to his feet, before reaching down and pulling you up with him.

“Thanks, Tony… I really needed this” 

Tony ruffled your hair playfully, “Any time babe!”

You stretched, taking a look at your watch. If you hurried, you could catch Bucky and Steve as they finish up their training. Now that you knew you were pregnant, you couldn’t spar anymore and you decided that meant it was time for your least favorite activity - running. Unfortunately, the time with Tony had only helped you realize that you knew in your heart what you had to do and it was time to start preparing.

~~~~~~ 

“Fuck you, Barnes!” You panted, trying to catch your breath as you leaned against the wall. 

His loud laugh echoed through the training room, “Come on [Y/N]. I know you can come up with something better than that.”

Steve glared at you pointedly and you shrugged your shoulders in a silent apology. 

“Come on Steve! He tripped me!” you called back

“Maybe you shouldn’t challenge the Winter Soldier to a race!” Bucky grinned, tossing you a cold water bottle as he walked up to you. 

“Maybe the winter soldier shouldn’t be a fuckin’ cheater!” you huffed, “Sorry Cap! Y’know, you wouldn’t have to hear our bad language if you were dating” your eyes dancing playfully.

“And we’re done here” he laughed, heading towards the showers.

“Hold on one sec, Steve. I was wondering if you’d cover for me this weekend? My sister’s having a party and it’s been too long” 

“No worries [Y/N]. I’ll make sure you’re cleared. Tell Nadia I said hi!” Steve grinned

You watched Steve go, your breath catching in your throat. It took a moment to catch your breath. You’d made your decision, and come this weekend there’d be no going back. The next week seemed to pass in a blur. 

The next day, you went to the aquarium with Loki, Peter, Thor, and Natasha. Which was literally one of the best days of your life. You’d managed to arrange the private behind the scenes tour since you didn’t want to draw more attention to yourselves than needed. When Loki found out that Thor was fascinated with the sharks, well, he’d sent him falling into the shark tank. After fishing Thor out of the water, thankfully no worse for the wear, your group had been banned - for life - from the aquarium.

After that, you’d worked with Tony on some coding for his next suit. At least, that was the goal. It hadn’t taken long before the two of you had devolved into just seeing who could make the best paper airplane. Unfortunately, you lost. However, Tony managed to start a small fire when the plane managed to land directly in between the wires on his next prototype. 

Friday night came quickly. Too quickly for your liking. Barring missions, you and Clint had a standing date night. Tonight was going to be your last date night, your last night at home in general and you wanted - needed - it to be perfect. 

While Clint was grabbing the pizza from your favorite place, you were gathering all the blankets and pillows you could find and bringing them to the theatre room. As you finished making a giant nest from your scavenged supplies, two warm hands grabbed you around the waist, tickling your sides. With a playful squeal, you twisted in his grasp to face him. As he smirked, you leaned in to kiss him slowly.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” he asked, settling down into the plush bed you’d made and patting the spot next to him.

“Up to you. Which I know, means we’re watching Die Hard” you laughed, the movie already starting as you snagged a piece of pizza from the box he’d set on the couch behind you.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked, a grin lighting up his face. 

You didn’t respond, not knowing if you’d be able to trust your voice and merely snuggled in closer to him. He kissed your forehead, and the two of you fell silent as the opening scene came on. You two lay like that for the movie, no words needing to be spoken in that moment. 

As the final credits scrolled past, Clint turned to you, his eyes warm as he glanced down at your lips. You bit your lip softly before you leaning towards him. He caught your lips in a gentle kiss, which quickly became heated. He rolled on top, pinning you to the bed and began to pepper gentle kisses all over your face and neck.

“I love you, [Y/N]. I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmured between the kisses.

You couldn’t hold it in any longer, and tears began to shine in your eyes as you stared up at him, “I love you too. So much”

A puzzled look fell over his face and he brushed your hair back with one hand, “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

“I’m just happy” and it wasn’t a lie. You were happy, this moment? This was a better moment than you could have wished for and it was killing you that it couldn’t last forever. 

~~~~~~

The next morning, Friday’s voice woke you two, summoning you to the meeting room. There was another mission and you began to internally panic. You couldn’t go with them, you had to leave. For once though, it seemed the universe was squarely on your side.

“[Y/N], we don’t need you to come with us this time around. Shouldn’t be too complicated, and I know you were looking forward to this weekend. We’ve got this” Steve smiled, not realizing that he’d come to regret this decision later.

You smiled softly at him, thanking him and went with Clint as he got ready for the mission. When everyone was ready, you joined them by the Quinjet. The lump in your throat was painful, and you were barely holding it together. Thankfully, everyone assumed that you were just nervous that they were going without you. No one found it out of the ordinary when you hugged each and every one of the team - even Loki despite his protests.

“We should be back Sunday, don’t worry about us. I promise, I’ll see you again” Clint wrapped you in his arms and kissed your forehead.

You nodded, a handful of tears sneaking past, “I love you so much. Be safe, please. I need you to promise that you’ll be careful, always.”

His eyebrows drew together, puzzled. “Is everything -”

“Come on Clint! We don’t have time for you two” Nat interrupted, grabbing him and pulling him onto the Quinjet. 

As the doors begin to close, Clint signed to you, I love you baby girl. We’ll be back before you know it.

I love you too you signed back, watching as the Quinjet disappeared from view before you headed back inside.

Not wanting to risk them returning before you were well and truly gone, you quickly packed a small suitcase. You grabbed a few changes of clothes, but otherwise only focused on the irreplaceable things - the necklace Clint gave you on your first anniversary, the Avengers pin that Tony had ordered one night when he was drunk. 

As you looked around the room, ready to zip the bag, you picked up the photograph on the nightstand. It was taken right after your first successful mission with the team. You were standing in the middle, Clint’s arm around your shoulders as he smiled at you. The rest of the team was smattered around you, Peter giving Tony bunny ears and Loki glaring at the camera. With a shuddering breath, you added it to your bag and sealed it. 

Grabbing the black trash bags you’d hidden in the room last night, you began to gather up everything else of yours. Your clothes, notebooks, hair ties, any trace of you that you could. You brought the bags to the incinerator to the basement and burned away the remnants of this life. You needed them to know that you were gone, truly gone. You weren’t coming back, and maybe it would be easier for them if your belongings weren’t haunting the tower like a ghost.

Not knowing how much longer you could last before you broke, you quickly grabbed your suitcase and raced to the parking garage. You didn’t spare one final glance around the tower, knowing that at any minute you were going to burst into tears and you couldn’t have anyone questioning you.

As you settled into your car, the dam broke and you stopped fighting. For the first time since you made this decision, you allowed yourself to truly grieve. Once you could breathe again without wanting to go back, you turned the car on. There was no going back now. Resting your hand on your stomach, you pulled out onto the road.

~~~~~~

The team arrived back late that night, the mission had gone fine but everyone was completely exhausted. Clint noticed that the room you two shared seemed a little off, but you were always redecorating so he just climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Tony awoke to Friday’s voice.

“Mr. Stark, I have an alert for you”

“Five more minutes, Friday. Please” he grumbled into his pillow. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had actually gotten a decent night’s sleep.

“It’s about Miss [Y/L/N]. It may be important, sir”

Tony sat up in bed, grumbling to himself as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “Go ahead.”

“Mr. Stark, Miss [Y/L/N]’s bank accounts have all been completely drained.”

Cocking his head to one side, “Well that’s odd. Maybe she’s buying something though?”

“That’s not all, sir. It seems… There are no records of her left.”

That woke him up rather quickly, “What do you mean no records?” 

“Sir, I can’t find any record of her online, in the SHIELD database, anywhere.”

“Friday, call her. Now.” Tony ordered, getting to his feet and beginning to pull on his clothes.

“I’m sorry, sir. Her number has been disconnected. However, I have just received a video from her if you would like me to gather the team she has requested I play it for everyone.”

Within a few minutes, everyone had made it to the meeting room. Clint’s face was worried, and he tapped his fingers on the table in front of him. He’d forgotten to grab his hearing aids, thankfully Natasha had known him well enough to grab them for him. Signing a quick thanks, he put them in while he waited for Tony and Friday to finish explaining.

“Play the video, Friday.” Clint’s voice was unsteady, nervous.

The lights dimmed slightly, and there you were. Sitting on a bench somewhere they couldn’t be sure where. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there were unshed tears in your eyes as you looked into the camera. You took a shaky breath, gathering courage before you began.

“Hey guys. I’m hoping Friday let you all get some sleep, and I’m hoping you all made it back safely. I’m sorry to do this to you, especially like this. I just … I couldn't do this in person. Guess you were right Loki. I am a coward” you laughed bitterly.

“I need to go. I can’t stay here, and I can’t do this anymore. I’m not … I’m not coming back. I need you guys to let me go. Please. I need you all to know how much this time together meant to me, and God knows I’m going to miss you guys like hell but I have to go. Tony, I’m begging you. You have to sleep sometime, okay? I don’t care if that means sleeping pills or hypnosis, just get some sleep. Banner, make sure he takes care of himself. And for the love of god, make sure he stops having coffee at 4 in the morning” you paused to brush the tears out of your eyes and clear your throat before continuing. 

“Loki, Thor, you two idiots need to look out for each other, and please, get a better trick than your Get Help routine. At some point, people will catch on and you’ll be screwed. Bucky, I’m going to miss the early morning cheating. Steve please just go on the damn date. Seriously, you might like it if you tried it. Nat, you’ve been like a sister to me and I’m sorry I’m bailing on the shopping trip with you. Can you look after Clint for me? Please.”

You paused for a few beats, taking a few deep breaths before continuing, your voice breaking. “Clint … I don’t have the words to tell you what all you’ve meant to me. I’m so sorry it has to be this way, but I don’t have a choice here. Not anymore. I have to do this, and you have to let me go. The time we’ve had... They’re always going to be the best years of my life, and I’m always going to love you but you have to move on. I need you to.”

“I know you guys are probably trying to figure out if I’ve been kidnapped and am being forced into this. Or maybe you think I’m dying. I’m not. I promise. I’m doing this because I need to. I know you guys don’t understand why, and you probably never will and I can’t tell you and I’m so sorry. I told my family I was going on a long term undercover mission, so please just leave them alone. They don’t need to know the truth, it will only hurt them. 

Your tears began to flow faster now, and you were having a hard time talking clearly as you gave the camera a sad smile, “Be safe. Please. Look out for each other… I love you.” 

The video ended, screen going black.

Next Chapter ->

Find this story on AO3

[justaghostingon]

Superhero Au Chapter 3: Gyrus

One hundred and eighty two days until space. Gyrus marked his calendar like he did every morning. That was exactly six months. Just six months and he would be out in space, ready to face the unknown. His heart did a giddy flip at the thought.

Of course it also meant he had six months to finish his final project and pass all his classes, but Gyrus tried not to think about it that way. He was an optimist after all.

He ambled over to the fridge, and decided to have some leftover Mandu to celebrate. The Mandu was missing. That can’t be right. He’d only gotten it yesterday...he pushed food around in his fridge but couldn’t find it. Had he accidentally thrown it out? He would never do that, right? He glanced in the trash but there was no Mandu to be seen. It had well and truely vanished.

Gyrus allowed himself a brief period of mourning as the cool of the fridge washed over him.

Then he shook his head and grabbed an apple. ‘It’s a healthier snack,’ he told himself. ‘Better to keep in shape.’ His stomach whined in disagreement.

He walked over to the couch. Everything seemed...slightly off. Like someone had moved all the furniture to the left. The throw blanket was neatly folded over the back, when he’d left it folded over the armrest...hadn’t he? The remote was on top of his school books, and he never put there unless he watched tv later in the day...

Gyrus marched over to the door, the wild thought of Mandu thieves racing through his head. The lock was secure and unharmed. There were no scratch marks on the wall or floor as signs of forced entry. He checked both the knob and the key hole. Nothing. The only way someone had gotten in here was with a key. But Gyrus had them both, one in his wallet and one hidden in his locker at the lab. The only other person was...

No, no. That was rediculous. Don had not come back from his trip purely to break into his tenants’ homes and eat their Mandu. He was just being paranoid.

He flipped on the tv to the morning news. The mayor was making a speech again...something about reporters being more careful of danger, blah blah, Simple...Gyrus sat up with a jolt. The news anchors were talking about Simple, while a clip of him yelling at the reporters played. How had he missed this? It must have happened after he went to bed.

He opened his phone to a site called Simple Watch, and scrolled up. Looks like a late night diner had been attacked by jellies. Simple had fought them off single handed, until the police had shown up and tried to assist. Not that Simple had been to happy with that, as they had nearly hit him too. Gyrus frowned.

“...All I’m saying is that people need to be more causious.” The voice from the tv filtered through to Gyrus’s ears. “We know nothing about him save for how dangerous he is. He has powers no one can explain, can inexplicably kill creatures our police can’t, and he’s clearly not from here.” Bile rose in Gyrus’s throat as the news anchor continued talking, “And now with how he’s threatening the press... he’s obviously unhinged.”

Gyrus turned the tv off with a click, a foul taste in his mouth. He tried to take another bite of the apple but found it didn’t help. He chucked the apple at the trashcan. “Stupid apple,” he muttered to himself. “Stupid news, stupid racist reporters.” He shoved his books into his bag and relished the loud thud they made as they collided. “What does he know anyway?” He twisted the key in his lock with extra force to make it shriek. “I bet he’s never even met Simple.”

He’d never met him, that had to be it. He wouldn’t be so paranoid if he had. Sure, Simple tended to come off as rude and angry...and he really didn’t seem good with people...but he was still putting himself in danger to try and fight monsters that no one else could. He didn’t have to, but he did.

In his mind’s eye, Gyrus saw the great purple jelly looming above him, its six great eyes fixed on him as it opened it vacumous maw full of sharp teeth. He’d kicked out desperately, but it did nothing to stop the beast. All at once he’d known he would die here, eaten whole by a monster straight out of a video game.

Then all at once something sharp and blue had cut through it, bisecting the monster and embedding itself in the wall behind Gyrus. Sticky goo had rained down on him, but Gyrus hadn’t cared, to thrilled to be alive.

He’d looked up, and for the first time realized the blue thing was actually two blue things: a sword, and a man. The man was tall, far taller than Gyrus even as he stood half bent over from the momentum of the kill. Their eyes met.

In all the books he’d read, people had always romanticised how they felt when they saw there rescuer. How noble and brave they’d looked. But Gyrus didn’t see any of that. To him, Simple had only looked scared. Scared and confused and so, so tired.

The mayor had come up behind him, and spoke, startling Simple, who had instantly put himself between Gyrus and the sound, fists ready even if his sword was still stuck in the wall. ‘So this is what the hero of the game looks like,’ Gyrus had thought. ‘Scared and tired and still ready to fight.’

Mayor and Simple were still in discussion, and other people were crowding around. But Simple still glanced back at him, anxious and concerned, and Gyrus felt something warm bubble up in his stomach.

Everyone had clapped when Simple introduced himself. But Gyrus made sure he was loudest.

A ping from his phone jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced down to see a new post from Simple Watch. It had a photo encaptioned: Simple eats breakfast, and clearly shot out someone’s top story window. Simple sat on the roof of an apartment complex, eating something round and soft... Gyrus squinted st the grainy photo...was that Mandu?

Simple liked Mandu. The corner of Gyrus’s mouth twitched. Looks like things were looking up.

———————————————————————

The lab was dark when Gyrus arrived. Not that he minded. He was used to being the first one in. He absently flipped on the lights as he walked down the hall. The lights flickered as they turned on, dimmer then usual, washing out all the color in the room.

Gyrus shivered. It seemed...colder down here. Maybe he’d need to ask the professor about fixing heating later. His footsteps echoed down the hall, the only sound in the stillness. Combined with the dim and the cold, it seemed...eerie.

And as he walked down he got the strangest sensation that he was not alone. That was preposterous of course, and even as he swung around to see nothing did he know he was being foolish. Bur he couldn’t help it. Because everytime he turned back around he could swear he saw something flicker in the shadows just out of his sight.

Gyrus quickly ducked into the locker room and shut the door. The warm glow seeped into the corners and relaxed him. Nothing in here. He changed in to protective gear absently, noting his house key still tucked away inside.

He paused at the door leading out to the labs. The handle was frozen. Metal icy to the touch as the water in the air had condenced to ice. That wasn’t a good sign. Not good at all.

Gyrus mentally ran through all of the projects inside as he hurriedly stuffed himself in one of the biohazard suits from the rack. ‘Mary’s was mechanic...Philmon’s involved nitrogen he he was way to careful to let it out like this...and of course his had nothing to do with ice at all...’

‘The professor,’ Gyrus thought to himself as he screwed on his helmet. ‘It must be the professor’s secret project. The one he won’t show us yet.’

Gyrus threw open the door and barged in, ready to save whatever he could. The inside was far, far colder than the hall had been. It felt like stepping in to a freezer. Gyrus held his flashlight high and looked around wildly.

The room was much like how he’d left it. Seperate stations all set up, each with their own equitment and inventions casting a maze of strange shadows on the floor. But something was off, he realized. Papers were scattered at odd positons on the floor. Valuable equitment was knocked haphazardly on the desks. Someone had been in here.

Or Something.

Gyrus began to move forward slowly, swinging his flashlight in every direction as he walked. Nothing moved. The air sat unnaturally still, amplifying each quiet step Gyrus took, each slight shuffle of his biohazard suit rubbing against itself as he raised the flashlight to peak around corners.

The mess seemed to leave a trail, with the worst of the damage leading down to the left wall, where the professor kept his secret project. Gyrus crept towards the strange contraption, its shiny black form almost indistinguishable in the darkness, but for the curve of its spherical head jutting out. A sharp, jagged grey line crossed the black in what Gyrus knew was just an entry point, but in the dark it leered like the maw of a monster. Above it the red glowing ports glared like eyes into the stillness.

Gyrus reached out a trembling, gloved hand, half expecting to feel the give of a jelly monster or the rough matting of fur. But the object beneath his fingers is firm. He slides it along, admiring for a second how smooth it must be, and stops. For the feeling seeping through the layers of the biosuit is not coldness, but warmth. Its hot to the touch, like a fire or a blanket, he’s to wrapped up in protective gesr to tell. But then what...

A cold shiver runs down his spine. He turns flashlight raised high to see a figure across the room, looming over his desk. He screams and the figure turns, its empty red eyes fixated on him. It gives an inhuman screech and Gyrus is terrified, so scared he fears he may never move again.

Then he sees what lies below the creatures skeletal, shadowy hands.

An anger fills Gyrus like he’s never known before at the sight of his final project in the monster’s grip. With fury and terror of someone who knows there future was about to be wripped away, he threw the nearest object at the monster’s head. “That’s mine!” He snarls.

The object, his flashlight, passes harmlessly through thr creature’s head. But Gyrus doen’t stop moving. He yanks a wrench out an throws it too, throwing anything he could reach. He stalks forward and even though it should be pitch black he can still see from the light of the green glowing...something.

The creature simply looks at him, and then it is gone. No fleeing or charging, it was simply there one second and gone the next.

All at once Gyrus feels tired, tired like he’s never felt before. He takes one more staggering step to his desk, before he collapses against it. His last though before he slips into unconsciousness is a silent plea to see the top of his desk, to see his project...

The professor finds him, passed out in a biosuit in the ruined lab. He is pressing with his questions, but accepts what Gyrus says at face value, something wrong in the lab, an intruder...

Gyrus leaves out the part about the monster with red eyes, not sure if it was real, or what his mind infused over a simple ski mask and goggles in his fear.

They are lucky, the police tell them when they arrive. Aside from the mess not much seems to be broken or stolen. Considering what happened, it could have been a lot worse.

‘Lucky huh,’ Gyrus thought dully as he sat wrapped in a shock blanket. ‘Wouldn’t that be nice.’

Only one thing in the whole lab was missing, and no matter how they search it could not be found. It was a small object, plane and boring. But it meant more to Gyrus than anything in the world.

His final project: the black box.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Well... All Right PT. 2

anonymous said: I know you said you didn’t know much about the Beatles but, I was wondering if you could write a Younger John Lennon imagine where the reader visits him wherever and she’s completely smashed and talking nonsense but is super sweet and he just takes care of her and it’s fluffy? Please and thank you!!

Read PT. 1 here

(a/n: i decided to make this a continuation of the last John Lennon imagine I wrote bc it works w the timeline and it’s kinda cute IDK anyways here u go here’s drunk reader and sweet caring john enjoy)

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” John called out as he pulled one of his wrinkled, dirty button ups on, trying his best to look at least not completely asleep as he stormed towards the door. Someone was ringing the doorbell incessantly. His flatmate was out, but he was sure the paper thin walls did nothing to hide the shrieking ring of the bell as it was pressed over, and over, and over. “Ever heard of knocking, or fucking off-“

He swung open the door to find you standing there, looking positively trashed but undeniably cute wrapped up in his jacket that you’d ended up with after your first date a few nights ago. He’d left your dorm later that night, once you’d dried off completely, and had conveniently left both his hat and his jacket near the door. He’d secretly done it to see if you would show up to class in the duo, but hadn’t seen a thing out of you until just now. And damn it, you looked adorable in his green jacket and black hat. If he didn’t end up asking you out properly, he wondered if he should even ask for them back, knowing you looked so good in them.

Now, you’d gone out and partied with a few friends down the street in his jacket and hat, knowing they were a bit too big for you but also not caring too much. When you remembered that John had mentioned he lived in this small flat complex, you’d managed to pull his exact address out of one of his friends at the party and promptly ditched it, taking a bottle of gin with you that was now alarmingly empty and clutched in your hand tightly.

At the sight of his obvious bedhead and tired eyes, you sprang to life, eyes glossy but bright and smile beaming as you lurched forward, wrapping your arms around John and clinging to the poor man for dear life. “Johnny Boy!” you slurred, giggling to yourself and pressing your already warm cheek to his chest, appreciating the intermingling of your body heats.

“Y/N? What’s gotten into you?” he questioned, laughing a bit before hesitantly wrapping an arm around you, pulling you inside with him and closing the door. The chilly cap of the gin bottle pressed into his back as you pulled him closer, and he shivered a bit at the sharp twang of cold it brought to his skin. “So that’s what got into you.”

“I was bored at the party, and then I saw some of your friends that I see you on campus with, and they told me you live here, and so I decided-“ you paused, hiccupping and giggling a bit at how deliriously drunk you were before continuing- “I decided to come see you and bring you your hat, but I think I’ll keep the jacket because it’s nice and smells like you and-“

“You are plastered,” John interrupted, stating the obvious, and you snickered at his amused tone of voice before letting go of him to stumble into his flat, immediately going for the bedrooms. “Hey, hey, my bedroom is my fortress!” he called after you, failing to stop you before you burst into his roommate’s bedroom. “This is not my fortress, though,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around your waist and quickly pulling you out of the room before shutting the door again. “Privacy, little one.”

When his hand went to pat the top of your head, you swung your own at it and smacked him away, giving him as mean of a look as you could muster before you noticed a partially open door just across the hallway – John’s room. Ducking out of his arms, you started crawling to his room, the gin bottle thankfully closed as it clattered to the floor. Picking it up, John resigned to letting you do what you wished and just following instead, shaking his head and sighing.

“At least take off your shoes before you crawl into bed- nevermind,” he sighed when you were already under the covers, probably muddying his sheets beyond repair. “Just take them off anyways, I guess.” Smiling drunkenly up at him, you pulled your shoes off clumsily before dropping them to the floor next to the bed, giggling when John sent you a playfully dismayed look. “Can I get you a glass of water, miss?”

“Ohh, you’re so sweet,” you whined as you pulled the covers up to your chin, grinning out at him. “Please and thank you with a cherry on top… or something. And pizza! Boy, I’m hungry.” And you were off again, throwing the covers to the floor and revealing that you’d actually managed to avoid making much of a mess as you stumbled to your feet, holding onto his arm to steady yourself before smiling bashfully. “I’m a bit drunk, I think.”

“You think?” he teased, tucking a stray hair behind your ear and grinning down at you before nodding towards the kitchen. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat so you’re not regretting it in the morning.”

“You’re such a good person,” you gushed as you leaned fully against him, letting him half-lead, half-carry you to the kitchen, where you sat down on the floor cross-legged and smiled toothily up at him, hiccupping once again. “Everyone at college thinks you’re a big goof with no common sense, but I see the real you, man. I see how nice you are. Goofs don’t make drunk witches food at…. What time is it?”

“You’re far from a witch. And it’s 2 am, love,” he reminded you, starting to pull out some peanut butter and jelly to make you a few sandwiches. He didn’t have much to eat, so he made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow if he was going to have you over here like this more often. Not that he minded. “Strawberry or grape jam?”

“Grape, are you kidding me?” you scoffed loudly, acting appalled that he’d even suggest strawberry jam in your presence. “What kind of a man are you, after all? Maybe I’m at the wrong guy’s apartment, I thought I was with this cute, smart brunette guy who had a good head on his shoulders, not this- this…. strawberry jam lover’s house!” After crawling to your feet, you sighed and let your head loll back, deciding against walking to the door in indignation. “Too far. M’drunk.”

“Sit back down,” he commanded gently, and you obliged as you slid back down to your cross-legged position, closing your eyes so the room would stop spinning. John’s voice was the only thing grounding you, and you latched onto it as he began speaking again, hanging on to his every word. “We have class tomorrow at 8 but I’m assuming you’re skipping now too?”

“Yup,” you replied loudly, popping the p and grinning when you heard John’s laugh, so pure, rising from a throaty chuckle to a higher-register laugh. He then crouched down next to you with a sandwich and a glass of water, raising an eyebrow when your eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “You’re so wonderful,” you murmured, suddenly overwhelmed with so much emotion that a tear came to your eye as you gratefully took the sandwich and water, sniffling a bit.

“Aw, no, why are you crying, sweetheart?” he worried, speaking gently as he reached out to brush your hair back and make you look at him. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry too.” He then pulled a funny face, pretending to cry with you and pouting his lips in an attempt to make you laugh.

That only made you cry harder, taking a bite of the sandwich as tears began to roll down your face, sobbing in the midst of eating probably one of the best PB&Js you’d ever had – or maybe it was the alcohol talking. As he sat down next to you, he let you rest your head on his shoulder and you bawled your eyes out as you ate the sandwich, such a mess that you’d probably regret it thoroughly in the morning if you remembered. But again, he didn’t mind, only amused at how genuinely emotionally open you were with a bit of gin in you.

Also, he couldn’t help but be a bit partial towards you. He was quite fond of you, so your antics were less annoying than they’d be with someone who he didn’t fancy. He’d decided he liked you quite a bit after you had the best conversation he’d had, well, ever, the other night, talking about everything under the moon, on the moon, and past the moon. You were intelligent, astoundingly so, and had quite an interesting take on religion and politics that made him want to get more active than he currently was in his relatively sheltered middle-class life. He could be ignorant if he wanted to, but what good did that do when he had the most passionate, intellectual girl on his mind, and, well, on his shoulder, crying her eyes out about him?

When you were done with the sandwich, you did your best to stave off the tears as you sipped at the water, still sniveling and whimpering ever so often and keeping your head on his shoulder. “You going to be alright, love?” he mumbled, resting his head on yours and chuckling a bit when you shook your head. “How about we get one more glass of water in you and then we can sail off to dreamland, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, sounding immensely sad, and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud at how pitiful you sounded. You were going to be quite sore in the morning, he could already tell. But at least the water would help with the dehydration that would set in around the time class started without you two. “John, I’m so sad about Buddy.”

“Buddy?” he asked, lifting his head so he could look down at you in confusion. Was that a friend, a pet of sorts? A boyfriend he’d not known about? “Who’s Buddy?”

“Buddy Holly, you bloody git,” you moaned unhappily, sitting up to finish off your water before sighing and clumsily handing the cup over to him. “M’sorry. I didn’t mean it. You’re not daft, you’re so wonderful. I don’t deserve your help right now. I think I’ll just go.” Using the counter to pull yourself to your feet, you stood still and leaned on the counter to steady yourself, biting your lip before starting to stumble for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, following and sitting the cup on the counter as he blocked you from leaving the kitchen. “You’re not walking anywhere like this, sweets, you’ll catch your death or get kidnapped, one of the two.” Wrapping his arm around your waist, he managed to toss you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, where you hung like dead weight as he got another glass of water with his free hand.

“Let them take me. I’ll cry so much they’ll get annoyed and kick me out anyways,” you protested weakly, already falling asleep at the intoxicatingly relaxing smell of John’s cologne on his shirt. “M’damn tired, Lenny. Can I sleep in your bed with you? I promise I won’t try to cuddle – unless you want to. You’re really warm. And smell good.”

Chuckling at the last part, he carried you down the hallway, sitting down the glass of water on his nightstand once he reached his room and helping you sit down on the bed. “Can’t sleep in that dress, s’not made for sleeping.”

“Heh. Snot,” you laughed sleepily, your eyes fluttering dangerously as you fell back on the bed, resting an arm over your eyes. “That’s funny.”             Shaking his head as he grabbed you some pajamas, he managed to slide some sweatpants on you as you lay there like a limp ragdoll and let him dress you. However, he refused to take your dress off, letting you do the honors and promising to look only if you needed help changing into the shirt. “Thank you for the shirt, Lenny. You can look now.”

You’d surprisingly managed to pull your dress off and make your way into the shirt, and now you were reaching out for him, sprawled out across the bed. “Drink your water first,” he chastised gently, and you shot him an annoyed look under rapidly heavying eyelids before chugging half of the glass, sitting the rest back on the stand noisily. “Good girl.”

“I’m not a pet,” you mumbled, falling back to the bed and grumbling incoherently between hiccups. John managed to squeeze in next to you, pulling the covers over the both of you, and for a moment, he had no clue what to do with his hands. As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around you and drift off to sleep, he had no idea whether drunk you would be elated to cuddle with him, or slap him because of the strawberry jam thing. “Why aren’t we cuddling?” you asked aloud, John immediately snapping out of his thoughts and laughing as he realized you’d already made the decision for him.

“Give a man a moment to breathe,” he teased, reaching out and wrapping his arms around your waist as you cuddled back into him, quickly getting comfortable. Already feeling the effects of sleep quickly threatening to take him out, he gave your arm a quick rub before kissing the back of your head. “Goodnight.”

But you were already out cold, snoring softly and garnering an amused chuckle out of him before he, too, dozed off. That left him practically alone once again, so he did the only thing he could do with your body weighing down on his arm, making it fall asleep and tingle – he fell asleep too.

And he slept good. So good, that he nearly didn’t feel you crawling out of bed, scrambling to find the bathroom at 7:55. Nearly.

As you left, he slowly pulled out of his groggy state, groaning softly and trying to put two and two together. Nothing really clicked until he saw the half-drank water on his nightstand, and it all shifted into place once his bleary gaze came to rest on your shoes laying haphazardly next to the bed. “Aw, shit, poor thing,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he threw his legs over the side of the bed to the sound of you emptying the contents of your stomach in the next room. Grabbing the water, he padded out into the hallway and down to the toilet, slowly pushing open the door to find you crouched over the toilet, miserable and embarrassed and disoriented.

“Oh my God, it’s you,” you mumbled when you peeked through your hair to see him, immediately casting your eyes downward again as the room began to spin. “I wondered whose apartment I was in.” Sniffling, you mumbled a thank you as he wordlessly sat the water down on the chilly tile next to you, his hand grazing over your wrist and snatching one of the hair ties there before using it to pull your hair back up out of your face. He’d done it before for a few girlfriends and friends alike, so it was like second nature to him as he successfully gathered your hair into a bun, then sat behind you and rested against the wall.

“Good morning. Fancy some breakfast?” Groaning softly, your stomach thoroughly disagreed with the thought and he grimaced as you continued to empty what was left of your stomach, thankful that he’d gotten your hair out of the mix when you finally gave up, using the water to gargle and rinse your mouth before taking a drink and sitting back. You found his chest behind you, weakly slumping between his legs and resting the side of your face against his torso as you felt absolutely drained. “No more gin for you, eh?”

“Jesus, no,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around his torso and whining softly as you recalled approximately how much you’d drank. “Did I…. smack you? I’m so sorry.”

“Just my hand. Hurt like hell, though,” he chuckled, reaching up to rub your arm and doing his best to soothe you as he looked at his watch. 7:59. “Oh my, if we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late! Wouldn’t professor love that, his favorite pupil and the bane of his existence skipping together?”

Holding up his watch for you to see, you watched it change to 8 and let out a weak laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, he can fuck off. Hope it eats him alive.” Your eyes closed again and you huffed softly, almost dozing off at the relaxing feeling of John’s touch on your arm, rubbing methodically and making you feel not as shitty, surprisingly. “Thanks for not kicking me out, Lenny.”

“Me? Thanks for not kicking me out when you found out I like strawberry jam.”

“Ew! I’ve changed my mind, maybe I should have smacked you.”

tagging @strawberryfields-forever bc it’s technically a continuation of the request they sent in hehe but otherwise -

message me/reply to this if you want to be added to the beatles taglist! REQUESTS CLOSED

[littlecrookedheart]

Merry & Bright : The Twelve Days of Choices FicMas

Prompt 10, Fireside S'mores

Pairing : Tom x Clove ft. The It Lives Beneath Squad & Andy Kang

Rating : A tiny suggestive bit, the rest is all fluff!

Word Count : 2,841

Disclaimer : I do not own any characters mentioned that are found in the choices universe.

"Are you sure? I feel like it's kind of...a lot."

Tom scrunched his nose in the mirror, gazing over the loud print on his scarf.

"You don't have to wear that if you're not feeling it, baby." Clove looked up from her phone, tossing it aside when she saw the look of uncertainty on Tom's face. She stood up and made her way to wrap her arms around his waist, peeking behind his shoulder to see in the mirror. "Andy is your best friend. I can promise you, he will never care what you're wearing."

"He bought me this for my birthday. I should wear it, don't you think?"

"Um," she sighed, turning him around to face her, "I don't think he'd mind if you didn't."

It was a knit scarf, winter appropriate but hideous, Clove thought. Bright canary yellow lemons against a maroon base, ends frayed with vibrant yarn.

“I think it's safe to go with something else.”

"Why is getting dressed so complicated?"

"Because you care so much." She unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and playfully looped it around his back, gently pulling at each end to move him closer to her. Her cheek pressed against his as she held him close.

"I thought you were just trying to help, but now I see what you really wanted."

"What's loving you without a little fun?" Clove teased, dropping one end of the scarf and moving it to the base of his head, toying gently at his hair. She could feel his face heating up and moved both hands through his hair, gently kissing from his neckline to just beneath his earlobe.

"Clove, you know how much I love having...fun..with you, but we really have to get going."

"I know," she sighed, resting her forehead on his jaw. The hint of rasp in her voice scraped his ears like bee wings on a rose petal. "Kiss me once?"

"I'll kiss you a lot more than that," Tom peppered his lips in bursts across her face, "any time," more small pecks across her cheeks, "any place." Finally meeting her lips, his arms enclosed her and lifted her off of the ground, passion behind his kiss.

"Tommy..." The heightening of her breath enthralled him, a deep blush building outward from his chest.

"Remember that later," he whispered, leaving one last kiss lingering on the side of her face.

He pulled on a jacket and helped Clove into hers, lacing his fingers into her empty spaces.

--

"Fashionably late?" Parker perked up, hand clutched around a glass bottle of hard cider.

"You couldn't wait for us?" Tom joked, the flicker of the already blazing fire shining in his lenses.

"Tom!"

Andy Kang jumped to his feet as if propelled by springs, limbs flying in the air as he leaped over the flames, nearly tackling him into a hug.

"Whoa! Are you a fire bender or something?!"

"Can't a guy just be really happy to see his best friend?" Andy ruffled Tom's hair, loose strands strewn across his face. "I swear man, every time I see you, you've grown three inches and gotten three times stronger."

Tom regathered his hair into a bun, using a black band slinked over his wrist to tie it up.

"Andy! It's so nice to see you!" Clove walked over with open arms, shrieking as Andy lifted her into a hug after taking a running start.

"Hey! Be careful or one of you will fall in. And if you're not aware, I'm a cop, not a fireman. I can't save you."

"That was dark, P."

"I want one night. One. Where I'm not the dad friend!" Parker laughed, replacing his empty bottle with a new one. "Also guys, please put your trash in this bin. Wildlife."

Andy kicked back into a camping chair, leaning backward to level with Tom's eyes across the fire. "Does he know Lucas? He should know Lucas."

"I don't know what Lucas you're talking about," Parker smiled, "But I once arrested my bully from elementary school. His name was Lucas."

"Talk about karma! What I wouldn't give to see that look on the faces of my old bullies." Andy gestured to Parker for a cider, catching it perfectly in his grip.

"Where's Imogen?" Tom asked, pulling Clove close to him as his arm draped across her shoulder.

"On her way. She thought she had marshmallows at home but she didn't, so she's stopping first."

Clove leaned forward to wave at Danni as she approached their circle, camera held in front of her to capture the floating embers against the night sky.

Andy and Parker carried on in conversation about bullies which turned to basketball and a debate over the NFL, light hearted laughing filling the air almost as much as the crisp wind.

"It's freezing!" Danni shivered, burrowing further into her coat.

"Sit down by the fire and you'll be toasty."

"You're only saying that because of that human furnace you're clinging to," her teeth chattered with each gust, "some of us aren't so lucky."

"Tom and I will cuddle you. Come sit between us!"

"Not in a million years."

"Come on, Danni. Let us warm that cold little heart!"

"I am not cold hearted!" She yelled as she quickly pushed her way between them, stifling a grin as all four arms enveloped her in an embrace. "I'm cold blooded. Get it right."

--

Later in the evening, Tom had ventured closer to Andy and Parker, all standing in a circle, playing snippets from songs over the speakers of their phones.

"Why did they move over there?" Danni asked, Parker's coat around her like a blanket.

Clove shrugged, giggling softly. "They're weird."

"They're drunk. Weird is an understatement."

"They aren't drunk, just Parker."

A rustling came from the top of the hill, the splitting of the wood at the base of the fire seeming to mime the sound.

Imogen stumbled down, missing the small clearings of the pathway. Her arms were piled high with paper grocery bags, eyes peeking over the rim of them as she tried to steady herself. Clove rushed over to help, quickly met by Andy and Tom.

"Traffic," Imogen huffed as she leaned to greet everyone with hugs. "So much traffic."

"Why?" Danni asked, already tearing open a bag of marshmallows.

"We have a weather advisory! How did you guys not know that?"

"I knew," Parker said, "I just didn't want to miss this tradition."

"It isn't tradition when it's our first time doing this, dork." Imogen straightened her posture, sticking an arm out to Andy. "Hi! Imogen Wescott."

"Andy Kang! If I didn't already know you were you, I'd know you were you by your voice."

"What's that mean?"

"Energetic, happy sounding. You've got a lively voice," Andy smiled, his eyes crinkling in enthusiasm.

"Oh! Well, thank you. If I didn't know you were you, I'd know by your stature. You look like an athlete!"

"I'm glad all of that work is paying off. Speaking of, you brought snacks?"

"I sure did!"

Imogen sat on the floor in front of Tom and Clove, opening packages and passing around goodies. She handed Parker a tin with an embossed sleigh on the top, beaming.

"I made those myself!"

Parker warily opened the tin, his face lighting up as he uncovered chocolate chip cookies in various shapes.

"Christmas cookies?!"

"Yes! Yes, of course! I spent the entire day baking yesterday for my parents' fundraiser and I had some left over so I thought I'd bring them."

Tom twirled a metal skewer between his hands, gazing into space.

"You okay?" Clove's hand trailed from his shoulder down his arm, looping through the crook of his elbow.

"Just thinkin'."

"I know that face." She narrowed her eyes and turned his head to face her, relaxing the look on her face and lowering her voice, "What's wrong, baby?"

Tom shook his head, sighing. "I love the holidays, I just can't help but miss some things. I used to bake with my cousins every year. When I was like, eight, me, Andy, and a few of our old friends made a Christmas cake for when my aunt and her baby came to visit. God, it was so bad. It was just a chocolate cake made from boxed mix, but it was covered in so much icing."

"I like icing!"

"Not this icing. This icing had kid fingers all over it and at least three bottles of sprinkles just dumped on top."

"Are you talking about the snow angel party cake?" Andy jumped over a camping chair, crashing into Tom.

"Why are you so jumpy? Calm down, man."

"Um, are you talking about the snow angel party cake?"

"The...snow...angel..party cake?" Clove said as she raised an eyebrow, covering her mouth to hide her laughter.

"The one and only."

Imogen reached over, handing them a new bag of marshmallows. Tom absentmindedly slid them in a tight line down the skewer, passing it to Parker to roast.

"We had this old friend named Jane. You remember Noah?"

The group collectively nodded, waiting for the rest of the story.

"Jane was Noah's twin sister. So we're making this cake, pretty frantically and with no adult help, ya know?"

"And Jane dumps a whole bag of m&ms into the batter."

"Then proceeded to eat a spoonful."

"Of raw batter?!" Danni laughed, "I've done the same thing! I was like ten!"

"Well, she definitely liked it way too much."

"We didn't even bake the cake all the way. It was squishy with batter in the center. But Jane ate it like pudding. It was so gross."

"I remember my aunt brought in my little cousin Jiro, who was just an infant at the time. And Jane was just covered in cake, still eating it. She ran up to the baby and tickled his feet, got cake all over him!”

“She didn't get sick or anything. She just sat there, sassy attitude as always, eating that gross raw cake.” Andy snorted before cracking open the cap of his water bottle.

“I remember she said, ‘Tom, why is your cousin way cuter than you?’”

“Dude, she said Jiro was cuter than all of us. And she was right!”

“She sounds like she was a lot of fun,” Clove smiled to them, seeing Andy’s eyes glaze over as if a mirror image of Tom’s.

“She was. We all were.”

“Hey,” she whispered, kissing Tom’s shoulder. “You still are.”

He looked to her, his lips trembling faintly. After a moment, he mouthed,’I love you,’ and handed Parker another skewer of marshmallows.

“Okay guys, this is where we take plain boring s'mores and turn them into Christmas s'mores!”

Imogen did a little dance, sandwiching a peanut butter cup and a perfectly browned marshmallow between two Christmas cookies.

“Bite?” She suggested, holding it to Parker’s mouth.

He took a massive mouthful, eyes wide with excitement. Covering his mouth, he mimicked Imogen’s dance and said, “Christmas s'mores!”

“Aw yeah! More for everyone!” Imogen’s happy dance was contagious, coaxing Danni into running to Parker’s car for a Bluetooth speaker and playing DJ.

“Imogen! How did you discover these? This is like..s'mores to a whole new level.” Andy shoved an entire s'more into his mouth, trying his best not to smile.

“Sometimes PMS pays off.”

Tom grabbed a bottle from the cooler, gathering trash from the ground into the bag Parker had designated.

“Hey Tom, you cold?” Andy asked, wiping strings of marshmallow fluff from his lips.

“Uh…yeah, man. It’s below freezing.”

Andy stood up and dusted crumbs from his clothes, standing on his toes and reaching up, slinking an arm around Tom’s shoulder. “You know what would help you warm up?”

“A space heater?”

“That scarf I got you for your birthday!”

Tom looked at Clove in panic, stuttering.

“I…I almost..I’m so-”

“Dude, really? I’m teasing. I regifted that to you from my grandma.”

“What?”

Andy doubled over, trying to contain his laughter.

“It was a Joke, Tomoichi. Don’t worry!”

Tom shoved him into a large bush, the both of them loudly laughing and shouting silly phrases to one another.

“Men.” Danni rolled her eyes, nudging Parker with her elbow. “You’re not one for wrestling?”

Parker’s eyes darted to Andy trying to lift Tom, his lips pursing to fight the urge to smile.

“Nah, not my thing. These cookies though? These are my thing.”

“I SURRENDER!” Andy yelped, giggling profusely as he rolled the rest of the way down a small hill.

Tom folded his arms and rejoined the circle, popping the top off of a bottle of beer.

“It’s going to be a long holiday season with these two.” Clove sighed, wiggling her eyebrows at Imogen.

“You’ll learn to love our antics.” Andy sat across the fire, between Danni and Parker, and took a long swig of his drink. “It’ll be loads of fun.”

“When do you go back to Westchester?” Imogen asked.

“Before the start of semester, so early January.”

Parker nearly choked on his drink, leaning forward as he coughed.

“You alright?” Tom reached over to pat him on the back.

“Uh, yeah,” Parker said, catching his breath. “So wait, Andy, you’re in Pine Springs for the next month?”

“Yeah! Make room for one more in this little posse.”

“Cool,” Parker said, leaning back into his chair.

“You’re already welcome, Andy.” Danni said, setting her phone down and heading over to the cooler for a drink.

Clove discreetly swiped it, scrolling through her song library and choosing a new song. Michael Bublé’s gentle rendition of, ‘I’ll be Home for Christmas,’ started up, and she stood to her feet, taking Tom’s hand.

“Hey! What gives?”

“Just one?” She looked to Danni with big eyes, batting them slowly. Danni smirked and turned away, shrugging.

“Dance with me?”

“Right here?”

“Right now.”

“Alright,” Tom gulped, placing his hands at the small of her back. The sweet apple scent of her hair seemed to swirl around them, the soft glow of her face in the fire’s reflection giving her an ethereal aura.

“You look handsome.”

“You’re as beautiful as ever.”

Clove rested her face on his chest, holding him close to her as they danced further away from the fire. She felt him softly humming against her and joined him, swaying side to side.

“I have something for us,” he whispered, the bass in his voice moving through her chest.

“A gift?”

“Something like that.” He reached in his pocket, opening his hand to show her a small, borderline disheveled mistletoe. He held his arm above them, chuckling as she looked up at it.

“Where did you even find that?”

“I made it.”

Clove’s mouth dropped open as she jumped up to grab it from him.

“You’re joking! This is so thoughtful, Tommy.”

“Nothing a few scrolls through Pinterest can’t help me figure out. But…I did make it for a reason.”

He held it above them again and moved in closer to her, watching the flames dance in the glaze of her eyes.

Clove’s smile was loving, like she wanted to write the world for him. “What are you waiting for?”

He cupped her cheek, angling it upward to move his lips in time with hers. His heart fluttered at the toasty taste of her kiss, running his hand through her hair.

She could feel a shiver pass through his chest, breaking the kiss as she pulled him forward.

“No, come back,” he whispered, longing welling in his chest.

“You’re freezing, baby. I’ll make it up to you later.”

–

Around the fire, Andy and Tom sat roasting marshmallows and proceeding to make several s'mores, passing them to the others. Parker tossed small branches and sticks into the fire, watching them curl up and split to cinders.

“What’s on your mind?” Clove asked, handing him a bottle of water.

“I’m glad we made it.” Parker smiled shyly at first, turning to a grin. “We deserve so many nights like this.”

“We do, don’t we?”

“I just want to say, Clove, even if in a few years down the road, none of us talk anymore, I’m really thankful for your friendship. And before you ask, no, it’s not the cider talking.”

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. “I know it isn’t. Nothing, not even really good cider or anything else, could overshadow a heart like yours. I’m happy we’re friends, Parker. Thanks for being there.”

“Are we getting sentimental?” Imogen tossed a rock into the flames. “Because I love you guys.”

“I hardly know most of you and I love you guys!” Andy yelled, jumping to his feet and kissing everyone on the head.

He ruffled Parker’s hair, catching his eye and winking. Parker’s cheeks turned a deep blush as he turned back to his water, downing the rest.

Clove raised an eyebrow and smirked, turning to Tom.

“Did you see that?”

“Yep.”

“Do you ship that?”

A chuckle reverberated through his chest as he nodded, “Yep.”

[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 1

Reposting of Ties in Blood I’ll be tagging people; sorry if you’ve been tagged before.

@mrswhozeewhatsis @winchestergirl-13 @impala-dreamer @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam @percussiongirl2017

Chapter 1

Aaliyah stood still as the young man adjusted her two layers of clothes. Behind him she watched the older man Aaliyah pegged to be the father finish the last of the traps. She hadn’t expected the elder to allow her on this part of the hunt. Yet after the werewolf caught her scent three days ago, there was little choice. Once the young man seemed satisfied with how Aaliyah’s jackets fit, he reached over to the trunk of the car, a black Impala, and brought out a knife.

“Silver blade,” he told her. “Short of lobbing off the head, best way of dealing with werewolves.” With a slight flick of the wrist, he caught the blade and handed the knife handle first to Aaliyah.

She accepted the blade, adjusting her hold, and nodded. “Any advice?”

“Yeah, don’t get killed.”

“Dean. We need to move,” his father instructed.

Aaliyah watched Dean’s father climb into the driver’s seat of the car before the engine rumbled to life. She watched the car move away as memories flashed of the past few days hearing the engine around the college campus. Turning back to Dean, Aaliyah blinked a couple times in a slight surprise to find he wasn’t there.

With a couple stabilizing breaths, she stepped out into the open. The late summer breeze tugged at the top jacket and she swore she heard cheers from the football stadium. The thought that the werewolf would be drawn there passed through her mind. Then again, even a wild animal would avoid people. A howl carried on the wind. Aaliyah spun her head and shifted her grip on the knife. Leaves on nearby trees rustled, but there was no breeze.

She turned to see just out of the corner of her eye a lumbering werewolf in md arm sweep at her. Full force sent Aaliyah into a sapling, snapping it and sending the wind from her lungs. Gasping for breath, she searched for the knife that laid a few feet away out of the creature’s path. Crawling for the weapon, Aaliyah’s neck hairs stood on end as the hot stank breath of the werewolf touched her. Her fingers just barely grabbed the knife as her back erupted in pain as if it was on fire. Screaming in pain, Aaliyah curled into a ball, her hand around the knife handle. Fighting through the pain, she rolled onto her back as the werewolf swiped at her again, cutting into her side.

The muzzle of the werewolf was inches above her face, a large glop of saliva hanging down. Biting through that pain, she thrusted the knife up into the creature’s stomach, pulling the knife up to the rib cage. She didn’t fight the shutter that worked through her body as hot blood bathed her. Pushing the dead body up and off of her, Aaliyah laid there, regaining her breath, her mind blank. She fought the urge to close her eyes as her body reverted into survival mode.

“That took guts,” she heard a voice tell her. A slow turn of her head showed Dean coming up to her. “Think you can move?”

Testing her side with a deep breath, Aaliyah nodded. Holding up a hand and worked with Dean to get to her feet. Wrapping her free arm across her stomach, she didn’t fight when Dean put the arm he held around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around her, mindful of her back. Eased over to the car, Dean helped her onto the hood before going to the trunk. She flinched when John came up to her.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Letting the werewolf…”

“It’s dead,” Aaliyah cut in, eyes closed against the throbbing pain. “Bet you couldn’t do better.”

A heavy thud on the hood reverberated through her body. With an eye cracked open, Aaliyah watched Dean start fishing through a duffel bag. From it appeared make shift medical supplies plus typical first aid items. Last item was a bottle of cheap looking alcohol any of the local party stores had in stock. She reached for the bottle as Dean found a needle and dental floss.

“Think you can shed the jackets and shirt?” Dean asked.

Aaliyah freed one jacket and struggled with the second. She ignored the feeling of serious judgement from Dean’s father. Unfit to be a hunter, the older Winchester said when she wanted to help three days ago. She wanted to show him he was fit when she heard that.

Finally freeing the second jacket, Aaliyah dared to shed the shirt. A hiss from Dean was a clue on how bad it looked. A small shiver when a breeze passed by, Aaliyah hissed when a cold liquid washed over her open wounds. Adjusting herself on the hood, she folded her legs in front of her. Meeting Dean’s gaze, Aaliyah nodded. Holding herself still, she felt Dean’s hands working on stitching up her side and back. As he worked, Aaliyah started to drift off to sleep. A shake brought her back around.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your dorm,” Dean told her.

***

Unsure of what she was conscious of first, Aaliyah laid in bed and attempted to pick each noise out. Her roommate moving around doing something. Coffee dripping into the pot. Music playing just a little too loud Aaliyah swore would have affected her if she had been drinking. Shifting under her blanket, pain snagged on her dental floss stitched wounds.

“You look like you had a rough night,” her roommate told her, passing through to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I had one.” Aaliyah eased herself into a sitting position on her bed, the covers pooled in her lap. “Where you at the game, Amanda?”

“No, had a test to study for.” Amanda came out from the bathroom and gasped. “What happened to you? Have you been to the ER?”

Aaliyah looked down to her bandages had red spots on them and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me.” She didn’t fight when Amanda eased her forward.

“Try me.”

Closing her eyes as Amanda started peeling off the bandages, Aaliyah watched flashes of the previous night. The fresh wounds pulled at her muscles. “You remember the reports of a large wild dog and all that howling the past few weeks?”

“What about it?” Amanda continued unwrapping the bandages.

Aaliyah heard her roommate half listening to what she was saying. “It was a full blown werewolf.”

“Werewolf, huh? Twilight or Harry Potter?”

“More like Underworld.” Aaliyah glanced to the bundled bandages speckled with red as Amanda stepped away and tossed it into the trash. “I’m … still trying to figure out how I really survived the fight.”

“You sound …”

“Insane? Like I need to be put up in a psych ward indefinitely?” Aaliyah took a deep breath and held it as she moved her body to the edge of the bed. Feet on the scrap of carpet that served as a rug and her hands white knuckled the mattress, she released the air from her lungs. The pain was still there, blood vessels, muscles, skin working still to knit themselves back together. Breathing through the pain flair until it died down to a mild throbbing. “Go ahead and say it, I won’t fight it.”

“That’s the thing, though, Lia.” Amanda sat down in the oversized chair that Aaliyah had. “I do believe you. I had gone out to the library yesterday …”

“Studying for the test,” Aaliyah remembered, gaining a nod from Amanda.

“Coming back here when the library closed, I swear I saw some sort of fight in the Diag,” Amanda told her, voice. “One of the … fighters loomed over the other, howling and grunting like those wolves we had gone to see over the winter. It clawed at the smaller fighter, who cried out. The smaller reached for something before turning around and just as the larger was just over them.” She mimed being stabbed. “The one on the ground stabbed up at her attacker. After that, two men came out from wherever they were and took care of the scene. One took care of the dead attacker while the other helped …” Amanda gestured toward Aaliyah. “You, apparently.”

Aaliyah worked what her friend told her, wondering why she so readily believed her tale of being attacked by a werewolf. “That whole time, you never thought to go get help or come help?”

“Oh, hell no. Too much trouble on my end.” Amanda pushed herself out of the chair. “Come on, I’ll help you wash up and get fresh bandages on those stitches of yours.”

Aaliyah couldn’t help smile a little as her roommate and good friend since freshmen year of college offered a hand up. In the couple years she had known Amanda, Aaliyah wondered how much remained hidden between them. Any time she brought up family or friends before college, Amanda deflected the conversation to another topic.  

“Whoever did those stitches knew what they were doing,” Amanda called from the bathroom. “Major props to ‘em.”

“Yeah, he knew what he was doing,” Aaliyah replied, trying to remember how it felt having her wounds being stitched with a deft and gentle hand. She half shuffled to the bathroom, using the furniture to help, where Amanda had water running. “A shame I didn’t get his number.”

“There’s a piece of paper on your desk.”

Grateful she was holding onto it, Aaliyah reached for the paper.

“You did great, Aaliyah. Your roommate helped getting you back in. Here’s my number if anything happens while you’re still here.”

--Dean

Spotting the number under Dean’s name, Aaliyah made a mental note to call it later. Maybe after the shower and more rest.

***

Panting, Aaliyah came up to The Rock near the ZTA chapter house and braced herself against the rock. Early morning before the University of Michigan and the surrounding city buzzed with its daily workings was a good time to run. A month after killing the werewolf, Aaliyah was able to breath and not have the feeling her side and back were on fire. The talk of the day had gone from the random animal attacks to the varsity football team being able to reach the championship game.

Aaliyah had no issue with the gossip changing from the werewolf to the team. It kept the attention off of her and her wounds. Her professors and classmates had been worried when she showed to class after the fight. Her wounds bleed a little through her bandages the first day or so when she returned to class. Amanda had offered to go around and collect assignments from all her professors in that first week, but Aaliyah refused. She didn’t want to put more stress on her roommate and friend than what she already had with her load.

Once her breathing slowed, Aaliyah dared to head off toward the Quad where the fight with the werewolf had taken place. Speeding up to a light jog, she passed a few students on their way to a morning class. A few minutes and a quicken heart rate later, she came to a stop at the grass line. The late summer yellow grass still held onto the large brown spot where the werewolf had fallen a month ago. Word had spread about a large animal being killed when the landscapers showed the morning following Aaliyah’s kill. Rumors and guesses of what it was had circulated the University and surrounding parts of the city for the past month, and Aaliyah kept to herself during those conversations.

She stood there in the early morning silence as a strange sense of peace fell over her. Like something finally clicked in her mind that she, with some help, had not only learned of the supernatural but taken down one of the most popular creatures. If she could do that, what else couldn’t she do? Reaching for her phone, Aaliyah thumbed through the contacts until she reached Dean’s and paused. He never said anything about keeping in touch, but he might know a thing or two about maybe finding a missing person. Hitting the dial button, Aaliyah listened to the tone before the voicemail picked up.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do,” the greeted stated before the beep.

“Hey, um, Dean, it’s Aaliyah,” she started, her tongue tripping on her speed. “I was wondering if you knew anything about finding a missing person or two. Call me on this number.” Short and to the point. The thought of if he was going to return the call passed through her mind as she pocketed her cell and started a jog down the sidewalk back to her dorm building.

[thoughtsoftheantagonist]

A Song for You

A/N : This took a while I know but it was honestly hard to get out. Thank you for waiting. also sexy time ahead ill put this (***) before and after so you can skip if you want. Thanks for reading. 

Chapter Fifteen

Joy POV

Sleep had been fleeting if none existent the night the guys were put in. They had all waited for some word for hours after at the clubhouse but by two am they all had to give up, Juan had to physically carry her from the clubhouse because exhaustion had won her over, forcing herself to keep her eyes open until they got to the house so she didn't fall off her bike as they drove home. She woke long before Juan though, walking softly through the dimly lit house she quickly makes herself a quick easy breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. Since the sun was just rising she lets Sonny out in the backyard to release some energy and takes a seat on the screened in back porch. Sipping her cold brew she watches sonny as he rolls around in the grass, her mind going back to her conversation with Opie before he hauled off to punch Roosevelt. She hadn't been able to shake the look on his face as they put him into the van, as long she had known Ope he had been a quiet giant, giving little pearls of advice when asked and his laugh always had a way to make her feel happy. When Juan and her father had been taken to Stockton the two men she knew were gone, she had been left to make her own connections and she would admit to being genuinely terrified of being alone. So she did what she knew best she had crawled into herself for the first few weeks. Only speaking when asked questions or long enough to say yes and no.

She and Chibs had their moment when he found her drunk off her ass, sobbing her pain out when she thought nobody was around. Even to this day, she refuses to get that drunk again because the resulting hangover had almost killed her. But the moment she and Opie got closer was a little less dramatic, simpler. It had been a hectic ass day and it was only halfway through the guys stay in Stockton as she had visited Juan the day before and right now she was missing him. Letters could only fill the hole up so much so she had once again crawled to the roof at the end of her shift to relax until church, surprised to find Opie already sitting there. She nods to him and turns to leave when he stops her “Sit. I don't own the building kid.” she nods and swings her legs over the edge of the building, plopping down she reaches into her backpack and snatches a beer, holding it out to him. For a few moments the only sounds were the sound of cars passing the garage and the laughter of the men already here for church until Opie broke the silence “You doing ok?” she glances at him as she takes a sip of her own beer, her eyebrow arched “Most of us don't really ask how the Ole lady is doing. We watch out for you all sure, but asking isn't in the job description. If we ask we actually care.”

She can't help but snort as she grabs her beer, taking a sip she thinks about his question, going so far as to light up a blunt before replying “I'll be honest. Being here, working with you all as a prospect is a dream for me. My dad talked about brotherhood and how much this MC helped him. But I'm not sure how to make those connections. Y'all aren't the easiest men to know.” she inhales deeply, before holding out the blunt to him without thinking. She grins once he takes it, watching him through low lidded eyes as he inhales deeply “I feel like I'm on an island, the two men I connect with most are gone and my socially awkward ass has no idea how to explain how empty I feel with Juan gone.” she sees a flash of his face from visitation, his dopey ass grin, his callus rough hands as they held hers. She was speaking before she realized “I know me and him haven't known each other for long….but I do care for him. He is a good guy.”  She grabs the blunt from Opie as he holds it back out to her, the silence between them is less stiff and suffocating as they finish their beers and the blunt between them. She is shoving the empty bottles into her bag to toss later when Opie finally speaks “My ex-wife Donna. Said something similar to what you did. Being on an island while I did a few years, she wasn't a fan of the club since it was why I was put away. So she really had no one but my dad and the kids. I don't understand how she did it even now and I think that's when I started to pay more attention to the Ole ladies.”

Personally, she was shocked he even talked about his wife, her dad had been furious when it had come out that Tig had killed Donna, even by a fuck up it was still horrible. That's when he told her he had seconds thoughts about her joining later, she hadn't spoken to him for a week after. She stares at the side of Opie's head as he looks off “Do you want to…..talk about her?” the confused look he gives her makes her smiles “I doubt you get to talk about her to the guys. And with Lyla, it might be awkward. Just saying if you ever want to talk about her, and you have no one to do it. I'm here.” she turns to stares down at the lot, watching the guys who weren't already here start to arrive. She can't help the small smile that takes over her face as she hears Opie take her offer to heart, and for the next thirty minutes, she listens to Opie as he talks about the small woman who died too soon. She jumps as she is pulled from her thoughts at the sound of the back door opening, putting down her now empty cup she can't help but smile as Juan steps out onto the back porch, watching him rub his eyes she lays out on the outside couch, opening her arms as he walks over.

Laying out on top of her like a heavy blanket of still bed warm skin, he presses his face into her neck, she shivers, her eyes falling shut as his warm lips rain soft, sleepy kisses on her morning chilled skin. She traces random patterns on the skin of his neck and shoulder, smiling as he speaks in his rough just waking voice “Did you even sleep?” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to his brow she sighs “Kinda, been out here for maybe an hour. I'm worried Juan.” he nods and moves to hover over her, his arms holding his body over hers, she couldn't help but wrap her legs around his narrow hips, and if his smirk on his face was anything to go by he didn't mind. She grins as he leans down to press a quick kiss to her lips before sadly pushing himself up to sit on his knees. “I'm gonna make myself something to eat and we can hit the garage. We both have some work to do. I think I have one car coming in soon.” she wrinkled her nose but nods, as much as she wanted to stay in their warm bubble the world was waiting. Letting Juan head inside she opens the screened back door and lets the panting dog in and smirks when he zooms off after his dad.

Shaking her head she heads in after him, seeing the pup sitting calmly by Juan's feet as he goes about making his own breakfast she kisses her husband's bare shoulder as she passes him “I'm gonna shower.” he nods and she quickly heads into their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Juice POV

One car had quickly turned into a few, seemed he had been put on walk-in duty. And Joy refusing to leave him on his own had decided to work on some filing that had been backed up on the desk. Apparently, Gemma hadn't been working her shifts, leaving whoever was in the garage to drop what they were doing to pick up the phone. He had quickly left as Joy took in the mess on the deck, her face turning red and her eyes narrowed. That had been three hours ago, he was getting off for his break, washing the oil off his face and hands in the clubhouse bathroom. He could hear Joys ranting from where he was and he couldn't help but chuckle. Tossing the wet paper towel into the trash he walks into the bar, seeing Hap, Joy, Clay, and Phil. But Bobby was missing, locking eyes Phil as he grabs his seat next to his wife at the bar he mouths “Bobby?” just as Phil opens his mouth to reply the man in question walks down the stairs from the office. Relief clear on his face.

He sees Joy's fists clench as Clay's voice booms over her shoulder from his place behind the part “You talk to Romeo?” Bobby nods, sending a grin of relief to Joy as she practically slumps in her seat. He can't help but reach out to grab her hand, seeing her father pat her shoulder “Luis. The guys are safe.” he allows the tension in his body to ease a little as Joy tilts her head back, her eyes closed as she utters loud enough for them all to hear “Thank God.” his eyes glance at happy as he speaks, a teasing grin aimed at his daughter as he puts one of his toothpicks in his mouth “God nothing girl. Thank vatos with shivs.” he smirks as his wife smacks her father in the gut, making him grunt as Bobby continues “He wants to meet. Lindelof Pines. Seemed urgent.”  his wife loses the playful glint in her eye as she leans forward as she speaks “About getting the guys out?” Bobby shrugs, his hand scrubbing roughly over the side of his bearded jaw “I don't know. Are you up to it girl?” he watches his wife finish her shit without so much as a wench and nod “No choice. Question is are you?” he is floored when he realizes Joy isn't talking to Bobby, his wife had turned from the man and was glaring Clay down behind the bar. It's silent for a long moment before the older man nods, putting a cap on the bottle he had been drinking from he slams back shot before nodding “No choice.”

As the other file out he watches his wife close, arching a brow once she locks eyes with him. The small shake of her head lets him know now isn't the time. But he will get his answers later, following her out he heads for the van, with Clay at his side, it was his day to drive the older man he sees his wife and Bobby talking to her but the look on Clays face confuses him until he gets a good look at the side of Gemma’s neck and shakes his head. Clay has no one to blame but himself for Gemma finding someone else. Patting the other man on the back he let him go ahead to the van, while he walks over as Joys side as he picks up the tail end of the conversation “I called Tara. She knows.” Gemma spares him a nod before replying “Ok I'll head to the hospital now.” he and Bobby both step back as Joy grabbed the older woman by the arm, this looked ugly. His wife's voice is flat and leaves no room for argument “No you're going to take care of what's left of the mess you left for me to fix in that office. I don't own this place, Gemma, you do, and since I can't go back and finish it you will. I will not be swamped in paperwork because you decided to get dicked down. We all have jobs to do” he watches his wife release the older woman and straddles her bike. Leaving the older woman no time to argue as takes off out of the parking lot, he shrugs as Bobby and Gemma stare him down, sure she was his wife but he wasn't in control of her.

Joy POV

By the time they make it to the junkyard her blood had cooled somewhat, Gemma was getting on the last spare nerve she had left. She understood needing to branch out and find yourself but you can't toss preexisting responsibility to the four winds and not expect someone to not snatch your ass back to reality real quick. She was done with Gemma’s trip to Lalaland, it was time to put feet on the ground and help them out here. She is the first to pull in, quickly followed by the van and the others who followed on bikes. She can see Luis is waiting, kissing her father and husbands cheeks she makes her way over with Clay and Bobby on either side “Morning Gentleman, Ms.Ortiz. Our sources confirm that Pope met with Jax.” She feels her blood freeze in her veins, she rubs her forehead “Inside?” Luis nods and she tries to keep her shit together, she needed a phone call right now. She needed to know what Jax and Pop spoke about, but she also knew it might not be her he told. Bobby was VP now but a part of her hoped to still be in the loop. She rolls her eyes behind her ray bans as Clay mutters, loud enough for her to hear “Shit. Idi Amin's got reach.” She takes a deep calming breath as Luis continues “Yeah. And he laid out his terms. We have to prepare for every scenario.”

She glares at the man before her, every scenario her ass, she doesn't glance at Bobby as he speaks. She keeps her undivided attention on Luis “Meaning if they don't get out alive.” the man's eyes narrows as he steps more into their space, making her stand taller as he practically hisses “Meaning one of our shipments was attacked. Torched trucks don't give us much comfort. And Mr. Galindo needs to know that everyone is paying attention.” She steps the last few feet into his space, feeling Bobby's hand on her arm she shook it off “That attack was personal, not business. You got your coke on time.” She lets Bobby pull her back this time as Latino before he glares down at her. Once Bobby is sure she was done showing her ass he speaks “ Tell Galindo to relax. The MC will get his guns and blow in one piece, on schedule.” Luis doesn't take his eyes off of her as he nods “Good” She curls her lip, flashing her teeth before she speaks “And you will make sure my men get out of county alive.”  The Hispanic man looks her up and down for a solid minute before he speaks again “We hear anything from your men, we'll call you.”  

She pulls away from Bobby hold to walk over to her father and Juan. Releasing the shaky breath she had been holding for half that meeting she pulls her father and Juan to the side as she turns to Phil “I want you to drive Clay. Juan's heading back with me alright. My dad will help you get your bike in the van in a minute ok?” she can't help but grin as the larger man gives her a salute before crowding up to Clay and Bobby to see what happened. Leaning against the rear of the van she sighs before speaking to her father and husband “Jax met with Pope on the inside.” Her father remains composted on the surface but the slight tic of his jaw tells her he is just as pissed as her now cursing husband. “How the fuck did Pope manage that?” she stares off to the side, her brains cogs spinning so fast she could almost hear them as she spoke “If Pope found out brown was protecting the boys the  Pope would find other lanes of access. Aryan, and all that but money would be on the guards. Justice system pay ain't shit so flash enough money and any guard would jump at it.” Juan nods, leaning his back against the door next to her he roughly scrubs a hand over his Mohawk “so if the guards are on the take Pope could have easily killed Jax when he met him. Why keep him alive?” she glances at her father, seeing his wheels going just as fast as he gravel rough voice is heard for the first time since they left the clubhouse. “He wants something. Only person who knows what that is, is Pope and maybe Jax now.” she sighs, pushing off the van she grabs her husband's hand and pulls him towards her bike as she talks to them both as her father follows by her side “And until Jax calls we can't do anything but speculate which only makes us worry more. So I'm going to go to hospital visit Tara and the kids, drop Juan back at the shop first though. ” She takes the kiss on her cheek from her father, letting Juan straddle her bike first she sits down behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist the shrieks with laughter when he takes off with no warning.

Once Juan had been dropped off at the garage for another shift while she hits the hospital. She hadn't really talked much to Tara today except to let her know the guys were ok. So she wanted to see the kids and let woman know what was going on. She passes the red haired woman Tara seemed to get along alright with, and she was surprised when the woman stopped her to speak for a moment. “Joy Ortiz right?” she smiles and nods shaking the woman's hand as its held out her her “Margaret Murphy, i met your husband once before when he was treated here very sweet man. Do you have a minute to talk?” she finds herself confused but nods, leaning against the nurse station while the woman fills out some papers as she speaks “Are you here to see Tara?” she crosses her arms over her chest as she watches the older woman “I'm here to give her some information. And help out with Tommy and Able so she doesn't have to stress. Why do you ask? Is something wrong?” she narrows her eyes at the woman as she rolls her pen between her fingers almost as if nervous before turning to Joy. “There was an incident today, maybe half an hour ago. Tara was in the middle of a meeting with a family and Gemma burst through, something about not being on the list to see the boys.”

She knows she has lost the smile she gave the woman before, and she hadn't blinked since the woman had started so she understood the look of concern on the woman's face. Once she processed what she had been told she nods, taking a deep breath she combs a hand through her wind tangled curls. “Thank you for telling me. Tara doesn't need that bullshit. And I'm sorry Gemma possibly scared clients. Leave her to me.” She gives the older woman a strained smile before walking away, stopping when the woman's voice calls after her “Your not afraid of her are you?” she turns to the woman, waiting for her to continue as she walks closer so no one else hears her. “Gemma I mean.” She is taken aback for a moment, but now she sees what Tara likes the woman, she knows more than she lets on. She gives her a smile and shakes her head “No. I'm not. But I'd be stupid to underestimate her, wouldn't I.” She pats the woman on the arm and continues her trek to Taras office. Knocking she finds the woman pulling Tommy from his carrier. Sparing the woman a weary grin as she steals the babbling baby from her and grabs a seat on the office couch.

Getting the fussy baby settled she takes the bottle from Taras outstretched hand, once Tommy had latched on she turns her attention to Tara. “Your boss caught me on my way here. Told me what happened with Gemma.” the sound of frustration Tara makes is almost painful to hear, she settles Tommy doesn't as he starts to squirm, her hand gently patting his bottom as she waits for Tara to get her frustration out. “I don't understand her. She says space is fine yesterday but today she comes in, guns blazing with Hickeys and smelling of weed and alcohol. She isn't fully with us anymore Joy, ever since the Clay thing.” she nods, she thinks Gemma is just enjoying her freedom personally but at the same time they all had responsibilities to handle and Gemma had one too many times in recent months shoved her responsibilities onto others.

“I agree. It was ok for a month to be so involved you forget everyone else, but it's been three months and as much as I would love to spend all my time with Juan in bed and not work and be high I can't. And the way she tries to tell you how to take care of your kids isn't right.”  she is about to continue when a knock on the door stops her, her lip curls as Wendy’s waves head of hair pops around the door before pushing all the way through. She stands with Tommy as he finished his bottle, throwing the spit up rag over her shoulder she rubs and pats at his back as she watches the two women before her. “Sorry to barge in, I heard about Jax.” Her eyes narrow, no one but the club knew about that. So who was talking to this bitch. Her lip twitches into a grin as Tara scuffs as she packs her desk up. “Yeah. You and everyone else.” Once Tommy burps she kisses his chubby little cheek and hands him to Tara. She sees Wendy move closer to get a look at her godson, her hand moves to rest on her hip, right next to her Kabar. She didn't want that bitch near Tommy.

“He's so beautiful Tara.” She doesn't like the wistful look on Wendy's face as she gazes at Tommy. In her eyes, the woman had her fucking chance to be a mom. But she loved the drugs more, she shot up when she was fucking pregnant and almost killed Abel in the process. Joy would be dead and rotting before able called Wendy anything close to mom. Having had enough, she speaks while Tara puts Tom into his stroller. “Do you need something? Because we have something important to do.”  Wendy nods “Me and Tara need to begin the conversation about Abel.” Jesus fuck, how thick was this bitches skull. Joy sighs, a mask of indifference dropping into place “Be there done that you were told no. Take that shit and run with it. At this point in time, the only person who is anything close to mom to that boy beside Tara is me. His god mom.”  Wendy ignores her and turns to Tara who was standing with her hands on the stroller, glaring daggers at the other woman “There is not nor will there ever be a conversation.”  

Wendy sighs, looking almost concerned as she spoke, something wasn't right here “Look, your life is very messy, Tara. I know it used to be my life. And with Jax running the club, it's only going to get more complicated.” that still begged the question of able “And what does that have to do with my son?” seemed she and Tara were of one mind today, she rests her hand on the handle of her knife as Wendy moves to stand in front of Tommy's stroller “His father is a convicted felon, and his guardian is psychologically fragile.” She can't help but chuckle, making both women look at her, she snickers as her eyes narrow toward Wendy. A nasty grin on her face as she speaks in almost a hiss “This coming from a woman who nearly murdered her unborn child for a fix. Guess you would know what unstable looks like wouldn't you Wendy.” she gets some sick sense of satisfaction as the woman's skin pales slightly. Tara places a hand over the tattooed Crow on her forearm without looking at her, silently telling her she could handle this. With a nod she falls back and leans her hips against the desk “I'm not just his guardian, I'm his mother. Legally, we got married.” if possible Wendy seems to lose more color to her face, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she came to a gunfight holding a knife…...idiot. As she realized she was looking ground she dropped the smile she had arrived with and stares Tara down. “Congratulations. You still have to tell Abel that I'm his mother. Or the court will.”  

She glares holes into the blond back as she turned to leave, she really didn't want to do this. Not with a woman like herself and Tara standing as blockades before Able. The blonde in question stops as Taras' voice rings out. Hard and cracking like a whip into the silence of the room “Why do this today? Hm? Knowing Jax is away?” Wendy turns slightly, refusing to meet Taras hard gaze and Tara nods “Gemma. Of course.” Her blood was on fire, she is gripping the handle of her knife so tight she is surprised she didn't throw it on pure anger alone as Wendy speaks again “It had to happen.” She couldn't help but scuff, pushing off the desks she moves around it to charge at Wendy but a surprisingly strong grip on the side of her cut stops her. Looking at Tara she sees she isn't even looking at her, but at Wendy, the voice that comes from Tara is one she had never heard her use before. Something dark, something that rested in Tara majority of the time, she spoke as if she had not one emotion as she closes in on the blonde, her hand still gripping Joys cut in a white-knuckled fist. “Do you really think she wants Abel to know you're his mom? She tried to kill you. Or have you forgotten that? She's pissed because I'm not letting her run my family. What did she tell you? That I'm unstable? What? Strung out on painkillers? Look at me. You know what opiates look like. My eyes pinned? I haven't taken a pill in over a month. She played you. Like she does me like she does everybody.”

Tara releases her and turns away from Wendy. Setting Tommy's bottle in the holder she pushes the stroller passed Wendy. But it seemed the Blonde was as dumb as she seemed “Probably. But it doesn't change the truth.” Wendy along with herself are shocked when Tara gets nose to nose with her “What truth? That I'm a surgeon, and you're some ex-junkie biker whore. You want to come after me and my family? Bring it on, darling. I'm not afraid of you. Or your bullshit custody threat.” letting Tara walk ahead of her she steps in front of Wendy. Staring at the woman's glassy eyes she sighs “Word to the wise. Don't trust Gemma. She will get you killed eventually. Stop trying Wendy. It makes you look like a puppet.” She follows Tara out seeing the redhead doctor again she smiles and heads for the daycare. Stopping short when she sees Gemma sitting next to Tara, getting closer she hears what they are saying “Oh, save the bullshit indignation. She copped to it.” She watches Gemma from the back, only Tara knew she was there. The older woman's shoulders seem to relax as she replies, her voice has a teasing note to it. “I forgot. You're the smart one. My pretty little Frankenstein.”

Taras' face is blank, but the look of her eyes spoke volumes as she aims them towards Gemma “That's right. And here's something else that might sound familiar. Don't ever try to hurt me or my family again.” Gemma leans in, making Joy softly creep closer, her shoes making it very easy “Or what, Doctor? You gonna kill me?”  Taras half smile is scarier than any smiles she could remember seeing. Her own included “No. But my husband might.” She and Gemma watch Tara walk away, while the older woman is distracted she takes Taras vacated seat. Tilting her head to the side she looks at Gemma hard, seeing what Taras words had done to the woman before she slams down her walls. “Know this Gemma. We both know Jax's loves you. So personally I doubt he could pull the trigger on you at this current point in his life. And if it ever comes to killing you and he can't do it.” she leans into the older woman's space “Know that I can and will shoot you between the eyes with a smile…..for Jax, for Tara, for the boys and this club. I would kill you and sleep like a baby. So remember this the next time you wanna write a check your ass can't cash.”

Juice POV

When Joy had returned to the shop she had been on fire, her eyes practically glowing in rage. He barely had time to ask what was wrong before she had shoved him up the stair of the clubhouse and into one of the spare bedrooms. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth he quickly got with the program. He had tossed her onto the bed and chuckled as he watched her struggle to yank of the tight jeans she wore. The glare she sends him only makes him chuckle more “If you ever want to be balls deep in me again Juan Carlos stop cackling like an asthmatic hyena and get me naked!” he was a smart man, always listen to your wife, (***) moving her fumbling hands out of his way he gets to work on her jeans, all the while watching her strip out of her shirt and bra. He couldn't resist leaning forward to draw his tongue between her heavy breasts, over the anarchy A that rested there. The feel of her nails on his scalp as she held his head to her chest made him shiver. Turning his head he takes one of her tight, dark nipples into his mouth as he works her jeans and panties down her hips.

He feels her small, soft hands move to his neck, her thumbs brushing over the spot under both his ears that made him growl for her. Looking up at her he releases her nipple to take her soft lips, she wraps herself around him tight.  Her arms sliding under the back of his shirt to claw at the small of his back until he hisses through teeth, nipping her kiss-swollen bottom lip in retaliation. Letting her yank his shirt over his head he pushes her gently, making her lay back onto the bed as he kisses and nips his way down her soft trembling stomach. Biting down on her hip until she giggles and smacks at his shoulder, he slides his hands under the back of her plump thighs and holds her legs open as he wastes no time and tasting her. He watches as her back bows off the bed, a broken sound falling from her lips as she tries to close her thighs around his head, but his hands hold her open. It's not long before she is writhing, his name almost a mantra as she comes.

And the sound she made as she cames was primal, ripped deep from inside her chest. It did things to him he would never be able to explain, his lips trail over the skin of her thighs, biting down on the soft flesh hard enough to make her whimper and shake. Pulling back he quickly sheds his own clothes and flips her onto her stomach, his hands roughly yank her ass into the air. Smoothing his hands over her upturned ass, one curling around her hip the other sliding into her hair to wrap it around his fist, pulling face from the sheets he leans his body over hers. His hips grinding into her as he talking into her ear. “How do you need me baby?” he chuckles at the shiver he feels rush down her back. “Hurt me. I wanna ache.”  He can't help but groan, presses a kiss to her shoulder he releases her hair and leans back into his knees.

Yanking her as close as possible by her hips with one hand, he uses the other to hold himself at the base as he quickly slams home with a groan. Being inside her never got old, she was made for him and no one could tell him different. He couldn't help himself as he watched her hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets, reaching out he grabs her arms and holds then down on her back as he presses as deep as he can, the gut-deep groan it pulls from her snaps any control he had. Using her arms he yanks her back onto him as he pistons forward, the sound of their skin meeting, her wails that were slowly getting louder and louder were making it harder to not cum. They both had been so busy this week with the long ride, truck fire and break-ins, that by the time they both got home they practically fell into bed fully clothed.

He watches as her back arches and a broken scream rips through the air and for a moment he is worried her hurt her until he feels her walls flutter around him, gripping him so tightly he can't help but press himself as deep as he could, spilling inside her with a growl. Leaning over her he cages her shaking body in as he kisses across her shoulders. He gently slides from her, grinning when she whimpers in displeasure, her hand reaching over her shoulder for him. (***) Laying down next to her he yanks the blanket from the foot of the bed and covers them both. Rubbing his hand up and her back he watches her, eyes closed, hair a riot of curls against the tan pillowcase, and as if she can sense him watching her she peeks one golden eye open, her lips pulling into a blitzed out grin. “Hello, handsome.”

He smirks, his fingers wrapping one of her long curls around his finger. “Feel better now?” he lays out on his back as Joy closes the last few inches between them to lay her head on his shoulder. “Better now. Fucking Gemma gets me so angry.” he listens as she lays out the encounter at the hospital, Wendy, and her party words to Gemma. The woman has always been nice to him but at the same time, he always felt she did it out of the assumption that he was dumber than a box of rocks. So his emotions for Gemma had always been mixed, she had done a lot for this club but at the same time, she and Clay had been involved with the death of JT. As much as Clay might want to protect Gemma, he doubted very much Gemma had no idea or didn't help plan the accident that killed JT. She was smart, almost manically so. “I understand you want to protect Jax and Tara. But at the same time, you need to know when not to show your hand baby. All Gemma would have to do is tell Clay you threatened her and he might do something stupid.” She rolled her eyes but he yanks the hair curled around his fingers, making her look at him in surprise. “Don't dismiss anyone. You think I'm joking I'm not. Clay killed Piney without a twitch, and with how you have been all in his and Gemma’s shit with Jax. Don't ever forget that makes you a mutual enemy between them.”

He loved Joy, but one of her faults was that she overestimated herself against others. His girl was strong no lies or doubts about that but she wasn't taking into account that Clay would have no issues killing her if he found a way to do it without getting caught and the thought of her dead made him yank her closer. The feel of her lips on his skin he shakes himself from his spiraling thoughts. Turning his head he kisses her forehead. “I'm here. Sorry I was thinking. Just promise me you will stop to think about all possible reactions that could happen to what you say or do.” he can see how sad she looked in making him upset so she agrees with a kiss. They jump apart when a bang on the door makes it rattle, his wife sits up and glares at the door and shouts “Who the fuck is it!?” she loses the angry look when her father's voice echoes back “When you're done come downstairs. We are heading to Tara's to wait on word from Jax.”

He heard his father in law head down the club stairs and could help but chuckle as his clearly embarrassed wife hides her face in her hands, sitting up he kisses her bare shoulder before resting his chin there, grinning as she peeks between her fingers to look at him. “Come on. Let's get going before your dad comes back to get us.” his wife is up and in the bathroom, before he can finish his sentence…...his family was nuts.

Time Jump

He watches his father in law and wife play with Able from his place across the table from them, dinner had been a few hours ago and they had all cooked something. It had been peaceful if not a little sad with most of the guys missing. Joy had done all she could to keep Taras mind from wandering too far but whenever Joy wasn't looking Taras face would fall and he knew she was thinking of Jax. He grins as Ables laughter stirs him from his own thoughts, the little guy had quickly claimed Joy's lap as his throne. He found it funny how attached to Joy able was, seems him and the little dude had a few things in common, short attention span and a love for one Joy Ortiz. Watching her rest her cheek on top of the child's head as he laughs, pulling a toy frog off of Happy's head was a warming sight.

He knew one day, when this life was a little calmer, maybe in a few more years that in Ables place would be his own kid. He could see her now, skin and hair like her mother's, maybe his smile and he prayed for Joy's eyes to be passed down. Happy would be just as tied but around the little girl's finger as he would be…...fuck he was a sap. But it seemed good moods never lasted, the sound of the phone ringing makes them all freeze, all eyes land on Tara who was staring down the phone with what he could only call fear. Bobby breaks the silence “You want me to get it?” Tara seems to finally wake up. Shaking her head she is across the room in seconds, picking up the phone he sees the look on her face and he knows it's Jax. The room takes a collective breath, he moves to stand behind Joy, his hand on her shoulder as he watches Tara. Something isn't right, he watches the color drain from her face as Jax talks. Joy seems to see it as well, moving able from her lap as he watches her walk over to Tara as she hangs up. He doesn't hear what is said between the two women but he across the room as Joy's legs give out, he catches her before she hit the floor. Sitting with her on his lap he holds her face in his hands.

The look on her face is one he will take to his grave. Her normally golden skin is paled, and her eyes are glassy as she shakes her head. Her lips mumbling something he can't hear, looking up at Tara he sees her clutching Tommy tightly. Her eyes off in the distance as she speaks “Opie…...he didn't make it.” it takes a moment for everyone to take it in. But once it sinks in Joy is up and out of his lap and down the hall, he follows her the sound of her retching shakes him from his trance. Holding her long hair back as she finally stops, her body Jerking as she sobs into the bowl. He could feel his own tears, burning wet trails down his face, resting his forehead on her shoulder blade he does all he can do for both of them. He grips his sobbing wife and doesn't let go, today another brother had died…….this life had taken another one of them. He honestly couldn't tell you how long he and Joy laid their, seconds, minutes, hours. It all seemed to run together, the sound of Joy flushing breaks the quiet and he lifts his head, letting her stand he shifts positions. His back to the tub he watches his wife as she numbly rinses her mouth out with some mouthwash.

It isn't seconds before she is seated between his legs. Curling up as small as possible she rests her head on his shoulder, his hand brushing over her hair as they sit quietly. He knew she was still crying, and from the feeling of dampness on his shirt he knew she was too. He and Opie werent as close as him and Chibs. But he was still a brother, still as son no matter how he had acted these past few months. And the pain his wife felt was coming off of her in waves so strong he couldn't help but drowned in it. Opie and Chibs had been her lifeline while he and her father were in Stockton. He had always been grateful to the man for that, and to know he was gone…...to know this hard life had ripped another from them. He clutches his wife against his chest, looking down he realizes she is sleeping. He hears the door open, looking up he sees his Hap. The red around the older sons eyes lets him know he had already done his crying. Watching the older man kneel down, his voice rough as he speaks in hushed tones “Tara pulled out some Air mattresses. Figured we could crash in the living room since it's just you, me, Joy and Bobby.” he nods looking down as the dried tear tracks on Joys face he kisses her forehead “Can you lift her so I can get up? Take her to the living room I'll find something to clean her face.” Hap quickly lifts his exhausted daughter up, he is unsurprised when she doesn't wake merely lays her head on his shoulder and falls limp again.

Not twenty minutes later he is walking into the living room. Him and hap having borrowed some sweats from Jax's wardrobe, Hap was already asleep on his mattress by the couch where an already snoring Bobby lay. Cleaning Joys face as quickly and quietly as he could, even as she sleepily swiped at his hands on her face, he slides under the sheets next to her. He is dozing when he feels a small hand pat his upper arm, opening his blurry eyes he is surprised to see a small blurry shape that could only be Able standing over him, sitting up slowly so he doesn't disturb Joy he whispers to the small child, looking him over with a critical eye to make sure he is ok. “What's up Lil man? You ok?” the small child leans into his ear to speak. “can I sleep in here with you and aunt Joy uncle juice?” he feels his body relax, nodding he lift the small child over his legs and sets him between himself and Joy. Watching the little guy snuggle into Joys side and the way his wife seems to curl herself around the child take a little of the pain currently residing in his chest dull slightly. Sliding down under the covers he watched the two of them for a moment before finally falling asleep himself.

Next morning

Joy POV

The first moments of waking are the most peaceful moments in life. Your slate is clean for a few blissful moments in time until it all comes back like a tidal wave. The only thing that keeps her from sobbing once again is the small child laid on her chest and her husband who was watching her with sad brown eyes. She watches him silently as he leans over placing a gentle kiss to her forehead before moving to get up and get breakfast started. This wasn't the first time she and Juan had ended up crashing here so they were very familiar with the kitchen and the house itself was similar to theirs minus the things she add on’s she bought. She combs her hand over the back of Ables' head as he starts to squirm on her chest, she had no idea how he ended up with her and Juan but if she knew her conejito he had tapped into the mood last night and set out to make sure the women in his small life were ok. He might not be the most vocal child but in his life thus far he had seen and experienced more than some adults.

She can't help but smile as the child on her chest tilted his head up and blinked away the sleep in his pretty blue eyes. “Morning conejito. How did you find your way here?” he is quiet for a second before the small, soft voice replied “I heard you all crying. Wanted to make you feel better. So I asked uncle juice to sleep in here and he said ok.” she presses a kiss to his forehead “Thank you, sweetheart. I'm ok now.” she sits up, hiding the child to her chest so he couldn't roll off she lets him sit on her lap as the sound of Juan cooking in the kitchen slowly wakes the room. Her father and Bobby were both still knocked out but she knew the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg fills the living room and she knows Juan is making eggs in a basket. It isn't long before her husband comes around the corner holding two plates. Hers and Ables, tilting her head back she accepts the kiss he gives her and moves Able to sit next to her, she smiles as he goes right for the French Toast circles Juan made from the hole he cut in the toast.

She eats her own food as she watches Juan wake Bobby and her father. Both men stumble into the kitchen for the breakfast Juan put on the table for them. It isn't a moment late that Tara comes in, going right for the kitchen with Tommy on her hip. Once Juan joined her and Able on the air mattress and the others had ate they quickly got around to cleaning up and getting the boys ready to see their Dad. No one talked about the fact that Opie would not be with them, that once again another son was gone. And as she and Juan split from the others to go home and change it caught up to her again, she didn't even realize she was crying on the floor of their master bathroom until Sonny was crawling into her lap, his small wet nose pressed against her cheek as he tried to figure out how to comfort her.

She hears the door but can't find it in herself to move as Juan kneels down next to her. She looks up at him and sees tears in his brown eyes. She felt so selfish at that moment, Juan had known Opie longer then she had and his heart was just as broken as hers. Putting sonny on the floor she holds her arms open for her husband, he lays his long legs out on the floor. His upper body rested against her as he cries silently, she rains kisses along his tattooed scale, both of them releasing the bottle up emotions without fear of ridicule. “I'm so scared Juan. We are dropping like flies and I'm so petrified it will be you or dad next.” she lets Juan sit up when he starts to pull back, his callus rough hands cradle her wet face. Locking eyes with him she holds his wrists, his voice was rough as he spoke “I'm scared as fuck too. But all we can do is be a team and always watch each other's backs. And I promise you I will always keep your dad in my line of sight if you can't. That's all I can offer as comfort and I hope it's enough to ease your mind.” She nods, turning her head to kiss his palm “ You bring me comfort. Your presence, your voice, your eyes, just you I love you Juan.” as sad as the day was the smile he gave her was the first genuine one in hours. Wiping her face she sighs “Let's get going. The guys will want to do church.”

Time jump

She had left Tara and the kids to their devices, she and Juan taking over the office as they waited for the others. Jax had texted her a while ago to get everyone to the clubhouse since Bobby and your father had gone to escort them home. Juan hadn't left her side since their moment this morning and she was honestly thankful, she was wrung out and her tears were dried. She would catch Juan staring off into space now and again before he snapped himself out of it, she hoped this wouldn't set him back. He had gone around the office and organized a few things, her files were now in alphabetical order but she knew this was how he coped and she wasn't going to take that from him. If it got worse she would step in then, her headshots up as the sound of bikes pulling up fill the room. She is up and out the door with Juan on her heels, seeing Chibs and Tig she can't help but release a shaky breath.

Walking over to Tig she wraps her arms around his shoulders as he stayed seated on his bike, she grunts as he returns her embrace with a crushing grip. She looks over at Chibs as Juan talks to him and on his face and it shakes her to the core, his normally playful eyes had darkened a hue. She pulls away from Tig and holds his face in her hands as he slips his sunglasses off and her once dry eyes water, she didn't know how Opie had died yet but she knew they had seen it…..and they couldn't stop seeing it. “What did they do to my boys….” she didn't realize she had said the words until Chibs stands by her side, the course brush of his facial hair touches her cheek as he kisses her temple in greeting. She wraps an arm around his waist, letting him lead her away from Tig and towards the clubhouse for church, she didn't know what happened but she knew she might not be ready to hear it

As everyone sat down and the story unfolded her whole body became numb, to think of Opie alone in there, fighting off three men, on one hand, made her proud of him for taking it head-on. Another part of her wanted to hate him, he promised to try, he said he would fix things. She is broken from her thoughts as Jax's strained and tired voice speaks out, her grip on Juan's hand under the table tightening. “I think Opie's been looking for a way out since Donna died. He's never been right since. He went out a warrior.” She knew he was right, stories Opie had told her of Donna let him know that to Donna had been his Juan, no one could ever or would ever complete him like she had. She stares across the table at her mentor, the cuts on his cheek and eyebrow making her chest hurt, all she wanted was for these men to be healthy and whole. But it seemed someone upstairs had a different plan.

“We wouldn't be sitting here if it wasn't for him.” at that moment she vowed to see whatever they had planned through. She doubted Jax didn't have a plan for this, even if he kept it to himself she would follow his lead. For Opie, she would watch out for what Opie saw was worth dying for. This club. Her eyes narrow at the wall over Chibs head as Clay's voice speaks from down the table “ No doubt, Ope made his own choice. It's Pope forcing that choice concerns me” her head swerve to glare down the table she hisses through clenched teeth, she didn't see the visible shiver that went down a few of the guy's spines as she spoke “You think you would have fared better old man? The would have turned you into blood pudding.” Juan grips her hand tightly but she refuses to back down from Clay's stare. The only thing that breaks the stare down is Tig “Jax did all he could all he could to push back the threat.”

Her eyes zero in on Frankie as he leans in from around her father's shoulder “Agreeing to a 50 G payout?” she arches a brow, she didn't trust the new guys as far as she could throw them. They hadn't turned in any paperwork she had demand and couldn't find a bit of history on them “Again could you have done any better. All of you seem to be under the illusion that what Jax did was out of convenience. It was out of the will to fucking survive so until you have to be in his shoes think before you open your fucking trap.” She hadn't realized she was yelling until she heard her own echo off the wall, she felt Juan's hand in hers. But she was surprised to see Jax's hand over the tattoo led crow on her left forearm. Looking up at him she could see the gratitude in his eyes but she could also see what he wasn't saying ‘don't. Not today.’ so she nods and leans back in her chair.

Jax leans forward on his elbows to address Frankie “Short-term, Frankie. We never rubbed up against a guy like Pope. An OG sitting at a table with judges, senators, CEOs.” she will admit to her own fears of Pope. The man wasn't psychologically unstable, he wants a thug. He was a businessman who handled shit like a mob boss from the glory days of AL Capone. They were in deep but she had faith they would see this to an ending…...the journey there was the real issue “He can kill us with a phone call as easily as a bullet. We're just white smoke to this dude.” She uses her free hand to comb through her curls as she spoke her eyes fixed on the table  “we agree to his terms, see where it goes. Maybe we can even use this guy to our advantage. If we're good with Pope, the rest of black gets in line.”

She looks to Jax, seeing he approved. She is shaken to hear her father's voice for the first time since last night. Looking over to him she feels her heartbreaking, she had been so focused on herself and Juan a part of her had forgot her father for all his gruff nature loved his brothers deeply “What about the shit stains that killed Ope? They just gonna get in line, too?” Jax's face is stern, but his eyes are glossy “No retaliation. Not now. It puts us and Charming at risk.” She bites down on her lip hard, she wanted to keep her promise but Clay was forgetting his place it seemed “We're already at risk. Those home invasions, that's got to be black.” She glares, for a moment she forgets where she is “Half this table is at risk with you sitting at it but you don't see me pointing out the fucking obvious. Or did you forget about trying to have me and Tara killed.” the air is thick with tension as the whole table stares between her and Clay. “For all your talk Clay you haven't done shit to prove it's black doing it. Unlike you, I have actually done digging. I already have leads I'm following up. Not that it's any of your concern.”

She leans back in her chair knowing she shouldn't have done it but Clay seemed to be picking at every little thing and she was beyond tired of pretending he wasn't there. Jax brushes the tension off and continues “Pope didn't put them in play. He wasn't sure about the Niners. He's looking into it.” She grinds her teeth and grips Juan's hand in a death grip as the somewhat high pitched voice of peg speaks from somewhere against the wall behind her “We're throwing Pope a lot of trust.” She had been waiting for it to happen, the moment when Jax had enough and snapped a little. His hand comes down on the table with a thunderous boom, she was surprised no one jumped as his voice fills the room, his frustration obvious in every word “It ain't trust, man. It's fear! Right now, he controls it. We got to buy time to change that. Let's vote this. We pay out the 50 Gs till we figure this shit out.”

With an around the table Yea Jax nods “Okay. I'll set up a meeting with Pope, tell him we're good, push him on these home invasions. The body should be here this afternoon. Let's do this right.” She is standing and heading for the door when Jax stops her, she nods Juan off and he heads out the door with her father “Thank you. For standing behind me today. Did I need it? No, but I'm grateful.” She gives him a weak grin and nods “I don't trust the new guys Jax, something isn't right there and they still haven't turned in their shit they need too. If they don't by tomorrow I want patches or their hides.” he nods “I'm giving you the authority to do what needs to be done I trust you. Also, I asked Tara to do this but I think it's better if you do it. Go check on Lyla and gets some clothes for the wake for him today.” she nods leaning up she kisses Jax cheek “I'll do it. And I'm here when you're ready to talk Jax. All I'm saying.” she lets him throw an arm around her shoulder, leading her out to find the guys crowded around Unser “Hey, Jax. You seen your mom? Got a call from Fain over at Stockton PD. Gemma got arrested last night, some kind of raid on a brothel. Said she got bailed out this morning.” She stares at him wide-eyed as she moves out from under Jax's arm as he replies “Shit. Nero.” Unser glances at Chibs “What's a Nero?” he is ignored as Chibs speaks to Jax “I'm with you.”

For a moment Jax's looks like he is flailing in the deep end mental, standing in front of his line if sight so he sees her “Jax, you go. I'll organize the guys before I leave to see Lyla. We'll handle everything for Opie.” She lets him drag her over by the back of her head, planting a quick kiss to her forehead in thanks he and Chibs head for their bikes as Unser stands at her side “What happened to Ope?” She sighs her hand patting his arm “He never made it out of County.” She sees it sink in as the older man releases a shaky sigh “Oh, Christ. How?” she is about to reply when Clay walks by with rat at his side “How do you think?” she curls her lip at his back, patting Unser on the arm she gives him a sad smile “Come by later say good-bye. Yeah?”

Half the morning was spent on the phone, going down the phone tree to let everyone know about Opie, Lyla had called and said she would be by later after taking clothes to the funeral home. It was a tedious and sad few hours all around, along with the shit Jax and Chibs went through. They had called an hour ago to let her know what was up and to ask for progress on Opie's wake, by noon she was so keyed up she didn't even notice Juan come in. His hands on her shoulders made her jump as his thumbs dig into the tense muscles she tilted her head back to rest against his stomach, seeing he was shirtless and couldn't help but chuckle “If this is you trying to cheer me but you should be wearing a loincloth, not pants.” Her husband chuckles and leans down to kiss her nose “ I'll be your Tarzan if you be my Jane.” She snorts and pops him on the cheek before standing to hear the guys pull in she heads outside seeing a small blond on Jax's bike, guessing that was the farm girl she walks up hearing some of the conversations

“Your boys showed up at the hotel the same time as we did.” Her eyes instantly start sweeping over them, seeing Jax knee torn up she feels her anger start to rise “Almost ended up in a hood slaughter. We convinced them that we'd finish her off.” she glances at the small blonde, she doubts that Jax planned to actually kill her. “So, what we need now is a digit and a tiny titty to prove it.” She couldn't help but snort. The fuck. She understood a thumb but a fucking Tit? Nero didn't seem half as amused “Ah, Jesus Christ.” She steps closer as Jax asked the question on her mind “How'd they know where she was?” she could hear everyone's wheels turning, but seems Nero already knew “There's only one other person who knew.” She watched him glance over at the woman she had seen there before. She never liked the vibes she felt from her, guess her bullshit radar was still fine tuned. She yanks her silenced Glock from her back holster and aims it at the woman head as she shoves past everyone. “Tried to kill my men when I'm already burying one today. I should blow your brains out the back of your dome, you no neck bitch.” She is yanked off her feet by Juan as Chibs snatches her Glock from her hand her arms are swinging as she snarls “Old WWF China looking bitch. Let me at her.”

She watches the woman step close to Nero “I was protecting you. If your crew found out what you did, they'd crush you. They'd ruin everything that we've built.” She calms somewhat against Juan when she sees Nero isn't having any of her shit “Where do you get this "we" shit from? We haven't built anything. Sorry. I never would've sent you guys to get her if I would have known.” that's the last she hears as Juan steers her towards the clubhouse, she let him sit her on the couch while he goes to make her a drink. She stares off to the side, maybe she went a little overboard. She knew the guys could handle themselves, but they were her brothers, her boys in her mind. And to know she could have lost Jax and Chibs today because of that bitch, it made her see red. She silently takes the drink from Juan, leaning into his side as she calms down. It's a good fifteen minutes before either of them speak, she feels Juan's chest rumble, which quickly turns into a full-on wheezing chuckle. Making her look up at him in confusion “She does kinda look like a Hispanic China from WWE.” She couldn't help but cackle, leaning onto her husband chest she lets him hold her as they both try to calm their laughter. It felt good to laugh after the night before and today's events. It eased some of the sadness, she knew Opie wouldn't want them sad forever, she knew he would want them to say goodbye and keep pushing.

She and Juan are pulled from their small moment of happiness by Bobby, sitting up they turn toward the door as he calls their names “He's here.” she expected the cloud that had been following them all day to return. Sure she felt sadness, grief but nothing as crippling as she expected. Nothing would bring Opie back, all they could do now is say goodbye and honor him in their day to day lives. She and Juan walk outside hand in hand along with Jax, Bobby, Tig, her father, and Chibs. She sees Phil pull up and knows they Lyla is with him on the tow truck. Walking over to the black coffin she leans her head down to press a kiss to it. Before walking over to the truck, she sees Lyla standing at the back, her arms across her small torso. She had never seen her friend look so broken or small, she stands before the woman as she stares at the guys as they carry opies coffin inside. She lets Lyla practically throw herself at her, wrapping her arms around the crying woman she kisses the side of her head as she rocks them from side to side.

A hand on her back lets her know they aren't alone, she turns her head to see Jax. She gently hands Lyla off to him, her hand rubbing Lyla's back as she stands next to them. No one needed to speak, nothing they could say would soothe a woman who lost someone she loved, sure Opie and Lyla had been distant these last few months but to the core, they had love for each other. She holds Lyla's hand as they walk in, she could see them taking the lid off the coffin and she mentally steels herself. She would cry later, right now Lyla needed her, she gets her first glimpse of her fallen brother and her heart shatters. His normally tan skin is pale and the gash on his forehead tells of his death. She will admit that they did right by him, he looked asleep, she wished he was sleep. She didn't realize the guys were filling out around them until Juan and her father kiss her cheek in passing, still, her eyes never left Opie. She goes to release Lyla's hand but the woman grips her hand, silently telling her not to leave. She grips back in reply, Lyla stares down at the body of her husband and cries as Jax speaks to her “Take all the time you need.”

She hears the door open but before Jax can leave Lyla speaks for the first time since arriving “What do I do Jax? How do I raise three kids alone? I can barely cover me and Piper. How do I care for those kids and earn a living?” Lyla turns to face Jax as he closes the door, she watches him as he seems to gather his own thoughts “Just like every other single mother. You get help friends, family.”  Lyla sighs, leaning into Joys side “My mom lives two hours away; I don't have family up here.” Jax walks over to the window into the clubhouse, opening the blinds he holds a hand out to Lyla “Let me show you something.” Lyla releases her hand to grabs Jax's, she walks behind them and sees a flood of people carrying food, flowers and moving tables around. Her heart floods with warmth, this was the family no one saw when they thought of the sons club. This was what had saved her dad and her now husband…..this love. “That's your family. Anything you need, you just ask. Anyone says no, they answer to me.” She wraps an arm around Lyla's shoulder, pressing a kiss to her cheek “And me.”

Once Lyla had her time with Opie she mingled with everyone. Oddly enough spending most of her time with Joy's father, Hap and Lyla had found a spot away from everyone to talk and if she thought deeply enough about it, it made some sense. Her father had lost his wife, did what had to be done to put food in her mouth and clothes on her back. If anyone could help her friend find her feet, it was her dad. She is outside making sure everyone knows where to go when Tara arrives, just as Wendy, who she hadn't even realized was there through all the commotion, was leaving. She quickly runs for the office door as it is slammed shut by Gemma. She catches Gemma holding Tara against the wall and quickly yanks the woman off Tara “Fuck is wrong with you two?!” she sees Gemma’s eyes on the window where she knows Nero’s assistant is “You want to protect Jax? Wendy ain't the one you should worry about. Dora the Whore-a in there she almost got him killed today. That's why he laid down that bike. He's lucky to be alive.” she knows exactly what Gemma is doing, she glares at the woman as Tara stares through the window from the office into the Garage, “He said he got cut off.”

She sighs, damn Jax and his idiotic want  to keep Tara out of shit. She glares as Gemma stands at Taras' shoulder, like the fucking devil in her ear “Yeah. Cut off by bangers trying to run his ass over. That bitch, she set it up. Come on. I'll prove it.” Tara states at her as Gemma heads for the door, she nods letting her know it's true, as they both head in she leans into Taras' ear as Gemma tells the guys to punch out and close the door “Whatever you hear do not engage. If shit goes down I'll handle it. Do you trust me?” Tara nods and goes around the end of the cars in the garage, far from Gemma side as she stands toe to toe with Caral. “I was just telling my daughter how you almost got her husband killed today.”  she watches the other woman laugh “Now that's shit.” Joy scuffs steps up next to Gemma “So you didn't call Nero’s crew knowing Jax was gonna get the girl to safety, knowing they just might kill my guys for interfering…...or did you just think they would shake on it  and be on their way.”

Carla curls her lips “ Listen, this is none of your goddamn business little girl.” she turns to Gemma, charging her as she shouts “and you don't get to come at me” she takes a step back as Gemma hauls off and punches Carla, but it doesn't seem to faze the woman much, Carla stares Gemma down, blood dripping from her mouth and teeth and she takes off her dangle earrings “You stupid old whore.” Carla charges Gemma again, getting her hands around Gemma throat Joy watches and Gemma struggles. Seems she bit off more then she could chew, she is shocked when Tara snatches a tire iron from one of the racks and hits Carla in the back of her thigh. Carla quickly turns on Tara punching her in the face but Tara comes back for more. Having seen enough Joy runs up behind Carla using the butt of her Glock she cracks the woman on the head. Watching her drop like a sack of potatoes she put her gun away. Looking at Tara she glares “I told you to fall back. Your leg is healing but if Carla noticed you would have been back at the hospital.”

She turns on Gemma, getting into the older woman's face she shouts “And you need to act your god damned age. The only reason you got Tara involved was so if this gets back to Nero your hands are clean. Today is Opie's fucking wake and you have nothing better to do than settle a fucking score with this whore. Grow up, Gemma.  Because if you try to pull anything like this again I'm taking it to Jax, I'm done with your puppet master mentality.” She shoves past the older woman, ignoring Tara as she calls after her. She was done trying to make Tara understand not to trust Gemma. She sees Rat and V-lin smoking outside the garage doors “Clean up in there and set the woman on the couch. Get her aspirin and water for when she wakes. Keep her away from Phones when she is awake.” both men nod as she walks off, Juan catches her by the bikes and asks what's wrong “We need to go home and change for the wake. I'll fill you in when we get there.” she tosses her keys to him, sitting on the back of her bike she gives him a bone-tired look “Can you drive?”

Later that night

Everyone had their moment with Opie, she and Juan had decided they would go separately since they both had their own memories of him. Once Juan had come out, his eyes wet and his nose red she had wipes his eyes and kissed his lips before walking past him to go inside. She knew he and her father were watching her, she would not crumble. Standing over the coffin she sees all the things people had laid inside, from crosses to drinks, small thing that's made them think of or remember Opie. She had two, lifting his hand she tried not to flinch at how cold he felt she laid under it the cap from the beer bottle of the first day he told her of Donna. The day they spent hours on the roof, sharing their lives and the day he threw her the lifeline she needed to wait for Juan and her father. She stares down at the body of one of the best men she had the honor of knowing and just spoke to him “I'll keep my promise. I'll keep Lyla and the kids safe and whole. I'll stand in your shoes and keep Jax's head above water as best i can. All I ask is that you watch over my kids once i have them as their guardian angel. They will know you, Opie, I promise. Say hi to mom and Piney for me please?”

Reaching into the inside pocket of her cut she takes out a picture, it was one of the pictures of her and Opie at her wedding, she had asked him to forgive Jax and he had kissed her forehead as they danced. Someone had thankfully caught that moment. She had her own copy at home so this one would forever rest with him. She slides it between his hand and the beanie she knew Bobby had put there, kissing her fingertips she presses them to his cold cheek “I love you Opie.” She turns to leave, seeing Juan waiting right outside the door for her she walks into his arms. Letting him grip her tightly as Bobby went to go get Jax from his place on the roof, Jax would be the last to say his goodbyes. Letting Juan and her father calm her cries down to sniffles she takes her place by the bar with them. Down a shot to calm her fragile nerves, she sees everyone standing, and she knows Jax's is here. Standing before Juan she lets him wrap her in his arms, his warmth and silent support gave her the strength she needed to watch Jax walk into the room Opie was held. Knowing this was the hardest goodbye Jax would ever make they all walk in behind him. Originally Phil had been asked to be a pallbearer, but he had declined his place so Joy could do it and she was forever grateful to the large man. Standing between her silently crying husband and father she holds their hands tight as she watching Jax slide a photo into Opie's chest pocket. Releasing small families hands she slides her black glove on she stands at the foot of the coffin, with Juan and her father on either side she helped them lift the coffin from the table. As Jax walks before them they raise the coffin high onto their shoulders, she had to hold her hands over her head because of her short stature, but it worked as they walked out. People around them raised their glasses in the toast to the fallen giant encased inside the box as they walked passed. She felt Clay following behind, as much hate as she held for the man she would not deny his right to walk with them, Opie had been a son to him despite Clays killing of his wife the man had loved Opie. In his own way.

Once they make it outside they slide the coffin into the hearse, stepping back she feels her father and Juan at her back. Both the taller men's foreheads coming to rest on her shoulders as they finally let their emotions go. She had her time to release her emotions, this was theirs, surrounded by the club and family no one would fault these men for tears. She feels a hand slide into hers, looking down she sees Tigs hand gripping hers as he stares at the coffin, she silently grips his hand. Letting him know she was there for him. As Jax closes the door to the hearse everyone slowly begins to head inside until no one is left but herself, Juan, her father, and Lyla. Feeling her father lift his head from her shoulder she watches him walk over to Lyla, wrapping her up in a hug that lifts the sobbing woman from the concrete she knows her father will help Lyla heal along with the club…...she just prayed to her ever was listening that the road to healing wouldn't be paved with more blood.

@waywardmoeyy @glassteethclan

[daisysouthmoore]

Warnings: Explicit (18+) language and eventual smut.

My submission to ‘Negan’s Valentine Challenge’ hosted by the very talented and very sweet @jeffreydeanneganstrash. Thank you for having me!

Category: Angst, Song Prompt: ‘Kiss It Better’ by Rihanna

KISS IT BETTER  - PART 1

Click HERE for PART 2

Valentines Day… The one day of the year dedicated entirely to lovers. The air of my apartment was sweetened with fresh flowers, assorted chocolates and a spritz of expensive perfume but I was alone. Meanwhile, just outside my window, the night was softly lit by candlelight and I could hear the distant whispers of sweet nothings while couples wrapped themselves in the warm embrace of love and romance. If you’re a mistress like me, however, you’re left cold and alone. You have to fend for yourself because Valentines Day is the one night of the year when bad husbands everywhere return to the arms of their wives.

On this particularly love filled evening I was both alone and ‘hangry’ and of course, every restaurant in my vicinity had a waitlist. The thought of standing around for an hour to dine alone in a room filled with the men I’d slept with and their unsuspecting wives was far too painful to bear. Or maybe that’s exactly what I should have done. Maybe I should have put my best dress on, draped myself in all the jewelry they’d given me and bared it all. I should have relished in their nervous and suspicious glances. -But I’m not that cruel, so I ordered Chinese instead. 

It would take just as long for my Mu Shu chicken and extra egg roll to arrive, but at least here in the comfort of my own apartment, I could watch TV in my new lingerie. It was black and sheer. Made with expensive and delicate lace. It was a gift from a successful banker I’d met a few weeks ago. He was spending the evening with his wife at the Ritz.

***

I’m sure by now I’ve disgusted you. It’s okay, I disgust myself but I wasn’t always like this. Three years ago I was finishing up school. I was still living off ramen but I’d landed a job as an intern at a well-known PR agency. I had all these goals and all the dreams to fuel my journey, but somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I veered off and sold my soul to a devil in a business suit who told his friend, who then told his friend, and his friend. As word got around about the pretty young assistant I quickly learned that the devil came in many forms, in many suits, and he had many bargains. Now I have a job but I certainly didn’t end up where I expected. I’m not necessarily proud of where I am but I don’t want for anything anymore. At least nothing material anyway. 

Somewhere in all the possessions I’d accumulated in those three years I’d found something of true value. I met someone and it meant something. He was another man in a suit but he stood out from the rest. He was single for one thing, but he was also far more charming than the others. He reminded me that the devil was in fact just a ‘fallen angel’ after all. He could easily coax you into thinking he was an angel. He looked like an angel but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. In fact, he was the most dangerous one of all because he didn’t want my soul. He wanted my heart.

***

An hour later there was a knock at my door and I thought my Chinese feast had finally arrived. I slipped into a silk kimono robe to conceal my new lacy garments and rushed over with a wad of cash in hand. To my surprise and dismay, it wasn’t my Mu Shu. Instead, I was greeted by a large bouquet of pink peonies. There was only one man who knew my favorite flower and he had no damn business sending them.

“Special delivery for Miss… Sugar…” The delivery man trailed off and squinted like he was confused.

“Sugar Tits’.” I snatched the clipboard from him and scribbled my signature so hard I almost pierced the paper.

“That’s a new one.” He laughed as we exchanged the cumbersome bouquet. “Happy Valentines Day!” He turned to leave.

“Yeah, thanks.” I rolled my eyes and kicked my door closed.

I set my fluffy pink peonies on the table with the rest of my ‘wish-I-was-there’ flowers but all the long-stemmed roses seemed to dim in comparison. I thought about texting him to say ‘thank you’, ‘hi’ maybe, but my hands got clammy and I stopped myself. It was stupid. God, I could give a list of all the reasons why it was stupid. Trust issues, commitment issues, all of the baggage… -Oh and the fact that he’s a total asshole. He’s a cute asshole though… He’s also still set the bar for the best sex I’d ever had in my life. So I turned off my phone to resist temptation.

When my food finally arrived it was short an egg roll but by then I was starving and I didn’t care to mention it. I immediately cozied up on my couch, clutching a fork, a takeout box, and a bottle of wine from my gift pile to wash it all down. I didn’t even bother grabbing a glass. As I took a swig straight from the bottle I tried to focus on the slasher movie on television, but my eyes drifted over to the flowers again. I’d left them sitting on my dining table, still wrapped in cellophane and tissue paper. I should have put them in water but I figured the sooner they wilted, the sooner I could throw them away and forget about them.

I turned to my television again when eerie music started to play. It was building up to one of those pop out and scare you scenes. I slurped up a mouthful of greasy Chinese and chewed vigorously as I watched with unblinking eyes. Any second now the woman on the screen would come face to face with the killer and the suspense was already making my heart race. All the sudden there was another loud knock on my door and it startled me out of my skin. I clutched my chest and gasped, nearly choking on my food. I rushed over expecting my extra egg roll but instead I was faced with the only thing more frightening than a blade-wielding killer. It was Negan.

God, he was gorgeous… His dark hazel eyes were deeply wrinkled with age but they glimmered youthfully with a hint of mischief. His inky hair was freshly faded and combed back without a single strand out of place. His graying beard was neatly groomed. He was wearing a well fitted black suit, hemmed and pressed to perfection, gently hugging all the lean and chiseled lines of his body. He must have just gotten off work and he’d already loosened his tie for the day. I could see a few dark hairs peeking out from beneath his white collared shirt. He was effortlessly sexy. Shit.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby.” He grinned as he looked me up and down.

“What are you doing here?” I asked clutching my robe tightly closed.

“Didn’t you get my text?” He asked.

“My phone’s off for the night.” I said shortly.

“Oh good. I want your undivided attention.” He said.

His dark eyes trailed down my neck and came to rest on my bare shoulder. He licked his lips as he reached up and slipped his long fingers beneath the silk of my robe. In a slow and deliberate motion, he brushed my skin and lifted the delicate fabric back on to my shoulder. His touch grazed my collar bone and a shiver ran through me. A small smirk spread across his lips until dimples formed beneath his black and white scruff.

“No. Absolutely not.” I reached for my door to retreat back to the safety of my couch.

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t be like that… You don’t really wanna spend another Valentines Day all by your lonesome do you?” He grinned.

I reached to slam my door closed but he easily blocked my attempt and stepped inside anyway. I used to swoon over how bossy and presumptuous he could be but at that moment I just wanted to punch him in his stupidly handsome face.

“You haven’t thanked me for the gifts yet.” He said deeply.

He came forward pulling a box of chocolates from behind his back and he stood unnecessarily close. So close I could smell the cologne on his skin and it instantly fogged my mind with memories. His rich musk always reminded me of the woods. Dark, deep and mysterious. One could easily get lost in him. It was just one of the many things about him that lured women. Lots of women.

“I’m not accepting them.” I shoved the box of chocolate into his chest.

“Why not? You’ve accepted the rest.” He motioned to the gifts around my apartment and shoved the box to me.

“Those don’t come with strings attached.” I shoved again.

“Oh, right. Those are from your ‘business partners’.” He condescended. I scowled as I snatched the box from his hands and immediately stormed toward the trash can in my kitchen.

“Hey, hold on now. -Hey! That’s a hundred dollars worth of Belgian fuckin’ chocolate!” He stomped after me in a few long strides.

I froze for a brief moment. To be honest, his words were tempting, but I shoved them in the trash anyway. I’d just changed the liner so I figured I could fish them out later after I got rid of him.

“You ungrateful little asshole…” He grumbled as he reached inside and pulled them out himself. “At least try one first.” He opened the box.

Inside each morsel of rich chocolate was uniquely different. They were little bite-sized works of art that looked like they were detailed by hand. They were so beautiful I was afraid to touch them. So Negan picked one for me. He parted his lips so that his mouth was just slightly ajar as he brought the chocolate up to my lips. I instinctively mimicked his mouth to accept the treat but just before I took a bite he pulled away suddenly. He brought the chocolate back to his own smirking lips. He was teasing me. I sighed impatiently before he chuckled inwardly and brought it back to my frown. I snatched it away with my own hands this time and popped it into my mouth.

It was silky smooth and so luxuriously creamy. As it melted on my tongue a pleasant burst of salted caramel tickled my palette. I closed my eyes so he couldn’t see the way the taste made my eyes roll into the back of my head. It was almost orgasmic and I couldn’t resist the small smile that followed. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.

“How is it?” He asked with a proud grin.

“S’okay.” I shrugged but snatched the box from him.

Negan watched as I made my way to my dining table. I swung by my living area first to snatch up the bottle of wine I’d been sipping from. I was going to need it. Wherever this night was headed, it wasn’t going to end well. It never did. I took a seat at the table and started rummaging through the rest of the chocolates. I took another swig from the bottle and Negan chuckled as he joined me. He didn’t sit. He just leaned against the edge of the table and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was his usual power stance. Casually comfortable and yet you could tell he meant business.

“You know, peonies are hard to find this time of year.” He fiddled with one of the ruffly petals. “Most girls get… roses.” He smirked as he motioned to the rest of my bouquets.

“Did you get the rest of your girls roses?” I raised my brow.

“Well, some of them anyway.” He laughed to himself but I found no humor in his joke. It was still a sour subject to me.

“I’m sure one of them did at least.” I said bitterly.

“You’re still mad about that?” He laughed.

“You mean the reason we ended it? Yeah. I’m still mad.” I said as if it was obvious.

“That wasn’t the only reason. You know that.” He shook his head and tilted his chin down ruefully.

“Why did you do it? If you knew I would find out. If you knew it would be the end of us, why did you do it?” I asked.

“Because I was angry.” He said succinctly and it enraged me.

“Because you were angry? You were angry so you fucked around with another woman!?” I shouted.

“You’re not really in any place to judge there, doll.” He said harshly.

“Fuck you! I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about us!” I shouted.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes and look around you! This is us! These other men have always fuckin’ been here! It’s never been just the two of us!” He shouted.

“And why!? You never gave me any reason to trust you! All you did was string me along! You played your stupid mind games! You toyed with my head! You-!“

“You are not the only victim in this fuckin’ relationship! Alright!?” He slammed his hand on the table to silence me and I jumped.

This very moment was all too familiar to me. We’d reached this point many, many times. In the past, I would have purposefully pushed him over the edge. Back then I would have tested him just to spite him. The rage he was capable of was frightening but Negan would never put his hands on me. I knew that and maybe that’s why I was so bold. -But now there was nothing to fight about. We had nothing left worth fighting for. I suppose we never did. As the silence between us drew on it was clear we were both only mourning the death of our relationship. It was over. The air was calm again but now it was heavy with grief.

“Were you really that miserable?” He asked deeply.

“Not always. Not at first.” I admitted.

“If it was so bad then why’d you stay?” He asked.

“Because I loved you, Negan.” I said.

“And now?” He asked.

“I… I love the memory of you.” I said and I saw physical pain furrow his brow.

“Jesus Christ! What am I fuckin’ dead to you?” He was suddenly angry again.

“No, I didn’t mean-“ I tried to double back but the damage was already done.

“After all the shit I’ve done for you! I’ve been generous as fuck to you! Hell, I spent 300 goddamn dollars on fuckin’ flowers and candy tonight alone!” He threw his romantic gestures back in my face, just like he always had.

“I never asked you for any of it!” I snapped and threw the entire box of Belgian chocolates at his feet. He just laughed.

“Trash your shitty little apartment if you want to! -But you were more than happy to spread those legs wide fuckin’ open the first time you peeped my fuckin’ credit card!” He threw a low blow.

The intensity of the pain and anger I felt in that moment was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was a concoction of resentment, accusations and guilt, the loss of something that might have been love if we’d ever given each other a chance. He had every reason to lash out but he knew what he was saying was out of line. He said it to hurt me and in that moment all I wanted to do was hurt him back. So I reached back and swung my hand, slapping it hard across his face. The stillness and silence that followed left the air so dense that I felt like I might suffocate.

When Negan slowly turned to face me again the darkness and anger in his expression pierced the pit of my stomach. I gasped when he suddenly reached out and took hold of my chin. He clutched my jaw so tightly in his grip that it almost hurt. There was a fire in his eyes that made my skin hot. I felt the sudden and intense desire to taste him again. I knew his skin would taste better than any chocolate money could buy and I was willing to surrender to him. -But he shoved away from me. When he turned to leave my heart dropped because I knew it would be the last time.

“Negan, wait! Please don’t end it like this!” I hurried after him.

“Oh, I didn’t fuckin’ end it like this, baby. You did.” He said yanking my door open.

“I’m sorry! Please, don’t go! Don’t leave me alone here like this!” I begged.

“Fuck you. Go lie down in your bed of fuckin’ roses.” He slammed the door behind him.

Continue to PART 2

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Ties in Blood

Well .... here it goes; chapter 1. Ties in Blood

Chapter 1

Aaliyah stood still as the young man adjusted her two layers of clothes. Behind him she watched the older man Aaliyah pegged to be the father finish the last of the traps. She hadn’t expected the elder to allow her on this part of the hunt. Yet after the werewolf caught her scent three days ago, there was little choice. Once the young man seemed satisfied with how Aaliyah’s jackets fit, he reached over to the trunk of the car, a black Impala, and brought out a knife. 

“Silver blade,” he told her. “Short of lobbing off the head, best way of dealing with werewolves.” With a slight flick of the wrist, he caught the blade and handed the knife handle first to Aaliyah.She accepted the blade, adjusting her hold, and nodded. 

“Any advice?”

“Yeah, don’t get killed.”

“Dean. We need to move,” his father instructed.

Aaliyah watched Dean’s father climb into the driver’s seat of the car before the engine rumbled to life. She watched the car move away as memories flashed of the past few days hearing the engine around the college campus. Turning back to Dean, Aaliyah blinked a couple times in a slight surprise to find he wasn’t there. 

With a couple stabilizing breaths, she stepped out into the open. The late summer breeze tugged at the top jacket and she swore she heard cheers from the football stadium. The thought that the werewolf would be drawn there passed through her mind. Then again, even a wild animal would avoid people. A howl carried on the wind. Aaliyah spun her head and shifted her grip on the knife. Leaves on nearby trees rustled, but there was no breeze.

She turned to see just out of the corner of her eye a lumbering werewolf in mid arm sweep at her. Full force sent Aaliyah into a sapling, snapping it and sending the wind from her lungs. Gasping for breath, she searched for the knife that laid a few feet away out of the creature’s path. Crawling for the weapon, Aaliyah’s neck hairs stood on end as the hot stank breath of the werewolf touched her. Her fingers just barely grabbed the knife as her back erupted in pain as if it was on fire. Screaming in pain, Aaliyah curled into a ball, her hand around the knife handle. Fighting through the pain, she rolled onto her back as the werewolf swiped at her again, cutting into her side. 

The muzzle of the werewolf was inches above her face, a large glop of saliva hanging down. Biting through that pain, she thrusted the knife up into the creature’s stomach, pulling the knife up to the rib cage. She didn’t fight the shutter that worked through her body as hot blood bathed her. Pushing the dead body up and off of her, Aaliyah laid there, regaining her breath, her mind blank. She fought the urge to close her eyes as her body reverted into survival mode.

“That took guts,” she heard a voice tell her. A slow turn of her head showed Dean coming up to her. “Think you can move?”

Testing her side with a deep breath, Aaliyah nodded. Holding up a hand and worked with Dean to get to her feet. Wrapping her free arm across her stomach, she didn’t fight when Dean put the arm he held around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around her, mindful of her back. Eased over to the car, Dean helped her onto the hood before going to the trunk. She flinched when John came up to her. 

“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Letting the werewolf…”

“It’s dead,” Aaliyah cut in, eyes closed against the throbbing pain. “Bet you couldn’t do better.” 

A heavy thud on the hood reverberated through her body. With an eye cracked open, Aaliyah watched Dean start fishing through a duffel bag. From it appeared make shift medical supplies plus typical first aid items. Last item was a bottle of cheap looking alcohol any of the local party stores had in stock. She reached for the bottle as Dean found a needle and dental floss.

“Think you can shed the jackets and shirt?” Dean asked.

Aaliyah freed one jacket and struggled with the second. She ignored the feeling of serious judgement from Dean’s father. Unfit to be a hunter, the older Winchester said when she wanted to help three days ago. She wanted to show him he was fit when she heard that. 

Finally freeing the second jacket, Aaliyah dared to shed the shirt. A hiss from Dean was a clue on how bad it looked. A small shiver when a breeze passed by, Aaliyah hissed when a cold liquid washed over her open wounds. Adjusting herself on the hood, she folded her legs in front of her. Meeting Dean’s gaze, Aaliyah nodded. Holding herself still, she felt Dean’s hands working on stitching up her side and back. As he worked, Aaliyah started to drift off to sleep. A shake brought her back around.“Come on, I’ll take you back to your dorm,” Dean told her.

***

Unsure of what she was conscious of first, Aaliyah laid in bed and attempted to pick each noise out. Her roommate moving around doing something. Coffee dripping into the pot. Music playing just a little too loud Aaliyah swore would have affected her if she had been drinking. Shifting under her blanket, pain snagged on her dental floss stitched wounds.

“You look like you had a rough night,” her roommate told her, passing through to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I had one.” Aaliyah eased herself into a sitting position on her bed, the covers pooled in her lap. “Where you at the game, Amanda?”

“No, had a test to study for.” Amanda came out from the bathroom and gasped. “What happened to you? Have you been to the ER?”

Aaliyah looked down to her bandages had red spots on them and shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe me.” She didn’t fight when Amanda eased her forward.

“Try me.”

Closing her eyes as Amanda started peeling off the bandages, Aaliyah watched flashes of the previous night. The fresh wounds pulled at her muscles. “You remember the reports of a large wild dog and all that howling the past few weeks?”

“What about it?” Amanda continued unwrapping the bandages.Aaliyah heard her roommate half listening to what she was saying.

 “It was a full blown werewolf.”

“Werewolf, huh? Twilight or Harry Potter?”

“More like Underworld.” Aaliyah glanced to the bundled bandages speckled with red as Amanda stepped away and tossed it into the trash. “I’m … still trying to figure out how I really survived the fight.”

“You sound …”

“Insane? Like I need to be put up in a psych ward indefinitely?” Aaliyah took a deep breath and held it as she moved her body to the edge of the bed. Feet on the scrap of carpet that served as a rug and her hands white knuckled the mattress, she released the air from her lungs. The pain was still there, blood vessels, muscles, skin working still to knit themselves back together. Breathing through the pain flair until it died down to a mild throbbing. “Go ahead and say it, I won’t fight it.”

“That’s the thing, though, Lia.” Amanda sat down in the oversized chair that Aaliyah had. “I do believe you. I had gone out to the library yesterday …”

“Studying for the test,” Aaliyah remembered, gaining a nod from Amanda.

“Coming back here when the library closed, I swear I saw some sort of fight in the Diag,” Amanda told her. “One of the … fighters loomed over the other, howling and grunting like those wolves we had gone to see over the winter. It clawed at the smaller fighter, who cried out. The smaller reached for something before turning around and just as the larger was just over them.” She mimed being stabbed. “The one on the ground stabbed up at her attacker. After that, two men came out from wherever they were and took care of the scene. One took care of the dead attacker while the other helped …” Amanda gestured toward Aaliyah. “You, apparently.” 

Aaliyah worked what her friend told her, wondering why she so readily believed her tale of being attacked by a werewolf. “That whole time, you never thought to go get help or come help?”

“Oh, hell no. Too much trouble on my end.” Amanda pushed herself out of the chair. “Come on, I’ll help you wash up and get fresh bandages on those stitches of yours.”

Aaliyah couldn’t help smile a little as her roommate and good friend since freshmen year of college offered a hand up. In the couple years she had known Amanda, Aaliyah wondered how much remained hidden between them. Any time she brought up family or friends before college, Amanda deflected the conversation to another topic.

 “Whoever did those stitches knew what they were doing,” Amanda called from the bathroom. “Major props to ‘em.”

“Yeah, he knew what he was doing,” Aaliyah replied, trying to remember how it felt having her wounds being stitched with a deft and gentle hand. She half shuffled to the bathroom, using the furniture to help, where Amanda had water running. “A shame I didn’t get his number.”

“There’s a piece of paper on your desk.”Grateful she was holding onto it, Aaliyah reached for the paper. 

“You did great, Aaliyah. Your roommate helped getting you back in. Here’s my number if anything happens while you’re still here.”--Dean

Spotting the number under Dean’s name, Aaliyah made a mental note to call it later. Maybe after the shower and more rest.

***

Panting, Aaliyah came up to The Rock near the ZTA chapter house and braced herself against the rock. Early morning before the University of Michigan and the surrounding city buzzed with its daily workings was a good time to run. A month after killing the werewolf, Aaliyah was able to breath and not have the feeling her side and back were on fire. The talk of the day had gone from the random animal attacks to the varsity football team being able to reach the championship game. 

Aaliyah had no issue with the gossip changing from the werewolf to the team. It kept the attention off of her and her wounds. Her professors and classmates had been worried when she showed to class after the fight. Her wounds bleed a little through her bandages the first day or so when she returned to class. Amanda had offered to go around and collect assignments from all her professors in that first week, but Aaliyah refused. She didn’t want to put more stress on her roommate and friend than what she already had with her load. 

Once her breathing slowed, Aaliyah dared to head off toward the Quad where the fight with the werewolf had taken place. Speeding up to a light jog, she passed a few students on their way to a morning class. A few minutes and a quicken heart rate later, she came to a stop at the grass line. The late summer yellow grass still held onto the large brown spot where the werewolf had fallen a month ago. Word had spread about a large animal being killed when the landscapers showed the morning following Aaliyah’s kill. Rumors and guesses of what it was had circulated the University and surrounding parts of the city for the past month, and Aaliyah kept to herself during those conversations.

She stood there in the early morning silence as a strange sense of peace fell over her. Like something finally clicked in her mind that she, with some help, had not only learned of the supernatural but taken down one of the most popular creatures. If she could do that, what else couldn’t she do? Reaching for her phone, Aaliyah thumbed through the contacts until she reached Dean’s and paused. He never said anything about keeping in touch, but he might know a thing or two about maybe finding a missing person. Hitting the dial button, Aaliyah listened to the tone before the voicemail picked up.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do,” the greeted stated before the beep.

“Hey, um, Dean, it’s Aaliyah,” she started, her tongue tripping on her speed. “I was wondering if you knew anything about finding a missing person or two. Call me on this number.” Short and to the point. The thought of if he was going to return the call passed through her mind as she pocketed her cell and started a jog down the sidewalk back to her dorm building. @percussiongirl2017 @mrswhozeewhatsis