#Replacement of switchblade key

[alicechess]

Yandere unknown x reader (part 2)

Note: Please ignore how long it took me to update, I have very valid excuses I promise. (I don't)

Second note: Will be editing this as there's some plot issues, will make another edit when it has been fixed :)

Third edit: I fixed and edited some things, if there's any issues please let me know! I hope you enjoy it.

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It was difficult for you, the next afternoon. The freezing air in the bedroom made it more uncomfortable, the thought of having to go back once again caused bile to rise in your throat. At this point the sensation was becoming less uncomfortable. You were sick of feeling anxious, whether it be because of that.... Thing or the weird happenings of this town. 

The air felt like it was slowly freezing every cell in your body. It was difficult attempting to gain the motivation to get out of bed. But you knew you had to look after the wounds, otherwise they'd get infected.

You forced yourself out of bed, knowing you had to get money somehow. You got into the shower, cleaned the wounds on your body, the burning forced out a hiss. You didn't bother to cover it, to you it was good enough. None of them were deep enough for stitches, so they should be fine. You grabbed a switchblade from on top of your drawers, so you could prepare for tonight. Although you hoped you wouldn't need to use it.

You pulled the chairs away from the door, then went outside. You had to take public transport to get to your work. You didn't look forward to it, not at all, you felt nauseous, but knew you had to push it aside. You started walking to the bus stop, then pulled out your phone and decided to first dial the car dealer, and how to get new keys for your car. They'd need to get some paperwork from you and then it should be done in a few days. Then, after a few minutes, you called a locksmith to change the locks. The soonest they could do was tomorrow.

Once the bus arrived, you hopped on. You smiled at the bus driver, then used your card to pay for the ride. You sat down, there were only a few people on the bus. You put some music on, watching as the bus started to move. You continued looking out, thoughts raging through your mind. If something happened tonight, you’d leave. You knew you couldn't risk your life over money. You knew you had to change your outlook on things. Was it all worth it when there were other ways to deal with the situation?

After 10 minutes, the bus slowly stopped near the theatre. You stood up then hopping out, thanking the driver. You walked over to the front of the building, staring at the handle. Your hand shook slightly as you rested your hand on the handle, then slowly twisted it. The smell of popcorn immediately made you hungry.

Your co-worker greeted you, "You look like a train wreck, you good?" 

You rolled your eyes, "Aren't you lovely?"

"I know," They chuckled, however genuine concern quickly replaced their previous demeanour. "Seriously though, you okay?"

You shrugged, "I think the night shifts are really fucking with me, I need to switch hours."

"Yeah, well long shifts that last late at night aren't exactly great. It makes sense that it's taking a toll on you. Maybe talk to our boss?"

"Maybe, I'll see how I feel after this shift."

---

You stood there for hours, giving people their snacks, drinks and tickets. It wasn’t too awful, your legs got sore, and the wounds burned, but thankfully none reopened. You were wearing a black top, so even if they did at least no one would notice

Once the place closed, and everyone left you emailed your bus, then did your work again. You went to the closet and picked out the mop bucket, then filled it with hot water. You remembered you had to vacuum too, so you pulled that out in plugged it into the wall. As you stepped into the movie room, you groaned. Unfortunately, people weren’t as respectful today, leaving popcorn on the floor and occasional spilt drinks. You shook your head, agitated. With all the disappearances, surely people would think that maybe the cleaner wouldn’t want to stay overtime? Actually, they probably just didn’t care. That seems more likely. Or their stupid brains didn’t make the connection. Whatever, if  you didn’t die tonight at least you’d get decent pay. 

This place was so eerie, the stereotypical creaking of the wood panels, the trees creating monstrous shadows. You chuckled, thinking of the multiple horror movies and stories that this reminded you of. A grim smile formed on your face, ‘maybe I could watch some of those cheesy movies when I have time.’ Although finding it amusing, you didn’t want to think about it too much. You placed your headphones on, then played some music. You sang some of the lyrics lowly, as not wanting any passers-by to think you were insane, although, who would be out this late anyway? 

You knelt down with a cloth and scrubbed the floor since the mop wasn’t doing good enough. You had a feeling you’d have to scrub a large chunk of this big room. After 10 minutes, you took your gloves off, then leaned against one of the chairs, placing your hands on them, you wiped the sweat that built up on your forehead. You were afraid, but you had to do your job. Money was everything in society. To eat, to sleep safely, to have shelter.

You knew it was here. You tried to ignore the feeling, the knowing. 

You gritted your teeth and went back down and continued scrubbing. Occasionally, you felt as though it was behind you. The cold, it felt so cold. The hair on your back and neck stuck up, but you continued. You’ve checked multiple times before, and yet nothing was there.  

You weren’t overthinking, you were just being cautious. You were confident in that fact. 

A stench filled the room, a sour mud-like smell. You glanced around, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “What the fuck...?” You muttered, trying to think of how that came through. You took your headphones off, hearing rain pounding against the roof. “Maybe I left one of the windows open?” 

You stood up, and walked out of the theatre room, grabbing the switchblade from your boot. You opened it, then went into entrance, and sore the window was open, but the screen was still there. I should’ve closed that earlier, why didn’t I check the weather. You thought, irritated at yourself.

You closed the window and locked it, then checked upstairs. Gripping the blade in your hand, you opened the door. Your eyes water from the stench. You coughed, trying not to heave at the putrid smell. You walked over towards the bathroom window, noticing the screen was cut open. "What..." You stuttered out, gripping the blade harder. You shook your head, then pushed open each stall. They were all empty. 

You stood there, thinking for a moment on what to do. It's in here with me. You shuddered, goosebumps forming. You thought over everything you've done here, vacuumed, mopped most of the theatre, scrubbed most of the stains.... What else do I need to do? I need to mop in here, but surely it can wait till tomorrow, right?

A loud thud came from downstairs, causing you to jump, hitting the stall behind you. Your stomach lurched, that sick feeling pulling at your throat. Shit

You knew it heard you, you didn't know how well it can hear, but you knew it did, as you heard scuttering from bellow. Pat pat pat pat pat.

Your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to open the blade. Once you did, you sprinted out of the room, into the office. You knew your boss would be mad if he knew, but you didn't care. You attempted to open the door, of which would lead to stairs outside. But the door wouldn't budge. You attempted to be quiet while pulling at the door. Your heart thudded in your chest, pools of sweat forming on your face. "please please please please..." You whispered, becoming more antsy.

Pit pat pit pat pit pat

You heard its footsteps coming up the stairs, you ran behind the desk, ducking underneath. You curled up, hugging your knees. You wish you could've stopped your heart from beating so heavily, it felt so loud in the silent office. The only other thing which was heard were the droplets of rain hitting the window and roof. You could hear the blood pumping throughout your body. You covered your mouth, trying to breath quietly. 

Pit pat pit pat

It's body crackled as it came closer, "You don't need to hide from me." 

It sounded the same as the night before, the two voices combining as one. It was so distorted and.... just wrong.

I don't trust you, I don't even know what the fuck you are! 

You gritted your teeth, the handle from the blade dug into your hand as you held it too tight, preparing for it to come closer.

The silence lasted a few moments, till you heard the pit pat once more

Once its step became quieter, you slowly crawled out from under the desk. You took a few steps out of the room, planning to bolt out. 

You, however, noticed a purple gas forming in the building. The stench became so prominent, so invasive, you covered your mouth, attempting to stop yourself from vomiting. One, because you couldn't risk your boss thinking you didn't clean, the other, you didn't want to alert that thing. Although you covered your nose and mouth with the sleeve of your jacket, you still smelt the purple gas. You went to step down the stairs, but weakness overcame you. Oh shit, oh shit!

You needed to cough so bad, but you knew you couldn't. Your throat was so itchy, your eyes watered as the gas burned them. The air was thickening as the gas made things blurry. You forced yourself to stand up, then slowly made your way down. You held onto the wooden railing, making sure not to give in, although your legs felt as though it was becoming jelly once again. 

You took a deep breathe then headed down, paying attention to that awful, bone crackling sound a few rooms away. You finally gave into the urge to sprint. You burst the front door open, running to your car. However, just as you were about to reach it, you felt something gripping your legs, pulling you down onto the ground. Your body making a loud thud, forcing all the air out of your lungs. You yelped, trying to yank your leg out of its grip. You looked over your shoulder, looking into it's monstrous face.

As it spoke, it almost sounded human. It's voice was masculine, but almost like it had a second, feminine one flowing with it. "Tsk tsk." It said, as its neck snapped back in an inhuman manner, "Attempting so hard to avoid me... For such a supposedly smart being, you acted quite impulsively and... recklessly."

You were too mortified to speak, your eyes frantically analysing its horrifying and monstrous figure. You could smell the fresh and dried blood off the figure.

"Amused, horrified. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest... Your lungs are inflating and deflating at a fast rate. Frightening, aren't I?" It drawled on, it's neck crackling and twitching as it moved towards you. The two voices sounding oddly smooth compared to the night before.

Its face... You could feel it's empty eye-sockets staring through you. It could read every emotion, every feeling from you. You felt violated from it's stare, only because it knew you. It felt as though it knew more about you then... you. The feeling couldn't be truly put into words. All you knew, is that it was a being beyond your comprehension.

That it shouldn't exist.

It talked, once more, as it flipped you over, forcing you to look into it's face. It held down your arms before you could use your knife. You hissed from the pressure. It got closer to you, and then it spoke.

"No one will hurt you, no one but me." In that moment, you saw slimy, purple tentacles rising from behind it. The slime fell onto the ground next to you.

As a last resort, you threw your head back as much as you could, hitting the asphalt, then smashed your forehead against his. It stopped for a moment, hissing and it's tentacles retreated slightly for a moment. It's grip lightened slightly, just enough for you to be able to pull your arm out of his hand, then you raised the knife and stabbed it in the head.

"Don't fucking touch me again."

The creature cracked as it moved around. It didn't scream... Only groaned.

"Such an amusing thing you are..." It muttered. It then yanked out the knife. No blood came out from the wound.

Before anything else could happen, you heard a car drive slowly by. Seeing the commotion, it started to pull into the parking lot. "HELP! HELP ME PLEASE." You screamed out.

The creature looked between you and the car. "So... unfortunate."

It then stood up, taking one more glance at you, then ran into the trees. You shook rapidly, staring at it's horrifying form until it left your view. The police officer walked towards you, with their flashlight out pointing at your horrified form.

"Hey, hey, you okay?!" The woman asked, crouching towards you. "What happened? What did that man do to you!? Are you hurt?" She asked, looking over you for any visible wounds. You tried to muster something up in response, but all that came out was "That.... thing, isn't a man." You couldn't look her in the eye's while you spoke, your voice trembling. What else could you say?

The office stayed silent for a moment, trying to understand what you just said. "What do you mean by that? And you didn't answer if you were hurt."

You shook your head, hugging your knees, "It... it doesn't matter, I'm fine." You murmured, staring at the ground in front of you. You couldn't look her in the eyes. All you could think of was its soulless, empty eye sockets. The feeling of it knowing, reading you in ways that you didn't like.

"Look, I can't help you unless you talk to me. Please, what did he do to you?" She pleaded, wanting to reach out but stopping herself.

"I promise I'm okay. I mean, if you really want to help me get me a damn priest." You dryly chuckled, gaze sticking to the asphalt. Normally you wouldn't joke with an officer, but in that moment, you wanted to not break down, as a trip to the mental ward didn't sound pleasant

"Please take this seriously! What if he hurts someone else?" She begged, a look of confusion and worry written on her face.

"As if we can stop it, thank you for coming over, though. You saved me, genuinely." You said, finally looking her in the eyes, trying to give a small smile. You stood up then lent against your car from last night. "I really wanna go home, I just want to sleep."

"I think I should call an ambulance, you could be hurt. Did he hit your head at all?"

"No! No, don't worry about it. I'm fine, I think I'm just sleep deprived that's all." You shook your head, trying to politely wave her off.

The woman looked at you suspiciously, then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. Look can I give you the number to the police station? In case you want to report it. Please?"

You thought for a few moments, then gave in. "Yeah.... sure." 

She pulled out her notepad and pen, then wrote it down. "Here, I wrote my name down as well in case you want to talk to me there. Please, think about it."

"Okay, I will." She then passed you the piece of paper. You folded it and put it in your pocket. "I'm gonna go now, thank you."

The woman nodded, "Do you want me to follow you home? If it'd make you feel safer."

The thought didn't seem utterly awful, so you gave in. "Um, actually... I lost my keys last night. Could... you take me home?." you glanced at the floor with mild embarrassment.

She nodded, "Not a problem." She then walked towards the car, you followed behind.

She genuinely seemed to be worried, and it was... nice. The car smelt clean, no rubbish at all. There was a scented thing hanging on the mirror in the car. It reminded you of cotton candy. After a few minutes of going down some streets, you reached your house. You pulled into the driveway and hopped out. The woman rolled down her window, "Have a good night! Be careful and take care." 

"Thank you so much, and you too." You said back, waving. Then unlocked your door and went inside. You put the chairs in front of the door, and made sure to lock it. You walked down the hallway and into your room, then went onto the bed. 

You stared blankly in front of you, at the wall, the situation replaying over in your head. The feeling of it on top of you, being seconds away from a brutal death. You felt bile fill up in your throat, you quickly got out of bed, almost tripping from the sheets. You ran out of the room, down the hallway and pulled open the toilet door. You didn't bother closing it as you fell onto your knees and knelt over the toilet. Food from earlier tore at your throat and left your body. The acid burning, causing tears to prick at your eyes. But your body kept going, even when it was just stomach acid, then until your stomach felt almost empty. Vomit was on your chin, so you wiped it off with some toilet paper. You sat there on the cold tiles for a few minutes, trying to gain the motivation to get up and clean yourself. But you were frozen, stuck staring into the hallway, unable to move.

You knew it was nearby. You felt like it always was. You don't know what you did to deserve this. It didn't make sense. 

After a few more minutes, you eventually snapped out of your thoughts. You begrudgingly stood up, using the wall to support you. You flushed the toilet, then slowly walked to the bathroom. You felt light headed and dizzy, but you didn't feel like going to bed with vomit on you. You turned the tap on, got undressed and went inside. You watched as the dirt washed off your body and down the drain. You felt calmer, enjoying the warmth. Then went to bed, savouring the few hours you have left till you have to get up.

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After she dropped you off, she went back to the station, something just didn't feel right. The way you talked about the man not being human, it stuck with her. She of course heard of the sightings of a 'creature', but she struggled to believe it. How could a thing like that exist? It defied all logic, to her. She wanted to recheck the footage of her dashcam. She had to know, were you simply mentally ill, telling the truth, or sleep deprived like you said? The only way she could know was to check the footage. 

She downloaded the footage, then opened the file. She skipped through it, then found the incident. She zoomed in as she drove into the parking lot. She saw it. She understood now. What you meant.

What the fuck was that?! 

She saw as purple things came out of the... creatures back. And when she got closer in the parking lot, she saw as it turned towards her, then stood up and run. She saw the horrified look on your face.

What was she meant to do with this footage? Would anyone believe her? She bit her nails, even though they were done only a couple days ago, she couldn't resist the urge. A coworker of hers noticed the look on her face and what she was doing. "Didn't you quit that habit a while ago? What's got you so stressed?" He asked, pulling his chair towards her, then sat down.

"Can you watch this?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. She went back on the footage, then pressed play. He scooted closer, turning the monitor slightly so he could see more. She stared at him, trying to see what he thought. 

She paused and zoomed in on the footage. The man looked afraid, "What is that?!" He muttered under his breathe. She then continued the video, still zoomed in. He watched as the creature ran into the forest, leaving the woman - you, on the ground, mortified. 

Although knowing the officer wasn't a prank type, he had to ask. "You're messing with me, right? Is the edited?-" She interrupted him, "No, it isn't, It's raw unedited footage. I downloaded it a few minutes ago. So you saw what I saw?"

"I did... yes." He answered, "What is it?"

"I don't know, but the woman right there said she saw a monster." She then took off the camera on her vest, then connected it to the PC. "I'm going to show you another recording, of what she said to me." 

The man nodded, resting his chin on his hand, watching as it downloaded. "Are you sure it isn't a glitch or something?" 

The woman shook her head, "Again, once you hear what she says, you might take it more seriously. Hold on." She then opened the file and skimmed through it. "Alright, watch." She turned the volume up. 

"What the..." The woman said, driving into the parking lot.

She hurriedly got out of the car, the footage shaking as she did so. 

"Hey, hey! You okay?!" She asked, running over to the woman on the ground. She crouched in front of her, then asked "What happened? What did that man do to you!? Are you hurt?"

"That.... thing, isn't a man." The woman said, staring at the ground in front of her. They stood there in silence for a few moments.

"What do you mean by that? And you didn't answer if you were hurt." The officer asked, the footage still being a bit shakey. 

The woman hugged her knees, "It... it doesn't matter, I'm fine." 

"Look, I can't help you unless you talk to me. Please, what did he do to you?" 

The woman then responded, "I promise I'm okay. I mean, if you really want to help me get me a damn priest." 

"Please take this seriously! What if he hurts someone else?" The officer begged.

The man continued to watch the footage, stopping as soon as the officer went back into her car.

"Get it now?" She asked, crossing her arms over. 

The main stayed silent for a couple seconds, then spoke "I... don't know. This is some weird shit." 

The officer rolled her eyes, "You're stating the obvious." 

"Well aware, smartass." He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. "Well, can you talk to the woman again? Maybe if you say you saw the same thing, she'll say more." 

"I might do that tomorrow morning, she seemed extremely worn out and I don't want to bother her."

"I mean, if you're okay with waiting that long go ahead."

The officer glared, "Fine you go talk to her instead." 

"Okay okay, that's not what I meant. I mean it seems serious, could this be connected to the other missing people? Like maybe she could go missing in the middle of the night!" 

"I'm sure she'll be fine over night, and I'm going to have to put all the videos onto the laptop. I also need sleep, you know? And I don't want to bother her too much, I want her to hopefully have a few hours of sleep before I explain this whole thing to her."

"Okay, well can you let me know how it goes after?"

"Yeah I will, can you keep this between us for now? I don't know how the others will react if they see this. I also don't want them to probably think I'm crazy."

"Fair enough, alright I'm gonna head off." He said. standing up, "You rest up too, yeah?" 

The officer nodded, "I will, probably only 6 hours but it's something."

"Isn't that what you get most days?"

"Shut up." She said jokingly hitting his arm, "Alright, catch you tomorrow." She said, also packing her stuff.

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[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 30

Words: 2.9k

Van reveals some devastating news to Lyla 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

Anyone would think that I was crazy sitting out on the balcony in just my underwear and a thin shirt in the middle of December, but it was safe out there. I couldn't see what Van was doing, I couldn't hear what he was doing and if I screwed my eyes shut tight I could almost transport myself somewhere else. Almost. The cold winter wind and icy drizzle nipped at my flesh mercilessly and was a constant reminder of where I was and the fact that the man I'd let so easily into my life was capable of unspeakable things and I'd just left him to it. Stepped aside and let things happen.

After around twenty minutes I was shivering violently, soaked to the skin and I'd lost all feeling in my extremities, so I reluctantly made my way to the balcony door, my fingers closing around the door handle, pausing to take a deep inhale. Maybe I shouldn't be hiding out here like a coward. Maybe I needed to face up to things and see for myself the darker side of the man who'd stolen both my heart and my mind.

The door slid open with no resistance and I slipped back into the room, surprised to see it empty with nothing to indicate that it had been occupied by the two men apart from the obvious signs of my earlier fight. Then I heard a dull thud followed by a ghastly groan and my head snapped up to note the closed bathroom door. I certainly wasn't going to open it.

I left the balcony door open and crossed to the chair where Van had placed his coat, delving into the pockets. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, driven by a desperation to find out something about the man who was still largely a mystery to me. There was a folded switchblade, a packet of cigarettes, a lighter, and a mobile phone. I deftly jabbed at the phone, bringing the screen to life, furtively glancing in the direction of the bathroom to check I was undisturbed. The phone was practically blank, no apps and no text messages, not even a list of contacts, just a few sent and received calls to numbers that meant nothing to me. I was just about to replace it when I had a sudden flash of inspiration, keying in my number and placing a call to my own phone which I quickly ended as soon as it connected. Of course I knew how things worked. Criminals like Van would never keep one phone for long, they would use a succession of unregistered 'burner' phones that couldn't be traced, replacing them regularly to carry out their illegal activities. Even so, just the thought that I might be able to contact him rather than waiting for his call gave me a sense of comfort.

The sound of running water from the bathroom saw me hastily plunge the phone back into Van's coat pocket and step away until I was standing with my back pressed against the opposite wall. I was still standing there when Van emerged only seconds later, stepping into the room and leaning back against the door, eyes fixed on me with a hint of wariness which I wasn't expecting. He moved a hand up to push it through his still damp hair and I found myself inspecting both of his hands, looking for traces of blood, evidence of his crimes. There was none. I supposed he'd washed it away. He was meticulous after all.

"Is he... dead?" I asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it, wanting to see if snuffing a life out in such a brutal manner really did have any visible effect on him.

"Yes he is," he said plainly, and I was surprised to see something behind the steeliness. I waited, sensing he had more to say, and I was stunned when he did.

"I don't like you to see that side of me. I wish you didn't have to."

"Maybe... I want to see... all sides of you," I answered hesitantly. "The good and the bad. That's the only way you really get to know a person isn't it?"

"And what happens when you uncover something you wish you hadn't? What then, huh? There's no going back."

Frustration wracked me, but I knew I couldn't push him. Whatever dark secrets dwelled in him were buried deep, eating away at him, tormenting his soul and leading him on the path that he'd taken. But that same path had also led him to me. There had to be something in that.

"Maybe I don't want to go back..." I said quietly. "Ever... This is it now..."

He stood still for a moment like I'd astounded him with my words, then he dropped his head, stepping across the room where he dug in his coat pocket for his cigarettes. I watched as he drew out the chair, moving it over to the open balcony door. He sat down, facing me, slipping a cigarette between his lips and lighting up.

"I think it's about time I told you a few things." His eyes held a swirl of emotions as they came to rest on my face, a depth that I was starting to see more of.

I was still, waiting, full of intrigue but frightened as well. My life wasn't something I seemed to have control of anymore, and it was careering faster and faster towards some conclusion I couldn't even begin to imagine. The thought of finding out that destination terrified me.

Van took a deep inhale, tipping his head towards the open doorway and blowing out the smoke into the night. "What if I told you that evil had a name? And I knew that name?"

"You've got to stop talking in riddles... you've got to..."

"I know who ordered the hit on your dad."

It felt like all the air had been instantly sucked out of the room. I gasped for breath, a hand shooting up to my mouth, my body folding like crumpled paper. I hit the floor on my knees, hot tears stinging my eyes.

Van remained where he was, still but not impassive. He looked like he wanted to reach out to me but he didn't know how. "Van..." I breathed, feeling a rush of nausea hit the back of my throat. I swallowed deeply, tried to still the hurricane of thoughts that raged through my head, but I couldn't.

He sighed then, a weary sound full of regret. I watched him take a drag from the cigarette, then another. I fixed my stare on the glowing embers, tears clouding my vision, waiting to hear more.

Eventually he flicked the butt out the balcony door and turned to me, leaning forward in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

"I wanted to kill him... before I told you, I wanted to obliterate him from the face of the earth. Things haven't gone to plan though. He's like a shadow, a ghost... well I suppose he's a dead man so that's fitting..."

"A dead man? What do you mean? Are you going to tell me who it is?" My voice was a cracked whisper, the tears flowing freely now.

A look of intense distaste crossed Van's face, like even having the name on his tongue was toxic. When he spoke the words dripped with so much hatred it made me shudder.

"It was Tommy Chappell..."

My mind scrambled, trying to make sense of it. It couldn't be. He was a dead man. I'd heard the stories countless times from my dad, the hero who finally brought Tommy down. He'd drowned in The Thames, condemned to a watery grave for all the pain and suffering that he'd caused.

"I... I don't understand," I stuttered. "There was a car chase. It was my dad... he actually saw his car go into the river. He died. I mean, they never found a body, but he couldn't have survived. The flood waters were up that winter. Everyone knows the story."

"He got out, don't ask me how, but he did. He must have gone into hiding. God knows he had enough friends in high places who would have helped him."

Van reached for his cigarette packet again, shifting in his seat, agitated, anger bubbling up inside of him. That's when the realisation hit me. Tommy was also responsible for killing Van's whole family too. The picture of Van as a traumatised child flashed through my mind, and I wondered how long he'd known, how long he'd harboured this painful secret, this desire for revenge. He lit up again, pulling hard on his cigarette, lips pulled into a snarl as he spoke again.

"That's just the thing with Tommy, he's got people everywhere... the police... the fucking government... even the agency that you work for..."

"What?"

"He did back then, and he still does now," Van confirmed. "Of course there might be more than one. Whoever was working for Tommy back then might not be the same person who's working for him now, but there's definitely someone bent in the agency right now. I didn't get a name, but that's who sent that prick in the bathroom to kill you. You can't trust anyone... not any more."

The revelation hit me like a tonne of bricks, my mind whirring manically, in danger of spinning completely out of control. There were so many good agents who I worked alongside, most of them who I would trust unequivocally with my life. Jen and Raj and many more. Paul...

Fuck... the thought of Paul's possible duplicity felt like a knife through my heart. The idea that he could have betrayed my father was unthinkable, but now it had formed in my mind I couldn't shake it. It crept in like a putrid, festering rot, taking root, tainting the idealistic image of the man who'd often been like a father to me and a brother to my dad. I tasted bile in my mouth, my stomach clenching with the sickening thought.

You can't trust anyone...

I placed my hands on the carpeted floor, as if to steadily myself whilst my world collapsed around me. Van sat there motionless but his expression was agonised.

"I'm going to find out who it is," he said, his voice gruff with anger. "I'm going to find out and then I'm going to kill them. I'll kill all of them... anyone who's involved with Tommy. Every last fucking one of them."

I looked up at him, deep into those blue eyes that I used to fear, saw the conviction in them, the vow that he was making. I knew then that he would stop at nothing, even sacrificing himself to see his deadly pledge to its final conclusion.

The realisation shocked me through to my core, overwhelming me. Even with the knowledge that I was now privy to, I knew there was more. I'd only just scratched the surface of this complex puzzle that I was a part of. I'd still not plumbed the depths that would reveal the true nature of Van's feelings and his harrowing past.

Questions and possibilities flitted through my mind with a jumble of emotions as I tried to piece together how Tommy could have faked his own death and stayed hidden for so long whilst heading up the largest criminal network the country had ever seen.

"I just can't believe it. Tommy Chappell... I mean he was bad back in the day... really bad. But compared to what we're dealing with now he was small time. We're not just talking protection rackets and vice and selling drugs to the Northern cities."

Van nodded, his expression grim. "He's moved on. He's selling arms and people trafficking now, international drugs trading and worse... much, much worse..."

He screwed his eyes shut momentarily, trying to compose himself. "The company he keeps, the vile pieces of shit that he protects, that's why he's where he is today. It's not just gangsters and criminals... it's politicians and government officials, high ranking police officers. They carry on doing their sick fucking shit and he enables it. I just sit and wait until one of them steps out of line... and then I get the nod to step in.... and that suits me just fine..."

He smiled then but it was full of malice and it slipped away as soon as he started speaking again. "Tommy never got his hands dirty. He left all of that to me. He just sits there in his ivory tower, giving out the orders, raking in the cash."

He paused, reaching for his cigarettes yet again, inhaling the smoke into his lungs deeply as soon as one was lit. I took the chance to speak. "How long have you known... that it was Tommy?"

"Not long. I suspected, but it's taken me years to find out for sure... I was even trying before I got the job. And when I did my orders to kill came through a handler. No one gets to see Tommy or hear from him directly you see. He's clever. There's layer upon layer in this organisation, all there to protect him and his inner fucking circle." He spat out the last line in disgust, his temper mounting again. "And now I found out the truth just like your dad did so he wants me dead. They all do. But they don't know what they're dealing with. They want a battle? I'll bring them a fucking war."

Unfettered rage was seething inside Van, a boiling hot lava that was contained for now but only just. It simmered in his eyes and the tension in his muscles, taut and coiled, driven by his anguish and desire for revenge, a need which consumed him.

It sparked something inside me too. The brutal injustice of it all, my dad's death... countless other innocent lives shattered and torn apart mindlessly, and for what? One man's thirst for power and wealth that overshadowed all sense of morality. He needed to be stopped.

"I want to be there when you kill Tommy," I suddenly blurted, the determination in my voice ringing out.

Van's jaw tightened, his fists clenched, the knuckles white. I knew what he was thinking. This was his fight. Even though he was partly avenging me he would never willingly lead me into anything that might lead to my demise. But he didn't have a choice this time. I wanted this. I needed this.

"I want to see it," I carried on. "I want to see the look in his eyes... I want him to know how it feels to lose everything... And I want to ask him how it feels when he does."

My world had stopped spinning now and the fog was clearing, slowly but certainly. As it did it occurred to me that back when all this started Van had told me that he and I weren't so different and despite my protestations at the time he hadn't been wrong. Not at all.

He was watching me with a certain curiosity now, his rage retreating, his focus fully on me. "Just when I thought I had you all figured out you go and do something to surprise me yet again..."

I shifted on the floor under his penetrating glare. It was the simmering kind of hungry gaze a predator might use to look upon his prey, but not to determine when to pounce. He knew he didn't have to do that. I was there for the taking. He just had to decide when to take a bite.

"I saw you tonight... in the club... outside the hotel..." A shadow of a smirk graced his lips. "Tell me Lyla... what is it that you really want?"

He leant back in the chair, head tipped slightly back, watching me with hooded eyes. I felt my heartbeat increase, my mouth go dry. Even after all this time he still had that same effect on me. The ability to make me feel simultaneously weak and powerful. Vulnerable yet desired.

I rose up slightly from my sitting position on to my knees, maintaining his gaze as I gripped the edges of my rain-soaked shirt, peeling it back slowly over my shoulders until it fell on to the floor behind me. I shivered as the air hit my damp skin.

"I want you Van... only you."

He was quiet for a moment as if considering my reply, and as the silence stretched on the tension grew. The air was thick with it, making my pulse race even more.

"You sure about that?"

I nodded, swallowing deeply. The chill on my skin a stark contrast to the fire that smouldered down low in my body.

"You don't have to be gentle," I whispered, a flush staining my cheeks as my words reached him and I saw his expression change, his lips curling into a wolfish smile.

He shook his head slowly. "Oh... I won't be."

A little gasp escaped me unbidden, and his smile widened even further. "Why don't you come over here Lyla?"

I shifted on my knees, went to rise up, but froze on the spot when Van's voice came sharp and commanding.

"No... don't get up. Hands and knees. I want you to crawl..."

[rjlocksmithsandiego]

Car Key Replacement San Diego: A Comprehensive Guide

Getting reliable car key replacement services in San Diego is very important for vehicle owners. This guide explains all the benefits of professional car key replacement San Diego. It also provides tips for selecting trusted providers and maintaining vehicle security.   Understanding Car Key Replacement in San Diego   Car key replacement in San Diego involves creating new keys for vehicles. This service covers traditional keys transponder keys and smart keys. San Diego’s diverse vehicle types require specialized tools and expertise. Professional car key replacement in San Diego ensures compatibility with local vehicle models.   Benefits of Professional Car Key Replacement San Diego   1. Access to Advanced Technology   Modern vehicles use transponder chips and proximity fobs. San Diego providers use programming tools to sync new keys with vehicle computers. This ensures seamless operation for cars trucks and motorcycles.   2. 24/7 Availability   Many car key replacement services in San Diego operate round-the-clock. This helps drivers stranded in areas like Downtown or La Jolla at odd hours.   3. Mobile Services   Providers often come to your location. Whether you’re near Balboa Park or Mission Beach mobile units handle key cutting and programming on-site.   4. Security Assurance   Professional car key replacement in San Diego includes deactivating lost keys. This prevents unauthorized access to your vehicle. 

Tips to Find a Commercial locksmith San Diego The following are the best tips to remember while finding a provider: 1. Verify Licensing and Certification   California requires locksmiths to hold valid licenses. Ensure your provider meets state regulations for car key replacement in San Diego.   2. Check Specialization   Select providers experienced with your vehicle’s make and model. Luxury cars electric vehicles and classic cars need unique approaches.   3. Read Local Reviews   Search Google or Yelp for feedback from San Diego residents. Look for mentions of speed accuracy and professionalism.   4. Confirm Mobile Capabilities   Choose providers offering mobile car key replacement in San Diego. This saves time if you’re stranded in remote areas like Torrey Pines.   5. Ask About Key Types   Ensure they handle your specific key type. Examples include laser-cut keys switchblade keys and smart fobs.   6. Inquire About Equipment   Modern car key replacement in San Diego requires diagnostic tools and programmers. Avoid providers using outdated methods.   Finding Trusted Commercial locksmith San Diego 1. Local Directories   Check the San Diego Locksmith Association for vetted professionals.   2. Dealership Partnerships   Many San Diego dealerships collaborate with certified locksmiths for key services.   3. Online Search   Use terms like “emergency car key replacement San Diego” to find nearby help.   4. Community Recommendations   Neighborhood groups on social media can often share reliable contacts.   Car key replacement San Diego is a critical service for vehicle security and convenience. Choosing licensed professionals ensures accurate key programming and reliable performance. Regular maintenance and proactive key management reduce emergencies. By following these guidelines San Diego drivers can address key issues efficiently. Always prioritize providers with local expertise and modern tools. This guarantees your vehicle remains secure and operational across San Diego’s diverse neighborhoods.

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Car Key Replacement: Everything You Need to Know About Replacing Your Vehicle Keys

Description: Lost or damaged car keys? Discover the ultimate guide to car key replacement, including types of keys, costs, and how to choose the right service for your vehicle.

Introduction

Car keys are an essential part of our daily lives, providing access to our vehicles and ensuring their security. However, losing or damaging a car key can be a stressful experience. Whether you’ve misplaced your keys, they’ve been stolen, or they’ve simply worn out, car key replacement is a service you may need at some point. This guide will walk you through everything you need to know about replacing your car keys, from the types of keys available to the costs involved and how to choose the right service provider.

Why Car Key Replacement is Important

Replacing your car keys is not just about convenience; it’s also about security. Here’s why car key replacement is crucial:

Security: Lost or stolen keys can compromise your vehicle’s security. Replacing them ensures that only you have access to your car.

Convenience: A functioning key is essential for daily use. Replacing a damaged or lost key restores your ability to drive your vehicle.

Peace of Mind: Knowing you have a spare key or a replacement can provide peace of mind in case of emergencies.

Types of Car Keys

Understanding the different types of car keys can help you make an informed decision when seeking a replacement:

Traditional Metal Keys: These are the simplest type of car keys, made entirely of metal. They are less common in modern vehicles but are still used in older models.

Transponder Keys: These keys have a chip embedded in them that communicates with the car’s ignition system. They provide an added layer of security.

Remote Keys: Also known as key fobs, these keys allow you to lock, unlock, and sometimes start your car remotely.

Smart Keys: These keys use advanced technology to allow keyless entry and ignition. They often come with additional features like remote start and personalized settings.

Switchblade Keys: These keys have a folding blade that retracts into the fob, combining the convenience of a remote key with the functionality of a traditional key.

Steps to Replace Your Car Key

Replacing a car key involves several steps, depending on the type of key and your vehicle’s make and model:

Identify the Type of Key: Determine what type of key your vehicle uses. This information can usually be found in your owner’s manual.

Contact a Professional: Reach out to a reputable car key replacement service. This could be a dealership, a locksmith, or a specialized key replacement service.

Provide Necessary Information: You’ll need to provide details about your vehicle, such as the make, model, and VIN (Vehicle Identification Number).

Verification: The service provider will verify your ownership of the vehicle to ensure security.

Key Cutting and Programming: For transponder and smart keys, the new key will need to be cut and programmed to match your vehicle’s ignition system.

Testing: Once the new key is ready, it will be tested to ensure it works correctly with your vehicle.

Costs of Car Key Replacement

The cost of car key replacement can vary widely depending on several factors:

Type of Key: Traditional keys are generally the cheapest to replace, while smart keys can be significantly more expensive.

Vehicle Make and Model: Luxury and high-end vehicles often have more expensive keys due to advanced technology.

Service Provider: Dealerships tend to charge more than independent locksmiths or specialized key replacement services.

Urgency: If you need a replacement key immediately, you may incur additional costs for expedited service.

On average, you can expect to pay anywhere from 50to50to500 for a replacement key, depending on the factors mentioned above.

How to Choose the Right Car Key Replacement Service

Selecting the right service provider is crucial for a smooth and secure car key replacement process. Here are some tips to help you choose:

Reputation: Look for a service with positive reviews and testimonials from previous customers.

Experience: Choose a provider with experience in handling your vehicle’s make and model.

Certification: Ensure the service is certified and uses high-quality equipment for key cutting and programming.

Cost: Compare prices among different providers, but be wary of prices that seem too good to be true.

Availability: Consider the provider’s availability, especially if you need emergency services.

DIY vs. Professional Car Key Replacement

While some car key replacements can be done at home, others require professional assistance:

DIY Replacement: Traditional metal keys can often be duplicated at hardware stores or using DIY kits. However, this is not recommended for transponder or smart keys.

Professional Replacement: For transponder, remote, and smart keys, professional assistance is necessary to ensure the key is correctly programmed and secure.

Preventive Measures to Avoid Car Key Replacement

Spare Keys: Always have a spare key made and keep it in a safe place.

Key Tracking Devices: Use key tracking devices to help locate lost keys quickly.

Regular Maintenance: Regularly check the condition of your keys and replace them if they show signs of wear.

Key Insurance: Consider adding key replacement coverage to your auto insurance policy.

Future Trends in Car Key Technology

Digital Keys: Smartphone apps that function as digital keys are becoming more common, offering convenience and enhanced security.

Biometric Access: Future vehicles may use biometric data, such as fingerprints or facial recognition, for access and ignition.

Enhanced Security: Advances in encryption and cybersecurity will continue to improve the security of car keys.

Integration with Smart Homes: Car keys may become integrated with smart home systems, allowing for seamless control of both home and vehicle.

Conclusion

Car key replacement is an essential service that ensures the security and functionality of your vehicle. By understanding the types of keys, the replacement process, and how to choose the right service provider, you can make informed decisions that protect your investment and provide peace of mind. Whether you’ve lost your keys, they’ve been stolen, or they’ve simply worn out, knowing your options for replacement can help you get back on the road quickly and securely.

FAQs

How long does it take to replace a car key? The time required can vary from a few minutes for traditional keys to several hours for smart keys, depending on the complexity and service provider.

Can I replace a car key myself? While traditional keys can sometimes be duplicated at home, transponder and smart keys require professional programming and should not be attempted as a DIY project.

What should I do if I lose my car key? Contact a professional car key replacement service immediately. Provide them with your vehicle’s details and proof of ownership to get a replacement key.

Are aftermarket keys as good as OEM keys? Aftermarket keys can be a cost-effective alternative, but it’s essential to ensure they are of high quality and properly programmed to avoid issues.

Can I get a replacement key if I don’t have the original? Yes, a professional service can create a new key using your vehicle’s VIN and other identifying information, though this process may take longer and cost more.

[briannalauren0]

Car Key Copy Phoenix

You don’t need to get your car pulled to the car dealership anytime you misplaced your current auto key. Car Key Copy Phoenix AZ will come to you as well as present the appropriate vehicle key replacing service right away.

Our Services:

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Our Special Offers: 30% Off discount of 2nd auto key

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Do You Know The Flip Key Blade

A flip key blade is a type of key commonly used for modern vehicles. Unlike traditional keys, which are solid and rigid, flip key blades are designed to fold or retract into the key fob when not in use, resembling the shape of a pocketknife or switchblade. This innovative design offers several advantages in terms of convenience, portability, and security.

Despite their advantages, flip key blades may require occasional maintenance and replacement, especially if the folding mechanism becomes worn or damaged over time. Fortunately, many automotive locksmiths and dealerships offer key cutting and programming services for flip keys, allowing owners to easily obtain replacement blades or repair damaged ones.

[autokeypro]

Get Professional Lost Key Service at Affordable Price

Losing a car key is one of the most unexpected events that can happen to anyone. If you have lost all the keys, fret not. Our experienced locksmiths will cut a new key for your car quickly.  If you want to get a new key, we provide excellent and reliable Lost Key Service that will meet your needs.

Depending on the type of model and year of the vehicle you are driving, replacing a lost or stolen key may involve various steps and several hundred dollars too. If you don’t have a spare key and lost your master key, we have the right team to assist you and ensure you won’t be late for the office or party again.

Here are the best suggestions for what to do if you lose any of your car keys:

If you lose a traditional car key: in the event of a traditional car key lost, call our locksmith who will provide an immediate spare key on the spot. In the case of a very old vehicle, there might be a need to change the ignition lock cylinder at the shop.

If you lose the car key fob: you only lose the fob, even then our team will use your key to unlock your car and start it. Fobs are easily programmable and our team has the expertise to do so.

If you lose a car key fob and switchblade key: even if you lose this, we will get you a key in minimal time. Prompt delivery and excellent customer service are what we are known for. Making a new key in this method is more expensive than the above.

Transponder key: transponders are ignition keys that have a plastic head embedded with a computer chip. If you don’t have a backup for the transponder key, our locksmiths will bring the car to the shop and offer a new key. It requires the dealer to electronically pair the new computer chip with your vehicle.

If you lose smart key: in case you lose a smart key, you need to tow the car to our shop if you don’t have a backup key.  We will provide a new key and have it paired to your vehicle.

Get the best assistance from our expert locksmiths if you lose your car keys and don’t have any spare keys. Our reliable and trusted services make us unique and the top choice of our customers.

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(720) 310-5159

carlocksmithbroomfield.com

11542 Colony Row #310 Broomfield, CO 80021

If you're looking for the right professionals to help you, you need not look far. Our professional car locksmiths are the best persons to call in the event of a lockout or any lock and key-related issue. Our professionals are fully-vetted by locksmith associations in the city and across the state, and are also fully-insured. Most importantly, our expers are skilled in all things relating to locksmithing and have the certification and licenses to prove it. If you need emergency car repairs done, as well as other car lock needs, call our hotline today to consult with our locksmithing pros.

Our services 

Automotive Locksmith

Emergency Lockout Services (Available 24/7)

Car Key Replacement Services

Key Cutting, Duplication, and Repairs

Recreating a Key from a Broken Piece

Solutions for Lost or Misplaced Keys

Auto-Lock Repairs

Lock Rekeying Services

Switchblade Key Replacement

Chipped Key Re-activation

Lock Repairs for Trunk Locks and Utility Box Locks

Ignition Key Replacement and Repairs

Reprogramming of Transponder Keys

Our offers

15% off new installations for military personnel and senior citizens

Payment Methods:

Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover & cash.

Working hours:

All Days : 08:00 Am - 11:00 Pm

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Seams

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part II: Threads }

Rating: M

Summary: Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a 'normal' life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight. Self-conscious, he deals with it the way he does most things - he ignores it.

That is until one day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. With neither Tommy nor Ellie anywhere to be found to get him out of the tight spot, Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store he’s seen in town for help - and a new pair of jeans.

There, he meets you.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, body insecurity, some language, Joel being unkind to himself, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6k

Notes: I haven't written anything this fast for a hot minute. It's both exciting and terrifying, especially as Joel is so new to the fandom. So this is a one-shot as it stands, but I'll be lying if I say I haven't thought about where this story can go. Please be gentle with me, Joel is easily the most intimidating Pedro boy I've written for so far. I hope this doesn't disappoint 🥺

‘TommmMMMMMYYYY!’

His voice echoes in the empty street, gruff with irritation. He can feel eyes on him - he always does, wherever he goes in this damn place - covert stares from behind curtains, peeking out of windows from the neighbouring houses.

The polished wood thumps hollowly under his fist. Head bowed in surrender, his forehead makes contact with the surface of the door with a dull thud.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.

Trudging back to the house that’s been allocated to him - he still struggles to think of it as his - he slams the door shut behind him so hard that the sound rings in his ears. Well, more in his left than his right.

Tossing the keys onto a chest of drawers in the hallway, he yells in a last-ditch attempt, ‘Ellieeee!’

The house is silent.

The one time he needs either of them, neither can be found anywhere. Even Maria has made herself scarce - not that he’d ask her for help for this.

This being these stupid fucking jeans. 

His trusty jeans that he’s worn for years, other than on laundry days, which were few and far in between. They’ve literally seen him through thick and thin - the knees are so worn he can almost see the web of white thread beneath the denim.

Tess had gotten him these jeans. Stole them, if he remembers correctly. Once upon a time, he needed a belt to hold them up, or they’d hang down to his ass crack. By the time Ellie came into the picture, they fit well enough to render the belt redundant. He could still easily fit things into his pockets though, like a map or a switchblade.

But now - 

Now he’s stuck, and he can’t get them off.

If he’s being honest with himself, the jeans haven’t fit for months. The jobs in Jackson don’t come anywhere close to the backbreaking work in the QZ or being on the road with Ellie. The food is plentiful even during the harsh winter, and as much as he looks down his ideological nose at it, Maria deserves credit for the thriving commune.

He had a late start this morning. Ellie had already vacated the house by the time he came to. He was on autopilot, distracted by his thoughts about the porch steps that have rotted and need to be replaced. 

He was making plans in his head to nip down to the workshop to get the wooden planks when he started getting dressed. Stepping into the legs of the jeans, he pulled them up, hopping to stretch them over his thighs. Out of habit, he sucked in his belly to button them up, the waistband seemingly even tighter than usual. 

He relegated that to the back of his mind, the same way he’s ignored the fact that the jeans have been uncomfortably tight for months - to the point of hindering his movement when he lays bricks, or cuts off his breathing when he sits down. But he’s gotten used to it, like he does everything else. He’s Joel Miller with the stiff upper lip, after all.

The zipper was next. As usual, he met resistance about halfway up. Baring his teeth, he gripped the tongue of the zipper and yanked upwards. 

Except this time, it didn’t budge. Grumbling, he pulled harder, feeling the burn in his biceps -

It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even aware until he was wheeling backwards from the force, his arm flying up in an arc - and a metallic clink behind him registered faintly in his good ear. 

Disoriented, he glanced down at the zipper. The slider had come clean off.

‘Fuck,’ he swore and turned to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect the damage. Running an experimental finger along the seam, it was clear that the zipper had somehow snagged on the denim. It was stuck. Dead stuck.

Turning the house inside out, he couldn’t find a single pair of scissors, and there isn’t enough space to fit a knife in without slicing himself open, at which point he left on his ultimately fruitless search for reinforcement.

Joel scrubs a tired hand down his face. He’s never been a vain guy - Tommy is that sibling. But he’s never needed to stress about his looks either, with contracting keeping him in shape before the outbreak, and the fight for survival after - until now.

Grabbing his jacket, he shrugs it on, hyper-conscious of whether it’s a tighter squeeze than usual (fortunately not) - and heads into town.

Main Street Outfitters, the only clothing store in Jackson, sits in the middle of the high street, sandwiched between the pub on one side and the welder’s on the other. For the most part, residents come in to trade in old clothes for new ones, but there’s also a nicer selection for the occasional party that one can barter for.

You’re in the workshop at the back, the afternoon sun filling the room through the skylight. 

With your skill in thread and needle, you were the obvious candidate for the job when you arrived in Jackson. Over the years, it has become your sanctuary. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, where neat - though mismatched - boxes of buttons, trimmings, thread and trinkets slot perfectly into place.

You spend the days checking over incoming clothes after they come back from the laundry, making sure they are in reasonable condition and mending those that are not. The shop also charges for adjustments and repairs, and the tasks easily fill your working hours.

It’s a Tuesday, and it’s usually quiet this time of the afternoon. If you’re lucky, you can be undisturbed until you clock off at five - which is why you’re surprised when you hear the tinkle of the doorbell.

The footfall is heavy, it sounds like a strong work boot. You hold your breath and your fingers hover mid-air as the door shuts with a slam. You hear the customer clear his throat - definitely a man - as you wait in vain for the front of house to greet him.

But of course Lucy has sneaked out again. She’s a sweet girl, but manning the counter has always been too dull for her.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deep and gravelly, and despite your reluctance, it doesn’t sit well with your work ethic to keep a customer waiting. Sticking the needle into a pin cushion, you noiselessly rise from your seat and make your way to the front of the shop.

Your first glimpse of him is his back. Standing in front of a rack of jeans, the grays in his hair catch the light streaming through the shop front windows. You study him for a minute, curious eyes running over the width of broad shoulders under a beat-up, khaki jacket. Lower, his jeans are… well-worn, to put it kindly. And from sight, a sitting a bit tight on his hips -

You must have shifted your feet without you noticing. At the minutest creak of wood, the man whips around, one hand reaching behind him in search of the butt of a loaded gun or the hilt of a knife. It’s your good fortune that you see neither on him. The intensity of his gaze is just as effective as a blade on your neck to pin you to your spot.

There’s no question that he’s a newcomer. You’ve seen the same kind of intensity in everyone who’s braved what’s out there to get here.

But even if that didn’t give him away, you already know who he is. He’s Tommy’s brother. Joel, if you remember correctly. Maria approached you for some clothes a few months back when he arrived with his kid for the second time. They’ve been the talk of town since - not that you listen. In fact, you try not to, but you can’t help it if someone talks loudly enough at the next table in the canteen to interrupt your lunchtime reading.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles as the tension in his body recedes. ‘You’re very quiet.’

You duck your head. ‘Sorry.’

‘You work here?’

Wringing your fingers nervously, you nod and take two timid steps towards him, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremour in your voice. ‘How can I help?’

You’ve heard things about Joel Miller. The words most frequently whispered as he ambles by in town include ruthless, cold-blooded and steer clear.

You can’t exactly reconcile the man in front of you with those particular words right now.

There’s nothing that speaks to ruthlessness in the way he averts his eyes and shuffles his feet, the blunt tip of his shoes catching the wooden floor. You also find it hard to believe that a truly cold-blooded person would willingly cross the country and all its horrors in search of his brother, or take a teenager under his wing.

You might not think much of yourself, but you know that your judgement of character has kept you alive so far. And your instinct isn’t telling you to steer clear of this man - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with your scrutiny. ‘Just lookin’ for some new jeans.’

‘Alright,’ you reply, taking the remaining five steps to the other end of the jeans rack, a safe distance away from him. ‘What’s your size?’

To your surprise, he huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘At least one up from whatever I have on right now.’

Sucking in a breath, you gesture vaguely at him. ‘Um, do you mind if I take a look at uh - you? So I can guess what size will fit you?’

You’re used to being the most awkward person in the room wherever you go, but this man is  giving you a pretty good run for your money right now. While you divert your gaze as he unbuttons the front of his jacket, he fixes his somewhere over your shoulder to the right, grinding his teeth, as if he wishes he was anywhere but here.

Dragging your eyes back to him, you take stock of your customer as he sweeps the lapels of the jacket to the side. Underneath, the green flannel cuts off at the top of the jeans, and you see the soft pouch of his abdomen beneath the fabric. While the shirt is well-fitted, the jeans are obviously too small. The waistband bites into his sides, you can see the subtle overhang of his love handles. Even by the way he’s standing you can tell he’s uncomfortable, packed in way too tight in the denim.

And then… you really shouldn’t, but you stare at the front of the jeans. Now, you know for a fact that the fit will be just as snug there even if he goes a size up…

‘Sorry, not much to look at,’ he grunts, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by the self-derision in his voice, the words leave your mouth before they register, sharper than you mean them to be. ‘Don’t say that.’

He blinks at you. ‘What?’

You gape at him. Does he really not see? His tall, solid frame? The strong columns of his thighs? Is this man blind on top of being frustratingly attractive -?

But of course you can never say that. Instead, you pull out three different pairs of jeans in quick succession and all but throw them at him, heat prickling the tips of your ears as the disbelief that you spoke to a customer like that sinks in.

‘The dressing room is there,’ you squeak, pointing at the far corner. ‘I’ll be at the back if you need any help -’

You turn on your heels, in a hurry to get back to your workshop, but you only get halfway through the spin. It takes you three seconds to realise why - his calloused palm is on your wrist, holding you in place.

‘Actually, I do need help - I broke the zipper, and I’m stuck in these damn jeans.’

You ignore the clench of your stomach at the way he spits out the word damn. You’re not big on swearing, but the cuss word sounds good rolling off his tongue in his Southern twang.

To your horror, a giggle bubbles up your throat before you can slap a palm over your mouth.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you apologise profusely, heat flooding your cheeks. 

You stare in consternation when those broad shoulders of his quake, a half-smile on his lips as they part in a scratchy chuckle. ‘Trust me, I’m glad I found you first. My brother or my kid would have given me a much harder time. Probably would’ve pissed their pants laughin’.’

Despite yourself, you smile back with a weak attempt at a joke. ‘I mean, I’ll try not to -’

He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

You lead the way to the back of the shop and Joel follows three polite steps behind, pausing by the doorway. Running practised eyes over the space, the contractor in him appreciates the well-built skylight and the sturdy furniture in the room, pieces that were clearly built to last. He places the jeans you picked out for him on the big work table, made of strong timber and aged with time. 

He picked up a change in your demeanour the moment you crossed the threshold into the workshop. There’s a quiet confidence in your measured steps, the way you move speaking volumes - this is clearly your place, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin here.

You point at the spot marked by a round, cosy rug directly beneath the skylight. ‘Could you stand there for me?’

Doing as he’s told, he startles when you march straight up to him, sliding your palms under the shoulders of his jacket to push it off. Your front brushes his chest briefly when you reach around to catch it, but not brief enough for him to ignore the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against him.

Joel is all too aware of his pulse going from zero to a hundred at the fleeting touch, the collar of his shirt suddenly a bit too tight. For fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since his head has gone anywhere near there, but of course it has to happen at the most inconvenient moment.

At least you don’t seem to notice, draping his jacket over the back of a chair before retrieving a pair of tailor’s scissors from one meticulously organised drawer.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on himself, you hit him with a non-sequitur. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’

Only when Joel splutters wordlessly does the full weight of the question seem to hit you. You stutter, ‘Oh god, I didn’t - I mean - I only asked because if push comes to shove, and I have to cut through the jeans, I don’t want to ruin any underwear you’re wearing -’

You trail off, and it’s his turn to stammer, scratching an invisible itch on his elbow as he struggles to remember what he usually does with his hands.

‘No, no, I get it. I’m ahem -,’ he pauses with a cough. ‘I’m not actually wearin’ any underwear right now. Not out of habit, it’s just that I’ve been barely squeezin’ into the stupid jeans even without it.’

His honest answer seems to put you at ease, and you purse your lips. ‘Sounds uncomfortable.’

He shrugs. ‘Have been for months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘That you’ve been uncomfortable. That’s one thing clothes shouldn’t be.’

Not quite knowing how to answer you, he watches you grab a velvet cushioned footstool from under the work table and place it squarely at his feet. Then, without further preamble, you sink onto your knees in front of him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

As he stares down at the crown of your head, your nose at the level of his waistband, he muses that he hasn’t seen this view for a long time, a very long time. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he closes his eyes, fighting the base instinct to cup the back of your head in his palm and to pull you close -

He breathes out hard through his nostrils and clenches his jaw, casting his gaze heavenwards through the skylight as he actually prays for the first time in years.

Don’t you fucking dare get hard, Miller.

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you consider what’s before you. It’s tricky. The jeans are unbuttoned and zipped up most of the way, but the denim has been caught tight in the metallic teeth, and the handle of the zipper yanked clean off.

Cocking your head to one side, you think out loud. ‘I think we should at least try and unsnag the zipper before cutting. But we’re going to need some lubrication, and we’ll need to give it a really good, firm tug -’

The man chokes on nothing above you, and you frown up at him in a question.

Clearing his throat loudly, he asks through gritted teeth, ‘Do we have to?’

‘I mean, I can just cut open the jeans, but then you’ll definitely have to trade in something extra to cover the costs of the repairs -’

He interrupts, ‘That. Let’s do that.’

‘Alright, your call,’ you say with a nod. ‘Can you hold up your shirt?’

You try not to gawk when he draws up the tails of his flannel, revealing his soft stomach underneath. The mid-rise jeans cut off beneath his belly button, and you eye the trail that sneaks full and dark under the waistband. He’s obviously sucking his tummy in, and you catch yourself wishing he doesn’t feel like he has to.

You bite your bottom lip. ‘Do you think you can fit a couple of fingers into the waistband so I can slide the scissors in? They’re sharp, I don’t want to cut you.’

You watch as he tries, first his index finger, then his middle, but he can barely squeeze in beyond the nail, which turns completely colourless from the pressure. He sighs in surrender. ‘Mfraid you’ll have to, sweetheart.’

You have to close your eyes for a moment, your head swimming. You’re not sure whether it’s from the sweetheart, or the fact that he wants you to stick your hand down the front of his pants. 

Well, not exactly that he wants you to. And not your hand. But still.

You squeak. ‘Do I have to?’

He pins you a sarcastic arch of his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you won’t cut my dick off -’

Your face heats up at his blunt words, falling back onto your haunches. ‘Great, now you’ve got me worried -’

Palms up in apology, he shrugs. ‘Sorry -’

‘No, no, you’re right. I don’t want to accidentally castrate you,’ you sigh. ‘Are you - um - well adjusted in there?’

‘I’d go down the right side of the zipper,’ he answers diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, ‘Ready?’

‘Whenever you are, sweetheart.’

The first contact is the brush of your knuckles against his stomach, the skin warm and soft on the back of your fingers. You don’t dare look up, but you can feel his eyes on you as you burrow your index finger under the waistband. Though it’s a squeeze, you manage to wriggle in nail side down, creating a small gap - still not quite enough to get the scissors in without nicking him.

Talking more to yourself, you mumble, ‘Better safe than sorry. Let me just get one more finger in -’

Joel chokes so hard that you almost jump back in fright, frowning at him as he catches his breath. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

His voice tight, he shakes his head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

You wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t go into another coughing fit. When the coast is clear, you gesture at his jeans. ‘Can I just -’ 

‘Get one more finger in?’ he finishes your sentence in his raspy baritone. 

You finally hear it when he says it like that. And oh god, your ears burn as you stare up at him, lips parted, torn between outrage and a very disorienting arousal. ‘You - you -’

A wicked smirk tugs unexpectedly at the corner of his mouth. ‘I already tried, sweetheart. My fingers are too big to fit inside.’

The touch of playful condescension in his tone has your jaw going slack, and your brain practically short-circuits at the thoughts of where else they are too big to fit inside of -

So as it turns out, you’re brave, or just downright stupid, when you’re turned on. Next thing you know, you hear yourself telling him off. ‘I could just leave you in those jeans you know.’

Joel smiles wider, and retorts, ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I don’t have a mean streak,’ you shoot back.

He seems pleased to have lured you out of your shell, grinning down at you. ‘Believe me, I’m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.’

It’s really unfair that he looks this good from where you are on your knees. His eyes are hooded, curls flecked with grays sweeping his forehead. Even though the apocalypse has left its marks on him in wrinkles, frown lines, and smudged bags under his eyes, it has clearly not taken away from that proud nose or plush lips -

Steadying yourself with a deep inhale, you shake yourself out of it. With an in, it’s slightly easier to push in your middle finger into the waistband to widen the gap. Happy with the quarter inch of space, you hold up the scissors. ‘I’m ready to cut if you are.’

He nods his acquiesce. ‘Do your worst.’

Opening up the scissors and carefully fitting the blade beneath the denim, you carefully begin snipping away. They are sharp, but the fabric is tough and you’re conscious of the very tight fit, so you take it slow.

You pause when you’re a couple of inches in, when Joel lets out a groan of relief. Absent-mindedly, you run a soothing thumb over the angry, red indents the waistband dug into the soft pouch of his tummy, sending a shudder through him. 

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, snatching back your hand as if he burns you. 

Too preoccupied with the relief of being able to breathe, Joel shakes his head. ‘Don’t be. Just keep going. Please.’ 

Why is that one word - six letters - making your breath hitch?

Gripping the top of the now open fly and pinning it against his body so you don’t accidentally see anything you’re not meant to see - whether you want to deliberately is a completely different matter - you hunker down and keep cutting along the zipper. 

Each snip gets easier as the jeans release their death grip on him. The right side of the fly falls away as you cut, the denim peeling back slowly to expose the skin underneath. Your eyes drift to the curve of the pubic bone that’s now completely in view, and it’s taking everything you have to not lean over and run the broad of your tongue along it -

How long has it been since you’ve been with a man? When was the last time you had someone stand before you, pants unzipped and hanging open -

With tremendous fortitude, you tear your eyes away to check on him, ‘All good?’

The grunt of respite that he lets out is almost guttural, going straight between your legs. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good to breathe.’

‘Before I keep going, do you want to - uh - rearrange yourself?’

You expect him to turn around, or at least give you a second to turn around to give him some privacy, but he’s obviously been too deprived of oxygen to think straight. One big palm snakes down his front, right in your face, and he cups himself through the denim.

You stop breathing, eyes wide as he adjusts himself. 

Holy fuck.

When he’s done, he gives you a thumbs up. ‘All good.’

This is it. You’re not making it out of this alive.

You can barely get the words out, your throat suddenly drier than sandpaper. ‘Can you, um, hold up the other side of the fly?’

When he does, you stare at his hand next to yours. How is it so big? The veins are prominent on the back, leading down to thick fingers, the nails neatly trimmed and clean - but you bet there’s residue gunpowder underneath.

There’s still a slither of skin peeking through the V of the fly as the scissors slice through the denim, following his happy trail. The lower you go, the thicker and darker the curls, and goddamnit - what is wrong with you - all you can think about is burying your nose right in there, nudging through the hair, lower and lower and lower still -

A sharp pain on your left finger makes you yelp, the scissors falling from your other hand to the floor with a loud clang. A small bead of blood wells up on the tip where the sharp blade nicked it, and in a panic, you let go of his jeans.

‘Shit,’ Joel curses and covers himself up quickly, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

You nod in embarrassment while you get on your feet. ‘I - my hand just slipped. It’s nothing, the smallest cut, I’m fine -’

Well, to be fair, you were fine - until he grabs your left wrist, brings your hand up to his face and sucks your bleeding fingertip into his mouth. 

As if it’s the logical thing to do.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into his front, but he doesn’t even budge, as if you weigh nothing. Taking a deep breath - wood smoke, simple soap and man fill your lungs. Peering up at him through your lashes, you spot the silver flanking the hinge of his jaw, leading down to a peculiar bare patch on the left side of his beard.

He watches you back as he releases your finger with a wet pop. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he pronounces, ‘Just a small cut. You’ll live.’

Will you though? Because it feels like you’re on the verge of expiring from breathlessness. 

He glances down at his front, which he’s still holding up. ‘I guess I can get out of these now.’

It takes you three seconds to catch up before you stumble backwards. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he says with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head, unable to meet his gaze all of a sudden - hypocrite, you had no problem perving on him a minute ago - and nod at the jeans on the table. ‘Why don’t you try those on?’

He clears his throat. ‘I, uh, should probably put on some underwear first.’

You barely manage to hold back from smacking yourself on the forehead. ‘Of course. We do have some in stock. Boxers or briefs?’

He looks amused. ‘What do you think, sweetheart?’

You hesitate, but you force yourself to be brave and venture a guess. ‘Boxers.’

He winks, and you grin back.

Joel hovers uncertainly in front of the mirror in the fitting room, having exhausted all the angles he can see twice, and wonders if he’s been dithering for too long. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at anymore, so he bites the bullet and draws back the curtain.

‘How do they feel?’ you ask.

He was counting on some hint from you, but you give nothing away. So he shrugs, hands on hips. ‘I honestly can’t tell you.’

‘May I?’

At his nod, you step into his space, and he watches as you hook your fingers into the belt loops on either side of the jeans and pull them up, as if gauging the size. He holds his breath as your hair grazes the front of his chest.

‘They’re a bit loose, to be honest,’ you tell him.

He scoffs self-decrepatingly. ‘Probably not for long at the rate I’m going.’

You take a step back and level him with a glare. ‘Stop it.’

He frowns, hackles rising. ‘What?’

‘Stop putting yourself down.’

That he didn’t expect. He protests, ‘I’m not putting myself down -’

‘Yes, yes, you are,’ you interrupt him with a boldness that has his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. With fire in your eyes, you go toe to toe with him, poking him in the chest with a firm finger. ‘You’re alive, you’re safe here, and you’re fit as hell. If you’re going to make fun of yourself for putting on a bit of healthy weight, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.’

Warmth blooms in his chest as Joel stares down at you, breathing heavily after your little speech but showing no intention of backing down. You don’t know him, but for some reason, you’re fighting his corner.

That shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Pursing his lips, he towers over you as he teases, ‘You think I’m fit as hell, sweetheart?’

With a roll of your eyes, you walk backwards to the shelves, rummaging through the sizes before returning with a pair of dark wash jeans. You quip, ‘Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.’

You snap the curtain shut in his face with a flick of your wrist before he can answer, and he chuckles to himself as pulls on the jeans you picked out for him.

When he pushes open the curtain again, Joel doesn’t miss the way you pause as you stare.

The waistband sits on his hips without cutting into his stomach, and he’s pleased that he can comfortably slide his hands into the pockets. The denim wraps firmly, but not tightly, against his backside, holding his thighs comfortably and falling straight down to the ankles. The wash is dark and flattering, smarter than his old ones.

When the silence has stretched on long enough, Joel shifts on his feet and asks, ‘Well?’

You turn the question back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re alright, I guess.’

With a tilt of your head, you prompt, ‘You can say it, you know.’

‘Say what?’

‘You can say that you look good.’

Joel huffs, shaking his head and catching his reflection in the mirror as he does. At your look of insistence, he reluctantly parrots back, ‘Alright. I look good. Happy, sweetheart?’

Then you smile, really smile, and he feels himself soften - his eyes, his face, his mouth, his fucking old, rickety knees -

Suddenly, the bell over the door rings and a woman bustles in. ‘I’m so sorry, Pin! I know I’ve been gone a long time, but I got your favourite tea to make it up to you -’

She stops abruptly when she spots him. ‘Hey! You’re Joel Miller, aren’t you?’

Before he can answer, she crosses the shop in a bundle of energy, sticking her hand out. ‘I’m Lucy, I’m a friend of Tommy and Maria’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

He lets her shake his hand, then she continues without skipping a beat. ‘How are you settling in? You got that house in the street near the stables right? It’s great, it’s quiet but not too far from everything -’

Since she doesn’t seem interested in his participation in this conversation, he doesn’t. But he notices, with regret, the way you start to retreat, the shyness making a return in the shadow of her clearly more outgoing friend - like a bad habit.

He’s suddenly aware of a lull, and that Lucy is looking at him expectantly, like she’s just asked a question that he didn’t hear.

‘Yeah sure,’ he replies dismissively, stopping you with a hand on your wrist just as you try to slink away unnoticed. ‘Hey, wait a second -’

To Lucy’s credit, she picks up on the snub and the energy between the two of you at the same time. Instead of taking offence, she gives you a knowing look and points towards the back diplomatically. ‘You know what Pin, I just bumped into Maria and she asked me something about our fabric inventory, so I better go check it out. I’ll see you around, Joel.’

With a wink in your direction, Lucy makes herself scarce, leaving the tea on the counter for you.

Joel’s quiet for a beat when you’re left alone again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off your friend, but I just wanted to uh - thank you. For all this.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Like she said, I’m Joel. Probably should’ve introduced myself before I asked you to cut me out of my jeans.’

You quip, ‘There’s always next time.’

He chuckles, and asks, ‘Did your friend just call you - Pin?’

‘It’s just a silly nickname,’ you explain. ‘As in pins and needles, for obvious reasons.’

Then you give him your real name and your hand, his palm warm and calloused against yours as he shakes it firmly. When he lets you go, you notice the watch on his wrist, the veins of broken glass on the face catching the light. 

Nodding at it, you ask, ‘Do you need that fixed? There’s a repair guy down the road who can fix anything.’

Confused for a moment about what you’re referring to, Joel pauses before realisation dawns on him. His answer is suddenly polite, a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation just now. ‘No, I - I like it this way. But thanks.’

You don’t miss the emotional weight behind his words, and the air thickens with unspoken meaning, but you know better than to ask. 

‘I understand,’ you say simply.

Everyone has something like the watch is to him. God knows you do. A moment of quiet understanding passes between you, one that needs no words.

Breaking the silence, he says, ‘So, you mentioned I’ll need to trade in something else for these jeans -’

You dismiss that notion with a wave of your hand. ‘Oh no, it’s ok. I got it.’

‘You don’t have to -’

You shut him down. ‘It’s not a big deal, it will take me two minutes to replace the zipper.’

He hesitates. ‘And the boxers -’

Passing him his jacket, you insist, ‘Seriously, Joel, don’t worry about it.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it from you and shrugs it on. You try not to look too conspicuously when the bottom of his shirt draws up, flashing a bit of tummy, but it’s gone too quickly. With a nod, he concedes reluctantly, ‘You really shouldn’t, but thank you. I owe you one.’

You roll your eyes with no real exasperation as you walk him towards the exit. ‘I know you haven’t been here for long - that’s just how things work around these parts. We do things for each other, you don’t owe me anything.’ Pulling the door open, you give him one last grin. ‘Welcome to Jackson, Joel.’

‘Thanks, Pin,’ he says as he crosses the threshold. He pauses on the porch and looks around the high street slowly, as if he’s taking it in for the first time. He then turns to you with a parting wink that is charged with easy confidence. ‘I think I’ll like it here.’

You linger by the door, leaning against the frame as he jogs down the front steps with a swagger, watching in appreciation at the way his new jeans frame his backside. You smile when he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks away, the afternoon breeze ruffling his curls and the sun warming his broad shoulders.

You think you’ll like him here as well.

Notes: As I was writing this, I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Grays 🙈 What can I say? I want to give middle-aged men in need of self-love all the reassurance that they need. I hope you enjoyed Pin and Joel's meet-cute, I'm honestly so nervous about this fic I had to stop myself from compulsively over-editing.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 🥰

P.S. Apparently, there is a Main Street Outfitter in the game, so I ran with it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[questintheskies]

Wrestling’s next breakout international star is upon us. His name is “Switchblade” Jay White, and the former New Japan Pro-Wrestling world champion is ready to showcase his talent to the world.

“So much is possible,” says White. “Impact, AEW, WWE—we’ll see.”

Jamie White truly transformed into “Switchblade” Jay White when most weren’t watching. Since 2017, he worked a demanding schedule that included stops all over Japan—most of which were not broadcast. Repeated stops, from Sapporo to Hirosaki to Kanazawa, provided a platform away from wrestling’s blaring spotlight to sharpen his skills, shaping White into the masterful performer he is today.

While White would not discuss his contract status, industry sources have confirmed that he is set to leave New Japan. A two-time IWGP world champion, White exceeded all expectations during his run in the company.

“I’m at peace with it,” says White, who brought new life to Bullet Club as its leader. “I don’t know if there is much more I could have done. I don’t feel like I left a bunch of boxes unchecked. I’ve been living it, so it can be hard to appreciate it in the moment, but as I move on, I’ve started to look back at the weight some of it holds. As time goes on, I hope people appreciate it even more.

“To me, I was doing what I was meant to be doing. Now I’m looking at what’s next.”

As leader of Bullet Club, White gave the group a unique edge. His persona was different from past leaders, presenting the group in an altogether vicious, cunning manner. One key reason for his success in the role is that he never attempted to mimic Kenny Omega, the man he replaced.

“I always chuckled when people compared me to Kenny Omega after I took over Bullet Club,” says White. “I don’t think you can find two wrestlers who are more different than me and Kenny. I think a lot of people wanted me to try to be just like Kenny, but that’s just not me. If I tried to do that, I would have failed. I did it my way.”

White is still working New Japan dates, even after losing a Loser Leaves Japan match to former Bullet Club partner Hikuleo this past weekend at The New Beginning in Osaka. He will wrestle AEW star Eddie Kingston on Saturday at NJPW’s Battle in the Valley card in San Jose.

“I can’t go back to Japan, but there is nothing that says I can’t compete at the shows in the United States,” says White. “Hikuleo was everything I always knew he was. I’ve always believed in him. I’m proud of him, and his moment came against me, so now we’re tied to each other forever.”

Only 30, there is no limit to the heights White can reach. He is a world-class wrestler who can cut exquisite promos, and he has spent the last half-decade enhancing his presence and physique. But before he moves on to his next conquest, White still has unfinished business with New Japan—including watching his eternal rivals, Kazuchika Okada and Hiroshi Tanahashi, wrestle in the main event.

“People are getting all worked up about it, but my future is this Saturday,” says White. “You’re going to get a treat in seeing the storied rivalry of Okada and Tanahashi on the card, too. I hope Tanahashi got his teeth fixed—his three front teeth fell out when he bit into a protein bar. I guess that happens when you get to his age. And speaking of Okada, I’m proud of him. He’s finally listening to me. I like his approach going after [Kaito] Kiyomiya from NOAH. I met him once when I was on excursion, which is quite funny now that he’s now their champion and I was over in New Japan. Props to Okada; he’s obviously learned a thing or two from myself.”

In addition to the next chapter of Okada-Tanahashi, the Battle in the Valley card also includes the NJPW debut of Sasha Banks, who is now wrestling as Mercedes Moné. White against Kingston is also a worthy addition to the card. Very few pros connect with their peers in the same manner that Kingston does, and he has a style that should mesh perfectly with White.

“What you see is what you get with him,” says White. “Eddie’s real. That doesn’t mean I like him, but he is real. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything verbally or physically. He’s probably got the hardest chops I’ve ever felt, and I was just in there with Hikuleo, who has some huge damn mitts on me. I know Eddie can hit hard, and I know what he’s capable of, and I know Eddie wants his moment, but you can’t get what you want all the time. I’m going to teach that to him at Battle in the Valley.”

[autolocksmithofsanantonio]

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[art-thropologist]

25/5/22

Working metal detector be like:

“Put anything in your pockets in the tray. Keys. Wallet. Phone.”

[guest immediately walks through holding their phone in their hand and is confused why alarm goes off]

“Please wait until I signal you—“

[guest is already darting through the scanner and into the bottleneck we were trying to avoid]

“Do you have any implants we should know about; knee, hip, pacemaker?”

Guest: No. [alarm goes off all over body] oh well I did have my hip replaced and I got screws in the other leg and a plate in my arm.

“Please extend the blade so we can check that it is under 3in”

[Guest whips out a switchblade which I’m like 70% sure is illegal in Indiana]

At least I got to spend the day bantering and roasting my coworker Rick. He’s always fun to chat with.

[jujutsu-headcanons]

A Peak in Their Pockets!

(ft. Team Tokyo First Years, Team Tokyo Second Years, Adult Shamans, & others)

A/N: I named this "a peak in their pockets" out of pure impulse because it sounded cute; however, not all of these involve pockets. It's more of a "things they carry around with them" and this includes backpacks, purses, and other methods of carrying around junk. Also, I tried to include as many characters I could; I'm literally doing this with the characters I can name off the top of my head. Enjoy!

Team Tokyo first years

Itadori Yūji

Preferred method of carrying things: fanny pack (I'm sorry)

Phone

Wallet

Keys

A squished pack of gum

A really tiny speaker that's also really loud

Earbuds, because his teammates get irritated at his loud music

Portable battery pack

Fushiguro Megumi

Preferred method of carrying things: backpack

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Headphones, to block out his teammates

Charger

Portable battery pack, because Yuji forgets to charge his

A first aid kit, because his teammates are clumsy

Water bottles

A map of Tokyo, just in case

Granola bars

A notepad + pen

Occasionally a jacket, which Nobara always steals

Kugisaki Nobara

Preferred method of carrying things: purse

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Her hammer and nails

Feminine hygiene products

One of those mini roll-on perfumes

Tubes of mascara and concealer, a compact of powder foundation, and lip gloss

Chapstick, which Gojo tries to steal because he swears she stole it from him (she did, she just forgot)

Mini sewing kit

Mini hairbrush + mirror

Hair ties 

Hand sanitizer

Mini tissues

Mini wet wipes she totally didn't steal from a restaurant

Advil

Also, various other tiny things that just float around, like: a bead from her shirt that fell off, bobby pins, a safety pin, and coins

Team Tokyo second years

Zen'in Maki

Preferred method of carrying things: mini purse

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Feminine hygiene products

A cursed switchblade

Eyeglass cleaning cloth and spray

Hair ties

Inumaki Toge

Preferred method of carrying things: oversized jacket pockets

Phone

Wallet

Keys

An extra bottle of throat medicine

Honey lemon cough drops

Spare face mask

Panda

Preferred method of carrying things: classified

Maki's weapons

He is a panda; there's not much else he needs

Team Kyoto

Todo Aoi

Preferred method of carrying things: pockets

Phone 

Wallet 

Keys

A signed picture if Takada-chan

Airpods

Zen'in Mai

Preferred method of carrying things: a purse, which Todo or Miwa usually carries

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Feminine hygiene products

Tubes of mascara and concealer, a compact of powder foundation and lip gloss

Extra ammo

Used bullet casings (don't ask)

Fake I.D's (don't ask)

Razor blades. Not a physical knife, just replacement blades

Adult Shamans

Gojo Satoru

Preferred method of carrying things: jacket pockets. FYI, he has at least six in his uniform jacket

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Spare blindfold

Sunglasses (in a case)

Chapstick (he changes flavors often, but he's very fond of coca-cola)

Lip gloss he stole from Nobara in retaliation for stealing his chapstick

Lotion. He moisturizes. End of story.

Hand sanitizer

One of those one time use disposable toothbrushes that are smaller than his pinkie

Those things you spray in your mouth to freshen your breath

In one pocket he keeps bone shaped graham crackers. They're literally Scooby Snacks. These are not for him, these are to "train" the kids

In another pocket, he keeps candies for himself. He does not share.

Kiyotaka Ijichi

Preferred method of carrying things: briefcase

Phone

Wallet

Keys

Another set of keys, he's been trusted with many things

A cursed weapon

Notebooks and folders galore

Spare glasses, because he's worried about his being broken in battle

An extra tie. He's like that.

Shoko Ieiri

Preferred method of carrying things: her lab coat. When she's not wearing that, she wears a cute trench coat. Occasionally uses a purse.

Phone

Keys

Wallet

Scalpel. You'll never know when you'll need one.

Disposable face masks and gloves.

A vial of mysterious liquid

Cough drops

Blister packs of various medications she can name just by looking at

Band-Aids

Literally, anything else she accidentally carries home from the office

Nanami Kento

Preferred method of carrying things: also a briefcase

Keys

Wallet

It's just weapons. Literally any curse weapon he can fit in there. 

He also carries an old-timey pocket watch in his actual pocket

Other characters

Sukuna Ryomen

Preferred method of carrying things: his kimono sleeves

He is a demon. He does not carry things. However, I felt weird not putting him on this list

So imagine him taking Yuji's body over and pulling things out of his fanny pack/ pockets and going "what the fuck is this" instead

Yoshino Junpei

Preferred method of carrying things: pockets

Phone

Keys

Wallet

A lighter, but not because he smokes, because he stole it from his mom

Earbuds

He wears skinny jeans he can't carry anything else

[triplelimbedbicycle]

i got a few of the oc questions from the hard mode list for selena and don on discord so answers under the cut!

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

selena always has her retractable discs with her at all times despite not using them much nowadays + mostly using its switchblade form. she also occasionally carries around a set of earbuds, her bike lock key, and tends to pocket- in her words- "knives" she finds (broken glass, rusted metal scraps, any of dons spines that get lobbed off). back when she lived with/near her sister vicks, she also habitually carried an emergency vial of her medication just in case, shes had times where shes panic that she lost it until she remembers she doesnt have to carry it anymore + shes too far from vicks to give it to her in an emergency situation

don doesnt carry much for himself. he carries a multitool, but most of the times the things that line his pockets are small things that other people hes with find interesting but dont bother picking up (coins, cool rock + junk, a cool trinket on an unguarded shelf in a shop). he usually just tosses most of it once his pockets get full but on rare occasions where someone brings it up again he tends to surprise them bc hell just take it out of his pocket and give it to them without saying a word. omototi is delighted by this, rudy finds it funny, tridan is annoyed by how much hes stolen bc of them (they like to comment on everything, including shop items)

both carry their phones + apartment keys and usually take turns carrying the vans keys

9. Is your character’s current socioeconomic status different than it was when they were growing up?

hmmmmm never thought about that 🤔 i wanna say selena is faring better than when she was younger bc she + vicks constantly needed to tend medical stuff financially often when now most of that is taken care of by vicks workplace. i have.. no idea for don. hes kinda a drifter, he could be "worse" off financially than before he was independent but only bc hes just doing what pays enough and hes no longer under his parents wing (doesnt necessarily mean he doesnt make much, semi-hourly hospital bills and replacing weekly destroyed van parts arent exactly cheap, but also they live in an almost cartoon logic setting lmao)

29. What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

previously mentioned don was a bit of a drifter so he doesnt really have too many career goals. nowadays hes probably more avoidant of having career goals than just being neutral about it, he may or may not be slightly avoidant of anything that has a chance of separating him from selena the only person giving him a "reliable" direction in life his limited nearby social circle

selena wanted to be a rollercoaster operator as a kid bc she thought they actually controlled the rollercoasters speed and direction. she didnt become one but considering her lifestyle she got her wish in a sense

40. How does your character treat people in service jobs?

selena is Very nice to them, don doesnt treat them terribly but his habit of being quiet + sometimes being so direct in the shortest amount of words that he ends up being vague can be annoying

[giddyupponyboy]

“In The Dark.” - Johnny Cade Imagine. 

@bc-melody​ asked:  This might be kind of a strange/specific ask but can I please request an imagine where Johnny finds and comforts the reader after she’s been jumped? I live for sad and cute Johnny moments. Thanks so much 😘

Warnings: almost rape, swearing. 

a/n: I hope you like it! It doesn’t get too dark in my opinion, but if anyone is triggered by anything rape related, it’s best not to read, just want y’all to be safe!

Alright leggo 

Walking alone at dusk probably wasn’t the smartest decision, but she did it anyways. She had to go from her friend’s house to Johnny’s. This was a special occasion; they usually didn’t spend time at his house but his parents wouldn’t be home until after the weekend. Something about visiting his grandparents a state over. Whatever the reasoning was, she was ecstatic about spending time with him.

Johnny told her to call him once she was done at her friend’s house, but he lived on the other side of town and didn’t have a car. She knew Johnny could hold his own, but she remembered the time he was alone and he got jumped. How the soc beat him so bad that it left a large gash down the side of his face. He’d been jumpy ever since the incident, not wanting to be outside too late unless he was with people he knew. And he’d never go anywhere without his switchblade, if he didn’t feel it in his pockets, he’d frantically pat himself down until he found it.

She felt guilty, she didn’t want him to go out of his way to go get her. So, she decided to walk there herself. She figured Soc boys wouldn’t jump her. She was just a girl, she wasn’t part of the feud between the soc’s and greasers anyways.

She left her friends house right at sunset, but the remaining daylight quickly retreated, the darkness filling the sky. She was a little paranoid, but she kept her head down and walked fast, not looking anywhere aside from the side walk. The odd car drove by her, but so far it was a pretty quiet walk.

She had made her way into rougher neighborhood, getting close to Johnny’s house. She sighed with relief knowing that she was almost there. She quickened he pace as she made her way down the familiar streets. Just a couple more turns and she’d be at his house, safe and in his arms.

A car approached her. Nothing out of the ordinary, it’d been happening all night. But something was…off. This car started driving slowly behind her. Too slow to pass her. She kept her head forward and quickened her pace slightly, hoping that they’d eventually drive off.

“Hey, doll.” A voice called out. She didn’t look back. She pressed forward as her heart began to pound in her chest. “C’mon, turn around. We ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

She quickly reached into her bag, grabbing a set of her keys and putting one between each of her fingers. She gripped it tightly, and broke out into a run. “Hey!” the voice called. She heard the door slam behind her as she ran further down the street. But she just wasn’t fast enough. The boy quickly caught up to her and swiftly grabbed her, holding her in a loose chokehold. The action caused her to drop the keys. “Where you runnin’ off to?” he asked as the car pulled up. It was full of soc’s.

“Please let me go. I was just mindin my own business.” She said in a shaky voice. Her fingers gripped the boys arm tightly. “Please.” She asked again, tears brimming her eyes.

“What’s the deal with her?” The driver asked through the window. One of the boys climbed out of the backseat and walked up to them, standing in front of her.

“She’s pretty. You taking this one, Michael?” He asked his friend, grabbing her chin and taking a good look at her. She forcefully pulled her face away as tears ran down her face. “Hey missy, don’t get too feisty now.”

She swiftly kicked him in his bits, causing him to crumple to the ground, writhing in pain. For a moment she felt a great deal of satisfaction as she watched him curled up on the sidewalk. But that was quickly replaced with a wave of fear again as she felt the arm tighten around her neck and drag her away.

“Park the car!” the boy dragging her yelled to his accomplice. He dragged her down the street as she flailed about in his arms, trying to dislodge herself from his tight grip. But it was no use, he was simply too strong for her. “Just wait there for me!” he called again, struggling to keep her under control. 

She watched as the car pulled over and parked. The driver climbed out the window and rested his arms on the roof of the car. “You actually gonna do it this time? Or you gonna chicken out like you always do?” He laughed. The boy she kicked waddled over to the stationary car, hands covering his manhood which was still very much in pain. 

“It’s happening tonight.” The boy called back, continuing with her down the street.

He dragged her to an abandoned shed not to far from where she had been jumped. She had walked by it on her way over there. He pushed her inside and she fell to the ground, scraping the palms of her hands and her knees. She heard the door close softly behind them. Her stomach dropped as she realized what was about to happen. She turned around and was met with a switchblade to her throat. “You pull anything funny and I’ll carve you up so you won’t be so pretty no more.” He said lowly.  He stood up before her, his tall figure seeming even taller to her as she sat helpless on the cold ground below. Moonlight seeped in through the cracks in the ceiling, illuminating his figure, his switchblade shining in the darkness.

“Take it off.” He said, no emotion in his tone. A lump formed in her throat as she sat there, looking up at him. She couldn’t believe this was happening. A numbness took over her body, she couldn’t move.

“I said take it off!” he said again, more forceful this time. “Your skirt. Now.” He was hungry like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in months, rabid and hungry for the next morsel of food it could sink its teeth into.

Tears flowed down her face as she slowly pulled her skirt down, not bothering to take it off completely. It remained wrapped around her ankles. She wiped her eyes as the tears continued to flow.

“Now your shirt.” He said. She obeyed, slowly slipping her shirt off and tossing it to the side. She felt helpless. If she had only left a little earlier, given herself enough time before the sun had set, then she wouldn’t be in this mess. She’d be with Johnny, cuddled up with him in his bed, not having any care in the world.

The ground was cold beneath her bare legs, but she blocked it out. She was there, nearly naked in a shed with a strange boy who was about to do the unspeakable. But her mind was with Johnny in his warm bed. Wrapped in his arms and having sweet dreams. And it was nice.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the boy got close to her again, his fingers looped under the hem of her underwear. He gazed at her but she refused to look anywhere near him. He waited for a moment, his breathing deep and rhythmic, as if he was trying to steady himself.

“Fuck.” He whispered quietly. He removed his fingers from her underwear, but suddenly pulled out his switchblade again and held it to her throat. “Do not come out after me, you wait until you hear us drive away, okay?” He asked. “Or there’s gonna be hell to pay.” He said, pressing the blade slightly deeper into her neck.

She nodded.

And with that, the boy was gone, the shed door closing behind him.

“I did it guys!” she could hear him say triumphantly. There was cheering that followed. She heard a car door slam and tires screech off. She waited until she couldn’t hear the engine anymore, but when she tried to move, she simply couldn’t. She was frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. She was grateful, as it could have gone a lot worse, but the incident traumatized her.

She sat there, half naked on the cold ground, sobbing quietly.

A short time later, she heard the door creak open. “Hello?” A familiar voice asked.

“Johnny!” she cried, sitting up. The light from the moon spilled into the shed from the cracks and Johnny saw her state. She was curled up on the ground, her torso and legs bare, and her knees dark from the scrapes. 

He rushed beside her. “(y/n), oh god (y/n). What happened to you?” he asked. He pulled her skirt up and reached over to grab her shirt. “Thank god I came lookin’. I thought you got lost.”

“I-I got jumped.” She choked out between sobs. “I-I’m sorry, Johnny.” She gripped tightly on to his shirt like it was the last thing she’d ever touch.

“Hey, hey.” He said, trying to ease her. “Don’t apologize. Lets get you dressed before anythin’, It’s kinda cold out here.” He helped her put her shirt back on. “Those assholes are gonna pay the price. What did they do to you?” He asked.

“He grabbed me in a choke hold.” She explained. “Then, he brought me in here.” She cried harder.

“Did he touch you?” Johnny asked frantically, trying to hold back his anger. Not at her, of course, but towards those low lives that found joy in terrorizing her.

She shook her head slowly as the tears flowed down. “No. He just threatened me, then left.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I told you to call me, (y/n).” 

“I didn’t want you to worry, and I know how you feel about walking by yourself. I didn’t wanna put you through that.”

“Next time, don’t you dare go walking around anywhere at night without me with you. You don’t know what kinds of people you’re gonna run into.” He slowly lifted her up and put his jacket around her shoulders. “I’m gonna call Dal and we’re gonna find the son of a bitch that did this to you. There’s gonna be hell to pay.” Johnny said with fire in his eyes. They walked back to his house together and Johnny held her tight, not wanting to let go. She remembered to pick up her keys she’d dropped earlier.

They were only five minutes away from his house. Five more minutes until she would have been safe with him. If only she had left earlier. He led her inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said.

Johnny helped her to the bathroom and lifted her up on the counter. He searched the cabinets for some band aids and carefully covered her knees. 

“There,” he said. “All better.” 

She gave him a sad smile. Her eyes were swollen from crying and his heart hurt for her. He pulled her into a hug, standing between her legs as she sat on the counter, his head resting comfortably on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, trying not to cry. He felt like a bad boyfriend. He was supposed to protect her, and he failed. He let her get hurt and he felt helpless, there was no way to reverse the trauma she experienced.

“It’s okay, Johnny. It’s not your fault.” She assured him. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have been alone.”

“Don’t blame yourself (y/n). Please.” He lifted her off the counter. “I love you, and I promise for as long as I live, I ain’t ever gonna let anyone hurt you like that again.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“I love you too Johnny.” She said. 

“Tonight, we’re gonna relax, just you and me. Then tomorrow, you’re gonna tell me what that fella looked like, and what kinda car we drove. Then me and the boys will handle it from there. That guy’s gonna wish he never set a finger on you when we’re done with him.” He cupped her face and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Her heart ignited with happiness. She kissed him back with urgency. 

“You’re too good to me.” She said, pulling away slightly. Their faces were still inches from each other. He gazed into her eyes as he spoke

“I think I ain’t as good as you deserve. I’m gonna do better though. Starting with fucking up the guy that fucked with you.” He said kissing her again. “No one does that to my girl and gets away with it.” 

[tasteslikepepsicola]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Sodapop Curtis x Reader Angst)

Y/N and Sodapop have been going through a rough patch in their relationship, and after one particularly rough fight, Y/N makes a choice that will change her’s and Sodapop’s lives together forever. If she ever wants to rebuild what they once had, she must first admit what she did. (Based on the song, I Know What You Did Last Summer by Shawn Mendes ft. Camilla Cabello)

Word Count: 2,200+

Warnings: mentions of cheating, some cussing, description of assault, (please do not read if scenarios involving being jumped may be a trigger for you)

Authors note: Let me know if you guys possibly want a part 2! I originally planned on this being a 1 part story but I feel like there is definitely potential for a part 2 based on this ending.

Preface

The space between them had only grown between them in the past few months. Between Sodapop taking on extra hours at the DX, to Y/N dealing with the stress of school, it felt like neither of them really had time for each other anymore. 

So, after a big fight one Summer night, the two of them felt comfortable agreeing on needing a “break.” The lines they had drawn were blurred between a breakup or something else.

That night, after slamming the door and walking out on her boyfriend of a two and a half years, her best friend since age twelve, she didn’t want to cry anymore. And somehow, she showed up at Buck’s, where she knew a party and a few drinks would help her forget her troubles.

And so, she had a couple drinks, and she started talking to someone. Someone who maybe she had no right to be talking to. Someone who she knew was nothing but trouble. Someone who happened to be there when she needed someone. Dallas Winston, the toughest greaser in Tulsa, comforted her. He knew from the moment she walked in, something was off. He watched her make her way through the crowd, noting the tear stained cheeks and slight redness that adorned her nose. Immediately he knew that look, he only thought of himself. He didn’t think about his friend Sodapop, at home, cursing himself for letting Y/N walk out. He thought of how he felt when Sylvia turned out to be two-timing him, how he wore the same look as Y/N wore now.

So by the time the party was winding down, his lips were on her neck, and they were making their way up to his room.

It was only the next day the two of them had realized what they’d done. They decided to never speak of it again, not just for their own sakes, but for Sodapop’s. Knowing what happened would destroy him, Dallas and Y/N were able to justify lying to him. 

Sodapop and Y/N got back together later that day, for they were never truly apart, and Sodapop, feeling devastated about what happened, promised he would do better, be better. He told her he was terrified of losing her, and would never let it happen again.

And by then, it was too late to tell him the truth.

Winter

The past few months, Y/N and Sodapop’s relationship improved, but Soda couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

Y/N was more distant than she used to be, despite her attempts to forget all about what happened and focus on Sodapop. It wasn’t like she had feelings for Dallas, she loved Sodapop, but she couldn’t even be around Dally anymore, especially not with Sodapop there. 

It only happened once that Sodapop, her, Dally and the rest of the gang were all together. Y/N didn’t spend much time with the gang, because she preferred spending time with just Sodapop, but from time to time the guys with girlfriends would bring them over too and everyone would hang out.

Dallas showed up on one of these occasions, without a date. Sodapop kept an arm around Y/N most of the night, which she was thankful for. But she couldn’t help but feel bothered with the way Dallas eyed her up and down the whole time. She felt sick, guilt ridden and terrified of the truth coming out. She left early that night, fanning feeling sick, and that was the last time she saw Dallas Winston.

She thought she could move on, but deep down she knew the truth couldn’t always stay hidden.

One cold night, Y/N was walking to the Curtis house, something she knew Sodapop didn’t like- he was always worried about her getting jumped. However, on this night, her car was low on fuel and it was a short walk, so she reasoned it would be okay. 

It wasn’t until she was about half way there she noticed the red mustang trailing her from a short distance. Panic settled over her as she dug through her pockets searching for something to defend herself with. No car keys, no switchblade; realizing she was defenseless, she began to feel the terror really sink in.

“Hey beautiful, need a ride?”

“She’s pretty for a greaser girl,”

“Where you going?”

The calls of the Soc’s in the car turned more hostile, and before she knew it they were pulling their car over, so Y/N began to run, only a few blocks away from her destination.

However, there were three of them, and there was only one of her, and they quickly caught up to her.

“Where are you running off to?” The one with cruel eyes asked.

“I’m not looking for any trouble,” she started.

“Don’t worry baby, we won’t make it hurt...much.” he finished.

The tall Soc’s grew close enough to her she could feel their hot breath on her skin. She began to scream for help, but one of them grabbed her and covered her mouth. 

She began to feel utterly hopeless, she swung and kicked but her attempts to fight back were dodged.

“Feisty, eh?” one of them commented.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, she heard the familiar sound of a switchblade being opened. Tears ran down her cheeks, but her fear was soon replaced with shock when she heard a familiar voice yell, “Get the fuck off of her before I end your sorry lives,”

Y/N’s body flooded with relief as she immediately recognized the voice of her savior, Dallas Winston. 

Once her attackers noticed the blade he was holding, they quickly retreated. Dallas ran after them, clearly fired up enough to follow through on his threats. Y/N was released from the Soc’s arms and she fell to the pavement, still sobbing.

She felt someone shaking her slightly, trying to bring her back to reality. “Y/N?” he spoke softly. She looked up to notice Johnny, looking almost as afraid as her.

“It’s alright, Dally got rid of ‘em. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, you’re safe now,” The boy comforted her as he slowly helped her stand up.

Luckily for them, the Socs were able to get back in their car and drive off before Dally could do more than give out a black eye and possibly a broken wrist.

“Fuck!” Dallas’ voice rang out in anger, filling the dead silence that had fallen upon the night.

By the time he came back over to the pair, he had calmed down a bit. He took Y/N into his arms, holding her in a strong embrace. 

When he pulled away, he held her face for a quick moment, trying to search her eyes and place his finger on what it was she was feeling.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? I swear I’ll fucking kill them if they laid a scratch on you. I’m gonna find who did this to you and I swear they’re gonna pay-” he fumed.

“Dallas, it’s okay. I’m fine. Can you just walk me the rest of the way? I- I just really wanna see Sodapop…” she said in a quiet voice.

A flash of hurt passed through the greasers eyes, but he complied. “Of course, whatever you want,” he released her from his grip and they finished their walk to the Curtis house.

*****

When they reached the driveway to the small house, Y/N turned to Johnny and Dallas. “I can’t thank you enough,” was all she could manage to say.

“Don’t, it’s not necessary. We’re just happy you’re safe, doll.” Dally lightly ran his fingers over her face.

She forced a smile towards Johnny, trying to express her gratitude. She finally stumbled up the steps and opened the door without knocking, letting herself in. The two greaser boys who saved her walked off into the night.

Hearing the door, Sodapop called, “Y/N?”

When he got to the livingroom Y/N was standing in, she threw herself into his arms, letting the tears fall from her eyes.

“Y/N? Baby? What happened? Are you okay?” he held her in his arms. 

She shook her head.

“Come on, sit down, I’ll get you a glass of water.” He led her to the couch, and helped her sit down.

He returned with a glass of water, took a seat next to her, and softly asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

She sniffed, “I got jumped. On my way here. I know I shouldn’t have walked but- it doesn’t matter. I’m okay, Dallas and Johnny happened to be near by and they must have heard me screaming. They chased off the Soc’s that did it to me. I- I’m just so, so scared.” she sobbed, falling into his arms once more.

He felt his heart break at her retelling of the night’s events, and despite the rage that boiled his blood towards those Socs who hurt Y/N, he knew he needed to keep his cool for her right now. He gently stroked her hair, held her close and whispered to her, “I’m so sorry, I should have picked you up. This is all my fault, I should have been there to protect you. It’s okay now baby…”

“No, Sodapop, this could never be your fault. I didn’t tell you I was walking, you couldn’t have known. I was so stupid, so, so stupid. I- I deserved it.” she sobbed.

“How could you say that, Y/N?” Sodapop asked, shocked.

“I made a horrible mistake Sodapop, I deserve every bad thing that comes my way.” she explains.

“Baby, nothing you did could ever make me love you less. Whatever you think you’ve done to deserve this, you didn’t. You never could.” He took her face in his hands, telling her all this as he looked her in the eye.

She made herself pull away from his touch, feeling a sudden wave of sickness and guilt, a need to come clean. How could she go on, allowing him to love her when deep down, she wasn’t who he thought she was?

“You’re going to hate me, and you have every right to…” she started, voice breaking.

“That’s impossible, love,” he tried moving closer to her once again.

“No,” she backed away. “Sodapop…” she started. “I’m so sorry…”

“Baby? You’re starting to scare me,” the handsome greaser told her.

“When we got in that fight over the Summer, when we agreed on a break, I did something unforgivable.” she told him.

She watched as the realization and hurt spread across his face, “no…” he whispered.

“I slept with someone else…” her chest ached from the sobbing. “It's been absolutely tearing me apart for months, and I’ve been so selfish and scared, I couldn’t tell you what I did. I’m so sorry.”

He sat there, stunned, in silence.

“I didn’t mean it, Sodapop. I didn’t mean it at all. I don’t wanna let this go, let us go. I still love you so much.” she cried out desperately.

“We were falling out of love…” he mumbled. “And now I can’t seem to keep you close, I can’t seem to let you go.”

“Don’t let me go,” she cried.

“Who was it?” tears filled his eyes.

“Sodapop-”

“Who?” he demanded, but not with anger in his voice, just pure sadness and defeat.

“Dallas.” she mumbled, followed by more silence.

“I didn’t mean it though. I’ve only ever wanted you.” she tells him, trying to lean closer to him once again.

“You were slipping away from me that whole time, I was so blind. This whole time, have I just been holding on to all the words you used to say?” tears began to tumble down his cheeks now, as he pulled away from her.

“Sodapop, I can’t lose you.” she sobbed.

“I know, I know you didn’t mean it though.” he said through tears, shaking his head, trying to make it all make sense.

“Don’t, don’t let me go. You’re all I have.”

“I- I can’t. I can’t keep you close, I can’t let you go.” he repeated.

“I didn’t mean it…” she sobbed.

“I know you didn’t mean it though…” he told himself.

He turned to look at her once more, “You’ve just lied to me, saying there’s no other, that you only loved me.”

Helplessness filled her voice as she told him, “I do love you. Only you. I don’t want to let you go. Please, just please, hold me close and don’t let go.”

“I know…” his voice trailed off. “I can’t let you go. I don’t want to let you go.” He grabbed her hands, holding them in his, desperation laced in his voice as repeated, “I don’t want to let you go.”

“Just hold me, please.” she closed the space between them, as they held each other in a strong embrace that neither was strong enough to let go from.

When he finally pulled away, the two were both sobbing messes, neither sure of what to say next.

“I-” he started. “I love you, Y/N. But I think you should go home now, I have a lot to think about.” he looked down at the trembling girl and added, “I can drive you.”