#I couldn't pick between the glowing image and the normal one up there so.. both

[late-night-vocaloid]

Rikka, Kiritan, Una, and Maki || VVV Music Live

[babylooneytoonz]

Green is Your Colour

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader is Isaiah Jesus' older sister, still much younger than Tommy however. They always had this platonic and not implicit flirt going on, but one night they are alone and they just can’t keep going on with the platonic attraction they both have for each other, they have to do something.

Warnings: Physical Abuse

Requested By: @thepeakygurl ( I tried my best, hope you like it! 💗 )

Almost growing up with the Shelby's had changed your outlook towards life, especially when you were usually joined to the hip with the two, Isaiah, your younger brother, and Finn. Your family was never welcomed into the society, and you knew it, but ever since you met the Shelby's, they had formed like a halo over you, an invisible coating, that kept you protected from anyone who didn't see you for the person that you were. They made you feel normal and accepted, and you were thankful to them for it.

There were a few incidents, that you remembered at the back of your mind, that caused shivers to run down your spine, and sometimes, hatred brew inside the pit of your stomach, causing it to churn, but the Shelby's made sure that your family was shielded, as much as possible.

"Finn, what the fuck happened?" Tommy Shelby's voice was chastising, as he stood over Finn, looking down at the cuts adorning his pale, ashen face, his face almost shaking in disappointment, as he walked up to Isaiah, "Will you bloody speak? Or have the two of you decided to keep mute going forward?"

The three of you hung your heads, partly with shame, but you more so because you didn't want Tommy to notice the way your glasses were cracked at the edge and a tiny bruise was already forming on your left eye, giving you a black eye. It was good that the lights to the Shelby's office were dimmed out and he couldn't really see your face.

"It's nothing, got into a fight, that's all. You don't have to keep asking me, yeah?"

Tommy couldn't help narrow his eyes at his youngest brother, and neither could you refrain from giving him a side glance, the small movement of your head causing Tommy to notice and finally turn towards you, his eyes now on you, a watchful gaze in the blue of them.

"Will you tell me? Your brother probably picked his side, and looks like he sided with my brother," he side glanced towards Isaiah.

"It wasn't their fault, Mr. Shelby."

Your voice came out weaker than you had imagined, immediately causing you to draw your eyes shut and shoot in some air through your mouth , only to exhale. "I should have known this would happen. Well, they, uh, we got into a fight at that seamstress shop on the next street."

"Fight about what?" Tommy asked.

Isaiah finally spoke up, and you could feel a knot on the side of your thigh where his fists were clenched together hard. "All my sister wanted was to admire that dress on display."

Tommy understood; you heard him exhale, almost very softly, but there was a thick silence suddenly. A sound of a match lighting filled the room, Tommy's face now glowing a bright orange as he lit the cigarette stick in his mouth, smoke coiling around him like dense smog. Once he had taken a drag of the cigarette, his hand came to rest on Isaiah's shoulder as he patted it once, "Take your sister home, your father must be worried about the two of you, ey?"

"Yeah, yes, Mr. Shelby." Isaiah turned towards you, and you, keeping your head hung, slowly sneaked past the two, feeling Tommy's eyes on you, as your silhouette disappeared out through the door.

Once Isaiah and you had left, Tommy sent Finn back to the living quarters, for he wanted to be alone. The lads had all left an hour back and Tommy was the only one in the empty office now. He made his way to his office, darting towards his liquor cabinet until he had poured himself some whiskey in a glass. Sitting down finally, letting his head rest against the leather of the chair, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, Tommy blinked, his thoughts running like a haywire. There was a perplexity in his mind, stuck to him like a disease and he couldn't shake it away, no matter how hard he tried. It was like the war again, he wanted to hard to go back home, but he was trapped in those tunnels miles away from home.

The clock kept ticking, and the hours passed, slowly yet Tommy kept sitting there, the bottle of whiskey now almost gone. The Sun had began to draw up, the faint orange hue filling up the quiet streets of Birmingham. Tommy had fallen asleep, his chest heaving up and down, and it was perhaps after ages that he had had a night when the nightmares had not tortured him, when his eyes fluttered open, thanking the sunlight that was falling over his face.

He groaned and grumbled, swiping his palm over his face, looking at the time in his pocket watch. It was 7, two hours before the lads will start piling in and he will sucked in to work. He had someplace to be.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

Tommy found himself leaning against the streetlight, a lit cigarette in his fingers as his hand mechanically moved back and forth his lips. A satisfied look rested on his face, his eyes fixed on the Peaky boys in front of him, that were thrashing up two men outside a seamstress' shop. Upon taking the last bit of smoke, he let it drop, his hand reaching for his cap as he pulled it off the top of his head. With slow steps, he walked up to where the lads were holding the two men, their faces now covered in blood, who were now pleading to be let go.

"This is our city. And they are one of us. You should 'ave thought of the bloody outcome before you decided to meddle with their business."

"But Mr. Shelby, t-trust us, we didn't know they were associated with y-you," one of them stammered, coughing up blood.

"Lads, take them away. And make sure they know who this fucking city belongs to." Tommy waved his palm in the air, moving past the men until he had vanished into the shop behind them.

You sighed, staring at your hands. Your hands still trembled, and tears relentlessly streamed down your cheeks when you remembered how the men had tried to hit you, assault you, forgetting the fact that you were a woman. Had Finn and Isaiah not stepped in, by chance being someplace around, you didn't want to think of the gruesome images that propped in the back of your mind, the things that would have perhaps happened to you.

You looked at the bruise on your arm, where one of the men had grabbed you and jerked you so hard, it felt your arm would break off. It was now turning blue. A pained sigh escaped your lips, forcing you to jerk your head up to look at your face in the mirror, a small cut had formed over the side of your lip, trailing down towards your throat, and you had a black eye.

You didn't want to go out, but there were chores you had to do. Life didn't stop, no matter what happened. That's something your father, Jeremiah, always said. Dressing up without the will to do so, wearing a simple white blouse, you stepped out of your apartment.

You worked as a florist, your tiny squabble of a shop centred a few shops away from the seamstress lodgings, the one where that incident had taken place yesterday. This was one place that you felt like yourself; that you were free, and were only judged once you stepped out of the confines of the shop. Although none of the Shelby's never said anything, to either you or to Isaiah, but deep down, you knew, that it was because of them no one really bothered you at the shop. It was the understanding and the friendship between your father and Thomas Shelby, you had a place which you can term as your safe haven, and you were finally doing something you always wanted to do.

You didn't realize when, lost in your own deep thoughts, you almost crossed the seamstress shop, until something didn't feel right. You lifted your eyes, fixing your gaze on the shop that looked like it had been taken down, the racks that hung the beautiful dresses now looked empty and all the beautiful silks and the chiffons were gone. Men were walking in and out, no one bothering to even look up at you until one of them caught your eye.

You didn't understand what John was doing in there.

And then you saw him, your brother lurking back with a few of the Peaky boys, and Finn.

Clearing your throat, you pushed your way through the lads, minding your own business, until you stepped into the shop, your eyes raking the interiors, the wallpapers that had already been taken off, and the walls were being painted a pristine white.

"Whatever happened to the seamstress that worked here?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Mr. Shelby bought this shop."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, nodding towards your own brother.

"Does he want to open another pub in here? What about the Garrison?" You asked again, innocently.

Finn almost gave you a tight lipped smile, that you noted, but decided not to comment on. Isaiah only parted his lips, a warm smile now draping over them, "Well it's ours. Yours technically. You're not to bloody run that squabble of a flower shop that you run down the street."

The first few hours of that day were spent in shock and then denial, that you couldn't accept it; and it wasn't right. But when Isaiah told you that Mr. Shelby had made up his mind, and he wanted you to have the shop, you did accept it in the end. The next day was spent decorating the shop, putting up your flower stands, and making sure that it was ready to be opened up again. The third day was, well, it was spend sitting in your shop, your apron wrapped around your frame, your mind thinking of ways in which you could thank Thomas Shelby in, and express your gratitude.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

You finally decided on mustering up the courage to finally walk up to him and thank him, after your day ended. By the lunch hour, the people in your shop had left, and you were left in peace to finally relax and bask in the freshness and the fragrance that the flower stands emitted. You sat back against your chair, resting your head against the leather when the jingling of the bell caused you to flutter your eyes open, and your eyes to widen momentarily, your cheeks turning scarlet red.

"Mr. Shelby?"

"Call me Tommy." Although his voice sounded curt, it wasn't rude or arrogant, this was simply the way he spoke. You nodded, and he walked in, shutting the door behind you.

"How can I help you?" You asked him with a warm smile, ignoring the sudden thumping in your heart.

You were sure you caught a small hint of a smile on the man's lips, and it was easier to read because he hardly ever did that. But just as faint the smile was, it vanished when he stepped closer.

"How did this happen?"

His palm reached up to your face, his thumb grazing over the bruise underneath your left eye, and you flinched slightly, not from the touch, but from the realization that you had forgotten all about your pretty obvious injuries. You took a sharp breath, and bit the insides of your cheeks.

"Those men, they tried to– "

Tommy Shelby's eyes darkened, and you felt his demeanour shift to more rigid, his body stiffening.

"Never again."

"What?" You asked, when you heard him mutter in a low voice.

"Never again would anyone fucking dare to do that."

A sudden flush crept over you, and you were sure you were blushing scarlet in front of him, so you drew your eyes away for a bit, fixing your gaze on a set of peonies right next to him.

"Come with me. Close the shop and come with me– ," he suddenly said, out of the blue and caused you to snap your head back at him. You were planning to find him after your shift yourself, but now here he was, asking you to come with him, and you had no idea where.

"– Please."

Your heart almost skipped a beat. The please was the softest you had ever heard from him.

"Alright, five minutes," you replied, your mind in a daze.

"Where are we going, Mr. Shelby?" Five minutes later, you tugged on your coat to pull it tighter against your frame, as the winter chill was biting down on you. Thomas Shelby was walking next to you with a lit cigarette in his hand.

"The office. I needed your help with something, hope that isn't a bother?"

"Mhm, not at all." You smiled back.

After a few minutes, you stepped into his office and the first thing he did was help you out of your coat, and you thanked him politely before you followed him through his office. A few of the Peaky boys were still there, and your eyes met with Isaiah who gave you a look that pretty much was asking you what you were doing here, so you gave him a look back that said that you were just doing what he asked you to, your eyes pointing towards Tommy, who was walking in front of you.

Tommy cleared his throat, as he switched on the lights of his office, and immediately your throat went dry, your breathing hitching slightly. There was a whole rack of dresses in there, the ones that you had been admiring at the seamstress shop. Tommy's gaze followed yours as he noticed you looking at the dresses, and he let his lips curve into a smile, knowing you weren't looking.

"Can you, eh, help me out? There's, well, a woman I fancy who I wanted to give these to. I was wondering if she would, eh, like it?"

You didn't know where this feeling had gnawed out from. You knew it but you didn't want to believe it. When you heard his words, the smile that was playing on your lips broke suddenly, a dry lump forming in your throat. Of course he had another woman. He only needed your help.

"I,uh– " Words didn't fall out of your lips, and you were afraid he would notice how your eyes had now a glossy sheen on them, so you averted your gaze and slowly walked up to the dresses, admiring them, your fingers brushing through the satin fabric of one of the green ones, "These are lovely Thomas, of course she would love it."

He gave you a faint nod, and you stepped away, running your hand awkwardly through your hair. A sudden hushed silence fell over and you slowly stepped away, looking towards the door. "Well, I should leave with Isaiah now. And Mr. Shelby, thank you. For what you did for me."

You didn't wait for him to reply, but rather, you hurriedly turned your tail, and took a deep breath, slowly walking out. You didn't know why, but your heart was hurting now, and you didn't know why you were feeling this sudden dejection inside of you, for you had never seen him in any other way before.

"Wait."

His words caused you to abruptly stop, your hand on the doorframe, but your back turned towards him. You didn't turn around, for a loose tear had managed to slide down your cheek, and you didn't want him to see it.

"Would you take these dresses with you or shall I send one of the lads?" There was a hint of a teasing in his voice.

You turned around, your eyes widened.

"I– "

He finally walked up to where you were standing by the door, and almost leaned in, until his lips were directly above your ear, and he whispered softly, "I'll send them over love. They're yours."

"Thomas, I– "

His index finger pressed against your lips, almost grazing over the dried up cut.

"Wear the green tomorrow, I'll pick you up from your shop at 8 eh?"

You nodded, your lower lip trembling underneath his touch, and a sudden shiver running through your body. It felt like you were frozen in time, and hypnotized. Isaiah's voice finally snapped you out of the trance you were in, followed by his head poking in as he asked if you were ready to leave, and you nodded.

Once again, as you were about to step out through the door, you hurriedly turned towards him, and noticed that he had settled into his desk, so you blurted out, your words coming out so fast, it felt as though you were hyperventilating.

"Is this a date?"

He sat back, his fingers toying with the box of cigarettes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Aren't you a slow bloomer, love? Remember to wear that green. Green is definitely your colour."

You bite your lip, unconsciously, and nodded, finally walking away from him, but you had the warmest of smiles on your face. You were nervous, how it was going to go, for people weren't going to welcome whatever little you had with Thomas Shelby, and they were probably going to abhor it. But you were also happy, that this man had chosen you, by his own free will, and was finally treating you like you actually deserved. You closed your eyes, hoping that this would actually last.

You didn't know if green was really your colour, but green somehow did become your favourite colour the minute Tommy Shelby asked you to wear it.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

A/N : I'm sorry this turned out pretty long, hope you guys liked this.💚

Tommy Shelby Permanent Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@baumarvel

Want to be added to my permanent taglist? Please fill the form here. 💗

[urlocalfrogmammy]

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it—ronald speirs

inspired by

(and my 12-1am contemplation)

@yeahcurrahee : Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Ronald Speirs imagine with the prompt “you can’t keep avoiding your problems!” “i avoid you well enough!”? Thank you!

when your feeling utterly lost, speirs shows you a side you're not used to seeing.

literally started writing this as sOON as i got the request because i was listening to the song and i was like 👀. not re-read it, not cut it down. my pure, unfiltered 12am thoughts. word count 2k because i don't know where to stop at this time. i hope u enjoy it <3 thank u for the request

there was a soft breeze that blew the sheer curtains. the doors to the balcony had been left open the night before, you couldn't be bothered closing them before slipping into your silk sheets. now, the rays of sunshine cast a heavenly glow on the marble floor of your room, and believing in a god no longer felt foolish to you. you, however, were not exactly feeling like you belonged in the paradise of that austrian hotel room. you'd spent your night tossing and turning, stripping layers of clothes off in cold sweats between nightmares. you now lay wearily in your bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep as well as everyone else. you were a lieutenant, for christ's sake. you were supposed to be training the men to go to war once again. but you were haunted by the images of the war. you'd seen almost all your friends injured or dead. chuck grant with his head shot, bill and joe with their legs missing, gordon paralysed, hoobler bleeding out, jackson in that dingy basement, skip and penkala being blown up—

breathe, you told yourself.

now you could barely look your men in the face without feeling guilty for sending them off to the hell you'd experienced. you had the points. you could go home. but you knew in your heart you'd forever feel ashamed if you left now. your head, being wiser, knew that you'd forever feel guilty for leading these men back into combat, after they'd earned long and happy lives.

instead of worrying about your inner conflict, you lay and stared up at the lighting fixture. there were three lightbulbs, surrounded by tulip-shaped lampshades. they were edged with gold, and they reflected in the light. you stared and stared, until your eyes began to drop. a bang on your door startled you, and you called: "i'm naked!"

ron speirs came barging into the room. "lieutenant what the hell are you playing at?"

see, the awkward thing was that you really were naked. you grasped the sheets to pull over your bare chest and a small squeak cane out of your throat. "i told you i was naked sir!" speirs awkwardly stood in your room like he was lost in the middle of a jungle and had stumbled into a foreign camp. he slowly prowled towards the dresser, lifting up a jewel encrusted brush you'd snagged and holding it up to the light. the reflection was cast on the wall opposite, leaving a glowing pattern on the cream walls. you sat up onto your elbow and stared at your captain. you weren't blind, you knew he was handsome in a sort of rugged way, but the delicate light from those french doors radiated a celestial glow onto him, making his appear angelic. you watched as speirs fumbled with the silver box of pins, trying to figure out how to open it. a soft click confirmed he'd succeeded and he peered inside, unimpressed at the contents of the box.

you wanted to scream. you wanted to tell the man to get out your room. but instead, you just observed him as a glint from your bedside table caught his eye. slowly approaching both you and the bedside table, he lifted up the best thing you'd snagged. a diamond necklace, four diamonds thick, with tendrils of diamonds hanging down from it. you knew it was worth a small fortune, because it was one of the most luxurious pieces of jewellery you'd ever seen. looking down on you, ron leaned down and held it up to your bare neck. "it's pretty."

"thank you." your voice was breathless, ron had taken that away. standing back up and letting the necklace clatter on the glass tabletop, ron's demeanour returned to normal. "are you going to get dressed?" you simply pointed to behind the door.

ron's footfalls were the only thing heard in the room as he grabbed the silk robe from the back of the door and chucked it at you. you caught it with one hand, and ron turned around to give you some privacy. he heard you place yourself back on the bed before telling him you were decent. as he turned back around to look at you, he swore he'd never seen anyone as ethereal as you in that moment. your hair was down, something he had never seen before, and it caught the light. your eyes gleamed as the looked at him, sparkling with something he couldn't recognise. your cheeks were flushed and your lips looked soft. “you’re not sleeping.”

“of cour—”

“you’ve got dark circles.”

he watched as you scoffed, walking over to the dressing table mirror and peering into it. “maybe i’d get less stressed if i was tested less.”

picking up the hairbrush, you slowly began to pull it through your hair. ron watched your reflection in the mirror. “why are you here, captain speirs?”

“why aren’t you with your men?” you paused, hissing as you got to a knot in your hair you couldn’t untangle, right at the back of your head. ron felt an insatiable urge, and indulged himself in it. taking the brush from your hands, your hair was like silk in between his fingers. he dragged the hairbrush through your hair slowly, and your head tilted back towards the movement of the brush.

“you never answered my question, lieutenant.” you hummed in content at the soothing feeling of having your hair brushed, and looked up at him in the mirror. “just let me enjoy this. this is the best things that’s happened to me since nixon brought me that bacon sandwich.” ron chuckled at the statement, and continued to brush your hair with a softness you hadn’t expected from him. the gesture was very out of character, but you accepted it with open arms. maybe you just didn’t know your captain as well as you thought you did. there was a clank as ron set the brush back down and you turned on your stool to look at him. he looked down on you with a look you couldn’t decipher, so you stood and padded over to the bed again.

"the men need someone else." ron stared at you from across the room. arms crossed. "i can't do it."

"why?"

"because..." you couldn't articulate what you were feeling. "i... i can't watch another boy die. screaming for the medic, or their mother, with blood coming out of their mouth and—" you cut yourself off abruptly in order to stop yourself from crying in front of the captain. he approached you, crouching down until he was at your eye level. "aren't you just happy that the war's over in europe?"

you scoffed again. "don't ask if i'm happy."

"why?"

"you know that i'm not." your traced your fingers along the silk of the creamy sheets, stained with your sweat and a reminder of all the images you'd had in your dreams. "at best i can say i'm not sad." you glanced fleetingly at him, with a half smile on your face. you wondered how your captain would ever understand how you were feeling. ronald was ruthless, to the point. he acted as every solider should, no second thoughts, no remorse.you wondered if he ever understand the guilt that hung heavy on your conscience, like a plaque that read i've murdered more people than i can count.

ron sat on the bed next to you. "you're a good leader, y/n."

"yeah?" you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“yeah.” he smiled, something you hadn’t seen properly before. ron had always been stern faced or shouting, but it was worth it for the smile. his eyes crinkled, twinkling like the constellations in the sky. you looked away from him and shrugged. “i don’t know. maybe.” you stood back up, collecting your clothes off the floor, and dumping them on the bed. “y/n.” you ignored him, picking up your army pants and folding them leg to leg. “y/n, you can’t keep avoiding your problems.”

“really? because i avoid you well enough.” a neatly folded shirt now joined the pants. speirs walked behind you, and you could feel the warmth he radiated on your back. his hands captured your wrists. “stop.” you turned your head to look at him, and his lips met yours.

at first you froze, and then you jumped back. ron felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. had he read the signs wrong? “y/n, i’m sorry i—”

“no. i’m sorry. i panicked, i...” you turned around properly, “spilling my guts with... drunkards who don’t care about me... is the only love i’ve ever known.” he felt a pang if guilt, that someone as beautiful as you had never experienced what love really was. he looked down on you and murmured: “let me look after you.” you wrapped your arms around his neck. ron’s hands found your waist, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. this time, it was reciprocated. softly, gently, and with feeling. lifting you up and sitting on the bed with you in his lap, the kiss continued with more compassion and care. you pulled away.

"wow." your laugh was breathy and shaking. ron just grinned, hair ruffled and chest heaving under you. easing yourself off him, you could feel your legs trembling. "i should... probably get ready." a sudden wave of guilt slammed into you. you were enjoying yourself, and you should have been out there training your men. the men you were responsible for. your chin wobbled and you turned away from your captain, unable to stop the tears welling in your eyes. "hey, y/n look at me." ron lifted you chin up to look at him. "everything is fine. you have done your very best. just..." his voice softened, "hope for the best." you sniffled, and he told you he'd leave you to get dressed. as he was about to open the door, when you answered him. "hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have," you said softly. he turned to look at you, "but i have it."

he left you alone to your thoughts as you got dressed. your ike jacket was a little loose, you didn't have the broad figure expected, and your hair could barely stay in its pins, but you looked a lot better than you had done for a while. your face wore a smile. going down the luxurious stairs of cream marble to meet the other officers, you were greeted by a slightly drunken lewis nixon at the bottom of them. "captain nixon."

"lieutenant y/n. nice lie in?"

"shut up." you shoved him with an elbow and he just giggled that dumb giggle. he held his hands up in mock surrender, "i'm serious, y/n. you're looking a lot better than when we got here." wrapping an arm around your shoulder, nix guided you into the glass room with the huge wooden table and sat you down on it. ron was stood at one corner, drinking coffee and consulting his map. you smiled shyly at you, and he smirked back. lewis seemed to pick this up, and he handed you a teacup and saucer and winked at you. you couldn't help but smile at the gesture, shaking your head and glaring. you sipped your tea and almost gagged on it. “christ nixon! stop drowning everything in alcohol!”

“sorry! thought it would be a good pick me up!” you stood up, leaving the teacup where it sat.

“i’m going sorting third platoon.”

“alright kid. have fun.”

speirs smiled and nodded as you lit up a cigarette. you felt pride swelling up in your chest. he was proud of you. and you were proud of you too.

[witness-protection-official]

Warning! Lots more cussing this time, mention of doing drugs, and god tier acting from both parties

Also very long this time I spent a sold three hours writing this

Witness Protection - An Eyeless Jack x Female Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 3

You felt as though you were going insane. The man hadn't said a single word to you since the weird field area. Only lord knew if the ancient vehicle you sat in had a working radio. Asking was out of the question, you still had tape over your mouth. Couldn't check, you had tape gloves that went all the way up your arms, rendering them useless. With half lidded eyes, you stare at your disheveled figure in the side mirror. Dear god, you looked like shit. The blood on the side of your face had caked into a gross brown and was beginning to flake off, leaving you looking like you were a burn victim. You wince internally. You had mangled hair, with strands sticking every which way. Bags under the eyes displayed your lack of sleep and slowly depleting sanity. With a nearly inaudible groan, you tap your head against the glass. 'Can't he just kill me and get this over with? I don't know how much sitting in dead silence I'm going to be able to handle.' You slouch heavily, slowly sinking to the floor of the truck.

"You'll hurt your back sitting like that," his monotone voice stated off handedly. You huff and remain there. He sighs and grabs the back of your shirt, tugging you up to sit properly. You groan. Apparently sitting weirdly isn't even an option. He remains facing foward, not even glancing in your direction. Unable to spit insults at him, you level a heated glare at instead. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Maybe a good mix of both. It wasn't easy to tell how long you sat there, giving a dirty look to a man that probably couldn't even see you past the hood he had been wearing this entire time, but you assumed it had been about ten minutes or so. The truck suddenly stopped. You break out of your hate filled trance and look around. Why did he park in an actual parking lot? Was he going to let you go? The thought filled your heart with hope. He popped open the center console and pulled out a large bottle of what sounded like pills. Christ, was he about do just pop a few pills to deal with your bullshit? He pulled his mask off, placing it in the back seat. The cap popped off and he dumped a few out, throwing them into his mouth and closing the bottle. He pulled the hood down, giving you a clear view of the side of his head. You voice your distress at his appearance in muffled screams. He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against his seat, not seeming bothered. The screaming grew louder as his features shifted.

He opened his eyes and glanced at you, letting you get a clear view of his eyes. The screaming ceased in shock. How had you not seen them under his mask? With how bright the blue of his iris was, one would think they would glow in the dark. He pulled the visor down to examine his face in the small mirror embedded inside. He licked his teeth, turned his face from side to side. It finally clicked why he sounded familiar. He was the weird guy that had been staring at you when you changed out shifts with a coworker. You sigh internally. No point in thinking about it now, you guessed. He had murdered someone and kidnapped you, you had bigger things to worry about. His buckle clicked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

"I'll be back," he said simply, clicking something on the side of the door and closing it. Did- did that fucker just turn the child lock on?! Where the fuck were you gonna go in blood soaked clothes and taped up arms?! You send a hateful glare at his retreating form. He went into a store. A very large store. The fuck was he doing?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He bit the inside of his cheek as he entered the store. Did she really have to scream like that? Probably, not everyday you see a man with grey skin. And it's also not everyday you see him suddenly become a shape shifter after popping some pills. Either way, it really wasn't a boost of confidence for his already weak self esteem. Whatever. He had a reputation to uphold, and that meant keeping his cool, constantly. He'd already almost lost it on her while she was being annoying the night before. No point in risking it now. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He began his journey towards the clothes section of the store before he paused. He forgot to ask what her sizes were. He facepalmed. And she had been wearing heels too. He grumbled, figuring it'd be easier to deal with that later. Right now he had to focus on getting her clothes that weren't stained with blood. He debated on heading to the woman's section, guess her size. No, bad idea. Someone is bound to try to talk to him. He was a tall man, he had no reason to be in the woman's section, and people were bound to wonder. Both his pride and crippling social anxiety told him to not risk it. Avoid talking with people was a priority. With a deep breath, he swiveled on his heel, headed towards the mens. He'd just grab some smaller sized jeans or something. There was a time where baggy jeans were popular right? He furrowed his brows as he thought, as he did a lot. His mind continued to wander until he reached the clothes. He eyed the jeans and opted to grab a pair of skinny jeans, in a random size that looked like they would fit her. He wasn't exactly staring at her legs, so he hoped that brief mental image he had in his mind was enough. He turned to the shirts. Any of them would work, they just couldn't be too big. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to her bitch and whine about him being a 'pervert' because it dipped too low and showed her bra.

He grabbed a basic black tee, looking to be maybe a size smaller than he got his own shirts. That'll do. He got a second pair of pants and a second shirt, just for good measure. He bit his tongue. He knew a little bit about the hygenic needs of a woman, but he hadn't smelled any blood or hormonal spike on her, so he figured she'd be fine for now. As he made his way to a different part of the store, he passed a shelf of hoodies. He backed up. Should he get her a hoodie? That would be awfully nice of him. She had done nothing to deserve any form of kindness from Jack. Letting her live was the extent of his mercy for her. 'But if she isn't cold that's less things she'll have to bitch about…' he mulled it over in his head before deciding. He'd get another hoodie for himself and let her wear it passively. 'What a fucking genius you are, Jack, absolute genius' he congratulated himself, grabbing a dark colored hoodie that was in his size. He nodded, satisfied and went to get a few more items.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had been pretty confident he up and died in that store, he took so long. But alas, he had to return. You watched his form make it's way to your side of the truck and reflexively shifted away. He swung it open, placing the bags he held ontot he ground while he stood onto the step to reach your seatbelt clip. He tore off the tape, unclipping the restraint. The tape on your mouth went next.

"Spit an insult at me and I'll cut off your tongue," he quipped. You closed your mouth. "Good girl," he himself seemed to cringe at what he just said, judging by the sigh he released. You scrutinized his face as he worked on the tape on your arms with intense concentration. He had tiny freckles all over his face. They were so small it was impossible to see them from a distance, but they were everywhere. His nose, his cheeks, even the top of his neck and between his eyes. You would've found him attractive if you didnt know it wasn't what he actually looked like. Tanned skin and soft looking auburn hair helped him sell the whole 'fucking gorgeous' thing.

"What's with the whole 'pretty boy' get up?" you murmur. He pauses and looks up at you, confused. "why did you choose this look to be normal?" He searched her face for any underlying intentions. When he found none, he shrugged.

"Didn't get a choice," He finally managed to get the tape off of your hands and arms.

"You got damn lucky with it then, you coulda been ugly," you shrugged. He took a deep breath and didn't respond, instead reaching into the bag and pulling out a package of what appeared to be baby wipes. "I'm not a baby,"

"I noticed," he opened the package and pulled out a wipe. He gripped your jaw and turned your head to the side.

"I can do this myself,"

"Don't trust you," as usual, his response was simple. He wiped the dried blood off of your face rather harshly.

"Hey, hey! Be gentler! I'm not dead yet!" He growled lowly and held your face tighter in his hand, wiping the rest of the blood off of any currently visible skin. He took another wipe and used it to wipe off any tape or dirt residue off of you. "What gives with the mini bath?"

"You'll see," He pushed your head down, bending you so that your chest was pressed tightly against your thighs. He threw what you assumed to be the wipes into the back before letting you sit up again. He picked up the bag from off of the pavement and handed it to you. "Change," he closed the truck door. He must've gotten you clothes so you wouldnt be covered in blood constantly. You pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, followed by an extremely oversized hoodie. You quirk a brow but peek out the window. The man was scrolling on his phone, back pressed against the car door. You deemed it safe to change and stripped down, pulling the new, clean clothes on. You rummaged through the bag some more and came across a hair brush, dry shampoo, and deodorant. Questionable items, but you put them to use. You felt like a human again. A soft knock on the window startled you. There he was. You blink dumbly at him. He points down. You look down. You had locked the door. With a sigh, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

"You didn't stare at me while I was changing, did you?" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I've got no reason to," he took the hoodie out of the bag and threw it at you. "Wear it if you want," he threw the bag in the backseat. You huff and pull the sweater over your head. He closed the door and moved to the drivers side. He strapped in and started the truck.

"Why'd you make me freshen up and stuff?"

"You need food. I don't know what you want," He made the short drive to a gas station that was only about five minutes up the road. He unstrapped and went to your side, opening the door. "Out," You unstrapped and slipped out of the truck, a little wobbly from not standing for so long. The heels didn't help.

"You're coming in with me?"

"I'm the one with money,"

"There's another reason, isn't there,"

"That one is obvious. Now listen. You go in there, grab anything you need, and if anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend," he briefed.

"Why do I have to say you're my boyfriend?"

"You won't have to if you don't act suspicious, now lets go, I've spoken to much,"

"You got a word limit or something?"

"Mentally," he ushered you inside.

"You gonna act all boyfriendy?"

"Boyfriendy?"

"Are you gonna act like my boyfriend?"

"Yes, and you'll have to deal,"

"Ew, but why,"

"There won't be any kissing," he rolled his eyes.

"What if you need to?"

"I won't" he guided you to the hot foods area. "Now get your food," He stayed close as you grabbed two slices of pizza and a hot dog, putting them in mini bags. "Its a long drive, go get yourself some snacks," you nod and sort of hand him your hot food, which he holds with no complaint. His eyes hold a glimmer of warning, telling you not to do anything stupid.

You're examining the chips on the different shelves when some girl about your age comes up to you.

"Did you hear?" She leans in close.

"Hear what?" you tilt your head.

"About the murder at that hotel. Apparently the murderer took a hostage with them, one of the staff," you pretend to be shocked and that the hostage was 100% not you.

"Really?" top tier lying this was. You just hoped it was believable. She nodded.

"By the way that guy has kind of been staring you down this entire time," she whispered. "Hey, creep! Why don't you go bother some other chick-!"

"Wait! It's ok," you subtly gulp and turn to your kidnapper, acting as natural as possible. "Babe, are you gonna keep standing there like a stalker?" He shook his head.

"S-sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, moving to stand next to you. He somehow managed to look bashful, blush and all. His posture was slouched to look more weak and not as standoffish. He probably took an acting class at some point.

"Oh, you're dating," she seemed relieved. You nod. "Can I have proof?"

"Why- why do you need proof that we're dating?"

"With the whole hostage thing I just wanna make sure he isn't the murderer, or you aren't, you never know,"

"It does make a bit of sense," your abductor agreed, somehow flying through this whole interaction look weak and pathetic, and making it look like he was completely off the list of possible suspects. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He looks down at you and you look up at him, seeming to have the same idea. He lean down and you meet him halfway in a short kiss. The taste of iron and blood you expected never showed up. When you two pulled away from each other, the woman visibly relaxed.

"Alright, sorry for being weird. Have a nice day!" she waved. You waved along with the man. He grabs your hand.

"She made a scene, we gotta keep up the appearance," he whispered as he leaned down, followed by a kiss on the cheek to cover it up. You notice some people were definitely staring.

"Got it," you whisper back. Pulling your hand away from his you grab a bag of chips. "Do we wanna get chips or something else for the trip?"

"You'll be eating them more than me,"

"Yeah but I don't want you to think I'm greedy for eating them all,"

"I won't think you're greedy,"

"Yes you will," you put the chips back.

"You can get the chips, babe," You whine.

"But-!"

"You're fine," he took the chips off of the shelf and placed them in your hands. He mouthed something to you. 'Jack'. You assumed that was his name.

"You sure, Jackie? You're 100% sure?"

"Yes," You shrug and grab the collar of his hoodie and yank him down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," you coo. He hums and pecks your lips. The line is fairly short as you two go to pay. Jack pays and before you leave the guy manning the register bids you farewell.

"Be safe, you two lovebirds,"

"We will, have a nice day!" The moment you're both in the car you place the bag down and go to fetch the wet wipes to wipe your mouth off. They wer to far back and you sighed. "You're a really good actor," you comment. "Your affection felt real," he hums.

"Likewise," he seemed greatly uncomfortable, and it made you wonder what he meant by metal word limit. Either that or he just really did not like pretending to be dating his hostage. You shrug. Best to ask once you've eaten. You unwrap your hotdog and take a bite.