#I mean every time I think about that voice saying Jim’s name I get goosebumps

[secret-world-of-mustaches]

Alright, From Family (and by that I mean like all 20 of us) what do we actually think is going on?

[collecting-stories]

Charismatic - JJ Maybank

Request: hi, can I request a jj blurb with the prompt #1: “There’s so many people looking.” - “Well, they don’t have to look if they don’t like it, do they?” Thank you!

A/N: This is the fic that broke my writer’s block. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ was in the midst of a hilarious story. Or at least everyone in the room seemed engaged enough that it felt like it must be some kind of epic recounting on his part. He was smiling talking, fast, hands moving, and everyone seemed to have stopped what they were doing to pay attention to him. The nice thing about fall was that parties downsized to John B’s house or some other place on the Cut and generally, you could name every face. Most of them went to school with you.  

Most of them had helpless crushes on JJ. And who could blame them. He was gorgeous and sweet in that way that made you feel important when he was talking to you. As if some good fortune had smiled down on you just because JJ was giving you his undivided attention for .3 seconds. Maybe it was a kinda pathetic but you felt for them. You had been them until roughly six months ago when something greater than fortune shined on you and all the years spent being friends with JJ had turned into something more.  

“What’s happening right now?” John B teased, grabbing a beer out of his fridge and popping the top.  

You were sitting on the counter right beside the open door, goosebumps prickling your skin at the feeling of the cold refrigerated air hitting your legs. It was a little too cold for shorts but you had decided to wear them anyway. The hoodie you were sporting clearly did nothing for you, at least the shorts made your legs look good. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that,” John B waved his hand toward the living room area of the Chateau where JJ was talking. Some girl to his left, was her name Anna, you took calc with her, laid her hand on his arm and leaned in close to him.  

“The cleavage shot.” You replied, “It is Anna, she always goes for the cleavage.” You watched her angle just so and JJ’s eyes lingered for a split second before he was looking away, passed his listeners, to you. His eyes met yours and you bit your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him, expression like a puppy that knew he was in trouble though you could honestly care less.  

When he wasn’t with anyone he liked to fool around, you knew that well enough from all your years as friend and confidant, but you also knew that JJ was always loyal, sometimes to a fault. In six months, you had never even considered the possibility of cheating. It never crossed your mind, you never worried about it.  

“It’s disturbing you know these things.” John B replied, watching the group again.  

You shrugged, “you know how much crap I used to pull just to get JJ’s attention? I broke my arm on a skateboard for him.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Oh yeah, the sex is amazing.” You replied, laughing when John half spit out his beer before shoving your leg.  

“God, don’t tell me that.” He groaned.  

“You asked,” You watched JJ get up, heading over to the two of you while someone turned up or restarted the music, you couldn’t be sure. “Hey tell me,” you said as he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, “does the JJ stand for Jim Jones, cause you’re some kind of cult leader, I swear.”

“You’re hilarious.” JJ muttered, popping the top off his beer and kicking back half of it in a single go.  

John B sent you a concerned look, glancing out over the rest of the small pogue gathering, searching for Sarah, “I’ll catch you later.”

You nodded, turning your attention back to JJ. When he tried to move passed you extended your leg, socked foot just barely touching the island as you barricaded him.  

“Move.”

“No,” you laughed, dropping that leg and extending your other when he tried to turn around. When he turned again you did the same thing only this time, he pushed your leg down and you gripped the countertop to keep yourself from falling over at the sudden jerk of your leg. “What the fuck JJ!”  

“I told you to move.”  

“I was just teasing you, god,” you muttered, hoping down off the counter.  

“Yeah well, you aren’t funny!”  

JJ had never been accused of being patient in his life and you knew how short his fuse could be but when he got angry it was usually because there was something to be angry about. He wasn’t one to be too irrational or get mad out of nowhere though there were times when he perceived something that wasn’t true and flipped out over it. You usually let him calm down before you talked it out, never one to like being yelled at, but tonight you were annoyed.  

He had been fine five minutes ago, laughing with everyone and now he was going to act like a jerk to you for no apparent reason. You were not in the mood. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You tried to keep your voice down so no one would notice the two of you arguing on the other side of the island but that was futile, Anna from calc was already casting glances your way and she motioned to her friends to pay attention too. It was like she was waiting for something, like she’d foreseen it and it was all happening according to plan.  

“Wrong with me?” JJ downed the rest of his beer, tossing the bottle in the trash. It clashed against others and you jumped from the sudden noise. “At least wait till I’m out of the fucking room before you start flirting with my friends!”  

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t flirting with John B.”  

“I saw you!”

“I’m allowed to talk to whoever the hell I want, John B included!” Out of the corner of your eye you could see more people paying attention. You could imagine the residual effects of fighting like this in front of everyone. The gossips in the pogue circles were worse than the kooks. Were you and JJ breaking up? Had you been cheating with John B? And then it would morph into different stories, that you were cheating, that you were stringing JJ along. “Can we talk about this somewhere else? Please, there are so many people looking.”  

“Well they don’t have to look if they don’t like it, do they?”  

“Please can we just talk in the bedroom?” You could hear yourself practically begging him to have this conversation anywhere else. The crowd and the music and the atmosphere of the party were definitely fueling him.  

“I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I’m not cheating on you!” You shouted, catching him off guard. You’d had your fair share of arguments, some of them pointless and silly, some more serious, but you were always level-headed. You talked things out first, you never shouted or raised your voice or even engaged when he was angry. You waited until he was ready to talk or you were ready to talk and then the issue was resolved. Seeing you yell like that, hand hitting the countertop, shocked him.  

You pushed passed JJ and ran down the hall into Big John’s office, slamming the door shut and sitting against it on the ground, the music a faint murmur now. You couldn’t tell if you were just crying or hyperventilating but either way that tightness in your chest settled in as you tried to breathe. Everyone had been in the room, you had seen Kiara, Sarah, Pope, and John B in the back, toward the door, a sea away from you. If anyone came it wouldn’t be John B, he wasn’t stupid enough to check on you directly after JJ had accused you of flirting or cheating or whatever with him. And you ruled JJ out pretty quickly too. Maybe Pope then, or Sarah, you were closest to both of them.  

Someone knocked, “can we talk?” JJ’s voice came through the door and you reached up, holding the door knob so he couldn’t push it open.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to talk to him. You hadn’t even thought of him as being the first person to check on you let alone thought about whether or not you would want him to check on you. Maybe you did, maybe you wanted to know why he thought that you were flirting with your best friend right in front of him.  

“Hold on,” you started to get your bearings, letting go of the door knob and moving so you could stand up. JJ, in his overzealousness, swinging the door opening and banging into you. “Ow, fuck JJ, god.”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Oh sorry I fucking hit you with the door, let me help you up.” You mocked, getting up and crossing your arms in front of you.  

“Sorry,” JJ apologized, though a little irritable.  

“What?”

“Don’t day what like that, I came to apologize.” He insisted.  

“No, you came in so you could bullshit an apology and get back to the party.” You replied. “I should’ve known.”

“You’re being a-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” You snapped. “I don’t need to hang on you like your precious flock, god, I’m allowed to just sit and chill with my friends.  I don’t know what you expect JJ…do you want me to be jealous? I’m not. I’m sorry if you think I would ever cheat on you or flirt with some other guy cause I wouldn’t. And I would never think that you would either, so I don’t give two shits if Anna from calc wants to hang all over you because until like ten minutes ago I was pretty secure in the knowledge that we were going home together at the end of the night.”  

JJ stood there, not saying anything for a moment, the sound of the music seeping in beneath the door. You wondered if everyone else had resumed partying, if your friends were all waiting at the end of the hall with baited breath to see what might happen next.  

“I like you so much. I did the dumbest shit just to get your attention. John B is my friend, end of, I don’t care about him the way I care about you…I don’t care about anyone the way I care about you.”  

“I just…” JJ paused, running a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends a little as if that would help calm him down, “I don’t know, I just looked over and you guys were talking and whatever, yeah, talk to whoever you want but lately it just feels like everything is about him and I don’t know…I don’t give a shit about anyone else, I just wanted your attention.”  

You sat down on the edge of Big John’s desk, “we’re really something huh?”  

“Yeah,” JJ sighed, leaving the door he’d been standing in front of and coming over to you, stepping between your legs and letting you wrap your arms around his, holding you against him.  

“You always have my attention J, you don’t have to do anything special.” You said, face pressed against his shirt.  

“Sorry, for real this time, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”  

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “you can make it up to me though.”  

“Oh yeah, how’s that?”  

“The couch is pretty comfortable in here.” You laughed when JJ scooped you up off the table, hands beneath your thighs. He never had to be told twice.  

-

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[cockasinthebird]

Apparently I never shared this here?? Some more Soulmate AU because fuck if it isn’t cute

-

For a Saturday morning, Steve is awake surprisingly early.

When his alarm rings at 8am, he shoots up and has exactly ten minutes to become clear headed after too little sleep, maybe 4 hours or so; it's so hard to fall asleep when his skin tingles.

Feet stumble over yesterdays outfit, as he rushes into his bathroom to turn on the shower, drowsy movement guided by a groggy head from lack of sleep, but it's worth it all when he catches himself in the mirror.

“What song best represents you?” Steve had written on his bicep, and the response was-

“Rock you like a hurricane ;)” Which... isn't a surprise. “You?”

“Don't you forget about me”

He still feels a slight blush creep up when he sees what Billy's response had been. “I won't.”

“Show me your moles again” Billy had requested, written across his ribs.

And Steve had taken his time with that; circled every single one he could reach from the comforts of his bed. Up and down his arms, his chest, that he shaves for this exact reason, abdomen, shins... thighs... hips... down where he trims his pubic hair, body oddly... excited to reveal certain locations, and his heart races as he re-reads, in impressive cursive-

“Oh ;)” down between his legs.

He catches himself grinning like a fool in the mirror.

Then looks at his left hand, words on his wrist-

“Take my hand”

The circle in the middle of his palm has faded a bit, probably worn off by Billy as he had gone about his day-to-day in Australia, while Steve had slept in America.

And he reaches for the ballpoint pen on the sink – a tactic he was quick to learn, is to always have something to write with in every room of the house, rather than just carry one pen with him everywhere and occasionally lose it – then retraces the circle in his palm, now fresh and clear blue.

It takes less than 10 seconds before he feels pressure in the same form again, as Billy draws on top of the circle in his own palm.

Next there's a gentle and familiar tickling across his naked hip-

“Good morning princess” and a little crown scribbled above the i.

Steve is so, so tempted to draw out a heart, to just make that tiny little shape down there, but the both of them understand what a heart so low means. So he simply signs off with a singular dot, to show “message received.”

And in the shower he does his best to wash away old messages and song lyrics; to clean up the canvas for today's fresh pen strokes. His skin is itching to be touched and used again already, ready to be marked up everywhere the two of them can reach.

When the clock says 08:09am he's out of the shower and drying his hair – never before has he washed up so quickly, but for good reason, because barely does the clock switch to 08:10am, when the phone on his bedside table rings.

“Harrington residence, this is Steve,” he says all courteous and well mannered, but who else would it be other than-

“Hey pretty boy,” Billy drawls out.

A smile grows immediately. Steve leans against the table and smooths his hair back from where it lies limply against his forehead. “Hi.”

“You busy?”

Steve hums in feigned contemplation and looks around his room, only slightly messy. “I guess I can take a break from my busy morning for you.”

The way Billy chuckles deep in the receiver urges forth goosebumps down Steve's bare arms.

“Want me to put on some music?” Steve asks per the usual.

Since he lives alone and hates the silence of such an empty home, he listens to music near constantly, and it eventually became a bit of a thing between them, to always have something running in the background.

“Yeah, play the song you mentioned earlier.”

The song he had said “represented him best”, although having thought more about it, there are several songs that could describe him and his life, Tainted Love, Sweet Dreams are made of this, Don't you want me. Plenty of songs put in to words how utterly lonely and starved for attention he truly is, but Don't you forget about me had been the subtlest choice in a constant struggle to not come off as clingy.

“Ok, hold on!” the tone he had intended was soft, but it jumped right into eager before the words had even left his tongue.

Swiftly with practiced hands, he slips out the vinyl from its sleeve, lifts up the plastic cover for the turntable, and places the stylus in the grooves of the LP. The music is low and Jim Kerr's voice fills the room.

Steve dances; pumps his shoulders to the beat and spins his way back to the bed, then lands with a poomf next to the phone receiver he had thrown onto his covers.

“Is it too loud?” he asks with closed eyes as he listens to the song.

“No it's good,” Billy says with a clear smile to his tone. “And the song isn't that bad.”

Saying that they have vastly different tastes in music would be a severe understatement. Sure, a few of the records that Steve has lying around his house is technically from rock bands- Van Halen, Inxs, even Simple Minds is rock, but not the right type of rock according to Billy. It's pop rock, it doesn't count.

“Sleep well, princess?”

Steve feels his lips twitch further up at that stupid name that started out as a tease years ago when Steve had been crying about not getting his way with his rich parents, but now it was something dear.

“Mmh yeah,” he mumbles out and leans into the phone. “Didn't get much sleep though.”

“Hey you can't blame that on me, I was at work all day,” Billy laughs, “You're the one that started it all... couldn't stop thinking about you after you fell asleep.”

“And now I'm awake and you're going to bed,” Steve whines only a bit.

“Yeah... time zones suck.”

There's a short silence, as the chorus plays-

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

“Tell me about your day.” He crawls further up the bed till he meets with his pillows, and takes the pen from his bedside table.

“Same shit as every other Saturday really, spent all day at work getting distracted.”

The insinuation in his tone makes Steve laugh.

“My co-workers really tease me about it sometimes, they noticed all the circles on my skin and asked about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“The truth; that my soulmate was marking all her moles...” It's clear in his voice that Billy stopped smiling. “I'm sorry that I haven't told them that you're a-”

“A guy?” Steve interrupts, his own mood slightly sour, but he gets it; he can't blame Billy for the way the world works. “Billy...” he speaks softly, “I don't want you to feel bad about not telling anyone that I'm Steve and not Stacy. I've only told one person here the whole truth.”

“Robin, right?”

“Yeah, from history.” He pops off the cap on the ballpoint pen, and sits up to start drawing little flowers up on his thigh.

“Hmm...” Billy hums as he has probably noticed. “How's it going with her and Heather?”

“Pretty good; Robin's become an oddly proficient swimmer suddenly.” And Steve chuckles, “I'm kinda feeling neglected though. My best friend is spending more time with her girlfriend than me!”

“Well...” Billy's voice suddenly so warm and sweet like honey, as he says, “What can you do when you're in love.”

And Steve's heart beats an extra few times upon hearing Billy say that word. Love. Yeah, what can you do...

“Anyway,” Billy says as there's no response from Steve. “There is this one guy at work, uhh, think his name is Julien? Julian? Julius? Something with a J, it doesn't matter. I think he might be gay, too.”

Steve perks up a brow with a sly smirk. “Oh? And how do you know that?”

“I dunno,” his response a slight mumble, “He just... gives off a vibe?”

And the other brow goes up. “A vibe?”

“Yeah! Like!” frustration apparent at the fact that Steve doesn't just get what he's saying. “You know... all... well groomed?”

Steve chortles loud enough for it to drown out the music through the phone. “Ok, go on.”

“His hair is just always so nice, face clean shaven and skin always so clear...”

“Oh you must have gotten pretty close to notice all of that,” Steve is still bubbling with leftover laughter.

“Steve...” but Billy sounds so worried. “You know I wouldn't-”

“I haven't asked you not to,” Steve interrupts and looks up into the air, as if he could catch Billy's eyes and give him a reassuring look. He can feel that they're all so suddenly on the brink of a rather important discussion that they've already had.

“I know! I know...” Billy sighs. “I just want you to know that I haven't... been with anyone ever since you and I started...”

Getting serious? Are they serious? With an ocean between them, can they be...

“Yeah, me neither...” Steve's heart thumps as his mind starts spewing out ideas of what it would be like... to be with Billy. “But you can. If you want to. You don't need my permission, Billy.”

“Yeah you've said that already, and the same goes to you, too, of course.”

“I know...”

But there's a clear air of assumption between them, despite the thousands of miles. Assumption, expectation, hope that there's a chance...

The song repeats again.

Won't you, come see about me

I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby

Yet the two of them don't say a word. Just listens to the song, together. The type of silence between them that can only be achieved with someone you're so comfortable with. When Steve feels Billy draw in his hand, and looks to see a heart in his palm. A little, shy heart.

And he can't help but smile warmly; feels his cheeks heat up with unspoken feelings- the kind that just came naturally over the last 7 years, and that he wishes to cherish forever.

He draws a heart around Billy's, just slightly bigger, surrounding it, like an embrace.

“Getting tired yet?”

“Yeah,” Billy sighs, sleepy and exhausted. “I always feel so drained during winter. It's so cold and dark... I miss being a lifeguard, but no one wants to go to the beach in this shitty weather. And I use my body in a different way as a mechanic, and I have to deal with customers and co-workers...” he complains about it a lot, but Steve knows that Billy loves getting to spend all day getting dirty and fiddling with cars.

Once talked about opening his own shop somewhere. Says he hasn't quite decided where to do so yet.

Assumption, expectation, hope...

“Should we hang up?”

“Mmmh, no, let me just hear the song a few more times,” is his reasoning, but they both know that that's not why.

They always struggle with hanging up, which is why they don't do this as much as they want to- other than it being expensive of course. Despite their souls being connected and bodies bonded this way, being on either end of the phone line is when they truly exist together. Even in silence, just knowing the other is there too keeps the world away.

“Want me to trace my hand?” Steve whispers softly, his voice a sweet little thing, only for Billy's ears.

“That'd be nice, yeah.”

And oh how he wishes he could see Billy now; eyes closed, a warm and dopey smile, tan body naked under the sheets. There's nothing he wants more in life, than to fall asleep with his muscular arms wrapped around himself, to share body heat, to share their breaths.

But for now, he can settle with drawing the pen along the lines in his palm; creating an endless pattern that Billy describes as feeling like you're running your finger over my skin.

The closest thing to caressing his soulmate that he can get. For now. And the last thing he hears from Billy's end, is him humming with pleasure of the gentle touch.

[arthurmorgen]

A Kiss and a Bounty

Prompt: Arthur and reader first meeting fighting over a bounty. and the bounty over one of their horses going "for god's sake just kiss her." - sarcasmwithasideofsass 

A/N: This is my first prompted one-shot and I have already made an amateur mistake. I got so excited at “for god's sake just kiss her” that....I....well I didn’t fully complete the prompt. Thank you for the suggestion. Sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I still hope you enjoy it :)

I will get better at this! Requests are open!

Angst

2,123 words

...

You and Arthur had traveled everywhere searching for this bounty.

This damn bounty. He was a wormy type of man that kept sneaking out of your grasp. How? You’re not exactly sure. But one thing was for certain, this man was either dangerous or lucky.

What was supposed to be a quick day trip, ended up taking three and a half days of hunting him all over the Grizzlies.

To be honest you were about ready to give up. You hadn’t packed for this type of trip. You were cold and miserable, and weren't quite sure if all this hassle was worth a hundred dollars.

And you really didn’t want to hear it from Arthur.

He was always so quick to fuss over you. And you weren’t positive as to why. The two of you got along great and always had, but something was different lately. You’d caught him staring a little harder, offering to help ya when ya didn’t need it. Which, in retrospect, didn’t really bother you. You knew what a kind soul he was even if it was shielded by the big broad shoulders and all around rough exterior.

“You know Arthur, maybe we should just turn around.” You called up ahead. It was getting late, your stomach was gnawing, and you felt a headache coming on. You were just ready to return to camp, eat a bowl of questionable stew, and lay down on your lumpy bedroll and not exist for a couple of hours.

He knew you were right, of course you were, you were the smart one. The Grizzlies were dangerous not only because of the wildlife, but also the Murphee brood. They were dumb but unpredictable and dangerous. So all of this wasn't really his best idea. But this particular bounty by the name of Jim, Gold Tooth Jim, had gotten under his skin. He’s never had a bounty make him feel inadequate before. Usually if you gave him the poster in the morning he’d give you your bounty by nightfall. What made Jim so different? Why was he able to string them along for so long? It was infuriating.

Plus, if he were being honest. He really wanted to impress you a little. He knows he doesn't deserve you, but dammit if he couldn’t stop thinking about ya. You were pretty much the only topic in his journal as of late. And he knew you were not a shallow woman, but this whole big-strong-tough-guy was the only thing he felt he had going for him. The only thing that might possibly tempt you.

Thus, it was his stupid pride that wouldn’t let him quit. Even when he felt the exhaustion deep within his bones.

“Just a little while longer.” He called back.

You rolled your eyes. He didn’t even turn to speak to you. You could tell by the tension in his voice and how high he was sitting on his horse that he wasn’t playing around. So you bit your lip and dropped it. This Jim fellow, for some reason or another, had obviously gotten to him.

A few moments later, you blame it on your hunger or maybe even your boredom, missed the sound of a horse coming in hot. And before you could you could even process what was happening, two horses went skidding and two riders went flying.

“Arthur!” You practically screamed jumping off of your moving horse and ran to him gun drawn.

“I’m al’ight.” He said slowly through his wheezing breath. “What the hell happn’d?”

It was getting too dark to see, and from what your sluggish memory could recollect the man was dressed in dark colors, so you kicked around a bit searching for the son of a bitch who apparently had some kind of death wish.

You were distracted, yet again, this time by the sound of Arthur making his way to his feet. You were still slightly concerned for him, it was a hard hit at full speed. Your eyes checked him over just as the stranger leapt forward pinning you to the ground.

You hit the ground hard and your cheek landed on a rock, you yelped at the sudden contact.

Then the human pile got even heavier as Arthur tackled the man. You heard a faint-familiar “sonofabitch” before you stood quickly, relieved that the two men were off of you, and cocked your revolver aiming it at the dark pile of limbs.

“You are one big idiot aint’ ya mister.” You said as Arthur hauled the tall man to his feet.

The man smirked wildly as the moon reflected in his gold teeth, which you recognized immediately.

You returned the wicked smile “Well, Arthur I believe our luck has changed.”

“Wha the hell you talkin’ about?” He looked up at you and worry flooded his features. “Hey you ok?”

You wiped the blood from your cheek, realizing it was bleeding heavier than you thought. “I’m fine.” You responded with more venom than intended.

“This here is ol’ Gold Tooth Jim.” You said bringing Arthur’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Arthur whipped his head to study the man, and when he seemed to be in agreement, gave you a big grin.

He was so handsome. And it broke you every time you saw him happy. It was so rare that he ever was, it hurt your heart. Your eyes locked with his and his smile slowly disappeared. Worry crept back to his face as a large drop of blood landed on your collar.

A horrible creepy chuckle broke the moment.

“I see you finally caught me. Well done!” The sarcasm was palpable.

You were shocked to hear a british accent, the smooth voice not fitting the appearance of the dirty stringy man before you.

“Why did you run into my horse?” Arthur asked, sounding more than a little confused, he too seemed a little thrown off by the man.

“To be perfectly honest, I hate being hunted like some animal. And since the two of you were so relentless, I thought I’d just...give it up.” He chuckled again giving you goosebumps.

“By trying to kill em’?” You were annoyed that he had almost hurt Arthur. It frustrated you that that was what he called ‘giving up’, plowing into a man with a horse.

“Don’t get me wrong I was hoping it would kill you. In fact I was hoping to kill you both.” His eyes seemed to darkened even further as he stared you down, but his smile was cut short by Arthur’s fist hitting him square in the face.

He landed hard and when he looked up blood was oozing from both his mouth and nose.

“What was that?!” Jim asked furiously from the ground.

Arthur landed on top of him, easily turned him over, and reached one hand back to you. You, familiar with his thought process quickly got the rope ready and passed it to him.

Then you turned to find Arthur's horse, hopefully unharmed when you heard him whisper to Jim “If you say one more goddamn word to her, I’ll smash your face in.”

Chills ran up your spine. You wish you could say that that didn’t do it for you, but that would make you a liar. You didn’t need your honor defended, you didn’t deserve it, you too were a no good outlaw, but hearing him do it made you feel special. And the fact that he hadn’t even wanted you to hear it made it even...sweeter.

You found his horse, thankfully unharmed, and led her over to the two men.

He lifted Jim easily, causing you to swallow harder than necessary at how strong he was, and placed him on his horse.

He turned to you suddenly, without any warning and lashed out with a loud booming voice. “Why did you turn your back on the man?”

Confused at first, but then you picked up on the fact he kept glancing at your bloody cheek.

But that didn’t matter, you didn’t deserve to be spoken to that way. “Like I could even see where he was Arthur.” You rolled your eyes and tried to pass him to find your horse.

He grabbed your forearm hard and turned you back to face him. “You can’t be letting you guard down like that, what if he would have had a knife!”

His voice was still too loud for your liking

“Oh like you did any better. I wasn’t the one that went flying.” You chuckled and tried to shrug everything off, this for some reason or another, was getting too intense.

His eyes squinted and he let go of your arm like it burned him. “I reckon this’ll be the last bounty you go on.” He slipped his tough guy mask on. His features turned sharp and intimidating.

It’s never worked on you. You could never be scared of him. For him, yes, everyday. But never of him.

“You can’t decide that for me.” You hissed and hated the way tears welled in your eyes.

“Sure I can.” He stood even straighter brows furrowed and lips tight.

“I’ll do whatever I want, whenever I want Arthur. I’ll catch every damn bounty the sheriff posts, in every county if I want to, and you can’t stop me.” You stood slightly on your toes trying your best to reflect his body language. You could feel your face flush as the anger flared. “Besides, if we would have turned back when I said, this never would have happened.”

You hated that you knew how to hurt him. You could see it as his eyes fell and his fists clenched. Guilt smacked you as hard as Jim and his horse did earlier to Arthur.

You reached out to him, feeling like a piece of shit “Hey…”

He backed just out of your reach. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I always seem to get ya into trouble.” He sounded ashamed and somehow small. You didn't like it, not one bit.

“No, Arthur, look I didn’t mean that. The camp needs money and I offered to go with you. This was your run, it was your call. I should have just been more prepared is all.”

You smiled at him but he couldn’t look at anything but your cheek.

“It’s just a scratch. Don’t be so silly about it.”

His eyes hardened and looked at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen directed towards you. But his voice betrayed him, it was still as soft as the breeze. “And what if it’s not just a scratch next time? What if it kills you instead of just cutting your pretty face?”

“You, you think I’m pretty?” You hated that that was what your mind chose to focus on, but in your defense, it caught you completely off guard.

“Dammit! I’m serious! What if next time it’s a bullet? Or a…”

You stepped forward, reached out, and touched his dirty face. In an attempt to calm him down. You were surprised by how fast he leaned in, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly.

Jim, completely forgotten by now, chucked again and called out “Oh for god’s sake just kiss her!”

Arthur moves to turn and presumably ‘beat the man's face in’. But you didn’t want him to do that. You were certainly tired of Jim, however, you were thankful for the suggestion.

You grabbed a hold of Arthur’s arm and turned him to you, one hand pulled his collar, the other pulled his head down, and you pressed your mouth firmly against his.

At first he doesn’t move, and all you can hear is Jim's ridiculous cackling, but then, then he started to kiss back. And nothing else existed in that moment other than Arthur Morgan.

It’s delicate so very delicate. Like he was afraid you'd shatter, or maybe he was afraid that he'd shatter? He lifts up slightly and kisses the tip of your nose, and then the center of your forehead. You smile largely, it hurts but you can’t help it, and he returns it with another soft kiss to your patiently awaiting lips.

After a few moments of his mouth gently playing with your mouth, he reaches to grab your cheek to deepen the kiss.

You gasp as his hand pulls your wound and he opens his eyes horrified.

“God I’m sorry.” He reached into his coat and pulled out his favorite handkerchief, pressing it firmly, yet gently, to your cheek.

It was your turn to close your eyes as his palm comforted you.

“We’ll get Miss Grimshaw to look at that when we get back.” His voice sounded almost hoarse.

“I told you it’s nothin’.” Your voice didn't sound much better.

You opened your eyes to see his shining back, with a beautiful smile on his face as he pulled you back in and kissed you.

You had never seen him so happy.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Mr.Flirt~Jimin Park x Black! Fem! Reader {1}

Pairing: Jimin Park x reader

Summary: You’ve been an interviewer for a few years at Instant Pop! (fake entertainment outlet) and you finally score an interview with people you care about, BTS themselves. During the course of the entire interview you try not to fangirl completely while each of the guys stay engrossed in your words. One of them being Jimin Park himself, your favorite member, the one you can hardly make eye contact with. 

Writer’s Note: Let’s just say that everyone can understand the reader and her questions. It’s fanfiction, so I think we can extend our sense of disbelief. Anyway, I’ve been watching so many BTS interviews where they are having a blast, so I’ve been thinking why don’t I try to write one for fanfiction? More black readers of course, my sisters and I need some love too~Black Army forever! This is my first BTS fic, so please tell me how it is and be civil about it. I hope you guys enjoy it and let me know if you want more BTS fics, send me requests please. I appreciate it.

Warnings: None really for this chapter. 

Word Count: 1, 741

______________________________________________________________

A heavy sigh escapes me as I glance at the seven chairs in front of me for the umpteenth time. Maybe they need to be pushed back a bit more, I do need to see them all. I rise and notice that I have too many Army armbands on and flush deeply.

Nate, my co-worker moves the chairs with a chuckle.

“Y/N, the set is fine,” he says, “I checked the chairs four times already.”

“I know, I know,” I say, “this isn’t too much is it?”

I motion to my T-Shirt with all the BTS members and my plethora of armbands. Nate looks me up and down prior to bursting out in laughter, he holds his side to stay up right. My eyes roll as I sit back down with my note-cards, flipping through each of them to ensure that my questions are appropriate.  

“Hey-I-I didn’t mean to laugh its just,” he pauses, “you remind me of my younger sister when she had her Twilight phase.”

“Nate,” I groan, “if it’s too much then I’ll change really quick.”

Nate grows serious and shakes his head.

“Nah, you can’t,” he explains, “they just got to the building and you already have your mic on.”

“Really?! Well, can I just check my hair real fast!” I exclaim.

Nate crosses his arms.

“Fine,but make it quick! And I won’t ask them for an autograph!” he jokes as I head for the exit.

“You’re super corny you know that!” I answer back.

Nate shrugs.

“At least I’m not a walking Army private right now,” he states.

I stop at the door.

“Oh, I’m no longer a private Nate,” I say, “I think I’m at least Lieutenant status.”

The moment I open the door I nearly collide with someone, I almost fall in the process.

“Woah, you alright?” he asks.

His deep voice sounds familiar. I glance up to meet the handsome face of Namjoon in his turquoise and purple dotted suit.

“Y-Yeah–ah Namjoon-I mean rap mon–shit RM,” I gasp.

Namjoon chuckles.

“Hi there!” he greets, “this is the room for the interview, right?”

I nod sharply and point over to the chairs. Nate steps over with a bunch of mics in hand and nudges me.

“Yes sir,” he says, “this happens to be your interviewer, not some hopeless fan girl.”

I side eye Nate but don’t speak. I’ve got to make a good impression with BTS, otherwise the army would hate me. Most of them already have a negative impress of black people in the fandom, don’t want to add to the pyre.

“W-Welcome!” I finally manage to say. “Nate will get you set up and we’ll start the interview right away.”

Namjoon grinned as the other six members entered behind him, each and every one of them leaving me starstruck and mesmerized. I never thought I’d see them this close, I can barely get tickets to a concert, this is a real honor! My heart kicks up at the sight of Jimin with his wavy black hair,  iconic earrings and his warm smile.

“J-Jimin,” I blurt out, “h-hi welcome.”

Jimin grins softly before his eyes widen abruptly and points at my shirt.

“You’re an army?!” he asks.

He’s talking to me, speak damn it.

“Y-Yeah, ah I-I am,” I manage to say.

Jimin’s grin widens and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Nice, our interviewer is an army guys!” he shouts.

Namjoon’s head perks up; Jin smiles; J-Hope hops up and over sporadically; V raises an eyebrow; Jungkook nods eagerly and Suga gives me a small toothy grin.

“Hi there!” J-Hope greets with an extended hand.

I’m frozen by how super friendly and forward they are, of course they seem humble, I wasn’t expecting extremely humble. I look to Namjoon who nods.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I take J-Hope’s hand firmly and shake.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N,” I say, “should I call you by your stage names–for the interview that is?”

Namjoon nods.

“Yeah, for the interview is fine,” he agrees.

V chuckles.

“I like your hair, Y/N,” he says.

My face nearly grows flush again. Namjoon playfully nudges V while Jimin gives him a dismissive stare.

“I like her eyes, hair and cheeks,” he says with a quirk of a brow.

My heart leaps as I cover my widened grin with a hand. This is a dream, isn’t it? Jimin would never, he would, I tell myself. He’s a huge flirt, on camera, but we haven’t started rolling yet.

“A-Are you ok?” Namjoon asks.

I nod as Jimin and J-Hope laugh along with Nate. I clear my throat as Namjoon leans down to my level putting a hand on the small of my back. His touch is soothing and real, really real.

“Y-Yeah, uh you guys can sit for the interview now,” I say, trying to play off my stunned expression.

Namjoon inspects me for a moment, but soon nods and walks over to a seat with his band-mates. He sits in the center with J-Hope on his left and Jimin on the right, who gives me a tiny, cutesy wave. I glance at the floor, take my seat across from them and take one final look at my note cards. Nate shuffles over with a smug expression.

“You good fangirl?” he asks.

“Uh huh,” I lie, “we aren’t live yet, are we?”

Nate shakes his head.

“I’m ready when you are, can’t let you make an ass of yourself in front of your fellow army,” he teases.

His comment sobers me up quickly.

“I’m good, let’s roll,” I say.

Nate raises a brow, yet he nods and signals the camera man. I inhale and exhale, shut my eyes prior to putting on a more composed, calm face.

“What’s up guys! Welcome back to Instant Pop, where I have with me Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung and Min Yoongi–BTS!!” I shout.

Namjoon pumps his fists into the air while the rest of the band clap and woo.

“Wow, Y/N,” Namjoon says, “that’s one of the first times a person has introduced us by our real names so boldly–wow!”

“She’s my favorite interviewer already,” J-Hope says.

I giggle and modestly play it off and get into the questions. Namjoon answers first as always, then hands it off to Jimin who gives it around to V and so on to the others. The answers they give are pretty straight forward, I’m surprised the fans didn’t send us any awkward questions. I don’t want to get exposed as a fangirl on camera.

“All right guys, last question, “ I say and flip my final note card over.

I hesitate. Just when I think I’m in the clear there’s an embarrassing question. Well, at least embarrassing for me.

“Of course they’d give me this question,” I say under my breath.

Namjoon leans in.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ah! My apologizes, the last question. What do you look for in a potential girlfriend–ah, you guys don’t have to–”

J-Hope cuts me off with a laugh.

“That’s ok! That’s ok! I’m looking for a woman who can cook, and who’s crazy about me!” he says with a mega watt grin.

I smile, eyes going to Jimin as he leans in, an amused guise on his face.

“A girl with a cute smile, like that,” he answers slyly with a wink.

My ears burn, I hardly listen to the rest of the answers. Jimin thinks I’m–wow. The room falls quiet, BTS still engrossed in me with attention. Nate speaks up to save my ass.

“Ok! That’s a wrap guys, thanks!” he calls, breaking me from my daze.

“Yes! Ah, thank you so much guys! This has been Instant Pop! Y/N signing out!”

Once the cameras shut off I let my face fall into my hands. I did the exact thing I didn’t want to do; I froze up in front of the entire internet, my fellow army and all. Thank God Nate came in for the quick save. I don’t even notice the guys getting up.

“Y/N, thank you so much!” Namjoon says. “We actually have a present for you!”

I blink at his words and look to Nate who shrugs, then to Rob, the camera guy who has no clue either.

“Present?” I ask.

V nods conspiratorially and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a copy of their latest album, Y/F/A(your fav album). My skin almost pops from my skin in goosebumps as he hands it over to Namjoon who presents it to me.

“Your manager told us you’re a huge fan and we just wanted to give back to you, the best way we thought we could,” he explains with a nervous grin.

“T-Thank–thanks you guys,” I say.

Jimin chuckles, stepping up and taking the album from Namjoon.

“Jim–” Namjoon starts.

Jimin opens it carefully with a small grin while batting his eyes at me. I cover my mouth, this man is trying to bias wreck me and he’s already my bias. How is that even possible.

“Do you have a pen, Y/N?” He asks sweetly.

I nod slowly, my fingers trembling like crazy as I yank the pen from my jean pocket and hand it to him.

“Really? You forgot to sign it!” J-Hope scolds.

Jimin elbows his hyung.

“I’m just writing Y/N a special message, reminding her to love herself,” Jimin explains with a swift wink.

He finally hands it to me then outstretches his arms for a hug. I gladly accept, he rubs my back soothingly before pulling away. The other guys want their hugs too, V and Suga especially chomping at the bit.

“B-Bye guys, thanks for granting me this amazing opportunity!”

They all bow before moving to the door.

“The pleasures ours Y/N!” Namjoon yells.

They all wave. Jimin and V both give me hearts, then they’re gone. In my head, then out like a dream.

“Sooooo,” Nate says while throwing an arm around my shoulder. “what your mans give you?”

Of course it’s his annoying ass voice that breaks me from my daze yet again.

“Just an autographed album from them,” I say, “and they aren’t my men!”

Nate wiggles his eyebrows.

“Whatever you say,” he says.

I sit back at my chair to flip through the album, I end up on the page Jimin signed and lose my breath at what it says. It read: ‘thanks for the sweet interview, call me xoxo’~Jimin, below that are his digits. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

The Rock angel shines; Queen x reader

Hello people and beyond. Well like I promised here is the first part of my Rock Angel series.  So for those who have asked to be tagged I have you up, let me know if it doesn’t work and I’ll try to fix it as best I can. I hope you all enjoy this and have some warmly big brother feels with this chapter. Not really any warnings except for some mild swearing, scars (not suicidal but of this triggers you this is a warning for you) and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF.

Taglist (open):

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@mr-badguymercury

@onebigfangirlworld

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@naturalswifty89

_______________________________________________________________

April 20th, 1982

Frank Bough was hosting his Breakfast time interview discussing the next rising star of Britain.

“We first saw her make her big debut at a Queen concert at Madison Square Garden last year and ever since then she’s been recording her first album which will be released at the start of summer. Her biggest single ‘Set it all free’ took her to the charts as the youngest performer at 19 years old. Let’s have a listen.”  What would then play on the television was the newly made music video for “Set it all free”.

(Y/n) was on the guitar in the same attire she wore that day at Madison Square garden, her hair this time was dyed a blood red as the chorus of “Set it all free” was being sung.  As (y/n) would rock out in one shot, in another she was wearing normal clothes trying to escape the confines of what appeared to be a jailcell she would constantly beat against the walls trying to escape but then cry every now and then.

“(Y/n) (l/n) welcome to the show.”

“Oh Frank it’s an honor to be here, how are you?” I asked as I leaned up against the couch and extended my hand out to him.

“I’m doing well and you?” he said as we both shook hands.

“Fine thank you.”

“Well you have truly made a name for yourself, the Rock Angel tell me where did that name come from? Did you come up with it yourself?”

“No I’m terrible at coming up with names” I joked out as I laughed. “It was actually Freddie who came up with the name Rock Angel. Back when I was helping them and when I told them that I had written songs and played music he’d always just call me their little ‘Rock Angel’.”

“Now when you say, ‘work for them’, how do you mean?”

“I was an intern for Jim Beach.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. At the time he was asking for interns at my University and I was one of probably hundreds of other young kids to apply and by some miracle I was picked and the rest is history.”

“Now on your album ‘Set it all free’ you also include Queen on a couple of your tracks. Is that because of your history with them?”

“I love my boys so much. When it was fully announced that I was to make my first full length album after my single was released, they were so supportive and happy for me. And actually it’s a sweet story, I was recording my album at Rockfield studios, the same place where they recorded their hit Bohemian Rhapsody as well as the rest of their Night at the Opera album. And while I was recording they just suddenly popped in for a visit…..”

*November 11th, 1981*

I have been here at Rockfield studios for the past six weeks now recording my first album ‘Set it all Free’. Now I began to understand why Fred said they needed to be away from all distractions to record A Night at the Opera, because out here with all the country side, the fresh air, never have I felt such creativity flow through me.

I mean sure I’ve hit a couple of speedbumps and obstacles when it came to some songs but after feeding the chickens and riding the horses, I would suddenly get inspired.

I was currently in the studio now doing my latest song that I’ve titled “Who I am”.  I had completed the guitar and vocal portion of my song and now I was recording the drums.

Now I know what you’re thinking? Why are you doing all the work? Why hasn’t a band come in and help you with the percussions?  Well the answer to that is because of the sudden reservation I had made with it being the autumn season now, no one wanted to risk driving along the roads to the studio so living at the studio is just me, Mack and a couple handlers just to keep an eye on me.

Using the lessons that Rog has given me, I twirled my sticks and began doing the rhythm I had in mind.  After the first half of the song was done, I stopped and flexed my hands and I said.

“How’d it sound Mack?”

“Come out and have a listen.” I took off my headphones and left the booth as Mack played the first half of the song back to me.  I bopped my head up and down as my voice came up for a brief moment before I heard the strum of my guitar.  The whole song so far sounded good and I said.

“Sweet, okay play it from the second verse.” He gave me a thumbs up and I went back into the recording booth and quickly put the headphones back on and as I gave him the signal that I was ready, I began the next verse of the songs for the drums.

We kept going with the song until it was perfect and as I had Mack play back to me the entire song, I got goosebumps all up along my arms and shivers up my spine.  I did a successful ‘Deacy’ dance as I was happy for the song.

“Love it, I fuckin love it!” I praised.

“Sounds good love, why don’t you take a break now love?”

“Mack my deadline is fast approaching and I still got three songs to do, plus one of my songs that’s already been recorded is still missing something. I can’t afford a break.”

“But you’ve been hard at it for the past week with no break love, if you don’t slow down your fingers will bleed out and your arms will pop out.”

“I’m fine Mack.”

“Doesn’t sound like it love,” I froze right there in my spot. Mack looked just as surprised as I was, when I turned around there stood my boys.

Freddie, Brian, Roger and John.

“Oh my god….what—what are you lot doing here?”

“Well we heard our little Rock Angel would be here, so we’d thought we’d check on her to see just how her first big album is coming along.”

“And it’s a good thing we did, cause from what we just heard, you’ve been over working yourself, haven’t you love?” Brian asked using is dad voice.

“No” I said shamefully kicking my foot around as I avoided looking at them.

“Then let us see your hands.” John stated using his dad voice.

Damnit.  Now I knew there was no escaping this lie this time.  Truthfully my hands were heavily imprinted with both base and normal guitar strings, and my palms were scarred and cracked from the drumsticks.

“(Y/n) (l/n) show us your hands” demanded Roger.  I sighed and held them out palms down.  Both Roger and Bri took my hands and flipped them over and they were all horrified at how extreme they were.

“Love do you know how serious this could’ve been?” stated John.

“Based on these string imprints, any longer and you could’ve damaged a nerve allowing you to not be able to feel a note again.” Brian answered.

“And your palms, you’re lucky these scars don’t need stitches, not to mention they are as dry as the desert.” Hearing the boys say this made me rethink a little bit on how strict I’ve been to keeping my schedule.

“I’m sorry guys. It’s just that—my deadline is in a couple of weeks and with it just being me and no one else willing to travel this far up north during this time I….I had to work three times as hard as I am just a soloist and I didn’t just want my songs to be recorded separately from what I’ve already delivered through singing. You guys get what I’m saying right?” They all looked at me and Deacy said.

“We do love, but we also understand when we need to step away and not strain ourselves to the point of almost losing the limbs that need to be required in order to play them.”

“And don’t take offense to this darling but you look like shit at the moment.” Freddie stated.

“Oh gee thanks Fred.” I sassed sarcastically.

“What Freddie means is that you look so exhausted. When was the last time you had a proper sleep?”

“I’ve tried to get my daily 8 hours but so far I haven’t.”

“And what about a decent meal?”

“I had a big breakfast earlier this morning before we started recording.”

“But that was hours ago.” Mack piped in. I turned and glared at him but he explained to the guys, “In fact that usually all you would eat minus a piece of fruit, a granola bar or some water to stay hydrated.”

“Thank you Mack” I sneered at him.

“Alright. (Y/n) you need to take the rest of today plus tomorrow off, you are running yourself ragged at this point. You need a proper meal, some rest, and all the pampering you deserve.” Roger said.  One look at these boys and I knew I wasn’t going to win. So I gave in and told them.

“Alright, I fold. Take me away.” I was then taken out of the studio picked up bridal style by Roger and taken back towards my room.

John unfolded the sheets from my bed and Roger put me in and John tucked me back in.

“Anything in particular you would like me to cook up?” Roger asked.

“I’ve been kinda craving for Tikka Masala. But you don’t have to make it if you don’t want to.”

“Nonsense, I’ll get right on it.” He kissed my head before leaving my bedroom.  Deacy came back with a first aid kit and he said to me.

“Okay give me one of your hands, love.” I handed him my right one since it was closer to him.  He took out the rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs and he began to lightly dab around my palms which made me wince in pain.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, not your fault. It’s mine. You all were right, I’ve been overworking myself.”

“You have such dedication poppet, that’s the first thing that I noticed about you. But it is always best to take a break. You’re already a star to us and to the world. And you always will be, don’t let the pressures and stress of this business affect you, otherwise we’ll lose our Rock Angel forever.” I looked up at John and nodded.

He paused his doctoring and looked straight in my eyes and softly smiled before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against mine. I smiled softly as his nose bumped up against mine in an Eskimo kiss before he kissed it and went back to doctoring my hands.

Once they were bandaged up John adjusted my pillows and soon Brian came up and he said.

“How are things up here?”

“Well I’m officially the mummy’s wife” I joked as I raised up my bandaged palms.  The two of them chuckled then Brian came in and he sat down beside me as he handed me a cuppa of Jasmine tea.

“Your favorite, just how you like it.”

“Thanks Bri,” I took the mug and took a small sip and hummed in content.

“Dinner is served madam.” Freddie gestured as Roger came in with a tray with my meal, plus a plate of cracker, and some ham and cheese sandwiches.

“You guys really did go the full yard of pampering.” I said as the tray was sat down in front of me.

“All the best for our little angel.” Freddie said as he gingerly took one of my hands and kissed my fingers, his tache lightly tickling them. I then began eating my masala and my taste buds had died and gone to heaven.

“Oh my god, Rog this is…..this is incredible.”

“Thank you darling, of course I had help from Fred here.” I thanked them both and continued eating.  I would occasionally dip the crackers into the masala for a little kick.  I then moved to the sandwiches before finally feeling so full I felt like I was going to burst.

“Ohh that was so good,” Brian gathered my now empty tea mug and placed it on top of the tray and he took it back down to the kitchen.

Once he came back, I noticed he had actually brought up one of the acoustic guitars.  Probably the one I may have left in the kitchen one time just to practice my chords and experiment with a song.

“Alright now that that belly of yours is full, its time you got some sleep.” Freddie said.  Brian strummed on the guitar and I said.

“You guys are gonna sing me to sleep?”

“What better way, with the way your little brain has been buzzing lately, it needs a sedative. Allow us to be that sedative you need.” Brian then began to play notes to “Love of my Life”.  Even without a piano, it still sounded just as beautiful as Freddie began to sing the song.

I adjusted myself to lay down on the bed as Fred kept singing the song and soon the rest of the guys joined in on the backup vocals.  Their voices harmonizing so beautiful which soothed my mind and I began to relax and shut my eyes.

“The next day after just hanging around the farm, in thanks for all that they’ve done I asked them if they’d be interested in being featured in my album, at first they were hesitant but I managed to convince them and so we got to recording once my hands were better of course. And as for the song I had a problem with, it was fixed up when I decided to make one version of the song just me singing, and then the same song featuring Queen, which to be honest I prefer the latter’s version.”

“So what’s up next for you?”

“Well I’m gonna take a summer vacation but then get ready for my first ever European tour.”

“Well, all the best of luck to you. (Y/n) (l/n)’s album hits the shelves this summer and you can catch her up in her upcoming tour. We’ll be right back after these messages.” With that we went off the air.

After my interview I was back at my flat and collapsed into my couch after having to wake up at 4am just to get to the station and get ready for that interview.  Just before I went back to sleep, my phone rang and I groaned as I answered it.

“Hello.”

‘We saw your first television debut love.’ I heard Brian’s voice say on the other end.

“Did I screw up?”

‘You were perfect darling, and the press won’t hold anything against you. Well done love.’ I heard Roger’s voice say.

“Thanks lads, well I’m bloody exhausted these past few months have been brutal, I’m getting some sleep and sleeping until supper time.”

‘Alright love, you deserve the rest. Rog and I will pop in on you later to make sure you aren’t oversleeping too much.’

“Okay, good day guys.”

‘Sleep well love.’ I heard them both say. With that I hung up the phone and fell right asleep there on my couch.

[hopper-baby]

Chapter 3/?: Unnecessary Digging

“I need to go home— Hop is going to kill me if I’m not home in 30 minutes,” Charlotte sat across from Clementine, staring at the food in front of her.

“Sorry, not until I can figure out a safe way to escort you out,” Clementine finished off her plate, then looked up to Charlotte’s flabbergasted expression.

“I don’t care if he’s going to send out a search team,” Clementine rolled her eyes, and Charlotte flushes when she remembers Clementine could read her mind— or her body language she wasn’t so sure yet.

“If you go out there, that thing is going to catch you, gobble up your innocence,” Clementine stood up and walked to the kitchen, plate in hand. Charlotte took the time to check out what she looked like.

Clementine had a curvy figure, very attractive. She certainly didn’t belong in a Catholic town like this. She was big city material. With a rusty red, oversized flannel and medium light-washed skinny jeans, she certainly dressed small-town-like. Charlotte could admit Clementine was smoking hot, but she was also way older than her. She had wisdom and life experience that didn’t match her young appearance.

“I’m older than you think, I remember back when this town was crawling with hysteria,” Clementine’s fingertip ran gingerly across the lining of the bookshelf, her eyes scanning for a certain book before she stopped to look over at Charlotte.

A look of realization dawned over Charlotte’s face.

That was the last piece of information she needed from Clementine to construct a loose theory.

“Our town used to be called Salem,” Charlotte responded, and Clementine smirked in her direction.

“Indeed,” Clementine thumbed through the huge book in her arms.

“The fact that you can remember it like it was yesterday makes goosebumps crawl up my arms...” Charlotte’s eyes brimmed with tears. She wasn’t sad— oh no, no... she was intimidated by the person in front of her.

Clementine looked to the side at her feet for a moment, her chin tilted down, before her eyes lifted to meet Charlotte’s shaking ones.

“And why are you afraid of something like that, Charlotte?”

“Because... Salem’s name wasn’t changed to Darian until after the 1692 Witch Trials...”

Chief Jim Hopper was ... a total asshole let’s be honest. He’s been through a lot ever since his daughter, Sara, passed away from cancer and his wife left him.

He lived in Hawkins, Indiana as the Chief of Hawkins Police, he saved the small town from the Soviets and the Upside Down, and lost the woman he’s sought after for since high school, Joyce Byers.

After escaping tragic death (how, he doesn’t really remember), he ended up in the small, Catholic town of Massachusetts. They were all firm believers in Catholism, it made him cringe. They complain about him smoking and drinking excessively. Every woman was married off by 18, leaving no one to have one night stands with.

He also missed Callahan and Powell, even Flo forcing him to eat apples and stop smoking cigarettes. His team were all no fun to be around, they were all serious.

Hopper turned the ignition off in the truck, and looked around the front yard for any sign of his adopted daughter, Charlotte.

He guessed she was huddled up inside already, it was starting to snow outside anyway.

When he opened the door to his house, something felt wrong. It was like a weight dropped from his throat and straight into his stomach.

“Charlotte!” He called from the entryway, kicking off his boots and shedding off his top to leave him in his white under-tank top, yet a voice startled him.

“She’s not here,” a girl with bouncing curls and a rusty red flannel had her back to him in the kitchen. She was looking at the picture frame in her hands.

Hopper’s hand hovered over his gun at his side, “Where is my daughter?”

“Somewhere safe,” the strange woman tossed the frame onto the counter without a single care to give. Her carelessness caused anger to boil inside him.

“What gives you the right to break into my home and throw my things around?” Hopper’s nose flared in frustration. This woman was starting to get on his nerves.

“What are you gonna do? Arrest me? Oh officer— right, my mistake— Chief, Jim Hopper, please do cuff me,” her voice dripped heavily with sarcasm. Her hands were pushed out with a pout covering her pretty lips.

“Why are you here?” Hopper crossed his thick arms.

“To let you know she is safe. There is something out there you don’t wanna reckon with,” her tone held a darkness, like she was challenged by it as well.

“It lives in the forest,” she finishes with a wave of her hand.

“That’s it? That’s the only lead I get?” Hopper shrugged, his eyebrows furrowing when she dug her pointer finger into his chest, taking his balance for a split second.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you even THINK about stepping in there,” Clementine’s expression caused his arm hairs to stand up in chills.

“And why not? If you aren’t going to give me my daughter back then I guess I have to go get her myself—“

“YOU CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?”

“BECAUSE SHE’S DEAD IF EITHER OF US TRY!”

Hopper’s expression softened and he backed down, hoping she would elaborate.

With a deep breath, she stuffed her hands in her pockets, “Trust me, babysitting an angsty, bisexual, horny 17 year old is not fun. She either stares at my ass or my tits 80% of the time. 20% of the time she stares off into space when I try to get her to do something. The entire time she bugs me about stuff.”

“Don’t go around town saying that she’s-“

“I know, Jim. I know. Sinners have to stick together,” her eyes held a ... longing glance as she stared up at him.

“Do you even live in town?” Hopper asked.

“No,” she didn’t explain farther.

“...please protect her,” Hopper looked down at their feet.

“If I don’t, the world may just end, but gradually,” Clementine’s lips pursed as she stared holes into his chest.

“What do you mean by that?” Hopper was afraid to ask.

“You don’t want to know.”

[teddybeardoctorr]

Lost Souls - Supernatural Fic

*I thought I would finally dabble in fanfiction again and write a little something with my favorite character. Hope you all enjoy! - A/N

“Son of a bitch.”

I spat out the milk in my mouth. It was spoiled. I can't believe...well, I can believe it. Me and Sammy had been working on a case for a week. Shopping wasn't on our to-do list.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I dumped the milk in the sink and rinsed my mouth with water probably four times. I was so pissed. How was I going to eat my cake now?

Yeah, my cake. I didn't think Sam was going to believe the sight of it when he came home. I don't bake, ever. I have, but...let's just say it wasn't my specialty. Last time I baked a cake for my dad's birthday at 10 years old, the firefighters weren't happy about seeing me...again.

At least there was nothing box directions and Google couldn't fix.

Grabbing my plate and fork, I head off to my room in the bunker. We were still in this dingy place I guess you could call home. It was at least a great place of quiet, and sleep. Oh, I planned on getting 12 hours of sleep after gutting a whole army of vamps.

Opening my door, I stopped in my tracks. There was a white envelope on my bed.

A letter?

I don't get letters.

Placing the plate and fork on my dresser, I walked slowly, looking at the letter. Labeled “Dean Winchester.”

“Funny,” I snickered. Who was playing a sick joke on me?

Ripping open the envelope, I unfold the paper. Only a few lines of text:

“Dean,

I can't believe I'm writing to you. It's been such a long time.

I hope you still remember me. I need you.

When you get the chance, please give me a call. It's urgent.

Love,

Val”

Val?

“Very funny, Sammy.”

Laughing to myself, I was sure he did this. Who else could it be? Crowley? He was dead. Castiel? I'm not even sure Cas would know how to craft a letter. Sam? Well, I guess I wasn't sure about that, either, but no one else lived here.

What if it was a demon? An angel? Another vamp? Some sort of trap? How the hell did anyone get in here?

Hearing footsteps, I left my room to see Sam in the kitchen, unbagging the beer I asked for.

Should've asked for milk, too.

“Do you think this is funny?”

Sam looked up, folding the paper bag. “What are you talking about?”

“You have nothing better else to do but craft fake love letters?” I asked, holding up the letter.

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Dean, you're crazy.”

“I gotta admit,” I said, handing him the letter back. “Val sounds sexy, but stop fucking with me, man.”

Perplexed, he opened the letter and read the words. He laughed and shook his head. “Dean...I would never write this. I didn't write this.”

I paused, shaking my head and said, “Then who did?”

“One of your many flings? That's probably why you don’t remember who,” He said, cracking open a beer.

One more time, I gazed over his face. Relaxed, too playful, and no sign of hiding anything, Sammy was telling the truth.

“Whatever,” I gave up. “I'll get you next time.”

Heading back to the room, I thought to myself briefly. There were no signs of forced entry. There were traps everywhere for monsters. Who delivered the letter?

Sitting on my bed and taking another bite of cake, I looked over the letter again. Val….Val…I could remember her name, vaguely.

How could anyone know to deliver me a letter? As far as the public world knew, Dean Winchester was dead. Like the wind. I hadn't had friends in...well, ever, I guess.

Flings? Different story.

I wouldn't even consider any woman a fling. A fling implied having some sort of romantic connection. Almost every single one had been a hookup. Physical...very physical. Easy to forget about. I couldn't risk being close to anyone.

Val...Val…

Oh shit. Val.

Vaguely, but still recalling, Val was the woman I met...maybe a year ago now? I wasn't too sure, but I remembered Val.

I remembered her because of her tattoo.

Clinton, Arkansas was one of the most driest towns I'd ever been to. Not dry as in drought, but dry as in there was nothing to do there.

The town didn't have many bars to choose from, so that's how I landed here, in the Driest Saloon. What a coincidence.

At least there was a pool table, nice selection of beer, and just a few people. It made hiding in the corner at my table a whole lot easier.

“Is this seat taken?”

I looked up, knitting my eyebrows.

“Good,” she said, pulling out the chair and plopping down. “Didn't think so.”

I loosened my lips once I took in my new view. Brunette, green eyes, and smirking, like there was something to laugh about in secret.

“Um, actually-”

“I'm Val.”

Looking at her outstretched hand, I chuckled.

“Look, I don't need company, but thanks anyway.”

Challenging my stare, she withdrew her hand and pulled the top of her flannel down, showing me her chest tattoo.

An anti-possession tattoo.

“Calm down,” she laughed. “I'm one of you.”

Grinning, the memory of that night came back to me. It wasn't smart trusting her. She could've been anyone lying to me, trying to kill me. But she caught me at a weak moment, I guess.

And God, was she beautiful.

Me and Sammy were working a case and weren't coming up with much answers. I needed a few beers to cool down, alone, and wanted nothing but a fuzzy buzz to cure my tension.

But then Val came along, and I decided to let loose. For once.

Yeah, I was stupid. Hopeless and stupid.

Tension releasing from my shoulders, I laughed and asked, “How did you know?”

“Well,” she started, “Yours is peaking out from your shirt. I figured it wasn't a coincidence.”

She was right. Bringing only a v-neck on this trip--from a lack of clean clothes--my tattoo showed a little when I wasn't wearing a button up.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s not everyday you run into a hunter.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Guess it's my lucky day.”

Looking at the number written down, I decided to take out my cell and give it a ring. I wasn't exactly sure what Val wanted, or how she was able to send me a letter, but it didn't hurt to find out.

After four rings, I heard her say, “You called.”

“I, uh, um yeah, it's me.”

“Dean.”

Hearing her voice say my name sent a chill up my spine. Even after just meeting her once, I could still feel her affect on me. Her voice dancing under my skin, making me want to touch every inch of her.

How could I forget that night?

“Val,” I said. “How did you find me?”

Laughing, she said, “Well, it sounds crazy, but I prayed, and your friend heard me.”

Shaking my head, confused, I asked, “You mean...Castiel?”

Picturing her nodding, she replied, “I was desperate and didn't know how to get a hold of you. He shows up in a trenchcoat, and asks what I need, and helped me get to you. I...I just can't believe it worked.”

Cas always did have our backs, me and Sammy. It was just strange how he heard her pray and...delivered a letter? Why wouldn't he just tell me?

“Well, it's me,” I said. “It...it's great to hear your voice, Val.”

She got up, fetching us two Blue Moons at the bar. I cringed internally. Blue Moon was sweeter than I liked, but my bourbon was dwindling down. Guess I wouldn't say no.

Sitting down, she said, “I think you're working on the case I had no interest in.”

I laughed, taking the last swig of bourbon. “What? Ghosts taking over home appliances doesn't interest you?”

“Not exactly,” she agreed, taking a sip of her drink. “Once I sucked it up and got to the crime scene, I noticed two men with fake FBI badges working.”

Arching an eyebrow and licking her lip, catching a drop of beer, I froze. I had seen many women in my lifetime, yet, she was someone who had a hold I couldn't shake.

I don't remember that happening since...ew, Amara, the darkness.

Back to reality, I rolled my eyes. “Like you don't have twenty of those.”

“Twenty-three, thank you.”

“Funny.”

Reaching for the lone bottle, she swatted my hand away. “You can get your own.”

Pursing my lips, I asked, “Excuse me?”

Finishing off her bottle, she smirked, winking. “That was for you until I finished mine. You have to be quicker than that.”

My lip curled, watching her. Her soft voice giving me goosebumps; watching her long hair flip to her backside; imagining it running through my fingers.

Trouble has company tonight.

“You too, Dean. You too.” She sighed, and I could picture her smiling.

Only...her voice didn't show any sign of enthusiasm.

Clearing my throat, I said, “I'm guessing there's a reason you were looking for me.”

After a pause, she replied, “Yeah. There is. Or um, there was.”

Silence sliced between us, but I didn't do anything to separate it. Normally, I would've chased to the point, but something told me not to right now. I could feel the...dread, the disappointment in her voice.

Disappointed in what?

“Dean,” she said, velvety and smooth. “Do you remember that night between us?”

“Of course,” I admitted too quickly. “It was my lucky day.”

Chuckling, she replied, “Good. I'm calling...because I never forgot what happened that night.”

Rising up from my chair, she tugged on my sleeve, shaking her head.

“I got it,” she said. “I live here. It's on the house.”

Protesting, she got up anyway, looking back at me after putting in her request. She smiled, tucking her hand in the back of her jean pocket, and winked.

God damnit.

She brought back two glasses of bourbon, both of us sitting down. “Now both are for you. I can't stand Jim Bean.”

“Me either,” I agreed. “That's why I drink it.”

Perplexed, she shook her head. “A new form of torture?”

I nodded, kicking back a whole glass and slamming it on the table. “Isn’t that the point of drinking?”

“Isn't the point to forget?”

“Not exactly.”

Picking up on my sarcasm, she grinned. “Are you always alone?”

“Naw,” I replied, sipping from my glass. “My brother is catching some sleep.”

Nodding, she took a sip from her own bottle. “Well, he's missing the fun.”

That's when the flickering lights cast a shadow on her face, making her eyes glow with flecks of gold.

Turning our heads around, we noticed our breath in front of us…

Of course.

“Are you talking about all the appliances we trashed in the bar? Or the scratches on our heads?” I asked, chuckling.

Laughing, she replied, “Both. What are the chances we ended up in the ghosts home? Buried in the basement and all?”

She was right. It was of course a hunter's chance that we would end up in the bar of the ghost making headlines in town. And it wasn't an easy feat.

The ghost, or Henry Simmoms, tried taking control of everyone and stuffing them into appliances to die. Freeze, burn, whatever could happen. After a few injuries, finding makeshift weapons, and attempts made to slow him down, we finally were able to burn him in the coffin stored in the basement. Unsanitary and disgusting, but convenient.

“You were badass,” I replied, smiling. “Never seen someone in my day break appliances in two smashes.”

“Shut up. I know.”

We shared a laugh, letting silence settle again. Her laugh was soothing. I could feel her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it a few times as we looked over the bar of frazzled customers when it was all over. I didn't think anyone in the destroyed, glass ridden joint knew what happened, and honestly, it was best that way.

Only we knew what happened that night.

“Well,” she said. “I meant...what happened afterwards.”

Oh yeah, that.

Chuckling, I replied, “Yeah...that too.”

“There's something I have to tell you.”

This silence was different. It was...waiting. It was nervous.

Reluctantly, I said, “Well, what is it Val?”

Walking out of the Driest Saloon, Val took a deep breath and said, “Well, off I go.”

“Wait,” I protested, turning to her. “You can't be serious?”

Knitting her eyebrows, she asked, “What?”

“You almost die in a bar and you want to go home alone?”

“Just another day in the office, right?” Grinning, she shook her head and walked forward. “I'll be fine. Seriously.”

“But you didn't even get to learn my name.”

That's what made her stop in her tracks. Turning around, she looked up and down, nodding. “You're right. Because you never told me.”

“Want to find out?” I asked, walking to the impala. “Get in.”

“My mom said never to get in a car with strange men.”

“Now I'm strange?”

“No,” she said, walking to the passenger side. “But you're a man.”

“I fucking hope so,” I said, slamming the door closed.

Val directed me to her home, a 40-minute drive. Apparently, everything in Clinton is miles apart.

Listening to the whistle of the wind against the window, I remembered a thought I had earlier.

“Why don't you have a southern drawl?”

She turned her head to me, smiling. “Cause I'm not from here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Somewhere in Indiana.”

“What, you don't remember?”

“I try to forget.”

Can't argue with that.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Kansas,” I replied.

Not asking any more questions, we sat in silence, with the occasional direction. It was somehow comforting. Words didn't need to be said when silence said everything.

Pulling up into the rocky driveway, I took in Val's home, or what was left of it. There was no roof, barely any sidings anymore. I gotta admit...this place was a dump.

“This isn't it,” she clarified. “Come on.”

I waited, and waited, but no answer.

“Still there?”

“Yeah,” Val replied quietly.

Nervous for her response, I waited again. After a measured breath, I waited again. What wasn't she telling me?

“Dean,” she said. “Do you believe in...right thing, wrong time?”

Confused, I answered, “Well, I guess.”

“Do you?”

“I mean...if it was truly meant to be, it would already be, right?”

“Are you saying us?”

“In general.”

In reality, I meant us. From the moment I laid eyes on Val, I knew she was different. I was suspicious, and sure, distrusting, but I always would be. It came with the hunter lifestyle. But she was different. She broke down walls I didn't know could be torn down, after years of building on the foundation.

My imagination told me we could be. We could protect each other. Go to great lengths to stay by each other's side. Vow to never let go until it was no longer a choice. But deep down, I would never let it happen.

In this lifetime, there was too much to lose. I could barely stomach the thought of losing Sam. Even Castiel, I couldn't consider the scenario. And Val...I knew if I let her too close, I would be terrified of losing her, too.

And plus, I couldn't be another reason to add to her endangerment. She was a hunter, so she was used to it. Hell, it was probably her lifestyle that cost her a family. She knew what pain felt like, just like I did.

And I didn't want to be another reminder of pain. Ever.

“Yeah,” she said. “I agree. Some things just weren't meant to be.”

Getting out of the car and tapping my door twice to let baby know I'd be back soon, I followed her to the side of the house. It looked like above ground, her home was burned down to pieces a while ago, maybe ten years back.

We made it to the back, where a roof of a shed peaked from above ground. There were double doors on the roof. Interesting design.

“Some enemies burned my home down a while back, and I didn't want to risk being found again,” she explained, looking down at the doors. “It was temporary, but I discovered I don't like the sun, anyway.”

Looking down at her, smiling, I couldn't imagine why she wasn't a fan. With skin as olive kissed as hers, and a grin bright enough to light up a room, I had my doubts. She belonged in the sun.

Quietly opening one of the doors, she stepped down and reached her hand out for me to grab. Interlacing our fingers, I followed her, closing and locking the door as instructed. At the bottom of her staircase was the living room. It was as if this was above ground, a normal home.

“I started rebuilding this once my house was destroyed,” she said, stepping further and leading me to sit on the couch with her. “It came along quickly. Kind of resembles what out there used to be.”

“What made you want to stay?” I asked, letting go of her hand.

I could tell the subject was personal to her. She looked ahead, and then up to me. This time, her grin was sad. “I guess I'm connected to my family. They aren't here anymore, but I can feel them.”

“Trust me,” I said, putting a hand on her knee, squeezing it for comfort. “I know.”

At first, I panicked at the movement. I usually never felt compelled to touch. A desired touch, sure, but I knew how to keep my urges to myself. But something told me to comfort Val. She was a magnet, and she was dragging me along. Only it didn't feel painful. To be honest, I could drown in her all night.

And there was no need to worry, because she put her hand on top of mine. Now, she was back to her mischievous smirk.

“What's your name?” she asked.

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“I know.”

“You knew.”

“Your name definitely started with a D, but I was thinking Danny.”

Throwing our heads back in laughter, we somehow came back together. Looking at each other; smiles fading. She bit her lip, and that was it. That was my undoing.

Only I didn't make the move. Her hands held onto my shoulders as she moved forward to kiss me.

With enough pressure, I could sense the urgency. I could sense the spark. We both ignited the match.

And I wasn't going to let the flames stop.

She moved back, keeping her eyes closed for two seconds before looking at mine.

“Was that okay? I'm sor-”

But the distance was too much. I moved forward to close it, placing my hand on her lower back, bringing her close and pressing my lips against hers, saying, “Don't be.”

It's amazing how much you can jump from one place to the next. At one point, she crawled onto my lap, wrapping her arms around me, tracing my bottom lip with the tip of her tongue before gently biting down. I sighed against her lips, feeling my hands settling onto her hips, bringing her closer to me. I felt her smile between our kiss, and knew she was enjoying having this effect on me.

At the next point, my lips left a trail down her neck while my hand wandered to her chest, over her flannel. Kissing, nibbling, licking; I was doing anything to hear her moan and watch her throw her head back in pleasure. Moving her hips forward with one hand, squeezing her breast and applying pressure to her nipple with the other, she found the right spot between us, making my hips meet hers.

That's when I found myself rising up on my feet, keeping her lifted as I maneuvered my way around with her guidance.

“There’s a, uh, bedroom, to your right,” she sighed, reaching down with her lips, meeting mine and sneaking her tongue in.

Luckily, I was great at walking with my eyes closed. I led our way into the bedroom, the glow of two nightlights showing me my steps. Gently laying her down and kissing her deeply, I slid my tongue against hers, wrestling before sucking on her upper lip, letting go and hearing her whimper.

“Dean,” she moaned.

Trailing further down her neck, I said against her collarbone, “You rang?”

She giggled, probably from feeling tickled, and asked, “Will you stay?”

She crawled back, making me crawl with her, grinning and throwing her hair back. She was so hard not to ravish. But I knew with her, I had to take my time. If this was going to be the only time we could do this, I wanted to savor every inch, every touch, every feeling I had on top of and inside of her.

Looking down, her head was sinking in the pillows, smiling up at me. Even in darkness, her eyes were hard to let go of.

“I could never leave.”

And I couldn't. Nothing stayed except our bodies under the sheets. One by one, clothing was chucked all over the room. We were eager to take them off, helping each other since we got tangled, laughing most of the time and switching positions often. This was a great workout alone.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, rolling her on top, she stayed close to me. Her chest against mine. Her lips pressing deeper. Her tongue diving in before nibbling and sucking, making me do the same to her lips. I tried bringing her closer, even though it wasn't possible. But I needed her. I needed her so bad.

“I'm all yours tonight,” she breathed against my mouth.

She kissed me before rising up, hands on my chest. Looking down between us, she rose her hips before sinking down on me and gasping.

I hissed, “Shit.”

She looked at the ceiling, moving her hips forward and breathing heavily. First, it was slow, enjoying me inside, filling her deeply. But once I grabbed her hips, controlling her speed, she moaned and looked down at me.

“Yes, please,” she whimpered, digging her nails in my chest.

I groaned, closing my eyes and trying to keep my cool. She was so fucking tight around me. So wet. So fucking wet I could hear it. The faster I moved her hips forward, her clit rubbing against me, the more I heard her moaning. It was so beautiful. I wanted her to keep moaning, as if she was singing.

Immediately, I took hold of her and flipped her over, hearing her gasp and giggle. I smiled and looked down at her as she laid under me. She rose her hips against mine, wanting me inside again. Her eyes quickly closed once I slammed inside, causing her to moan and hold onto my shoulders, looking down between us as I kept thrusting, slowly and measured.

“Faster,” she whispered. “Fuck me, please.”

Sealing her lips with mine, groaning in her mouth, I slammed my hips against hers faster. Her moans turned into yearning whimpers, trying to catch her breath and still kiss me. Getting wetter and contracting around me, I knew I was going to cum soon.

But I needed to see her come undone first. I needed to see the effect I had on her because she was so fucking beautiful.

Peeling my lips away, I opened my eyes and took in the sight below. Her breasts bouncing with each thrust; her eyes trying to keep contact with mine but rolling back instead; her mouth hanging open, half smiling in pleasure.

“God, you're beautiful,” I groaned, throbbing inside of her.

“Dean,” she moaned. “Fuck.”

Sealing her lips with mine, I slowed down. Feeling her skin against mine, feeling her tremor, her lips tickling mine, I fucked her slow so I could tease her, and slow myself down.

It was impossible not to lose myself in her. I had never felt this way physically towards someone before.

Reaching my hand down to rub her clit in small, pressuring circles, I felt her pulse against me. She teared her lips away to yell her orgasm out. Arched back; breasts against my chest, her nails creating long scratches down my arms, I watched Val ride out her pleasure, spasm and all.

Watching her, I didn't realize I came, too. I felt it ripple through me, pausing inside of her and sinking my head down. But I was too busy looking at her.

Beautiful.

“I've never been a believer, anyway,” I said.

“Even after everything we've seen?”

“Would you blame me?”

Val was silent, answering my question. Out of everything that has happened in my life, probably in hers, too, my expectations weren't high in any way. God was a bust. Fate was a joke. Death could be cheated.

If things were meant to be, then they simply would be. Maybe in some other universe.

And when everything could change, I always did my best to make the right change.

Which is why I always knew with Val what my choice had to be.

Waking up, there was no sun shining in my face. But once I cleared my eyes of sleep with my fist, I saw her fixated on me.

“Did you sleep?”

She nodded. “I'm just an early bird.”

“Wish I could say the same.”

Giggling, she came closer, laying her head right in front of mine. Through the morning breath, I kissed her, missing the way her soft lips felt against mine already.

“I know you can't stay,” she said.

“I wish I could.”

“Me too.”

Laying in silence, staring each other down, and tracing the few freckles on her face with my thumb really made me not want to leave.

Val was beautiful in so many ways. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. I didn't know much about her, and she knew even less about me. But somehow, neither of that mattered. What mattered was that even just being around her, she had me stuck in time reliving all the good parts. It was comforting, because I knew I was safe. I knew she was that person.

But she couldn't be. Not now.

And if I could help it, not ever.

“Can I help you get dressed?” she asked.

I smirked, trying my best to match hers. “Just to undress me?”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

We laughed, kissing each other again. We allowed ourselves a few more minutes of fooling around, her mouth around me and mine exploring her. Her lips felt just as amazing around my cock, swallowing every bit of me, not minding the tears in the corners of her eyes. It didn't take long for me to turn myself into her.

It didn't take her long, either. Her clit pulsed against my tongue, her lips wrapping around my tongue when I explored inside. Bringing her closer to my face, moaning against her and enjoying her taste is what it took to have her orgasm, her flooding my tongue with a taste hard to forget.

It was hard to get out of bed after that, especially when I wanted to devour her. Again and again and again. But it was already 8:00am, and Sam was going to be up soon. We needed to head out.

But she made me want to stay instead of run.

I knew I wouldn't feel that for a while.

Stopping in front of the drivers side of the impala, we looked at each other with a mutual understanding. We couldn't keep in contact. We couldn't have each other's information. We couldn't because we connected, and anything evil would try to take that away from us.

And that hurt more than actually not having her near at all.

She nodded, grinning. “You take care of yourself, Dean. Home appliances aren't even safe.”

I chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek and cupping it, feeling her soft skin under my calloused palm. “You too, Val. Be safe.”

After a few seconds, she started stepping away, causing my hand to drop. She waited until I was in the impala, starting it and backing out of the driveway to smile and wave goodbye.

I knew I wouldn't see her again.

But I was hoping I would.

“Val,” I interjected, growing impatient. “What's wrong?”

Taking a deep breath, she started, “I wish I didn't have to tell you-”

“Listen, you don't have to tell me-”

“But I do, Dean. I do.”

Hearing her shaky voice created a swell in my chest. Before, I could tell she was trying to keep herself together. But now, I heard the gates break down, tears probably streaming from her eyes.

“Please, don't cry,” I whispered, closing my eyes, willing away the image of a broken woman falling into my arms. I wish she was close to me.

“Sorry,” she said, sniffling before clearing her throat. “S-Sorry.”

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “A few months after meeting you, I started getting sick. I wasn't sure why. I hadn't had the flu in years.”

Discomfort crawling beneath my shoulders, I breathed slowly. This couldn't be happening.

“Turns out, I was pregnant,” she said.

Pregnant.

“By who?” I quickly asked.

She snorted, but it wasn't friendly.

“You,” she bit back. “You, Dean. I just...couldn't tell you.”

After a few seconds of silence, I knew she wanted me to say something.

But what could I say?

Settling my fist onto my lap, reluctantly stretching out my fingers, I shook my head and asked, “Why?”

“Because you didn't deserve that.”

“I didn't deserve to know I was having a child?”

“You didn't deserve to have a child with me,” she yelled, taking me back. “You had enough on your shoulders. You don't understand what life is like for me, what you would've been walking into. I couldn't do that to you-”

“That wasn't for you to decide,” I seethed. “I would've made it work. I would've raced down there. I would do anything for my child-”

“There is no child!”

That's when I felt the world stop.

The clock stopped ticking. My chest ached with pain. My eyes made it hard to see anything in front of me.

I wasn't too sure if my ears were working correctly, either.

“Wh...What?” I asked, surrendering. “What are you saying, Val?”

“Dean,” she said, pleading. “I gave birth and...he didn't make it.”

[ready8210]

“Let me in your heart again”

1. He hates me

Vivian

Munich / Germany - Musicland Studios

I nervously pluck my blouse, sitting in the sparing lobby of Munich's „Musicland Studios", as I wait for the first "meeting" with my future „boss", no less than QUEEN.

You've read correctly. QUEEN! I can't get my head around it yet.

The band was searching for a photographer, to document the tour life and studio work of their upcoming "works" album and their following world - tour, which would later lead them - or should I say US - from Europe, over Asia, Australia to America and Africa.

I was one of the lucky ones, the band and management put on the shortlist in late October, last year. A view weeks later, I was informed that it was me, who would attend the band for the next two years.

Two years, I think to myself, wrinkling my brows in disbelief.

At this moment I don't know if I am incredible lucky or should be scared.

I still desperately try to smooth out the wrinkles on my pastel - yellow blouse, as I nervously scan the room. Leaning back in an uncomfortable armchair, I inhale deep as I gaze over my chosen outfit.

Earlier today I was frustrated standing in front of my closet, throwing around varying outfits, unable to decide what to wear for my meeting with the band.

What would one wear when meeting Queen?

I racked my brain this morning, that would change my whole life.

Needles to say I didn't come to an answer.

After one hour of putting on nearly all content of my wardrobe, I decided to go for casual and simple. I really didn't want to look like an applicant for a secretary job.

I wear that pastel yellow sleeveless blouse I already mentioned 2 times (you have to excuse, I'm extremely nervous), paired with light blue skinny jeans and simple pumps. My wavy hazelnut brown hair is put into a ponytail on this hot July summer day.

Fiddling with the strap of my bag, I hear a door open and dull music echoing in the hallways of the oppressive building.

It is QUEEN, I recognize immediately, forming a smile on my lips.

The music reaches my ears as I am leaning myself forward, trying to get closer to the source of sound.

There it is, the mesmerizing voice of the one and only Freddie Mercury, bringing on goosebumps all over my body. I cling to the armrest, on the chair I am sitting in, as the door closes and the sound fades all to fast.

As you can imagine, this last event didn't lessen my massive nervousness.

You now may've recognized for whom of the four bandmates my heart beats.

In certain circumstances this may change within the next hour. But it don't want to anticipate things.

„Miss Kurzmann" a monotone voice behind a to high counter tears me from my thoughts. „Mr Beach will arrive in about 15 minutes. Can I offer you some tee, coffee or water in the meantime?"

„Just water, thank you" I respond barely audible, biting on my lip. I couldn't handle more at the current stage of my tense mood.

15 minutes. Great. 15 minutes unsuccessfully trying to cool down my nerves, to later make a "smooth" impression.

"Here you go, Ms", I hear the monotone voice again, coming closer, handing me my water.

She's a quiet conservative dressed, middle aged woman, wearing her grey curly hair in a shoulder-length bob. The kind of person, you wouldn't expect to work in a studio, with an endless coming and going of superstars.

Otherwise today its me, sitting in that exact same front hall.

I am by all means far from being conservative, but at the same time, even more far from being some "rockstar material".

The reserved type, always taking a backseat and avoiding the spotlight like wolves the fire.

Ok, I have to confess "reserved" is an understatement. I'm hopelessly shy, especially when it comes to situations like today. Not that I would experience something like this every day.

The only possible outcome for today is disaster.

"Ok, time to relax Viv, you already have the bloody job. Get a grip!!" I quietly whisper, trying to convince myself for the remaining time sitting there.

"Still 11 minutes to go" I mumble, as I look at my watch with trembling hands.

"Your first time?" A voice from the other end of the room brings me back to reality.

"Please excuse me, is it your first time working for a band like Queen?" She quickly continuous.

All I can manage as response, is putting on a tortured smile while nodding almost invisible.

"Don't worry Ms, the band is absolutely thrilled by your photographs and barely can await to finally meet you. And by the way, they won't give you a hard time. They're all relaxed, down to earth guys.

Relaxed,.... so the complete opposite of me, it crosses my mind, as I stare at my watch again.

"9 minutes" I whisper, while watching visitors entering the building.

I hesitantly sip on my water, to not look to helpless and lost and to somehow BRIDGE the DAMN REMAINING 9 MINUTES. Please excuse my little emotional outburst.

Ok Viv....

Oh, crap! Now I realize, I haven't introduced myself to you.

I'll cut it short.

I'm Vivian Kurzmann, 33 years old/young (it's up to you to decide), born and raised in Germany, living in London, in the middle of a divorce, freelance photographer with passion and right now on a kamikaze mission.

"Ok Viv. Think about ways to relax!" I tell myself a tad to loud.

"Excuse me? You need something Ms?" It echoes in the room.

"Oh, I'm ...I was just reading something". To cover up my little white lie, I grab the first magazine I can find, from a massive steel table, right in front of me.

Under extreme tension, I flip through the magazine, without even realizing what I'm looking at.

Maybe I find an article about reducing stress in here?

Come on Viv, figure something out. I try to remember while laying back the unhelpful piece of paper.

"Autogenic training!" I mumble. Wrong time wrong place. Don't be ridiculous.

"Smoking?" Yes, I smoke now and than, an awful habit, I know. I decide to quit smoking for today, not wanting to risk to smell like a bilgy ashtray.

"Meditation, Yoga, ...." Google shows me some options on my phone, which I grabbed earlier to soothe my trembling hands.

"Very helpful fuc*** World Wide Web. I cannot possibly roll out my yoga mat in here and do the downward dog." I mutter and shut google down.

Taking a quick look on my phone, I realize: 4 more minutes to go.

Breath Viv, you can do this!!!!! I remind myself over and over again in my mind, that goes absolutely crazy at the very moment.

"Ms Kurzmann, Mr Beach has arrived and will be here in a minute." the nice woman informs me.

Nodding confirmative I gasp a simple "thank you."

Time stretches like chewing gum, as I finally hear a male voice approaching me. "Ms Kurzmann, I welcome you to the "Musicland Studios". I'm delighted to finally meet you in person. I'm already a big fan and admirer of your work." a brightly smiling, effusive gesticulating man surprises me, holding out his hand to me.

"Oh excuse me Ms. My name is Jim Beach."

"Kurzmann, the pleasure's all mine." I babble, while standing up way to fast, almost bumping into him.

Where's the exit? Last chance to do a runner. I helplessly look around. I must look like turkeys voting for christmas, at least I feel this way.

Mr. Beach wastes no time, taking me along the gloomy corridors towards the studio where the band is recording. "I will introduce you to the band to get to know each other and have a quick talk. Let me tell you, you really made an impression." He winks at me walking besides me. "May I ask you to take you to my office afterwards. I would like to discuss the business side and do the paperwork?"

As I stammer a convincing "sure", we reach the door of our destination, noticing, considering the amount of noise and swearing, a heated discussion reaches its peak.

Mr beach opens the door, rolling his eyes while he whispers at me "please excuse this....rockstars at work."

I can't bite back a chuckle, as the door swings open.

"Guys I want to introduce you to Ms Kurzmann." He shouts.

For a split of a second I want to curl up and die.

Much to my reassurance, the band don't even recognize the two intruders and continue their argument.

The man at my side now starts to get uneasy and tenses up, as he screams again. "DAMN GUYS!!!!"

I quickly notice the heat growing in my cheeks, as all eyes lay on us. No, on ME.

Viv, damn, now of all times. Think about ....ice....no, Antarctica, .....uh. FU**

I can only let my gaze wander for a view seconds and take in the room, as a sympathetically grinning young man, with blonde tousled hair and sunglasses - I guess the sun always shines for him, even in a pitch black cellar - room. - sprints towards me, with joyfulness and flings his arms around my neck. "Hi sweetie. Vivian, right? I'm Roger. Roger Taylor, the drummer of the pack." He sputters, as he steps back again, while turning to face the band and rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Taylor." I smile at him bashfully.

"I'll call you Viv...can I call you Viv?" I'm just Roger." He grins, with the brightest smile he can pull of.

"Alright, just Roger ." I joke, unable to suppress a giggle.

"Brian, come over!" He shouts to a large, lean man with a giant mane of brown curly hair.

The shaggy man puts down his guitar, leaning it against the wall and strolls towards me, kindly smiling, reaching out his hand for me. "Ms Kurzmann, it's a pleasure. I'm Brian May."

I like him already. He has this strongly soothing impact. At this moment....priceless.

"Vivian Kurzmann, my pleasure." I reply affectionately.

Viv, you're almost done, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...it wheels in my head.

Suddenly a shyly smiling man with guitar, is standing in front of me and introduces himself as John Deacon, the bassist of the group. "Miss Kurzmann, welcome to chaos." He jokes.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr Deacon." I give him a handshake, a bit to long as I try to interpret his restrained smile.

I think I like John Deacon, he's just like me. Exaggerated shy and reserved. My clone.

I neglect the fact that this man is a music genius!

"FREDDIE, what the hell takes you this long? Take your ass over here!!! I hear the blonde yell behind the mixing console, interrupting my thoughts.

Ok. The time has come. Breeeeath! Don't get hysterical. I internally scream. There's still some hope, this will work out right.

After a while, what seemed like eternity, no less than Freddie Mercury in flash and bone, appears in the room.

Like a tiger on prowl, he paces at me with slow, cautious moves, his lips formed into a devilish grin.

I can swear everything happens in slow motion.

I can feel his eyes - oh yes, his eyes, his beautiful big brown oceans, framed by those incredible long lashes, I could sink into right now - examine every inch of my trembling body as he spits out words, that break down my idyllic world.

"So you're the one to trample on my privacy from now on, like any greedy paparazzi, reporter and journalist out there?" He hisses while hesitating to reach his hand out to me.

I suppose that means FREDDIE MERCURY HATES ME??!!

As he construes my slack jawed and shocked expression, he continues in a dismissive tone.

"I think you know who I am, but what's your name again?

Pulling my hand away that won't receive a handshake from Freddie Mercury today, I stutter "Kurz.....Vi Vivian Kurzmann."

"Kurz Vivian Kurzmann?" he apes me, grinning cheekily, waiting for me to break down.

"This will be fun." He laughs, while shaking his head and stepping back.

STOP! Can we go back please? That's not how I fantasized this!

The thoughts in my head ride a rollercoaster when my stomach cramps at the last spoken words, still echoing in my head.

Everything feels unreal, as I stand there, watching everything in a haze.

Before I can realize what happens, he continues with a disdainfully look on his face.

"To get it straight. I'm not thrilled by the fact someone is chasing me day after day, to document every fucking move I make. I really appreciate my privacy and want you to respect this. No photos beyond the studio and the venues. Got it?"

This will be the most horrible two years of world history. Freddie Mercury hates me.

As he turns round and starts to stroll away and I almost pass out, I begin to stammer

"Mr Mercury I assure that your privacy and the privacy of everybody involved is crucial to me and I..."

„I find this a little hard to believe, considering you do the same like any fucking journalist. Dig around in others life's and take what you can get." he spits at me and turns his back on me.

Bracing up one last time, I start to answer him, as I hear John entering the conversation

"Freddie, calm down. Don't give that pure girl such a hard time."

Freddie disdainfully gazes at me one last time, before he enters the side room.

I can feel a hand on my shoulder, as I come back to reality. „He has his moods. Don't worry, in a view days he will be fine with it and won't cause any trouble." John is trying to calm me.

All I can manage is to nod like an idiot, still standing there, paralyzed from shock.

As I let my eyes wander around the room, Mr Beach stands behind me. He must have left the studio for our short encounter and came back at this disastrous moment.

„Ms Kurzmann, may I walk you out" he asks me politely. „I love to." I answer quickly, in a relieved voice. I just want get out of here. Somewhere far away from the predator, that just rent me.

John, Brian and Roger farewell me, cheering me up by telling me how they're looking forward, working with me.

„Don't worry about our little diva, Viv. He will calm down." Roger nudges me from the side.

„You'll see, he's not that bad." Brian encourages me calmly.

„Unless his shadow follows him." a joking Roger lets out.

„Shadow?" I can manage to ask, confusion washing over my now chalk white face.

„PAUL" they all shout, rolling their eyes in unison, before bursting out laughing.

As I want to dig deeper, Mr Beach interrupts us. „Ms Kurzmann..?" Turning towards him I notice,, he already stands besides the open door, waiting for me to follow him.

I turn to face the boys again. "See you in a view." I wink towards them, as I leave the room.

Disappointed, I couldn't take a closer look to the studio and the band working, I make my way out, following Mr. Beach.

A nice bunch of men, I think to myself, as we walk down the barren corridor, were it not for my new nemesis.

As I told you. Disaster.

Part 2 will follow soon.

Also published on wattpad:

[likeawildthing]

“Lily stood there proudly, grinning like a loon, wearing the silliest hat he’d ever seen. And being a wizard, he’d seen loads of ridiculous hats. It was more or less a triangle of cheap, red Muggle fabric with a white pouf at the end, and every thirty seconds or so, it flopped jerkily from one side to the other. 

Perfect.

She reached her hand into her knapsack, which was definitely charmed to hold more than it appeared, for her arm disappeared to the shoulder, and then she produced a misshapen, poorly wrapped present with a lopsided bow on top.”

Happy Christmas in July! Have a 3702 word second installment of Pep(per) Up, Peppermint. Summer before seventh year flirting, banter, and turmoil. This time we hear from James! @marionetteblues because I’m excited to read what she’s going to be writing and @gxldentrio who needs some cheering up. It is helpful, but not completely necessary, to read chapter one for chapter two to make sense. Otherwise, read below.

“Evans, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?” James asked, surveying the entirely-too-chipper-for-this-unholy-hour redhead at his front door.

“Hullo, Head Boy Potter,” she said cheerily, giving him a snappy salute.

James grimaced. “You really don’t have to greet me like that.”

“I really do though.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“Disagree.”

“Alright, fine.”

But between his mum and dad’s respective tears, his mates’ merciless teasing, and now this—

But between Lily Evans’s shorts, and that vest that barely passed for a shirt—not that he was complaining—he was hard pressed to think of much else. And her chewing gum even smacked cheerfully against her lips, and her hair, done up in that braid he liked so much… She shifted to adjust the rucksack slung over her shoulder, and he realized her shoes had wheels attached to them.

James tried to gather his wits.

“I preferred when you called me heroes, Evans.”

And he had—she’d spent most of the spring term calling him heroes from Muggle literature—Hercules, Jim Thornton, someone named Mr. Darcy. He didn’t understand half of them, but she’d been calling him anything but Potter, and—

Somewhere from the kitchen, James’s mum cleared her throat, and he remembered his manners.

“I mean, hullo, it’s nice to see you, not just ‘what are you doing here’.”

“Assumed.”

“But also,” he said, stepping through the threshold and shutting the door behind him, “what are you doing here, at”—he looked at the watch he’d received a few months before—“six forty-five in the damn morning?”

“You said, ‘This was loads of fun, Evans, thanks for the invite. Here’s my address. Come over any time.’ And then you scrawled your address on the corner of my Potions essay. And six forty-five in the bloody morning counts as ‘any’ time.”

James grinned, despite his best effort not to.

She’d lowered her voice in a startlingly accurate imitation of his.

Sure, she needn’t have smirked, run a hand through her hair, adjusted her imaginary glasses, or winked so hard that the entire left side of her face had squinted. But aside from all of that, the impression had been dead on. Mostly, it was that she’d been paying that much attention to him to know his fidgets that chuffed him.

“Memorizing my quotes, are you, Evans? Going to get that tattooed on your forehead?”

“When I get the line of yours that finally works on my tattooed on my body, Head Boy Potter, I’ll let you choose the place.”

She smiled, blindingly, and he couldn’t help that his grew wider. This girl.

“Please stop calling me Head Boy Potter,” he whined.

“Just trying to get it out of my system,” she sing-songed.

“Yes, but you’ve no idea the shit—” James broke off, not wanting to discuss the tattoo he’d just maybe gotten, last night with Sirius. His head felt like it’d taken a dozen bludger hits. He was 100% certain Sirius had spiked his drink. He was half sure the tattoo was a fake. Still, he hadn’t been able to remove it, and he hadn’t yet had a chance to beat the shit out of Sirius and know for sure, so—

James cleared his throat. “Anyway, Evans, what are you doing here again?”

Her smile, for the first time, faltered. “I—d’you want me to go?”

“No! And I did say any time, you’re right. Your random appearance just surprised me is all.”

“That was kind of the point, James. And it just so happens that I’m not here randomly.” Her Cheshire cat grin reminded him unpleasantly of his mum.

“That almost scares me more.”

“Scared of me still?” she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear which was one of her nervous ticks.

James raised his chin defiantly and tried to project an air of utmost confidence.

“I’m not scared of you, Evans.”

But that was a lie.

He’d been scared of her since she hexed his arse in Duelling club, third year. He didn’t even register girls at all until fourth year. It was at least the first time he’d been awed by her, which felt as much of a beginning as anything.

Not that he’d thought about it all that much.

“How did you even get here, anyway?”

Her laugh gave James goosebumps.

Better than a raised prick, at least, although the morning was young.

“I Apparated, duh! You gave me your address, remember?”

“Yes, but you’ve never been here before.”

“So?”

“You’re wearing rolling skates.”

“Roller skates,” she corrected, though not unkindly. She gave a little twirl for his benefit.

“Dead impressive.”

“The skating, or the Apparition?”

“All of it. That you’d Apparated to a place you’d never been, and that you did it in those.”

“Well, I fell on my bum.”

“Alright?” “Yes, thank-you for asking.”

“Not you—your bum. It’d be a tragedy to ruin it.”

“Stop flirting! And it’s not that terribly impressive. You flew to my house, yesterday! That’s seriously impressive.”

“Yeah, but I’d taken the Knight Bus before, so I knew where I was going— Not as impressive as Apparating…”

“I guess…”

James raised his eyebrows, but she pretended that she didn’t see it and became ridiculously interested in his mum’s flowers. He waited her out, crossing own arms, tapping a foot impatiently, and staring at her until she stomped a foot, almost slipping and falling on her arse again.

He caught her arm and prevented her from falling entirely, though he was quick to pull it back once it was steady again. Rules, and all.

“Evans.”

“Oh, what, James? Drop it!”

“No, Lily. Stop doing that! You always do it.”

“It’s not—”

“Evans, is is seriously impressive. YOU are seriously impressive. You know you are. It’s alright to just say it, yeah? Just take. The. Compliment.”

She smiled, despite her annoyance, and reached out her hand and mimed taking something before putting it in her pocket. “Taken.”

“Evans, take the compliment. Properly.”

“You are ridiculous.”

James just raised his eyebrows again. “Well?”

“Fine. James, thank-you for the compliment. You’re right. I am dead bloody impressive. And cute on roller skates, though that part of the compliment was implied.”

He nodded, not bothering to address her last (very true) assertion. That’s probably why she’d worn them in the first place.

“And I am amazing at Apparition,” she said, and he realized the trap too late, “even if you’re too scared to do it yourself.”

“I’m not scared to Apparate,” James yelped, his voice raising an octave.

“Yes you are, don’t deny it!”

“One tiny, insignificant incident—”

“Screamed like a bloody banshee in the Great Hall—” she cut across him, grinning.

“Perfectly reasonable response to my foot bloody disappearing!”

“It was three feet away!”

“You’d have screamed too, Evans—”

“I’ve never splinched myself though, Potter, and I doubt I ever will.”

She finished with a satisfied little nod, knowing she’d won.

“Like I sad. Impressive.”

“And then you passed out.”

“And you caught me!”

They shared a proper laugh, remembering that she had indeed caught him.

Magically, but still.

And then she’d forced her way between the Heads of houses to hold his hand, even though he was unconscious.

It’d been the most glorious moment of James’s life thus far, and he’d missed it.

Lily admitted, maybe to soothe his slightly-wounded pride, “That might be the only thing I’ve ever seen you be horrible at, y’know?”

James six months ago would’ve landed on that for a long time and listed all of the things he was excellent at, but James six months ago didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. He settled for a modest thank you. Y’know, to set a good compliment-accepting-example.

“Thank you for acknowledging that I am brilliant in literally everything but Apparition.”

“If I could do with a little more hubris, James Potter, you could do with a smidge less.”

James chose to ignore this.

“If you recall, and this is important for context, I wasn’t terrible forever. I persevered despite my near-death experience and passed my test on the second try.”

Lily quirked an eyebrow—a skill he’d never quite mastered and was incredibly jealous of. “Remus told me it was the third though.”

“Damn him! Yes the third. Anyway, flying is superior. I prefer my broomstick.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

“And I’m the flirt?”

Lily more or less ignored this, giving a small, dignified nod before asking, “Are you really upset that I’m here? Because I can—”

“No—” James caught his hand in his hair when it was halfway through and pulled it out. Maybe her impression wasn’t so off base after all. “It’s brilliant, actually,” he assured her, “I just wish I’d—”

She looked at his shirt and smiled. “Had time to change into a shirt that didn’t have crusted drool on the collar?”

He also looked at his shirt and grimaced. “Fuck.”

“James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve seen you nearly every morning for six years—I know you drool in your sleep.”

“Stalker,” he accused.

“You’re still eight of ten, even with drool on your shirt, if that helps any.”

“Liar.”

Except she wasn’t, and grinned noncommittally.

“Are you at any point going to stop flirting shamelessly long enough to tell me why you’re really here, Lily?”

“James. If I was flirting, you’d know it.”

He tried to raise an eyebrow and failed. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. The urge to reach out and tickle her was overwhelming, but he remembered just in time that they weren’t touching.

Christmas break had proven to be something of a turning point in their relationship. It still felt like jinxing things to call it a relationship, but it seemed inadequate to call it a friendship.

Whatever it was, he hadn’t realized the shift at the time. He’d gone, along with their friends, to Lily’s house to sing Christmas carols, only to realize she’d been sick. In a masterstroke, he’d mailed a cure he’d convinced his dad to brew, and they’d kept up the correspondence through Christmas break.

They’d returned to Hogwarts as something…more….than what they’d left.

And the nicknames, the increased flirting on both of their parts, the touching, for fuck’s sake, had all been fantastic.

But there’d also been a few walks on the grounds, and that N.E.W.T. level charms project they’d been paired on, and study sessions for exams.

She’d kissed his bloody cheek as a good luck charm before the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

True, he’d been so addled he only scored twelve goals.

Still.

And cocoa-by-the-fireplace had evolved from a one-off to something of a ritual in those cold winter months. They’d covered everything—stupid things like music and naming weird constellations and would-you-rather games, important things like their families, and awful things like the war, and politics, and how the world was definitely going to shit. He could talk to her about everything. He’d been startled to realize that he’d wanted to talk to her about everything.

From those conversations had borne the something definitely more than friends—a comfortable intimacy he hadn’t built with anyone, aside from his mates.

He trusted her.

He was crazy about her.

He wanted her to know how bloody fantastic she was, all the damn time. It was everything he could do to prevent shouting it at her in the halls.

And then, last party before Easter, they’d gone and ruined it all by snogging for an hour.

Or two.

It had been fantastic, but precarious.

Something.

He hadn’t dared write to her over hols, though he’d wanted to. Desperately. Until he’d worked out over long, fireside conversations with his mum that he was possibly in love with Lily Evans. And he returned to school with that knowledge, and things had shifted again. This time, James was painfully aware of it.

They still flirted, obviously, but he’d kept a maddeningly respectful distance, touch-wise. Things had seemed potentially serious between them. And they didn’t talk about it. They definitely didn’t snog.

They didn’t even touch.

But they did flirt. A lot.

He’d driven himself mad for a week before she wrote, demanding to know if he was going to write her this summer, or fucking what? And that had been that. Still, writing wasn’t the same as in person, and he impulsively flew to her house yesterday.

And it had been brilliant, hadn’t it? They hadn’t touched, obviously, but he’d been Lily-starved for more than a month and he was content just to watch the tele for a few hours.

And here she is today. But she didn’t seem in any hurry to tell him why she was here, or she would’ve done. He cocked his head sideways. “Is this revenge for my coming to your house so early yesterday morning?”

She feigned innocence. “Did you?”

“I had to leave early so no one saw me flying, or I wouldn’t’ve done!”

He would’ve done. He left so early so he couldn’t back out, like the four times before.

“Actually, I’d planned on coming by today long before yesterday. Deciding to stop by your house first, this early though? Most definitely because you woke me up yesterday.”

“You’d planned on stopping by?” James had the sense to cringe at the hopefulness in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Evans?”

“Yeah?”

“I am glad you’re here, yeah? But what in the bloody hell are we doing on my front path, with my parents eavesdropping, so early on this fine morning?”

“It’s the second best day of the year, puer capitis Potter, and I wanted to see you.”

“What in the bloody hell are you on about? And was that Head Boy Potter in Latin?”

“Yes,” she said, entirely too self-satisfied. “And it’s 25 July!”

“…and? Touché, by the way. But what’s the significance?”

“C’mon, James. Think! I mentioned this at least once last year.”

“Seriously. Nothing. “

Lily frowned, and then patted her head. “Wait. I forgot something.”

“Oh?”

She instructed him to close his eyes. As a Marauder it was normally his role to convince others to close their eyes, and as such, long experience had told him never to trust that sentence. But of course it was Evans asking, and she rolled the r in your, and she blew a big, pink gum bubble and popped it, and when she swiped the remnants off her tip with her tongue, he had to close his eyes just to keep his heart from bursting.

Fuck, he was a ponce.

He heard the zip of her knapsack, and the sound of her rummaging, and no sooner had decided to peek when she said, “Alright, open.”

He laughed, couldn’t help it.

Lily stood there proudly, grinning like a loon, wearing the silliest hat he’d ever seen. And being a wizard, he’d seen loads of ridiculous hats. It was more or less a triangle of cheap, red Muggle fabric with a white pouf at the end, and every thirty seconds or so, the triangle creaked mechanically and flopped jerkily from one side to the other.

Perfect.

She reached her hand into her knapsack, which was definitely charmed to hold more than it appeared, for her arm disappeared to the shoulder, and then she produced a misshapen, poorly wrapped present with a lopsided bow on top.

In staring at the present a small jolt of Deja vu hit—he’d seen the same paper under her tree the previous December.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Oi, Christmas!”

“In July, yes! Keep up, garcon chef Potter.”

“That’s not even how French works, Evans. Did you really learn that phrase in multiple languages just to torment me?”

“It’s summer—what else have I got to do?” “Wrap presents, apparently, and harass blokes before breakfast.”

“Merry Christmas in July, James,” she said, turning the gift in her hands without handing it over. “As you may remember, during actual Christmas, I had a slight bout of illness, for which you provided treatment in the form of laughs, cuddles, hot cocoa, and a potion that actually worked. And my steaming ears made my sister furious, which I don’t know that I ever told you about, but for all of that, thank you.”

She thrust the present into his hands.

“Open it, then!”

Never one to delay gratification, he ripped the paper off unceremoniously.

She immediately began to qualify. “It’s not much. It’s not even new. But—nostalgia, y’know? Even though it’s not as grand as—”

“Shut up, Evans,” he said, grinning at her. “It’s amazing. I love this mug.”

“Yeah?”

He reached out and squeezed her hand, unspoken rules be damned. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Because it was the same mug they’d sipped from last December, in the shape of what he now knew was a Dalek, since they’d watched multiple episodes of Dr. Who yesterday. And before he could wax nostalgic any more, she was holding out another present to him.

Another qualifier: “Save this one for after I leave, yeah?”

His smile faded, and his stomach dropped. He’d been about to invite her for breakfast, his parents be damned, and— “Are you leaving already?”

“I’ve got things to do, people to see,” she said. Her eyes flickered to the window. “And your parents have been staring at us for the last 5 minutes—”

James swung around to the kitchen window where, sure enough, they were hovering at the kitchen window. “Sunofa—” he motioned at them to move, leave, do anything, but they waved back cheerfully.

Lily attempted to disguise her laugh with a cough and failed. “Just open it after I leave, yeah?”

Maybe her leaving was better than whatever embarrassment his parents would inflict. Still.

“That definitely makes me want to open it now though.”

“I promise, you definitely don’t.”

“Evans,” James whined, but Evans put her hand on his wrist and his brain stopped working.

“James? Please wait the two minutes it’ll take me to get out of your hair.” Rules be damned, she squeezed his wrist lightly, and his stomach lurched again.

“Alright, fine. But I reserve the right to stop by later if necessa—”

“I won’t be home until after supper,” she said, shaking her knapsack. “More deliveries to make. But after that, sure.”

“Is that by design?”

“Isn’t it always?”

“You do scare me a little, Evans, you know that?”

“Same, James. But that’s what makes it fun, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh—I actually came so early because my owl came. I’m Head Girl.”

He pulled her into a swift hug, pulling her skates clean off the ground. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and this was new, too. Fireworks, winning-at-Quidditch, nausea-inducing-but-the-good-kind type of new. When she pulled back, he lowered her to the ground, though she made no move to disentangle herself further.

Neither did he.

“We’re going to be good, yeah?” she asked. She’d tilted her head back to look him in the eye

She wasn’t talking about their Headships, or even Hogwarts at all. Like always, she was so fucking sure of it, daring the world to prove her wrong. And despite everything—his terror at fucking this up, his terror at getting it right, the Headship, the fact that they had one year left at Hogwarts, the news, the war—

He gave her another small squeeze. “We’re going to be fucking brilliant.”

“Oh—one more present.”

The “yeah?” died on his lips, because her mouth was on his. Briefly, much too fucking briefly, for in his shock he dropped the mug and it shattered on the ground. She broke away. Before he could pull her back, she took a small half-glide backwards, toward the gate.

He looked from her, to the mug, to her again. “Fuck.”

“It’s alright.”

She pulled her wand from her back pocket and repaired the mug.

“Evans. Warn a bloke next time, yeah?”

“No promises.”

“To the next time, or that you’ll give warning?”

“Really, James?”

She levitated both the mug and present he’d dropped into the air, and he grabbed for them. In the half second his attention was diverted, before he could call her name, protest, say anything, she turned on her heel and skated for the front gate.

So that’s why she’d worn them.

“Any time, Evans! And I mean that!”

“Open your present now!”

He ripped the paper apart just as the pop of her Apparition sounded just beyond the garden hedge, and a several pictures fell on the pavers. Wizard, from the look of them. He picked them up and thumbed through them in the privacy of the front stoop.

The pictures were all from last year, all of the two of them—arguing about the superiority of their preferred condiments at the breakfast table, swimming in the Lake on that dare, the snowmen, the stunned look on his face as she’d kissed him good luck, snuggled by the fireplace, dueling in DADA. Hard to say how much time passed, before he noticed the note that had fluttered to the ground.

He picked it up and read it.

“Hero,

Apparently Mary has been sneaking pictures of us all year. Who knew? I hexed her, but then looked at them properly and thanked her. Then I made a copy for you. Thought you’d like these to swoon over, because I certainly have. As much as I teased you today, if everything went according to plan, you’re going to be a brilliant Head Boy. Accept the compliment, Potter!

We’re going to be amazing.

xo

puella capitis lilium

P.S. I got a three am owl from Sirius. Thought you could use some cheering up.

P.P.S. Can’t wait to see your new tattoo in person!”

James looked up, half hoping she was at the gate, but she was gone. No matter—he’d definitely show up for dinner tonight. And maybe tomorrow night, too.

Sure, he might possibly have a permanent Head Boy tattoo on his arse. His parents were surely going to unleash an interrogation when he passed through the door. And the world might, indeed, be going to shit.

Still, this year wasn’t going to brilliant. It was going to be fucking brilliant.

He was definitely in love with Lily Evans.

He was pretty sure, even if she didn’t know it yet, that the feeling was something like mutual.

[50-shades-of-beige]

Lovebug.

Summary: A tale of how you and Jim meet and how little time you both truely have.

Warnings: War mentioned, mentions of blood, angst, pain, death, lil bit of swearing.

A/N: This is literally the saddest shit I've ever written and I hate myself 😭

Jim wiped the droplets of sweat away from his hairline with his sleeve as he waited inside a stuffy tent to have the bite on his hand checked out. It wasn't big or anything- a typical mosquito bite- but it was getting slightly inflamed and itchy. "Next," he heard a voice from behind the curtain call out and stood up, making his way around the curtain that acted as a screen for privacy. "Take a seat," Jim did as the soft voice asked and sat down. You spun around in your chair and stood up, smoothing the fine lines out on your nurses uniform "What can I do for you today?"

"I uh..." Jim blinked a few times, he couldn't form a single sentence as he was so taken aback by you. "I got a...bite," he finally managed to say and held out his hand. You thinly smiled and pulled over your chair to him and dragged over a table. You took his hand sending goosebumps up his arms. As well as your own. You glanced up to him through your lashes, to your surprise he was looking at you with a gentle smile on his face. You cleared your throat and returned your gaze to his hand, you thoroughly examined it as well as his lower arm to check if a rash had developed or if he had any more bites.

"It doesn't seem to be too bad," you grabbed a ball of cotton wool and dipped it in some cream before dabbing it on his bite. "The cream will take away the redness and itching but other than that you're perfect!" You quickly looked up to him and shook your head "I m-mean perfect as in perfect health! Which I guess makes everything about you perfect...I didn't mean-" you groaned "I'm going to stop talking now," you nervously chuckled and got up out of your chair and began to clean up. Jim was awestruck that you thought he was perfect...that those words actually left your mouth. You went over to the sink and washed your hands, while you did that, you heard him shuffling about.

"Am I okay to go?" He asked and you turned around, finding him a lot closer to you than you expected.

"Of course, here's a little spray bottle of repellent," you stepped forward and handed him the bottle "If the bite doesn't change or if it gets worse in a few days, if you suddenly get a fever or a chill, or if you're sick...come back as quickly as you can." Jim dumbly nodded, his eyes taking in as much as he could of you before he left. It was his first time at the medical tent and he had never had the privilege of encountering you until now. You had a dress on that was whiter than snow with a pillbox hat to match. However, the hat did have a vibrant red cross in the centre of it. To Jim you looked like an angel. "I hope you stay safe and take care of yourself, I'm not the person you want to be seeing every day!" You laughed and began to fill in some paperwork.

"I beg to differ, nurse..." he squinted his eyes slightly to read your name badge "Y/L/N." He winked and you nervously gulped "I think my time here would be a lot better if I had the chance to see you every day."

"Well, Hopper," the corner of your lip twitched upwards and his brow furrowed. He didn't realise you already knew his name. "We'll see about that." Jim grinned and left the medical tent. He noticed that your cheeks were redder than the cross on your hat.

•••

A few days later Jim found himself walking passed the medical tent again. He hesitated for a moment wondering if he should go in or not. He racked his brain for an excuse. His eyes flickered down to his hand and he smirked, rushing into the tent and waiting until you called. "Next!" Jim ecstatically jumped up and swiftly went to the other side of the curtain "What can I-" you cut yourself off seeing Jim sitting in front of you "You again...what can I do for you Hopper?"

"I just wanted to get my hand checked again," smooth "I'm obviously not a doctor and just wanted to make sure it was healing." You raised a brow and dragged over a chair and sat crossed legged in front of him and took his hand.

"It looks fine, the redness is going away and there doesn't seem to be any swelling..." you hummed and let out a sigh, keeping hold of his hand while you looked up to meet his eyes "Are you sure you wanted to come in here just to get your hand checked...?"

'Damnit' Jim thought to himself. He let out a nervous chuckled "Caught red handed! Well," he held up his hand in front of you face "not as red any more!"

You raised a brow, your lip quirking upwards "As much as I'm flattered by your visit, Jim," he went wide eyed hearing you say his name for the first time "Unless you really are sick or hurt, I can't waste time checking you over. I hope you understand. The medical tent is always busy..." your eyes flickered down to the bottom of your dress where specks of red blood stood out against the crisp white fabric. Jim flickered his eyes down and let out a small sigh, you were right.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see you again..." you felt your stomach flip at his words, a nervous smile graced your face. "I'll be going, I hope I'll see you around."

He stood up and you quickly grabbed his arm "Tent 32, I finish here at nine tonight. You can meet me there with the coldest beer you can get your hands on." Jim widely smiled and nodded his head, leaving the tent just as ecstatic and as nervous as he first went in.

It slowly approached nine, it was as if time itself knew Jim was meeting with you. "H-hey!" He waved as you walked over.

"Hi! I'm hoping one is for me," you pointed to a beer in his left hand and he handed you it over, popping the caps on both of them with his own bottle. The simplicity of his little trick impressed you. "Wanna go for a walk?" You asked and Jim agreed. You walked among the tents and the long shoots surrounding the camp, crickets were chirping in the background and the moon was flooding the night sky with light.

"So, you know my name, what's yours?" He asked, looking down to you.

"I'm Y/N...I got your name from your file. I'm from Chicago, Illinois."

"Hawkins, Indiana," Jim replied "We're practically neighbours!" He let out a snort of laughter and you widely smiled.

"What group are you in?" You asked making general conversation.

"Delta 012, the guys are great. A day doesn't go by where we don't all share a laugh..." he smirked thinking of them all. They'd be in the tent playing cards at the moment.

You nodded "That's good, you need to stay positive here. You've got to keep smiling." You looked up to him, to your surprise he was already looking at you with a soft gaze. A gaze that melted your troubles away and felt like a sight had been lifted from your shoulders.

"Why do you think I wanna see you all the time?" He quietly replied, you were thankful it was dark as you felt your face getting redder as your heart skipped a beat.

You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out until you cleared your throat "Uh...Indiana huh? Must have been a lovely place to grow up," Jim murmured a positive hum "I bet you were the type of kid who'd spend summers by a lake catching fireflies and lovebugs..." you gruntled.

Jim laughed "Spot on! Was a summer staple for me," you both stopped and looked out over the horizon, he reached over and pulled off a deep red hibiscus flower from the plant before speaking again "I think I've caught another lovebug...not the insect this time though..." you blinked away the shock, your head slowly turning to look at him. Your knees on the verge of giving way seeing his shy smile whilst he placed the flower in the crook of your ear.

There was many nights like that. Nights that the two of you wished it would last forever. Nights where Jim would hum tunes, take you by the hand and attempt to dance with you despite the pair of you not being very good at it. Nights were it felt like there was nothing bad happening around you both. Nights were you both almost confessed how you really felt but the two of you were so worried that you were rushing into things that you kept it to yourselves for one more day. Then another day. Then another day after that...

...then the day you both thought you would never have the chance.

•••

"I need all medical staff now!" You rushed to make up beds with other nurses as you all prepared to receive multiple casualties.

"What's the damage?" You asked a doctor.

"Helicopter was shot down, most of the men have minor injuries- not life threatening- one is in a serious condition, we don't know how bad." They explained and you nodded "It's a shame," the doctor sighed "Delta 012 is one of our best teams."

All you could hear was static. Your heart felt as if it was stopping and starting and as the seconds dragged by the more you felt yourself getting dizzy. You waited for what felt like days when the first injured men came in, they weren't too bad, mainly burns and cuts that could be easily treated. You waited for Jim, hoping and praying that he wasn't the one with significant injuries.

But he was. Of course he was.

You stood frozen by the bedside as they hauled him in on a stretcher. You reached your fingers out and gently brushed them over his bloodied ones. The doctor shouted an order at you and it took you a second to register what he was saying and you to work patching him up. The heart monitor was steadily beating but he was unresponsive, eyes shut and not a word from him. "You better not give up on me, Hopper. I swear I'll kick your ass in the next life every single day if you do." You whispered as you tended to and cleaned his wounds. You stroked his forehead "Please, wake up." Pressing a gentle kiss to the middle of his forehead before sitting down, you took his hand in yours and sat with him all night after your shift had finished. You weren't moving until he woke up.

Jim tightly squeezed his eyes shut before he opened them, squinting and groaning slightly from the lights of the medical tent. He groaned even louder feeling pain fork through his entire body. However, he felt a something warm wrapped around one of his hands. Jim glanced down and saw you with your head resting on the mattress with your hand loosely holding his. Your hair was disheveled, your white nurses uniform was covered in patches of dried, bright red blood. There was a smear on your hand and forehead, he assumed it was to wipe away sweat at one point and you didn't realise you had blood on the back of your hand. He then realised that it was his blood.

Your eyes slowly opened to look at him before shutting again. They then snapped open and you stood up straight, ignoring the dull ache in your back from being hunched over Jim's bed. "Oh my god," you carefully took his face in your hands "You're awake!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you delicately stroked your thumbs over his cheeks.

Jim smirked "Why are you crying? Am I that ugly?" He joked and you let out a watery laugh.

"No, never!" You lowered your voice and moved your face closer to his "You're the most handsomest, funny, kind person I've ever met." You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips witch had a small cuts on them. You pulled back and the pair of you smiled before sharing another kiss.

•••

"I can't believe it's over..." Jim mumbled in your ear while he held you close, the two of you dancing alongside fellow soldiers and nurses and everyone else who was involved in the war. He gently swayed you to the rhythm of the music, throwing in the occasional spin here and there.

You held onto his shoulders tightly and leaned rested your head against Jim's chest "We're going home," you let out a long sigh "My home is miles away from yours..."

"It doesn't have to be," Jim whispered and you looked up to him with confusion riddled all over your face "There's not a day that goes by that I don't want to be with you." You stood up a little straighter to look at him and he took the opportunity to cup your cheeks with his hands "Come home with me?" Something flew on to his uniform and you jumped back before taking a closer look at what it was.

A lovebug.

You smiled "We could catch plenty of those in Indiana..." Jim looked down at the insect and blew it off his uniform with one big huff of air. You placed your hand on his cheek and stroked your thumb over it "My lovebug..." you liked that nickname and so did Jim. It suited both of you.

Jim smirked and pecked your hand "You're my lovebug too. I don't have a lot I can offer you. I'm not the richest man or even the smartest but, when I say that my heart and home is yours for the taking I mean it. So what d'ya say?" He looked at you with hopeful, pleading eyes "Will you come home with me?"

"Of course I will."

•••

"Jim, these are all valid points you're making but I'm going to ignore them all," you raised a hand, shutting Jim up as he rambled on about the cons of going into the upside down. "You don't know what kind of condition Will is going to be in when you get into the upside down. I'm a nurse, I can help him. You and Joyce don't have the same skill set as me, it could be a matter of life and death."

"You don't understand Y/N-"

You cut him off "-No, you don't understand Jim!" You hushed your voice so Joyce and the kids in the gym hall wouldn't hear "He could be going through anything and everything in that place. I can provide him with as much help and support as I can until we make it back." Jim let out a sigh, he wasn't comfortable with you going in- exposing yourself to danger and uncertancy. "Lovebug," you placed a hand on his cheek and gently smiled, soothing his nerves "It's going to be alright."

"Fine, but I swear the second I think you're in harms way I'm getting you out."

You nodded your head "Deal." He gave you a long kiss before the two of you and Joyce, made your way to the lab. The three of you were suited up in the best gear as you all delved into the upside down. Despite having the suit on, there was still a heavy force pressing against your chest due to the dense atmosphere.

You found Will, he wasn't breathing and was unconscious. Acting on impulse, you removed the top part of your suit and began to press down in his chest, instructing Joyce to give Will mouth to mouth. When he finally came to, you placed the top of your suit over his head and supplied him with fresh oxygen. Joyce placed back on her suit helmet and picked up Will, embracing him in a long, tight hug.

"Put mine on!" Jim tried to take it off but you grabbed his hands.

"It's fine, lets go. I'll be okay." You smiled through the angony of the atmosphere crushing your lungs.

You returned home late that night and collapsed into your bed, lightly coughing as soon as your back hit the mattress. Jim joined you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burrowing his head into your neck. "You know," he began, the vibration from his voice ticking your skin "Back when I had the accident in 'nam I really thought I was a goner."

"I thought you were too," you ran a hand through his hair "But look at us now."

"I was so scared I was never going to have the opportunity to tell you how much I really loved you..." he pulled back and kissed you "I really do love you. So much."

You tiredly smiled "I love you too. You should get some sleep, tomorrow morning we could head down to the diner for breakfast."

"God," Jim groaned with delight, a smile playing on his lips "I knew there was a reason I married you." You giggled before coughing again. "You okay?" Jim asked and you sat up in bed.

"Yeah, just a dry throat. I'm gonna get a glass of water," you pecked his forehead and went to the kitchen, by the time you did that you could hear soft snores coming from the bedroom. You sipped away before coughing again, this time a lot more harshly. You supported yourself on the kitchen counter while you coughed into the sleeve on your white pyjamas. When you finally stopped coughing, you let out a small sigh of relief and gulped down on the cool water to soothe your burning throat and lungs. You wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your pyjamas and froze seeing specks of blood on it.

You waved it off as nothing but as the days went on the coughing got worse and the specks of blood were getting bigger.

Jim arrived home from work late one evening, you were already in bed. He went into the bedroom and turned on the light, softly smiling to himself seeing you peacefully sleeping away. You coughed again but didn't wake up. Jim narrowed his eyes at the red patch by your mouth. It stood out against the white linen. You coughed again, more violently and did eventually wake yourself up. You couldn't stop and specks of blood were dotting the bedcovers.

Jim rushed beside you and rubbed your back "What's the matter?" He asked, the panic and fear could be clearly heard in his voice.

"L-L-Lab," you said between coughing and spluttering "You need- you need to take me there." Jim did just that, probably breaking a dozen speed violations but he didn't care. All that mattered was you. As soon as he got you to the lab you were whisked away to have tests done. Jim waited hours, his eyes stinging from the lack of sleep and the artificial lights.

"Owens," Jim stood up from his chair and approached the doctor "What the hell is happening? Where's my wife?"

Owens placed a hand on Jim's arm "She's resting just now, you can see her, but..." Jim didn't like the way he said that "It's not good, Hop. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean 'It's not good'? What is the matter with her?!" Jim rushed to the door of your room, Owens stopped him just before he went in.

"Y/N had her suit helmet off for a very long time...much longer than Joyce had hers off. That means Y/N was exposed to the atmosphere for longer. This has damaged her lungs. Her whole respitory system, in fact."

"So what now? You can fix it? One of you must have a solution! This can be easily resolved and she'll be back to normal in no time!" He raised his arms up and brought them back down, smacking his hands against this thighs.

"She's dying, Jim."

Jim heard a lot of bullshit in his life, especially being the chief of police but that, that was just a horrible lie.

"No, no she's not. We are going to have breakfast tomorrow morning at the diner!" He was quickly falling into a pit of denial "I'm going to get my usual and Y/N- Y/N always gets the pancakes and steals my hash browns when I'm not looking. She thinks I can't see her do it but I do- I do! And I let her because I love her. She-" Jim inhaled a shaky breath and pointed at Owens almost accusingly "She is not dying."

Owens knew he couldn't argue with Jim so just nodded and let him be. Jim entered your room and his heart shattered seeing you hooked up to dozens of different machines. He sat down by your bed and took your hand in his and waited until you woke up.

When you did you felt a warm wet patch on your hand. "Why are you crying?" You groggily asked and Jim's head snapped up to look at you "Am I that ugly?"

Jim let out a watery chuckle that was more of a sob. You remembered what he had said. His face was covered in red blotches from all the crying and streams of fresh tears had mixed in with the dry ones "No," he kissed your hand "You're beautiful," he kissed it again "Always."

"How is everyone?" You asked, making Jim genuinely laugh.

"You're always thinking about everyone and not yourself." He stood up and stroked your forehead "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you replied and shut your eyes before coughing again, blood was sprayed down your hospital nightgown as well as over the sheets and pillows. Jim turned his head and wiped his tears away. Reality was sinking in. "Listen to me Jim," you took his hand and made sure his entire focus was on you "I'm so happy you came back into that tent even though there was nothing wrong with you. I was hoping that you did. I've always wanted to take care of people but you were always my favourite to take care of..." your eyes flickered down to the dots of bright red blood "I won't be able to do that soon-"

"-No!"Jim sounded like a wailing cat roaming the streets after midnight "Don't say that!"

"Sweetheart I have to," you stubbornly told him, gripping his hand a little tighter "I know it's not good. I know and I accept that- it's breaking my heart but I accept it." Tears were now streaming down your cheeks "I wish I didn't have to, I really wish I didn't. I want to spend so much time with you but, time isn't that kind."

"I love you," Jim sobbed, his lips quaking as they met yours.

"I love you too." He kept his hand wrapped around yours "I'm going to have a little nap, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out "I'll be here when you wake up."

You smiled, showing your teeth. They stood out against your lips that had drying blood on them- it was almost like you were wearing red lipstick "I know you will. I'll be dreaming of our breakfast!" You winked and bit down on your lip "I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you the most," you shot back with shut eyes.

"I love you the mostest," he retorted.

"I love you more than that..." you said before falling asleep.

Jim took a nap too, although that nap turned into a six hour sleep. He groaned when he woke, gently squeezing your hand to wake you up too. It was colder than it was when he went to sleep. He squeezed it a little harder and shook you, his worst fears coming true. You weren't waking up no matter how many times he said your name. On his last attempt his voice completely cracked- as well as his heart.

"Lovebug?"

——————————

Tags: (Tag list is open! Just let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 😁)

@sleepylunarwolf @daddyharbour

[peakyfckngblinders]

“All bets are off”-Chapter 1

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Ship: Thomas x Reader / Reader x OC

I am not a native speaker so I had three wonderful people that helped me to get over my grammar troubles. Lots of love this time for @sarcastiphonix <3

If you like the story, please let me know! I try to upload at least every week.

Prologue (x)

Chapter 1

"Good boy“, I mumbled, laying my hand on the neck of the huge sorrel I was going to ride at the course today. The eyes of Valerosso were closed and he seemed to enjoy my hands that were resting upon his impressive body. "We are going to relax together after this, I promise. The odds on us are promising today, as are the bets.“ I told him. His rich chocolate eyes gazed calmly at me and for a brief moment I was almost sure he could understood me.

"Ally?“, Jim's voice interrupted, startling me. I turned back towards the horse, speaking softly, "Do you hear that? They're coming to get us now. Let’s get over this hurdle, I promise you, I’ll be with you the entire time“, I whispered in Valerossos ear. "Ally, love, you’re late“, Jim blurted out, showing up around the corner, anxiously pacing. I couldn’t resist it, I had to giggle. After all my years of riding, he still became so nervous whenever I was about to race. The worried young man with raven-black hair and handsome features had kept me laughing everyday for the past few years. Compared to my own past, his life seemed to have always been just as pure as he appeared. You had to look almost microscopically close if you wanted to find his flaws but even then you were left with the feeling that he might be straight out of a fairytale. I closed the gap between us, pulling my arms gently around his neck to give him a kiss. "Keep calm, boy!“, I laughed, "This is my job! And with you, I have my own mojo! Nothing will go wrong!“ Naturally my statement was naive, why did the Lord feel the need to bless me with the greenness of my father? I shall never know. But despite my own unjustified arrogance, not even the smartest man alive could have had imagined how this race would change everything. Jim smiled lightly, placing his hands on my hips. "I love you Alice Humber. And I don’t worry about the course, I worry about all those little fuckers that will try to take a look at you.“ "Oh, they won't get the chance to take one look at me, I’m off the course like lightening once I've finished my race. That’s my structure. I train racing horses, I take the care for them and then I’m off! Would these eyes lie to you, Jim?“ They could. And they just did. Nonetheless, Jim smiled and was soothed by that answer. I truly loved the man but there were things he would not understand. Of course, I never cheated on him but small talk was reserved for my business. After the races you had to be seen to make an appearance in the lodge, new clients would come by themselves then. It was obvious that they were usually rich men who wanted an adventure. They all had to use their fickle minds to figure out that I only intended to ride their horses and not something else. Every one of them suffered from gratuitous arrogance and too much hair wax. Sometimes I felt like a whore when I had to dress myself up after the races. But to remain in the business, games had to be played.

I always took the dress, bundled up in the stable before and went directly to the upper class area for the necessary drinks. While amongst those people I had to remember to repress my inner thoughts and feelings regarding them and their methods of earning money. The key was to constantly keep certain rules in mind while talking to them, acting as a mental bodyguard, concocted from my inner monologue. Never be too interested in their offer, always remember your worth, make them feel like they need you to win, not the other way around. It was almost like an echo of the voice of my father.

As I got out of the car heading towards the track, I could already hear the blare of the narrators. The stands were already filled by several hundred people, the rich distanced from the poor. As expected. Many people were still strolling around the course. Eager children with wide eyes ran across the alleys on their way to the stables. I remembered how enthusiastically I had been on my first visit, not knowing that I would end up in the position I am now. The smell of the fresh cut grass filled the air and diverted the people from the stench smoke that poised their lungs in the streets of Birmingham everyday. The courses were a sophisticated magnet that pulled them away from the grey gaol they resided in. I walked into the stables, changed my clothes and received Valerosso, who had been there awhile and was contently chewing on a carrot. As I stood there, basking in the quiet before the storm, I caught a man looking at me. He stood in the door frame, both hands concealed in the pockets of his long black coat. A silver glint flashed menacingly in the flat cap he wore. He nodded my way and smirked as my face failed to disguise how unsettled he made me feel. 

"For fucks sake…“, I mumbled. What the hell did this prick want from me? I mean, what could the notorious Peaky 'fucking' Blinders need? It was obvious but I still tried to escape my thoughts. Valerosso snorted and I was determined that I first had to do my job before allowing myself to care about other stuff.

The seconds before the start of a race are the worst. You feel the horses growing uneasy, nerves building as they realize where they are. A multitude of cheers from all directions yet all the jockeys focusing intently on the road ahead them. And then there comes a terrifying moment of silence. At least, for one minute, it feels like you're in a world of your own. You notice how the horse sits between your legs, the animals breathing heavy and your breath catching up as you concentrate. So many thoughts run through your mind, voices calling out to you from within, a mirage of worry. But at this moment it all means nothing. Because during it, you aren’t yourself. For this one moment, you are numb, and free. And with the starters gun, you come crashing back down as the haze of anticipation clears from your eyes.

Third place was an adequate achievement for the young age and inexperience of Valerosso. But I found myself unable to celebrate my success. All I was thinking of was how I could leave the courses without falling into the path of any of the Peaky men. Grasping Valerosso's rein tightly, I handed him off to the stable boys. I picked up my walking pace, attempting to make a speedy exit without drawing attention to myself, but my fortune fell short. I had strolled into a man with a distinctive black coat and flat cap. "Damn it! You bloody bastards are everywhere…“, I whined. "Oh, the rumors are true, you really are as charming as they say!“, he smiled at me in dangerous way and I knew it would be wise for me to keep my mouth shut from now on. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you, Mrs. Humber?“ I felt the goosebumps raising at my whole body. He wouldn’t hurt me, surely not in a public place. I mean, if they wanted something from me, they needed me. I told myself to remain calm and vigilant, breathe- just breathe. "Never knew you guys had manners…“, I spat but regretted that directly in the next moment. Fuck, Ally! Why couldn't I restrain myself just once in my life? "Seems like you don’t have any“, he replied but smirked at me. It was hard not to pounce at him for his insults. He was deserving of a few cutting words, he had effectively kidnapped me after all. He took me to a classy black car, making an attempt to be chivalrous by holding the door open for me. Perhaps I was hasty in my judgement. At least he had manners. "Would you kindly tell me, what the Shelbys want from me?“, I asked. "They have an offer for you which you cannot deny.“ Oh. There were clearly two ways he could have meant that. And I guess it was the Peaky Blinders way.

We stopped in front of an average flat in the Watery lane. I soon recognized it as the betting shop of the Shelby Family. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest within the following three seconds. "Don’t worry, darling!“, he laughed at me when he saw my face. I sniffed and got out the car, moving to his side. He opened the door to the shop which was usually closed on sundays. Apparently I was a special customer. "Follow me“, he ordered. It seemed to me I was in a central office. Different doors with names ordained on them marked the bureaus of the invincible Shelbys. "Wait here“, the man said, opening the door at the end of the alley, "Our guest is here.“ "Alright, John! Thank you very much.“ I heard scuffles and footsteps, followed by the sound of another man.

I’ll never forget the first time my own eyes reached his. Ice-blue, allowing you to immerse yourself in them every time you had the good fortune to do so. There was, however, darkness contained within them, as if the light of life had ebbed from his gaze. I could only imagine how they would shine when he laughed. My vulnerability only increased when he entered the room, and I knew I was beginning to become involved in something much larger than myself.