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beautiful-and-terrible · 4 years

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dazed ‘n’ confused (part 1)

A/N: Literally this is just a combination of frustration and gender envy I have for rodrick heffley. both characters are 18 :)

Ship: rodrick heffley x OFC

Warnings: none in this part, probably NSFW in later chapters

---

Nicole had never had a more boring summer.

She and her family, (Mom, Dad, and two younger sisters) had moved to this rinky-dink town in April, and Nicole squeezed in two months of school without making any friends before summer hit in a disgusting, sweltering mess of dry lawns and humid nights.

She managed to get a job life-guarding, and that was the highlight of her days through July and August. Her initial blistering sunburn on the tops of her feet and legs turned into a nice tan, and she usually walked the two miles from her house to the pool, so she stayed in good shape (minus the five or six ice-pops she would eat during her shifts).

Mainly, the reason she enjoyed life-guarding so much was because her neighbor, Rodrick Heffley, would come to the pool almost every day and stay until closing time (which also happened to be the end of Nicole’s shift). She tried not to think too much into it.

Nicole wouldn’t usually be attracted to boys like Rodrick. He was loud, and generally harassed the other kids in the pool, and splashed the old ladies when he cannon-balled off the diving board. He and his friends were always goofing off and violating pool rules. Nicole blew her whistle more times for him than she did for anyone else. Every time she did, she would point at him silently, and slowly give him a thumbs down.

And every time, he would give her a salute back and a shit-eating grin. It made her heart flutter funnily, and she would glower at him from behind her sunglasses.

Still, Nicole only worked at the pool four days a week - that meant her Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays were all abysmally, utterly free. Nicole tried to do things that made her happy - she practiced bass, and even a little guitar, and learned a few songs by heart. She redecorated her room, twice.

From her window, she could occasionally see Rodrick pass by in his attic room - never anything indecent of course, but it always made her tummy feel funny to think of him, in his room, doing Rodrick things. She knew he was in a band, and played the drums - the whole block could hear their band practice on Friday nights. It was a little cringe, she knew, but she moved her bed under the window so she could glimpse his shadow when he walked by, coltish and gangly as it was.

She wanted to know more about him though - his favorite song, what he put on his burgers, even what his sheets looked like (which she blushed to think about. Get a grip.)

One blisteringly hot Thursday in August, Nicole decided to bike to work instead of walking. It would take less time, and would hopefully generate a little breeze to cool her off instead of trudging along on the soft asphalt. And, of course, right as she was about to turn off her street, her tire blew.

“Are you shitting me?” Nicole said under her breath, moving her long hair out of her eyes to look at what could’ve possibly punctured her tire.

As she knelt down, a voice called “Need some help?” from behind her.

She turned to see Rodrick on his own bike, standing on the pedals and arms braced in front of him on the handle bars. He was wearing cargo shorts and a DIY tank top, obviously an old t-shirt with the arms cut off. Nicole’s eyes were drawn to his toned brown arms and the slip of torso she could see. She swallowed heavily before replying.

“Yeah, stupid tire blew out. Do you have a spare?” she asked, not really thinking about it. She didn’t know why she felt so comfortable asking Rodrick for help. They had never really talked before - only passing on the street, raising a hand to each other in greeting. The only other consistent interaction they had was Nicole reprimanding Rodrick for pouring cherry slushies in the kiddie pool.

“For sure - follow me. I'm Rodrick, by the way,” he said. "I know who you are - everyone at school told me to stay the hell away from you," Nicole teased, and began to follow Rodrick back toward his house, Nicole carrying her gimp bike over her shoulders and Rodrick walking his bike beside her.

"And all my friends said to avoid Nicole Tagliaferi like the plague,"

"It's Tagliani, dipshit. It's Italian."

"Sure, sure, whatever," Rodrick said teasingly, before turning to look at her, “You like lifeguarding?”. She could tell he was trying to make conversation, and it made a small secret smile appear on her lips.

“It’s alright - when you aren’t making trouble for me,” she replied, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. She saw his signature devilish grin appear, white teeth flashing.

“But otherwise, you’d just be sitting in the hot sun all day, watching old ladies do aqua-cize or whatever they call it.”

“Do you mean water aerobics?” Nicole laughed, trying not to let her mirth get away from her and let out a snort of amusement.

“Exactly. At least I bring something good-looking to the table,” Rodrick preened, jumping on his bike and riding it up the last leg of his drive way. Nicole followed him into the open garage - it smelled as most garages do, of rubber and dust and wood projects that the men of the family have yet to finish.

Nicole watched as Rodrick moved some boxes aside and reached up to grab a spare bike tire off the wall - her gaze slipped down to see his shirt ride up over his hip bones, revealing a flat stomach and a dark happy trail. Her mouth went dry, and she became increasingly aware of how hot the back of her neck felt, even in the dim shade of the garage.

“Let me grab a wrench and I can get started. You want anything to drink? Coke, lemonade?”

“Coke sounds good - thanks,” Nicole replied after a moment, still recovering from her earlier lapse of concentration.

While she waited, Nicole decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing to look for some music - she found an old radio in the corner and found her favorite classic rock channel. Luckily, they happened to be playing Led Zeppelin, and one of Nicole’s favorites, too. The slow, wailing guitar guided her hips as she started to dance a little around the garage. Being the nosy busy-body she was, Nicole had no qualms about letting herself get comfortable in other peoples houses. She was always looking in boxes and admiring little trinkets, imagining what it would be like to live there. Not that there was anything particularly interesting in the garage besides Rodrick’s drum set.

She swayed over to the shiny instruments and picked up the sticks, sliding around the back to the seat and beginning to try and replicate the beat from the song.

“Sorry, neighbor, there's only room for one hot drummer in this band,” Rodrick said as he came back in the garage. Nicole stopped playing immediately, feeling flustered at being caught and simultaneously being called “hot”.

“Is that the noise I hear coming from this garage? You call that music?”

Rodrick rolled his eyes, handing her the ice-cold coke. “You sound like my Dad. Let me guess - you listen to Taylor Swift?”

Nicole shrugged, taking a sip of her coke. “Taylor Swift is fine. So is classic rock, and nu-metal, and Mozart. I’m not picky.”

Rodrick gave her a funny look, wandering over to her bike and beginning to unscrew the washers from the flat tire.

“So what's your favorite classic rock band, then?”

“The same as many others, I suppose. Zeppelin, AC/DC, the occasional Metallica. My dad raised me on Rob Zombie and Bob Marley, and my mom learned more toward The Beatles and Carly Simon.”

Rodrick stopped what he was doing to look back at her, his mouth slightly agape. Nicole felt a swell of smugness at flooring this over-confident boy with her knowledge of music he obviously thought was “superior”.

“Loded Diper was originally a Motley Crue cover band, did you know?”

Nicole hid a laugh behind another sip of coke. “No, I didn’t know that. I’m assuming now you write your own songs?”

Rodrick blushed, turning his gaze back to the task of fitting the new tire onto the frame of the bike. “Yeah, I dabble in song writing. Mostly the chords, I’m shit with lyrics.”

“That’s a good skill. It takes practice to learn how music sounds good together. You can’t just throw random chords together and expect it to sound good.”

“You talk like you know music,” Rodrick said, looking over his shoulder at Nicole.

“Yeah, I dabble.” Nicole replied, throwing his own words back at him. Rodrick tightened the last screw on the tire and reattached the chain.

“There. Good as new,” he said, swinging the bike back around toward Nicole. She reached for the seat and the handlebars at the same time, and without thinking about where she placed her hands, ended up putting them right over Rodrick’s. It only lasted for a moment, but she swore she could feel all the air leave the room. Her eyes met his liquid dark ones.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly, and hopped on her bike without another word, coasting down the driveway and pedaling as nonchalantly and quickly as she could toward the pool.

Rodrick didn’t follow her. She wished that he had.

#rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x original female character #one-shot #fanfiction #fanfic #rodrick heffley fanfic

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equalseleventhirds · 4 years

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i said i wouldn't write it but i did

vaguely a sequel to this, but far in the future and focused on jon (annabelle features briefly tho. she's fine. annabelle will always be fine in my fics.) with ofc the presupposition that they've failed in one world but kept trying, bcos i think that would be fun*!

*(by which i mean heartbreaking, i'm so sorry)

There are rules, to the traveling, or at least there seem to be. There are certainly questions to be asked and points to be made, about how many instances count as a definitive rule rather than simply a pattern. But Jon likes to think of them as rules. He's always preferred concrete answers, even if it turns out they're less the truth and more just a convenient way of conceptualizing things.

So he has rules.

First: the Fears always come through on the same day. October 18, 2018. Or, given the impact history has on calendars, the equivalent of it; he'd once spent months trying to correlate the forty-third moon of cycle 1852 with his calendar just to prove his point, but the math had all worked out.

(Which does indicate, at least to Jon, that yes, the Fears probably did originate in his home world, Georgie. He'll take his petty wins where he can get them. For as long as he can remember the discussion, and the people, he's proving wrong.)

Second, it is still his tapes that the Fears follow. For every apocalypse there has been a new catalyst, but none of these new rituals supersede his. Maybe it's a testament to the strength of the Web's original plan, or maybe it's just something about Jon himself. He knows what he thinks, but... well, there isn't enough proof just yet.

Third, in spite of endless attempts to trap them and stop them, Jon is always able to travel with the Fears. Perhaps they simply can't stop him, as the original antichrist he apparently is; dozens of apocalypses in dozens of different universes, and Jon can always feel his rightful place as ruler of that terrible fearscape calling to him. He hasn't taken it yet, but it's there, and the Eye cannot abandon its true pupil without his permission.

Or perhaps they simply don't care. Every attempt so far has led to the exact same result, after all: another world left behind, another death by starvation averted, another new feast for the Fears to sink their teeth into.

Fourth, he always passes out upon entering a new world.

It's kind of annoying.

---

It is slightly unusual for him to wake up warm, comfortable, and covered in a blanket, but Jon's not about to complain. It's nice. He doesn't get a lot of comfort, and he likes sleeping in a bed, especially since he's always eldritch-nightmare-free in a new world. For a limited time only, of course.

He's fairly certain he's inside; aside from the softness underneath and around him, the air is still and temperate, the light through his eyelids is artificial, and all he can hear is the faint whirring of appliances and the whispers of two muted voices.

"—complete stranger, definitely dangerous, looks like he's from hell—"

"Okay, fine, but I wasn't going to leave him, and anyway haven't you noticed he's a bit—"

"A bit what? Scarred? Bloodstained? Glowing eyes, because I don't think I need to remind you, Martin, his eyes were absolutely glowing when you found him—"

Martin. Now there's a name. Not an uncommon one, but... he thinks he knows that voice.

Or. Well. He might know both of those voices, actually, which is even more interesting than waking up in a bed.

Jon opens his eyes.

He's met himself before, is the thing. Not in every world, and not always particularly recognizable, but he's met himself. He's met versions of Martin, too, and eventually stopped going completely useless with heartbreak every time. The merest handful of times, he's found both of them in the same world, sometimes something almost like friends, but usually not.

The fact that they have their arms around each other, casual, comfortable, close, is both entirely unexpected and perfectly, wonderfully, terribly familiar. Jon briefly considers crying about it, but there are more important things to be doing. For example.

"The glowing eyes aren't actually that sinister. I mean, they are, but not for the reasons you're probably thinking."

Jon—the other Jon—jumps at the sound of his voice, then leans forward. Curiosity, of course; that hardly ever seems to change. "You—the glowing—who are you?"

"Jon," this new version of Martin scolds, and for just a moment he's back home, with his Martin, with that exasperated tone—but no, this isn't his Martin, and he's also leaning forward now, his voice turning gentle. Concerned. Coaxing, like he's a spooked animal, and Jon doesn't think his Martin has ever talked to him that way. "How are you feeling? We found you unconscious in the street."

He can feel Martin's curiosity too, pushing forward under his concern, just as questioning as Jon but too polite to outright say it yet. He has to cut this off, or he really will cry.

"Mm... no," he says. "Well, yes. But also." Good lord, he's confusing them. Par for the course, but he should probably try to be somewhat comprehensible.

He holds up a hand, extending one finger. "I am... fine. More or less. Trust me, I'm used to this, and this isn't even the worst way it's happened." Another finger joins the first. "My name, as I believe Martin has guessed but then dismissed, is Jonathan Sims. I am not you from the future, nor am I lying, nor am I crazy, because—" a third finger "—interdimensional travel is not only possible, it has happened, is happening, because of and along with terrible monstrosities I am determined to stop, and I have explained this too many times to too many people to have much patience for anyone being shocked and disbelieving, much less a version of myself doing so, so you can either get over it and move on or I can go elsewhere and do something useful."

"Excuse—"

"And," he continues, pushing himself up so he can sit and lean forward even more intensely than his counterpart, "I would actually rather not do that just yet, because I have an extremely pressing question for the two of you."

"Um," Martin says, and "What," says the other Jon.

"How," Jon asks, deepening his voice to exude solemn, ominous, and eldritchly important, "did you two start dating?"

---

It was so... normal. Apparently. Two people, mutual friends, a chance encounter. A prickly exterior ("He hated me," both of them had claimed), but without the insecurity of being Head Archivist and the fear of dread powers beyond his comprehension, their friends had helped him open up and—eventually—apologise. A budding friendship, and then a romance, and then...

It isn't a version of them Jon has seen anywhere else, in any of the worlds he's traveled to. Normal as it is, it's a highly improbably scenario, and certainly not the same as his relationship with his Martin had been. But it was, in an infinite number of worlds, still a possibility.

Jon isn't quite sure how he feels about that, knowing that some version of them could have fallen in love without the trauma, but that they hadn't managed it.

His hands aren't shaking, as he lights his cigarette. At least there's that.

"I quit, you know," his counterpart says from behind him. "Years ago. I'd forgotten about those until you asked."

"Well then, thank you for indulging me." He gestures, meaning the cigarette, meaning the bed, meaning his claims about reality, meaning his intrusive, gossipy questioning. Meaning everything. He's not sure it gets across.

The other Jon laughs, quietly, and moves to stand next to him. "I am my worst enabler."

"Oh, that's hardly true."

"Mm." They're silent together for a while, but Jon is restless (both of him), and eventually this reality's version opens his mouth to ask. "Do you—do you know why I—I don't want to say believed you, I'm still not sure I do, b-but, didn't throw you out immediately?"

"My myriad charms?" They both laugh at that.

"Jonathan Sims," he says, as if that explains anything.

Jon takes a drag of his cigarette, considering. He could probably Know, but... indulging himself. "What about me?"

"No, not you, or. You know. You. But your name. Jonathan Sims. I decided you weren't, weren't a deliberate lie to trick me, or a future version of myself, or a mind-reading monster—"

"Well—"

"—when you said your name, because none of those things would have said that." He smiles then and holds up a hand, and—oh—his ring glints. "I've been Jonathan Blackwood for a while now."

They'd told him married eventually, but he hadn't even thought about his name. He's certainly thinking about it now. "Jonathan Blackwood," he says, soft, to himself. And to himself. "That... that sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it."

Whatever they might have said next is lost as an incredibly loud engine roars nearby and a sleek black motorcycle pulls up in front of them. Jon sighs and takes one last drag of his cigarette as the rider removes her helmet.

"Been off finding yourself, then, Jon?" Annabelle asks.

"Oh, extremely funny, yes. Did you steal that?"

"It was a gift."

"Of course it was."

The other Jon is staring at them both, his eyes repeatedly drifting back to the web-covered hole in Annabelle's head. "Who—what is—is that a—"

"She's a spider monster," Jon supplies helpfully. "She came with me, although apparently she did not pass out in the street this time."

"Two streets over, I think. Pity, I would've loved a nice nap in a proper bed, but I did get this motorcycle out of it. Come on, Jon, you can mope on the way."

"I have not been moping—"

"Haven't you? You're not the one who deals with how maudlin you get every time you meet yourself—"

"Yes, fine, thank you, we can go." He stubs out the cigarette and pauses, looking at himself. "Uh. Tell Martin—well, goodbye, I guess. I'd say I hope we meet again, but if you're lucky we won't need to?"

"...sure."

"And I'm—I hope you—that is, I'll do my best—well." He sighs. "Things are about to get... dicey, for the world in general. But just, look out for each other, and we'll try to handle the rest."

"Jon, we should be going."

"Yes, all right, all right." He gives himself one last, probably not very reassuring smile, and climbs on behind Annabelle.

They do have work to do, after all.

#fanfiction #algie writes things #many thoughts head full...........#i am so many theorizing. u kno how it is.#uhhhh so the TINIEST spoilers for the most recent episode? idk #tma spoilers #once again just TINY ones not actually plot ones #at least not that we didn't already get from annabelle's big explanation episode #jm #but also it's complicated #u kno #jon has bittersweet conversations & thoughts and annabelle gets a motorcycle #it's what each of them needs i think

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yourstrulylightstar283 · 3 years

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I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Keep You Safe

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Mrs. Michelle Moreno (My OFC (Original female character), Marcus’ second wife, Missy’s stepmom and Anita’s second daughter-in-law)

This fic contains:

· Marcus Moreno whump (Both physical and emotional one)

· Violence

· Blood

· Injuries

· Threats

· Deaths

· Hospital

· Angst

· Sadness

· Grief

· Loss

· Guilt

· Sad ending with some hurt/comfort

Author’s Note 1: mishasminion360, thank you very much for your help, I really appreciate it. ^^

Author’s Note 2: This fic has Marcus Moreno’s point-of-view.

Author’s Note 3: This fic is also setting in an alternate universe where Marcus has no superpowers but is still a master swordsman, martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant.

Author’s Note 4: The song recommendation for this fic – Hurts Likes Hell by Fleurie

Taglist: @mishasminion360 @pascalpanic @fentimochi @moralesispunk @bison-writes @honestly-shite @javi-djarins @waywardimpalawriter @tobealostwanderer @radiowallet @metalarmsandmanbuns @novemberrain221 @mudhorn-djarin19 @honey-dewey @littlemisspascal @poenariuniverse @nobodys-baby-now

Disclaimer:

I don’t own Marcus, Missy, Anita (Marcus’ mom) and We Can Be Heroes.

The fic, the concept of the fic and Mrs. Michelle Moreno (My OFC) (c) bat25wonder32super (Me)

Hurts Like Hell © Fleurie

I’m having a difficult battle against my enemy (My enemy doesn’t have any superpowers but she is a deadly martial artist, hand-to-hand combatant and knife fighter). I fight the best I can but my enemy manages to overpower me and kick me viciously in left side of my ribs, bruising and breaking two ribs in left side of my ribs. I cough up red blood and try to push myself up shakily as I groan in pain but I don’t have enough strength to.

I have bruises and cuts all over my face and body with one of my cheeks being swollen with a cut on it and one of my eyes being bruised and swollen half closed with my lips split and bleeding. Luckily, my nose and teeth are not broken. She prepares to finish me off with her knife, but my beloved, precious second wife and the second love of my life Michelle (Who witnessed my fight with worry, shock and horror) comes to save me and manages to beat her with a few punches and kicks. Michelle rushes to my side out of concern for me. Unfazed by her injuries, my enemy is ready to kill me with her knife again but Michelle bravely stands in front of her.

My enemy sadistically threatens Michelle. “Stay out of my way, if you don’t want to die painfully.” “I won’t let you hurt my precious, beloved husband anymore!” Michelle courageously stands up to her. Then Michelle turns to me and says with a sad smile, “Marcus, I love you so much. You, Missy and your mom were the best presents I had. Take care of Missy and your mom for me.” Then Michelle closes her eyes and my enemy stabs Michelle in the heart with her knife, killing her instantly, much to my shock, horror and grief.

“Michelle, no!” I scream Michelle’s name in grief. With the little strength I can muster, I get up and stab my enemy in the heart with one of my dual katanas, killing her. Then I collapse and crawl to Michelle and hold her hand. “M-Michelle, please don’t leave me… I love you… Please wake up, please come back…” I say tearfully to her with tears falling down my cheeks but she’s already dead. “A-After we married each other, we spent a wonderful time. You were kind, sweet, loving, cheerful and caring. You were also protective of me and you were always worried and afraid of losing me. Whenever I get hurt, you always took care of me and you were the best nurse to me. We made pizza with Missy and had it for dinner together. After that, we had our homemade brownies with ice cream on the top. We shared our love for flowers and you loved both healthy and unhealthy foods and were a sweet tooth who also loved cooking and baking. You liked your coffee sweet consisting a regular coffee with extra cream and extra sugar. My first wife and Missy’s first mom holds a special place in my heart and she always does. But she would’ve wanted me, Missy and my mom to move on. You came into our lives and made it the best one. But now you’re gone. You’re not coming back. Now I can’t see your kind and pretty eyes again, I can’t see your warm and beautiful smile again, I can’t hear your loving and sweet voice again and I-I even can’t fall asleep next to you ever again, it hurts so much and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry… I-I’m going to miss you so much… I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe… I’m sorry I couldn’t you keep you safe just like I couldn’t keep my first wife safe… I-I love you… I’m so sorry…” I continue to say tearfully as I cry softly. After saying these, I sob softly until I fall unconscious as help finally arrive and I’m rushed to the regular hospital where Michelle worked that is closed to the Heroics HQ while the coroners mournfully cover Michelle’s dead body with a white sheet and take her to the same hospital.

It’s been four days since I’m hospitalized. Even though the wounds are still here and there on my face and body, they’re mended and healing and even my bruised and broken two ribs are healing. I’m wearing nasal cannula under my nose to make myself to breathe easier, an IV on one of my forearms and the wires on my body.

I’m still grieving Michelle and I’m still feeling guilty for her death. My daughter Missy, despite her eyes being filled with tears, gently hug me with my mom hugging me gently too with both of them being careful not to hug him too tightly, knowing that I would still be hurt.

“Dad, I miss my moms both too and I’ll always miss them. But it’s not your fault and both of my moms wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Missy reassures me with a kind voice.

“Missy’s right, dear. I miss them and I’ll always miss them too. But you shouldn’t blame yourself because it’s not your fault. It’s okay to miss them, it’s okay to cry. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” My mom gently comforts me.

“But it hurts, it hurts so much.” I tearfully confess with full of the emotional pain in my voice.

“We know, Marcus, dear. It’s okay to let it out.” My mom warmly says with patting my head gently.

I finally allow myself to shed silent tears as they fall down my cheeks and I let my feelings come out as I hug them back softly.

“You still have both of us, dad. You don’t have to face anything alone. We love you.” Missy whispers to me quietly but warmly.

All I can do is to say a quiet but tearful whisper, “Thank you, Missy, mom, I love you both too.”

I miss you, Michelle. I’m gonna take care of Missy and my mom for you, I promise. I love you.

The End.

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harley-sunday · 4 years

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Encore [epilogue]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: Language. NSFW

Word count: 3.1k

AN: This is it... The epilogue of Encore’s Encore. What a ride, huh? I had so much fun writing this, diving into this backstory, and making sure these two knuckleheads found their way to each other in the end :) Hope you’ll enjoy the last part, but please let me know what you think! ♥

eL, I owe you something chocolate for all the hours you’ve spend in this daydream world with me. Thank you so, SO much, sweets!

Masterlist

“Nic,” you answer with a smile, putting your phone on speaker, “we’re almost there.”

“Ok, good,” she says, “cause these potatoes are done.”

Chris chuckles beside you, “Two minutes, Nicole.”

“Step on it, Evans,” Nicole groans, “I’ve got two very impatient kids here who, I’m sure, aren’t above killing their mother if we don’t start eating soon.”

“Nicole,” you laugh.

“What? I’m serious,” she protests. “Please tell me you remembered to bring the-”

“It’s in the trunk, Nicole,” Chris reassures her with a smile. “We’re pulling up now, so you’re good.”

“Oh thank God,” Nicole says as she hangs up.

“I’ll leave the door open for you,” you tell him, before you give a kiss. “See you soon.”

He winks and sits back, trying to hide from view as you make your way to the front door.

The door opens before you even have a chance to ring the doorbell and you are greeted by two very excited boys who both run up to you and throw their arms around your waist. You run your hands through their hair, “Hi guys,”

“We’re gonna watch you and mommy on TV!” Robby exclaims, while he takes your hand and leads you inside. Leo’s still wrapped around your waist, his feet on yours, and so you penguin walk through the hall and into the kitchen, where you find Nicole and Keith.

“Hi,” Nicole says with a smile, planting a kiss on your cheek, “you had a good flight?”

“Not too bad,” you tell her as you give Keith a hug.

“How’s the apartment?” She tells Leo to let go of you then, and when he doesn’t listen right away she throws him one of those mom-looks that makes him do exactly what she wants.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, taking the glass of wine she’s offered you, “I’m not sure all my stuff’s gonna fit, but-”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just move in with him, I mean-”

“Nicole,” you berate her, one eyebrow raised. “Have you met me and my commitment issues?”

“Yes, I know, taking it slow, blah blah blah,” she says while she pulls a face. “You know you’re just gonna be at his place all the time, right?”

“I know,” you agree with a nod, “but it’s nice to have, like, my own place, at least until he gets back from filming Knives Out, you know? I don’t- It would be weird to stay at his house when we’re not technically back-”

“Oh, come on!” She throws her hands in the air then, “You know what, I give up. Just let me know if you need help decorating the new place or whatever.”

“I love you,” you tell her, making a kissing face.

“Uhu,” she says, trying to keep a straight face but failing. She pulls you in for a hug, “It’s good to have you back, babe.”

“MOM!”

“Oh shit,” Nicole curses quietly and lets go of you. “Here we go.”

You pulls up your texting app and hit <send> on the draft you typed earlier, which simply says:

Now.

“Mom, Leo hit me!”

You follow Nicole into the dining room where you find Robby, a red spot on his cheek that confirms his story, and a very guilty-looking Leo. Before Nicole has a chance to say anything there’s a knock on the front door and you see the confusion on Leo and Robby’s faces when they quickly realize an unexpected guest has shown up.

It’s then the door to the dining room opens and you see the boys’ eyes widen in shock when they see who has just stepped into their house. You throw Nicole a wink and step back, letting your back rest against the wall as you watch the scene in front of you unfold with a smile.

“Hi boys,” Chris says, using the deeper voice Steve Rogers is known for. Holding Captain America’s shield in front of him he salutes them, before he sets the shield down and walks over to where they’re seated, kneeling in between them.

Leo finally seems to have found his voice again and looks from Chris to Nicole, “Momma! Cap’ain America is here!”

“He sure is, baby,” Nicole says with a smile.

As if on cue, both boys jump out of their seats and throw their arms around Chris’ neck, giggling when he stands up, carrying them to the living room with ease.

“Come on,” you nudge Nicole before you set your glass down, “Chris can handle those two, I’ll help you get everything on the table.”

She tells Keith to go take some pictures, maybe even a video so that, when necessary, they can help Leo and Robby remember about the deal they made with Captain America about being kind to each other. Once you’re in the kitchen she lets out a staggered breath, “I really hope this will help with all the fighting.”

“It will,” you assure her, gently patting her arm. “Captain America shows up, you listen, right? Those kids, oh Nic,” you let out a laugh, “they’ll be on their best behaviour from now on, because Captain America will find out if they’re not.”

After a dinner filled with stories from Leo and Robby, trying to impress Captain America with whatever they can think of, you settle down in the living room, your episode of ‘Encore’ just minutes from airing.

You and Chris sit down on the couch, Robby on his lap, while Leo snuggles up on yours, but only after both boys agree that Leo gets to sit on Cap’s lap after the second commercial break. Keith and Nicole are snuggled up on the love seat and you watch them out of the corner of your eye, smiling when you see Keith tickle Nicole which earns him a gentle slap on the wrist, followed by a kiss.

The episode starts then, the boys clapping and cheering loudly whenever they catch a glimpse of their mom. You can’t help but cringe when you see the footage of that first day, the awkward hug you gave Chris of course shown in its entirety. That’s the only time there’s any focus on you and Chris, which you’re thankful for, glad that whatever was going between you two didn’t transpire in rehearsals enough to make it into the final cut.

You smile when you see parts of the performance on screen and look away in embarrassment when they show the scene between you and Chris, making out in Kenickie’s car. Keith wolf whistles and Nicole winks at you, while the boys look up at you and Chris, confusion written all over their faces.

Robby, now in your lap, takes the lead, “You kissed Captain America.” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement and you’re not sure how to reply.

Chris steps in, “She did, but it’s super secret, so you can’t tell anyone that you know, ok?”

Robby and Leo nod fervently, excited to share another secret with Captain America.

“So, am I dropping you off at your place, or-” he says with a grin.

You shake your head and laugh, “You can, but then you’d have to drop yourself off there as well and I don’t think Dodger would be too excited to spend the night alone.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he drives past your apartment, speeding up a little to make his point, a cheeky grin playing on his lips.

You turn towards him in your seat and stare at him for a few seconds, memories starting to flood your mind now that you’re driving through Sudbury again together for the first time in eighteen years. You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while an idea starts to form.

He looks over at you, “What?”

You shrug, “Remember that time you took me for a drive and we ended up at Great Meadows?”

“Yeah-”

“Yeah.” You reach out your hand and let it rest on the top of his thigh, “Wanna take me there again?”

He swallows hard, the double entendre not lost on him, and he just nods, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter.

You let your hand travel further up his thigh and cup him through his jeans, drawing a sharp breath from him when you squeeze ever so slightly. It’s about five more minutes to the parking you were referring to and you keep your hand in place for every second of them, your thumb rubbing back and forth in languid strokes.

His breathing picks up and you can tell he’s trying to keep his cool, but the way he grows harder under your touch betrays his efforts. He curses quietly, “Fuck, Ace.”

“Uhu,” you reply with a sly smile and another squeeze.

He pulls up to the parking then, and you’re relieved to find it empty, not sure what you would have done if there’d been other people around. Before you have time to say anything he’s unbuckled his seatbelt and puts his hand over yours, keeping you in place, grinding against your hand.

You take your hand out from underneath his and unbuckle your seatbelt, while you tell him to slide his seat back. He does and watches you intently, no doubt curious to see what you’ll do next. You throw him a wink and move around in your seat, your ass now hitting the dashboard. Planting one feet firmly on the ground, you throw the other over his leg and slide onto his lap. It takes some effort, but finally you find yourself straddling his thigh.

Your skirt has ridden up and you can feel your soaked panties press against his jeans, a shiver running through you when you feel him flex his muscles. You cup his face and pull him in for a kiss and as you do you buck your hips, sliding over his leg, a moan escaping you from the friction it creates.

“Ace,” he breathes against your lips, his hands on your hips to keep you in place.

You give him another kiss and let your hands fall to his jeans then, your fingers unbuckling his belt with ease before you undo his button and zipper. One hand finds its way into his boxers and takes him out, and you press yourself against his leg when you see he’s completely hard.

Your thumb runs over the tip, coating it in precum. Pulling back you look at him and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you let a bit of spit fall onto your hand, your eyes never leaving his. Both hands are on his cock then, working in tandem, while he grabs onto your hips and helps you ride his thigh in earnest.

It isn’t long before his head falls back against the headrest, his breathing more ragged now, and you can tell he’s getting close from the way he thrusts into your hands.

“I’m right there with you,” you whisper, feeling your orgasm starting to build.

He flexes the muscles in leg again and pushes you down harder as he slides you from his knee to his hip and back.

You keep running your hands up and down his shaft, faster than before, and then you lean forward and put your mouth to his ear, “Come for me, Chris.”

He shakes his head while he tightens his grip on your hips, lifting you up, and you whimper at the loss of contact. He kisses you, hard, and then puts one hand on your lower back, pushing you against him, while the other takes his cock from your hands. “Wanna come inside of you,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, and you almost come right then and there.

You put your hands on his shoulders and slowly lower yourself onto him, a moan escaping your when he fills you up effortlessly. His hands are back on your hips then, helping you ride him, setting a pace that you know will get both of you there quickly.

Burying your face in his neck, closer now than you were before, you sneak one hand in between you to play with your clit. You want to tell him you’re about to come, but then he bucks his hips at the same time he pushes you down and the words get stuck in your throat because your orgasm washes over you instantly.

You feel him come inside of you not much later and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you against his chest and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you both come down from your high.

When you wake up the next morning Chris’ side of the bed is already empty and you figure he must have gone out for an early morning run. That is until you hear Dodger bark somewhere on the other end of the house, which is weird, because Chris told you he usually takes his dog along on his runs. You decide you might as well get up, feeling well-rested after your early night yesterday, but still longing for some coffee.

You start to make your way to the kitchen, but halfway there you are greeted by an excited Dodger, who you give some well-deserved scratches before continuing your mission to get some coffee. Your brows knit together when you see a bouquet of red tulips on the kitchen counter, which you are sure weren’t there yesterday.

“I was just gonna get you,” Chris says as hands you a plate with two Danish, and a cup of coffee while he pulls a face, “I hate to rush you, but we have an hour before we need to leave, so you kind need to haul-”

“What?” You look at him, shaking your head, “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t- It’s a surprise,” he says with a wicked grin. “So just- Eat your breakfast, and I’ll go take a shower, ok?”

“Ok,” you draw out, even more confused. You watch him walk out of the kitchen and turn towards Dodger, who’s at your feet hoping you’ll drop a bit of Danish, or maybe just both. “You in on this?”

Dodger barks quietly, which doesn’t really help. Still, you sneak him a bit of your Danish before you sit down at the breakfast bar and try to figure out what the hell is going on.

You’re in the car about an hour later and Chris still won’t tell you where you’re headed, but when he turns onto the I90 after twenty minutes or so, you are fairly certain you’ll end up in Boston, even though that leaves about a thousand places he could take you to.

He’s unusually quiet and so you figure it must be something important but there’s just no way of telling what is happening right now. When he pulls up on Salem Street about thirty minutes later you’re even more confused, almost certain that you’ve never been here before.

When you round the car to join him on the sidewalk, he takes your hand and leads the way down the street until you get to what looks like a barber shop. It confuses you even more, because are you here to watch him get a haircut, or?

You follow him inside and you’re surprised when the guy behind the counter greets him as if they’re old friends, telling him Dave will be with you guys in a second.

“Chris,” you whisper, gently tugging on his hand.

Before he has the chance to respond a guy walks through the curtains behind the counter and walks up to you and it takes everything you have not to stare at him, because he’s almost twice the size of Chris. This must be Dave, you figure, and you watch as he gives Chris a hug.

“How you doin’, kid?”

“Good,” Chris smiles. He nods towards you then, “This is Ace.”

You throw him a look because why would he use your nickname, but it’s then Dave gives you a hug and you find yourself a little stunned at how gentle he is for such a big guy. Before you have the chance to ask any questions, Dave beckons you and Chris to follow him through the curtains and it’s there things get even more confusing.

There’s a chair set up, but it isn’t a barber’s chair, and you glance at Chris, hoping to finally get some answers.

“I’ll just eh-,” Dave says then, “I’ll just go grab something from the back,” and disappears through another curtain, leaving you and Chris alone.

Chris takes your hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze, “Remember when I told you that I got that ace of hearts tattooed on what was supposed to be our ten-year anniversary?”

You nod, slowly starting to maybe connect the dots, but it isn’t until you realize what today’s date is that you let out a gasp, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods and smiles, “Happy twenty-year anniversary, Ace.” He tugs on your hands, pulling you close before he wraps his arms around you, his mouth close to your ear when he says, “It’s time to start fixing things.”

Dave reappears then and asks Chris if he’s ready. Chris nods and takes his sweater off, before he sits down in the chair and Dave starts prepping his skin. Chris holds out his hand to you and you’re quick to take it, standing next to him and watching in awe as Dave starts to fill in the broken line of Chris’ tattoo, the colour red he’s using matching that of the existing heart perfectly. You give his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know that Dave’s done not much later and let go then, so Chris can get up out of the chair and admire his tattoo in the mirror that’s hanging on the wall.

Dave throws you a wink, “Everything as it should be.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile, for some reason feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, as if the enormity of what Chris has just done only now hits you. You watch as Dave places what looks like saran wrap on Chris’ chest before he hands him a tube of cream and some instructions on how to take care of it the next couple of days.

Walking out of the shop not much later Chris looks at you, a tender look in his eyes, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a moment of clarity suddenly hitting you.

“So,” Chris asks, hesitating a little, “am I dropping you off at your place or-?”

“No,” you say as you let go of his hand and turn towards him. You cup his face ih your hands and push yourself up so your lips ghost against his, “You’re taking me home.”

#chris evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #chris evans #Encore

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Daddy’s Home

Request: Hey I know this is odd, but I really enjoy your writing and I was wondering if you could possibly do a little smutty Dean thing? Maybe using the name Lyn, and really anything is on the table, I mean, it's Dean Winchester. (Or if you want, some daddy kink and maybe just rough stuff :o) Thank you, dear!! You don't have to if ya don't want to, no pressure 💕💕

Warnings: Daddy!Kink, Oral (male receiving), Choking, Biting, Rough Sex, Praise!Kink, Language, Hair Pulling. This is basically just porn with a plot lol.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X OFC Lyn

Word Count: 795

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one! Gif, not mine! Credit the original owner!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

Lyn found herself in a position that has become familiar to her over the past three years.

On her knees, in front of Dean, his hand wrapped tightly in her hair and his thick cock heavy on her tongue, rocking his hips as he fucks himself into her mouth.

"That's a good girl. Taking Daddy's cock so good."

His praises making her thighs clench together as the tip of his throbbing erection pressed against the back of her throat, gagging her just enough to tighten around his sensitive spongy tip. His head thrown back against the wall as he tries to maintain his control, and not spill his whole load in her mouth before they even get started.

This was her favorite side to Dean. Not that she didn't enjoy the gentle touches and the moments where he seemed to treat her as if she were a precious priceless thing, that was fine too.

When he came home from a hunt he was always rough, full of adrenaline-fueled regret and needing to take the edge off any way he could, bringing out a side of him that makes you melt at just the tone of his voice.

She could feel his balls tighten as she massages them while he continues to work himself in and out of her mouth, her hand wrapped around his thick base, tears running down her face, drool falling from her chin. Yet she loved every second of it.

"Look at you, a fucking mess. You love sucking my dick don't you baby girl?"

She hummed in response with him buried deep in her mouth as his pace picked up quicker. His teeth sinking deep into his lower lip. The veins in his neck started to show and he strained to keep losing control. That's just what she wanted him to do, lose control, fall over that edge.

Snap.

Show her the raw power, and what he's really got wrapped up in there. The part of him that normally stays locked away.

She can feel his thighs tighten as he draws closer and closer to his release, painting above her, getting lost in the feeling of her wrapped around him.

She flattens her tongue under his thick length and hollowing out her checks to take him deeper into her throat.

A string of curses fall from Dean's mouth and he pistons his hips into her waiting mouth, right on that edge, so close. Slick gathers in her underwear as she watches him above her.

With a deep growl, Dean pulls himself from her and pulls her to her feet, throwing her over the table in the library and ripping the panties that she was wearing clean off of her body as he lines himself up with her and slams into her with one forceful thrust.

"Have you been a good girl while Daddy's been gone? You think Daddy should reward you? Let you come on my cock." Dean said, brushing her hair away from her face in a gentle motion that threw her for a moment. It was so contradictory to his tone.

"Please Daddy!" She whines for him, knowing that's what he wants to hear.

There it was. Just like that. The snap she'd been waiting for.

With a growl deep in his chest Dean wrapped his hand around her throat, holding her tight enough to make breathing a challenge, but not enough to cut her airflow off completely. She knew there would be bruises there later, and she'd wear them with pride because they marked her as his.

Dean's hips were pounding into her with a brutal pace as moans turned to strangle screams falling from her lips. The coil is winding tighter and tighter in her belly as he drives himself deeper and deeper. Sliding her heavily onto the table with each animalistic trust.

She could feel his pace falter. His hips stutter as his own release comes running toward him.

She feels him snake his arms around her, finding her swollen bundle of nerves, rubbing harshly to match his own pace.

"Cum now," he growled before sinking his teeth deep in the junction of her neck and shoulders.

Her release came as did his in a string of curses and incoherent sounds. An orgasm so strong she forgot how to breathe. Dean still slowly fucking them both through it until they had both came back down from their high, and his cum was dripping down her legs.

Grabbing her up by her hair forcing her to look up because he knew that's just how she liked it. Dean growled her ear, taking the shell of her ear in his teeth, causing a shiver to run down her spine in the most delicious way before growling the worlds she had waited over a week to hear.

"Daddy's home."

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin

#dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester smut #fanfiction #spn fanficiotn #SPN Fanfic #SPN #spn drabble #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester one shot #jawritter

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

Text

Beautiful Stranger (Chris Evans x OFC) -- part ten

Hello again! I know it’s been awhile, apologies for that. I had some big writing pieces I had to focus on and get turned in before I did anything else. That being said, I’m submitting a ton of original works to contests in the next few weeks, so updates here could be a little teeny bit slow. But I am still writing! I have up to part twelve done already ;))

Anywho, enjoy xx.

Warnings: Just Chris being an absolute gentleman. Teeth-rotting fluff.

Chris and I have dinner together every night now. Or, we try to.

He’s filming again, which means sometimes our dinners have to be postponed, or one time he ordered in and had it there right when I got home, because he needed to leave a few minutes later for work. It’s become our routine.

Oh, and we exchanged numbers.

Which means the text messages like the one I’m smiling down at right now is a frequent occurrence.

Chris: Seb won’t stop trying to take my phone. If you get a creepy text, it’s him I swear

I chuckle, completely okay now with the fact that he can hear.

Noted. Tell Scarlett I say hiii

Scarlett and I are on better terms -- not that we were on bad terms to begin with, but I did think she was dating Chris. She doesn’t know the way I acted, unless Chris told her, but regardless, I see now that she’s super sweet.

Chris: Scarlett says hi back. She wants to meet you again

I smile.

We should invite her over one night. I could invite Camile over, too?

Chris has yet to meet Camile and that’s entirely my doing. She’s asked, and I’ve politely told her no. I want to be sure about him before I have him meeting my best friend. I’ve also just...enjoyed our quiet evenings together, getting to relax after the day. I don’t want anything about it to change, and for some reason, my brain thinks that if I let Camile meet him too soon, it will change.

Jack knows now, too, only because it slipped out of my mouth one night when he invited me to dinner with him and Camile. I told him I was actually having dinner with Chris, and Camile’s eyes widened because she had yet to tell him the news.

Jack didn’t scream, but he also wasn’t totally unfazed, either.

Chris: Scarlett said she’d love that (I would too for the record)

I roll my eyes. Somehow I can see his smile in my mind.

Let’s do it then. Would you be okay with Camile inviting Jack?

I anxiously await Chris’s reply.

Chris: Of course. As long as you’re okay with it

I let out a breath.

You’re the best

I hear a sweet laugh echo in my mind, and my chest swells.

Chris: Well Seb saw my messages and is now annoyed that he didn’t get an invite

Another eye roll. I’ve never met Sebastain, but from everything Chris has told me, I hear he can be a little dramatic.

Tell him I said stop pouting and he’ll be invited

A loud laugh. A pause.

Chris: Pouting has stopped and he said he will be there

My little moment is interrupted when a stack of papers is slammed onto my desk. My eyes follow the arm up to my boss, who doesn’t look pleased.

“I need these rooms booked,” he says firmly, then raises an eyebrow. “Unless your phone is more interesting than my conference.”

“No sir,” I shake my head, turning my phone over on my desk, unfortunately leaving Chris on read. I hate doing that to anyone, especially Chris. “I’ll have them booked by the end of the day.”

“Hm,” is all he says, taking his hand off the papers. He’ll never say thank you. He’s above simple manners, apparently. “Who are you texting?”

“Excuse me?” I let out a startled laugh. It isn’t new for him to be insanely nosy, but since it was my soulmate, I feel particularly defensive. “I’m sorry, but it’s not your business.”

“It is my business when my employee is on her phone instead of doing her work,” he snaps. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t,” I reply out of instinct, though I don’t mean it. I’ll just be more careful. Or I’ll have to tell Chris I can’t text at work anymore.

My boss stalks off to his office and makes eye contact with me as he shuts his door. I’ve successfully worsened his mood and it isn’t even lunchtime yet. Perfect.

+++

When I take my lunch hour at one -- I usually do noon, but Chris said he’s supposed to have lunch at one today, too -- I’m exhausted.

I’ve tried booking the rooms, but only half of the ones my boss wants are actually available. It’s been a lot of sweet talking and crunching numbers to make it work, and that’s only conference rooms. Let’s hope the hotel rooms he needs aren’t already taken, too.

I reach in my purse for my keys, deciding I need a drive today to get lunch. I get an hour and a half -- because I clocked in early -- so I can afford to drive instead of walking somewhere next door.

What I don’t expect, though, is to get to my car on the sidewalk by my work, and see a certain someone leaning up against it.

“Chris?” I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”

He’s got two cups of coffee in his hands, a hat on his head and sunglasses over his eyes. But that smile is still unmistakable. And the shoulders. The arms, too. Hands -- I digress.

I take one of the cups from him and try not to grin. “Nice disguise.”

“Thank you,” he replies, tipping his cup to me. “I try.”

“Well get in before someone recognizes you,” I gesture to my car that he’s leaning against. “Idiot,” I mutter under my breath.

Once we’re inside my car and the doors are locked, he says, “Did you just call me an idiot?” He takes his sunglasses off for dramatic effect.

“Because you’re not supposed to be out in the wild!”

“Out in the wild?” He laughs.

“I don’t know!” I say through my own laughter. “You know what I meant. Aren’t you afraid someone will recognize you?”

“I’m wearing a hat.”

I give him a look.

“I promise, I wouldn’t have done this if I thought I’d get mobbed. I wouldn’t put you in that kind of danger.”

I try not to frown, but I still do, and he still sees it.

“No, come on, I wanted to surprise you to make you smile, not make you sad.”

“I’m not sad.” I pull my seatbelt over my body and start the car. “I appreciate this, really.”

“I didn’t know if you would since you stopped texting me.”

I know he’s teasing, but I’m already not in the best mood, so I can’t help the word vomit that comes out of my mouth. “I’m so sorry, my boss got pissed that I was on my phone, so I’m gonna have to stop texting at work for now.”

Anyone else probably would’ve brushed it off because bosses are sometimes universally known to not be totally great, but this is Chris. This is Chris, who knows all the bullshit my boss puts me through, so it makes sense that his only emotion is concern.

“Are you okay? Did he say anything to you?”

“I’m okay,” I breathe, stopping at a red light. “And he just asked who I was texting, but I told him it wasn’t his business.”

“It’s not.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have been on my phone--”

“Don’t make excuses for his shitty behavior, Eva.”

“I’m not,” I fire back, turning left at the light. “Sorry, I’m just driving, I didn’t even ask-- What do you want for lunch?”

“Whatever you want,” he shrugs. “This is your lunch hour, I’m just tagging along.”

“Okay,” I let out another long breath. “I’m sorry, I feel like every time I see you I’m complaining about how stressed out I am.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though. How’s filming? How’s set?”

“It’s good,” he replies, shrugging. “I would tell you more, but we’re not really allowed. They’re very secretive about this stuff.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, trying to ignore the small bit of agitation in my chest. It’s not because of him. I know it’s because of my boss. “When are we gonna have dinner with everyone?”

“We have this weekend off, if that works for Camile and Jack.”

I nod. “It should.” I pause, looking around at where I am. I realize that my body has gone on autopilot and driven me to The Nines. “How good is that disguise?”

“What? It’s pretty good, I stood out by your car for ten minutes.”

“Well, we’re gonna go to my favorite diner,” I hit my signal to park. “It’s really small, though, so you might not need it.”

“Okay…” Chris looks nervous.

“I promise,” I assure him as I swing into the parking space. “I wouldn’t bring you in here if I thought you’d get mobbed. Kevin might recognize you, but he’s the most relaxed person I’ve ever met.”

Still, Chris puts on his sunglasses. “I trust you.”

I smile, cutting off the engine. While I’m doing that, though, Chris is jumping out of my car and coming around to the driver’s side to open my door for me. And then when we reach the door to The Nines, he’s opening that one for me, too.

“I see chivalry is alive and well today,” I comment. “Coffee,” I hold up my cup, “and opening doors for me? I feel lucky.”

Chris shakes his head with a smile, clearly bashful and a little nervous. It’s this moment that I realize this is the first time we’ve been in public with one another. Granted, it’s The Nines, which is almost always deserted -- except at two in the morning when the college kids congregate before finals -- but still.

I lead Chris to Camile and I’s favorite booth, sliding in across from him as he takes off his sunglasses, but leaves the hat -- for good reason. Kevin is walking over a second later, already making some comment about what he told me last time about it being offensive when I walk in here with outside coffee, but he stops when he sees Chris.

“Wait,” Kevin’s voice lowers, and I see Chris shift in his seat. “Steve Rogers?” He whispers.

“I prefer Chris,” my soulmate tries to joke, chuckling a little.

“Dope,” Kevin says. “Can you sign a napkin for me?”

“Sure.”

“Dope,” Kevin repeats, then acts like he forgets what just happened. “Anywho, what are we eating? Since I see you’ve brought outside coffee in here yet again.”

“You’ll live, Kev,” I roll my eyes. “And the usual.”

“What’s the usual?” Chris asks.

“You’ll see,” Kevin replies, then walks away.

Chris gives me a bewildered look and I grimace.

“Sorry. That’s Kevin for ya.”

“No, it’s okay, just not the interaction I normally have.”

“Yeah,” I still grimace. “Oh, and please sign something for him. He won’t bring it up again, but he’ll ask me about it every damn time I see him after this.”

“Got it,” Chris pulls one of the napkins out of the holder and produces a Sharpie from his jacket pocket.

I raise an eyebrow.

“What?” He defends. “It’s always here.”

“Whatever you say.”

“The slander,” he shakes his head, expertly signing the napkin despite how flimsy it is. I try not to look too amazed at how he does it and how flawless his signature looks.

Kevin returns with a cup of water, sitting it down in front of me. “I just wanted an excuse to come back over.”

Chris taps Kevin’s arm to get his attention. “Here you go.”

Kevin glances at the napkin and sees what it is, and clutches the flimsy paper to his chest. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Chris laughs. “It’s no problem.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you two kids alone. I’ll be back with food.”

“You better,” I joke, resting my head in my hand.

True to his word, Kevin returns with a tray holding a platter of steak fries and a bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy.

“Bon appetit,” Kev sings, bowing as he backs away from the table.

Chris stares at me with raised eyebrows. “What is this?”

I give him a weird look in return as I dip one of the fries into the mashed potatoes and gravy. “It’s lunch.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m deadly serious,” I reply smoothly, picking up my glass of water to take a sip. “This is my comfort food, come on, try it.”

But I didn’t need to beg him because he’s already doing it, definitely to entertain me, but that’s fine with me. I watch his face as he eats, waiting for it, and eventually it hits.

The amazement. The agitation that it actually tastes good.

I giggle, muffling the sound with another fry. “It’s good.”

“It’s so good,” he nods, laughing with me as he dips another fry. “Not the most healthy, but.”

“Eh, comfort food isn’t supposed to be healthy,” I tease, swirling my fry in the gravy. “My mom and I used to get this and hot chocolate when we were out shopping.” I pause, wondering why the hell I’m telling him this at lunch.

Talk about your dead parents, Eva. That’s a great lunchtime conversation.

“Yeah?” Chris says, waiting for me to go on.

So I do. “She used retail therapy a lot to get her mind off fighting with my dad.”

“Did you guys come here?”

“No,” I shake my head. “We went to a place called the Broadway Diner, but it’s closed now. I just remembered this and started having it here one day. Kev gave me the same look you did until he tried it.”

Chris chuckles, leaning on his elbow as he eats another. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it would work. I thought it’d be too much potato.”

“It does seem like it,” I agree. “But it’s strangely not.”

Chris points at me with a fry, swallowing his last bite before asking, “What do you want to have this weekend?”

“Are you cooking again?”

“If you want me to.”

I make a face. “I wouldn’t be opposed…”

He grins. “Then I’ll cook. Anything you want?”

“Surprise me,” I tease. “That went pretty well last time.”

“Alright, I’ll figure something out,” he promises. “You should come see Dodger soon. He misses you.”

“Does he now?”

Chris pulls his infamous puppy dog eyes -- Dodger’s are better, but don’t tell him that -- and nods seriously. “He does.”

“Hm, then I guess I’ll just have to come over tonight,” I shrug. “What time will you be done?”

“Soon, hopefully,” Chris breathes. “I’ll text you.” But he pauses. “Or maybe I won’t.”

“After five,” I chuckle. “But yeah, no more today, sorry. I probably shouldn’t anger the beast anymore.”

Chris frowns. “Okay.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, hoping that’ll make his frown fade, but it doesn’t. It grows deeper. “Hey, it is.”

“I don’t like that you think it is,” he murmurs. “He shouldn’t be as demanding as he is.”

“He’s my boss.”

“He shouldn’t ask you to work late or to call his wife and cancel their dinner plans,” Chris counters.

And I frown. Because that’s only half of what my boss asks of me. I’ve only told Chris half. And judging by how he’s reacted, I don’t know if I’ll tell him the other half.

“It’s fine,” I say again, and when Chris gives me a look, I give him one back.

“Okay, fine,” he waves his hand in surrender. “I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.”

“But if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.”

“What are you gonna do?” I laugh, a little nervously. “Beat him up?”

Chris thinks it over. “Let’s go with that.”

“Chris!”

“I’m kidding!” His hand reaches over and touches mine gently. Gentle enough that I stop moving completely and watch him. “But please tell me.”

“Okay,” I promise, and I mean it. “I will.”

He turns my hand over and squeezes softly, his thumb rubbing circles, and he doesn’t let go.

But it’s okay. I didn’t want him to let go, anyway.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x soulmate #chris evans x reader #chris evans soulmate #soulmate au #chris evans soulmate au #soulmate story #soulmates #fluff #so much fluff #it's painful really #but i love it #i love them #excited for the next part #if u know what i mean #anywho #love y'all

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mrsalwayswrite · 5 years

Text

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 1 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

So this was a cute one-shot that came to mind that somehow turned into a mini series. I’ll hopefully have the other parts up soonish (once they are written).

I want to dedicate this piece to the most lovely @evelynshelby for inspiring and encouraging me to write an Alfie piece. (Btw, she has her own incredible stories that you should definitely follow.) This is my first time writing a fanfic piece for Peaky Blinders. I have always been too nervous to attempt it. So let me know if you think I did Alfie justice.

Summary: A young Alfie prepares himself to spend a night in jail. Next thing he know, he is on the run with a blonde angel by his side. Nothing about this night goes as he expected.

Warnings: Some violence, swearing and racial slurs. Just the usual in Peaky Blinders. :)

Words: 5k

~The Difference Between Champagne and Rum~

Part 1- Saved by an Angel

1911

He knew it. Everyone knew it. Bless her, even his own mother knew it. No matter what the Rabbi said. Alfie Solomons’ soul was damned. He was sinful and that would not be changing anytime soon. He easily picked up and wore that mantle though. For it meant there was food on the table for his family and coal to keep them warm in their dilapidated, shoddy apartment. It also meant his younger brother and sister could stay in school and receive a good education. Plus their mum did not have to work sewing till her fingers bled from dawn until midnight. No, his soul was damned but he did not care. He was the man of the house, had been since the age of nine when his father died, and his family came first.

The first time he saw her…he wondered if he might regret missing heaven and all its beautiful creatures. It would be a shame if all the angels looked like her. Perhaps he could amend his ways…later.

Blood ran down from the left side corner of his mouth, leaving the tang of copper and dirt on his tongue. The dull ache from his mid ribs told him that he would have bruises there tomorrow. He would have to keep them hidden from his mum. None of the pain affected him though. None of the blood stopped him. In this moment, he was an invincible force of nature. Even the devil himself would refuse to fight him right now.

He glared down at the bleeding, busted man at his feet, the wrath of all his ancestors fueling his rage. “You want to say that again, you fucking wop?”

The man –teenager really- sneered but wisely kept his tongue behind his teeth.

The lad at his feet was only a year older than himself, just barely an adult, but that did not matter. Not here on the dirty streets of London. Not even when the gang of wop lads outnumbered the few Jewish lads walking back to the shitty apartments of their families. Big fucks little. And a certain Jewish lad promised himself to one day be the boss. To never back down from a fight until everyone feared his name and pissed themselves even thinking about fighting him.

Alfie eyed the seven other Italian lads sprawled out in the back alley in various states of injury or restrainment. Two of his own lads looked injured enough but otherwise no one was dead. Returning his intense gaze to the ringleader at his feet, he cracked his bloody knuckles.

“See here. That’s the thing, innit? You think just coz you got them fuckin’ suits and greased hair, you s’better than us. Mmm? S’fucking disgrace, mate. Me little sister can fight better than you lot.”

“Fuck you, Solomons.” The man spat blood onto Alfie’s shoes.

Alfie kicked the downed man. “S’disgusting, Sabini. Mate, you gotta learn to shut your mouth before shit starts fallin’ out, yeah? Now, I’m gonna…”

“STOP THEM! STOP THOSE BOYS!”

He looked up as several whistles blew, alerting him to the coppers running straight towards them. Rapidly he spun around, already seeing the panicked look on a few of his lads’ faces. He guessed these coppers were probably paid off by the Sabini family, so the Italian lads would be seen as the victims or get a slap on the wrists while the Jewish lads would be thrown in jail at least overnight if not a couple of days.

“Ishmael, Natan, get the lads! Get ‘em to the warehouse!” Alfie barked out, eyeing the inevitable situation. He was not afraid. This would not be his first time in handcuffs or in jail. At the rate it was going, probably not his last time either. He would make sure they remembered his name though.

Fists clenched at his sides, he stood perfectly still, like a statue made from stone- unmoving, unrelenting, fearless and determined. Only his icy stare betrayed the whirlwind of emotions seething underneath his skin. He waited for them. As a predator eyeing the unsuspecting prey approaching, he remained fixed amongst the Italian boys he had just been fighting. To any outsider he appeared Ares, the god of war, his victims laying at his feet.

Once the coppers tried to arrest him, to make him surrender…the whirlwind of fire was released. He attacked, doling out several solid punches to those in uniform. They would never forget his name. They fought back with their batons, meeting his bloodied fists. Red clouded his vision. Moments blurred as he held his own. At one point he laughed, cocky and brash. Youth and vengeance fueling his rage.

Eventually, it took four grown men to slam him on the ground and handcuff him. The rocks and debris scrapped the side of his face. He sputtered as a fresh wave of blood filled his mouth when one of the coppers kicked him in the stomach. Cursing colorfully in Russian, he remained down…for now. From what he could see, it looked like the lads had gotten away. Two coppers were trying to wrestle two different wops down and arrest them also. The rest were pulling the Italian lads up against a nearby wall to assess their injuries.

“Move it, boy.” A gruff voice commanded him, dragging him up and towards a nearby brick building across the alley from the Italian boys. Smart man to separate them. He hit the wall, none to gently, and slide down to sit, his back resting against the coarseness of the brick. It tugged at his coat. Sweat soaked through his shirt underneath with flecks of blood splattered sporadically. Whose blood though was the ultimate question. Through half-hooded lids, he watched the coppers and the Italian lads while resting and assessing his own injuries. His ribs rebelled their current position. At least one or two of his knuckles felt busted. The trickle of pooling blood in his mouth made him think he cut his inner check. A new throbbing came from his temple. He could not remember if someone got a hit in or it was where the force of impact from being slammed to the ground originated. The boss would be fucking livid with him. So would his mum. Honestly, he was unsure which was more terrifying when yelling at him.

Opening his eyes to blink away any sweat and blood trickling down, he shifted slightly, the brick digging into his back. That was when he saw her. An absolute angel on earth. Casually walking, as if for a relaxing stroll in the park, she came closer in that dirty back alley. A copper walked close by her, a hand on her elbow as if to guide her. Alfie would not tear his eyes away from her. Never in his seventeen years had he seen anything he could truly label gorgeous or breath-taking. Yet this creature of light did not waver like a flame or mirage. No, she strolled with her head raised proudly, a pout to her full lips with an almost bored look. Her long, blonde hair glowed under the dingy streetlamps, casting a halo around her face, highlighting her delicate features. What made her stand out even more was the party dress and heels that seemed more appropriate for an aristocratic event or a club than the dank back alley full of blood, sweat and piss. Her dress was purple with a sweetheart neckline, lace just barely covering her exposed shoulders and ending mid-shin. Everything about her screamed wealth and posh. Still he could not hate her. It would be like hating a field of sunflowers or a dazzling morning sunrise. His eyes traced her lithe, feminine form and he swallowed subconsciously. There was no way she was older than him, but her silhouette left no doubt that she was a beautiful woman and not a pretty girl.

Once they got close enough, she softly said something to the officer escorting her then without waiting for a response, strutted towards Alfie. Each step she took in his direction, the dirt, blood and sweat felt amplified on his skin and clothes. He could not move nor speak, his mind having lost all function in her wake.

Friendly-like, as if they had known each other for years, she knelt down at his side. Apparently uncaring of the grime in the alley. Her emerald green eyes sparkled like a priceless gem. Quickly she pulled a handkerchief from her small clutch and tenderly dabbed away the blood at his temple, cheek and mouth. No one had touched him this gently outside of his mother and siblings. Unconsciously he leaned into her touch, the handkerchief against his skin.

“Looks like you were in a right, proper fight. I almost feel sorry for the other guy.”

“Naw, don’t be, love. Those wops asked for it.”

“Did they?” She glanced over her shoulder at the others against the opposite wall of that alley. “What did they do?”

“Looked at me funny, right? Can’t ‘ave none of that.” He was not actually going to tell her the wops started yelling racial slurs across the street at him and his lads and making comments about how their mothers spread their legs for anyone. No, he would play it off.

“Well, serves them right then. Looks like they probably needed some dirt on those clean suits and shoes.” Turning back, she winked at him then continued her cleaning, ignoring the rest of the chaos surrounding them. It truly felt like being in the eye of a storm. Nothing and no one else around mattered. All he could see, feel and sense was the angel before him. Even her touch was delicate as she cleaned up his face. Not once did he wince, but that could just be from his mind unable to focus on anything besides her.

“Are you injured badly?” She asked, keeping her voice low as her eyes found his in the gloom.

“No. ‘M fine.”

“Ever been to jail?”

He definitely was not expecting that question from her. “Yeah…yeah, I have.”

She hummed, seeming unsurprised. “Have fun?”

“Oh yeah, fucking best day of me life. Champagne and dancing to fill the night, yeah?”

She laughed, and in that moment he decided that was his favorite sound on this planet. It was robust and sweet, her head tipped back and eyes crinkled. “Well I would hate to take away that pleasure from you but I was wondering if you wanted to get away. I mean these officers are lovely and all but I would not mind a stroll under the moonlight. What do you think? Want to escort me?”

“Love, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go, yeah?”

A smile burst forth, brilliant as a supernova and filled Alfie with a fire he had never experienced before. Sure he understood the fire of anger and wrath, it helped fuel him in the fights he got into. This though… this fire seeped deep into him like a brand made on his bones that warmed him from head to toes.

“Cheeky. I’m going to hug you but do not move from that position. Wait for my signal, got it?”

He nodded, mouth dry. What the bloody hell was happening? Wait, he would get her dirty with all the filth on him. Before he could protest, she shifted and wrapped her arms around him, embracing him. The scent of lavender filled his senses, making him subconsciously take a deep breath. Was it a perfume she wore? Was it just infused into her skin? It did not matter, he wanted to drown in her scent and never resurface. Her lips were next to his ear, her breasts pressed against his chest, her warm breath ticking the hairs on his neck. It was too much. This angel, a being of light, was creating quite sinful images in his mind. Awful, beautiful, wicked scenarios that entailed her pearly white skin laid bare beneath him. All the blood in his body rushed south and suddenly he felt lightheaded, unsure if it was her intoxicating scent and proximity or his bodily reaction and blood loss. It felt so wrong. His soul was damned, blackened by his choices. Yet he yearned for her like he never had before for anyone or anything.

Both a moment and an eternity later, he heard a faint click coming from behind him. With that she leaned back, but not before dragging a single finger slowly down his jawline. That simple touch sent shivers down his spine.

“What’s your name?”

“Alfie. Alfie Solomons.”

“I’ll be right back, Alfie. Stay here.”

With an astounding amount of grace, she rose from kneeling next to him. Casually she strolled over to the copper who had guided her initially into the alley. He had been speaking with two other coppers standing near the Italian lads. During their strange interaction, Alfie had actually forgotten about the fucking wops and coppers, too entranced by her. Now looking around he could see some of the coppers walking away with the other lads while others stood around surveying the area. He counted at least six coppers in current view. Four too many to all be informally patrolling together. Did someone tip them off to the fight? Were they waiting? Questions swarmed in his mind. At least the Jewish lads got away. They were lucky this time.

Twisting his hands, he froze. The handcuffs no longer strangled his wrists. Actually they felt loose…a quick shake and they practically fell off. That was what she had done when embracing him? Now a new set of questions swarmed like a crazed flock of pigeons in his mind. How? Why? If anything, his respect for her grew…and his curiosity. This was clearly not her first time getting out of handcuffs. She was an enigma. A posh girl who could break someone out of handcuffs in seconds. Glancing to his left, he noticed her small clutch lay on the ground near him. Was this a sign of trust or manipulation?

Overall his rational mind continued to scream ‘what is happening?’ for nothing about tonight was going as expected.

A couple minutes later, she sashed over to the four Italian lads sitting against the far wall and began chatting with them. One, with a black eye, said something and winked making her giggle shyly. A jealous rage crept upon Alfie. Who the fuck did those wops think they were talking to his angel? They were lucky they were all handcuffed because if even one tried to touch her, he would kill the sod…and make it fucking biblical worthy. He continued to watch with growing ire as she laughed and talked with them for several minutes. It took every ounce of self-control to remain where he was and continue the pretense of being handcuffed still.

Finally, she rubbed one of the lads’ shoulders in farewell while making a comment that caused them to laugh or snicker before she returned to his side.

“Nice fuckin’ chat you have there, yeah? Makin’ new friends?”

She sat on the ground next to him, brushing her hair over her shoulder, it easily reaching her mid-back. “Patience, sweetheart, patience. All part of the plan.”

“Plan, eh? That’s the thing, now, innit? I’m not much for patience. Too restless, me mum says, asking too many questions, yeah.”

“I promise I’ll make it worth your time.” She purred out, a glint in her eyes.

His trousers suddenly felt a little tighter. “Oh yeah? Care to share with the class?”

“Now where is the fun in that?”

“You ain’t gonna get me shot, right? That s’fucking pain and would ruin me night.”

“As long as you can keep up.” She deadpanned then glanced over at the other lads, keeping her voice lowered. “You know these streets?”

“Yeah.”

“At the signal, we run. You can get us away from here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They sat in poised silence for a long moment. He unashamedly took the time to admire her beside him. She was too clean, too pristine to be from anywhere around here. Hell, it looked like she bathed regularly which honestly was uncommon where he was from. She certainly had weaned at the bosom of wealth and continued to be nurtured by it. So why was she here? Why did the coppers have her? Why was she so desperate to get away from them? “What’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winked, fiddling with the hemline on her dress.

“Ah, come on, love.”

“I saw you fight the police men.” She abruptly changed topics. “I have never seen anyone fight like that before. I bet you could box in the rings if you wanted.”

“Yeah? Just somethin’ you learn on the streets, right? Not much to it. I’ve always been broader and stronger than most lads, yeah, so I guess it is easier. Me grandfather taught me some.”

“Well, I found it incredible to watch.”

A second later, a commotion had him whipping his head up in time to see the Italian lads leaping up and running down the alley, some faster than others. The coppers immediately started after them, yelling and blowing their whistles. Chaos suddenly ruling the alley.

He guessed that was the signal.

Leaping to his feet and ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs at the movement, he grabbed her hand. Within the span of a heartbeat, they were racing away from the commotion. Adrenaline coursed through him, helping him forget the aches, pain and fatigue from the fights that night. A shout sounded from behind but neither one of their steps faltered. At the end of the alley, still holding her hand, he pulled her left into a different back alley. He kept his ears open for shouts and whistles, eyes open for coppers and any of those wops looking for revenge. He knew this town, these streets like his own name. They were a part of him, as much as his own blood and bones. He both loathed and loved them. They made him who he was. Yet he promised himself to rise above the poverty dragging its inhabitants down. He would rule this place. Fuck anyone who tried to stop him.

After at least ten minutes of running, he pulled her behind a local dress shop. The streetlamps could not pierce the gloom behind the store, making it perfect for hiding out. Plus there was usually a couple boxes laying around to sit on and it did not smell nearly as bad as the butcher shop just down the street. He pushed her against the wall and pressed himself beside her. Both of them gasping for breath, chests heaving. A glance at her surprised him. A brilliant smile shown, illuminating her face. As if sensing his gaze, she turned her head to meet his eyes. He could not help returning the smile.

“Think…we are…safe?” She asked between deep breaths, eyes still locked on his.

“Yeah…yeah. Don’t hear footsteps…besides ours, right?”

“Yeah.” Her smile turned mischievous as her breathing began to even out. “You seemed to know right where to go. I’m suspecting you have done this once or twice.”

“Once or twice. But you, fuckin’ hell. Gettin’ me outta those handcuffs. You do that often?”

“Once or twice.”

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. This girl, this angel, was nothing like he had ever met before. Standing next to her now, he realized the top of her head just reached his chin, even in those little kitten heels she wore. For some odd reason, that realization made him smile.

“Is St. Mark’s church far from here?”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. “That where you’re supposed to be, innit?”

She shoved him, playfully. “Well is it?”

“No, not far. Come on, love. I’ll walk ya there meself. Can’t have you wanderin’ and gettin’ lost, yeah?” He chuckled at her glare before she just rolled her eyes. Pushing off the brick wall, he was surprised when her hand shot out to grab his arm.

“Wait.”

“S’alright? Need to catch your breath?”

Then the completely unexpected happened. He knew to the very marrow of his bones that he would never be the same again.

She roughly tugged him closer before raising up on her toes and pressing her lips against his. Immediately a heat wave shot through him. Without thinking, his body moved on its own accord. He was too focused on the delicious taste of her pouty lips, that entrancing scent of lavender dancing around her, and her body pressed against his. His hands automatically sought out her hips, backing her against the dirty, brick wall to further press himself against her. A slow sweep of her tongue had him open his mouth on a moan which then allowed their tongues to fight for dominance. Her hands moved from his neck upward into his hair, alternating between fisting it to force him closer and scraping his scalp with her nails. Sure he had kissed a couple of girls before, he was a seventeen-year-old hot blooded male. None of those times even came close to this moment. This kiss that would forever ruin him for any other woman. This was heaven in its bliss and hell in its torment. He ached to get closer, to taste more of her, to hear her breathe out his name. With each moment, every touch and continued molding of their lips, she burned further into him, like a drug he would never fully be able to escape.

Finally their lips unlocked, lungs demanding air. Panting with swollen, bruised lips, they stared at one another caught up in the moment of passion and fire. A whole brigade of coppers could have come marching down the alley and he would not have noticed.

“Do this often?”

“Once or twice.” He teased back, his ego inflated at seeing her look as wrecked as he felt. Apparently his kiss and touch affected her just as much as hers did to him.

She laughed, eyes sparkling in the dimness. “Still wanting to escort me?”

“Love, you ain’t gettin’ away from me now.”

Reluctantly he pulled away from her. All he wanted to do was continue kissing her, breathing her in and never let her go. Yet reality demanded something very different. It was obvious she was in a far different class from himself, something he would never achieve. He picked up her clutch that had been dropped on the ground during their snogging. Together, they stepped out of the alley and into the deserted street, heading south towards the church.

“You stopped bleeding.”

“Mmm? Oh yeah.” He touched his temple where there was certainly a cut. “I didn’t get none on you, right? Don’t wanna get any dirt or blood on you, keep you from being all dolled up.”

“I am fine. That stuff never bothered me anyway.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. A posh lady not bothered by blood and dirt? She certainly was turning into a class all of her own…and he did not mind at all.

“What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“You’re the oddest lady I ‘ave ever met.” He teased.

“Excuse you!” She shoved him away, causing him to laugh as he stumbled several steps over dramatically. “See if I ever kiss you again, making fun of me like that. Plain rude is what that is.”

Swiftly moving back to her side, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She refused to meet his eyes until he tipped her chin up with his hand. “Awww…come on, love. I was just teasin’ you a bit is all. I like you. Never been into girls scared of gettin’ their hands dirty meself. End up bein’ too much fuckin’ work, yeah, they are.”

A soft smile graced her lips. “Well, I would hate to be that.”

“Forgive me? I can get down on my knees right here if that’s what you want. I’ll sing a song for you, but you might think a damn cat is dyin’. Probably best if I don’t. Scare you away, yeah.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling. “I forgive you.” She pressed a quick peck to his mouth before sliding out of his arms to continue walking side by side.

“Do I get to learn who you are now?”

“Oh, I am no one interesting. Just a simple lady out on a stroll.”

Scoffing, he nudged her shoulder with his. “That’s the biggest fuckin’ lie I’ve ever ‘eard. A fancy, posh girl like yourself is never a ‘simple lady’, yeah? So, what’s your name?”

“Perhaps I do not want to be her tonight.” She sighed, looking up at the stars as if to distance herself from reality. A feeling Alfie understood all too well. She continued, her voice just a whisper in the night. “Perhaps I want to be someone different…someone else before society forces me to put the mask back on...to pretend for the sake of family and reputation that I am someone I am not. My apologies. I am rambling. It does not matter. Tis not your problem.”

He stopped, moving to stand in front of her. The depth of despair in her words made his heart clench. The whole night she had eluded an aura of authority, confidence and, truthfully, a sex appeal. Now though, whatever wall she protected herself with dropped for a moment. She tried to move around him but he gripped her upper arms gently yet firmly until she looked up at him. Those emerald eyes held him, curiosity and hesitation warring in their depths. Ever so gently he ran a knuckle down her cheek before tracing her lips with the tip of his finger. A piece of his mind imaging their passionate snogging was only a figment of his imagination.

“Look at me, love. You’ll never be a ‘simple lady’ coz you s’fuckin’ something else, right? You can break outta handcuffs faster than most men take a piss. Then you outrun coppers in those kitten heels all while laughing like a fuckin’ lunatic. But hell, maybe all posh ladies are like that where you are from, yeah? Scarin’ the shit outta normal lads but not me, no, love, you’re stuck with me now.”

With a blossoming smile on her lips, his self-control ran out. Bending down slightly, he kissed her. This kiss was slow and soft, a caress of lips and intermingling breaths. He broke it, placing his forehead against hers. “So, who do you wanna be tonight?”

“Either no one of consequence just out enjoying a stroll…”

He snorted. That was him every day.

“…or a king and queen, looking down on our kingdom.”

With a flourish, he bowed, probably not properly in anyway but it made her laugh. Then standing up, he quickly pulled his long black coat off and draped it over her shoulder. The goosebumps and faint shivers had not gone unnoticed while he held her. She giggled, giving him a proper curtsy while wearing his coat as a robe, looking more regal than she should.

“Your majesty, your carriage waits for you.”

Her smile was brighter than the full moon and stars above. Still giggling, she wrapped an arm through his. “My king, you are truly too kind.”

“Naw, that’s what us fuckin’ proper royal people do, yeah?”

They both laughed as they strolled down the darkened, dirty streets. Their conversation steered clear of anything too personal. Both enjoyed this pretend game, being someone else if even just for a little while. They talked about what they would do to make the city better, complained about the particular subjects that annoyed them, how many dogs and horses they each wanted, and where their summer getaway should be. On more than once occasion, they stole kisses from one another, some chaste and some not so much.

Yet like the clock striking midnight and the spell being broken, their time neared its end as they approached St. Mark’s church. Ahead, Alfie could see several cars lined up on the street. Their drivers standing around smoking and talking, waiting for those inside. The cars and drivers screamed wealth, far more than common in Camden Town.

“I can go from here. Thank you for walking me.”

“You sure? I don’t mind none, love.”

She slipped his coat off her shoulders before handing it over. “Thank you, Alfie. This was far more fun than I have had in a long time.”

“Will I see you again?” The words came blurting out without his permission but he did not regret asking. He desperately wanted to see her again.

“I hope so. I truly do.”

“Wait, I still don’t know your name. That’s not quite fair, innit? I mean, when I first saw you, I thought to meself, there, now there’s a fuckin’ angel.” He reached out a hand and twirled a lock of blonde hair around his finger. “Pretty damn sure you’re the most beautiful thing on this fuckin’ earth, yeah? And I’ve seen the ocean before, Margate yeah, but its nothin’ compared to you.” Where the words came from he was unsure but they poured forth on their own. As if knowing their time was over, he wanted her to remember him, even if it was for blubbering like a simpleton. He hoped she would not forget him like he would never forget her.

Taking a step closer, she kissed him once again, cupping his cheeks. “Call me that. I’ll see you around, Alfie. I do not think this is good-bye. Not for us.”

Before he could respond, she twirled around and walked towards the cars, gliding like a phantom from a dream. It did not take long for the men to notice her, one in particular coming to her side. After a minute of talking, he walked next to her up the stairs of the church then disappeared into the light after opening the doors.

Alfie stood rooted in the shadows for longer than necessary. It was foolish to linger, he knew that, but his body felt immobile. His eyes glued to those doors he would never pass through. Finally with a huff and curse, he tugged his coat back on and turned away. His walk home would be long for St. Mark’s was in the opposite direction of his mum’s shit apartment. It was worth it though. With each step, the lingering hint of lavender drifted off his coat. A reminder of the only other person besides himself to wear it. His feet were on autopilot for his mind could not stop ruminating on the blonde beauty with gemstone eyes. An angel on earth.

On the barren street under the moonlight and flickering streetlamps, Alfie prayed for the first time in years. He prayed to see her again. That whatever fate brought them together would not desert them now. He needed her light in the dark world he inhabited. He wanted once again to hold and kiss his angel.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fiction #alfie solomons x oc #pre ww1 #mzwrites

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theycallmebeccawrites · 6 years

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Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 1

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: graphic sex, oral sex, playful spanking, language

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in May 2016. Chris has just returned home from the Captain America: Civil War promo tour.

Note: This episode takes place the same day as Chris, Gwyneth and Robert visited Ryan Wilcox so that is what Chris & Ellie are referencing.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 1: May 23, 2016

Ellie Spencer stood in front of the sink, her hands encased in yellow rubber dishwashing gloves as she cleaned the dishes she’d used that night for dinner. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a dishwasher–there were actually two in the fancy-schmancy kitchen of the Los Angeles home she shared with her fiance–she just didn’t see the point in using the machine when she was eating alone. Again.

Her family and friends–including her beloved, soon-to-be in-laws–had taken turns visiting her over the last several weeks, but now she had the house to herself until her fiance got home from the final leg of the promo tour. When that would be, she wasn’t sure; he was remaining tight lipped about when he would get home.

Sighing, she set the last dish on the dish drying rack–the one she’d brought with her when she’d moved back into his place from her little closet of an apartment–and pulled off the rubber gloves. She turned around and screamed of fright when she saw someone standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway. It took her a second to realize who it was.

“Chris!” she exclaimed, grabbing one of the rubber gloves and throwing it in his direction only to have it land on the floor with a splat half way between them. “Gah! I hate when you scare me like that!”

“I couldn’t resist,” he replied, chuckling.

She wanted to run across the room and throw herself into his arms, but that would just be rewarding him for scaring her. Appraising him, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and that his shirt was a bit tighter in the tummy area than it had when he’d left; no doubt thanks to his family in Boston making him anything to eat that he wanted.

Smiling, she finally started towards him, but stopped suddenly as she realized their two loud, noisy dogs had yet to make an appearance. “How did you sneak in here without alerting the dogs?” she asked.

“Ninja training,” he replied, closing the distance between them. “And I wasn’t trying to scare you, honest, you just looked so pretty with the light over the sink casting a beautiful glow on your -”

She cut him off by grabbing his lips and pushing them together to create a duck face.

“It’s hard,” he said, his voice muffled and his words slurred. “But I can still talk.”

She smiled and then let out a whistle that had their two dogs sprinting into the room moments later. The second the dogs spotted him, they started barking loudly and jumping around his feet. She was forced to let go of his lips and take a step back to not be trampled by his mutt, Dodger, and her English Bulldog, Daisy.

“Hey kids,” he said, laughing as he got down on his knees to greet the excited pups. He gave Dodger a hug and then rubbed Daisy’s belly when she rolled onto her back. “Your momma isn’t being very nice to me, Daisy.”

“You could have called to say you were on your way home,” Ellie pointed out. “A text wouldn’t have hurt either.”

“I just wanted to surprise you,” he replied, looking up at her. “Besides, I didn’t know until yesterday afternoon that I was even coming to California today. It was kind of a last minute thing.”

Ellie’s expression softened as she recalled the photos that had been sent to her today. Her fiance had the biggest heart and loved making people smile. Reaching her hand out, she helped him off the floor and then wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her head on his chest. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

“I’m happy to be home,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Six weeks is a really long time to be gone.”

“Way too long,” she agreed, breathing in the spicy, woodsy scent of him.

They had experienced longer absences, but they hadn’t been engaged let alone dating. She had just been his housekeeper; the one his mom had hired behind his back for his home in LA. She recalled that during her interview, his mom had explained that she wasn’t impressed with Chris or his brother Scott’s inability to clean up after themselves and that she was tired of showing up for vacation to find a messy house.

Chris had been understandably annoyed with his mom’s “underhanded approach”, especially since she’d hired an attractive young woman in her late twenties, but then he’d gotten to know Ellie and there had been a spark. His mom always claimed to have a sixth sense about things like this and he knew she would never let him forget that she had hand picked her only daughter-in-law.

He knew that Ellie was his mom’s dream daughter-in-law, too; mostly because she loved to completely redecorate a room as much as his mom did. Ellie had just moved in with him, permanently, before he left to film Captain America: Civil War and his mom had stayed with her for a couple weeks. He’d come home to find his, rather their, bedroom completely redone. He’d liked what they had done and he’d be the first to admit it looked a lot better than what he’d originally had. But it was only thanks to his brother and Ellie’s uncle that he hadn’t come home to the interior of his house painted with brightly colored accent walls. The only room with that special treatment was the breakfast nook that was a “sunny shade of yellow” as Ellie described it.

“Alright, so what did you and my mom do while she was visiting?” Chris asked Ellie. When she tried to dodge the question by drawing herself up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, he stole her duck face move and did it to her. “What did you do?”

“We redid the basement,” she replied, her words just as muffled and hard to understand as his had been earlier.

Chris held her lips together for a second longer before dropping his hand and grabbing hers. “Alright, let’s go see what you two did.” He led her down the stairs to the daylight basement, with the dogs following at their heels.

What he found stopped him in his tracks, forcing a bumper car like collision behind him with Ellie and the dogs. What had once been a long, narrow room with his home theater system in the very center and boxes piled up on the far ends, was now a smaller movie room with two walls splitting off, what he assumed, were two smaller rooms.

“They’re retracting walls,” Ellie explained. “My craft room is to the left and your office is on the right.” She slipped past him on the stairs and made her way to the wall that separated her craft room from the rest of the room. She unlatched a couple hooks then grabbed a hidden rod and started walking backwards. As he watched, a small, yet functional craft room was revealed. Then she crossed the room and removed the wall that separated his office from the larger room.

“Ellie, this is fantastic,” he said, noticing that he could easily work from his desk and watch TV as well as watch her working in her craft room. “It’s perfect.”

This time when she came looking for a kiss, he didn’t deny her. Their kiss was filled with six long weeks of being apart; wait, scratch that, seven weeks, as his family and friends had been here and they’d been too tired to do anything but sleep at night. The last time they’d been together had been a few hours before his red eye flight for the Asian part of press tour and it had been limited to a quickie in the shower.

Filled with need, he picked her up and carried her to the large island-style work table in her craft room. Setting her down on the edge, he quickly found that it was the perfect height for her to sit on and him to stand between her legs with their most needy parts front and center. It made him wonder if it was just a coincidence or a purposely designed that way.

“Your desk is the same height,” she whispered in his ear and then scraped the lobe with her teeth.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he grabbed hold of her left knee with one hand, placed his other hand on the small of her back then pulled her body closer to his, letting her feel the hardness hidden in his jeans.

Hungrily, their mouths met again and their kisses grew heated quickly; the time they spent apart enhancing every feeling and need. In no time at all, her hands slipped from around his neck to the buttons of his shirt. His mouth left hers and he kissed down the side of her neck to the exposed skin of her wide-necked sweater.

After undoing the last button of his shirt, she pushed the sleeves down his arms where he finished the job of taking it off. With lust filled eyes, she took in his chiseled chest, brushing her fingers over his many tattoos and loving the way his chest hair felt against her fingers.

“God I’ve missed your touch,” he said, huskily. He breathed in deeply, taking in the fruity smell of her perfume and the natural essence that was her. “And your smell.” He kissed her neck. “And your neck.” He pulled down the front of her shirt, revealing the cleavage of her ample chest. “And, fuck, your breasts.”

She sunk her teeth into her lower lip as he pressed his face into her cleavage, nipping and licking at her sensitive skin. When one of his hands moved down to the hem of her sweatshirt and started pulling it up, she grabbed the other side and helped him, revealing a lacy, black bra.

The sweatshirt fell aside as her self-proclaimed “ass man” of a boyfriend cupped her breasts and licked his lips. His thumbs found her nipples over her bra, making them harder than their already pebbled state. Moving his hands to her back, he undid the four hooks of her bra and then slipped the straps down her arms, freeing her breasts.

His large hands touched her newly exposed skin with care, taking the time to tease her nipples while also letting his fingers wander, sending shivers down her spine. She wrapped her hands around his head, locking her fingers together when his mouth joined the fun.

With heat pooling between her legs and unable to sit still any longer, she dropped her hands from his head down to the waistband of his jeans. She popped the button then slid the zipper down and slipped her hand into them, wrapping her hand around his already hard cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, breathing against her breast. He allowed her to jerk him a couple times before he grabbed her wrist and forced her to let go. “Seven weeks, babe. I want to come inyou, not on you.”

“Less talk, more action,” she replied, giving him a heated look.

Smirking, he grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants and pulled them down, forcing her to lay back against the cool table top so she could lift her hips to help. He pulled the pants down her legs and dropped them on the floor. Then he ran his eyes up her body, starting with the sexy black booty shorts she was wearing and up her curvy body to her smiling face.

Reaching up, he gave her left breast a playful squeeze and a little shake, making it jiggle for his pleasure. Then he got back to business and slipped his hands under the waistband of her panties. She raised her hips to help him get them over her ass and then he pulled them down her legs.

He licked his lips as she parted her legs, revealing the pink heat that he’d dreamt about since the quickie in their shower. He wrapped his hands around her knees and pulled her forward so her ass was just on the edge of the table. He felt her body tremor as he slowly moved his hands from her knees up to her thighs and to her apex.

“Chris… please…” he heard her whimper.

She cried out when his hands finally touched the outer edges of her sex and then slipped between her already slick folds. She rocked her hips forward to encourage his movements and he obliged by brushing his thumb against her clit and then circling around it. Her hips bucked off the table top when he did it again.

She let out a breathless whimper when he slid his long fingers through her folds and finallyslipped one into her sex. She rocked her hips forward as he fucked her with his digit and then a second.

“FUCK!” she cried out as he swiped her clit with his tongue. Her body shook as he pleasured her with his fingers and tongue. She threw her hand down to grab his hair, temporarily forgetting that he’d shaved off the locks. “Oh god… Chris…. Please, just fuck me.”

He gave her clit another swirl with his tongue before he righted himself and pulled her in for a kiss. He felt her hand slip between their bodies and take ahold of his throbbing cock. She guided him to her entrance and he pushed his hips forward, slipping into her sex. Their kisses continued as their bodies rocked together and she clung to him, her fingernails biting into the skin on his shoulders.

She soon found herself being pushed backwards so she was laying on her back with him leaning down over her; the pace of his thrusts speeding up with each one. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto him as he pounded in and out of her.

The weeks apart and his earlier teasing had her falling apart first with her body stiffening all the way to her toes as she came. Just as her body began to relax, his tightened above her and she felt the small jerks of his body as he came inside of her.

Breathing heavily, he rested his face against her breasts and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped by her. His legs felt a bit rubbery and he hadn’t thought about the post sex positions, but he refused to move until he absolutely had to.

“I think your office chair and desk will be more comfortable,” she said with a laugh a few minutes later.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty comfortable right here,” he said, rubbing his bearded chin against the skin of her breasts.

“We’ll both be comfortable in our nice big comfortable bed,” she replied, running her hand over his buzzed hair.

“Alright,” he said, sighing. He pressed a kiss to her lips and then they parted. He didn’t admit it outloud, but his back twinged a bit as he straightened up.

“You going to need a massage tomorrow?” she asked with a knowing smirk as she rolled her neck one way and then the other. “Should we call Robert?”

“Shut up,” he replied as she hopped off the table. He watched as she bent over to grab his shirt off the floor and he took the opportunity to smack her bare ass playfully.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly. “Two can play that game you know.”

“That’s a game you know I like,” he replied, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Day or night.”

“Oh I know,” she said smirking as she pressed her body against his. “So here’s what we’re going to do.” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Are you listening?”

“I’m all ears, babe.”

“I’m going to go upstairs to our room and get in the shower,” she said, moving one of her hands around his waist and settling it on his tight ass. “And you…” she drew her tongue along the tattoo he had on his clavicle. “…you’re going to let the dogs out to go potty.”

He groaned as she pulled her body away suddenly and he watched as she slipped his shirt on then left the basement with an extra sway in her step.

He took a few deep, calming breaths and then gathered their clothes from the floor, knowing he would be sent back down to get them if he went to the bedroom without them. Using the clothes as a cover for his half-aroused cock, he opened the sliding door and let the dogs out to do their business.

Once they returned, he took time to properly lock up the house for the night and then headed up the stairs to the bedroom he and Ellie shared. The dogs made to follow him into the room, but he stopped them in the doorway. “Sorry, kids, not tonight. Mommy and daddy need privacy. Go lay on your beds.” Both dogs gave him sad looks but retreated to the small alcove in the hallway that Ellie had converted into a small reading nook. “Good dogs.”

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Chris tossed their clothes into the hamper in the walk-in-closet and then made his way into the bathroom. The glass surround of the shower was already steamed over as he opened the large door and slipped into the shower behind her.

“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I love you, too,” she replied, turning in his arms to kiss him.

Episode 1.5

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

#chris evans #theycallmebecca #beccaheartschrisevans #theycallmebeccawrites #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris and ellie series #chris and ellie #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character

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boogiewrites · 6 years

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Who We Were & Who We Are Now 11

Characters: Forrest Bondurant x Tawny Barrett (OFC)

Word Count: 4100+

Summary: Forrest defends Tawny in a fight. Tawny defends herself and helps Forrest with the biggest fight yet, the one for his life.

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Canon-typical violence. Graphic violence/gore. Language. Fighting. Drinking. Unwanted sexual advances.

A/N: Memories are in italics!

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist.

The sun's setting and you're busy handing out drinks and food. As usual, on Friday nights Forrest sits in his office counting money and scribbling away in his ledger to get away from the noise.

For good behavior Jack is out with Junior, they'd found some girls they'd gotten sweet on and taken off. You hoped the girls would keep them straight and out of too much trouble. You'd rather him be sleeping around than gambling anyway. Whatever mistakes he made were his at this point, you'd done your part of warning and informing him.

As the sun sets the station is busy. It's the usual in and out, the dinging of the pumps that Cricket helps man, seeing to cars and answering your calls for assistance yelled out of the screen door. He had a car that he was trying to doctor up for Jack he'd given as his reason for staying in tonight, that boy was so good-natured you were thankful he could be an influence on Junior as well.

But your current problem and the opposite of being good-natured were the two men that had sat together directly in the middle of the bar all night. You'd ignored their dirty looks and suggestive glances, their rotten teeth spewing their sexually aggressive words at you.

You weren't a stranger to this, working at the bar in the city, you just hadn't run across it much here. But by their accents and suits, you could tell these guys weren't exactly from around here. Maybe not from the city but...not local at least. You whisper to Cricket if he knows the men, he says no, so you begin to become suspicious of their motives. They'd been looking over their shoulders all night, not moving from their spots and keeping you busy with requests.

As the crowd thins, those there for the food now full and gone, the ones there for the drink drunk and making their way back to their homes, these men stay. The old group of men that always play cards, now larger than usual due to it being the weekend, are still in the back walled off part of the open space, lamp hanging directly over their heads, keeping their eyes hidden with the brims of their hats as they pretend to have poker faces this many jars in as they play.

To say you're growing impatient with these men would be an understatement. One reaches over the bar as you turn to move the cast iron skillet from the stove to cool off for the night, pinching you on the butt. You swing around quickly, slamming your hand on the bar top.

"Fuckin' excuse you?" you ask, chin down, eyes burning into his.

"Aw, toots, c'mon. You've been taking care of us all night how's about we take care of you a lil bit?"

"I'll only say this politely because my mama raised me right, unlike you sons of bitches, but if you touch me again you're gonna regret it."

"Calm down there, baby doll." the other interjects, waving his hand in the air to falsely diffuse the situation.

"I ain't your fuckin' baby doll." you spit at him. "You can change your damn tone or pay up and get out."

"Why don't you get us another jar there sugar?" the original culprit says, pushing a strand of hair off your face as you snarl at him.

"You've had enough." you say, leaning forward, fearless and staring him down.

"Now you turn that sweet ass around and get me another jar and I won't cause you any trouble tonight ya little hellcat."

You inhale slowly, trying to keep your cool. "How about you turn your mangy ass around and get the hell out of here."

He reaches out and grabs your wrist tightly, slamming it down on the bar top, pulling you across it partially and the stink of him hits you hard, making you gag slightly. "That ain't no way for a little lady like yourself to be talking to a man like me baby doll. You turn me down again and I'll bring all kinds of trouble down on that pretty little head of yours Tawny." you don't know how he knew your name, but sends up a red flag. Something wasn't right, them being there wasn't right.

"And you can let me go or I'm going to yell for my boss and he'll break your fuckin' necks. That's your choice."

You see him reach for his pocket and you've been in this situation before. You grab the empty jar on top of the bar top as he pulls out a knife to threaten you. You slam the jar into the side of his face, forcing him to let you go. You hurt yourself a bit in the process, some cuts on your fingers, but this was much preferred to the alternative. He drops the knife, you grab it and step back, holding it out at the other man as his hands on a gun in his waistband, you can see the hesitancy to pull it on you in his eyes.

"Alright, you get the hell out of here!" you hear Forrest's deep, aggressive voice boom across the room.

You hadn't noticed in your scuffle, but Cricket had gone and told Forrest there were men hassling you. Forrest stands with him just a foot behind, whispering what had gone down as Forrest rose from his chair and made his way out of the office.

"They've been hasslin' her all night. She tried to cut him off, he's been getting real mouthy and tried to get handsy with her. He grabbed her, she hit him, pulled a knife on her I reckon 'cause that ain't one of yours." he says quietly.

Forrest sees the broken pieces on the bar top, the bleeding on the man's temple, your bloody hand shaking around a knife in defense and his jaw clenches. A fire roaring up within him at the thought that someone dared to even think about harming you, and in the place he owned.

"You pull a knife out on her?" You see a fire in his eyes you haven't before.

The man approaches him, hand on the side of his still bleeding face. "I'm trying to give you business and she won't sell to me."

"Well you ain't getting a god damned thing, get out." his voice so low it almost comes out as a growl.

"Ain't no fuckin' hillbilly gonna talk to me like that." he barks, draws his arm back to hit Forrest, the other man rising from his seat.

You know the other man has a gun, and lucky for you he's using the hand closest to you pull it out, letting it hang at his side, his hesitancy being his undoing. You grab the gun from him, seizing your opportunity to take firepower out of the situation and making it a level playing field. Well, as level as it could be against Forrest and his brass knuckles.

As soon as there's a punch thrown, the men in the back bolt for the door. Certainly, not the first time something like this had gone down here, they knew to get the hell out of Forrest's way. If they weren't there, they could see anything. And that's how they wanted it.

Hitting the man with the glass in his face, now split open from the brass pushing it in even deeper, he falls back over a table, smashing a chair as his limp body thuds against the floor, a poof of dust escaping as he comes to rest.

The other man moves towards Forrest, fists up and ready to fight before Forrest's eyes have left the man on the floor, he gets one solid hit on your protector, a sick crack to his brow bone, but he doesn't slow in his retaliation, the pain fueling him, he grabs the man by the shirt and shoves him up against a thick load-bearing beam, knocking off his hat and punching him over and over and over until blood poured from his face. One more good solid thwack to the temple to send him to the floor just like the other man in a hurry.

Forrest's bloody hands shake slightly as he moves his eyes to yours. It'd all happened so fast you're still stood in the same place behind the bar. You blink slowly, your eyes wide but not fearful, he nods, a noisy exhale from his lips as he moves quickly to pull the bodies out of the station and into the dark of the parking lot like they weighed nothing, being sure to not be easy on them as he swings them out into the cold night.

His eyes dart around the now empty station and seeing as no one was around to witness, you see his chest heave one final time before he recognizes he can stop being in defense mode.

He walks over to you, face looking much like a scolded puppy, eyes apologetic and posture slumped. His marked up hands reach out across the bar, gently taking the gun from your own bloody hands.

When you feel the warmth of his fingers around yours, you let out a sigh, letting go of the tension you held in your body that you hadn't even realized was there with a heavy sigh.

"You ain't hurt are ya?" he says quietly, a furrowed brow studying you.

"No, I...I don't think so." you shake your head, looking at the hand that had delivered the opening blow to the man now unconscious in the road. "Not too bad anyway." your lips frown as you hold your wrist of the injured hand. Seemed to just be a few cuts, nothing that wasn't superficial.

His eyes grow sadder, the anger fading as he takes your delicate bright red fingers into both his own big paws. He sees the bruises already forming around your wrist, the little gashes in your perfect porcelain skin. He grunts, lips pursing as the guilt started to hit him.

"I'm sorry 'bout this." he says softly, hands still holding yours.

"I've seen worse," you say softly, trying to be comforting amongst the chaos. His eyes shoot to yours with question. "I worked in a bar in the city for years, Forrest. I was there when it transitioned to a speakeasy." your head tilts as you nod slightly to sell your point. "I'm not a stranger to being witness to violence."

The words break his heart. A good girl like you shouldn't have to deal with things like this. What was wrong with people? ---- With Cricket sent home with a hug and a thank you from yourself. A grunt, nod and appreciative pat on the back from Forrest, you find yourselves alone.

He'd help you wash your hands in the sink first, demanding you be seen to before him, the rough pads of his fingers drawing little hisses from your lips as they worked to free the one piece of glass stuck in your skin. You return the favor, washing the knuckles of brass and then the ones on his hand.

"I'm sorry, Tawny." he says quietly, forcing it out like the words had been sitting in his throat for too long.

"You've said that three times now, hun, you ain't gotta keep sayin' it," you say sweetly, a small shake of your head as you wipe away to the dried blood from his face. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You helped if nothing else." you say, patting his chest as you move to the table where the medical kit sat. You sit down and watch him walk over to you, shoulders still low as he speaks and eventually sits in the chair a bit too hard in his solemn mood, making it squeak across the floor.

"You came back here to get away from all this. A good woman like you deserves better." the words make your bottom lip pout out at how heavy they sound coming from him.

You've never been called a good woman before. You'd never had anyone tell you deserved anything except 'what was comin' to you' and that means nothing but nastiness. You finish with the turpentine on his brow, sitting and holding your hand on his cheek.

"There ain't so escape from life while you're livin' it, Forrest." you're sure to make sure he looks into your eyes as you speak. You hated seeing this guilt on his face. "This is life here." you shrug. "Life ain't easy no matter where you go." you say, just a touch of assertiveness to your voice.

He grunts in response, a thoughtful look coming across his face.

"I've been to where the grass is supposed to be greener Forrest. It ain't. It's just different grass." you huff out a laugh, dropping your hand from his face. "I tried it elsewhere. Here's home. I'd rather have violence here than violence anywhere else and I don't wanna be nowhere but right here. You understand?" you reach out and put your hand over his, driving your point home.

He nods and grunts. You rise, you run your hand across his shoulders, a slow back and forth as he looks up at you, eyes wide and resembling a puppy's for a moment with you framed in his line of vision.

"I'm gonna take the boxes to the barn alright? That'll finish us up here. We both need to rest." you bend down and press a kiss to the top of his head, hoping it expressed your sentiments better than your words did.

His eyes shut as you lean close, he smells the floral scent that haunts him as he walks up the stairs at night, that lingers after you're gone. You take the kit and set it back in his office before you head out.

"I'm gonna have a smoke before bed, Tawny. You go on up after you're done, ya hear?"

"I hear you, hun." you say with sweet tone, knowing he means well. He needs to be alone to think and to be honest, so do you. ---- You're chewing on your lip as you make your way back thru the back door of the station. You'd made a few rounds in the barn, looking for the culprit of some knocked over barrels and vegetables that were scattered about. You figured it was raccoons that were the culprit, as their little thumbs allowed them to be much more mischievous than a common opossum. You kind of hoped it wasn't raccoons though, you thought they were rather humorous and didn't want to kill them, you hadn't missed that part of country life in the city. You weren't reminded of the food chain so often there like you were here.

You let the door bang behind you, turning to lock it as you call out, "Forrest? You still up hun?" You hang your coat up by the door in the hallway, walking towards his office as you saw the light was on. It flicks off as you approach, heavy footsteps headed your way. "I think we go raccoons or somethin' out in the barn. You want I should get a catalog and order some traps tomorrow? We don't have any big enough..." your voice trails off as your eyes grow wider as you realize the silhouette of a large man approaching you was not Forrest.

"I'm afraid your hun ain't here to save you this time." a deep voice slithers through the dark room and sends chills down your spine. You feel a man slip his hands around your waist and chest and you seize up at the touch.

Unfortunately for them, this wouldn't be the first time you'd fought greasy ill-intentioned hands off of you in a life or death situation. You'd made the mistake of being helpless before, and by God, you'd taken the precautions to make sure it never happened again. They didn't count on you being one of those tough country girls. You were about as far from the fainting over an insult, limp-wristed breed as they came.

As the taller man, the one whose gun you'd taken away saunters towards you, the grip around your body grows tighter from the other man. Okay, Tawny...keep your head level...you can do this. You can't be a Bondurant and let someone get the best of you, and you weren't about to take that chance.

You start to struggle against the man behind you, testing his strength as he lifts your feet off the floor to try to control you. You use this to your advantage, kicking your feet up and off his legs to kick the other man in the chest and face as he tries to close in on you. A good solid hit from your heels lands on his face, taking the pointed spike to the eye. He moves to protect himself, hunching over as you bend yourself in half, then rearing back hard and fast and head-butting the man holding you in the forehead. It hurts like hell, and by the nasty crack of a noise, it made you knew it was worth the pain. You scramble away, hitting the floor first, and hard before barreling yourself into a chair forcefully in your hurried attempts to create space between you and the men.

You move to get the knife off the counter, running back around to the tables on the other side of the room so you'd at least have the big wooden slabs for protection. The man you'd kicked, having enough time to recover lunges across the table for you. You grab a salt shaker off the table and smash it into his hand as it slams down on the table top, barely missing you. This hurts you both in the process, but again, worth the pain and creates a distraction. The other comes to your side as the man with the freshly bleeding hand shouts and squeeze his wrist. You shove your glass shard filled hand into his face as he approaches, adding more shards to the collection you were working on embedding in his face tonight.

You see the tiny rivers of fresh bright blood run down his face as your fingers dig into his eye socket and hook into his lip. You grab his wrist with the same hand quickly, wanting to make sure he understood the punishment for having touched you with this hand, you slam it against the edge of the table with another sickening smash and crack of delicate bones being misplaced as his teeth grit and he screams and spits at you, slapping at you with his other hand, hitting you in the face, trying to choke you with wild clawing and scratching but you remain vigilant. You bring his hand down again, another shout, but this time you bring the knife down with it.

The bloody scream so close to your own ears makes them ring even after the fight is over. You stab it into his hand again, but this time horizontally, taking his two smallest fingers off. This is finally enough to make him retreat, the other man looking on in shock with one good eye in horror as his partner cries and holds his wrist, shoving you into the floor to get out the building. You can't understand what he's spewing at you, but there are swears and cross words said you did understand, but they hold no weight to hurt you further.

"Fuckin' come on! We got who we came for, leave this crazy bitch, she took my fucking fingers!" he screeches, the other man quickly following suit. You sit in the floor among the displaced chairs you were shoved into. You hear their car leave, the lights bouncing down the drive and you gasp for breath. The exertion and adrenaline hit you move quickly to stand, your hands are shaking terribly, you were beat up, you could feel it, but more importantly you were alive.

As soon as your brain registers that you have all your limbs, can move them and aren't bleeding from the head from that headbutt, your mind screams. Forrest.

In your fear, a delayed reaction to the bloodshed you'd just seen, you stumble clumsily out of the station, bending over at the waist over the railing and throwing up. You gasp and with wild eyes, you take in the scene around you. It's silent. The night dark, snow lightly falling in what would at any other time be a serene scene makes your stomach churn again.

The only thing you see is Forrest's truck and no sign of him anywhere. "FORREST?!" you scream out like a banshee into the echoing darkness. Your hand that isn't full of glass slams against the truck hood to stabilize yourself, but no amount of bracing could've helped for what you saw lying on the ground before you as you rounded the font of the vehicle. "FORREST?!" you scream out again, the most desperate and gut-wrenching sound that had ever come out of your body. Your knees buckle on sight, falling to the ground, your bloody hands covering your mouth as you try to scream but it's choked out by a building sob.

You crawl towards him, whispering his name over and over as if it could help somehow. You want to throw up again but fight the urge as you kneel over him, hands vibrating with emotion as they delicately touch him, trying to process what had happened and what you needed to do next. His hands are tight around his throat, and his eyes open, bleeding like a stuck pig into the freshly fallen snow.

They'd cut his throat and left him for dead. If he died, you would hunt down those sorry excuses for humans and kill them in the same fashion. The rage from the thought of someone hurting him clears your head in a funny way. Forrest Bondurant can't die, you thought to yourself. He can't and you won't fucking let him.

"Forrest baby are you still with me?" you choke out, sniffling and finding his eyes, feeling for a pulse in his wrist and by some miracle, it's there. "Oh fuck. Oh thank fucking God." your chest heaves as you try to remember to breathe. "I'm taking you to the hospital," you say, as if it mattered, you didn't know if he could hear you. You'd read about miraculous things... mothers lifting cars off of children to save them, and now you should be added to those stories as you pick the big man up from under his arms and somehow manage to get him into the truck. "You can't die Forrest." you say to no one but yourself, propped him up in the seat next to you, you figured the blood wouldn't leak out as badly that way. "You can't fucking die on me, I need you." you sob, one hand on his knee as you drive that beat up old vehicle better than Jack could've ever dreamed of handling the newest, fastest car. You talk to him as you drive, mostly incoherent streams of thought, but sometimes it made sense. You kept squeezing and patting him, in case he was aware that you were there. "I'm here Forrest. I'm here sweetheart. We'll be there soon I swear. I can fix this. We can do this. Just please stay with me Forrest." you rasp out.

You park the truck just out of the light of the porch of the hospital. It occurs to you that you can't go about this in a normal manner. "You Bondurant's and your fuckin' legends." you groan, putting on a hat you found in the truck and pulling it low over your face, using a spare sweater to mask your small frame, you pull Forrest onto your shoulder, thankful for your working woman thighs to carry him with strained steps to the door. Lucky for you, a man is smoking just inside the door and they panic, dropping the cigarette and moving to pick him up. He yells for help, and you slip away back into the darkness. You see the man come out a few minutes later, looking around for whoever brought him, scratching his head in confusion and ultimately going back inside.

If he lived, he'd die as a man who walked 20 miles from Blackwater station himself with a slit throat. Seems like the least you could do was let him keep his story for himself if he did turn out to be mortal. But for once, you sure as hell hoped the rumors about the Bondurant's were true.

Ch. 12

@hardygal69 @jaegeeeeer @parlezvoustomhardy @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @vale0413 @divadinag @emerald-bijou @emiliesnowflake

#Forrest Bondurant #Tom Hardy #Lawless #Forrest Bondurant AU #forrest bondurant x reader #forrest bondurant fan fiction #lawless au #lawless fan fiction #forrest bondurant fanfic #forrest bondurant imagine #forrest bondurant fan fic #forrest bondurant fic #forrest bondurant x ofc #forrest bondurant fluff #forrest bondurant x reader fluff #fan fiction #writing

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spnbaby-67 · 6 years

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Craving You Epilogue.

A/N: Hi ya’ll, I have to say sorry again for something so late. this is the end of Craving you and I’m so sad to see it end. it had been a total blast writing it. but this really killed me. I dunno how much I even cried while writing it. you put so much into your characters and to see them go through so much, my heart broke. I know I am a sap, but that’s how i am with my characters. I am a HUGE Jensen fan, and he’s my heart. remember this is for pure fanfiction and should be treated as such. It’s an Alternate Universe world where Jensen is single. I want to thank you all for you amazing comments, anon comments which inspired me to keep going and finishing this series. Please do not copy and save and post on other sites and claim as yours. I don’t do that and I don’t want others doing that. it’s not fair to the original writer. But if you have questions or concerns always inbox me or send me an ask which i never hardly get, and I’ll be happy to talk with you. Please on a side note, this is UNBETA’D because I wanted to get this out to you today. I have other stories i plan to write. Let me know what you think. I forgot to mention that Gaynor @secretlyfurrydragon did have a version as well, i took some of that and added some to. She was a major help with this and without her I couldn’t have finished. She pushed me to no end to finish. Even took the time to beta some. So Thank you Gaynor, your time and considerations are very important to me. Thank you!!!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles and reader, Bobby Singer mentioned, Mark Sheppard and Mark Peligrino mentioned, Casey from season one route 666 episode mentioned. Jo OFC mentioned.

Warnings: NONE!

It’s been three months since I have seen or heard from both Jensen and Jo. Yeah they tried to call me here and there, but I would ignore there calls and text. I just wasn’t ready to hear anything they had to say, because I knew what would come next for them. For the longest time, I had even contemplated on calling them. But once I saw there face on my phone, I couldn’t do it. The flashbacks all came back to me twice as hard, that I would immediately close the phone app, then I’d toss it to the side of me sitting there with fresh set of tears. The pain of it all was still to dull, it hurt to breath kind of dull. The deep pressure building in your chest waiting for someone to pop it, kind of dull. It was just too painful and cut like a knife going through your chest. I lost everyone I cared for in a blink of an eye. If only they were honest with me from the beginning, it would be so bad. Jo of all people, i’m totally surprised by her decisions.

Every time I looked out the window at Starbucks where it all began, tears would fall. I should move. I should definitely move. I can’t tell you how many countless nights that I had cried myself to sleep, because the pain still fresh on my mind. I tried everything i could think of to get over it, but with the bullet wound to my shoulder, and this growing bump; nothing worked. Not even eating ice cream, or watching netflix movies helped. Even that had me crying. I’d get mad or upset when I saw someone else have a happy ending and wonder why I couldn’t. I mean I could if I bit the bullet and let them back into my life, but at the same time pride got in the way stopping me reminding me all over again why i wouldn't make that call. I just couldn’t take anymore, so I threw the remote to the other side of the couch and decided I needed a walk.

It was evening around 6 pm, the skies were going from a brisk sunny day to a night filled with different colors of blues, pinks, and purples cascading across like a blanket ready to tuck everyone in bed for the night. I smiled at the beautiful artwork God had created, I silently thanked him for letting me live to see the beauty in it and reminding me that life is precious. The wind blew cool and felt amazing hitting my face. I guess being cooped up inside for so long I forgot what the cool air felt like. I’m glad I brought a a small shaw with me because of the dull ache in my shoulder, I get when the weather changes like now. I’m thankful there were no permanent damages to my shoulder even though it took longer to heal. I had to undergo physical therapy and attend classes for emotional trauma while I was recovering. It was ok, I was able to get a lot of things off my chest. Not only the recent happenings, but with my mom passing and the way I was treated growing up. I still continue to go to the classes, it really does help.

Mr. Singer, did save my job for me once I was able to come back. Which was good, because I needed to get back and save money for this little one’s future. He also gave me a promotion, one that I never thought I’d ever get in my life. I am now Vice President of Singer Inc. He said I deserved it on many accounts and not just because of what had happened recently. Thankfully, he considered other options of my work and appointed accordingly. Otherwise, I doubt I would have taken the promotion based on the events that changed a lot of people’s lives including mine.

Walking across the street to get some hot chocolate, I covered my shoulders with my shawl welcoming the warmth. I squeezed my arms across my chest to shake off the shivers down my back. Remembering a time when I was little and my mom wrapped me in one of her shawls like this one, I sighed and shook my head out of the thoughts only to find myself back where it started. Standing in front of Starbucks, I took a deep breath and went in.

I quickly scanned the area because I know Jensen comes here a lot or did, and I really wasn’t in the mood to see him. Once I seen the coast was clear, I went in further to order my Vanilla Bean Frappuccino. I know I said I wanted hot chocolate, but it never fails I always get my favorite drink. I ordered, paid and got it from the barista. Turning around to go back home, I swear life played a joke on me again. I looked up and saw Jensen standing there with my Frappuccino squished between us. Deja vu anyone?

“Hi,” I said looking at him as I grabbed some napkins.

He did the same, “Hi, how are you?” he barely spoke, his voice sounded sad like he’d been crying and you can tell he had been. The look in his eyes were pain filled, red and swollen. His voice was a bit raspy.

“I’m ok, minus a Frappuccino.” I giggled a bit remembering how it started in the first place.

He ordered two drinks, then once we got them he led me over to the table we sat at and things were quiet at first, but I looked at him. “Jensen, I know things have been kind of crazy. I’m still a little pissed, but I missed you so much.” I tried to hold his hand, but he was shaking which I didn’t know if it was from the cold of the drink on his chest or just being around me.

He nodded, “I missed you to, you look great.” he bit his bottom lip almost as if he was scared to say anything. You could tell he lost weight, he was wearing my favorite red long sleeved dress shirt and that even looked big on him.

I slid closer to him, just looking at him made my heart break, did I really hurt him by not talking to him this long? I took my right hand to his cheek and made him look at me. “I love you Jensen, I do. I have not stopped loving you. But what happened was wrong, I know now you did it to protect my company and save me from getting hurt. Could it had been different? Yeah, it could. Could it made a difference if you told me up front who you were? Definitely. I know how to act, and i could have played the part had I known.” subconsciously, I rubbed my thumb on his upper jaw line.

I paused a bit, then sank back into my chair. “Mark Sheppard and Mark Pellegrino had been up my ass for two years now, I know how they operate and how they do things. I knew something was up when they hired Kali, i didn’t know she was fbi but I knew something was going on because she was in Mr. Singer’s office every day. I even knew something was up with Cassie with her attitude, Course, she just better hope she nevers sees me again, because I will punch her in the face for laying her hands on you.” I crossed my legs and took a drink of my frap, the taste going down my throat was amazing. It was like a balm coating the insides of my soar throat that burned.

He looked at me with a faint smile, “Jealous a bit?’

“Noone, and I mean no one lays a hand on my man when i’m around.” I smiled assuring him I still loved him.

He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, damn he’s so hot when he does that. “Joking aside,” his voice was still gravely, filled with emotions. “I missed you to, not a day went by that I didn’t wish things were different. I even begged Jo to not put me in this position, she told me that she only wanted the best for her friend, her sister she loved. She wanted someone who would love you unconditionally and be there for you when you eventually found out the truth. I hated lying to you, I did. I’m so sorry you found out the way you did, I��m doubly sorry that you got hurt. A piece of me died when I saw you fall to the ground. It paralyzed me.”

He paused a bit to regain his composure, you could tell he wanted to break down and cry. “There had been many nights that I had laid awake thinking of what and how I could have done it differently. That day in the barn, when you trusted me with the blindfold on your eyes. I should have came clean then, that’s when I fully and truly fell in love with you. Something clicked inside me, telling me she’s the one. I told Jo and Jeff that night that I had to tell you the truth. Jeff told me that if I did tell you, he would have fired me and assigned you to someone who I didn’t trust. I couldn’t let that happen, and against my better judgement it backfired on me.”

I placed my hand on his that was still softly laying on my knee, he closed his eyes a moment, “Jensen, look at me.” I said softly.

Just as he opened his eyes, tears fell that he had been holding back. “I never stopped loving you, my heart went through so much and the thought of losing you now, would kill me. Especially, knowing something I know that you don’t.” I decided now was a good time to tell him he was going to be a dad, because he’s so broken up over this. Just the looks in his eyes, hurt me seeing him this way.

He sighed and looked at me.”I understand if you never want to see me again, I can live with the pain if that’s what you chose, I deserve it --” he paused after realizing I said something different than what he was thinking I was actually saying. “Wait? What do you mean especially knowing something I don’t.”

I took a deep breath, bit my bottom lip, “I’m pregnant Jensen. I’m three and a half months pregnant.” I swallowed hard waiting to the shoe to drop.

He looked like I punched him in the chest, and the breath he was holding back knocked out of him. He blinked his eyes a bit as to gain control of his site from the tears and shock. “W What? p p pregnant? As is your going to have a baby?” His bottom lip was trembling, his hand I was holding shook and his breathing picked up a bit with short breaths in between.

“Jensen, you ok?” He just continued to stare at me, the look in his face went from sad and dull looking to shock and emotionalist in a blink of an eye. I couldn’t read his expressions, my heart even skipped a few beats. “Jensen, please talk to me. You’re scaring me.”

He coughed a couple of times, to try and even say anything. You could tell this really through him for a loop. He leaned over towards me, took his right hand which at first I thought he was going to slap me. I wouldn’t have blamed him though if he did. But he placed it gently on the nap of my neck and shoulder, then pulled me closer to him for a kiss that knocked my socks off. Literally.

“As much as I want to continue this,” I said in between kissing him. “I think we need to take this to my apartment.” I pulled away from him and rested my forehead on his.

His eyes were still closed, and I could tell he was happy about the news I gave him. He nodded his head still against my forehead agreeing. “Lets,” he spoke silently and stood up.

He helped me stand up, we through away our fraps then walked to my apartment arm in arm and close oh so close together. It made the cool breezes a joy to walk in with his warmth radiating between us.

--------

The next couple of days after we had officially gotten back together, I decided that I would talk to Jo. I needed to clear the air and let her know that my life is not of her concern and I knew what I would have done if I had known. She agreed, and said that she was sorry and would not do it again. “Another thing Jo, Jeff telling Jensen he would fire him if he told me the truth. That is what really severally pissed me off. Jeff is going to hear about it when I see him.”

“I understand, and I don’t blame you. Look Y/N, I am truly sorry for everything. You mean the world to me. I didn’t want just anyone fall in love with you, I wanted the best and Jensen was the best. I hope one day you forgive him, because he does truly love you.”

“I know he does, but you could have told me what was going on as well. You know that I know how to act and get information needed. Your forgetting that we took classes in college for this crap. Even though it was a fun class, it did teach me a lot about what to expect when people turn on you.”

“Yeah, you were awesome in that. When do you go back to work?”

“Tomorrow actually, I don’t know how it will feel going back into that place after what happened. But knowing they won’t be there will be the highlight of my day. I will be making changes and additions to keep everyone safe.”

“That’s good to hear, well Jeff just got home and I’ll see you soon ok.”

“Yeah we will, we still have a lot to talk about.”

I couldn’t see her but i felt her nod her head in agreement, because I did the same. “Yes, we will. Tell Jensen hi for me, and I’m glad you two are back together.”

“Thank you, I will and you tell Jeff he’s in for a good long yelling.” I sat back sighing.

“Will do.” she said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Just then, Jensen came home from getting his stuff from his apartment. We are moving in together and decided mine was a bit bigger than his, since it had room enough for the baby when he or she arrived. After we put his stuff in proper places which he really didn’t have much, we sat down on the couch snuggled in each others arms.

“Did you talk to Jo?” He asked as his right hand rubbed up and down my arm.

“Hmmm, I did. We worked things out, and I told her that I still plan on talking to Jeff.” I curved my legs under me and laid my head on his chest.

“I don’t blame you, but do it after you have the baby please, I don’t want you stressed.”

I turned to look up at him with a smile. “I love you Jensen.”

He winked at me, and then bent down to kiss me. “I love you to Y/N, always.”

We had a great evening together before we both had to go to work tomorrow. Life changes in a blink of an eye, you can choose to accept things as they happen, or ignore it and let things get out of control. If anything this has taught me that I need to accept things and trust in what God had for me. Jensen is an amazing person, and I thank God everyday he sent him to me, even though it was complicated….. I love him, now and forever.

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#craving you #craving you by thomas rhett #Jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction #bobby singer #Mark Sheppard #mark pellegrino #kidnapping #pregnant reader

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supersleepygoat · 7 years

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Better for Everyone: Part 2

Parings: Platonic Sam x Reader, Platonic John x Reader, Platonic Dean x Reader (this will change in subsequent chapters), OFC (Jonas)

Warnings: Angst-ish (not really).

Word Count: 1,947

Summary: The Reader spent most of her life with the Winchesters. She loves them like family but doesn’t feel like the feeling is mutual. When she is essentially kicked out of the Winchester clan she is left physically and emotionally vulnerable to dangerous situations.

A/N: So, this series is slightly off canon because John is alive when the boys (and reader) are older. I just like John and wanted to write him into my story so in my dream world he is alive and well. This part is more of a plot pusher but the next chapter will be super duper angsty to make up for it.

Series Masterlist

The world seemed heavy. As you regained consciousness you couldn’t help but notice the heavy ache that thrummed in your head. You attempted to open your eyes but the task seemed unnecessarily difficult. So you instead, you chose to stretch your arm out to try and feel the ground beneath you to stabilize yourself.

Your movement did not go unnoticed by the inaudible voices that were in the room with you. The voices stopped and you heard heavy footsteps getting louder and therefore closer.

You tried to lift yourself off the ground but your shaking limbs were useless. A gentle hand came to sweep your Y/H/C hair out of your face and place it behind your ear. You flinched at the contact causing a chuckle to come from the owner of the retreating hand.

“Morning, Pet. I was afraid that idiot knocked you around a little much and I would never get to see those pretty eyes. What do you say, can you open your eyes so I can see if I won the bet?” the man softly spoke to you.

You turn your head to face the gentle voice and are finally able to open your eyes to barely a squint.

“Come on, you can do better than that, Pet” the man encouraged.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and when you opened them you were face to face with a man who was crouched in front of you with a smile plastered onto his handsome face.

“Well, hot damn… I just won 50 bucks!” the man said while staring into your Y/E/C eyes and widening his smile. “But trust me, Pet. The real prize is looking into those beautiful eyes,” he sang as he reached out to caress your cheek.

You scoffed as you pushed his hand away. Even though it gave you a splitting headache, you couldn’t help but instinctively roll your eyes at the cheesy line he just offered you.

Instead of getting angry like you expected he would, the man merely let out another chuckle and rose from his haunches.

“The name is Jonas” the man all but bowed in his greeting. You glanced to the men behind him and Jonas continued “Don’t worry about learning their names quite yet, Pet. We’ll all get to know each other in due time.”

“Y/N,” you tried to rasp out but you throat was too dry.

“I’m sorry what was that, Pet?”

“My name is Y/N. So, you can quit it with the condescending nicknames, asshole.” You confidently bit out in an attempt to disguise the fear that is quickening your heart beat.

That irritating chuckle slipped Jonas’ lips yet again “Now, now, Pet. Don’t be rude.” He leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I like your style, Pet. I do really, but don’t be mean to me in front of my men… because then I’ll have to go all macho alpha male and teach you to behave yourself. And, I don’t wanna do that quite yet, sweetheart” he pulled away laughing again and patted your knee, a gesture too friendly to match his threatening words.

“Sorry,” you whispered out with downcast eyes, unsure if he would hear you. But, you promised Sam you try to stay out of trouble and it was usually your big mouth that makes things worse for you. So, you thought an apology would help your case. Jonas did hear you though and looked at you with narrow eyes until a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips.

“Anyway, Pet, let’s cut to the chase, I need your help with something.” Jonas said while clapping then rubbing his hands together.

“What can I do for you?” you responded with a chipperness that was laced with sarcasm.

“I’m going to ignore your tone and get to the point: you are bait. Plain and simple. I know as far as evil plans go, it’s not very original. But it’s a classic for a reason... it’s effective.”

“I am assuming this has to do with the Winchesters?” you ask in a bored tone.

Jonas merely touches his nose then points back at you with a wink and that goddamn smirk.

You roll your eyes again now more tolerant of the pain and let out a little laugh. “Well, good luck with that. Although, I think you running on old intel. They won’t come for me but by all means… give it try.” You gesture your arms in a waving manner.

“Oh, they’ll come. They always come for their damsel.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

“Confidence is key,” is his only playful response.

Dean walks over to where his brother is sitting at the table in the motel room. Dean reaches over and steals the mug sitting in front of Sam taking a sip then spitting it back into the mug with a look of disgust on his face.

“Dude!” Sam protests.

“Ugh, that's not coffee,” Dean groans as he pushes the cup back to his brother.

“It’s green tea, you jackass! What the he-” Sam starts but is cut off by the glare sent at the two of them by their father who is on the phone and trying to write something down. Both boys silently wait for their father to finish.

“We got a case,” John asserts before even hanging up the phone.

“Where to?” Dean questions after rummaging through the kitchen area and tossing aside the bottle of whiskey he had polished off the night before.

“It’s a salt and burn, only a couple hours West,” John replies.

“Alright then,” is the only response that is needed for each Winchester to start packing up and start heading out.

Out in the parking lot, John is packing his truck and asks Sam to bring him the blanket they keep on the back of the Impala so he can hide the treasure trove of weapons John has in his passenger seat.

Opening the back of the Impala, as Sam reaches for the blanket he sees your whale shaped change purse on the floor in the backseat. He sighs while mumbling a profanity to himself.

He emerges from the backseat with no blanket, but is instead holding the little purse that each man loved to tease you about because it was so girly and childish.

John’s eyes narrow at Sam but then roll once he notices the whale he is holding.

“What are we going to do about Y/N? Do we leave her here or try to find her so she can tag along?” Sam inquires.

John runs a frustrated hand down his face and shakes his head “I didn’t think we’d be leaving this soon - I forgot about all that shit.”

Just then Dean rounds the corner, finally holding a real cup of coffee. When he sees what Sam is holding, he realizes what the two men are contemplating.

“Leave her here,” Dean offers the simple solution.

“Dean-” Sam starts but is cut off by his brother.

“Relax, Sammy. We’ll only be a few hours away. We’ll come back for her when we're done. We just all need some breathing room. Just text her and tell her we’ll be gone for a bit.”

Sam looks to his father who merely shrugs and states, “It’s better for everyone. Now go grab that blanket.”

You had fallen asleep again but were now being awoken by something rough licking your hand. You jerked your eyes open to see the same black cat who had lured you to capture sitting in front of you. You reach out your hand and chuckle out a “Hiya Cat”.

The door to the room you are confined to opens and Jonas’ happy face comes waltzing in. “How are my two favourite girls?” he asks with a teasing glint in his eye.

“We’re just awesome. Thanks for asking,” you retort as you sit up to lean against the dirty wall behind you.

“Do you even know why you’re here? Why I have such a hate on for the Winchesters?” Jonas asks as he pulls a chair over and sits in front of you.

“Did they kill some of your monster friends? Screw up your evil plans to rule the world? What kind of monster are you anyway? You look human but that don’t mean you are one.” There is genuine curiosity in your voice.

“I can answer all your questions with a little bedtime story,” he responds with a smirk.

You roll your eyes in preparation for another villainous monologue by yet another egomaniacal monster.

“Long story short -“ Jonas starts once he sees you’re not too interested in the whole backstory. “I was a petty thief, never had much in the way of family. I picked the pocket of vampire one fateful night and well-“ Jonas bared his vampire teeth for dramatic effect, making you flinch. “The rest is history. I decided to start my own family… one that wouldn’t leave. We would love each other and be happy blah blah blah” Jonas leaned back in his chair clasping his hands on his lap. “We lived happily ever after, that is... until last night.”

“I knew that nest was oddly small,” you said mostly to yourself.

“The trick to hunting vampires is to make sure you clear the whole nest, not just one outpost otherwise all you do is piss off the remainder of the pack,” Jonas suggested.

“I was there too. Why not just get your revenge by killing me and leave the Winchesters out of it?”

“Because, Pet, you didn’t kill any of my family. You may have been there but you were too busy almost dying to actually kill any of my people.”

“That’s not -“ you tried to defend yourself but Jonas just laughed at you.

“Relax, kid. I know you’re a tough cookie. There's no need to get you panties in a twist,” Jonas interrupts. “Besides, there has been a change of plans.” Jonas pulls your phone out of his pocket and lets you read the text you got from Sam an hour or so earlier.

Hey Y/N/N

We got pulled into an emergency hunt that’s a few hours away. We’ll come back but I think we could all use this time to clear our heads.

-S

“Now Pet, I don’t like this just as much as you won’t but my boys are itching for blood and retribution and so on,” Jonas adds with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t worry, they are user strict instruction not to kill you. But, I ain’t gonna lie to you sweetheart… this is going to suck”.

Jonas leans down to squeeze your knee and looks you in the eye with an expression that you would consider almost contrite had you not known better.

Before you can respond, Jonas is turning to leave the room.

“Wait!” You call after him making him turn again. He is expecting to hear your pleas for mercy but instead you stand up and pick up the black cat that was laying by your feet. “Take her. Keep her away from what’s about to happen. She’s innocent and I don’t want those assholes hurting her to hurt me,” you whisper out as you place the cat in his arms.

You oddly enough trust him that he wouldn’t turn on you and hurt the cat now that you had admitted you care for her. Jonas merely narrows his eyes at you in disbelief that you care more for this random cat than you do your own safety.

Rendered speechless, Jonas nods and leaves the room. The door is left open and a few seconds later four men with various instruments and weapons enter your prison, slowly backing you into the damp corner of the room.

Tags:

@fangirl-moment-x @icequeen6666 @soobi89 @youre-alive-and-thats-your-job @morefuckingvodkaplease

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #john winchester #john x reader #angst #spn fanfic #fanfic #reader insert #sister reader #spnfamily #spn

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fionnfanatics · 7 years

Photo

Request: write something smutty about tom pls??? (only if you’re comfortable with it ofc)

A/N: lord have mercy, Tom Glynn-Carney is a babe 😍

———————-

It had all started as harmless flirting.

You were working as a make-up and hair stylist on the set of Dunkirk when he had first caught your eye.

You found Tom Glynn-Carney to be an insanely attractive person, and you didn’t exactly hide that fact.

Though in your defense, neither did he.

Originally there were just winks and flirty comments that were shared between the two of you nonchalantly. But the more the two of you saw each other, the more the flirting escalated.

Now there were lingering touches and suggestive comments that drove the cast of Dunkirk mad. They all just wanted the two of you to get together and do something about the growing sexual tension.

For the most part, Tom was a perfect gentlemen. He didn’t often say anything too vulgar, but when he did you’d spend your nights getting yourself off to what he said.

Which is why you were so shocked when he initiated the sexual contact while you were at dinner with some of the other boys.

You were talking to Barry and Cillian after you had finished desert, when you suddenly felt a hand land on your thigh. Your body instantly tensed, looking to your left to find Tom talking to Fionn with a smirk on his face.

Deciding to play along, you looked back towards the two Irishmen and continued your chat as if nothing had happened.

Tom merely grinned, his hand trailing higher up your thigh and towards your growing heat. His hand pushed your dress up slowly, fingers brushing against your bare skin.

You continued to ignore him, until he demanded your attention with a quick pinch to your inner thigh. You looked at him then, face flushing slightly at the gleam in his eyes.

“What?” You snapped quietly, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“Excuse yourself and head back to my trailer.” Tom whispered in your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine. You simply nodded, too stunned to do anything else.

You quickly made up some excuse of having a headache, all but running out of the restaurant. Your thoughts were racing a mile a minute, anticipation bubbling in your stomach.

10 minutes after you arrived at Tom’s trailer, the door slammed open and Tom came in with a determined look in his eyes.

He was instantly in front of you, lips slamming into yours before you could say a single word.

His lips still tasted like wine and chocolate, causing you to let out an involuntary moan. He grinned against your lips, tongue swiping across your lower lip. Too pleased with the turn of events to deny him, you instantly granted him access.

Your tongues battled for dominance as his hands ran up and down your sides, causing you to grip his shoulders tightly.

He ended up victorious, easily taking control of the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. He pulled away for air, before quickly kissing down your neck.

“What the hell has gotten into you tonight?” You asked breathlessly, hands fisting his hair as his lips assaulted your neck.

“I’m tired of playing these games, I didn’t feel like waiting any longer. So I’m doing something about it.” He responded, taking your ear lobe in between his teeth and tugging.

“Well don’t stop now.” You purred, head falling back against the wall as his lips moved lower. His hands moved to the zipper of your dress, quickly pulling it down. The dress puddled around your ankles on the ground, leaving you with only your bra and panties.

Tom’s lips trailed over your shoulders and collar bone, biting down every now and then.

Not a fan of being out done, you quickly got to work on his button up shirt and pants. Once you removed those items, he was left in only his boxers in front of you.

You quickly took charge once you saw your window, placing kisses down his chest and stomach. You kneeled in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his boxers.

After teasing him for a moment, you pulled the boxers down and threw them behind you.

His erect member immediately sprung out at you, causing your eyes to widen slightly at his size. Licking your lips slowly, you leant towards him.

“Fuck Y/N.” Tom groaned as you pressed a kiss to his tip, hands running through your hair. The next moment you took the length of him in your mouth, nearly causing you to gag.

Tom was a moaning mess from above as you continued to bob over his dick, causing you to look up at him from under your eyelashes.

“I’m not going to last if you look at me like that sweetheart.” Tom whined, grabbing ahold of your hair and pulling you up.

“Isn’t that the point?” You questioned innocently, causing his eyes to narrow at you lustfully.

“The first time you make me come, I want it to be while you’re riding me, not while you’re sucking me off. I want to see you come undone in front of me before I let go. So get your pretty little ass over to the bed and let me fuck you like I’ve wanted to for the past 4 months.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You whimpered, eyes wide as he growled at you. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Bed. Now.” He demanded, causing you to immediately comply. “Take your bra off.” He said, watching you sit on his bed. You did so, throwing the material across the room. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wide as he took in your almost fully naked form.

Normally you would have felt a little self conscious as someone watched you like that, but Tom made you feel confident as he stared at you. It looked like he was seeing the most beautiful piece of art work in the world, and it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Stop.” He suddenly said, grabbing your hands before you could pull your panties down. “I’m doing that.” He stated, and you nearly came undone right then.

He pushed you back into the bed, leaving your legs dangling over the side. His lips left open mouth kissed over the waistband of your panties, before his teeth grabbed ahold of the material and pulled it down.

You were squirming beneath him once he got the last item of clothing off, a strong urge of desire rushing through you.

“So eager for me love, I can smell it on you.” He grinned, lips coming up to meet yours again.

“I need you Tom.” You mumbled against his lips, causing his cock to twitch against your thigh.

“Are you sure?” He asked, giving you the option to back out if you wanted to. You quickly nodded your head, kissing him fiercely. He chuckled, pulling open his drawer as he continued to kiss you.

A moment later he was pulling away, slipping a condom on before returning to you. He rubbed against your entrance teasingly, eyes locked on your face as he slowly entered.

A grimace of pain crossed your face, causing him to pause his movements as he leant down to kiss you softly. Once the pain passed, he was slamming into you roughly while his kiss turned animalistic.

He quickly rolled you over, his back flopping into the mattress. You straddled his waist, settling yourself in a seated position as you rested your hands on his chest.

Your head was thrown back as you rode him, hips rolling down to meet his. One hand clawed up your stomach, taking a nipple between his fingers, while the other began working on your throbbing clit.

“You feel so good.” Tom moaned, thrusts becoming sloppier as he came close to his release.

“Tom, I’m gonna-” You started, only to get cut off as he shoved two of his fingers in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself, sucking on his fingers greedily.

“Come for me love.” He ordered, removing his fingers to place both hands on your ass as he thrusted deeper. You were a goner as he shifted slightly, brushing against your g spot.

His name left your mouth in a scream as you came around him, causing him to follow shortly after. He rode you through both of your highs, repeating your name over and over.

The two of you collapsed in exhaustion afterwards, Tom pulling you into his chest.

“That was amazing.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hair as he traced patterns on your naked back.

“You should get needy more often.”

The next morning the two of you showed up on set together, receiving some raised eyes. It was Jack who broke the silence, a teasing smirk on his face.

“It’s about fuckin’ time ye two.”

#tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney imagine #dunkirk #dunkirk imagine #tom x reader #tom glynn carney x reader #tom glynn carney smut #smut

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seokjxnnie · 7 years

Text

Promise | Taehyung

genre: angst, badboy!au words: 7.9k summary: Getaway driver Kim Taehyung promised her it was just one more job before he’s off the hook. Only then did they learn the hard way that it was never just ‘one more job’ in this kind of crime life. a/n: so i watched the movie baby driver and ofc i had to write a bad boy au based on it ha ha ha

Stricken with an uneasiness, Taehyung’s limbs were restless as he sat. His leg rapidly bobbed up and down and his fingers silently drummed the table in front of him, the same table that hundreds of thousands of dollars sat upon. His eyes, seemingly impassive yet covertly holding all the discontentment that simmered within his knotted stomach, watched as the three men standing at the desk’s edge across from him divide the large sum of money. Their expressions projected greed and excitement, but Taehyung was too deeply submerged in disgust and guilt to reciprocate. The piercing boom of a gunshot still rung in his ear, accompanied by distant splitting screams of fear and panic, and his nausea heightened. It didn’t matter how many years he’s done this for – every time unfailingly feels just as vile, detestable, and disgraceful as the first.

Each of the opposing men keenly ogled their own mountain of bills, leaving a single thick wad of 100s in the middle. “Good driving today, kid,” Jaebum smirked at the quiet and glaring subordinate. “Don’t look so bummed! One more job and we’re even, remember?”

Taehyung swallowed a boulder at its mentioning. “One more job,” he repeated, nearly a question if it weren’t for his deadpan delivery.

The alpha nodded, grinning lively enough it could’ve been malicious. “One more job and your debt is paid off,” he tossed the remaining small fraction of their earnings towards him, “and you still get your share for today, of course.”

His chair nearly fell back with how quick he was to get up as soon as he received what was his – he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Jackson and Jinyoung snorted at the younger’s impatience as he stormed off. Jaebum laughed, “I’ll call you soon, sweetie,” he teasingly called out before Taehyung slammed the door behind him.

__________

She was still wearing her work apron, standing in front of the TV that she dazedly watched, a mist of grief glazing her orbs. The screen projected a news channel, broadcasting the coverage of a heist that occurred a few hours earlier. The nail of her index finger stayed wedged between her teeth, suggesting that she was nervously chewing on it before she lost herself in a trance of distress. She hadn’t even spared him a glance when he walked through their apartment door.

“The reporters are saying that a woman was shot,” she finally spoke, her inexpressive tone would’ve been impossible to read if he wasn’t already experienced with her emotions and opinions regarding this controversy.

“And survived,” Taehyung finished her sentence, apparently to defend what’s left of his innocence. Her eyes shut and a heavy sigh left her throat, disappointed with how he thought his argument made anything better. He gulped, realizing the irrelevance and unnecessity of his add-on. “You know I had nothing to do with that. I keep my eyes straight and stay in the car,” he assured softly, although he’s been hefty with self-blame since the weapon fired. “This isn’t what I want. I hate all of this, but I don’t have a choice.”

With the remote in her other hand, she turned off the screen to mute the upsetting story she’s nearly memorized by the amount of times she’s been exposed to it in the past few hours. She threw the device onto the couch behind her and burrowed her face into palms. “All the customers at work were watching it happen on the TV like a movie, as if they were enjoying entertainment with their meal. I was the only one who understood just how real everything was,” the indifference in her voice, muffled by her hands, broke to reveal a quaking anxiety, “because my boyfriend’s involved with it all. My boyfriend’s the one who’s behind the wheel of a vehicle that’s ripping through the streets with a swarm of cops on his tail. And I have to keep this to myself, all this fear and all this worry.”

Her sniffles and quivering words suggested a sob, which was confirmed when her hands fell to reveal tear-stained cheeks, and his chest felt like it was mercilessly torn open. He didn’t open his mouth because it didn’t matter how many times he has said and will continue to say sorry – it won’t change anything. He’s burdened her enough and a few useless words wasn’t going to relieve her in any way if he was still situated in this kind of life.

Her tired and wet gaze finally lifted to his remorseful face, only to observe the cuts that extended across his left cheek and the faint stream of dried blood that painted it. Her frown dragged down even further as she took weary strides towards him. Her fingers delicately cupped the left side of his jaw and her thumb gingerly swiped under his lacerations. The gnawing in his stomach intensified when he felt her trembling against his skin. “You’re hurt,” she whimpered.

Taehyung knew better than to fib and say that it was nothing while face-to-face with the anguish that plagued her eyes. “The cops shot at us while we were getting away and shattered my side window,” he confessed, cautious of worsening her apprehension. His hand overlapped hers, “I’m fine, I’m not hurt.”

He could see her shudder at the thought of gunfire. More dews collected in the corners of her eyes. “You make me worry,” she spoke in frail wisps, barely audible to the wind.

She would’ve branched off to retrieve the suture kit that she was more than acquainted with by now if he hadn’t stopped her in her tracks. Both of his wide palms held her face, tightening just enough to physically imitate the promise in his intent gaze. His thumbs swept at the tears that trickled down her flushed cheeks. “I would never let anything happen to you.”

Her shoulders deflated along with the heavy exhale that fell from her lips. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you. How can I know for sure that it’s not just a matter of time until you’re caught, or even worse, killed? What am I supposed to do when you don’t walk through those doors and instead, I see your face on the news above the headlines of ‘infamous heist crew killed in high speed chase’?” her ascending volume threatened of another sob.

His head shook avidly, “That won’t happen because I just need to do one more job and I’m off the hook.”

Trying to keep her grasp on reason and reality, she didn’t allow herself to cave in to the pledge and assurance in his speech that was too good to be true. “It’s never just ‘one more job’ with these kinds of people, Tae.”

“No, Jaebum told me today, one more job and we’re even. I won’t have to work for him anymore,” his tone was adopting a hopeful and eager quality to match the gradual lift in his expressions. He pulled away, drawing a dense wad of crisp bills from his jacket pocket and making his way to the corner of the room. “Just stay patient. A few more weeks and I’m free – we’re free.”

He stopped in front of a hanging framed photo of the two of them sitting atop luscious green grass, a bright and vivid sky casting over their smiling faces that were oblivious to fear and worry. It was captured on an earlier anniversary, before she found out about this secret life of his, before anxiety strangled her every time he went out for a job and took a little longer than anticipated to come home. He lifted the picture, setting it aside for him to face a hole in the wall where a heap of identical cash bundles made a home of, and where the new one in his hand would now reside.

Before she had grown accustomed to his routine, she had to bite her tongue every time to prevent herself from disapproving how he used such a precious memory of hers to cover up something illegal. She must’ve been filled to the brim with these pent-up emotions because one day, she erupted and spilled out all her hurting and anxiety that manifested into anger and frustration. She wrangled with him for bringing home and ultimately relating her to his dirty money, and threatened of a self-deterioration from all the strain his criminal life unloaded onto her. She only realized the magnitude of her selfish dispute – in which she hadn’t empathized with his own hatred for his gang relations and how he might’ve interpreted her argument as someone who felt the utmost concern for her – when he decided to take action and faced its regretful consequences.

Taehyung proved just how much it hurt him to acknowledge the anguish he caused her when he came home bruised, bloodied, and beaten as a result of trying to leave the crew. He had gathered all his shares of money and presented it to his boss with a plead to be relieved from the remainder of his debt. He learned that Jaebum was a formal man when it came to debt and how precisely it is to be paid off. Additionally, he doesn’t like to say ‘no’ more than once, because when Taehyung persisted, he was met with the corresponding punishment.

When he came back barely conscious, he hardly batted an eye towards his own condition because he was too swept up in insisting that she left him so she could live normally and in peace again, since it was demonstrated that he couldn’t offer her that. The fright and dread of that night has made her come to terms with what he does for a living, as well as recognize her value for him and the lengths he’d go for her – she wasn’t going to leave. And so, although it was a gamble, she had to trust that he was going to come home in one piece every night from then on.

“One more job and we can take all of this and get out of here. Go anywhere you like,” his voice fell to a hush, yet still confident and optimistic, as his gaze browsed over his greatly accumulated earnings. He returned the frame to its original place.

As liberating as that sounded, she couldn’t deny the restlessness and disquiet of waiting even for just one more job. “Why can’t we do that now? We can run away from them now and no longer take the risk of things going wrong. We have enough money to move far away from here and start new lives,” she pleaded, scurrying up to him and taking his hands into hers, squeezing as if it’ll further convince him to agree.

As soon as he sighed, she wilted, understanding that he disagreed with jeopardizing the deal he already had. Taehyung brought her fingers up to his lips where he trailed delicate kisses up and down its lengths. “Because my debt isn’t paid off yet and Jaebum won’t let it go – he hasn’t for the past four years. They’ll find us and they won’t give up until they’re holding our severed heads. We can’t run away our entire lives and I can’t risk getting you hurt like that.” He drew her into his chest, his arms enveloping her in a tight and intimate embrace. “I know this is hard for you, and I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this mess, but just one more job, I promise,” he whispered, his words interrupted by the light pecks he peppered the top of her head with.

“You promise?” the girl sniffled, burrowing her face into his warmth to remind him that despite her vulnerable tone, she wasn’t going to give up on him.

He nodded, “Then it’s just you and me.”

“And Hawaii?”

A soft laugh. “Anywhere and everywhere you want.”

__________

He had a deadly grip on his wheel, venting his impatience on the steer of the vehicle as he drove with the two celebrating idiots in the back and the cocky bastard in the passenger seat. Jackson and Jinyoung screamed and cackled with elation and victory as their heads were buried in their duffle bags bloated with cash. Jaebum hummed with gratification, entranced by the aroma of fresh crisp bills as he held a fan of it to his face.

They were en route to their hideout that was an abandoned building after a successful heist job – Taehyung’s last heist job. Now, he was just eager to drop them off, pick her up, and never see their despicable faces or this sin-ridden city ever again.

Jaebum tossed the usual bundle of money onto his lap, “That’s it, kid, we’re straight.” The smugness in his voice made the driver grimace. However, he tried to relay the visualization of her relief and bliss that they would soon share to keep himself from yielding to his aggravation.

Taehyung pulled up to the entry of their headquarters, putting the car in park but keeping the engine running. He remained silent, glaring straight ahead as Jackson and Jinyoung stumbled out of the car with their hefty luggage. Jaebum found humour in the younger’s spite and chuckled darkly.

“Yo, you coming?” Jackson knocked on the passenger window as his leader didn’t seem to be as keen on exiting the vehicle.

Jaebum rolled his window down and tossed his money bag to the subordinate. “You guys go up first. I’m gonna take the kid out to celebrate.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched as he detected something wicked in the alpha’s seemingly harmless suggestion. “It’s getting late and nothing’s gonna be open at this time,” his speech rumbled low in the back of his throat to prevent the outbreak of his frustration.

“And we’ve got another job tomorrow to plan for,” Jinyoung added, crouching down to achieve eye level with the passenger.

“We’ll find something,” Jaebum grinned, roughly patting Taehyung’s shoulders. “We won’t take long,” he assured the other two before rolling up his window.

Taehyung had to bite back a growl prompted from being kept from his freedom, being kept from her. Nonetheless, he still found himself – bitterly – driving down dimly-lit roads with a crime boss next to him. She’s waited years, and he hoped she could wait just a few more hours.

“There,” Jaebum gestured to an establishment up ahead with a neon ‘open late’ sign out front.

The younger had been so deeply dwelling in irritation that he wasn’t fully present and aware as to where he was driving. He immediately felt sick to his stomach when he realized they were approaching the diner that she worked at.

“No,” he spat.

“What?”

“I don’t like it there.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion. Pull in.”

“No. We’ll find someplace else.”

Jaebum exhaled with exasperation as the restaurant was beginning to make an appearance in the rear-view mirror. His hand disappeared in his jacket and the next thing Taehyung knew was the muzzle of a gun tapping against his head. “Don’t let such a special night go sour, Tae,” he must’ve been teasing with his sing-song tone that contradicted his venomous intentions.

The latter gritted his teeth before making a sharp U-turn. Plagued by a brew of anger and panic, he crudely pulled into a parking stall. Before he shut off the engine, a glance at the car’s digital clock told him that her shift should’ve ended half an hour ago, and he desperately clung onto the hope that she wasn’t kept back by a busy night. He’s kept as much of this criminal life away from her as he could, and although Jaebum and them aren’t aware of her identity, he didn’t want to risk exposing her to him.

Any shred of optimism he naively allowed himself to have was instantly vaporized when he recognized her laughter through the slightly agape entrance before the two of them had even stepped in. Normally, such sounds would soothe over storms of stress and discontent, but tonight his blood ran cold and a terror seized his lungs.

Her gaze pulled away from a co-worker that she shared a joke with to welcome Jaebum with an oblivious smile. He nodded to return the greeting, holding up two fingers before sliding in a nearby booth of the vacant restaurant. Her face immediately fell when her eyes met with Taehyung who followed closely behind. He could see behind her orbs that she was connecting one and one and submitting to the apprehension that was associated with it. Reading her fright introduced guilt and shame to mix that tangled his stomach. However, he had to suppress said expressions and plaster indifference on his face in order to keep his boss in the dark about their relationship. She interpreted the last direct look he gave her as an apology and an assurance that everything was going to be okay before he sat across from the other.

The strange man mouthed and gestured at her for a pot of coffee, which took her a few moments to register amidst her nervous perplexity. Taehyung gulped, a heaviness rendering him paralyzed as he observed the dismay that dominated her in her flustered and graceless movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” A voice brought him back to the company he had in front of him. “To finally finish a debt you’ve been working four years to pay off?” Jaebum’s favourite smirk made the latter suck his teeth. The leader was accustomed to, even constantly anticipating, the inferior’s silence, so he continued without awaiting a response. “Tomorrow’s job is gonna be a big one, so eat well tonight, kid.”

Taehyung’s brows knitted together. “What does tomorrow’s job have to do with me?”

Jaebum blinked at him before snorting, leaning forward to playfully tap his cheek with his palm. “You’re our driver, silly.”

His fingers curled into fists under the table. “What are you talking about? Tonight was my last job.”

“Last job? What made you think that?”

“You said one more job and I’m done,” he tried not to hiss.

The elder laughed at the other’s naivety. “No, I said one more job and we’re even. Your debt is paid off, now it’s time for you to start making big bucks for yourself, Tae. I’d be stupid to let go of the best driver we’ve had, take it as a compliment.”

Taehyung’s lids fell closed while he immersed himself in an extended inhale to tame the fury simmering within him, kindled by the frustration that he had allowed himself to stupidly believe it was that simple to disassociate with this life, with Jaebum and them. He opened his eyes, gritting his teeth against the aggravation triggered by the sadistic smile across from him. “And what if I say no? That I’m done, I’m out?” his tensed words pried out through tight lips.

“Then I’d say it’s cute you think you could back out that easily, especially after what happened two years ago when you first tried. But, if you insist, then it’s obvious you haven’t learned your lesson.” Seeing their waitress approaching, he inched forward on top of propped up elbows, and his voice fell to a hush. “So I guess I’d have to do that typical thing where I threaten to find your loved ones and hurt them, or something along those lines,” he winked.

Taehyung was beginning to see red. He would’ve been completely submerged in rage if he wasn’t already much more occupied with the worry of his boss finding out just who his loved ones were, which would prove to be easier than difficult since she was just a few feet away while he was situated in her workplace. This kingpin had very much demonstrated his abilities in the past, and to doubt that he would follow through would be idiotic. Taehyung was very familiar with this fact, which is why he hid her identity and their residence from the alpha for all this time.

She appeared by their table with a pot of coffee. “How are you tonight?” Jaebum leaned back in his seat and charmingly beamed after she was shown to be ignorant to the intense and criminal conversation they just had.

“Good. Busy,” she struggled to find a volume above a cautious murmur. Reminding herself of the horrid and despicable things that he was capable of, she prohibited herself to sympathize with the friendliness he was projecting.

The leader watched as she poured coffee into his cup with slightly trembling hands. “Tired?”

She cleared her throat, yet the boulder remained. “Yeah, you just missed the rush. You guys are my last customers for the night.” Her co-worker must’ve not caught onto her glances of discomfort that begged not to be left alone out front with a crime boss because she was disappearing into the back kitchen, leaving her to be the only staff on the floor. Her heart hammered so violently, a rapid pulse seemingly surfaced to every inch of her skin. “Coffee?” she reluctantly turned to her boyfriend, holding the pot above his mug.

Taehyung avoided her gaze, staring straight down. He couldn’t look her in the eyes with the blame he carried for dragging her further into his mess and putting her in a dangerous and nerve-wracking position.

“Aren’t you gonna answer the nice lady?” Jaebum’s foot nudged the younger under the table.

Subtly, he pulled air into his lungs, hoping that courage came with it as he picked up his head. He tried to stifle the hurt and distress before it emerged in his appearance upon witnessing her irises that were casted over by fear and her lips that quivered with every attempt to swallow the dryness that took over her mouth. “No thank you,” he kept a low tone in his reply so that his agony remained inaudible.

Jaebum’s eyes narrowed as he picked up something odd in the atmosphere between the two. After years of experience, Taehyung was no longer the naïve little kid and had become increasingly difficult to read. Her on the other hand appeared to lack such skill because he detected uneasy and disorderly characteristics as she stared at the other for too long.

“So, can I take your order—”

“Do you know each other?”

The superior’s blunt interruption caught her off-guard and her façade broke – her eyes broadened with alarm and the pot of coffee slipped from her clammy fingers, rattling as it landed atop the dinner table.

Taehyung knew it was useless to continue playing strangers.

“I come here for food sometimes,” he answered, trying to maintain his collectedness.

“I thought you said you don’t like it here.”

Taehyung should’ve known it was useless to continue lying.

Jaebum sucked his teeth as the amicable front completely disintegrated. “How much does she know?” he growled.

His respirations adopted a shakiness. “Nothing! She knows nothing about you or the others.”

“But she does now, right?” Jaebum snarled. He glanced around the empty diner and at the staff occupied in the kitchen, out of sight, before he drew out a gun and pressed it against her thigh. “Shh, stay quiet,” he cooed with a threat to shoot when she whimpered and Taehyung reacted by readying to leap out of his seat.

Tears prickled her eyes red as she gnawed on her lips to stifle the terrified snivels while feeling the weapon hostilely dig deeper into her skin. Despite her paralysis, a violent quivering claimed her entire body. The anticipation of a possible blaring shot followed by an excruciating wound barraged her with a cold sweat nausea. The faint taste of blood that splayed across her tongue from biting down on herself too hard didn’t help.

With the risk of her getting hurt, Taehyung was forced to settle back in his seat. Although physically restraining himself, it was becoming harder and harder to detain the internalized horror that corresponded with putting her in danger. The disorienting barrage of panicked emotions began to channel into wrath directed at the person who dared to terrorize her. A fire burned in his lungs as he spoke, “She’s not gonna say anything to anybody. She hasn’t opened her mouth for all these years and she won’t start now,” he barked his insistence.

The trio noticed the opening of the kitchen door, followed by the appearance of another waitress. Even if she wasn’t being threatened with a gun, the crippling scare robbed her of a voice to call for help.

Not wanting to make a scene that would lead to the unwanted appearance of cops, Jaebum withdrew his weapon. However, the intimidation in his penetrative glare that victimized her didn’t falter. “Your boyfriend better be right, or you won’t have one anymore,” he hissed, rising from his seat.

Her breath hitched in her throat when he towered over her, his face inches from hers. Her dread begged to be distanced from him, yet at the same time it rendered her immobile. She shuddered from immense discomfort when his finger gently grazed the side of her jaw.

“You know, I was in love once. She died.”

Taehyung was quick to get on his feet and wrench Jaebum’s hand away from her. In return, the superior fisted his collar and threw him back.

“Get in the car, we’ve got a job to plan for,” he growled and turned on his heels.

Without an opportunity for words, Taehyung could only project his emotions through one last look at her. Through misty eyes, she watched how his facials shifted from an erratic fury to an unbearable pain as soon as their stares locked. His irises spoke of more apologies than he could ever verbalize. However, past the thick blanket of regret and shame was the shimmer of a promise that he was going to fix everything, that everything was going to be okay if she could hold on just a bit more. Then, he was shoved out the door.

“You make it way too easy for me, Tae,” Jaebum snickered. “Here I was, thinking that I’d have to get my hands dirty and investigate you to find family and friends that I can threaten. And then you go and hand a girlfriend to me on a silver platter,” he howled and hooted, a hop in his step as he made his way up dusty flights of stairs and swung open rusty, creaky doors.

The entire car ride to the abandoned building, the entire trip to make it up to the fifth floor due to the distrust of a rickety 50-year-old elevator, Taehyung was lost in thought. In his mind ran several trains atop numerous winding tracks that overlapped, each one trying to assess how he was going to handle the situation, some ultimately resulting in a collision and explosion. He wasn’t reeled back to reality until the mentioning of hurting her, since his thoughts have been at war with each other regarding how he could keep her safe.

“Don’t you fucking dare hurt her,” he spat. With all the repressed anger that swelled over the course of the night coupling with the opportunity of privacy, passion conquered reason. As soon as the pair arrived in their usual meeting room on the fifth floor, Taehyung lunged forward and seized fistfuls of Jaebum’s shirt. “I’ll keep working for you, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t fucking touch her.”

The head howled with laughter, amused, and maybe even impressed that the younger could finally demonstrate violence. “I wanna take your word for it, Tae, but you’ve given me reason to doubt. Besides, you know me, I like to have a little fun.”

Taehyung eyes heatedly and frantically darted across the other’s face, searching for explanations behind his vague yet unsettling statement. It wasn’t until he acknowledged the stillness of the rest of the room that a disturbing thought occurred to him. “Where are the others?” his voice nearly reached a yell if he wasn’t hindered by his trembling and panting. His gape scurried around the deserted room that lacked two chortling idiots, although the three duffle bags of money remained on the middle table. He then gathered a recollection of the leader thumbing his phone amidst his trance in the car ride.

Jaebum smirked and pushed away the hands that began to lack before straightening his collar. “They’re just making sure she gets home safe is all.”

An anguishing shock coursed his veins and a relentless pounding made his head throb.

“Don’t worry, they’re not gonna hurt her. Just gonna scare her a little, make sure she keeps her mouth shut. Maybe scare you a little too, give you a glimpse of what it’ll be like if you cross me again.”

His last tuneful words of ‘see you later’ only managed to echo in his Taehyung’s ear as he was already racing out of the room at a dizzying speed. His mind suddenly couldn’t spare a thought to the he nausea that weighed him down as he propelled down the flights of stairs. Instead, he made the terrible mistake of going through all the worse case scenarios that involved any pain or distress inflicted upon her, amplifying the blistering in the back of his throat.

The late hour of the night offered empty streets and his years of experience as a getaway driver offered skills and ease even when surpassing three-fold the legal speed limit. However, the overwhelming concoction of fear, alarm, and guilt he’s been infused in joint with the time pressure made him reckless. While ripping through the vacant roads, he encountered several near collisions with light posts and the occasional drunken pedestrian out for late-night drinks. He couldn’t bear with the thought of her victimized to the consequences of his actions and decisions, and the longer he took to get to her, the more time she may be subjected to this suffering.

Taehyung found himself in the hallway of their apartment hardly with any memory of even getting up to his floor. His uncontrollable anxiety, his wild pace, and his preoccupation with jumping to spine-chilling conclusions made the last few moments a complete blur. He felt a blow to his stomach when he saw that his door was agape and the wooden frame where the lock is was split – his door was kicked open.

The boy threw himself into his apartment, screaming her name, only to be greeted by soundlessness. The lights were on, which meant that she was here. His gape hysterically darted around the room searching for her presence. For the most part, his home was still intact, and he desperately clung onto the hope that the lack of signs of struggle meant that they couldn’t get to her. He called her name again, taking haste strides forward until he felt his feet drag against what felt like cloth. A glance down and he found that their sweaters pooled around his ankles. Following the trail of clothing, he discovered the door of their coat closet thrown open to reveal jackets ripped from their hangers and splayed across the ground. Another glimpse around the apartment and he observed curtains that hardly hung onto their rods anymore and the kitchen pantry sharing a similar situation with the coat closet – agape with shelves emptying their contents onto the floor. They were hunting for her and targeted all the potential hiding spots.

As his heart hammered its way up his throat and inspired sheets of perspirations throughout his skin, he pled to find her somewhere in the remainder of their apartment, despite the silence and apparent vacancy of the home. He frantically stumbled into the washroom, where he failed to meet anything other than the same experience for his shower curtains. Fleeing into their bedroom, he ran his wide eyes over an open and disassembled wardrobe, the belongings that were dragged out from under the bed where they were being stored, and the door to the balcony ajar. He gulped, making towards the cool outside breeze of the night, this time with hesitance. As it was the only place he has yet to check, he was apprehensive and queasy evaluating the slim chances that he’ll find her there. Stepping out, he figured they must’ve easily given up after a brisk glance around the limited space of the platform since everything was still in place – the two chairs accompanying the small table and the broken washing machine left in the corner as a temporary settlement before they bring it to the dump, which still hasn’t been attended to.

The terror and guilt of the situation would’ve completely consumed him if he hadn’t noticed how the door of the washer was slightly ajar. The faint shimmer of hope that hadn’t been depleted by defeat brought him to lunge over and throw the door open, revealing a quaking girl curled up into a vulnerable ball. She flinched and unraveled due to the startle. The girl stared up in horror, expecting a pair of abductors, only for the expression to fall and a powerful wave of relief to emerge.

“Tae!” she cried, her tone still shuddering from the trauma before she leapt out of the opening of the machine and into his chest. Another strong sob crashed down on her and she wept into his shoulder, this time out of gratitude and solace. Her arms desperately latched on to ensure that what she felt was real and he wasn’t going to leave.

He fell back from her thrust. It took no time for the alleviating respite to catch up to him and a shuddering exhale fled from his throat. “Oh, thank god you’re okay,” he panted, embracing her tight and kissing her forehead like she was the first slip of water in a drought.

“I was so scared,” she whined, muffled by the way she burrowed her face into him.

His hands cupped her face and brought their eyes together. “Did they hurt you?”

Her head feebly shook, “They followed me from work when I left a little after you. I thought it was just a coincidence until I went up and saw their car parked outside the building from our window, and then I heard them from down the hall so I hid. They couldn’t find me so they left not too long ago.”

A thousand phrases of appreciation relayed through his mind, addressed to whichever higher power allowed her to be spared tonight. He would’ve been unsalvageable with how far lost in disappointment and anguish he’d be if something had happened to her. And then, his self-blame reminded him of who’s fault this all happened in the first place.

I would never let anything happen to you.

Taehyung winced, disgraced with how he was so quick to break a promise he wanted to live his entire life by. Closing his eyes, he drew her in so that their foreheads touched. He sighed against her lips that faintly grazed his, even though he felt selfish for allowing himself the gratification of her caresses after the tribulation he put her through. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let all this happen to you,” he pleaded, regret and apologies playing in his voice. His quivering words suggested the oncoming of tears.

Her heart ached with how claimed he was by his own shame. Her fingers overlapped his before she inched forward and captured his lips. Indulging in the relief and bliss of their reunion, the couple allowed themselves a few more passionate moments to wholly appreciate each other’s comforting presence amidst a frightening night.

Their noses nuzzled against one another as their breaths painted the other’s skin. “You didn’t. This isn’t anyone’s fault other than those bastards that you work for.” She blinked, peering up at him and momentarily taking away his breath when he was once again reminded how thankful he was to be able to still drown in her mesmerizing irises. “What happened, Tae?” she was referring to the earlier upsetting and perplexing encounter they had at the diner.

He swallowed, unsure if he was prepared to sadden her all over again. “He’s not letting me go. My debt’s paid off, but he threatened to hurt you if I don’t keep working for him.”

His limbs felt heavy and his stomach tangled while watching the distress and dread cast over her eyes. She’s worn this look for the most of their relationship, and though it isn’t her intention, it was unfailingly agonizing to him every time. He was unworthy to her unconditional acceptance, and he didn’t deserve to have her in his life, yet she refused to leave. All he wanted to do was keep her safe, and he thought that if he stayed with Jaebum then he would keep her out of his harmful threats. But, that just meant a whole lifetime of strain and worry for her, just like it has been for the past four years. After the ordeal that took place tonight, he couldn’t keep subjecting her to the trauma.

“I’m not gonna let it happen anymore,” he abuptly interrupted the sorrowful atmosphere with a flame of determination in his aura. Before she could give him a look of confusion to read, he pulled her to her feet by his entwined fingers and lead her inside. “Come with me.”

“Tae, what are you doing?” she questioned, after watching him retrieve a suitcase thrown out from under the bed and taking her to their hanging photo frame in the living room. He began unloading his stash of cash in the hole behind it into the luggage.

“I have a plan. We’re gonna run away.”

“Now? But Jaebum’s just gonna follow and try to find us. You said so yourself.”

He shook his head, “No, I’m going to deal with them during tomorrow’s job.”

She paused, waiting for him to continue supplying an explanation, but he instead was nonverbal while zipping close the bag full of money. Her eyes scrunched closed and her hands gripped her hair. “What are you talking about?” she sighed.

Her lids opened when she felt a clasp around her wrists. Suddenly, Taehyung was standing in front of her, capturing her hands in his. His face softened, projecting the same optimism as when they last talked about running away together. “I just need you to trust me, okay? I know I haven’t proved that I’ve earned another it, but I just need you to trust me and wait a little longer. This time, everything’s going to work out, I promise.”

Staring a little longer into his irises, she had hoped to find more details. Instead, she found the sincerity that reminded her of why she stayed for all these years. She nodded before melting into the kiss he responded with. Despite the all misfortune that occurred tonight, she felt so safe and at peace in his hold.

“I’m going to meet with Jaebum and them to do one last job tomorrow. In the meantime, I need you to stay here and pack, but only the important stuff,” Taehyung pulled away to hand her the photo frame of them. His toes tapped the side of the suitcase bloated with cash. “Everything else we can buy anew when we start new lives.” He looked at her, anticipating her to reciprocate the same excitement that brightened his face. However, she still stared back with uneasiness. “I’ll make sure they won’t come and try to find you. I won’t let anything happen to you anymore, I promise.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you,” a frail whimper escaped her throat.

This scene felt all too familiar. However, this time he was filled to the brim with the determination that he wasn’t going to repeat his mistakes, that he was going to follow through with his promises this time. The spirit of his resolve sprung him at her and once again, he encased her in his embrace. “I’m not going to let anything between us anymore. I’m not going to let you live this criminal life with me a moment longer. We’re running away, we’re getting out of here together when I come back tomorrow, I swear,” he spoke in gentle wisps that contrastingly didn’t lack in perseverance and commitment. “Trust me, wait for me, okay?”

She nodded silently since the tears prickling her eyes might’ve hindered her voice. She saw him off without objection, occupied by her faith in him instead. She allowed him to leave without a big goodbye seeing it unnecessary since she believed that he was going to come back and take her away the next day just like he assured.

The girl laid on the couch with the bag of money at her feet, accompanied by a smaller bag holding irreplaceable things she didn’t want to leave behind. And then she waited. Time passes slower when a person is plagued with concern. Although she trusted him, it was harder to trust the crew he worked with and whether they would let him walk scot-free, injury-free. Thus, her nervousness didn’t allow her any blink of sleep either. For hours, she wrestled with disturbing assumptions of him getting hurt, as well as the soothing visualizing of them starting new lives together. She watched as the sun peeked from the horizon, coast to the peak of the sky, and fall to the other side outside the frame of vision of her window.

When silence began to scream, she turned on the TV to distract herself and interrupt the piercing stillness. It happened to be flipped to the news channel, and her attention anchored to it when the reporter uttered the familiar words for ‘heist’ and ‘car chase’. With broadened eyes and a racing heart, she listened intently to the coverage.

Pictures of two young males who she recognized as the ones who broke into her home appeared on the screen, followed by a story of the infamous heist crew that they were a part of involved with a job that took place a few hours ago. The crew must’ve encountered a mishap in their plans as the two males were not able to make the getaway car and were left behind. Forced to defend themselves with rapid gunfire, they met their ultimate death when the hoard of cops fired back. The vehicle was thought to be holding the leader of the crew in the passenger seat, the report informed along with the display photo of Jaebum. After an unsuccessful car chase by the police force, both the vehicle and Jaebum were later found in a nearby river. The screen turned to a police chief giving a statement to the public press. He explained how the investigating team believed the driver jumped out of the car before driving it into the body of water. The passenger survived the crash but suffered from head injuries and was immediately transported to the hospital. The doctor overseeing his care stated that he did not walk away with anything life-threatening, however he is suffering from amnesia and has no recollection of his identity or life events prior to his awakening. Thus, he is not able to supply information regarding the driver who managed to get away. Besides believed to also be a young male, police currently have no other leads or suspects.

She was watching in horror before her attention was ripped away from the TV when the front door slammed open and Taehyung stumbled in. As the frame was still partially broke, even applying just a little weight to the entrance would’ve pushed it back, and it seemed like he slumped his entire body on it for it to fling open.

As soon as she saw a glimpse of blood, her veins ran cold. She gasped, scrambling to his side and calling his name, only for him to wilt against her and respond with groggy grumbles. Not wanting attention or suspicion, she hauled his body onto the couch and closed the door. She was hardly able to assess the situation when the trickles of red that painted the side of his face made her shake. It sourced from a laceration at the top corner of his face. She would’ve scrambled to retrieve the suture kit if he hadn’t grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her back to his side.

He weakly grinned with hooded eyes, “I did it, we’re free!” his hoarse voice didn’t stop him from a quiet celebration.

“Taehyung, what happened?” she panted in a panic, applying pressure to his wound.

A vague dishonour played on his face as he muttered, “I did what I had to.” His eyes lifted and his hand traveled to her cheek where he laid soft grazes, “I did it for us.”

Her bottom lip trembled as her other palm clutched onto him. “You’re hurt,” she whimpered.

“What? This?” he snorted, “This is nothing. I’m just a little tired. And dizzy.” She sighed at the scare that he gave her, but found relief in the weary yet elated grin he offered. He grabbed both of her hands. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go anywhere now! We can go to Hawaii!”

It was becoming more difficult to suppress the desire to imitate his bliss. Although the entire situation was scary, she couldn’t help but find excitement in the fact that they really were free to finally leave the city like they’ve always talked about. Additionally, they no longer had to worry about ties to his crimes or the worry of perpetually running away because he had taken desperate measures to cut them.

“I have to clean and stitch up your wound first!” she cried.

He hauled himself up off the couch and picked up the suitcase, which was suddenly much heavier than he remembered and he was forced to fall back onto the couch. His world spun and he wasn’t sure how she left and came back with the first aid kit so fast. Nonetheless, the moment the saline solution used to clean his wound hit his skin, he recalled a punch of pain before he succumbed to his fatigue and everything went black.

__________

He never noticed let alone appreciated how soothing the sound of a car cruising on the road was, mainly because most of the time he was in a car, it involved swerving and tearing through the streets instead. A low hum of the engine and the swoosh of passing cars gently roused him to a wake. His head ached a little, yet there was a sense of peace in the atmosphere that relieved majority of the pain. His eyes attempted to flutter open against the brightness in front of him that reflected on his face.

“Hey,” she greeted softly and sweetly, like a song. He could hear the grin on her face in just that one word, and his own lips were immediately stretched into a smile.

Taehyung found himself in the passenger seat of their car as she drove down an unfamiliar road, seemingly isolated from the city he was accustomed to. Feeling something weighing on his head, he reached up and felt the bandage wrapping his wound. It finally clicked that they were carrying out what they’ve always wanted to do, what he’s pledged to her.

“Where are we going?”

Her hand pulled away from the wheel and glided on top of his. Her fingers tangled with him before bringing his digits to her beaming lips for her to pepper pecks along its lengths. “Anywhere and everywhere, just like you promised.”

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