#booker x female reader

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[shalotttower]

The Unknown Variable

Title: The Unknown Variable Fandom: Death Note Summary: Special was never your brand. Now the weight of it is simply too heavy. Word count: 2600+ Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female) Notes: yandere L, kidnapping, L and Reader were together in Wammy's House, Reader is tricky: there's some sort of imposter syndrome, but it's not too pronounced, L is a little bit of a dick, explicit language, triggering words.

You came to Wammy's House the same year as him.

In your simple dress, with scratched shoes and hair cut short by your previous caretakers, no one paid you much attention. Just another orphan for Watari's collection, just another face to pass through the halls, that's what you were. Densely packed with brightness - bright children with bright futures - you got lost among their splendor very quickly. Intelligences and minds were relative, and it didn't take long to understand that there existed more than one tier in the hierarchy of extraordinary.

You weren't exceptional.

You weren't dim.

Not slow, not dense, merely the kind of gifted that fit into Wammy's definition of "gifted" without exceeding it. The kind that was too smart to go to a public school, but unable to stand out in this environment.

It was fine. You didn't come there to be special.

You came because you had nowhere else to go and Wammy's House gave you a bed, a roof over your head, food on the table. It was as close to a home that you'd ever get and certainly better than your time in foster care. You could ask for toys, books, whatever caught your fancy, and count on it to be provided without much question.

What you couldn't ask for was affection. Not from Watari nor his staff nor the other children, and you think...you think all of you shared that same affliction to a various extent - a kind of general numbness, a disconnect between where a heart was beating and a brain was processing.

In this, you suppose, L fit right in, while failing miserably at everything else.

You found him odd, with his hunched back and wide eyes and messy hair. He wasn't rude or cruel but seemed to lack the basic social graces and had this air of superiority around himself, like he knew he was smarter, quicker and stronger than everyone else and didn't bother to pretend otherwise.

He played alone and hoarded toys that he liked. He answered questions before they were fully asked. You watched L solve puzzles in minutes when it took older children at least fifteen, twenty, sometimes thirty. Maths, sciences, linguistics, history, law - he seemed to sample them all, eventually moving onto the next. Slept irregular hours, and the blue glow of his computer screen was an ever present feature every time you got up at night to use the restroom and passed by his room.

L was brilliant and strange, and looked down on you since the very first moment.

You didn't like him much.

You watched him grow into his gangly limbs, become more lanky and hunch a few inches more, a quick-draw intellect with a tendency to chew at his thumbnail whenever he concentrated, stare too much and pick people apart as easily as he solved problems.

He got under your skin more than once, and seemed to have a vendetta of sorts or at least you thought so, with the way he liked to study your words or personality. He never outright called you stupid, but you once found him flipping through your journal and when you confronted him about it-

"You write simple."

"What?"

L turned another page, then tapped his nail against the margin. "Simple," he repeated, looking at you. "Short sentences, simple punctuation. Not bad necessarily..." He closed the journal with a soft thump. "But simplistic. You should-"

"I'm not vying for the Booker Prize," you said and took your journal back, he didn't resist. "It's just a diary, meant for me and me only. It doesn't need to be complicated, and you had no right to stick your nose in."

You were never meant to be special, but what you undeniably had was the lack of restraint in expressing your exact opinions.

"You left it on your desk," L said, unfazed. "You shouldn't leave personal belongings lying around if you don't want others to touch them. And the cipher key isn't difficult to figure out."

"It's still not an invitation," you told him, pointedly hiding the notebook behind your back.

It was the last time you spoke with L before leaving Wammy's House and entering adulthood; and you hardly considered it a great loss. You learned to make better ciphers and keep your things close without letting them out of sight, along with how to buy groceries, open a bank account, cook your own meals, do your own laundry and many other mundane skills which an orphanage resident had no real reason to practice.

A chance or probability of ever running into him again could be easily calculated as zero. Special was never your brand, no genius lurked beneath the surface, no brilliance that could solve mysteries in less than twenty four hours. You were observant, definitely, and had your own strengths, but on the scale of extraordinary you'd rank yourself somewhere in the middle, a notch above average and below exceptional.

That's why waking up years later in an unfamiliar bedroom, surrounded by deceptively familiar walls, furniture and bookshelves, with absolutely no memory of how you got there, made no sense.

In fact, it should have ended with boarding a plane, you were heading home after a lengthy business trip. That's what you clearly remembered - getting into the car that had arrived to pick you up from the hotel. Fastening the seat belt, and then nothing. The timeline smudged into one single faded splotch.

You reached for your phone only to find it missing. Bag, wallet, documents - everything was gone.

That...that didn't look good.

You carefully scanned the room. It held an uncanny resemblance to your own, with the same layout and furniture. Same closet, same bed. A twin to the quilt thrown over you. No windows. Your suitcase lay in the corner, and provided no insight as to how and why you'd been brought here. Everything was a replica, an almost-perfect duplicate, but somehow not.

It smelled wrong. Pleasant yet not the way it should; cleaner, less dusty, and warmer.

You mind went through the loops of what it could be: ransom (why? you had a humble income and no significant family), organ harvesting (too nice of a bedroom for such purposes), trafficking (again: too nice, no traffickers were known to transport people into neat and homey places), a bizarre accident (hardly, the door and the rest of the interior pointed towards careful planning).

Nothing seemed plausible, and that was the most unsettling part, the obscure, unknown variable which didn't let you make a prediction. The room...someone tailored it to you, your interests, that much you could say with 100% certainty.

But who and why - that remained a question.

The door opened.

"You," the word hung, suspended.

"You're awake." His posture hasn't changed, if anything it was worse than you remembered, hunched shoulders and slouching spine, hands buried deep into the pockets of his baggy jeans. Still slender but not as gangly anymore, he entered the room and closed the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

The dark circles under his eyes were bigger and even more pronounced, like diluted ink spilled on a napkin.

You didn't answer.

"What am I doing here?" you asked instead and pushed yourself upright. The blanket fell from your lap, pooling down on the floor.

L's expression was familiar, one he used to wear whenever he was thinking. He rubbed his lower lip but otherwise chose to stay silent.

"Well? Are you going to explain or keep standing there?" You crossed your arms and glared at him, hiding the trembling of your fingers. You both did this sometimes back at Wammy's House, tried to over-stare each other in a contest, stubborn to a fault and unwilling to yield first. It always surprized you that he indulged in something so childish and silly.

Of all people you expected to see him least; the last conversation between you happened over six years ago.

L won the game again and you looked away.

"A series of events occurred, and I felt it to be beneficial for your well-being that you stay here," he replied after a moment, choosing each word like it was an item on a menu and not an explanation of your abduction. "You will find everything provided and within reach," L looked around the room, lingering on the bookshelves and desk. "If you prove cooperative."

You felt you eyebrows slowly rising to your hairline. "Excuse me?"

"Cooperative. The faster-"

"I'm not deaf."

His mouth twitched, like he disapproved of your manners - you ignored it. Took a deep breath and rubbed your temples, counted to ten, then exhaled through your nose.

"I'm leaving. Where's my phone?"

He didn't attempt to stop you, not when you slipped into your shoes, not when you headed for the door, not when your fingertips reached for the handle. It turned just fine, and for a second you were almost convinced that he decided to prank you (a very weird and fucked up prank, you had to admit).

What was on the other side looked like a regular apartment with an open floorplan, spacious and absolutely ordinary, except for the blackout curtains covering the windows, and the main door - thick, metal, - more suited for a vault, rather than a house. The locks appeared equally sophisticated. You swallowed, and a voice that always told you when something was not quite right, came out full force.

"Where's my phone," you repeated, voice quiet and dull, more of a statement than a question.

L remained silent, with that same blank stare which you used to despise as a child and a slight curve of his mouth. You know the answer, it said, now ask the right questions.

It was quiet, except for the ticking of the clock and the low hum of an AC unit.

A faint noise to your left caught your attention, the hairs on the back of your neck rose. In the middle of the carefully decorated living room, between a couch and a coffee table, you covered your mouth.

There were more wrinkles around Watari's eyes than you remembered and he looked older, hair gone to silver. Dressed in a black suit and a simple apron, it was him without any doubt or confusion. A chopping board and several ingredients covered the marble counter in a clear pattern of a soon to be cooked meal, carrots and mushrooms, bell peppers, fresh parsley. Celery. A single potato.

A needle with a plastic cap near the fruit bowl.

'I'm leaving.'

The words died on your tongue.

"No," you heard L's voice reach you from the layers of white noise which buzzed inside your head, "you're not. And I would prefer to not use force to persuade you."

There was a strange sort of finality in his tone, calm and absolute, and Watari, the man who raised all of you at Wammy's, the man who provided a roof, and books, and games, and never denied a request, simply nodded, then went on cutting carrots. As if this, as if your entire situation, was a mere triviality, not worth addressing.

Maybe it was a bad dream, you wondered. You fell asleep in the car and hallucinated an elaborate scenario, a noir plot plucked straight out of a movie.

It wasn't a movie.

They weren't joking.

In those few seconds while your mind processed everything in a scattered swirl of jumbled-up conclusions, you had a thought. A vase on your left looked sturdy enough. Two, three strides, grab it and swing - Watari was old. L was slim and thin.

"As you are now, I estimate 46% possibility of you injuring yourself and 8.3 % of you injuring me should you attempt to physically overpower me," L sounded close enough but you didn't turn around to check. "Along with 57% probability of Watari having to sedate you."

How did you go from nothing out of the ordinary to this, you often wondered later. In the apartment that looked normal, but was as far away from it as possible, with the orphanage prodigy whose brilliance used to frighten you back in your childhood, and the elderly man who used to serve tea and biscuits during breaks.

You looked down and found your fingers shaking. The odds were...against you.

"You're sick," you said finally. "Both of you." The irony of it was not lost, no. Of all people, someone to commit a crime of this audacity were the two individuals supposed to represent the pinnacle of legal justice.

Watari continued chopping vegetables. L made a step forward - you felt it more than saw - and it urged you to back away and out of his immediate reach, until you hit the wall. He studied your every move, steady, patient, not bothered by your accusation nor offended.

"No," you whispered and raised one trembling hand, as though it could offer you any kind of protection. Your throat felt too tight, like something was wrapped around it, pressing harder with each breath. "You fucking stay where you are."

L stopped moving.

"I can assure you," he said after a moment. "You're perfectly safe here. I have no intention of harming you, unless you prove unwilling to cooperate."

Your eyes darted towards Watari again. L's gaze followed.

"He won't hurt you either."

That didn't make you feel much better. Your phone was gone. Your documents - also missing. If you managed somehow to pass that door, you had no idea where you'd end up. It could be a regular apartment complex, or it could be the middle of nowhere. "Why am I here?" You asked again, but the question held different tone this time with the underlying implication.

L tucked his hands back inside his pockets. "I enjoy your company. My efficiency increases when I think about you and decreases by 17.3% when you're not in my vicinity."

Company. You blinked and rubbed your face, fingertips cold and clammy. "We talked four times when we were kids and none of those were pleasant experiences."

"Six," he corrected, "we talked six times, and our conversations, while short, were often...entertaining. Stimulating. You possess a particular way of thinking which I find intriguing. You're not intimidated by my intellect. You are not intimidated by many things."

"I don't want to talk with you," you said flatly. "You kidnapped me. I want my documents, I want my phone, I want to get the fuck out of this-" you inhaled slowly and focused, felt your heartbeat steadying just enough to not run across the room, yelling and screaming bloody murder, "whatever this is."

"Well, I do."

Despite the fact that you've just woke up, you felt tired. Arguing with him as a child was like running against a brick wall. Talking to him as an adult proved similar - exhausting and fruitless, nothing you said ever made the smallest dent in whatever notions L had in his head, not back then and definitely not now.

A laugh bubbled in your throat, and it probably seemed more hysterical than intended. You pushed away from the wall. "You need professional help, and I need to sleep. Don't," you pointed a finger in his direction when he twitched forward. "Don't come near me."

You headed for what was supposed to be your bedroom, or rather a cell - matters of perspective. The absurdity of the situation didn't lessen when the door closed behind, but at least huddled up in a ball beneath the quilt, with the muffled sounds from the outside you could rest your head and think clearly again.

Tomorrow you will assess everything from the new angle and then...

Then everything will be fine.

Everything will be normal.

Okay.

Okay.

[macrolit]

NYT's Notable Books of 2023

Each year, we pore over thousands of new books, seeking out the best novels, memoirs, biographies, poetry collections, stories and more. Here are the standouts, selected by the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

AFTER SAPPHO by Selby Wynn Schwartz

Inspired by Sappho’s work, Schwartz’s debut novel offers an alternate history of creativity at the turn of the 20th century, one that centers queer women artists, writers and intellectuals who refused to accept society’s boundaries.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED by S.A. Cosby

In his earlier thrillers, Cosby worked the outlaw side of the crime genre. In his new one — about a Black sheriff in a rural Southern town, searching for a serial killer who tortures Black children — he’s written a crackling good police procedural.

THE BEE STING by Paul Murray

In Murray’s boisterous tragicomic novel, a once wealthy Irish family struggles with both the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash and their own inner demons.

BIOGRAPHY OF X by Catherine Lacey

Lacey rewrites 20th-century U.S. history through the audacious fictional life story of X, a polarizing female performance artist who made her way from the South to New York City’s downtown art scene.

BIRNAM WOOD by Eleanor Catton

In this action-packed novel from a Booker Prize winner, a collective of activist gardeners crosses paths with a billionaire doomsday prepper on land they each want for different purposes.

BLACKOUTS by Justin Torres

This lyrical, genre-defying novel — winner of the 2023 National Book Award — explores what it means to be erased and how to persist after being wiped away.

BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN by Jessica Knoll

In her third and most assured novel, Knoll shifts readers’ attention away from a notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy, and onto the lives — and deaths — of the women he killed. Perhaps for the first time in fiction, Knoll pooh-poohs Bundy's much ballyhooed intelligence, celebrating the promise and perspicacity of his victims instead.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

This satire — in which prison inmates duel on TV for a chance at freedom — makes readers complicit with the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside. The fight scenes are so well written they demonstrate how easy it might be to accept a world this sick.

THE COVENANT OF WATER by Abraham Verghese

Verghese’s first novel since “Cutting for Stone” follows generations of a family across 77 years in southwestern India as they contend with political strife and other troubles — capped by a shocking discovery made by the matriarch’s granddaughter, a doctor.

CROOK MANIFESTO by Colson Whitehead

Returning to the world of his novel “Harlem Shuffle,” Whitehead again uses a crime story to illuminate a singular neighborhood at a tipping point — here, Harlem in the 1970s.

THE DELUGE by Stephen Markley

Markley’s second novel confronts the scale and gravity of climate change, tracking a cadre of scientists and activists from the gathering storm of the Obama years to the super-typhoons of future decades. Immersive and ambitious, the book shows the range of its author’s gifts: polyphonic narration, silken sentences and elaborate world-building.

EASTBOUND by Maylis de Kerangal

In de Kerangal’s brief, lyrical novel, translated by Jessica Moore, a young Russian soldier on a trans-Siberian train decides to desert and turns to a civilian passenger, a Frenchwoman, for help.

EMILY WILDE’S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by Heather Fawcett

The world-building in this tale of a woman documenting a new kind of faerie is exquisite, and the characters are just as textured and richly drawn. This is the kind of folkloric fantasy that remembers the old, blood-ribboned source material about sacrifices and stolen children, but adds a modern gloss.

ENTER GHOST by Isabella Hammad

In Hammad’s second novel, a British Palestinian actor returns to her hometown in Israel to recover from a breakup and spend time with her family. Instead, she’s talked into joining a staging of “Hamlet” in the West Bank, where she has a political awakening.

FORBIDDEN NOTEBOOK by Alba de Céspedes

A best-selling novelist and prominent anti-Fascist in her native Italy, de Céspedes has lately fallen into unjust obscurity. Translated by Ann Goldstein, this elegant novel from the 1950s tells the story of a married mother, Valeria, whose life is transformed when she begins keeping a secret diary.

THE FRAUD by Zadie Smith

Based on a celebrated 19th-century trial in which the defendant was accused of impersonating a nobleman, Smith’s novel offers a vast panoply of London and the English countryside, and successfully locates the social controversies of an era in a handful of characters.

FROM FROM by Monica Youn

In her fourth book of verse, a svelte, intrepid foray into American racism, Youn turns a knowing eye on society’s love-hate relationship with what it sees as the “other.”

A GUEST IN THE HOUSE by Emily Carroll

After a lonely young woman marries a mild-mannered widower and moves into his home, she begins to wonder how his first wife actually died. This graphic novel alternates between black-and-white and overwhelming colors as it explores the mundane and the horrific.

THE HEAVEN & EARTH GROCERY STORE by James McBride

McBride’s latest, an intimate, big-hearted tale of community, opens with a human skeleton found in a well in the 1970s, and then flashes back to the past, to the ’20s and ’30s, to explore the town’s Black, Jewish and immigrant history.

HELLO BEAUTIFUL by Ann Napolitano

In her radiant fourth novel, Napolitano puts a fresh spin on the classic tale of four sisters and the man who joins their family. Take “Little Women,” move it to modern-day Chicago, add more intrigue, lots of basketball and a different kind of boy next door and you’ve got the bones of this thoroughly original story.

A HISTORY OF BURNING by Janika Oza

This remarkable debut novel tells the story of an extended Indo-Ugandan family that is displaced, settled and displaced again.

HOLLY by Stephen King

The scrappy private detective Holly Gibney (who appeared in “The Outsider” and several other novels) returns, this time taking on a missing-persons case that — in typical King fashion — unfolds into a tale of Dickensian proportions.

A HOUSE FOR ALICE by Diana Evans

This polyphonic novel traces one family’s reckoning after the patriarch dies in a fire, as his widow, a Nigerian immigrant, considers returning to her home country and the entire family re-examines the circumstances of their lives.

THE ILIAD by Homer

Emily Wilson’s propulsive new translation of the “Iliad” is buoyant and expressive; she wants this version to be read aloud, and it would certainly be fun to perform.

INK BLOOD SISTER SCRIBE by Emma Törzs

The sisters in Törzs's delightful debut have been raised to protect a collection of magic books that allow their keepers to do incredible things. Their story accelerates like a fugue, ably conducted to a tender conclusion.

KAIROS by Jenny Erpenbeck

This tale of a torrid, yearslong relationship between a young woman and a much older married man — translated from the German by Michael Hofmann — is both profound and moving.

KANTIKA by Elizabeth Graver

Inspired by the life of Graver’s maternal grandmother, this exquisitely imagined family saga spans cultures and continents as it traces the migrations of a Sephardic Jewish girl from turn-of-the-20th-century Constantinople to Barcelona, Havana and, finally, Queens, N.Y.

LAND OF MILK AND HONEY by C Pam Zhang

Zhang’s lush, keenly intelligent novel follows a chef who’s hired to cook for an “elite research community” in the Italian Alps, in a not-so-distant future where industrial-agricultural experiments in America’s heartland have blanketed the globe in a crop-smothering smog.

LONE WOMEN by Victor LaValle

The year is 1915, and the narrator of LaValle’s horror-tinged western has arrived in Montana to cultivate an unforgiving homestead. She’s looking for a fresh start as a single Black woman in a sparsely populated state, but the locked trunk she has in stow holds a terrifying secret.

MONICA by Daniel Clowes

In Clowes’s luminous new work, the titular character, abandoned by her mother as a child, endures a life of calamities before resolving to learn about her origins and track down her parents.

THE MOST SECRET MEMORY OF MEN by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr

Based on a true story and translated by Lara Vergnaud, Sarr’s novel — about a Senegalese writer brought low by a plagiarism scandal — asks sharp questions about the state of African literature in the West.

THE NEW NATURALS by Gabriel Bump

In Bump’s engrossing new novel, a young Black couple, mourning the loss of their newborn daughter and disillusioned with the world, start a utopian society — but tensions both internal and external soon threaten their dreams.

NORTH WOODS by Daniel Mason

Mason’s novel looks at the occupants of a single house in Massachusetts over several centuries, from colonial times to present day. An apple farmer, an abolitionist, a wealthy manufacturer: The book follows these lives and many others, with detours into natural history and crime reportage.

NOT EVEN THE DEAD by Juan Gómez Bárcena

An ex-conquistador in Spanish-ruled, 16th-century Mexico is asked to hunt down an Indigenous prophet in this novel by a leading writer in Spain, splendidly translated by Katie Whittemore. The epic search stretches across much of the continent and, as the author bends time and history, lasts centuries.

THE NURSERY by Szilvia Molnar

“I used to be a translator and now I am a milk bar.” So begins Molnar’s brilliant novel about a new mother falling apart within the four walls of her apartment.

OUR SHARE OF NIGHT by Mariana Enriquez

This dazzling, epic narrative, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, is a bewitching brew of mystery and myth, peopled by mediums who can summon “the Darkness” for a secret society of wealthy occultists seeking to preserve consciousness after death.

PINEAPPLE STREET by Jenny Jackson

Jackson’s smart, dishy debut novel embeds readers in an upper-crust Brooklyn Heights family — its real estate, its secrets, its just-like-you-and-me problems. Does money buy happiness? “Pineapple Street” asks a better question: Does it buy honesty?

THE REFORMATORY by Tananarive Due

Due’s latest — about a Black boy, Robert, who is wrongfully sentenced to a fictionalized version of Florida’s infamous and brutal Dozier School — is both an incisive examination of the lingering traumas of racism and a gripping, ghost-filled horror novel. “The novel’s extended, layered denouement is so heart-smashingly good, it made me late for work,” Randy Boyagoda wrote in his review. “I couldn’t stop reading.”

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by Vajra Chandrasekera

Trained to kill by his mother and able to see demons, the protagonist of Chandrasekera’s stunning and lyrical novel flees his destiny as an assassin and winds up in a politically volatile metropolis.

SAME BED DIFFERENT DREAMS by Ed Park

Double agents, sinister corporations, slasher films, U.F.O.s — Park’s long-awaited second novel is packed to the gills with creative elements that enliven his acerbic, comedic and lyrical odyssey into Korean history and American paranoia.

TAKE WHAT YOU NEED by Idra Novey

This elegant novel resonates with implication beyond the taut contours of its central story line. In Novey’s deft hands, the complex relationship between a young woman and her former stepmother hints at the manifold divisions within America itself.

THIS OTHER EDEN by Paul Harding

In his latest novel, inspired by the true story of a devastating 1912 eviction in Maine that displaced an entire mixed-race fishing community, Harding turns that history into a lyrical tale about the fictional Apple Island on the cusp of destruction.

TOM LAKE by Ann Patchett

Locked down on the family’s northern Michigan cherry orchard, three sisters and their mother, a former actress whose long-ago summer fling went on to become a movie star, reflect on love and regret in Patchett’s quiet and reassuring Chekhovian novel.

THE UNSETTLED by Ayana Mathis

This novel follows three generations across time and place: a young mother trying to create a home for herself and her son in 1980s Philadelphia, and her mother, who is trying to save their Alabama hometown from white supremacists seeking to displace her from her land.

VICTORY CITY by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s new novel recounts the long life of Pampa Kampana, who creates an empire from magic seeds in 14th-century India. Her world is one of peace, where men and women are equal and all faiths welcome, but the story Rushdie tells is of a state that forever fails to live up to its ideals.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by Cat Sebastian

This queer midcentury romance — about reporters who meet at work, become friends, move in together and fall in love — lingers on small, everyday acts like bringing home flowers with the groceries, things that loom large because they’re how we connect with others.

WESTERN LANE by Chetna Maroo

In this polished and disciplined debut novel, an 11-year-old Jain girl in London who has just lost her mother turns her attention to the game of squash — which in Maroo’s graceful telling becomes a way into the girl’s grief.

WITNESS by Jamel Brinkley

Set in Brooklyn, and featuring animal rescue workers, florists, volunteers, ghosts and UPS workers, Brinkley’s new collection meditates on what it means to see and be seen.

Y/N by Esther Yi

In this weird and wondrous novel, a bored young woman in thrall to a boy band buys a one-way ticket to Seoul.

YELLOWFACE by R.F. Kuang

Kuang’s first foray outside of the fantasy genre is a breezy and propulsive tale about a white woman who achieves tremendous literary success by stealing a manuscript from a recently deceased Asian friend and passing it off as her own.

[lokisprettygirl]

Hey I love your stuff so I thought I'd ask, I'm thinking of starting writing as a hobby so do you have any ideas about how to start and at what point should you start posting? Is it okay to write about anyone? How do you know its good or not? And how does tumblr work, you just start posting and people read? I'm a bit confused and I'd be really grateful if you could guide me a bit. Sorry if I'm being a biatch.

You're certainly not being a bitch my dear. Thank you for asking but all I can say in response is that don't think too much about your writing skills when you're starting to post on Tumblr, it really doesn't matter unless of course grabbing appraisal is your only motivation to write here which I'm sure it's not.

Just post whenever you're done with a piece. I wrote this, it's cringe and full of mistakes but I'd never fix them as it makes me realise how far i have come but i wrote this in an hour and posted it almost instantly on a whim without thinking of it. I didn't think it would get even 5 likes but it got 50 notes in one day and I was overwhelmed to say the least. It helped that there were no expectations on my behalf, I just wanted to share it. Even if you think it's not good there will be people who'd love it, i guarantee you that.

Since I have been writing for Daemon only a bunch of people are reading my fics and I'm so grateful for that.

It's definitely okay to write about anyone you want but having a muse helps alot with inspiration and motivation, loki awakened something in me, before him I never thought I'd ever write my thoughts even though i have been daydreaming all my life so write for someone who's plaguing your thoughts every waking moment.

On Tumblr there's no algorithm, you get what you look for, so whenever you're posting a fic , make sure to add tags below for ex if you're writing for Loki with a female reader in mind and it's a fluffy story, put #loki x female reader fluff in the tags so everyone who's looking for the tag will be able to see your post.

Again don't think this much, it's Tumblr, you're not competing for the Booker Prize, just be yourself and bring that to your writing 💞

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Falling - III - How You've Realized You've Fallen and It's Too Late To Go Back

A story I had in my WIP for the last few months and in my head since seeing the Old Guard.

Booker x Female Reader!with a sister

Warnings: Throughout the story mention of depressive behaviour, endangerment of others and one self, SMUT! 18+ DO NOT READ THIS. This is the FINAL PART. I'll consider writing more for this if I ever get inspiration to strike, but for the time being it's the last one.

He sought your care

You took it upon yourself to go take a coffee in that little shop every other week. Not even once after that first time you touched each other again.

It was a taboo you both silently agreed on. Him because he thought he would break you, you because you thought that you were afraid of what this man could do to you.

It only made things worse.

Way, way, worse.

The tension between the two was so palpable that your sister started poking sticks in it just for fun. He would sometimes pick you up from your apartment, and she’d be opening the door with innuendos barely covered through a thin veil of sarcasm.

It was hell. She was making it very uncomfortable and you could not find it in yourself to keep apologizing to Booker every time she did that. After a while, he only rolled his eyes at her antics.

He enjoyed spending time with you, exchanging about books and literature. He was surprised to learn that a doctor could be so well-read.

“My Mom was sick for a long time when I was in college. The first year I had literature as a major. The second year I switched and restarted in medicine instead. She died a little before my graduation.”

He never mentioned it again, silently voicing the shared grief he felt by deeply looking into your eyes. You thought it would burn you whole if he ever touched you again.

One afternoon, you decided to stay in your apartment. Just because it was pouring outside and you did not feel like going out. Booker seemed to agree with you so you prepared coffee and tea and put them on the coffee table, turning halfway so you could see him sitting next to you on the couch.

He was caressing the edges of the cup without drinking from it.

“Something the matter?”

Your voice startled him.

“No. Nothing.”

You take a sip of your tea before putting your cup back down on the table.

“Are you sure? You seem… - I’m sure.”

His tone was dry and left a bruise right through you. He leaned back an arm outstretched on the back of the couch. He ran a hand over his mouth, seemingly thinking about what he had just done.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It wasn’t fair of me…”

You reached out for his hand but he pulled it out of your reach.

“I… I can’t do this anymore. - What do you mean? - We can’t keep seeing each other.”

Your blood heats up in your veins. You put your glasses away, as it kept falling off your nose.

“Why? Did I do something? - No. Absolutely not. It’s just… The way this is going… It can’t go that way. - Why?!”

You sat up, head held high.

“Why? Booker, I can take it. I can take almost anything, but if you keep things from me I’m not answering for any of my future reactions. - I… Don’t make this more complicated than it should be! We have to stop before… - Before what?! - Before I hurt you. - How do you mean? - I mean before you get hurt. It’s simple. I don’t want you to get hurt. - But you’re hurting me right now.”

He rose, his eyes meeting yours. Two pools of pain and incomprehension for him to blame himself for. He was up to leave in a split second.

“I’m… This will hurt way less than what you could be risking just by being with me. - And who are you to decide that for me? - I… I’m only trying to protect you!

You’re not protecting me! You’re protecting yourself! You’re protecting your secrets and your past and I’ve never ever pressured you to tell me anything about these and I won’t start now. But don’t pretend you’re protecting me when you’re not…”

You’re both standing up now, almost ready to go at each other’s throats.

“You don’t understand, do you? - If you don’t explain shit to me, then no I can’t understand! - I can’t have you hurt. You could die! -…What?”

You swallowed hard as he ran a hand through his hair.

“My line of work… I met a lot of dangerous people who would not have hesitated to hurt me. They still do. They could come after you and try to hurt you. That’s why we need to stop seeing each other.”

Mild lie to cover up his past. Again. How could he tell you who he was without scaring you for good?

You took it in for a moment. It felt like he was trying to rip you apart. You believed him when he said he had people threatening him, you believed he might be a danger to you, and you believed something bad could happen. You also trusted him not to hurt you on purpose, to be there when you needed him too, and more importantly, that you wanted to be there when he needed you.

“…But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to just exit my life like that, that’s… - We don’t have any other choice. - You don’t. I do. I still have agency. I can choose whether or not I want to be with you… And this might seem crazy but I really do.”

Your face looked heartbroken and hurt and in pain and tears. You went to him and wrapped your arms around him. Old books, warmth, drumming heartbeat. You always wondered what he would feel like up close.

“I won’t let you go. - Please… - I won’t. I can’t. I just can’t…”

You stepped back, grabbing his face in your hands, his mouth agape, his eyes watering, visibly out of breath. He took ahold of your wrists ready to pull you off.

“I…”

You knew it wouldn’t be enough for him to stay, but you said it anyway.

“Booker… Sebastien, je ne peux pas parce que… parce que je t’aime. »

[I can’t because… because I love you.]

He frowned, feeling uneasy as he heard his name. His hands stilled on yours, searching your eyes for a reason not to believe you. You moved a little closer afraid he would step back, your breath mingling with his before his body crashed into yours.

You seek out each other*

His cheeks are prickly under your palms, but his hair is soft as you slip your fingers into his locks. His arms are holding you tightly against him, his tongue caressing your lower lip, your hands caressing every inch of him you can get access to. He doesn’t stop you, only trying to bring your body impossibly closer to his pushing your lower back to meet you stomach to stomach the fabric of your shirt bunching up, revealing a little of your skin to him, as you push his shir off of his shoulder then his t-shirt, separating only for a second his eyes never leaving yours hunger painted there in all the best ways, he helps you out of your shirt leaving you bare for him to see, your covered ass against him as he slips his hands over your stomach and hovers over your breasts one finger at a time, tease your sensitive skin, his beard bruises deliciously the dips of your shoulder as he leaves kisses along the line of your shoulder blades and your clavicles dipping his head to your collarbones, never stopping caressing you as you were touching him everywhere you could, his neck, his cheeks, his hair, the nape of his neck, the early birth of his back, his chest, his shoulders, his arms, he would not stop himself from touching you devouring you with his eyes as much as his hands.

“Bedroom.”

Your heavily breathed plea, makes him pick you up and grunt in your ear as he nips the earlobe, you reach the bed, closing the door unceremoniously, he sits you there at the edge of the bed, still a bit dazzled by what just happened. You bit your lip in anticipation as he kneels before you kissing your mouth thoroughly, nipping on your lower lip, before dipping his head into your neck, your breasts and down as you lower yourself down on the bed, back arched as he removes your pants. You’re turned on but not enough to his taste as he settles without a word between your legs your panties on one of your ankles. He’s bathed in the setting sun and you can see his eyes grow in anticipation at the vision of your pussy. He presses his tongue against your clitoris and you whimper. He chuckles before doing it again. And again. And again, circling your clit and sucking on it and licking every part of your pussy clean in the most filthy way possible.

You want to see him, and you can but through your eyes, your glasses off, you can only see the shadow of him, a light shining on him and making his irises look as dark with desire as they’ve ever been. You don’t tell him to stop, you can only mewl and moan and open your mouth without any sound at all in the hopes he will make you come.

He doesn’t.

“What?!”

He doesn’t say a word as you up, your pussy dripping on the sheets, ready to explode as he pulls down his pants and gets rid of them now hovering over you. He’s frowning still, your cum on his lips and beard as he kisses you senseless. You don’t mind.

“What you said earlier…

It was all true…”

He doesn’t add a word. His hand comes to caress your cheek, kiss your nose, and your temple, and stroke your collarbone. He was never good with words ironically. Only with actions. Only in battle. Whoever said that love was like a battlefield might have been right. His love was like his fighting: violent, unmerciful but efficient.

He pushes his dick into you without another warning.

You bite your lip so hard, that you thought you had broken the skin there. He soothes you, his finger against the sensitive skin, he goes and holds your hands above your head. He starts moving and you swear even at this slow pace you close your eyes and you can see stars.

“Regarde Moi…” [Look at me…]

You open your eyes, openly watching him as reaches down to tease your clit. For a split second, you wonder how he does it without straining a muscle. The pleasure elicited by his action makes you forget all about it though. His rhythm goes a bit quicker, your legs high on his waist, yourself rendered incapable of touching him, arching your back eager to be close to him. He lets go of your hands and you start touching everywhere you can grabbing his ass to bring him closer to you, your breasts against his chest, your hand now in his hair as his head dips in your shoulder, his ragged breath tattooed on your heated skin, his rhythm picks up in speed as he lets go of your clit and intertwines your hands together, you can feel your pussy seizing on his dick on the verge of climax, you can feel his arms tremble no longer able to hold him up. He pushes a kiss on your throat, on your jaw on your lips, his tongue on yours. He pulls back looking at you with all the desire in the world. HIs voice is weak and strained.

“I… I love you too.”

He doesn’t add another word as your chest explodes in warmth and lust and heat. He pushes into you again and again and again before you feel your orgasm creep up on you, a silent scream escaping your lips as your pleasure floods in your body and on the sheets, he keeps pushing before grabbing onto you like a lifeline, bruises on your waist to be found in the morning, grunting in your ear.

Collapsing on top of you, still inside you, he moves to push himself off but you stop him. He settles there, his head on your chest as you run your hand through his hair, both cooling off.

You cover both of yourselves up with a blanket.

He’s fast asleep, his breath and beard tickling your skin.

[honeybear-yammy]

Snowy Nights

Warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, angsty but also fluffy

Pairings: John B Routledge x Female Reader

Summary: In which Y/N gets into a fight with her ex boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. After Rafe kicks her out, John B finds Y/N an takes her home to take care of her.

Character: John B Routledge (played by Chase Stokes)

Show: Outer Banks

© Honeybear-Yammy, please do not steal, translate, copy, or transfer my work.

Tears streamed down your face as you stood there listening to Rafe yell at you for something you didn’t even do. You had been with Topper all day and he tried to accuse you of cheating on you with Topper.

“You’re such a slut! I should’ve known you would’ve cheated on me with one of my best friends!” Rafe yelled.

“I never cheated on you Rafe!” You yelled. “Topper is my friend too! Am I not allowed to have guy friends?!” You yelled.

“No you’re not allowed to have guy friends because I didn’t trust other men around you but, now I should’ve known it was you I couldn’t trust! You’re such a whore you just couldn’t help yourself could you?” Rafe yelled more.

“I didn’t do shit Rafe!” You yelled. The sad thing was you had never cheated on you but, from seeing his phone a few times, he was cheating on you with someone else and then he really had the audacity to accuse you of cheating.

“I know you did you whore.” He glared.

“I cheated?!” You yelled. “Oh that’s funny because I know you have been cheating on me for months Rafe!” You yelled. Rafe looked at you shocked. He thought he had hid it well from you. He never expected you to find out.

“Yeah! I know Rafe! I know about the sluts you have stored on the side!” You yelled.

“Get out.” Rafe growled glaring at you. Tears were still streaming down your face like a water fall.

“I- Rafe.. you know I have no where else to go.. you’re not even going to give me time to pack my things and find a new place to live?” You sniffled.

“As far as your stuff.. oh you’re not getting it back.. I’m burning your shit. You don’t deserve any of it. Now get out before I force you out.” Rafe said.

“I- what the hell Rafe?! You can’t just burn my stuff!” You yelled.

“I don’t care because I will. Now I asked you twice now to get out so you have one more chance, get out now.” Rafe glared at you.

“No I want my stuff back first.” You said. Rafe growled and slapped you across the face hard. You jumped when he did so. You had been dealing with his abuse for years now but it only happened when he got super mad but, now it was from hate.

Rafe grabbed you by your hair and pulled you to the door. You screamed as he pulled on your hair harshly.

“Let go of me!” You yelled in pain.

“Shut the fuck up bitch!” He yelled. You were sobbing as he dragged you along. Rafe opened the front door and pushed you into the snow harshly. You yelled as you slowly sat up on your knees shivering from the cold and from pain.

Rafe had been beating you during your fight and the push out the door caused more damage to your body. You were sitting there in the snow sobbing.

“Don’t you dare fucking come back.” Rafe said and went inside shutting the door, leaving you outside by yourself. The only thing you had was your phone. He had your money, your clothing, he had everything you owned except for your phone and the clothing on your back. You didn’t even have a jacket.

You got up and wrapped your arms around yourself shivering as you began to walk away. You didn’t know where you were going to go. You officially didn’t even have a home now. You had lived with Rafe and he just kicked you out of your own home. He kicked you out during the holidays and you had no one now.

You were homeless now. You had nothing. You knew that if you didn’t find somewhere warm to go that you could die from the cold. You knew you couldn’t give up and kept walking.

You had been walking for so long now. You don’t even know how long you had been walking for. It was pitch black out and you had no idea where you were going. Your hands were red along with your nose and cheeks and parts of your body were starting to go numb or were already numb.

You were exhausted and you knew you needed to stop and rest. You looked around and you could vaguely see the houses. By the looks of the ones you could kinda see, it looked like you were now in The Cut.

As you were walking you spotted a van parked at a house. You debated if you should try to spend the night in there. It was worth a shot, it was freezing and you had nowhere else to go. If the person who owned it found you, you could just try to explain what happened.

You walked over to the van and quietly got in. There was a blanket in there so you curled up in the blanket and laid down falling asleep.

There was a noise that woke you up. It was still dark out. You assumed that you had only been asleep for less than an hour. You sat up. Was the owner of the van out here? You saw the light of a flashlight outside and laid back down to try to hide yourself.

Then the vans back doors opened making you jump. There was a man standing there with the flashlight pointed at you.

“Y/n?” The man asked. You noticed his voice. You grabbed your phone and turned on the flash light on your phone. It was John B. Rafe was terrible to him and his friends, you always felt so bad for them so you were always kind to them.

“John B?” You asked. John B got into the van closing the doors and turned on the light inside the van.

“What are you doing here? Sleeping in my van.” He asked.

“I- I-” You were about to explain but started sobbing.

“Hey, hey.. what is it?” He asked softly pulling you in for a hug. You sobbed putting your face in his chest and held onto him. He just held you giving you time to calm down before asking you again.

“What happened y/n?” He asked, worry filing his eyes.

“I- Rafe accused me of cheating on him with Topper but I didn’t and then we got into a fight and he made the fight physical so I confronted him about how I knew he was cheating on me and he threw me out. I only have the clothes I am wearing right now and my phone. He has all my money I- he has everything I own.” You sniffled.

“Well we could try to get it back from him tomorrow.” John B said.

“No.. he said he’s not going to give me my shit back.” You sniffled. His jaw clenched. You could tell he was beyond pissed.

“Rafe shouldn’t be treating you like this. You are one of the most amazing people I know, you don’t deserve this shit, y/n I am so sorry he did this to you.” He said.

“I just never want to see him again.” You sobbed.

“I know. And you don’t have to see him again.” He said. “But I think if he is being like this we should call the cops tomorrow morning and get your stuff back then get him hopefully charged for hurting you.” He said.

You leaned into him. He picked you up getting out of the van and took you into his house. He laid you down on the couch and went to go to his room but you whined and grabbed his arm. He looked back at you corking his brow.

“Please stay with me..” You whined tiredly.

“Alright..” He said as he laid down beside you. John B couldn’t lie, he had liked you for so long now. Little did he know, you had feelings for him too. You looked up at him and smiled softly before leaning up to kiss him.

He was shocked you kissed him but kissed back. You pulled back and he looked at you confused.

“Why did you kiss me?” He chuckled.

“Because.. I’ve liked you for a long time now. Why.. did you not like it?” You frowned.

“I- no no.. I liked it and the truth is.. I like you too.” He said.

“Really?” You smiled.

“Yeah how couldn’t I like you.” He smiled. You giggled and blushed. “Also.. if you have no where to stay, you can stay with me if you want.” He said.

“I- really.. you would let me stay?” You asked.

“Of course..” He said. You smiled and snuggled into his arms.

“Thank you John B..” You said. He smiled and kissed your head holding you close.

“No problem, I would never hesitate to let you stay.” He said. The two of you then fell asleep snuggled into eachother. You felt so happy, happier than you ever did with Rafe. John B made you feel happy and safe. And you couldn’t think of anyone better to spend the holidays with.

Author's Note: tysm for reading!

Taglist ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

@onmykneesforrafe @lovedetlost @drewbooooo @ceceswriting @my-baexht-ls @n-kkpoly @vashappeningkevin @gillybear17 @luversgirl

[babeydollx]

can you make a fic about the scene in season 2 where sarah gets shot by rafe and john b takes her to that doctor or whatever and she almost dies and all.

except y/n is sarah?

this scene was heartbreaking 🥺😭

Prayers

Warnings: cursing, angst, violence, shooting, Rafe shooting Y/N, Y/N almost kind of dies, just some heartbreaking shit

Pairings: John B Routledge x Female Cameron Reader

Summary: After you, John B, Cleo, Stubbs, and Terrance make a plan to get the gold it all goes into motion smoothly until Rafe shoots you.

Scene: S.2 E.2: The Heist and S.2 E.3: Prayers

Word Count: 4k (ik this is so long lmao)

a/n: ugh this scene was heartbreaking, it made me cry.

This is seen from Y/N's POV and John B's POV.

John B Routledge Masterlist | OBX Masterlist | Navigation

© Maybanks-Luver, please do not steal or translate my work

(gif credit to @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo)

John B and I slowly crept around  trying to get the gold back. We had came up with this plan with Cleo and her friends. Since Rafe and Ward came down to the Bahamas to get the gold back home, you all decided that now was your chance. 

Cleo and Terrance were dressed up as construction workers and were up blocking the road for when they would come and you and John B were hiding. The two of you watched Ward and Rafe drive up and stop in front of them. Terrance waved the orange flag when they came up, telling them to stop.

"Come on. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go." You could hear Terrance say to Cleo. 

"What's going on?" Ward asked as you and John B stayed back with your faces covered, watching everything happening.

"Sorry." Terrance said. 

"Road's closed. Nobody coming through!" Cleo said. 

"Well, can you let just one truck through?" Ward asked. "We just... we kinda gotta get through today. We got a delivery that-" Cleo then cut Ward off.

"I don't think so. Sinkhole. Massive." Cleo said as she walked over to the passengers side of the truck where Rafe was. 

"I'm begging you guys, if-" Before Ward could finish, Terrance pulled out a gun and pointed it at Ward. 

"Let me see your hands." Terrance said. 

"Don't do anything stupid." Cleo said as she put her knife to Rafe's throat. 

"Get out. Easy." Terrance said as he and Cleo made Ward and Rafe get out of the truck. 

"Listen to your papa." Cleo said as Rafe got out of the car.

"Everything nice and easy." Terrance said. "This is what we'll do. You're gonna walk to the sign. You'll put those signs on the side for me. You go to that sign. You go to that sign." Terrance said as he held the gun to Ward, forcing him to walk over to the large barrels with the signs in front of them.

"Move the damn sign." Terrance said. Ward did so and moved the sign, putting it to the side of the road. "You too buddy. Put it on the side of the road." Terrance said to Rafe. Rafe did the same thing, grabbing the sign and tossing it to the side of the road.

"Right over there." Cleo said.

"Go to the barrel." Terrance said. Ward did as he was told. "Put the barrel to the side of the road. Put the barrels on the side." Terrance said as Ward picked up the barrel and threw it on the side of the road. 

"Throw another barrel and I'll blow your damn head off." Terrance said to Ward. You and John B still watched quietly, waiting for the time. 

"Take two steps back. Easy! Get on your knees!" Terrance said to them. Rafe and Ward both had their hands up as they did as they were told. 

"On the ground. Come on!" Cleo said to Rafe and practically forced him to his knees. 

"Put your hands up." Terrance said.

"Who are you?" Ward asked.

"Kiss the ground." Terrance said.

"Who are you?" Ward asked again. 

"I'm the Royal Commission for the redistribution of wealth. Kiss the ground." Terrance said. Ward finally did as he was told.

"You guys are idiots. Our escorts are right behind us." Rafe said. 

"A wise guy, huh?" Cleo asked. 

"Okay. It's time to go." John B whispered to you. 

"Go! Go! Hurry!" Terrance yelled to the two of you. The two of you ran out of your hiding spot and ran for the truck. "Go! Hurry! Hurry!" Terrance yelled to you both again. As Ward was laying on the ground, he peeked over to see who Terrance was yelling at and saw you with John B. His eyes widened slightly and he started to get up slightly.

"Y/N?" Ward said.

"Get down!" Terrance yelled at Ward. 

"Y/N! You're alive!" Ward yelled. You ran to the passengers seat of the truck and pulled your mask down then finally looked over at your father. "Baby! You're alive!" Ward yelled again. Ward got up and was about to run over to you.

"Don't talk to her! Stay down!" Cleo yelled.

"Stay back." John B said. 

"Hey! Stay down!" Cleo yelled again.

"Y/N! You're alive!" Ward yelled once more, overjoyed. 

"Do not talk to her!" Cleo yelled.

"I love you, baby!" Ward yelled as Terrance grabbed him and put the gun to him again. "I love you, baby! I can't believe it!" Ward yelled.

"Stay down!" Cleo yelled at him again. John B then pulled out his gun and pointed it towards Ward as you stayed behind John B. 

"Stay back." John B said getting ready to put his finger on the trigger.

"No! No, no!" Terrance yelled as Ward was yelling and crying for you as well.

"Stay right there! Stop!" John B yelled. As this was happening, Rafe had got up and pulled his gun out, pointing it at you both.

"Hey!" Rafe yelled.

"No!" Terrance yells. Rafe fires the gun as Cleo smacks it out of his hand. Cleo then pointed the gun at Rafe as Terrance his Ward on the back of the head with the gun. 

"We gotta go." John B says to you. You got into the truck, kind of having a hard time. John B got into the drivers seat. John B then drives off as Rafe and Ward yell at the two of you. You knew that Terrance and Cleo would be following the two of you.

"Shit, they're coming. Shit." John B said as he tried to drive the truck faster. You look back to see how close they are to you guys. "Come on. It's too heavy, Y/N. The gold's weighing us down." John B said. 

"Is there anyway to make this thing go faster?" You asked. 

"I'm going as fast as this hunk of shit can go. Hold on!" John B said.

"What?!" You asked. John B grunted as he turned the truck, almost flipping it over as he did so. You both ended up loosing the people that were following you. You sat there and put your hands on your head and then breathed out. John B then drove both of you into a field of tall grass, the truck stopping.  John B looked around and then looked behind him to see if they followed you and he smiled.

"Y/N, we got the gold. Y/N, we did it. We did it. Oh my god." John B said. As he said so, you started to feel a terrible pain in your stomach and looked down. You then saw that there was a hole in your jeans, the fabric around the hole soaked in blood.

You lifted your hand up to look at it and saw blood on your fingers. John B then looked over at you. 

"I'm shot." You managed to get out. John B quickly pulled his bandana off of his neck . You were whimpering.

"Uh. I need you to push down, okay? Look, this is going to hurt, but I need you to push down." John B said as he put the banda on your bullet wound and pushed down. You gasped loudly as he did so.

"I'm sorry." He said as you whimpered and whined, tears filling your eyes. "I know it hurts. We've gotta stop the bleeding." He said. "Push down. Push down. Look, we gotta take this shirt off." He said trying to stay calm.

"I'm going to push down. You take the shirt off." He said. You whimpered and started to cry as you took the shirt off. " Okay, here you go." He said. "Okay. Okay, lean back. Lean back." He said as he got you to lean back.

"Just stay as still as possible." He said to you as you tried to breathe deeply. "I'm gonna call Terrance." John B said as he dialed in his number. You then herd Terrance pick up.

"Did you get the gold?" Terrance asked.

"Hey, look, we got it." John B said. 

"All right!" Terrance yelled.

"You did it!" You herd Cleo yell.

"We got it, but listen, we have bigger problems. Y/N's been shot." John B said.

"What?!" You herd Terrance say.

"Yes, she's been shot in the gut. I need your help. We're up in the cane field, a mile up on the left." John B said. He finished his phone call with Terrance after he tried to tell him where he was. You panted as your hand was now covered in blood as you tried to keep the bandana pressed down on your wound. 

"Help is on the way, okay? Just stay with me." John B said. Terrance and Cleo found both of you and pulled into the spot. As they were, John B got you out of the car. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and he got his hand around your waist as he helped you walk over to them.

"Shit!" Cleo said as she got out of the car and ran over to help you.

"I just texted you an address of a doctor! Tell him I sent you!" Terrance said. 

"Okay, it's a hospital, right?" John B asked as him and Cleo helped you into the white truck that Cleo and Terrance arrived in.

"No. You wanna get caught?" Terrance asked.

"I really don't give a shit, T. She needs help." John B said. 

"He's better than any of the doctors in that shitcan. He's my guy. He got ya." Terrance said as he walked over to you. 

"Y/N, look, you gon' be okay. Okay, baby? Just breathe, relax. Everything's good." Terrance said to you as he held your hand. "We're gonna meet at the wharf in eight hours. No more. It is hot as hell out there." Terrance said to John B.

"My guy's good. He's gonna take take of you." Terrance said to you as you fought off tears. 

"And this is him, right?" John B asked as he showed Terrance on his phone. 

"That's him. He got you. He's a good guy." Terrance said as he let go of your hand and you finally began to cry a little.

"T? Thank you." You said as you stuttered and fought for air slightly.

"We good, baby." Terrance said to you. 

"Hey, hey. You're gonna need some money." Cleo said as he gave John B the money. "John B, take care of my girl. Y/N! You're a fighter, girl. Hold on! Hold on!" Cleo said to you as she ran away from the truck window before hitting the hood a few times. " Go! Go! Go! Go!" Cleo yelled. John B drove sped off. 

"What if they... what if they take the gold?" You managed to get out.

"Look, screw the gold okay? I'll take care of you. We'll get you to the doctor." John B said. You herd the GPS say that the doctor was 4 miles away. You whimpered and all you could focus on was how much pain you were in. 

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. It's okay." John B said as he tried to go faster. "I'm just gonna follow this GPS, okay?" He said as you whimpered. "Just hang on. Everything's gonna be fine." He said as you began to cry more. The GPS began to give instructions again but, he dropped his phone on the floor as he was trying to drive. 

"Shit.." He mumbled. "Shit! I need the directions." He said as he was trying to grab his phone while trying to focus on the road and drive. You groaned and whimpered. "Y/N, it's okay. It's okay." He said to you as he tried to grab his phone.

"John B, car!" You yelled when he almost drove into another car, trying to grab his phone. 

"Shit!" He yelled and quickly swerved, missing the car. You began to start sobbing loudly now, you gave up on trying to keep your composure. John B finally grabbed his phone off of the truck floor and looked at it quickly to see the destination. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

~ JOHN B'S POV ~

We finally get to where we were suppose to be and I park. "Hold on, Y/N. I'm coming." I say as I get out of the truck before running around to her side to help her out. "Here we go. I got you, okay?" I said as I wrap her arm around my shoulders.

"Okay. Ready? Let's go." I said as I help her out of the car. She groaned as she got out. "I got you. I got you. I got you." I repeat quietly as we began to walk. "Do you guys know where the doctor is?" I ask some of the people sitting.

"In there." The man says. 

"Thank you." She manages to get out. We go to where we need to be and I begin to press the button for the buzzer. I keep pressing it over and over again before hitting the wall a few times. "Come on!" I yell slightly.

"Yeah, what do you want?" The man says through the speaker.

"I'm looking for Dr. Nygard." I say.

"Dr. Nygard's not here." The man says. 

"Okay, well, do you know where I can find him?" I ask. 

"Who are you?" The man asks.

"I'm a friend of Terrance's. Okay, look, somebody's been shot." I said.

"Aw, hell." The man says. "There's a camera above to your left. Look at it and let me see your faces." The man says. Her and I both look up at the camera. "All right, go through the bar. There's some stairs on the right." The man says.

"Okay. Thank you. Thank you. Let's go." I said. I once again help her to get inside. "Doc!" I yell.

"Bring her in here!" The man from the speaker yells.

"Doc, where are you?!" I yell.

"Here! Right here!" The doctor yells. We get over to the stairs to see a man with gray hair and glasses standing at the top of the steps.

"Hey! Hey!" I yell.

" Yeah, come on. Oh!" The doctor yells. "It's not her head, is it?" The doctor asks.

"No, it's not her head. Come on, Y/N." I say. 

"I don't do heads." The man says. 

"You're good. You got two more. Two more steps." I say to her as she groans. 

"Whoa. Whoa." The man says as he sees her wound. There is blood on her hand, blood covering the right side of her shorts and blood running down her right leg. The doctor tells me where to bring her and I do as I am told.

"Where do you want me to put her, Doc?" I ask as we get inside.

"Take her straight down the hallway here." The doctor says. "Damn! She's in worse shape than I am." The doctor says. "Put her put on that table, right there." He says. I put her down on the table and she whimpers loudly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I say to her. She whimpers and her eyes begin to close. "Stay with me. Stay with me." I say to her. "Tell me what to do, Doc." I say. The doctor pulls some rubber gloves on and then gets ready.

"Let's have a look at this thing." He says as he unbuttons her shorts. I help remove the fabric away from her wound. "So, what do we have here? Ah, oh boy." He says. 

"She... she's gonna be okay, right?" I ask.

"That remains to be seen." He says. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

She is now passed out so the doctor can get the bullet out of her and stitch her up. 

"Put some pressure on that wound." He says. 

"Yes sir." I say as I do as I am told. "What kinda doctor are you?" I ask. 

"I'm not a doctor." He says. "Not in the eyes of the law, anyway. I'm more like a service provider." He says. I stand there confused.

"What... what does that mean?" I ask.

"Tell you what, if you find the cure for arthritis in med school, the higher-ups don't like it very much." He says. "You know, the powers that be don't give a damn about curing anything. All they care about is the green stuff, the money, the bottom line." He says.

"Follow me?" He asks.

"Yeah, totally. Is there anything else I should be doing? I really don't know anything about this." I say. 

"Yeah, just be quiet a bit. Take that off and let me study it a minute." He says. I take off the cloth that is covering her bullet wound and Dr. Nygard takes a look at it. "She's bleedin' a little on the outside, and she's bleedin' a lot on the inside." He says.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"It means I can go in." He says as he grabs a medical knife and gets ready to get started. 

"You're... you're gonna sanitize that, right?" I ask. 

"Good call, kid." The doctor says.

"Just tryin' to help." I say. 

"Now when I do go in, she's gonna lose a lot of blood." He says. 

"Okay." I say.

"And it may kill her." He says. 

"No. No.." I say.

"Or it may not kill her." He says. "Point is I can't be held liable for this either way." He says. 

"You're not liable, all right?" I say.

"Yeah. There's one more thing. Job like this costs 4K." he says. I try not to cry and I get the hunk of gold out of my bag that JJ, Kiara, Pope and I had melted down a little while back. 

"This is all I've got." I whisper. The doctor grabs the gold and looks down at it and then back up at me again.

"Your shittin' me." He says. He then puts the gold down and grabs the surgical knife again. "Hold that back." He says and I do so.

"Doc. Save her, please.." I say. He doesn't say anything and just gets to work. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Well, that was no garden-variety extraction. I can tell ya that." The doctor says as he finishes stitching up Y/N. "Okay, can you give me the scissors?" He asks. I grab them and then hand them to the doctor.

"And then give me that salty dog, if you would, please." He says. I nod and go over and grab the cup then walk back over and hand it to him. He takes it and drinks what is left in the glass. "Perfecto." He says.

"So, what happens now?" I ask.

"We wait." He says. "And we hope she wakes up." He says before he walks off to get a refill. 

"We're good though, right?" I ask.

"Only time will tell." Dr. Nygard says. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

I sit there beside her with my hands in my hair waiting for her to wake up. I then notice that the monitor is fizzling so I check her pulse on her wrist and her neck. Something's wrong.

"Hey doc. Doc! Come here!" I say. He walks in when I call him.

"Can you feel it?" He asks.

"I can feel it here but not on her wrist." I say. The doctor checks her pulses and sighs.

"Oh, shit." He says. 

"What do you want... what do you want me to do?" I ask. 

"She's got too much fluid already. More's gonna kill her. She should be waking up." He says. 

"Hey." I say quietly when I see Y/N's eyes slowly open.

"John B.." she says weakly. 

"Hey, Y/N, it's me." I say but then her eyes fall closed again.

"Hang on. I gotta go check something. I'll be right back." He says. 

"Hey.." Y/N says weakly as I caress her left cheek with my thumb. 

"Sleepyhead.." I say quietly.

"It's not here." I hear him say in the other room and I look over as he curses and looks for something. 

"John B?" She says weakly.

"Hey. Hey, you're okay." I say as I turn my attention back to her. 

"I can't feel anything..." She says weakly. 

"No, no, no, no, no. You're okay. It's okay. Just listen to me." I say. 

"God dang! Where is this thing?!" He yells in the other room. 

"What if I don't make it-" She says weakly. 

"Don't talk like that. You're gonna be fine." I say. "We'll leave this creepy doctor's office and everything's gonna be okay." I say. "I need you to stay with me, okay?" I say. Her eyes start to flutter shut and the monitor starts to beep rapidly.

"Doc?" I say. 

"Hold on. I'll be right there." He says. All of the sudden the monitor then flatlined. 

"Doc! Hey!" I yell. 

"Do you know CPR?" He asks.

"No." I say. 

"That's a sternum. Push on it until I tell you to stop." He says. 

"Okay." I say.

"And try not to break her ribs." He says. I begin to preform CPR on her. After a few minutes of doing CPR, he tells me to stop. He then uses a medical tool to give her air. 

"Okay, go again." He says. I once again begin doing CPR. 

"Stop." He says after I did CPR for a few minutes. "Stop. Stop." He says when I don't stop. He leans down to check to see if he chest is rising. 

"What's wrong? What's... what's going on?" I ask. "What are you doing?" I ask. He doesn't say a word and he begins to walk off. "Where are you going? Help. Help me." I say in tears.

"She's just lost too much blood, kid." He says. "I'll leave you with her." He says as he walks out. I grabbed the thing he used to give her air and tried to give her some air. I then begin to prefore CPR on her as I count. Nothing happens and I begin to cry. 

"Stay with me." I whisper to her as I begin CPR again. 

"Hey, come on." I sob as I give her air again. I very gently hit her cheek a few times before starting CPR again as I sob. "Hey! Please don't die." I sniffle as I cup her face. 

"Come on. Come on! Wake up!" I scream. "Y/N, wake up!" I scream as I begin to do CPR once again. I began to tremble when nothing works and before I know it, I'm sobbing and throwing things around. 

I come back to her and rest my head on her chest for a moment sobbing before looking back up at her. I sit on my knees now face to face with her lifeless body as I sob more. 

"I love you.." I whisper as I gently caress her hair and sniffle. I then rest my head beside her sniffling, completely hopeless. She was gone. Then the monitor begins to beep faintly. Her finger then moves slightly. I check her pulse. She's alive.

"Doc? Doc. Get in here." I say. "You crazy son of a bitch." I whisper. He feels her pulse on her neck and then looks back over to me. He nods and smiles. She's alive...

"She just needs to rest for a few minutes. She'll come around." He says. I walk away from her and go into the other room where he is. "Come in. Have a seat." He says as I shut the door. 

~ Y/N'S POV ~

You wake up on a table with a blanket on you. You can hear the muffled voices of the doctor and John B talking in the other room. You then sit up and wince. You get up off of the table and then head over to the closed doors where John B and the doctor are. You open the doors, slightly stumbling in when you did so.

"Whoa, little lady! You need to go lie down" The doctor says.

"How long did I sleep?" You ask.

"Not long enough." John B says. 

"Can we still make it?" I ask.

"No. No. We- it's over, okay?" John B says. 

"No, it's not." I say as I shake my head.

"Y/N-" John B says but I cut him off.

"We still have an hour." I say.

"You need to rest. You just got shot." John B says. You look down at my self where the bullet wound once was.

"I am fine." You said as you look back up at John B. "We're going." You say.  And the chase for the gold was back on again.

a/n: I hope y'all enjoyed this fic! Sorry ik it's super long!

Taglist: @smokingbeersdrinkingweed @gillybear17 @luversgirl @rafesrings

[writing-imagines]

Can I get D with John B from OBX?

d...amage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all)

You hated to admit it, but sometimes you wished for a different soulmate. Ever since you were a little kid your body was riddled with cuts and bruises.

Even as the two of you got older, your soulmate was always the one to cause injuries. Nearly every morning you would wake up with a new cut/bruise/scrape and it drove you insane. The worst injury by far was the recent black eye your soulmate received. You were horrified when you woke up and discovered the black eye staring back at you.

Of course, these injuries just had to pop up the day your family arrived at the Outer Banks for the summer. Of course, the second Sarah laid eyes on you, she let out a gasp.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?”

“Nothing. I think my soulmate got into a fight last night.” Sarah’s expression quickly went from shocked to curious.

“They got into a fight last night?”

“I think so. I went to bed and my eye was fine. I woke up this morning and had a black eye.” Sarah’s eyes nearly lit up at your explanation. Without hesitation, Sarah grabbed your wrist and dragged you outside.

“Sarah, where are we going?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Sarah continued to drag you until you reached the Cameron’s dock. You stood back as Sarah ran down the dock.

“John B! I need you to get out here, now!” She yelled loud enough for the other end of the island to hear.

“What is it now, Sarah?” A voice called out. You watched as a man in a tattered shirt and old backwards hat climbed down the latter.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Sarah grabbed him by the arm and lead him over to you.

You were shocked to see he sported the same black eye as you as well as a few other small scars. He looked you over for a moment before his eyes widened and his jaw nearly hit the ground.

“John B, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is John B. It looks like you two are soulmates.”

“Wow...” was all he managed to say as he continued to look at you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you...” you nearly mumbled. His shocked expression turned into a smile that made your heart race.

“I’ll give you guys a minute.” Sarah quickly walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

“I can’t believe you’re real. I honestly didn’t think I had a soulmate. If I knew you were real, I would have been a lot more careful.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you didn’t get yourself killed before we met.” His smile grew before cautiously reaching for your hand.

“I’m glad too.” A comfortable silence fell over the two of you. You both continued to stare at one another, simply smiling in amazement that you finally met.

Sometimes you wished for a different soulmate, but you were glad your wishes never came true. Every cut/scrape/bruise was worth it, because they finally lead you to John B.

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Twelve: A Macabre Rite of Passage

AN: You ever lose a post in your drafts? No, just me. Well, that’s what happened here. I didn’t think that was possible lol.

Word Count: 4.6k

Trigger Warnings: none

Taglist: @nerds4life246, @leahnicole1219

Chapter Thirteen:  A Simple Lover’s Quarrel

New York, 1889

On a sunny, New York City afternoon, sunlight shone down on the stately, grimy buildings providing some brightness to the residents below. Creaking of carriage wheels filled the crisp air along with the distinct cries of newsboys, shouting the latest headlines on every available street corner. The busy street was filled with carts selling fruits and vegetables of all kinds to the bustling crowd of New Yorkers, carrying baskets of groceries while children clung to their mother's side or onto their cuddly toys. Couples of young and old strolled on the cobblestone streets, sporting colorful gowns and embroidered suits. Occasionally, stopping to consort with a member of the class below them.

It was just another regular day in the city and Sabine was right in the middle of it.

"Remind me why we're doing this today?" he asked.

Side by side, she walked with Bastien as they did bit of grocery shopping of their own.

Sabine smirked, "Because while we are immortal, we still need to eat," she replied, keeping her voice low.

Steam rose up above the general cheerful chatter of the crowd, coupled with the enticing smells of the competing aromas wafting from the immigrant street vendor's wares.

"Honestly, this is your fault," Sabine stated, adjusting her grip on her own heavy basket. "Someone couldn't keep their hands off me this morning," she pointed out. "We could have been finished by now,"

"Well, someone didn't seem to mind my freshly shaven face..." he trailed off, discretely lowering his lips to her ear. "All over their body," he finished, regaining his posture with a cocky grin.

Her cheeks heated at his words.

"What can I say?" Sabine began, looking over at him. "You cut quite the dash with a scraped chin," she complimented, forcing herself to not touch Bastien's face, a gesture that would be heavily frowned upon.

"I do, don't I?" he remarked, as he gave his clean shaven jaw a stroke.

The two of them passed by rag-tag groups of men and women that walked between the lamp posts. As they crossed over to another street, they walked past a group of middle aged men dressed in sharp suits, smoking on cigars and buying the latest newspapers.

"Wait here will you," Bastien requested. "I must know the latest scandal rocking this city," he quipped, making Sabine smile.

"Go on," she chuckled, flicking her chin out toward the pale faced and rag-adorned newsies ahead of them.

Bastien flashed a smile of his own before moving away from Sabine, leaving her alone on the corner of the sidewalk. Tilting her head up, Sabine briefly admired the cloudless blue sky. She couldn't believe her dreams of coming to New York after had come into fruition. After California, the band of immortals state hopped their way from the West Coast back to the East Coast, residing in big cities where it was easy enough to blend in. There was only one area that they all refused to live in and that was the South.

It seemed like everyday new Jim Crow laws were being enacted...or there was news of another lynching.

The shriek of street children playing in the alleys with a refreshing degree of excitement snapped Sabine from her daze, shaking her head a bit. She had gone into a slight trance and the passing crowd didn't offer her much of a second glance, only if it was to silently question her social status as a colored woman wearing a dress of a middle class woman at best. But Sabine ignored the occasional stares and held her head proudly, waiting for Bastien to return.

"Sabine?"

The voice hit her by surprise and she froze. Nobody knew her real name outside of Bastien, Andy, Nicky, and Josef. The owner of said voice was female, but it sounded weak, frail even. All of which that made it abundantly clear that it was not Andy.

"Sabine?"

Looking from her left to her right, Sabine couldn't find the voice at first only seeing people perusing around the vendors and carriages that trundled along holding the rich. It wasn't until she completely turned around and found herself staring down at an older, black woman, maybe in her late sixties or early seventies.

"May I help you ma'am?" Sabine asked, cocking her head.

"My, my, my," she breathed, her eyes roving over her face. "It's you, it's really you," the woman stated, reaching out to touch her face.

Sabine leaned away from her a little, "Ma'am...I...think you have me confused with someone else," she corrected, but the woman just shook her head.

"I'd know this face from anywhere, so warm and full of love and shaped just like a heart," she remarked. "A mother always knows her daughter's face, Sabine," she said gently.

Sabine nearly fainted from the woman's words.

Her mouth opened and closed, "No, no, you must be mistaken," she said, shaking her head.

The woman gripped onto her arm, "You are, you must be!" she maintained, trying to convince Sabine or maybe herself.

"I-I-"

"Mama, Mama!" another female voice called.

A middle-aged, well dressed woman came hurrying over to them with a parcel in her hand.

"Mama, please let go of the young lady's arm. We don't need to cause a scene in front of all these people," she said, placing her hand on top of her mother's and scanning the crowd nervously.

Sabine glanced around the busy street and sidewalks as well, but no one seemed phased about what was transpiring. In their heads, its just another colored family having a squabble.

"But Emile,"

Once that name came from her lips, Sabine was sure that she was actually going to drop to the ground. Blood rushed to her ears and drummed in its canals, muffling all the sounds surrounding her while she felt heartbeat increase dramatically, it felt like her chest was going to explode.

"Emile. Mama. Here?" Sabine thought.

Faintly, she could hear her older sister and mother arguing with each other.

"See reason Mama, this can't be Sabine, she's too young,"

"It is her, you can't recognize your own sister? She's a Freemen like us,"

"What's going on here?"

Bastien's deep voice is what brought Sabine back down to Earth as she attempted to process if what was happening actually real. His expression was a mixture of seriousness and confusion while tucking his newspaper under his arm. Emile and the older woman instantly became demure at the arrival of Bastien, her mother even going so far as letting go of her arm as if it burned her.

"It's nothing sir, my mother was bit confused," Emile explained, her eyes not quite meeting Bastien's. "It was a mistake, we apologize for wasting your time and disturbing your maid," she said, before quickly walking away arm in arm with her mother from Sabine and Bastien.

"My maid?" he repeated, his brow furrowing and looking in the direction of where the two women went.

Sabine placed her hand on her chest, trying to calm her erratic breathing down which did nothing of the sort.

"Sabine, are you okay?" Bastien inquired, eyes filled with concern.

His hand went to reach to touch her on the waist, but he quickly snatched his hand back. Thank god, he remembered to show restraint.

"Sabine?" he called again, waiting for an answer.

"I think I just ran into my family," she breathed out.

~~~x~~~

"You're acting like a spoiled brat Sabine," Bastien said, opening the door to their home. "You don't get your way for once and you throw a fit," he added, closing the door after Sabine marched inside.

This argument had raged on since the moment they left the street where Sabine had been reunited with her family. They did their best to keep the heated whispers between them, but occasionally Sabine's temper got the better of her and she drew more than a few stares when she lashed out at Bastien. However, once they entered the confines of the safe house, the gloves came off, figuratively and literally.

Sabine slammed down the basket onto a table near the door, "I'm acting like a spoiled brat for wanting to see my family?" she repeated incredulously, as she roughly tugged at her gloves.

Bastien pulled his coat off, "Yes, you are," he insisted, removing his hat and hanging it above his coat. "If that is your family, then they think you're probably dead and it is best that we leave that way,"

Sabine placed her hands on hips and frowned, in utter disbelief at what Bastien said.

"No, it is not," she disagreed, vehemently shaking her head. "Did you see the desperation in her eyes, the way she tightly clung to my arm? After all she has been through in her life, from being enslaved and watching her daughter be ripped away from her. Why should I be the one to make her suffer even more?" she questioned, pointing to herself.

"You're not Sabine!" Bastien replied in exasperation. "She's an old woman, for all we know, she thinks every girl that looks like you might be her daughter," he reasoned, sticking his arm out to the side.

Sabine lifted her brow, "She said my sister's name, Emile," she pointed out, shrugging her coat off.

"Coincidence," he retorted.

"They have Louisianian accents for god's sake!"

"Sabine, there are plenty of slaves that could've escaped from Louisiana named Emile," Bastien guessed, and Sabine's coat hit him dead center in his chest, hard.

"Don't be an ass!"

"What? It's a possibility!"

"You are the most infuriating man I've ever met!"

Sabine began pacing up and down the den area in a vain attempt to control her temper.

"Hey, what is all this yelling about?" Josef asked jokingly, walking around the corner.

"I think they're having a lover's quarrel," Nicky commented, coming from behind him.

She halted in her movements, "Sebastien won't let me reunite with my long, lost mother and my family!" Sabine exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Josef's eyes widened sharply, "Your mother?" he repeated, as Andy joined them as well, a half-closed book in her hand.

"Yes!"

"And I forbid you from going to see her," Bastien declared, placing his hands on the waist.

Sabine scoffed, "You forbid me?" she echoed, raising her brow again. "I'm not a fucking child, I do as I damn well please!"

"See Andy," Bastien started, walking towards the oldest immortal. "I told you that we had gone too soft on her," he stated gesturing towards Sabine.

A sympathetic expression was on the older woman's face as she looked at the youngest immortal.

"Sabine, I'm going have to agree with Booker," Andy spoke up, causing Sabine to deflate a bit. "I do understand why you want to do this, but it's going to cause nothing but pain,"

Bastien lifted his hand in the air as if to say 'thank you'.

"I mean, what would you even tell them, hmm?" Bastien questioned, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. "Hello, I'm Sabine, you're long lost daughter thought to be dead. I'm technically forty-seven, but I have the face of a twenty-two year old!"

"Then I won't tell them my true identity!" she shot back. "I'll play the role of a concerned young woman if it means I get to see my family again!" Sabine exclaimed.

"Book maybe-" Nicky began.

"No," Bastien interrupted, looking at him. "Sabine," he called, turning to face her again with his hands pressed together. "I am trying to protect you, reuniting with your family will only bring you more pain," he stressed.

"Just because you're family despised you when they died, doesn't mean mine will!" Sabine snapped.

Even though the sentence had already left her lips, she realized how cruel it was.

Bastien tightened up, his face no longer showing any measure of restraint. He let out a breathy laugh of disbelief and Sabine could see how much her words hurt him to say what she did, his blue eyes were practically swimming now. Regret gnawed at her, she didn't mean to say that, it was the heat of the moment and tempers were flaring. And she...she said it. Sabine didn't like how this was going, she felt her guilt grip on her harder the longer she looked at Bastien.

For once, there was utter silence between all of them, it was eerie, unsettling even. Sabine did not like this sudden change, it was obvious it made miserable company.

"Bastien, I..." Sabine trailed off, when he would no longer look her in the eyes. "Bastien," she called again, but he did not meet her stare.

The Frenchman moved away from her without speaking a word, his expression held tightly. He moved towards the front door and gathering his coat and hat as he went.

"I'll go after him," Josef muttered, briefly looking over to Sabine and giving her a forced semi-smile. "Booker," he called, jogging to catch up with him.

The door slammed shut and Sabine felt herself flinch as the sound reverberated throughout the room, leaving her feeling inexplicably cold. Josef, with his coat in hand, reopened the door and this time closing it with a soft click. Sabine dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, wondering how she was ever going to fix what just happened. Warm hands found there way on top of Sabine's shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"Everything will be fine Sabine," Nicky assured, and she lifted her head away from her palms.

"How could you possibly think that?" she asked, shaking her head. "Did you not hear what I said to him?" she questioned, feeling her eyes well up.

Sabine knew that Nicky could see the guiltiness on her face, it was easily readable.

"Excuse me," she whispered, her voice trembling and rushed towards the hall where her bedroom was.

The door swung open and Sabine snatched her hat off her head, throwing it to the floor with one hand and slamming the door shut behind her with the other. Blindly, she threw herself onto her bed, landing stomach first with a muffled thwump against the mattress. A soft sob left Sabine as she gripped the soft blanket, her chest tight. A few tears leaked from her eyes and she did nothing to stop them. Sniffling, Sabine sunk deeper into the mattress.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door and Sabine lifted her head from her pillows and looked back at the door. Sabine turned away, intent on ignoring whoever it was and let out a sigh instead as she closed her eyes. There was shuffling from outside her door, but Sabine remained keen on ignoring Nicky or Andy, they would give up eventually. That belief quickly left her mind as soon as she heard the door knob turn slowly on its hinges.

Then the door creaked open.

The sound of heels clacking against the floor echoed hollowly throughout the bedroom, Sabine squeezed her eyes just as the bed dipped beside her. She felt a hand gently nudge her.

"Come on, Sabine. Get up," Andy ordered softly. "No use in sulking, what's been said has been said, and you can't change that," she said.

Reopening her eyes, she slowly turned her head in Andy's direction. Sabine knew she undoubtedly looked like a mess, her face was slightly red and teared stained. Her eyes, which were usually warm and clear, were now blurred and teary.

"I've ruined everything Andy," Sabine croaked out, sniffling once more. "I-" she began, but stopped herself.

She could feel a lump in her throat that was keeping her from finishing her sentence, and the emotion that clung to her words wasn't making the lump go away any sooner.

"Now, now," Andy started, rubbing her on the back soothingly. "Don't be dramatic," she stated. "The two of you were arguing and hurtful things were said by both parties, that's not unlike for couples,"

Sabine scoffed, "I doubt Bastien would throw it in my face that I was a slave, as I did with mentioning his dead wife and kids," she pointed out, shaking her head.

"No, I don't think he would,"

"He has every right to be mad at me," Sabine replied. "He misses her, he misses all of them," she stressed, burying her head in the pillows. "And I went ahead and said...that," she finished, letting out a huffed breath and closing her eyes.

"Well, I'm not here to berate you Sabine," Andy informed, shifting herself on the bed. "You know what you did and you know what you must do," she remarked.

"I know,"

The youngest immortal looked over at her elder, her brown eyes mixing with gray ones. A grim expression lined Sabine's face. Of course she felt bad for what she did and was trying to fix it, but she feared it wouldn't be good enough. They had their fights like any couple, but this one was different, it felt different. This one was more personal, on both ends. Right now, Sabine wanted nothing more to be wrapped in Bastien's embrace, to have silly, meaningless debates like they always did about food, books, and art. Now she wasn't sure if those would happen anytime soon.

In her anger, Sabine crossed a line.

Andy let out a sigh, "Sit up, sit up," she said, gently pulling at her body.

Sabine was reluctant to move from her position, much more content to wallow in her sorrows, but she did and let Andy guide her into a upright position. Scooting closer towards her, Andy put one hand on Sabine's shoulder and the other on her cheek.

"Clean your face," she instructed softly, using her thumbs to wipe the remaining tears away. "You, Nicky, and I are going out," she announced, her hand gently gripping at Sabine's arm.

"Where?"

"I'm sure Nicky and I could use some fresh air as we finish the rest of today's errands," Andy explained, while Sabine looked over at where she threw her hat. "And you could use the air as well to clear your head, put you at ease a little," she suggested, and Sabine met her gaze again. "Sound good?" Andy questioned, with an encouraging smile.

Sabine nodded her slowly, "Sounds wonderful," she responded, a genuine grin growing on her lips.

~~~x~~~

Sitting at her vanity clad only in her nightdress, Sabine silently unpinned her hair. A knock rapped against her door as she dropped the pin into a little enameled box.

"Come in," she said in a clear voice,

Sabine heard a soft click behind her at the same time that she dropped another pin into the box. When her eyes returned to the mirror, her movements froze at who was standing in the door frame. At that moment, the temperature in the bedroom seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Sebastien," she whispered, turning slightly towards him. "I-" she began, but stopped when he quietly stepped in, closing the door after him

Sabine went to stand up and Bastien just shook his head, motioning for her to stay where she was. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and all the words she had come up with earlier had up and vanished.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards her hair.

She nodded slowly, shifting her body to face the mirror again and Bastien's hands found themselves into her hair. He took the ornate silver comb from on top of the vanity and started at the ends. Sabine watched him through the mirror, feeling his fingers separating every last strand of her hair.

"Where did you go?" she asked quietly, finding the courage to speak.

"Where do you think?" he asked back just as softly, though there was a hint of humor in his tone, but also a trace of bitterness.

Though she tried, Sabine could not ignore the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke and booze, clinging to Bastien's clothes. She stared at his reflection again, he seemed completely unfazed or even showed the slightest sign of inebriation. Bastien languidly ran the comb through her black locks, with steady hands, stroke after stroke. Normally, she would this find quite amusing, Bastien playing sober incredibly well when they both knew he was not. Except that it wasn't, not today at least. Especially since she was part of the reason why he smelled like a brewery and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

"What is going on in that head of yours?"

Bastien had caught Sabine's stare in the mirror and held it, he could see the troubled look in her eyes.

"Why are you...why are you being so kind to me, Bastien?" she asked, her tone guarded. "I was absolutely dreadful towards you earlier," she admitted.

"Yes, yes you were," he agreed, without breaking eye contact and Sabine felt herself wince.

It was one thing to acknowledge it, it was another to hear it spoken aloud by Bastien himself. It stung in more ways than she thought it would. She cast her eyes downward, feeling uneasy and ashamed, but two fingers underneath her chin guided her eyes back to the glass in front of her.

"Shall I braid your hair for you?" he asked.

"Yes, please,"

Bastien's fingers combed through her hair once more and Sabine closed her eyes at his touch, feeling him beginning to braid with surprising ease.

"I would do this for my wife every night before bed," he stated softly.

Sabine's eyes snapped back open, recognizing that far off tone he gets when mentioning his family.

"I guess that explains why you are the only man to possess this rare ability and other men don't," she replied, an attempt to be humorous.

He stopped, only to return to his task a second later, "Or how I'm adept at lacing a corset so well," he mentioned.

"You did that for your wife as well?"

"Every morning when I could," he replied, finishing the braid and combing at the ends.

Sabine felt her heart squeeze slightly with guilt. She turned in her chair, looking up to the man behind her.

"Bastien, I do apologize for my behavior today. I should've never said what I did,"

"When I told you about my family, something so intimate to me and how they treated me afterwards..." he trailed off. "I never would've thought that you would take information and use it against me in the manner that you did,"

"I-" Sabine started, but cut herself off, she could feel herself getting worked up and defensive. "I didn't mean for it to come out that way," she stated, sighing deeply. "I knew where the conversation was headed, I knew what your concerns were," she continued, standing up from her seat. "I wish I had worded it differently, but I was so angry, so hurt, by your flippant attitude. At that point, I stopped caring. I wanted to say something, anything, to reciprocate the same pain you were causing me," Sabine explained, wringing her hands. "Only I took it far," she finished, glancing up at him.

The nervous motions in her hands grew tighter and more frantic that she had to move her hands behind her back.

"Sabine, it felt like you took a knife, and stabbed me with it," Bastien described. "And then, you decided to twist it around for good measure," he added.

She bit the inside of her cheek and lowered her eyes to the floor, "I am sorry Bastien," Sabine repeated.

"Yes, I know," he acknowledged, exhaling heavily. "And I forgive you," he informed. "I am sorry myself, I was harsh with you when it was not necessary. You were not acting like a spoiled brat," he apologized.

"Thank you for recognizing that,"

The two them stood in silence, every second feeling like an eternity. Finally, Sabine brought her eyes to his and and took his hands in both of hers.

"Is all well between us again?" she asked, her dark brown irises looking into his blue ones. "I do hope so now that we both apologized for our regrettable actions today,"

Bastien let out a rough sigh and shifted his eyes to the ceiling, "On one condition..." he trailed off.

"And that is?"

"You let me seal this with a kiss," he answered, staring back down at her with a faint grin.

She scrunched her nose up, "Ugh, maybe later," Sabine suggested, smiling a little.

"Why?" Bastien inquired, pulling her closer.

"Because my dear, you reek of alcohol," she replied bluntly. "And so does your breath," she commented, putting her hands on his chest to keep him at bay. "I'll draw you a bath and fill a glass of water for you-"

"I can do that all myself Sabine, I'm not that drunk," he cut in, his mouth curving upwards. "You go on and head to bed, I'll freshen up. And maybe I'll get that kiss,"

Sabine chuckled, "For now, I can only give you this," she said, before slipping her hand from his and pressing two of her fingers onto her lips and then onto Bastien's.

Gently, he wrapped his hand around hers and kept it there.

~~~x~~~

Sabine was half-asleep felt her mattress dip down beside her, a heavy, solid weight joining her on the bed and underneath the covers. Blinking to adjust to the darkness, she turned over to face Bastien.

"I didn't think you'd be joining me in bed," she said hoarsely.

Bastien slightly froze, "I didn't want to be alone tonight," he explained, his voice low. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized, settling underneath the blankets.

"Eh, never you mind," she yawned. "I meant to stay awake for a little longer, but my efforts failed," she explained, a sleepy smile on her lips.

Sabine could feel the bed shift as Bastien fumbled about for a moment or two before he found the oil lamp on her nightstand. She blinked a few times, her eyes once again adjusting and she saw the face of Bastien, who is looking at her with a wry smile on his face. Sabine shifted on the bed so that she laid on her side, her elbow on her pillow and her cheek in the palm of her hand.

"You smell better," she commented plainly, and Bastien let out a hearty chuckle.

"Good enough for that kiss that was promised to me?" he asked curiously, grinning at her.

"I suppose so,"

Sabine leaned forward and pecked him on the lips.

"I said a kiss, not a peck," Bastien reminded, wrapping her into his arms and pulling her onto his chest.

A small giggle escaped from her as she reached her hand out, cupping his cheek. Briefly, the two immortals just gazed at each other in silence, content with the other's presence. She dipped her head slowly before brushing her lips over his, indulging in the softness of them. Bastien inhaled deeply through his nose, letting his hand caress the small of her back. Sabine went to pull back, but didn’t get far as Bastien sought her lips in a slower and lingering kiss. A soft hum left Sabine just as they parted for air, their chests heaving.

Reopening her eyes, she leaned down again and kissed the corners of his mouth before pulling away once more. Bastien's warm breath mingled with hers as she stroked her thumb back and forth across his cheek.

"Are you alright?" Sabine asked, searching his eyes.

"I am better now," Bastien answered, his hand coming to a stop on her waist. "Today...today was rough," he stated. "For the both of us," he added.

"I know," she agreed, with a sigh and laying her head on his chest.

Sabine could feel the slow rising and falling of Bastien's chest beneath her head.

"I sometimes forget just how sharp your tongue can be," he commented, his voice sending a low rumble that reverberated through her body. "I don't think I've been on the receiving end of one of your lashings before, at least, not in a very long time," he noted, and Sabine planted a kiss on his night shirt covered chest.

"Bastien," she called quietly, reaching her free hand out to interlock their fingers.

"Yes?"

"Promise me something,"

"Anything,"

"Promise me, that we won't go to bed mad at each other," Sabine said, nestling her face into the crook of Bastien’s neck. "I don't know if I could bear it, us going to bed in anger, and then waking up again the next morning with unresolved, bitter feelings still clouding over us," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I promise,"

Chapter Fourteen: Welcome Home, Sabine Freemen

[elliebean714]

☆What I write☆~

I write character x character, character x oc and character x reader.

♡Romantic♡, ◇Platonic◇, whatever.

Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Yandere, Poly Relationships, Character Reactions, Character Diary Entries, Light Nsfw, My Oc's, Female, Gender Neutral And Male Readers/Characters/Oc's

♡Gay♡ and ☆Not Gay☆

Headcanons, fics, one-shots, maybe Au's....

Fandoms I write for. (It's all games. I'm not sorry.)

Until Dawn~

Josh Washington

Chris Hartley

Ashley Brown

Sam Giddings

Mike Munroe

Jess Riley

Emily Davis

Matt Taylor

Beth Washington

Hannah Washington

The Quarry~

Jacob Custos

Emma Mountebank

Nick Furcillo

Abigail Blyg

Max Brinly

Laura Kearney

Kaitlyn Ka

Dylan Lenivy

Ryan Erzhalher

Travis Hackett

Chris Hackett

Bobby Hackett

Life is Strange~

Season 1~

Max Caulfield

Chloe Price

Warren Graham

Nathan Prescott

Victoria Chase

Kate Marsh

Mark Jefferson

Before The Storm~

Chloe Price

Rachel Amber

Steph Gingrich

Nathan Prescott

Samantha Myers

Season 2~

Sean Diaz

Daniel Diaz

Cassidy

Finn

True colours~

Alex Chen

Steph Gingrich

Ryan Lucan

Gabe Chen

Charlotte Harmon

Jason Pike

Five Nights at Freddy's~

FNaF 1 ~

Bonnie

Freddy

Chica

Foxy

Golden Freddy

FNaF 2~

Toy Bonnie

Toy Freddy

Toy Chica

Marionette

Mangle

Withered Bonnie

Withered Freddy

Withered Chica

Withered Foxy

FNaF 3~

Springtrap

FNaF Sister Location~

Circus Baby

Ballora

Funtime Freddy/Bon Bon

Funtime Foxy

Ennerd

Lolbit

FNaF Pizzeria Simulator~

Lefty

FNaF Security Breach~

Gregory

Glamrock Freddy

Montgomery Gator

Glamrock Chica

Roxanne Wolf

Sundrop

Moondrop

Vanny

Vannessa

Misc.~

William Afton

Michael Afton

Henry Emily

Note~ Unless specifically requested otherwise all animatronics will not have the children's souls inside them, if you want the soul inside the animatronic it will automatically be platonic (Springtrap is the exception)♡

Bioshock~

Bioshock 1~

Jack Wynand

Atlas

Frank Fontaine

Bridget Tenenbaum

The Little Sisters

The Big Daddies

Bioshock 2~

Subject Delta

Augustus Sinclair

Eleanor Lamb

Sophia Lamb

Grace Holloway

Stanley Poole

Gil Alexander

Mark Meltzer

The Big Sisters

Bioshock Infinite~

Elizabeth Comstalk

Booker DeWitt

Songbird

The Walking Dead: Telltale~

Season 1~

Lee Everett

Clementine

Kenny

Lily

Carley

Doug

Mark

Ben Paul

Christa

Omid

Season 2~

Clementine

Luke

Nick

Sarah

Kenny

Season 3~

Javi Garcia

Kate Garcia

Gabe Garcia

Clementine

Tripp

Jesus

Season 4~

Clementine

Violet

Louis

Mitch

AJ

Tenn

James

Lily

Minerva

Detroit: Become Human~

Connor

Hank

Kara

Alice

Luther

Ralph

Marcus

North

Simon

Josh

The Last Of Us~

Part 1~

Ellie

Joel

Tommy

Henry

Sam

Marlene

Riley

Part 2~

Ellie

Joel

Dina

Jesse

Tommy

Abby

Owen

Lev

Yara

Uncharted~

Drake's Fortune~

Nathan Drake

Elena Fisher

Among Thieves~

Nathan Drake

Elena Fisher

Chloe Frazer

Harry Flynn

Drake's Deception~

Nathan Drake

Elena Fisher

Chloe Frazer

Talbot

A Thieves End~

Nathan Drake

Elena Fisher

Sam Drake

Rafe Adler

Nadine Ross

Death Stranding~

Sam Porter Bridges

Higgs Monaghan

Fragile

Amelie Strand

Dr Heartman

Mama

Lockne

Deadman

Die-Hardman

Clifford Unger

Doki Doki Literature Club~

Monika

Sayori

Yuri

Natsuki

Obey Me!~

Lucifer

Mammon

Leviathan

Satan

Asmodeus

Beelzebub

Belphegor

Diavolo

Barbatos

Luke

Simeon

Solomon

Thirteen

☆Overall Note☆~ All Under 18 Characters Will Be Platonic, Unless Shipped With A Character/Oc Of The Same Age.♡

♡Protect the Children♡

◇What I won't write◇~

Heavy Nsfw

Non-Con/ Dub-Con

Pedophilia

Insest

Self Harm

Suicide

Big Age-Gap Relationships

Other people's oc's

Cheating (Except Comfort)

Send Requests, I'm Depressed💐

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Run to You Part Three

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 1758

Part 3 of 3

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands. 

Notes: Is this procedurally correct? Probably not. But here it is! The last part to my Derek Morgan imagine! I hope you guys enjoy this and never forget that replies mean the world! This one kinda feels jumbled, but I hope you still like it. (I’m sorry it took forever! I got caught up with other projects, which I hope to be sharing soon!)

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

The swarms of cops were overwhelming. You watched teams and teams of people surrounded the block Dr. Reid was the one that figured out that Lance had brought Angelica to the church that you got married, especially upon the discovery that it was going to be torn down in a few weeks. The idea of losing the one connection to you he had left was likely a trigger. 

No one was allowed to get too close. They worried that cornering Lance would make him panic and kill Angelica, so you were forced to stand back and watch. They made sure you weren’t alone, of course, though you weren’t sure if it was to comfort you or to make sure you didn’t try and run in alone. With all of the standing around you were doing, you felt ready to break down the front door. 

“Alright, so we’re sending a team around to the back to get in as quickly and quietly as possible. That’ll be me, Prentiss and a couple of the local P.D.” Derek explained, keeping his eyes locked on yours to make sure you understood that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to your baby. 

“He wants me, Derek. What if he knows you’re in there and he panics and he-”

“Hey, listen to me,” He put a hand on your cheek. “I’m not gonna let that happen.” Despite the eyes of his coworkers, he pulled you in for a gentle, reassuring kiss. It did little to calm you down, but just having him there made the situation that much easier. That moment, however, was cut short by the ringing of your phone. 

“God, not again.” You cried, pulling the device from your pocket. This time, Derek held out his hand. You gave him a confused look, but handed it to him. 

“Mr. Booker.” 

“You must be Agent Morgan.” Lance spat. “I know that you and your gang of federal pigs are coming after me. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Y/N will see she’s wrong. I’ll show her she’s wrong.”

“Mr. Booker, we just want Angelica to be safely returned to her mother.” 

“What about her father, Agent Morgan? What about me!” 

“I want to make this as easy on you as possible, Mr. Booker, but you’ve got to help me out here.”

“Just bring my wife to me and nobody will get hurt.” 

“I can’t do that, Lance. You know I can’t do that.” Derek could tell that you were starting to panic from the way your eyes kept darting to the church and you slowly crept closer. He took your hand to keep you from bolting in there. 

“If I don’t see her in the next half hour... I’m taking my baby girl with me.” The call ended, but Morgan was already prepping his team to go in. 

“Derek, what did he say?” You kept your grip on his hand, following him to join Prentiss. 

“Nothing that he hasn’t already said.” He gave you the most reassuring look he could, but he knew that they had to act fast. 

“I’m going with you.”

“No. No, baby, you can’t.” He took your face in his hands. “Y/N, I need you to stay here. I need you to be safe. I can’t go get your little girl if I’m worried about you too, okay?” You shut your eyes, feeling more frightened tears slip down your cheeks. 

“What if he… what if you don’t get her in time? I need to see her, I-I need-”

“Don’t even think like that, baby.” He looked over your shoulder and motioned to the younger agent to stand beside you. “Now Reid is going to stay here with you, okay?” Reid gave him a small nod and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. Derek kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right back and I’m bringing Angel with me.” 

As he walked away, you could feel your body start to shake. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. You shut your eyes tight, the foolish part of you hoping that when you opened them, Derek and Angie would be smiling in front of you. But when you finally opened your eyes, all you saw was him walking away.

-

Morgan moved silently, followed closely by his team. Prentiss was right behind him and the other officers were ready to go. From what they could tell, Lance was in the chapel, keeping Angelica towards the back. The church had multiple entrances with one leading to the basement. This was determined to be the best point of entry since Lance was least likely to hear the team coming. 

While you couldn’t see him anymore, your heart beat more with every second. Dr. Reid stood by your side, his presence serving as a small comfort as he listened to the situation through his earpiece. He shifted suddenly and gave you a small, if not nervous, smile. 

“They’re in.” 

Derek directed the officers to one staircase while he and Prentiss crept up the other. The old floors creaked as they walked, making him wince. He could only hope that Lance couldn’t hear them. They moved fast and efficiently like they would any other raid, but his body was buzzing more than usual. He focused on the image of Angelica and kept going. 

“Morgan,” Prentiss stopped suddenly, looking around the corner. 

Angelica was seated on top of the old alter, swinging her small legs back and forth while she colored in a tattered psalm book. Booker was nowhere to be found. Morgan and Prentiss approached her slowly, double checking to make sure Lance wasn’t waiting for them. As soon as they were sure, Morgan ran to the little girl. 

“Derek!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“It’s alright, Angel. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” He cradled the back of her head, holding her closed to his chest. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell us where your dad went.” Prentiss said gently. Angelica just gave her a tearful look and pointed up. The two agents exchanged a look, reaching the same conclusion. Derek motioned to one of the officers and reluctantly handed her a crying Angelica. 

“I wanna stay w-with D-Derek!” 

“I know, sweetie, but this nice woman is going to take you out to your mama, okay? I have to go find your dad with Emily. I’ll be out before you know it, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that?” 

She nodded, but held onto his hand until he had to pull away. Prentiss put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Morgan if you need to-”

“No, I want to finish this. I’m not letting that son of a bitch take the easy way out.” 

As they made their way to the roof, you were desperately watching the door of the church, gripping Dr. Reid’s hand a little too tightly. Time was ticking and your heart beat faster every second. 

Suddenly, a group of officers exited the church. You didn’t see Derek, but at the back of the group, a female officer held Angelica. Immediately dropping Reid’s hand, you sprinted towards her, taking her from the officer’s arms and holding her closer than you ever had. You cried as her hands clung to your shirt, promising yourself to never let her out of your sight again. 

On the roof, Derek stared down Lance as he prepared to jump. 

“Don’t do it, Mr. Booker.” Prentiss said, carefully taking a step towards him. 

“There isn’t a point anymore.” The man swayed back and forth, almost losing his balance. “I just wanted us to be a family again.”

“Killing yourself won’t fix what you did all those years ago, Lance.” 

“I loved Y/N. I swear I did. But I kept hurting her. I kept hurting her and now my daughter doesn’t even know who I am.” 

“Is this how you want Angelica to remember you? The man who hurt her mom and took her away?” Derek inched closer, careful not to provoke him into jumping. “If you die now, that’s all she’ll know.” 

“Don’t come any closer!”  Lance screamed, but he had stopped swaying. 

“Lance, you can spend the rest of your life giving her something good to remember. You owe her that much.” A darker part of Derek wanted Lance to know the pain that he inflicted upon you and your family, but the words he said now were true. The best thing Lance could do was try to redeem himself after everything he had done. 

“I...I… okay.” Lance seemed in a daze as he stepped off of the ledge. Prentiss cuffed him and the two led him back downstairs. 

Lance left the church first, making your heart sink. You almost didn’t recognize him. He was just a shell, nothing like the man you knew all those years ago. Maybe, one day, you would learn to feel sorry for him, but for now, as you watched him be loaded into the patrol car, you only felt relief. 

“Derek!” Angelica squealed, reaching out her arms. You whirled around and felt another sob escape your throat. 

The team watched Derek run to you, taking both you and Angelica in his arms. Prentiss finished getting Booker into the car and joined Hotchner, Reid, and Rossi. 

“That’s not something I thought I’d see.” She whispered with a smile. 

“Did you not think we’d get to the little girl on time?” Reid asked. 

“No,” She motioned to the trio in front of them. A family. “Derek falling in love.” The rest of the team smiled and separated into their designated vehicles. 

-

The crowd shouted and cheered as Angelica sprinted towards home plate. Visitors 3, Home team 6. You cheered louder than anyone. Well, maybe not anyone.

“That’s right! You can’t touch her!” Penelope screamed at the other team’s players. Everyone from the BAU had shown up. Over the past few months, you’d gotten to know all of them pretty well, even earning Penelope’s approval.  

“She’s good.” Emily smiled at you. You nodded. 

“She has a good coach.” You looked down at the dugout where Derek was waiting to give Angel a high-five. You must have caught his eye because he beamed up at you with that knockout smile. You grinned back. 

“You guys seem really happy.” J.J. mused, giving you a supportive smile. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Derek. 

“Yeah.” You waved down at him and your daughter as she came in for her victory. “We are.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Series: @ weasleytommy, @ lowsodiumfreaks67, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @ literallyprentissstwin, @ yallgotkik

[plutoswritingplanet]

Fic Preview (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

Summary: Cooper decides to pick up a bounty, which has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored with the monotony of your life, decide getting caught by a travelling bounty hunter is just the entertainment you need. Both of you bite off more than you can chew.

a/n: couldn't help myself, from the first moment that dried up raisin popped up on my screen i knew i had to add him to the collection Expect 2/3 chapters, some smut, lots of tension, canon levels of violence and utter lack of knowledge about the world of fallout

IT'S OUT

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You had to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive was easy. Good condition however opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden increase in bounty? - Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

[mentalpolaroids]

17 with John b!?

[gif creds @maddiecline]

Blurb request | 17. Bed, couch, floor, I don’t care

John B x female!Reader

Summary: Topper, (Y/N)’s brother, makes (Y/N) go to a kegger against her will. A certain Pogue makes her tolerate the night but things quickly go south when Topper picks up a fight, leaving (Y/N) to take care of a very bruised John B. 

Warnings: swearing, fighting, mentions of bruises

Thank you for sending the request, hope you like it 💕 

It was unusual for me to not feel like going to a party, but that night I was running low on patience, and Topper was to blame. I loved my brother, but he could really get on my nerves sometimes, and our mom, having him as the favorite kid who, unlike me, acted like the stuck up spoiled Kook they liked him to be, didn’t help at all. 

“Why do you even wanna go to that kegger? I thought you hated Pogues.”

“I do, but Sarah wants to go.”

I rolled my eyes at him. I was good friends with Sarah, but the way my brother was obsessed with her made me cringe and I honestly don’t know how she dealt with him.

“So why do I have to go? And with you? I thought I made it clear that I don’t like your friends.”

“You can do whatever you want when we get there, and mom’s not letting me take the car if you’re not coming.”

“Why do you want to take the car?”, I was just trying to annoy him at this point. Topper sighted, trying to keep calm. 

“Because I’m picking up Sarah and Rafe, his car broke down and Ward won’t let him use his.”

After a few more minutes of going back and forth, I ended up agreeing to go, still not into the all party mood though. 

The car ride to the beach was tedious. Topper and Rafe wouldn’t talk about anything else other than cars and the gym, and Sarah tried to make small talk with me and would smile sympathetically at me after she realized I was there against my will. She knew I had a short temper when it came to her boyfriend and an even shorter one with her brother, she understood that and her soothing energy was making me relax and actually tolerate the two guys. 

Arriving at the beach, I instantly relaxed with the atmosphere around. I always admired the Pogues, especially the younger generation, even though they lived in poor conditions and had so much to worry about when it came to jobs and surviving, they were still able to actually have fun and enjoy life to the fullest. I had everything I needed to have all that, without the concern of not having enough to survive, but the Kook life was so conservative and demanding that it became boring and sometimes I felt like I lived in box where I had my entire life planned out and I would be damned if I tried to change it one bit. Out of all the luxuries I had, freedom wasn’t one of them and it was the thing I craved the most. 

I smiled when I saw a small group of Pogues, the ones I knew the best around the Cut. I used to be good friends with Kiara, along with Sarah, and even though we still talked we weren’t as close as before, since she and Sarah stopped talking a few years ago, which to this day I still didn’t know why. I loved the friendship Kiara had with the other three boys, who I encountered multiple times at the Wreck and even had dinner with them once or twice. John B has always been my favorite out of the three boys, not only because, besides Kie, he was the only one who accepted my presence shrugging off the fact that I was a Kook (not that I blamed JJ and Pope for being more doubtful, they had their fair share of unpleasant encounters with my brother before), but also because there was just something about him that pulled me in There was a nice energy about him that gave the comfort and somewhat freedom I’ve always craved while living on Figure Eight. John Booker Routledge was a wave of fresh oceanic air on my expensive perfume like life, and I loved that. 

I started making my way to them, ignoring the calls from Topper asking why the hell I was walking towards the Pogue side of the beach. I heard Sarah telling him to just leave me and to go grab them some drinks. 

“Hey guys!”, I said as I stood next to Kie.

“(Y/N)!”, she hugged me, noticeably already tipsy, “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”, I hugged her back, laughing, and I caught Pope’s concerned eyes on the girl. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my presence or because of Kiara’s state. I hoped for the latter. 

“I’m amazing!”

“You’re also not drinking anymore.”, JJ said, waving at me and helping me hold Kiara. 

“Yeah, you definitely had enough.”, Pope added and finally smiled kindly at me, which I admit made me relax. I don’t know why I had this need to be accepted by the Pogues, I guess it was because I genuinely liked them and wouldn’t mind hanging out with them more often. They had the kind of vibe I couldn’t find within Kooks. 

“I thought you weren’t coming, the party started about an hour ago.”, John B finally spoke, offering me a bear. I thanked him with a smile. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t even going to come but Topper was being a whiny bitch as usual.” 

“Wow, he finally did one thing right.”, he answered and I felt myself blush and tried to hide it with a smile. 

“Cheeky.”

He just winked and invited me to sit next to him. 

As the night rolled in, I didn’t do much of anything else other than chill with John B, drinking, talking and laughing. Oh and flirting. Lots of flirting. The more time I spent with him the more I felt the connection between us grow and I just wished we could keep that same connection outside the party. The boy was really good company and I was enjoying it a lot. But, just like the minimum good thing that happens in my life once in a while, it didn’t last long to have it ruined but my brother. 

“(Y/N), you ready to go?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna stay a little while. See you at home.”

“What? You’re not staying, you came with me, you’re going with me. Come on.”

“Topper I said I’m staying.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you plan on going home?”

He touched a point that I hadn’t thought about yet, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“I’ll drive her, don’t worry.”, John B answered for me. 

“The hell you are. Come on, (Y/N), enough of this, let’s go.”

“Topp, John B said he can drive (Y/N), she’ll be fine.”, Sarah tried to help me, but Topper totally ignored her. 

“Yeah, Topp, (Y/N)’s old enough to make her own decisions.”, I could tell John B was starting to lose his patience with my brother. That made two of us. 

“Shut up, rat, this isn’t your business.”

“Topper!”, I called him out. 

“What?”

“Just shut up. And if you want to leave, then leave, I’ll be fine!”

“Topper if she wants to stay, let her stay, it’s her problem if she wants to hang out with trash, less germs for you to deal with.”, Rafe meddled in the conversation, I glared at him for calling John B trash. I hated this side of Kooks, thinking they were better than anyone else just because of their money. I also hated that I had to share the same social status name with them. I glanced at John B to apologize for Rafe’s words but he stood up before I could open my mouth. 

“Ok, man, I think It’s best if you leave. Like, now.”, his voice was calm but the anger was there, and the last thing I wanted was to witness a fight between JB and the unfortunate Kook princes. Rafe laughed humourlessly along with Topper, who took a step closer to stand face to face with John B.

“Or what?”

I stepped between the two guys, pushing Topper away from John B while telling him to stop, relax and go home but, as the stubborn ass he his, he wasn’t having any of it, being more focused on picking up an unnecessary fight with JB. I pushed my brother harder when he took another step, almost squeezing me between them, while I kept on trying to calm him down, but that only seemed to infuriate him and push me to the side by my arm, which made me wince in pain by his unexpected strong grip. 

“Topper, what the fuck?!”, Sarah yelled, quickly helping me steady myself as I looked at my brother with a shocked expression. He had never been aggressive towards me and his move honestly scared me a bit. 

“Dude, don’t touch your sister like that!”, John B lost his cool too and that was when Topper had enough and swinged at him, punching him straight in the jaw. So much for trying to avoid a fight. 

Next thing I knew, Topper was beating John B up while Sarah and I tried to separate them. JJ and Pope noticed and tried to help too but in between shouts and fists swinging randomly, the blonde Pogue ended up going at Rafe, leaving Pope to decide which fight to end. Somehow I was able to push Topper away from John B and I immediately took the opportunity to help him and yell at Topper to just leave. 

“Go home, dammit! Sarah, get him the fuck out of here!”

“(Y/N)!”, Kiara came running towards John B and I, “Here, let me help.”, she said, as she mirrored me putting the boy’s arm around my shoulders to help him up. His face looked pretty bad and if I wasn’t so worried about him I would give Topper a piece of my mind. 

We walked a bit in the direction of the chateau until I told Kiara to go back to the beach and help JJ, seeing that John B was already able to walk on his own. She nodded and left, making me promise I would let her know if we needed anything. 

Entering the chateau, I felt a little lost because I’d never been there before so I didn’t really know where to go or what to do.

“John B? Where do you want me to put you?”

“Bed, couch, floor, I don’t care.”, he answered with some difficulty, I assume because of the punches and kicks my idiot brother laid out on him.

“Ok, uhm, here’s a couch.” 

I helped him down but because it was dark I didn’t see whatever was on the floor that made me trip and I fell right on top of John B, who groaned in pain.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry! Are you ok?”, I quickly sat up next to him, making sure I hadn’t caused any more damage. He chuckled weakly and held my hand that had made its way to his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him I was sorry. 

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly the way I imagined getting you on top of me though.”

“Ok, you’re being a real asshole for someone who just got their ass beaten.” 

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry.”, he squeezed his eyes as if regretting what he just said, “That came out wrong, very wrong.” 

“It’s fine, lucky for you this isn’t how I imagined getting on top of you either.”, I smirked, a little confused about where that confidence had come from but I decided to just go along with it. John B laughed lightly and squeezed my hand again, directing his gaze to me. We stood like that for a bit and I must say it felt nice. Obviously not the part where the boy next to me had bruises forming all over him, but the comfortable silence part, and the way we were staring at each other, and the way his hand felt so natural holding mine. 

“So,”, I broke the silence, “I need directions to get the things to clean you up.” 

And so I moved around the house, grabbing stuff on the way as John B told me their location. I cleaned him up, trying to be as gentle as possible to not hurt him and he actually had the audacity of making fun of me for acting as if he was going to break. It amazed me how, even in a situation like this, he still held his always positive and carefree attitude and that just made my crush on him grow deeper. 

With him all cleaned and stitched up, we stayed on the couch talking and laughing as if the events of earlier didn’t happen, which, honestly, I was glad because I really didn’t want to think about my brother and ruin the moment. I heard the other Pogues arrive and I started to get ready to go when they stepped on the porch, but John B was quick to grab my hand. 

“You can stay if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure they don’t mind. Plus, you helped me a lot tonight and I’m still trying to figure out how to properly thank you.”

I was about to respond but the door opening stopped me. Kiara, JJ and Pope came in and when I noticed JJ’s face my mood changed. A wave of guilt washed over me when I realized what I had put the two boys through. I shouldn't have gone to the kegger after all, if it wasn’t for me, neither John B and JJ would have gotten into a fight and their faces wouldn’t be brutally bruised. Kiara noticed the change and asked if John B was ok, afraid something else had happened. I assured her everything was fine, but I couldn’t help feeling bad about all that happened while seeing Kie clean up JJ’s bruises. As they all talked, I excused myself to go outside for a bit, afraid my tears would fall at any moment, not being able to support the guilt feeling. 

Not long after I stepped outside, I felt a presence behind me. John B stood there, concern taking over his features.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just needed some air.”, I tried to smile, but seeing the bruises on his eye and lip made it hard. 

“I might not know you that well but I know there’s definitely something going on in that pretty head of yours.” 

This time, I genuinely smiled at his words. He noticed earlier I would act feisty when he flirted or acted like a fuckboy and started using that to make me laugh. And it was working. 

“I… I’m sorry about all this. It’s my fault, I should’ve just gone with Topper when he told me to, I never meant for it to start a stupid fight.”

“Hey, come on now, it’s not your fault your brother’s a dickhead. Trust me, even if you weren’t there he and Rafe would have found another excuse to pick up a fight with us, it’s nothing new.”

“Still, it could’ve been avoided.”

“Please don’t blame yourself for this. I promise it’s not your fault. And we’re fine, we don’t go down easily.”, he joked, squeezing my shoulder in reassurance. 

“Ok.”, I whispered. 

His arm dropped around my shoulders and he pulled me closer. We stayed like that in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the moonlight and the sound of crickets in the distance. 

“So, about the proper ‘thank you’ you mentioned, I have a suggestion.”, I said, looking up at him. 

“Shoot.”

“How about lunch or dinner? You know, just the two of us.”, I said the last sentence more quietly, afraid he would think it was stupid or something. It amazed me how one minute I would act confident around him and the next act all shy. 

“Sounds really good.”, he smiled down at me and I smiled back, already not able to resist him. My God. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.”, Pope spoke from the doorway, “Do you mind if we stay here tonight?”, he asked John B. 

“No need to ask, Pope, nothing you’ve never done before.”

“Right. Night (Y/N)!”

“Night Pope!”, he went back inside and I turned to John B, “I should go too.”

"I don't think I can drive right now but I can get Kie or Pope to drive you home?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. I'll walk, it's not that far anyway."

"You sure?", I smiled at his genuine concern.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine."

“Ok, uh, looking forward to... lunch? Dinner?”

“I’ll let you know.”

He removed his arm from my shoulder so I could go but I grabbed his hand and leaned closer to kiss the corner of his mouth, keeping a bit of that closeness after removing my lips from his skin. His eyebrows rose in surprise but his smile showed approvement of my action. 

“Night Johnny B.”, I whispered, finally letting him go. 

“Night (Y/N).”, he whispered back, following me with his eyes as I left, the smile never leaving his lips.

Part 2

[angelsunflowers-fanfics]

Do you have requests you’re working on currently?

yeah, I'll just list them here:

[6teen]

Jonesy Garcia x Goth girl!reader

"Your love of strawberry shortcake really doesn't match your appearance" & "You need to take off your shirt"

[ATLA}

Sokka

[Bioshock]

Elizabeth Comstock x Chubby!

hiya! I'm not sure if you write for Elizabeth from Bioshock, but if you do; can I request the secret dating au? This would be Elizabeth x chubby female (or gn) reader, where Elizabeth and reader are hiding their relationship from Booker and everyone else, but then either the Reader or Elizabeth gets kidnapped, and they accidentally reveal their relationship while being happy that they're together again (when either Reader or Elizabeth were found) and kissing while crying, and Booker is *shocked* but supports them? (basically angst and fluff)

Elizabeth Comstock

hello, could i get a request with Elizabeth from bioshock x fem Reader with the 'i wish you could be mine' prompt? it would take place during Burial at sea, where basically Reader is in love with elizabeth but she isn't sure if elizabeth feels the same way (now there's gonna be a spoiler for episode 2),and when elizabeth dies she says this prompt and the reader shares the first and last kiss with her? so basically it would be 99% angst, with maybe one fluff moment

Robert Lutece

smut

[Borderlands}

Fl4k x Short! x Zer0: "Bite me" pt2

Consequence chapter to pt 1

Zane flynt

"we slept in the same bed for space reasons, but not we're just waking up and there's something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair"

[Bully]

Gary Smith x reader x Jimmy Hopkins x Pete Kowalski

reader takes care of the 3

[Jimmy Hopkins

"Our teachers keep pairing us together even though we're polar opposites, but I can't deny that you're really cute"

Jimmy Hopkins

“We were forced to go outside due to a fire drill and I forgot my jacket, which sucks because it’s super cold. Thanks for lending me this jacket but you’re my crush and I almost screamed 9when you gave it to me. Just know, you’re never getting this back.” – AU

Jimmy Hopkins

Jimmy takes his crush out to cause mayhem for a date

Jimmy Hopkins

Jimmy defends the reader from bullies

Pete Kowalski

How would Pete handle a dominant, athletic girl who is infatuated with him?

Jimmy Hopkins

"Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat."

Hotel Transylvania

Dracula x Shy!Human!

reader is putting up Christmas lights and falls into Dracula's arms

Dracula x Shy!Human!

A random monster flirts with the reader and Dracula sees

Dracula x Shy!Human!

Drac tries to confess to reader but ends up flustered

Dracula x Shy!Human!

"Here, let me help you.", drac teaches reader how to ballroom dance

Dracula x Shy!Human!

reader wants a date at the local aquarium with Drac

Griffin x Half-werewolf!

reader leaves during a dinner party and Griffin follow them to find them star gazing

Mavis

Mavis meets an adventurous girl and is curious about Mavis and the hotel

Mavis x Werewolf!Gentle!

"I'm sorry, but that was adorable.", Mavis walks in on reader dancing while cooking/cleaning

Hunchback of Notre Dame

Phoebus

Hi can I request a Phoebus x GN!Reader whos Esmeralda sibling.

Using prompt 36 and 37 if that’s okay

“ Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person. ”

“Quit looking at me, you’re making me nervous.”

The Iron Giant

Dean McCoppin x Hogarth's Babysitter!

reader is also Dean's GF and is there for the junkyard scene with a pistol

[Life is strange]

Sean Diaz

Hi, request here! Number 25 from your prompt list with Sean/female reader who also has powers like Daniel’s. Sean and Daniel meet her while they are on the run (maybe she rescues them from something, or they rescue her) and she joins them. She helps Daniel with his powers and she and Sean fall in love. (This next bit doesn’t have to be included but) Maybe there is a secret base where there are other people like her and Daniel, and they decide to go there instead of Mexico. “They may not understand you, but I do.”

[Miraculous Ladybug]

Adrien Agreste

"it's the middle of winter and my heater went out, and you let me stay at your place, so I don't freeze to death. God bless you"

[Oxenfree}

Jonas

[Rise of the guardians]

Jack Frost

Fluffy smut, "I adore you"

[Steven Universe]

Steven universe x Psychotherapist!reader

steven is in love with his therapist

[TMNT]

Rise!Donatello

"you are talking to yourself in a silent library about how much you hate studying and how you are going to fail. need help there? I just so happen to major in that subject. oh shit, you're really cute"

TWDG

Clementine

"you almost looked peaceful. except you're lying in a dirty alley"

Louis

hi! im not sure if you are doing requests at the moment, but if you are is it possible for you to write a twdg louis x male reader nsfw fic? if you don’t feel comfortable writing nsfw, (since i dont know if telltale fully confirmed that he’s actually 18/19) thats fine and i dont mind a sfw fic! im not sure about plot, but for prompts id say prompt 14 please! either way, thank you for reading this and i love your work :)

Violet

Hello could you please make a oneshot about violet from twdg x female reader with the prompt 68. and please let the reader have tattoos and vi states at them and then the reader notices or something like that

“We were forced to go outside due to a fire drill and I forgot my jacket, which sucks because it’s super cold. Thanks for lending me this jacket but you’re my crush and I almost screamed when you gave it to me. Just know, you’re never getting this back.” – AU

Violet

Hello I love the one shots you make could you please write one about violet from twdg x female reader were they are friends to lovers without zombies. Violet doesn’t know the reader but they meet in ericson because they both got sent there.

Violet

Could you please make a oneshot about violet from twdg x female reader. With the theme 59. The wedding one were the apocalypse didn’t happen that would be lovely. Have a great day

“It’s our mutual friend’s wedding and they keep shoving us into each other because we’re the only ones at the ceremony who are single” AU.

The Wolf among us

Bigby Wolf x real-world!

the reader suddenly enters the wolf among us and is found by Bigby

[something-in-the-seas]

I want to compile some of my favorite imagine prompts you heathens have sent me since I said I could do imagines.

- “Bioshock characters react to you laying an egg that hatches into a little Fontaine that only says ‘ya busto’ and it’s high-pitch.”

- “Imagine Andrew Ryan stepping over you while you die on the street because you have no healthcare.”

- “Booker x Female!Reader (Modern AU): You’re the outspoken feminist excited to take women’s studies, he’s the token centrist who has to play devil’s advocate right to your heart.”

- “Imagine you’re a survivor saved by Delta and brought onto the train. You’re sad that your parents are dead, but Sinclair offers you some candy from his fanny pack to cheer you up. However, it’s those hard, dusty candies that your grandma has in her candy bowl that break your teeth.”

- “Imagine Fontaine trying to hold in his laughter when he sees you trip and break your neck.”

- “Imagine Jack throwing a grape at you with a playful smile. You decide to throw one back at home, but you miss so he starts laughing at you. You get so upset that your throw the entire plate at him, knocking him unconscious.”

- “Imagine going to the water park on a date with Elizabeth and she ‘accidentally’ drowns you.”

- “Imagine Stanley Poole crawling inside your ear. You tell him to stop but he’s in there.”

- “Imagine ‘accidentally’ giving Sander Cohen a minion themed haircut.”

- “Imagine you are hanging out with Sander and his boys when you start to have a pillow fight. You throw a pillow at Sander laughing becauze it was funny. He stops and looks at you, disgusted. ‘You fucking bitch,’ he yelled before beating you with the pillow. You die.”

- “Imagine Booker teaching you to play guitar but you couldn’t get it right and he takes the guitar and smashes it in your head. You die.”

- “Imagine: Booker runs you over in his 1994 Toyota Honda Civic but says even dying your beautiful than you die and he cry.”

- Imagine Fontaine needed a face transplant and he woke up with his new face and he said “where’s y/n” and Steinman said “who do you think gave you that face” and he crieded.”

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Falling - I - How You Get To Know Each Other

A story I had in my WIP for the last few months and in my head since seeing the Old Guard.

Booker x Female Reader!with a sister

Warnings: Throughout the story mention of depressive behaviour, endangerment of others and one self, two sisters relationship, smut at some point but it will be signalled, loneliness and angst at first and during, speaking in French because I CAN.

You’re drenched and Ophelia too.

She was laughing as much as she could seeing you desperately trying to cover yourself with your jacket over your head outside the school. You were laughing too. You’re still both laughing when you enter the building. It’s the most startling sound he’s heard for weeks.

He’s checking his mail. Nothing in the small box. He smiled curtly and left.

He hasn’t been talking to a lot of neighbours.

Except you. Except for your sister, Ophelia.

He knows your name too but never says it aloud. He always stays very polite and gentle. A perfect Englishman with somewhat nothing of the classic tailored Englishman.

You went back home and thought nothing of it.

You knocked on his door.

It took a few seconds before you heard keys shuffling and the door slowly opened.

He’s a little dishevelled and visibly sweating.

“Hi! Oh… I’m sorry did we catch you at a bad time? -No not at all.”

He frowned.

“Do you need anything?”

You took a deep breath, biting your lip. His eyes followed yours as you lowered them down for a moment before turning to Ophelia.

“Uhm…Yeah. We were about to make crepes but we don’t have any flour. Do you happen to have any? We would repay you for it. -I don’t know… Just let me check.”

He disappeared from the entrance for a second, leaving the door ajar. You couldn’t see inside the darkness swallowing everything whole. You did not have time to think about it before he came back with a half bag of flour.

“I’m sorry I don’t have more. And don’t worry, you can keep it. -Oh. Well, thank you. We’ll be bringing back crepes as soon as we’re finished. -You don’t have to. -She really wants to though.”

Ophelia looks at you, her 15 years making her too tall for your taste. She could crush you in a hug and take from the cupboard you couldn’t reach and make you want to crawl into a mouse’s hole and never leave it, in no time.

You coughed, a little embarrassed.

“Anyways, hum, thanks for the flour.

-Anytime.”

You stood there awkwardly for a second before your sister took the flour from his hands and waved him goodbye. He closed the door right behind you a tug at the corner of his lips making him think that he might have smiled a little. He hadn’t smiled in so long.

He could hear you banter with your sister a little before closing your front door.

You did deliver him those crepes a little later in the night. You could see his television lighting up the living room in blue hues. In the dark, he seemed so much more tired than earlier. You could see the span of his face marked by memories you knew nothing about, the way his body blocked the entrance to his place, the way he quietly thanked you and wished you a goodnight, waiting for you to leave before closing his door. As he did before. You left and he then closed the door. Maybe not to be rude and close the door in your face? You were pretty sure he would have done that in an instant had it been not considered rude to do so.

You had seen him hold the door for the young mother living downstairs with her stroller. He didn’t even look her in the eyes, just responding to her thanks with a tight smile and not even wishing her a good night. He was a loner. Nobody in the building knew his name. The name on the mailbox was Booker. No first name.

Just your clean plate on your doorstep the next morning with neat words on a piece of paper.

Thank you

Ophelia passed him by on the stairs.

“I think I heard him talk on the phone with someone named Nile.

-Oh. Ok. Did you do your homework? “

She heaves a sigh.

“You’re really going to dodge the ball on this one?”

You looked her straight in the eyes.

“This man is trouble. I can feel it.

-He’s also very fuckable. -‘Lia! -What?”

Her face was somewhat innocent but you knew better. She finished cleaning the dishes before ditching to her room. You smiled fondly at her attempt though. She was a little bit too worried about you sometimes.

You passed him by on the stairs.

You had just arrived back from work. You greeted him and he barely responded to you, his eyes a bit out of there, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. How’s Andy?”

The person on the phone gave him a short answer. He hummed softly. You could see his whole demeanour change, his hand running through his hair, his figure standing a little taller. You reached your floor as he climbed back the stairs.

You looked at him, your eyes taking in the whole new energy coming off of him. Something lighter? Probably. Just less rough than the last time you had seen him.

He caught you though. Surprised, a bit startled maybe, his mouth slightly agape by it. He licked his lips and you felt the place increasingly getting hotter with embarrassment by the second.

You fumbled with your keys and got into your apartment.

You didn’t mention it to Ophelia.

Your mind made it out to be nothing.

It wasn’t.

He knocks on your door.

It is a surprise. Something you haven’t expected. It is a Sunday. You heard the bells going on somewhere near and had wondered who would be foolish enough to get married. Or to even celebrate anything. Ophelia spent the night at her friends’ house, the flat is empty. Luckily.

He seems a bit out of sorts, both his hands pressing against the doorframe. Cheeks flushed by what you smell as alcohol on his breath. You grimace. He flinches.

“I’m sorry… I… shouldn’t be here.”

His eyes dart to yours before his arms fall back to his side. He is hovering on your doorstep, like a ghost whose purpose is lost to them. He can’t quite decide to leave or to ask for what he needs.

You lick your lips silently, your hand still on the doorknob. You are about to close the door when you notice blood on his hands. His knuckles were cradled into his palms, his fingers red.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

Your anguished question hits him like a ton of bricks. He steps back. Looks at his hands. Hides them in his pockets. His head was low. Searches for his keys. Opens the door to his flat. And leaves you there, a ball of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.  

You can’t sleep properly for the next week.