#the stupid ass kickstand gets in the way

[residentevilfour2004]

New stickers for my phone >:)

[itiswormtimebaby]

to be loved

Bucky and Bug have loved each other in some capacity for well over a decade, since he was just her older brother’s larger-than-life best friend and she was just...Bug, as in bug off, as in shoo fly shoo. One night, one stupid weed-laced mistake, is all it takes to change the trajectory of a relationship that’s been in the making for years. Written in 2nd person POV. 

Pairing: Biker!Bucky and Bug (+Brother’s best friend Bucky, Plus sized fem reader) (Steve is reader’s adopted brother)  Series Warnings: Smut (explicit), experienced Bucky, virgin reader, language, low self-esteem, past toxic relationships, negative self talk, angst

HWITA are more often than not quick (often very smutty) peaks into this couples life together, both past and present, they tend to be a bit more informally written. Titles in bold represent the main bulk of the story.

HWITA All the ass Bucky kicked on your behalf growing up  HWITA Bucky “comforting” you when you get too high Consequences All actions have consequences as Bug is painfully aware (alternatively: Bucky has a strange way of asking you out).

Fifth Date Bucky and Bug’s fifth date takes an unexpected turn (alternatively: Bucky isn’t sure he’s good at dating but knows he’s good at sex so he tries to play to his strengths).

HWITA You’ve never been eaten out and Bucky takes that personally HWITA Bucky “loving”  your thighs  Just the tip Bucky’s resolve is weakening under how prettily you beg. Strengths (and weaknesses) That night you’d gotten high, that night that changed everything, he could hardly believe his luck. You’d opened the door for him, given him an in for something more. A better man would have shut it.  Time You’re beginning to question why Bucky won’t sleep with you, but you ask the wrong person

Further thoughts on Bucky, Bug, and the Biker!verse HWITA Bug’s self esteem and Bucky’s thoughts on her body HWITA What the boys call you and why HWITA The boys “kickstand” sizes  HWITA The boys when it comes to physical fights Anon asks: Body count Bucky keeps Bug fed NSFW alphabet: KNW

See THE WORM HOLE for main masterlist.

[britany1997]

Hiiii✨

Let me start by saying i love and enjoy your writing so muchhh and your content is just nddndjdndhdjegdu :'))

This is my first request so hope i am doing it at least decently so so so how about a mechanic/ motorbike enthusiast reader interacting with the lost boys, like they have a problem with one of the bikes and the reader comes up and is like "hey i can help let me just" and fixes it, and the boys are like 😶 we keeping this one ....

It could be a fem or gn reader !

Hope u like the idea and yet again thank you so much for existing ❤️❤️❤️

Rev Your Engines

Hi! Thank you so much for your kind words!!! Encouragement of my writing is always appreciated🥹🫶 I hope you like this! Sorry it took so long

Poly! Lost boys x GN Reader

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

David checked his watch as he tossed a drained corpse off the dock unceremoniously. “Five AM boys, sun rises in a little over an hour, time to head back.” He ordered.

Paul groaned, his fangs still deep in the neck of a tall brunette. He ripped his mouth free and disposed of the girl, “we have over an hour!” he argued, “it takes fifteen minutes tops to get back to the cave from the boardwalk.”

“Yeah,” Marko chimed in, “we’re wasting moonlight if we go back now.”

“We’re going now,” David said sternly, “the last time we risked it Paul was almost a pile of ash in a fishnet shirt, now let’s go.” With that, David snapped and gestured to the two blonds, prompting Dwayne to grab them both by the collar and drag them along the dock.

“I hate when he does this,” Marko told Paul grimacing.

“Uh, yeah,” Paul said while readjusting his pants.

Once the boys had arrived at the spot where their bikes were parked, the vampires each hopped on and reved their engines.

Except for Marko, whose bike seemed determined to strand him at the boardwalk. He stuck the key in the ignition and flipped the engine kill switch: nothing. The bike cranked but the engine wouldn’t start.

Marko growled in frustration, while David checked his watch

“We don’t have time for this,” David spit.

Marko glared at him, “it’s five-thirty David, calm your tits,” He countered.

Dwayne crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, “we may have a couple minutes before suns up, but we don’t have time for you to try and fail to fix your bike. Leave it,” he said.

Marko rolled his eyes and put his kickstand back down. “Well how the fuck am I supposed to get home then? I can’t walk now can I? And flying this close to sunrise is risky, even for me.”

“You can ride with me bud!” Paul chimed in.

Marko shot him a disgusted look, “ride bitch?” he asked, “yeah fat chance,” he grumbled.

“It’s either that or you burn up,” David shrugged.

“I’d rather die.” Marko said through gritted teeth.

David rolled his eyes and Dwayne pinched the bridge of his nose.

Marko groaned, “Paul, this is stupid, I’ll take your bike and you can ride on the back.”

“WHAT?!” Paul exclaimed as Marko attempted to pull him off the motorcycle, “dude it’s my bike!”

“Paul if you don’t move your ass I could die,” Marko told him frowning.

“Then perish,” Paul deadpanned.

Marko lunged at Paul, throwing him from his bike and pinning him to the ground. They rolled around on the boardwalk trading blows.

Dwayne and David looked on exasperated, as the chaos twins went at it. “We’re never gonna get home are we,” Dwayne asked.

David sighed in response.

You caught sight of the scene on your way back from your shift at the auto shop. Working the night shift meant you were usually met with a deserted wasteland of a boardwalk, instead of the flood of tourists and locals that regularly populated the spot.

Now you were faced with the image of two grown men rolling around on the ground together. You had to see what this was about.

You walked over and waved cautiously at the two calmer looking but obviously frustrated men. “Hey,” you greeted them, “what’s going on here, maybe I can help?” You offered.

Paul screamed as Marko bit his shoulder, prompting you to jump and step back, “or maybe I should just leave you to it…” you mumbled, concerned.

David turned his gaze from you back to Paul as he wrestled Marko into a headlock, but Dwayne noticed the grease smeared lightly on your face and staining your clothes, maybe you could help.

“Know anything about motorcycles?” he asked as he gestured towards Marko’s bike.

You smiled, “you’re in luck,” you told him, “I just got off a shift at Ocean Auto, I should be able to help you out.”

David’s gaze snapped up to look at you, “you can fix his bike?” He asked.

“I can sure try,” you replied, kneeling down to take a look as Dwayne pulled Paul and Marko off of each other.

You shrugged off your backpack and pulled out your toolbox. You opened the box and grabbed your multimeter, to check the battery.

The battery looked good so you moved on with your assessment. You removed one of the spark plugs and screwed in a compression tester.

Everything was turning up fine, but then realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You pulled out the bike’s air filter, only to find it just as you’d suspected, covered in dust and dirt.

You chuckled to yourself as you realized how stupidly simple the problem was. You turned to the four men, flashing them the filter.

“You’re gonna wanna soak this in some warm water and cleaner, but for now…” you trailed off as you pulled your water bottle from your bag. You sprayed the filter and wiped it with the bandana you kept in your back pocket.

You smiled as you handed it back to the curly blond man, “good as new…sort of,” you told him.

“Thanks,” Marko said as he popped the filter back into his bike and started his engine. “You’re a real life saver,” he told you.

“More than you know,” David mumbled to Dwayne.

As you packed up your stuff and stood to your feet, Paul slid an arm around your waist.

“Come here often sugar?” he asked you.

You blushed at his brazen attitude, “I’m here every morning, I work the night shift at the auto shop every day.” You told them.

“We’ll have to stop by sometime,” Dwayne said smiling, “but for now we’ve gotta go.”

David checked his watch, it was six AM, they were cutting it close. “C’mon boys,” he commanded, “let’s ride.”

You stepped back, getting the hint, “It was nice to meet you guys, see you around,” you waved as you walked off.

“Dibs,” Paul said, once you were out of earshot.

The other boys rolled their eyes as they all rode off into the night. This wasn’t the last they’d be seeing of you, not if they could help it.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

(I know I didn’t get to get into the romantic aspect of the Boys x Reader, so I’d be happy to write a part two for you if you want one when requests open back up!)

Taglist❤️:

@pixielostboy @its-freaking-bats @anna1306 @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @solobagginses @heyriojude @6lostgirl6

[kikuowo]

TRAINING WHEELS

PAIRING: ran haitani x fem!reader

SUMMARY: After a rival gang ambushes you and the haitani brothers, and you disobeying Ran's orders, an argument between the two of you arises.

WARNINGS: foul language…kiku can’t write one fic without cussing, my bad guys

A/N: yeah ik I said I was going on hiatus but here's some word vomit I came up with on a long car ride I had today. LMK how ya'll like it...love yaaa <3

This had to be the angriest you had ever seen him.

When you both arrived to his home, he angrily kicks the kickstand of the bike down and throws off his helmet onto the concrete. The plastic cracks upon impact making you wince knowing how much that had cost.

Although even in a rage of anger, he does not forget to help you off his bike. His grip on you is tight and he’s not making any eye contact. A sick nervous feeling sits in your throat, not prepared for the argument that is sure to come. You hear him stomping around and angrily muttering to himself.

“Y/n, inside. Now.” His harsh tone makes you avert your eyes to your feet as you walk through the door he holds open. The door slams shut and Ran is finally able to release all his anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! The fuck do you think you were doing?!” He questions you, a sharp glare matches his harsh words directed at you. You can’t look at him, afraid to see anything but the soft look in his eyes he usually looks at you with. However, he wont stand for that and wants your full attention.

“Look at me when I talk to you” The authority in his voice has you shifting nervously before locking eyes with him.

“M’sorry Ran” You mumbled out, gaze averting his once more. He scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Sorry my ass, d’you know how fuckin’ stupid what you just did was? You could’ve been hurt if Rindou wasn’t there to save your ass,” Ran spits out.

You truly didn’t mean to make him angry, you honestly moved without thinking. You, Ran, and Rindou had been walking around Roppongi after going out for lunch when some low grade gang ambushed the Haitani’s. Ran had instructed you to go into the nearest store, somewhere in public where you could blend in with the crowd easily, but something was telling you to stay right where you were.

You shuffled to a corner, far enough away but close enough to step in if needed. Though, you should have more faith in your boys, seeing as in mere seconds they had already taken out more than half the rival gang. You had been about to follow Ran’s orders and walk away, until you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A boy who had been previously beaten was back for revenge, a pipe in hand and ready to strike Ran as he kicked at a man on the ground.

You moved without thinking calling out Ran’s name as you pushed the attacker causing him to stumble, however he was quick to regain his footing and now making you his new target. He raised his arms to swing, but due to a swollen eye he missed Rindou coming in his blind spot and taking him down before he could lay any harm on you.

A strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into their chest. You recognized Ran’s panting from behind you, he spins you around to face him. His eyes frantic and full of fear as he checks over your body for any injuries. Once he concludes your fine, the anger comes.

Once he assures the fight is over and Rindou is safe, He drags you to his bike, not even bidding his brother goodbye, practically threw the extra helmet at you and placed you atop his bike. After going way above the speed limit and totally ignoring road laws, you and Ran ended up in his kitchen.

“I know…but you were gonna get hurt. I didn’t mean to not listen to you” Your voice is soft and quiet, not wanting anger him more with an attitude.

“I would rather take a blow to the head than have even a scratch on you. You scared the shit out of me, I don’t want you to do anything like that again. Leave the fighting to me and Rindou” Ran’s glare softens as he seems to be calming down. He uncrosses his arms and makes his way over to you. You have half the mind to step back, but you know he would never hurt you.

His rough hands tilt your chin over and up to look at him. Ran is not one to apologize, stubborn and confident, he never sees how he is in the wrong. Although he is not sorry for the reason behind his anger and he thinks how he reacted to you disobeying him was pretty mellow to how he truly wanted to act, he does think that he could have handled his anger against you a little better. His lilac eyes swim with emotion; love, anger, sorrow.

“I can’t make any promises. I won’t just stand there and watch you get hurt Ran, not if I can stop it,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his, fingers entwining. His grip is tight on you as if he’s scared you might slip away.

He doesn’t reply to you. You know he isn’t happy with your words, but he can’t really be mad seeing as he feels the same towards you. Hell would freeze over before he lets anyone lay a finger on his girl.

He sighs before letting go of your face and leaning down to bump foreheads with you, then placing his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes are closed, you think he might be collecting his thoughts and calming himself down as he rests his body against yours. You lift the hand not in his to wrap around his neck and pull him closer, then slowly untwine your hand with Ran’s to wrap the other around him. His own arms are quick to tightly slither around your waist.

You know for the rest of the day, maybe even tomorrow, you’ll have to baby him to make up for the fear you caused him to feel. You’re sure your not forgiven yet, by either of the Haitani’s. You know as soon as Rindou arrives home you’ll get a grumbled lecture for your stupidness.

“Ran, do you want to lay down?” You whisper into his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. He lifts his self from you, standing at his full height towering over you.

One hand of his slides up to cup your cheek and you nuzzle you face closer to his cold hand. A small smile graces his pretty face at your actions. He leans down once more, his lips hovering over yours. You feel his warm breath fan across your lips.

“Please don’t leave me, I can’t lose you. You worried me today,” He whispers against your lips, his eyes cloud over in doubt. Doubt of himself and if he was enough to protect you. He doesn’t know what he would do with himself if he let you get hurt, or worse.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Haitani” You breath out before finally pressing your lips against his. As if made for one another, your lips mold perfectly together.

Emotions not said aloud are made known through the kiss, feelings of love shared between the two of you, apologies of former behavior, and forgiveness. You pull away for a moment to catch your breath before diving right back in to pepper kisses all over Ran’s face. With each kiss you mumble out whispers of your love fore him, causing a love sick smile to stretch across his face. His eyes open slowly as he gazes at you with adoration in his eyes, his mood taking a full 180° from what it was earlier. You have that affect on him, calming even his greatest emotions with just your presence.

Without another word you were lifted up into his strong arms as he carries you into his room, “ I think you owe me for all the worrying you caused…and maybe a punishment later as well for disobeying me”.

You’re not sure what that punishment entails, but if it’s anything you’re thinking of, you’ll welcome it with open arms…or legs…

[rebelwrites]

Hi there!

I absolutely lived your Jax Teller story of the female biker president. I was thinking if you could do an imagine on Jax's old lady "girlfriend " becoming the first female Samcro member due to her loyalty and fierceness for the club.

Also hope we can be mutual and get to know each other 😁

Sorry it’s taken me a while to write this. Hope you enjoy 🖤 my inbox is always open to get to know people 🥰🖤

Times Are Changing

Jax Teller x Reader

Jax Teller Masterlist

Summary: Jax needs you back at the clubhouse urgently, panic soars through your veins as you race back to the clubhouse but it isn’t what you think it is.

Slipping into the booth at the small coffee shop you dumped your phone and smokes onto the table in front of you as Lyla waited for the coffees. Gemma followed suit, letting out a sigh of relief as she sat down. Today had been a much needed day out with the girls, everything for the last couple of months has been so unbearable with the club going into lockdown due to a threat from another club.

Everyone has been extremely stressed, including yourself as you did everything you could to keep your old man calm, whilst still helping.

You weren’t an official member of the club, you couldn’t be due to being female and an old lady but that didn’t stop you doing everything you physically could for the club. Even if it meant you and Jax butted heads when he thought it was too dangerous for you. But he never won that argument, you were far too stubborn to not get your way.

As the rest of the girls joined you in the booth, Lyla placed your iced coffee in front of you. You only managed to take a small sip before your phone started violently vibrating on the table with Jax’s face popping up on the screen.

“What does he want now,” Gemma laughed as she reached for her coffee. “He has been blowing up your phone all morning.”

“Beats me,” you shrugged, swiping your phone from the table. “He’s probably wanting me to pick something up.”

Hitting answer you pulled the phone up to your ear.

“Need you back at the clubhouse, Darlin’,” he said, his voice was stern which made your heart instantly drop.

“What, now?” You pouted.

“Yes Darlin’, now.”

“What’s so important?”

“Will explain when you get here, but get your ass to church.”

“Okay,” you breathed, trying not to let your thoughts run wild. “Be there soon, love you.”

“Love you too.”

The line soon went dead, leaving you sitting there confused staring at your phone. Something wasn’t sitting right, the way Jax spoke left you feeling something was going down and that made your stomach churn.

“I’d love to stay and chat but duty calls.” You said quietly, tucking your phone and smokes into the pocket of Jax’s SAMCRO hoodie. “Jax needs me back at the clubhouse.”

“Girl, it’s about time they patched you in with the amount you do for the club.” Wendy laughed.

“That will never happen,” you scoffed, pushing yourself to your feet. “You know the rules, females can’t be patched in.”

“Stupid rule if you ask me,” Gemma added. “The loyalty you have to the club is something that should be rewarded.”

“Try telling them that then.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Anyway I will see you all later.”

Without saying another word you slipped out of the booth, your head was spinning with all different scenarios of why Jax needed you back so urgently.

The moment you got out to the carpark you rushed over to your bike, throwing your leg over the seat. Fumbling with the keys you finally brought the beast to life feeling the vibrations from the engine run through your body. Once your helmet was secured you squeezed the throttle as you hit the kickstand with your foot and sped off to the clubhouse.

You didn’t care how many red lights you ran or if you were doing double the speed limit, Jax needed you.

After what felt like an age you finally pulled into the yard, parking your bike besides Jax’s. Letting out a shaky breath you placed a cigarette between your lips, lighting it before you climbed off your bike.

The place was extremely quiet causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. It was too quiet. Without wasting another moment you rushed into the clubhouse, needing to find out what was going on.

Your feet were carrying you as fast as they could as you barged into church, the doors collided with the wall with a loud bang, your heart was pounding out of your chest as you locked eyes with Jax. There was no emotion showing in his expression which made your stomach churn. This wasn’t good.

“What’s going on?” You said slowly, trying not to let the panic show in your voice.

“Y/N,” Jax said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Times are changing, which means the club needs to adapt to make sure we are as strong as we can be.”

“Jax, you aren’t making any sense.” You whispered , narrowing your eyes at your husband trying to catch any glimpse of emotion, but he always had a good poker face. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

That’s when his signature smirk appeared on his face.

“Someone best tell me what’s going on before I start beating the answer out of you all.”

“That’s what made the decision easy, your whiplash tongue, the way you can figure out problems that have us all stumped, and most importantly your loyalty to the club.” He hummed, now looking proud as fuck. “As I said Darlin’, times are changing which means rules need to change.”

“Still aren’t making any fucking sense Teller.” You growled.

Keeping your gazed trained on him as he rolled back in his chair, you spotted the brand new leather sitting across his lap. The bright white patches caught your eyes, making your heart stop.

“Babygirl, it’s time.” He grinned, holding up the kutte.

“No,” you gasped, pulling your hand over your mouth as tears threatened to spill over your lash line.

“Yes, baby,” he beamed, taking a few steps across the room. “It’s time we made this official, the amount you do for this club doesn’t go unnoticed. So Babygirl what do you say to becoming the newest patched member of the Sons.”

“This isn’t a joke right?” You whispered, flicking your eyes between Jax and the kutte in his grasp. “What about prospecting?”

“Swear on my life, it isn't a joke.” He grinned, “I want you by my side at this table, and fuck prospecting you have already proved your loyalty to the club 100 times over.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you took a deep breath, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Pass me the kutte, Teller.” You grinned. “Although I should kick the shit outta you all for making me panic.”

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @princess76179 @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @lmao-liz @babypink224221 @daddysgirl2857 @bravo-four-seal-team @garbinge @pedrohoe04 @littlekittymeow @nichia88-blog @zozebo @cherieann-2001

[santacarlacirca1987]

devil’s lapdog. (VAMP!MICHAEL EMERSON AU)

(A/N: au by @fleouriarts, thank you so much for letting me write for your au!) WORD COUNT: 1,214 WARNINGS: corruption arc, blood and gore, murder, all that stuff expected with lost boys. CHARACTERS: David, Michael Emerson, Marko, Paul, Dwayne and Sam Emerson.

Michael grabbed the railing protecting the beach from the drunkards that would’ve stumbled onto the beach without it and gazed out among the crowd of people on the beach, then he turned his head and booked it for where he saw them, those stupid gang members that started it all. He shoved Marko out of the way which earned a quick “Hey!” from Paul, who was sitting on the railing, probably previously looking down at the beach. Once he’d shoved Marko, he’d got to the man who started it all, the one that gave him that stupid-ass ‘wine’ in that jewel encrusted bottle. He lunged forward and grabbed David by the collar of his trenchcoat and pulled him close, but he didn’t look offput at all, he looked like he’d expected this to happen, he was so fucking calm and smug, Michael hated it. David grabbed back at Michaels collar of his leather jacket with one of his hands while the other held his cigarette. “Where is she?” Michael growled out, half surprised at how odd it was for him to be this pissed, he was always so mild-mannered and polite, always the quiet one out of his friend group back in arizona. It must’ve been that ache in his stomach to cause him to be so damn irritated, and it was all because of him, because of the four of them. David opened his mouth and smirked like a smug bastard as he blew smoke into the face of Michael, who struggled not to flinch at it “Take it easy, Michael.” “Where is Star, David?” He punctuated the man's name with a tug of his jacket, pulling their chests together, that was how close they were in distance. His dumbass smirk widened into a cruel grin as he said “If you want to ever see Star again, you better come with us now.” He let go on MIchaels collar and Michael did the same to him, he’d gone and got his bike and drove along with them through the beach and the forest trail, he thought they were going to Hudson’s Bluff, but they ended up at a medium sized party down in some part of the deserted beach, far away from the carnival attractions and smell of popcorn and cotton candy on the boardwalk. The boys kicked their kickstands down, and so did Michael, but Michael didn’t move to get off his bike and move to the small tree with low lying branches like the gang members did, they climbed up onto the tree branches and David shouted “Michael,over here!” in a commanding tone, but suddenly it shifted to a semi-sadistic undertone with grim intents “You won’t want to miss this.” “Yeah Mikey, c’mon over!” Either Marko or Paul had shouted, Michael’s head was on the verge of spinning as he got off his old second-hand bike and swung his leg over a branch and straddled it, putting his hands on either side of it to keep himself upright. Michael watched the unfamiliar men party out on the deserted part of the beach, they danced around like drunken toddlers around the bonfire, but his people-watching was interrupted by David’s voice,“Initiations over Michael,”  and when he looked up to him, his face was covered in shadow, “Time to join the club.” Then he leaned towards Michael and the shadow no longer covered his face, his face had… morphed into something supernatural, something horrifying. Michael heard laughter surrounding him and looked at Dwayne, then Marko, and lastly he turned to Paul, whose faces all resembled David’s, a morphed version of the men’s faces. He looked towards the drunk men partying around the bonfire and clenched hard onto the tree branch he’d been straddling, he felt the gnawing pit in his stomach grow as he saw the men dance around the fire, perfectly unaware of what was going to happen, Of the fact they were the prey and not the hunters in this world. Michael heard and felt a rush of wind by his face and looked to the tree branches where the boys had been, but they were gone, And then he looked forward and saw them, up in the sky, flying. Just like he had a night or so ago, except they were in control, not like they’d just accidentally launched themselves out a window, but like they had a plan on what to do and where to go. They flew up, high in the sky then they rocketed down, as Michael watched them tear into the men, who were now screaming like all hell, he felt his eyes become foggier and his ears began to ring, his head was fuzzy too. He saw little black dots creep into the corner of his visions and thought he was going to faint or something, but he felt his face begin to morph, his bone structure altered to discard the human facade he’d been hiding behind for a couple days now, David was right, initiation was over, It was time to join the club. - x - Sam hadn’t really been asleep the whole night, he hadn’t been able to sleep since he knew Michael had left the house, so he only startled more when he heard a floorboard creak and his door close, he turned his back to the wall and sat up, turning on his bedside lamp only to see a stuffed beaver on his bedside table, right next to his lamp. “I wish grandpa’d stop given’ me this stupid things..” He mumbled and he threw the blanket off of his legs and stood, he grabbed the beaver and looked into its beady little eyes “And you bud, are never going to see the light of day again.” He walked to his closet and opened the door, shoving it in with the other poor little creatures his grandpa had ‘gifted’ him with. He felt a presence in his room, right next to him, so he froze for a moment before looking to where the closet door covered his window, which he’d left closed, He saw the curtains moving, and heard wind blowing and the trees outside rustling. He took a deep breath and slammed the closet door shut, and what he saw next was terrifying. His big brother, covered in blood and looking half feral with a glint of cruel glee in his eyes and a man with bleach blonde hair standing next to him, his arms resting on the barely taller man’s shoulders while a smug smirk covered his face. Sam’s breath caught in his throat, as how cheesy as it sounds, he felt like his heart would stop right then and there and he’d keel over dead, His big brother, the one that tucked him in at night and read him bedtime stories when he was younger, the one that taught him to whistle, to blow gum and ride a bike, was gone. Replaced with a little lap dog for a devil. “I know who I am now, Sam.” Sam almost sobbed at the neglect of his nickname ‘Sammy’, the one Michael always used, he only ever called him sam when speaking to other people about him or when he was pissed, This wasn’t his Michael, it was someone completely different.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Shakedown pt. ii

Summary: The shakedown begins. 

A/N: series cross posted from my ao3

James Buchanan Barnes liked to think he was something of an expert problem solver. He always had a knack for getting out of trouble-almost a strong a talent as his ability to get into trouble but that was neither here nor there. Since he was a child, he was looking out for others and doing whatever means necessary to look out for those he cared about. Becca needed school supplies? He'd mow lawns. Stevie couldn't afford his inhaler? Bucky pawned his pocket knife.

Bucky handled things. Prior to life as a made man (and in his time proving himself) he handled a lot of things. He did time as a clipper and found he had a very good aim. With each kill he was an entirely different person. Once he became a made man, he worked his ass off and built his own goddamn empire. With a family he made entirely on his own, he became a king; he became the boss.

As the boss, a man in his position oversees a variety of business. So when Stevie called, he knew it was yet another thing to handle.

"What kind of trouble, Steve?"

There was a pause. "Better come on down yourself. Might be worth your time."

So Bucky took his bike and left his brownstone and headed to the apartments he had stored as a slush fund (that's another story for another day). Lighting a cigarette, he kicked the kickstand down on his motor cycle before approaching Steve. "Doesn't seem to be a problem."

Steve tossed Bucky a look that was just a smidge too fond to be a scowl. He hated when Bucky smoked. Maybe it was jealousy from having had such shitty lungs or maybe it was the great fear of losing him. "There's a little bird." He pointed to the apartment window you called home.

"Yeah?" Bucky hadn't scored in a while, could make use of the situation.

"Heard something fall while I was negotiating with Loki, think the little bird made herself a nest outside."

"Is she stupid?" Bucky didn't think he knew anybody who would sleep out on their balcony in New York City. Or at least do it willingly. He and Steve had their fair shares of nights outdoors when their families were too poor to afford air.

Steve shrugged carelessly. "Hell if I fucking know. She waited till we were gone to run back inside, saw the light on as I circled the block."

"You think she heard?" Bucky asked scratching as his beard.

"Most likely." Steve crossed his arms, waiting patiently for orders. His blue eyes widened so suddenly it almost made Bucky laugh. "I found this too, went snooping under her window." Reaching into his pocket he drew out a chipped piece of porcelain.

Looking it over, Bucky raised an eyebrow, "She drop it?"

"That's what it's looking like. Teacup maybe?" There was a pause, "What's the plan?"

You were probably a young one, filled with hopes and dreams of starting anew in New York. Most likely harmless. Threat level was low. Potentially a snitch. Also potentially hot. "Let's just give her a good shakedown for now."

After a night of restless sleep, you scurried about your apartment trying your best to get ready for the day. Every time you'd make the slightest bit of progress, a wave of emotion would crash through you. You weren't scared necessarily, the previous evenings events certainly hadn't directly involved you nor posed any immediate danger to you. But was it legal? Fairly certain that was a big no.

Organized crime was outdated though, right? Something long forgotten and kept alive through Hollywood. The Sopranos wasn't taking place in your apartment building. Were you required to report it? Did you have plausible deniability? To snitch or not to snitch remained the question at hand.

As you went about your morning commute, you remained unaware of the red head that trailed you. You didn't see her snapping photos or talking to Clint. You certainly didn't see her sneak into the employee entrance. Despite the previous evening, you managed to go about life as normal and that proved to be your second mistake, or third, whose keeping track at this point?

"Morning Mary!" You chirped entering the library. Every morning you were determined to make the old hag smile and every morning you got the same look that edged on happy.

"Story time is at 10." The usual reply. Everything seemed fine. So you sat your stuff down and went about preparing the children's library for the day. Dutifully, you arranged the book display for the day, moving the books around in a way that would hopefully engage some of them. You laid out the rainbow mats for the kids to sit on and searched the snack cubbies for the alleged free ones.

As the little ones rolled in, you forgot all about the two men in the alley and hoped they forgot all about the evening as well.

Except they didn't forget. Or at least Bucky didn't. Legs propped up on his desk, crossed at the ankle, he waited for Natasha with Steve. He puffed on a cigar as Natasha entered the room without so much as a knock.

"Sweetheart, you know I need you to knock."

Red lips curled into a sultry grin. "Don't sweetheart me, Barnes."she said, her accent thick. She gently eased herself into one of the leather chairs that faced him, "You know I don't respond well to that."

"Forgive me, my dear." He teased a wolfish smile. "What did you find out about our little bird?"

The report from Natasha was thorough, everything about you rolling off her tongue. Name (Bucky couldn't help but test it out on his lips), age, income, everything.

"A librarian?"

Nat shook her head. "Children's librarian. Everyone else in that building were stuffy, looked dead inside."

"Huh." He leaned back in his chair, inviting Nat closer with a pat on his thighs.

"In your dreams, boss." She smirked glancing over to Steve. "Might take Cap for a ride later." Steve's cheeks turned the softer shade of pink. "Besides, if I were you I'd consider the librarian if I were you."

Bucky smirked, drumming his fingers on the large cherry desk he sat behind. "I think I might just spice this shakedown up a bit."

[cherryeol04]

Dreams Come True

Genre: Humor, Fairy tale, romance ? Pairing: JackGyeom Word Count: 2.6K Summary: Yugyeom and BamBam sneak out for a little late night parting.

Yugyeom sighed as he turned from his desk, looking at BamBam from across the room. The other was smiling so widely at him, eyes wide and innocent as if he hadn’t just asked BamBam to commit such a sin as sneaking out of their houses and going to a club. “No.”

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! There’s gonna music, dancing, and hot guys. You like all three of those things.” BamBam huffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Besides, you could dress up too.” He offered, catching Yugyeom’s attention. The thought of dressing up was very tempting but it wasn’t something Yugyeom was entirely sure was a good idea. He had never gone out in public and let others see just how pretty he could be. And here was BamBam suggesting that he go out to a club that would surely be packed with at least 50 strangers.

“I don’t know BamBam.”

“Okay, well how about you change there? The bathrooms are super nice for a club, surprisingly. It’ll be fine! I would never take you someplace where you would get like double your daily whipping or anything.” BamBam waves his hand and Yugyeom winced at the comment. He knew BamBam didn’t mean anything bad by it, but it still hurt. It was just too real of a statement.

“Bam -“

“Please?” BamBam practically pleader, voice raising a pitch higher than what Yugyeom was used to.

“Okay fine. Let me pack my clothes.” Getting up, Yugyeom grabbed his bag and opened it as he made his way to his closet. The clothes he wanted to wear were all the way in the back, safe and hidden from sight. He didn’t have many, but he had enough. A soft, baby blue crop top was selected and paired with his black pleated skirt - Yugyeom’s favorite. He didn’t really have any nice shoes to go with it, so he grabbed whatever he thought might look nice and just prayed he wasn’t going to end up looking stupid.

Stuffing the clothes in his bag, he closed his closet and turned to face BamBam only to be pelted in the face by a stick.

Where did he get a stick from?!

“Yugyeom, you ready?”

“You’re supposed to throw sticks at windows to get their attention, not people’s heads!” Yugyeom complained.

“Same difference.” The nonchalant shrug had Yugyeom pouting and he shook his head.

“Rude. But I’m ready, let’s get going.” His eyes followed as BamBam moved to his window and opened it. He raised a brow in question and BamBam snorted.

“We’re going clubbing, do really think I want to explain that to your parents?”

He made a fair point. Nodding, he walked over and watched carefully as BamBam snuck out first, grabbing the siding and rain gutters as support as he scaled down from the second story. Nervously, Yugyeom slipped out as well and not so gracefully flailed to grab things as he all but fell from his window. The good thing was, he didn’t break anything. He was just very, very sore.

“A spider monkey, you are not.” BamBam laughed.

“Ahaha. So funny.” The sarcasm ever-present as he slowly stood up. “Lead the way, Edward.”

BamBam rolled his eyes and started walking over to the bike parked by the mailbox. "Your chariot awaits, princess." Mounting the bike - or rather, a very old and rusted looking two-seater moped - and looked over at Yugyeom, waiting for him. "Well?"

"That's a death trap, Bam." Yugyeom frowned as he approached cautiously, eyeing the piece of machinery.

"It is not! Use your imagination, you ungrateful brat! It's better than walking!" BamBam gave an indignant huff, arms crossing over his chest as he waited for the other.

"Why are we still friends?" Yugyeom asked and frowned.

"Because I'm amazing. Now get in!"

"In? Don't you mean on?"

"Nope." BamBam threw Yugyeom a goofy smile as he started the moped. Yugyeom gave a heavy sigh, unable to resist his fate. Climbing onto the back of the moped, he made himself comfy in the second seat, arms barely wrapping around BamBam as the other pushed the kickstand up and started down the road. Yugyeom truly wondered why he had agreed to this, but a part of him was looking forward to it. It had been a while since they had last gone out and did anything together and even then it was pretty tame compared to them sneaking out of his own house to go to a club. Yugyeom was living on the wild side today. The drive to the club wasn't particularly lengthy, though they did make a pit stop at a gas station a block from the club so Yugyeom could change. BamBam claimed it was because they wouldn't let him in with the current casual clothes he was wearing, but Yugyeom was almost sure the other was lying. Why? He didn't know, but he just had a gut feeling. It was pretty embarrassing to walk into the gas station dressed as a boy and to walk out dressed as a girl and feeling absolutely beautiful. He was thankful no one commented on his attire, though he did receive a few looks - none of which were in disgust - that sent shivers down his spine and he rushed out towards BamBam and got back on the moped, and they headed off to the club.

The line for the club wrapped around the building practically. It was one of the more popular gay clubs they had in the city, nestled near the heart and surrounded by a very large and positive gay community. Yugyeom never failed to feel safe when he was there, but being there was few and far between anymore. He was mostly limited to the areas surrounding downtown. Small little communities that sometimes were accepting and other times weren't. The one he was apart of was far from accepting and one of the many reasons he did his best to hide who he truly was from them.

BamBam managed to find a parking spot and after making sure everything was turned off, and Yugyeom assuring him that no one would want to steal his rust bucket piece of trash moped, they headed to the front. They were greeted with a lot of groans and complaints from people who were standing in line and the lord only knows how long they have been there, waiting for this chance to get inside. But for BamBam, that was nothing as he waltzed right up to the scary-looking bouncer who had two eye moles right above his eye and was actually very handsome looking. Though Yugyeom was far more intimidated by him than attracted.

"Hey Beommie!"

"That's hyung to you, brat." the male said and BamBam rolled his eyes.

"Hey there Beommie hyung. Better?" he asked and smirked. "Anyway, Yugyeom and I would like to get in please."

"IDs." the male said and held out his hand. Yugyeom's eyes widened and he glanced at BamBam nervously, hand moving to shyly grip at his wrist.

"Bam, I don't think-"

"It's cool dude." BamBam said and smiled at Yugyeom. "I got this." he assured him. Reaching down, he unzipped his partially opened bag fully and reached in with both hands. Carefully, he removed a small kitten who seemed to be very upset that it was woken, looking around with narrowed eyes. How long had that cat been in his bag?? Yugyeom was actually very worried for the cat as BamBam held it out. "She has no name, but I found her wandering around my neighborhood. Treat her well, hyung."

The male raised a brow, staring for only a moment at the cat before taking her from BamBam's grip and pulling her close to his chest, stroking her head. "Precious little baby. Don't you worry, you're going to love living with me and my other cats." he said with a grin. Shifting on his feet, he moved and motioned for the two to go inside. Smiling, BamBam grabbed Yugyeom's hand and dragged him inside, and immediately they were overcome with a sweltering heat that only a packed club could have. The music was loud, bass throbbing, and bodies were moving. Through the flashing blue and red lights, Yugyeom could see people standing at the various bars set up and standing tables near the sides of the rooms. The middle was filled with people, grinding and dancing to the beat of the music. Yugyeom was honestly surprised to see others there, wearing clothes similar to his. Some were clearly men, but others were questionable, with curves that Yugyeom didn't think a male body could even possess. And yet it was staring him right in the face. It certainly did help to qualm his anxiety about being in public and dressed the way he was.

"Alright my friend." BamBam grinned as he stared at the other. "This is where we part ways. But keep your phone on you and check it, cause we need to leave and be home by midnight." he said. Patting Yugyeom's shoulder, he walked forward and disappeared into the crowd of dancers, leaving Yugyeom to fend for himself. It took nearly a minute before Yugyeom finally descended into the crowd. He wasn't sure where he was going or what he was going to do, but he was going to figure something out. If anything, he was at least going to dance - a passion he had for as long as he could remember.

Hours passed, or what seemed like hours and maybe Yugyeom had one too many drinks. And maybe he was dancing slightly inappropriately with a man named Jackson, but he was having fun. Though fun seemed to come in the form of stumbling over his own feet and clinging to the other male while laughing his ass off.

“Easy there, Princess.” The pet name had Yugyeom flushing, or maybe it was just all the alcohol in his system - he couldn’t be too sure. “I think it’s time for you to take a break.”

“No!” Yugyeom whined, drawing out the ‘o’ for as long as he could. “I don’t wanna!” He pouted, standing as straight as he possibly could and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that cutie.” Jackson chuckles, slipping his arm around Yugyeom’s waist, fingers gently stroking the bare skin that was exposed. With a gentle push, he guided the other towards the bar so they could sit, but before they even got halfway there, someone approached them and took Yugyeom’s hand, pulling him away from Jackson’s grasp.

“Come on! We have to go!” BamBam called as he dragged his stumbling friend away from the hunk he had been dancing with.

“Go where?!?” Yugyeom whined louder than last time.

“Home!”

Yugyeom frowned and huffed softly. He yanked his hand from BamBam, causing the other to stop. “Hang on. Gotta...” he trailed off bent over to take off his shoe. “Stupid cup.” He muttered to himself and kicked the shoe away before taking BamBam’s hand once more and following him outside.

“Hurry! We got get home before midnight! My mom will kill me if she knew I took her bike.” BamBam practically three Yugyeom onto the moped outside and climbed on after him. After a minute of fumbling to find his keys, he managed to start the bike and started off towards home.

———

Mornings were always horrible. Mornings when hungover were even worse and Yugyeom was absolutely regretting letting BamBam talk him into going to the club last night. Despite the fact that he had fun, the pain in his head was just a bit too much for him to even bare at the moment. His stomach did flips as he slowly pushed himself up in bed, eyes scanning his - thankfully - dark room and noted that he really needed to pick up his clothes and hide them before one of his parents came to wake him up. But the simple act of just breathing hurt and he wondered if maybe he could survive whatever tirade his parents would have if they saw women's clothing on his floor. Probably not but his body was refusing to do anything at the moment, so he flopped back down, curling up into a small ball as he turned to face his nightstand. Spotting his phone, he reached out and grabbed it, checking what notifications he had - which turned out to be a bad idea because the brightness was turned to 100%.

Groaning as the pain surged in his head, he quickly fumbled to turn the brightness down all the way so he could comfortably stare at his phone without feeling like his head was going to explode. He had several drunken texts from BamBam and three texts from an unknown number, which confused him. Had he given his number out to someone while at the club? That wasn't something he would usually do. He had an issue with giving his number out just to his friend so he highly doubted he would give his number to someone else. But that was Yugyeom when he was sober. There was no telling what drunk Yugyeom would do.

Unlocking his phone, he pulled up his messages, quickly opening the unknown number one and read it.

Hey, this is Jackson. We met last night at the club. I got your number from BamBam, who I got his number from my buddy Jaebeom. Hope that's okay. Anyway, you kinda left your shoe at the club last night, you were pretty drunk. I have it and I was hoping to return it to you.

Yugyeom read the texts three times, trying to make sense of the jumbled words - groaning loudly when thinking increased the pain in his head. Never again was he drinking! Rubbing his forehead for a moment, he let out a shaky breath and started typing back.

Thanks. Uh, we can meet somewhere in a few hours. Need to get over this hangover first.

The response was almost instant and Yugyeom wondered if the other had been sitting there waiting for him to reply.

Oof. I feel that, you were pretty drunk last night, princess.

Yugyeom could feel his cheeks heating up at the pet name and familiar happiness that he had felt last night came surging back into his gut.

I can tell and I regret it.

Don't regret it. You were so cute stumbling over you feet while trying to dance. Made me want to wrap you up tightly in a hug.

My hero! So, if I'm a princess, that means your my Prince Charming, right?

Well I did hear something about you needing to be home before midnight when you were running off with your friend. And I have your shoe. I think Cinderella is probably the better name for you.

Yugyeom blinked, head cocking to the side as he stared the phone. A soft chuckle left him as he did his best to think back on the night before. It was pretty funny considering that even BamBam had been treating him like a princess, calling his moped a chariot. He was a complete idiot and he had waved it off, but now that he was thinking about it, it was almost like he was in a weird version of the story of Cinderella. Maybe he could find his own happy ending.

I'd rather stick to Princess if you don't mind.

Princess it is then. Text me later when you're feeling better and we can meet up.

Yugyeom smiled softly, sending a quick text back at he would and laid his phone down on the nightstand once more. Sighing contently, he nuzzled his face into his pillows as his eyes fluttered closed. A little nap to help his hangover and then he would meet up with his Prince Charming. Maybe going to the club hadn't been a bad idea after all.

[echojacea]

FIRST WEEK HOME.

      she can smell a grill, mixed in with the smell of hot asphalt,  and it makes her nose curl. it stinks, and when she pulls her helmet off, it makes her temporarily dizzy.  NOT A FAN.  she swings her leg over after dropping down the kickstand of the rental bike ( she left hers in alaska. no point in bringing it back to tennessee when she would be back there in a week. )  her feet go into movement, boots scuffling against the sidewalk leading to the house as she wears a backpack too. deep brown eyes look at the doorbell, tempted not to ring it... escape while she still can.  instead, her fingers push the doorbell in a warning, but when no one comes, she goes for the doorknob, turns it.   she slips inside her dad’s house without a sound, pulling her phone from a pocket on her backpack and texting ryker.  made it. i’ll call you tonight after you land.   she pushes send, before tucking it into her back pocket, and she can hear the sounds of her father’s voice, mixed with her aunts and uncles — her mom’s voice is in there somewhere TOO.    

       IT WAS STUPID FOR YOU TO LET JACQUELINE GO.   SHE’S A CHILD AND YOU’RE GOING TO LET HER GO TO WAR?    IT’S HER CHOICE.    AND SHE CHOSE WRONG.  SHE’S SELFISH FOR THROWING HERSELF TO BE LIZARD FOOD WHEN SHE’S NEEDED HERE!   SHE DESERVES TO LIVE HER LIFE.    SHE’S GOING TO GET HERSELF KILLED!    SHE CAN DO THIS.    SHE’S SELFISH, AND YOU JUST DON’T WANT TO ADMIT IT, EDWARD.   SHE WANTS TO SERVE HER COUNTRY. MORE IMPORTANTLY, MILLIONS OF PEOPLE.   NO, SHE WANTS TO BE A HERO. AND IT’S STUPID. I HOPE SHE DOESN’T MAKE IT.    

         ❝                       YOU KNOW, if you’re going to talk about me, just say it to my face. I won’t bite, livia.  ❞  jacqueline drops her bag on the table, eyes narrowed. it’s her cousin, all talk, per usual. she’s used to it.  it’s what happens when you grow alongside someone who saw you as a rival instead of family.  her lips pull into a scowl, just as Livia’s mother, Claudette, shuts her mouth too.  ❝  i chose to be in the jaeger program, and for your information, I just made it past the first wash-out.  so after this point, I can get an officer’s position,  BUT  i’ll be a ranger. give it another sixteen weeks.  the only reason why you get to enjoy the safety you live with while you’re up in seattle is because of the jaeger program, so I suggest you say thank you to the pilots instead of complaining. i have every right to decide i want to take the fight to the kaiju instead of having to rescue civilians. why clean up a fight and the casualties when i can prevent them   ?   ❞   

     she can see the gears going in livia’s head, but her cousin doesn’t say anything else as she sets her helmet on the table too.  ❝ and by the way, i can kick an overgrown lizard’s ass.  ❞   she can see the displeasure at how the conversation turned on her father’s face. her mother and stepfather are both scowling.   if anyone was proud of her and she knew it, it was them.      ❝  next time, i’ll go to my mom’s house. you can find me there if you’re curious.  ❞

[ashes-and-ashes]

Motorcycles

I wrote a thing!! Sorry for typos cause I can’t keep my eyes open and didn’t read over.

~

“Are you an idiot?”

The words fly out of Remus’ mouth, his voice exasperated as he folds his arms and glares at Sirius. It’s night, on one of Hogwart’s many balconies, the moon a prefect crescent in the sky behind them.

Sirius gives him a rakish wink. “No. Actually, I’m being deadly serious.”

“Do not,” Remus hisses. “Don’t even start with me, Sirius Black.”

“Ooh, full names.” Sirius spreads his hands. “Come on, Re, it’s perfectly safe.”

Remus highly doubted that.

It was their two year anniversary, two years since they both came out to everyone. Two years since they official began dating, since they announced their love for each other.

Sirius was in charge of this year. Remus expected something small, maybe a midnight picnic on the roof or a private swim in the Lake. Something easily arranged, preferably with lots of alcohol.

He did not expect Sirius to offer to take him on a ride on his flying motorcycle.

Remus throws his hands up in the air. “What the hell? It’s a freaking muggle bike!”

“I modified it!” Sirius protests. “Added flying charms and some concealment spells - “

“It’s a fucking muggle motorcycle,” Remus says. He sighs. “And I’m not sure about your charm skills, Sirius. You got an A last term.”

“An A is good!”

“Not when we’re flying 200 meters in the air.” Remus rolls his eyes. “How do you know it’s safe?”

Sirius shrugs. “I tested it.”

“What?”

Sirius quickly backtracks. “Nothing too high. It was fine, I was 99% sure it was going to work - “

“Idiot!” Remus smacks him. “You could have died!”

“Nah, Sirius says. “Peter, Lily and Dorcas all helped me with the charms. I’m good! It’s perfectly safe.”

Remus sticks his tongue out at him. “Let me get this straight. You want me to jump onto your handmade motorbike and take me flying 3000 feet in the dead of night for our 2 year anniversary?”

Sirius meets his gaze. “Sounds about right, yeah.” He pauses. “Just no shagging. Not on the bike, at least. I haven’t perfected my moves yet.”

“Wonderful,” Remus mutters. “Do you even know how to drive?”

Sirius gives him an offended look. “Yes. I’m not an idiot you know Re.”

“Could have folded me,” Remus mutters. Sirius just grins. “Come on Re! It’s perfectly safe!”

Remus grinds his teeth. He stares at the bike, glittering under the stars of the moon. It looked like it was in okay condition, not falling apart or cracking. There was a bag stored in the compartment behind the seat, an extra helmet on the handlebars. Remus sighs. “Fine. If I get killed, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Faith, Re. Just a bit. Just a sliver. Trust me. You may come to enjoy it.”

Remus flips him off, snatching the helmet off. “Ass.” He buckles it under his chin, muttering curses under his breath as he straddled the seat. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me?” Sirius asks. He looked so much younger under the moonlight, the stars reflecting off his face. He gives Remus a wicked smile, sliding onto the bike in front of Remus. “Hang on.”

Remus barely has time to wrap his hands around Sirius’ waist before Sirius revs the engine. He swallows a scream, his stomach dripping as Sirius swipes the kickstand up and drives right over the edge of the balcony.

~

Falling.

That’s what it felt like. Holding on to your stupid boyfriend as you plummeted down the tower strapped onto a muggle bike with flight charms enchanted on it. The wind tore at his hair, making his eyes water, his lips numb. Remus opens his mouth, to scream or cry or curse out Sirius with every name he knew when a strand of Sirius’ hair flies into his mouth. He spits it out, scraping his tongue with his fingers. “Pull up you idiot! You’re going to splatter us against the ground!”

He can barely hear Sirius over the roar of the wind. “Not yet! Need to - “

“What?” Remus shouts. “The fuck is wrong with you?! Let’s go!”

Sirius yells back, his reply snatched away by the wind and Remus closes his eyes. “PULL UP NOW!”

“Jesus,” Sirius says. He stabs a button with his finger, a great mass of purple flames emitting from the exhaust pipe. With a sudden lurch (though much less then Remus expected) the motorcycle steadied. It rose up into the air, gleaming silver under the night sky. The wind was cold up here, icy crystals stinging Remus’ face, his cheeks going numb as he tightened his grip on Sirius.

“Nice view right?” He can hear Sirius’ excitement, the utter joy in his voice as he spun the bike around. Hogwarts loomed below them, the shifting greys of the lake merging with the emerald of the forest. It was beautiful, in that untamed sort of way, beautiful because of its wildness. It reminded him a bit of Sirius, the utter unpredictability of his actions. Remus nods. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

“See?” Sirius grins at him. “I’m right, right?”

“No. Remus shrugs. “Just because this….this bike hasn’t come crashing out of the sky yet - “

“It’s not going to crash, smart ass.” Sirius flicks his nose. “It’s completely fine. Anyways, I thought we….we might want to….I don’t know. Eat?”

“Eat?”

“Generally, a human boy needs something called food to keep him alive. This includes doing something known as feeding him, or shoving food into is mouth - “

Remus laughs. He’s seen Sirius angry and courageous and terrified out of his mind, seen him facing down his parents and Snape and even a werewolf without blinking an eye, but he’s never seen Sirius flustered. It’s an odd look on his face and Remus sighs. “Yeah. Food please.”

Sirius swings his legs around, bending over to rummage through his bag. He straightens up a moment after, tossing Remus a sandwich wrapped in paper. “Food for the Prince?”

Remus smacks him.

They spend the night like that, floating above Hogwarts, eating their sandwiches and watching the sky change.

“See that one?” Sirius asks. “That’s my star. The Dog Star. See, I have a whole dame star named after me. I’m famous.”

Remus rolls his eyes. He’s leaning back now, against the back of the motorcycle, his legs dangling off into open space below him. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s cause I’m here,” Sirius tells him and Remus laughs. “Okay, but in all seriousness. This is pretty epic.”

“Told you so,” Sirius says in a singsong voice. He glances up, back at the twinkling stars in the night sky. “Yeah. I’ve been obsessed with the sky and the stars. Ever since I was young. I think that’s a children’s thing, to fall in love with the sky, with something so big that you could bee have it. There’s something so beautiful about it, the way everything bleeds together so seamlessly.”

“Every child dreams to fly,” says Remus. “Especially the ones who are chained down.”

Sirius shrugs. “I used to pretend, you know, that I was an air pirate roaming the skies with my trusty gun and pirate hat. I needed something to tune out my parent’s screams. I used to play pretend in my head.”

“I used to pretend I was a bird and not a wolf,” Remus says quietly. “Everything I’d want to cut, I’d tell myself. ‘You are a bird. They are nothing but rocks.”

“Poetic,” Sirius tells him and Remus laughs. “I think everyone dreams of the sky. The one thing they can never conquer, never own. Everyone dreams of the sky.”

He turns back, to the half eaten crust in his lap when he feels Sirius’ fingers close around his wrist. He looks up, puzzled, when Sirius grabs him tight and kisses him.

And he’s never been kissed like this before, sitting on a magical motorcycle hovering above the castle, never been kissed while 3000 feet in the air. It’s terrifying, his heart pounding in his stomach, adrenaline pumping through him and he loves every second of it, every beat of his heat telling him: “I am alive.”

Sirius pulls back afterwards, a half-smile on his lips. “So. Am I to be rusted now?”

“Shut up,” Remus tells him. “Or I’ll shove you off the bike.”

[animaopen]

When Ortega swings a leg over and straddles the leather seat, he tries to think about everything other than dinner. Quiet corner, just the two of them. Candlelit, and he knew she noticed how almost everyone had cleared out. How her foot had slid up the back of his calf, and how she’d held the stem of her glass.

It doesn’t get any easier when he starts the engine. Rumbling underneath him, and Ortega has to let out a low, shaky breath, thankful for how the helmet covers his face. He can do this. He can definitely do this.

Until Logan slides in behind him, thighs hugging his hips, and Ortega hopes he can drive with a hard-on.

Backing up a little, Ortega pulls out easy onto the road. Slight bump from the uneven pavement, before settling into smooth riding. Accelerating along the highway, weaving in and out of cars. Logan’s fingers tap along his sides, and it reminds him of kinder times. She’d listened out then, for when someone was going to make a dumb move and nearly wipe them. Ortega would consider this to be like that, too.

Traffic thins the further out they get. Towards a hill that had been claimed not long into her initial stint as Sidestep. Memories there, and she must know by now he’d chosen that as the next destination. After all, he can feel the shift of her helmet against his back, and how her thighs tighten against him. 

Lurching against a gap in the pavement, Ortega swerves, upwards. Hangs a right, and they’re up. Skyline in front of them, and he kicks up some dust just for effect. Leaning the weight of the bike on his leg, Ortega lets the engine rumble low, and he’s almost distracted with how Logan is pressed against him, by squinting through the dying light.

Not for long, of course. 

She sighs, muffled by the helmet, and her hand brushes his crotch. Ortega damn well near revs forward, jerking the bike, and has to breathe out a, “damn it.”

“Hmm?”

It’s obvious Logan is smiling, before her fingers get a little bolder, heel of her hand rubbing firmer. Groaning, Ortega finds her knee, holding there, trying to keep his leg still enough to hold up.

At his ear, he hears a, “kickstand,” and barely gets it down before her free hand slips in the open front of his jacket. Pushing the zipper down further, until it came completely free. Logan gives his bulge an agonising squeeze, before she moves.

Tugging his helmet off, then her own, she lets them clatter to the ground that makes the logical part of Ortega flail a little. But that part disappears almost instantly, as he’s urged back, to relax against her, letting himself be groped and unzipped and pulled out into the open air. She’s biting his neck, peppering wet kisses along his skin, and Ortega doesn’t mumble much beyond, “god, Logan, yes.”

Mouth travelling up under his left ear, sucking what’ll likely be a mark right behind his jaw, Logan tangles a hand in his hair, pulling his head back a little more so that her mouth could get at his throat. Tongue laves over the bump of his Adam’s apple, and Ortega swallows hard. Feeling the slight bump of metal against his skin had him open his eyes, just a fraction, meeting her gaze.

Watching how she quickly spits into her hand, clearly the easiest option, and Ortega thinks, fuck these jeans. Too tight, with how he just can’t seem to get his legs far enough apart, and he thinks of Logan’s mouth, lips wrapped around his cock, her hands elsewhere on his body. Or how good it would be, to push her against the bike, fucking her right there. 

When he lets out a shuddery gasp, thoughts of zippers and jeans and clothes go, with how Logan’s hand wraps around his cock again, wet palm running over the head and down the shaft. Circling him in a tight, warm grip at the base, sliding slowly and deliberately back up. When her grip loosens, Logan teases the head of his cock with her fingertips, and Ortega shudders in her arms.

Laying a hand over hers, he tries to encourage her. Stop her. Get something out of her. As she strokes back and up and down with just two fingers and her thumb, Ortega is left with ragged pants as he presses back against her. “Uh uh,” she murmurs, his hand is almost swatted away.

So Logan settles for wrapping her arm around him, holding him in place, his arms pinned at his sides. Hooking his hands on her thighs, Ortega finds something to hold onto, at the very least. Digs his fingers in, as she continues to stroke him. A hand pushes up at the hem of his shirt, sliding under it, palm hot against his skin, and her fingers find a nipple, pinching, twisting.

“Fuck,” Ortega hisses, nerves jumping. Teeth and tongue against his neck once more, and Logan is pressed hard against him.

Feels her breasts against his back, his name whispered against his ear. Fingers gliding along the underside of his cock, vibrations from the bike idling under them, rumbling against his ass. Ortega bites his lip hard, trying to hold out, trying not to beg for more, at least not yet. Not when Logan’s hands — oh god, her hands —, the one under his shirt, sliding to his other nipple, pinching and teasing. Logan’s mouth biting and sucking intently at his neck, making his cock twitch and ache with the groans at his ear. 

He stops bothering to hold back his moans when Logan wraps his cock in a perfect, full-handed grip, giving him shallow pumps along the shaft, sliding up so her thumb can caress the precome-slicked head.

“Logan,” Ortega groans, his voice needy, almost begging — yeah, okay, he is begging. Fuck it. He needs just a little more, needs to come now. 

“Yes?” Logan bites his ear, drawing a wet gasp out of him. His eyes are only half-open, he’s only half-aware of the noises he’s making. Noises that are swallowed by the kiss he turns into. 

The first around him tightens, Logan’s left hand slipping out from under his shirt and into his hair, pulling his head back against her shoulder. Ortega feels her grinding hard against his lower back, breathing heavily against his ear. Eyes close completely as Logan’s hand slides up again, enclosing the head of his cock in slick, tight heat. Squeezing rhythmically, speeding up but not quite fast enough, until he digs his fingers into her thighs once more, panting out a, “come on.”

It’s like a challenge, getting her hands to move more. Jerking him in longer, faster strokes; Ortega gasping, he’s so close now. Seizes him, as he pushes his hips up into her hand, a hard groan leaving him as he comes. Likely all over himself, but he isn’t looking, or really caring, at the moment. With his head thrown back on Logan’s shoulder, her mouth at his throat, she works him through his orgasm in that way she’s so damn good at, drawing out all those little spasms for a good minute or more.

Logan’s grip on him finally relaxes, and Ortega blisses out completely. Blurred out vision as he leans back against her, panting and stupid with pleasure. His mind is soft and loopy, and he wants to catch the hand that leaves him. Except they disappear from him, and Logan shifts at his back. Turning, as best as he could with liquid limbs, Ortega watches as Logan finishes herself off. Hand shoved down the front of her own jeans, fingers working hard. 

Her face drops against his shoulder, and she’s grinding against the bike, singing his name under her breath. Ortega runs a hand through her hair, tugging to pull her face up once more. To sear a kiss on her lips as she comes, an unguarded moan that he swallows. 

Takes her wrist then, pulling her hand to his mouth. Sucks every finger clean, and works his tongue in between them, over her palm in a way that gets a low moan from Logan. With a loud pop, Ortega releases her hand, and almost settles for letting the last bits of unfiltered bliss linger, until he notices the mess. Huffs a sigh, and tries to wipe himself up as best he could. 

Logan laughs behind him, resting her arms on his back as he leans forward, her chin there too. Warm and solid and peppered kisses on his shoulders. Ortega tucks himself back in, sure there wasn’t much else to wipe off, and leans back into the embrace. 

[scriptwrites]

penny lane

summary: unlikely friends come together as madness unfolds in their formally proper suburban town.

chapter one

ao3

TJ

Our story takes place in a small town called Shadyside. Once a town of perfectionism, peace, and elegance, the events of 1989 would taint that forever. There were four main roads of Shadyside; Richmond Heights Avenue, Lansdon Street, East Iron Hill Road, and Penny Lane. Richmond Heights Avenue ran by the ever-so-elegant gated community Richmond Heights and the Shadyside Mall. Lansdon Street was the desolate street that went past the side of Richmond Heights. East Iron Hill Road went to the side of East Iron Hill Academy, the only school in Shadyside. It also went past the side of Southern View, “the poor community,” where I lived with my sister and my mom. Penny Lane was where everything happened. It ran past Iron Hill and Southern View and went through the Iron Hill Woods.

CYRUS

Iron Hill Academy was a cold place - in more ways than one. Every student knew something about someone else, every rumor spread like wildfire. The halls were desolate. You could always hear every footstep someone took, every time the art teacher opened up a display case to put something new inside of it. It didn’t matter who you were, if you walked by a group of students, they’d start to whisper about you instantly - whether it was about your hair, or who you hung out with, or if you were a teacher’s pet. It was just the way that Iron Hill worked. And every student knew that. However, it didn’t stop newcomer TJ Kippen from picking fights with anyone who breathed.

TJ Kippen and his sister Amber had moved into Shadyside in the middle of the semester. It was now the end of the entire school year, yet TJ had never cleaned up his act. Amber was almost the same, minus the fighting. She was as cold as Iron Hill, never talking to anyone but her brother, and shooting glares at everybody who disagreed with her.

Andi Mack and Buffy Driscoll were the self-proclaimed “popular girls” of Iron Hill. They did everything together and anyone who merely said “excuse me” or “bless you” to them was given a crude nickname and was the new target for cruel pranks.

Jonah Beck and Marty Wilson were the jocks. Both of them like a golden retriever - always happy, but never straying from “their pack” as they called their teammates. Jonah was oblivious to everything while Marty understood things but could never come up with an actual intelligent response. Personally, I can never figure out why their parents even sent them to get an education if they never used the knowledge they gained.

This, of course, leaves me and my best friend Walker. We were considered the “preps,” but it’s beyond me what the explanation for that is. Walker and I kept to ourselves most of the time but didn’t mind walking in the hallways looking like we think we're better than everyone else. But what can I say? We are better than everyone else. It’s just kind of a widely known thing in Iron Hill.

AMBER

[Shadyside Mall! Fun for the whole fami-]

I clicked off the TV. The eleventh ad I’ve seen for the mall since nine am this morning. I’d already memorized all the words, and it was getting boring. It was the fifth day of summer break. I’d painted my nails different colors about seven times in these past five days, and I was slowly running out of colors to use.

I didn’t have very many friends here, the only “friend” I had was my brother, TJ, but he wasn’t always my favorite person. I could make some new friends, but everybody at that stupid school I go to is cocky and annoying. Especially that priss Andi Mack and her goody-goody friend Buffy Driscoll. I cannot stand either of them and they’ve never said a word to me. And I hope they never do.

…

“Amber! Can you get some things for me from the drugstore?”

I reluctantly agreed, having nothing better to do. Once my mom gave me her list of what to buy and some money, I got on my bike and started to ride to the store.

My bike was nearly broken, but it rode well enough that I didn’t have to fix it just yet. I had gotten it when I was twelve, it was big for me then, so it was perfect for me now.

I arrived at the drugstore and leaned my bike against the wall. The kickstand had fallen off while TJ was messing around on my bike with his stupid friends.

Walking into the store, I nodded hello to the cashier and looked at the list.

“So then I told him that he’s not better than everyone else like he thinks he is.”

“Good! It’s about time someone put his snotty ass in its place.”

The sound of my two worst nightmares talking to each other in the medical supplies aisle gave me goosebumps. It was enough to make me want to leave the store altogether, but I knew I couldn’t do that to my mom.

For the next few minutes I avoided the medical aisle like the plague. But the last thing on the list was a wrist brace for TJ, who had stupidly fallen off his skateboard and injured his wrist.

Turning the corner into the aisle I grimaced, seeing Mack and Driscoll standing right where I needed to be standing in order to get the item that would allow me to leave the store. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot until the two noticed I existed.

“Oh look Buffy! It’s Amber, here to glare at us some more?”

“Oh look, it’s the demon queen! Mind getting out of the way?” I gave her a fake smile and motion to the shelf that they’re standing in front of.

Andi scoffs but her and Buffy move anyway.

I grab what I need and quickly go to the checkout counter, not wanting to see those two ever again.

JONAH

“Ghost player on first!”

“You know, it’s really hard playing baseball with two people.”

Marty rolls his eyes and runs back to home plate anyway, ready to bat again.

“Just pitch the ball, Jolamajama!”

I do what Marty says because he’s my best friend. Also because I know I can get him out with a curveball.

I throw the ball three times, all missing the bat due to Marty’s awful batting skills and I know he’s going to start whining about it.

“That’s so not fair, Jonah! I told you to pitch easy ones!”

“Uh, no you didn’t, Marty. You said ‘just pitch the ball, Jolamajama!’”

“Alright, whatever. Let’s just do something else, I’m bored of baseball.”

…

A few hours later found me and Marty in his house watching old sports movies. Although Marty was asleep.

There’s a knock on the door and I try to wake Marty up. He barely notices, and there’s another knock. I sigh and get up to answer.

When I open the door, there’s a kid standing there. He’s our age, and I think I’ve seen him around school a few times.

“Uh, you’re not Marty.” He smiles and looks down, kicking a little pebble on the porch.

“Oh, no, he was sleeping and I didn’t wanna wake him up.”

“Well okay then, I’ll get going. I’m Walker by the way.”

“Jonah. Nice to meet you, maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”

Walker smiles again and nods before waving and walking away.

[braehavemercy-blog]

Feast for Wolves | B&D

@walkthroughhale

Her Suzuki GSX-R600 purred as she glided down the wending road deeper into the Bayou. She’d been sipping whiskey and playing darts with Cora at Auggie’s when her phone’s buzzing pulled her from their game. The smile that had nearly formed on her lips at the sight of who it was started to crawl across her mouth at the invitation for food, only to vanish at the threat that followed on its heels. She’d tapped furiously at the glass of her phone screen, frowning as she warned the alpha against doing something stupid. 

A kiss was placed on Cora’s cheek, along with an assurance that they’d hang out again some other time. Fitting her helmet over her head, she flipped the ignition switch and heeled the kickstand back into place. The engine revved and her back tire kicked up dirt and gravel as Braeden sped out of Auggie’s parking lot and into the heart of the pack’s territory. 

She hadn’t lied when she’d messaged Derek back. It would take her ten minutes to get to his loft. Or it should have, if she gave a shit about the speed limit around these parts. Since Braeden knew for a fact no one was going to pull her over to issue any speeding citations, she tore through the dense forest in a mad dash to Derek’s place. 

Her bike roared louder as she twisted the throttle. The thought of Derek’s self satisfied smirk setting something inside of her on fire. He knew her too well. The lure of food, the threat to take it away, it was the fastest way to not only get his ass kicked but his door kicked in, too. There were a few reasons she got along so well with him and his wolves, but her apatite sat somewhere near the top half of that list. That and the food aggression that came with it. 

Sometimes even she wondered if she’d have made a better wolf than a hunter. 

When the loft came into view she skid to a stop in front of the building, toed the kickstand down, and ripped off her helmet. Braeden kicked her leg over the seat and started for the stairs, shaking life back into her hair as she took them two at a time. When she got to his door she showed him the courtesy of knocking, at least. Or, better yet, slamming. 

Braeden hammered into the door twice before tearing it open and stepping into his loft. “Derek,” she shouted as she strode deeper into the den. “Where the fuck is my food? I swear to god if you ate it...” The last bit was grumbled as she looked around the loft, brows furrowed. Where the hell was he? And where the hell was lunch?

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

TW: depictions of violence

A/N: The beginning of this chapter will look very familiar if you read Sweet Love. Sweet Love is an alternate version of them waking up in a world where Lav hasn’t been assaulted recently and is comfortable with sex.

Cross-posted on AO3

Chapter Thirteen: War

Lavender’s eyes fluttered open to see a bare broad chest in front of her face. She could feel warm fingers drawing little shapes on her lower back absent-mindedly. She glanced up, noting that Sweet Pea’s eyes weren’t open but that he was undoubtedly awake. “Pea?” She asked gently, her voice raw from drinking too much the day before.

They normally didn’t sleep in this position, choosing to spoon instead. Now their legs were entwined together as his arms were around her to hold her close to him. He also normally wore a shirt, she noted and wondered when he stripped himself of it. Not that she minded. Waking up to see his bare muscles was a great way to start the day.

His chocolate eyes opened and look down at her, a subtle contentedness in them. She couldn’t help but smile, remembering the night before how he told her that he cared about her. She never did give him a formal response, just kissing him instead. It was all he needed to know that she felt the same.

She leaned up and kissed him again, not being able to hold herself back. Sweet Pea’s grip around her waist tightened, pulling her body flush against his as he returned the kiss. It was tender and sweet like the night before.

Lavender reluctantly pulled away when she noticed how bright her room was. “What time is it?” She asked, her heart rate sky rocketing suddenly. There was never this much sunlight before her alarm went off. She started to struggle against his grip, sending shocks of pain from her still fractured ribs. Sweet Pea held her down and didn’t let go no matter how hard she tried to push away from him.

“It’s nine-thirty.” Sweet Pea said, as if it were nothing. “I turned your alarm off.”

“You what?!” Lavender practically screeched. “He’s going to kill me, Sweet Pea! No, he’s going to do worse!”

Sweet Pea had to refrain from rolling his eyes at her, though he did flinch at the high octave of her voice. “I have a plan, okay? We’re going to go to FP and we’re going to tell him everything. He’ll know what to do.”

Lavender was in tears from the panic she was feeling. The pain in her side growing worse. She didn’t want to tell FP. James’ threat echoed painfully in her head. Round two. He promised her a round two if she told anyone. Why didn’t SP realize that he was putting her in grave danger?

“Rhodes, listen to me.” Sweet Pea said, his voice growing stern. “We can’t do this alone. We need FP. Fangs already knows and agrees with me that we need help. We’ll protect you. No Serpent stands alone. You’re one of us. No Ghoulie is going to touch you ever again.” He held her shaking body close a few more seconds before finally releasing her.

Lavender was no longer fighting him. She wiped away her own tears before sitting up slowly. “You’re an ass. You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Sweet Pea rolled over onto his back, giving her an amused look. He moved one hand to rest behind his head. “Did you really think I wouldn’t tell my best friend, who also happens to be your best friend?” He asked, knowing the answer was obvious.

Lavender decided to change the subject, “why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” She chanced a look at his chest and stomach, eyes lingering perhaps a little too long. Sweet Pea smirked at the look on her face.

“I was hot. Holding you is like holding fire when you’ve been drinking.” Sweet Pea replied simply.

Lavender shook her head at him, standing up and giving him the perfect view of her ass that was only covered by her pastel pink underwear. Her shirt quickly fell down to cover it up, though just barely. Sweet Pea frowned having not had nearly enough time to enjoy the sight.

She bent over, looking through her dresser so that her shirt rode up again. Did she have no idea what she was doing to him? Now that they were over hating each other, it was hard to squash his sexual thoughts. He knew she wasn’t in the right headspace for that though. There’s no telling when she would be. Maybe once this situation with James was over and done with. Maybe when she finally felt safe again.

He simply let out a groan of frustration, earning him a very confused look from Lavender. “What?”

“Look babe, I know you’re not trying to tease me but if you keep showing your ass to me then I’ll need to excuse myself.” Sweet Pea said in a flat tone. Her face turned bright red and she suddenly tugged on the shirt she was wearing.

“Pervert.” She huffed under her breath, turning her back to him once more to hide her embarrassment. Her heart was fluttering in her chest at the pet name he used. The only time he used any kind of term of endearment was way back in July when they didn’t even know one another. It felt good to be called something other than her last name by him. Behind her she heard Sweet Pea laugh lightly, the sound like beautiful music to her ears.

After grabbing some clothes she turned back around. “Not to give you any more of a hard on, but I need to take a shower. We can go to the Jones’ trailer when I get out.” Before he could respond, Lavender disappeared into her bathroom.

Once out of his sight, she smiled. It was stupid. James hadn’t even made her feel this good but she had been so enamored with him…or so she thought. Now she realized he was just a distraction. Perhaps all along she should have been chasing Sweet Pea instead…he had been so great to her despite how sometimes he could be so against her. He was a jerk but he always made up for it.

She turned on the water, feeling frustrated herself. The kiss left her wanting more, however her anxiety was also extremely high at the thought of having sex. She just immediately thought of those four men holding her down that night. This horror fell over her when she realized that even with Sweet Pea she didn’t feel completely safe. She wasn’t able to fully trust him to not hurt her. That was probably one of the worst feelings in the world right now.

When she was drunk she had thrown herself at him without problem. Deep down she knew though that she had just been looking for an escape. Hell, if Fangs had been the one to walk in she might very well have jumped in too. As she shed her clothes and stepped into the hot water, she was happy to know that Sweet Pea had refused her. He showed her an amount of respect that most other guys wouldn’t have in that situation.

Lavender quickly washed up, dried off, and got dressed. She put on light makeup. Her bruises had healed and though the scratches were still across her face, they weren’t nearly as noticeable. Her wrist of course was still in a cast, but that would be taken off about the same time her ribs should be done healing in two and a half weeks.

She still wasn’t very confident in how she looked. SP didn’t look at her like she was any different, not like he did the first week or so. He stopped giving her the pity looks, instead there was just this dull heat in his eyes. Suddenly she realized it was from wanting to tell her his feelings. The irritation of not telling her his motives must have been eating away at him. It did explain a lot of his past actions.

“Lavender, hurry up.” Sweet Pea said outside the door, “FP is waiting on us.”

She rolled her eyes and opened the door to see him dressed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Sweet Pea spun his keys around in his fingers. He was sure to keep his eyes from roving over her, not wanting her to feel any more uncomfortable than he may have already made her. He was somewhat worried that he had crossed a line before with his comment.

But, Lavender didn’t look at all perturbed by him. She even gave him a small smile, as if sensing his insecurity.

“Think you’re healed enough to ride the bike?” Sweet Pea asked as he led her outside. He knew before it would have been very difficult for her to hold on without being in pain.

Lav tried to stop the heat from coming back to her face as she realized that if she said yes then she’d have to hold onto him. At night or intoxicated it was easy, but for some reason during the day and sober it was completely different. She bit her lip, glad that he couldn’t see the expression on her face. “I should be fine.”

They went to his bike that was parked out front. Sweet Pea got on, handing his helmet to Lav. She took it and popped it onto her head as she got on behind him. Her arms snaked around her waist. She had ridden on the back of Fangs’ motorcycle hundreds of times. This shouldn’t be any different.

Sweet Pea started the motorcycle before revving it. As he took off Lavender’s grip tightened considerably, earning a smirk from the driver.

About ten minutes later they arrived at the Serpent King’s trailer. They could have just walked but honestly Sweet Pea wanted an excuse to feel Lavender pressed against his back.

He parked his baby, kicking out the kickstand. Lavender hopped off, tearing herself away from him as quickly as possible. She took off the helmet and placed it on the seat where she had just been sitting. Sweet Pea pretended not to notice her haste, taking his time in getting off.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Sweet Pea said in a low voice. “If you want me to do all the talking, I will.”

She stared up at him, wondering how someone could be so soft yet so brash in a turn of an instant. Slowly she nodded her head at him, knowing that if she did have to say anything than she’d probably break down. This was the longest she’d been sober since she started “dating” James. It was starting to wear her down.

It dawned at her that he was probably trying to get into contact with her and her phone was still on her nightstand. She swallowed hard, knowing that this couldn’t end well. No one could be with her a hundred percent of the time, right? She was bound to end up alone, and when she did she would be easy prey.

Lavender had hold Sweet Pea everything that had happened last night. He was a good listener when he wanted to be. When his feelings or pride weren’t in the way.

Sweets’ large fist knocked on the front door. A familiar bark came from inside and a few moments later FP answered. “You two should really be in school.”

“This is urgent, FP.” Sweet Pea said, sounding the slightest bit desperate. “Rhodes is in danger.”

FP’s eyes flicked to Lavender who was looking increasingly more nervous. She was biting down on her lip hard, pulling at the sleeves of her black cardigan. Her weight shifted under his gaze, further revealing her unease.

He opened the door to let the two teenagers inside. Once in, FP motioned towards the couch for them to sit. When they sat down he noticed that they were closer together than what would have been considered normal for them. He quirked a brow, wondering if things had finally come to a head. It was obvious that they shared some kind of romantic feelings. Well, obvious to everyone but themselves.

“James Colt is a Ghoulie.” Sweet Pea said. “One of the Ghoulies.” He hoped that it would be enough implication that he wouldn’t have to further explain.

FP looked between the two of them, “you still never told me what they used.”

Lavender’s body visibly stiffened. Her eyes cast downwards to the carpet to avoid looking at either man. Sweet Pea forced himself to not look at her, his leg brushing against her knee slightly in order to provide some kind of comfort.

“It was the same thing that was used on those other two Serpents. If you want me to say it out loud, then I will. Just not with her here.” Sweet Pea said, sounding more demanding than he really had the right to be. Lav greatly appreciated him in that moment, wanting to kiss him to show her gratitude.

FP let out a small sigh, sitting down in his armchair. “So you’re telling me that your new boyfriend was one of the ghouls that attacked you? If you know that then why are you with him?”

She looked to Sweet Pea to answer for her. Sweet Pea ran a hand through his hair. “She didn’t know. Not at first, then he threatened her. Said him and some of his friends would attack her again if she told anyone.”

“But she told you.” FP said skeptically.

“Get enough alcohol in her and she has very loose lips.” Sweet Pea said, trying not to smirk confidently at knowing this little tidbit of information on Lavender. She shot him an annoyed look that he pretended to miss.

Jones knew there was more going on than what Pea was telling him, however he didn’t press it. “Alright, so why aren’t you at school today? Couldn’t you have told me this afternoon?”

“No sir,” Lavender said, her voice quiet. “It couldn’t wait…” She trailed off, suddenly losing the small amount of strength she had found to speak.

“Colt has her selling JJ at work. Yesterday she got sent home early because she was sick. She was supposed to sell it all but didn’t, now she owes them a lot of money. If she doesn’t pay up then they’re going to attack her again.” Sweet Pea explained, taking back control of the conversation.

FP nodded, “but he’s already going to attack her because she told you.” He pointed out.

“What do we do about the drugs?” Sweets asked, deflecting FP’s point. “He’s going to come looking for her and them and his money.”

“Destroy them.” FP said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No Serpent will be dealing as long as I’m king. There’s enough of that shit in Riverdale thanks to Hiram and the Ghoulies. I don’t care how you do it, just get rid of them so that no one else can get their hands on them. As for Lavender, I’ll assign a three man protection detail. Sweet Pea, you and Fangs will continue to do your part as two of them. I’ll add Jug as the third for when both of you are busy. Topaz and her girlfriend can help too. I know how you kids like to stick together. Now is the time to do it.”

Lavender felt a small amount of relief enter her body. The weight of keeping all of this from her leader was finally lifted. Though she didn’t like the idea of destroying the Jingle Jangle, it was a solution to her problem.

Both FP and Sweet Pea noticed the way her shoulders relaxed slightly, the small exhale of breath from her lips. “As for Colt. Sweet Pea and Fangs are going to give him the finest Serpent welcome they can muster.” FP said with a sly grin. Now he had at least one name of her attackers, he could finally do something about it. Something he was burning to do since he got the frantic call from Fangs.

“Can I use my bat?” Sweet Pea asked, just to clarify.

“Boy, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

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

After the discussion, Lavender and Sweet Pea retreated back to her house. She checked her phone and found several missed calls and over a dozen text messages from James demanding to know where she was. Her hands shook furiously as she looked at the device. Sweet Pea noticed and plucked it from her hand, typing a reply of his own to James.

School was out and the battle was about to begin.

Fangs stood, brass knuckles in his clenched fists. He bounced from one foot to the other in anticipation, ready to unleash his fury onto one of the boys that had made his best friend so miserable. Sweet Pea was twirling his wooden bat around, admiring the weight in his hands.

Lavender was on the couch, feeling nauseous from surmounting anxiety. They had burned the JJ so that there was nothing left. FP had insisted she keep the money that she had made and not give it over to the Ghoulies. It would make up for her having to leave work early. Sweet Pea had forced her to call in sick today to make sure she was safe at home while they took care of her soon to be ex-boyfriend.

The sun was starting to set and the streetlights had just flickered on. It was quiet besides the teen boys’ fidgeting around. Suddenly there was a long banging at the door, making Lav jump up from her laying position. Sweet Pea and Fangs both shot her a look at that told her to stay put.

Fangs opened the door with Sweet Pea ready, bat reared back over his shoulder. As soon as the old wood was out of the way, Pea swung with all his might. The barrel hitting James right in the chest. The blow knocked him backwards down the few sets of steps. He landed with a sickening thud, head bouncing off the hard dirt walkway.

Stars danced in his vision as he tried to sit up, however before he could even recover Fangs was on top of him. His brass clad fist came in contact with James’ face. The sound of bone cracking sending thrills of adrenaline through the Serpents.

Fangs punched him a few more times, aiming for different parts of his face. His cheeks, his jaw, his nose, anything to cause the maximum amount of damage. Sweet Pea reared his bat once more. “Fogarty, leave some for me.” He growled out, ready for a piece of action.

He got up and moved so that Sweet Pea could bring another swing down onto James. This time he hit his abdomen and there was yet another creak of bones giving into pressure. Sweets hit him again. And again. And again. Fogarty kicking Colt in different places of his body in between each blow.

All of Sunnyside could hear James’ screaming. Lavender was inside, her hands over her ears and her eyes screwed shut. Flashbacks of her own assault striking her almost as hard as Pea’s bat struck her assailant. It hurt. It hurt so damn much.

Jughead pulled up to the trailer in his dad’s truck. He got out to assess the damage. “Stop.” He ordered as Sweet Pea got into position to swing once more. “We don’t want to kill him. That doesn’t send a message.”

He crouched down to James’ level. FP had filled him in on everything going on so that he was up to speed. “No Serpent is going to sell drugs for a Ghoulie, got that? And no Ghoulie touches a Serpent without repercussion. You wanted a war? You got a war.”

[jacksonroseroth]

Welcome To The Neighborhood Chapter 9

A/N: We’re only a day late! :D We hope you guys have been enjoying the fic! Here’s Chapter 9 of mine and @badwolf-in-the-impala​‘s collab!

Disclaimer: There is some Spanish used in this chapter. So we would also like to add that this is a second language for both of us. We did our best to do the research to make sure things we as close as possible to accurate. So if it’s not the best/correct, we do apologize. Any helpful pointers or tips would be appreciated. But please, no rude comments. <3

Warnings: violence, angst, implied rape, More angst…So much angst.

Moodboard made by @badwolf-in-the-impala​, none of the pictures are ours.

~

Kacey had cried so much on the ride back to Charming that she could barely speak, let alone function by the time they made it back to the clubhouse. Opie having to practically pry her off the back of his bike as she sat there, staring off blankly into the distance, as he picked her up so that they could head inside. The group silent as they stepped into the clubhouse, save for the whispers from a few of the Crow Eaters and some of the members. That silence was soon broken as Gemma came out of the kitchen, hell-bent on chewing some ass.

“I swear to God, Kacey Calhoun when I get my hands on you and your sister! What gives you the right to think you can run off--” Gemma stopped as Clay held up a hand and shook his head. “Where’s Harper?” Gemma asked suddenly as she pressed a hand to her chest; fear setting in.

“She gave herself up.” Kacey sobbed hoarsely against Opie’s chest. “Harper gave herself up to protect me!” Gemma’s expression fell as she stepped forward to embrace Kacey as Opie set her down. Pulling her close as she said, “Oh, Sweetheart...I’m so sorry.”  

“They’re gonna h-hurt her, Gem...and it’s all m-my fucking fault.” Kacey sobbed as she held onto Gemma. Opie still behind her as he squeezed her shoulder tightly.

“Don’t you say that!” Gemma said sternly. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ say that. This isn’t your fault, Baby, and we’re gonna find a way to fix it. We’ll find a way to fix it...Right, Clay?” Gemma added as she looked over to her husband, Clay at a complete loss as he shook his head. Not even knowing where in the hell they would begin, without inciting an all-out War, in trying to get Harper back.

“Well, we can’t just leave her there!” Gemma cried at him.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Clay shot back at Gemma. “We almost ended up in a Goddamn shootout over the issue. She went willingly. And Alvarez gave his fucking word, Gem. It’s not like we can just waltz in and take her back. Not without starting another fuckin’ war!” He added, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face. “We’ll find a way to get her back...But we need time.”

Gemma let out a sigh as she looked down at Kacey, pressing a kiss to her temple as she patted her cheek before pushing her back into Opie’s arms as she said, “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, Baby...Maybe have Chibs take another look at your arm? Looks like you may have torn your stitches.” She gestured to the bloodstain on the sleeve of Kacey’s shirt.

Chibs seconded the statement, patting Kacey’s shoulder gently before she tucked herself back into Opie’s side. The crowd that had gathered during the commotion parting in order to let them pass and head down the hall for the dorms. Gemma turning to face Clay and the rest of the guys once Kacey was out of earshot.

“Where’s Jax?”

~

Jax didn't know what to do with himself. He was more than ready and set to go and hunt Nico down, stake out his house and wait for them to get back, taking Harper with him. But as he rode home, his mind cleared, if only a little. On the way back into Charming, Jax stopped at a little cafe to rest. As they rode home, Opie, Clay, and Chibs saw him sitting outside and stopped to ask if he was okay. Jax waved them off, promising he wouldn’t do anything stupid, and they left him.

He sat on the side of the road, only a few cars stopping to ask if he needed help, and he had gone through half his pack of cigarettes as he sat just underneath the date scratched onto the rock. J.T. 11-13-93 Complete with the Sons logo. He leaned his head back against the rock and blew out the smoke from his last drag. He snubbed it out and stood, going to his bike and getting on, buckling his helmet before starting it and taking off down the street. He knew there would be questions as to where he went, what he did, but he didn't feel like answering to anyone. So with a quick text to Clay at a stop light, as he came back into town, Jax turned off, riding away from the club and going back home.

As it were, with Harper gone and everything good between Sons and Mayans again, the lockdown was over, the other charters leaving one by one. When Jax got to his house, Gemma was outside, getting out of her car. Jax sighed as he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, kicking out the kickstand and taking off his helmet.

“I guess Clay didn't give you the message?” Jax asked as his mother walked over him.

“No. I got it.” Gemma said, giving him a look, stopping just short of his bike and putting a hand on her hip. “Why are you here at home, Jax? You should be at the clubhouse coming up with a plan to get Harper back!”

“You don’t think I know that, Mom?” Jax snapped, sauntering up to his front door and opening it. He tossed his keys into the bowl that sat on the alcove and went to the kitchen. Gemma followed him inside and closed the door behind her. Jax turned to her, twisting open the top to a bottle of beer and said, “There’s nothing we can do until an opportunity presents itself. She fucking gave herself over to them to stop any sort of war between the clubs because we refused to let them have her. What can we fuckin’ do?”

Gemma stalked over to him and hissed, “You can kill that son of a bitch who started this. Nico or whatever his fuckin’ name is. He’s the one who caused Alvarez to even want justice and forced Harper’s hand.”

Jax scoffed as he let out a short laugh and said, “Believe me, Mom. I want nothing more than to do the son of a bitch in myself. But he’s Alvarez’ fuckin’ nephew. I do that to get her back, it stops being about what they did and becomes a fuckin’ problem for us all.”

Gemma huffed at him and turned away, taking a few steps and bracing a hand on her lower back as her other hand reached up to rub her forehead, trying to think. Finally, she turned to her son and said, “Well, if you’re not going to find a way to bring her back, you better get the fuck over to the house and comfort Kacey. She’s a goddamn wreck.”

Leaving it at that, she walked out, jumping in her car and taking off.

~

Once Alvarez and his men had brought Harper back to the clubhouse, she was instantly on edge. All these men knew what she and Kacey had done and now she was forced to face them again. Or so she thought. As she slowly got off Alvarez’ bike, handing him the spare helmet, before she could even start to follow him inside, Nico grabbed her arm and yanked her over to his bike.

“Nico, what the fuck!?” Harper shouted. The back of his ringed hand sent her to the ground before he roughly hauled her up again, planting her on the back of his bike, not bothering with her helmet, and took off before Alvarez could even look back. As much as she would rather let go and take her chances with hitting the road, she clung to Nico, sobbing. Her only resolve was that she was going to figure out a plan to kill Nico herself and escape back to her sister, the club, and Jax.

When Nico pulled into his driveway, he grabbed Harper’s arm and tugged her inside, shoving her through the door so hard, she missed the step and tripped, stumbling to catch herself before she landed, sprawled out on the hardwood floor. With a whimper, she tried to pick herself up, settling for an attempt to crawl to the couch and hoist herself up. She didn't think Alvarez would let Nico take her, knowing he would lay down some beatings at some point, and she didn't think it would happen this fast. But when she rolled over on the rug, staring up at Nico and seeing the fire that raged in his eyes, she knew it was over.

“Nico...Please…” She begged softly. Nico snickered and nodded.

“That’s right, bitch. Beg. You think Bastien’s beatings were bad? Baby, you have no idea.” Nico said. He yanked her up and wrapped his hand around her throat, but before he could do anything, Harper’s absolute worst fear was realized when she heard Sara call from the back of the house, “Nico?! Is that you?”

“Yeah, Niña. Come see what I brought you.” Nico called back with a smirk. Harper shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, tears seeping out of the corners.

“Nico, please. If I ever meant anything to you-” Her plea was cut off as Nico slapped her again.

“Went out the window the day that little bitch beat my sister.” Nico hissed. As Harper gripped Nico’s wrist, trying to pry it away, Sara emerged from the hallway, stopping for a moment when she saw Harper. A small smile spread across her face as she slowly made her way over.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Sara taunted as Nico turned her to face Sara, still holding her neck. Harper whimpered and looked at her.

“Sara-” Her fist connected to Harper’s face, sending her backwards over the couch. She whimpered as she picked herself up, trying to scramble away from the siblings as best she could. She managed to catch a glimpse of Nico’s gun stash and made a mad dash for it, grabbing one that she desperately hoped was loaded and turned on them, pointing it with unsteady hands.

“T-Th-That’s f-fuckin’ enough…” She sobbed, her hands trembling so bad she was afraid she would drop the gun as her finger lightly gripped the trigger. Nico chuckled and said, “Can you even see straight to do it in one shot, mi Amor?”

“Do you want to f-fucking test me, Nico?” She said, her voice trembling though she was quite confident in her skill. Nico smirked and cocked his head to Sara and said, “Sara, go down to Diego’s and get some food. We’re gonna need it.”

Sara glanced at her brother, giving him a look before looking back at Harper. “You think I’m leaving you alone with this stupid bitch? Que loco, Nico.” She said. Nico turned to her and said, “Sara, fucking get your skinny ass down there!”

He gave her a stern look, though his lips pricked up in a small smirk, and said, “And make sure they get the order right. Take your time.”

Sara pushed him away and turned, whipping her hair in his face and swiped her phone and keys off the table as she walked out the door. Nico turned back to Harper and said, “Put down the gun, Harp.”

“No! Fuck you!” She shouted, cocking the gun to show she wouldn’t listen. Nico took a step closer as he said, “You think if you kill me that they won’t go after Kacey? The Alvarez’ don’t die easy. It takes a perfect shot to the head to do it. Just ask Esai.”

Harper seethed as her hands shook even more. “I wasn’t fucking involved in that! I loved Esai like a fucking brother!” She yelled.

“And yet you’re sleeping with the man who made it happen,” Nico said, getting closer. “Put the fucking gun down, Harper. Now.”

Harper clung to the weapon, not sure she’d ever get this chance again, but she finally, still reluctantly, lowered and uncocked it. “Now, put it back where you found it.” He said. Harper took a breath, cursing her next movement as she turned her back to him, setting the gun back in its place. The second her hand left the gun, she felt Nico’s fingers dig into her hair, grabbing a fistful and throwing her across the room, to the couch.

“Now you’re gonna regret not giving us your sister.” Nico spat. Harper closed her eyes, wincing at the pain from everything. They shot open when she heard Nico’s belt buckle clink, widening in shock and fear.

“Nico. Nico-”

“Keep your fucking mouth shut. You know what you are, baby? A goddamn biker whore.” Nico said, rushing at her as she made her move to try and run. He grabbed her and pinned her down with one hand, while the other ripped down the shorts she wore. Harper whimpered and clawed at him. “And now, you’re going to get treated like one.”

“Nico, don’t do this!” She screamed, struggling under him. Another backhand from him silenced her. Even if he had held his hand over her mouth, she still wouldn’t have made a sound.

~

The week went by quickly without Harper, knowing where she was and not knowing what was happening to her. Kacey was distraught for three days, refusing to leave the house. Opie and Gemma made sure she had everything she needed, not knowing how long it was going to last. But as day four, turned to five, Kacey’s distress steadily turned into anger as she finally managed to climb out of the whiskey bottle she had been hiding in. Trying to bury her feelings in hopes that this was all just some messed up dream. But as reality eventually set in, Kacey was forced to pick herself up. Saving her pity party for a more convenient time as she threw herself right into the middle of trying to come up with a plan to save Harper.

And while Opie, Jax, and Gemma were more than supportive, happy just to finally see her out of the house and sober for the first time in nearly a week...Clay was a little less than thrilled. Especially by her impromptu sit-ins on any club meeting Kacey thought might contain discussion about her sister, which in turn only lead to more arguments and tension among the clubhouse.

Gemma did her best to keep things neutral with Clay, but with Kacey on the warpath, and Jax only adding fuel to the fire, she didn’t know how much longer it was going to last before somebody pulled a stupid stunt and managed to get hurt...Or worse.

“We have got to get this shit sorted out…” Gemma muttered to herself as she took another drag from her cigarette as the muffled argument between Clay, Jax and Kacey escalated behind the closed doors of the Chapel.

“Hm...And how do you propose we do that?” Opie spoke up as he set his beer down the bartop, turning his attention to Gemma who shook her head as she allowed another drag of smoke to trail past her lips slowly.

“Hell if I fuckin’ know...But if they don’t figure something out, and soon, I’m afraid your lil girlfriend is gonna give Clay a Goddamn coronary.” Opie snorted with a laugh but nodded his head in agreement, knowing Gemma was more than right.

“Yeah...She can be a bit, difficult, sometimes.” Opie added.

“Sometimes?” Gemma scoffed with a smirk. “Baby, that girl could bring down an entire nation if you pissed her off enough. I don’t envy you the first time you really piss her off.” She chuckled as she reached over to pat Opie’s cheek. “You’ve got yourself a good one, Ope.”

“Thanks, Gem.” Opie finished just as Clay came storming out of the Chapel, muttering to himself angrily as he headed for the front door. Kacey the next to emerge in a rage as she stormed off towards the dorms; leaving Jax who approached the bar, rubbing his forehead as he waved Half-Sack down for a beer.

“This is a fuckin’ disaster.” Jax sighed heavily as he leaned his hands against the bar. “If Clay would just listen--”

“I know, Baby.” Gemma kissed his cheek lightly as she moved around the bar. “But we’re gonna figure it out. And don’t you worry about Clay...I’ll deal with him. There’s gotta be somethin’ we’re missin’ that we could use to get Harper back. We just need to dig a little deeper.”

Jax let out a soft sigh as he took a large gulp from his beer, sliding onto a barstool next to Opie. Gemma combed back his hair a little before taking off to check on Kacey, mainly to make sure she wasn’t diving head first into another bottle of whiskey. Opie planted a firm hand on Jax’s back and leaned forward on the bar.

“How are you holding up, man?” Opie asked. Jax shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“How are you supposed to deal with something like this, Ope?” Jax asked, softly before turning to look at him. “I mean, who knows what the fuck that bastard is doing to her!”

“She’s very strong-willed, Jax. She can hold her own.” Opie said. Jax shook his head and took another drink, draining half of it.

“Not against Nico. Did you see the way he fucking looked at her? He wanted to kill her, Opie.” Jax said.

“Hey. Don’t think like that. You start thinking like that and everything goes to shit.” Opie said, sternly. “We’ll get her back Jax.”

While he wanted to believe it was true, there was no light that Jax could see at the end of this unbelievably fucked up tunnel. In his mind, there was one way, and one way only, that he would ever have the chance to have Harper back in his arms, and it surprised him at just how ready he was to do it.

~

While the rape was a one-time occurrence, the beatings became regular, Harper becoming little more than a slave. Nico and Sara both seemed to take pleasure out of seeing the bruises on her face, her split lips and bruised arms. Whenever she dropped something or wasn’t quick enough in getting him what he wanted, a swift backhand was all he did, keeping him satisfied enough. At night, when he got drunk or had a bad run or whatever bullshit excuse he gave, he beat her. Sometimes just a few slaps before passing out, sometimes it lasted several minutes. Only once did Sara take full vengeance on the sister, slicing her up so bad they had to call the club medic to the house, Nico paying him off so it didn't get back to Alvarez. Though Nico already had the excuse of Harper falling off his bike on the highway.

Alvarez checked in on Harper often and Nico meticulously planned his beatings, making sure she was healed enough to use the falling excuse and Alvarez bought it. But it soon became too much for Harper and she decided to speak up in his presence, knowing Nico wouldn’t hit her until after he had left.

“Tío. What brings you here?” Nico asked, letting Marcus in, closing the door behind him.

“I wanted to stop by. I’m heading out to Lodi.” Marcus said, glancing around for Harper. Nico knew he really came by to make sure Harper was still alive, so he called out for her.

“Harper! Marcus is here!” Within seconds, Harper hustled down the hallway and gave Marcus a half smile. Marcus returned it in kind and lifted her chin, inspecting the new bruises she had.

“Those look bad, chica. Fall down again?” he questioned, raising his eyebrow, the excuse beginning to wear thin. Harper glanced over his shoulder at Nico, who had taken out his knife and played with it, his eyes never leaving her. Harper looked at Marcus and said, “I’m fine.”

Marcus nodded and released her chin, beginning to turn away, but Harper stopped him. “How is Alejandro?” She asked, making him turn back to her. “I-I couldn’t help but notice I haven’t seen him around lately.”

Marcus glanced at Nico and said, “You haven’t heard? Alejandro got shot by some fuckin’ Niners...Right after you left, actually.”

Harper’s lips skewed in a smirk as Nico took a step toward her. “Really? Cause from what I remember-”

“Harper, shut the fuck up.” Nico hissed. Marcus glanced at him and said, “Why don’t you shut your mouth, Nico, and let her finish.”

Nico stepped back, ready to bolt, as Harper continued, “The last time I saw him, was when I put a bullet in his head when he tried to rape Kacey.”

“You’re fuckin’ dead, you bitch!” Nico screamed, charging at her. Marcus turned and caught him by his Kutte and gave him a rough shake.

“What happened to the Niner, then, Nico?! You told me that stupid chato got a bullet in him too! That they took Alejandro when they killed him!” Marcus shouted.

“She’s a lying whore, Padríno! She’s a fucking liar!” Nico shouted as Marcus shoved him back, crashing into the table behind him.

“If I’m lying then why do I know you paid off the LKQ junkman to let him bury the body there?! Dangerously close to where we met you two weeks ago!” Harper shouted. Nico chucked his knife at her, which Harper easily avoided as Marcus grabbed him by his Kutte again and dragged him to the door.

“Well, we’re gonna see if she’s lying, aren’t we?” Marcus said. He turned to Harper and said, “Stay in the house, Harper. We’ll be back.”

Nico pitched a fit the whole way as Marcus dragged his nephew to his car and shoved him in. Harper waited until the tires squealed, Marcus peeling out of the driveway before she tore through the house looking for one of Nico’s burners and dialed the clubhouse, a number she thankfully memorized, not knowing if Kacey would be able to pick up. As the phone continued to ring, she slowly began to lose hope that anyone would answer and she only had a short window to get ahold of someone. Finally, the line picked up, not bothering to wait to see who it was, she screamed, “Let me talk to Kacey! Or Jax! Or Gemma! It’s Harper! Please, please let me talk to them!”

“Harper!? Hey, it’s Half-Sack, hold o-Jesus, Kacey, alright, alright!” There was fumbling before Kacey was on the phone shouting, “Harper!? Is that really you!?”

Harper instantly began sobbing as she smiled and nodded. “Yes! Yes! Kacey!?” She cried. Clutching the phone she sunk to the floor and sobbed.

“Where are you, Harper?! We’ll come get you!” Kacey said. Harper shook her head and said, “No, don’t. I mean not here. I’m at Nico’s. We-I have to get out first.”

“Well, you have to get out of Oakland! Where can we meet you?!” Kacey asked. Harper sniffed and wiped her face as she said, “I-I don’t know. I-I’ll find a way to get out. Um, what-what about Lodi? Have-have Jax reach out to the Bastards. Nowhere near LKQ. I-I told Marcus about Alejandro.”

There was a moment of silence where Harper’s heart dropped and she looked at the phone to make sure Kacey hadn’t hung up. “Kacey?” She asked.

“You-You told M-Nico didn't hurt you?!” Kacey screamed.

“No! Marcus grabbed him and they just left. Kacey, I need to leave now.” Harper said, beginning to shake.

“Okay, Harp-Yeah...Yeah. I’ll tell her, Jax. Harper?” Kacey called.

“I’m still here!”

“Okay, listen. I’m going to text you. Jax said to go to the Grim Bastards clubhouse in Lodi. Just go. I’ll text you. When you get somewhere safe, check it and meet us there!” She said. Harper sighed and nodded.

“Okay. I-I’m gonna leave now. T-T.O. knows I’m gonna be there? I’ll have to steal Nico’s bike!” Harper said.

“Harp, don’t worry! We’ll tell them! Just go!” Harper left the number of Nico’s burner and began to search around for the keys to his bike. As she grabbed them and turned, Sara stepped out from the bathroom, arms crossed and smirking.

“And where do you think you’re going?” She asked, with a sneer. Harper took a step back, bumping into the counter.

“Just let me go, Sara, You got what you wanted!” Harper said. Slipping a hand behind her, she felt around the counter for anything she could use to hit her. Her fingers closed around the handle of a knife and held it tight.

“Oh, no. I think you’re much better off here, mamí. Besides, if you run, we’re going to find you.” All the while she spoke, she inched her way closer and closer to Harper, until she was just within reach. Harper shifted, all pain replaced by adrenaline, she spat at Sara, “Well, I’d second guess that if I were you.”

Before she let Sara say anything else, she lunged at her, sinking the knife into her shoulder. Sara screamed and dropped, Harper rolling off her and shooting out the door. She didn't bother with the helmet, if she got picked up, she could still get away from Nico. She started the bike and took off, trying to figure out a way out of Oakland and on the highway to Lodi without being caught; By cop or Mayan.

~

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