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brayneworms · 7 months

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send up my heart to you.

kinktober day four: overstimulation

word count. 3.2k

content. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, overstimulation, porn with feelings, crying, kissing, gender-neutral reader, reader bottoms, no real power dynamics, implied virgin!xiao, references to xiao's past abuse, subspace, aftercare, mild dumbification, sub-top!xiao, blink and you miss it implications of masochism, this got emotional lol.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

♪ my love mine all mine - mitski

Xiao doesn't know he can get addicted to love.

How could he? It's not like you realise you're craving something when you don't have it. So the first time it's entirely by accident. It takes a lot for him to get like this, to get vulnerable enough. So much of your human lifespan that he feels indescribably guilty, actually, that you've wasted so many years on worrying at the stone wall of vulnerabilities he'd erected so many years ago.

But, diligently—and so humanly—you had.

And there is still so much of him that screams that he doesn't deserve it. That first time, he won't ever forget—bristling with karmic debt, feeling it ooze out of him like a shameful shadow. It rolled down his back in drops of sweat and beaded in his eyes like tears. With every wet, strangled gasp that left his throat it released into the air like a noxious gas, and he waited, body tensed like a loaded weapon, waited for it to kill you.

And it didn't. And it doesn't.

It feels impossible. Nothing should feel this good. It's slow and hard, in the way that it's deliberate. That's the thing that makes Xiao want to cry. You're deliberately touching him. On purpose, you love him.

Your hands are deliberate; there is no chance you'll forget it's his skin you're touching as you knead it between your fingers like fresh bread, fitting your fingers between his ribs, rubbing slow circles over his thighs, tracing the scars that welt up under the flesh. Your fingers paint fire over his body, and disrobing feels like simultaneously the most natural thing in the world, and also something that makes Xiao want to run and hide.

His own skin seems to scream at him. But you must only hear birds.

Soft kisses, dotted down his sternum as your hands skim over the scarred plane of his torso, thumbs circling. Can you feel the way his stomach tenses under the flex of your digits, the way his breath hitches? His ribs creak and expand with each shallow breath. It's dangerous, and he thinks—perhaps he could grow addicted to this.

How awful. To be addicted to something that will be gone in the blink of an eye.

The touches and the kisses, the little whispers are good, but being inside you is something almost indescribable. It's a slow, conscious effort, something almost akin to a play like in the theatre that Zhongli and Hu Tao frequent on their rare days off. There are roles and lines and actions to be memorised, and he does, opening you up—spit, fingers, the help of some slippery oil in a glass vial you produced from your pocket. This, too, is deliberate—the whole time is Xiao knowing what he's opening you up for, and being struck dumb all over again before he's even—

even—

"Are you ready?" you murmur, and Xiao's mouth works soundlessly for a moment because how could he be ready for something like this? He doesn't even know what it's going to feel like. How can he be ready for that?

But what he is ready to do is trust you. With his life, with everything. In so many ways, he's already given you everything. So he nods, trembly and short.

"Can I hear a yes?" Your hands stroke up and down his thighs, the sensitive skin on the inside, and Xiao huffs out a strangled breath.

"Yes," he grits out, teeth mashing together. If it's going to be anyone, it's going to be you. And you smile at him, all lips and no teeth, eyes crinkling in bows and Xiao swallows past the unidentifiable lump in his throat.

(It is only unidentifiable because he is a coward. He knows, deep down, exactly what it is).

You take him in your hand; he's already painfully hard, had been, really, since you started kissing. It's mortifying, this show of desire, but he's helpless before it as you move your hand slowly up and down. You position him between your legs, and he feels the soft, the hot and wet, spit and oil and something else, and it hits him—

He slides in. Xiao sees your thighs shake with the effort, his hands slipping under clumsily to grab at them to help; it feels like all his own strength as been sapped, and as soon as your body swallows the tip of his cock all he can do is slump back against the sweat-damp mattress, mouth open in a silent gasp before it releases in a high, broken whimper like shattered glass.

Arduously, you take him all. By the time you're practically sitting on him he's already an utter mess, squirming and hot under you, his hands scrabbling frantically for purchase on your thighs. His nails leave little railroads behind on your skin.

"Oh," he moans, head tipped back. "Oh—gods—"

"Xiao..." Your fingers trace over his; he can feel your own shaking. "You feel so good."

He blinks his eyes open, shocked to find them already blurry. "I—I do?" he rasps, pathetically, hating himself for it, but your radiant smile makes him ascend.

"Feel like I was made for you," you mumble, and Xiao's heart cracks because how can you, your mortal form, how can you be made for him—toxic and rotten and old, so old that he will outlive you by thousands of years? But then you smile weakly, and you say, "or maybe you were made for me," and that feels a lot more palatable. Xiao can believe quite readily that he was put on this earth for no other reason than to please you.

He rocks his hips up weakly, chasing more of that squeezing wet heat, that almost suffocating tightness, and your body jolts and groans. "S-sorry," he wheezes, but his body can't stop, he can't stop, every cell is on fire and you feel so so so good—

He comes far, far too quickly; it's basically over before it's even started, as he thrusts up into you with a shattered gasp. For a moment his head goes wonderfully, blissfully blank, and it feels like the first time in forever he's stopped thinking long enough to relax. He slumps against the mattress, breathing fast, and peers up at you with wide, apprehensive eyes.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice strangled, weak, pathetic. Self-loathing rises up in a vice, twists up his insides. What a useless tool he proclaims to be. His fingers drop limply from your legs and twist up the bedsheets, avoiding your eye, despising himself. "I can keep going."

Your expression pinches—for the first time, Xiao realises with disconcertion. There had been no trace of disappointment when he'd failed to perform, only now that he offers himself up as a sacrificial lamb for your pleasure. The casual concern makes his head rush.

"It's okay," you say soothingly. "It's a lot. I mean—" You glance down for half a second, but Xiao catches it, follows your gaze. Release drips down from where he's still buried inside you, running languidly down the backs of your thighs. Xiao's face burns, but he's caught between mortification and sudden interest.

A piece of him is inside you. It makes his whole body shiver with satisfaction, like an itch that's finally been scratched. He feels the limp instrument between his legs swell, and it's with more conviction that he says this time, "I can keep going. Please—please allow me..."

Shivering, he reaches a hand up, smooths it up your stomach. Your skin is so smooth and hot, so untouched by the ugliness of war. He wonders how you can stand to look at him, but you can, you do, and he swallows hard as he sits up and presses a stinging kiss to the swell of flesh on the left of your chest. This close he feels your breath hitch.

"If—if you're sure." Your voice has become quiet, shaky. Unsure, for the first time.

"I am." He is so fucking sure—every part of him, apparently, because the heat between his legs is starting to get painful again. "C-can... could I...?"

In answer, you roll your hips against his, testing, slow. He feels like dick twitch inside you, and it shocks him like lightning. It's an odd sensation—a pleasurable burning, feeling momentarily so good that it hurts. Is this normal? He shudders, eyes struggling to focus; every small jolt of him inside you sends shivering bolts of lightning through his body, ones that have him whimpering and gasping much more than before.

It's slightly painful—and it's ridiculous, because Xiao has made friends with agony, had lived through so much of it that he'd come out the other side and regarded it almost as an old friend. But it's a different sort of pain than torture, than brutality, than mindless violence for the sake of it. This is a discomfort he would happily self-inflict.

"Xiao?" you ask, breathlessly. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he answers mindlessly, then rushes to correct himself. "Th-that is—it doesn't..." He gathers a sharp breath. "I do not... dislike it."

"Are you sure?"

In answer, he gathers his strength and flips the two of you over. You make a grunt of surprise as your back flops against the mattress, and it takes an awkward few moments of fumbling and sliding sweaty limbs to align yourselves correctly again. Xiao kneels between your legs, keeping himself lifted with his arms on either side of your head. Framing you, like you're a painting. You might as well be.

You stare up at him owlishly.

"I'm sure," he says, then fixes you with an attempt at a flat look. It would probably be more effective if he wasn't blushing madly. "I'm not made of glass, you know. It's far more likely that I'll hurt you rather than the other way around."

"You won't hurt me," you say with so much certainty that it throws him for a loop. Xiao swallows, eyes softening as he gazes down at you. You slip your hand between the both of you and wrap your fingers gently around his cock, and Xiao buries his head in the crook of your neck with a muffled moan. The sound that slips out of him is almost pained, wispy and high as you carefully manoeuvre him back to the heat between your legs.

Sliding back into you is what he imagines heaven must feel like, in the event a wretched creature like him could ever get there. And it burns, every clench and ridge catching on his cock as he pushes back in with a breathless noise, every cell in his body fizzing with life and fire.

"Hah—" The noise slips out like a punch. "Oh, oh..."

"Please." You lift your hips encouragingly, pressing the two of you flush together. "Please move."

The first few thrusts are awkward, but after he manages to pick out a steady sort of rhythm it's so easy to fall back into it. Xiao stares down at you, gobsmacked; is this what you saw, sitting on his waist, looking down? Your head tips back against the sheets, fingers clenching the bedsheets, your lips parted in a helpless little moan. He feels dazed, heavy-limbed: how did you not fall immediately and irrevocably in love?

Oh, he thinks distractedly. Maybe you—

You're getting closer, this time—he's not entirely sure how he can tell, but he just can. Your breathing picks up, gets higher and wispier until you're practically wheezing, and your arm flies up to dig your nails into the foam of hair at his nape, pinpricks of pain to match the sensitivity burning between his legs. Every push in and out of you makes his whole body shudder, makes small, pathetic sounds drift out of him almost absently. It's almost scary, how separated from his own body he feels.

It's something he can only compare to committing absolute violence. Leaving yourself behind like this, to do what must be done.

He has just enough wherewithal to bend his neck, mouthing at your chest, the soft skin under his lips feeling like a miracle, an offence to everything he knows. Your answering groan sends heat rushing between his legs. You're making—he it's because of him, and he's—he's making you feel—

His second orgasm doesn't so much as creep up on him as it does slam through him with barely a seconds' warning. Xiao practically chokes on his, his hips stuttering against yours as his cock twitches inside you, again, and it's so much, too much, that his whole body lights on fire with the oversensitivity. Tears swarm his eyes as he clenches them shut, pressing hard against your collarbone before he slumps, practically boneless.

He can feel you breathing beneath him. Certainly you didn't finish, if the way you're swallowing and breathing hard is any indication. Shame fills him all over again, as soon as the feverish heat retreats. He lifts his head groggily and looks up at you, dread pooling in his stomach—but again, there is no disdain in your expression. Your eyes are wide, mouth parted, but when he locks eyes with you all you do is smile weakly and shrug, a gesture that even Xiao understands to mean it's okay.

Still. It isn't. Not to him.

Through the foggy haze that has settled over his brain, he manages to dredge up two words. Hoarsely, whispered into your skin: "One more."

"W-what?" There's barely time for the shock to slip off your face before Xiao pushes himself up on trembling arms. "Xiao, you—oh!"

The noise you make when he presses his hips flush against you is almost enough to have his cock swelling with interest again. "Wait," you whine, even as your hips arch into him. "Xiao, it's too—you m-must be—"

"I can take it," he grits out, unsure if it's true but beyond willing to find out. He blinks down at you with wet eyes, mouth agape, not thinking to close it, not thinking about whether he looks ridiculous, wanton, or any thousand other things. Only thinking that he wants you, and wants you to feel good. "Please..."

The feeling that rips through him when he rolls his hips against yours almost makes him shriek. It's so much, and a loud buzzing fills his ears as his jaw locks. It needles at him, his skin screaming as he grinds against you, barely thrusting really, just trying to ease himself back into the feeling again. Your expression pinches.

Pleasure pricks through the pain. Xiao groans, effectively brainless, and only one thought drives him forward. He wants to make you come. He wants to see you finish, feel it around him, so he moves his hips again, again, relentlessly, through the overstimulation, through the waves of pleasure that roll over him helplessly. Tears swell up against and spill, and every time he rocks into you he makes a sound like he's been shot through; whimpery and high, wet and pathetic.

A film slides over Xiao's brain. All he can hear is your moans, fast and urgent, and all he can feel is you practically pulsing around him. Nothing should feel this much, he thinks senselessly, and it's only when you put a hand on his face desperately that he realises he's saying all of this aloud, mindless babbling under his breath, a constant stream of consciousness like he'd lost the ability to shut his mouth.

Maybe he has, he thinks distantly, and is that such a bad thing? How can it be a bad thing to be mindless in front of you, to only think about this, it's so good, it hurts but it's so good, he loves it, he loves you—

Still speaking aloud; he can tell by the way your expression slackens, your lip trembles, and you shakily cup his face to bring his lips to yours. He's barely conscious enough to reciprocate, his whole body shuddering with every thrust, and he can feel the quivering vibrations of the both of you moaning into each other's mouths, feel the wetness of saliva and tears, his tears, when was the last time he cried? He'd cry for you, he thinks senselessly. You're worth crying for.

"Please," he begs, not necessarily knowing what he's pleading for anymore. "Please, please, please—"

You tighten around him, and it makes his voice cut out with the noise it makes, and even as he watches through the blurry wet haze of his tears he feels and sees you come undone beneath him, your back arching up to meet him as though you two could possibly get any closer. Your broken-off moans and breathy gasps send Xiao over the edge again with a dry, broken sob.

He's so, so sensitive that even pulling out of you makes him wince and shudder all over again. He watches, dazed, as his own release drips out of you, thankful absently that you thought to put towels down before—before.

You're gasping, hands on his face, a frantic look on your face. "Xiao? Hey. You okay?"

I'm fine, Xiao tries to say, but all that comes out is a breathy whimper. He's still sort of crying, he realises, bringing up a trembling back to touch his wet cheeks. You thumb at his face, the touch almost too much—he wants to curl into his clothes, but of course he has no clothes because he's naked, both of you are—

His face burns with sudden shame. He came three times.

"Did I make you feel good?" he whispers, softly, wide-eyed. Your expression trembles, melts into a soft smile that feels like the closest thing to sedation Xiao can handle.

"So, so good," you assure him, and Xiao melts into your arms with a deep sigh. He's still shaking like a baby bird, but you hold him in your warm arms, as his tears turn to sniffles and then wet, quivering breaths. "You pushed yourself too far, though," you tell him, and Xiao curls up, blanching at any semblance of rejection. "I'm not mad," you hasten to assure him. "Far, far from it. Just... go easier on yourself, next time, please. I care about you. I don't want you to hurt yourself for my sake."

Reality returns in doses. Some semblance of awareness trickles back to Xiao the longer you talk. "I understand," he whispers. "I liked it. It was—perhaps more i-intense than I anticipated, but I liked it. I liked... doing it for you." He blushes.

You press a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're so sweet, Xiao. We'll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?"

He nods tiredly. That sounds agreeable. Tomorrow exists in some far-off dreamland. For now, he can curl up to your side as you carefully manoeuvre the towels off the bed so you can sleep on clean, dry sheets. Xiao clings to you, snuffling into your side like you'll disappear if he lets you go, and you card your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

It should be horribly embarrassing. But it isn't. It just isn't. Nothing is the way it should be, when it comes to you. Not pain, or pleasure, or any of the things he usually feels. He supposes it's a byproduct of never being loved.

But he loves you. And—

"I love you, Xiao," you murmur against his hair, and if he had any tears left he's sure they'd be welling up in his eyes. As it is, his fingers merely tighten their hold on your waist. "You said it earlier—I don't know if—well. I just wanted to say it. I love you, and you did so, so well for me. Now go to sleep."

Xiao thinks he'd die if you asked him to.

But you don't. You just ask him to sleep.

So he does.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #xiao smut #xiao x reader #kinktober 2023 #xiao x dom!reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #dom!reader #sub!genshin #sub!xiao #sub!xiao x reader #sub!genshin x reader

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feminist-space · 2 years

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"Yes, you read that right: Chicago is spending $33 million to build fake housing and commercial buildings in an overpoliced community that could really use their actual, real-life equivalents. No Cop Academy organizer Destiny Ball laid it out plainly to Block Club Chicago: “To find out that they’re building a scenario village when there are thousands of people, homeless, with nowhere to go … it’s sickening.”

Architecture sometimes lays bare the contradictions in urban life, but rarely does it do so this explicitly, if not mockingly. A first phase of the training campus is nearly done, and the “tactical village” will begin construction this summer. The campus, which rises on the site of a former rail yard, will replace seven facilities currently in use. The second phase will be built by a joint venture of Berglund and Brown & Momen. The City’s website lists the design architect as DLR Group. The company recently published a blog post in which Andrew Cupples defended its work on juvenile justice systems, claiming that DLR remains “undeterred in the belief that design excellence contributes to better outcomes for youth who enter the justice system.”

“Justice system,” to this critic, reads as a remarkable euphemism for a place to detain children. Incredibly, the City lists the project as part of Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s INVEST South/West platform which seeks to direct about $1.4 billion in funding to previously underdeveloped neighborhoods.

The City neglects its citizens—especially its Black and Brown ones—before policing them with militarized tactics. This is, after all, the police force that was found to be using “black site” tactics—essentially kidnapping and torturing civilians at Homan Square, a property it owned on the West Side—until an exposé in The Guardian in 2015 spelled its demise. This is the police force whose officers shot 13-year-old Adam Toledo to death in 2021 and paralyzed another unidentified 13-year-old boy just a few weeks ago. These are the law enforcement officers who have made arrests in only 6 percent of rape cases. Per Alex Vitale’s book The End of Policing, this is the police department that arrested 8,000 Black schoolchildren, more than half of whom were under 15, in 2013–14 alone.

Chicago suppresses funding for housing, schools, environmental remediation, public health, and transit, but it generously funds cops. This is not only ineffective, given the statistics and reality of police brutality, but immoral.

Any architect who participates in realizing the carceral program of police surveillance and terror is complicit. Architects often characterize their work as impartial, but the reality is that the form of the built environment is regularly weaponized by those in power. Architects are moral actors who have the agency—individually, but especially collectively—to see a project like this and decline to participate.

At times, activism comes in the form of saying yes to certain advances, but in this case it more powerfully comes in saying no. This denial of service can come in the form of whistleblowing to journalists, organizing political resistance among your peers, or finding a new job. After George Floyd’s murder in 2020, when Michael Ford (the hip-hop architect) learned that his then employer SmithGroup was to work on civic buildings with holding facilities, he left. In the fall of 2020, AIA New York attempted to discourage members from working on spaces of incarceration. The work of Colloqate explicitly demands the end of architects working on behalf of police and provides alternative solutions for reallocating police funds toward endeavors rooted in community building and racial justice.

Architecture exists at the all-important nexus where political ambition is given form. Resistance to terrible carceral projects from architectural firms matters—if no one draws the plans, the efforts stall. Sure, someone else can do it, but the broad systemic woes of capitalism don’t excuse us—mere individuals—from living ethical lives. It is unethical to work on a project that will be used to oppress and terrify Chicagoans, just as it is a project of criticism to be explicit about architecture’s role in surveillance, police expansion, and, by extension, urban policies that govern by force, not by support. So, to the leaders of architecture offices who are currently overseeing construction documents for a fake strip club in western Chicago, I see you. The architecture world sees you. You can and should do better than this."

-Kate Wagner is an architecture critic and a journalist.

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opultea · 10 months

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Where’s My Kiss? - 2

Genshin men see you kiss something, and can’t help but want one for themselves… ft. Gorou, Wanderer

GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Romantic - Drabbles - Fluff, Angst w/ fluff ending (Wanderer) - SFW (very slightly suggestive at the end of Gorou's)

Word Count: 1.6k

Part 1 - ft. Dottore, Zhongli

Guest Staring - Tawara! Camp dog of the Watastumi Resistance. (Featured in the 2023 birthday art for Gorou, check it out if you haven't seen it!)

Gorou

The finality of the hard won end to the Vision Hunt Decree was an event celebrated by all of Inazuma, most of all the resistance of Watatsumi. Although despite the relief and happiness that the peace brought, there was also the struggle of readjustment. It was not easy coming down from the high tensions of war, and the army still had soldiers in excess. Many now contributed to the last relief efforts for struggling communities, and as reconnaissance units. This was the very task you and a very special operations officer were undertaking at present.

Tawara scouted ahead as you secured the empty battlefield. Many war torn plains were left with lasting remains of equipment and resources, of which you and your trusty camp dog were tasked with retrieving. Her Excellency wished to put the war in the past, and to move forward, there couldn’t be such reminders of the horrors endured during the time.

“Tawara! Where are you boy?” You called, hoping the sweet shiba hadn’t gone too far. A yip in the distance helped your eyes find the pup stood atop a small hill where the enemy camp would have been.

This particular battlefront had little left of the war, only a few broken weapons and cracked armour plates that weren’t considered worth salvaging when the camp was first emptied. You took stock of how much still lay in the field so you could get an accurate gauge of how many soldiers it would take to clean it up for good.

Tawara zipped down the hill and over to you, pressing his paw to your shin to gain your attention. Looking down, you smiled at the pup and the dendrobium he held in his mouth.

“For me?” Tawara carefully dropped the bloom at your feet and barked cheerfully, sitting and awaiting your reaction expectantly. “Aw, aren’t you just the sweetest,”

You knelt down and cooed at the camp dog’s cuteness, squishing his fluffy cheeks in your hands, causing Tawara’s tail to wag wildly behind him.

Plucking the dendrobium off the ground, you inspected the deep red bloom before your gaze drifted across the still-dead grass of the field. New shoots of green could be seen dotting the dry dirt, but there was no mistaking the ground flattened by the feet of soldiers. Perhaps Her Excellency would approve planting some dendrobiums in the field to restore and improve the area.

“You’re a true genius Tawara,” you smiled, smoothing the fur on his head with a well-deserved pat. You went a step further with your affections, clasping Tawara's face in your hands again to press a gentle kiss on his left and then his right ear, before landing one on his snout. You laughed as the pup licked your cheek in return.

Little did you know that another loving pupper was watching the whole affair with unidentified jealousy and a fluttering heart.

Gorou had been notified of your mission long before you set out to complete it, being the general. Although he admittedly preferred when the actions assigned to you could be carried out alongside him, or at least within the campgrounds. Being apart was never easy, even when he knew you would return eventually.

Today Gorou had been lucky enough to finish his reports early and decided that his free time may as well have been used to help you with your mission. He had no doubt in your abilities, but Gorou tended to miss you quickly, so you often received a helping hand from the doggy general even when you didn't need one.

Rounding the hill close to the old front, Gorou felt a streak of unease being back in a place where he had fought so viscously, but it was all washed away as soon as he saw you. His tail began to sway as he approached, watching you smile and interact with Tawara. Then he saw it.

Gorou’s left and then right ear twitched in unison with your kisses, his mouth agape and face flushed. You had never kissed his ears before. The general's ears continued to twitch as he imagined your lips touching them, the images in his mind sending another round of fluttering to his heart.

As Gorou stood frozen and red hot at the edge of the field, Tawara eventually noticed him, barking in recognition and bounding over to greet his superior officer. You followed closely behind, equally happy to find that your boyfriend had come to see you.

"Gorou! Done with your work already?" He didn't hear your question until he shook himself from his stupor. "You okay honey? You're all red,"

"Y-yes!" The confusion on your face caused Gorou's pause, his body fidgeting and eyes trying to latch onto something that could ground his thoughts. "I just, umm... do you think I could... no, never mind."

"Gorou," you gently took his cheek in your hand, placing the other on his chest. "We've talked about this; you know I'll never judge you for anything,"

Ears coming to lay on his head Gorou nodded, still blushing wildly as he finally found the courage to make his request.

"Could you... kiss my ears?"

You cooed quietly, heart overflowing with love for your sweet partner but trying not to embarrass him further. Taking his hands in your own, you kiss Gorou's ears twice each, trying not to giggle at the way they twitched each time.

As you brought yourself away, Gorou whimpered faintly, likely not on purpose.

"Come on, let's head back to camp. I have a report to give for this reconnaissance mission, and you have more kisses to gain, perhaps somewhere more private?"

You smiled demurely as Gorou blushed, swiftly nodding his head and following you and Tawara back to the camp with anticipation.

Wanderer

Now renowned scholar ‘Hat Guy’ was currently in class, despite his vehement protests towards attending formal lectures, leaving you alone in the home to tidy up the shared space.

Lesser Lord Kusanali had seen your relationship bloom since the beginning, before even either of you had seen it. She was immensely pleased that the previously misanthropic puppet had grown to love another, and once informed of the official announcement of your relationship, she generously allowed the Wanderer to move from the Sanctuary Surasthana to a home of her choosing close by. It was a quaint and quiet home, but both of you cherished the space. It was a place you could just be together, and need nothing more. Because of this, you took great pride in making sure the home remained a place of respite, and so liked to keep it tidy.

Deciding to start with the laundry, you gathered a basket and went to the bedroom to gather anything in need of washing. Humming a little to yourself, you plucked the pillows off the bed, thinking of washing the cases, when a little thud on the ground came as you lifted your partners pillow.

Curious, you knelt to inspect the thing that had fallen. What was he hiding in his pillow? Kuni certainly wasn’t the type to believe in improving his sleep by hiding trinkets under his head. However, what you discovered made you gasp. On the floor lay the tiny cotton doll resembling Kunikuzushi, its beaded eyes reflecting its obvious displeasure with having taken such a fall.

Tenderly, you took the doll in your hand and stroked its head as you would with Kunikuzushi. Why was it here? You had only ever seen the doll once or twice when Kunikuzushi had readjusted his sleeves or changed shirts, but you knew that he always carried the cotton companion with him. Running your hand gently across the doll, you felt a snag on its back. Turning it over revealed a tear in the seam, a puff of cotton poking out its spine.

“Oh, poor thing,” you muttered, rising slowly while you cradled the doll like a babe. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Collecting a sewing kit from the drawer and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, you let the doll rest on your lap as you prepared. Gently, as if it could feel your stitching, you mended the fabric. You smiled as you steadily sewed. It made you happy to think you could help Kuni this way, even if he had tried to hide the issue under his pillow.

Kuni has always been private, even with your long-standing relationship it wasn’t easy for him to show such vulnerability. But this doll was his vulnerability, a piece of him he showed almost no one. It was fulfilling to aid it.

Pulling the thread tight, you tied it off and admired your handy work, turning the doll over to greet it again,

“There, all better.” You landed a tender kiss on the top of its head, sealing all your love and care into its plush fabric.

A small choke brought your head up, allowing you to see your partner standing in the doorway, a rare kind of apprehension etched upon him. Your eyes caught each others, astir in stagnant bodies. Kunikuzushi's hand trembled on the doorframe, mouth open as if trying to form words he didn't know.

Through the silence, you lifted a slow hand, extended and opened with a hopeful invitation. The puppet approached, taking your hand and the seat beside you. No words were spoken as you gently lowered his head into your lap, letting his body lie across the bed and his arms wrap around the mended doll. As tears began to shake from Kunikuzushi’s face, you leaned down to press kisses to his head, caressing his hair and allowing him to finally feel the pain and vulnerability that had always ached in the space where his heart should have been.

"Thank you, for daring to love all of me," The shaking whisper stirred the greatest sense of care in your heart.

"You have never deserved anything less,"

The response brought him to sit up, clasping his body around yours as he continued to wring tears into your shoulder.

Perhaps it was not often that Kunikuzushi showed his vulnerability, but you could never stand to mind. Not when these tender moments were so treasured. Besides, you knew well that you would take anything he gave you. You were ready to love it all.

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identifying-guns-in-posts · 8 months

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Submission from @onegami:

I don’t know if this is in your arsenal (*wink wonk*), but I would so appreciate if you could identify these little guys

These are a bit blurry (and obviously aren’t real guns) and many of them are in that Generic AR15 Category, so I can’t give definitive answers here, but I will try my best. It’s also hard to squeeze in factoids for ten weapons in one post, so I will probably be pretty brief.

Up top we have some form of DMR conversion kit for an AR15, not entirely sure which or what kind due to image quality and camera angle. Could be a LWRC REPR (chambered in 7.62x51mm NATO). Has a really wonky looking muzzle device at the end; size-wise it makes me think it’s a suppressor, but it has holes in it, so apparently it’s supposed to be an obscenely large muzzle break??

The proportions of the second one and the appearance of the magazine lead me to believe the second one is the Heckler & Koch HK53A3 (chambered in 5.56x45mm NATO), which is just a super-compact form factor version of the HK33, their MP5-esque assault rifle series.

Our third rifle looks to be the Enfield L85A1 (part of SA80 series, chambered in 5.56x45mm NATO), except it’s bizarrely mirrored, with the covered cheek rest side facing the camera, when we should be seeing the ejection port and charging handle in the back. Still, it’s also mounted with a standard issue SUSAT scope.

The fourth is tricky, possibly unintentionally so. The boxy foregrip, wire stock, and barrel and gas tube positioning all seem to suggest it’s an IMI Galil ARM (chambered in 5.56x45mm NATO), however the receiver is very different, almost AR-15 like. On a hunch, I looked up Counter-Strike listings on IMFDB and I think I have an answer: the receiver might be leaning towards the IWI Galil ACE 22 (5.56x45mm) design, like in CS:GO. I’m still not entirely sure, though...

The fifth is, I think, an M4A1 Block II (chambered in 5.56x45mm NATO) judging by the elongated foregrip with full rail systems on all four sides. It’s specifically fitted with an ACOG sight here. Could also be one of those Daniel Defense / Knight’s Armament clones but I’m not too sure and can’t be bothered to parse it down.

This next one, though, is a mystery. Like, the very first thing that totally screws with me is the bizarre thumbhole stock. It looks almost like an M16? Like, you can clearly recognize the carrying handle in there, but... I dunno. I’m passing on this one, it’s driving me insane.

Seventh is a very clear-cut Colt M1921A Thompson (part of the Thompson series, chambered in .45 ACP) with an extended box magazine. Good ol’ classic rattler.

I swear these guns are going to drive me insane. Eighth one immediately had the Benelli M4 Super 90 (part of the M series, chambered in 12-gauge) come to mind because of the pistol grip and stock construction, as well as the design clearly being that of a semi-auto shotgun, but the barrel being longer than the shell tube, and the foregrip seeming to recede into the receiver, are both tripping me up. And of course, yet again, we have no ejection port or charging handle on the right side where it should be...

Finally, we got two easy ones. Penultimate one is an AKM (Avtomat Kalashnikova series, 7.62x39mm) judging by the stock style and what I’m assuming is a stamped receiver... hard to tell given the lack of details and OH MY GODDESS THE RECEIVER IS MIRRORED AGAIN.

Last one is the FN SCAR-L (SCAR series, 5.56x45mm NATO), likely the CQB variant. Easy to tell from the distinctively shaped folding stock. The iron sights are folded down to make way for what appears to be a reflex sight and flip-down magnifier optic.

I’m not sure what the (*wink wonk*) is supposed to suggest. If you’re asking if I’d pick these keychains up... let me know if they do any actual sniper rifles or PDWs.

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sw5w · 3 months

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Gungans Fight Back

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:49:43

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the-griffons-saddlebag · 4 months

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📜 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Scroll of Necrosis Scroll, rare ___ The parchment of this scroll feels meat-like and is wrapped around a set of bones. You can use an action to read this grisly scroll aloud, causing nearby creatures to become plagued by necrotic magic. Each creature that can hear you within 60 feet of you must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or become cursed. A creature cursed in this way has disadvantage on weapon attack rolls using Strength, and makes Strength checks and Strength saving throws with disadvantage; the creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, taking 4d6 necrotic damage and ending the curse on itself on a success. Undead creatures that hear the curse make the saving throw with disadvantage. If an undead creature fails the saving throw and has a challenge rating of 1/2 or lower, it falls apart into a heap of rotting carnage and is destroyed. When the last word of the scroll is read aloud, the parchment sloughs off the bones and is destroyed, leaving only an unidentifiable mush behind. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

#illustration #digital art #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d

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floof-writes · 3 months

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Twenty years later, King Amethar Rocks is traveling on the Sucrose Road. They brought more carriages, more soldiers than his mother had. She had been counting on stealth. She’d disguised herself as Fructeran, bearing the weapons and armor of that land.

In a few days they will be on the bridge where she died, her body so savaged it was unidentifiable. A tree fell in her path. In a few more days they will be in Comida. She never made it there.

Ruby is on the roof. A tree is in their path. Dairy Islanders bearing the weapons and armor of the Meatlands shoot an arrow through his daughter’s throat.

Amethar rises and falls and rises again. Pamela Rocks’ viscera splatters across the carriage walls.

#flash fiction #amethar rocks #pamela rocks #the ravening war #dimension 20 #I will never stop thinking about this parallel

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haintxblue · 21 days

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every weapon used in monkey man

the great joy of a martial arts movie with a lot of improvised fighting is the truly ludicrous use of weaponry, both actual and makeshift.

i have made a complete list of everything used as a weapon in monkey man, because i am procrastinating at a level hitherto unknown to mortal men.

did not include body parts (despite the memorable teeth scenes), nor stationary pieces of the environment passively used as weapons by throwing people into them (e.g. a toilet, a sink). also didn't include military-wielded weapons/those wielded by the flashback bad guys, only those used by the protagonist and goons of various types, including cops. had to lump some together. some items are repeated as they are used by different people/swapped off between scenes. items do not have to have a confirmed kill to count as a weapon, just be used in an attack.

in approximate order: .38 revolver powdered bleach cologne bottle toiletry tray toilet chain mirror shard switchblade fire extinguisher various handguns vehicle pry bar (? metal bar of some kind) axe handcuffs sniper rifle knife bat with barbed wire garotte bussing cart saucepan various handguns, again sauce bottle kitchen knife stainless steel kettle oven/microwave/dishwasher (?) door various handguns kitchen knives homemade fireworks table cutlery (fork, steak knives) table leg (?) wine bottles switchblades hook knives metal knuckles short swords homemade fireworks unidentified handgun more liquor bottles chair (not steel) hand scythe (?) unidentified glass object handgun serving tray liquor bottle heeled shoe spike

also, the kid bites at least three (3) people, if you count That One as a bite, and i am not sure, do we? we'll say he uses his teeth to injure at least three people.

#monkey man

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throwaway-yandere · 9 months

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What HaPpEneD aT 10:10? (Yandere!"Gepard Landau"/Reader)

Scriptwriter's Note: I implore you to remember what happened at 10:10. And once you do, come talk to three of my associates. For now, let her help you recall what's going on in the present time. You can remember the time, but we need you to remember the murder weapon, who killed who, and the motive.

Synopsis: Trapped in Serval Landau’s basement for so long, you made a deal with the Sampo to escape confinement. As it turns out, your timing is never impeccable. Aka: a Belobog "murder" mystery. (A/n: ansy here, have fun trying to guess what happened! But please. PLEASE do not read this if you're sensitive to the topics below ⬇)

CW: Yandere and horror themes, "most unreliable narrator AND reader ever" - sam, violence, amputation, mentions of domestic (physical) abuse. His smile is stiff as a board. There’s a portal at the end of the story, your choices matter (there are 2 possible endings). Welcome to the Back Alley.

A murder was announced to occur on Saturday, October 2, at the Golden Theater’s back alley, around 10:10 AM.

It was an unidentified note. Short and crudely pasted cutouts from old magazines were its contents. Many believe the Astral Express put it together as a twisted joke. It’s no coincidence that the clocks' little hands near the theater were also forever stuck at 10:10. No one took it seriously. Additionally, a nearby bookshop used this opportunity to "hype" its mystery books by joining the bandwagon. While the Silvermane Guards officially took the "threat" as if it didn't exist, others transformed it into an event by creating crime scene props with March 7th and Stelle serving as the main judges.

Who'd even investigate such a note when the Golden Theater doesn’t have a back alley?

By 5:00 AM, that silly note was not at the forefront of the Silvermane Guards' minds.

It was you.

Sampo shakily exhaled a quick "heya, friend," as his legs continued to speed past the Silvermane Guards, who were all very much ready to fire. The merchanr was forced to inhale sharply and slightly elevate his voice as he worriedly fixed his attention on his 'package.'

"Y-You're good, aren't you?"

Inside the shopping cart (who knows where he got that) he had been pushing was a wanted person. A bit feverish, you nodded without much commitment. Even the slightest movements relieved the dubious merchant as he picked up the pace, avoiding the stray "warning" shots that were fired near.

Today, you didn't awaken in the house where you were held captive. There were no mechanical noises or loud drilling. However, your morning did begin with your flesh awkwardly molding against the metal grid patterns of the shopping cart. There was no complaining when you realized it was your old friend Sampo who had carried and set you down. You didn't even consider asking this man where he was taking you.

Days earlier, he had paid you a covert visit and explained his strategy. So you concluded that he was the one who made the "false" murder announcement public. He also implied that little Hook made the note. Your gut tells you that even while it makes sense to assume that she is the author of that absurd announcement, it doesn't seem to be the truth. But at that point, your fears of being tubed with immoral equipment vanished and you felt gratitude rather than alarm. Not that you'd ever figure out that I made it, anyways.

"S-Sampo…" You groaned, not moving from your position as your friend fished out his homemade bombs from his pocket. "W-Where are you taking me…?"

Anywhere is better than her basement.

"To Nat, of course!" You needn't tilt your head to know that he was smiling wide. "Is there any other doctor more reliable than Miss Natasha?"

You'd insensitively joke about Vache Harrower, but your strength betrays you. Not like he'd give you a chance to drop some smart-alecks when he timed his bombs right.

Just a few short seconds after, your best friend rolled his smoke bombs on the floor and made a larger dash. You heard a tremendous boom from the back, and a silent malicious voice in your skull hoped for injuries.

They worked with her.

Jolting you up, Sampo made one swift left turn and another to the right, making sure that the last remaining guards that trailed you both were lost in the haze. He didn't stop running, but you can tell he's getting tired. Sampo is a merchant, not the sister of the ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards.

Your nose scrunched.

Serval Landau… that paranoid woman and lousier liar…

The oldest Landau used to be your best friend along with Pela. She had treated you as though you were Gepard's twin at times, much to your discomfort. Even her parents referred to you as their kin.

Since you had no one to care for you as a child, the Landaus happily raised you. Had you not rejected their offers for adoption, your life certainly wouldn't be where it is now.

Back "home", Serval would make suggestions that you were more of a Landau than she’d ever be. In turn, you’d cock your head and look unamused. Then act more like one, you’d reply. Yet these forceful encouragements do not reach her.

Even when you beg her to let you out of the house, she won’t let you.

We’ve been over this before, she’d reply. I can’t let you out on your own. You’re missing your right leg, what if that man finds you?

You’ve never understood that logic. Who was she referring to, your old boss?

Her brother died a year ago.

You once liked him. You'd even go out of your way to say he was worthy of anyone's trust.

Was. That was before you knew that deep in the recesses of his mind that loyalty was the beginning and end of Captain Gepard Landau's character. Uniting men under his leadership, he sought only the best for his beloved Belobog.

Your mind drives memories of Gepard away and you can no longer remember what transpired to cause this. After all, you undoubtedly considered Serval and Lynx to be sisters, but you never thought of him as a brother. You can't exactly pinpoint why you treated him like that since the very beginning.

Based on your shattered memories, you were stripped away of your position as his aide. Serval claimed it was because you didn't harbor traits of self-preservation. She made a show of how unreliable you were on the field, that you were hysterical and a "liability." Their relentless critique went on for half an hour until the higher-ups had given in to her demands.

Worse, they permitted her to surveil your movements 24/7. Using your amputated leg as an excuse, she effectively put you on house arrest– not your home, but hers. She's not an effective caretaker either, despite her attempts. Serval's use of transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation is far more brutal than what a normal practitioner would do, but no one can hear your complaints except for Molly. Her tests are never comfortable. And you loathe this.

She acted like your loss of a leg turned you into damaged goods that only the siblings can see value in. That her giving you a prosthetic was a sign of love rather than a shackle.

They said you were “hysterical”, and that you should be forgiven for whatever sin you’ve committed.

Insulting.

Insulting. Insulting. Insulting.

"H-How closer are we to the underground?" You gripped the cart, your heart racing at the speed.

Sampo coughed after accidentally inhaling his smoke.

“S-Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t change the direction of the cart–”

“What?!”

“The cart won’t turn!!!” Sampo screamed.

With each passing second, the gap between the cart and the theater narrowed. Your heart raced as this was your first experience of real danger after being sheltered for a year or so. Even though you were aware that Sampo had no control over the impending crash, you still glanced at him expectantly.

He smiled, drop-dead nervous and boyishly sheepish.

"Give me two minutes!!!"

"Give me two minutes, Captain!!! We still need a few more."

You beamed, holding your axe to chop wood for your comrades in the Outlying Snow Plains.

At first, you weren't trusted with heavy weapons. Luckily, being "weak" is a curable ailment for everyone. And the cure is called hard work and extreme effort. That, and an axe.

You were the very definition of a model soldier and he found himself incredibly lucky to finally see you join the Silvermane Guards. You had an excellent posture; you were a sharpshooter and a wonderful axeman– even your breathing looks rehearsed.

And for a damn good reason.

When the Height's economy sneezes, the underground catches a cold.

Unfortunately, that means children as young as you were had to bear the flames.

The Landau parents had taken a shine to you after taking you as a servant from the orphanage. Your captain's father adored you, even though his never-smiling voice had not once indicated his affection. Captain Gepard bears resemblances from his old man in appearance but not his military demeanor; you were the one to hold that torch.

It was through Mr. Landau you learned how much metrics and timings make a difference between an animal and a human being. You grew from someone who skitters away dynamically like a gas particle to a person grounded with instructions on how each step in a stride must be measured to perfection. Growing up with the Landaus was by no means a happy life, but it made you more keen on what constitutes "proper living."

To you, being hit by vases and chairs for failing to fold Mr. Landau's clothes in exactly the way he wants them to be was preferable to dying in the streets with your grandmother with nothing to fill your stomach other than the restaurant trash cans nearby. And you were certain you brought more pride and joy to Mr. and Mrs. Landau than you had to your parents who had abandoned you since birth.

People see Mr. Landau when they look at you and not Gepard.

But that's only because they have never seen the way you behave when it's only you and the Landau siblings are together.

“Working hard, I see,” Gerard said in a light joking manner.

You scratched your neck, embarrassed.

“Nah, I’m actually very lazy.”

“Don’t be so self-effacing,” Gepard smiled kindly. “I don’t miss anything. I’ve heard that you’ve made your rounds and even took on some of Pela’s duties while she’s on leave.”

“Eh, we both know I wouldn’t have done it without Pela begging me to do it for her Tales of– nevermind, Captain.”

Gepard had always viewed your abilities with the greatest reverence and approval. Serval was always quick to emphasize how her "favorite non-blood related sibling" is an "uninhibited performer" before everyone else, so Gepard thought this true in every aspect. You must think of this as writing a song to keep your mind sharp. You lose any sense of reservation once in “the zone”, and if Serval fell for the way your brows furrowed when penning down tunes and lyrics, Gepard faltered when he saw the glint in your eye as you pieced all the information needed to catch Sampo Koski’s whereabouts after your promotion.

He had never told you this, but Gepard always felt weird sensations pooling in his chest whenever he saw you hyper-focused on something.

Or someone.

“Do you think I can catch him, Geppie?”

Gepard ruffled your hair and your face brightened up.

"Never falter, (Y/n),” he said firmly. “For I wholeheartedly believe in your strengths. Catching Sampo Koski will be a walk in the park for someone like you."

To think that your first caught infamous criminal is your last true friend… Destiny surely toys with those who say “That’ll never happen.” It's always a fun phenomenon to write a script about.

“Walk in a park”? Try “crash in a theater”.

“SAMPO!!!”

You yelped, clawing his shirt and yanking his upper body like a wild animal. His heels screeched as the cart faced the direction of the Golden Theater.

And what nestled near the Golden Theater was its Back Alley, a place that exists on the border between reality and myth. Whispers among children weave tales that those who enter the depths are trapped in a journey of confronting their unresolved trauma and guilt. It is believed that the alley acts as another dimension where the lost must face their inner demons before emerging back into the real world, scarred forever by the distorted horrors they have confronted.

And for the first time in your life, you saw it.

You saw a fence that was never there before.

Your heart dropped.

“SAMPO!!!”

He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact alongside you.

Sampo Koski lived by a particular quote: "True happiness always entails the manifestation of the dignity of mankind,”

And only a few knew that it's only 1/3 of the full quote. The next part includes: “and true guilt is the catalyst for self-reflection and the pursuit of redemption–"

Flickering street lights and unmoving 10:10 clocks cast eerie shadows of dawn. It’s said that the people who traverse its trails encounter manifestations of their inner turmoil, a reflection of their deepest regrets. Some emerge transformed, carrying newfound clarity, while others head on a downward spiral.

He wondered which one you would be.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

Sampo smirked…

And let go of the cart.

“But the Back Alley is waiting for you.”

His hands, calloused but clean, tenderly held yours. You felt ice even without a metal ring wrapped around his finger. At that thought, you blinked.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Yes, dear?"

"You don't have a ring on you," you said with an unreadable expression. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

You thought it was funny; he didn't.

We.

What did you mean by “we”?

Him and you?

Or you and someone else?

Surely you and him, right?

But is that really an idea that he needs to know?

The Supreme Guardian was right.

Doubt breeds arrogance.

“W-Well–” Gepard’s breath hitched, awkwardly fumbling his cuffs. “I don’t know about that.”

You muttered. “So the future's uncertain.”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

He gulped, realizing that you were mad at his response.

But he can’t let any of this continue any longer.

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

“Nghh….”

You heard the shopping cart roll towards a wall– must be the same one you crashed onto. As you caught a glimpse of your surroundings, you were astounded to see how foggy it was. The wall-mounted advertisement for a love-matching service is hardly visible. It was impossible to see past the surrounding streetlight, even with "un-smoke bombed" eyes.

Doesn’t look like you’re in the administrative district.

You cannot see a single familiar building from this fog.

No heaters in sight and your breath practically singed your throat. The fog prickled your skin, but for reasons unknown, you did not shudder as a feverish man would’ve. Strangely enough, you felt fine.

You tried squinting at the road again.

Your heart dropped.

... There was no road.

You can't tell if it's the snow and the fog– but there's no pavement towards the exit in sight. It's as if wherever you stood floated. It was a literal dead end. As you peaked into the cliff, you did not see the bottom.

There was nothing there.

Even if you tried jumping, you weren't sure if there would be anything to fall on.

Capable arms wrapped themselves around your form. They were far stronger than your eyelids, which would barely open. Semi-automatically, your hand reached for this person’s shoulder, attempting to reposition yourself from their hold. You can barely make out their face, but their hair was slightly darker. This stranger lacked the envy-inspiring golden allure that the Landaus have.

Not processing that information fast enough, you spoke.

“S-Sampo, wh-what happened–”

You went pale.

No.

You pushed this "man" aside and dropped to the ground, barely maintaining balance on your one remaining leg. The man has now grown to be a towering figure over you, his star-bright eyes peering at you, paranoid. The air felt heavy, laden with a palpable sense of the unknown. Only the sound of your lonesome "real" foot scurrying away broke the silence.

“A-Are you alright?! W-What’s wrong....? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The man sauntered closer. His light but lifeless eyes locked onto yours, piercing through your soul. He had dirty blonde hair and he wore a sweater similar to the one that you never got to give to your best friend's younger brother, but–

“G-Gepard…?!?!”

The man tilted his head.

You squinted, hoping to find solace in a detail you might’ve missed or so.

Finally, your shoulders slackened, exhaling a large white cloud.

“No… You’re… not.”

He sent you a fleeting look of pity before making an awkward joke.

“Do I look similar to a past lover?”

His smile is stiff as a board.

“No— my— my deceased… boss…” You spoke bitterly.

This person, who looked eerily similar to the dead Gepard Landau, stared with red-rimmed eyes. Did he cry earlier? With nothing else to focus on except for the thick fog, you remain frozen in place.

“This is…”

Terrifying, you wanted to say but that would be offensive.

“Impressive…” You gawked, slowly forgetting the vulnerable position you left yourself in. Sharply, you drew a breath. “You look like you could be a Landau.”

Your hand reached to touch his cheek, and the stranger leaned into your touch. Far too engrossed by this encounter, you did not care for his slightly hollow eyes and more than elated expression. It was the bigger picture that you saw.

It was the near-perfect image of the deceased Gepard Landau.

His skin was pinkish and his heart raced.

“Your hand is warm…” He commented softly, face red.

“Your face, your voice— it’s just your hair and your sense of fashion that’s different, and—”

“My name is Gerard,” his smile remains stiff as a board, but there's a touch of friendliness to it. “I don’t believe I appear anywhere near ghostlike.”

You’re inclined to believe that he’s lying.

No one can look THIS similar to Gepard.

And that name as well.

You don’t know what to think.

As you were about to retract your hand, he held it back in place, guiding it closer to his lips. He breathed in. His breath marked the fog. “Gerard” inched closer, stepping his foot near your prosthetic right leg. With little distance between you two, your temperature has progressively grown hotter. It’s uncomfortable watching you both like this. I should’ve closed my eyes.

“See?” He mumbled.

“Can you sense how warm I am?”

“So you’re not Gepard… Or a ghost, I guess.”

You laughed to yourself. You’re not sure about your statement, either.

But while this man may appear friendly, his eyes were a haunting reminder that some things can never truly be left behind.

“As I have stated before, my name is Gerard.”

Even his name sounds like his.

“I-I’m sorry, I was dazed,” You pinched your temple. Without his warmth, the cold bit your cheeks which made you turn around. “T-Thank you for carrying me out of that shopping cart, Gep– Gerard.”

You looked around again. Nothing to see but fog. Far from surprising.

“Gerard, where are we?”

The dirty blonde man laughed.

“The Theater’s Back Alley.”

“The Back Alley?” You scoffed quietly, contemplating on how Gepard insisted to you before that it never existed– and now his promiscuous doppelganger is arguing otherwise. “There aren’t any back alleys around the theater.”

This place doesn’t look like an alley.

It’s far too large for it to fit the description. This must be an abandoned town. Unbeknownst to both of you, way before your time, this place was called Chernobog.

“Yes there is,” Gerard hummed. “It’s where we are now.”

“Then can you carry– lead me back to the main district?” You decided to humor him. “I’m not supposed to be wherever this place is.”

“I wouldn’t allow it.”

“Why not?”

Gerard grinned. His radiant smile baffled you as his demeanor changed from slightly teasing to tender from just the crinkles of his eyes.

“Because I love you, of course. I can't just let you leave.”

You froze.

Why? Why does he speak as if it ever so slightly comes from the diaphragm as he did?

Why does his voice sound so much like Gepard’s?

You thought it was wrong.

Gepard would never say those words.

Not to you. Never.

As Gerard’s casual confession hung amidst the fog, a peculiar heaviness settled on your heart. It wasn't the words themselves that caused this unease but rather the haunting resemblance his voice had to Gepard’s. His voice was rich with authenticity, free of malice, and his confession was short but somehow sweet.

But you didn’t want to hear that from him.

You averted your gaze. A flood of memories had suddenly surfaced at that precise moment, including the hearty sound of Gepard's laughter. It appeared as though the dead had come back to play a cruel game. Unable to bear his comfortable “joke”, you recoiled and feigned deafness, face veiled behind an indifferent mask. Perhaps the Aeon of Preservation may have advocated for this. In a sense, perhaps denial meant safety. Silently, you begged for your thoughts to stop, for the resemblance to dissipate, and for the ache of grief to be buried again.

“Back on the topic at hand, if you wish to exit the Back Alley: I don’t wish to help you,” he smiled.

His smile is always stiff as a board.

“Why not stay here? Are you not a wanted person?”

You glared.

“How did you know that?”

“Murder, right?” Gerard drawled, his eyes softening in what you call disgusting pity. “Someone important. Someone that made you stuck here.”

“Stop making accusations,” you spat, offended by his left-field slander.

“I’m not,” Gerard said. “I know who you killed. How about you? Do you remember who it was?”

Silence.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he announced firmly. “Why don’t you come with me? Let me shield you from the monsters.”

You froze.

“Mon… sters?”

“Yes, monsters.”

Unexpectedly, a far-off wail of sirens and static radio pierced the air, disorienting. There was nothing to be seen when you lifted your chin to strain your ears in search of the source. Gerard's urgent voice broke through your daze.

"Run."

With a swift and practiced motion, he swept you off your feet, cradling you in his arms back to the position you woke up in. He knew your current prosthetics were not meant for running. A prosthetic limb is like a new fingerprint and Serval would never make your new identity one similar to escapists. At the moment, you had a prosthetic leg for everyday use, and not blades for running.

As Gerard hurriedly carried you through the dense fog, you felt no sense of security as you had before. Something lurked just beyond your line of sight. In an act of spur-of-the-moment bravery, you stole a glance over Gerard's shoulder, and thus, you were paralyzed.

What emerged from the depths of the fog were grotesque “figures”.

Their bodies were mutilated, with their arms hanging loosely at their sides. They reared their heads, twisting and contorting. It was humanoid in stature, blanched and nearly armless. If it were not for some tissues, you were certain they wouldn’t have arms to begin with. Their flesh seemed boiled together like patchworks of human remains. They started to inch closer, their movements disjointed.

Fear coursed through your veins as you realized their intentions were set upon you and Gerard. But his voice cut through, his words not faltering.

"Hold on tight," he said steadily.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them get to you, (Y/n),” Gerard whispered.

“Please, do it for me.”

For the duration of “dawn”, Gerard carried you to safe locations. You have not met a single human person throughout the day. This was a concerning observation after knowing how large the “alley” was. He knew the area like the back of his hand and successfully guided you to hospitals (which, unfortunately, had more of those monsters from before) to patch some minor wounds from Sampo's “shopping cart trip” mishaps.

Before you could walk to the hospital bed, he grabbed your wrist in a tight hold.

“Shhh…” Gerard tugged your arm. “You don’t need to walk. Please, permit me to carry you.”

Despite your whispered protests, he rarely let you move around. Which made sense since your staggering did alert them of your location.

But you don’t like the way he touches you.

Those Gepard-like eyes lingered on you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of your skin. His actions were marked by an unwavering vigilance, always on guard for the slightest sign of danger even when you encouraged him to relax a bit. It was as if he was driven by an unspoken longing or unresolved past experiences. And you've only just met.

This time he made sure to turn off his radio. Suspiciously enough, "Gerard" carried a Silvermane Guard issued radio but it only seemed to make sounds whenever danger lurks by.

You tried not to think about that. Save for the dusty bed and wispy drapes, the posters strewn across the hospital walls caught your attention. The wall didn't have anything else notable other than those prints. They must be the same ones you saw on the streets, yellowed with age. The prints ranged from love hotlines, anger management tips, and a wanted poster.

Your poster.

Unlike the previous ones, this one was preserved thoughtfully, plastered right at the center amongst all the prints. Intriguingly, floral stickers were peppered around your images. Not the childish ones you'd buy for a cheap price, but more refined illustrations. You're not too versed in the language of flowers, but they did look like blue roses and marigolds. If only you could recall what Gepard said about what those flowers meant...

For now, you hazarded an astute guess as to why it was cleaner than the rest, staring unamused at Gerard. He sheepishly smiled, face flushed as he tried not to notice your glare. Gerard seemed proud of his handiwork.

It was nearly cute.

If it weren't for the fact you seriously don't know who he is.

“Gepard—”

“Gerard,” he corrected you in a commanding yet soft tone, ironically similar to your old Captain.

“You don’t have to patch my wounds.”

“Just let me,” he pressed on, wrapping your scrapped arm with gauze. “This was part of my combat lifesaver course.”

You shifted from the bed.

“You’re a soldier?”

…

He didn’t answer.

You tilted your head.

“Are you sure you’re not a Landau–”

“Affirmative.”

He could’ve twisted the gauze tight enough to make you wince in pain, but he delicately wrapped it and added immense pressure not to your wounds, but in his gaze.

“I am not your “Geppie” and I am not your old employer.”

With a voice that commands resolute clarity from you, you doubt he’s telling the truth.

You paused.

“How?”

“How what?” He muttered.

“How did you know that nickname?”

You gulped.

“How much do you know about me?”

You were on high alert the moment he called you by your name when those monsters chased earlier– you have never introduced yourself. Couple that with the fact that he was to accuse you of murder, you didn’t know what he thought of you.

This time, he didn’t smile.

“Enough to know that I love you.”

“You say that like it makes any sense!” You snapped.

“I know everything because you wanted me to love you, and I do love you too. I am not a shield for the people like him. I don't have the burden to protect anyone else, doesn’t that make me a better man for you now? There's no need to make sure the Silvermane Guards are always at the ready. I don't have to worry about pride- about being a Landau.”

He delicately reached out, guiding your hand to rest against his cheek. His softened features conveyed a love for your "warmth", but the pool in your stomach made this experience unbearable.

“My life is reserved for only you. That is my oath.”

You ripped your arm away from him with disgusted eyes.

“Just tell me the truth already!!!”

He looked down, frowning.

“You don’t need the truth...”

Gerard's eyes glistened with a bittersweet melancholy as he watched you, a faint smile tugging his lips. He had a look that says he knew all too well that you are unaware of the depths he was willing to go to protect you. The dirty blonde man reached out, his hand instinctively yearning to rest upon your shoulder, but he withdrew it quickly, his fingers curling inward.

“That’s why you’re here. In this foggy back alley.”

He scooted beside you. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to comfort you enough, you knew he spoke the truth when his voice cracked in a small whisper of: "I’m with you."

Gerard grabbed your hand again and softly kissed your fingertips.

No one could miss his sharp gaze. The man has deluded himself that you were his to protect at all costs. A nature that stemmed from a deep-seated desire to control something that he couldn't acceptably justify. A pure obsession that defied reason at its finest.

You know that look all too well.

But you can’t put a finger as to where you’ve seen it. What a shame.

You looked at your hands.

... Strange.

Since when were you wearing a golden ring?

Your eyes intuitively gazed at Gerard's hands.

All of the sudden, your throat dried.

You're both wearing wedding rings.

“You don’t have to be alone again,” he mumbled. “We can live here. You could plant and look after flowers with me– though I’ve never been good at it. It’d be a quiet life, just as you’ve always wanted.”

“If that’s what you’re offering then you’re no different than Serval,” you laughed to yourself.

His eyes darkened.

Before you could comment on it, he cut you off with another considerate smile.

“You must be hungry. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, I’ll procure some rye bread.”

“(Y/n), babe, where are you?”

You looked up. An alarmed woman’s voice called out.

“... Serval?”

No reply.

The voice seemed to be coming from the door.

“Serval, are you there?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down,” the voice continued. “Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

It made a sound far too damaged to be called a soothing chuckle.

“What are you on about?–”

The broken voice began to sing, sounding as though she had been clinging onto a husk of someone who’s been too far gone.

“C-Calm your nerves, my p-precious friend,

For "tomorrow"'s problems will never end.

In this short song, I s-softly sing,

You're cherished, my dear, in e-everything.”

You reached for the bed railing and supported yourself upright. Prepping your leg for a short walk, you placed your foot down–

THUD.

The door swung open, making you jump slightly.

Gerard came back, his breath nearly stripped away as he sauntered over. His only saving grace was his stamina, but otherwise fear would've dragged him down. There was not a single piece of bread in his hand. I’m glad he came, you would’ve been out of the alley immediately otherwise. And that's not good for us.

The voice was gone.

The sounds from afar now ring more of an animal than a human.

"(Y-Y/n)," he called out. "We need to leave."

You tilted your head, about to question what was wrong but you were cut off by his abrupt scream.

"NOW!!!"

He took you by the waist, carrying you in a way there was regard for your amputation but fast enough to make you feel unease. You gasped as Gerard's hold on you tightened, sprinting out of the "safe location."

"W-What's going on–"

"They're close," he whispered. "They're coming. It knows we’re here."

With one free hand, he pushed down passing cabinets as he bolted. Nothing was on his mind other than to flee with you. You didn't dare look at what was behind. You didn't want to face the truth.

"Gerar–"

Despite your desire not to see these creatures, a lone monster stands at the end of the hall.

It loomed before you, a grotesque fusion of flesh intricately molded together like human flesh sewn tight to a Silvermane Guard uniform, its form twisted and contorted while multiple unnerving eyes peered from its misshapen visage. Although it may have eyes more than you have fingers, you have a sneaking suspicion that they are completely inoperative. Its skin bore an unsettling array of intricate carvings, etched like cryptic scars across its entire body.

Something about its appearance resonated with you.

It slugged closer, staring. As to “where”, you can't tell. Each inch of its body had slits for eyes enough to instill paranoia. At least one pair must've been staring at you. Yet, most of it was on him.

Gerard.

"Tch..." His eyebrows furrowed, troubled.

He ran towards the end of the hall and miraculously swerved to avoid its axe. His pace quickened.

"(Y/n), whatever you do, don't think about why these creatures exist. Even when I'm gone."

“What do you mean?”

“Just don’t. That’s an order.” He said, sounding more of a plea than a warning.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as you struggled to keep up with Gerard's swift pace.

As he ran, questions burned in your mind, desperate for answers. His words echoed in your head, but your curiosity had implicit demand for a shred of understanding. You couldn't help but glance back, catching a glimpse of the creature still in pursuit. It persisted in its relentless pursuit of you, unwavering in its resolve.

"F-Faster!" you gasped between labored breaths. “It’s closing in on us!”

Gerard's expression remained stoic, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

He ran towards a door and pushed it open with a kick. You both stumbled through the threshold, entering what appeared to be the cafeteria, but the sterile scent mingling with the food made that guess somewhat unconvincing.

Gerard quickly assessed the room, searching for any signs of danger. The sound of distant alarms and muffled screams echoed through the corridors.

“Just what the hell is that?!” The words escaped you unintentionally in a mortified whisper.

Gerard cupped your mouth.

You both forgot to close the door.

What a horrible mistake.

The unsettling monster began its search. It emanated shrill sounds that pierced through your ears, making you almost move to cover them. The cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. The mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. Its speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

It turned around, but it also had eyes on its back.

Cowering in terror, you huddled close to Gerard behind the counter of the desolate cafeteria, seeking refuge from the approaching monster.

As the creature drew nearer, its grotesque eyes fixated on you and Gerard, its elongated limbs reaching out with chilling anticipation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you heard Gerard’s breath hitch as you both clung to the faint hope of survival.

But to your horror, as the monster approached head-on.

Its rotting flesh bypassed you, swerving past your trembling form, and seized Gerard instead.

“(Y/N)!!! RUN!!”

Gerard pointed at the nearby mop.

He wants you to leave him.

A gasp of terror escaped your lips as you watched in disbelief.

His blue eyes widened, mirroring your panic but worse, as the monster's grasp tightened around him. Gerard yelped, his voice trembling as his fear of death loomed. Its grip was not merciful.

It smacked Gerard against a desk.

Again.

And again.

Blood streamed in his scalp.

The monster took his arm.

And ripped it apart.

And soon.

Nothing.

Thud.

You went as silent as the corpse as you watched it extinguish his life in a quiet finality.

Tears streamed down your face, unable to look away. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, but you were starting to feel a pain from where your leg was removed. Your brain was still convinced that you still had it- and that it is in danger. You feel as if your ankle was angled downwards, hiding from the monster. Such sensations made your skin crawl, especially considering the circumstances. It was not the best time to experience phantom limb pain.

The monster briefly met your gaze as if to mock your survival. It limped away, leaving behind you with nothing but a corpse.

Hours felt like mere minutes before you were snapped out of your prolonged emptiness. Gerard remains on the floor, dead-eyed and bloody. Thankfully, your current PLP was manageable at best but the throbbing sensation distracted you for a while. Your mind was blocking out the blood on his face. It did not process how mutilated it had become, nor did it care to acknowledge his arm that lay on the checkered floor.

His cheeks looked warm, alive.

You fixed his hair.

“Gep– Gerard…”

…

You need to leave.

YOU NEED TO LEAVE.

Since that incident, you've been by yourself in the Back Alley, even though you sense that there may be other lost "people" like you nearby, you chose to act alone despite this.

There's no need for another Gerard.

You followed the walls every time you had the nerve to step outside, cursing Serval occasionally for failing to provide you with a prosthetic running leg. That, and her garbage methods she calls "physical therapy."

You have overstayed your welcome despite not knowing how long you have been in this dense fog. Oddly, you've never experienced hunger in your time here. You are unable to move around freely, and worse, you are unable to scream for help, unless you want the people who are still present in the dense fog to find you.

You don’t have time to grieve for a man you barely knew.

You sighted a police station. Much like every building in this surprisingly large “alley”, it had been abandoned. It looked like the one you worked for, down to the paint job and the door frame. Funnily enough, the door was open, and thus, it was temporarily yours.

What greeted you first upon entering was a creature similar to the monsters you’ve crawled away from– but it did not move.

The still creature lay on the floor, staring at its hand. Its bottom half was similar to a mermaid's. You did not see two legs. When you approached, there was no reaction. You can only presume it was dead. Or that it never had a life to begin with.

You heard radio static as soon as you tried approaching it. But you don't recall ever having a radio in your possession.

“You poor thing…” You found yourself uncharacteristically sympathizing with a monster. The fatigue was eminent in your voice. “What happened?”

You're so stupid. Don't you think that "corpse" looks familiar?

You looked at its other hand and saw it holding an axe.

You took it.

As you brandished the weapon, its Silvermane engravings became more apparent. This was a soldier’s model, one you used back when you were an intelligence officer. Perhaps it will come in handy later.

“I’ve never heard of this station before, then again, I doubt many knew there’s a back alley in the first place,” you scoffed. “But, hmm…”

You turned your head to face the monster once more. You don’t know why you feel oddly calm facing the monster this boldly. With the axe acting as your new makeshift cane, you pushed it down. Nothing happened.

You got back up and took a look around.

For a police station, there were tons of love-related posters hanging around with half of them viciously vandalized. Some of them made you laugh as you read them. The handwriting seemed to belong to someone, but you can't recall whose.

LOVE ISN’T REAL.

I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT ██████.

“Pathetic,” your emotional equivalent of a snort was a slight huff. “And you’re all supposed to be Silvermane Guards? Guess this place was deserted for a reason.”

You hate how you sounded exactly like Mr. Landau just now. Out of all the children in the Landau household, you had it the worst with Md. Landau. Hearing yourself mutter something he would say... you're not sure how you feel about that.

Scoffing, you walked past the corpse and onto the break room.

Missing just a few posters in your way.

IF I CAN’T HAVE ███,

THEN I’LL JUST REMOVE ███ LIMBS.

Hours passed. You haven’t found the exit.

You heard Serval’s voice again. She was apologizing to you. Then, silence.

Nothing happened on what you presumed to be the “next day.” You cried to yourself until you saw the same monster who killed Gerard. It was ready to give chase until suddenly, it stopped when you were incredibly focused on escaping.

You tried thinking about why it did what it did. But it left more questions than answers.

Tore down a couple of posters. They were starting to get to you.

You think there is no exit. You made a quick mention about how Gerard probably knew where it is to yourself, but the same monster must've heard you. You felt eyes watching you and it made it's appearance by narrow alleys. You bolted.

You found another human. But he was long dead. You wondered if he was the same person children loved to talk about. The anxious man who lingered at the gates of the Back Alley. If I remember correctly, Stelle encountered this man before. Wonder what she thought of him at the time.

You heard the radio static again when you approached him. You decided to ignore him for now.

You mopped the man's dried blood. Who knew the mop Gerard pointed at in his last moments had it's use.

He looked stiff as a board. He was reeking, but at least he had a smile on his face.

You obtained a key after cleaning up the puddle.

“Was there ever an exit?”

Nothing happened in this timeframe. But you think you have an idea as to why these creatures exist.

Specifically, why they exist because of you.

How long have you been here? Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.

You also weren't sure how long you'd been searching the town. Quite frankly, I was getting bored of watching. You tried to play this off like a maze game, constantly following the walls to your right as though it would magically lead you to the exit. Did you know that Lady Luck is not particularly lenient when bestowing favors? Your life here is slowly becoming more stale and your constantly improving ability to strategize your routes to avoid monsters has been making your adventure more of a chore to follow.

It's admirable that you were so tenacious in clinging to life in such a dangerous environment with a single leg, but it was extremely frustrating that you couldn't see this alley for what it was.

As if to cure such boredom, you entered another abandoned building. Turns out, the key you pried off a dead man's corpse fits perfectly. It was a psychiatric clinic owned by one Dr. Kauffman, a licensed therapist who received teachings from Dr. Kang Tu via the Astral Express. I never cared about those people. They're just cashing in on the occult, the easily "hooked", and the disturbed. You harbor at least 2/3 of those qualities. Congrats.

The walls are more notably filled with the same set of posters you've seen scattered around time. This time, you weren't feral enough to tear the posters down. However, you didn't grasp the meaning behind them either. You refused to look deeper, even when you don't recall what would stare back at you.

Mindlessly, you staggered inside a room. There were no professionals inside as far as you could tell without any of the lights on, just a cold sofa. You walked slowly and sat down.

As soon as you comfortably secured a position to take a rest, you realized you weren't alone.

Star-bright eyes followed your movements as soon as you entered the room.

“Gepard?”

You blinked.

“Oh. Gerard, it’s you. I thought you were–” You paused as Gerard shook his head, eyebrows furrowed with a smile that repressed his frustration. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’m… confused. How are you alive?” You asked. “Your arm– it’s back. What’s going on?”

Desensitized, you no longer knew what to think.

You're being strangely calm, don't you think?

But one thing was for certain: this “man” is not supposed to be standing.

Gerard pursed his lips.

“Anyway?” He mimicked you bitterly.

“What do you mean “ANYWAY”?!?”

You flinched as he took steps forward.

“You didn’t even care about me, didn’t you?!? It’s Gepard this, Gepard that– Gepard is DEAD!!!”

Gerard screamed at your face, gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Why… Why is it always him first? When I am everything he couldn't be?”

Gerard chuckled lowly.

“I-I was so afraid. I was so afraid that I won’t be able to see you again– that I’d disappoint you– but no, it’s always Gepard first. Why can’t you be obsessed with me in the way you were so– so…”

He cried. Hot tears ran down his cheeks as his shoulders deflated. Gerard cast his gaze to the ground while his hands reached to wipe his sorrows off his face.

“I would die for you. Why can’t you do the same?”

You tilted your head.

“Strange, now that I think about it–” you said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I watch you die?”

Silence.

You should comfort him.

“Gepard,” you started.

Wrong name.

“No, it’s Gepard.”

Wrong name.

“It’s not the wrong name. I know what I’m saying.”

Wrong name.

I continued to correct you.

“It’s not–” You took a shaky breath. “It’s not the wrong name, you fucking idiot.”

He remains still, quiet.

Almost frozen.

Stiff as a board.

You laughed.

“I get it now. Haha. I get it now.”

You look down, staring at the human corpse. Human corpse? No. That’s not a human. A human cannot die twice.

You get it now.

You’re in the Back Alley.

There are always eyes that watch the Back Alley.

You look above, particularly to no one, but you believed the scriptwriter must be listening.

“He’s listening, isn't He?”

Yes. He is.

It's time for us to talk.

The clock struck 10:10.

213 notes · View notes

gretavangroupie · 6 months

Text

Valor (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Jake x Reader, Daniel x Reader

Word Count: 14.7k

Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Fighting, Blood, Mentions of Death, Allusions to Suicide, Allusions to Shady Activities, Gambling. Smut: Kissing, Allusions to Sex, Heavy Petting.

Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

Danny pulled you by your hand into the back room, darting through a door you hadn’t noticed, straight into a room that was too dark to see inside. You followed his lead, trusting him to guide you, as you stepped on unidentified objects, tripping on them as he yanked you right and left through what felt like a broom closet with storage shelves.

Finally, a light bulb illuminated above you, bringing light to the small hidden hallway. He began pulling a big folded piece of thick cardboard from behind one of the shelves, struggling to hold the whole thing by himself. A quick glance from him let you know he needed a hand, so you jumped to action, helping him to remove the bulky and awkward object.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, noticing it was kind of heavy. You both turned it so it was easier to carry, making your way down the rest of the crowded hallway and into a larger room. You worked to place it on a tabletop, watching as Danny flipped the flaps open and revealed a very old, very worn-in poker table topper. “Oh.”

“Self-explanatory, huh.” He huffed, running back into the storage hallway to grab more items. Shortly, he returned with a few decks of cards, and a larger box that held multicolored poker chips. Again, you watched his hands move quickly, setting up the table with as much precision as he could, given his hands were a bit shaky and his body language seemed more anxious than normal. You stayed standing awkwardly by, wanting to help, but completely unsure how to.

“You know how to do this?” He asked you, glancing up through his thick eyelashes while he worked.

You shook your head quickly, stepping back as you crossed your arms. “No. I don’t.”

“Fuck. Ok, can you… go gather up a few things from the kitchen and make them presentable on like, a plate or something? I don’t know what we have, doesn’t matter…crackers, whatever you can find.” He ordered, his voice cracked with nerves.

Now that, you could do. “Yes. I’ll be back.”

You managed to come up with two plates full of Club crackers and pepperoni, two jars of olives, and some butter cookies. You rushed back through the way you came, presenting your buffet to Danny.

“That will have to do.” He chuckled as he unfolded a metal chair. When he finished, he stood back and placed his hands on his hips, his body still dirty from the workday.

“Danny, I know I said I wouldn’t ask questions, but…should I be scared right now?” You asked, working to pop the top on one of the olive jars.

He sighed heavily, catching his breath as he made his way over to you. “No, no reason to be scared. You’re…you’re just going to have to bear with us. This was…unexpected, tonight.” He took the jar from your hands, spinning the top off with little to no effort at all. He put it back down on the table, and placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry you’re accidentally involved in this shit tonight, and I really hope it doesn’t change your mind about me…”

“Danny, what the fuck am I about to witness?” You asked, suddenly feeling even more terrified than before. Being in the dark like this was starting to make your face go numb with fear.

His hands squeezed your shoulders as he stepped in closer, his eyes flashing behind you down the hallway for just a split second.

“Hopefully not a goddamn thing.”

——

You follow Danny back out through the strange secret passageway and out into the bay, seeing Jake still rushing around with whatever he was cleaning. You grabbed your book off the chair, and stood around sheepishly, waiting for one of them to tell you the next move. How the fuck did you find yourself here?

Just then you heard a rap on the old metal door, two quick knocks, followed by one…

Jake and Danny’s heads popped up immediately, the two of them looking to each other while their shoulders fell in relief. Jake rushed to the door, but before he opened it, he motioned to Danny to push you behind the wall of the loft to conceal you. This is insane…

You stepped back behind it out of view of whoever was at the door, but you could still hear the conversation.

“Jacob, not much time…” the gruff voice said as you listened to his footsteps enter the bay.

“They said sunset tonight, last time they got here sooner than that.” Jake responded quickly.

“I know it, I know it. Is everything ready? I brought two bottles of rye whiskey…”

“Yeah, just finished putting everything out.” You heard Danny sigh a sound of relief, and his words mixed with the stranger’s made it become apparent to you that the other man was Bubba.

A little more private conversation was had between them before you heard the door open again.

“I’ll be back a little before sunset, listen to me, boys. There’s to be a couple new faces here tonight. I wanted to warn ya ‘fore they just showed up.” Bubba explained with panic in his voice.

“New faces? Who?” Jake asked, his voice a bit more booming than before.

“I don’t know much, Jake. Just know they won’t be familiar to you. Just treat ‘em normal. Like everybody else, you hear? I’ll be here to keep watch. I’ll be back soon.”

And with that, you heard the loud metal door clank closed.

Danny finally rounded the wall and pushed past you, grabbing the tips of your fingers as he pulled you back toward their rooms. “You’re gonna have to be okay with hanging out in Jake’s room tonight, okay?” He brushed his sweaty strands back, leaving behind a tiny black brush of grease on his forehead. “They’re going to be here soon and they can’t…they can’t see you.”

You felt enraged. Your eyes scanned his as you clenched your jaw, wanting nothing more than to lash out at him, and Jake too, for bringing you into this mess, whatever it was. When Danny kept his lips pursed together, you caught his drift. “Trust me, Y/N…please…” he whispered, his fingertips squeezing yours.

“Alright, fucking fine.” You pushed past him this time, making your way into Jake’s room. You sat down onto his mattress with force, hugging your knees as your book hung between your fingers. You looked up to Danny with disapproval, still utterly pissed off this was happening. You knew he felt bad, you could see it in his face.

He finally took a deep breath and made his way over to you, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss directly to the middle of your forehead. It surprised you, it was the first time he’d actually connected his lips to you. You felt a giant burst of butterflies erupt in your stomach, the hurried sentiment most definitely softening you to the madness you felt before.

“Don’t come out until we tell you it’s safe. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, pulling the old door closed behind him.

——

It had been almost an hour, and you’d heard nothing but Jake and Daniel’s occasional whisper-yells to each other. You’d recognized that there were a few unfamiliar voices mixed in with theirs now, all male, all muffled and broken as each made their way through the kitchen.

You’d made yourself comfortable on Jake’s bed, kicked back reading your poems and chewing on a cinnamon candy while you waited. It hadn’t quite dawned on you yet that you were probably going to be in here all night long…the thought that poker games usually lasted well into the morning hours completely passing you up. You were thankful you had used the bathroom before they shut you in.

While you were knee-deep in a long Maya passage, you were startled by Jake’s bedroom door flying open and him barreling through it, looking as though he had forgotten you were in there. You recoiled back on the bad, a little scared at who might be busting in.

“Shit.” He breathed, hardly a word. “Sorry. You uh, you okay in here?”

You shrugged your shoulders and let out a breath. “Okay as I can be, I guess.” You wanted him to see that you were a bit agitated at the whole situation.

He walked over to his closet, pulling out what looked to be a semi-clean t-shirt. He yanked it off the hanger and then looked to you, his tongue rested across his upper lip in thought. You were rested back comfortably on his pillows, reading your book like he wasn’t even there. When you noticed him looking, you glanced up from the pages to find him staring you down a bit awkwardly. He turned his back to you, grabbing his grease-covered shirt at the neck, ripping it off quickly and throwing it to the corner of the room.

You couldn’t help but glance up again, seeing his half-naked body completely devoid of any coverage so that you could see his tattoos as a whole. His arm and back muscles tightened and drew in as he moved, the ripple as his skin moved over his ink covered ribs leaving you breathless. You thought you might combust all together as you tried to look at his tattoos through quick glances. There were so many, so intricate and ornate. You wanted to look at each of them. Ask what they meant to him.

The first one you noticed was a dove on the back of his right shoulder blade, its wings expanded like it was ready to fly right off of his skin, followed by a thin string of letters that flowed directly down the center of his spine. You were too far away to read what they said, but they disappeared directly into the back of his jeans. The last and most noticeable one was the long body of a snake, traveling from in front of his left shoulder and down his back, the tail of it wrapped around his hip. Your eyes fell short again, back down to the words on the pages. Concentrate, Y/N. That’s nothing you should be looking at, he wants privacy. But god…he was a fucking sight…

Then, out of your periphery, you watched as he slowly turned to face you, pulling the new, clean shirt over his head and smoothing it over his pecs and toned stomach. Your eyes traveled down his torso to the top of his jeans, a thin band of his boxers peeking out over top. Fuck, don’t look. The next thing you knew, he was crawling up the bed, hand after knee, directly toward you. You closed the book, your body moving itself backwards and away from him as he continued to crawl toward you.

What the hell…? Your heart began pounding.

He stopped when both hands rested on either side of your torso, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath. His hair hung in his face as he reached his right hand to his nightstand, pulling the squeaky drawer open with quick force. You moved your eyes to the side to see what he was grabbing as the metallic sounds rattled in his hand. A handgun. He kept his face close to yours…so close his nose was mere centimeters from brushing yours. You felt your breath hitch, and you knew he noticed. Fuck. He cocked the safety on the gun, and reached behind him, slipping it into the back of his jeans before slowly backing away off the bed.

He stood tall from the mattress, noticing you were nothing but a panting pile of nerves and discomfort while he resituated the gun. The side-smirk that painted his face was enough to make you infuriated again, but before you could haul off and throw your sharp words down his throat, he had backed out the door, shutting it quietly just as Danny had.

God, you were so overwhelmingly pissed off at the both of them, while at the same time they were both so goddamn attractive it almost wasn’t fair.

After a while, in a huff of boredom and aggravation, you slammed the book down into the dingy comforter, deciding to take a look around the room now that you felt like a true prisoner. The wood-paneled walls were lined with old posters and photographs, while there was only enough room for one chest of drawers and a bedside table. You sat up a bit, deciding that if you were going to be stuck in here, you would at least take a look around at your captor’s belongings. You stood, admiring the various faces of his apparent idols…Hendrix, Neil Young, Tears for Fears, The Police…quite the selection.

The shelf on his dresser was lined with photos, some of him as a kid, one of him and Danny as teenagers, one of Ace and a dog, and one of him and his mom. It struck you, how much he looked exactly like his dad in the photo upstairs, and how much he also looked exactly like his mother. Where he had his dad’s mouth and stature, he most definitely had his mother’s eyes. “Wow…” you whispered as you took the photo in. She was holding him on her lap, he had to have barely been two. You began to wonder where she was, what happened to her, and why he hasn’t mentioned much about his family.

But come to think of it, neither had Danny.

—

JAKE POV

You let out the breath you were holding as your gun settled into the waistband of your jeans. It’s cold on your skin, harsh and metallic, yet easily concealed under the confines of your t-shirt. You hope you won’t need it, but you’d rather have it than not. You laugh a little, remembering the look on her face as you crawled towards her. So nervous, so wild. You click your tongue on the back of your teeth and huff another laugh. You could smell the remnants of her cinnamon candy on her breath as you hovered over her, silently commending her on her good taste as you pulled away and excused yourself. You took that wild energy with you as you left, hoping it would give you what you needed to get through this game.

As you stepped back into the kitchen you saw Daniel leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed across his chest. He’d taken the time to change as well, pulling his hair back to rest at the back of his neck. His eyes flick to yours as you emerge from the hallway.

“She fine?” he asks, nodding towards your bedroom.

“Yeah. She’s fine. Probably need to feed her though. Hasn’t eaten since this mornin’ and she’s a little jumpy.” you answer, wondering what you even had that you could give her to eat.

“Think she’d eat a sandwich?” he asks, turning to open the fridge.

“Think she’ll eat what she’s given, or go hungry. Her choice.” you quip back, walking to gather up a collection of glasses, setting them out on the table. He sends you a nod, pulling a few things from the fridge and placing them on the counter.

“We got the money?” he asks a little hesitantly. You could tell it was weighing on him as his eyes darted around the room. It had been a slow month, but you knew to save a little more for this exact reason.

“Yeah we got the fuckin’ money, but it’s only been three weeks since the last game for fucks sake. We’re lucky old man Anderson needed that carburetor or we’d be fucked.” you snap, “I’m going to get it now, just…make her that sandwich and get it to her before they get here.”

You walk through the kitchen and back out to the garage, running up the metal steps towards the safe. You sit in the rolling chair and bend over, spinning the combination lock in the correct sequence until it clicks. You pull the cash you need, feeling a wave of anger wash over you as you look up towards the ceiling. “This is your fucking fault.” you seethe, slamming the safe door and pushing up out of the chair.

You shut off the lights in the garage, and make your way back into the house slamming the door behind you as you place the money on the counter. Daniel places the sandwich on a paper plate, turning and filling a solo cup with water from the sink. “Sun’s down.” he says, looking out the kitchen window.

“I know, go take that and come back out, we need to have a drink so we don’t look so goddamn anxious.” you say, watching him walk off with the plate as he nods.

You snatch a bottle of half drank whiskey off the counter, pouring it into one of the glass cups on the table, shooting it back as you watch him open the door to your bedroom. You wonder what she’s doing in there. You know that book won’t occupy her for long. You try to remember if there is anything in there she shouldn’t see, but you also don’t give a fuck. You don’t have nothin’ to hide.

You refill the glass and a minute or so later Daniel emerges from your bedroom with a stifled grin. You curse under your breath and shake your head as you grab another glass and pour the whiskey in. You slide it across the table as he approaches, snatching it up and tipping it to his lips. “Heard a car pull up.” he says, drinking down the rest of it.

“You got some protection?” you ask lowly. His eyes flick to yours as he pulls up the side of his shirt revealing his pistol.

“Okay, good. Grab the door.” you instruct letting your eyes flick down towards the hallway. “Fuck I hope she stays in there.” you gripe, standing from the chair to grab the poker chips.

“She will.” he smirked, heading towards the front door.

—

Your eyes flicked down to the cards in your hands trying your best not to show your disappointment. You set them down on the felt topper, pulling a cigarette from the pack, and lighting it with the flick of your zippo. Your eyes glanced over to Daniel, and you could just tell by his posture that he was harboring a shit hand, too. You were both tanking, badly. The guys across from you were murmuring to each other with shit eating grins as they played their cards, sipping from their drinks and smoking their cigars. Fucking pricks.

You hated this shit. You hated poker, you always had. Your dad taught you when you were young, too young probably. Said you’d need the skill one day, and fuck him for being right. But maybe if he had been a better player you wouldn’t be in this spot right now. Maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. The pressure to win these games was suffocating, all of it riding on you and Daniel. You’d gotten lucky the past few games, winning the pot before immediately turning it over to Teddy. What a joke. But tonight you weren’t sure you had luck on your side. Your shit hand combined with Daniel’s, along with the woman hiding out in your bedroom had you feeling anything but lucky. There was a reason there was a weapon under your shirt.

You tossed back your drink and tamped out your cigarette butt as play rounded the table. Your eyes flick to Daniel to see what his next move will be, hoping he has a trick up his sleeve, but you see him swallow and you know he’s out. He sucked his teeth as his eyes met Teddy’s.

“I fold.” Danny said, his voice full of disappointment.

“God damnit.” You muttered under your breath as Danny flipped his cards down, scooting his chair put and leaning it back. You looked down at your hand, seeing that it wasn’t going to get you anywhere, either. You ran your hand over your face, knowing that you had to figure something out, and quick.

“Awww, youngin’ throwin’ in so early? We’ve barely gotten started.” Teddy reached out and tapped his fat cigar onto the ashtray, laughing hard and loud as he stuck the wet end back between his teeth. His comrades laughed along, peering out from underneath their low-brimmed hats.

Among all the people at the table, Teddy was the shadiest of them all. A big man, more in stature than in weight. Most people called him Fridge, because one time during a bar fight, he lifted up a whole refrigerator to knock a guy out. Teddy was the head honcho of the crew that worried you the most, always using his big mouth and his big ego to scare people into doing whatever he wanted. And it worked. He had his hands in nearly everything around town, controlled more than just owning the laundromat downtown. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that laundromat was used for laundering more than just clothes.

His posse was small, but they were close-knit, the same three guys stayed by his side at almost all times. Teddy took another swig of his flask, not trusting you and Danny enough to drink what you’d provided. You glanced around to the other 10 or so men playing, taking in each of their facial expressions as you studied their poker faces.

Clancy, an older gentleman who always brought his brother John along… They normally stayed pretty quiet, and that’s always what irked you the most. Bird and Joey were hot heads, a set of friends that reminded you a lot of you and Danny, but twenty years in the future. Bird liked to talk a lot of shit, just like Teddy did, and 9 times out of 10, them always trying to one-up the other is usually what set these games going south in a hurry. And now that Danny had folded, you were in it alone. Save for Bubba, of course.

The new face that had decided to grace your presence tonight was a stout middle aged man, dressed just like he’d emerged from the 1940’s; a slick long black jacket, a vest underneath, and a derby hat that looked like it was steam cleaned weekly. He had stayed fairly quiet the whole game, acting as though he was just taking everything in. But his demeanor was confident…the man knew every character at this table was taking him in, too.

Your nerves were shot, the liquor wasn’t nearly enough to take the edge off, and you felt your blood begin to boil as Teddy continued his verbal assault on everyone that he could. His voice was just…grating. And it never let up.

“On that note, I gotta piss. Let’s take five, eh?” Teddy suggested as he stood from his chair, his posse mumbling and standing along with him. You were glad he did, you felt like you were going to punch something if he said another fucking word about anything.

You made a quick glance to Bubba to get his attention, then proceeded to close your eyes for a prolonged 3 seconds. When you opened them, you found him looking back, with the same straight laced grin he gave everyone.

Be careful, Bubba. Here goes nothin’…

The entire drunken group stood and made their way through the narrow passage and out the back door to the abandoned vehicle lot, standing around in their respective groups to talk and smoke. You brought up the rear, and barrelled through the door, letting it slam against the wall as your eyes searched for Danny in the darkness. Finally you spotted him in a cloud of smoke around the back corner of the building.

“What the fuck!” You slammed his shoulders against the metal wall, watching as his facial expression immediately hardened. “Folding on the second fucking hand? Are you even trying?”

He bounced off the wall and shoved you back, making you kick up a little dust with your heels. “Do you think I fucking wanted to, Jake? I had a fucking 3-5 hand, no god damn way I was gonna win anything on that. And keep your fuckin’ hands off me…”

He shoved you again in a backwards act of repentance, which made you even more enraged than you were before. Your mind went fuzzy with it all, having to play the rest of this game by yourself, having to deal with Teddy and these guys, and also having to host this god damn game whenever he saw fit. Lately it didn’t seem like you ran your own life, but that it was running you.

You glanced around, seeing the crowd slowly making their way over, but no Bubba.

“Maybe if you got to work on time and worked a little harder we wouldn’t fuckin’ be in this mess.” He mumbled.

Oh, don’t even.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He threw his smoke to the ground, pushing his back off the wall and bucking up to you. “It means, that lately it seems like I’m the only one getting shit done around here. Movin’ shit in and out of the place. Fuck Jake, you’ve been rebuilding the same damn motor for weeks.”

“Fuck you, don’t tell me how to run my own god damn business.” You spat back, your face craned up and within inches of his. “I can change the locks faster than you can fuckin’ count to three.” You shoved him again, basically asking for it at this point.

“You wanna fuckin’ bet?” He was shoulder checking you now, and you felt it coming. The same way it always did. You couldn’t stop your left hook from rolling up from the bottom, popping him right in the cheek. It was seconds before he retaliated, his strong right fist bouncing off the side of your skull. From there, it continued. You exchanged blows, back and forth while you scuffled to the ground, laying hits to each others’ ribs as the dirt turned to dust around you.

Before long, all of the guys had heard the commotion and came running to see the show. Both of you back on your feet now, fists raised and ready to box. “Come on, you son of a bitch, you wanna do this now? Let’s go…” Danny muttered as he hopped lightly on his feet, egging you on.

You lurched forward, getting Danny one good time in a spot that you knew would piss him off, right in the temple. You continued exchanging hits left and right, even bringing the fight to a little bit of unfairness, using your knees to bring each other down even more. The cheers that had surrounded you were muffled now, all you could hear were your ears ringing and your blood pumping. You knew your nose was probably bleeding, and your muscles were on fire with adrenaline.

“Alright, alright boys! God damnit, stop!” You heard Bubba’s voice come between you, making the two of you step away from each other. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’re in the middle of a damn game! Back inside, all of yeh.” He commanded as the group dispersed, everyone heading back into the shop.

You felt Teddy’s giant hand hit the back of your neck, wincing at the snap of pain he inflicted. “Little Jacob, the two of you just can’t keep your hands off each other, can ya?” He bellowed a harsh, smoke-filled laugh as his minions echoed him. You glanced through the corner of your eye to see the unfamiliar face, puffing on a pipe of his own with the other hand in his pocket, his eyes squinted at you as you walked along.

—

HER POV

You pulled yourself away from the window, listening to the scuffle happening just beyond it. You recognized Danny’s voice, his bellowing timbre easily distinguishable. You wondered who he was fighting, and why he was fighting. You realize now why they stashed you in here, but that didn’t make you any less nervous. After a few minutes the yelling died off and you figured the fight was probably over, your mind racing wondering if Danny was okay, and how the other guy must have looked.

You paced around the room trying to slow your heart rate, the small room not giving you much space. You paused as you met the dresser, noticing a stack of items, books mostly. Your eyes traveled over the stack wondering if these items would give you any type of insight to the man who occupied this room. Your eyes caught a soft back book, buried deep under a pile of notebooks on the dresser. It had a green cover, and a photo of a school on the front. The top of the cover, in bright white lettering, read ‘St. James Elementary School, 1965’. Oh my god, you were probably in this. You began flipping through the black and white pages, seeing a few barely familiar faces here and there as you read about the various activities the school partook in that year.

You knew you’d left halfway through this exact year, but you vaguely remembered your last picture day at this school. Sure enough, a few pages later, you found your photograph amongst the rest of your classmates. You’d never seen this photo of yourself before. You were tiny, only 9 and in the third grade. Your hair was a frazzled mess, the collar of your shirt flipped up and crinkled. You smiled, remembering the good old days. A few pages back showed you 6-year-old Danny, and a few forward a ten-year-old Jake, his right arm wrapped in a cast from falling out of the Sycamore tree.

You looked at the sandwich that sat on the dresser, still contemplating whether or not you really wanted to eat it. Going with your starving gut, you forced it down. Danny did make it for you, after all.

As you swallowed the last bite, you heard a loud crash come from the other side of the wall, what sounded like a beer bottle smashing against the wall, and shattering. It was followed up by the muffled sounds of yelling voices, more slams and more screeches…it was getting so loud that you started to panic. You tried to tune it out, push it away, and after a few minutes it quieted, only to return again with a vengeance.

Are they okay? Is Bubba there?

You needed a distraction.

You looked across the floor, noticing an old tattered book lying by the dresser. Its cover was torn and oily from Jake’s hands; he must love this one. It made your heart skip a beat that he likes to read, and could recite poetry, given that it didn’t fit his outright personality in the least.

You let yourself get lost in the pages, using the story to distract yourself from the loud noises happening just thirty feet away. The last time you’d glanced at your watch, it was after 1am, and you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Damn, you could really use a shower and a pair of pajamas right now. But instead, you kicked off your shoes and jeans, folding them in a pile on the floor. You pulled the bedsheets back, finding them slightly stained, but clean nonetheless. Probably just as clean as the motel sheets if you were honest. The immediate smell of Jake’s Brut aftershave filled your senses, and you found yourself taking in the scent of him as you wrapped yourself in his sheets. You could smell his hair, his musk of his skin, the lingering scent of oil and the remnants of the laundry detergent he used sparingly. It felt strange, being in someone else’s bed, but at this point, you didn’t dare run away to the chaos that was happening outside the door. You felt safe in here, strangely enough, in this perfect stranger’s bedroom.

The only thing that would be better, was if Danny had stashed you in his room, instead.

——

JAKE POV

You glanced over to the flashing clock on the microwave, 3:58am. The sun would be coming up soon, and you knew they weren’t leaving until the game was won. You had it though. You knew you had it, thanks to Bubba. How the fuck he pulled it off unseen you aren’t sure. Your little diversion with Daniel must have worked. You could feel your eye swelling as you blinked through the pain, a headache setting in deep in your head as the play rounded the table to you.

With nervous hands you laid your cards out on the table, licking your lips as you spoke, “Four of a kind.” Your eyes flicked up to Teddy as a sick grin crossed his face.

“The boys’ done it again, folks.” he shouted, causing everyone to lay their losing hands out on the table, sending you dirty looks. They all start to push away from the table, throwing their money into the center before storming off through the front door.

The game was over, and you by some miracle, had won.

Teddy stayed seated at the table, crossing his arms behind his head as he stared at you with a disgusting smile. You grabbed your portion of the money and added it to the pile, waiting until the others were out the door before pushing it forward to him. His minions began gathering the cash into a bag, as Teddy sat sipping the last of the whiskey straight from the bottle.

“You know boy, your father’d be proud of yeh.” he said, his voice grating at your every nerve.

“My father left me to clean up his fucking mess.” you said, standing from the table as they loaded the last of the cash. You walked over to the sink as Daniel stood from the table. “Good game. Thanks.” he said, disappearing down the hallway.

Teddy stood and patted you on the back, tamping out his cigar in your kitchen sink, “You have a nice night now, ya hear?” and with that he and his shadows made their way out of your front door.

“God fucking damnit.” you breathed, letting out the breath you’d been holding for what felt like most of the night.

Daniel reemerges from the hallway, beginning to collect glasses from the table. “The fuck was all that about?” he asks, clearly knowing you picked that fight on purpose.

“I had to. I was about to fold. Thank god they called a break.” you paused, turning to look at his swollen cheek. “Bubba…”

“Yeah, I know.” he said, placing the glasses on the counter. He walks back over to the table to start cleaning up the poker chips, a small laugh leaving his chest. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

You smirk, and nod. “Needed to be believable. Worked didn’t it?”

He laughs again, “This time. We’re kind of shit at poker, you know?”

“Fuckin’ terrible.” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

“She good in there?” he asks, leaning on the doorframe.

“Don’t know. Haven’t been in there. Haven’t seen or heard anything, thank god. Assume she’s asleep.” you shrug.

“You sleepin’ in there?” he asks, tongue in his cheek.

“As opposed to where?” you question.

“Don’t fuckin’ know, just a question.” he snaps back.

“Suppose I am then. All two hours. Fuckin’ head is pounding though so maybe not.” you tout.

He nods his head and disappears down the hallway again, hitting the lightswitch as he walks. You hear his bedroom door shut leaving you to the quiet house filled with dissipating smoke. You grab a beer from the fridge, and take a seat at the table, dropping your head into your hands. How the fuck did I end up here pops? Why’d you do this to me? To us? We’re barely making it.

You pop the lid off the bottle and bring it to your lips letting the cold liquid glide down your throat, hoping to quell the hunger in your stomach for another night. Your eyes flick over to your bedroom door. The light is off, and you wonder if she’s asleep. She was in there so long… she probably had to piss. Fuck how did this happen?

You tightened your fist, feeling the pain settling in. Your skin felt tight and grimey and you could feel the blood on your face. You swallowed down the rest of the beer, tossing the bottle into the trashcan as you made your way to the front door. You pulled it open checking to make sure no one was lingering before locking it up for the night, heading towards the bathroom.

You flicked the shower handle on, knowing it would be a few minutes before it warmed up. You quickly ran your toothbrush over your teeth as you stripped out of your clothes, setting your gun on the bathroom counter. You took notice of just how disgusting your bathroom was, but shit it was only you and Danny. Why did you care?

You wet your razor and dragged it harshly against your skin, for a quick dry shave. You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the grease and grime the best it could. You snatched the green soap from the ledge and lathered your body, the sting catching you off guard as you ran your soapy hands over the cut on your face. You washed your hair as quickly as you could, knowing that your sleeping hours were growing shorter by the second. You flicked the handle off and grabbed your towel from the bar, running it over yourself and wrapping it around your waist. You slapped on a little bit of aftershave and ran your fingers through your hair, before deciding you’d spent long enough in the bathroom.

You grabbed your gun and turned off the light, crossing the hallway to your closed door, pausing for a second with unease about what you were about to walk into. You quietly twisted the knob and found that your window was cracked open, letting a breeze flow through the room. Your eyes traveled towards your bed finding Y/N in a dead sleep beneath your sheets. You swallowed hard at the image of her asleep on your pillow, completely unable to conjure a memory of the last time you let a girl sleep in your bed, because quite frankly, you didn’t do that.

You set the gun on the dresser, pulling open the top drawer to fish out a pair of boxers, dropping your towel and sliding them onto your legs. You picked up the towel and ran it through your hair again, before throwing it over your closet door. You grabbed your gun and set it on the nightstand as quietly as you could, trying not to wake her. You went to grab the sheets, but stopped yourself. Should you? No. You push the sheets over to the side to see your book laying open beneath them. You huff a laugh through your nose, a small smile crossing your lips at the thought of her laying in here reading your favorite book while you were trying not to get the shit beat out of you just thirty feet away.

You grabbed it and placed it on the nightstand, seeing she made a substantial dent, before sliding into the bed next to her. It almost felt wrong sleeping without blankets but you didn’t want to cross a line. She probably didn’t even consider that you would sleep in here either. Danny didn’t.

You tried to settle yourself as softly as you could, really trying to avoid the awkward interaction when really you just wanted to sleep. She rolled a little bit as the bed dipped down, her bare leg peeking out from the dark sheets. Your eyes traveled the expanse of exposed skin, remembering that earlier she was in jeans. Your eyes flicked to the floor seeing them folded in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Fuck me, shes half naked too. Fuck.

You let out a sigh and placed your hands behind your head, letting your mind swirl with thoughts as you tried to will them to slow down enough to let you close your eyes. A soft noise leaves her lips, a gentle hum as she pulls the blanket up towards her face. You turn to look at her, and you swear you can almost smell her shampoo if you think about it hard enough, letting a tingle slide through your body at the unfamiliar fragrance. You turn on your side just watching her for a minute, the way her lips are slightly parted and her eyes are darting around. You wonder what she’s dreaming about. You wonder if she’s scared. Although if she was truly scared, would she have fallen asleep so comfortably in your bed?

Her skin glows in the dim light peeking through the window. You want to touch her. You resist the urge as a breeze drifts through the room causing a few strands of her hair to fly across her face. She’s sort of pretty now that you can look at her for a few minutes. Her hair, so shiny and smooth, her lashes so long and thick, her hands so small and clean as they rest next to her mouth. Actually, she’s really pretty. Maybe even beautiful. Your hand lifts and draws near to her cheek, her skin looks so soft you think maybe if you could just touch it one time you would be satiated enough to fall asleep, but you quickly retract it knowing this is not right. She wouldn’t want this. You’re fairly certain she has a thing for Daniel, or so it seemed, and Daniel didn’t seem too happy with the thought of the two of you sleeping together.

Her foot moves, her toes barely grazing your leg, sliding through your leg hair causing you to swallow quickly at the sensation. You want her to do it again. Touch me. Please. Do it again. But instead you move your leg away. Your brain is screaming out for the touch of someone else. To feel a touch that isn’t rough and aggressive. Something soft and gentle. Something like her.

It’s been some time since you’d been this intrigued by a woman, and you aren’t quite sure why, or how she’s managed to do it in just two days. You want to know her. You want to touch her; feel her skin on yours. You want to step inside the mind of this poem loving, free spirited, firecracker of a woman that stumbled into your shop. You want to do all of that and more, but you can’t. She’s his, or atleast wants to be.

You roll to your stomach, letting your wet hair fall over your back as you tuck your arm under your pillow. Your eyes are trained on her, slowly blinking closed as you struggle to focus on her dark silhouette, wondering how you’re going to get her out of the mess she’d walked into.

—

HER POV

It was the strong smell of Jake that woke you, his scent of aftershave and soap drifting across your nose in your early morning, half-asleep state. Before you open your eyes, you force your mind to think about last night, what happened, and where you had ended up.

Jake’s bed. Safe and sound.

You peeled one eye open to a sight that made your breath catch in your lungs. Jake was lying on his stomach next to you, one hand under his pillow, the other curled up underneath him. You smiled a little; you hadn’t seen him in this state of vulnerability yet. It was like his hardened exterior didn’t even exist in this peaceful state. His pink lips were parted, the tiniest wisp of air escaping through them. His eyelids moved back and forth while he dreamed, and you couldn’t help but notice that his hair was just a little bit damp from his apparent shower earlier. He looked clean.

Once your senses began to come to life, you heard the faint sound of rustling out in the bay, most likely Danny getting his day started already. You sat up a bit and noticed that Jake was lying on top of the comforter, no blanket at all to cover his sleeping body. Why didn’t he get underneath? Wasn’t he cold? And upon closer examination, you noticed that he had a black eye…busted lip and cheek…bruised hand? What the fuck?

Was it him fighting Danny last night?

Couldn’t have been…

You maneuvered yourself a little bit in the bed to stretch, pulling yourself out from underneath the covers. It woke him just enough to turn over, and when he flipped, his hand barely brushed your hip, his fingertips lingering just above your pantyline.

This should not be sending your stomach into a fit of excitement like it is, fuck.

You glanced down to see his tattoo-covered fingertips resting gently on you with the background of your baby pink panties behind them. His fingertips weren’t rough and calloused, but more toughened and strong. His fingers tightened their grip and jerked every few seconds, the tiny movements making your mind think thoughts it shouldn’t be. Something about the scene looked all too kinky, and you rolled your eyes at the visual, committing it to memory. His fingers burned into your skin and you briefly wondered if it would feel that way all the time.

Suddenly the music in the bay got ten times louder, and you knew that it was Danny telling Jake to get the fuck out of bed. Jake’s eyes opened as fast as lightning as he got his bearings, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he wet his mouth. When he noticed you were there, it was like all his memories found him again in the blink of an eye. He blinked to you, offering you a tiny smile before he noticed where his hand was still sitting.

When he did, he ripped it away. “Fuck, sorry.” He rolled away, the snake tattoo running down his back catching your eye a little more now as you could see the cascading scales up closely.

“It’s okay.” You murmured, feeling his embarrassment. You rolled from the bed too, feeling somewhat uncaring of the fact that he essentially just saw you in your panties. Oh fuckin’ well. You stood and walked to the end of the mattress and found your jeans, shaking them out as you stood before Jake, still sitting perched on his side of the bed.

He cleared his throat and looked away before standing and grabbing a random shirt from the floor. He quickly yanked it over his head, searching for a pair of jeans and once he found them he slid them on quickly and made his way toward the door, leaving you getting dressed all alone.

“Sorry I fell asleep here…I could’ve slept on a couch, or something…” you muttered, jumping a little as you slowly pulled the tight denim jeans over your thighs.

You watched as he caught himself watching you, snapping himself from the scene before clearing his throat again. “Um, it’s fine. Thanks for hiding out. We um… We don’t have a couch…”

“Oh…” you breathed, buttoning your jeans.

He stood nodding, his bottom lip bitten hard between his teeth as he fought himself to look at you.

“Well.” He turned, without another word, and made his way back out. You gave him a second before you followed him out, wanting to pee and rinse your morning breath away with a bead of toothpaste and your finger. When you made it to the bathroom, though, you were met with Jake again, standing and brushing his teeth in the mirror. “Sorry.” You apologized, turning to stand with your back against the wall of the hallway.

It was mere seconds before he stepped out into the hall, toothbrush still in his mouth, and motioned for you to go ahead and take the bathroom. “I’ll rinse in the kitchen.” You gave him a quick smile before ducking away to do your business.

After a minute you emerged, opening the door to find Jake pulling on his coveralls, a cigarette hanging from his lips already. “Why don’t you have any soap in your bathroom?” You asked, wiping your hands on your jeans from the water-wash.

He looked at you with one eye, shrugging his shoulders as he pulled his hair back into a low bun. He picked the cigarette from his mouth as he exhaled the smoke into the air, a tiny wisp of hair falling in his face. “Look around. Does it look like we wash much of anything ‘round here?”

Without another word, he walked back through the door to the bay, and you let the smoke of his cigarette hit your face as you followed him.

“Ohhhh, goodmorning, you two! How did you sleep?!” Danny yelled out across the bay overtop of a loud Lynyrd Skynyrd song. “Actually, wait. Don’t answer that. Spare me the dirty details, I don’t need a visual.”

“Fuck you, Danny.” You spat at him before you could even stop yourself. You heard Jake chuckle under his breath. “There are no dirty details.”

“Oh, that’s right! Jake actually took a shower last night. Guess they wouldn’t be too dirty, would they?” Danny quipped back.

Jake sighed, pinching his nose. “Daniel, it’s too fucking early, and your music’s too fuckin’ loud, and my head hurts too fucking bad from your cheap shot to my skull last night. Can you please pipe the fuck down.” Jake chirped as he stood up on the top step of his ladder.

“Hmm, I would, but it looks like you already did the piping last night, eh Y/N?” Danny said through a shit-eating grin. Your jaw dropped at his insinuation, but it was also kind of amusing.

“Daniel I swear to fuckin’ god if you don’t stop it, we’re going back out to the parking lot.” Jake yelled, throwing a handful of nuts and bolts at Danny. “You’ll be the one getting a damn black eye this time, you asshole.”

Danny had ducked behind the vehicle he was working on to avoid the flying metal, laughing as he stood back up unscathed. “Fuckin’ try it, Jake!”

You watched as Jake bit his cheeks in, trying like hell to talk himself out of jumping off the ladder and launching himself toward Danny’s waiting threat.

“Nah, actually, you know what?” Danny slammed his rag down on the opened hood of the car. “I’ve already been at work for two hours. I’m taking an early lunch. Y/N, you want breakfast? It’s omelet day at Louie’s. My treat.” He began pulling his arms from the sleeves of his coveralls, and tying them around his waist.

“Uh, sure, I…I guess.” You answered, scared to say no. “We taking Ruby?”

“Oh, there’s my girl. Ready to hop back on and ride…” Danny sucked his teeth as he walked toward you, tossing you the key to his bike. “You can handle it this morning, right Jake? Your own fucking business?”

You glanced to Jake as he distracted himself with his head buried deep in the guts of a Chevy, not bothering to look your way.

Danny wrapped his arm around your neck as he turned you around, shuffling you out the door. “Bye Jake, don’t wait up!”

——

DANNY POV

Noooonono. No way he is making his way into your territory like this. Not this time.This is your turf.

You and Y/N rounded the corner of the building to the wide awning out back where you kept your various motorcycles and important parts, and of course, Ruby. Y/N tossed the keys back to you as you straddled the back of the bike, scooting forward as you started it up and revved the engine loud, mostly to get on Jake’s nerves.

You held your hand out, palm up, over your shoulder, waiting for Y/N to grab it as she slid in behind you. When she got comfortable, and her entire front was pressed against your back, you kicked the stand and took off.

God, the chemistry you felt every time you were around this girl was making your head spin. She made you feel different, made you feel like you’d ditch your little black book of phone numbers, made you think about never wanting to take another woman home from the bar ever again. She gave you that tiny feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t explain any other way, other than excitement. And it was growing every day.

It felt good to have her all to yourself again, and even after the chaos and calamity of last night, and her ultimately having to stay in Jake’s room, you knew deep down that they probably didn’t hook up…you didn’t think so, at least.

And if they really didn’t, Jake had a lot more self-control than you thought he did.

You felt her hands squeeze around your stomach as you rounded the curve a little faster than she was used to, earning a little laugh from you. You felt the strands of her hair tickling the backs of your shoulders as the morning sun shone down, and you were itching to get her to the next destination, so you could get her as alone as possible.

But first, breakfast.

“The western omelet is my favorite, but also you can’t go wrong with three-cheese.” You advised Y/N as Geraldine poured the hot coffee directly from the glass carafe.

“Honey we can make ya whatever ya want, just say the word.” You watched as Geraldine shot her a sweet wink.

“The western omelet sounds great, thank you ma’am.” Y/N smiled back as she sipped her coffee.

“I’ll take you back to your motel after this, so you can not feel like a prisoner for a little while.” You told her, stirring the sugar into your coffee.

“Shit, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I feel like I’ve had the same clothes on for weeks.” She sighed hard and her face lit up.

“You’ve been here for like, three days, Y/N.” You teased with a wink.

“God, you’re right…and so much shit has already happened! Maybe this actually is where my adventure was supposed to occur.”

You furrowed your brow. “What adventure?”

She cleared her throat as she readjusted herself in her seat. “Remember when you asked me what I was running from?”

You nodded.

“Well, I kinda was running, kinda not. My fiancé and I had just broken up, and I set out looking for a big life adventure, ya know. I never got to go out and do the things I really wanted to do, be wild for a bit. See more than just little old Salvation.”

“…And you found yourself right back here in fuckin’ Joslyn.” You added.

“Ugh, yeah.” She rested her chin in her hands. “Atlanta feels so far away now…” she was staring out the window, watching two birds fight over a discarded French fry.

You pulled her hands down, taking them in yours. “But you’re at least getting to experience the adventure part, right?”

A sly smile shot across her lips as she bit them in. “Yeah, it’s definitely been a ride so far.” She squeezed your palms. Fuck, she makes your heart beat fast.

“What other things did you hope to experience on this life-changing trip?” You added, craning an eyebrow and releasing her hands.

“Well, I wanted to meet new people, make some friends…I wanted to swim in a river, climb to the top of the highest mountain in every state I visited, just so I can say I did. I wanted to try new foods, go dancing, visit farmers markets and eat tomatoes right off the vines down south…I wanted to go wild. I hadn’t…my life had been so cookie-cutter for so many years, I didn’t get to enjoy it. My formative years, ya know? Sow my oats…” her tongue clicked at that last part, instantly making your dick jump. You knew exactly what she meant.

You felt like you wanted to jump across the table. “All of those things sound like a lot of fun, Y/N. I hope you get to do them all one day…” your voice was flat, your heart rate picking up with each passing second. You don’t know why, but at that very second, you wanted to give her each and every one of the things she listed, and more. You wanted to help her. Be there with her to live out her forgotten dreams.

“I hope I do too, Danny…” her eyes were bored into yours, her look soaking deep into your bones like no other woman had before. Fuck.

After a long pause, she spoke again. “Will you walk me into my room when we get back? Check it out…? After last night, I…”

“Absolutely. I’ll walk you in. And I’ll fix your television.”

“How did you know it was broken?” She seemed surprised.

“Noticed when I picked you up the other night. And nothing ever fucking works at that shit hole.” You explained. She smiled, a genuine smile that was begging you to keep going, keep talking to her, keep asking her about her life.

So you did. Until breakfast was over, and it was time to leave. You paid Geraldine, and she waved you off with a wrapped-up biscuit for Jake. He’d get it later.

The ride back to the motel was way more intense than the ride to Louie’s; it was almost as if her hands were burning holes in your skin. You held your left hand on her thigh just like you had before, squeezing it in all the right places. The confidence she had the first night you rode came back full-force. Her thumb hooked in your belt, her other fingers hanging right above your groin. Her other hand worked to hold her own hair back from her face, and you wished to God you had a photograph of the two of you right now.

Her free hand drifted around your abdomen, running her fingertips from your back, around your side, and to your stomach again…her legs squeezing together, her hot breath on your shoulder blade…fuck.

“You’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on the road, Miss Thing.” You finally admitted.

“Nooo, you’re a professional. You’re doing just fine.” She said in your ear, the proximity sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed back the lump in your throat, hoping to recenter yourself and conceal what was happening in your jeans.

“Well thank you for the encouragement…”

“Is it helping?” She purred, her lips brushing your ear now.

“Fuck yeah it’s helping, a little too much, actually…” you laughed as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel in front of room #7.

You both hopped off as you kicked the stand, finally facing each other after the whirlwind of a ride in. You watched as she flattened out her wind-blown hair, pulling a few pieces that had slipped into her mouth. You found yourself giggling at how cute she was, making your stomach fill with butterflies just watching her. What is happening?

You watched as she unlocked the door, turning slightly as she pushed it open to invite you in. You took one last look up and down the sidewalk to check your surroundings, and when you felt it was clear, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

“It’s just really fuzzy, the picture sometimes comes across, but then it buzzes up again.” She explained as she moved the bunny ears on the top of the TV set.

“Let me take a look.” You waltzed to the TV, pulling it out from its place a little bit and messing with the wires and connections. She stood watching the screen, giving you a play-by-play as you fiddled.

“Oh, there— wait. Nope. Gone again. There! Yes, there!” She squealed when you finally got the picture to stay steady. “Perfect! Leave it right there!”

You stepped away, holding your hands up as if it would screw up again if you moved too fast. But there it was, the perfect picture on the old 70’s model screen.

“Yes, thank you Danny!” She brought both hands around your neck in a tight, excited embrace, laying the sweetest kiss right to your cheek before stepping away again. Wow.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, if you don’t care to hang out? I’ll only be a second…” she explained as she took her earrings out, laying them neatly on the bathroom sink.

“Take your time, Jake will be fine. I’ll wait.” You responded, knowing that Jake probably did owe you a little personal time. You made yourself comfortable on the bed while she slipped into the bathroom. You removed your coveralls and boots and laid back down. After about 15 minutes of some shotty version of the news, you heard the bathroom door click open, revealing Y/N wrapped up in two terry cloth towels.

Shit…take your eyes off her…

She was snooping around in her suitcase on the opposite bed, obviously making a scene out of showing off a little leg for you.

“Maybe I should have joined you in the shower, you smell phenomenal.” You quipped, trying to lean into the flirting again.

“It was just whatever was laying on the counter, here. But yeah, maybe you should’ve…” She giggled, pulling her hair from the towel. She was absolutely fucking gorgeous, and she was cutting away at your heartstrings, one by one. You sat up on the bed when she came to sit beside you, and you were dying to kiss her, touch her, anything at all to feel her near you again.

She was holding the towel together between her breasts, her legs curled up underneath her as she moved her body in toward you.

“How about I join you next time?” You asked as she brought her face close to yours, your noses brushing just barely. Your heart was flying out of your chest…you could taste her breath on your tongue.

“I’ll hold you to that…” she whispered, moving her lips to brush yours just barely. You leaned in, wanting to feel more of her….the barely-there kiss wasn’t nearly enough. You took her chin between your fingers, almost like you’d done a couple nights ago before you left her a panting mess.

You let yourselves breathe together, your breath mixing together as you held yourselves back from what you really, really wanted to do. It was killing you, not ravishing her entire, dripping body, right here, right now. Fuck…Y/N…

“Will you just fucking kiss me already, Danny?” She breathed out, smiling through her words as she said them.

That was all it took, you let yourself crash into her, your lips finally connecting in a fury. It was hot, but not rushed; you allowed yourselves time to explore a bit before diving in head first. Her lips were sweet and spicy, like a familiar candy you couldn’t place. And soft and smooth, and delicious…

She finally opened her mouth a bit to let you in more, her tongue barely brushing your lip before pushing in all the way, searching for yours. You let her find it, connecting them together in what felt like a meeting you’d been waiting for for years. She tasted even sweeter once you began deepening the kiss, both of you fighting the urge to let your hands begin to wander. You finally remembered to breathe, letting your lungs fill as your lips tingled, your eyes opening and flitting closed again as you watched her kiss you back.

Her hand was still gripping her towel, while her other rested on your upper thigh, fingertips slowly digging in every few seconds as your bodies became more comfortable with each other. Suddenly she pulled away, her eyes meeting yours in a flustered fury. “God damn, you’re a good kisser.” She blurted out.

“Really?” You laughed.

“Yeah, yessss...you’re a very good kisser.” She touched her fingertips to her lips like she could feel you there still, her cheeks pink and flustered as she did so. You wanted to tell her to drop the fuckin’ towel, get your ass over here and straddle me, let me show you how good of a kisser I really am… but you didn’t. You’d rather move things along at the pace they were going. It was almost fun watching her make her own moves; just like you’d told her, she was a mystery, like a code you wanted to crack…

The next thing you knew, it was like your fantasies were slowly becoming real life. She stood from beside you on the bed, releasing her hold on the towel, letting it fall to the floor. Her naked body stood before you, still a bit damp and blotchy from her hot shower. You felt no shame in letting your eyes rake over her body, biting your lips in as you did so.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Y/N…” you said, wringing your hands together in your lap. “I’m speechless…”

She blushed a little, tilting her head to the side as a little bit of hair fell in front of her eye. She pulled it back, slotting it behind her ear. “Thank you, Danny.”

She crawled into the bed behind you, slipping under the covers and pulling them up around her neck. She held her pointer finger up and wiggled it, signaling for you to come with her.

Don’t gotta ask me twice.

“I’m still a little dirty from work, baby…”

“Then go wash your hands and get back here…” she urged.

And you did. Really, really well. You splashed some water on your face, and even up your arms a bit. You rushed back into the room, stopping short of the bed to rip your t-shirt from your body. You lifted the sheets back to lay down next to her, your hands finding each other's bodies almost instantly. Your mouths met each other’s with a quickness again, your hands in such a flurried mess you could hardly tell which way was up, and which was down.

Her hands tangled in your long curls, and your hands wrapped around her barren thighs with so much force you thought you might leave bruises. She was fuckin’ perfect…

She pulled you in by the hair, the swift action making your dick twitch again. You felt her tits pressed against your chest as you kissed her, making you growl with anticipation. You reached under her leg, pulling her closer so it hitched over your hip. You tried to pull the visual that her legs were spread wide across your lap, just barely out of view under the sheets.

Her light moans and whines were killing you, and the more you pulled on each other's skin, the more you couldn’t stand it anymore. You had to have her.

“I’m havin’ a really hard time not touchin’ you the way I want to, Y/N…” you breathed once as you came up for air.

“How do you wanna touch me?” She asked, making your brain feel like it was fried.

You craned your body up to hover over her, watching her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath. Her hand lifted up to wipe the sheen of sweat that had started to collect on your forehead, making you feel like you wanted to come undone already.

You balanced, using one hand to gently touch her face… “Here…then here…” you let your single fingertip trace down her cheek, then her neck, then down to round off her tit. She bucked up, her hips lifting from the bed at your light touch.

“Here…” your finger drifted down the center of her sternum, and down to her stomach, stopping short at her bellybutton. A soft moan escaped her throat, letting you know she was enjoying it, as featherlight as it was. “But mostly…” your finger drifted lower, stopping right above her slit. You brought your lips to hers again, kissing her deeply while leaving your finger a centimeter away from her clit. “Here…”

You both jumped hard at the shrill sound of the room phone ringing, breaking you away from the heated place you’d found yourselves in.

“Fuck!” Y/N yelped, feeling the same immediate frustration as you.

“Just ignore it…” you pleaded.

But she didn’t. She reached over to grab the phone from the receiver, answering it harshly.

“Hello?” She asked, listening as the person on the other end yelled in her ear. Wanda. You could hear every word she was saying. Y/N’s brow furrowed hard as she pulled the phone away from her ear. “Okay, thanks.”

“It’s Wanda. Said she’s gonna connect Jake to you.” She held the phone out for you.

“That motherfucker, I swear. I can’t get one second to myself…” you held it up, listening for it to finish ringing out.

“Daniel.” You heard Jake’s voice come across.

“What, asshole? I’m kind of in the mid—”

“I need you to get back here, ASAP, please.”

“Jake, I’m a little busy, I’ll be back soon.”

“Danny we have a visitor…he brought his bike to be fixed, and I don’t fix bikes.” He cut the sentence there, and you could tell he was moving his body away to talk more privately.

“It’s Joey…and he’s acting really weird, man. He’s snooping around and shit…I know he has at least two weapons on him—”

“Why would he be snooping? We have nothing to hide…from him, at least…” you reasoned.

“No, we don’t. Which is why I’m confused. I think he’s on a recon mission or some shit.” He sighed a deep breath. “Can you please just come diagnose this bike so we can get him the fuck out of here?”

“Yeah, shit. Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Tell her to lock her door and push the dresser in front of it when you leave. Tell her we’ll be back soon once we get this straightened out. This feels weird, Danny. I dunno…” you could hear the strange sound in his voice, and normally his gut was right.

“Alright, give me just a few.” You handed her the phone and she hung it up and placed it back on the table as you grumbled in the bed beside her. “So much for an afternoon delight!”

“What was that about?” She asked as you pulled yourself from the bed.

“I’ve gotta go. Some remnants of last night have trickled over into today, don’t need to leave Jake alone for it.” You pulled on your coveralls and boots as you looked back down to her, naked and alone in the bed.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry. I feel like I keep leaving you high and dry.” You leaned a knee on the bed, taking her cheek in your hand.

“Definitely not fucking dry, if we’re being honest…” she rolled her eyes.

“Fuck…” you laughed, wanting to continue what you started so badly it was killing you. “I need you…I need you to pull the dresser in front of the door when I leave, okay? I’ll explain later, just. Lock the door, don’t let anybody in here. I shouldn’t be long.”

“What? Pull the dresser?! Danny, I’m getting sick of this, why do I need to hide?! I’m trying to get the fuck out of town!” You could tell her blood was boiling already.

“I know, Y/N, but—”

“No buts, Danny. I’m sick of this. I’m a grown woman, I make my own decisions, and you’re treating me like I’m a child you’re not proud of. Hiding me away…” she got up from the bed and made her way to her suitcase, pulling on a large shirt. “Should you leave me a weapon? Am I going to have to fight someone off like you and Jake fought last night?!” She yelled, tears fighting to spring free.

Just then, you heard a few loud engines trucking their way down the road in the direction of the shop. Whether or not they were going there, you weren’t sure, but…

“Listen. Pull the dresser. Lock the door. I will not be long.” You used a little bit of command, walking back to her and taking her face forcefully in your hands. You looked deep in her eyes as you tried to explain it all in 4 seconds, before laying your lips to hers in one last goodbye kiss. “I promise you I’ll explain it all soon. And I’ll come back and finish what we started here, hm? Okay?”

This was so unfair to her.

She ripped her face away, sending you out the door. “Just fuckin’ go.” She sent you the tiniest smirk as you backed out the door, giving you a sliver of hope that maybe she wasn’t entirely done with you and your shit.

“I’ll be back, baby…”

———

“About fuckin’ time.” Jake spat at you as you walked through the metal door.

“Jesus Christ, I got here as soon as I could.” You snapped back as you walked toward Joey and the bike.

“Pretty long fuckin’ breakfast, if you ask me—”

You snapped your head around, stopping Jake in his tracks. “What, are you jealous? She was in your bed last night, not my problem if you didn’t make a move.”

You heard him huff a breath out his nose, and his lack of an answer let you know that no, they obviously didn’t hook up last night. Good.

You strutted to Joey, immediately jovially greeting him. “Hey, Joe. How’s it goin’? What do we have going on here?” You squatted down to the bike that Jake and Joey already had propped up on the block.

“Startin’ to lose power, I hardly made it up the hill, here. Got a funny smell, too.” Joey answered with his arms crossed. Joey hadn’t been riding his bike long, but he knew enough about it to know the simple answer to this problem. You watched as he shot his eyes back and forth around the shop, looking behind you to Jake, to the loft, to the back rooms…

“When’d you change the filter last?” You inquired, trying to distract him from his wandering eyes.

“Ah, couple months. Shouldn't be ready for a new one quite yet.” He replied, spitting his snuff directly onto the shop floor. As unclean as you and Jake were, that was one thing you both could not fucking stand. Jake’s head popped up from inside the Chevy, and you watched as he shook his head in disgust.

“We’re around a lot of dust here, Joey. Check the fuel injectors?” You stood and walked to your tool kit, already knowing exactly how to fix his issue.

“Yup.” He nodded his head, giving you nothing more. This guy really isn’t as smart as you thought he was.

“Hey, where’s that sweet little thing that’s been hangin’ round? She ain’t here?” Joey asked through his snuff-stained teeth.

Your eyes met Jake’s for a split second. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about Joey?”

“I seen her ‘bouts. Boy, if she ain’t a pretty penny, huh? Bet she tastes sweet up under them tight jeans, too. Mmmhm, I’d like to have me a piece of that—”

You stood quick, shaking your towel with one quick whip through the air as you met Joey’s eyes, silently threatening him to shut his fuckin’ mouth before you shut it for him.

You squatted back down, and popped off a few pieces exposing the completely clogged air filter. You pulled it free, holding it up to Joey. “There’s your problem. Fuel injectors are probably clogged, too.”

These things were trashed. No way he just cleaned them.

So he lied. Jake was right. He fed you a bullshit reason to get here, and stay here. Waiting for her.

“Well I’ll be a sumbitch.” He cackled, spitting again.

“Why don’t you watch me do this so you won’t have to come to me for such a simple fix next time…?” You offered.

“What, is my money no good here?” He pressed, stepping forward.

“Didn’t say that, Joe. Just figured you knew how to fix this, seein’ that you’ve been riding awhile now.” You tried to undermine his intelligence and the fact that you were on to him. Both of you.

“But I’m more than happy to get you a new filter and clean these injectors. Take me five minutes. Then I’ll have your total on a bill upstairs.” You shot back, getting to work as quickly as possible.

Within ten minutes, you had the bike fixed, hoping that that was the only problem he had. Routine maintenance wasn’t something you were too keen on doing, especially for someone like Joey.

You handed Joey the bill as he pulled out a few tens from his wallet. “Ya know, Danny…it’s a damn good thing you mechanic better than you play poker, Jake too.” You watched his eyes shoot to Jake, still working up under the Chevy. “Shocking you keep winning, as shitty as you are. Strikes me as somethin’ a little more than luck, hm?”

Joey raised his eyebrow as your stomach sank. Were they onto what happened last night? No way…everyone was there watching you fight…

“Joey, this will make the second time I ask you what the fuck you’re talking about.” You said stoically, acting as though you truly had no clue.

He laughed low, scanning his eyes up and down you. “Thanks for the tune up, son. Catch you boys elsewhere.” Joey said, spitting on the ground yet again as he hopped on the bike, pulling it out of the bay in a cloud of dust.

Jake rolled the creeper out, a look of surprise written all over his face. “Fuck, have they caught on?”

“Hell if I know. But you were right. That was a recon mission. They are looking for her…” You slammed the towel down again, shutting all the drawers back on your tool kit. “He’s going to report back that she wasn’t here. They know where she’s stayin’, Jake.”

“Did she pull the dresser?” He asked, standing quickly from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I told her to. She’s layin’ low. God, they’re gonna go after her aren’t they?” You suddenly felt a wave of nervousness shake your bones. What had you gotten her into?

Jake was already running to the wall, ripping his keys from the hook. “Yeah. They sure as fuck are. I’ll go get her. Get her shit from the Scout and lock the shop up. I’ll be back.”

And for the third time in three days, you listened to exactly what Jake told you to do, with no argument whatsoever.

——

JAKE POV

Your tires spin as you pull out of the lot, your hand gripping the steering wheel as the other flicks open your zippo, holding the windblown flame to the tip of your cigarette. The metallic clink sounds particularly loud as you toss it to the bench seat. You pull the cigarette from your mouth letting the smoke dissipate through the window as you let out a sigh. “Man, fuck.”

You knew it only took six minutes to get from the shop to the motel but for some reason it felt like it had been twenty. You puffed on your cigarette a few more times, flicking it out the window as you pulled into the parking lot of the motel. You threw your door open and looked around, seeing not a soul in sight, but you knew Wanda was watching. Bitch.

You stepped up to her door, knocking three times as your heart raced with adrenaline. Open the door Y/N… “Hello? Who is it?” you heard her muffled voice say through the door.

“It’s me. It’s Jake. Open the door.” you reply hastily, leaning on the door frame. You can hear her rustling around behind the door, hoping she’s moving the dresser out of the way. You hear the chain release and the door cracks open.

“Jake?” she questions, pulling it open a little wider. “What are you doing here? I thought Danny was coming back.”

“Well surprise, you get me instead. Try not to be too disappointed.” you quip, pushing the door farther open and stepping inside. You shut the door behind you, spinning the lock and making your way over towards her suitcase. “Pack your things, we’re leaving.”

“What? No?” she says, crossing her arms across her chest. “What’s going on? Where is Danny.” she demands.

“He’s at the shop. Please get your shit together, we’re running out of time…” you say a little more sternly, running your hand over your mouth. The nicotine in your system has you shaking a bit, or maybe it was the adrenaline, either way you were growing more anxious by the second and the more she pressed the more you unnerved you became.

“Why do I have to leave? Where am I going to go? I paid for this room for seven days!” she snaps, stomping her foot like an insolent child. You huff out a laugh before swallowing and attempting to regain your composure, trying to pretend that her defiance wasn’t kind of making your dick hard.

“Y/N, we’ve got five minutes tops to get the fuck out of this room. You can pack your shit, or I will pack it for you, and I can promise you won’t like it. So either get started or step aside.” you order. She cuts her eyes at you, pausing as she makes her decision. She storms over to her suitcase grabbing her things from the dresser and packing them inside. She glares at you as you lean against the wall, watching her pull her items from the closet. She walks over to the bed, and begins putting on her shoes, very clearly not happy that you’re ordering her around with no answers. You raise your eyebrows at her as you pull your keys from your pocket, spinning them around on your pointer finger before catching them in your hand.

“You ready?” you ask, pushing off the wall towards her. You reach to grab the suitcase off the bed, shock shooting through you as she cowers away from you. Did she think you were going to hit her or some shit? Fuck, is she scared of you?

You watched her face grow red as she realized she made a jump reaction. You swallowed back the lump in your throat as you gently grabbed the suitcase from her side. She stood and turned off the TV, with her eyes cast to the floor in embarrassment.

“Come on, we don’t have much longer.” you say as softly as you can, twisting the lock and opening the door. You look out to the lot, still seeing only your truck, and continuing out the door. You toss her suitcase in the bed, and slide into the driver's side, pulling the lock on the passenger side to let her in. Seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot, making your way back to the garage. You light a cigarette and glance over to her, still seeing her arms crossed over her chest and a pink tint on her cheeks. You lean over and roll down the window just enough to let some air hit her skin, and you see her physically relax. Well, at least a little.

You hold your cigarette between your fingers as you make your way down the empty road, glancing over at her again as she stares out the side window. You take another drag from your cigarette, gathering your nerve before tossing it out the window and placing your hand on the wheel. You swallow and turn to her. “I’m not going to hurt you, you know.”

She looks over at you, “I don’t know if that’s true.” she breathes.

“I promise you. That’s the last thing I want.” you say, letting your right arm snake up over the headrests, your fingers resting dangerously close to her hair. You couldn’t push the image out of your mind of how it would look wrapped around your fist. How soft and silky it would be sliding through your fingers. Fuck. No. Stop.

“What do you want, Jake? Why do I have to leave the motel? Why won’t either of you tell me anything?” she cracks, letting the waver in her voice show her emotion. “I just wanted you to fix my car! I just wanted to get out of here…I–”

“I know. I know you did. And I will fix your car. I swear. I just– I need you to trust me, okay? Me and Daniel. Just trust us. I promise we are only looking out for you. We’re gonna get you fixed up and out of here as soon as we can. I promise.” you confess. And while that was true, it would be a lie if you said you were doing your most timely work.

“I’m scared.” she admits, her hands fidgeting in her lap. You move your hand from the headrest, reaching down to calm her nervous hands, feeling her soft cool skin on your palm. “Of me?”

Her eyes flick down to your hand covering hers, before meeting your eyes. “No.” she answers far too quickly, pausing for a second and turning to look at you again, “Well, a little bit.”

Shit.

You nervously clear your throat, “Don’t be scared of me. I won’t hurt you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” you say, pulling your hand away from hers as you turn into the driveway of the shop.

She nods her head and straightens up her posture, “I still want to know what the hell is going on.” she demands.

You put the truck in park and pull the keys from the ignition, stepping out to grab her suitcase from the truck bed, nodding for her to follow you into the shop. You hear her shoes crunching in the gravel behind you as you make your way to the door, putting your key in the lock and pulling the door open. You let her walk in first, arms crossed over her chest as she disappears down the hallway. You lock the door behind you and set her suitcase down, pocketing your keys and setting off to find Daniel.

As you stepped into the kitchen you saw her standing near the sink, leaning into the countertop as Danny pulled her in for a hug, but before he could wrap his arms around her, she pushed him away, and created a bit of space between them. “No.”

She pointed to the two wooden chairs at the kitchen table with a raised brow. “Both of you, sit.” she instructed.

A smirk pulled across your lips at her little show of power, so you did as she said, curious to see where this was going to go. You kind of liked when she got bossy, kind of made you wonder if– No.

You crossed your leg over your knee and leaned back in the chair, pulling your carton of cigarettes from your pocket, and flicking your zippo to life. Daniel followed suit, taking the other chair and sending you a confused look and he popped the lid on his beer. You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention back to Y/N.

She places her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes, glaring at the two of you with a look that could kill. You knew better than to fuck with a woman scorned, and goddamn if the sight didn’t have you hot under the collar. “Alright, you two are going to tell me what the fuck is going on here. Immediately.”

You let out a breath of smoke and turn to Daniel, who was rubbing his hands over his face in anguish. He looks over to you, and you nod in agreement, watching as he bites his lips together and lets his eyes flick up to hers.

“Fuck. Alright. Let’s start with Ace…”

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