i started writing because literacy is dying and the people donât stay up till 3 am reading fan-fics anymore.
i write when inspiration strikes me because iâm free as the wind. (lazy asf)
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ! Minors DNI.
i donât necessarily take requests but I love suggestions, it gives me great inspo!! i also really appreciate just anything positive, questions or advice in my inbox!!
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
Scream inspired; Warnings: mentions of swearing, stalking (not from Jax), paranoia, blood, nightmares, gruesome murder, real angsty, weapons.
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
YOU SHOULDâVE KNOWN, THAT ONLY FOOLS FORGET THEY ARE UNLUCKY.
It had been exactly one week since the argument between you and Jax.
Seven days. Seven painfully long days that felt like an eternity.
Not a single moment has passed without your mind wandering back to that night. Every conversation, every silent moment, every attempt to distract yourself somehow circled back to Jax. Sleep was no escape either, the memory followed you into your dreams, only to greet you again the moment you woke up.
His pained voice refused to leave your head.
âDid you even fuckin love me?â
Those words echoed constantly, growing louder the more you tried to silence them. Every emotion conveyed in his words lived rent-free in your head.
You couldnât stop asking yourself the same question over and over again. How badly did you hurt Jax Teller that he questioned the love you had for him?
The thought made your chest ache.
Guilt had rooted itself so deeply inside you that it bled into every aspect of your life. You walked through each day as if your body was present but your mind remained trapped in the past.
Lost in the endless world of your thoughts, you stepped off the curb without so much as looking up. The blasting horn of a car barely registered in your head before a pair of hands grabbed your arm with a strong force, yanking you back just as the vehicle sped past, missing you by sheer centimetres.
Your heart plunged into your throat.
You stumbled back onto the sidewalk, breathing hard as adrenaline flooded your veins. It took a few seconds before you fully processed what had just happened.
âI- thank you.â you breathed, still shaken. âSeriouslyâŠthank you so much.â
The stranger offered you a reassuring smile, brushing the incident off as if he didnât just save your life.
The dark-haired man introduced himself as Sam.
After that almost-incident, he began to walk alongside you for a while, making casual conversation that gradually pulled your thoughts away from the cycle of guilt and regret. Despite how rattled you were, the conversation came surprisingly easily. Maybe it was because you were already so vulnerable that you would accept any offering of friendship or maybe it was that Sam had one of those personalities that made talking feel easy.
Sitting across from a complete stranger with a hot cup of coffee cradled between your hands, trying to focus on getting to know your new friend. However, somewhere in the back of your mind, those piercing blue eyes refused to let you go.
âya seem distracted, whats goin on?â His question hindered your thoughts.
You gave him a simple smile, taking a sip of your latte before answering. âToo much for me to bear onto a stranger. Believe me, Iâm doing you a favour.â
It was Samâs turn to laugh, âisnât that better though? Better to unload your secrets to an unknown than someone who knows you.â
You thought about his words for a moment, it wouldnât hurt to tell a complete stranger your whole situation with Jax. You figured you could use a second opinion.
You take a deep, almost dramatic sigh before answering. âThereâs this guyâŠâ
Sam teases you with the childish words of âooohâ causing you to throw a scrunched up napkin at him. âWe just⊠have a long history⊠and the other night we got into an argument so now I donât know where we stand.â
âEx-Boyfriend? Friends with Benefits? Star-crossed lovers?â You roll your eyes at every possibility he mentioned.
âMore like best friends who suck at communicating.â Sam winces and takes a sharp intake of breath. âThe final boss of situationships.â That comment earns another laugh from you.
âListen, if this guy really does mean a lot to you⊠then I say donât give up on him.â Your eyes meets his bright ones, they look so deeply into yours that it feels as though heâs trying to memorize you.
âand iâm sure if you mean just as much to him, then heâll come around.â
You give him a pathetic half smile to which he returns a full one, âThanks Sam.â
Your new friend glances up at the clock hanging on the cafe wall before reverting his gaze back at you.
âAh damn, Iâve gotta get to work. It was nice meetinâ ya.â
He rises from his seat with his coffee in hand, offering you one last nod before disappearing out the cafe doors. You watch him leave through the front window, a small smile tugging at your lips.
It felt nice to make a new friend.
After everything that had happened, after all the fear and heartbreak that seemed to follow you wherever you went, meeting someone new was refreshing. Normal, even. Maybe youâll run into him again and that normal feeling would return.
Finishing the last sip of your drink, you stand and make your way out of the coffee shop. The afternoon air greets you as you step onto the sidewalk, your footsteps carrying you around the corner.
It doesnât take long before your thoughts drift somewhere they always seemed to end up lately.
Jax.
No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your mind always found its way back to him. You wondered where he was. If he was still angry, if he ever thought about reaching out the way you constantly imagined doing. More than anything, you just wanted the chance to speak to him again, to apologize without the shouting and the tears, without either of you walking away. You wanted to repair whatever remained of the bond youâd spent years building together before it shattered between your hands.
Your phone suddenly buzzes inside your pocket, the familiar ringtone cuts through your thoughts. You pull it out, already seeing the words âNo Caller IDâglowing across the screen.
A week ago, your blood wouldâve run cold. Now? You let out an amused scoff while declining the call.
Since that night, youâd already gotten two more prank calls from someone pretending to be Ghostface. At this point, it was pissing you off more than anything.
Without a second thought, you silence the call and slip your phone back into your pocket. You feel content at your action of ignoring it. For the first time in what felt like forever, your heart didnât leap into your throat at the sight of an unknown number.
Maybe whoever had been tormenting you had finally grown bored. Maybe the killer had truly left you alone.
Thatâs what you wanted to believe.
You spent the entire day out of the house, the first real day youâve taken to explore Charming since coming back. Life felt almost stable and you were starting to get used to it.
You wandered through the little boutiques lining the downtown street, buying a few new clothes and bits of decor to make your old room feel a little more like your own again. You even stopped by a small local restaurant where the owner seemed interested in hiring you as a hostess.
Things were finally starting to look up.
As the night settled over Charming, you decided to walk home instead of driving, since you hadnât taken your car in the first place. The streets had hushed, lit in the warm glow of streetlights as traces of daylight disappeared. A cool breeze drifted through the trees, brushing against your skin in a way that was comforting after the warmth of the afternoon.
You turned the final corner toward your auntâs quaint little home, already thinking about changing into something comfortable and telling her about your day.
Then you stopped, the feeling that something was wrong wouldnât go away. Something white plastered against the fence surrounding the property.
At first, you thought it was just regular flyers but your blood ran cold as the images got clearer.
Your photograph.
It was a poster with your face.
Your eyes had been viciously scratched out, leaving deep gouges through the image. Across the top, written in thick red marker wasâŠ
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
You felt like throwing up.
âthe fuckâŠ?â Your voice barely escaped in a whisper.
You tore your gaze away, only to realize there was another one.
And another.
And another.
Every few feet, another poster had been taped to the fence, each identical to the last. Your own face stared back at you over and over again, every pair of eyes clawed away until nothing remained but shredded paper.
Your breathing became shallow.
He was back.
âNo⊠noâŠâ
As you increased your pace, the posters didnât stop.
They lined the entire property of your auntâs home, stretching farther and farther until they led directly to the front porch.
When your eyes landed on the front door, you froze. It was completely covered.
Dozens of posters had been plastered over every inch of it, overlapping one another until the wood beneath was no longer visible. Your smiling face stared back at you from every direction, every set of eyes brutally scratched out.
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
The words seemed to blur together as panic seized your body. Your pulse thundered in your ears and your lungs refused to fill with air.
Hands shaking uncontrollably, you fumbled your keys from your pocket and attempted to click open your Mercury Comet that rested in the driveway.
Melanie wasnât home, so you couldnât go inside. You couldnât even bring yourself to walk any closer.
Instead, you sprinted to your car and locked yourself in. Your chest heaved with despair, there is no way heâs here.
You pressed the numbers in your phone shakily and waited for the dispatcher to answer.
â911 whatâs your emergency?â
You looked back toward Melanieâs house, the posters of yourself staring back at you.
âI think thereâs someone in my houseâ you whispered, terrified to even look outside of your cars window again. âPlease⊠please just send someone.â
You had no idea what else to say, how do you summarize a whole stalker and killer story to a dispatcher in the brief second you need help?
After a pause, the dispatcher spoke again.
âStay inside your vehicle with the doors locked. An officer will meet you at the station nearby. Do not approach the house if you think someone may still be on the property.â
You agreed immediately and started your car after the dispatcher hung up. The drive to the station felt endless.
Every pair of headlights behind you made your stomach twist. Every stoplight felt too long.
By the time you arrived, Melanie had been contacted and met you there, worry written all over her face. Wherever she was, Gemma must have also been with her because she was at the station as-well.
âWhat happened?â she asked, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
âTheyâre all over your house.â You keep your voice above a whisper. âYou have to believe me.â
An officer accompanied the three of you back to the property. Your heart pounded as you all pulled back into the driveway.
There was no fucking way.
The fence was bare and the front porch was untouched. The front door was perfectly clean.
Not a single poster remained. You stared in disbelief before stumbling out of your car.
âNoâŠâ you breathed. âThey were here!â
You walked toward the fence, searching frantically for anything. Whether that be a torn corner or tape or absolutely anything to prove what happened.
But there was nothing.
âThey were everywhere!â you cried, looking between Melanie, Gemma and the officers. âI swear to you! they were all over the fence, the door, everything!â
One of the officers exchanged a brief glance with his partner before turning back to you.
âMaâam.â he said carefully, âare you sure this wasnât some kind of prank?â
âIt wasnât a prank!â you snapped. âI saw them!â
âDid you happen to take any photographs?â
Your stomach dropped. In your panic, you had completely forgotten to take pictures of it. To be fair, who knew the perpetrator would take them down in a matter of minutes?
You ran your hands in your hair in an attempt to calm yourself but it didnât work.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. Everyone who surrounded you had pity plastered all over their faces. Pity for the poor girl whoâs absolutely losing it.
âIt wouldnât be the first time kids around here pulled a cruel joke.â one of them said as they began walking away. âIf anything turns up, give us a call.â
Melanie stood beside you, concern etched across her face, rubbing your shoulder gently while Gemma kept her hand firm on your other shoulder.
You knew they wanted to validate your concerns more than anything but there was no evidence whatsoever. You couldnât blame them either, youâve been paranoid over the smallest things.
But without a single trace left behind, not even the police could tell whether someone had terrorized you or if the fear from the past week had finally begun to catch up with you.
You had no idea what to do anymore.
Just when youâd finally managed to find the smallest shred of peace, this happens.
Your entire body still trembled as you stood in Melanieâs driveway, unable to tear your eyes away from the now-empty fence.
âYou should stay at my place tonight.â Gemma said firmly, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. âBoth of youâ
Melanie looked back toward the house before letting out a defeated sigh.
âYeah.â She agreed quietly. âI think thatâs a good idea.â
The thought of stepping inside the house tonight, even for a minute, made your stomach churn. So obviously, you agreed.
The three of you climbed into Gemmaâs car and drove across Charming in near silence. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle as you tried to steady your breathing.
By the time you reached Gemmaâs home, the sky had turned completely dark.
âClayâs at the clubhouse.â Gemma explained as she unlocked the front door. âClub business. Just us tonight.â
She ushered you both inside before locking the door behind her.
Only then did your shoulders loosen by a little. In the rush to leave, you brought absolutely nothing with you.
Gemma disappeared upstairs for a few moments before returning with a neatly folded bundle of clothes.
âI think these should still fit.â She says with a small hint of a smile.
You looked down. A faded grey âPanteraâ concert shirt and an oversized pair of red and black plaid pyjamas pants.
Your heart sank at the sight of the familiar pyjamas. Gemma spoke softly as she handed them to you, âused to steal them every time you slept over.â
A bittersweet smile grew on your lips.
ââŠYeah.â You remembered stealing his oversized shirts because they were comfortable. You remembered him rolling his eyes every single time before telling you to âjust keep em.â
The idea of living through something like that had seemed impossible at the time.
Funny how life had a cruel sense of humor.
After changing, Gemma led you to Jaxâs old bedroom. It looked somewhat different, less lived-in.
The shelves werenât cluttered anymore. The posters that had once covered the walls were gone, replaced by plain paint. Most of his belongings had been long gone after moving out.
Despite all the changes, the room still felt unmistakably his. Like his presence lingered in every corner.
You climbed beneath the blankets youâd slept under countless times growing up, pulling them tightly around yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Without a doubt, sleep refused to arrive because every creak of the house made your pulse quicken. and each gust of wind outside sounded like footsteps.
You rolled over back and forth on the sleek-sheet covered mattress but nothing seemed to work. Hours seemed to pass before a somewhat loud thunk could be heard from a distance.
Your eyes snapped open from your false slumber. The unmistakable sound of the back door handle moving caused your heart to slam against your ribs.
Gemma had locked every door and her husband wasnât supposed to be home tonight.
You slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to make the floorboards creak beneath your feet. Barefoot, you eased open the bedroom door and crept into the dark hallway where yet another noise could be heard, it was the back door again.
Someone was trying to get in.
Your breathing became shallow as you hurried into the kitchen, frantically searching drawers as quietly as you could. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the largest kitchen knife you could find.
You swallowed hard and stepped back toward the doorway, gripping the blade so tightly that your knuckles turned white at the action.
The handle turned and the lock clicked to which the back door slowly swung inward and a tall figure stepped inside.
You didnât think for a second and you lunged.
A strong hand shot out, catching your wrist inches before the blade could strike.
âWhat theââ
The familiar voice stopped you cold and your eyes bulged out of your skull.
Your breath hitched at the sight of the supposed intruder, but it wasnât Ghostface nor was it a stranger.
It was Jax.
He stared at the knife in your shaking hand before looking back up at your terrified face, his expression filled with shock and confusion.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â Jax spoke, his voice laced with concern.
You immediately released the knife, the handle slipping from your trembling fingers before he quickly caught it. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as the feeling crashed over you.
âOh my God⊠Iâm so sorry-â you stammered, your voice shaking. âI thoughtâI thouââ
The words caught in your throat. No matter how hard you tried, you couldnât force them out. Your breathing became uneven, your chest tightening as panic took over once again.
He didnât demand another explanation. The moment he saw the terror written across your face, every question died on his lips.
Instead, he carefully set the knife on the counter before stepping toward you. His arms slowly wrapped around your trembling frame, pulling you against his chest with a gentleness that nearly broke you.
âHeyâŠâ he murmured softly. âItâs okay.â
You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. Funny how often that happened when he was around.
Your hands instinctively clutched at the back of his shirt as your body shook against him, tears threatening to spill over. He simply held you tighter, one hand resting on the back of your head while the other rubbed reassuring circles along your back.
âJust breathe.â he whispered. âyouâre okay darlinâ
You focused on the steady rise and fall of his breathing, trying desperately to match it as the panic slowly loosened itâs grip on your soul.
In the morning, when Melanie and Gemma awoke for their routine of breakfast, they had grown concerned when they found Jaxâs old bedroom empty.
Gemma checked the other spare rooms while Melanie searched the kitchen, both expecting to find you awake after another sleepless night.
Instead, they stopped in the doorway to the living room. The sight before them softened both of their hearts.
Curled up together on the couch, you and Jax were fast asleep. Youâd sought comfort in each otherâs presence, just like you both used to. Your head rested against his chest while his arms remained wrapped securely around you, he held you there until sleep had finally claimed you both. After everything the two of you had endured, it was the most peaceful either of you had looked in years.
Neither of them had the heart to wake you.
Exchanging a glance with one another, Gemma disappeared for a moment before returning with a thick blanket. She gently draped it over the two of you, careful not to disturb either of your sleep.
A small, knowing smile crossed her face before she motioned for Melanie toward the kitchen.
Without another word, they resumed their morning in hushed voices, allowing the rare moment of peace to linger for as long as it could.
AN: i was nice and gave a sweet little ending to this chapter, I expect grace đ (itâs the only sweetness youâll GET FROM THIS SERIES.)
ALSO DID ANYONE CATCH THE CRIMINAL MINDS REFERENCE OF THE POSTERS, THAT EPISODE WAS CREEPY AF AND I JUST HAD TO USE IT.
if you wanna be tagged, just lmk in the comments!! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated and motivationđ«Ąđ«Ą
Scream inspired; Warnings: mentions of swearing, stalking (not from Jax), paranoia, blood, nightmares, gruesome murder, real angsty, weapons.
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
YOU SHOULDâVE KNOWN, THAT ONLY FOOLS FORGET THEY ARE UNLUCKY.
It had been exactly one week since the argument between you and Jax.
Seven days. Seven painfully long days that felt like an eternity.
Not a single moment has passed without your mind wandering back to that night. Every conversation, every silent moment, every attempt to distract yourself somehow circled back to Jax. Sleep was no escape either, the memory followed you into your dreams, only to greet you again the moment you woke up.
His pained voice refused to leave your head.
âDid you even fuckin love me?â
Those words echoed constantly, growing louder the more you tried to silence them. Every emotion conveyed in his words lived rent-free in your head.
You couldnât stop asking yourself the same question over and over again. How badly did you hurt Jax Teller that he questioned the love you had for him?
The thought made your chest ache.
Guilt had rooted itself so deeply inside you that it bled into every aspect of your life. You walked through each day as if your body was present but your mind remained trapped in the past.
Lost in the endless world of your thoughts, you stepped off the curb without so much as looking up. The blasting horn of a car barely registered in your head before a pair of hands grabbed your arm with a strong force, yanking you back just as the vehicle sped past, missing you by sheer centimetres.
Your heart plunged into your throat.
You stumbled back onto the sidewalk, breathing hard as adrenaline flooded your veins. It took a few seconds before you fully processed what had just happened.
âI- thank you.â you breathed, still shaken. âSeriouslyâŠthank you so much.â
The stranger offered you a reassuring smile, brushing the incident off as if he didnât just save your life.
The dark-haired man introduced himself as Sam.
After that almost-incident, he began to walk alongside you for a while, making casual conversation that gradually pulled your thoughts away from the cycle of guilt and regret. Despite how rattled you were, the conversation came surprisingly easily. Maybe it was because you were already so vulnerable that you would accept any offering of friendship or maybe it was that Sam had one of those personalities that made talking feel easy.
Sitting across from a complete stranger with a hot cup of coffee cradled between your hands, trying to focus on getting to know your new friend. However, somewhere in the back of your mind, those piercing blue eyes refused to let you go.
âya seem distracted, whats goin on?â His question hindered your thoughts.
You gave him a simple smile, taking a sip of your latte before answering. âToo much for me to bear onto a stranger. Believe me, Iâm doing you a favour.â
It was Samâs turn to laugh, âisnât that better though? Better to unload your secrets to an unknown than someone who knows you.â
You thought about his words for a moment, it wouldnât hurt to tell a complete stranger your whole situation with Jax. You figured you could use a second opinion.
You take a deep, almost dramatic sigh before answering. âThereâs this guyâŠâ
Sam teases you with the childish words of âooohâ causing you to throw a scrunched up napkin at him. âWe just⊠have a long history⊠and the other night we got into an argument so now I donât know where we stand.â
âEx-Boyfriend? Friends with Benefits? Star-crossed lovers?â You roll your eyes at every possibility he mentioned.
âMore like best friends who suck at communicating.â Sam winces and takes a sharp intake of breath. âThe final boss of situationships.â That comment earns another laugh from you.
âListen, if this guy really does mean a lot to you⊠then I say donât give up on him.â Your eyes meets his bright ones, they look so deeply into yours that it feels as though heâs trying to memorize you.
âand iâm sure if you mean just as much to him, then heâll come around.â
You give him a pathetic half smile to which he returns a full one, âThanks Sam.â
Your new friend glances up at the clock hanging on the cafe wall before reverting his gaze back at you.
âAh damn, Iâve gotta get to work. It was nice meetinâ ya.â
He rises from his seat with his coffee in hand, offering you one last nod before disappearing out the cafe doors. You watch him leave through the front window, a small smile tugging at your lips.
It felt nice to make a new friend.
After everything that had happened, after all the fear and heartbreak that seemed to follow you wherever you went, meeting someone new was refreshing. Normal, even. Maybe youâll run into him again and that normal feeling would return.
Finishing the last sip of your drink, you stand and make your way out of the coffee shop. The afternoon air greets you as you step onto the sidewalk, your footsteps carrying you around the corner.
It doesnât take long before your thoughts drift somewhere they always seemed to end up lately.
Jax.
No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your mind always found its way back to him. You wondered where he was. If he was still angry, if he ever thought about reaching out the way you constantly imagined doing. More than anything, you just wanted the chance to speak to him again, to apologize without the shouting and the tears, without either of you walking away. You wanted to repair whatever remained of the bond youâd spent years building together before it shattered between your hands.
Your phone suddenly buzzes inside your pocket, the familiar ringtone cuts through your thoughts. You pull it out, already seeing the words âNo Caller IDâglowing across the screen.
A week ago, your blood wouldâve run cold. Now? You let out an amused scoff while declining the call.
Since that night, youâd already gotten two more prank calls from someone pretending to be Ghostface. At this point, it was pissing you off more than anything.
Without a second thought, you silence the call and slip your phone back into your pocket. You feel content at your action of ignoring it. For the first time in what felt like forever, your heart didnât leap into your throat at the sight of an unknown number.
Maybe whoever had been tormenting you had finally grown bored. Maybe the killer had truly left you alone.
Thatâs what you wanted to believe.
You spent the entire day out of the house, the first real day youâve taken to explore Charming since coming back. Life felt almost stable and you were starting to get used to it.
You wandered through the little boutiques lining the downtown street, buying a few new clothes and bits of decor to make your old room feel a little more like your own again. You even stopped by a small local restaurant where the owner seemed interested in hiring you as a hostess.
Things were finally starting to look up.
As the night settled over Charming, you decided to walk home instead of driving, since you hadnât taken your car in the first place. The streets had hushed, lit in the warm glow of streetlights as traces of daylight disappeared. A cool breeze drifted through the trees, brushing against your skin in a way that was comforting after the warmth of the afternoon.
You turned the final corner toward your auntâs quaint little home, already thinking about changing into something comfortable and telling her about your day.
Then you stopped, the feeling that something was wrong wouldnât go away. Something white plastered against the fence surrounding the property.
At first, you thought it was just regular flyers but your blood ran cold as the images got clearer.
Your photograph.
It was a poster with your face.
Your eyes had been viciously scratched out, leaving deep gouges through the image. Across the top, written in thick red marker wasâŠ
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
You felt like throwing up.
âthe fuckâŠ?â Your voice barely escaped in a whisper.
You tore your gaze away, only to realize there was another one.
And another.
And another.
Every few feet, another poster had been taped to the fence, each identical to the last. Your own face stared back at you over and over again, every pair of eyes clawed away until nothing remained but shredded paper.
Your breathing became shallow.
He was back.
âNo⊠noâŠâ
As you increased your pace, the posters didnât stop.
They lined the entire property of your auntâs home, stretching farther and farther until they led directly to the front porch.
When your eyes landed on the front door, you froze. It was completely covered.
Dozens of posters had been plastered over every inch of it, overlapping one another until the wood beneath was no longer visible. Your smiling face stared back at you from every direction, every set of eyes brutally scratched out.
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
The words seemed to blur together as panic seized your body. Your pulse thundered in your ears and your lungs refused to fill with air.
Hands shaking uncontrollably, you fumbled your keys from your pocket and attempted to click open your Mercury Comet that rested in the driveway.
Melanie wasnât home, so you couldnât go inside. You couldnât even bring yourself to walk any closer.
Instead, you sprinted to your car and locked yourself in. Your chest heaved with despair, there is no way heâs here.
You pressed the numbers in your phone shakily and waited for the dispatcher to answer.
â911 whatâs your emergency?â
You looked back toward Melanieâs house, the posters of yourself staring back at you.
âI think thereâs someone in my houseâ you whispered, terrified to even look outside of your cars window again. âPlease⊠please just send someone.â
You had no idea what else to say, how do you summarize a whole stalker and killer story to a dispatcher in the brief second you need help?
After a pause, the dispatcher spoke again.
âStay inside your vehicle with the doors locked. An officer will meet you at the station nearby. Do not approach the house if you think someone may still be on the property.â
You agreed immediately and started your car after the dispatcher hung up. The drive to the station felt endless.
Every pair of headlights behind you made your stomach twist. Every stoplight felt too long.
By the time you arrived, Melanie had been contacted and met you there, worry written all over her face. Wherever she was, Gemma must have also been with her because she was at the station as-well.
âWhat happened?â she asked, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
âTheyâre all over your house.â You keep your voice above a whisper. âYou have to believe me.â
An officer accompanied the three of you back to the property. Your heart pounded as you all pulled back into the driveway.
There was no fucking way.
The fence was bare and the front porch was untouched. The front door was perfectly clean.
Not a single poster remained. You stared in disbelief before stumbling out of your car.
âNoâŠâ you breathed. âThey were here!â
You walked toward the fence, searching frantically for anything. Whether that be a torn corner or tape or absolutely anything to prove what happened.
But there was nothing.
âThey were everywhere!â you cried, looking between Melanie, Gemma and the officers. âI swear to you! they were all over the fence, the door, everything!â
One of the officers exchanged a brief glance with his partner before turning back to you.
âMaâam.â he said carefully, âare you sure this wasnât some kind of prank?â
âIt wasnât a prank!â you snapped. âI saw them!â
âDid you happen to take any photographs?â
Your stomach dropped. In your panic, you had completely forgotten to take pictures of it. To be fair, who knew the perpetrator would take them down in a matter of minutes?
You ran your hands in your hair in an attempt to calm yourself but it didnât work.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. Everyone who surrounded you had pity plastered all over their faces. Pity for the poor girl whoâs absolutely losing it.
âIt wouldnât be the first time kids around here pulled a cruel joke.â one of them said as they began walking away. âIf anything turns up, give us a call.â
Melanie stood beside you, concern etched across her face, rubbing your shoulder gently while Gemma kept her hand firm on your other shoulder.
You knew they wanted to validate your concerns more than anything but there was no evidence whatsoever. You couldnât blame them either, youâve been paranoid over the smallest things.
But without a single trace left behind, not even the police could tell whether someone had terrorized you or if the fear from the past week had finally begun to catch up with you.
You had no idea what to do anymore.
Just when youâd finally managed to find the smallest shred of peace, this happens.
Your entire body still trembled as you stood in Melanieâs driveway, unable to tear your eyes away from the now-empty fence.
âYou should stay at my place tonight.â Gemma said firmly, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. âBoth of youâ
Melanie looked back toward the house before letting out a defeated sigh.
âYeah.â She agreed quietly. âI think thatâs a good idea.â
The thought of stepping inside the house tonight, even for a minute, made your stomach churn. So obviously, you agreed.
The three of you climbed into Gemmaâs car and drove across Charming in near silence. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle as you tried to steady your breathing.
By the time you reached Gemmaâs home, the sky had turned completely dark.
âClayâs at the clubhouse.â Gemma explained as she unlocked the front door. âClub business. Just us tonight.â
She ushered you both inside before locking the door behind her.
Only then did your shoulders loosen by a little. In the rush to leave, you brought absolutely nothing with you.
Gemma disappeared upstairs for a few moments before returning with a neatly folded bundle of clothes.
âI think these should still fit.â She says with a small hint of a smile.
You looked down. A faded grey âPanteraâ concert shirt and an oversized pair of red and black plaid pyjamas pants.
Your heart sank at the sight of the familiar pyjamas. Gemma spoke softly as she handed them to you, âused to steal them every time you slept over.â
A bittersweet smile grew on your lips.
ââŠYeah.â You remembered stealing his oversized shirts because they were comfortable. You remembered him rolling his eyes every single time before telling you to âjust keep em.â
The idea of living through something like that had seemed impossible at the time.
Funny how life had a cruel sense of humor.
After changing, Gemma led you to Jaxâs old bedroom. It looked somewhat different, less lived-in.
The shelves werenât cluttered anymore. The posters that had once covered the walls were gone, replaced by plain paint. Most of his belongings had been long gone after moving out.
Despite all the changes, the room still felt unmistakably his. Like his presence lingered in every corner.
You climbed beneath the blankets youâd slept under countless times growing up, pulling them tightly around yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Without a doubt, sleep refused to arrive because every creak of the house made your pulse quicken. and each gust of wind outside sounded like footsteps.
You rolled over back and forth on the sleek-sheet covered mattress but nothing seemed to work. Hours seemed to pass before a somewhat loud thunk could be heard from a distance.
Your eyes snapped open from your false slumber. The unmistakable sound of the back door handle moving caused your heart to slam against your ribs.
Gemma had locked every door and her husband wasnât supposed to be home tonight.
You slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to make the floorboards creak beneath your feet. Barefoot, you eased open the bedroom door and crept into the dark hallway where yet another noise could be heard, it was the back door again.
Someone was trying to get in.
Your breathing became shallow as you hurried into the kitchen, frantically searching drawers as quietly as you could. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the largest kitchen knife you could find.
You swallowed hard and stepped back toward the doorway, gripping the blade so tightly that your knuckles turned white at the action.
The handle turned and the lock clicked to which the back door slowly swung inward and a tall figure stepped inside.
You didnât think for a second and you lunged.
A strong hand shot out, catching your wrist inches before the blade could strike.
âWhat theââ
The familiar voice stopped you cold and your eyes bulged out of your skull.
Your breath hitched at the sight of the supposed intruder, but it wasnât Ghostface nor was it a stranger.
It was Jax.
He stared at the knife in your shaking hand before looking back up at your terrified face, his expression filled with shock and confusion.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â Jax spoke, his voice laced with concern.
You immediately released the knife, the handle slipping from your trembling fingers before he quickly caught it. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as the feeling crashed over you.
âOh my God⊠Iâm so sorry-â you stammered, your voice shaking. âI thoughtâI thouââ
The words caught in your throat. No matter how hard you tried, you couldnât force them out. Your breathing became uneven, your chest tightening as panic took over once again.
He didnât demand another explanation. The moment he saw the terror written across your face, every question died on his lips.
Instead, he carefully set the knife on the counter before stepping toward you. His arms slowly wrapped around your trembling frame, pulling you against his chest with a gentleness that nearly broke you.
âHeyâŠâ he murmured softly. âItâs okay.â
You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heartbeat. Funny how often that happened when he was around.
Your hands instinctively clutched at the back of his shirt as your body shook against him, tears threatening to spill over. He simply held you tighter, one hand resting on the back of your head while the other rubbed reassuring circles along your back.
âJust breathe.â he whispered. âyouâre okay darlinâ
You focused on the steady rise and fall of his breathing, trying desperately to match it as the panic slowly loosened itâs grip on your soul.
In the morning, when Melanie and Gemma awoke for their routine of breakfast, they had grown concerned when they found Jaxâs old bedroom empty.
Gemma checked the other spare rooms while Melanie searched the kitchen, both expecting to find you awake after another sleepless night.
Instead, they stopped in the doorway to the living room. The sight before them softened both of their hearts.
Curled up together on the couch, you and Jax were fast asleep. Youâd sought comfort in each otherâs presence, just like you both used to. Your head rested against his chest while his arms remained wrapped securely around you, he held you there until sleep had finally claimed you both. After everything the two of you had endured, it was the most peaceful either of you had looked in years.
Neither of them had the heart to wake you.
Exchanging a glance with one another, Gemma disappeared for a moment before returning with a thick blanket. She gently draped it over the two of you, careful not to disturb either of your sleep.
A small, knowing smile crossed her face before she motioned for Melanie toward the kitchen.
Without another word, they resumed their morning in hushed voices, allowing the rare moment of peace to linger for as long as it could.
AN: i was nice and gave a sweet little ending to this chapter, I expect grace đ (itâs the only sweetness youâll GET FROM THIS SERIES.)
ALSO DID ANYONE CATCH THE CRIMINAL MINDS REFERENCE OF THE POSTERS, THAT EPISODE WAS CREEPY AF AND I JUST HAD TO USE IT.
if you wanna be tagged, just lmk in the comments!! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated and motivationđ«Ąđ«Ą
Scream inspired; Warnings: mentions of swearing, stalking (not from Jax), paranoia, blood, nightmares, gruesome murder, real angsty
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOUâD SEE JAX TELLER AGAIN AND HERE YOU ARE, LOCKED IN HIS GAZE.
The two of you stand perfectly still, continuing to stare each other in the eyes. You donât dare to make the first move. The years between you suddenly feel impossibly heavy, every unanswered question and every unspoken apology hanging in the air.
âY/nâŠâ Jax whispers, your name falling from his lips so gently itâs almost swallowed by the breeze.
Your heart plummets.
This is it.
The moment youâve spent years dreading, the one youâve replayed in your mind more times than you could count. Every possible outcome flashes before your eyes.
You expect the anger youâve convinced yourself he has every right to feel. You expect him to demand an explanation, to ask why you never called, why you never came back, why you basically left him to pick up the pieces alone.
Maybe heâll tell you that you broke his heart. Maybe heâll look at you with the same tenderness you dream about, his love mixing with years of hurt until neither emotion can be separated from the other. Maybe heâll pull you into his arms one last time before telling you itâs too late.
You brace yourself for the inevitable. Your shoulders stiffen, your palms grow hot with sweat, and your pulse pounds so loudly youâre certain he can hear it. You force yourself to accept whatever words are about to leave his lips. You almost welcome them. After all this time, you tell yourself youâve earned every ounce of Jaxâs resentment.
But the words never come.
Instead, his expression hardens into something unreadable. The warmth that briefly flickered in his eyes disappears. Without saying a single word, he steps around you, his shoulder brushing against yours just enough to set you back a step. Jax doesnât stop and he doesnât look back.
You now remain glued to the spot, unable to move and unable to speak, as you watch him make his way toward his bike.
For a moment, you almost call after him. His name rises into your throat, desperate to escape but your voice dies before it reaches your lips.
He swings a leg over his motorcycle with ease, starts the engine and the roar cuts through the suffocating silence that remains. The sound is loud, drowning out the apology you never had the courage to say.
Then, without so much as a glance over his shoulder, he rides away.
All you can do is watch as the distance between you grows with every passing second, until the sound of his bike fades into nothing and heâs gone once again.
Somehow, the silence hurts far more than any angry words ever could.
âI see you found my wallet.â Gemma appears in-front of you now where Jax once stood.
You hand her possession to her and refuse to make eye contact with anyone but her.
âheâll come around honey, heâs just upset.â she says softly before she turns around and walks away.
Youâre deeply grateful for the warmth sheâs showing you because knowing Gemma, if this had been any other woman who shattered her sonâs heart, they wouldnât have made it very far. At the very least, theyâd never be welcome in Charming again.
You canât help but wonder why sheâs being so kind to you. It almost feels undeserved, more like mercy than anything. After everything thatâs happened, after all the years that have passed, you expected bitterness from her as-well, not compassion.
âDo you know?â you call after her retreating figure, your voice louder than you intended.
She pauses mid-step. Slowly, she turns back to face you.
For a moment, Gemma says nothing. Instead, she simply looks at you, really looks at you. Her eyes search yours with an unspoken understanding, as though sheâs reading every ounce of hardship youâve been carrying, every sleepless night, every breakdown youâve never shown. Thereâs no judgment in her gaze, no satisfaction in seeing you suffer. Only a sadness, softened by the affection she never quite stopped feeling for you.
Gemma knows the horrors youâve faced and Jax doesnât.
As you watch her walk away once again, you begin to wonder, if Jax were to find out the real reason youâre back, would he forgive you or would he resent you even more?
âyouâre gonna burn a hole into the wall if you keep starin at it.â Melanieâs voice comes through, breaking your train of thought.
You stay silent, now staring at her as she hands you a mug of freshly made herbal tea, a specialty of hers.
âis something wrong?â she questions with a more concerned tone in her voice.
âitâs nothinâ your reply doesnât have her convinced, the look on her face tells you that she wonât be giving this topic of conversation up anytime soon.
You take a deep breath before answering, âitâs just- did you tell Gemma? about what happened back home?â
Melanie hesitates before answering âyeah, I did.â
âbut why? I came here just so I wouldnât have people all in my face about that.â
âThatâs the only reason you came back?â she retorts almost immediately. âThere wasnât anyone else? No other reason?â
You hesitate, the question catching you off guard.
ââŠThatâs beside the point.â Your brows knit together as your previous thought crosses your mind again, âWhy did you tell her?â
Melanie lets out a soft sigh, taking a seat in-front of you on your bed. The wind from the night sky gently blows through from the open window.
âShe was worried, okay?â
You shoot her a skeptical look, your expression practically screaming the word, âseriously?â
âHonest to God. The second I found out, she knew something was wrong. Sheâs my best-friend, she can read me like an open book.â A faint, humorless laugh escapes her. âShe kept asking what happened, and⊠I couldnât keep it from her. I tried, but she just wasnât letting it go.â
You could understand that, you and Jax used to be like that. The days where you would attempt to lie to him and he would immediately call bullshit, flash through your mind.
âEventually, I just told her and she felt so bad for you hon.â
âand she never told Jax?â you question.
âThatâs between the two of you.â
You go silent, pondering at the thought of telling Jax everything that happened. Itâd be selfish, to tell him your traumatic experiences and expect a pity reconciliation out of it. Even if thats what you wanted to desperately to happen.
Melanie presses her lips together, stumped by your silence. She offers a gentle pat on your shoulder and stands up, as if she doesnât know what else to say. She stands from her seat and makes her way out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You let out another long, exhausted sigh before throwing yourself backward onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. For a moment, you simply stared at the ceiling, forcing your thoughts to cease.
Your phone rang. No Caller ID.
The sight of those two words was enough to make your stomach twist just like this morning. Every worst-case scenario youâd spent months trying to bury came rushing back to the surface. Your pulse climbed before you could stop it.
You shot upright, snatching the phone from its position on your bed. It felt ridiculous, living on edge over every unknown number but after everything that had happened, who could blame you?
Taking a steadying moment , you answered
ââŠHello?â
A distorted, almost comically deep voice crackled through the speaker.
âWhatâs your favourite scary movie?â
You closed your eyes, not out of fear but irritation.
You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a tired groan. âSeriously? how did you get my number, asshole?â
The voice continued, trying way too hard to sound threatening.
âIf you show me your tits, iâll let you liveâŠâ
âOh, for the love ofââ you cut them off, rolling your eyes and pressing the end button on your phone.
Great. On top of everything youâre dealing with, now you have to get another new number.
You throw the phone on your bed and bury your face in your hands, attempting to find some semblance of relaxation.
âWho was that?â The unexpected voice from your window sent you jolting upright, your heart leaping into your throat.
He pushed himself effortlessly through the open window as though heâd done it a hundred times before, which he had.
Moonlight glowed across his features, revealing golden-blond hair that had been carefully slicked back from his face, a few loose strands attempting to fall forward again. A neat beard framed his strong jaw, adding to his rugged appearance.
It was Jax.
Just like many times before, he snuck through your window in the night to meet with you. Only this time, you had no idea why.
âno one. Just some kids prank calling.â you carefully answer him, still taking in the fact that heâs really here, in your room.
Jax raises an eyebrow, staring at you like he doesnât believe you but wonât push the matter any longer.
You genuinely believe youâll have a heart attack at the rate itâs beating.
âGemma told me, to talk to you.â Of course she did, as much as you loved the woman, she sure as hell was conniving.
The silence is deafening, the only sound heard is your heartbeat rapidly rising, you canât believe heâs here right now.
Might as well push the luck you donât have.
âJax-â âI waited.â he cuts you off with an angry tone.
You didnât dare to say another word until he finished. Itâs the least you could do.
âI waited for years, and not one call or text or even a goddamn letter.â
You continued to stare at him. âYou completely disappeared, as if I meant nothing to you.â
You meant everything to me⊠you still do.â You urged him as you stood up from your bed, now standing before him.
âI donât believe that.â He scoffs in false laughter.
âItâs the truth!â
âThen why was it so fuckin easy for you to push me out of your life?!â Jaxâs voice cracks despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
âIf I really meant everything to you, you wouldnât have fuckin disappeared like that. You wouldnât have walked away and forgotten me like I didnât mean shit to you. You wouldnât have left me wondering what I did wrong every single day.â
He turns away, dragging a frustrated hand down his face as he tries to rein in his emotions. His shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath before he finally speaks.
âDid you even fuckin love me?â
The question hits you like a punch to the chest. Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat.
âWhat?â you whisper, stunned at his accusation. âOf course I didâdo. I do love you.â
âThen why?â he snaps, spinning back around to face you. His blue eyes burn with years of hurt. âAnswer me!â
âBecause it was easier!â The words rip from your chest before you can stop them.
Silence.
Now itâs your turn to demonstrate those enraged feelings while he stands frozen, every ounce of anger replaced by confusion.
âIt was easier.â you repeat, your voice trembling. âTo let you go than spend every single day wondering if you were alive.â Your eyes begin to sting with tears.
âIt was easier than lying awake every night wondering if you were fuckin some other girl⊠or if youâd been shot because of club shit.â Your voice cracks. âIt was easier to pretend I didnât love you than to live with that fear every single day.â
You wipe angrily at the tears escaping your eyes. âSo yeahâ you choke out. âI was selfish. I convinced myself that forgetting you would hurt less than anything else.â
You meet his gaze, your expression crumbling. âBut I never forgot you.â A shaky sigh escapes you, your heart aches with pain.
âI tried. God, I tried so hard. I buried every memory of you I had left. I told myself I hated you because it was easier than admitting I still loved you.â
The room falls silent again, the weight of your confession hanging between you, neither of you able to find the words to fill the space.
And in the worst moment possible, Jaxâs phone rings.
You let out a slow, frustrated breath but still relieved that, for once, the ringing wasnât coming from your phone.
He never takes his eyes off you as he reaches into his pocket and answers his. His replies are short and clipped. You canât make out much of the conversation, but judging by the apparent scottish accent in the callerâs voice, you assume itâs Chibs.
âYeah⊠Iâm on my way.â
He ends the call and lowers the phone, his gaze drifting toward the open window. His lips part as if heâs about to say something, anything, to salvage what had been said between you tonight. But the words never come.
You feel another wave of frustration crash over you. With a sharp sigh, you turn your back to him, unable to bear the look on his face any longer.
His sigh is loud, the aggravation clear in his tone.
A heartbeat later, you hear the familiar creak of the window frame followed by the thud of boots disappearing into the night. You wait until you can no longer hear him before forcing yourself to look.
Jax is gone.
You shakily cross the room and slide the window shut, the soft click of the latch echoing through the now quiet bedroom.
Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor beside the window, your back pressed against the wall as every ounce of strength leaves your body. A sob rips from your chest before you can stop it. Tears spill uncontrollably down your cheeks.
You bury your face in your hands once again, your shoulders trembling.
After all these years⊠after coming to terms youâd never see him again, heâd been standing only a few feet away.
And somehow, despite everything that had been said, it still wasnât enough.
For a brief moment, Jax was within reach again and just like before, you still managed to lose him.
AN: reader is self depreciating as fuck but itâs for character development i swear đ„Č.
Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated!!
also if u wanna be tagged just lmk in the commentsđ«Ą
Scream inspired; Warnings: mentions of swearing, stalking (not from Jax), paranoia, blood, nightmares, gruesome murder, real angsty
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOUâD SEE JAX TELLER AGAIN AND HERE YOU ARE, LOCKED IN HIS GAZE.
The two of you stand perfectly still, continuing to stare each other in the eyes. You donât dare to make the first move. The years between you suddenly feel impossibly heavy, every unanswered question and every unspoken apology hanging in the air.
âY/nâŠâ Jax whispers, your name falling from his lips so gently itâs almost swallowed by the breeze.
Your heart plummets.
This is it.
The moment youâve spent years dreading, the one youâve replayed in your mind more times than you could count. Every possible outcome flashes before your eyes.
You expect the anger youâve convinced yourself he has every right to feel. You expect him to demand an explanation, to ask why you never called, why you never came back, why you basically left him to pick up the pieces alone.
Maybe heâll tell you that you broke his heart. Maybe heâll look at you with the same tenderness you dream about, his love mixing with years of hurt until neither emotion can be separated from the other. Maybe heâll pull you into his arms one last time before telling you itâs too late.
You brace yourself for the inevitable. Your shoulders stiffen, your palms grow hot with sweat, and your pulse pounds so loudly youâre certain he can hear it. You force yourself to accept whatever words are about to leave his lips. You almost welcome them. After all this time, you tell yourself youâve earned every ounce of Jaxâs resentment.
But the words never come.
Instead, his expression hardens into something unreadable. The warmth that briefly flickered in his eyes disappears. Without saying a single word, he steps around you, his shoulder brushing against yours just enough to set you back a step. Jax doesnât stop and he doesnât look back.
You now remain glued to the spot, unable to move and unable to speak, as you watch him make his way toward his bike.
For a moment, you almost call after him. His name rises into your throat, desperate to escape but your voice dies before it reaches your lips.
He swings a leg over his motorcycle with ease, starts the engine and the roar cuts through the suffocating silence that remains. The sound is loud, drowning out the apology you never had the courage to say.
Then, without so much as a glance over his shoulder, he rides away.
All you can do is watch as the distance between you grows with every passing second, until the sound of his bike fades into nothing and heâs gone once again.
Somehow, the silence hurts far more than any angry words ever could.
âI see you found my wallet.â Gemma appears in-front of you now where Jax once stood.
You hand her possession to her and refuse to make eye contact with anyone but her.
âheâll come around honey, heâs just upset.â she says softly before she turns around and walks away.
Youâre deeply grateful for the warmth sheâs showing you because knowing Gemma, if this had been any other woman who shattered her sonâs heart, they wouldnât have made it very far. At the very least, theyâd never be welcome in Charming again.
You canât help but wonder why sheâs being so kind to you. It almost feels undeserved, more like mercy than anything. After everything thatâs happened, after all the years that have passed, you expected bitterness from her as-well, not compassion.
âDo you know?â you call after her retreating figure, your voice louder than you intended.
She pauses mid-step. Slowly, she turns back to face you.
For a moment, Gemma says nothing. Instead, she simply looks at you, really looks at you. Her eyes search yours with an unspoken understanding, as though sheâs reading every ounce of hardship youâve been carrying, every sleepless night, every breakdown youâve never shown. Thereâs no judgment in her gaze, no satisfaction in seeing you suffer. Only a sadness, softened by the affection she never quite stopped feeling for you.
Gemma knows the horrors youâve faced and Jax doesnât.
As you watch her walk away once again, you begin to wonder, if Jax were to find out the real reason youâre back, would he forgive you or would he resent you even more?
âyouâre gonna burn a hole into the wall if you keep starin at it.â Melanieâs voice comes through, breaking your train of thought.
You stay silent, now staring at her as she hands you a mug of freshly made herbal tea, a specialty of hers.
âis something wrong?â she questions with a more concerned tone in her voice.
âitâs nothinâ your reply doesnât have her convinced, the look on her face tells you that she wonât be giving this topic of conversation up anytime soon.
You take a deep breath before answering, âitâs just- did you tell Gemma? about what happened back home?â
Melanie hesitates before answering âyeah, I did.â
âbut why? I came here just so I wouldnât have people all in my face about that.â
âThatâs the only reason you came back?â she retorts almost immediately. âThere wasnât anyone else? No other reason?â
You hesitate, the question catching you off guard.
ââŠThatâs beside the point.â Your brows knit together as your previous thought crosses your mind again, âWhy did you tell her?â
Melanie lets out a soft sigh, taking a seat in-front of you on your bed. The wind from the night sky gently blows through from the open window.
âShe was worried, okay?â
You shoot her a skeptical look, your expression practically screaming the word, âseriously?â
âHonest to God. The second I found out, she knew something was wrong. Sheâs my best-friend, she can read me like an open book.â A faint, humorless laugh escapes her. âShe kept asking what happened, and⊠I couldnât keep it from her. I tried, but she just wasnât letting it go.â
You could understand that, you and Jax used to be like that. The days where you would attempt to lie to him and he would immediately call bullshit, flash through your mind.
âEventually, I just told her and she felt so bad for you hon.â
âand she never told Jax?â you question.
âThatâs between the two of you.â
You go silent, pondering at the thought of telling Jax everything that happened. Itâd be selfish, to tell him your traumatic experiences and expect a pity reconciliation out of it. Even if thats what you wanted to desperately to happen.
Melanie presses her lips together, stumped by your silence. She offers a gentle pat on your shoulder and stands up, as if she doesnât know what else to say. She stands from her seat and makes her way out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You let out another long, exhausted sigh before throwing yourself backward onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. For a moment, you simply stared at the ceiling, forcing your thoughts to cease.
Your phone rang. No Caller ID.
The sight of those two words was enough to make your stomach twist just like this morning. Every worst-case scenario youâd spent months trying to bury came rushing back to the surface. Your pulse climbed before you could stop it.
You shot upright, snatching the phone from its position on your bed. It felt ridiculous, living on edge over every unknown number but after everything that had happened, who could blame you?
Taking a steadying moment , you answered
ââŠHello?â
A distorted, almost comically deep voice crackled through the speaker.
âWhatâs your favourite scary movie?â
You closed your eyes, not out of fear but irritation.
You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a tired groan. âSeriously? how did you get my number, asshole?â
The voice continued, trying way too hard to sound threatening.
âIf you show me your tits, iâll let you liveâŠâ
âOh, for the love ofââ you cut them off, rolling your eyes and pressing the end button on your phone.
Great. On top of everything youâre dealing with, now you have to get another new number.
You throw the phone on your bed and bury your face in your hands, attempting to find some semblance of relaxation.
âWho was that?â The unexpected voice from your window sent you jolting upright, your heart leaping into your throat.
He pushed himself effortlessly through the open window as though heâd done it a hundred times before, which he had.
Moonlight glowed across his features, revealing golden-blond hair that had been carefully slicked back from his face, a few loose strands attempting to fall forward again. A neat beard framed his strong jaw, adding to his rugged appearance.
It was Jax.
Just like many times before, he snuck through your window in the night to meet with you. Only this time, you had no idea why.
âno one. Just some kids prank calling.â you carefully answer him, still taking in the fact that heâs really here, in your room.
Jax raises an eyebrow, staring at you like he doesnât believe you but wonât push the matter any longer.
You genuinely believe youâll have a heart attack at the rate itâs beating.
âGemma told me, to talk to you.â Of course she did, as much as you loved the woman, she sure as hell was conniving.
The silence is deafening, the only sound heard is your heartbeat rapidly rising, you canât believe heâs here right now.
Might as well push the luck you donât have.
âJax-â âI waited.â he cuts you off with an angry tone.
You didnât dare to say another word until he finished. Itâs the least you could do.
âI waited for years, and not one call or text or even a goddamn letter.â
You continued to stare at him. âYou completely disappeared, as if I meant nothing to you.â
You meant everything to me⊠you still do.â You urged him as you stood up from your bed, now standing before him.
âI donât believe that.â He scoffs in false laughter.
âItâs the truth!â
âThen why was it so fuckin easy for you to push me out of your life?!â Jaxâs voice cracks despite his best efforts to keep it steady.
âIf I really meant everything to you, you wouldnât have fuckin disappeared like that. You wouldnât have walked away and forgotten me like I didnât mean shit to you. You wouldnât have left me wondering what I did wrong every single day.â
He turns away, dragging a frustrated hand down his face as he tries to rein in his emotions. His shoulders rise and fall with a shaky breath before he finally speaks.
âDid you even fuckin love me?â
The question hits you like a punch to the chest. Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat.
âWhat?â you whisper, stunned at his accusation. âOf course I didâdo. I do love you.â
âThen why?â he snaps, spinning back around to face you. His blue eyes burn with years of hurt. âAnswer me!â
âBecause it was easier!â The words rip from your chest before you can stop them.
Silence.
Now itâs your turn to demonstrate those enraged feelings while he stands frozen, every ounce of anger replaced by confusion.
âIt was easier.â you repeat, your voice trembling. âTo let you go than spend every single day wondering if you were alive.â Your eyes begin to sting with tears.
âIt was easier than lying awake every night wondering if you were fuckin some other girl⊠or if youâd been shot because of club shit.â Your voice cracks. âIt was easier to pretend I didnât love you than to live with that fear every single day.â
You wipe angrily at the tears escaping your eyes. âSo yeahâ you choke out. âI was selfish. I convinced myself that forgetting you would hurt less than anything else.â
You meet his gaze, your expression crumbling. âBut I never forgot you.â A shaky sigh escapes you, your heart aches with pain.
âI tried. God, I tried so hard. I buried every memory of you I had left. I told myself I hated you because it was easier than admitting I still loved you.â
The room falls silent again, the weight of your confession hanging between you, neither of you able to find the words to fill the space.
And in the worst moment possible, Jaxâs phone rings.
You let out a slow, frustrated breath but still relieved that, for once, the ringing wasnât coming from your phone.
He never takes his eyes off you as he reaches into his pocket and answers his. His replies are short and clipped. You canât make out much of the conversation, but judging by the apparent scottish accent in the callerâs voice, you assume itâs Chibs.
âYeah⊠Iâm on my way.â
He ends the call and lowers the phone, his gaze drifting toward the open window. His lips part as if heâs about to say something, anything, to salvage what had been said between you tonight. But the words never come.
You feel another wave of frustration crash over you. With a sharp sigh, you turn your back to him, unable to bear the look on his face any longer.
His sigh is loud, the aggravation clear in his tone.
A heartbeat later, you hear the familiar creak of the window frame followed by the thud of boots disappearing into the night. You wait until you can no longer hear him before forcing yourself to look.
Jax is gone.
You shakily cross the room and slide the window shut, the soft click of the latch echoing through the now quiet bedroom.
Your knees buckle, and you sink to the floor beside the window, your back pressed against the wall as every ounce of strength leaves your body. A sob rips from your chest before you can stop it. Tears spill uncontrollably down your cheeks.
You bury your face in your hands once again, your shoulders trembling.
After all these years⊠after coming to terms youâd never see him again, heâd been standing only a few feet away.
And somehow, despite everything that had been said, it still wasnât enough.
For a brief moment, Jax was within reach again and just like before, you still managed to lose him.
AN: reader is self depreciating as fuck but itâs for character development i swear đ„Č.
Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated!!
also if u wanna be tagged just lmk in the commentsđ«Ą
Scream Inspired (ur basically sidney lmao); this is gonna be a few part series :)
Chapter 2 to Unlucky is right on the link!
Warnings: mentions of swearing, stalking (not from Jax), paranoia, blood, nightmares, gruesome murder.
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
YOUâVE NEVER BELIEVED IN LUCK, MAYBE THATâS WHY YOU NEVER HAVE ANY.
As you roll the windows of your car down, the cool, crisp morning breeze rushes in, washing away the lingering heat that had left beads of sweat clinging to your skin. It feels almost like a refreshing slap across your face, a welcome relief from the simmering summer air.
Your black 1963 mercury comet convertible , with its rich red interior, glides along the quiet and empty roads of California, the gentle hum of the engine is the only apparent sound accompanying the early morning drive.
You continue down the winding roads with a quiet sense of unease settling in your chest. Truth be told, youâve never been one to wake this early unless there was a reason, and today, there is.
Every stretch of empty highway and every unfamiliar sight of land leaves you with the strange feeling that unseen eyes are following your every move, watching from somewhere beyond the vast terrain surrounding you.
Itâs an unsettling thought and yet, you donât turn back. After all, thatâs exactly why you came here.
To leave behind everything familiar and disappear into the unknown, where not everyone knows your name and surely enough, the road ahead holds nothing but uncertainty.
Before you even realize it, the long drive comes to an end as you pull into your destination, your auntâs home in the little town of Charming.
The familiar house sits peacefully at the end of the street, a welcome contrast to everything youâve left behind. Your parents have always trusted your aunt, Melanie, more than anyone else knowing sheâd never hesitate to care for you. So when you needed to disappear, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and him, she didnât ask questions.
She simply opened her door, offering her home as a place where you could finally catch your breath.
âHi sweet girl, howâs my favourite niece doing?â her soft voice is heard as she walks down the steps of her quaint little home.
You take in the sight of her home as you exit your car and make your way to reciprocate her open arms.
Her home isnât the extravagant, instead, its beauty lies in the care poured into every little detail, making it feel unforgettable from the moment you lay eyes on it.
Bright wisteria drapes gracefully across the porch and around the walls, their lavender blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. Flower beds of every color bloom beneath the windows, while neatly trimmed bushes and purposefully placed trees frame the property. Small lanterns line the stone pathway leading to the front door, casting a warm, welcoming glow that makes the entire place feel almost enchanted.
Standing there, you canât help but think it looks less like an ordinary house and more like a cottage someone would vacation in, hidden from the rest of the world.
Which is exactly what you wanted to be, hidden away.
âMel, iâm your only niece.â you respond to her earlier words with a slight smile.
âdoesnât matter, still my favourite.â
You two embrace one anotherâs hold in a loving fashion. You always felt safe in her arms, being here with her was the right choice, the safe choice.
She pulls away just enough to take a proper look at you, her hands never leaving your shoulders. Her eyes carefully trace every feature of your face, taking in how much youâve changed since the last time you stayed in Charming.
Youâve grown older, your once youthful features now more mature, but itâs the exhaustion lingering behind your eyes that catches her attention most.
The faint smile on her lips falters, replaced by a look of heartbreak. Your parents had told her the reason of your trip here, but seeing it for herself so clearly leaves an ache in her chest.
Before you have the chance to say a word, she pulls you into another tight embrace, holding you just a little longer than before. She buries her face against your shoulder, hoping youâll mistake the slight tremble in her breath for nothing more than happiness.
âCome on now, someone has been waiting to meet you and sheâs very excited!â
Melanie guides you into her home, her hand residing on your back. You step inside the familiar home and the sight that meets you has you lost for words.
Your auntâs long time friend, Gemma, stands before you. With her chunky blonde highlights and leather clad outfit, you quickly saw how she surprisingly hadnât changed much from the last time you saw her, just a bit more fatigue apparent on her face.
Gemmaâs smile grows wide and she takes a step forward to you, giving you a big hug just like Melanie.
âlook at you! Grew up all gorgeous.â Gemma teases as she pats your back whilst stilling hugging you.
âOh Jaxâs gonna be so happy to see ya.â
Jax Teller.
At first, Jax was the little scrawny blonde haired kid youâd have to hang out with when Melanie and Gemma went out on their girls nights.
But after a while, your friendship blossomed like never before.
Gemma and Mel used to tease you two all the time because of how close you were. You remember taking his dadâs bike for joy rides, him sneaking late night through your window to watch old movies, him being your first kiss.
However. all those memories were just that now, memories. You hadnât seen or kept in contact with Jax since your 17th birthday, when you had to move farther north for your fatherâs job, in which you couldnât see Melanie and Jax every summer like you used to.
âheâs here?â your voice sounds small, like youâre almost ashamed of him seeing you.
âoh not right now sweetheart, heâs at work but he was real surprised when I mentioned you were comin.â
You canât help but feel slight relief settle in your body. As much as you missed Jax, you were truly embarrassed how you havenât put any effort to keep in contact with him. With all that you went through in the past year, you werenât about to go and dig yourself another drama hole.
After finishing off the generous dinner Mel and Gemma had prepared, you made your way back outside to retrieve the suitcases from the trunk of your car.
One by one, you carried them upstairs before finally stepping into your old bedroom. Time seemed to have stood still within those four walls. The neatly made bed was still dressed in the same dark purple sheets, the antique lamp your aunt had gifted you on your 13th birthday remained on the bedside table, and the large window, the very one Jax used to sneak through in the dead of night, was all exactly as you remembered it.
You pick up the frame that rested on your vintage vanity table, it was a picture that Mel took of you and Jax washing her car. The both of you soaked in water and soap, holding yellow sponges in one hand and Jax spraying you with the hose water in another.
God, you missed him. You thought of him everyday and wanted nothing more than to reach out to him. But after his fatherâs death, Mel kept you updated briefly about just how much things had really changed since you hadnât visited.
You automatically assumed he was furious with you. For never calling, never checking in after the first year you left. For taking his heart all the way across the country.
These are the worried thoughts that filled your mind as you slept with discomfort on your first night in your past life.
After waking up the next morning and getting on with your new beginnings, it was when you were sat on the couch that you got a call from an unknown number.
Your hands began to shake the instant the phone lit up with the unknown caller Id, your pulse surging into a frantic rhythm as the relentless ringing seemed to grow louder in your ears with every passing second.
It echoed through the room, swallowing every other sound until it was all you could hear. A knot twisted painfully in your stomach as your eyes remained fixed on the screen, unable to bring yourself to answer, yet also unable to look away. It couldnât be him. There was no possible way.
You were a million miles away from home, tucked away in a place no one should have known to look for you. You had convinced yourself that putting enough distance between you and your past would finally make you unreachable. But as the phone continued to ring, that fragile sense of safety began to crack, replaced by the sickening thought that maybe distance had never been enough to escape him.
You finally build as much courage as possible and answer the phone, expecting the worst when a familiar voice speaks.
âoh thank God youâre awake sweetheart.â
Gemma. It was just Gemma who was calling you on your new number.
The sudden despair that was brought upon you in a matter of seconds washed away as soon as she spoke. You silently thanked every heaven above for the relief.
âGem? whatâs up?â you ask taking a deep breath.
âI left my wallet at your place last night, any chance you could bring it down? Iâm at the garage, you remember where it is right?â
The garage as in the place where Jax works.
âyeah I do, iâll leave right now.â you answer timidly as she repeatedly thanks you and then hangs up.
You stand for a moment against the counter of the kitchen table. Even after a year, you still become so broken at the thought of him coming back.
The sick psychopathic murderer with a ghost mask, who took your friends from you, and set his sights on your life.
After countless attempts at counselling, you just couldnât seem to stop feeling unsafe.
Especially after he escaped the scene when the night of horror took place.
That is why youâre here. To feel some security in your daily life. To not be within his reach, where your sure heâs waiting to finish his mission.
You take yet another deep sigh, pushing yourself off the counter and making your way to your car, to meet Gemma and possibly, Jax.
As you pull into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive, you can feel the weight of countless eyes settling on you long before you step out of the car.
The courage youâd managed to muster earlier has long since evaporated, leaving nothing but a knot of dread in your stomach. Still, thereâs no turning back now. No matter how badly you want to, you have no choice but to confront the past youâve spent so long being away from.
ânice car, 65 comet?â a man with several tattoos on his arm and the side of his head calls out. His unusual hairstyle of a shaved head with just a strip of hair in the middle catches your attention.
â63.â you reply whilst opening the car door and reaching for Gemmas forgotten wallet.
âIâm Juiceâ he offers his hand in which you take it and shake.
âY/n.â
âhaving car troubles?â he asks while observing the beauty that is your car. With its glimmering black coat and smooth red-wine interior, it was a sight to see.
âiâm actually here to see Gemma, she forgot somethinâ of hers at my placeâ you keep your eyes focused on the wallet thats held between your hands. Now that you think about it, why would Gemma even need to take out her wallet last night?
âahhh, youâre the long lost friendâ Juice nods his head in understanding, only making you confused.
Has Jax spoken about you before?
He waves off your look of confusion, ânothin, just makes sense now.â
His words spark your curiosity but before you can ask what he means, a certain voice catches your attention instead.
âY/n?â Opieâs voice booms from across the lot, as you turn around to look for the source, you canât help the smile that begins to grow on your face.
You slightly quicken your pace as you make your way toward him, wrapping him in a tight hug the moment youâre close enough. It had been far too long since youâd last seen your dear childhood friend, Opie.
Time had changed him, his features were sharper, his shoulders heavier with burdens you could only imagine but beneath the hardened expression and weathered exterior, you could still see the boy you once knew.
âGemma said you came back but didnât think she was being for real.â his words are said with a slight sadness, as if he couldnât believe you would ever come back.
âyeah well, iâm stickin around for a while, i guessâ your eyes finally meet his, as if heâs trying to figure out the underlying meaning behind your words.
You break the silence by asking if heâs seen Gemma to which he points you in the direction of the clubhouse.
As you approach the front door, you can feel the weight of eyes on you from every direction, like each step is being measured and watched.
You reach for the handle, fingers just about to curl around it but before you can open it, the door is yanked open from the other side with force. A figure steps out abruptly and collides straight into you.
The impact knocks you back a few steps, more surprise than pain. The only real casualty is Gemmaâs wallet skidding across the hard pavement.
You crouch quickly, gathering it up before anything else can happen. Trying your best not to let this turn into unnecessary tension with whoever you bumped into from the club.
Without really looking up, you offer a quick apology as you scoop everything together, keeping your tone steady and polite.
But the response you expect never comes. Only silence meets you, as if the person standing over you is frozen.
You finally look up and the breath catches in your throat before you even process why.
Familiar crystal blue eyes meet yours.
The same eyes that used to sneak through your window like it was nothing. The same ones you used to argue with until neither of you could hold back laughter anymore. The same ones tied to a past you thought had been long forgotten.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
The noise of the yard, the clubhouse, everything around Charming fades into distant and muffled background noise. Itâs just you and him, in a moment like time forgot how to move forward for a second.
And then, slowly, the reality of it settles in, Jax is here.
You just bumped into Jax Teller and yet from what you see, nothing is left of the boy you used to know.
AN: I was gonna save this for october cause yk scream inspired but i literally couldnât wait like I love this idea sm :)
ALSO I shall be posting another chapter very soo, please interact and lmk what u think so farđ«Ą
did i shamelessly give you bella swans room and peyton sawyers car? yes, yes i did.
Warnings: mention of swearing, blood, fighting, derogatory language (misogyny- not from jax) ïżŒ
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
JAX TELLER IS KNOWN TO BE A CONNOISSEUR ON WOMEN AND YET HE HASNâT MET ANYONE LIKE YOU.
Itâs common knowledge in the town of Charming that Jax Teller was, to simply put it, a man-whore.
Heâs so popular among the women of Charming that his promiscuity should be taught as a history lesson in the local schools.
It wasnât exactly rocket science to figure out exactly why he was so popular amongst women. Jax Teller was an attractive young man, who had that brawny vibe to him. So naturally, his words of charm came effortlessly and women fell immediately.
Until you came along.
You began working at the bar with Gemma, in which she sought you out and asked you to bartend for her. She figured your pretty face and fierce attitude would keep sales up.
You gradually met majority of the members throughout your first couple of weeks working as a bartender. You pulled your weight just as much as everyone else did, working behind the bar and handling the chaos the club brought without ever needing to be told twice. It didnât go unnoticed.
But it wasnât just the physical work you put in, it was the way you carried yourself, the patience you had with the members, and the genuine love you brought in. You were like a breath of fresh air in a place that always felt too heavy.
A shot of espresso, if you will.
You became Tig and Chibâs gossip buddy while they drank and you wiped countertops. You were Juiceâs wingwoman and constantly advised him on how to successfully land a woman. You made Opie your taste-tester for new drink ideas. You were even Happyâs sit in silence and âenjoy the quietâ friend.
And yet, you hadnât officially met Jax Teller.
Although he had seen you in passing, he never actually got the opportunity to meet you. After all, being the vice president of a motorcycle club can keep a man busy.
All the blonde haired brute would hear about was how great of an addition you were to this fucked up found family.
heâd be lying if he said he wasnât interested in you, from the small glances heâs seen you in, theres no doubt youâre beautiful. From what heâs heard, itâs like you were meant to be in the club.
but Jax has yet to see how loyal you are.
It was another party night at the clubhouse, the kind where the music echoed loudly through the speakers and laughter filled the room. Drinks covered nearly every surface and the entire place carried that familiar feeling of chaos.
Jax had one clear goal in his head tonight, meet you.
As he walked in, he headed straight for the bar in which he spotted you drying glasses. Your low rise jeans, fitted black shirt with the words âReaper Crewâ plastered across the chest (a gift from Chibs) and black patent leather pumps all made it harder for Jax to pry his eyes off of you.
âneed a drink? you look like you need oneâ you say breaking his train of thought.
Jax smirks at your words as he takes a seat at the bar. âyeah, something like that. You Y/N?â
âyeah, something like thatâ you reply making him grin even wider in response.
You slide a bottle of beer across the table into jaxâs hand and return back to wiping down the counter top. âI would say itâs on the house but you are the house soâŠâ Jax barks out a laugh.
The rest of the night was spent with Jax seated by you, the two of you talking effortlessly as one conversation morphed into the next. Very quickly, he understood exactly what everyone else seemed to see in you. Your company was refreshing and comforting. If it were up to Jax, he could have stayed right there by your side, talking with you until the sun came up and set the next day.
Unfortunately, good moments always get spoiled.
A drunken man stumbled his way up to the bar, weaving through the crowd with an unsteady gait. There wasnât much about his appearance that drew your attention, except for the leather kutte draped over his shoulders, marking him as a member of another branch. Of course, it wasnât nearly as recognizable or as respected as the one Jax Teller wore.
âwhat does a guy gotta do to get a drink around ere?â the man slurs his words as he leans against the bar towards you, gaining an eyebrow raise from Jax.
âjust gotta ask, what can i get you?â you responded with as much decorum as possible, you could already tell this guy was gonna be a problem so you quickly tried to get his order over with.
âiâll take another beer and ya number sweetheart.â The man mumbled again, you scoff a laugh out of uncomfortableness.
âI can do the drink but not the number, sorry buddyâ. You reply coyly, handing him his drink and moving on with your shift. Jax continues to just watch as the conversation goes on, waiting for the moment he needs to jump in.
âthatâs the problem with you biker whores, you never loosen up unless itâs for moneyâ
Jax doesnât hesitate to immediately grab the drunken biker by the collar and throw him up against the nearest wall.
âdonât think i heard you, wanna fuckin say it again?â Jaxâs words seethe through his mouth. You swore that the look on his face could kill the guy alone.
You step out from behind the bar and make your way towards Jaxâs angry figure.
âTeller cmon itâs alrightâ you keep repeating as his hands continue to tighten around the intoxicated manâs neck.
âJax seriously itâs alrightâ The touch of your gentle hand on his shoulder along with the sound of your voice saying his name snaps him out of his fit of rage. His eyes find yours and they slightly soften at the sight of your concerned face.
Jax eventually lets go of the biker who disrespected you and proceeded to walk away just because you asked.
Which was surprising because Jax Teller listened to no one.
You wanted to move on and leave it alone until you heard him speak again.
âThatâs right, walk away before you end up like your old man, Teller!â
Before Jax can even react to his harsh words, you turn around and throw the hardest punch across the drunken bastards face, the sound of his nose breaking crackles through the loud music.
As the man goes flying back, you flick your knuckles a couple time to get the feeling in it back.
âGet him outta my barâ you say loud and stern in which Happy and Juice gladly pick him up and throw him outside to deal with.
âyou alright there darlin? that was one hell of a punch.â Jax asked, observing the blood on your knuckles.
âiâm fine and he deserved it.â you scoff with disdain in your voice, you still couldnât believe how bold that bastard was to say that.
âDonât think a woman has ever thrown a punch like that for me beforeâ he says with slight grin on his face.
you chuckle at his teasing words. âhave you met your mother? pretty sure shes out there guttin him right about nowâ
âeither way, thank you. It was one hell of a sight to see.â he replies, keeping his eyes trained on yours.
âwell thereâs a first time for everything Tellerâ you say with a cheeky smile before walking back to your previous spot at the bar.
Jaxâs eyes follow your walking figure and nods his head in agreement.
âcouldnât have said it better myself sweetheartâ Jax muttered before following you, continuing the night without interruption.
AN: would u believe me if i told u i wrote this entire thing bc i found a pair of black pumps in my closetđ
Warnings: mentions of swearing, obsessive behaviour and gang activity.
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
JAX TELLER IS THE DEFINITION OF LIMERENCE WHEN IT COMES TO YOU.
It had been about 4 months since you met Jax Teller and about 2 months since you started officially dating.
From the moment you met him, it felt like you had wandered into a love story straight out of a fairy tale
donât you know that fairy tales are fabricated?
After he insisted on fixing your shitty car for free as a supposed favour to Chibs, you just kept running into him.
You found yourself crossing paths with him often. In the morning at the local coffee shop. What started as simple conversations over coffee slowly became something you looked forward to, the two of you sitting together and making conversation as if you had known each other for years.
You then began noticing him around the hospital where you volunteered, where he claimed he was only there to check in on his fellow club members.
The more you saw him, the harder it became to view him the way everyone else did. The chatter and rumours surrounding his motorcycle club slowly became background noise, replaced by the version of Jax Teller that you knew.
The one who just happened to always be there when you needed him.
When the stray cat outside your apartment needed help getting to a vet, he happened to be in the neighborhood. When someone at the bar crossed a line and made you uncomfortable, he immediately stepped in and made sure it wouldnât happen again.
Somehow, no matter the situation, he always seemed to appear at exactly the right moment. And before you realized it, his presence became a constant in your life.
Just like he wanted.
When Jax finally asked you out and made it official, there wasnât a moment that you felt unsure of his love.
Jax makes his affection known to you in any-way he can. Whether it be pressing his lips against your forehead, surprising you with gifts you mentioned in passing or just holding you as often as he can.
You were just so good to him.
He couldnât afford to lose this one source of real love he had in this fucked up life he lived, heâd rather die than let your love fade away.
And yet with all the effort he puts in, the feeling of uncertainty weighed heavily on his heart, you know he loves you right?
He certainly knows that he loves you, and there isnât a day that Gemma or his fellow SAMCRO memberâs donât tease him about his obvious affection for you.
but do you know?
Do you know that heâs spent every waking moment, since the day he saw you, thinking about you, obsessing over you?
That he knows everything about you, even without you having to say so? That he would serve a thousand life sentences, if it meant that youâd be happy and safe?
No, of course you didnât know this.
Jax would never ruin the relationship you two have, he needs you to believe in this perfect love story as much as he does. He just canât afford to taint your opinion on him.
So when Jax lies there, late at night, by your side, gently holding your sleeping figure and kissing your temples while slowly running his index finger over the outline of your body.
Jax comes to the realization that if he can keep this beautiful illusion that heâs created alive and well, then itâs worth it for you to stay blissfully unaware of how much he truly loves you.
AN: its actually not okay how much i think abt Jax Teller.
Chapter 2 of Object of his obsession on the link :)
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
Warnings: Mentions of weapons, swearing and obsessive behaviour (stalking, etc)
JAX TELLER HAS NEVER FELT OBSESSION UNTIL HE SAW YOU.
It was a breezy autumn morning in Charming when Jackson Teller saw you for the first time. The wind drifted through the streets as fallen leaves move along the rock hard pavement.
He leaned against his smooth Harley, sunglasses covering his sharp, blue eyes as he waited outside the apartment building for his close friend and club member, Chibs, to come down.
The quiet morning was a rare sight from the usual chaos of club life. Jax stood there casually, his kutte sitting over his shoulders as he watched people pass by. He wasnât expecting anything different from his usual routineâŠ
until his attention shifted toward you.
You had quite the loud laugh, not that he minded the noise. Your giggle immediately brought a sense of brightness to the atmosphere, cutting through the quiet of the morning.
It was the kind of laugh that naturally drew attention. It was warm and effortless, making the corners of Jaxâs mouth slightly turn up. For a moment, he found himself watching, curious about you.
You were someone he hadnât seen before and the unfamiliar face immediately caught his eye.
He stayed quiet as he watched you lift a large cardboard box with the words âY/Nâs roomâ scrabbled on the side by a thick black marker. ïżŒ
A woman holding another cardboard box follows behind you, her laughter mixing with yours but it definitely didnât catch his attention like yours did.
âI see the new lass has caught yer eye huh.â says Chibs while clamping down a hand on a unsuspecting Jax.
He turns his head rapidly towards the Scottish voice, grinning slightly as his words.
Jax nods his head towards your direction. âhavenât seen her before, she just move here?â
âjust moved in with her friend right there, theyâre good lasses.â
âoh yeah? you talk to her yet?â Jax replies with a furrow in his brows.
âyou jealous Jackie boy?
Jax chuckles slightly at his friendâs words, not because it was a ridiculous claim but because Chibs wasnât that far off.
He found himself drawn to your energy, one mere look at you and he wanted more.
He wanted to know everything about you, wanted to meet you and have you ingrained his life every way possible.
and whatever Jax Teller wanted, he found a way to make it happen.
Jax found himself thinking of you for the rest of the day. You occupied every corner of his mind.
Heâs never felt this way about a person before, even with past hookups and girlfriends, heâs never once felt this intense adoration for them.
He was crazy right? He saw you for a mere second across a distance and suddenly he canât stop thinking of you.
He tried so hard to get you off his mind as the day went on, but all roads led back to the memory of this morning. Your captivating laughter and bright smile lived rent free in his head. God, he wishes he could hear that every day for the rest of his life.
The town of Charming was eventually enveloped by the dark sky above. However, it was lit by the moon and the dim streetlights that lined the road.
Jax found himself parked right back where he had been this morning, outside your apartment.
He knew this was wrong, every logical sense in his brain told him to just stop it. To let go of this extreme desire he suddenly felt for you and just leave you alone.
but when has Jax Teller ever been a rational man?
Jax had steadily made his way toward the car he had seen you step out of that morning, the one sitting still in the resident lot of your new apartment.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the familiar vehicle, his thoughts tangled in defiance. He questioned his sanity, didnât he have better things to do?
And yet, the memory of seeing you earlier replayed in his mind and caused all his inhibitions to go straight out the window.
You truly were a dangerous addition to his already messy life.
The world around him carried on like nothing had changed, yet he couldnât shake the feeling that he was standing at the edge of something he couldnât take back.
The blonde haired man pulled out a sheathed blade and messed with the engine of your car just enough to cause a visit to the only garage in town, Teller-Morrow Automotive and thus, Jax himself.
It would be wrong for Jax to admit that he was proud of what heâd done or that it gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. So he keeps those thoughts at the very back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge them as he carries on with his night. He rides away on his bike, leaving it until tomorrow.
The only thing Jax allows himself to think of is his rationalization of his behaviour which was that these obsessive feelings that consume him couldnât be anything but love.
âOh you have got to be fucking kidding me.â is what can be heard coming from your mouth at 10 am the next morning.
You had planned on spending the day shopping, picking up a few more things for the new place youâd just moved into. However, your car seemed to have other plans. A frustrated sigh left your lips as you stared at your broken down car.
Then, the sound of laughter drifted from behind you. You turned to see your lively neighbor, Fillip Telford, with a cigarette resting between his lips as he watched you berate the vehicle.
âdidnât know such a sweet lady had such colourful vocabularyâ he teases while puffing out some smoke from his mouth.
You laughed slightly at his comment before replying âyeah well, my car isnât exactly giving me a reason to use nicer wordsâ.
âcar troubles eh? iâll take ya to the garage, no problemâ he says while reaching for the phone in his pocket.
âThanks Filip, i owe you oneâ you say while sighing at his kind gesture.
âah itâs nothinâ sweetheart, if you wanna thank me, let go of damn Filip and start callin me Chibsâ He wags a joking finger at your face.
You let out a small giggle at his comment and mock salute at the bearded man, which earned a grin in return from him.
After calling a tow truck, Chibs drives you to the garage he clearly has ties to. On the way, he tells you to head straight to the front desk and give them your information so they can log everything properly.
Inside, youâre met with a stack of paperwork that feels never-ending. Forms, signatures, questions you barely have time to think through properly.
By the time youâre finished, your hand aches a little from all the writing and your patience feels just as worn down. When you finally step back outside, youâre half expecting Chibs to already be gone, leaving you to figure out your own way home.
Instead, the sight that greets you makes you pause.
A short distance from the entrance, Chibs stands with another man you donât recognize. The unknown man is leaning in like he owns the place, dressed in loose, baggy jeans and a black leather kutte that has many patches sewn onto it. His shaggy blonde hair is pushed back slightly and thereâs an apparent confidence in the way he stands.
Chibs is mid-conversation with him, when his eyes shift and catch sight of you stepping out. Jaxâs expression lifts just slightly, like heâs been waiting for you to appear.
âY/Nâ Chibs calls out, gesturing for you to come over.
Both men glance your way as you start slowly walking over, the hot pavement cracking faintly under your steps. The closer you get, the more you can feel the pressure of being noticed.
âThis here, darlin, is Jax Teller, he runs the placeâ Chibs says casually, nodding toward the man beside him.
At the introduction, the man steps forward from where his hands had been tucked into his jean pockets.
He offers his hand and steadily, you take it.
His grip is firm just like his eye contact, it was just a brief moment of contact, nothing more than a polite handshake, you think.
Something in the air shifts anyway.
In this brief moment that the two of you officially met each other, Jax Teller confirmed it once and for all.
THE FIRST TIME YOU MET PETE DUNHAM, YOU WERE PISSED.
It was well past midnight when the loud voices of young men drifted in from outside your bedroom window, breaking through the stillness of the night
Early mornings shifts were already unforgiving but with little to no sleep, they were straight up brutal.
As you stood from your bed and made your way into your younger brotherâs room, you take note of him stirring in his sleep due to the loud noises outside.
You couldnât take it anymore.
In a fuming fashion, you pulled a enlarged hoodie over your nightly tank top and marched on downstairs to confront the problem at hand.
âExcuse me! Have you all lost your damn minds?!â you yell angrily at the group of boys, but your eyes were drawn to the tall and rugged man in the middle. His buzzed blonde hair and sharp blue eyes caught your attention.
âpardon me miss?â The man you were staring at asks with a somewhat puzzled look on his masculine face.
âWhat are you doing making all this goddamn noise at 1 in the morning?â you ask with your arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.
The blonde buzzed man returns a small smirk of sorts and eyes you up and down, which pissed you off even more.
âjust introducing ourselves to the neighbourhood darlingâ he says with a scoff of a laugh.
You didnât think it was possible for the scowl on your face to grow even more.
âWell, iâm the neighbours. There, weâre introduced. So shut the fuck up.â you reply sternly and turn around to return back home.
As you began to walk off, the laughter of some of the men behind him can be heard.
âHey câmon, donât be like that, iâm sorry alright?â the tall man blurts out while catching up behind you.
âCâmon let me make it up to you, Iâm Pete, Pete Dunham.â His bright blue eyes bore into yours, you feel nervous at heart but refuse to let it show.
âKeep it down. Pete Dunham.â you say with a bite in your voice one before finally walking off.
You donât notice, but he keeps watching as you walk away, his smile slowly widens.
He had a feeling that you and him were going to meet again.
âAlright Jere, see ya Monday!â you yell out to your boss as the restaurant door behind you closes.
The weight of a seven-hour morning shift still clings to you as you make your way to pick up your younger brother from soccer practice.
The urge to just sleep in your car is extremely tempting but you promised your brother an actual dinner tonight and not take-out for the fifth day in a row.
For a long time now, it had only been you and him. Youâve grown to prefer it that way.
Eventually, you make your way to the practice field and wait for your younger brother to approach you.
âstalking me now are we sweetheart?â the familiar voice lurks up on you, catching you off guard.
Pete Dunham, the frustratingly attractive man from last night now stands in-front of you. Heâs wearing a greyish tracksuit and a long lanyard with a whistle at the end attached to it around his neck.
You glare at him peripherally âIâm here for my younger brother.â you say coldly.
âahh donât tell me heâs on my team, which snot nosed bloke is yours?â he replies lightly joking with you.
You stare off into the distance, refusing to make civil conversation with him. You were still ticked off about last night.
âMikey.â
He grins softly at your simple answer which prompts you to finally look at him and raise an eyebrow in confusion.
âshould have known, heâs got quite the mouth on him and now I can see where he gets that from.â Pete nudges your arm slightly with his elbow, you donât move.
So what are you? hooligan by night and coach by day?â you abruptly ask him.
âwell love, iâm also the history teacher if that brings any comfortâ.
âdoes quite the opposite actually, makes me question which dumbass is in charge of hiring teachers.â
Now that gets an actual loud laugh out of him. ïżŒ
You hate that his laugh makes your heart flutter.
In that moment, Mikey now runs up to you both in a cheerful manner.
âhey kid, how was practice?â you ask while ruffling his hair.
âit was great! I scored a couple times, right Mr Dunham?â
âYeah this oneâs got some fire in him. Just like his big sister.â
You make eye contact once again with him but thereâs no real bite behind it. You donât know why.
âalright lets get going mikey.â you say patting your younger brother on the shoulder, wanting to leave this slightly awkward moment behind.
âWait! can I at least know your name?â Pete asks in a pleading and cheeky tone just as you turn around on your feet.
For the first time, you gave Pete Dunham a smile.
âFigure it out, Dunham.â
and thatâs when he knew, his heart was yours.
AN: can u tell that the first part is heavily inspired by the Erin Brockovich scene đ„
AN: recently saw a stiles edit and memories of teen wolf obsessed me came back.
STILES DOESNâT GET IT.
MieczysĆaw "Stiles" Stilinski can find an explanation for pretty much anything. Itâs been a habit of his since he was a kid to find the answers to anything his heart desired.
He can uncover secrets of a hidden werewolf population or find the mystery of what a âKanimaâ is.
But what he canât figure outâŠ
is why you show any interest in him.
You.
The new girl in town, the one who even Lydia took an instant liking too.
You were beautiful, intelligent and charming all at once.
A triple threat as Stiles calls it.
From the moment you walked into his Biology class and gave a small smile, his heart was entirely yours.
He initially planned to admire from afar because he unfortunately doubted his ability to even get a coherent sentence out of himself when it came to you.
But oh how that would all change.
Stiles walked into the local cafe with the intention of grabbing a quick coffee for himself.
He knew he was going to pull another all nighter trying to figure out all of Scottâs âalphaâ drama and Adderall was not going to do the trick this time.
He entered through the door with his head hung low, just zoned out and staring at his sneakers.
âname is Y/n, thank youâ
The sound of your voice caused him to instantly raise his head.
You were here. Right in-front of him. Ordering an iced coffee.
The buzzed hair boy began to suddenly sweat at the sight of you, he could feel his heart rate speeding up.
His palms got clammy and all he began to hear was ringing voices.
âSir? are you okay?â
The workers concerned words snapped him back to reality.
âuh- ye-yes! Iâll have a large coffee with one milk and sugarâ
He stepped onto the side with his hands dug into his pockets.
âstudying late tonight?â you asked
Stiles froze. You were speaking to him.
âuh- yeah! some- something like thatâ
âsounding a bit suspicious there stillinskiâ you say with a slight grin on your face.
⊠you know him?
âyou know my name?â he asked softly in pure disbelief
âtechnically i know your last name, now your first name, i canât pronounceâ you say with a teasing tone that brings a smile to the boyâs face.
âah- thatâs alright, itâs a pretty sucky name to learn anywaysâ
âthatâs a challenge Iâm willing to take onâ.
Stiles felt his heart basically burst out of his chest with the way you were staring at him.
Heâs so far gone for you.
âOne medium iced coffee and one large coffee with milk and sugar!â the barista calls out abruptly cutting into the lingering looks you and stiles had.
You grab your coffees and both of you make your way to the parking lot in an awkward silence.
âGood luck with whatever you need that coffee forâ you say breaking the silence as you unlock your car door.
Stiles gives a frantic awkward grin paired with a deep exhale but no words come out.
He realizes this chance was given to him from a God above. He cannot disappoint and mess this up.
âY/N!â he says abruptly, startling you just a little.
Your wide-eyed gaze prompts him to go on.
âCa-can i get your number? you know if you ha-have one. I mean- itâs totally fine if you donât! Or even if you just donât want to- Stiles shut up.â
You cut off the buzzed hair boys rambling and push your cellphone into his nerve-shaking hands.
He immediately fumbles your phone and almost dropped it in true stiles fashion but catches it and types his number in before handing it back.
âSee you around Stillinskiâ is what he hears before you drive off from the area.
Stiles continues to stand there, confused and frozen in place.
Stiles still doesnât get why youâre interested in him, but he does know, itâs something heâs not taking for granted.
AN: genuinely have the worst case of writers block ever. like this is the most mediocre work Iâve ever done.đ„Č
Pictures from Pinterest; I do not condone or encourage smoking in any way.
YOU SIT ON THE EDGE OF YOUR APARTMENTS WINDOW SILL.
Itâs late night and the breeze from the large open window is cool but the air itself is warm.
You always loved the summer weather, especially at night. It just brought you this comforting calmness that the other seasons of the year didnât have.
You sit there with your knees folded up to your chest, staring out at the moon, and she stares back at you.
âi shouldâve known you were going to be hereâ says the sudden voice of the masked vigilante comes from beside you.
You jerk your head slightly to see none other than the Red Hood sitting on the fire escape just outside your apartment window.
âhi jay.â you reply with a soft smile on your face as you continue to stare at outside.
âhey doll.â
âso, tell me. whatâs the verdict tonight? whatâs the moon saying?â Jason begins to take off the giant red mask that covers his face, the rest of his heavy gear remains.
you pause before you answer him.
âsheâs saying sheâs glad you stayed safe tonightâ
That earns a chuckle from Jason.
Jason slowly reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a cigarette pack, he points the opening towards you.
You pull out the cigarette stick on the far left and place it between his lips.
This was a little ritual between the two of you for as long as you can remember.
The first night you met Jason as Red Hood, he dropped his cigarette pack right in front of you. ïżŒ
Instead of chastising him or just handing them back, you picked one out and held it out for him.
Thatâs when Jason knew you were going to be special to him.
The raven headed man lights the cigarette you placed between his lips, and takes a long, slow drag off of it before speaking.
âgot company tonight?â
Something about the smell of his cologne mixed with the cigarette smell is so comforting to you, itâs Jason to you.
You know where this is going, he wants to hang out tonight as usual. You two will order chinese takeout and argue about which movie to watch (he always caves and watches whatever you want).
The night will end with Jason crashing on your couch and you fast asleep right in his arms.
âyouâre the only company i got jay.â
He clicks his tongue in slight satisfaction and puts out his cigarette after taking one last hit.
âalright sweetheart, Rush-Hour marathon?â
âI dunno jay⊠the moonâs telling me to watch A Cinderella StoryâŠâ
âagain? Well, you and the moon are very lucky that youâre both beautiful.â he says while puffing out smoke from his previous drag.
âreally? i think she just might be a little more.â you answer him while taking one last look at the stunning lunar light up in the sky.
Jason keeps his green eyes trained on your figure for a moment. He then stands up from the fire escape stairs and jumps into your apartment through the large open window.
âThatâs where I wonât agree with ya doll, not even the moon compares to you.â Jason states as he walks into your apartment.
You smile slightly at his words and follow the vigilante inside, but not before you bid the moon goodnight.
Authors notes: this sucks but oh well i felt like writing a little sumn while procrastinating studying.
TW: mentions of sexual content, swearing and violence
chapter 3
ALRIGHT ASSHOLES, LETS START THE SEASON HOW WE FINISHED THE LAST!"
"Yes sir!" yells the entire side by side line of soccer boys in response to their coach, Coach Cash.
He blows the whistle that stays wrapped around his neck, indicating that everyone get in their positions for the practice game.
"Shirts vs Skins!" Coach Cash yells out with his arms quite intimidatingly crossed.
Clearly you cannot be a skin so it's time to problem-solve once again.
"um Sir? Pardon me but I have to be a shirt..." you were kind of terrified to even look in his way, let-alone speak up to him.
"What is it?" is all he says in response while he continues to glare at you.
His deathly stare triggered your flight or fight mode so you said the first sensible thing that came to mind.
"Im allergic to the sun."
âŠ
First thing? Check!
Sensible? No Check :(
âŠ
A horrifying moment of silence before he replies to you.
"You're allergic to the sun?"
Doesnât his face hurt from glaring so hard?
"Very, very, very, very deathly allergic. very."
...
"We like to accommodate here at Gotham. So i'll follow you around with a parasol alright?"Â You don't know how to respond to his monotone sarcasm.
He sighs then speaks again "You're a shirt asshat"
You sigh in relief and head onto the field with the rest.
"Alright everyone, let's go!" Coach yells once again
Two hours later
After two long and ruthless hours of soccer practice and doing different relay challenges to prove your skills, Coach Cash finally calls you all to line up.
"Alright assholes, I saw a lot of energy and commitment out there and i'm somewhat proud."
He almost sounds happy.
"alright first and second stringers are split up. You second stringers, don't take it too hard."
Coach flips a paper on his clipboard and begins to call out names that made the first string-team.
"Todd"
"Harper"
"Greenâ
"Drake"
"Westâ
"Stoneâ
"Loganâ
Your name wasn't called.
Was this all for nothing? Second string means second best. Not the best. You did all of this... just to sit on the bench?
Suddenly, Coach Cashâs voice interrupts your thoughts.
"Congratulations to those who made first string. If you're second string, prove yourself and we'll figure something out. Now, all you little shits, hit the showers!"
Oh God. Shower time. You hadn't even thought about that part. How the hell were you gonna get out of that one?
"Not you Allen! Principal J wants to see you in their office!"
âŠ
You slowly look up to the sky and start nodding your head in appreciation, exaggeratedly mouthing "thank you" to the sky.
You slowly make your way to the principalâs office.
You wonder what the principal could want with you. Is there a possibility that they know? If so, it's over.
You're totally screwed if they know.
Their assistant leads you into the office and you take a seat in the empty room with Headmaster J nowhere to be found.
Looking around with your nervous system going completely abnormal, you notice a cabinet on the wall with every letter of the alphabet decorating the front of each cabinet.
Your eyes land on the letter "A" cabinet.
Allen.
Barry Allen.
Barryâs file is in there.
You look towards both sides of the room to see if the principal or anyone else is making their way into the room and luckily, you catch sight of no-one.
You get up and slowly pull the "A" cabinet and start skimming through the dozens of files in hopes of finding Barryâs.
As you were still stealthy skimming through, a loud voice interrupts your sneaking around. You yank your hands away in frazzled attempt to mask your actions, which then causes the file cabinet to get stuck.
"Mr Allen!â the voice greets you with so much enthusiasm, you think heâs choking of joy.
You stare at the principal who has a wide, almost ominous smile on their face. Or maybe that's just their face.
"MR J!" The headmaster extends both hands out and grabs yours, catching them in a death-grip handshake and vigorously shaking them up and down.
This guy has freakishly strong hands.
"Headmaster and/or Principal of this esteemed establishment!â Their grip on your hand seems to slightly loosen itself as the minutes pass by.
"Please, PLEASE! take a seatâ you sit down hesitatingly at his request
"Iâm sure youâre wondering why I called you down here Mr Allen. I just wanted to meet you myself!â
"How come?" you ask in nerve-wracking curiosity
"So I could welcome you. Also I just wanted to see how you're doing.â he replies simply with grimacing smile on his face.
"Iâm greatâ being a guy... Y'know just busy being a guy" Oh come on Y/n. That was the most suspicious answer in the history of suspicious answers.
Principal J raises a eyebrow at you and somehow maintains very focused eye contact with you.
You swear he doesnât blink or stop smiling.
Does the Headmaster have a degree in making people feel uncomfortably awkward...?
"Alright then Mr Allen, let's take a look at your file, shall we!â
They make their way over to the "A" file cabinet you were messing around with just moments ago.
The sickly pale principal lightly tugs on the cabinet and it doesnât budge. He then pulls it with a little more force and still, it remains stuck.
âhold on, it just needs a little elbow greaseâ he says
He then proceeds to place his foot on the cabinet beside it and pulls as hard as he can on the âAâ cabinet.
The handle on the cabinet rips off in this process and Principal J goes flying across the room in the most theatrical manner ever.
âSir are you okay??â you stand up from your seat concerned and hover over his fallen figure.
âJust Dandy my boy! anyhow, come on over here, sit in the headmasters chair.â he says somehow still cheerily and stands up quickly from ground.
you look at him confused.
âSit in it.â
you take a seat in his chair and he stands behind you, so sinisterly.
âSo, Barry Allen. How do you like our campus so far!â
to avoid suspicion, you answer immediately âbeautiful sirâ.
âhave you been inspired my boy?â
âvery, sirâ
âLIES!â he jumps out in-front of you and points in a jester-like manner which scares the shit out of you.
yeah this guy was a clown in another life.
âw-what do you mean sirâ you say
âiâm onto you. Barry Allen.â he slams his hands on the desk in front of you and faces you with a wide smile.
you keep up the facade and continue to have a questioning look on your face.
Mr J points two fingers at his own eyes and then at yours.
âYou know i was a transfer student once upon a time, so i like to keep a special interest in the transfer students of this schoolâ
what the hell is the guy talking about.
âact as an unofficial uncle yâknow⊠donât be surprised if i just drop in⊠unannounced⊠CATCHING YOU IN THE ACT!!â the bizarre green haired man exclaims while he waves his hands around.
⊠this guy is onto nothing.
âcanât wait sirâ you reply with a wince.
âlovely! Now get the hell out of my chair boy!â he yells and you immediately jump out and make your way to the door.
You turn back once more and he stands there smiling, just waving away.
you feel a shiver go down your spine but you still wave back with a fake smile.
Great, now you have the principal of doom and despair keeping tabs on you.
Just as you walk out of Principal Jâs office, you bump into your roommate from earlier.
âah! iâm so sorry, i should really watch where iâm going.â you apologize as you pick up the book he dropped.
âItâs fine.â He states steadily.
âPride and Prejudice? Jane Austen huh.â you ask him as you hand his book back.
âyou read?â Jason asks, keeping his gaze on you.
âUh no, my sisterâs a fanâ you reply, wanting to hype yourself up a bit.
âsheâs got good taste.â
You swear you can physically feel the pink forming on your face.
âyeahâŠbye jason!â you say quickly and run away before you can embarrass yourself any further.
You make your way to the cafeteria where you spot the three boys you met earlier.
Unfortunately, you didnât make any progress with them but youâre determined.
âHey dudes, mind if i join?â you ask enthusiastically as you slam your lunch tray onto the table.
The three boys just stared at you as you began to munch on the somewhat decent sandwich you held.
âSo those soccer tryouts were crazy, huh? I mean, second string? Come on, that's ridiculous. Am I right?â
Still no responseâŠ
âSoooo the game against Bludhaven, that should be interesting.â you say again hoping itâll spark their interest.
âAnd why would that be interesting? â asks Oliver Green, who sits to your left
âWell, my sister goes there and she used to date that asshole, Dick Graysonâ you reply with a little annoyance in your tone.
âI know him.â The raven haired boy speaks up, meeting your eyes
âJason made him cry once during a game!â Roy says with a laugh at the memory
âThat was you?â you point at jason
âAbsolutelyâ He replies
You smirk at the idea of Jason bringing someone as manipulative as Dick to tears.
âIs your sister hot?â asks Roy
Of course you were hot but you canât say that while youâre dressed as your brother. Thatâs just gonna make you seem weird.
âShe's got a great personality.â
âgood taste in books.â Jason states catching your attention, he remembers the book thing?
âShe dated Grayson?â Oliver speaks up this time.
âYeah but he broke her heart, I mean, you think you know someone and you realize it's all been a big lie. Every touch. Every kiss.â you say sombrely while looking down at your food, remembering the hurt Dick caused you.
you suddenly look up and all three boys were gone. ïżŒ
Damn.
âyeah Iâll catch you guys later!â you yell out after them with a deeper voice than before.
This whole âbeing a boy thingâ might be a little harder than you thought.
Authors note: iâm just now starting to realize exactly how long this series might be⊠can someone clarify if they wouldnât mind a little lengthy series (maybe about 13 chapters or so) or if i should shorten it wayyyy down??? đ°đ°
The mere idea of Jason Todd, Red-Hood, well-known vigilante, guy who came back from dead in a super traumatic way having a cozy little apartment to live in was unfathomable.
A guy who brutally beats criminals to a pulp for a living comes back to an apartment thatâs lovingly lived in.
A place that has vibrant and sweet smelling plants tended to, by you during the day and jason in the night.
A place that has expensive candles on its tables that bring an aroma that smells just like a home should.
Crocheted blankets are thrown on the sofa and the softest, fluffiest pillows reside right on-top them.
The tiffany flower lamp the two of you bought at the thrift store lights up the room in a warm, colourful way as it sits in the corner, overlooking the rest of the living room.
Your black furred kitten lays upon the large cat tree that Dick bought a month ago as âa gift for his nieceâ as he likes to state.
So, when Jason sneaks in through the window again, trying to make sure you donât wake up. He scratches the kittenâs head ever so lightly that she purrs.
Jason fills a small tin can with water and showers the many plants that reside in the apartment.
He then turns off the tiffany lamp and he enters your shared bedroom where he begins to take off his gear and unwind.
He sees the place thatâs home and is unbelievably grateful he can call it his.
rewatched the batman last night, Robert Pattinson is actually a perfect look for bruce.
divider by: @cafekitsune & @omi-resources
word count: 4.4k
synopsis: Jason Todd didnât expect anything good to come from an early morning grocery run. He definitely didnât expect to find his pastâand his futureâfollowing him with a nerf blaster between the aisles.
a/n: I loved this request and concept but I can't decide how I feel about my writing, but I hope you all enjoyed!
Jason wasnât the kind of guy who did early morning grocery runs. Usually, his nutritional pyramid consisted of takeout containers, chalky protein bars, and coffee brewed with enough caffeine to burn a hole through structural steel. But Alfred had been on his ass lately about âproper sustenance, Master Jasonââand when Alfred Pennyworth made a request, no one in the family, absolutely no one, dared to disagree.
So, that was how he found himself in his current predicament: awake way too early, hood pulled low over his forehead, and hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. He was doing his best to mind his own business, despite the suspicious glares from the staff. In Gotham, a man of Jasonâs build lurking in a supermarket at 6:00 AM usually meant a robbery was imminent, not an innocent grocery run.
Fighting back an eye-roll at judgmental worried looks he was receiving, Jason wandered the cereal aisle of the half-empty store. The place smelled like damp cardboard and industrial floor cleaner. His cart was patheticâa few frozen meals, a carton of eggs, and two boxes of sugar-free cereal he knew would just sit in his cupboard for months.
It wasnât that he couldnât cook. In fact, out of all his siblings, he was arguably the best, having spent hours in the manor kitchen learning personally from Alfred. It was just that coffee and Big Belly Burger were path-of-least-resistance fuel.
Sighing, Jason veered his cart toward the pasta aisle, deciding he might as well commit to the bit and buy something that required a stove, just to get the old man off his back. He was eyeing the sauces, debating between vodka and Alfredo, when he heard it.
A low, dramatic "Pew! Pew!" followed by the unmistakable thwack of plastic colliding with cardboard.
Jason froze. His brow furrowed as a rogue foam dart sailed through the air and bounced off a box of rigatoni. He tracked the trajectory just in time to see a blur of movementâtiny sneakers skidding around the corner and the sound of muffled giggles.
The culprit was small. Somewhere between five and seven. He had a shock of messy black hair that looked like it had never met a comb, a t-shirt featuring a faded, peeling Bat-symbol, and wide blue eyes that glinted with pure, unadulterated mischief.
Jasonâs heart gave a strange, uncomfortable jolt.
Because that face? It was his.
Not as he looked now, of course. But as a kidâbefore the League, before the Pit, before death had pressed cold lips to his forehead. It was eerie. Like looking at a memory made flesh and given a sugar rush.
âPew!â the kid shouted again, raising a neon-orange plastic blaster.
He pulled the trigger and the dart shot out, and caught Jason square between the eyes. The foam dart stuck there for an absurd, lingering beat, perched just above the bridge of his nose like a pathetic unicorn horn, before it finally lost the battle with gravity and fluttered to the floor.
Jason blinked, the suction cup mark likely still red on his skin.
ââŠSeriously, kid?â he muttered.
The kid didn't cower. Instead, he cackled, eyes sparkling like heâd just pulled off the heist of the century. He just stood there grinning up at Jason like they were old friends, or maybe like Jason was the final boss in a video game and the kid had just landed a critical hit.
âGotcha!â the boy chirped, puffing out his chest with a pride that was painfully familiar. âYou were totally not ready for that. You didn't even duck! You just stood there like a big dummy!â
Jason looked down at the miniature ghost of his own past, his mind racing through a dozen responses before settling on a dry, parental deadpan. He crossed his arms over his chest.
âUh-huh. And what does your mom say about randomly shooting strangers in the face?â
The kidâs triumphant stance faltered. The neon-orange blaster lowered an inch as he narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight from one light-up sneaker to the other as if preparing to make a break for the frozen foods section.
âYou ainât gonna tell her, are you?â the boy asked, his voice dropping as he looked at Jason suspiciously.
Jason felt a ghost of a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. He recognized that tone. That was the 'I-know-I'm-in-trouble-but-I'm-betting-on-your-coolness' tone.
âDepends,â Jason grunted. He leaned his hip against the handle of his cart, glancing down at the foam dart resting on the linoleum. âYou got a name, kid?â
The boy puffed his chest back out, his bravado returning in a sudden surge. âIâm AJ,â he declared. âAnd Iâm the best shot in the whole store.â
âAJ, huh?â Jason repeated. The name felt heavy and strange in his mouth. âWhereâs your mom? Gotham supermarkets aren't exactly playgrounds, AJâespecially not at six in the morning.â
AJ shrugged with a nonchalance that only a bored kid could pull off. He pointed a thumb vaguely toward the produce section. âGave her the slip,â he whispered conspiratorially. âSheâs over there looking at the boring green stuff.â
Jason let out a weary sighâthe kind that usually followed a lecture from Bruce. âWell, why donât you go find her before you make her worry? A kid like you shouldn't be wandering the aisles solo.â
AJ grumbled something under his breath about âbeing a big kidâ and stooped to retrieve his foam projectile from the linoleum. Taking the hint, Jason turned back to the wall of red sauces. He grabbed a jar of spicy vodka sauce and tossed it into his cart alongside a box of penne. He turned his back, fully expecting the miniature menace to have scampered off.
But no.
The kid was still there. Jason tried to tell himself that this kid wasn't his problemâhe had groceries to buy and a quiet apartment to get back to. He turned and continued down the aisle, only to hear the rhythmic, wet slap-slap of sneakers against the floor.
Jason tried to ignore him and kept walking, weaving his way toward the frozen food section. The kid kept pace, his short legs working double-time to match Jasonâs much longer strides.
ââŠAre you seriously tailing me?â Jason asked, not looking back as he yanked open a freezer door to grab a box of waffles.
âObviously,â AJ stated, his tone suggesting Jason was the one being slow on the uptake.
Jason cut him a sidelong, incredulous glance. âWhy?â
âNeed to make sure you arenât doing something suspicious,â the boy declared, narrowing his eyes at the cart.Â
Jason raised a brow. âIâm literally holding frozen waffles, man.â
AJ eyed the box disdainfully, his nose crinkling in pure, unadulterated judgment. âOriginal? Really?â
âYou judging my waffle choices now?â
âKind of,â the boy said, crossing his arms over his faded Bat-shirt. âThe chocolate chip ones are better. Everybody knows that. The originals are for old people.â
âFine,â Jason grumbled, swapping the boxes. âHappy?â
AJ nodded once, a look of solemn approval crossing his face as if heâd just successfully mentored a particularly slow student. âWise choice.â
Jason let out a huff that was half-annoyance and half-disbelief. He turned away, moving deeper into the frozen aisle to grab a bag of pizza rollsâbecause if he was already failing Alfredâs "real food" mandate by buying chocolate chip waffles, he might as well go all in on the processed junk.
AJ stepped closer, squinting at the bag. âPepperoni or Triple Cheese?â
âTriple Cheese,â Jason said, his tone daring the kid to disagree.
The boy considered this for a long moment, tapping his chin with the barrel of his plastic blaster. âAcceptable,â he finally declared. âBut you gotta cook 'em in the oven. The microwave makes 'em squishy, and squishy is gross.â
Jason froze, his hand hovering over the handle of his cart.
That was the exact same thing he told Damian when introducing the brat to the wonders of frozen snacks. The uncanny nature of the situation was starting to move past âweird coincidenceâ and into âfull-blown existential crisisâ territory.
âRight. No squishy pizza rolls. Got it,â Jason muttered, tossing the bag into the cart on top of the vodka sauce. He started walking again, his boots thumping heavily against the linoleum, half-expecting the kid to finally head back toward the produce.
Instead, AJ fell right back into step. The rhythmic squeak of neon sneakers kept perfect time beside the heavy thud of Jasonâs combat boots. It was a bizarre sight: a hulking, scarred vigilante in a leather jacket who looked more like a criminal than a customer, being followed through the fluorescent wasteland by a miniature gap-toothed child with a Nerf gun and light up sneakers.
âYouâre still here,â Jason noted, not looking down.
âGotta make sure youâre getting the good snacks,â AJ stated, his tone suggesting this was a heavy burden heâd been forced to carry. âGrown-ups are bad at picking snacks. They always buy stuff that looks like tree bark.â
Jason let out a short, rough sound that might have been a laugh in a different life. âIâm just a guy trying to get groceries before the sun comes up, kid. Which is what you should be doing. With your mother. Who is probably currently calling the GCPD because her mini-terrorist went AWOL in the pasta aisle.â
âSheâs fine,â AJ said, completely unfazed as he waved Jason off. âSheâs probably at the deli counter by now. Besides, she told me to stay close. Iâm just staying close to you now.â
Jason stopped the cart so abruptly the wheels squealed. He looked down at the boy, who didn't even have the decency to look intimidated.
âThatâs not how âstaying closeâ works, kid,â Jason grunted. âYouâre supposed to stay close to the person who actually knows you. Not the guy who looks like heâs about to start a bar fight.â
AJ looked Jason up and downâhis eyes lingering on the faint scar on Jasonâs jaw and the hardened set of his shouldersâbefore he shrugged. âYou look like you can handle yourself. Mom says Gotham is dangerous. If Iâm with you, nobodyâs gonna mess with me. Youâre like a big, grumpy shield.â
Jason felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed by the kidâs survival instincts or terrified by his total lack of a stranger-danger filter.
âDo you trust every suspicious-looking guy you come across?â Jason asked, his voice dropping into a low, warning rumble.Â
He couldn't decide what was worse: the heart attack this kidâs mother was likely having, or the terrifyingly lack of "stranger danger" lessons sheâd hadnât seemed to teach him.
AJ tilted his head, his messy black hair falling over one eye in a way that made Jasonâs chest tighten with a weird, phantom ache.
âYouâre not suspicious,â AJ countered, his blue eyes clear and infuriatingly observant. âYouâre wearing a Bat-shirt under your jacket. I saw the edge of it. People who like Batman donât snatch kids.â
Jason instinctively pulled his leather jacket tighter, cursing the fact that heâd grabbed an old joke shirt Dick had gotten him in his pre-coffee haze. Heâd been clocked by a child who barely reached his hip.
âItâs a laundry day shirt,â Jason snapped. âAnd Iâm not a hero, kid.â
AJ flinched at the harsh edge of Jason's voice. Seeing the kidâs dejected expression sent a sharp, unexpected pang through Jasonâs heart. It was like watching a mirror of his younger self getting scolded, and the guilt was instantaneous.
Jason let out a long, weary sigh, intentionally softening his tone. âHey. Look, Iâm sorry. Iâm just... not a morning person. You a big Batman fan, kid?â
AJ blinked, the dejection vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a noncommittal shrug. âHeâs alright,â he muttered, kicking at the floor with a his sneaker.
Jason raised a brow, genuinely surprised. In Gotham, you were usually a fanatic or a critic; there was rarely a middle ground for the Big Bad Bat. âJust okay? Tough crowd. So whoâs your favourite, then? Nightwing?â
Jason figured it was a safe bet. Dick had always been the familyâs resident golden boyâa hit with the kids, the women, and pretty much anyone with a pulse.
AJ scoffed, a sound so uncannily like Jasonâs own derisive snort that it made his skin crawl. âNo. I mean, heâs cool and he does all the flippy stuff, but Red Hood is the best.â
Jason nearly choked on his own breath. He gripped the handle of the shopping cart so hard the plastic groaned.
âRed Hood?â he repeated, his voice dropping into a low, stunned rasp. âWhy him? Heâs⊠heâs kind of a criminal, isn't he?â
âNo way! Heâs the toughest,â AJ declared, puffing out his chest as he waved his plastic blaster. âHe protects the neighbourhoods the other guys forget about. My mom says heâs got a good heart. Plus, heâs got a cool helmet and a gun.â
Again, Jason didn't know whether to feel immensely proud or deeply concerned for the kidâs moral compass. Before he could decide, a frantic voice sliced through the aisle.
âAJ? AJ! Oh my god! There you are!â
Jason froze. He recognized that voice. Heâd expected the kidâs mom to be some stranger and that heâd hand off this miniature headache and go back to his hollow apartment.Â
Yet, he found himself looking at the one person heâd never expected to encounter in a grocery store at dawn. You were still as beautiful as he rememberedâolder, perhaps, but with that same light in your eyes that heâd tried so hard to forget.
âAJ!â You gasped, dropping to your knees and pulling the boy into a crushing hug. âDonât you everâeverâdo that again! I told you to stay close!â
âI was, Mom. I was just doing recon,â AJ muffled into your shoulder, his bravado finally wavering in the face of your genuine fear. He gestured a small, sticky hand toward Jason. âand I found a guy with a Bat-shirt. Heâs cool.â
You let out a shaky, jagged breath, pressing a frantic kiss to the top of his messy black hair. You started to look up, a "thank you" already forming on your lips for the stranger whoâd kept your son safe.
The words died on your lips.
Jason stood there, silhouetted by the flickering fluorescent lights, looking down at the two of you. His hood was still up, but there was no hiding the way he was staringâlike a man finding water in the middle of a desert heâd long since accepted would be his grave.
â...Jason?â you breathed. The name was barely a whisper, trembling with years worth of grief, confusion, and questions.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the low, industrial hum of the nearby freezer cases. Jason didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he could speak. His mind was too busy doing the mathâtracking the timeline, looking at AJâs messy black hair, those defiant blue eyes, and the past heâd tried so hard to bury.
AJ looked between the two of you, his brow furrowing as he sensed the sudden shift. The suspicion returned to his face in an instant.
âWait,â the boy said, his voice cutting through the heavy air. âYou know Waffle Man?â
Jason blinked, the spell breaking just enough for him to glance down at the kid. âWaffle Man?â
AJ nodded firmly, his neon-orange blaster tucked back under his arm. âWell, you havenât told me your name, and your waffle taste is justâŠbad.â
âThat doesn't explain why I should be Waffle Man,â Jason grumbled, though his irritation was paper-thin. He turned his attention back to you as you stood up slowly, your legs looking like they might give out at any second.
Your hand stayed protectively on AJâs shoulder, your fingers trembling against the faded fabric of his Bat-shirt.
âHow⊠we had a funeral,â you whispered. âThere was a casket. I was there, Jason. I was there when they buried you.â
âItâs a long story,â Jason finally managed. His voice sounded like it was being dragged over broken glassâraw, jagged, and full of the things he couldn't say. âA really⊠really complicated one.â
The silence in the aisle felt like it was about to suffocate. You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering between Jasonâs scarred face and the son standing at your side.
âAJ,â you said, your voice shaking as you tightened your grip on the boyâs shoulder. âGo⊠go grab a box of ice cream. Put it in the cart. I need to talk to⊠to this man.â
âBut Momââ
âNow, AJ.â
The boy grumbled, shooting Jason one last suspicious look before trudging toward the cart. Jason watched him go, his heart hammering against his ribs. He turned back to you.
âIs heâŠ?â
âYeah,â You rasped, not bothering to hide the truth. âHeâs literally your carbon copy Jay.â
Jason let out a dry, shaky snort. He was clearly fighting to keep his expression from shattering. âYeah⊠I can tell. Heâs gotta be a handful.â
You gave him a watery, fragile smile. âHeâs stubborn as hell, but he has a good heart.â
Jasonâs hand dropped from the cart, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out but didn't know if he still had the right. The hum of the freezer felt as if it was deafening nowâa steady, industrial drone that underscored the absolute wreckage of the last few minutes.
âDoes Bruce know?â he asked, his voice barely audible.
You shook your head, the movement slow and heavy. âAfter the funeral⊠I just couldnât stay. I found out about the pregnancy late, and by then, everything was different. Bruce wasnât the same. I didnât want him to look at AJ and see a replacement. I didn't want my son to be a second chance to continue the Roâthe mantle.â
Jasonâs gaze flickered to AJ, who was currently trying to see if he could balance a box of ice cream on his head. The kid looked so remarkably normal despite the Bat-logo on his chest.
âYou did the right thing,â Jason rasped, his throat tight enough to ache. âHe shouldnât be anywhere near that house. Or me.â
âDonât say that,â you whispered, reaching out to tentatively touch his sleeve. The leather was cold, but the man beneath it was radiating heat, solid and terrifyingly real. âHeâs been asking about his dad since he could talk. I told him his father was a brave manâsomeone who fought for the people who couldnât fight for themselves. Someone he should be proud of.â
Jason swallowed hard, his Adamâs apple bobbing. He looked like heâd been struck. âYou... youâd actually want me in his life?â
You suddenly looked uncertain, your hand fluttering away from his arm as if youâd overstepped. âIâI wonât force him on you, Jason. Itâs been years. You have a life, and I donât know what that looks like nowââ
âNo!â he interrupted. The word burst out of him with a raw intensity that made AJâs head snap up from where he was still trying to pick an ice cream flavour.
Jason immediately checked himself, lowering his voice and stepping closer until his broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the aisle. âI mean... I want to. I want to know him. I want to know... you.â
Your eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. âThen why didn't you look for me?â you croaked, the pain of a hundred lonely nights finally bleeding into your voice. âWhen you came back to Gotham... why didn't you find me?â
Jason flinched as if youâd struck him.
âWhen I... returned... I wasnât a good man,â he admitted, his voice dropping to a gravelly, raw confession. âMy mind was a mess, and the only thing I had left was a need for revenge. I didnât want you to see what Iâd becomeâsomeone filled with bitterness and enough hate to burn this city down. I stayed away because I hoped youâd moved on. I thought you were safer if I remained a memory.â
You shook your head slowly, a single tear finally escaping. âHow could I?â you whispered, your voice breaking. âHow could I ever move on from you?â
The distance between you vanished. Jason took a final step forward, his large, calloused hand rising to cup your cheek with a tenderness that seemed at odds with his rugged, battle-hardened frame. His thumb brushed away the salt of your tear, his touch lingering as if he were memorizing the warmth of your skin to prove you weren't another hallucination.
âIf I had known about AJ... I wouldâve searched every inch of this earth for you both,â Jason swore, his eyes burning with a fierce, new purpose. âI know you have questionsâyears of themâand I promise Iâll answer every single one. But you need to know one thing: itâs always been you. No matter where I went, no matter how dark it got... it was always you.â
A choked sob escaped your throat. You werenât sure who moved first, but the world around you seemed to slip away. Suddenly, you were locked in a desperate embraceâtwo people finally reuniting against years of impossible odds.
Jason pulled back slightly, and then his mouth met yours with a hunger that was almost overwhelming. He kissed you like a man who had been parched for a lifetime and had finally found a drop of water. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if he were trying to anchor himself to the reality of youâterrified that if he let go, heâd wake up back in the dark.Â
In that moment, the sterile supermarket and the hum of the freezers were gone. There was only the heat of you, the taste of salt and coffee, and the impossible truth that he was finally home.
A sharp, high-pitched "Eww!" suddenly cut through the air.
You pulled apart, breathless and flushed. Jason kept his forehead resting against yours for a lingering beat, his chest heaving. He finally glanced down to see AJ now standing by the cart, his face twisted in a mask of pure, childish disgust.
Jason cleared his throat, his face flushing a deep, uncharacteristic red as he slowly untangled his fingers from your hair. He looked down at his son, his expression a chaotic mix of sheepishness and overwhelming pride.
âWhy are you doing mushy stuff with my mom?â AJ demanded. His voice dropped into a suspicious growlâthe exact same one Jason used during interrogations, minus the deeper register and the actual intimidation factor. âAnd donât think sheâs gonna buy your waffles for you just âcause youâre moochinâ on her. Weâre on a budget!â
Jason let out a shaky, breathy laugh, for a fleeting second he glanced at you seeing your amused expression before he turned to look at the boy.
Jason let out a shaky, breathy laugh. For a fleeting second, he glanced at you, catching your amused expression before he turned back to the boy.
âI⊠uh⊠IâŠâ
âAJâŠâ You knelt down, resting your hands on his small shoulders to ground yourself as much as him. âIâm going to tell you something, and it might be a big shock. But this man⊠heâsââ
âMy dad whoâs also secretly Red Hood?â AJ interrupted. His tone was entirely matter-of-fact as he adjusted the grip on his toy gun.
The silence that followed was utterly stunned. Both you and Jason blinked in synchronized shock. You looked up at Jason, your eyes wide with a silent, frantic question: Is that last part true?
Jason could only offer a slow, stunned nod, his face pale beneath the grocery store lights. He looked back down at the boy, his voice failing him.
âHowâŠ?â you breathed, looking back at your son. âAJ, how could you possibly know that?â
AJ rolled his eyesâa gesture so perfectly âJasonâ it made your head spin. He pointed a small, accusatory finger at Jasonâs chest.
âDuh. I told you, I was doing recon,â AJ stated, with a huff. âI saw that old picture of you two from school, and he looks exactly like me. Plus, the date he went away matches the second Robin. And heâs also literally wearing Red Hoodâs leather jacket right now.â
âPlus,â AJ added, puffing out his chest with a smirk of pure, unadulterated victory. âRed Hood is the best, and my dad is the best. Itâs easy math.â
Jason let out a low, impressed whistle, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. âWell. I guess I donât need to worry about his observation skills. The kidâs a natural.â
Jason let out a low, impressed whistle, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. âWell. I guess I donât need to worry about his observation skills. The kidâs a natural.â
âJust another thing he gets from you,â you laughed, the sound bright and shaky against the backdrop of the quiet supermarket.
Jason cut you a sidelong, knowing look. âI donât know about that. If I recall, you were the one who figured me out all those years ago with even less to go on. This?â He gestured to the tiny detective in the light-up sneakers. âThis is all you.â
AJ just shrugged, already moving back toward the cart. âWhatever. Can we go now? Dad needs to pay for my chocolate chip waffles.â
The word âDadâ hit Jason like a freight train, his eyes instantly welling up again as he watched the boy swagger down the aisle. He looked at you, a dazed, lopsided grin spreading across his face.
âI think Iâm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?â he rasped, his voice thick with a mix of terror and absolute wonder.
âYou have no idea,â you laughed softly, reaching out to interlace your fingers with his. Your hand was small in his, but it slotted perfectly against his. âHeâs exactly like you, Jason. Heaven help us both.â
Jason squeezed your hand, a silent promise in the gesture. He looked toward the cart where his miniature double was currently trying to sneak in a bag of gummy worms into the mix.
âAlright, kid,â Jason called out, his voice regaining some of its old strength. âLet's go. Weâve got a lot of catching up to do.â
The both of you immediately get to wearing clothes while simultaneously brushing your teeth.
You donât even bother to look at the 100+ messages on either one of your phones from family and friends asking where the hell you are.
Both of you grab your individual car keys, a quick goodbye kiss to now rush off to complete the wedding day activities you were supposed to start at 8:00 in the morning.
it takes you approximately 15 minutes to make it to the salon for hair and makeup. Usually itâs a 30 minute drive but you broke every traffic law there is driving on the way there.
âI know i know! iâm late Iâm sorryâ you repeatedly apologize to the stylist as you burst through the front doors.
âyouâre not just late, youâre 3 hours late!â the old Italian lady angrily points at you as she walks over to sit you down in her chair.
âI know and I really canât make an excuse but please just help me out here!â you desperately plea to the woman who continues to glare at you
she stares at you for a moment longer before pointing her finger at the chair.
you whisper frantic thank yous as you sit in her chair to begin the beautification process.
12:04 pm.
Itâs around an hour later when the stylist finally finished your hair and makeup, she basically brought in an entire team to work on you.
Your next destination was the laundromat, they promised to keep your dress in tip-top shape for the wedding day.
but of-course, this was the worst day ever.
âwhat do you mean you wonât give my dress??!â you asking frantically with your fists slowly curling into a ball.
âMiss- I donât know which employee you spoke with but we are never open on this dayâ The employee replies to you with a particular sass you didnât appreciate.
âTHEN WHY ARE YOU HERE?â you exclaim with your hands waving in the air in a dramatic fashion
âbecause SOMEONE TRIGGERED THE STORE ALARM WHICH CALLED THE COPS!â he yells back at you in a even more dramatic way.
âIF YOU DONâT LET ME INTO THAT STORE, WEâRE GONNA NEED SOME COPS ALRIGHTâ
âOH YOU WANNA GO LADY?â
âTRY ME LAUNDRY BOYâ
âŠ
âIâve got a Dick Grayson here for a Y/N L/Nâ you hear the cop say as he opens the lock on the holding cell to let you out.
you exit the cell with your arms crossed in annoyance as you pass by the cop who arrested you for âassault and batteryâ and for ârepeatedly insulting an officers appearanceâ.
You barely even said anything about his bald spot, heâs just sensitive.
You spot Dick in his wedding tux sitting on the police stationâs bench with an amused expression on his face.
âShut up Graysonâ you say before he can even get a word out of his mouth.
You plop on the seat beside him, with your curlers still in your hair and your face all glammed up.
he raises his hands in defence âi wasnât gonna say anythingâ
âyeah but you were thinking whatever you were thinkingâ you huff with your arms crossed.
