Supernatural
Written by Jasmin.
75 posts.
17 years old.
gaaaay.
I am Female.
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Post by Jamie King on Jun 2, 2023 20:43:44 GMT
She was lucky things with Murphy had blown over after the party. Or at least, he was still happy to spend time around her after the whole beer pong debacle. She would never point it out, but Murphy had been doing plenty lately to make her life easier. Even shit that was getting him in trouble. Having spent the rest of the evening with Willow after they’d snuck out to avoid the rest of Eli’s mini torture session, Jamie couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt inside of her. But, she’d said sorry. He’d said to never say it again. So, there was nothing else she could realistically do to make up for it.
Even though she had a feeling there’d be something.
One of these days. One of these weeks. Something else was going to happen. Every nerve in her body knew it. Like stepping in a bear trap and knowing that it’ll only go off if you make another movement so you stand there frozen waiting for it to snap around your leg. That’s how she felt every time she caught her mother looking at her nervously or had yet another text from Rose pinging through on her phone ‘just checking in’ aka finding out if Jamie had been mauled in her silence.
She knew the incident with Bobbi wasn’t some one off. Her whole body felt poised and on alert. A constant fight or flight alarm running through her veins.
She’d do whatever she deemed necessary to keep her friends safe. For Lottie, for Murphy, for… Willow. Number one on her list would be shoving that boyfriend of hers off a cliff but that was more of a personal issue than a general Beacon Hills in danger one. A personal issue which was only more nagging since their sleepover. And absolutely not where her mind should be going whilst breaking into the Harper’s study. She needed to focus and Willow was the opposite of that for her.
Willow was a cold sweat. Willow was waking up in the middle of the night in a panic. Willow was Jamie’s eyes unable to look at her friend for too long. Willow was fingers stretched out as they lay side by side to graze an accidental index along her friend’s thigh. Willow was deadly. Willow was going to be the end of her. Of the life she had now. Because Willow was everything Jamie felt like she wasn’t. She was who Jamie knew she needed.
But she was out of reach. Jamie’s hand always moved back before it granted itself one slight accidental touch. And, back to that boyfriend of hers, Jamie’s eyes flashed momentarily, darkening in their vivid blues as she pictured his stupid, smug face. God, she hated him. Thankfully, her face was turned to the wall as she came to that conclusion and she could put the sudden shift in her emotions down to Murphy calling her vermin. Not that that was anything new. “Arguably cuter,” Jamie muttered back in response.
The steady way he lifted her up was unmistakably shocking and not at all how she’d expected him to react, envisioning he’d take full use of the opportunity in front of her and shove her in despite her warnings. “I don’t have a full mental inventory of what’s in there beyond enough weapons to kill you a hundred times over,” Jamie shot back at him, feeling the urge to remind him of the severity of what they were walking into a little more. Holding herself up by her arms gave her absolutely no ammunition to send his way at his next comment, instead she just used her arms to swing inside and avoid the conversation entirely. Jamie dropped to the ground with a light thud, grateful that the space around the window was fairly empty and she hadn’t been about to impale herself on a sword. A highly likely option in this hellhole.
Although, now the scariest thing in this house felt like Murphy. He was definitely onto her. Straightening up (ironic), Jamie eyed the space briefly before turning her attention to the door. Murphy’s knock had her jumping before she shook her head and crossed the room. Studying the handle and lock situation for a second to make sure it was safe from alarms, Jamie pulled the door open, a perfectly neutral expression on her face. “I won’t check for boobytraps the next time,” Jamie promised, clicking the door shut behind him.
Catching his gaze, Jamie focused most of her energy on remaining solid and upright and not into giving him the slightest tell that his words were affecting her. That she knew he knew… something.
Thin black knives with a pale yellow point at the end. Sizzle. Two of them.
Jamie recounted the details of her dad’s tails to herself before stepping into the middle of the room and trying to see if she could sense something or feel a particular pull towards any area in particular. But her attention kept getting caught on the portrait of some long gone relative. “It’s so fucking creepy,” Jamie said, shaking her head to clear the feeling of his eyes boring into her soul as if to say I know what you are. “Look around, see if you can find anything.” Jamie added, knowing just standing there was only wasting time. She set to work on the bookshelf beside the door, noticing Murphy straying to the desk - of course that’s where the nosy shit would head first. Fingers brushing over the spine of books, and peaking into any box or draw there was but- nothing. “Any luck over there?” She asked, spinning around and meeting Murphy by the desk. It was covered in highly detailed plans, stakeout points and a list of potential suspects. Jamie half expected her name to be there but the list was brief and most had already been scratched out. “Doing what hunters do best,” Jamie said, trying to not move the papers from their positions as she crouched down to begin searching through the desk’s attached draws. “At least this time it’s for something useful.” The drawers came up fruitless, leaving Jamie more agitated with every passing second.
And yet she couldn’t stop thinking about the portrait. With a sigh of aggravation, Jamie stalked over to the portrait, staring at the side of it before looking over her shoulder back at Murphy. “Come help me with that strength of yours again,” she said as she assessed both sides of the framed painting and settled onto the right side of it. “This thing is on hinges.” And if she listened closely, it was like a quiet storm raging behind the canvas. “Do you hear that?” She whispered, unsure if it was a kitsune thing, a father daughter thing or if he’d be able to hear it too.
They’d trapped half of her father’s power behind a portrait of someone who wouldn’t have taken a second look at him or at Jamie before cutting them in two. Jamie felt her skin growing paler by the second.
Sick, twisted bastards.
She felt like screaming that she was coming, that she was going to free them from whatever dark fortress they’d been encased in.
“Help me,” she asked, hands scrambling to get a hold on the gilded frame, mottled with age but she didn’t care at this point if she ripped the whole thing off the wall. Let her aunt and uncle know she was here. Let them fear what she was becoming. Let them add her to their list of suspects. She was done feeling weak in her power and in herself. This was it - the final straw.
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Supernatural
Written by Megan.
71 posts.
18 years old.
no thanks.
I am Male.
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Post by James Murphy on Jun 24, 2023 18:41:39 GMT
There was something wildly unnerving about being in her grandparents’ study, but it wasn’t the armory making his skin crawl. It wasn’t the portraits of glorified hunters mounted on the walls or the stench of old pages and spilled wolfsbane. It wasn’t Jamie’s shuffling or murmured complaints. For a moment, Murphy was caught still—a slight tremble in the tips of his fingers as he stared at the desk scattered with notes and littered with pens and blades alike. It was as if he was all of three feet tall, standing in the doorway to his father’s study as James Sr. hunched over his paperwork, working on the family taxes and following up with his Sergeant’s emails about his next deployment. He blinked the image away, watching his father’s ghost disappear in wisps of blue and beige. The room was eerily similar to the one his father had back in San Francisco. The walls were the same dark green, lined with shelves of books. The desk, as Murphy walked with hesitancy, was a mirror image of the one he remembered his father having—but he was so little, so young then. He must be remembering wrong, for it was unlikely the Harper’s would have the same model. As he came around the corner of the desk, his eyes dropped to the drawers, noting there was an odd number where his father’s desk had an even four. The difference had him straightening, coming to his senses with a sharp breath. His eyes cut to Jamie, catching her nose crinkled as her fingers combed over the spines of books on a shelf near the door.
What the hell was that?
Murphy scratched at the beck of his neck, trying to dull the itch in the back of his head at the memory. It wasn’t like him to get lost in the past. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even thought of his father, but this room… this desk—something had screamed so loudly at his younger self, begging him to remember who he’d once been, but that boy died the moment those soldiers had knocked on his front door with a folded up flag and his father’s dog tags in hand. Watching his mother drop to her knees as she’d belted out a weathering wail, the tears in the men’s eyes as they consoled her the best they could in uniform—it had altered something deep in Murphy, changing him in an irreversible way. The funeral was closed casket, his father had come home in chunks and his scattered remains were held in a velvet bag inside his tomb. He'd been blown up by an IED, his squad mates churning out a story of how he'd pushed a young mother and child out of the way and taken the brunt of the explosion. He'd died a hero, but that didn't matter to Murphy for very long. His dad was gone, and with him, he’d lost his mother too. She’d gone from a smothering, doting mother who fretted over his well-being and health to a ghost, a figment—a shadow of the woman she’d been. Murphy was left to fend for himself at seven years old, wheezing and lost, frail and small. Before they’d left for Beacon Hills, he remembers staring into his father’s office, too scared to step in. He thinks it was the room he’d last seen him alive in, tidying up before he headed out for his flight. He’d ruffled Murphy’s hair on the way out, telling him to take care of his mother and to keep the house safe while he was gone.
“Now Jimmy, you’re the man of the house while I’m out, you hear?” And Murphy would nod, bouncing on the balls of his feet and hands held together behind him, “Your momma’s going to need you to be a good boy, can you do that for her?” Another foolishly eager nod and his dad beamed at him, “I love you with my whole heart, Junior. I’ll be back soon,” he promised with a kiss to Murphy’s forehead and Murphy believed him. He had no reason not to.
He swallowed hard now, lips pushed to the side and brows drawn in close. He was staring blindly at the papers on the desk, desperate to shove the thoughts of his dad far, far away. He knows his father wouldn’t be proud of who he’d become, but that didn’t matter now because his dad was dead and Murphy didn’t believe in ghosts or heaven. His dad was gone and this is who he was.
With a swift shake of his head, his bangs shuddering across his forehead and shielding his eyes, he honed in to what was happening in the room around him. The papers strewn across the desk were detailed lists of suspects and in a sudden sense of urgency, he scanned the pages in search of his pack’s name. He kept his hands to himself, careful to not disturb anything—the less it looked like an intrusion the better.
There was no mention of the Pines or of Blake or himself, but—and just as he caught the sharp points of a capital M and a few short letters, Jamie was at his side and rustling around in the drawers and his eyes cut to her. She was groaning, throwing herself back to her feet and whining for him to join her in front of a portrait—and Murphy forgot to look back at the page to confirm if he’d really read Mets scribbled in cursive.
He shot her an incredulous look as she asked him if he heard anything, brow arched and hand on his hip as he shot back in a hushed whisper, “Now you’ve really lost your shit, fish-for-brains. I don’t hear a damn thing.” And if there was something to be heard, they both knew he’d have caught onto it first. With his focus back on the present (careful ignorance to the looming shadow of his past haunting the corners of the room), he tuned into his surroundings, searching for a stray, worrying sound but there was nothing alarming. Maybe it was a kitsune thing? That or she really just was bat shit. He was more inclined to believe the latter.
“Hey, dumbass, quit that,” Murphy hissed at her, giving her right hand a quick slap—the snap of skin on skin echoing in his ears, but it was effective in getting her to remove her fingers from the frame and step away from him, as if burned by the contact. Good. “You really trying to get us caught?”
He grabbed either side of the frame, hefting the picture from the wall and setting it on the ground. It was heavier than expected, but still an easy feat for him. Raising back to his full height, he rolled his shoulders back but paused mid-motion as his eyes settled on the sight behind the frame.
A fucking safe.
Figures.
Murphy spares Jamie a curious look, wondering if she really had heard something after all. He’d never give her the pleasure of hearing him admit she was right.
“Any guess on the combination or are we winging it, hoping I can hear the fucker click?” There was a hint of humor in his tone, dumbfounded by this whole situation. What the hell were they doing?
And why was he still here to help?
Maybe… maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought.
The darkness in the corners of his mind ebbed just a sliver as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting Jamie mull over the options as he kept his eyes on her and away from the familiarity the room reeked of.
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Supernatural
Written by Jasmin.
75 posts.
17 years old.
gaaaay.
I am Female.
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Post by Jamie King on Oct 2, 2023 20:46:19 GMT
There was a storm in her mind. For months - years - it had been a steady drizzle, a constant band of grey, ominous clouds on the horizon but now, now she felt half a second away from losing all sense of restraint. If she had the power of fire she’d be tempted to burn this place to the ground. Fuck them all. Fuck every single hunter who thought that she and her father were something which deserved to be controlled and tethered. This was the family her mother had dragged her here for whilst her father was on the other side of the country in her beloved Chicago. There was a storm in her mind and it was powered by sadness, grief and rage. It was only growing stronger as she stood in front of that damned portrait and heard something calling to her from inside.
I’m coming. I’m coming.
She had no quick words of wit or snark to send Murphy’s way at the look he gave her or for calling her fish brains. Granted, if Lottie started talking to her about hearing dead people or some creepy shit like that, Jamie would also be assessing her best friend as if she were going insane and finding the number for Eichen House.
His slap on her hand drew her mind out of the ever-encroaching storm clouds in her head. “Hey,” she hissed, pulling her hand down to her side and stepping back lest he felt like whacking her again. The sting was brief, its presence already feeling like a distant memory but she was in no place to have him ditch her now. “We won’t get caught,” she reassured him even if each second that passed by had her increasingly unsure how realistic that promise was. Murphy’s strength was impressive and Jamie took a look at her own arms, wondering how much she could life these days. Moving a heavy portrait with such ease felt like a distant dream, for now at least. Maybe she should hit the gym? Would Willow like that? No, no, now was not the time for thoughts about what Willow would like because clearly, it wasn’t her.
Those storm clouds inched in again. Rain no longer a light soaking against her skin but something that felt more torrential and damaging.
Her mouth had stopped half-way open, taking in the safe and fighting back the waves of smugness at being somewhat right about there being something behind the picture. “Ha, ha,” she said drily, crossing her arms proudly across her chest. “Looks like fish-for-brains was onto something, hound.” He’d hate hearing her say that and she knew it, a wicked smile on her face as she stepped closer and took a look at the safe.
“Not a clue, my familial ties only go so far,” she admitted, pulling back and gesturing towards the safe with her hands, “so have at it, bat ears.”
Murphy was half-way through unlocking the safe when Jamie’s phone buzzed inside of her pocket. As entertaining as it was watching Murphy with his cheek squished against the cool metal of the safe as he huffed about, Jamie’s gut was telling her to check her phone. Unlocking it, Jamie’s eyes scanned over the message, heartbeat raising with every word.
Hey Jim Jam, I’ll be home in five minutes. Security cameras say hi but I figured I’d let you have a few more minutes with your boyfriend before I crash the party. See you soon, your fave cousin, Alex.
The thumbs up and grinning face emojis at the end of Alex’s message frankly felt insulting, not as offensive as him thinking Murphy was her boyfriend, now that was making her toes curl. And not in a good way. “Little situation,” she said, as Murphy flicked his eyes her way, “my cousin is on his way home like now so we gotta hurry this up.” Her words were hurried as if any extra seconds milling about were going to be the difference between life or death. She knew if it was just Alex, they’d be fine but the threat of Natalia also being there? Oh, that was very real and very scary. “Please,” she added, a sickly hint of desperation in her voice as she hopped from foot to foot, full of jittery energy. Where the fuck were the cameras and why had she not considered them? Of course, they would have something like that. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for any blinking lights but thankfully, in here, the coast seemed clear.
They were so close and that storm in her mind was roiling. She felt like the only thing that could calm it was doing this for her dad.
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Supernatural
Written by Megan.
71 posts.
18 years old.
no thanks.
I am Male.
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Post by James Murphy on Oct 19, 2023 20:14:35 GMT
One of these days, Murphy’s eyes were going to get stuck mid-roll, leaving him with an infinite introspective look at the darkness within him. He wondered what he’d be like if he was left alone—truly alone. Not locked in his room when the boys had the girls over, not when he knelt on the hard tile of the grocery store, stocking shelves in the dim lighting with only the ticking of a distant clock ringing in his ears, the only soul in the vast building. No. He meant honestly, completely, terrifyingly alone. No Jensen trying to be his guiding light, dragging him by the lobe of his ear onto the righteous path. No Blake and his wandering hands tugging and pulling at Murphy until he settled against his side in a forceful attempt to calm him down. No Ashton (and Murphy had to stop himself there, throat swelling just enough for it to be hard to swallow as the endless list of what no Ashton meant Murphy lost). He thinks he could live without the others, but without his alpha? Without Ashton’s powerful presence and strong hand on his shoulder, Murphy feared the monster he’d become. Ashton had cultivated so much of who he’d become, he was his voice of reason and of irrationality. If Ashton asked him to bark like a dog, he’d be on his knees, tongue lolling out as he woofed.
It’s important to note he isn’t in love with Ashton. He doesn’t think he’d ever been. To be honest, he didn’t think he was capable of even being in love. But his life was devoted to his alpha. He’d live for him just as much as he’d die for him. It was the dog in him, he imagined. Loyal to the only person he found to be more powerful than him, the only one able to keep him in line.
That’s why this mess with the Little’s was so easy to overlook. He didn’t care about them. So long as Ashton was fine, his lips were sealed. He couldn’t fight the dramatic turning of his eyes each time Blake secreted an uncomfortable scent when both Erin and Jade were in their home, shifting with a restless unease before finding an excuse to step away. Jensen was better at masking his discomfort, but one of these days Jade was going to look towards him, seeking that confirmation, that approval she was always needing and find him scowling at his cousin and start drowning herself in those insecure thoughts she reeked of. Murphy was the only one Ashton could trust at the end of the day. The others often call his apathy a tragic trait.
To Murphy, it only made him stronger.
And yet, it seemed to be wavering lately. His lack of care, his distaste for others—it was ebbing. The busier Ashton became keeping up his ruse and entertaining his girls, the lonelier Murphy got. The more that darkness crept up on the corners of his mind. Murphy wasn’t sure he liked who he was becoming, and surely it wasn’t too late to say something rash and scathing to Jamie to sever this rocky friendship they’d built from common interest. But Murphy couldn't do it. It was symbiotic. They both had benefits to reap from turning to one another. The farther Ashton swam into the shadowed depths of his affair, the more helpless Murphy had grown on the shoreline—not knowing how to swim, not strong enough to throw out a life preserver far enough to reel Ashton back in before the incoming storm drowned him.
Murphy didn’t want to be alone.
As easy as it would be to tell Jamie to fuck off, Murphy… he didn’t want to.
He needed her as much as she needed him and they would never talk about how desperately they really did need one another and that worked just fine for him.
That’s why he was here, wasn’t it? He had sneered at her calling him a hound, but was more bothered that she was right. “Real fucking helpful,” he grumbled at her lack of information, easing his ear against the frosty metal of the safe and giving the dial a few spins to get a feel for the sounds of the locking mechanism.
What would happen to Jamie and Murphy if Ashton decided to drop the girls and come back? He swiveled the rotary dial until he heard it click, spinning it back as he closed his eyes and focused on catching the next tick of the lock. He was here because, despite what he thought of himself, he was growing to care about Jamie. If she needed something done, he was there, but would that statement ring true once he was back in Ashton’s line of sight?
Murphy resented that it was now that he realized how much of a follower he really was. Without someone to give him orders, would he do anything at all?
He huffed as her phone buzzed, pausing as her increased heart rate made it impossible to hear the lock. Murphy raised from his hunch, scowling at her for interrupting him but it became abundantly clear that she was justified in her reaction (and again, he’d never tell her that). A hunter was on the way back to the house, their clock was ticking.
A shiver ran down his spin at her please, washing away the hint of fear that burned at the back of his throat at the prospect of being caught in the lion’s den.
“Just—just shut the fuck up and calm down,” he hissed, pressing his ear back to the safe, “I can’t hear a damn thing with your heart racing.” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, focusing in on the metallic noises and seeking out that final click over the roaring of her anxiety. His hand moved slow, so fearful of missing the last notch in the lock.
Come on. Come on. He felt the weight of each passing second weighing him down, that fear boiling in his gut.
Click.
A breath billowed over his lips, relief flushing through him as the snap of the safe unlocking echoed in the room. He moved quicker than he could comprehend, yanking the safe open and blinking at the contents inside. All there was within the dark interior was a box with the name Benjamin engraved across the top. He reached in without thinking, grabbing the box with both hands and crying out a quick, “Fuck!” as it shocked him. He persevered, turning and shoving it into Jamie’s hands—her having moved to his side the moment the safe had opened. “Take it and go,” he instructed, not sure if this was even what she was after but not giving her a second to refuse as he shoved at her shoulder to get her moving and turned back to the safe. He shut it as she began to leave, rushing to put the painting back over it and giving the room a once over—catching the window she’d come through ajar, he eased that back shut and the door to the office too before he sprinted out of the house after Jamie.
He didn’t lock the back door, they’d already been caught. Must have been a camera on the outside, he hoped, and not in that office. Murphy could only hope they hadn’t caught his face on the film, knowing it was a death sentence if the Harper’s found him.
Jamie was going to fucking hear it for this half-baked plan and if they killed him, he was haunting her ass.
She was just about to her car when Murphy ran around the side of the house and onto the road, catching up to her just as she slipped into the driver’s side.
Murphy barely had time to fall into the seat before she was driving off, reaching for the door to close it as she sped away. He couldn’t be upset about that, he’d have done the same.
Panting for breath, it wasn’t until they’d put a few blocks between them and that fucking house that he finally growled, “You’re a fucking dumbass.” He moved in his seat, sitting properly and smoothing down his bright-ass yellow SpongeBob shirt before buckling his seatbelt as she blew through a stop sign. “How did they know we were there?” Murphy asked, and he had more insults to hurl at her, but he needed clarification on just how fucked he was first.
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Supernatural
Written by Jasmin.
75 posts.
17 years old.
gaaaay.
I am Female.
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Post by Jamie King on Jul 30, 2024 20:23:35 GMT
How had she not considered that there would be cameras? She’d rushed into this out of her own brattiness and pettiness and now her cousin was on the way and whilst Jamie was far from being a religious person she was praying that it was Alex and Alex only. If Murphy got caught… she’d never say it but she was worried for whatever that outcome could be. The best option would be them having to act like a couple which left a somewhat rancid taste in Jamie’s mouth. The other… no, no there was no other. They would have to be a horny teenage couple. Every other outcome would just lead to questions. Questions which she was in no position to sift her way through so that she and Murphy came out looking completely innocent.
What if… no, oh god, if Rose was there she’d see right through them. But no, no, of course she wouldn’t be, she was with Leon because who else would she spend her time with. Jamie needed to calm down and soothe that ebb and flow of a storm in her mind, Murphy’s fierce instruction to do just that caused her to shake her head quickly, strands of fiery hair flicking in the light as she forcibly moved her mind in an attempt to clear it.
She made sure she kept her eyes wide open, unwillingly to let them shut if at that very second Alex swung through the door and she wasn’t there to witness it. Instead she focused on Murphy’s sheer concentration. He could have ran just then. He could have abandoned her the second her heart beat began to raise. But, here he still was. There was a trace of a smile on her lips that would only be noticed by someone who knew her well enough to read the slight expressions she painted across the youthful lines of her face. There was probably less than a handful of people on this planet who’d be able to recognise it and as she stood there holding her breath, she realised that Murphy had fallen into that bracket of people.
That breath she’d been holding loosened in a ragged gasp when Murphy pulled the safe open. “Oh my god,” she got out, rushing to his side and taking a look at what lay behind all that lock and key. “Fuck,” she said a beat later at his reaction, his hairs standing to attention for a moment before drifting back down into place. In her own hands as she grabbed onto it with a ferocity and sturdiness she wasn’t sure she’d exhibited before, she felt nothing but a gentle simmer. A reassuring warmth and buzz. It felt like a hug from her dad. She blinked, a sudden wetness in her eyes that she wasn’t willing to let Murphy see. Whilst she could acknowledge to herself that they were friends, those sorts of raw emotions were still way off limits. If Murphy wasn’t shoving her there was every chance she would have sunk to the floor, savouring this moment of comfort before the inevitable repercussions of it all came to bite her in the ass. But they had to leave. No, they had to flee.
She moved, giving the room a scan to ensure they hadn’t left it in too much disarray before beelining for the door and shoving the box inside of her top so that if they were caught on camera it wouldn’t be immediately obvious as to what she’d done. She was on the move, the layout of the house so familiar from running around it with Rose when they were younger that she could have done it blindfolded. She was out of the door in seconds, grateful that they could both move so quickly. It could only have been a minute or so since Alex’s text but whilst her older cousin had taken a more serious approach to life recently thanks to baby Ellie, he was still one for pushing the speed limit as he enjoyed the thrill of testing life's boundaries.
The keys to her car were in her hand, pushing the button to unlock it with such force she was worried she’d poke a hole clean through the plastic and wiring. Her ass was in her car seat a second later, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she watched Murphy appear. Within the next heartbeat he was in her car, the door barely shut as she pulled away, the box nestled against her heart warmly. Her whole body felt on edge, whether it was from her father’s tails tucked against her chest or the close call they’d just had, she couldn’t say. From within she could feel a nervous bubble of laughter begin to build, ready to pour out from inside of her to try to distil some of the panic she’d just endured. The growling undercurrent in Murphy’s voice as she continued to steer their getaway car away from their break-in and the scene of the crime stilled that laughter. She flexed her fingers against the steering wheel, face scrunching up as she admitted “security cameras.” Her face was still scrunched, trying to put on a face which showed him that she’d admit this time she’d rushed into it and not thought that through when she turned to look at him. “I do have a solution but neither of us are going to enjoy it.” She offered as she finally slowed down at a red traffic light. Her solution made her feel sick to her stomach but it would get Alex off her back even if it would make their getaway seem a little suspicious. If she had to make-up a lie to throw her mum under the bus, she would.
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Supernatural
Written by Megan.
71 posts.
18 years old.
no thanks.
I am Male.
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Post by James Murphy on Aug 3, 2024 4:34:14 GMT
If it was possible to scan how fast thoughts were speeding through someone’s mind, the speedometer would ping over 100 miles per hour in Murphy’s head—he could hear internal sirens of fictional policemen in the back of his brain, his fingers curling tighter around where the seatbelt dug into his chest as his eyes cut to the passenger side mirror. He half expected the sirens to be real with the way Jamie was fleeing the scene, as if breaking and entering wasn’t enough on her rap sheet, she was going to get a speeding ticket too. Cameras. Cameras. He wanted to reach over and smack the back of her head—but he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate because he deserved one too. Why the hell did he go with her half-baked, seat of her pants plan? Fucking cameras. They were all gung-ho about climbing in a window that they hadn’t thought to glance around the perimeter for a goddamn Ring doorbell. Amaturers. It was pathetic. As much as he wanted to blame her, and he would always (she would never live this down), he also had fucking eyes. All he could do now was hope they hadn’t caught his face—Lord fucking knows there is no mistaking his nose or the neon yellow Spongebob shirt he hadn’t thought to cover up before challenging Jamie to a race to the house from the car. Dumbasses. The both of them.
If this came back on the pack, he was going to rip each of her fingernails off one by one and feed them to her.
He knew the chill in his glare conveyed his frustration, but his eyebrow perked up at her words. “I really don’t think any plan you have brewing up in that hollow fucking head of yours is going to solve our dilemma, fish for brains,” he huffed, dropping his hand to his lap and straightening upright in his seat as the sense of danger ebbed away with each mile they put between them and that god-forsaken hellhole of a house. “But let’s hear it,” because he needed to laugh at her, push the weight off his chest with a good chuckle at her stupidity. And there was a little, itty bitty part of his brain that chastised him for being so harsh on her, the singe of whatever was in that box against her chest still sending static across his skin. He was buzzing with electricity being so near to the contents, and he so badly wanted to ask and be nosey but he couldn’t bring the words to the tip of his tongue with the ferocious look of protection that stormed in the blues of her eyes.
He got it, he really did.
If Murphy could get a piece of his dad, anything tangible to remember him by, he’d do the same thing she had done. Reckless, feverish. Nothing would stop him either.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t hesitate to help. Yeah, that. Not because they’re friends or something stupid like that. Geez. It was just because he knew what it was to be without a father. And he wasn’t sympathizing with her because her dad was still alive, but it’s not like he had plans after work and she was the one driving the car. He wasn’t even convincing himself, he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to still deny the friendship they had cautiously cultivated. All he’d known for so long was Ashton and the home he’d given Murphy. Maybe part of him was afraid that if he accepted what him and Jamie had as an honest bond, he’d be betraying Ashton somehow.
But that was ridiculous. Murphy was never afraid of anything.
He wondered what she was going to say, a cool trickle of disgust pulling in his gut as he pieced together the look in her eye and what her words implied. No. No. She was not going to say what he was thinking she was going to say, was she? Ew. He nearly gagged, but swallowed it back, needing her to confirm his suspicions before he pulled out the dramatics.
Fake dating. That’s what everything in him was reading from her scrunched up face and rancid scent. He doubted anyone would buy it to begin with. He’s certain she’s a lesbian and yeah, he’s bi, but she is not his type. He has standards and they rank above a fish fox with anger issues. He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to confirm his fears as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel—the glow of the car turning from red to green as the light changed.
He didn’t know where they were going, where she was taking him, but he was along for the ride.
It’s not like he wanted to go home, not when he knew Erin must be there. Jade had sulked about needing to finish a project for art class the night before, promising to see Ashton this weekend once it was done. With Ms. Sunshine out of the picture, Storm Clouds always thundered into the cabin in her place and Murphy was growing sick of her presence. The longer she got away with the affair, the more insufferable she became. He’d once considered her a smidgen above acquaintance, but after she stole his shirt and fucked Ashton in it, he can’t stand to be around her.
He crinkled his nose at the thought of Erin, a real fucking whore of a girl and he didn’t trust her with a god damn grocery list, let alone a secret. Murphy didn’t care that Ashton was cheating. It wasn’t his business and it wasn’t his place to intervene—not that he would—but he was really fucking sick of Erin.
It was difficult to hold in the eye roll his thoughts provoked, but he kept his gaze level with Jamie, waiting for her to untangle her tongue and spit out this scheme.
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