god takes your soul, you're on your own
#1; biker gangs? really? like... seriously? (sons of anarchy au)
Nik bangs the gavel, once, twice, thrice, and Damon stamps his cigarette out on the heel of his boot. "This murder thing is getting tedious." the dark haired man says, shrugging into his leather jacket, "Do we really have to kill every low life crack dealer in Mystic Falls?" he turns his eerie blue eyes on his President, the head of the club's table. The man with the cards, the plans, the weapons, and the scores to settle.
Nik glances at him, flicking his own cigarette. He blows a steady stream of smoke out of his mouth before answering, snidely, "Do you have to question every order I give, Vice?" he questions, eyeballing the patch on Damon's leather club jacket.
"You know, Nik, he has a point. What'd this guy even do, besides pollute the air with his crack breath and meth pipe smoke?" Stefan questions from Nik's other side. He leans back in his chair, kicks his feet onto the table, eyeballs Rebekah standing at the bar, tilting a beer at him. Nik rolls his eyes, used to the disgustingly sweet Stefan and Rebekah show.
Nik thinks on Stefan's comments for a moment before deciding to give a half truth, "He stuck his filthy paws up Caroline's skirt last night. Any other questions?"
Damon and Stefan exchange a glance, Stefan making his patented I-really-don't-have-a-problem-with-killing-whoever-we're-killing-today-so-I-don't-know-why-you're-complaining-Damon-I-mean-you're-so-ridiculous-it's-just-murder face, Damon lighting another cigarette, both shrugging their shoulders. Because it's a known rule. It's a law, rather. A hand laid on a club leader's woman is a hand wrapped around your throat. Nik couldn't count on one hand how many throats Damon had slit for a man looking at Katherine wrong, and then there was Rebekah. He was pretty sure Stefan was some kind of serial killer with the amount of followers the Rebekah fan cult had.
This is was only slightly different. Caroline wasn't some cute little bubblegum pop candy cane licking sweetheart he'd picked up on the side of the road. She was his Queen, the blonde head ruling at his side. His lady. His woman. The princess.
And he'd kill any man brave enough, or dumb enough, to even think of laying a finger on her.
A rusty knife, a cracked meth pipe, a bucket of bleach, one length of rope, a roll of duct tape, a bloodied blue tarp, and six hours later, Nik closes the back door of Caroline's borrowed sedan, dusting his hands off. Damon leans against the black sedan, smoking, "That little shit spit blood on my shirt," he gripes to himself, scrubbing a hand at his black t-shirt. Stefan is further down the road, on the phone, listening to Rebekah complain about his lack of commitment and his lack of restraint in committing murders without her. "I wanted to slit his throatttt." Nik can hear her whine.
He pushes off of the sedan, claps Damon on the shoulder, and climbs into the car. "I'm going to get Caroline, find your own ways home." he tells the brothers before gunning the engine, smirking. In the rear view mirror, Damon and Stefan lift twin middle fingers in his direction.
Half an hour later, Nik finds himself pushing the drivers seat all the way down, Caroline wiggling out of her skirt on top of him, elbow smashing into the horn. She giggles, tossing her skirt away, leaning down to press her cherry red lips against his, and oh god, she's only seventeen but the way she moves. He groans, gripping her hips as she rocks above him. She yanks at his belt, eyes begging him, and he hastily complies, jerking the button of his jeans open. And just as he's pealing them off, and Caroline is flicking her hair back, licking at her lips, lifting her shirt over her head, she pauses—
—eyes widening, lips parting, nostrils flaring.
"Is there a body in the back of my sedan?!" she shrieks.
up next: a once upon a time au