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kunimikat · 4 years ago

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How they act after you break up with them.

(I made sure to check but there might be small grammar errors, and this is a long one so strap in 🙇, but hope you enjoy angst+fluff here) but not me actually feeling bad for them after-

Is more out of it then usual.

The reason you broke up with him is because you felt like it wasn’t a real relationship. And more like you sometimes got to talk during class, and sometimes out of school.

He writes in his a separate notebook of ways he could’ve done better

Starts comparing himself to other guys more often

Leaves earlier then everyone else to got to dorms.

Mumbles even more then usual, and sometimes the only person that can snap him out of it is Aizawa.

Sometimes takes it out on his friends

“Hey Deku!-“

“Not right now Uraraka.”

“Oi, Deku nerd, the-“

“Can you not right now Kacchan?”

“HAAH?-“

“Midoryia! Would you like to study?”

“Maybe later Iida...”

Todoroki offered him soba but it resulted in Midoriya slowly slurping up soba as he looked into the void of people

He shut everyone one out and didn’t talk barely most of the week.

He’d take out a lot of his anger during training.

It somehow finally clicks into place how bad you feel and how much you miss him when All Might pull you aside and asks. “Uhhh...Is Young Midoriya ok? I’m getting real worried....ITS NOT LIKE I DONT WORRY ABOUT MY OTHER STUDENTS HAHAHA! HOW’S-

There’s 15 minutes of your life awkwardly telling All Might how all your classmates are doing.

Which made you want to jump off the top of UA at the moment.

You decide to head to his dorm and ask him about it, cause you feel like it’s your fault.

You walk in on him crying, clutching the shirt you bought for him on his birthday.

You almost dropped to your knees in guilt at the sight

You rushed over and sat by him, comforting him, though it wasn’t much as you started crying too.

Basically a crying festival for an hour.

“Please....Please Y/N I love you so much, I promise I’ll make it work, and I’ll do my best to make it up to you, just please...PLEASE don’t leave me.” You kiss him on the lips and then his hand, “Babe it’s not all on you, I promise I’ll do better this time too, I’m so sorry for being selfish, I love you, ok?” Another crying fest.

After you start dating again:

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, and checks into your dorm before he starts a study session.

Helps you with your work before his. ( Though you insist he doesn’t as he’s gotten points off multiple times for turning in his work late.)

Goes on dates every time you have some free space in your schedules. Somehow ends up in an All Might merch shop 80% of the time.

!!CUDDLE SESSIONS AFTER HERO TRAINING AT ALL TIMES!! Even in Recovery Girl’s office, though many times she bops you both on the head and tells you to get out.

(If you both like All Might) You both geek out over new All Might stuff, and his old interviews while wearing an All Might onesies.

(If you like a different hero) You could spend hours bickering on who’s best hero, pulling up recordings and articles on the. With you holding your favorite hero plushie and him wearing All Might pajamas.

And waking up early just to take a long route to school together.

Makes sure to say ‘I love you’ at every small moment, and compliments you, though he can’t take compliments himself-

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“I...I understand, but why?”

Tears well up in his eyes and he for once he keeps eye contact with you, without looking away

It takes everything in you to not breakdown

“I’m sorry Izuku, I just don’t think it’ll work out in the end.” He grabs your hand and holds it both of his. He puts it to his forehead, nearly on his knees at this point. You try not to cry with him, but you knew it wasn’t going to end up a happily ever after in the end. And you wanted to break it off before that could happen.

“Izuku, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I wish it couldn’t end like this-“

“Then don’t let it. Please Y/N don’t let this end.”

You eyes welled up as you put a hand over your mouth while repeating ‘I’m sorry, so sorry Izuku’. You looked away from him as you slipped your hand out of his, you close your eyes painfully, the tears finally running down your face. You couldn’t help but look back one more time, and almost wanted to run to where he was and take it all back. He sat on his knees, his head in his hands as painful sobs wracked his body. You quickly leave the room, shutting the door behind you.

You both were pretty quiet and emotionless the whole week.

Midoriya was even worse then before,

It got to the point where sometimes he didn’t eat or sleep

He barely responded to anything anyone said

Hell, even Bakugo was worried at some point

Midoriya would always go back to his dorm and cuddle with the gifts you gave him while you were dating.

It took a long time for him to get over it, and even when he thought it did, he still gets emotional over it

Even after highschool it pains him to see your off doing your own thing without you at his side the whole time

Quieter then usual

Is so deep in thought, sometimes forgets he’s in class or what he’s doing

During tests, or while working on assignments he’d be so deep in thought he didn’t realize he broke his pencil, or used his quirk on his desk

Instead of having his usual outburst on people he’d just walk off, or click his tounge and walk off

Even during Hero Lessons he’d be less calculated, and not as pumped up

When anyone tried to ask he’d just say “Fuck off, I’m fine.”

His grades slightly dropped

He had bags under his eyes, and had even worse posture then usual

When it came time to leave, he’d be the first one out, and no one could find out where he’d go

A permanent frown was on his face at all times (basically him most of time but with a deeper frown)

No one knew what to do at this point

It didn’t click with you until one day during Hero Lessons

He was sparring with Kirishima and all of a sudden he fainted

Everyone was surprised to say the most

You rushed with Kirishima to Recover Girls office

You both almost busted the door off it’s hinges

She wacked you both on the head but quickly tended to Bakugo, surprising you both as she checked on him

“Oh....I wouldn’t have expected this from Bakugo.” You and Kirishima had confused looks on your faces. “Well he passed out from exhaustion, which I usually see with that foolish Midoriya boy. This one usually keeps up with himself, something must’ve happened.” She cut herself off as she saw the look on your face that said it all. She beckons Kirishima to follow her out, as he still wasn’t getting what was happening.

You finally got a good look at him, and saw just how exhausted he looked. The bags under his eyes, his bruised body, and how pained he looked in his sleep. You hugged the non-bruised part of his arm, and finally let the tears you held let go. “I’m sorry Katsuki...I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Before you realized he woke up, he placed his free hand on your head, rubbing small and soothing circles on your head. “S’okay, let’s make this work.” You knew you didn’t have to say anything else as you both stayed like that until Recovery Girl came in to kick you both out.

After you start dating again:

Comes to your dorm everyday to get you up knowing you’d oversleep if he didn’t (also wants to see your sleeping face...not in a weird way)

Cooks you breakfast in bed on off days,

You guys cook something together when you have a movie night

Instead of yelling most times, he just makes sure he understands your side of everything before jumping to conclusions

Makes sure he isn’t too rough with you verbally (lol not sure physically)

Brings you to his parents house during some free time since you get along with his mom and dad well

Won’t admit it but adores the fact that his parents love you

Whispers ‘I love you’ when he’s made sure your ‘sleeping’ (you’re not, you just wanna hear him say it all shy like)

You guys go on training dates, where you both train together, then have a picnic where you just trained

Him being more open with PDA, like holding your hand, or laying his head on your shoulder, etc. just small stuff

He loves playing with your hair and twisting it around his fingers while cuddling or studying

You both cheer on your favorite hero during a fight on TV, or you pick a random channel on TV and you just listen to him rant how stupid something is while you lean onto his shoulder at 2am (somehow got him to stay up this late)

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“No...no...you can’t, you can’t be serious”

He sounded so broken. His fists clutched so hard you thought his bones would pop out

Anger was evident in his face, and he honestly scared you with the face he was making

“Y/N....are you joking?” You frown and step back a little, did he really think everything you said was a joke? “No Bakugo, I just think this isnt gonna work out in the end.” You heard him click his tongue, then just look at you in shock, then anger. He looked down, his bangs covering his expression. “So you’re just gonna end it like that? No working anything out, just break up? It was one fucking mistake Y/N.”

“Yeah one big mistake, you don’t suck faces with some other person on accident, Bakugo.” The venom in your voice slicing through the tension filled air. “Can you just fucking forgive me? I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time, Katsuki, then you go and clown off again-“

Before you could get anything else out Bakugo already had his quirk going in one hand, and the other holding your shoulder down. You both looked surprised, even as he backed away. “No..nononono fuck Y/N baby I’m sorry-” you smacked the hand that reached out for you. You started packing everything, Bakugo’s eyes widened as he just stood in shock. Before he knew it you were leaving already.

“N...NO NO Y/N PLEASE, I’M SORRY-“ he grabbed you by the arm that reached for the door knob. You quickly shrugged him out of his grasp, and opened the door. “Goodbye Bakugo, I hope well for the next person with you.” And you slammed it in his face. He stood there, it’s like the emotions he felt before were completely wiped when you slammed the door on him. It was 8:03pm, he should start getting ready for bed anyway.

For a few weeks he was unresponsive, and only talked when he needed to

His movements were sluggish and he’d often stare at nothing

Bakugo didn’t even glare, or really do anything when Midoriya tried talking him

Or shittyhair, dunce face, raccoon eyes, or soy sauce face

They were all the same, and just molded into one voice every time someone tried talking to him

After a while he got over it, but he still regrets what he did

You helped him through so much yet he went off and did stupid shit

Even after highschool, he’d still keep up on you frequently through social media

Basically stalking you on there, guessing he never truly got over it once he felt tears subconsciously stream down his face as he saw you with someone else, happier.

He felt like he didn’t do anything wrong, and he was confused at the throb in his heart every time you looked away from him or ignored him.

So he did ask you, and all you did was look at him like he just hit you.

Why did you look so hurt?

Todoroki shrugged it off, thinking you’d come back like you did after every fight you guys had

But you didn’t, and that’s what took an actual toll on him

More emotional

A permanent frown on his pretty features most of the time

All he mostly eats is soba

He didn’t know how to handle this in all honesty

Sometimes he’d just stare at you, and even when you looked back he’d just stare...

Sometimes he’s so out of it he doesn’t realize he’s either froze the entire classroom or was a living breathing radiator, or both (rip Momo, Satou, and Tokoyami)

He’d ask Midoryia for help but it came out as a fumbled mess most of the time:

“Midoryia...how do you hurt....them, a lot...without...? Can you help?

Midoryia is just like:

(Sorry I had to add that in I was cackling sm from it)

“I think you should just talk to them Todoroki.”

That was harder to do then he expected, you mangaged to avoid him pretty well,

One day he was just fed up and as soon as the bell rang he took your hand and left the class

He takes you to an empty classroom, his left side nearly giving you frostbite

You were about to yell at him before you saw his broken expression

“What...what did I do for it to be like this?” You we’re now quiet as you saw the confused and hurt expression on his face. Him barely being able to control either of his quirks, he was shaking, yet still held a confused expression. It just clicked with you, Todoroki wasn’t used to the sudden emotions or feelings, and when one of the people he’d usually go to to talk about it wasn’t there, he started to crumble.

You hugged him tightly , not caring if his quirks messed up your uniform. “I’m sorry Y/N....I’m sorry I’m not enough, but-“ You cover his mouth as tears fell from your eyes and onto the ground or his uniform. “I- I-I’m so sorry Todo...it’s just you never gave me affection and I was being so selfish and petty about it, I just- I didn’t realize that you went through your own experience for it to turn out like this. It’s not your fault, and I love you the way you are Shoto.” Todoroki didn’t even notice the tears come down his face as you kissed him over and over again. A small ‘I’m sorry’ from you every time. His quirks calmed down and now you were holding each other in a random classroom. You’re heart nearly stopped as you looked up at him and saw a small, teary eyed smile.

After you start Dating again:

Todoroki was much more observant

He’d stay up late readings articles saying “How to understand emotions” or “Is there other good food then Cold Soba” wait-

Regularly gets you gifts, even though most of the time you make him return the stuff since he’s been getting so much with his dads card

Endeavor ended up yelling at you both in a 7/11 while you were stuffing your faces with a soba flavored chips

You both figured out a way to get Todoroki to express himself without words

He’d slightly activate his left side if he wanted any sort of attention, and his right side was if he was feeling stressed or upset

He subconsciously goes to your dorm now to check up on you to make sure you’ve had a glass of water, dinner or anything really (He just wanted a reason to go to your dorm)

You played with his hair once, and he’s never going back

When cuddling he’d lay his head in the crook of your neck, hoping to feel you playing with his hair

You push him to start taking therapy sessions to understand what emotions he’s feeling and how to express them

Takes you in your free time to an empty field just to hear you talk, and learn more about you

And he’d always wake up early and made sure to get a few snacks for you before you woke up and brought them to your dorm room (Last time he tried to cook he almost burned the kitchen down)

Overall Todoroki just loves giving you small head pats now, you don’t know where it came from but you didn’t complain

Poor bby stuttered so hard the first time he said ‘I love you’ you giggled

Ended up making him feel embarrassed and like he did something wrong, but you quickly kissed him/praised him

He can’t stop saying it now, one time you picked up his pencil, before you could hand it to him just a sudden “I love you Y/N” the entire class looked at you both in shock

“STOP SUCKING FACES OVER THERE!”

“SHUT UP BAKUGO”

“HAAAH?”

Todoroki is the happiest he’s been.

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“Over? What do you mean we’re over?”

You felt so horrible by the the pure confusion on his face

But the rude things he said to you, over powering your want to get back with him

Lately Todoroki has been more protective, and rude. Insulting everything you do, belittling you slightly. It just added up and you were tired of it

Todoroki tilted his head to the side, deep in thought.

“Y/N your being on the dumber side again, are you hanging out with them too much?” You were taken aback by how nonchalantly he insulted you and your friends. “Excuse me? Todoroki did I hear you right?” You stepped foward leaning your head toward him. “Of course you can, or did Bakugo’s yelling make you not hear so well?” The fact he said it with no emotion, or nothing to it was making you clench your fist. “The hell has gotten into you Todoroki?” You shove his shoulder a bit. He frowned at you heavily making you flinch. “Well if you didn’t go and ignore me most of this week maybe I wouldn’t be like this. I usually hold my tongue but you’ve been rude this entire week.”

You stood there speechless. “Well Ex-fucking-cuse me Shoto. Maybe if you didn’t insult me all the damn time I wouldn’t ignore you, or wait for an decent apology.”

You drag out the last words as you glared at him, Todoroki giving one back. “I’m only telling the truth so you don’t look dumb. I’m helping you out Y/N, I thought you’d understand.” You scoff in utter shock, you couldn’t help the sudden urge to slap some sense into him. Now he stood speechless, the force in that slap causing his hair to look messy, and a red mark on his cheek. Tears were in your eyes as you clenched your fist, biting your lip from cussing him out on the spot. “Your lucky I don’t beat your sorry ass, just...just the the fuck out Todoroki!” You pushed him toward the door. He looked at you with no emotion in his face as he saw you start to bawl your eyes out. “Just...just get the hell out Todoroki, it’s over, we’re over.” He felt a pang in his heart, but choose to ignore it and just left.

It only actually came to him during the night as he was about to walk to your dorm after a nightmare, when he realized the entire conversation

He tried knocking on your door but you didn’t answer, even though he could hear your music

He went back to his dorm, sat on his bed and just had a full mental breakdown

Realizing his main emotional support that helped him through mostly everything was gone

He felt he said stuff his father said to you already which made it even worse

He tried texting and calling you but you had him blocked on everything

He repeated the entire conversation in his head, just now coming to how disgusting he really did sound

Todoroki for that whole week was an emotional wreck

During hero training if he was thinking about you or what he did he doesn’t notice poor Satou trying to get out of his wall of Ice.

Is always with Midoryia at some given time,

He kind of clinged onto people in his circle that gave him attention of some sort

When he some time passed he eventually got over it

After Highschool you both kept in touch, but it pained him when he saw you engaged and happy with another person

But he was happy if you were happy.

Heyyy so this is probably the longest thing I’ve written since like my last Wattpad fanfics I used to do(yikes). But hope you enjoy, and don’t be afraid to request! I’m taking them now so go wild.

Sorry that they were all confusing it’s my first hcs+scenario thingy, but I have a few other things in the works so... 💃🕺

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ejzah · 4 years ago

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Can you do a fanfic of Kensi and Deeks facing their worst nightmare when during a case one of the bad guys kidnaps their newborn baby.

A/N: So I decided to modify this a bit because I feel like Kensi and Deeks have been through enough when it comes to children. Even so, there’s a fair amount of drama and such and a wee bit of hurt-comfort. Oh yes, and David Kessler makes another appearance.

***

Finish What You Start

Deeks muttered to himself as he typed up a report. The bullpen was empty beside himself; Sam and Callen were attending bomb disposal recertification class and Kensi was at home with their three month old, Caleb. Fatima and Rountree were somewhere around the place, likely trying to on up the other.

He had a picture of Kensi and Caleb on his phone, which was the only thing that got him through the long hours some days.

“Deeks, a call just came through OPS. It’s David Kessler,” Eric announced suddenly, appearing at the top of the stairs, and breaking the the peaceful silence.

“What? How the hell did he get this number?” Deeks demanded. After nearly a year and a half, Kessler had been once again relegated to the back of his mind. They hadn’t heard or seen anything of him since escaping from prison.

“No idea, but he’s asking for you. I told him you weren’t available and he said you’d want to speak with him.” Eric’s voice was terse, to the point as it only was in the most serious of situations. “He says he won’t speak to anyone else.”

At that, something twisted inside Deeks and he stood abruptly, jogging up the steps. Eric followed beside him, matching him step for step. When they entered OPS, Deeks gestured for Eric to put the call through to his cell

“Are you tracing him?”

“Of course.” Deeks nodded at Eric’s confirmation and then placed the phone to his ear.

“This is Agent Martin Deeks,” he said. From the little he’d seen and heard of David Kessler, he enjoyed being in control, and Deeks wasn’t about to give it to him.

“Congratulations,” Kessler responded, sounding amused. “I heard you got a promotion. Kensi must be so proud.”

Clenching his fist around the phone, resisting the urge to react to Kessler’s goading. The sound of him saying Kensi’s name made Deeks stomach turn.

“You said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Oh, that’s no fun Marty. Is it ok if I call you Marty, or would you prefer Deeks? Or maybe “baby”. Kensi calls you that a lot.”

So he’d been watching them, or at the very least had a source who new enough about them to feed Kessler information. He glanced at Eric, who shook his head and held up three fingers. The needed to keep him on for at least 30 more seconds.

“Kessler, you have exactly 10 seconds to tell me what you want or I’m hanging up,” Deeks warned him.

“You know, Kensi has always been very strong-willed,” Kessler responded, competing ignoring Deeks’ threat. “A strong man would know how control his wife.”

“Oh my god, you are so delusional.”

Kessler made a unintelligible noise and when he spoke again, his voice was low, on the edge of anger. It was clear he was trying to maintain his control.

“You have a nice little family, Deeks. Cute kid, pretty wife. It would be a shame if something happened to them while you were off playing hero.”

Eric swore loudly and when Deeks turned towards him, he saw him staring at his computer screen with a mixture of horror and anger.

“Deeks, he’s right outside your house,” he hissed. Deeks froze for a moment and then was filled with an overwhelming wave of anger. By the time he was at the sliding doors, his hands were shaking a little. Eric didn’t ask where he was going or what he planned to do.

“Personally I’ve never found men who think they have to control anybody particularly impressive,” Deeks said.

Somehow he managed to keep his voice steady as he ran down the stairs, and tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. Time seemed to be moving in uneven spurts; one second he was by his desk and the next, he was by his truck. He muted his phone briefly as he turned the key in the ignition, hoping to keep Kessler talking for as long as possible.

He revved the engine, climbing to 75 miles before he flicked the sound back on.

“What, no comment? I didn’t think you’d give up that easily.”

“No, not giving up. I was just thinking, imagining, what I’ll do to Kensi,” Kessler said a little dreamily. “All the unexplored things you’re clearly to afraid to do. I think she’ll be easy to subdue.”

“If you truly believe that, then you don’t know Kensi at all. She can take your sorry ass out quicker than you can say “mommy issues”.

His phone beeped and he lowered it, glancing at the text Eric had sent.

“I tried calling Kensi, but her phone is going straight to voicemail. Rountree, Fatima, and LAPD are all on their way.”

Deeks’ stomach dipped again. Kessler must have some kind of signal blocker. He was about ten minutes out from their house now.

“Yes, but children make women weak, soft. Kensi’s a mother now, not a federal agent. I give her two minutes.” As Kessler spoke, Deeks heard the sound of a car door slamming. “You know, I’ve always wanted to have a child to mold and make my own.”

Deeks slammed the gas pedal to the ground, blasting through a red light, just narrowly missing a blue sedan.

“Kessler,” he growled, voice shaking with rage and fear. The thought of him near Kensi and the baby terrified him. Kensi was strong, but he knew she would do anything to keep Caleb safe.

“See you soon, Agent Deeks,” Kessler said and then the phone clicked loudly in Deeks’ ear.

“Son-of-a-!” Deeks shouted, slamming the phone against the dashboard as a half-sob tightened his throat. Even though he knew she wouldn’t pick up, he dialed Kensi’s number, swiping under his nose while he sped through busy intersections and swerved around slower vehicles.

It took seven minutes to reach their. Seven minutes too long. He swerved into the driveway, leaving his truck idling as he raced to the front door, slipping his gun from his waistband.

He turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked and his broke out in goosebumps as he walked in. Quickly glancing around, he noticed a table was overturned in the living room and several glasses and what looked like a platter were scattered across the floor.

There was a loud banging noise from above, like someone had knocked into a wall or thrown something, followed by a shout that he distinctly recognized as Kensi’s voice.

“Kensi!” Deeks called out without thinking as he raced for the stairs. He made it to the top landing when he heard a single gunshot coming from their bedroom. He jerked as though the bullet had pierced his body and he rocked back on his feet slightly.

Deeks stumbled to the door and yanked it open, desperately scanning the room. David Kessler lay in a crumpled heap a few feet from their bed. He was face down and blood was beginning to seep from beneath his body. Based on the hold in the middle of his back, he was almost certainly dead.

“Kensi,” he repeated more quietly, desperately.

“I’m over here,” she answered quietly. He found her on the other side of the bed, wedges against the crib, with Caleb cradled in her arms, head bent over him. Caleb was sleeping peacefully, his mouth slightly rounded as he breathed deeply.

“Are you ok? Is Caleb ok?” He kneeled in front of them, reaching out, but hesitating to touch them at the last second. Kensi nodded slowly, finally looking up.

“I made sure he didn’t lay a finger on Caleb,” she said hoarsely.

“Oh my god, Kens,” he whispered. Her lip was split and there was a nasty gash along her temple, blood trickling into her hair. Deeks noticed the beginnings of what looked like several bruises too and saw that her the collar of her shirt was torn.

“I’m fine.” She shook her head jerkily, her fingers closing around his chest. He grasped her forearms, gently tugging her into his arms as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When he opened them again, he pressed his lips to Kensi’s forehead and then carefully bent forward to brush the lightest of kisses to Caleb’s cheek. His upper lip twitched, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“He’s finally gone,” Kensi whispered, her fingers grasping at his hand. They held each other, clinging to one another as the distant sound of sirens filled the air.

***

A/N: After talking it through with @mashmaiden, I decided that Kensi and Deeks live about 15 minutes from the mission and the streets were magically clear on this particular day.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #Kessler the creep #drama #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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langdxn · 5 years ago

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sanctum part ii | outpost!michael x reader

SUMMARY: Michael Langdon lost everything on the journey to Outpost 3, including his own sanity.

WARNINGS: Angst. Just a load of angst.

WORDS: 1.8k

A/N: Sanctum was the very first thing I wrote here, all the way back in October last year. Back by popular demand, here’s my oldest form of Outpost!Michael going through it pretty badly. I apologise for how crap this is, I’m trying to get back into the swing of things so it’s definitely not perfect!

read part i here

“Good evening, Mr Langdon,” Venable spat through trembling lips, hurrying out of his office without a backward glance, the glow of the fireside glittering against the tear tracks from her eyes. Venable skirted past a stiffened Ms Mead, frozen in the doorway staring at the blonde practically buzzing with confidence.

“Sir,” Mead scowled, curtly sliding the door closed.

The sudden silence allowed Langdon a moment to bask in his victory; reducing the once stern Venable to a quivering wreck beneath his palms, outlining her spine as if tracing the outline of her very soul.

Michael’s eyes draped closed, his chin tilted to the ceiling, a deep sigh swelled and eased through his lungs.

His senses greeted a tranquility he had lost the moment he entered Outpost 3. A stillness that he had last embraced when he held his wife.

For all the joyful psychological torture of Venable’s conscience, he had neglected to think of his family, lost to the toxic fog above ground. A stone sank in his chest which he could’ve sworn moments earlier was his heart.

Suddenly, a child’s playful giggles shattered the stillness. Michael’s eyes burst open, scouring the room for the source of the sound. Spinning on his heels, his coat tails swooped recklessly behind him as he turned, but he found nothing. Nothing but the peacefully ebbing fire in the far corner.

Defeated, he rinsed his face with his hands, dipping his fingertips into his eye sockets as if to cleanse his stupor.

—

Andre Stevens came for interview the next morning, brimming with insults and digs at his mother Dinah, hoping his degradation of her character would earn himself a place in the Sanctuary. Andre’s evidence rambled on so long, Michael’s attention had waned.

As he leaned back in his rigid desk chair, pressing his temples fervently, Michael felt a sudden tug on his coat tail, as if small fingers had pulled it for attention.

“Not now Asta, daddy’s working,” Michael cooed gently, his gaze firing down to his side but again, finding nothing but a length of deep burgundy fabric draped over the edge.

“Mr—Mr Langdon,” Andre stuttered through shallow, mocking breaths. “I know I’m pleading for my life here, but there’s no way in hell I’m calling you daddy.”

Michael gasped suddenly, shaking his head and focusing on the visibly nervous man in the chair opposite.

“Forgive me, Mr…”

“S... Stevens,” he muttered under his breath as his eyes narrowed, keen to gauge Langdon’s response.

“Mr Stevens, could you please excuse me?” Michael jolted to his feet, outstretching a dismissive hand toward the door. “I have some urgent business to attend.”

“More... more urgent than my interview?” Andre faltered as he rose, taking tentative steps to exit while fixing his gaze on the stern blonde.

“I’m afraid so,” Michael swallowed hard, pacing hurriedly to the door and sliding it in Andre’s concern-stricken face.

Still grasping the wooden portal between his trembling fingers, he turned and slammed his back to the door. Frantically scanning the room, Michael’s eyes darted from corner to corner, lingering on the shadows beneath his desk.

“Asta?” Michael queried into the dark under the table, half-crouching as he paced forward tentatively. Clearing his throat, he adopted a soft, childish tone. “Astaroth, is that you?”

Taking one wide lunge toward the desk, his eyes adjusted to the pitch black crevice and discovered only the legs of his chair lay in the darkness.

Pursing his lips tightly, fusing them together with rage as he straightened up, Michael calmly grasped a file from the desk. Swiping the manila between his fingers, the slick but cool surface slipping through them, he tightened his grip and swiped to one side, casting the file into the fire.

“Fuck!” He roared viciously, a feral scowl skewing his lips as he clasped his face with both hands. Digging his nails into his cheeks, he clawed aimlessly at himself to dispel the thoughts that had so vehemently clouded his common sense.

Outpost 3 held memories more painful than Michael Langdon had first credited, but how could it manipulate the closer sentimental values? The events after his time at Hawthorne, the events leading up to his return to the hallowed halls of his school? The family he began before the end of the world, the family he left behind in Outpost 2. The family he saw suffering on his journey to California, covered in cancerous tumours, facing deaths he could not control. Not this time.

—

“Mr Langdon,” Emily nervously filled the silence as she walked beside Michael through the bronzed Outpost corridors. “What’s it like out there? What happened to the other Outposts?”

“That’s classified information as well you know, Ms Campbell,” Michael hummed, hands clasped studiously behind his back as he made his way to the library. “It’s best you stay uninformed of the reality above ground. Ignorance is bliss, after all.”

“That’s nonsense as you well know, Mr Langdon,” she spat back, each syllable laced with pent-up anger growing impatient with Langdon’s unreasonably calm demeanour as they turned into another identical corridor. “We need to know, don’t we? If some of us are staying here to face certain death, don’t we deserve to know what to expect in our final moments?”

“Ms Campbell, I don’t see—“

Michael cut off as his eyes fell on a small figure at the far end of the hallway. His idle pacing halted abruptly, gaze fixed on the child ahead of him. A smiling toddler braced to run away, curly blonde locks tumbling from his head like a waterfall. Upon seeing Michael, the little boy skirted around the next corner and out of sight.

“Langdon?” Emily stalled and stared intently at the man frozen with fear. Suddenly, Michael broke into a run, chasing after the boy as he heard a child’s jolly chuckles echo down the next hallway.

“Asta, wait!” Michael cried out, hands lunging for the walls as he swung around the corner. As his eyes adjusted to the new wooden pathway, he saw no trace of the boy.

“Langdon, what’s wrong?” Emily called out, her satin dress loudly crinkling as she tried to keep pace behind him. Turning the corner, she found Michael sliding down the wall, his face desperately plunged between his knees as he collided with the floor. Quivering fingers combed through his blonde waves, balling into fists and tugging furiously at his lengths. Weak wails slipped through his quaking lips in futile response.

Desperate. Losing his mind. Losing himself.

—

“He’s been acting so strange today,” Andre called around the dinner table. Michael eavesdropped silently from the hallway, lingering in the shadows. “He’s calling out for someone, some Astor?”

“Did he arrive with somebody else?” Emily enquired, aiming her query at the authorities at the table. “Did someone else come in with him, Ms Venable?”

“Our security is impregnable, there was no companion with Langdon upon arrival.”

Frustrated grunts flooded the dining hall from all angles.

“That’s bullshit!” Cried one voice.

“Stop lying to us!” Yelled another.

“Just quit it, all of you,” exclaimed Gallant in the brief gap in conversation. “This guy’s here to save our asses, one way or another, so if he’s being weird then all we have to do is,” he sighed, taking a sip of his drink and swallowing harshly. “Bend over and take it.”

—

Michael stumbled recklessly through his office door and raised a furious hand behind him, an invisible force slamming the heavy wooden screens shut with an almighty bang. Using the crash to conceal his despair, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. If he had any energy left in his shell of a body, he would have wept aloud, cried his office down, wailed so loud the entire Outpost would bear witness to his insanity.

Between sombre, silent sobs and his pulse thundering in his ears, Michael heard the familiar child’s laughter again.

Closer this time, as if right above his crumpled form pooled on the floorboards.

Too broken, Michael could not bear to lift his head. Too weak, he could not bring himself to face disappointment again. Too far gone, he chose to appeal to the only sense he knew remaining.

“Father,” he called out into the void between his fingers, his once forceful voice breaking jaggedly. “I think I’m going crazy.”

The playful giggles intensified, as if slipping through lips smiling from ear to ear. Michael dug his fingers deeper into his forehead, clawing helplessly at his own skin desperate to reach the source of his hallucinations.

“Father, he’s everywhere I turn. How can he be? He died, he perished up there,” a hand raised to the ceiling. “No doubt followed by his brother and their beautiful, brilliant mother. They took my heart with them.”

The laughter became louder, Michael screwed his eyes closed until his vision blurred to rainbows, erratic and unfinished, never leading anywhere.

“Father, why can I still see him?” Michael cried, both exasperated and exhausted. “Why is it like he’s still ali—“

A hand fell atop Michael’s head, tiny fingers delving into his tussled hair. He flinched away instinctively, tumbling onto his back and forcing his eyes open. His gaze fell upon a blonde boy towering above him, a beaming smile spread across his face exposing tiny, brilliant white teeth. Michael blinked hard to wish away the apparition, only to open his eyes and see the boy still there, giggling wildly.

“Ast... Astaroth?!” He cried in disbelief, extending a hand to touch the angelic yellow curls on his head, sifting through them to feel the sensation between his fingertips. They felt real, they moved with his digits and tumbled back down as he pulled away. “Is it really you?”

The boy grinned, another blissfully innocent chuckle bursting free from him.

Michael lunged forward and scooped up the child, squeezing him in his embrace and staggering to his feet.

“Astaroth Mephistopheles Langdon,” Michael wept joyfully into the child’s hair as he stood with the boy in his arms. “You’re really here!”

“He’s getting too good at this,” a female voice joined from a dark corner of his office, followed by gentle clicking of heels crossing the room to join them. Michael’s heart soared, his cries melting into laughter as he turned to see the woman standing before him.

“Salire per spatium, jumping through space,” she continued, a wide smile stretching out her every syllable. “Our boy is already more advanced than a teenage warlock. He’s going to be a real handful in middle school.”

“My darling,” Michael cooed, extending an arm toward her and drawing her into his embrace. “He’s the son of the Antichrist, what did you expect?”

Bumping his forehead against hers, Michael inhaled as deep as his lungs could handle.

“How did you—,” Michael stuttered frantically, shaking his head against hers. “I saw you, our boy was dead and you asked me to...”

“I saw that lady too, on the way here,” she sighed solemnly, a hand protectively brushing through her son’s blonde locks. “She asked me the same thing.”

“And... did you?”

A tear rolled softly down her cheek.

“No.”

#outpost!michael x reader #outpost!michael #outpost!michael angst #michael langdon #cody fern fanfiction

124 notes · View notes

dastardlydandelion · 4 years ago

Note

Please post the sickfic prompt turned corpse disposal. 😂

sure! that one’s p bloodless, i can post that one.

ao3 link

content warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced spousal abuse, minimally described fresh dead body, illness description

Billy isn’t sick.

Billy doesn’t get sick. He really doesn’t. Hasn’t had so much as a cold in years, albeit he’s claimed one as cover here and there whenever coke overuse made him maybe sorta sniffly and Neil started to eye him up like he might be suspicious.

Billy isn’t sick.

If he’s feeling achy, well, he’s just sore because Neil laid the belt on him pretty hard two days ago after he got sent home from school midday Monday, written up and suspended. If he’s coughing, well, it’s just because he’s been smoking more than usual. Neil’s been stressed out lately, so that means Billy’s stressed out too.

“No,” his father says sharply when Billy takes a seat at the breakfast table.

And Billy blinks at him, confused but careful.

“You’re not going to sit with us and cough all over the food like a human biohazard. I raised you to show more courtesy than that.” Neil gives him a stern look. “Go back to bed.”

“I’m not even—“

“Go back to bed, Billy.”

Billy hears the warning heighten in his father’s tone. He doesn’t argue. He hauls himself back to his bedroom and it’s whatever. He wasn’t really hungry anyway.

* * *

Okay, so Billy is sick.

He got himself suspended because he felt something coming on. He knows his body. He was feeling off kilter and sluggish, uncomfortable in the chest when he inhaled too deeply. So he put his boots on the desk in history class and flipped the teacher the bird when she asked him to sit properly. Even went the extra mile and sneered, told her to blow him when her jaw hit the floor.

He figured it’d buy him enough time to recover without having to call in sick, or get in trouble for skipping class. A suspension was one indiscretion and only likely to invoke one punishment. Skipping multiple days would’ve been multiple indiscretions and more likely to invoke multiple punishments.

In retrospect he should’ve just called in sick because the whole point of avoiding that route was avoiding having to admit it, but he can’t really hide it. Whatever he’s got came on hard and fast, doubled-down by Monday evening. It hasn’t gotten any better. Billy feels bad all over, the cough is near constant, and he’s shaking with chills. Puts his leather jacket on before he buries himself under the blankets and still can’t get warm.

And the coughing, ugh, the fucking coughing. Billy knows he’s being loud. He tries to hold it in but he just can’t. Spasm after spasm squeezes his lungs until they’re aching for air. His chest feels like it’s full of swamp muck and all he can do is ride it out, clutch at his ribs until he makes it to the oxygen on the other side.

Billy should get up. He should make himself get off his ass, go buy some cough drops or at least refill his glass of water. He’s going to make it happen. He’s definitely going to make it happen…just maybe not yet.

He never really gets around to it. Spends most of the afternoon slogging through coughs and trying to get comfortable even though it doesn’t really matter which way he tosses or turns, he’s still cold to the bone, chest stabbing with every burdened breath. The day drags and Billy catches snippets of the other members of the household moving about, knows it’s evening when Neil sticks his head in.

“I dug this out of the cabinet for you,” he announces, holding up a blue container. “Vapor rub. It’ll calm your cough down. Help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

His father pads across the carpet, sets the container down on Billy’s nightstand, right within reach. He hovers uncertainly, eyes narrowed. Opens his mouth to say something and maybe he does, but Billy doesn’t catch it, snapping upright to bury another flurry of coughs into his closed fist. It’s a forceful fit and before he knows it, his father’s thumping him on the back. He’s probably trying to help but the heel of his hand connects with one of the bruises the belt buckle left and Billy can’t stop himself before he flinches.

Neil retracts his hand, leaves without another word. Billy rakes in breath at the coda of the coughs, air scraping against his roughshod throat. He goes as deep as he can even though it hurts, snatches the container of vapor rub.

Billy begins to unscrew the lid and notices some of the ointment is crusted under the lid. It flakes off. This stuff looks old. Billy checks the date on the label. Sure enough, it’s been expired for close to a year.

He throws it across the room in frustration, watches it bounce off the wall. Lies back down and pulls the covers up to his chin.

At some point Neil bangs on his door and demands he cut out the racket, probably thinking Billy rebuffed his generosity. Billy’s too exhausted to bother explaining the shit’s expired. Instead he turns his face into the pillow and smothers his fits into the fabric, hoping it muffles the sounds.

* * *

Sometime later Thursday morning, Susan knocks on his door. Billy contemplates pretending to be asleep. Really, he wishes he was. He’s feeling pretty rundown but he can’t seem to get more than a wink before he wakes up coughing.

But if he doesn’t answer it now, she’ll probably just bother him later. So Billy plods to the door and pulls it open.

“What?”

“Um,” Susan begins eloquently, blinking at him as she fiddles with the thin object in her hands. A thermometer.

“Neil tell you to do this?”

“N-No, but, uh. It’s probably a good idea to check your temperature. No offense, Billy, but you don’t sound so good and you’re awfully flush…”

“If I cared, I’d check myself,” he snorts irritably. “Try to stick that under my tongue and I’ll break it in half. Save your mother hen shit for Max.”

With that, he slams the door in her face. They’ve no love for each other. On infrequent occasions Susan will forget this and make some half-assed attempt to get closer to him. Billy’s always quick to remind her where they stand. It doesn’t take much.

Afternoon rolls around without Susan bugging him anymore. Billy isn’t a big reader but he doesn’t feel up to much else between increasingly productive coughing bouts that leave him hacking up gross, greenish globs into his small wire mesh trashcan. So he flips through some music magazines and the book he’s supposed to read for english class until he gathers enough energy to kick himself into gear.

He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes yesterday so he doesn’t need to change now. Just sprays himself with some cologne, figures he probably smells because he’s sweating nonstop. Discomforting drenching cold sweats like getting caught outside in icy rains, an experience Billy was blissfully unfamiliar with until Neil decided to leave sunny California behind.

He browses the small medical selection at Melvald’s, grabs a couple bags of cherry flavored lozenges and a bottle of cough syrup. Covers a couple fits with the crook of his elbow on the way to the counter. He swallows the gunk that comes up because there’s nowhere to spit it into and scrunches his nose in disgust, feels like freaking slime sliding down his throat.

It’s the town cuckoo who rings him up. Or that’s her reputation anyway but she doesn’t seem particularly nutty to Billy. Hell, seems less weird than Susan does when she’s doing shit like talking to the spiders she takes outside.

“Time to go, Little Creepy Crawly,” she’d singsonged last week, shaking a daddy longlegs out of her tissue on the front porch. “Go be free.”

“You need fucking friends,” Billy had told her after the fact. Sound advice, he’d thought. Susan only ducked her head and disappeared into the next room.

Town Cuckoo gives the amount. Billy digs through his wallet and comes up two dollars short. Ugh. Fucking brandname linctuses. Shit’s a ripoff but there was no generic equivalent on the shelf.

She tells Billy it’s on the house, forehead crinkling just a bit as she studies him, eyes all melty with sympathy. Screw that shit. Billy isn’t anybody’s charity case. He gives her a pointed glower as he stamps a five down on the counter, takes the two bags of lozenges, and leaves.

He eats through half of the first bag until his throat tingles with menthol and artificial sweetness, and actually manages to sleep for a few solid hours. He knows it’s been hours because when he wakes himself coughing, it’s dark out. Nighttime.

Billy curls inward with the spasms, tries to catch his breath between stabbing pains. This sucks so much. He’s hacking up more gunk. Attempts to rub some of the discomfort from his heavy, congestion leaden chest to no avail.

He just keeps coughing and coughing and he knows before long, Neil’s going to get in his shit about the noise so he forces himself to throw off the covers. His bruises are still healing. He doesn’t need any more.

Billy crams his feet in his boots and drags himself down the hall. To his surprise, Susan’s sitting at the kitchen table. She’s crying. The sobs wrack her whole body the way the coughs wrack his and her cheeks are blotched cherry red just like his lozenges, tear tracks shining under the kitchen light. It throws him, really. He’s lived with Susan for years and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry. She just. Doesn’t show much emotion at all, let alone displays like this.

Billy watches it the way he’d watch a car crash. Susan doesn’t even notice him until he’s coughing again. He curls his fist around his mouth, muffles them as best he can. Fumbles for his car keys when he’s made it through to the other side.

“Where could you possibly be going?” Susan asks, her voice thick, like there’s a bubble in her throat.

Maybe Neil hit her. Billy’s seen it so he knows it happens sometimes even though he’s pretty sure it’s not often. Not like how Neil hits him. Or hit his own mother. Susan is probably Neil’s favorite, obedient like a well trained dressage horse following all of his cues. Isn’t anything like his own mom who defied Neil like a wild mustang he couldn’t tame, who went braless and smoked hash with the hippies, screamed her lungs out at Neil in furious harpy volumes and called him names no matter how mad it made him. Who did her best to give back as good as she got even outmatched, even if it made him madder, throwing things or fists or swinging Billy’s Little League bat.

Susan is submissively behaved and tepid tempered, always wears her bra under the clothes Neil buys her in the fashions he prefers her in. Susan speaks softly and sweetly, never stays out unscheduled and doesn’t smoke anything at all, always smells like floral perfumes and lotions, never ever, ever like cigarettes or marijuana or other men’s cologne. When Neil hits Susan she goes slack and sloth and silent, and does not lift a finger to fight. It is the only thing she and Billy have in common.

“Nowhere,” he answers. “Gonna sleep in the car before Neil gets on me about making noise.”

“Billy, it’s too cold for that…besides, Neil isn’t going to wake up yet.”

“How do you know?”

What, does Susan think she’s a fucking fortune teller now?

Sure enough, she doesn’t have a straight answer for him. She stumbles over syllables that don’t shape into sentences and the last thing Billy feels like doing is indulging her.

“Pfft. That’s what I thought. By the way, you’re ugly when you cry.” Billy glares at her until she turns away, timid, bowing her head. He heads out to the Camaro, gets in the driver’s seat and pulls it back.

Yeah, it’s cold out but he can’t get warm inside under the blankets anyway. Neil’s already in a bad mood. He’d only barked about the racket last night but his father’s bite is worse than his bark and Billy knows better than to expect a second warning.

* * *

Friday morning, the frosty air scrapes Billy’s throat raw and makes him cough so, so hard. He’s beyond done with this shit, fuck everything. He takes shallow breaths to avoid the pangs of going too deep. The coughing still brings up gunk he spits out and he can feel the congestion crackling in his chest like thick, goopy molasses drowning his lungs, sticking between every rung of his ribcage.

It’s actually. Kind of. Beginning to concern him.

Is being sick normally like this?

Billy hasn’t been sick in so long, he seriously doesn’t know. But it’s been days and he’s not feeling any better. He feels worse. He really does. Breathing has become a grueling travail. Even to his own ears, his exhales sound wet and ratty. The coughing was a nuisance when it first came on but now it’s just downright exhausting.

But.

Well. He’s gotta be okay. He’s too young to be like, seriously sick. It’s probably just one of those things where it’s going to get worse before it gets better. A lot of things are like that, right?

Everything gets worse before it gets better. He’s fine. He’s definitely fine.

Billy goes inside. Everyone’s at the breakfast table and he doesn’t take a seat because he’s a biohazard and Neil already looks dour. Susan’s pouring him coffee. Max nibbles at a piece of toast. She has a cut on her cheek that wasn’t there when Billy saw her yesterday. Doesn’t look bad, just a simple scratch stretched under her eye, but when he peers closer is that…is that a bruise?

Yes. It’s pretty small. Faint. He would’ve missed it entirely if the thin red thread of her cut wasn’t so stark against Max’s pasty skin.

He’s smart enough not to ask in front of Neil. He doesn’t say anything. Gets the juice from the fridge and pours himself a glass. He’s two sips in before he has to set it aside, covering his mouth as another fit takes hold.

Neil is glaring when he makes it through. Right. Don’t cough around the food. Billy isn’t even sitting with them but whatever. He’s not gonna poke the bear. Heads off to Max’s room and waits.

Eventually she comes in to get her backpack, frowning at his presence. “What’re you doing in here?”

“What happened to your face?”

“Geez, Billy, you sound terrible.” Her nose crinkles.

“I asked you a question, Max.” Billy impatiently twirls his finger, slightly annoyed. He already knows he sounds bad, doesn’t need to be reminded.

Max turns away from him with a shrug, starts stuffing her textbooks into the bag. “I fell on the pond yesterday when I was playing with my friends. Where I fell…the ice wasn’t smooth. It was rough and it scratched.”

Billy narrows his eyes and measures her up. It isn’t a particularly unlikely story. But he wants to be sure.

“You’d tell me if it was Neil, right?”

“…of course I’d tell you if it Neil.” Max looks up from messing with her stuff and faces him with clear resolution in her gaze. “Neil hits you all the time so if he hit me, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

Billy keeps his eyes on her as he goes over what she said. She doesn’t look like she’s lying. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying. Besides, Neil’s striking hand probably would’ve left a bigger bruise and he can’t place anything on it that would’ve scratched her skin like that. Neil’s fingernails are short and blunt, smoother than Billy’s, which get jagged when he bites. He doesn’t wear rings beyond his wedding band, and his is smooth silver, no shiny rock cut in the middle like Susan’s.

“Alright,” he concedes, turns to leave.

The coughing fit hits heavy, like a wrecking ball to the chest. Billy hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, covers his mouth with the other. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

Christ, he’s sick of being sick.

It passes. Billy keeps his grip on the doorframe as he works on drawing in air.

“You okay?” Max asks from behind.

And he can’t actually answer that just yet, still catching his breath.

“You sound really gross, like you’re literally dying.”

“I’m not…I’m fine…even run you to school, if you want.” Billy relaxes his grip on the doorframe and turns back to her.

“Oh.” Max perks up at that, eyes bright. “Yeah, can you?”

She lowers her voice as she adds, “I’m mad at my mom. I don’t really wanna ride with her.”

Billy doesn’t ask what for. It’s probably something stupid. Susan getting after her for not zipping up her coat or touching yellow snow or some other dumb shit. He’s too tired to care, really.

“Sure I can, s’what I just said, isn’t it? Finish getting your stuff together, bus leaves in five.”

* * *

Billy does’t go home for a long time. After dropping Max off, he just sits in the parking lot for awhile, rests his head against the steering wheel while the heat blasts from the vents. He’s got it all the way up and he’s so sweaty his hair’s plastered to the back of his neck, but he’s still freaking cold.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Or.

Okay, maybe he does.

Eventually he pulls out of the parking lot, drives around listening to music just to be doing something. Winds up in another lot, an empty lot, where the rumor is they’re going to build a mall next year. Billy hopes so. Hawkins is mind-numbingly boring. Sometimes he just wants to scream about it, set fire to the fucking cornfields and scream at the top of his lungs.

His lungs aren’t really up to screaming right now though. Neither is his throat, really, tender from coughing spasm after coughing spasm tearing it up. Billy doesn’t know if he’s even been this sick.

He’s even considering bringing it up to his dad, maybe even. Asking Dad for help. And that.

That means he’s either desperate or delirious, and neither is a particularly reassuring thought.

Fuck.

Billy despises the fact it even crossed his mind. He can’t go to Neil. He won’t. That’s stupid. Neil would probably just dig him out some more expired vapor rub. Definitely wouldn’t take him to a doctor, at least not until the bruises heal. Maybe he’d compromise and get him the cough syrup Billy didn’t have enough cash for…

Between musings, Billy finds himself squeezed in another fit that pummels his chest like invisible fists. It’s so bad he’s left battling for just a breath of air, so forceful for one very scary second he’s even worried he won’t get it. That the coughing will go on and on, and he’ll never take another breath again. That they’ll find his body right here in the empty lot where maybe the mall will be one day.

Except the coughing eventually does subside and Billy does manage to get some air. But the fit spooks him a little. Takes enough out of Billy that he decides he’s probably going to have to go to Neil. Shit.

He puts it off as long as he can. Doesn’t even go home until he knows everyone is done with dinner. To his surprise, Neil isn’t watching tv. Billy heads down the hall. The light is on under Max’s door. The light is on under the master bedroom door too. Billy hesitates before knocking.

Does he really need to go to Neil?

Maybe he was exaggerating when he was worried earlier. Billy’s hand retracts from the door. It's promptly clamped around his mouth for what must be the hundredth time. He’s hacking hard into his palm, chest throbbing.

He doesn’t actually mean to open the door. But he grabs the knob for support and jerks when the metal is shockingly cold under his fingers. The next thing Billy knows, he’s stumbling over the threshold.

Susan whips toward him, eyes as wide as dinner plates and mouth frozen open in horror. At first Billy thinks it’s him. She’s so disgusted she’s horrified by him and his biohazard germs and any second Neil’s going to pick his head up from the bed and bark at Billy for intruding without so much as a knock, and then—

Then his eyes fall to the long bloodied baiting needle in Susan’s suddenly trembling hands.

“S-Self d-defense,” she quavers, backing away, that needle outward in her shaky, shaky hands almost like she thinks Billy’s going to advance on her. “It was s-self defense, B-Billy, I had to.”

Because Neil’s still motionless, facedown on the bed even though his son’s still coughing, making a racket and expelling biohazard bacteria in his very bedroom. He’s still coughing, fuck, his eyes are watering, but they aren’t so watery he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Billy plants a hand down against the dresser and tries to breathe.

“Self defense,” he rasps at the end of the fit, blinking at the acupuncture kit open inches away from his hand on the dresser.

“S-Slightly preemptive self defense,” Susan amends, swallowing. “Make no m-mistake, I had to. I had to, he— he was right on the verge of a b-blowup. You know your father, Billy.”

That is true. Billy knows his father well. He doesn’t speak to Susan as he shuffles up to the bed. Gulps down some of the gunk in his throat, grazes his father’s cheek with his fingertips. There’s blood welled up in a hole at the base of his skull but he’s warm, kinda, so maybe Susan didn’t kill him after all. He moves his fingers to feel for a pulse.

It isn’t there. Neil’s dead? Neil’s really dead?

“Dad?” he tries. It comes out a hoarse squeak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Dad? Dad, c’mon.”

Billy jostles his father’s shoulder. It yields no response. The bare skin is still warm, deceptively so. There’s not so much as a flicker of life beneath it.

“Holy shit,” Billy gasps.

Susan presses back against the wall, eyes still very wide, clutching that baiting needle so tight her knuckles are blanched. Her hands shake and shake.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a whisper.

“What am I going to go?” Billy echoes. “I— I don’t know! What are you going to do? Call the cops?”

Because even if her self defense was preemptive, to use her description, maybe it’d still fly. Billy has bruises. Maybe Susan has some too hidden under that deep cranberry dress.

“Cops?” Susan’s mouth tightens as her head gives a firm shake. “Of course not. Don’t you know what police are like? Your father would’ve fit right in.”

Billy considers this as he coughs, stuffing them into the sleeve of his leather jacket. He can’t say his own experience with the law has ever been positive. And Neil was a security guard. What’s a security guard if not a wannabe cop?

“You planned this,” Billy heaves out when he’s done coughing.

“I’m….I mean, y-yes, but I—“

“What was your plan?” Billy interrupts. “Where were you going to go from here?”

“I didn’t expect you to show up,” Susan says, soft and frowning.

“I live here,” Billy points out and he laughs. Strange, strained laughter peals out of him until it triggers another bout of coughing because. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, Billy…do you want some water? Maybe you should sit down.”

“Where?” he rasps between coughs. “Next to my dead dad?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Susan urges, waving the needle like a conductor’s baton. “Max is still awake.”

Billy wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stares at Susan as he does his best to take even breaths.

“You’re wheezing.”

“You’re deflecting,” he fires back. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, uh…chop him up,” Susan admits quietly. “I’d p-planned to chop him up.”

“That’ll make a mess,” Billy blurts out, blunt.

“Messy, yes, but it’s the easiest way. I can’t exactly carry him.”

Billy touches the small of Neil’s bare back, skims his fingertips between hair thin acupuncture needles. He probes at the small of his own back, winces when dull pain pulses through the bruise. His throat is thick with something other than phlegm and his heart is racing rabbity fast. In this moment, Billy makes a decision.

“Not by yourself.”

Susan gapes.

“Where we taking him?” Billy asks.

“I…I honestly didn’t have an exact location mind, but farther away. Not here in Hawkins, the town is too small.” Susan swallows again and tugs at her sleeve. “I planned to bag his parts in pieces and drive a few hours out and spend the night disposing of the bags in different areas.”

That makes sense, he thinks.

“Sometimes I go to this gay bar about two hours away. Pretty big dumpster in the back.”

Billy tries to hit it at least once a month, if he can save up enough of his allowance for gas. Sometimes he collects enough chump change from idiots at school who forget to close their lockers, and isn’t above duping people outta their dough by turning on the charm, either. His interest in girls isn’t exclusive, he finds a helluva lotta guys interesting too. It’s just nice to get out of fucking Nowheresville even on the nights he doesn’t end up fooling around with anybody.

Susan looks absolutely bewildered.

“Gay bar,” he repeats slowly. “You know. Pride pub, homo hub?”

“I know what a gay bar is, Billy. Why on earth are you going to one?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m secretly a drag queen bingo champion,” Billy scoffs in annoyance and it turns into a cough. The one sets off a fit.

“Billy, um…I don’t, um. I’m not judging your preference in partners or your private life, but you’re too young to be going to the bar. Any bar. It’s not legal, you’re a teenager.”

Jesus, he can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s going to fall over. Maybe he actually should’ve sat down next to his dead dad.

“Oh dear. I’m— I’m going to get you some water.”

Billy doesn’t fall over. He has good stamina. He’s hard to knock over, prides himself on that fact. He makes it through the fit upright. His chest is sore from the stabbing and he’s a little dizzy, perhaps from fatigue or breathlessness, but he’s steadfast.

Billy accepts the glass Susan holds out to him upon her return. Her fingers feel like icicles as they brush his and he suppresses a shiver. Takes slow sips and finds a little relief. Eventually sets the glass down on the dresser when he’s done.

“Technically, it’s not me who goes to the bar. You’re right, I’m not twenty-one yet. But Jason Scott on the other hand, well, he’s twenty-five.” Billy fishes his wallet out and frees his fake ID from its fold. “Looks pretty legit, right?”

Susan silently studies the piece of plastic and worries her lip between her teeth.

“But we don’t actually have to go into the bar to put my dad’s body in the dumpster anyway. I mean, going inside would really be a pretty bad idea…”

“Indeed it would, but I’m glad you showed this to me. It wouldn’t be smart to put Neil anywhere you or I associate with at all. But if you’re not actually associated, it’s an option.”

“It’d take less time than the way you were gonna go about it. Cleaner too.”

Susan nods her agreement. “However, I still might…mm, Billy. I’m not sure if you’re going to like this. But in order to prevent him from being identified, I think I’m going to chop off his head…and his hands. Well, perhaps those I’ll just burn with the clothes iron, um. Either way, his fingerprints need to be destroyed.”

Billy’s gut lurches as he soaks it in. It sounds logical. He can’t deny that, but something about the idea of his dad’s decapitation doesn’t sit. Kinda gives him the heebie-jeebies. And that’s weird. That’s really weird because he’s okay with everything else.

Well.

Okay, maybe he’s not okay with it, but. He understands it. It’s Neil. Of course he understands the bruises she may or may not be hiding, the fear in her heart regardless.

“Do you have to chop his head off? Can’t you just smash his face in?”

“I considered that,” Susan says, nodding again. “Those cast iron lion bookends on the shelf are nine pounds each. I weighed them this morning.”

Billy likes the sound of that better. Neil is going to be dead and disfigured either way. He’s not sure why it makes a difference. Maybe it doesn’t, really. He thinks he might have a fever. Maybe the fever’s just getting to him, making him a little loopy and pulling his thoughts in less than rational directions.

“I could do that part,” he offers. It’d probably take him less time to bash Neil’s face in than it’d take Susan. He has more physical prowess, after all, more power to put behind the blows.

“Are you up for that?” she asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Yes,” he snaps, somewhat defensive. He’s sick but he’s not helpless.

Billy’s claim isn’t undermined by the brief bout of coughing that overtakes him. He halts the reflex to clutch his ribs. Not now, not in front of her. Especially not with what they have to do.

“There’s two bookends,” Susan points out, seems a little nervous as she watches him cough. “We could take turns.”

With that, she disappears from view. Billy hacks some more gross globs into his hand and for convenience’s sake, just wipes it off on his jeans. When Susan comes back, she has one of those big black contractor trash bags. Spreads it out on the bed beside Neil’s form.

They roll him together and Billy doesn’t know what to make of what he feels when he actually sees his father’s face, features devoid and dead. Very, very dead. Tears do not sting his eyes. They just well up watery because he’s coughing again, battling for breath again, so, so wrung and exhausted, lungs like sodden sponges sopped with sputum.

Then he’s holding the bookend, cast iron artistically sculpted, the maned king of the jungle bearing his teeth in a roar. Billy looks at his father’s dead face and hesitates for only a heartbeat. When he brings the heavy object down, he puts all the force he can muster behind it and it makes an utterly atrocious noise Billy will never forget, but—

Some part of him has always wanted to do this. For that part of him, it is the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. And when Susan takes her turn Billy watches her face and realizes, oh, going slack and sloth and silent with the taste of Neil Hargrove’s hand isn’t the only thing they share at all.

* * *

They wait until late to don gloves and roll Neil up in the shower liner. They stuff him in the bed of his own truck for transport. Billy takes the torso end because it’s heavier, Susan hefts him under the legs. Billy drives because he knows the way even though it’s the last thing he feels like doing.

It goes mostly okay. He only has a paroxysm bad enough to make him pull over once.

Susan reaches across the seats and rubs his shoulder. Billy’s too busy getting his breath to shrug her off.

“I’m sure you’re not going to love this idea, but I think it’s time to see a doctor. This could be bronchitis, Billy, or even pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia isn’t real,” Billy grouses tiredly. “It’s like the boogeyman. Just some story old people made up so their grandkids wouldn’t play in the rain and track mud all over the house.”

“Uh…um.” She blinks owlishly, forehead creasing. “No, that’s not quite accurate…”

“I’m screwing with you, Susan.” Because that’s easier than conceding to her.

It would’ve been one thing with Neil. As fucked up as things were, Neil was his dad. Neil was supposed to take care of him.

But Susan. Susan is different. Susan is mostly Max’s weird mom who displays about as much emotion as a mannequin whenever she isn’t (wasn’t) dancing on Neil’s puppet strings or talking to the spiders as she shakes them free from soft tissues. Albeit tonight is a game changer. They’re very literally partners in crime now.

“We could even go to the ER after this,” she suggests uncertainly, wary edge to her tone.

“That’s for emergencies. I can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” Susan hums in her throat and draws her hand away.

They have good timing. The bar’s been closed for almost an hour by the time they get there and all the cars have cleared out. Billy backs up to the dumpster so he and Susan can stand on the bed and lift Neil in that way, rather than having to drag his deadweight out and struggle to raise his cumbersome bulk up over the side.

He doesn’t want to be out here any longer than he has to. Whole thing gives him the heebie-jeebies. He feels like a cop is about to pull up any second now and frankly, it’s cold as fuck. He’s cold as fuck.

Not as cold as the unearthly chill that seems to pierce through the plastic liner when Billy lifts his father’s trunk for the second time tonight.

“Do you feel that?” he irresistibly asks Susan, watching her adjust her grip on Neil’s legs and searching her face for the eeriness he’s feeling.

“Feel what?” Susan asks, frowning.

Death itself? Billy doesn’t know.

“Nothing, it’s…just cold, I guess.”

“Oh, Billy, I think you have the chills.”

And he knows he does but it’s not the same thing. He doesn’t comment any more on it. Together they get Neil up on the metal rim of the open dumpster, push him over. Garbage crunches and crinkles beneath his deadweight. Billy feels another coughing fit coming on and manages to suppress it until he gets back inside the truck.

“Do you want me to drive home?” Susan asks.

“No. I know the way better, it’s easier if I do it.”

“You could, um. I mean, you could direct me if I get a little turned around. You’re looking pretty tuckered out.” It’s dark but Billy can hear the frown in her voice.

“Alright,” he sighs out. “Fine.”

Because she’s not wrong. He’s drained at this point. Shoving his dad’s body in the dumpster spent the last store of energy he had. He and Susan swap places. She doesn’t have much trouble once she actually gets back on the main road.

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually. “If I had to do this myself, I’d still be in the middle of it.”

“Yeah…sure thing, I guess.” She killed his dad. No big deal. Billy blinks, isn’t sure what else to say.

“…so, um…you like the fellas, huh?” she asks, voice light and not a bit unkind.

“Uh-huh." He shrugs. "Guys, girls, I mean, I'm not that picky. A hole’s a hole, a mouth’s a mouth, fingers are fingers.”

Susan chokes on a scandalized gasp and Billy gets a chuckle out of it, even as it turns into a cough.

“That’s, uh. T-That’s certainly crude.”

And it’s funny really, that Susan seems more creeped out by a boorish comment than she did by holding his dead dad’s corpse legs.

By the time they get home, Billy’s so beyond spent he knows he can’t even make it to his room. Doesn’t bother to try. Collapses on the couch cushions without attempting to take his boots off. Smothers what has to be the goddamn millionth round of coughs into the throw pillow.

When he picks his head up, Susan’s standing there, fiddling with the thermometer again, fretful expression on her features. Oh, fuck it. Fine. Billy bites the bullet and takes it from her, begrudgingly jamming the thing under his tongue.

#billy hargrove #susan hargrove #neil hargrove #my fic tag #anonymoose #can't get enough of these two as a murder duo

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mango-da-dango · 4 years ago

Text

Predatory

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem! reader

Warning this story includes murder, violence, mentions of gore and cursing, if you are not comfortable with this, please don’t read, however, if you still want to read, take care of yourself

Second person Pov

Ding! Ding! Ding!

“Hanamaki! I’m going to be late! Do you know where my tag is?!” You yelled frantically looking for the stupid piece of plastic on your stupid lanyard. You ran out of your guys’ room and rushed downstairs.

“I found it!” He yelled from the end of the long hall. He screeched, throwing it towards you, “YEET!”

“Thanks! I love you, Astaxanthin hair!” you yelled back rushing out the door and hopped into your car, and sped to your work. Hanamaki watched as you drove off, your car growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the distance. He sighed and turned around, looking at their messy house.

“Welp better clean this up…” He thinks bending down and picking up a pillow you threw across the house looking for your tag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked through the busy hallway putting on your white long coat and a pair of safety goggles, placing them around your neck. You saw one of your coworkers waiting for you at one of the corners. A medium height brunette named Oliver waved over to you, “Yo! Over here!”

Oliver was a fairly nice dude, he was even considered the company’s reliable brother. Catching up with him, you two rushed to the presentation room, while running he asked "What's up? You're not usually late to these kinds of things, did something happen?"

"Ah, the power got cut off in the middle of the night, cut off my alarm and a clingy boyfriend not wanting me to leave the bed," you said in between breaths, you wished you spent more time maintaining your stamina after you graduated from high school, but with all the studying and test you did in college, more tests and projects now, you never really had to do any fast sprinting...maybe the occasional lab explosion, but that was rare. You two arrived at a pair of large metal double doors you swiped your card, allowing you access. The doors slowly opened and let you in. The room is filled with tables full of notes and beakers. Many of your fellow scientists had been crowded up around your guys’ latest experiment.

“Ah~ Late to your own presentation I see.” An annoying voice snided. You groaned in annoyance and gave him a crooked smile while an irk mark appeared on your forehead, "What? You were caught up with something back home?"

“Hello, Derek. Yes, yes I am, I was busy doing something so I got held up for a bit, fucking asshole” you snapped, whispering the last part under your breath. He laughed mockingly before walking away. Mumbling about how annoying he was but unfortunately, you were partnered with him.

Making your way to the middle of the crowd and near the announcement desk you coughed gaining everyone’s attention, the smart board turning on and presenting the blueprint of your project "As all of you know we have been working hard on our current project, long hard hours of work and progress has been put into this and let me tell you, my fellow scientists. Our work will not be all for nothing, because it was a success!"

You beamed pumping your fist up and everyone cheered in glee and some throwing papers into the air. Everyone celebrated and some of the company couples kissed with tears in their eyes. After many long hours of torturous work was finally done and we would go down in history as people who changed the world for the better. One of your coworkers, a blonde woman named Annie smiled and patted your back and congratulated you.

"You did good, Y/n. Thanks for bringing us together," she thanked, the poker face never leaving her face, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. You could only stare at the blonde, awestruck. Did she really just show a tiny bit of emotion? Towards you?! This was rare and you were savoring every moment of it.

"ANNIE! THANKS TO YOU WE WOULD OF BEEN STUCK ON THE FIRST STAGE! THANK YOU!" You sobbed pulling the woman into a strong hug, she froze and tensed up before easing and patting your back awkwardly, saying it was no problem. Were you a slut for usually cold people warming up to you? Yes, yes you are.

All the cheer and happiness was cut short when 4 loud bangs echoed through the room and screams of pure horror replaced the joy. You felt waves after waves of pain surge through your body. You screamed in pain and darkness started to engulf your vision. Smoke started to fill your senses and all you heard were piercing screams before you blacked out.

Third-person POV

Screams were heard and the people on the floor underneath the lab grew scared and called for security. When they reached the double doors and entered the room they were greeted by something bizarre. The room was absolutely destroyed, tables broken and flipped, glass broken was scattered all over the place, and papers ripped and dirtied.

Most of the people there were gone, a total of 16 scientists were in the room, but only 4 people remain and all of them were knocked unconscious. Steadily creeping up to the four survivors cautious of their situation, they stopped when they saw the blonde named Annie, flinch, her shoulders started to tremble and so unlike her, she laughed. She turned around staring at them with demented-looking eyes. Shivers went down their spines as it was unusual to see her having more than the usual bored-looking expression on her face. So to see her laugh intensely after the lab was trashed and with eyes like those made them sick to their stomachs and her laughing had caused the others to stir up.

The first one was Oliver, he looked over to where the security guards were standing. His eyes were the same as Annie's, demented and insane. His expression darkened and his breathing was heavy. His brows furrowed and he let out a low growl and glared at the guards with piercing eyes that seemed as if they were able to cut through steel.

Then it was (Y/n)’s turn to wake up. Like Oliver, she was panting heavily with haunting eyes, but in comparison to him, she was even more insane. Her eyes seemed more intense and looked like they held all of the world's sins and tragedies and she looked hungry. As if she hadn’t eaten in forever. The woman made an effort to stand up, she limped and wobbled as if it was her first time attempting to get up.

While that was happening the last survivor, Derek, stared up at the ceiling until an overwhelming feeling of blood lust washed over him. He smiled sinisterly and grabbed a metal leg chair and bashed it over one of the guard's head killing him instantly.

“Fire!” The guards yelled and bullets started to rain all over the room aiming at the sadistic survivor. The sound of constant gunfire made the survivors more agitated. They all growled clutching their heads shrieking and doubling over in pain. They shrieked even louder until something snapped in them and they lunged towards the guards and killed them with their bare hands.

One of the guards managed to escape their wrath and hit an emergency lockdown button. The loud sirens of the building traveled through the entire building. They all growled harder and pain rang through their ears. Derek couldn’t take anymore and swung his weapon towards Y/n. Causing her to lose her balance she tumbled backward, then angrily she lunged and kicked him in the stomach with the strength that could compare with a three-hundred-pound weight being thrown at you.

She clawed at him and tried to rip his eyes out, but he got the upper hand and bit off a part of her shoulder, and slammed her head against the floor knocking her out. Oliver didn’t take this too lightly and kicked him straight on the back of his head. Derek stumbled before grabbing Oliver’s leg and flinging him over his shoulder, crashing into a nearby table and began to beat him mercilessly.

While all of this happened Annie got up still laughing and stumbled out, hugging herself. While walking she found one of the company’s interns looking at her in concern, they rushed to her side, “Ms. Annie! Do you need help? You’re injured.”

She leaned into their chest and wrapped her arms around them before grabbing a tight hold of their neck. The poor intern tried gasping for air but to no avail as Annie’s slim fingers trapped their neck preventing any air from coming back in or out. She laughed lowly, the soft giggles spilling out. She stared into their eyes intensely, they were about to pass out until a figure knocked her out by chopping the back of her neck. The intern breathed out huffing and looked at their savior. It was one of the more experienced security guards.

“Get out and look for somewhere to hide, four scientists have gone insane.” He warned pushing them into the direction of the exit. The intern nodded and left. The security guard looked around for more wandering people before he bumped into a frantic redhead, He immediately recognized her as one of the science assistants.

“Mr Takaoka! Please you have to help them! I saw the scientists get attacked by a strange man! Now they’re going insane and hurting each other! Please you have to help Ms Y/n and Mr Oliver!” They cried, tears pricking the corners of their eyes. Takaoka the security guard told the poor girl to calm down and explain what was going to happen.

“Look, the Emergency siren has been set off, we will take care of everything, just go downstairs and find a safe place to hide, ok?” He assured the assistant, she nodded and then left. Once seeing that she was gone, he took out his radio and called for backup.

After rendezvousing with his team they made their way to the danger zone. Lining up against the wall they prepared with tasers in guns in hand. They opened the door and saw the two men fighting savagely as if they were animals in the wild, their uniforms were ripped up and bloody. Bruises and lacerations littered their bodies as they continued to fight all while Y/n was passed out in the corner.

“Restrain them!” Takaoka yelled, he aimed the stun gun and fired at the two with the others following soon after him. The targets landed and electricity surged through their bodies and mass amounts of pain engulfed the two as they screamed in pain. Stumbling, Derek grabbed hold of the slab of metal and swung at the security guard. Takaoka easily dodged and chopped the side of his neck, knocking him out.

Last was Oliver who just seemed to glare at the knocked-out scientist, gripping his arm. Two of the security guards tried approaching him, but he growled and started thrashing around and wobbling around Takaoka snuck up behind the man and knocked him out.

“Bring them to a medical confinement room with a one-way window, we need to find out why they’re acting like this.” He ordered. The guards agreed and began moving all the unconscious scientists to their designated cells.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The four scientists were secured in separate chambers all knocked out and handcuffed to their beds. The redheaded assistant was trembling in her shoes as she stood outside Y/n’s room, looking through the one-way window she was shocked at how much damage was inflicted upon her. She racked at her brain trying to think of what to do next. Then a thought came to her head.

“ I should inform her partner about this!” She thought, pulling out her work cell and dialing the pink-haired man’s number.

Ring! Ring! Ring! “Hello?” a voice picked up on the other end.

“Mr Hanamaki! This is Ms L/n’s assistant! Something bad has happened here, and we want you to come here right away!” She informed trying to sound professional, but the panic and dread were clear through her trembling voice.

“Something happened to her?! Ok, I’ll be right there.” He said before the phone flatlined. The shaken assistant sighed and looked into the room once again, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Hanamaki rushed all over the place looking for his keys stumbling out the door with his shoes on the wrong feet, he got in the car and drove off. Normally he was a good driver, but his girlfriend's life was probably at stake, how could he possibly think of anything else but her right now? Thoughts of all the worst-case scenarios flooded his mind What if there was a gas leak that was potentially deadly? Did an explosion happen? Did an experiment backfire? Honestly, he worried about her all the time, with the job she has, anything could happen.

After almost running over a trash can and turning a sharp corner that almost got him arrested he finally reached the facility. He checked in with the receptionist at the front desk and is now climbing the mountain of stairs trying to reach the top floors when a loud boom almost made him fall.

“What was that!?” He thought, even more thoughts came rushing into his head, the sirens and emergency announcement didn’t help either.

“Attention all visitors and faculty members, please exit the facility at once. There is an emergency and all residents need to leave the building immediately.” those lines were repeated over the already loud sirens and a wave of people came flowing down the staircase. Chaos spread as all of them pushed each other, trying to escape the building panicked but Hanamaki stayed persistent looking for his lover.

After a while of struggling he reached the 43rd floor which is where Y/n was supposed to be. He ran down the empty hall looking for her when one of the rooms exploded and sent a giant slab of glass his way, slicing the side of his arm. He groaned, calling your name and clutching his wounded arm until he reached your room, but all he saw was that it was empty and trashed.

“Y/n! Y/n! Where are you!? I’m here!” He yelled, avoiding the wrecked furniture in the halls. A pair of staggered footsteps resounded through the halls, Hanamaki’s head whipped to the source of the sound hopeful, “Y/n!”

“Hehehe~ Looking for your girlfriend huh, pinky~” Derek laughed condescendingly, in his hand he had a metal pipe covered in blood, his face looked psychotic as a wide and sinister smile was apparent. The creases from the painfully looking grin were very prominent and resembled the folds in the fabric when circled and bunched together, but what really got Hanamaki freaking out was the look of bloodlust in his eyes, they were almost predatory like.

Stepping back, the pink-haired man realized he was at a disadvantage, he knew very little in self-defense, had an injured arm, and was pitted against a deranged sadist armed with a metal pipe. So yeah, this was really bad for him. Hanamaki tried thinking of a way to get out when he heard rapid footsteps coming closer, and the sound of feral growling roamed through the halls, his eyes widened hearing the familiar voice. He gasped, “Y/n!”

Then, a loud crash erupted and glass shattered everywhere and a small figure crashed through a glass door and attacked the deranged madman, knocking the pipe out of his hand, you growled smashing your elbow into his face. He grabbed your arm before throwing you across the room, crashing into the wall, grabbing a nearby plant, you hurled it at him before tackling him. You wrestled and bit him. Growling, you rolled the man over before you were able to force him into a nearby room and pushed large groups of debris, locking him inside.

You stopped and stared at the door, breathing heavily, he was not a threat anymore. Vivid images of his deranged face while you were fighting flashed through your head. You growled as the scenes in your head grew more bloody and gruesome until eventually, all you could see was the color red. The screams in your ears began to grow louder as you scratched and you hit at your head, desperately trying to get it to stop, when you heard someone yell, “Y/n! What do you think you’re doing?! Stop!”

Hanamaki tried to run to you when you growled and lunged at him first. He was caught off guard and his head hit the floor as you two fell and pinned him down, growling you were about to attack when the screams began to get quieter, the visions of blood grew fainter and now you could see him clearly, his light skin covered in his blood and dirt, his pinkish-brown hair tousled and dirtied by the crumbling building, his eyes were closed, but somehow you knew they were a nice shade of brown. He seemed familiar to you, but you couldn’t remember what or who he was to you, but all you could feel was a sense of relief when looking at him, your eyes traveled down, looking at him when you saw his injured arm.

You felt a pang in your heart, not knowing what the emotion was, but it didn’t feel good. It made you feel bad. You removed your hand that was pinning him down and you grabbed your jacket and you tried holding it against his wound. You whimpered as it stopped only a little bit, but the red liquid stained the scuffed fabric, it made you panic when you realized it wasn’t stopping. You whined pathetically trying to add more pressure.

Hanamaki looked at you in confusion. What were you doing? Why haven’t you spoken to him yet? Why were you whimpering? Why did you remind him of a small child or a puppy that has gotten in trouble? His head started spinning, his vision blurring, and his eyes starting to get heavy. He couldn’t tell, but his eyes closed and he slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N!” Hanamaki yelled, sitting up, panting, and sweating. He looked around expecting your guy’s bedroom with you sleeping soundly next to him...but you weren’t there. All he saw was white walls, white ceilings and machines hooked up to his arms, the beeping consistent, showing he was very much alive. He looked around, seeing he was in a hospital room, confused why he was there and not in bed, cuddling with you. He grabbed the remote next to his bed and pressed the call button and he screamed, “Where’s Y/n?!”

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu hanamaki #x reader #haikyuu!!#hq hanamaki #hanamaki takahiro

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toothpastecanyon · 5 years ago

Text

Noie’s Brother, Chapter 19

Thank you so much to @feferipeixes for betaing this story!!

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Alcor felt like this one was a little on the nose. A newborn Mizar fading away in the hospital and a loving father pleading to him from behind a circle of candles.

Fate sometimes rhymed, but Naomi Argenta just wants this stupid vampire to stop harassing her brother. It’s making him go… weird.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Noie was lost. Her thoughts were on fire. She stood in the hall, trembling with the need to run, to scream, to do anything to escape this.

What was she going to do? What the fuck was she going to do? Oh, stars, oh stars, oh, stars…

Noise filtered through her ears. She stood, frozen, as Dipper’s quiet sobbing leaked through the door behind her. Down the hall, David and Allie were talking - it sounded like they were still having dinner.

“Oh, this pasta is, is lovely, David. Do we have to go shopping today?”

“You don’t think it’s to do with me, do you?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t think she’s mad at me?” Cutlery clinked against the plate. “Is it still because of that movie thing? I don’t understand…”

“Who’s mad at you?”

“Naomi.”

“Naomi who?”

“N- what? Oh, for god’s sakes, Allie!”

“What!”

“Ugh…”

“David? Why are you angry at me?”

“It’s… don’t worry about it.”

“Da-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just eat your st- just eat your dinner.”

Naomi found herself backing away from the kitchen, ears buzzing, throat tightening. She needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere to clear her head.

She glanced at the living room where the TV was still on, playing an advert. Not there.

She backed up a little more, then set her jaw, whirled around, and shut herself into Allie’s study.

Noie breathed. She breathed. She breathed. She pressed her face against the door, and stared into the darkness.

Her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. It was like… like a bomb had been set off in her mind.

She didn’t know what to think. She’d been putting off thinking about this so long that her only thought was what now?

Dipper was a demon. Dipper killed their dad - her dad.

What now?

What was she supposed to do now? Carry on like it didn’t happen?

Noie gulped. She… she really wanted to do that, but she couldn’t, could she? Dipper killed somebody, and not just anybody, her dad! Her actual dad! You gotta hate somebody for that!

So… she hated him, maybe? Then why did her gut still drop at the thought of him leaving forever? Did she really want to hang around some kind of murderous, demonic, angry, violent… Dipper?

Noie banged her head against the door. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t want that. With everything Dipper confessed to her, how the fuck could she call herself a good person if she knowingly hung out with a murderer!

A gasping sob escaped her mouth, and she covered it. Her shoulders shuddered, and she just slid down the wall, shaking her head. Through blurry eyes, she turned to look at Allie’s desk, and found herself in its looming shadow. It stood tall, so much taller than her, and the shining pictures of Leon and his happy fucking family glared down from on high, watching her, judging her. She curled up into a ball, but she couldn’t escape them, couldn’t stop thinking about the terror she felt as Alcor pinned him down, claws digging into his shoulders, teeth bared, voice bellowing… like a monster.

Your brother is a monster. He killed me. He killed this.

What now?

Noie gripped her head until it hurt. “I… don’t… know! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know!”

She sobbed into her hands, and the air was filled with guilty silence. She sobbed, and she sobbed, and she sobbed, until those sobs turned to sniffles, turned to stillness.

In the darkness, curled up with her forehead pressed to her knees, Noie’s thoughts were finally still. She took in a breath, and let it out, slow.

…

She needed that.

She still didn’t know what to do about Dipper, but she could at least think about it without the very notion of his true nature sending her into a panic.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and she looked around and saw everything in shades of grey. The carpet was brighter than the walls. The desk still loomed, but she could pick out the detail in the wood; it wasn’t featureless. A slit of moonlight fell just short of her feet, and she moved her leg to catch it.

Noie spread her toes, then clenched them. She flattened out her foot, and dragged it slowly through the carpet. She watched this for a while, and then she drew herself back, and rose to her feet.

She walked to the desk. Her eyes were trained on the shutters, and the moonlight streaming through them, and she didn’t look down at the desk when she reached it. She didn’t look at the picture frames that crowded around her.

She clasped her arms before her, and hesitated.

Finally:

“Dipper?”

Her voice sounded remarkably clear; she expected it to wobble. After a moment of silence, she opened her mouth again.

“Dipper. Please come here.”

Nothing and no one answered her. She waited, and waited, and waited… and then she sighed. Dipped her head. One of her hands wrapped around an empty ring finger, and she closed her eyes.

“Dipper…” Naomi took a deep breath. “Stella splendida, vos invoco. Vos invoco ut faciatis voluntatem meam. Dico nomen vestrum: Alcor.”

The chant rolled off her tongue… surprisingly easily. There felt like there should be some kind of change in the air, some kind of difference after the words left her lips, but nothing happened. Nothing happened.

Then, there was a sound from behind her. She turned around, and came face to face with her brother, Alcor the Dreambender.

Her heart still stopped at the sight of him. Wow, he towered over her, and the pitch black wings folded behind his back ate the moonlight; she could only make out a void. His suit, and bowtie, and black gloves - they looked nothing like what Dipper would normally wear, and his face…

His face was bowed. It was hard to make out, but it may have been a little blotchy, too. His eyes were closed, and if she looked at nothing else but them, she could maybe see something of Dipper in him.

But she couldn’t help but look at everything else. After everything that had happened, it was all too much, and maybe she didn’t want to talk to him, maybe she was making a mistake-

“Hi…” Noie struggled to name him, then gave up. “Hi.”

“Hello, Naomi.”

His voice: it rang out with a faint, but noticeable echo. It also shuddered a little, like Dipper’s always did just after he finished crying. Noie didn’t know what to say to that.

“Uh…” she pressed herself against the desk, staring down at his shoes. “Do they sell those?”

He paused, at that. Then he looked up at her with the strangest expression. “Wh-what?”

“Demon shoes.” She tried not to shudder at his gold-on-black eyes. “Do you, like, go into a store and try a bunch of those on, or-”

“No, no. they’re part of my form.”

“Part of your…?”

“It’s- um, complicated. Basically, I just… imagine what kind of shoes I want and then they’re, uh, there. They’re just there.”

“So you’re wearing imaginary shoes.”

Alcor rubbed his neck. “I… guess? Heh, uh, I hadn’t really thought about it that way, but yeah? My whole form’s kind of…” He looked over at her, and his voice dropped to a mumble: “imaginary…”

Noie just stared at him.

“Uh, Noie?”

There was something so strange about seeing her brother’s nervous mannerisms on the demon that pinned her down and reached inside of her…

“Naomi?”

She was laughing, now. Or maybe she was crying - it was hard to tell.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Naomi?” He tried to reach for her, then drew back. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

“No, wait!” Noie tried to get a hold of herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just… stars, this is so messed up. This is so messed up.”

Dipper flinched back at this. “I know. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault-”

“No, not you!” She hesitated, then broke out into a giggle. “I-I mean, yeah, you, kind of? Actually, a lot… yeah, you, uh, did some weird shit, my dude! Kinda, kinda dropped the ball there! Screwed the pooch. Killed the dad.”

Dipper stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Uh-?”

“But if you’re so messed up, what the fuck am I doing?” She gave him an angry shrug. “Why the fuck am I talking to you? That’s the real question here!”

“I-I don’t know, why are you-”

“I’m asking you that!” Naomi snapped. “I’m asking you that because I don’t fucking know!”

He jumped back like she’d struck him. She stared down at him, and felt something break in her chest, and all of a sudden she couldn’t stop yelling.

“You told me all these things about Leon, and how you killed him, and you showed me - you put me inside his fucking head while you were slamming it against the ground!” She pulled at her hair like she wanted to rip it out. “You show me all of that, all of that, but you’re not gonna tell me what you think I should do about that?!”

“I-”

“I know you, Dipper! Maybe not as well as I thought I did, but I can see you putting yourself down, trying to get me to hate you! You’re really feeling bad about this whole Leon thing, aren’t you? You just want to drive everyone away so you can go off and feel sorry about yourself, don’t you!”

Dipper was crumpling under her glare. “Noie, I-”

“Well you can’t!” She slammed a fist down on the desk. “Dammit, Dipper, I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

Noie paused, for a moment. She swallowed hard.

“Dipper… I’m not a good person.” She stared down at the picture frames on the desk. “I’m not. You told me all this stuff about how you’re a demon, how you acted like a monster, how you killed Leon… like you think I care.” A lump formed in her throat. “But I don’t care, not as much as I probably should. Dipper Argenta… he’s been my twin brother for as long as I can remember. He’s the only person who talks to me at school. He’s the only person who actually listens to me. He’s… probably the only actual friend I’ve ever made.” She snorted, mirthlessly. “And maybe that says something about me, that I can’t make friends. I dunno.”

She closed her eyes. She just sighed.

“All I know is that I need Dipper Argenta. I don’t care what he is under all that, I… I can’t lose him, I just can’t.”

Silence. Awful, awful silence. After a long pause, Naomi forced herself to look back up at her brother. She watched him look away, and she set her jaw.

“So you need to tell me what you’re going to do.”

She stared at Dipper, and waited for his reply. He struggled to meet her eyes; his ear twitched, and he shot only glances at her before taking a deep, shaky breath.

(Did demons need to breathe? The thought struck her as she watched.)

He met her gaze with those strange, golden eyes, hesitated once more, then opened his mouth…

And then closed it. Frowned. Noie frowned with him.

“What?” She watched his ears prick up. “What are you doing? Dipper?”

He glanced at her, almost started. “H-hold on a second, Noie,” he said, and then he turned and waved a hand. The terrible silence that had descended around them seemed to lift, and all of a sudden Noie could hear beyond the room. It seemed like only ambient noise - the hum of the air conditioner, the chatter of the television - but then Noie heard a voice.

David’s voice.

“Allie!”

Something was wrong; she could hear it.

“Allie, are you there?” A door slammed. Her stomach dropped. “No no no no, where’d you go?”

Noie and Dipper found themselves looking at each other, seeing each other’s panic reflected in their widening eyes.

Noie had no idea what was going to happen with her brother. She had no idea how they were going to fix the great rift that had formed between them, how they’d even begin to patch up the hurtful things they’d said and done to each other…

“Allie!”

But for one, terrible moment, it was like none of that even mattered. Dipper threw open the door, and the two of them rushed as one into the living room.

#transcendence au #Noie #Noie's Brother #toothwrites

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rianthus · 6 years ago

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Us Against The World

Chapter One: The New Girl

Summary: Alyssa Williams meets Billy Hargrove, the stereotypical bad guy and arsehole of Hawkins High but instead of stiring away, something about him draws her to him and him to her. They are contrasting in every way but find a way to fight together perfectly.

3.7k words

A/N: Horrible summary but I hope you enjoy and sorry for any mistakes. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated 😊

DISCLAIMER: Imma put it bluntly...I don't care if you hate the fanfiction because you believe Billy is a racist. Either way, this is a different representation of the character as is most romantic fanfictions about him. Also if you're going to criticise me while reading Billy x Steve fics or tbh any Billy x anyone fanfiction...please reevaluate because either way, you're reading material that doesn't conform to how Billy on the show acts. You can also keep in mind that people grow and it may surprise some of you that not all racists...stay racists. Some get educated and change. I don't condone the violent actions of his character all of this is a different representation of the Billy in the show. Good day :)

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Without removing the cover from her head, Alyssa smashed her fist down on the alarm clock, silencing it and letting out a triumphant grunt. Immediately after, she was ready to go back to sleep not wanting to deal with the challenges of the day; however, her father, as usual, was not giving her that chance to avoid school. “Before you think about going back to sleep, I suggest you get yourself out of that bed.” He strolled in with no care in the world and pulled back the curtains allowing light to flow in. Alyssa let out a frustrated and annoyed groan, fully burying herself in her covers and pillows to hide from the light as well as her father.

“Dad, please, can I just stay home?” Her voice sounded rough from just waking up. “I promise, I’ll do some school work, just don’t make me go.” Her voice sounded whinier than she cared to admit and without seeing her dad’s reaction she knew he probably had his hands on his hips and was shaking his head in disapproval. It was to be her first day at Hawkins High after moving to the city a few days ago; she’d been dreading the thought of starting at a new school and had begged her father to change his mind and let her be homeschooled but came to no avail.

Alyssa felt the edge of the bed dip on the opposite side and then decided to sit up, removing the covers; knowing her father was going to begin his grand speech about how starting at the new school would be a good change and a chance for her to make friends. “Listen, Pumpkin, I know how much you’ve been stressing about this and I know what I’m asking you isn’t easy,” Alyssa lifted her knees and rested her head on them as he spoke. “But please try and just socialise with the other kids. I know it’s been tough since-” Alyssa raised her hand as a signal to stop him.

“I know, dad. It’s just what if there is a repeat of last time? What if the other kids don’t like me?” Her voice was small and filled with sadness. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, despite trying to fight them off. Her dad sighed and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight and stroking her hair; without being able to stop it, tears flowed down her face and she couldn’t help but sob into her father’s shoulders.

After a few moments, she calmed down and her father looked at her with reassuring eyes. “Hey, if those kids don’t like you, it’s on them because they are missing out on befriending a cool girl like you,” He wiped away her tears and she couldn’t help but smile. “It doesn’t matter if they like you or not. What matters is that you stay true to yourself and don’t lose yourself trying to please other people,” He gave her a serious look, placing a hand on her shoulder and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll try to engage with others and you won’t lose yourself for any of those people.”

“I promise,” Sniffling a bit then nodding. “I’ll be myself and…I’ll try and make friends.” She hesitated on the last part but couldn’t help it. She knew that her dad wouldn’t go easy on her if she didn’t make that promise. Promises in the Williams’ house were sacred and had to be kept which Alyssa had apparently made law when she was five years old.

With that, he gave her a satisfied grin. “Breakfast will be ready.” He got up from the bed and made his way to the door. “Start getting your stuff together, then.” and with that, he left the room. Alyssa plopped back down on her bed, looking at the ceiling while the urge to scream began growing inside her. She knew the week to come would most likely suck and she hated the fact that there was no way to avoid it.

The drive to the school was short. The whole ride, Alyssa could feel her stomach sinking like she was on some rollercoaster that she desperately wanted to get off of. Her hands began to feel sweaty and warm. When they arrived, she looked at the students piling into the school. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she turned to her dad. “I’ll see you later then, love you.” It was quick short and without emotion. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, before making her way out of the car. Her father repeated the words before waving goodbye and speeding off.

The smell of sweat, rubbish canteen food and cheap cologne filled the halls of Hawkins High School. The corridors were overtaken by students either chatting or making their way to their assigned classrooms. Alyssa rushed through the crowd, brushing past people as she tried to navigate through the sea of bodies. She muttered a sorry, here and there to those she bumped into and received glares in return by some. So far so good, she thought sarcastically to herself.

Alyssa had made it to her classroom in record time, considering that she got lost a few times and had to ask people for help. Though she was sure classes started at eight, the classroom barely had any students occupying the seats. The teacher looked unimpressed as he sat down looking around at the scene that he must have come accustomed to. Alyssa walked up to his desk, feeling a little uneasy as the eyes of the students were glued to her. “Erm, hi.” She sounded awkward and unsure

“Can I help you?” He looked at her with dead eyes that were emphasised by the eyebags under them. He had a thick beard, that looked slightly unkempt, and shaggy brown hair that looked slightly greasy and untouched in a while. He tapped his pencil on the desk and rested his hand underneath his chin, as he waited for her to answer.

Alyssa couldn’t deny the annoyance that coursed through her at his tone and posture. She kept a smile on her face, though, like she practised many times. “I’m new here so I just wanted to-” She was cut off when he slammed the book down in front of her. Blinking a few times, she looked down at the book then back at him as he began to speak.

“This booklet has everything you need to know about what we have covered so far,” he leaned back in his chair and looked over at the door as the late students began to pile in. “If you need help, ask someone in the class and you’re seated front row at the window” He nodded his head in the direction of the seat, as he got up from his seat and got ready to begin his lesson. Alyssa grabbed the booklet feeling annoyed but not daring to say anything as she quickly took her seat.

Math wasn’t her strongest subject and she struggled to actually focus on the lesson as she kept looking outside daydreaming about what she wanted to eat later and whether or not her father would be home to have dinner with. Ever since he had been promoted from his job, he spent less time with her and though she tried her best not to show it, she really wished he’d settle for a nine to five job knowing full well that her father’s dream as a doctor had existed longer than ger.

As she began getting lost deeper and deeper into her thoughts, the roar of a car engine stole her attention. The car was electric blue and what looked to be some kind of Camaro; Alyssa sat there with both hands on her chin taking interest in the scene outside over the algebra equations Mr Mundy had been throwing at the class. The longer she watched, she saw the driver emerge from the car; the guy had blonde loosely curled hair that was longer at the back than the front, thick eyebrows and overall attractive features from what Alyssa could see.

“Alyssa!” she jumped at the sound of her name and quickly whipped her head around, Mr Mundy looking displeased. He had one hand on his hip and the chalk in his hand was pointing towards her. “For someone who is struggling in math, you seem to be talking quite the interest at the ongoings outside.” Heat rose to her cheeks as those around her snickered and she felt herself sink slightly in her chair. Mr Munday was about to continue before the bell rang and Alyssa let out a little sigh of relief.

Quickly heading for the girl’s toilets, she pushed past everyone not caring about their reactions. The door hit the wall when she pushed it open, she immediately closed her eyes and calmed herself down before any tears could escape. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her chestnut eyes were slightly red as they were readying the tears, her curly afro was a cloud around her head as her bangs cover her forehead. “Hey.” A soft voice spoke to her and she turned to find a girl with short brown hair in slight waves holding her books to her chest and giving her a sad look. Alyssa felt like she recognised her from somewhere but she couldn’t think where.

“Don’t let what Mr Mundy and the rest of those arseholes get you down,” That’s when she realised that she probably recognised her from her math class. “He’s just bitter that his wife cheated on him and the other students are just…arseholes, for lack of a better word.” Alyssa gave her a small smile picking at the edges on the grey jumper she had on. The girl stepped forward to extend her arm. “I’m Nancy Wheeler.” Alyssa accepted the handshake.

Alyssa found herself to be taller than Nancy by a few inches. “I’m Alyssa Williams.” They both stood there in a while of awkward silence for a minute, not really knowing what to say next to one another. Alyssa was tempted to exchange goodbyes and leave but then Nancy spoke up.

“So I’ve got science in a few minutes and lunch after,” Nancy began. She had a hopeful look on her face. “When is your next free period? We could meet up and chat. I could also show you around the school.” Nancy shrugged. Alyssa could almost hear her dad nagging her to say yes so she nodded with slight eagerness. Nancy looked relieved and they both exited the girl’s toilets.

“I’ve got literature now so we could meet in the canteen after?” Alyssa suggested. They both parted ways agreeing to meet at lunch and Alyssa felt proud of herself. It had been a couple of years since she dared to make friends and talk to people. When she strolled into her literature lesson, she had a smile on her face.

For that lesson, she was met with a much kinder teacher than Mr Mundy had been. Alyssa took a seat at the back of the class. She couldn’t help but feel in a better mood knowing that she had befriended Nancy; It had been too long since she had been very social. Less than ten minutes into the lesson, the classroom door swung open to a tall figure. The whole class automatically looking at the door to the face the intruder; Alyssa was quick to realise that it was the same guy she had saw during her math lesson.

The teacher, Ms Peterson, looked unamused but not surprised either so Alyssa assumed it was a regular occurrence. “Nice for you to join us, Mr Hargrove.” She greeted him with sarcasm evident in her voice and the reply she received was a disinterested grunt as the boy made his way to the back of the classroom setting to the right of Alyssa. When Alyssa turned to have a better look at him, she found that he was already studying her so she immediately faced the book in front of her feeling slightly embarrassed.

Throughout the whole lesson, she could feel his gaze on her but she avoided looking at him, happy that her hair covered most of her face and hit her nervousness. When the bell rang, she let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “Before you all leave, there’s a group assignment on Shakespeares that I want completing by next week.” She was met with groans. “You can choose your own partners if that makes you happier. That’ll be all.” And they all piled out of the classroom; Alyssa feeling too shy to ask anyone to be there partner.

Heading straight for her locker, she couldn’t help but think about that guy from her lesson and whether he was watching her or her paranoia was playing tricks on her. She couldn’t deny that she felt flustered at the thought of him watching, after all, she found him extremely attractive. As she was thinking about him, a small smile was turning the corners of her mouth. “What’s got you so happy?” The voice startled her and she jumped, whipping her whole body around to see who spoke. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” His apology didn’t seem so sincere with the grin on his face

“It’s fine.” Was all she could say when she finally settled down from her fright. They both stood there staring at each other for a minute, while the other students around them were staring at the Hawkins bad boy engaging with the new girl but neither noticed them. Instead, she was staring into his ocean blue eyes as he was staring right back into her hazel ones; after a while, she realised what she was doing and then diverted her gaze. “Did you want something?” Her voice caught him out of his daze and he blinked a few times looking away. She thought she saw a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks and heard him curse himself under his breath.

He leaned against the lockers and tilted his eyes to look at her. “I was thinking we should be partners for that literature assignment,” It didn’t sound much like he was asking her. “Seeing as either of us has a partner.” He shrugged. Alyssa couldn’t deny that she was surprised, out of everyone in that lesson he was asking her, She immediately became suspicious of him. Her eyebrows furrowed and shit bit her lip, thinking about all the reasons he came to ask her about it; she’d noticed his eyes had moved to her lips while she did that.

“Is this going to be a one-sided partnership where I do all the work?” Raising her brows while questioning. A smile played on her lips as he fawned being offended. “What? You ask, out of everybody in our class, me to be partners with and expect me not to be suspicious?” Though she was being serious there was a playfulness in her tone and he laughed a bit, smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. She couldn’t help but chuckle, his smile and laugh were a bit contagious.

Those around them looked shocked by the interaction between the two. Probably never once seeing Billy interact with a girl like Alyssa before; he placed his left hand on the locker beside Alyssa and leaned in close enough for her to smell and feel the cigarettes and the mint from his breath. In a pathetic attempt at a shield, she raised her books to her chest and tried leaning back at bit though she was met with the cold surface of the locker. “From what I’ve seen of you today, you’re the smartest girl in class,” Then she started noticing the people watching. “And I need some help in the subject so how about it, doll?” Her heart raced at the nickname.

With a chuckle, she playfully shoved him away from her as she contemplated her answer for a few moments. “Sure.” He looked surprised by her answer, almost as surprised as her. She had no clue what was coming over her but she felt something in her gut telling her to agree to it though her head was screaming at her. “As long as you take part and don’t lounge about, we have a deal.” She straightened herself and presented him with her hand to shake. Smiling, he accepted.

After exchanging contact details, Alyssa was getting ready to leave, remembering that she told Nancy she would meet her at lunch. Before she could go, he grabbed her arm gently, sending a jolt straight through the both of them and he pulled his arm back like he’d been electrocuted. Clearing his throat, he looked bashful. “There’s a Halloween party tonight,” he began. Alyssa could help but notice a bit of his confidence gone as he scratched the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

Before she could think to reply, an unfamiliar voice came from behind her. “Leave her alone, Hargrove.” The guy the voice belonged to had thick brown hair, an average build and displeasure written all over his face. Beside him was Nancy who had her arms folded while giving Billy a stern look. Alyssa looked back and forth between them all, confused by the sudden tension in the air.

Billy’s demeanour changed from the nice guy he was being only moments prior and he snarled at the other guy looking ready for a fight. “What’s it to you, Harrington?” They were getting into each other’s faces, daring the other to make the first move and Alyssa stood there baffled as it had all escalated in a matter of seconds. The two guys gave each other such intense glares that if looks could kill, they’d both probably drop dead but before anything could happen, Nancy stepped in between them.

“Steve leave it and let’s just go,” she placed her hand on his chest but he didn’t move his eyes for Billy’s. “Please,” she stressed. Clearly, Nancy didn’t want a fight to break out, just as much as Alyssa didn’t. Reluctantly, Steve backed down and began walking away with a huff; Nancy then turned to Alyssa signalling her to come along to. “Let’s go.” She grabbed Alyssa’s hand as they walked away. Not before Alyssa took a quick glance back at the gorgeous blonde. He just gave her a wink and then turned to leave as well.

Once they got to the lunch hall, Nancy grabbed Alyssa’s shoulders looking at her with concern “What the hell was that all about?” Her voice sounded shaken with worry and anger; Alyssa was confused as to why she was being so overactive, considering the fact that she had only been talking to Billy and nothing major was happening. Steve was even giving her a glare, not necessarily targeted towards her but towards the thought of what Billy had been up to.

Looking at Nancy, Alyssa spoke. “He was just asking me to be his partner for our Literature assignment” Alyssa shrugged and frowned. “What’s the big issue, anyway? you guys are making such a big deal out of this.” Looking between Nancy and Steve as they exchanged glances with each other, Alyssa stared at them urging them to answer her. Besides the fact that he was a huge flirt, Billy didn’t seem that threatening towards her so couldn’t understand the tension.

Steve sighed. “Listen, that Hargrove guy isn’t someone you want to be around,” he gave her a soft expression, continuing. “My name is Steve, by the way, wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” He outstretched his hand for her to shake and she accepted it. “Hargrove is an arsehole and the only reason he was speaking to you was to get into your pants or something. The guy has anger issues and an ego bigger than his future, so I suggest staying away.” While he said it with a joking tone, there was still a seriousness to his voice and the way his brow twitched when talking about Billy, proved that he was holding back insulting comments.

Alyssa just nodded, not really knowing what to say. She knew that she probably should head her friend’s warning but there was something about Billy that got under her skin and not in a bad way. It felt like an invisible force drawing them in together and she just wanted to get to know him. All of him. Not in the way that most people would interpret, though.

After, they all sat down to enjoy their lunch while asking questions about Alyssa and vice versa. They all seemed genuinely interested in the fact that she wanted to become a doctor in the future and enjoyed hearing her tell stories about her life back at home in England. “Hey, maybe we should take Alyssa to Tina’s party as a celebration of her arrival,” He asked Nancy and then turned to her. “What do you think? Would you dad be alright with that or do we have to sneak you out?” He had a mischievous grin on his face.

“No, he’ll be fine with it. Most likely excited that I’m going out a being a teenager and stuff,” Though she didn’t say it out loud, she wanted to also see Billy again but she kept that to herself knowing that it wouldn’t garner a positive response if she said that. “Though, I don’t really have much to wear.” She stated. Never have gone to a party before, she didn’t have many clothes in her closet that screamed “I’m here to party” and Alyssa wasn’t keen on getting bullied for her choice of clothing.

“How about I come to your house and help you pick something out? I’ll bring some of my own clothes just in case.” Nancy suggested and they all agreed on the plan and with Steve picking them up from Alyssa’s house. The bell rang and they all parted ways with farewells; Alyssa’s mind couldn’t help but stray towards Billy and even though her friends told her to stay away, her heart was telling her otherwise.

Tag list: @charmed-asylum

#billy hargove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x black!oc #billy hargrove x black!reader #Billy hagrove fanfic #stranger things fanfic

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sage-nebula · 6 years ago

Text

YGO - Between Dreams and Reality

Notes: This fic was commissioned by the lovely @chiazu with the prompt, “Wishshipping, hurt/comfort, Yuugi has nightmares about Jounouchi dying during the duel with Malik after Battle City.” Thank you so much for the commission; I hope you enjoy the fic!

Something was wrong.

Yuugi didn’t so much know this as he felt it, deep in his chest and shivering under his skin. He wrapped his arms around himself and took a gulp of hot, stifling air as his eyes strained to see through the darkness around him.

Something was missing.

His head pounded as he tried to force himself to see even two feet ahead. Nothing. There was nothing but pitch black above, around, or below. He scuffed his shoe and found that it slid with minimal resistance. The ground was smooth, at least. Metal, maybe, but with no light aside from a few dancing embers here or there he had no way to see---

Hacking coughs burned his throat and forced him to double over, first standing, then kneeling. He couldn’t see the smoke, really, but he could smell it, could feel it as it seared his throat with every necessary, aching breath. Yuugi braced himself on hands and knees, his fingernails scraping against what felt like metal grating, scraping for something, anything---

(---a hand to hold, a sleeve to grasp--)

---to help him get his bearings.

But there was nothing, nothing---though there was, there was something . . . it was because there was nothing that he knew there was something missing. He wiped his mouth with a shaking arm as his coughing subsided, and once more lifted his head to see through the---

A rush of furious heat slammed into him, forcing his stinging eyes shut as he doubled over again. In contrast to the gloom around him, everything behind his closed eyes was gold---burning, blinding gold that scrunched his face in pain. It hurt to see, hurt to breathe, hurt to think the heat was so oppressive, but that---that wasn’t---

An inhuman cry rent the air, and in that moment Yuugi knew he wouldn’t have been able to breathe even if he wasn’t trapped in a burning nothingness.

He wrenched his eyes open and looked around frantically, blinking past the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Nothing, nothing, nothing; the air was orange-gold now, the embers sparking like specks in the smoke, but he couldn’t see---couldn’t see anything---

A whimper, a dying croon in contrast to the agonized keening from before. The last breath of a slain dragon to tell Yuugi that it was no longer that something was missing, but that someone was lost. A choked gasp from his raw throat came out like a sob, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he put his forehead to his knees---

“. . . ake up! Yuugi!”

Yuugi woke with a sense of disorientation so strong and sudden that for a second he wasn’t sure where he was.

But that was silly. He was in his room---he was always in his room, or at least he usually was when he first woke up. He wasn’t on his knees, bent over in an endless expanse, struggling to breathe through ungodly heat. He was lying on his back in his bed, sweat sticking his pajamas to his chest and his bangs to his face, the room dark but still lit by the gleam of moonlight through his window blinds. And there was nothing wrong, nothing missing, no one lost, or dead, or dying. Everyone was home where they should be, perfectly fine.

Everyone . . . Yuugi swallowed hard, and grasped his bed covers in a tight fist.

But he wasn’t alone. In the endless expanse of his dreamscape he might have been, but here he always had another with him. The Spirit of the Puzzle, Yuugi’s “Other Self”, took spirit form beside his bed, and leaned over in concern.

“Is everything all right, partner?” he asked.

Yuugi smiled weakly. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

His other self’s frown didn’t waver. “You seemed disturbed. Was it a bad dream?”

“It . . . yeah. Something like that.”

Yuugi was never sure how to describe his dreams. “Nightmare” was the technical term, he guessed, but he never dreamed of things like serial killers chasing him, or showing up to class stark naked. Instead, his dreams took the form of shapes and colors, sensations and sounds rather than anything concrete. He could remember the feeling of the heat scorching his every breath, could feel the weight of despair and panic in his bones, could still hear the agonized keening of the dying Red-Eyes Black Dragon ringing in his---

Yuugi reflexively scrunched his shoulders up to block his ears, even though there was no sound in his room. He didn’t want to hear that sound ever again. Not even in his own memory.

“You don’t look well,” his Other Self said, and Yuugi forced his shoulders to relax as he sighed through his teeth. The concern was nice, but as much as he didn’t ever want to hear a Red-Eyes Black Dragon die again, he also didn’t want to--- “If you tell me what’s wrong, I could help.” ---talk about it.

“That’s okay,” Yuugi said, and he forced another smile as his Other Self’s frown grew. “It was just a bad dream. I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Mmm. If you say so. But if you have another, we’ll need to talk about it.”

Yuugi rolled his eyes. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do,” his Other Self said. “And if you say no that time, we’ll play a game for it.”

For a second, Yuugi thought he heard wrong. But when his Other Self continued to stare at him as seriously as ever, Yuugi shoved himself up into a half-seated position and demanded, “Are you serious?”

Finally, his Other Self’s frown gave way to a little smirk. “If that’s what it takes. Is it?”

Yuugi huffed, and flopped back down on his bed, turning his back to his Other Self. “I can’t believe you. Me? Of all people?”

“What’s wrong with it? It wouldn’t be a Shadow Game,” his Other Self said, and Yuugi was glad his back was turned so that nothing of how his stomach turned at the phrase would show on his face. “And the Penalty would only be that you would have to tell me what was bothering you.”

“Just a Penalty for me, huh? Because you know I’d lose?” Yuugi muttered.

His Other Self hummed a moment before he said quietly, “No . . . I don’t think I do.”

Yuugi furrowed his brow. He’d meant what he’d said as something of a joke. His Other Self was ridiculously skilled at gaming, but it wasn’t as if Yuugi himself was a slouch, and enough loud pep talks from Jounouchi had encouraged him to be less self-deprecating. But the seriousness with which his Other Self had responded was . . .

It was strange, but not as much as the way his heart dropped when he thought of Jounouchi and his aggressively uplifting encouragement, the faint echo of the Red-Eyes’ death cry resounding again in his memory. He clutched his blanket tighter for support before he asked, “Hey . . . Jounouchi-kun’s okay, isn’t he?”

“He seemed fine when we saw him today,” Yuugi’s Other Self said, and Yuugi released a sigh of relief. “Why? Did something happen?”

“N . . . not recently,” Yuugi said, but even after he said it it felt like just as much of a lie as his initial denial was. It had been only a week since Battle City had ended and they had all returned home---only a week since Malik had tried (both directly and indirectly) to kill Jounouchi three times, and succeeded on the last, if only temporarily. But Yuugi felt as if Battle City had aged him by years, no matter how ridiculous that sounded. Maybe he was experiencing the inverse of what his Other Self felt.

“All right,” his Other Self said dubiously. “But if you have any concerns, you should ask him at school tomorrow.”

“I will,” Yuugi said, even though he knew he wouldn’t.

As he always did when he was anxious about something, Yuugi got to school early the next day. He sat in his desk, his shoulders feeling like they were holding a coiled spring between them, tapping his foot against the floor. His Other Self didn’t say anything about it, but Yuugi could feel him watching with rapt attention. It was simultaneously the best and worst; he appreciated the concern, he really did, but being watched so closely did nothing to ease his anxiety.

“Mornin’, Yuugi!”

But that did.

The instant Yuugi looked up and saw Jounouchi’s sun-bright smile, the spring that had been lodged between his shoulders broke and fell away. For the first time since he had woken from that awful dream the previous night, Yuugi felt himself able to smile genuinely, every muscle in his body relaxing.

He might have heard a Red-Eyes Black Dragon die, but that didn’t mean it actually happened.

“What’s up?” As he always did, Jounouchi tossed his own bag onto his desk before making his way to Yuugi’s, not missing a beat. He leaned back against the desk, half-sitting on it, his arms loosely crossed as he leaned over to look down at Yuugi. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuugi said, and his answer was automatic, but it was also true. Now he knew for sure: Everything was okay.

Jounouchi watched him for a second, lips pressed tightly together, before he leaned down closer, eyes narrowed in a shrewd look. On instinct Yuugi pulled back, but that only caused Jounouchi to lean even closer, so close their foreheads were nearly touching.

Up close like this, Jounouchi’s eyes looked like they had flecks of gold in them.

“Hmm . . . okay,” Jounouchi said finally, apparently having discerned something from staring at Yuugi up close. “But if anything comes up, you tell me, all ri---aagh, what the hell---?!”

Jounouchi leaped back, swinging behind him, frantically trying to brush something off his neck. The something became clear a moment later as Bakura skipped out of the way of Jounouchi’s flailing hands, and stepped in front of Yuugi’s desk, smiling brightly.

“Good morning,” he said, holding up the shoelace he’d used to tickle the back of Jounouchi’s neck.

“Morning, Bakura-kun,” Yuugi said, returning his smile.

Jounouchi, on the other hand, was not so amused. He yanked his jacket down to fix where it had been rumpled, and then demanded flatly, “Bakura, what the hell?”

“Sorry. You were so distracted I couldn’t resist,” Bakura said, his smile never wavering as he slipped the shoelace into his pocket. “I had to take the opportunity where I saw it.”

“Oh yeah?” Jounouchi said, and there was a light in his eyes now, a challenging arch in his eyebrows, that gave Yuugi enough warning to scoot his chair back. “Then maybe I can’t resist doing this!”

On the last word he launched himself forward, and threw his arm around Bakura’s neck. Holding him in a headlock, he began furiously mussing Bakura’s hair with his fist.

“Jounouchi-kun!” Bakura gasped, half-laughing as Jounouchi smooshed his hair down into his eyes. “Stop, I give up, I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jounouchi said, and he released Bakura from what Yuugi could tell had been a painless noogie with one final muss of his hair. By now, Bakura looked as though he’d walked to school through a tornado, and no amount of attempting to flatten his hair back into shape would help him. Yuugi bit down on another smile.

Everything was fine. There was nothing he could do to stop his dreams; he’d learned a long time ago that they would repeat as many times as his subconscious felt it necessary, and that the most he could do was try to decipher what they meant, and then live with that meaning. But as exhausting as it was to be woken by nightmares, even the same one, night after night, all that mattered was that everything in the waking world was as it should be.

Honda and Anzu crossed the room to join them, Anzu handing Bakura a comb so he could try to fix his hair, Honda throwing a playful punch Jounouchi’s way that Jounouchi batted to the side. As he fended off Honda’s roughhousing, Jounouchi glanced Yuugi’s way and tossed him another grin.

Yuugi smiled back.

Yes, everything was exactly as it should be.

#yugioh #wishshipping #mutou yuugi #jounouchi katsuya #chiazu #fic fix #yuujou #atem #bakura ryou #mazaki anzu #honda hiroto

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ticcitobyoriginstory · 6 years ago

Text

Ticci Toby - Origin Story

Screaming. Screaming. A tall man with no face. He looked like a lamppost. Something was wrong. Screaming. Then black.

The ride home was just as cold and unforgiving. It felt as if it droned on and on, like it had been hours of just sitting, head pressed against the window. The houses lit warmly gave an envious feeling in the kids chest. An ill feeling that wound around his stomach a drill.

There was only him and his mother in the car. She was a beautiful older woman. Dark brown curly hair, that was pulled into a ponytail. She had light green eyes that usually stood out like gemstones, but now they looked dull. Lifeless. Her arms were shaking and her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Occasional stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She made no noise, not a sob, not a deep breath. She was completely silent. Her makeup was running, so there was no hiding her true feelings. She had gone through something truly painful, and the black wet lines upon her cheeks were the proof.

Her son behind her wasn't quite as stunning, no, his skin was pale, grey from anemia. His hair was mousy and grey, and sticking up in every direction, long enough that people could mistake him for a girl. He had dark circles under his eyes that mimicked the look of bruises, he was wearing a slightly bloodied white t-shirt and blue scrubs, as his clothes he wore just before the accident were tattered and too ripped to stay on. The right side of his face bared quite a few cuts and bruises, a slit through his eyebrow and another through his bottom lip that required stitches. His arm, chest, and stomach had been covered in wounds, areas where the glass and sharp metal had entered his body.

The injuries looked painful upon inspection, but you would learn they were like a mere paper cut. The kid had incredibly high pain tolerance, some could say it was unnatural. They found this out when he had broke his arm in the 4th grade, and he didn't cry. The doctors say it's a marvel, and that he's lucky he can't feel the impact of the injuries. The doctors at the hospital practically knew him by name, since he visited so often. This wasn't the only hospital he frequented, the mental health clinic also knew him by name. He had seen every therapist in the area, which really isn't saying much since it is a small area after all. He used to go to emotional therapy once a week and cognition therapy once every other week. He had a certain 'quirk’ to him. He had little tics, fidgets. He would flap his hands, or his eyes would twitch, or he’d crack his neck. He'd do these throughout the day, ranging from one every hour to multiple in a matter of minutes. Sometimes they were involuntary and happened like a sneeze, sometimes they were voluntary, and he did it to express himself. Either way, it led him to get mocked out in public. His high school peers bullying him into submission. The nickname that stuck the most was 'Ticci-Toby’. When the bullying turned physical, his mother resorted to homeschooling.

Toby Erin Rogers was what was written on the band around his wrist. He kept eyeing at it, the name felt foreign. Every bump, every turn made his stomach sink, and his head duck down. Every time he saw a car approaching theirs, he began to panic. That is because last time he was in a car, it had crashed. They say you remember every moment of a car crash, but it was all a blur. A black flash, and then sirens. That was the last time he saw his sister. Bloodied, dead.

Toby closed his eyes, once again pressing his forehead against the window. It was cold against his hot skin. The image of his sister replayed in his head. Her screaming. The sudden stop of her screaming. He silently wept, big round bubbly tears fell from his eyes.

The time passed as he thought, and they arrived before he knew it. For a while there he didn't recognize where he was, but then realized that his mother had taken the back roads, to avoid the crash. Connie, his mother, pulled into the driveway. The neighborhood was cute, a simple neighborhood, mostly filled with nice old people who made sweets for their fellow neighbors. The thing that stood out to Toby was the black Subaru parked outside of their house. An immediate sickness overthrew Toby, a rage. His vision reddened. His father. His father who wasn't there.

Before Connie could step out, Toby gently grabbed her arm, tears welling in his eyes.

“Why is he here?” Toby said through his teeth, his mother opening the car door and gently pulling Toby's hand off.

“He-” Connie searched for the right words. She knew Toby had a distrust for his father, and she didn't want to feed into it. “He's here to talk to you….To apologize”

“Right, because that can be fixed with an apology” Toby said furrowing his brows. He opened his door before his mother could for him, and stepped out. This stance was uneasy but he tried to hold himself strong against his father. His knees felt weak and shaky, and the world was spinning.

Toby's father, Ron, walked towards Connie and Toby with open arms, expecting an embrace, but the two continued walking forward, ignoring his opening. Connie kept her hand on Toby’s back, guiding him inside.

Ron's face dropped, and he let out a sigh.

“Toby?” He called out, Toby turning around at the call of his name, and letting out a little grunt in response.

“You'll understand when you're older. I just couldn't have made it, it wasn't safe for me to drive. This is all just a big misunderstanding and-”

“You don't seem to understand” Toby choked back tears as he spoke. “You could've taken a bus, or gotten a ride. You could've done literally anything and it would've been better than nothing. What about a phone call!? What about a TEXT!?”

Ron stayed quiet, his face twisting from a seemingly apologetic one to one full of anger. He clenched his teeth, and balled his fist.

“You say it like I didn't TRY you ungrateful little shit! You should KNOW better!” Ron stood tall, fists still balled.

Connie began walking again, leading Toby to the house.

“And don't pretend you aren't fueling this! Let the kid walk by himself, he's sixteen for fucks sake”

“He's seventeen” Connie said, staring ahead of her as she unlocked the door. She attempted to guide Toby in, but he stood his ground.

“No, no, I'm sixteen. I can walk myself” Toby said sarcastically as he stormed into the house and up the stairs. He slammed the door, and locked it from the inside. Letting his emotions take over him, he screamed and kicked. His fit slowly changed from rage to sadness, and ended with him crying on the floor.

His room was cluttered with toys and collectibles and posters, yet lacked anything 'adult’. He had nothing sharp in his room, and everything lacked organization. What was clean though, was his desk. Which had a small laptop, a handheld game system, and a picture of his family on it. It had all four of them, before he grew a hatred towards his father. Before he grew distant and abusive. Before he would scream at Toby's mother, before he would hit Lyra. Toby never minded the punches his father gave him. But it was what he did to Connie and Lyra that built his hate. Lyra, taking her last breath, and his father being the only one not to rush to her side, was what broke the straw on the camel's back. He should've been there.

Toby got up from the floor, and walked to his window sill, he pressed his forehead against the window, and peered out. It felt good against his skin. He scanned the streets down, looking at everything below him. At first he saw what he thought was to be a lamp post, but it was in the street. His vision fizzled and he shook his head, looking back down. The figure was gone. He glared down at the street for a minute, contemplating if what he just saw was actually there. After a few minutes of wracking his brain, he remembered he hasn't been on his meds for a few days, since he was in a hospital. That could probably be the cause of it.

Dinner time came and went, Toby wasn't hungry. Instead he watched his father eat. Toby had a habit of staring at people, even when it got awkward. His father banged his hand on the table and said “Would you quit staring like a freak?! I'm just eating!” which caused Toby to jump, and look at his food.

His mother walked him to his room, stepping over the piles of clothes and toys on the floor. He curled up in his bed, and she sat on the side of it. She looked down at Toby, who was facing towards the wall with his back to her. She ran her fingers across his back, which startled him at first, but he then relaxed. This reminded him of when he was a child, and she'd rub his back every night.

“It's hard right now, I know. But it'll get better, and you'll feel better.” She said with a shaky tone. Almost as if she was unsure of her words.

“When is he leaving?” Toby muttered, ignoring her positive words. The niceness of the words but the uncertainty of her voice made his stomach hurt.

“I-...” She let her gaze drift to the floor, and stopped rubbing his back. “I don't know. For all I know, he's staying”

Toby didn't respond, and Connie didn't add anything. They sat motionless as the silence ate away at them. Connie closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, then stood up. With a “goodnight”, she walked out, and shut the door. Toby knew he couldn't sleep. Every time he tried, the image of her played. It should've been you, the voices played. Her scream repeated. It should've been you.

Toby rolled and jerked in his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks. Anxiety raised in his gut like a dragon blowing fire, it burned. He screamed into his pillow, wailing into the soft cushion, which muffled the noise. He cried and cried, kicking his legs, howling. His tears were hot and stung his eyelids. He clenched his eyes shut and panted. After a couple minutes of straight crying, he threw the pillow across the room and sat up. He took deep breaths, calming himself down as he arose to his feet. Rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, he stepped to his window and peered out. Immediately he noticed the figure. The faceless, lamp-post like figure, with a long black body. The world grew colorful like holding a magnet to a TV, glitchy. A few crackles crawled through his ears, and something began ringing. He couldn't look away. The thought of looking away never crossed his mind. It's like it made him draw a blank. The ringing grew louder as the world grew distorted. Something pulled him down by his back, slamming him onto the floor. Everything went black.

Toby awoke on the floor, and the blank was still there. It's like he had hit his head, and his thoughts were muffled and censored. Stumbling up, he stared at the wall. He had tunnel vision, and was dizzy. Staring at his hands, he began making it out of his room, knocking into the door, for he forgot it was closed. He opened it and made his way down the stairs. His mother was cooking in the kitchen, as his father had a beer in hand, watching TV. He slowly walked over to his mother, and stood behind her.

She jumped as she saw him out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh! Good Morning,” she gave a soft smile and stroked his hair, her fingers getting caught in the tangles. She gently pulled them out. Toby looked behind her at the oven clock. It was 12:37 pm.

“I made breakfast, but it got cold. I didn't want to wake you, so I figured I could just reheat it” she said concerned, as Toby had not said a word.

Toby turned around, walking towards his father on the couch. He sat next to his father. It should've been you…..it should've been him. The voices repeat. If his mind wasn't so scrambled, maybe he'd take his meds. Or realize that something was wrong. But instead, he splayed out his fingers like a fan, and robotically reached out for his father's arm. He gently pressed his hand against the arm. It was warm, but Toby barely had time to register it, as his father smacked his hand away.

“Don't touch me boy!” He was obviously drunk already.

Toby flinched, and Connie spoke up.

“Hey! That is the last thing we need right now! He didn't mean any harm by it!” She raised her voice. Toby didn't respond, and just stood up and walked to his room.

Toby began displaying behaviors similar to ones he used to show as a child. Before he started seeing therapists and psychiatrists and taking meds. He began isolating himself more and more, pacing in his room day and night. When he was outside of his room, he began showing signs of relapse.

He would ramble about hallucinations he's had, or delusions he's had. He began twitching and flapping more. He began dissociating and moaning and spacing out while talking. Something was wrong. His mother grew increasingly worried.

Ron began relapsing as well, falling deeper and deeper into his abusive routines. Get up, stay sober for a few hours. Start drinking. Watch TV, yell and scream and hit if anyone interrupts him. Connie began to fall into the routine too, becoming more submissive and tied to his demands.

In his room, Toby would mess with his old radio. He would tune it between two channels and press it against his ear, volume blasted all the way up. He'd draw images of the man he'd see outside his window. He'd draw and draw until his room was filled with sharpie fumes and he’d black out.

Connie thought it'd be good to bring him out, so she stopped leaving him in the house alone. Anytime she went to buy groceries she would bring him. They were out in the vegetable isle and the lights of the grocery store began flickering. Toby's brain began to glitch, the dark seemed darker and the light seemed brighter. He clapped his hands over his temples and began groaning.

“Toby? Toby what's wrong?” Connie gently grabbed Toby's arm, causing him to flinch and yank away.

“THE-nnGG,” he huffs and twitches rapidly “THE L-LIGHTS,” he said covering his eyes with his hands and stumbling back right into someone picking out some peppers. Connie grabbed Toby and guided him back to their cart, looking at the lady and bowing her head down.

“I am so sorry, are you OK?” she spoke with an apologetic tone in her voice as she rubbed Toby’s shoulders.

“Yes i'm OK, but is your daughter alright?” The woman said innocently. If Toby was even paying attention it would've been like a punch in the gut.

“Y-yes I think he's OK,” Connie didn't bother correcting her. “Thank you,” she began guiding Toby into a different isle, as he kept his eyes covered.

Over the next few days Toby's sensitivity to bright and flashing lights grew. Ron grew more and more annoyed with the fact they had to keep the lights dimmed or off. Connie came home with a pair of light dimming goggles, both to benefit Toby when he went out with her, and to calm down Ron and keep him from throwing a fit.

Toby would wear the goggles regularly. It helped with the flashing lights he almost constantly hallucinated, but they isolated him further. His mother could never tell what he was thinking and the strangers at grocery stores and gas stations thought he was weird and freaky.

Toby’s thoughts would wander, but none of them were coherent. They were about his imaginary friends, or the sharks in the sink. He'd try and talk and sometimes disjointed words would come out in a random order. Sometimes he'd go days without talking. He began chewing on his fingers as a way to cope with the numbness. He would chew and chew until they bled, and then start on a new finger. He'd also chew on the insides of his cheeks, and pick at his face. His mother walked in on him destroying his fingers, and had nearly called 911. She bandaged up his hands, and tried to talk to him about it. But nothing that came out made sense. That night, toby had a panic attack in the bathroom. He took a razor to his head, cutting off his long hair into a buzz cut. He couldn’t stop looking at himself, he looked so much like his father with short hair. He took his hand and punched the mirror, over and over, until it broke. Screaming, he continued to hit the mirror shards. They punctured his knuckles. Connie woke up and ran to the bathroom, finding Toby on the floor, cradling his glass filled hand and screaming.

Connie set up an appointment out of town with a new therapist. She didn't know what to do, and every day Toby grew worse. He began drawing distorted figures, tall lanky figures with long arms and no face. He would ramble about seeing figures at his bed. At them holding him and calling him in. Calling for him. She was scared for him. She didn't know what to do.

Before stopping at the therapists, she took him out clothes shopping. Making sure he had his goggles, and something to play with when he got too nervous. He had one of those little fidget cubes from the internet, and kept that in his pocket. They walked into the store and Connie said he could pick out anything he likes. That made him excited, or as excited as he could be. It felt as if there was a big blanket over his emotions.

Toby picked out a brown and green striped hoodie, some big black boots, a skull mask, and a new white and blue baseball cap. He’s wanted this outfit since he saw it online, and his mother finally let him get it.

They got back in the car and headed out of town, they talked, almost as if everything was normal. They told jokes, and laughed, and got coffee. Connie felt as if things were really looking up. Parking the car, the two got out, Toby had his new shoes and mask on. The mask covering one part of his face, and the goggles covering the other park.

She walked in, one hand gently guiding Toby into the building. She walked up to the desk. “I have an appointment for Toby Rogers” she spoke trying to sound as professional as she can.

“Yes, right this way” The woman at the desk got up and walked to a wooden door, unlocking it with her key card and walking them to a room with three chairs in it. There were puppets in a basket and a salt rock and some toys in the corner. Toby sat down and stared blankly at the salt rock.

“Toby, i'm going to wait out here, OK?” His mother said. After Toby looked at her and nodded she walked back to the waiting room.

After about a minute or two, a woman in a black turtleneck and a green skirt came in. She was holding a cup of coffee and a clipboard. She smiled at Toby.

“You're Toby, aren't you?” She asked sweetly. Her voice was young and soft. Toby nodded. She had light blonde hair just like Lyra, and his own hair if he was healthier. Toby opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him, not realizing he was going to speak.

“I like your outfit, very…..Punk alternative,” she said with a supportive tone. Toby looked down.

“Thank yo-you,” he said politely as he made his way to the chair. He swung his feet and looked around, absorbing the room and everything in it. There was a watercolor painting that said ‘do what you love’ and a picture of snoopy that looked like a child colored it.

“Do you always dress like that?”

“Sort of? The ma-a-ask is ne-ew, the-e goggles he-elp with my pani-ic attack-cks.”

“Hm, I see. Is the mask just a fashion thing?”

“Yea-ah”

They continued to talk like this for a while, dancing around the truth of why he's here. She talked to him about his panic attacks, and light sensitivity, and other minor things. Toby got bored, and began looking out the window as he answered. That's when he saw it, the creature. Its following him out of town. He jumped, but he couldn't look away.

“Toby do you think you could look at me when I talk to you?” the therapist asked nicely, but all Toby could hear is static and ringing. He could almost make out voices, in the static. It sounded like Lyra, like she was calling out to him. He could see her, behind the creature. Body in a golden light. He began breathing hard and heavily, tears welling in his eyes.

“Toby? Toby look at me,” the therapist said in a concerned tone, standing up and walking over to Toby. She sat next to him, but he didn’t even notice. “Toby, please-” With a worried look in her eyes, she gently touched him on the shoulder. He twitched and swung around to look at her.

Her face was disfigured, right jaw disconnected and hanging low, her left ear completely ripped off. Blood splattered onto toby's face and her eyes turned white and dead like a fish's eyes. Her jaw moved and hung open, and she gargled. Blood splattered on his goggles and he clenched his eyes shut and began to scream. He felt his body go limp, and everything went black.

The next thing Toby knew was that he's in the passenger seat of his mother's car, he was violently shaking. He began crying into his hands. Connie reached out and touched his shoulder gently, rubbing his shoulder and neck.

“It's gonna be ok, thi-...whatever's going on, it's going to go away,” she said desperate to believe it herself. Toby had no idea how he got there, or if what happened was even real. He cried and cried, barely able to breath.

As they got home, Toby walked inside and set his things on the table. Taking off his goggles and setting them with his hoodie and mask. He didn’t eat dinner, his father glared at him, and groaned when Toby refused to eat dinner. He said something about needing a drink, but Toby’s ears were full of static. He went upstairs around nine, and headed straight for bed.

He didn’t fall asleep right away, instead he counted the bumps of the popcorn ceiling above him. His mind was absent, void of any real substance. His eyes were glazed over and tired, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much of anything. What he could feel was himself drifting off into an unconscious state. His eyes began fluttering, as he felt himself fall into slumber. Until he heard footsteps, small ones, running down the hall. He shot up from his slumber and looked around. Nothing was in his room making noises. In fact other then the very obvious footsteps that creaked down the hall there was no noise at all. He got to his feet, and walked over to the open doorway. He slowly reached out to grab the handle, but the door quickly slammed with the force of ten men. Toby fell backwards and let out a scream, eyes wide open, chest pounding.

“Hello!? Dad?” He called out, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice. He slowly got up again, and stared at the knob of the door. Reaching out, his bandaged hand grasped the knob and carefully and oh so slowly opened it. The door squeaked, but it opened like a regular door. Toby peered outside, and quietly took a couple steps forward. Walking out into the middle of the hallway he began to pad at the bandages on his hands. The sound of small footsteps circled him, spinning him. He could hear the faint noise of children laughing.

“Mom?” He called once again, still no response. It was eerie and cold, the hallway stretched and grew and Toby stared down. His stomach felt wrong, like it was doing flips and that he was about to throw up. The door quickly slammed right behind him, and locked shut. Toby jumped and let out a yelp, spinning around towards the door and backing up, until he backed up into something soft and cold. He heard a moan behind him, like something from a horror movie. He slowly looked behind him, not wanting to see what it was, and what a horror it was.

It was his sister, looking exactly how she did when she died. Blood soaked, hair pulled into a long messy ponytail, missing patches of her hair. Her eyes looked like dead fish eyes, milky and white, her skin pale and grey with gashes dripping dark red. The right side of her jaw ripped clean off, she groaned and gurgled like she was drowning in her own blood. Her clothes bloody ripped and dirty, she gently put her hand on Toby's shoulder. Toby stumbled back and began to scream, tripping over his own feet and slamming backwards onto the floor, his head knocking against the hardwood floors and caused the world to spin and ring. Toby let out a groan as he touched the back of his head, blood, just a little bit. He stammered up. Lyra reached out again for him, trying to touch him, but Toby slammed her against the wall, running past her and screaming. Not looking where he was going, he ran into another figure. The tall faceless man he’d seen multiple times before. He never got this close to it. He took a few steps back, staring at the creature. Tears welling in his eyes as he stuttered over his words.

“B-b-b-buh-” Was all he could get out before his vocals shut down as he started crying. Children, creatures, with dark black eyes and bloody faces, missing pieces of skin and limbs. They had twisted smiled on their faces. Toby felt soft, cold hands wrap around his shoulders in a back hug, and a whisper in his ear.

“Give in,” Then everything went black.

Toby woke up with a scream, sputtering and coughing, crying. His face was wet and hot. Wiping his eyes with his bandages hands, he let out a sob. He sobbed and sobbed, then slowly, he stopped. He stared at his floor without moving. He could hear the TV playing from downstairs, his father must’ve fallen asleep watching it. He felt something control his body, stumbling towards the door. His thoughts were nonexistent, like he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t Toby. Who was he.

Toby made himself through the hall, and down the stairs, and he felt the same hands from his dream. But this time, fear didn’t follow. Instead, comfort. The hands were warm this time, and Lyra’s voice played through his head. She comforted him, telling him everything was OK, that he was safe with her, as long as he listened to her. As long as he did exactly what she told him. He believed her.

Lyra stepped in front of him, skin repaired. She looked as if she was an angel, warm and golden. Her hand gently took Toby's, and she lead him to the kitchen. Smiling, she lead him to the counter, and pulled the drawer open.

“Take it, Toby, Take it. You want to, I know you do.”

Toby took the knife, holding it in his bandaged hands, staring at his reflection in the newly sharpened knife. It was clean, so very clean. His hands were shaking, but he wasn’t scared. He felt calm, comfortable, and safe. Something he longed for since her death. She gave him a soft smile, and he couldn’t see her eyes.

He followed her movements, walking through the kitchen and into the living room, where his father slept. Toby stood, staring at the older man. Toby couldn’t help but think about how ugly he was, how disgusting he looked. A neckbeard and a wife beater. He slept, stomach rising and falling. He looked like a cliche alcoholic. A hatred grew in Tobys chest, he felt it rise like bile and felt like he was going to throw up. He drew his eyebrows together in disgust, snarling quietly. Lyra stood next to him, and grabbed the hand that had the knife in it, pushing it close to Toby's chest. She continued to smile.

“Do it, I know you want to. You’ll feel better, You’ll feel safe.”

Toby believed her, and a smile crawled across his face. Never, never again, will he have to deal with his father. He will never see his mother get hurt, or beat, or screamed at. He’ll never feel his father's hands around his throat, or his knuckles against his face. His smile grew wide, and his eyes grew wild.

Toby let out a little giggle, and plunged the knife deep into Ron’s stomach, which woke him up immediately. He let out a howl, and grabbed Toby by his throat, tossing him to the ground. Stumbling up, then toppling over onto his knees. He grabbed the knife out of his stomach and slashed at Toby, cutting him on top of his thigh. Toby let out a loud yelp and grabbed his father by his hair, and threw him to the floor. Ron weakly reached for the knife.

“CONNIE!! CO-” He began coughing up blood, and inhaled to start screaming again. Toby wrestled the knife out of Ron’s hand, and won. He stabbed his father in the throat, then multiple times in the chest, stomach, and shoulders. Once Ron stopped moving, Toby sat on his body, breathing heavily and flapping his hands. It was quiet, so quiet. Lyra pet his hair. Then the silence was broke.

“TOBY!?” Connie screamed, she was in her pink robe and slippers. Eyes welling in tears “T-TOBY WHAT THE FUCK,” she screeched, she ran towards them.

“Run.” Lyra commanded. Toby backed away from the body, then ran through the kitchen, grabbing his hoodie, goggles, and mask, before running into the backyard. Connie chased after him, but wasn’t fast enough. She went for the next best thing, and grabbed the landline, dialing in 911.

Toby ran around the house and slammed open the gate, running into the garage, grabbing something to protect him and lyra with, an old red hatchet, a box of matches, and a gasoline tank. Then bolted out of the house. He stood at the front lawn for a few seconds, until he heard sirens. His stomach twisted and turned, and he felt giddy. Lyra pet his hair once again.

“We need to go.” She said calmly.

“Rig-right,” Toby swallowed hard. He kicked open the gasoline and lit a match. It spilled everywhere, getting on the grass and road, as he dumped it out all over his neighborhood. He threw the match down and ran as fast as he could. As he made it towards the forest, He tripped over a small cliff in the woods, falling and smashing his head upon a rock. He rolled down the hill and landed at the bottom, in a puddle of mud. His pants ripped, his arms cut up, the right side of his head bleeding. His vision went blurry, and he began to cry.

“LY-LYR-” he wheezed and sobbed, “LYRA.” was the only thing he was able to get out. He felt a cold, dead hand on his back, which promptly picked him up, his knees buckling and he almost falls, but something holds him up. The tentacles of the figure, the limbs. It stares at him, and he makes contact with it, brain going blank as he fell into warm nothingness. It glitched, squealing rang through his ears. But it was calm, it was nothing. Void.

The next thing Toby knew, was that he was outside a large mansion in the forest, the only thing he could remember was the murder of his father, a guardian angel, and his own name. All he knew was that he was never going to let anyone hurt him or his sister again.

#Ticci toby #toby erin rogers #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby origin story #toby roger #tobias rogers #creepypasta #crp #creepy pasta

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stonathans-stranger · 6 years ago

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stonathan prompt: steve is mind possessed by the demogorgon and forced to fight jonathan, but j refuses to harm him. steve eventually comes to and realises hat he’s done but jonathan is already unconscious and bleeding on the ground (bonus if it’s raining for Dramatique Effect™️) thanks so much!!!

just reading this prompt made me laugh and want to cry at the same time, thank you for such a creative prompt!! TW for non descriptive gore in the beginning. Coming in at 1748 words, here’s “Take That Look From Off Your Face”, inspired by Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis, I highly suggest you listen to it while reading. (idk why but i read the prompt and this song immediately jumped to the front of my mind, the beat reminds me of rain and the lyrics remind me of jonathan for some reason) ANYWAYS

Jonathan raced down the hallway, Dustin hot on his heels. The lights in the Lab were flashing, driving Jonathan nuts. Blood covered the walls, and bodies laid scattered on the floor, dressed in high military gear.

“Holy shit!” Dustin screamed, leaping over a body to keep up with Jonathan. Jonathan could hardly hear him over the blaring sirens. ‘Too little too late’, he thought. The place was fucking destroyed. Walls were crumbling, and ceiling tiles lay on the floor behind him and Dustin. The others, excluding Dustin, Nancy, Steve and himself were at Starcourt, including El.

The realization hit Jonathan too late.

“It’s here.” He shouted to no one in particular.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dustin yelled back.

“The monsters, they’re here. This isn’t El. This is something else.”

“Yeah, you fucking numbskull, just getting that now?” Dustin rolled his eyes mightily as they continued down the hallway, entering the lobby area. It was pouring outside, the drops of rain pattering against the windows, echoing throughout the lobby, sending chills down Jonathan’s spine as he panted, heaving breaths. Jonathan caught a glimpse of Nancy’s neon green shirt from outside, a stark contrast to the night she was surrounded by. She was wielding Steve’s bat, and Jonathan could see panic in her eyes.

“Dustin,” Jonathan turned to Dustin. “I need you to do me a favor, alright? I need you to stay right here. No matter what happens, you don’t go outside. Do you understand?” Jonathan knelt in front of Dustin so they could see eye to eye.

“Jonathan, I always help in fights, I can do this-”

“I know you could, but right now, you have way too much life ahead of you for me to risk that. Okay? So no matter what, I need you to stay right here, you don’t make a sound, you don’t move, no matter what happens to me or Nancy. Do you understand? You wait here til someone comes to get you.”

Dustin nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” Jonathan said, guiding Dustin behind the lobby desk, where he could crouch and hide. After, Jonathan took off running, bursting through the glass doors and into the downpour. Nancy turned to him, wide eyed, a cut running from her hairline to her eyebrow, dripping in blood. Steve stood behind her, distanced, his lip curling in a smile.

“Nice of you to join us, Jonny,”

“Jonathan, run.” The urgency in Nancy’s voice scared him, but he stayed put. He took a closer look at his boyfriend, whose neck was crawling with this black liquid traveling up into his face.

“Steve?” Jonathan said timidly. “What’s wrong with your neck?” He rushed over to Steve, ready to patch him up and take care of him, as Jonathan normally did.

Steve only laughed. As Jonathan neared Nancy, she stuck out and arm, refusing to let him go any further.

“The monster.” Nancy said, her voice quivering.

All the pieces began to fit in the puzzle for Jonathan.

The flashing lights, blaring sirens, the liquid.

“Steve.” He breathed, visibly deflating.

“Jo-on.” Steve said in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t.” Nancy said. “He’ll draw you in just to try to beat your ass.” She pointed to the cut on her forehead. “I’d know.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Steve said through gritted teeth. “When has she ever told you the truth?” Steve crept closer. “Tell me, Jonathan, the last time you trusted her.” He tucked the piece of Jonathan’s bang that always fell in his face behind his ear. He felt like Steve, but the words coming out of his mouth weren’t his.

“Please,” Jonathan sighed. “Give me Steve back.” Steve cupped Jonathan’s cheek, smiling. Then, he jerked his arm back, and Jonathan felt a sting on the side of his cheek. He stumbled backwards in surprise, holding his cheek.

“Steve, fucking stop.” Nancy’s words were steel, but not enough to coax whatever had a hold on him out. Steve slammed a fist into Jonathan’s stomach, fully knocking him on his ass. “Steve!” She cried again as he straddled Jonathan, bearing down on him as the rain poured. The rain soaked ground coated Jonathan’s arms in mud. Steve landed punch after punch on Jonathan’s face, busting his lip, bruising his cheek, tearing at the skin on his forehead.

“Too tired to fight, Jonny-boy?” Steve said, hardly breaking a sweat.

“I’m not gonna fight you.” Jonathan said, his voice weak and cracking.

“Why the hell not?” Steve roared, standing up. “Maybe it’s the cowardice finally getting to you, huh?”

“Maybe.” Jonathan groaned. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I love you. Either way, I won’t fight you. I won’t hurt you.” Steve kicked at Jonathan.

“Fucking stop!” Nancy cried out. “Fucking stop it! You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Steve kicked him again, and again, and again, the blows coming in time with the rain hitting Jonathan’s face. After five more kicks, Jonathan’s head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. Nancy shoved Steve out of the way, realizing Jonathan was on the brink of death. She sent him into the mud, scrambling to regain his balance.

“Jonathan!” She screamed. She used her arm to prop him up, and took his pulse.

Weak, but there.

“…Nancy?” She swiveled around to see Steve holding his head, the black disappearing from his neck. “Jonathan! What the fuck?” He rushed to Jonathan’s other side. “Did I black out? What the fuck? Is he okay? We need to get him to the hospital now.”

“Steve.” Nancy swallowed.

He looked to her, and her eyes swelling with tears, the blood on her forehead becoming eerily apparent to himself.

“No.” He breathed. “Nancy. Please tell me I didn’t do this.”

“Go get Dustin.”

“Nancy-”

“Go get Dustin!” She yelled. “I’ll take him to the car.”

Steve did as he was told, entering the Lab, where no light could be found. He found Dustin crouched under the lobby desk, tears staining his cheeks.

“C’mon.” Dustin rushed into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him for a five count. “We really have to go, Dusty.”

He followed Steve to the car silently, and he took shotgun, while Steve supported Jonathan ins the backseat, crying silently, holding him to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Nance.” Steve sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you.” Nancy said, and Steve could hear the tears in her own voice. “You didn’t do that.”

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the hospital from the outskirts of Hawkins, and the rain pounded on the windows the whole ride there, which is when Steve realized he, Nancy and Jonathan were completely soaked and mudstained. Nancy pulled up to the hospital curb, letting Steve get out, and unlocking Dustin’s door so he could help with Jonathan. Steve carried Jonathan into the hospital, bridal-style.

“Someone help him, please,” he sobbed weakly. The receptionist and the nurse standing behind her rushed to their side, lowering Jonathan to the ground, and another receptionist ushered Steve away, to give Jonathan room. “Help him,” he cried at the receptionist guided him to the waiting room.

After what felt like hours, but was just a half hour, Steve figured he’d call Joyce. He slid two quarters into a payphone at the hospital, and dialed the Byers’s number. He prayed somebody, anybody would be there.

On the fifth ring, someone picked up.

“Byers residence, this is Joyce speaking.” She sounded so tired, so physically exhausted. It pained Steve to know he had to tell Joyce her son was dying and that he was the sole cause.

“Joyce, uh, this is Steve. I’m calling from the hospital.”

“Hospital! Steve, sweetie, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s Jonathan. He’s…in pretty bad shape. He took a rough beating.” Steve’s voice cracked, and tears began spilling down his face again. “I’m so sorry, Joyce.” He cried into the phone.

“You hold on. I’ll be there in forty, okay? Do you like chocolate milk or water?”

“Water is fine.”

“I’ll be there in forty minutes. You just stay put, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

“Okay.” And with that Steve hung up, and took his place in the waiting room. About twenty minutes later, a doctor came to get Steve.

“Hello, Steve is it?” He only nodded, fearing the worst. “My name is Doctor Otto Keebler, and I’m taking care of Jonathan currently. We have him on a morphine drip, and we got stitches in him. Lucky for him, no broken bones, but he does have a sprained wrist. He’s still unconscious, but the morphine should wake him up. Would you like to come see him?”

“Yes! Yes.” Steve said. He followed Doctor Keebler back to Jonathan’s room, where he lay, completely still. His wrist was wrapped in pink tape, and it had a brace over it. His forehead was stitched up, and his lip and other places that weren’t stitched were scabbing over.

“I’m going to go check on another patient.” The doctor said, leaving Steve with Jonathan. He took a seat on Jonathan’s right, so he could hold his uninjured hand. Only a few moments after Doctor Keebler left, Jonathan’s eyes began to flutter open.

“Steve?” he groaned.

“Oh my God, Jon,” Steve took a kneeling position by his side. “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry, Jon, I promise I never meant to hurt you I just-”

“Shh.” Jonathan silenced Steve. “I know.” Tears spilt out of Steve’s eyes and down his face. Steve didn’t care to wipe them off. Jonathan squeezed Steve’s hand as he sobbed into Jonathan’s sleeve.

“I’m so damn sorry.” He apologized profusely. Jonathan scooted over in the hospital bed and patted the spot next to him, and Steve took the offer graciously, climbing in next to Jonathan, still crying. He held Jonathan, the tears beginning to dry.

“At least I’m in dry, not muddy clothes anymore, right?” Jonathan chuckled to himself, trying to get Steve to crack a smile. “Hey, listen. You’re okay. I’m okay. That wasn’t you, Stevie. You would never hurt me. Never in a million years, I know that. That was a fucking monster. You, Steven Gregory Harrington, are not a monster. You’re a hell of a boyfriend and a damn good babysitter and I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you and no godforsaken inter-dimensional monster is gonna change that. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, burrowing further into the crook of Jonathan’s neck.

Forgiveness

Can you imagine?

Forgiveness

Can you imagine?

Bonus: Songs I Listened To While Writing This

Don’t Look Back In Anger - Oasis

I Believe, I Don’t Do Sadness/Blue Wind, Left Behind - Spring Awakening Soundtrack

bad guy - Billie Eilish

Sign of the Times - Harry Styles (happy two years, SOTT!!)

Shrike - Hozier

#stonathan #my writing #prompt fill #ask #stranger things #i wove them #this prompt was so fucking fun to write #the last quote is from hamilton

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the-governors-sweetheart · 7 years ago

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The Road to Woodbury

Chapter 1: “The end of the world"

„Sorry, Mr. Blake, we did everything we could.“ Philip heard the voice on the phone say, but he was unable to process, what he just had been told. His shaky hand was still clutching the phone, seconds after the doctor had hung up already. Time stood still as he was staring into space. This can't be real, there must be a mistake – he had thought, but the doctor made it clear. His wife had been in a car accident. She was dead, by the time she has arrived in the hospital. Just like that. Gone. Philip was in shock to say the least, his gaze was glassy and empty and his mind was absent. The angry voice of his boss woke him up from his trance-like shock. “My wife is dead,” Philip was interrupting yet another angry speech full of shit from his ass of a boss. For the first time the young man was out of words and just stared at him. Philip got up from his chair, grabbed his coat and left his work, walking out of the office quietly and calmly, leaving everything on his desk as it was. His face was a blank mask, ignoring everything and everyone on his way, until he was inside his car, where he had a breakdown. He began to sob and cry and hit his fists against the steering wheel, unable to comprehend his emotions. His whole body was shaking as he asked himself one question over and over again: Why?

He rose up from his bed, shaking and covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. His breathing was labored, his blanket was sticking to his body. It took him a moment to understand, where he was. Eighteen months have passed, since he lost his wife, but he still dreamed about her. It was mixed nightmarish images, which wasn't difficult to come up with these days. He checked, if his daughter was okay, before he left their bed. Brian slept tightly on the floor next to them, he was used worse in the Army. Philip walked over to the window, peeking out into the night. Maybe he'd see them again. Headlights of a truck, he had noticed the night before. There was nothing. Just a wandering figure in the distance. Philip was scared to death. Each day was a struggle, even in this house. He didn't want to admit it to his brother, but he didn't know how to handle these… things. “What's wrong?” He heard Brian whispering behind him. “N-nothing,” he whispered back, before turning around to face him. “There's nothing. You've probably dreamed that last night. Go to bed,” Brian ordered him. “I saw it,” Philip answered, as he went back to bed. He watched Penny in her sleep for a bit, gently brushing back her bangs from her forehead. Seeing her, made him even more desperate. Cold fear crept up his back, he knew he can't protect her on his own and he was scared because of that. They've already lost one of their friends. Brian was the only one, who was strong enough to defend them, while Philip stayed back with Penny, hiding in closets or their car. Despite his worries, Philip fell back asleep, he was too exhausted to stay up.

After the short night, the next morning came fast. Philip has overslept, while the others were already up. He woke up and got dressed. On his way to the living room, he could hear Nick and Brian arguing over food and where they should go to find some. But Philip was only worried about his girl, who was curled up on the couch, sucking her thumb. She has never done that before, it was just getting worse. “Hey, baby. You okay?” He asked her softly. She barely nodded her head. Philip sat down next to her and gave her a hug. He felt just as helplessly as she did, as they both watched the two men fight over a plan. “For fucks sake, Nick! We have to! You think these two last cans will last forever or what?? I'm goin', now you three can stay here and hold hands, while I do what has to be done!” Brian barked angrily at Nick, before stomping out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Penny whimpered, she was terrified. Philip pulled her closely and kissed the top of her head. “It's gonna be okay, baby. Don't worry. Daddy is here,” he told her and she hugged him back. Nick rolled his eyes at Brian and went to the kitchen, leaving the two alone in the living room. Noises came from outside and got louder. Shuffling and moaning right at the front door, followed by a loud thud. Penny gasped and was even more shaking. “Remember what I've told you, Penny.” She nodded her head, before squeezing her eyes shut and whispering: “Away.” If he only could do the same. He was staring at the front door, scared of what might get through any second now, but to his relief it was his brother Brian. Blood was smeared on his shirt. He had killed the biter outside, who had been there since last night, while Philip was too scared to even leave the couch. He felt useless and like a coward. “You good?” Brian asked, as if Philip was the one, who had just killed that thing. “Yeah,” Philip answered quietly. “Good, cause I need your help.” Philip looked at him, than at the corpse on the porch. Everything inside of him wanted to resist, but he knew his brother wouldn't accept a “no". “C'mon. What's the matter, Philly? Get over here,” Brian told him, rolling his eyes. Philip got up and did as he was told. “We need to get rid of it. The odor will draw more of ‘em,” Brian explained as Philip stared at the dead biter. “Why?” he asked. “Because I said so. Besides, I think that's why they gather at some places. Stop asking questions an' help me, will ya?” Brian pulled the biter by its shoulders, while Philip took the feet. They carried it just over to the other side of the street.

[To be continued...]

#the governor #the governor prequel story #the road to woodbury #philip blake #brian blake #nick parsons #penny blake #the walking dead #twd

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iamtaekooked · 8 years ago

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Vanilla Rules || Ch3 || pjm

Genre: Badboy! au, romance, drama, angst

Word count: 3.4k

SYNOPSIS:

When everything finally boils over Jimin comforts you in his own weird way but when you get threatened because of him, a misunderstanding ensues leading to a rumour being born.

A/N: Thank you so much you guys for all the love and support you have given this fic. I am immensely grateful for it. Here is chapter 3 for you guys and I hope ya’ll like it. This is possibly my favourite one of all the chapters I have written so far!! I hope you guys enjoy reading it!! ❤️

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 || Ch 7 || Ch 8 || Ch 9 ||

You huffed into your pillow for the millionth time, interrupting Taehyung’s breakfast as he finally he slammed a fist on the table. You hadn’t exactly told him about the slapping incident.

“Something is wrong” he stated matter of factly and you sighed once more. Your slouched posture, messy hair, bags under the eyes all indicated a sleepless night. “Everything is wrong” you breathed out and banged your head on the table. The next time you did the same, your forehead wasn’t met with the cold table but with Taehyung’s hand.

“Jimin again?” he asked leaning in a concerned look on his face. He reached over the table for your hands and you placed them in his larger ones. He had been so used to hearing about incidents with Jimin that he didnt even need to ask anymore whether he was the reason for your despair. Sliding over your adjoined hands closer to yourself, you rested your head on them.

“Something happened between us again and this time I think I might have overreacted. Or I might not have…” your voice faded away. After everything he had done to you a slap was definitely deserved but you weren’t sure if his words were mean enough to warrant such a reaction. It made you feel guilty. It wasn’t the first time you had heard such things from him.

“What? did you slap him or something?” he laughed not aware that you were about to tell him the same. You looked at him straight-faced trying to confirm his statement without saying anything. As he looked at you his laugh started faltering because of your focused gaze.

“You didn’t…” his mouth was wide open, his voice a whisper.

“Yeap. Thats exactly what happened” you slipped out your hands from his and fell limply against the chair.

“What are you going to do?” he asked while gathering his cereal bowl along with the box in his hand and putting everything away in its place.

“Well for one I am skipping classes today” he audibly gasped at your words. You were probably one of the most studious people he had come across and with your grades and sincerity it was hard for him to believe you would skip a whole day worth of classes.

“You do realize you need the attendance to keep your scholarship right? You’ve already taken days off because of work and if you miss without a reason they might just take your scholarship away” he warned turning around to look at you.

You looked at him, nodded in understanding of where he was coming from and he was right. But you couldn’t face Jimin, you couldn’t listen to any more of the same repetitive remarks. You were afraid you might break down and you really didn’t want to give Jimin a 3rd reason in the past week to use against you in some sort of way.

Against your best wishes you did end up going to college all thanks to Taehyung. He really pulled through as a friend when he needed to. But you regretted it immediately when you entered the last class of the day and your professor was smiling at you knowingly. You dragged your feet across the floor, effectively conveying to everyone how drained of energy you were. As you wee about to make your ascent up to your seat a voice interrupted you. You turned around to find your professor looking at you with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Straightening your back ,heart beating in your chest in anticipation of what she was going to ask you made your way towards her.

Is it about the scholarship? Did I do bad on the last assignment? Am I failing?

She was smiling at you brightly and you had never seen her smile such a way before.

“I heard from a little birdie that you landed a good one on his cheek” she excitedly whispered the words while pretending to organize the papers on her desk. The fake smile on your face faltered and you choked on your spit because how in the world did she know? Had the gossip already circulated around to everyone?

“Umm Dr Gray how do you know this?” your voice came out a hurried whisper as you joined on the pretend organization of her files and papers, glancing around the class to make sure the situation didnt appear suspicious and attract interest. Thankfully almost everyone was busy either talking to their friends or on their phone. “Its common knowledge around here y/n. Even some of the professors got wind of it. But let me tell you you did all of us a great service by doing that. That boy deserves to be taught some manners” she replied trying to bite back her smile.

You cleared your throat, nodded in recognition of her words along with your fucked up fate and abandoned the stack of papers in your hand as you made your once again towards your seat. You slumped in your seat, sinking into the chair and pulling your hoodie over your head. You were not in the mood to look at anyone, or acknowledge anyone’s presence. It was enough that everyone was talking about you before. But now another thing has been added to the list, possibly worst than the last one.

Plugging your headphones in you closed your eyes and let the sound of music overtake the mumbling and whispering around you.

When you opened your eyes groggily you were surprised to find the class empty and your phone vibrating in your bag. You must have dozed off and given everything that was going on in your life it was a well deserved nap. Quickly rummaging your backpack for your phone you fished it out and with fumbling hands put it towards your ear.

“Hello?” You voice came out hoarse and cracked so you cleared your throat before repeating the greeting again, but this time in a clear voice.

“Y/n its me. Mr Santiago” a deep voice came through the other end of the line. Mr Santiago was a man in his 60’s with grey hair and perfectly fake white teeth who was the manager of the restaurant you worked at. Why was he he calling you at this time of the day when you wrest even scheduled to work?

“Umm.. uhhh I don’t know to tell you this so I will be very straight with you” he cleared his throat and paused before speaking once again. “ We will have to lay you off y/n. Its not your work ethic. The health ministry is closing the place down” he sighed into the phone.

Your phone dropped from your grip and landed with a cracking thud on the carpeted floor. This could not be happening to you. Your life could not keep taking a turn for the worse. This wasn’t a fucking move. This was your life.

As if all sense of conscious awareness and strength had been forsaken by your body, you gathered your belongings in a lifeless manner. You stumbled out of the class, bumping into people in the hallway and not even apologizing. Your eyes held a distant look and sounds refused to register in your ears. Finding a secluded bench in the college grounds you flopped down, the words of your manager still ringing in your ears.

You still had Jimin breathing down your throat, a pile of assignments back at your dorm that you hadn’t touched, a scholarship to maintain, and now to top it all off no job. It was finally too much for you. So hugging your knees to your chest you buried your face in your lap and the next thing you knew you were sobbing against the fabric of your jeans.

Tears fell one after another as all the bad things in your life resurfaced in your head and each memory stabbed you just a little, prompting more sobs to wrack your body.

“Are you seriously crying when I didn’t even do anything?” you were interrupted because of Jimin’s arrogant voice.

Dick

You refused to look up at him or acknowledge he was there. That wasn’t the only reason though. You actually couldn’t face him because of the slight guilt you carried around about slapping him just because you didn’t think he deserved it.

“Not now Jimin. Just go away” you wiped your nose against your sleeve, still hiding your head in your lap.

“I will. But I just came to return this to you” you finally looked up and through your tears you saw your phone in his hands. He was holding it towards you and with shaky hands you took it from him. You must have forgotten to pick it up from the floor after hearing the news about your job. The thought itself triggered more tears to pool in your eyes.

“Has anyone told you, you look even uglier when you cry?” He chuckled, but it wasn’t accompanied by its usual bitterness or arrogance. It was almost comforting, like he was trying to make you feel better and for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why.

“Has anyone told you that you are the biggest prick on the face of this earth?” you sniffled and wiped the dried tear marks from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“You have. Multiple times but not that I give shit about what you say” he took a seat next to you and your automatic response was to shuffle away. You were having a hard time believing that you were actually having a somewhat normal conversation with Jimin. This was probably as civilized a conversation you two could carry on with each other.

“Why are you here?” you chose to looks straight ahead instead of him.

“I am hiding from this desperate newbie” he lit a cigarette a blew a puff of smoke towards you.

Asshole.

“You? Hiding? From a desperate newbie? Since when?” You paused for effect after each word, and tried hard not to cough because if you did he would blow the vapours more towards you just to piss you off.

“ She’s too needy. I need someone more feisty” he looked at you and tried to bite back a small smile as he saw you rubbing your already red nose. You caught him staring and wondered whether that comment was directed towards you and maybe it was.

“ I told you. I wouldn’t fuck you even if you were the last man on this earth”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the first girl on this planet” he laughed as your mouth fell wide open. He always knew how to get to you.

“Whatever Jimin. I am leaving” you scoffed before gathering your stuff once more and after ensuring you weren’t leaving anything behind you began to walk away from him.

“ Go ahead” you heard his voice. Turning around you sent a glare his way, which was only met with an amused cocking up of his eyebrows.

“Sorry I slapped you” you looked behind him as you said the words and retracted your eyes back to your shoes, not being able to say it while looking at him. It was enough you were apologizing. You didnt need to see the cocky look on his face while doing so. Without waiting around for his response you pivoted on your heels and walked away.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile as he watched you. He wasn’t in his wildest dreams expecting you to apologize but now that you had even he felt a little guilty for treating you so bad all the time. Not that he was going to stop but your apology did momentarily make him see the error of his ways. It was probably the most normal conversation he ever had with you and he couldn’t help but bite back a smile that once again threatened to make its way onto his lips.

Jimin didn’t know why but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his conversation with you the day he found you crying. He wasn’t really affected by your crying, as much as he was with the normality of the conversation. Yes the both of you still didn’t back away from berating each other but neither of you was explicitly rude with one another as you usually were It might not have been a friendly conversation per se but it was the closest thing to friendly you two could manage without one of you getting slapped and the other getting humiliated.

Your apology kept replaying in his mind and he felt weird about it. Not to mention the thought of being friends with you crossed his mind right after and he wanted to slap himself for thinking like that. He couldn’t point his finger at the particular emotion but he felt as if the apology really wasn’t needed. Neither was the slap, but to be fair he had hurt you way too many times to count and never had you ever reacted that way before. The conflict he was facing with himself had led him to be lost in his thoughts, cigarette forgotten in his fingers.

“So Jeongguk what do you think of y/n?” he asked absentmindedly taking a drag of his cigarette. Jeongguk raised his eyebrows in amusement as he studied Jimin’s lost form. Chuckling to himself, he took a drag of the joint himself before answering.

“Why ?Do I have to think something of her?” he nudged Jimin.

Instead of replying Jimin took another drag before blowing the smoke out.

“She apologized for slapping me” he turned his head away being unable to look at Jeongguk for he feared the reaction he would find himself faced with.

For a few seconds Jeongguk didnt reply and then Jimin heard the sounds of his laughter. Turning towards the younger boy he was surprised to find him red in face,and clutching his stomach. Jimin looked at him and tried to hold back the laughter bubbling in his throat and then with a final snort he let it out. The both of them sat on the hood of Jimin’s car laughing for a good few minutes until Jimin finally gained enough composure to speak.

“It really hurt tho” Jimin chuckled and Jeongguk patted his chest.

“It was the ring” he looked at Jeongguk and a look passed between the both of them before they burst out in laughter again.

“You legit got slapped by a girl tho” and they continued laughing.

For once you were glad to be in college because rumours weren’t as damaging as they could be in high school. Yet they still created problems although not as much as they would have, had you been 15 years old.

“People actually fucking thing we’re dating. I mean Jimin and I dating. Has everyone’s collective consciousness gone to shit or something?” You wildly gestured your hands trying to explain to Taehyung how ridiculous it was.

It all started when one of Jimin’s so called fangirl’s shoved you against a wall while you were getting out of your morning class. The corridor was empty and you assumed she seized her chance. Placing her forearm on your neck she pushed you further into the wall.

“Stay away from Jimin. Everyone knows he hates you, so stop being so desperate you bitch” she looked at fiercely.

Finding yourself choking against her hold you had pushed her frail body away from yourself.

“I.. have.. no interest.. in….that… asshole…” you choked out the words, hyperventilating due lack of oxygen. Thankfully for you the hall was silent enough to make the sound of footsteps echo down the hall and hearing them the girl fled in the opposite direction.

You slid against the wall until your butt touching the ground. Your lungs were burning your throat felt tight. You massaged your neck and found it emitting heat and you were sure you had been bruised.

“Why do I always have to find you in the most weirdest situations possible” you heard Jimin’s usual deep voice.

Not again. Please.

Still gasping for air you glared at him, choosing not to indulge in a conversation. Jimin crouched down in front of you and inspected your hunched figure. Clearing your throat you looked up at him.

“Maybe next time tell your fangirls to chill. Fuck” you groaned as sharp pain rose in your throat.

“Ah so it was her” Jimin nodded in recognition of who it could have been.

Her? Her who? Did he send her?

“You really took it far this time. I could have fucking died. I know you hate me. Thats very clear but seriously sending one of those desperate bitches to attack me? Thats low even for you” with stumbling steps you stood up.

Jimin chuckled in disbelief before his expression turned thunderous. Sure he indulged in all the wrong things but he would never sink so low as to physically cause you harm no matter how much he disliked you.

“Listen here. I didn’t send her. Why the fuck would I? ” he glared down at you.

“Oh I dont know maybe because you DONT LIKE ME” you screamed at him, immediately regretting it because now your throat was beginning to hurt.

“That may be true but I would never go to that extent” he roared equally loud, maybe more so and you slightly flinched back because of it.

Regaining your defensive stance you scoffed and crossed you arms over your chest. You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t admit it. He was obviously using her for sex and obviously much more.

“Its not secret Jimin that you have been fucking her. Everyone knows”

“So what? What the fuck does that even prove? Are you seriously implying that just because we fuck I would use her to hurt you?” he clenched his jaw as he glared at you furiously.

“Screw it. I’ve had it with you” you turned on your heels and were about to walk away when he roughly pulled you back again by the arm.

“Don’t fucking walk away. Don’t you fucking dare y/n” his hands tightened their hold on your upper arm, effectively leaving red marks on your bare skin.

“Yea? And what does it matter if I walk away? Why the fuck do you give a shit what I do or don’t think?” you yelled at him, and in the back of your mind you couldn’t help but wonder how strange it was that no one passed by.

“I don’t-” he paused as he inhaled a deep breath. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. He couldn’t point to a particular emotion he was feeling at the time but he could feel the anger amongst all of it.

He shoved you hard against the wall, your head hitting the back with a thud. You hissed and bit your lip to hold back the pain from making its way onto your lips.

“I don’t care what you think of me. But don’t blame me for the shit you bring upon yourself” his face was inches away from yours , breath fanning your face as he gritted the words out. You hadn’t realized when both his arms had caged you in. His eyes flickered to your lips in an instant your heart dropped. His gaze lingered on your lips as he moved in just a little bit closer, his lips grazing yours. As an instinctive response your eyes closed in anticipation of a kiss.

In a flash you opened your eyes, meeting his with a fierce gaze.

“Is Park Jimin really going to kiss me?”

“No. I am just going to let everyone think I did” he whispered tauntingly against your lips. He slowly stepped away from you mocking eyes never leaving yours and without another word he turned on his heels and disappeared behind the small crowd that had gathered around you.

“Oh my god he kissed her?” You heard someone say. You wanted to refute it but after this incident you didn’t have the energy to try and explain your side of the story to anyone.

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you had been holding in. With trembling legs you made your way out of the corridor wondering just what the hell happened?

Was he seriously going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss him?

At the thought you slapped yourself on the head forgetting that it was probably bruised, thanks to Jimin. No you would never kiss him. You hated his guts.

And that was how the rumour was born.

If you liked reading it please leave a comment, note, or reblog. Only takes a few seconds. Its is appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read it ❤️

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut #bts fake texts #bts bad boy au #park jimin bad boy au #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts college au #BTS jimin #bts jungkook #bts jimin fluff #bts jimin bad boy

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zarcake-writes · 8 years ago

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The Commander’s Babysitter

Part 10! Ok everyone, here’s the next part. This chapter is violent I’ll admit, it was hard for me to write. It includes a fight scene and I’m still learning how to write those, so be kind with that. Make sure to read the warnings below. If you’re uncomfortable reading this, then don’t. I promise the fluff and happiness will come back! There will be a happy ending.

Warnings: Curse words, attempted sexual assault, blood

It’s been a week since Gabe brought you and the kids to his country house. Gabe took you and the kids all over to have fun. There was some fun hiking trail nearby and the nearby city had some cute restaurants and interesting places to visit. Gabe did all he could do to try to give you and the kids piece of mind. Yet you just couldn’t shake that nagging feeling. Gabe would reassure you everything was fine, but you still triple checked the doors and windows at night. Gabe would always feel you get out of bed to check on the kids, he would find you peaking in their rooms at night and checking the house.

He would wait for you patiently each time, he would usually join you in double checking the locks. It was outside of your bedroom that you would look at each other, you both had the same look. Fear and anger. You were afraid, not for yourself, but for him and the kids. He would hold you every night as you cried in his arms. He felt the same. He hated himself that he left you there alone. He should have known that bastard would try to get Jesse back, he wouldn’t let anything happen to any of you.

It was middle of the second week when your fears came true. Gabe drove into the small city to meet up with Jack, Ana, and Fareeha and get some supplies for the next few weeks. You, Jesse, and Sombra stayed home to finish getting the guest rooms ready. The kids were excited to see Jack, Ana and Fareeha, and you would feel a lot more comfortable with two extra Overwatch agents in the house.

The sun outside was beginning to set, casting the living room in a soft light. You were nervous about being here with the kids when it was night, you hoped Gabe would get home soon. You ignored that feeling in your stomach and continued pulling spare blankets from a living room closet. Sombra was helping you, she was talking about what she wanted to do with Fareeha this week. Jesse was in the kitchen starting dinner, he poured some oil into a pan and was waiting for it to get warm then you would fry up the fish that was in the fridge.

“Ma, how do I know when it’s warm?” Jesse called from the kitchen.

“When the oil is smoking.”

“Alright.”

“Will you teach me to cook mom?” Sombra asked you.

“Of course. Tomorrow you can help me in the kitchen. Now take these to the spare rooms and make sure the windows are locked please.” You said patting her shoulder, she scampered off to the other rooms with the blankets in her arms.

“Mom, the oil is smoking.” Jesse called. You entered the kitchen and grabbed the fish from the fridge, you quickly breaded the fish and set them on a plate.

“Alright cowboy, you need to be careful with the oil. Oil burns are the worst burns you can experience, so you can watch me do this first.” You said, he nodded his head and watched you.

Before you could begin the doorbell rings and that familiar feeling washed over you again, Jesse went to answer the door expecting his father and the other Overwatch agents. The hair on the back of your neck rose and a chill ran through your body, a feeling in your gut warned you not to answer the door.

“Jesse no!” you said, but it was too late. Jesse opened the door and standing on the front porch was his biological father. John McCree.

“Howdy kiddo.” He said, his accent heavy. Jesse was staring up at the man with wide eyes, he looked terrified. You pushed Jesse out of the way and slammed your body against the door but the man on the other side was pushing hard against it. You managed to prop yourself against it, you had to buy Jesse and Sombra time to get out of the house.

“Jesse! Get your sister! Run!” you hissed, the man was slamming against the door hard. You were barely keeping it closed, “Now Jesse!”

“Open this door you fucking cunt!” he screamed, he was slamming against the door hard.

“Jesse McCree Reyes! Get your sister and go to your father’s office!” you hissed, you pushed against the door more, your feet were slipping against the hard wood floor. You couldn’t hold the door closed for long, you weren’t strong enough.

“What about you mom?” he asked on the verge of tears.

“Jesse go!” you cried.

Jesse reluctantly stepped away from you and took off down the hall. You pushed against the door with all your strength, John McCree was stronger but you just needed to give your kids time. You saw Jesse and Sombra run through the hallway and into Gabe’s office. You heard the door close and click. They were safe.

“I knew you were lying to me cunt. You were a good liar though, I’ll give you that.” He said through the door, “I can’t believe you’re Gabriel Reyes’ old lady. I was so surprised when I learned his ugly mug married a cute little thing like you.”

“You better get the fuck out of here, cause when Gabe gets back he’s going to kill you.”

“He might, but I’ll kill you first. I might even have some time to play with you. But, I’m going to get my son you bitch!”

“He’s not your son!” you spat. You pushed off the door and took off the to the kitchen, the front door flew open and John McCree chased after you. You could hear him behind you, no doubt he had a gun, you had to be quick.

You grabbed the pan of boiling oil off the stove and threw it at him. He was so close behind you he didn’t have time to jump back, but he managed to put his arm up in time. The oil landed on his arm, hand, and partially on his face. He let out a loud shriek and stepped away.

“You bitch! I’m going to kill you slowly!” he yelled as he held his face. You didn’t waste any time, you brought the pan up and it hit him hard in the face, you hit him one more time before you took off to the office. You pounded on the door.

“Kids it’s mom, open the door!” you yelled. The door opened and you pushed inside. You closed the door and locked it. Turning you saw Jesse looking at you wide eyes and scared, Sombra was sitting next to Gabe’s desk crying.

“Mom are you ok?”

“Yes cowboy, I am. Did you call the cops?”

“Yes, we called dad too. He’s on his way.” Jesse said. You grabbed your son and held him tightly, “Mom I don’t want to go back with him.”

“You’re not. I need you and your sister to be brave for me ok?” you said stepping to the window in Gabe’s office. There was a loud bang on the door, John McCree was slamming against the door, no doubt angrier than he was before.

“Mom who is that?” Sombra whimpered from the desk.

“He’s a bad man. Quick, you two get out that window, wait for the cops near the road. Stay in the shadows, don’t come out until you see the cops or your father.” you said opening the window. The slamming against the door continued, Sombra began to cry harder and Jesse started breathing harder than he was before.

“What about you mami?” Sombra cried as you checked the outside of the window. You motioned for her to come to you.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Open this door you fucking bitch!” John screamed, he slammed into the door again and again.

“Hurry kids.” You said. You helped Sombra out the window. She landed with a grunt and looked up at you in fear, then you began helping Jesse out the window.

“Mom, he’s going to hurt you. He’s going to hurt you like he hurt my first mom.” Jesse sobbed as he was going out the window. He got down next to his sister and she wrapped her arms around his waist, it broke your heart seeing them like this.

“He won’t my cowboy. Your sister needs you, now go. I’m right behind you.” you said, a gun shot went off and you saw the door fly open. You tried to get out the window but John McCree grabbed you and pulled you back into the room, you landed hard on Gabe’s desk. You rolled off and landed on your back. You quickly backed away from your attacker and glared at him, he was the image of pure evil. You sat up a bit and glared back at the man.

“You stupid bitch, you should have listened to me. Cause now you’re in for a whole world of hurt.” He smacked you across the face, the hit caused you to land hard on your side. You tried to crawl away but he pulled you back to him, he flipped you over and he straddled your waist.

“Get off me.” you spat trying to hit him, the oil had left large red mark on his face and his lip was bleeding, no doubt from where you hit him with a pan. You hoped the oil would continue burning his face and it would leave a scar on his ugly face.

“I won’t be the only man on you tonight doll.” He sneered pushing the barrel of the gun into your forehead. A chill ran up your spine as you realized what he meant. You thrusted your hips up suddenly, it threw him off balance and you managed to slam your fist into his stomach. He toppled off you with a curse. You flipped over and made a beeline for the door, but he tackled you to the floor.

He grabbed you by the back of your head and slammed your face into the hard wood floor a couple times, you tasted blood in your mouth. Your left side of your face was on fire, you felt something slick run down your face, everything was dizzy and you let out a ragged sob. He climbed off you and kicked you a couple times in the ribs, you used your arms to protect your head and face from his kicks.

“Leave her alone!” came Jesse’s voice. You glanced up and saw he had come back inside, he stood in the doorway of the office, a determined look on his young face.

“Look at you boy, you look like me. Shame you got your mothers eyes though, but you’re all me. You and I are going to head back home, and then you’ll learn how to be in a gang. No more of this shit with your pretend family, you’re going home with your real family.” He said to Jesse happily. The change in his voice and attitude scared you. John McCree was ignoring you now. He was holding Jesse by the shoulders, your boy looked terrified.

“Alright boy, tonight we’ll make a man of you. She’s a pretty thing, why don’t you take her.” he said motioning towards you with his gun. You felt sick when you realized what he meant.

“I- I can’t.”

“What? Are you a fucking pussy?” he spat at Jesse, your son jumped at the sudden change in the tone of voice.

“No, she’s my mom.”

“Ahh. If she’s your mommy, and I’m your daddy, then I guess it’s only fair I take her for a ride then, eh boy?” he handed Jesse his gun and turned to you, “Watch and see how it’s done boy.”

He advanced on you, you tried to crawl away but he grabbed you by the neck and picked you up. You tried to scratch his face but he spun you around and slammed you onto Gabe’s desk. You gasped in pain, the edge of the desk dug into your hips bones.

You could feel him trying to pull off your pants, you screamed and fought against him. He grabbed your wrists and twisted your arms behind your back. His other hand grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head up, “Stop squirming cunt.” He spat.

“Jesse run!” you managed to scream. He let go of your hair and began trying to pull of your pants, you were trying to fight him off. When our pants were almost off your hips, you prayed Jesse would run away. You didn’t want him to see this.

“Get off her!” Jesse screamed. The man stopped pulling on your pants, he turned around and let out a laugh. He pushed you back onto the desk roughly, you whimpered in pain and glanced back. Jesse was aiming the gun at John. You pulled your pants up and noticed Gabe’s bronze Overwatch statue he used as a paperweight.

“Ohhh boy. You remember the last time you pulled a stunt like this?” the man laughed loudly, “Now are you going to shoot me or just stand there like a fucking pussy?”

You saw your chance, you gripped it in your hand and turned to the man. His back was to you, Jesse didn’t even notice you moving.

“Leave us alone or I’ll kill you.” Jesse said, his voice shook.

“Sure, you will. Go ahead and shoot me.” the man laughed.

You took a step forward, your ribs hurt and your face was throbbing.

“Fucking shoot me!” he screamed, Jesse jumped in shock. His arm was shaking now. The gun was too heavy for him. He was only a boy, he should have continued running.

You took another step forward and gripped the statue tighter in your hand. It was heavy but it fit perfectly in your hand.

“Fucking pussy.” The man said, he yanked the gun from Jesse’s hand and punched your son in the face. Jesse stumbled back tripped, he landed on his back and clutched his mouth in pain, “You ain’t nothing but a fucking piece of shit. You’re whore of a mother made you soft, and now this whore made you softer. Don’t you remember what happens to whores Jesse? You must have forgotten. Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”

When he turned back to face you, you swung. The statue hit him in the side of the head, he let out a surprised scream and he stumbled away. The gun was still in his hand, you swung at him again but he caught it. He pulled it from your hand and hit you in the face again, you stumbled back and fell on your butt. You scooted away from him, your back was now agaisnt Gabe’s desk.

“You fucking bitch. I’m going to kill you,” he aimed the gun at you, “No, this is too easy. Too quick.” He sneered. He stuffed the gun into his pants and lunged at you, you went to kick him but he was faster. His hands wrapped around your neck tightly, you reached for his face and tried to scratch him. He moved away from your reach, he squeezed tighter.

Jesse jumped on his back and tried to get him off you, John let you go briefly and pushed Jesse away from you both harshly. You inhaled and slammed your fist into his face, he looked stunned briefly but laughed, you didn’t hit him hard enough. His hands wrapped around your throat again and he squeezed tighter again, tighter than before. You tried to fight him, you tried to push him off you. You couldn’t. You weren’t strong enough. Your vision began to go dark, you knew this was it. You failed. You didn’t protect Jesse, you wouldn’t see him or Sombra grow up. You would never see Gabe again, you and he would never have a baby. You failed them all.

Instead of death, the pressure on your throat was gone and you inhaled deeply. You coughed and rolled onto your side, you inhaled raggedly and coughed again. You opened your eyes and looked around, Jack was beside you, he looked so angry and scared. You saw Ana holding Jesse in the hallway, she looked horrified and so angry. You turned and saw Gabe had John pinned to the ground, you had never seen Gabe so angry, his face was full of pure hate. You noticed he was holding John’s gun to the man’s head, John was cursing at Gabe.

“Jack, Ana. Get them out of here.” Gabe snarled.

“Where’s Sombra?” you asked Jack, as he helped you stand, your voce was so hoarse and your whole body hurt.

“She’s outside, safe with Fareeha.” Jack said softly. He carried you downstairs while Ana held Jesse, he was sobbing in Ana’s arms.

Outside several cops, cars pulled up, Sombra ran to you when Jack put you down. You held her tightly and pulled Jesse to you. You kissed both and held them tightly, you heard Jack ordering the cops, who seemed shocked to see the Commander of Overwatch. Ana was trying to talk to you but you were only focused on your babies. Then everything just faded out.

You don’t remember much after that, you remember hearing what sounded like a shuttle and Jack ordering people around. Sombra crying for you, begging to see her mom, Jesse sobbing and asking if he lost his second mom, you heard Ana hushing them and calming them. Gabe’s voice was heard briefly before there was more cries, then a soft voice like and angel. You felt yourself being placed in what felt like a bed and then nothing. Just darkness.

#reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #dad gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes #jesse mccree #sombra #jack morrison #ana amari #fareeha amari #pharah #reader insert #self insert #my writing #this is violent and i'm sorry #the commander's babysitter

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ddaengtae · 8 years ago

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Time Bomb - Lip Gallagher Imagine

Word Count: 3169

Warnings: Swearing, mention of someone’s drug addiction

Letting out a content sigh, you leaned back on your bed and kicked your legs up to rest your feet in your best friend’s lap. Lip Gallagher. The two of you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You were initially drawn to each other due to your mutual natural intelligence in school. From there, your relationship only grew stronger. You quickly discovered that you lived in the same neighborhood. You both had tough living situations with your parents. The two of you were a match made in heaven—literally. You had even fooled around with the whole friends with benefits thing more than once, but something seemed to always get in the way right before the relationship transformed into something more. The timing was never on your side.

“I finally decided to put a deposit down on Chicago Polytechnic,” you said, folding your hands together over your stomach. “Not my top choice, but I figured it wouldn’t be as expensive as the other schools and it’s close by in case I ever need to help out at home.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” Lip commented, his lips forming what appeared to be a forced smile as he looked down, scrolling through his phone.

Raising a questioning eyebrow, you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Have you picked a school yet? The deadline is in a few days, you know.”

A sigh escaped Lip’s mouth as he as he dropped his phone to the bed. “I already told you, Y/N. I’m not going to college.”

Shaking your head, you moved your legs off of his lap and sat up straight. “Yeah, I know you said that. But I didn’t think you were actually being serious.”

It was clear by the look on Lip’s face that he was beginning to get irritated. “Why the fuck would I joke about that? There’s too much going on here for me to run off and go to college.”

“Lip, the world isn’t going to stop spinning if you go to college. It’s what Fiona wants for you. It’s what everyone wants for you,” you argued, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. “You’re fucking brilliant. You deserve to do more than just be stuck here for the rest of your life. What are you gonna do here once school is done? You can’t just run the van with Kev every so often and make a living.”

That was when he began to snap. Standing up in front of you, his angry eyes glared into yours. “Last time I checked, you’re not my fucking mom,” he spat, his hands clenching into fists. “I already have one piece of shit mom. I don’t need another.”

He didn’t scare you. You had seen him livid before plenty of times in the past. His arrogance was bothering you just as much as your persistence was angering him. “Well, considering the fact you can’t make a logical fucking decision for yourself, I’m pretty sure you do need someone looking out for you,” you disputed, taking a step closer to him. “I get it. Things have been tough for you here lately. So don’t you think it’d be smart to step away from it all while you can?”

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” he yelled, his face glowing red in anger. “Are you trying to say I can’t control myself here?”

Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head. “Maybe that is what I’m trying to say,” you began, your eyes never leaving his. “I mean, ever since things went to shit with Karen a while ago, you’ve been drinking more than ever. Hell, you’ve got a beer with you right now. You’re not your same old carefree self anymore. I’m just worried about you.”

Despite the fact that you were making it evident that you cared, Lip only got angrier. His teeth clenched together. “Are you trying to say I’m turning into my dad? Because I’m not my dad, Y/N. I’m not my fucking dad.”

“Lip, I’m not saying you’re like your dad,” you responded with a sigh, taking a step back from him. “I’m just saying that I don’t want you to turn into your dad.”

“Just because I’m choosing to stay here doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into my fucking dad,” he retorted, his voice becoming colder with each word. “And you’re going to college, so what? Just because you’re going to college doesn’t mean you’re not going to end up like your mom.”

Your whole body froze in place. You couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. Your mom had been your best friend. She was a caring mother to you— or at the very least she attempted to be—up until her death. When you were about twelve, she lost her job at the same time her relationship with your father started to go sour. Never being able to find any satisfaction in her life again, she fell deep into a world of drug addiction. One morning when you were fifteen, you woke up to a loud bang and noticed water flooding the hallway when you stepped out of your room. When you finally managed to pry open the bathroom door, you had found your mom dead in the shower. She had overdosed and collapsed. The worst part about the current situation was that Lip had been with you through your grieving period and had even attended the funeral with you.

“Get the fuck out,” you demanded, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes started to well up with tears.

That was all it took for all of the anger to drain from Lip’s face and for him to realize what he had said. Anxiously running his hands through his hair, he took a step toward you, his hand now extending toward you to touch your cheek. “Fuck, Y/N. I didn’t mean that. I’m so—“

“Get the fuck out!” you screamed, your voice breaking more than once in the single sentence. You couldn’t stand to look at him. Ripping his hand off of your cheek, you pressed the palms of your hands against his chest and shoved him toward the door of your bedroom with all of your force, causing him to stumble backwards. The tears were readily streaming down your cheeks now.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his sorrowful eyes trying to meet your own, but you refused to look at him. “I just… I… Fuck.”

Shaking your head, you gave him one last push and slammed the door after him. You hadn’t even allowed him to retrieve his stuff before forcing him out of the room. The sobs were now freely escaping your mouth, shaking your whole body as you approached your bed. You yanked his backpack off of your bed, slamming it against the floor. Scanning your surroundings through blurry eyes, they fixed on the empty beer bottle he had left on your desk. Storming toward it, you gripped your fingers around it and hauled it against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million little pieces on the floor.

There were very few subjects that could destroy you just at the mere mention of them. Your mom was one of them. She was top of that list. And Lip knew that.

Ignoring the few shards of glass that managed to prick into the bottoms of your feet, you collapsed down onto your bed. Rolling onto your side, your eyes set on your closed bedroom door. You noticed a slight silhouette through the crack on the bottom of the door. A loud sigh escaped your lips. Lip was still there, sitting against your closed door. This was further proven when you heard a sniffle from the other side of the door.

Laying back, you pulled the blankets from your bed over your head, closing your swollen eyes. You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to talk. You just needed to disappear for a while. “Just leave,” you muttered, pulling your knees into your chest and curling up into a ball.

When the sun began to set after what seemed like hours, you finally heard Lip let out a defeated sigh and situate himself on the other side of the door. There was a slight thud against the door, which you assumed was either one of his palms or his forehead. “I’m so sorry. Just… Just call me or something eventually… please?”

With that, you finally heard the sound of his footsteps walking away and descending down the staircase. Eventually, your heavy eyes closed and you were able to drift off into an unpleasant night of sleep, his words and images of the past engraved in your mind.

–

You didn’t call him. In fact, you avoided him at all costs. At school, you averted your eyes away from him during the classes you had together. When the bell would ring, you would slip out of the classroom before he could catch up to you. Since the two of you typically walked home together, you instead resorted to taking a longer route. Graduation came and went within the next week and you still managed to keep your distance. You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t know what to say to him. Despite your anger towards him, it still felt like a part of you was missing due to the fact that he had previously consumed such a large portion of your time.

Your eyes flickered away from the TV as you heard a knock on the front door. Your dad had told you he was expecting a package and to sign for it, so you assumed it would be that. Forcing yourself off of the couch, you dragged your feet toward the door, tugging it open.

All emotion fell from your face when your eyes fell upon the unexpected. Lip. Clearing your throat, you stepped aside. “The stuff you left here is next to the couch,” you said coldly, turning your back to him and walking back toward where you had been seated before.

“Y/N, I’m not here for my stuff. I don’t give a fuck about my stuff.” He followed you into the living room, standing over the couch you were now sitting on. “You’ve been avoiding me and it’s literally eating me alive.”

Resting your feet up on the table in front of you, you glued your eyes to the TV. “What did you expect me to do?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, okay? I realized the moment the words left my mouth that I fucked up. And you were right about me. I could be turning into Frank. What I said was something Frank would say. And I really don’t want to be like him.” He was now standing in front of the TV, blocking your view. “The comparison I made was so uncalled for. Your mom was always a caring person, regardless of what happened to her. And you could never fall down that path. You’re so smart and you’re going to be so successful and you always surround yourself with people who make you happy and… Fuck. I’m just sorry.”

Still, you forced the expression on your face to remain emotionless. Even though he was blocking the TV, your eyes didn’t meet his. “You’re right,” you began, crossing your legs. “It was a Frank thing to say.”

The response you gave clearly did not satisfy Lip. He anxiously ran his hands over his face, beginning to pace back and forth. “So that’s it? I fuck up once… And yes, I do admit it was a huge fuck up… and you’re just going to throw away all of these years of friendship and everything we’ve ever had?” His voice broke off at the end. This caused your eyes to flicker to his face for a moment. As he stared up at the ceiling, it was clear that there were tears welling up in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you began to chew on your lower lip. You could feel your emotions starting to kick in, but you didn’t want to break just yet. “So that’s it?” you started, mocking him in a way. “You’re just going to throw away your potential in life after achieving great things all of these years?”

Wiping his eyes, Lip reached down and grabbed the TV remote off of the couch, turning it off. “If you had answered my calls or let me talk to you at school, you would’ve known that I managed to scrape up the money to put a deposit down on Chicago Polytechnic too,” he responded, kneeling down on the ground in front of you so you were forced to look him in the eye. “You were right. I can’t stay here. I’d eventually lose my mind if I stopped using it to its full potential. You were right, okay?”

A single tear slid down your cheek as you looked down at your lap. He had profusely apologized and had even followed your advice. He really did care about you. Wiping your cheek, your eyes met his and you forced a half smile. “I’m happy for you.”

Putting each of his hands on the couch surrounding where you were sitting, he shook his head. “I don’t want to hear that. I want to hear that you don’t hate me.” His eyes scanned your face up and down. “I want to hear that I can have you back in my life again before I go insane.”

Letting out a sigh, you held both of your arms out wide, signaling to him to hug you. Immediately, he leaned in closer and engulfed you in his muscular arms, squeezing you tightly. You hugged him back, burying your face in his chest and gripping the back of his shirt. “I could never hate you.”

Lip’s body collapsed on top of yours on the couch as he embraced you, causing you to let out a laugh – the first time you’d laughed in a while. Despite your laughter, Lip’s face was serious when he finally pulled back to look at you. “You should’ve hated me. I was a dick and I don’t deserve you.”

Resting your head back on the couch, you shook your head at him. “Don’t say that. It’s impossible for me to stay away from you for too long,” you said, smiling at him slightly as you played with his hair. “I love you too much.”

“You shouldn’t,” he mumbled, lifting some of his weight off of you as he removed his arms from your waist and propped himself up on his elbows over you. His bright blue eyes stared down into yours, the look on his face suddenly changing. A mesmerized look took over his eyes as he lifted one of his arms off of the couch, resting his hand on your cheek.

Biting your lip, a nervous laugh escaped your lips in response to his actions. “Don’t say that,” you repeated, shaking your head. “You could just say you love me too.”

It was almost like he didn’t even hear your words. The captivated look on his face remained unfazed. Before you could question it, he leaned down further and closed the gap between the two of you, his lips smashing into yours.

After freezing up for a moment, you allowed your body to melt into his, your arms wrapping around his neck and tangling into his hair. You could feel your heart pounding through your chest. This was far from the first time this had happened. You and Lip had crossed far over the line of friendship into something more many times in the past. However, each time either of you began to get afraid of catching feelings, you would hold back from hooking up for a while until you couldn’t resist each other again. Somehow you always ended up coming back to each other.

When you were finally able to assess the context of the current situation, your body froze up again. Pulling your lips away from his, you furrowed your brow and gave his chest a slight shove. “Wait, are you seriously trying to hook up with me right now after I just forgave you?”

Pursing his lips together, Lip climbed off of you and sat up on the couch. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. “It’s not like that.”

The irritation that you had finally let go of began to resurface again. Standing up from the couch, you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not like what, Lip?”

“Hooking up. It’s not like that to me.”

Taking a few steps back, you held your hands up in defense. “So just because we’re friends, you don’t qualify it as hooking up? I’m not understanding.”

Letting out a long sigh, Lip stood up and finally allowed his eyes to meet yours. “Haven’t you ever considered how weird it is that we always have trouble acting like ‘just friends’ for extended periods of time? So we always end up breaking the rules. And just when we start breaking the rules a little too much, we stop. We stop because ‘the timing isn’t right’ or whatever bullshit excuse we convince ourselves,” he explained, slowly taking a step toward you. “And since I’ve had a lot of time to think it over while you were avoiding me, I decided that I’m sick of that.”

This was the most you had ever seen Lip let his guard down. He usually worked tirelessly to maintain his detached, carefree demeanor. But not now.

Your legs suddenly felt weak as you stood in front of the boy that had been your best friend for so long. You knew he was right. You knew that the two of you had worked so hard to repress all other feelings for each other, but he was right. It was impossible. Biting your lip, you shyly looked off to the side, too flustered to maintain eye contact. “So when is the timing going to be right?”

Taking the remaining steps to reach you, Lip’s hands gripped your hips. “I can’t wait any fucking longer,” he whispered, his warm breath teasing yours lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “So it’s going to be right now.”

Without another word, his body pushed your back against the wall, his lips cravingly finding yours again.

For the first time, you didn’t need to begin brainstorming how you would eventually play off what had happened between the two of you. You didn’t have to constantly remind yourself that you were just friends. You didn’t have to pretend it all meant nothing to you. Because it always had meant something more. It always had your heart racing. It always had you wondering when things would truly change between the two of you. And it had always had you questioning when the timing would be right.

Finally, the clock stopped ticking.

———-

This took way longer than it should’ve but it’s after 3am so I’m off to bed. Thanks so much for your feedback on my other posts and as always, let me know what you think. xx

#lip gallagher #shameless #lip x reader #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #shameless imagine #shameless imagines #lip x you #jeremy allen white #lip imagine #shameless us

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sending-the-message · 8 years ago

Text

Look at me by stange_loops

The police have finally left. We are in a cramped, smoke-scented motel room, the door closed and double-locked. My mother is curled up in her bed, but I know she is awake. I am as well. Neither of us will sleep tonight. The small lamp between us is on--Mom wanted it, and I didn't disagree. There is nothing I can do now, except write.

Much earlier this evening, I was slouching in my room and Mom was hurrying out of the house for a rare night out. I rolled my eyes at her frustration in lacking the right shade of lipstick, but secretly I was happy for her, glad that this was obviously something she was looking forward to. Neither of us has made many friends in the fifteen years we've lived in Dorsey. It's really been just the two of us, ever since she scooped me up one night and fled here from the relentless hail of her husband's fists.

"Alex, I want you to finish that history paper tonight. It's ridiculous that you haven't even started. I'll be back around ten, okay?"

While the fall of the Roman Empire must have been a thrilling affair back in the early 400's, for me it held as much appeal as any other subject we slogged through with dour Mrs. Eldridge. I glared at the program I was working on, and then quickly pulled up a blank Word document as Mom swept into the room.

"I mean it," she said. It was strange seeing her in a pretty dress and heels, instead of her usual scrubs and banged-up sneakers. She leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on my forehead, and I caught a light whiff of some floral scent. "No parties while I'm gone, and I don't want you leaving the house either."

She left my room and clattered downstairs. Mom and I have an unspoken agreement. I don't see the stained and empty wine bottles cluttered around the recycling bin some mornings, or hear her muffled sobbing late at night, and she pretends that I am a well-adjusted sixteen year old guy with a bunch of friends and a possible love interest drifting along the halls of Dorsey High. It works, mostly.

"Have fun with Bessie and Nessie!" I shouted, as I heard the front door open.

"It's Beth and Nellie, don't be so mean," she called back, laughing, and then she was gone. Our drafty old house echoed after the slam of the door, and then settled into its usual symphony of creaks and groans. Mom was right. I had to turn in something at least semi-coherent for Eldridge tomorrow. The idea of having to repeat that class was hideous enough that I quickly typed my name, the date, and an uninspired title--"The Fall of the Roman Empire: A Momentous Affair"--onto the formerly blank page. Then I reached for my noise canceling headphones. It had taken almost two years for me to save up enough money, and they were my most prized possession. Their eerie silence expanded around me until I put on "Metamorphosis for piano" by Philip Glass (normal sixteen year old guy, remember?) and got to work.

I didn't get much done. I made the fatal error of turning to Wikipedia for help, and thirty minutes later looked up from an article about the accuracy of the Antikythera mechanism to see a storm raging outside. The tossing trees and driving rain provided a strangely suitable accompaniment to Glass's melancholy piano. I don't know how long I stared out the window, mesmerized by the storm. I went back and forth between my pitiful paper, Wikipedia, and a few pointless Flash games, before deciding that "The Fall of the Roman Empire: A Momentous Affair" would never result in a momentous leap in my grade for history class. I turned back to my program and lost myself in picking apart errors in the code.

I should probably note at this point that my desk faces the window, which is directly opposite my bedroom door.

My first and only warning was that floral perfume, now mixed with the cloying smell of alcohol. Then my headphones were wrenched away, and the world came rushing back in.

"How dare you!" My mother was livid with rage, her blush and lipstick blazing on her white face. I fumbled to close my program, but she wasn't looking at my screen. I had rarely seen her in such a state--normally she kept her short temper under tight control. I began to croak out a lame explanation, but she had already spun away in disgust and was marching downstairs.

"The one night I have to myself in God knows how long, all I ask is for you to stay at home, that's what you do anyway, just work on your stupid coding or whatever, and since when do you even bring friends over? How many fucking kids came over?"

I ran out of my room--she had left my door standing wide open--and turned into the darkened hallway towards the stairs. Mom was standing at the bottom in our living room, surrounded by a sea of wet and muddy footprints. She was shouting about responsibility and disrespect, but then she saw the expression on my face and stopped. I walked down to join her, and I didn't need to say anything. We looked at each other in the sudden silence, in a kind of dawning horror, and in that moment we heard heavy footsteps in the hallway, heading rapidly towards the stairs, towards us.

I don't remember which of us wrenched open the front door, but then we were both outside in the pouring rain, running. A flash of lightening illuminated Mom as she kicked off her heels. I expected at any moment to hear him behind me, to feel the knife in my back. We fell desperately against our neighbor's door, and by some miracle old Mr. Flaherty was awake and begrudgingly let us in.

The police arrived fairly soon, a man and a woman. We dried off in their cruiser as they searched the house and grounds. I have never seen my mother so undone--she looked like a little girl crouching there in the backseat, her hands clenched together, gazing at nothing. She wouldn't speak. After about 30 minutes, the policeman came out and asked us to follow him inside. Mom turned to him with wide eyes. "It's okay," he said. "We've searched the whole place. You've definitely had a break-in, but the culprit is no longer inside, or anywhere nearby. I'd like you both to identify whether anything has been stolen."

Back inside, the policewoman stood quietly speaking with Mom while her partner took me aside. He spoke in a low voice. "We found something, but I don't think your Mom needs to see this, not as she is right now. I'd advise you both to go to a motel tonight."

I glanced at my once steadfast, no-nonsense mother, now leaning weakly on the arm of the policewoman and staring at the ground. Then I followed the policeman up the stairs, towards my room. The lights were off in the hall, but he switched on the flashlight and shone it at the outside of my bedroom door. I saw letters, thick as tar. The storm outside, the comforting murmur of the policewoman downstairs, the man next to me, all seemed immeasurably far away as I began to read what was written.

i see you but you don't see me 8:13 and so my log begins i'm waiting

8:30 you look peaceful, maybe a little sad. why are you sad?

8:34 you don't know i am here

9:00 turn around i want to see your face

9:18 turn around and look look at me

look at me

LOOK AT ME.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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