#...only to be SHOVED into another box by somebody ELSE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

banannabethchase · 2 years

Note

first off, lemme at your coworker, I just wanna talk 😠

here is another tumblr post I always thought would be a fun story https://sarahcakes613.tumblr.com/post/680725394897371136/portraitoftheoddity-thinking-about-how-my-mom (my thought had been Roman and Seth both sneaking things into Dean's bag but I could also see it with many other pairings!)

File under "things Sara thought would be a quick little fun prompt fill that escalated and took on a life of its own, Alex."

Intrigue - on AO3

Somebody keeps leaving Band-Aids in Mox's bag after matches, and it's getting weird. As he tries to figure out who the culprit is, things escalate. Quickly.

Multi chapter because I needed 3 different points of view, and my compulsive issues did not allow me to mix POVs in one chapter. Yes, I know that's weird.

Written for a prompt by sarahcakes613 based on this delightful text post and I kind of went haywire with it. I think my brain went, "How can I simultaneously answer the prompt and disregard it completely?"

Chapters 1 and 2 are teen rated silly fluff. Chapter 3 is...well, chapter 3 is the reason for the E rating. For the purposes of easy reading, they will be combined into one post here on tumblr with indications for each chapter.

Part 1: Mox

It happens first after Mox gets cut open after Blood and Guts, when he looks back at it. That day he’d gotten a little bloody, but most of it was somebody else’s. He considered it a win. When he got backstage, there was a neat little box of Band-Aids on top of his bag. Peach toned, various sizes. Just sitting there.

“Anybody lost a box of Band-Aids?” he called to the locker room, but nobody noticed or said anything. In hindsight, this is when he should have realized.

Mox is beginning to get suspicious. It’s not that he can’t forget things – God knows he does so even more now that he’s older – but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t pack this many Band-Aids in his bags. He’s almost positive. He knows it’s only at AEW shows, because he actually went looking for a Band-Aid in his bag after a rogue tack at a GCW show and couldn’t find any.

There’s more than just the box this time. Somebody’s shoved a bunch of Captain America Band-Aids into the pocket of his jeans along with the box neatly settled on top of his bag.

Mox looks around the room, trying to find somebody looking suspicious or guilty, somebody who’s watching his movements a little more clearly than usual. Nobody. He asks Yuta, thinking the sweet kid was trying to be helpful, except, when Mox thanks him, he looks bewildered.

He’d had a hint to who it had been before his match with Hangman, but, as he makes his way back to his bag in the locker room, there they are. There’s no way Hangman had put them there before the match -Mox had been in here until the last second – and after, well. Hangman couldn’t even walk.

This time, though, it’s a handful of Barbie Band-Aids scattered all across his bag. No neatly placed box. He figures whoever it was didn’t have time.

He shakes his head, feeling a little crazy. There’s every chance he’s made this up, that the Band-Aids are just left over from somebody’s kid toddling through the locker room while saying hi to their parent.

But not three times.

Not in his bag every time.

He reaches his breaking point in January, when it’s happened almost every day he’s been at an AEW taping since Blood and Guts. It’s gotten even stranger. He gets back from his match, a box of standard peach toned Band-Aids resting on top of his things, and then a handful of…they look like crayons? When he looks closer, he confirms it: a bunch of loose crayon Band-Aids shoved into one of his gym shirts. He sits up and looks around.

Nobody is staring at him, waiting for a reaction. Yuta’s on the phone. Claudio’s doing one armed pushups, the showoff. Mox watches for a moment, because he knows on good authority that Claudio likes it when people watch him. Jungle Boy is texting somebody furiously while Hook looks asleep next to him. The Best Friend clan is huddled around Danhausen, muttering like nobody else is in the room with them.

He’s got to get to the bottom of this before it drives him to break out the nonalcoholic beer.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck.” Mox stands up and walks into the meeting room. After Rampage, most of the talent have usually left, but the leadership group (that’s who he is now with the new contract, he’s leadership, it still baffles him) been requested to check in with Tony before everybody leaves. The time difference here on the West Coast was fucking with him just as badly as the Band-Aid weirdo so he’s not even tired. He should be. “Who the fuck keeps leaving the Band-Aids all over my shit?” He holds up the box, turns around the locker room, waving it in everybody’s faces. He would probably benefit from using one of them to staunch the bleeding on his forehead, but it adds a level of drama he’s a bit fond of. “Spill. Out with it.”

To his surprise, Nick Jackson looks completely bored. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s not you?” Mox asks, shaking the box to make a fun little noise. Nick, to his credit, just blinks slowly.

“What’s not me?”

“The Band-Aids!” Mox practically yells. “Somebody in here has been leaving Band-Aids in all my stuff.”

He looks around the room for some sort of hint, somebody with a shitty poker face. Tony, exasperated and so done. Kenny Omega, furiously typing on his phone who looks up only to shake his head and go back to the conversation. Amanda and Megha, standing impatiently as they glare at Mox. Finally, he hits the mark: Matt Jackson’s eyes widen.

“Oh, your dumb little Bambi eyes gave you away, you little shit,” Mox says, staring down Matt.

Matt does not have an ounce of Nick’s stoicism. “I – not those!”

Mox blinks. “What?”

“Can you two do this later?” Tony asks. “Also, Jesus, Mox, clean up your forehead. What’d you do, blade with a steak knife?”

Mox is fuming through the meeting, something about increasing the reach of the community engagement program. He tries to pay attention to Amanda, because he really likes her, but knowing that the most annoying Jackson is the one who’s been leaving Band-Aids all over his bags like a goddamn taunt is at the front of his mind the whole time. He ends up volunteering to be the Ohio lead for the program, just to try and apologize for being a little insane right now.

“Alright, that’ll be it,” Tony says, clapping his hands. His eyes go right to Mox. “Please. Don’t kill an EVP. I’ve had enough bad PR for a lifetime.”

“No promises,” Mox grumbles, but he shrugs at Tony. Because he’s not actually planning on killing Matt. Not planning to.

“I can explain,” Matt says, when Mox grabs his arm and hauls him out of his chair

Nick and Kenny look almost bored as they follow Mox and the ragdoll formerly known as Matt Jackson down the hallway. “Where’s your room?” Mox asks Matt.

“End of the hallway. Look, you can let go of me now, if you want. I’m not going to run off.”

Mox stares at Matt’s face. “If I want?”

“If you want.”

Mox considers it. “Nope.”

They reach the end of the hallway, and Matt opens the door. Unlocked. Mox will have to remember that.

He turns to the other three of the doucheketeers. “Alright, gentlemen, we’ll be out in a second.”

Nick and Kenny are standing there, mouths open as if to speak, but Mox slams the door in their faces.

“So,” Mox says, getting in Matt’s face. “The Band-Aids.” Matt looks up at Mox, turning on the infuriatingly effective baby cow eyes. They won’t work this time. “You think it’s funny? You ribbing me or something? This WWE in 2004 and you’re trying to fuck with me?”

Matt frowns, grabbing the Band-Aids from Mox’s hand like he’s meant to touch Mox. “These ones aren’t mine!”

“What,” Mox rocks back, just a little, “wanna explain that?”

Matt, to Mox’s shock, shakes the box in his face. “These are not the Band-Aids I’ve been giving you. I’ve been tossing random, like, superhero and stuff Band-Aids in your bags. I did not put these in.” He looks at them, wrinkling his nose. “The color looks weird on me.”

“I hate that you think of how a Band-Aid looks on you,” Mox grumbles. “Okay, if you left the other ones – they suck, by the way, you’d think a self-obsessed millionaire like you would spend the big bucks on decent medical supplies – then who the fuck left this?” He snatches the Band-Aids back from Matt, wiggles it in Matt’s face like Matt had done to him.

Matt folds his arms across his chest. Mox is definitely not affected by the way it makes Matt’s biceps flex and…Nope. He’s not looking. “Self-obsessed? Nice, Mr. Bleeds Every Week for the Vibes.”

“It’s – it’s not for the vibes – and this one – fuck you!”

“Eff you!”

“Fuckin’ princess can’t even swear,” Mox huffs. “Fine. Whatever. You are helping me figure out who the fuck is leaving the other set of bandaids in my bag.”

Matt fixes his face into some sort of indignant pout. “Why would I help you?”

Mox crowds into Matt’s space, using the height advantage to pin him against the wall. He tries not think about what else they could get up to like this. Matt looks good from this angle. “Because, if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass.”

Matt mutters something under his breath, but Mox doesn’t catch it.

Part 2: Matt

Matt has a boner and has to hide it, because Kenny and Nick are fawning over him like Mox actually did something to hurt him.

“Are you sure we don’t need to talk to Tony?” Kenny asks, eyes searching Matt’s face.

“It’s fine,” Matt says, waving them off. “Look, I did leave some Band-Aids in his bag. I thought he’d need them, you know? He took it wrong. I explained the situation, and we’re good.” His leg’s doing the annoying twitching thing, and Kenny notices.

“He threaten you or something?” Kenny asks.

Matt shakes his head. “No, oh my god. It’s fine.” Matt exhales and goes over everything, leaving out the way his pants aren’t exactly comfortable right now.

“What compelled you to mess with Moxley?” Kenny asks. “Of all fucking people?”

“I wasn’t fucking with him!” Matt says, for what feels like the eightieth time that day. “I just – I liked the fun Band-Aids, and he’s always bleeding all over the place. It’s a gift and a workplace safety initiative.”

“Workplace safety ini – oh, god, I’m breaking up the tag team.” Nick leans against the wall, head in his hands.

“Are not,” Matt snaps back.

Kenny groans. “Okay, fine. Fuck up your life by interacting with Moxley. I literally could not care less at this point, as long as you don’t get yourself killed before the end of this seven game series.”

Matt considers himself a decent spy, but it takes until the day before game seven to catch the culprit. He’s been pulling out all the stops – hiding in piles of other people’s stuff, sneaking into the locker room before and after the show starts, even pretending to be on his phone while actually filming Moxley’s bag. It works until it doesn’t, because he technically is supposed to be in a different locker room. He hadn’t realized that his presence would be that, well, noticed. It’s like he can hardly walk into the locker room without one of the other wrestlers waving and calling attention to him.

It happens again as he tries to sneak into the locker room, and Mox scares him half to death by popping out from behind a shower curtain. He’s still wet, and it’s distracting.

“Jesus, warn a guy,” Matt mutters.

“Figured it out yet?” Moxley asks. He shakes his arms out, cold water spraying and hitting Matt in the face. He fidgets trying not to look at, well, the everything about Mox. Then he drops the towel and begins getting dressed in his gear, which Matt thinks is a direct attack. He hopes it is, at least.

“No,” Matt replies, intentionally looking away as Mox puts on his pants, “and you could help, you know.”

“Nah,” Mox says, doing a little hop to adjust the fit of the gear. It’s weirdly endearing. “This is your penance for being an ass.”

“I was being helpful,” Matt snaps.

Mox laughs as he gets his boots on. “Sure you were, baby.”

Matt does not blush about it.

He should be talking strategy with Kenny and Matt, but there are more pressing issues. Namely, finding the other Band-Aid person so Moxley will be, like, happy with him. Or something. He’s not willing to examine his motivations further.

Matt’s hidden in the same little hidden shower Mox had been in when it happens. His jaw drops. Hangman, still covered in sweat from his match, slides into the locker room and neatly settles the box of plain Band-Aids on top of Mox’s bags. He glances around and makes his way toward the door. Matt takes a second to let it sink in: there was more than one moment that he worried, after that doozy of a concussion, he’d never get to see the man with his post-match glow ever again. It looks good on him. It sparks a funny little ache in Matt’s chest.

Shaking himself out of it, because he has a job to do, Matt wonders if his strategy was too inelegant, just throwing the Band-Aids all over the bag, as he steps out of the shadows and clears his throat.

Hangman freezes in place like a deer in the headlights.

“So it’s you,” Matt says, and he feels a little like a supervillain. “Stole my idea.”

“I did not steal an idea,” Hangman argues, finally getting his normal stance back. “He’s always covered in blood. Sometimes I even make him bleed the hard way. The Band-Aids are an apology.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “An apology.”

“Yeah,” Hangman says. “I used to get him beers, back in the day, but we, uh. Neither of us do that anymore. So Band-Aids.”

“You didn’t think to, I don’t know, tell him? Or give them to him face to face?”

Hangman raises an eyebrow, a little bit of a smirk hinting at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, like you did?”

Amanda must have texted Hangman about it while he was off. Traitor. “Shut up.” Matt ducks his head, glad he kept his hair down.

“You have no leg to stand on,” Hangman says, teasing. “I mean, I at least gave him the whole box. You, what, tossed a couple in his bag? Were you trying to be annoying, or is that just your default?”

“Oh, eff off,” Matt laughs. “Look, he’s pissed about it, but if you just, like, talk to him, I’m sure he’ll be normal about the whole situation.”

Hangman raises an eyebrow. “Jon Moxley. Normal about something.”

“Fair point,” Matt concedes. “He’ll be not trying to murder you about it.”

“That sounds more like him.” Hangman – Adam’s – smile is just as bright as it always used to be, and it strikes Matt that this is the first real conversation they’ve had in a long time.

He goes quiet and Adam settles into that expression of careful neutrality Matt’s always been able to read. He’s nervous.

“You okay?” Matt asks. “I – I was just joking about it. He probably won’t be that mad.”

“It’s not that,” Adam says. “I just – this is the first time we’ve been able to talk to each other without punching the other out in years.”

“I was just thinking that, too,” Matt says. His leg starts going, and Adam’s eyes dart to it. Sometimes he forgets just how much of him Adam really knows.

Adam’s smile is soft and gentle. “I’ve missed you. It’s good to talk to you.”

It feels almost too good to be true. “I’ve missed you, too.” Matt’s too scared to step closer, to risk himself again, so he just offers Adam a smile. “Mox, uh. Moxley probably won’t be able to come back here to get the bag, with the way you clocked him.”

Adam winces. “Yeah. That was,” he pauses, eyes searching the room like it’ll give him the words, “a lot.”

Matt shrugs. “It’s the business. You can let him know when he comes back.”

Lucky for Matt, who has been overly obsessed about it for too long, they’re all in the same place again January 18th, when Matt’s backstage. He just doesn’t know it until he sees Hangman over the screen as he watches backstage.

“He’s here?” he asks Nick, hand over his mic.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Nick mutters. Matt watches him choose his words carefully, the way Nick’s had to do ever since Adam left the Elite. “You gonna go talk to him?”

There his leg goes again. “Maybe.”

“Go,” Nick says, offering a soft smile.

“But I’m needed –”

“I got it,” Nick says, pushing at Matt’s shoulder. “I know how much it – how much he – means to you.”

Matt presses a quick kiss to the top of Nick’s head, because he really doesn’t know what he did to deserve him as a brother, and dashes across the arena. It takes him so long Adam’s no longer in the little alcove where he filmed his promo. He panics for a second, until he gets his head out of his ass and realizes the locker room is the most likely place to find Adam. Plus, Moxley’s here to keep an eye on the competition, even though he’s not cleared, so there’s every chance…

Matt laughs in relief when he opens the door to find Adam leaning over Moxley’s little backpack, the one he hauls around on days he doesn’t have a match.

Adam jumps about a foot when he turns around. “I wasn’t – oh.” His face melts into a smile. “Matt. Hi.”

“Caught in the act again,” Matt says, grinning. He leans up against the door frame. “Shameless.”

“I haven’t told him it’s me yet, and he’d be confused if I just all of a sudden stopped.” Adam tucks his hair behind his ear. It looks even better than usual. Matt wants to get his finger twisted around some of those curls. “It’s a bit. You have to keep up with the bit.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “He’s not cut open, though. He doesn’t need a Band-Aid.”

“He’s Moxley. He’ll crash into a wall and bust an artery or something.” Adam settles the box a little more on the bag. “But I’d rather him not catch us, so.”

“Right,” Matt follows him out of the door. And it hits him, hard: this is the moment, isn’t it. He pauses a step or two past the door to the locker room. “Um.” Adam turns to him, stops when he sees Matt isn’t moving. “You mentioned. In your promo, a few minutes ago. Fences.”

Adam nods. “Fences.”

Matt doesn’t want to hope. “And, um. Mending them?” He hopes Adam can’t hear how loudly his heart is beating.

“Yeah,” Adam says. He takes a step closer to Matt.

“I want to.”

Adam finally breaks that mask and smiles, those eyes softening. “Oh, thank god.” He rushes in and pulls Matt in for a crushing hug, one Matt hadn’t enough known he’d been missing all this time. He buries his face in Adam’s chest, trying not to think of how this feels a little like home. Adam rests his chin, or maybe his cheek, Matt can’t tell, on top of Matt’s head. They stay there for a minute, and Matt buries his face into Adam’s chest. Nothing else matters.

“This looks cozy.”

Matt and Adam pull apart to see Jon Moxley, looking mildly amused. “So, I found some more bandaids in my bag,” he shakes them in his hand, backpack slung over his shoulder, “and you two are the only ones in the hallway, so.” He looks them up and down. “Both culprits found.”

Matt fights a smile while Adam starts to go a little red.

“I – I was gonna tell you.”

Mox breaks out in a grin. “Of course it was you two in the end.”

“Why of course us?” Adam asks.

Mox licks his lips, looking the two of them up and down. “’Cause you two have been a little obsessed with me since I walked into the company.”

“I am not obsessed with you,” Matt argues, almost on instinct.

Mox laughs. “Sure you aren’t. What about you, Cowboy? You gonna deny it, too?”

“I wouldn’t say obsessed,” Adam says, with more poise than Matt would have expected from him in this situation, “I’d say intrigued.”

Mox’s grin goes a little less kind, a little more knowing. “Intrigued, huh?” He makes his way backward down the hallway, eyes locked on Matt and Adam. “If you ever want to satisfy that intrigue, let me know if you two want to, uh, not wrestle sometime. Maybe altogether.” He spins on his heel and swaggers off, and Matt is far, FAR too hot right now.

“You think he knows we used to…?” Adam trails off, and Matt is happy to see that he’s just as bright red as Matt’s pretty sure he is.

“Oh, you think?” Matt says. He feels hot all over, like his skin’s too small for his body. “You’re really using that college degree brain.”

“Shut up,” Adam says, but it’s not mean, and he’s still smiling. So Matt thinks they’re still good.

Part 3: Adam (this is where the E rating comes into effect, folks)

Adam knows it’s a dumb fucking idea. He’s going to do it anyway.

He ducks into the locker room after his match with Moxley, covered in sweat and victory, and grabs the last box of Band-Aids out of the front pocket of his duffle. He’s making his way over to Moxley’s bag when he hears it:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Adam sighs and turns around to see Mox there, blood mostly mopped off of his face. Adam feels a little proud at the stitches on Moxley’s forehead. Proof of his second victory over the man. “Oh. Hi, Moxley.”

“Get the fuck away from my stuff,” Mox laughs. “Really? Again?”

“I cut you open again, so I figured…” He trails off. Mox really does move the same way out of the ring as he does in it.

Mox walks toward him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “God, you really don’t learn, do you.”

“I learn,” Adam says, standing to his full height. “I just have no impulse control when it comes to – ” He cuts himself off, because he’s not exactly sure what was going to come next. To Mox? To men with pretty eyes who like it when they beat each other up? To people who he can’t decide if he wants to fight or fuck?

“To what?” Mox asks, sidling up to him. He’s got his hands in his front pockets, looks way too comfortable.

Adam refuses to break eye contact, but the words stick in his throat.

“Come on, Cowboy,” Mox says, voice a low growl, “You can say it.”

Adam’s eyes flick between Mox’s lips and eyes. He speaks before he can let himself think better of it. “Matt’ll be jealous if we start without him.”

Mox lets out this laugh that Adam’s never heard from him, something surprised and glorious. “Oh, I get it. You made yourself a package deal.”

“Pretty sure that was you.” Adam licks his lips. He can’t keep his eyes from Mox’s eyes and lips. “What hotel you at?”

“The one Tony paid for,” Mox says. He’s all the way in Adam’s space, now, and, if Adam takes a deep breath, their chests will touch. “Room 485.” He darts forward, gives Adam a sweet, chaste kiss with none of the tension behind the moment. It feels like a challenge. “Soon as the Rampage taping is done. I’ll be waiting.” He pulls back and rubs at his own lip with his thumb, eyes on Adam’s mouth. “You bring Matt if you’re willing to share.” He walks away without another word or a look behind.

Adam lets out this weird little noise as he feels like the world is rocking around him. With slightly shaking fingers, he pulls out his phone, and gives himself a second to let the anticipation wash over him. Meet me at the EVP locker room?, he texts, crossing his fingers that his number wasn’t deleted.

The answer comes almost immediately. b there in 5

Adam hustles to the EVP room, new anxious energy enveloping him. He counts to a hundred in his head, but only makes it to 75 before he sees Matt half-running down the hallway, already in gear. They go on last, so Adam’s sure Matt has more important things to be doing right now. But he needs to make sure he gets a chance to, in person, talk to Matt. Before whatever happens tonight. Matt lights up when he sees Adam, but he still doesn’t quite smile. When he’s walking, it’s not as clear that he’s brimming with anxiety. But he’s walking a little too quickly, limbs moving a little too frenetically, for this to be under control.

“Go ahead in,” Matt says, a little breathless. “It’s always unlocked.”

Adam smiles as he pushes the door open. “Kenny still forgetting his keys?”

“Always,” Matt says, sounding exasperated. “And then, like, Nick and I’ll be in the trainer’s or getting dinner and he’ll run in like a maniac demanding the keys! It’s just a habit at this point.” He wiggles a little, bouncing on his toes, as he leans against some sort of counter. “So. What’s the emergency? Nick and I were stretching.”

“Right, course. Uh.” Adam brushes his hair out of his face. “Mox wants us to meet him in his hotel room. After Rampage.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Really.”

Adam nods. “The direct quote was, ‘I’ll be waiting. You bring Matt if you’re willing to share.”

Matt’s eyes widen like a goddamn anime character, and a flattering blush spreads across his cheeks. “Sh-share?”

Adam nods. “So, um. I didn’t want to commit or anything until I knew if we – if…” He trails off, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “If you wanted to be each other’s again.”

Matt’s eyes go even more Bambi at that, wide and earnest and reminiscent of the man Adam first met years ago, when Adam was teaching and Matt was still convincing himself he had what it takes to change the world. “You want me to be yours?”

“I want – ” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Matt’s launched himself at Adam, kissing him like their lives depend on it. It feels like breathing, like a sip of cold water on the days when they’re short staffed and Adam’s working twelve hours to keep the plants in shape. It feels even better than winning the match against Moxley, barely an hour ago.

Adam tries to hold Matt as preciously as he holds the moment, flooding with nostalgia for a time he never thought he’d get back. He pulls back, pressing his lips to Matt’s cheeks, his forehead, all across his face, until Matt’s letting out this half giggle and looking up at him. Adam would fight the world for those eyes. “I want you to be mine,” Adam finally gets a chance to say. “Again. Right, this time.”

“Okay,” Matt says. “Yeah, I – yours. And you’ll be mine?”

Adam nods, raising a shaky hand to brush Matt’s hair off of his shoulders. “Yes.”

“And we can share, huh?” Matt asks. His smile grows a little devious, a little too knowing for the way he was beaming up at Adam a few seconds before. “Jeez, you never change, do you.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “We – we both had fun those few months with Cole, and you know it. Mox’ll be, uh. I think he’ll be a little different.”

“Oh, yeah,” Matt says, and he almost looks too excited. “Seen his dick. Dude’s packing. We’re in for a hell of a night.”

Adam clears his throat. “I’m done with the evening, but you, uh. You got a match soon.” He peeks down – the gear doesn’t allow much for the imagination to come up with. Matt’s clearly hard. Working on a hunch that Matt hasn’t changed as much as he likes to pretend he has, Adam leans down to his ear. “Better get that under control before thousands of people see you’re desperate for it on live television.”

And there it is. Matt lets out that little whine of his, reaches up to grip Adam by the biceps and pulls him in for the kind of kiss you couldn’t show on cable.

“You can’t – you can’t just say that kind of thing to me,” Matt laughs, sounding near hysterical. “God, you’re evil.”

Adam shrugs. “And you’re mine. So what does that say about you?”

Matt rolls his eyes and hauls Adam in for another kiss, then pushes him off. “I’ll meet you in the hotel after my match.” He squeezes Adam’s hand. “Don’t you dare leave without me.”

Adam beams at him as he walks away. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

Matt barrels backstage with the kind of grin that could blind a person, belt in the air and hair plastered to the back of his neck.

Adam steps into the hallway, hoping this isn’t a mistake. “That was a great first title defense,” he says. He feels a little too tense, like the three of them weren’t once his reason for waking up in the morning. “Fantastic match.”

Kenny exchanges a look with Matt, then with Nick. “Thanks, man.” His tone is careful. Hesitant. “Yours was amazing. Never seen you pull off two Buckshots in a row like that. Picture perfect.”

“Coming from the Best Bout Machine, that’s a big compliment.” Adam grins, but it feels a little strange. “Fuck, this is weird.”

“Okay, thank you!” Nick says, throwing his arms in the air. The end of the belt clips him in the arm, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “If you three would just be, I don’t know, adults about it and apologize, we’d be way better off. So you. All of you. Be nice.”

Adam startles. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I tried to,” Matt says, stepping next to Adam. “But it was all ‘no, we can’t break out the hammers again, Matt.’ I wasn’t trying to bring up hammers.” He points to Adam. “We – again.”

“Romantic,” Adam snickers.

“Shut up, this is hard,” Matt snaps.

Adam snickers again.

Kenny laughs. “Oh, fuck, they’re back together.” It’s not mean or vitriolic. It reminds – well, it reminds Adam of before AEW, before the civil war. It reminds him of when they were the Elite, and they all made sense to each other. “Neither of you are allowed to fuck it up this time. We’ve got too much bad PR in the past year.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “I don’t recall.”

Nick sighs. “Well, love this, love you guys, but I’m going to go shower for, like, fifteen years, and then I’m passing out in the room.” He raises an eyebrow at Matt. “I’m assuming I won’t see you tonight.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Matt says. “Yeah, I plan on being busy –”

“I forgot about the oversharing part,” Nick says with a wince, while Adam and Kenny laugh. “Please don’t finish your sentence.”

“Well, I was just –”

Nick shoves his fingers in his ears and starts yelling, “La-la-la,” as he half sprints down the hallway toward the EVP locker room.

“Can you make sure he doesn’t gamble his life away out of concern for his dearest big brother?” Matt asks Kenny. “I’ll be otherwise occupied this evening.”

Kenny rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Take care of each other.” He gives Adam a pointed look. “I shouldn’t have to tell you not to hurt him again.”

Adam opens his mouth to answer, but Matt beats him to it. “We all hurt each other,” he says. “And we’ll all do better this time.”

Kenny nods. “Fair.” He claps Adam on the shoulder, gentle, kind. “We missed you.”

Adam’s a little light headed as he packs his things, but Matt is waiting for him by the door eagerly. He doesn’t want to keep him waiting. He chances a glance around the locker room. It’s empty.

“Come here,” Adam says, reaching out for Matt. He scoops him into another kiss, gentle this time. Matt sighs into it, arms settling on Adam’s hips. “Missed you,” he says into Matt’s mouth.

Matt hums, looking up at him. “Missed you, too.”

The anticipation of what comes next gone for a moment, Adam basks in the familiarity, the safety of holding Matt. It feels like home.

“Um, so, tonight,” Matt says. He licks his lips. Moment broken, but Adam’s dealt with much worse. “What do you think his whole deal is?” Matt asks, speaking a mile a minute into Adam’s shoulder as they make their way into the hallway. To keep it at a whisper, he’s pressed against the side of Adam’s body. He’s even more tactile, more desperate for physical contact than Adam remembers. It’s distracting in the best way. “Mox, I mean. You think he – think he’ll want to fuck me?” Adam turns to Matt, and his eyes are wide with glee.

“Okay, hold your horses,” Adam says, pressing a kiss to Matt’s temple. “Let’s just – let’s get to the hotel and figure things out there, okay?” Adam leans down to Matt’s ear. “The whole company can’t hear you this desperate. Think of what they’d say.”

A whole body shiver from Matt is Adam’s reward. “I really hate that I love it when you do that,” Matt says, but he’s quiet and red until they make it to Adam’s rental car.

“So, what – ”

Matt grabs him by the collar and hauls him in over the center console between the seats to shove his tongue in Adam’s mouth. Adam takes a split second to adjust, then gives just as good as Matt, trying to get one of those desperate little noises Matt’s always been so good at making.

He pulls away, breathless, after probably longer than they should have risked. “Okay,” Adam breathes. “Okay, we – we should get back to the hotel.” He can’t fight off his smile, can’t avoid looking at Matt’s smiling lips. “Don’t want to get caught.”

“Okay, well, if you do it too much, I’ll get used to it,” Matt says, buckling his seatbelt.

Adam glances down to Matt’s crotch. “Sure you will.”

They have to leave space between the two of them as they make their way to the hotel, to the elevator, to Adam’s room, and the anticipation is almost impossible to manage.

Matt’s on him the second the door is closed, though, shoving him up against the wall and hands going everywhere. It stuns Adam, gets his knees week, and Matt takes the moment to slide a leg between Adam’s and press up.

“Wanna touch you,” Matt murmurs against Adam’s throat, sucking hard. It’ll leave a mark, Adam realizes with a thrill. “Want you now.”

“What would Mox say if you couldn’t wait for him?” Adam asks, catching Matt’s wandering hands in his.

Matt sighs, a shiver running down his spine and all through his body. “Oh, you are the worst.”

Adam stretches, trying to get his own dick under control. “In the way you like, though.”

Matt texts Mox, who shoots back, stop by whenever, like it wasn’t his idea.

“He doesn’t even seem excited about it,” Matt pouts. He looks up. “Think he changed his mind?”

“Absolutely not,” Adam says, pulling his hair back in a little ponytail for function. “He’s just weird.”

Matt considers it. “Yeah.”

They take their own trips down the hallway to Mox’s room, and Adam makes Matt go first. The anticipation of waiting the five minutes to get down to the fourth floor, to meet up with Mox and Matt, damned near kills him.

He walks too quickly down the hall, too quickly into the elevator, too quickly to Mox’s room. He knocks, and time slows as he waits for the door to open. It doesn’t.

With a shaky hand, he goes for the handle. He pushes it open slowly to see Mox kissing Matt so gently, so meticulously, it makes Adam’s head spin.

“Started without me?” he laughs. He makes sure the door is closed, locked, behind him. He swallows hard. “God, that’s a pretty sight.”

Matt’s eyes are already a little dazed when he turns to Adam, but not so much they don’t light up when he sees him. “Hi!”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, coming to kiss Matt’s cheek. He offers an awkward wave to Mox. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hey,” Mox says. “Took you long enough.”

“I waited five minutes,” Adam says, playing with a strand of Matt’s hair that’s come loose from his hair tie. “Figured that’d keep anybody from getting suspicious.”

Mox’s laugh is low, quiet, full of potential. “Let’s hope the rooms near us are empty.” He drops his head to Matt’s ear, and Adam can hardly hear it when he mutters, “Don’t want people hearing it when you get loud.”

Matt’s eyes flutter shut and he lets out one of Adam’s favorite sounds.

“Yeah, he likes that,” Adam says with a little chuckle.

“What else do you like, baby?” Mox asks, tugging at Matt’s earlobe with his teeth.

“Somebody’s gotta fuck me,” Matt says, head thrown back. “Otherwise I might die. I, uh.” He shakes his head. “Okay, if you keep doing that thing with your tongue, I won’t be able to answer any questions.” Mox takes a step back, and Matt straight up pouts. “I didn’t mean go that far away, but fine.” He licks his lips. “I, uh. I want to see you guys kiss.” He swallows. “And, like. Don’t hold back.” He sits himself on the bed, kicks off his shoes, and crosses his legs. “Alright, then.”

Adam turns to Mox, heart racing. “I’ve never been able to say no to him before.” He swallows. “Don’t want to.”

Mox grabs Adam by the arm and hauls him in. Adam’s not willing to cede control of the kiss, though. He wants to put on a good show for Matt, give him everything he wants and more. He leans in, biting at Mox’s lip before he dives into the kiss. Mox kisses like he wrestles: rough, ruthless, dedicated. Adam gets a little lightheaded when he threads his hands through Adam’s hair and tugs a little, undoing the ponytail. Adam grabs at the front of his shirt, holding him to his chest. He wants Mox to remember he’s not the only world champion in the room.

“This is good,” he hears Matt say. “This – this is really good.”

Adam laughs against Mox’s mouth and presses Mox against the wall, cracking his head against a rather ugly painting. “Sorry,” he murmurs against Mox’s neck.

“’M good.” Mox grabs at Adam’s shirt, yanking it out of his jeans. “Take off your shirt.”

“You take off yours.”

“Take them both off,” Matt says from the bed. Adam looks over to see him a little eager, a little antsy. “Please?”

Mox lights up as Adam pulls his shirt off. “Oh, he says please?”

“Wait until you get him underneath you,” Adam says, biting at Mox’s neck after he gets the shirt off. “He asks so nicely. He’ll beg real pretty, too, if you’re patient.” Adam meets Matt’s eyes as he sucks a bruise into Mox’s collarbone. Matt’s squirming from where he sits on the bed, tugging on his hair and biting his lip. “Oh, Mox, look at him now.”

Mox turns his head, grins. “Matt, you want in on it?”

Matt nods frantically. “Yes, oh my god. Yes.” He reaches out and Adam has to laugh – Matt still does the little grabby hands when he’s particularly excited.

Adam turns to Mox, and it feels like they’re in the ring. This time the prize is Matt Jackson, and they can both win. Adam dives at Matt first, though, because Matt’s his and all, and flattens him to the bed. He presses his mouth to Matt’s with single-minded determination, sliding his hands up Matt’s shirt to tweak at his nipples. He grins as he swallows Matt’s whine. And then Matt yelps.

Adam pulls back to see Moxley, at the head of the bed, gently gathering Matt’s wrists in his hands. He looks at Matt. “You good?”

“Of course I’m good! Why the eff did you stop?” Matt arches up to Adam, eyes fluttering closed when he pushes against Mox’s grip and finds immediate resistance. “Oh my god,” he mumbles.

“Worked on a hunch,” Mox says. “Good, Matt?”

“Yes, good, so good.”

Adam slowly pushes Matt’s shirt up, sliding it into Mox’s hands so he can pull it off of Matt’s body while keeping his grip on Matt’s wrists. Adam gives him a second to stare, to take in the man in front of him. “God, you look good,” he mutters, “you – fuck.”

Matt’s eyes are closed when he replies, “You look good too. So good.”

“Your eyes aren’t even open,” Adam laughs against the skin of Matt’s chest. He drags kisses around the skin until he reaches Matt’s nipple, flicking his tongue over it.

“I – oh – you always look good,” Matt says. “So, so good right now. You,” he stops talking, trading words for the most intoxicating little sigh that makes Adam desperate for more of it. He turns to the other nipple, giving it the same attention.

“You both look fucking great right now,” Mox says. His voice is deeper than Adam’s ever heard it. “Like – fuck.” Adam raises his head in time to see Mox reach down and grab at his cock through his sweatpants. Adam’s mouth starts watering.

“Yeah?” Adam asks. He locks eye with Moxley as he slides down Matt’s body, getting his fingers into the waistband of Matt’s sweats and slowly pulling them down. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Oh, yes,” Matt groans as Adam wraps his mouth around his cock. He’s not working with an end goal right now, focusing on keeping his eyes locked on Moxley’s and getting him to lose his composure. He’s too controlled right now, too steady, and Adam’s got to see what’s behind that wall. He wants to tear it down with his teeth.

“Keep goin’,” Mox growls. “Look so good like this, Adam. So good.”

The use of his name sends a tingle down to his spine that gets Adam’s cock harder than he’d thought possible, and he has to pause to breathe and adjust his pants.

Matt immediately goes to sit up, and gets stopped by Mox’s hand on his wrists. “I – oh, Adam, why’d you stop?”

“Mox is – he’s,” but Adam finds himself struggling to find the right words, settling instead for turning for more room, pushing his sweats out of the way and wrapping a hand around his own cock, already leaking. He sighs in relief, gives himself a few strokes.

“Are you – Mox, is he touching himself?” Matt asks. “Stop it! That’s our job.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Oh, because you’re the one in charge.”

Mox laughs.

“I could be in charge!” Matt says, and he starts pulling at Mox’s hand enough that he slips out of his grip. He dives off the bed into Adam’s lap and grabs Adam’s hands, pins them to the side of the bed.

Adam does his best not to smile, but this is great. “Baby. You’re so good at so many things, but you’ll never be a top.” Matt literally pouts, gets those big fucking boo boo eyes that get Adam every time. But he’s not a liar. “Come on, sweetheart, look inside yourself. You know it to be true.”

“Oh, fuck, you quote Star Wars in bed?” Moxley says, sounding strangely delighted. Adam bucks his hips and knocks Matt off his lap, sending him sprawling, so he can look at Mox’s face. He’s grinning so wide he looks like he won the lottery. “Between the two of you, you hit all my fuckin’ buttons. Get the fuck back onto the bed. I gotta get inside of one of you before I lose my goddamned mind.”

Matt stands up, pulls off his sweats all the way. “My turn. Adam’s being a dick.”

“You were on my lap, I needed to get you off.”

Mox and Matt, at the exact time, say, “That’s what she said.”

“Oh, god, you’re both like this,” Adam grumbles. “Okay, well, if that didn’t kill my boner, nothing will.” He nods at Mox. “You want him?”

“Sure!” Mox says. “Matty, come over here.”

Matt rolls his eyes, but he crawls back up on the bed and throws a leg over Mox’s hips, twitching his hips forward just a little. It’s enough to get Mox to exhale shakily. The composure is breaking. Maybe Adam’s not the one who can do it.

Adam watches greedily as Matt and Mox kiss each other deeply, Mox’s hand grabbing at Matt’s ass. He pats it gently.

“Is it okay…?”

Matt nods. “Yeah, oh yeah. Leave handprints on my ass, all that.”

Mox quirks an eyebrow and looks over to Adam. “He always like this?”

“Usually,” Adam remembers. “Loves to talk about it, too.” He winks at Matt.

“Oh?” Mox says. “Tell me, Matt. How hard?”

“Handprints,” Matt repeats. “Please?”

Mox grins as he pulls back, the crack of his hand against Matt’s ass music to Adam’s ears. Matt drops his head down against Mox’s shoulder, rocking his hips forward. “Oh.”

Adam stands up behind Matt, drawing back. His slap is a little more gentle, but Matt responds to it, too, tilting his head back this time to rest against Adam’s chest.

Matt turns up and catches Adam’s mouth in a kiss. When he breaks away, he pats at Adam’s chest, and Adam steps away, interested in what comes next. He’s not disappointed. “Mox, can I suck your dick?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Adam settles himself on the bed next to Mox as Matt drops to his knees. Without prelude or fanfare, Matt tucks his loose hair behind his ear and dives in, mouth stretching around Mox’s cock like it’s not the first time.

Mox’s eyes flutter closed, hands gripping at the sheets. “Oh, fuck, you’re good at this.”

“He likes it when you pull his hair,” Adam murmurs into Mox’s ear. “He gets this little look – just try it.”

Matt nods, and he looks so goddamn good with Mox’s cock in his mouth that it makes Adam want to drop to his knees and propose right then and there.

“Good,” Mox says, voice honey and gravel. Adam watches, raptly, as Mox threads his fingers through Matt’s hair, and pulls.

Matt moans around Mox’s cock, sinking deeper onto it as his eyes flutter closed.

“Yeah,” Adam says, brushing Matt’s cheek where Mox’s dick nudges that. “So pretty, baby.” He looks up to Mox. “You can pull harder.”

He grins a little. “Okay, Cowboy, who said you were in charge here?”

“Who said you were?” Adam retorts, licking his lips. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“It’s my hotel room.”

There’s an infuriated little noise followed by a wet pop. “Can you two stop arguing about who’s gonna be better at topping me and just do it?” Matt asks. He looks genuinely annoyed, which, to Adam’s own annoyance, is also hot. “Jesus, what’s a guy gotta do to get fucked around here?”

Adam sighs and grabs a fistful of Matt’s hair so he stands, pulling him into his lap. Matt sighs happily as he settles on Adam’s legs. “Least you could do is ask nicely.”

“Eff that,” Matt says. “Right now you guys are being annoying and, still, nobody’s fucking me.”

“You really haven’t changed.”

Mox laughs, low and dark and delicious. “This may be my best idea yet. Matt, kiss Adam.”

Matt does so without hesitation, leaning over Mox and pressing his lips to Adam’s. Adam opens up to it without a second thought, smacking Matt’s ass again. Matt hums in approval, grinding down on Adam, and it’s enough encouragement to get Adam to suck at Matt’s collarbone. Mox might be here, but Matt is, and always has been, Adam’s.

Adam leans back on the bed, pulling Matt with him. Matt kisses down his chest, biting at his chest, leaving little marks.

“Mine,” Matt mutters, “mine again.”

“That’s sweet,” Mox says. “What else do you want, Matt?” He plays with Matt’s hair, and the vision of Mox behind Matt is a glorious sight.

“I have an idea,” Matt says, punctuating with one last nip at Adam’s nipple, “like, a really good idea.”

“Hmm?” Adam asks, dazed. Mox rubs at Matt’s hips, up his sides, to the back of his neck.

“What if – mm – what if Adam, you fuck me while – while Mox fucks you?”

Adam pauses. “Oh?” It’s never been an option before, but it’s suddenly all Adam’s ever wanted.

“You never get railed enough,” Matt says, like he’s discussing Adam being low on vitamin c, “you need it, but I don’t…do that. So.” He looks over at Mox, big ol’ Bambi eyes in full force. “Would you do that for him?”

“For him?” Mox asks, a splash of laughter in his tone. “Baby, I’ll do that for me.” He taps Adam. “Hey. Cowboy. You down for that?” He locks his eyes on Adam’s.

“Yes.” Adam’s voice comes out as a squeak. He clears his throat. “Um, hell yes. Please. Yes.” He shakes his head. “Definitely. You got condoms? Lube?”

Mox leans over to the hotel room drawer and pulls the supplies out.

“They just keep that stuff in there now?” Adam jokes.

“We’d have saved a bunch of money in the Ring of Honor days if they did,” Matt says.

“Nah,” Mox says, with a lewd sort of grin. “I bring my shit any time I think somebody on the roster might want to have a little fun.”

Adam blinks. “Damn.”

“You two have been on my radar for a while, though, so nobody for a bit.” He reaches out for Adam and pulls him in, lips going for Adam’s neck. His mind goes a little blank, hands gripping at whatever’s in front of him, desperate for this to never stop.

“If you want to give Matt what he wants, we’re going to have to stop,” Mox says.

Adam shakes his head, pulls back. “Right. What’s next?”

Mox’s grin is slow and dirty. “Just watch.”

And Adam does. He watches as Mox, with painstaking, careful, concentration, opens Matt up, fingers nimble and slick as they slide in and out of Matt.

“So pretty,” Adam murmurs into Matt’s ear, pressing kisses.

Matt smiles. “He does it different than you.”

“Good different?”

Matt nods. “Very good.”

“He takes it so well, huh?” Adam says to Mox. “Just wait ‘til you see him take my cock.”

Mox rolls his shoulders, and his gaze burns when he meets Adam’s eyes. “That sounds like a fuckin’ dream.”

Adam gets impatient fast, watching the glacial pace of Mox working up from one finger, and grabs the lube himself.

“What are you doing?” Matt asks, looking intrigued.

“Mox is busy,” Adam says, slicking up his fingers. He drops back on the bed next to Matt. “Sometimes to get a job done you have to do it yourself.”

“Impatient,” Mox chides, but his eyes are sliding between Matt and Adam, like he can’t decide where to focus longer.

Adam’s mind goes a little blank as he works himself up to one, two, three fingers. Mox matches his pace with Matt once he starts to beg. At some point, Matt’s reached over and grabbed Adam’s arm, which is so sweet that Adam whines.

“You ready, Adam?” Mox asks. “Looks like Matt’s ready for you.”

“So ready,” Matt says, nails digging into Adam’s bicep. “C’mon, Adam, please.”

It takes a minute to get everyone in the right place to make this work. Sliding into Matt is like opening your front door when you get home, Matt laid out on the bed like an angel. Adam’s body covers him completely, fucking into Matt a few times to get that frustrated, desperate look out of his eyes, but he stills as he feels Mox’s hands on his hips.

“I’m gonna check with you, like, thirty times,” Mox says, stroking up and down Adam’s sides. “If anything feels off, you gotta tell me, okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam replies. The waiting is almost too much to take. He hears Mox slick himself up behind him, feels the head of his cock nudge up against him. “Oh, my god, do you get off on torture or something? Get in me already.”

Matt laughs. “You sound like me.”

“Yeah, sexually transmitted brat,” Mox chuckles. “Okay, Adam, you ready?”

“Obviously.”

Adam almost collapses. Mox fills him painfully slowly, like he’s taking the time to memorize every inch of Adam, and Matt reaches up to cup Adam’s cheek.

“You like it?” Matt asks, like there’s any answer but yes.

Adam nods, turning his head to press a kiss to Matt’s palm. “Yeah, baby. All of it.”

They all settle around each other, and Adam’s never felt this before: filled and surrounded. He’s drowning in the way Mox curls around his back, hands on his hips. The way Matt’s threaded his fingers with Adam’s, is smiling up at Adam like he’s everything Matt could have imagined.

“You can start moving,” Adam says, wiggling his hips. He hears Mox exhale hard against the back of his neck, sees Matt press his eyes closed at the moment.

Mox presses a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck. “Okay.”

Adam doesn’t think he’s ever felt this right in his life.

“You good, Cowboy?” Mox asks. He sounds strained, the way Adam feels, buried to the hilt.

It’s almost too much, Adam thinks, Mox filling him while he feels the heat of Matt curling around him. “Good,” Adam gasps. “So good.”

“Matt, he look okay?” Mox asks.

“He looks great,” Matt says, and the way he locks eyes with Mox over Adam’s shoulder is almost enough for Adam to come right then and there. “He – oh, god – he’s.” But Matt cuts himself off, twisting his hips so that Adam sees stars in his vision.

“I’m good,” Adam says, “I – please.”

“Sounds like Matt’s not the only one who can ask pretty,” Mox murmurs into Adam’s ear, and Adam can’t help it. His hips buck forward, shifting Matt a tiny bit up the bed.

But the movement isn’t what catches his attention – Matt’s face falls open in a perfect little gasp, hands gripping at the sheets. “Yes,” he moans. “I forgot how good this is.”

“You guys do this a lot?” Mox asks, and he pulls out slowly. Adam’s about to beg for him to fuck him harder, when Mox starts a steady pace. Adam almost doesn’t have to do anything to push into Matt, but he picks up Moxley’s rhythm and is able to match it with thrusts into Matt’s body. It’s easier to coordinate than he would have expected, but they’ve all been in the ring together. This is just a different way to do it.

“Used to,” Adam manages. He’s spinning with sensation, with the warmth and the smell and the feel of it all. “Stopped for a while. Broke up.”

“Back together now?”

“How the fuck,” Matt pants, “are you so put together, Moxley?” It’s a fair question – Adam feels wrecked already and he hasn’t even come, and Matt’s face is so screwed up that he looks like he’s in pain.

“Practice,” Mox laughs. “And I have a job to do.”

They’re quiet for a while, save for wordless sounds from any of the three of them, and Adam focuses on Matt, mostly. He knows the way he likes it, memorized years ago the way to move to hit the right spots. The places on his body that are the most sensitive. He brushes a thumb across Matt’s lips. “You good, baby?”

“Close,” Matt whines. “I – can I?”

“If you ask nicely,” Mox says, “what do you think, Adam, does Matty deserve to come?”

“I think so,” Adam says, picking up the pace along with Moxley. He wants Matt to come first. He always makes sure Matt comes first. “Matt?”

“Please,” Matt begs, “god, please, I gotta – Adam,” his voice goes soft, his eyes meet Adam’s. Those big doe eyes do Adam in every time. “Adam, please. Touch me.”

And how could anyone say no? Adam steadies himself with one hand and reaches between them to stroke Matt’s cock with his and Moxley’s thrusts. It requires a level of coordination Adam finds himself thankful to wrestling for. He wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be able to pull any of this of without it.

“Faster,” Adam tells Mox, and he complies. Matt needs it fast, a little rough, when he’s this close. There’s no way that’s changed.

Adam’s right – quickly, Matt’s coming all over his belly and Adam’s hand with a wordless sigh that makes him look goddamned ethereal.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Moxley says, “Cowboy, you ready to go?”

“What?”

Mox laughs in his ear. “Ready for me to wreck you?”

“Oh, fuck yes. Just – hold on one second.” He leans down, feeling Mox slide out of him in a way that leaves him squirming, but he presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, beaming. “Wanna see you and Mox.”

Adam presses a quick kiss to his mouth and pulls out of him, rubbing at Matt’s thighs soothingly as Matt adjusts. It only takes seconds, though, until Matt is up at the headboard, half-lidded eyes staring at Adam and Mox like he’d be ready to go again in minutes.

Adam ties off the condom and manages to get it in the trash without much problem, something he’d probably gloat about if he wasn’t about to get railed within an inch of his life by Jon Moxley.

Moxley grabs Adam by the waist. “Alright, slide down to the end of the bed. I’m gonna fuck you so Matt can see your pretty face when you come.”

Adam and Matt make a dumb whining sound at the same time, but Adam will intentionally not remember that. He does as Mox says, and Mox throws one of his legs over his shoulders. “Good?”

“So fucking good,” Adam pants.

“Hang on, Hangman,” Mox says with a wink.

And hang on he does. He’s worried he’s about to slip off the bed, but Mox has a decent grip on Adam and he doesn’t fall, no matter how close he comes to it. Matt slides down to his level, pressing the sweetest little kisses to his cheeks, chest, neck, licking over the bruises on his chest from earlier, a hand over his stomach as his muscles flutter and tense. “Doing so good,” Matt murmurs into his ear, “never seen you like this, you take it so well.”

Adam forces his eyes open to see Matt, hair framing his face like a halo, and that’s what does him in. Matt kisses him as the moment washes over him, coming hard across his stomach and Matt’s arm where it rests across Adam’s chest.

“So – fucking – pretty,” Mox moans, and Adam feels Mox coming by the way he digs his fingernails into Adam’s thigh. He makes all these little noises, ones Adam’s used to hearing from Matt, as his hips stutter. Adam feels dizzy.

Mox drops to his knees, resting his forehead on Adam’s thigh.

“You good, Mox?” Adam asks. He reaches out and strokes the back of Mox’s neck. “Okay?”

“Awesome,” Mox says on an exhale. His whole body shivers. “Oh, man, I’ve been dreaming of that since I joined this fuckin’ company.” He lifts his head, grinning.

They all catch their breath where they lay for a few moments. Unsurprisingly, Matt’s the one to break the silence. “Everybody back on the bed,” he says, scooting back. “I’m cold.”

All Adam can manage is to flop on the bed face down onto the last pillow that didn’t get kicked off. “Night.”

“Absolutely not,” Mox says, pushing at his hip. “Give me that pillow.”

“Nope.” Adam says, snuggling down. “I live here now.”

“Then I’m getting a cigarette,” Mox says. “Lord knows I need one after that.” Adam takes in the sounds of the room. Rustling, a door opening, the flick of a lighter.

Matt snuggles around him, arms around his waist. “This isn’t as comfortable without a pillow.”

“Check the floor,” Adam mumbles.

The bed shifts. “Uh oh,” Matt says.

“What?” Mox asks. He sounds a bit far away.

Matt plants his hands on his hips. “The lube spilled. Like, everywhere.” He picks up a pillow, now practically translucent. “I think these sheets are a goner.”

“Oh, Tony’s gonna be pissed at that hotel bill,” Adam mumbles, still face down in a pillow. He feels somebody brush his hair off his neck, and sits up to see Matt beaming at him.

“You guys are too fuckin’ cute,” Mox says. Adam turns to see him on the balcony. He takes a drag on his cigarette from where he sits, shirtless with the sweatpants back on, looking fucked out. It’s a good look. “Weird you were both just begging to be railed within an inch of your lives.”

“I can be cute and horny,” Matt says, tying his hair back

“Damn right you can,” Adam grumbles. He pushes himself up, rolling his shoulders and flexing, the stiffness from the match replaced with the delicious ache after sex. “I’m hungry. How’s room service here?” He turns to see Matt staring at him, looking hungry in a very different way.

“It’s good,” Mox says. “Got the mac and cheese last night.”

Matt wrinkles his nose. Adam wants to kiss it. “That would eff me up for days.”

“Oh, baby, we took care of fucking you up,” Adam laughs, nuzzling into Matt’s neck. He wraps his arms around Matt’s waist and rolls him back into bed. It’s a level of comfort and familiarity that Adam hadn’t realized he’s been aching for, craving, for years.

Matt hums as Adam presses kisses to his hair.

There’s heavy footsteps and the bed dips again, an arm thrown over Matt and Adam. “I like you two,” Mox says, and Matt raises his head to see Mox spooning up behind Adam in a surprisingly charming move. “We should definitely do this again.”

Adam mutters something through a yawn, and his grip goes a little loose around Matt.

“Oh, wait, hold on,” Matt says. “I gotta go shower before we sleep. And there’s no way we’re staying in this bed. We have, like, one pillow and half of a sheet.”

“We’ll make it down to my room,” Adam says. “We can go in shifts or something.”

“Nah,” Mox says. “Let ‘em see.”

It takes a while to find all of the clothes the three of them had thrown around the room, but they make their way down to Adam’s room. The neat bed is inviting, and Adam throws himself down onto it. “Go shower, baby,” he murmurs. “Mox’ll order food and I’m gonna nap.”

“How come you don’t have to do anything?” Matt laughs.

Adam flips him off, and dozes off.

When he wakes up soon after, there’s a cozy, dry Matt snuggled up with him, and Mox has, indeed, ordered the mac and cheese. He could get used to this.

#in which Sara writes #HangMatt #HangMox #HangMattMox #MattMox #MoxMatt #Every permutation of the three of them really they have a good time in this fic #wtf i like wrestling now???#Matt Jackson #Jon Moxley #Hangman Adam Page #HangMoxMatt

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saint-starflicker · 1 year

Text

Riding on the coattails of this on-point post about how Peter and Jason mirror Romeo and Juliet in that they were flawed teenagers that should have been allowed to have their romance run its course without...you know...fatality...

I agree but the first thing that got me about how this is a good show is that the central characters' flaws and dynamic mean they have actual personalities.

One era-typical effort to alleviate homophobia was to try to show in fiction that a gay boy was innocuous, nice, and (what with it being entertainment media) conventionally attractive. Rantasmo, a video essayist, called it "the problem with Maxxie" (because Maxwell Oliver from the television show Skins was one case study: Maxxie is there to be gay and show that it's not bad to be gay. And he's not allowed to be anything except good-looking, and nice, and gay...or else he'll become a bad person to somebody and then that would be bad for real-life gay people everywhere.) (At least if Maxxie's that bland and somebody still doesn't like him, then you know that dislike is only because of homophobia. We don't do gray area or complications in storytelling media, because everything is pure propaganda and audiences cannot think for ourselves or think different things from each other.)

I think that's very similar to the observation I read somewhere else that girl protagonists in Young Adult literature are written to please everyone, which probably comes from the intention to alleviate misogyny, and probably even has impact in favor of that end. As a result, though, these characters are not there to make a connection with. They're a calculation.

This all implies that until homophobia and misogyny ease up in real-life culture, the people living at those intersections of oppression absolutely must be bland and perfectly inoffensive.

I think that's the peril of "the united front". If you're a demographic that everybody has prejudices against, then you aren't allowed to be a whole entire person even by those on your side. The priority is carving out some breathing room in the mainstream culture, so being all of the rest of who you are becomes a detriment to every cause and community that you'll be in.

And somehow that results in that if you are a whole entire person with complications and flaws who responds to an imperfect world in an imperfect way, then that's your fault that your cause will fail.

Bare was so refreshing because it explored contradictions and gray areas that do make complacent people uncomfortable. Peter is as sincere in his Catholic faith as he is in his love for another boy—How is that a thing?!?? The Catholic church is so homophobic, shouldn't he have picked a side a long time ago? He's a hypocrite both ways if he doesn't, no he's not allowed to be a confused high schooler doing his best to reconcile all the equally-real parts of himself. He has to be attractive and nice and gay and inoffensive and easy to file into a box! His religious community has to be portrayed as completely bad, or else it won't know that it's being criticized! What is this? And how are we supposed to believe that Jason means that big song number when he's obviously not a Gold Star Gay? What even happened there?

Then there's Jason shoving Peter to the ground right before Ever After, and shout-singing at him when it's his verse. It's easy to say, "This means that Jason is a violent person and an abusive partner," and if somebody watches that and discusses how much bad behavior you'd put up with from a partner of any gender or orientation, and decide that is too much bad behavior...then, good. I wouldn't want a boy like that dating my son, either, if I had a son.

That should also coexist with the idea that homophobia in society scares Jason so deeply that he would hurt somebody he loves. In anything similar to his situation, would any of us really be better?

And even that does not mean that it's all the fault of the system, or that homophobia against boys is the only problem.

Ivy wasn't suffering a stigmatized medical condition that she's severely limited in treating on account of that stigma, because the priest impregnated her. No, Jason did that impregnating. That doesn't mean Jason is the real villain and the priest isn't. Saying that Jason did that because he was confused and oppressed doesn't mean that his actions don't have consequences. It certainly doesn't mean that Ivy can't be angry that she's in this terrible situation because of Jason's confusion and dishonesty and what he did about it...to her.

Ivy has no reason to decide that the priest is the real problem, even though what the priest represents is her main problem too. The priest himself is a product of his conditioning and limitations: he has all this social power, but he isn't subversive because...Again, in his exact situation, would any of us be better?

That's not a rhetorical question to imply that we can't be better than our conditioning, worldview, emotions, intersections of privilege, intersections of oppression, or what we're immediately responding to will "allow" us to be.

Sometimes we can imagine ways to be better, and from a work like Bare I think that's the main point: What if No Voice didn't have to be the end? It didn't have to end that way. Think of the possibilities. Be better. Also sometimes, the pressure is too much on all sides and there isn't a better way, and we might try to sympathize with that too: Ivy shouldn't be blamed for having never "learned to stop at just a kiss" when we know from her Portrait song that she was only doing more than kissing to feel recognized for who she is instead of what she is, so there's another systemic problem that strikes right in the personal. Everybody's in this mess of systemic problems. It's complicated.

#bare: a pop opera #bapo #poe.txtwall

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 1 year

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(1/2)

Izuku turned five the first time he really thought about not having a dad. Sure it had come up before, but it was never a big deal. When he asked Mom once, she said some kids have a dad, some have more than one dad, and some have none. It’s okay. It’s normal. So why was he the only kid on Dads and Donuts Day without one?

He looked out longingly from the table in the corner. The large group men barely fit in the tiny kindergarten classroom. Suits and dress clothes creased as they sat cross-legged on the floor beside tiny chairs they could never fit in if they tried. Along with their kids, they cut out pieces of colorful construction paper to decorate their own paper donut. Real donuts fresh from the store had already been eaten. Some kept looking back at the boxes waiting for the signal allowing seconds. If the event hadn’t been today, they would have had cupcakes for Izuku’s birthday.

He picked at the tape on his nametag. All his tablemates moved somewhere else for the activity. They did the same thing during free time yesterday. And the day before. A few days before that, Suchan came up to him while Izuku was hanging up his backpack, and said they couldn’t be friends anymore.

“Why not?” Izuku had asked, already starting to cry.

Suchan didn’t cry. “My dad said I’m not allowed to be around somebody quirkless.”

He wasn’t the first person to say something like that. Izuku cried every time though. It hurt enough finding out he didn’t have a cool quirk. He understood why that was bad. But he didn’t get why that meant nobody wanted to be his friend anymore. Mrs. Ishikawa, when he asked through tears, said that people like Suchan’s dad were just mean, and Izuku shouldn’t let them get to him.

Suchan’s dad didn’t seem mean. From across the room Izuku watched a man with a big smile talk and laugh with the others at their table. Suchan sat giggling in his dad’s lap, who occasionally tickled him. Mom did that with Izuku all the time, and she was nice. It didn’t make any sense.

Izuku’s eyes wandered to Kacchan just one table over. He sat hunched over the table laser-focused on gluing his paper scraps exactly right. His dad handed him more stuff upon request with a soft smile. Unlike his other friends, Kacchan didn’t say they couldn’t be friends because of his parents.

“I’m gonna be the greatest hero ever! I can’t waste my time hanging around with someone without a quirk. A worthless freak like you doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near someone as great as me!” Then he pushed him down.

Izuku sniffled. Kacchan looked up right at him. He scoffed disgustedly, and went back to his craft.

“Hey. Don’t do that,” Mr. Bakugou whispered.

“Whatever…” he mumbled back.

“You wanna invite Izuku over here?”

“No!” Kacchan shoved his dad hard. Even small, it looked strong. Mr. Bakugou sighed frustrated.

“You know that kid? The one by himself?” another dad asked.

“That’s Izuku. He’s quirkless,” Tsukiko, a girl with purple claws, piped up.

The men around the table made various noises of understanding. Izuku scrunched his arms and shoulders close to his body.

“And what? His father was too ashamed to come?” someone else offered.

… What? Izuku thought. I don’t have a dad, though.

“Actually, his father isn’t in the picture at all,” Mr. Bakugou explained. “It’s just him and his mom and she’s got a shift today, I think.”

“Do you know what happened to his father?”

“Do you really think this is an appropriate conversation for a kindergarten party?” He spoke low so the other tables couldn’t hear. But Izuku still heard.

“His mom’s boyfriend walked out when she told him she was pregnant,” Kacchan interjected.

“Katsuki!”

“What? That’s what Mom said!” Some of the other kids laughed. Kacchan sat up straight with a snobbish look that could only come from a kid who knew something they shouldn’t. His dad meanwhile made empty threats about no second donut and no desert after dinner.

“But… But Mom said I don’t have a dad,” Izuku murmured to himself. He looked around the room. All his former friends and classmates who abandoned him for being quirkless played and laughed happily with their smiling fathers. Mom promised that morning they would play and have his favorite dinner once he got home to make up for not being there. But in that moment, a different thought overtook the memory. … Did my dad leave because I’m quirkless too?

Izuku couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. He crawled under the table, hugged his knees to his chest, and sobbed quietly. He had to be quiet. If he was loud, Kacchan and his old friends would make fun of him.

His teacher found him not long after. She pulled him out from his hiding place and stuck him back in his chair.

“Please don’t make a scene. I know you’re sad because it’s your birthday and your mom couldn’t come, but that doesn’t mean you get to spoil it for everyone else,” Miss Umeda scolded. She dragged his tearstained construction paper back towards him. “How about this? Since you’re by yourself, you can make whatever craft you want. Not just a donut. How’s that sound?” She said it like it was the most exciting thing in the world.

Izuku wiped his face with his sleeve. “Are we still gonna have cupcakes for my birthday?”

“We’ll do it another day, dear,” she responded.

Another day never came.

This really hited a sore spot… I think you’re evil. 🥺

I think we've all been in a situation where we're going through a rough time, but instead of support, you get scolded for "bringing the mood down."

As for the scene itself, this is the first of 3 Izuku POV sections in that chapter that establish 3 things about his altered backstory for this au: he's much more self conscious about how he's different from others than in canon, more bitter and negative in general, and doesn't have as good a relationship with his mother. This first scene sets up the self conscious part with this being the first time he realizes that being different has consequences. Quirklessness was already keeping friends away, but now the other kids and parents are gossiping about his lack of a father, something Izuku saw as a normal part of his live before this moment. The father realization was the first scene because that's the background conflict of the whole fic. And the fact that his mother couldn't come as a replacement due to work starts to sew the seeds of Izuku believing she resents him, and him resenting her in turn.

#answers #for kurou

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my-various-aus · 2 years

Text

Dinner Reservation

It was a quiet night at the mortuary, as Clara looked over some files, double-checking all the information before filing it away.

In another room, she could hear her coworker’s radio playing, providing background noise, as he worked on the bodies in the back.

With a sigh, Clara stood, stretching out her back and groaning as her spine popped. She yawned, stacking the files on her desk, before going down the hallway that led to the embalming room.

“Hey, Marcus,” Clara called, knocking on the door and opening it, so she didn’t startle him “I’m thinking of ordering some food, you want anything?”

Marcus looked up from where he was inspecting a cadaver’s hand, making a quick note, before replying “Yeah, sure, I can eat; what did you have in mind?”

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good; let me know when it’s here and I can give Mr. Anderson a break.”

Clara snorted, going back to the front.

A few minutes later, the order was placed and she was back to sorting her paperwork.

The phone suddenly ringing made her jump, dropping the papers in her hand.

“What the fuck, it’s three in the morning,” she muttered, holding one hand to her heart, the other reaching for the phone “Thank you for calling Evergreen Mortuary, how may I assist you?”

There was silence on the other end, but Clara could swear she heard shaky breathing and...was the other person crying?

“Hello?” she prompted “This is Clara from Evergreen Mortuary; how may I assist you?”

The other person let out a harsh breath, sniffling and breaking Clara’s heart in the process; she had a feeling Marcus would be getting an extra body to work on tonight.

“I...I n-need to,” the man on the other end coughed to clear his throat, though his voice was still a little rough “I need to make a dinner reservation.”

Clara blinked, perplexed; who calls a mortuary for a din....dinner reservation.

She drew a deep breath, sitting up straighter “Just a moment, sir.”

The phone was set down, Clara opening a drawer at her desk and pressing down on the false bottom, revealing a set of old-fashioned keys. Snatching them up, she made her way to a closet behind her desk.

A few minutes later, she returned, shoving her previous work to the side and laying out the new file and papers.

Pen poised in her right hand, Clara picked the phone back up “How many in the party?”

“One.”

“Name?”

“Mic-Michelangelo Hamato.”

Clara paused, something about the name sending a shudder of dread down her spine “Age?”

The man on the other end let out a laugh that quickly became a sob “Thir... Thirteen, as of three hours ago.”

‘Just a kid,’ Clara thought, taking a calming breath and continuing to fill out the paperwork for the next couple of minutes.

Marcus came out of the backroom, just as Clara was wrapping up the call “We’ll be there in thirty minutes, Mr. Hamato; is there anything else I can help you with?”

The click of the phone hanging up was the only answer Clara got, making her blink, startled, before she hung her own phone up.

“What was that about?” Marcus asked, going to grab some coffee “...Did you say Hamato?”

“Yeah,” Clara muttered, pulling out a cell phone and shooting off a few texts “dinner reservation.”

Marcus clicked his tongue, stirring some sugar into his coffee and pouring a second cup “That ain’t good.”

“No,” Clara accepted the cup that was handed to her, reading the texts she received “Especially since it’s for the younger one.”

“Oh, somebody fucked up.”

“Hey, I haven’t been in this business for long,” Clara looked up at her coworker, pulling out some creamer to put into her coffee “but ‘Hamato’ sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Marcus said, taking a drink “That was a name to fear, five years ago, before they retired.”

“They?”

“Three of ‘em,” Marcus turned when there was a knock at the front, going to open the door, while Clara dug out some cash “brothers. Hey, man, how’s it goin’?”

“Eh, could be better, could be worse,” the delivery man said, handing the pizza boxes over “nice night, not too much goin’ on, so on and so forth.”

“Awesome,” Marcus took the boxes, stepping to the side, so Clara could hand over the tip “wish we could say the same; just got a call that another body is comin’ in.”

“I could not work in a place like this,” the delivery man said, shivering “I don’t like seein’ fake dead bodies, never mind real ones.”

Marcus and Clara both laughed, bidding the delivery man goodnight and closing the door behind him.

“So, there’s three Hamato brothers?”

“Ah, yeah, so...”

---

So, this is really just me practicing with two of my OCs, but also a scene that had been in my mind for my John Wick au and it needed to be written.

Because, unlike Daisy, Mikey is not a pet that you can just bury in your yard after they die; he’s a person, a kid; Donnie, Raph, and Leo’s little brother.

Therefore, I had to come up with some way for Mikey’s body to be taken care of and I figured something similar to Charlie’s cleanup crew, but geared more toward funerary services. A mortuary seemed like the most appropriate setting for underworld services.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt au #john wick au #tmnt donnie #i mostly imagine this as the 2003 turtles #but idk if i want to specifically tag that iteration #plus this a human au

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reverend-dog · 1 month

Text

Sharing Isn't Always Caring

“And this is the breakroom.” Iris waved as if to display a game show grand prize, with such gusto that the flesh on the underside of her arm wiggled. “The usual rules. Clean up your mess, don’t leave science experiments in the fridge, and….” She shut her mouth with such force that Indra heard her lips clap together.

“And?” Indra prompted.

Iris scowled at her own slip. “And… just don’t leave stuff… too long.”

Indra’s brow knit. “I thought that was covered under ‘science experiments?’”

Iris sighed. “I didn’t want you getting the wrong impression about this place. It’s a good job, with good people. Just… sometimes….”

Indra nodded. “Sometimes people forget what food belongs to them.”

“Not everybody!” Iris protested, then heaved another sigh. “All right. You’re going to find out sooner or later anyway.” She leaned in to whisper, though nobody stood within earshot. “It’s not worth raising a stink when it happens, because it won’t do any good. But if you see your food on somebody else’s plate, just let it go. Okay?”

“It would help a lot,” Indra matched Iris’ conspiratorial tone, “if I knew who to watch for. Don’t worry, I won’t breathe your name.”

“Hold you to that,” Iris warned. “It’s Deke. Deke Thornton, sales.” She scowled. “You know the type, peaked in college, thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. He can close a deal, I have to give him that. That’s why HR won’t touch him, though Lord knows, people have tried.”

“Thanks,” Indra responded with a smile. “I’ll watch myself.”

The following Monday, Indra removed her container from the microwave, and threaded her way through the breakroom to a vacant two-seat table near the restroom door. Coworkers stopped eating, paused conversations mid-sentence, at the ambrosial aroma that wafted from the covered plastic dish. Indra seemed oblivious to the effect of her lunch, which only compounded as she removed the lid.

The door swung open and the bellow “All right, you can all relax, I’m back!” thundered through the room, followed by two hundred pounds of ego stuffed into a blue two-piece, complemented by a sanguine tie. Blue eyes scanned the room, and an immaculate blonde coif bounced with satisfaction as all but one pair of eyes snapped to stare at him. Then he spotted the single fly in his ointment, and stalked through the room with all the subtlety of an icebreaker.

“Hi,” he purred as he loomed over the table in the corner. “You’re the new girl. I’m Deke Thornton.”

“Indra,” she returned, eyes still on the text of her book. She lifted a spoonful from her box and added, “Pleasure.”

“Not yet,” Deke shot back, “but give it time. Hey, that smells great! Sure you don’t mind.” He snatched the spoon from Indra’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. A small glob of sauce dripped and splattered onto the page of Indra’s book. “Mmmm,” Deke commented around the mouthful, spoon still held out of her reach.

Indra looked up. “That,” she said in a tone that, while not loud, still carried the length and breadth of the room, “was rude. And you made a mess on my book.”

“Aww,” Deke chided, “don’t be like that. After all, we got to work together, right? Like family. And family shares, amirite?” His hand dipped down to scoop up another load of the mix. Deke blinked, but recovered. “And it sure looks,” he paused as his hand shoveled the fresh serving into his mouth, “like you brought plenty.”

Indra used a napkin to wipe the stain from her book, then lay a braided ribbon on the page and shut it. She smiled up at Deke as he chewed, a growing look of confusion on his face. “You’re right,” she told him, “in fact, I made this dish special, with you in mind. Please, eat up.”

Deke stared as his hand dove for another spoonful. His other hand also went down to snatch the container, hauling it up to his chin. He stared at Indra as mouthful after mouthful forced its way past his lips and down his throat. He ate like it was his first meal in a month, and when the last bit was gone, shoved his face into the dish to lick up every smidgen of sauce. Everybody in the room stared at the spectacle.

Indra rose from her seat. “My break’s over,” she announced. “You won’t mind cleaning up?”

Deke dropped the dish, face smeared with sauce, and turned to reach after her. “Wait --” he choked, then grabbed his belly. As Indra reached the door, a sound that combined a donkey’s bray with canvas ripping rumbled through the room. Deke blanched in embarrassment, and nervous laughter tiptoed around.

Then the smell hit.

The noise persisted. People jumped from their seats, hands over their noses and mouths, eyes watering, as they stampeded for the exit. Deke grabbed both cheeks of his rear, face stretched in panic, as he continued to serenade the emptying room. He inhaled to yell, and choked and gagged on the noxious fumes. Deke fled the breakroom and through the hall, spreading the stench as he slammed through the front doors and into the parking lot. The rest of the building followed suit, escaping through whatever exit was closest, until a crowd gathered outside. They watched Deke’s car, top down, screech as it sped away.

Indra leaned against a tree, smiling as she continued her book. “Sharing,” she murmured, “isn’t always caring.”

#fiction #short fiction #short story #writing #creative writing #surreal #lunch thief

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lc-something · 2 years

Text

Here, have an Octonauts oneshot

Waves from the salty ocean lapped gently against the warm sand of the beach, and Barnacles found himself smiling. It really was the perfect beach. And it made an amazing vacation spot.

That's what the Octonauts were up to today: a much needed vacation. Tunip and the Vegimals had prepared lunch and a few snacks for everybody, Dashi Dog brought her surfboard, a towel, an umbrella, and a box of flowers for flower crowns, Tweak Bunny brought shaped buckets for making sandcastles, Professor Inkling Octopus carried several volleyballs, Captain Barnacles Bear toted the volleyball net and poles, Shellington Sea Otter picked up some sand and caught up with Captain Barnacles to share his findings, Peso Penguin carried the food, and Kwazii Kitten ventured over to a nearby tide pool.

It was only their second vacation together as one big group, for the Octonauts were still fairly new, but they had been working hard nonetheless and were all eagerly looking forward to finally relaxing.

Leaving the GUPs A and C in the water, the group dispersed, Captain Barnacles talking with Shellington and Inkling as he searched for a spot to set up the volleyball net. Three curious Vegimals, Barrot, Tominnow, and Codish, followed after him.

Tweak gravitated to the empty middle of the beach, and there she began making a sandcastle. She couldn't help but build. That was her idea of a vacation. Tunip the Vegimal walked after her, eager to help, and she seemed glad to have him around.

Peso looked around the beach for a good place to set up the food. He didn't want to be too close to the volleyball area, or too close to the water, or… There! He spotted a great place in the shade, not too close to or too far from anyone on the beach, and nice and cool from the trees above. He walked over to claim it before anyone else, Grouber the Vegimal trailing behind him and trying to steal a snack without being noticed. Peso eventually did notice him and giggled softly, sparing a hand to reach down and ruffle the leaves on Grouber's head. He glanced around to make sure that nobody was watching, then reached into the basket of food and handed the little Vegimal another snack. Smiling, he whispered, "here you go."

Dashi set up her towel and her umbrella in the distance between Peso with the food and Tweak with her sandcastle-in-progress. She set her surfboard onto the warm sand next to her towel, and said quietly to herself, "I'll go surfing later." She sat down on the towel and, opening up the box of flowers she brought, set to work on making a flower crown for her favorite bunny.

Kwazii crouched down near the tide pool, and since he didn't really know how he was going to spend this vacation, claiming a good spot on the beach wasn't really a priority. He was fascinated by all of the creatures that he could see with the low tide. Seeing all of the different animals crawling around in the water reminded him of somebody he knew. And speaking of the otter, he felt himself start to smile as that Scottish accent reached his ears.

"As a matter of fact, ghost crabs can actually drown if they stay in the water for too long," Shellington rambled, stopping to take a breath. He had his hands cupped out in front of him, holding a bit of sand and a tiny crab. To his left, Barnacles was focused on setting up the volleyball poles. His paws were a bit full, leaving him unable to pay much attention to Shellington's rambling.

"But this little crab is just a baby, as you can tell by its small size and darker colored shell," Shellington said, finally finishing his sentence.

Barnacles huffed as he shoved one of the poles into the sand, "Shellington, I can't really look right now." The chirping of one Tominnow the Vegimal off to the side reminded him that others were waiting for him to set up the net.

"Oh," Shellington said, discouraged for a second before picking back up, "well there's plenty more that I can tell you. For example, the ghost crab can make a variety of different sounds and change color to-"

Barnacles cut him off, the expression on his face telling the sea otter that he felt bad, "Shellington I'm sorry, I'd love to hear more about this crab, but I have to set this net up. Could you maybe tell me about this later?" He was trying to be patient with his fellow Octonaut, but due to the recent stress he had been under, he was running a little short on patience.

Kwazii, watching the exchange, frowned slightly at Shellington's face. He witnessed the dejected expression turn into one of frustration, but he couldn't blame Shellington. The crew had been cutting off his talks and rambles for weeks. But it's not exactly like Kwazii could blame them either. Every time Shellington started rambling about this creature or that, the crew was in the middle of a time sensitive mission. Still, Kwazii didn't like seeing Shellington so upset.

Shellington sighed softly to himself, "alright Captain, I understand," he mumbled, walking away from Barnacles and the volleyball area to find a spot for the little crab in his paws. He set it down gently and wiped his paws clean of sand, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his notebook and pencil. Shellington sat down in the sand, starting a light sketch of the baby ghost crab to cheer himself up. Sometimes, it helped him to draw it out.

He felt quite frustrated with the fact that he never really got much time to talk. He understood why he was stopped constantly, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Off to the side of his small drawing, he began writing down facts about the ghost crab that he could think of off the top of his head. It made him feel a little better, and soon he began looking for other creatures to doodle.

It didn't take too long for him to move on almost completely. There was a small smile across his face by the time he moved on to doodling seagulls.

An idea popped into Kwazii's head as a small red crab scurried through the tide pool in front of him. Shellington would have a thing or two to say about that small crab. Looking over his shoulder, he called out to the sea otter a few yards away, "Shellington!" The smile on his face was evident as he spoke.

Shellington perked up at hearing his name, looking over his shoulder and meeting Kwazii's emerald eye. He picked himself up and walked over to the orange cat, wondering why he was smiling so brightly. "Yes Kwazii?"

The pirate looked back to the tide pool he was sitting in front of, pointing to the small red crab. "I don't think I've ever seen a crab like that one before, is there anything you can tell me about it, matey?"

It took Shellington a second to spot the quick crab Kwazii was talking about, but when he did, he said "oh, that's a red rock crab, they're fairly common around here, but their speed and agility make them quite hard to catch." He crouched down next to Kwazii to get a better view of the crab making its escape, "hmm, what else? They're carnivores, which means they eat meat, and they typically eat other sea creatures that can be found around here like snails or, sometimes, even other crabs. Baby red rock crabs look very different from adults…" He trailed off, figuring that Kwazii probably didn't want to hear all this. When he stood again, he noticed Kwazii looking up at him almost expectantly, his ears perked up in anticipation.

Did he want to know more?

Shellington inwardly frowned, turning to walk away and go back to where he was doodling earlier, but something light and furry coiled around his leg.

From his spot by the volleyball area, Captain Barnacles watched the two boys with a smile. He had felt terrible for dismissing Shellington earlier, but when he went to find him to ask about the ghost crab, he saw the otter was standing over by Kwazii at the tide pool. He watched the two from then, holding back a small chuckle as he saw Kwazii's tail wrap around Shellington's leg when he turned to leave, and the shocked expression on Shellington's face when he looked down at his now trapped leg. Barnacles watched with curiosity, Kwazii now talking again.

"Is that all you've got, matey?" The cat spoke, trying not to smile at Shellington's reaction to his tail.

The sea otter was clearly flustered as he said, "oh, I didn't know you wanted to hear more." He scanned his brain for another fact about red rock crabs and recited it, thinking that would soothe Kwazii's curiosity, but the cat's tail stayed wrapped around his leg.

Shellington noticed that as the cat stared up at him, his pupil began to dilate a little, the beautiful emerald color of his eye being slowly absorbed by black. He also noticed that Kwazii was smiling before he looked back to the tide pool, a clawed finger pointing at a new creature.

"What about this one? What is it?"

Kwazii was pointing at a limpet, and Shellington told him so. "Limpets are herbivores, they eat different types of algae that grow in the tide pools, and some species can stay in one spot for really long periods of time while others move across the surfaces of rocks." He tried to think of another fact off the top of his head, "they're fairly common as well."

Kwazii nodded slightly as Shellington talked, his tail still not letting up. He searched the tide pool for a different creature. "And what about this one?"

"That's a sea slug," he hummed, and when Kwazii looked up at Shellington, his pupil even more dilated now, the sea otter smiled and recited a few facts about sea slugs.

Captain Barnacles caught on quickly to what Kwazii was doing, even though he could hardly hear what he was saying. He beamed with pride at his lieutenant, and watched as Shellington eventually sat down next to Kwazii, talking about creature after creature. "I'll talk to him later," Barnacles said quietly to himself, turning away from the boys to watch the volleyball game that started not too long ago.

Kwazii let Shellington talk his heart out, and every time he stopped, the cat found a new creature in the tide pool to ask him about. He smiled when Shellington sat down next to him, scooting closer and pointing at a bird flying above them.

When he ran out of creatures in the tide pool to ask about, Kwazii thought back to their recent missions, the ones where Shellington had tried to ramble about this creature or that, but because of time sensitivity, he got cut off. Kwazii asked him about some of those creatures, watching the otter's face light up at the opportunity. He shifted a little closer to Shellington and leaned his head against his shoulder, loving the way that Shellington brightened up as he talked. Kwazii hardly had a moment to speak, but he didn't mind. He could sit and listen for a while.

The cat eventually relaxed against Shellington's side, and as soon as he did, his purr sputtered to life. Quiet at first, but it grew louder as Shellington reached up to gently pet Kwazii's hair.

The otter glanced down, Kwazii shifting to lay less against his shoulder and more against his chest, his purr making Shellington relax too. He smiled down at the orange cat, curiously moving to pet one of the furry ears sticking up from his hair. They were as soft as they looked, and Shellington's smile brightened when Kwazii leaned into his touch, encouraging the taller of the two to keep petting him.

When Shellington finally ran out of things to talk about, Kwazii was practically in his lap, still purring away as Shellington played with his hair. The otter paused for a long moment, then, looking down at Kwazii, he softly said "thank you."

"Of course," was all Kwazii said, and the two fell into a comfortable almost silence, the only sounds around them being the waves hitting the sand and Kwazii's purring.

Final word count: 2,083

#kwazii #shellington #kwazton #octonauts #one shot #fluff

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solomonish · 4 years

Text

Way To Go MC, You’ve Allowed Yourself to be Poisoned (Demon Brothers)

CW for: descriptions of food and eating, brief descriptions of choking-like symptoms. (mainly in the intro, though the individual stories mention coughing, (light) blood and fainting). there will be talk of food and keeping an eye on what is being eaten in the individual character stories as well.

Ahh thank you nonnie! I got tired and stopped at the demon brothers but I’ll finish the nowdateables later if you want! Which let’s be real, I’ll probably do soon because I wanna write for Solomon lol

I hope you like it!

---

It started off like any other night, with you grabbing a seat at the dinner table as the last of the food was placed in the middle. Someone beside you took your plate and gave you your portion for you, smiling at your murmur of thanks as they set it down. You waited until the last person, Levi, sat down, smiling at him as he muttered something about finishing a level to nobody in particular.

The moment you ate your first bite of food, something felt...off. Your tongue was tingling the slightest bit and you swore you could feel an uncomfortable heat follow the food as it slid down your throat. Thinking it was just a weird Devildom spice - after all, you’ve been here for how long? and nothing has happened yet? - you take another bite and immediately regret it.

Though such a food was no big deal for demons, it was powerful enough to knock you out of your chair and hunch over, grabbing your stomach as you cough forcefully in a desperate attempt to get the food out. Your insides were burning, your airways closing in and your chest crying out in pain the more you coughed. Soon enough, tears clouded your vision, and though you could hear the chaos around you, the only thing you could focus on was what felt like fire burning you from the inside out.

When you start coughing:

The moment you let out a little cough, his eyes are on you curiously. It’s just a remnant of the days when you were still so new to it all: the fragile little human makes a strange noise, be prepared to save a life.

He almost let his eyes fall from you, but he noticed that you weren’t stopping. It wasn’t the first time you had caused a scene at dinner, saying something afterwards about it “going down the wrong tube.” Still, this seemed...different.

When you fall off of your chair, he’s out of his before you even hit the ground. He’s kneeling by your side a second later, trying to tilt your head towards him so he can fully understand what is happening.

He finally realizes that you aren’t just choking and this is much more urgent when the blood starts coming out of your mouth.

He takes his attention away from you for a moment to ask who cooked dinner, and the brothers promptly rat out Mammon.

Though Lucifer is clearly agitated at that, he decides to lecture later and instead ask what Mammon put in the dish. Everyone erupts at once about halfway through because “How could you have forgotten what that will do to a human??”

That’s the last thing you remember for yourself - whether from the poison itself or being unable to breath through all your coughing, you passed out fairly quickly afterwards

Taking care of you afterwards:

Lucifer isn’t the type to panic in the moment. He’s very accustomed to taking the lead and having everything under control.

That’s in the moment, though. When he has Satan mix up the remedial potion, he’s fine, checking over you and keeping his brothers a safe distance away while he makes sure you’re still breathing. Once you’re safely in bed, brothers having been banned from your room until at least morning, and he’s the only one left lingering in the doorway, that’s when it all begins to set in.

There’s less regret and more general uncertainty in these moments - it starts with him wondering if he should really leave you alone, and soon enough it spirals into him reminding himself just how careful he needs to be with you in the Devildom. (And really, after taking charge of seven demon lords on accident, isn’t it just like you to get killed by a spicy leaf? Honestly, he should’ve known better.)

Once you finally do wake up, he tries to act like his normal “down to business” self - “I’ve told my brothers they are not to overwhelm you today, though we both know how that will go. I’ve made Leviathan figure out what bland foods are safe for humans, you’ll have to take it easy for now as your stomach is still irritated. Let me know immediately if you feel woozy or nauseous for any reason-” He prattles on and on, and though you’ve stopped paying attention you can still feel the softness in his tone

He tries to be gentle with you, and you have to remind him that you were just poisoned, not bedridden for months. Sometimes he’ll shoot you a glare and try to justify himself by saying it’s just like you to make another foolish mistake, but others he just won’t say anything and will keep the hand he has placed on your lower back “for safety”

Firmly believes in establishing as many preventative measures to keep this from happening again, so the next few weeks are going to be....a lot.

Sets up an alarm so he can remind you every lunch not to pick any of the “not safe for humans” options. Probably also gets you a seat in a class that goes over poisonous plants in the Devildom.

Do not try to skip this. It’s easier for everyone if you just let him ease his mind how he likes.

When you start coughing:

At first, Mammon assumes that you just heard the joke he made and (naturally) started laughing so hard your weird little human body couldn’t take it

So essentially, you start choking and he starts laughing at you thinking you’re laughing together

That all stops the moment you fall out of your chair and double over, suddenly dry heaving on the floor.

He sort of short-circuits for a second, not entirely sure what to do until one of the more knowledgeable brothers stoops down beside you

They tell him to just keep your airways clear and make sure you’re still breathing while they go to get the elixir they need, and he does. It’s one of the few times they see him so serious - he just doesn’t want to mess up, so he doesn’t focus on any of their comments or bite back

(”Gee, Mammon’s actually stepping up for once” “Yeah, too bad he was the one that poisoned them in the first place”)

(Lucifer: he WHAT)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Mammon is usually the first thing you see in the morning, so that doesn’t come as a surprise. What does surprise you is how quiet he’s being.

When you sit up and groggily ask, “Is something wrong?” (barely getting the words through your swollen lips) he is torn between trying to say something smooth (”N-not now that you’re okay!! not that i care....”) or calling you a dumb human. So instead he just stares at you

Eventually you can get it out of him what happened, and it explains why your face feels like it had been burned and your stomach feels gross

Mammon says he’s going to come up with a surefire way to protect you so nothing like this ever happens again, but his version of protecting you is sticking by your side 24/7 and he already does that so?

You’re the one that’s going to have to take the lead. Make a list of common ingredients that are SUPER deadly to humans and make sure you both have one for reference

Soon enough, though, he figures out how he can help you without your guidance and you catch him pointing out what’s safe without you having to ask

He follows you to the lunch line and examines the clear plastic boxes until he can point out a few human-safe options. He’ll bend to whisper in your ear in line at some fast-food joint. If you’re not sure, he’ll be the first to ask before you even remember that’s something you should be doing anyway.

He’ll even try to make dishes he thinks you’ll like without the poisonous ingredient! Sometimes it takes a few tries but if he wants you to try something with him, he WILL make it himself

When it comes to you, Mammon really will give you the best care he can. Sometimes he just needs that extra push to think things through.

(And if this wasn’t a push. a hard shove. over a cliff. into shark infested waters)

(don’t do this again, mc. his demon heart can’t take it)

When you start coughing:

Levi has never mentioned how his brother don’t normally speak much to him at dinner and he’s just learned to be highly attuned to you. He notices a lot of little things you do, and is normally the first to realize when you’re choking or something.

That’s why, when you start coughing this time, he is the first one to panic. He knows that that isn’t a normal cough, he just doesn’t know what to do about it.

He looks down at his plate and realizes what’s on it, something he cries out right when you fall to the ground, clutching your stomach. You’re on the other side of the table and his brothers are already crowding around you, so Levi doesn’t get to see the blood and can only hear your coughing.

When your coughing gets weaker as you faint, he freaks. the. fuck. out. Did you die?? Even as he tries to look over his brother’s shoulders, he can’t get a good grasp of what happened until somebody tells him.

(It doesn’t matter much though. He’s still stuck in a loop of wondering what he could’ve done if he had gotten to dinner sooner, if he had managed to score a coveted seat next to you, if he had just looked at his plate or offered to take over for Mammon...)

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up in your bed and Lucifer is the one who comes in, asking you how you feel and if you’re up to classes to die.

Being poisoned sure does take a lot out of you, so you ask to stay. Lucifer gives a quick nod and warns you not to shirk your duties, wishing you a fast recovery and letting you know that (human safe) food has been set aside specifically for you.

You doze off soon after (hey, a sick day may as well be spent sleeping in, right?) and when you wake up, somebody else is there, looking at you with inquisitive orange eyes and nearly scaring you half to death.

When you scream, he screams, backing up into your dresser and knocking some of the things off of it.

“I-I’m sorry-! I was just- told to check up on you- just in c-case....I’ll leave now!”

Boy’s gonna make you chase after him when you’re basically sick smh

If you go to his room and demand to be let in, he will - and he’ll let you stay under the guise of “well if you have to check on me every hour it’ll be less of a hassle if I just stay here...”

You won’t be able to get him to say he feels guilty for letting this happen, but when you pick up on the signs ensure him that he’s doing fine taking care of you. HIs cool room helps soothe your mouth (which is still a little irritated), and you’re honored he has an alarm set to check up on you

You know he’s feeling better about it all when an alarm goes off and he just asks “Hey you good?” and he chuckles a little bit when you respond “Hold on I gotta check my own pulse....... yeah i think i’m good”

Overall he is worried but he doesn’t know how to communicate it? So it’s a lot of quick, worried glances and double checking nutrition facts on packages before he hands them to you.

He kind of leaves you to your own devices, but he does send you worried glances every now and then until you’re recovered. He also makes it a point, when Mammon’s on dinner duty, to tell him exactly how he prepared the meal, though you don’t know if it’s for your sake or just to bother him. Probably both.

When you start coughing:

Satan has taken to leaving his books in his room for most dinner and talks to you in their place, so he notices what’s in the dish pretty quickly.

However, the second step of realizing what it could do to a human doesn’t quite hit him until you’re already on your second bite.

He reaches out to grab your wrist anyway, watching you cough while also staring at him in confusion. As he watches your face redden and your mouth swell, you take your wrist from his grasp and cover your mouth with your hand.

He’s the one who knows what to do, so he appoints someone to keep and eye on you while he runs (yes, runs, but he’ll act all cool about it if his brothers bring it up later) to his room to get some potion that’ll (hopefully) negate the effects

(Don’t let him hear me say this but) he’s similar to Lucifer in that he’s very level-headed when it happens - somebody needs to be focused on the cure when some of his more dramatic brothers are screaming (looking at you, Mammon and Asmo)

Taking care of you afterwards:

Satan might be the best at taking care of you, but he’s probably also the least fun.

Once he realized a while ago how fragile a human could be (and that he was interested in actually keeping you alive rather than just watching how long it takes for something to hurt you), he put in an effort to read up on how to help a poisoned human in the Devildom.

He knows how you must be feeling, and he offers you soothing teas or even a (human safe!) numbing lip balm to help you out.

(He finds great pleasure in how ridiculous you look, now that the danger’s passed - though he won’t tell you outright, you can tell it by the amused grin he isn’t even trying to hide)

Don’t be surprised if you catch him eyeing your plates of food for a while after the incident, and any time you catch him in the act he’ll look at you, take a drink out of the nearest cup and lift his eyebrows in a weird little acknowledgment that he’s been caught before saying “It looks tasty.”

Overall, he’s the standard amount of worried? Even though he will take every opportunity to tease you about how you looked afterwards or how feeble you are to be taken down by something so small (jokingly), he won’t ever get out of the habit of double checking your food to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

When you start coughing:

Asmodeus eyes you warily when you start coughing, but continues with his entertaining until you hit the ground.

He’s by your side in an instant, hands hovering over you as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself (he doesn’t).

He doesn’t remember calling for Satan, but Satan is the one who kneels by you, so maybe he does? His focus is on you and deciding on something he can do to help.

This ends up shielding your face, puffy and a mess from your tears and retching, from the others who are all peering over at you in concern. He knows it’s not the most pressing detail, but he figures that maybe he can preserve your dignity a little bit, no?

He follows the action with his hands covering his mouth nervously, watching as they have to force a potion down your throat now that you’re unconscious. He’s allowed to stay by you once they determine that you’re safe since he normally doesn’t cause too much of a fuss - not when he looks as pale and miserable as he does now, anyway.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s not too experienced in the healthcare field, but boy does he know self care! He knows how to get your skin feeling less gross after the rather...irritable reaction it had and the best way to rest is if you feel totally physically relaxed, right?

For a while, if your stomach still feels like it’s churning or you’re otherwise unfocused, he’s the first to defend you from anybody who thinks you’re overreacting.

Also makes sure nobody outside of the house knows how...unsightly of an ordeal it was. He isn’t shaming you internally or anything, but he’d loathe to have such an unpretty picture in people’s heads when you’ve been nothing but showstopping the whole time beforehand!

Will make sure to grab a seat across from you juuust before you take a bite for a while. It doesn’t matter if he’s across the room in the middle of a story or if you’re at a cafe with someone else and he’s still home. You’ll find him sliding in wordlessly to the seat across from you and watching you intently, making sure you’re eating something that isn’t going to burn you from the inside out.

Has multiple websites bookmarked on his D.D.D. that tell him what is poisonous to you and makes sure YOU are aware of what you’re putting inside your body before you eat it. He seems to genuinely think you’ll forget to save yourself from such a life-threatening situation, but the pout he gives you when you try to get him to stop is enough to convince you to live with it.

When you start coughing:

When you start coughing, he reaches over and starts patting your back absently in the way that usually helps.

He notices the way you grasp onto the table in an attempt to keep yourself up, coughing into your other hand as it gets worse by the second. When you almost slip off, he reaches out to catch you before you hit to floor

Is ready to do the Heimlich when one of his brothers stops him because 1) he’d probably snap you in half, and 2) that’s not what’s happening

He watches blankly as Satan approaches him, laying you down gently as instructed. That’s probably worse, watching you writhe on the floor like that.

He’s the one instructed to help hold you down so they can feed you the potion cure. He wants to hold your hand but it’s covered in blood, and he doesn’t want to risk loosening his grip on you and you somehow spilling it.

Taking care of you afterwards:

He’s the one most shaken up about the whole ordeal, I’d think? While the others are definitely worried he’s the one that has the BIGGEST problem with the feeling of helplessness so I think it would bring back some memories

He definitely keeps a watchful eye over you until you can tell him coherently that you’re okay, and even then he’s still treating you like porcelain for a short while

He can’t help it! Any time he’s reminded of just how frail you can be (and how unexpectedly something horrible can happen) he just...needs a few gentle moments to collect his thoughts.

Does NOT want you even looking at anything that has that plant in it (or anything else poisonous for that matter). Will straight up eat an entire dish from the pan if you give it a glance that he thinks means you’re thinking about eating it. He can usually get away with it since that’s similar to what he already does, but every now and then you see the look in his eyes and wonder if there’s something more to it

He’ll warn you in the future if he knows something is poisonous, but if you’re trying something new he’ll automatically ask you “Can you eat that?” If he doesn’t know, he can at least remind you to check for yourself.

When you start coughing:

Very few things can snap Belphegor out of a drowsy dinner stupor. You suddenly falling on the floor and coughing your insides out is one of the things that can.

If his brothers weren’t so concerned with you, they’d have a few quips about how quickly he startled awake

The first thing he does is dart his eyes back to the table, where he quickly realizes that they just inadvertently poisoned you. When he turns back, it seems the others have already come to that conclusion and someone is running off to help you

He knows that he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of help, but he will tear somebody (Mammon) away from you and kneel next to Beel.

He keeps himself under control by comforting Beel as he holds you down.

There’s definitely a sick feeling in his stomach, something familiar about you lying on the floor and bleeding that he doesn’t like. He pretends to be averting his eyes at the sight of them forcing a potion down your throat and not some regrettable memory.

Taking care of you afterwards:

You wake up and Belphie is curled up next to you in your bed. Nobody else is in the house and it’s 3 PM. You feel gross and you can’t reach your phone to actually confirm what time it is and you have no idea what the fuck is going on until he wakes up

Which he does, after you poke and prod him enough and he’s very grumpy about it

“yeesh, you get poisoned and suddenly you think you’re the princess of the devildom”

“I get WHAT”

Definitely is planning to get Mammon back tenfold

He tries to act nonchalant about it but he does keep waking up ever few hours and lifts his head to like. check that you’re good for the first day or so.

Sometimes he gets this sad look in his eyes and you have to smooth his hair back and reassure him that everything’s okay. It works a little but if he thinks he can trick you by pretending to sleep and then steal a few moments where he can Brood on his own while STILL cuddled up next to you, he will.

Suddenly takes an interest in what you’re eating. Every day. Every meal.

He doesn’t go to check on you but he does text you a few minutes before lunch or if you’re getting dinner somewhere other than the house “What are you planning on eating?”

Gets real huffy if you don’t give him a straight answer. Usually will respond with a “Whatever don’t get yourself almost killed again”

If you decide to get cheeky and answer “Probably straight poison, like right out of the mysterious bottle with a skull on it” he will just say “ugh, sounds like you. have fun.”

“...”

“...seriously, don’t do that mc.”

he sets alarms to wake up so he can make sure you don’t ingest literal poison be a little nice to him please

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topazy · 3 years

Text

Inside, outisde

Pairing: 10k x reader, Addy Carver sister!reader

Warnings: Blood, swearing

Chapter: 1.02

Slowly, you open your eyes, feeling the sweat sticking to your clothes as your eyes adjust to daylight. Groaning, you looked up to see 10k standing next to you. He was keeping watch with his hand wrapped securely around his gun.

Leaning forward, you noticed the cars had stopped moving. "What’s going on?"

"Ohh she finally wakes," Addy teases. "Warren has run out of gas."

As you jumped out the back of the truck, Mack motioned for you to get back. "Heads up," he pointed to the left. "We got company."

The group waited in silence as two men on motorbikes approached.

"That's right," Warren said quietly as she stared at them as they rode past. "Keep rolling and we all live to see another day."

The men started revving their engines before speeding off. Your eyes stayed glued to Casandra, who was trying to stay completely out of sight of them. You weren’t sure why, but something about that was off.

"We ran over some fun stuff," Doc chuckled, before Warren stabbed the z that was trapped underneath the wheel of her.

Warren turned and looked back at the town your group was leaving. "Even after all this, it's still beautiful. Take a good look. Might not be back for a while."

Addy let out a deep sigh, "so long New York. See ya in the next life."

—

Addy continued to take pictures and videos of the dead to document what was happening, while Warren and Garnet tried to figure out the group's next move.

You began scavenging for anything that could be useful in old cars. It was sad seeing all the belongings left behind, knowing all the owners were dead. You just hoped that somebody had granted them mercy. You felt slightly distracted from the task at hand when you overheard the conversation next to you.

"So what's your name, kid?"

"Ten Thousand."

"That is not a name," Doc laughed before pointing towards you. "It's a number. It’s almost as mad as her name."

"It's my name. I made it up myself."

Doc nodded, "Well I suppose you'd have to. Does it mean anything?"

10k just shrugged, "That's how many zombies I'm going to kill."

"How many have you killed?" You asked while looking through a kid's backpack.

"Already on 1,055."

Wow. That was impressive.

"So what happens when you get to 10,000?"

"Change my name."

For the short time that you’ve known him, 10k didn’t tend to speak much. His answers were usually short, and you got the impression he didn’t want to get too close to anyone.

"To what? Twenty thousand?" The older man laughed.

"Jeff."

Doc pulled a funny facial expression at you. Why Jeff? You wanted to know what his real name was, but decided against asking him at that moment. You were sure he wouldn’t appreciate any more questions.

You smiled at 10k, "I like that name."

Warren stepped down from the car roof she was standing on. She looked worried. "Where did everybody go? I haven't seen a survivor except for those two bikers."

"Black Summer," You eyed Cassandra carefully as she spoke, "Everybody starved to death."

"But you survived." You and Addy shared a look, "how did you survive?"

"Did what I had to do," Cassandra answered bluntly.

Frowning, you handed the bag with bottles of water you found to Mack before heading in the other direction to look some more. After a few moments, you heard a commotion, followed by a voice you didn’t recognize. You readied your bow and arrow as you walked back towards your group. One of the scruffy looking bikers from before was standing between Garnet and Warren. "I see you're scrounging for gas. You know, like we used to say, ass, gas or grass."

Murphy looked the man up and down, "Nobody rides for free."

The stranger looked smug, "I know where you could fill up."

"Now would be the time to share that information," Warren said, stepping closer to him.

"Place called Jersey Devil Refinery, maybe five miles off, just off the turnpike."

"How do you know there's gas there?" You asked, unsure whether to believe him or not.

"Got overrun day number one," he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "All the tanks are still full, just rusting away."

"All right, take us to this refinery," Warren replied. "And if there's gas there like you say, you can ride with us to the next outpost."

The man grinned, "you won't be sorry."

Garnett looked unsure but went along with it anyway. "Let's get out of here. I'll be riding with Warren and a new guy. Everybody else load up in the truck."

Murphy groaned. "So are we just gonna pick up every sketchy loser at every place we stop?"

You scoffed, "well we brought you along, didn't we?"

Once you got into the back of the trunk, 10k leaned in to you and whispered. "You don’t trust him, do you?"

"There’s a lot of people here I don’t trust."

—

When you reached your destination, Murphy scrunched up his face as Addy parked the car.. "What’s that smell?"

"The undead and gasoline."

The group discussed the best way to draw the Z’s attention away from the pump that was drawing them in. Eventually, Cassandra pulled out a necklace that had a music box built inside it.

"That's great," Warren nodded. "You're our decoy."

"I'll go with her," the sketchy guy said.

"I’ll come too," you volunteered. Your gut instinct was telling you to not trust the two of them together.

Cassandra glared at you. "I don't need his help, or hers."

"No, you need cover. Take them." Warren paused and looked around before letting out a deep sigh. "Where'd that kid go?"

"He was here a minute ago," Doc said with a shrug.

You added, "His name is Ten Thousand."

"Well, he'd better be back by the time we're ready to go," the older woman frowned. "Change of plan. Astra, I need you to stay here with Doc, and Murphy." You opened your mouth to protest, but Warren cut you off. "No arguments."

—

"Wonder how it's going?" Doc asked. "I haven't heard anything blow up."

"Yet."

You kicked Murphy lightly in the thigh for his insensitive answer. "Don’t be such a negative jackass."

After watching Murphy and Doc play cards for a while, you turn to face the ‘saviour’ of the world. "How'd you get to be the savior of the human race?"

He let out a grunt, "you really wanna know?"

"Yeah."

"Truth is for a guy who's been wrongly convicted, I'm actually very civic-minded. I volunteered."

"So the doctors gave you the vaccine, and then they let the zombies bite you?" He nodded. You didn’t like him, but nobody deserves to have that happen to him. "How many times?"

"Eight."

You sighed, "I’m sorry that happened to you. It must have been awful."

He shrugged, "I blacked out."

"Shut up, you two," Doc said quietly. "We have some nosey neighbors."

As soon as you noticed the group of zombies that were starting to walk past the truck, you shuffled down in your seat, but Murphy started frantically yelling. "Call the others! Get us out of here!"

"Stop yelling." You frowned, "you're attracting them to us."

"Astra, keep him inside," Doc instructed you. "I’m going to draw them away."

"Wait, it’s too dangerous to go out there yourself!" You pointed out, "I’ll come with you."

The older man shook his head. "He might be our last chance. Whatever happens, keep him alive."

You watched as Doc disappeared into the crowd of Z’s. You just hoped he would come back.

—

You tried to try and calm Murphy, who was panicking loudly. The occasional zombie would bang into the car, but as long as you stayed out of sight and quiet they would hopefully pass by.

"Get us out of here!" Murphy yelled as the car began to move slightly.

"Stop being so loud, you're attracting them."

When a Z managed to get its finger through a crack in one of the windows, you leaped forward and cut its finger off, causing blood to spray onto the seats, and Murphy to be even louder.

Oh fuck. We are screwed.

In the distance, you could hear Doc shouting. "Ten thousand! Cover the car! Murphy and Astra are trapped inside."

Gunshots filled the air as the dead began to fall to the ground. You let out a sigh of relief. 10k, and Doc had your back.

"Hey, it's going!" you exclaimed, only to be cut off by the so-called saviour, who shoved you to the side and jumped into the driver's seat. You jolted back when he slammed his foot down. "Where the hell are we going!"

Losing control of the car, Murphy crashed into a wall. You let out a scream as you felt something cutting into your skin, before blood began dripping from your hand. "You stupid son of a bitch! You almost got me killed!"

The door to the truck swung open as Warren helped you out. You were vaguely aware of somebody helping Murphy to get away as well. You knew from the snarling noises coming from behind that the Z’s weren’t far behind. You made it back to the others just in time, as the truck you were just in exploded. At least it’s taken out some of the dead.

Warren raised her hand for everyone to be quiet. There was a ringing noise coming from a phone box. Garnett, who was the closest, answered it.

"Sergeant Charlie Garnett," he paused before continuing. "Please tell us where to drop him off - California? Hold on - That's not gonna happen," he turned back to face the group. "We need to go somewhere closer."

"Closer?" You asked questions.

What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

Shaking your head, you turned to face the other way. "Oh shit. Dead, coming right at us."

Addy and Mac held off the dead while the rest of you ran towards the only vehicle your group had left. "Wait, we can’t leave. We aren’t all here."

Doc looked around worried until he spotted 10k running. "Wait! Here comes the kid!"

"Found these."

You smiled as he handed Warren the small gas tanks he’d found.

As the group rode off, 10k’s smile fell from his face, and was quickly replaced by a frown. "What happened to you?"

You glared at Murphy. "I cut my hand with my blade when we crashed. I have some bandages in my bag, I’ll be fine."

Without saying anything, 10k began rummaging in your backpack and pulled out a first aid kit. He bandaged up your hand before returning the kit to you.

"Thanks."

He shrugged, "no problem."

You shifted awkwardly. You wanted to talk to him, but weren’t sure what to say.

10k took you by surprise when he leaned into you, and spoke quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, yeah."

"What does Astra mean?"

A warm feeling spreads through you, "well…"

130 notes · View notes

deepdonutkid · 4 years

Text

Kismet

Requested: No

Paring: Shelby!Sister Reader x Isaiah

Words: 5624

Summary: For a year now, you had a secret relationship with Isaiah and even when he is still in the same room with you, you can’t stop feeling lonely. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it more about the weight of the secret you have to carry. But with Tommy as you big brother you can’t risk, telling the truth or your man might get shot.

Note:

I was in the mood for a Shelby!Sister reader x Isaiah and it turned out to be way longer than I expected it... and I even cut out dialog... So here it is!

It’s also flavored with Junior Peaky Boys fun at the beginning. And I was inspired by my homegirl’s one shot called star and my story is an addition to hers, it’s the same night, but Bonnie has some other adventures than the reader and Isaiah.

Somehow I feel like everybody is a little ooc, but I couldn’t correct it.

Requests and tag list are still open, feel free to dm me or send me an ask.

tagging: @bonniesgoldengirl @justalonelyslytherin @theshelbyclan

Warning: swear words, drinking, binge drinking, gambling, a hinted smut and a sweet ending

It was one of those nights, nothing special, just the usual fellows around the same table in the Garrison. You had fun nevertheless. All your friends were right there, you had enough to drink and you had a luck hand today. The cards seemed to work in your fortune.

Deviously smiling you revealed your hand. You just had won this round and it gave you unholy amounts of satisfactions. “Ha”, you cheered: “Suck it up.”

Your friend shrugged and shoved his coins in your direction. All he said was a very grumpy “There you go”, but it pleased you.

You took the money and peaked around the corner. Where was Michael with the drinks? He was like a brother to you, but he was just your cousin. Maybe it was because you were born just two months before his older sister, Anna. Even though, she was gone Michael came back to his real family and now you were closer than ever. You cared for him, more than your siblings did.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t hit him, if he just left the bar to fuck with some random girl. It was not about him having sex, more about leaving without telling anybody. Especially when he was supposed to get drinks for the table. You moaned and said: “Where is Michael?”

“Probably doing somebody”, Isaiah joked and lit a cigarette. Then he offered you one and you took it gladly. Actually, you bit your lip and gave him the side-eye, but you had to hide your smile in front of the others. Bonnie and Finny weren’t the smartest boys in Small Heath, but you wouldn’t risk it.

You had so much fun with Isaiah that you didn’t even know when it started. Months passed by, while you were completely caught up in your little game with him. Nobody knew it. That was mainly Isaiah’s fault. At first it amused you to keep your relationship with him secret, but now you were ready to tell your family about it. Your boyfriend didn’t like the idea.

Somehow you thought Michael started to notice. He gave you the glace, which said: “I know, dear”, but maybe you were just getting crazy. You just had to be more careful around others now and everything was fine.

The night was still young and you were keen to make Bonnie lose all his money today. He had won the boxing match earlier and the bruises were still visible, but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t win against you. It was just a card game, but it filled you with gleeful joy. This and the fact that Isaiah was sitting next to you. Sometimes he would brush your thigh with his fingers, which made you giggle even more.

“There he is”, yelled Finny while being so fucking drunk, like you never had seen him before. Michael arrived with messy hair and his tie was undone, but he had your drink and that was all that you care for. “Finally”, you fluted and ripped the glass of his hand: “Thank you, babe.”

And the whiskey was still cold, which meant he fucked the girl first and ordered the drinks afterwards. “How was she? Good?” you asked before you took a sip from your whiskey. You weren’t a lightweight when it came to drinking, maybe not as well as Arthur and John, but you could tolerate much more than Ada and Finny. Your little brother was so drunk, he looked like his head was all empty and yet filled with bullshit.

Michael sat down next to you and answered: “Mhh, she was okay, but she talked too much.” Then you felt the weight of a hand on your thigh again. A shiver rushed down your spine, but it was the wrong side. Your cousin had put his hand on your knee. “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You nodded. “Yeah, everything is perfect”, you blabbered hoping he wouldn’t keep asking questions, but he did. “Don’t be so worried, every time I’m with a girl. I know you’re still a virgin, but you can get some too. Tommy wouldn’t be against it.”

How wonderfully wrong he was. Neither were you a virgin nor would Tommy be okay with this. After all, you were his little sister and he wouldn’t accept the guy, you were sleeping with. Of course, Isaiah was a friend of the family, but after the whole thing with Ada and Freddie you had something to worry about.

The best snarky comeback was right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it without letting something slip. ‘What gives you the idea I’m still a virgin?’ And yet you were silent as the guy who fucked you, sat right next to you. You felt trapped and decided to go straight forward. “Yes, he would. You know it and everybody in Small Heath knows it.”

“Oh whatever”, Michael mumbled: “Just drink enough and you eventually forget about it.”

You grinned and emptied your drink. “Fuck it, let’s play some cards. I’m not done with Mr. Gold over here.” Then you took the cards and dealt them to start the next round.

Much later that night when you brought Finn back home and went straight back to the pub, in front of the entrance, you stumbled into Bonnie. “Is there a reason why you’re smirking?” you asked him. He was gleaming red and smiling like an idiot.

Then you remembered. “The singer, right?” Bonnie nodded and his grin got even wider. “You talked to her?” Again he gave you a silent answer. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. He was a lot heavier than you thought, but then again, you were just a girl and he was a boxer.

Sometime it was weird to only have male friends, it just happened. Maybe it was because of your brothers. Maybe that’s why you never acted like a proper girl. Of course you felt like a woman and you liked your body, but in your eyes it was so much easier to talk to guys.

“Eyy, where did you found him?” Michael slurred and helped you to put your friend on a chair again. With your hands finally free you had the chance to explain. “Found him outside. I don’t know what he did there, but he talked to the singer.”

Both, Isiah and Michael nodded. It was only logical for Bonnie to freak out after it talking to her. He was there every Friday night looking for the singer and now his brain seemed to melt, just because she said something to him. But neither of you knew, what she said exactly. Maybe this was a problem for another night. It didn’t look like Bonnie was able to answer.

So you ordered some more drinks and sat back down again. In this separate room, which was reserved for your family, it was almost too tempting to get close to your boyfriend again. Isiah looked so good that night and it hurt to be unable to touch him… or to kiss him. But you would be satisfied with just holding his hand now.

It was a curse; you knew it soon after you realized that you loved him. He was handsome, charming and a loyal friend. There was no better man for you, even though you wished you could be together in public. And again you bit your lip and moved your chair away from him.

But you couldn’t think about this anymore, it was too frustrating and luckily somebody else caught your attention. It was Bonnie who mumbled very quietly: “I think she kissed me, but it could be a dream as well. It felt so surreal.” You padded his shoulder and nodded to underline your compassion.

It was just the same with Isaiah. Whenever you two were alone, it was amazing and beautiful. He was so soft and romantic and he just made you happy. But every time you woke up and he was gone, the sweet scenery shattered. And out in public it was getting annoying to find excuses to be with him or getting away, so you could spend some time alone with him and you had to lie to your whole family about your whereabouts. Slowly it became exhausting.

There was nothing you could do about it, so you just drank your whiskey and talked with the boys about Bonnie’s singer and the girl Michael had. It was so easy for them to display their relationship in the public, but of course you didn’t have this privilege as a girl. Apparently, you needed to be protected. Or so it has been explained to you. You wasn’t concerned for your safety but for your freedom. Tommy said it was his job as your big brother to care for you, even if it felt like he was controlling you. You have always been the wild one among your siblings and everything was fine, until your mum died and your dad left. Then Tommy was in charge and sometimes his opinions would vary from yours, which led to fights. And yet you feared what he might do, if he found out about your secret.

All the sudden Bonnie fell from his chair and you groaned. Now somebody had to bring him home as well. First Finn and now him… but why they couldn’t take the whiskey today? You weren’t nearly as drunk as them, but still.

Isaiah stood up and picked his friend up. “I’m taking him home. I’ll be right back”, he said, before leaving.

Now Michael and you were alone. It wasn’t what you wanted. The only thing you could think of was smooching the sweet lips of your boyfriend. You were caught up in your little fantasy, when your cousin woke you up again. “Isaiah is acting weird lately.”

“Oh… really? I didn’t notice”, you replied: “He seemed normal to me.” Your hand grabbed the fringe of your dress. Talking about him made you nervous.

Michael moaned and fumbled for his cigarettes. He put them out, you took one and he turned his between his fingers, when he added: “I don’t know, maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I think he is hiding something from us.” Then he lit his cigarette and took a drag from it.

You inhaled sharply and stared into the void for a second, before answering: “Don’t be silly, he is just as loyal as ever.” Then you laughed and Michael joined in. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just needed to get this off my chest.”

The rest of the conversation went just like usual. You chatted, you bickered and you had fun. While the bell already announced the new day, Isaiah came back.

In this tiny glimpse of a moment you couldn’t hide your smile and he reciprocated. Actually, you were just waiting for Michael to leave now. It was your plan all along, but patience has never been your strong suit.

It took three more rounds for Michael to say goodnight. “Take care of her, will you?” Isaiah nodded. When Michael finally grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, you felt unbelievably excited. Your fingertips slapped a melody on the table, while you watched him leaving. The door shut and now you had what you longed for all night.

You turned around and looked at him. Gosh, waiting felt like an eternity. Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. Slowly Isaiah came closer and his hand pulled you to him for a kiss. “Finally”, you whispered against his lips, before giving him what he wanted.

After you two parted you rested your head on his shoulder. Now you were getting tired as well, but you didn’t want to go to your bed. “I was waiting the whole evening for this”, he moaned and stroked your hair.

The smell of his perfume made you realized how much you missed him too, even though he was with you since you went to Garrison tonight. You moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around him to give him a tight squeeze. Then you signed: “I wish we didn’t have to hide” and buried your face in his shirt.

“Babe”, he replied: “We already had this conversation. It wouldn’t end well. Let’s just enjoy what we have as long as we can.” It hurt, but Isaiah was right. There was no chance Tommy was getting you off the hook, once he knew about it. And no matter how you explained it to him, he would still be against it. You were too young for stuff like that, as if he didn’t fucked Greta, when he was the same age.

You leaned back to see his beautiful face again. There was something in his eyes, a twinkle or something like that, but it always made you feel comfortable. A lick of your lip was enough to purpose the idea of doing something nasty. He knew you since you were children and it was like he could read your thoughts, especially the dirty ones.

Isaiah started giggling and asked: “Hey, babe, I still can cheer you up, right?”

Maybe it was time for some fun, different to the fun you had before with your friends. The word pleasure would describe it well and with his knowing look he gave you so many ideas. You laughed and nodded. “I think it might help when you do the thing with your tongue.”

“Oh”, he responded amused: “Like this?” And then grabbed you for a kiss and god, what a kiss it was. His tongue brushed your upper lip just to enter your mouth and explore it as if it was your first kiss. He even bit your lip playfully and kept going until you couldn’t breathe no more. Your knees started shaking and it was needless to say, he was the best kisser you ever had.

It took you a while to catch a breath again, but then you answered: “Yeah, just like this… But maybe we could go to your place and do a little more?”

He didn’t seem to be so sure about this suggestion. His thumb stroked your shoulder as he held you in his arm. Because he was so quiet for a second, you knew, he thought about this backwards and forwards. “But right when the sun comes up, you have to go back home”, he argued.

Again, Isaiah was right. You should take too many risks. Otherwise you might get caught and neither of you wanted that. All you could do was to shrug and agree: “Just don’t shoo me after we fucked.” There was bitterness in your voice. What wouldn’t you give to wake up next to him every morning?

The pub was almost empty, when you left. You couldn’t hold his hand on the way out. Everybody in Small Heath was Tommy’s spy. Back on the streets a cold wind blew. Now you had an excuse to go near him and he shared his coat with you. Isaiah was always so sweet and caring. You knew you wanted to spend your future with him. There was no other man and you wouldn’t get over him, not now and not in five years.

You even took off your shoes before entering the Jesus household and followed him on your tiptoes to his room. It was completely dark in the house and the silence was haunting, but good for you, you knew the way by now. The excitement made your fingers tremble.

Finally you arrived where you wanted to be the whole day, in his room. Isaiah closed the door as quietly as possible and started smiling. You walked up to him and started to unbutton his shirt. Now you didn’t want to waste any time.

And neither did Isaiah. He was ripping down your dress, which only worked because the straps were so thin. His hands were all over your body and you couldn’t stop kissing every inch of his skin. It felt like magic whenever he touched you. You moaned, when he played with your bare breasts. To silence you he put his thumb on your lips, which you took as an invitation to suck it. Maybe it was mean to tease him like that, but you were desperate for his affection.

An hour later you laid next to him, your head on his chest as he stroked your hair. “You should leave, before we both fall asleep, babe”, he whispered, which caused you to sign. Leaving now was draining, even exhausting. After this wonderful sex, you were too tired to move anywhere, not to the bathroom and certainly not back to your cold bed.

You pouted your lips and tilted your head, so you could give him your puppy eyes and a pretty please with cream and a cherry on top. “Just ten more minutes. Your bed is way comfier than mine.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “That’s just because I’m in this bed and you like to use me as your personal giant pillow.” Your fingers hovered about his belly. Even though his muscles weren’t tense now, you could still feel the strength lying beneath his skin.

While your index finger drew circles around his bellybutton, you whined: “Maybe… just maybe that is true, but I still want to lay here for a bit. Otherwise I start to feel like a whore, who only comes for sex and leaves silently afterwards.” It wasn’t a knock against Lizzie or her job, but you didn’t like the feeling, when you got home and had to find sleep in your own bed. Even though you had a relationship with him, you still felt lonely. Especially when the sun was rising and nobody was by your side.

“You’re not a whore and you know that”, he argued looking a little concerned.

Then you turned on your back and stared at the ceiling. “No, I’m a Shelby and that is probably worse”, you scoffed.

Now Isaiah was silent and had no witty comeback for that. Maybe, because it was true. If you weren’t part of the family, you could be with anyone, whoever you wanted. Carrying the name Shelby was the only reason, why you had to hide your relationship with Isaiah.

After a while he mumbled: “Okay, stay for a while, but you should be back before they open the shop.” By that time you were already half asleep and yet his words made you smile. He wrapped his arms around you, the little spoon and purred like a cat. Just in this position the both of you fell asleep.

Loud steps were coming near the door, but they wouldn’t wake you up. The screaming of Isaiah’s name did. It was a familiar voice and it took you a couple of minutes to notice, it was your brother Finn who shouted and ran down the hall. Suddenly you were wide awake. You startled up and looked around the room. The sun was already up and shining through the window. Then you saw Isaiah, who was just as frightened as you were.

If Finn came rushing through that door, your secret relationship was no longer secret. “I locked the door last night”, he whispered, which was relieving to you, but still no perfect solution for this problem.

Now Finn arrived at the other side of the door and was knocking on it like crazy. “Isaiah, wake up! Y/N is gone. Nobody can find her and Michael said you were the last one with her in the bar”, your brother yelled. You could hear the panic in his voice, but you couldn’t get caught. Not now.

You stumbled out of the bed and collected your clothes, when you heard Isaiah ask: “What are you going to do? You can’t go out there. He will find out.” And you knew your boyfriend wasn’t concerned about Finn, more about Tommy.

The tension in the room was immense. You had to come up with a plan or your brothers would shoot your lover in front of your eyes.

Suddenly you knew what to do. You pushed the pile of clothing to your chest and squeeze it thigh, when you explained in a lower tone: “I’m gonna hide in the wardrobe and then you open the door and go with Finn away. Afterwards I can come out and then I go to the betting shop and tell the others I have fallen asleep on a bench or something.” It was not the best plan, but yet your only option.

Isaiah nodded and you climbed into the cabinet where he stored his shirt and jackets. The second you entered the small wooden space, you knew it was all going down. Call it intuition, call it divination, call it whatever power Polly owned, but you felt it rushing through your body. He closed the door behind you and then you could hear him stumble into his pants.

Only half clothed he unlocked the door to let Finn in. Isaiah was still sleepy. He wasn’t the morning type of person and before he hadn’t had his breakfast he wasn’t really available. Finn strode up and down. You heard is nervous steps. “Everybody is freaking out right now. Polly thinks somebody kidnapped her or worse. I mean, she has always been unratable in her doings, but this time my sister is really going of the edge. It’s already past lunch and nobody has seen her”, Finn explained: “This morning her bed was empty and I thought I shouldn’t worry, but now I’m afraid I should have said something sooner.”

The cabinet was very uncomfortable and yet you tried not to move or to make a noise, which would cause Finn’s attention. However, being in Isaiah’s position didn’t seem to be pleasant as well. He had to lie to his best friend about the whereabouts of his missing sister, knowing she was sitting right here. Isaiah patted his friends shoulder and said nothing.

Finn didn’t calm down and seemed to be upset, Isaiah wasn’t panicking like him. “C’mon, get dressed. We have to look for her. She might be lying somewhere in the dirt. We shouldn’t waste even more time, standing around.” Then he walked to the closet and opened just the door where you had been hiding.

Butt-naked you fell down to the floor and looked up to your younger brother, who had the same face expression as the one time you told him where the babies were coming from. Some when later you would look back at this moment and would have a good laugh about this, but right now it felt like your world was collapsing.

He should have seen you like this and it took you a whole minute to gather the mental energy to get back up at your feet and greet him like it was the normal thing to do in a situation like this. “Hey, Finny, there I am.”

Your brother froze mid movement and stared at you as if you were the first pink elephant the world has seen or a bear riding a bike. Then he broke the silence. “What?”, he winced. There was no anger in his voice, just total confusion.

Finn looked to Isaiah and then back to you. “You screwed my sister?!”

There was no answer to this question.

“How long?” Finn asked: “How long did you hide that from me?”

You glared over to you boyfriend as if you were asking him for permission to say something. Isaiah signed and nodded. There was no point in denying this anymore. It was over.

Now you had to tell the truth. “A couple of months, maybe a year or so”, you croaked and your voice sounded strange. Like it was not your own and even though you dreamt about finally opening up, it shouldn’t have been like this.

Your brother yelled: “A year?! A whole fucking year? Damn, I should be proud because apparently you two are excellent liars with no moral issues… you two deserve each other.” You heard the disgust and disappointment, when he spoke and it broke your heart. Back then, when the whole thing started you though he might be the only one of your brothers to understand you. How wonderfully wrong you were.

“No”, you said under your breath: “Don’t fucking do this to me. I would have told you, if you wouldn’t have run straight to Tommy after you knew. Everybody knows you can’t keep a secret. So don’t act like it was my fault or my mistake, because it’s not. I would have gladly told everybody, I’m like him very much, but you and Tommy and Arthur and John made it impossible for me to even talk with a guy who is not part of the gang. You can’t turn this around and act like you are the victim in all this.”

It was time for you to stand up for yourself and your decisions… and time for you to get dressed. You didn’t seem as responsible as you were when you were still naked and in front of the closed you have been hiding in. Now you knew how wrong it was to lie and hide your relationship, because it wasn’t their concern. It was your life, your body and your choice. Nobody could take that from you and certainly not your brothers. You weren’t afraid of them. All your life you saw how your brothers treated women and you said nothing about it, but this should change right now.

So you stood there, furious and filled with rage, put on your dress and your shoes and said one last thing, before leaving: “This madness has to end.”

You stormed out of the room- not caring for Isaiah or Finn- and heading for the King of Small Heath to throw him out of his high throne. Your hair was a nest and you smelled like a bar after a dirty old night, when you entered the betting shop. Nobody was there, just the regular family members.

Everybody seemed to be relieved to see you again and then came close to hug you. Ada was right next to the door and the first to greet you. “Oh my god, you’re back, sweetie”, she muttered.

Next was Polly who examined your appearance for cuts and other injuries. Of course you had none, besides the hickeys Isaiah gave you. She tried to take a closer look of your neck, but you pulled away, which caused her to ask: “What happened? Where were you all night?”

Now Tommy was coming up to you. His steps were slow, but fierce and the glare in his eyes was pinching. “Just from the smell I would guess, she was with a guy this night”, he scoffed: “She probably had a lot of fun, but now she should say, who that guy was, so we can take actions.” You knew he was addressing you, even though he didn’t phrase it like that.

“I don’t think, this is your business”, you replied with a grin on your face. You wouldn’t back down. Not this time. “But yes, I was with a guy tonight. So you don’t need to worry. I’m completely fine.”

Your older brother led out a little laugh, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Well, well, well, I don’t care what you think. I’m your brother and it’s my job to make sure you’re safe”, he explained: “And now you tell me who he was.” Ah, past tense, a hint of what was going to happen.

You crossed your arms and tiled your head to give him a dismissive look. “Who said it was your job?” was your comeback, but your brother wasn’t remotely impressed. Neither of you would let the other win. You were too stubborn for this gesture of insight.

Others, including Arthur and John, were somehow intimidated by Tommy’s behavior, but not you. Actually, you learned too much from him to take his shit. He taught you to help your head up high and how to outsmart your enemies. Now you could use the same strategies against him.

“Ever since our father left and mom died, you act like you are in charge, but you’re not. We are your siblings, not your pawn, waiting for your command”, you hissed: “I have my own life and I make my own decisions and who I meet shouldn’t concern you.” Slowly your anger grew. It was a boiling feeling in your gut, like you were fueled with fire.

Tommy was getting gleaming red. You had hit the right spot and you knew you would hurt him with your words, but otherwise he wouldn’t understand. The words were stuck in his throat as he killed you with his looks.

Patiently, you waited for his answer. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, but silencing your brother was the best thing ever, since he was the reason why you felt miserable lately. “No comeback? No arguments, dear?” You loved to poke his wounds and you did it with a huge smile on your face.

“As if you would listen to me… You even said it yourself. You wouldn’t take my advice”, he responded and bid his lip. “But I don’t need to talk to you to teach you a lesson. You’re too young to fuck around town and I’m going to find the bastard who did this and kill him.”

The door was opened behind you and soon Finn entered the room. You gave your little brother the death glare you were known for. He shouldn’t get the idea he was allowed to talk about what he found out.

You should be raging right now, but all you could do was laugh. His empty threats weren’t as daunting as he thought. With nothing but spite you whistled: “I would love to see you try. I kept this a secret for over a year now and you noticed nothing. And now I can wait another year for you to find him… or I could run away… whatever you prefer.”

Now you’re pushing your luck. Finn could ruin everything, if he just said one wrong word. The palms of your hands were sweaty. It was a dangerous game you played there, but it was not like you could back out of it now. This was road of no return.

Tommy seemed to be more surprised than fuming, when he asked: “You slept with some geezers for a year now?” He respected your talent to keep it under the radar. Everybody who could shirk his rules deserved acknowledgement for putting up with this risk. Maybe he was finally realizing how much you had grown. You weren’t his little kitten anymore.

“No, not geezers, just one guy”, you corrected him: “But yes, that is true.”

You watched Tommy as he walked around the table, heading for the whiskey, while he nodded understandingly. “Mh, so you would say it’s love?”

A sign came from your lips. You already knew the answer, but you weren’t so sure, if you should say this out loud. After all, you didn’t even have a proper talk about this with Isaiah. Silence was filling the room, while you calculated your risks. If you said, you loved him and Isaiah wasn’t as serious about the relationship, you would look like an idiot. Good for you, he didn’t come to the betting shop to witness the fight between you and your brother. Finally you decided to tell everybody: “Yes, I do.”

“Good”, Tommy mumbled while he poured his whiskey: “Then you should have my blessing. Just give us the name now.” He took a sip and seemed to be amused by your embarrassment.

Talking about Isaiah, while he wasn’t present, was weird, but you knew why he stayed in the comfort of his own room. You weren’t mad at him for not running after you. This was your fight and not his. And after all your brothers were a little scary, when it comes to stuff like this.

But you had Tommy’s word now and nothing should happen to your man. You shrugged and rolled with your eyes. The fuss they made about this was still annoying.

Ada patted your shoulder and encouraged you to speak. “Do we know him?” The answer was yes, but it was also the reason, why you struggled to say it out loud.

Even John chimed in and kept pushing: “Yeah, what’s up with this fella?” He was smiling to let you know the mood had changed. Nobody was against you anymore.

“It’s…”, you started and fumbled for the seam of your dress: “It’s Isaiah.”

At first it was dead silence, while the others processed the information, then Arthur and John burst out in laughter. Finn seemed to be relieved, because he would have hated it to keep a secret like this. Your older sister was hugging you a little too tight and even Polly was smiling.

Tommy had a smug on his face when he muttered: “If that’s the case, then you should have your happiness.”

“Isaiah is a fine fella. You will be alright”, hummed Arthur. Apparently everybody was happy with your choice. You just had to stand up for yourself.

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders and then you could laugh about it too. But suddenly you remember that Isaiah was still waiting for his death in his room. “I should go and let him of the hook”, you fluted and already went to the door when you heard Tommy said: “Don’t get pregnant or he has to marry you.”

#peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky #peaky blinder fanfic #isiah jesus #isaiah jesus #daryl mccormack #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby #shelby sister #isiah x reader #isiah x you #fanfic #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

woke me up from the longest dream

Summary: Alex and Michael follow up on a lead and find something powerful.

Tags: canon compliant (for the most part), visions, road trips, my deep sky still sucks agenda

ao3

"Why is it so fucking cold?"

"Welcome to Montana," Alex said dryly.

Michael made a face and shoved his hands in his pockets. He was doing his best to be mature about Alex inviting him on this trip. It was another loose lead he found and he was irritated that he didn't find it until after he came back home. Michael had offered to help after a grueling time in self-induced misery and Alex had agreed and he had planned to use this time to show Alex how much he'd grown.

However, there was something about being alone with Alex that made him feel a little like he hadn’t.

"Are you not cold?"

"Didn't we deduce that your species is from a really cold planet due to your body temperature and the clothing Tripp described they were wearing?" Alex asked back.

Michael was used to a vaguely snarky Alex, it was in his genetic makeup. This was a different level though. Alex was in one of the worst moods Michael had ever seen him in that didn't result in a fight, instead it was all icy silence and irritated answers. Michael wasn't sure if it was because of his breakup with Forrest or if it was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that Michael was here at all.

He decided to keep quiet.

"You got me," Michael said, taking slightly bigger strides to keep up with Alex.

They were in a small town that served as a hub for a few even smaller towns that surrounded it. It had one small stretch of road with all the local businesses in it, a shabby hotel, a diner, and a farmer's market being the three biggest options. There were a couple others buildings, but Michael couldn't say what they were by just looking at them from the outside.

Alex seemed to know where he was headed though and he waltzed up to a building that was only identifiable by a sign that was meant to say CORRIE'S but was missing a few letters and said CORE instead. He pushed the door open and Michael followed. The inside had the heater blasting in a way that immediately smothered him, but he managed to keep his face even. It looked like a convenience store with only three rows of shelves in the middle. A sign at the back door read GAS PUMP IN BACK. Michael thought that was bad advertising.

"Hello," an older woman at the counter greeted. She seemed to be the only one here.

"Hey," Alex said, approaching her and turning on an easy smile. Logically Michael just knew he was being charming to get what he came here for. Illogically, it felt like Alex could be nice to everyone but him.

How many times could he tell himself to grow up?

"What can I help you two with?" she asked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this place is owned by someone who used to live in Fort Belknap?" Alex said, not even beating around the bush to charm her more. That was the only thing to convince him it wasn't just him.

The woman stared at him, face unchanging.

"Who's asking?"

"Holt," Alex said, smiling and tilting his head a little bit, "Carla Holt, to be more specific."

She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them a few moments later.

"Their timing has always been impeccable," she said, gesturing towards a door behind her, "Come."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael whispered to him as they followed. Alex grabbed his arm and squeezed, nearly causing Michael to fully trip over air.

"Just follow my lead. Stay quiet," Alex explained quietly, "I'll tell you later."

And Michael did as he said.

"You must be the littlest Manes boy," the woman said as she led them into a little office. It was cluttered and didn't really seem like the top secret place Michael was imagining.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Corrie," she corrected, "I never did like the sound of ma'am."

"Alright," Alex said, laughing lightly even though didn't reach his eyes, "My mother told me the same thing."

"I bet so," Corrie said, digging through messy drawers of a desk. She sat down heavily into the beat up chair and started digging through a file cabinet. "I kept telling myself it'll eventually come and bite me in the ass, carrying secrets for someone I only hear from once every few years, but you never know what you're getting yourself into until after you're stuck."

"Yeah, I know how that feels," Alex sighed. Michael's eyes drifted to him. He avoided eye contact completely.

"I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you. Your brother, maybe. Part of me expected your father to bust down my door more than anyone," she went on. Corrie pulled out a small box and opened it, looking in and making a face before closing it and tossing it over her shoulder.

"Guess I'm the sucker who agreed to clean up duty."

Corrie laughed.

Truly, Michael expected more danger and more difficulty. He expected a fight or at least tension. Instead, Alex and Corrie made small talk about their shitty affiliations while Corrie dug through decades worth of clutter. Eventually, she pulled out a box and opened it and took a deep breath. She closed it again before giving it to Alex and Alex didn't reopen it so Michael had no idea what was in it. All he knew was that it went into Alex's bag.

"Thank you "

"Keep it safe," Corrie said, "Keep yourself safe." Then for the first time her eyes drifted to Michael. "You too. There aren't many of you left."

It was hot in the building, but somehow Michael felt like he'd jumped in ice water.

"Thank you."

"Mhm. Now get the hell out of my store before somebody follows you."

"Of course. Thank you again," Alex said politely and then he did as she said, turning on his heel and walking away. Michael wanted to stay and ask more–if she knew what he was, maybe she knew things he didn't and they could get rid of Mr. Jones–but Michael simply followed Alex's lead.

"Alex," Michael said, nearly having to jog to keep up. Alex opened the door of the store and a blast of cold hit Michael in the face, colder than before due to the extreme warmth inside. It took him a moment to reboot his mind enough to finish what he was saying. "Alex, what's in the box?"

Alex managed to close his eyes and shake his head in disapproval without slowing his pace.

"Can you wait until we get to the hotel?" Alex asked, cold again. Michael nodded despite the fact Alex couldn't see him, deciding that a verbal answer probably would be annoying in itself.

The problem with silence was that it was a sure way to get Michael to spiral. He had discovered very recently that being alone when he wanted to be alone the most was the worst idea. Now, he didn't want to be alone as much as he wanted answers. Walking in silence down a street while wondering what was in Alex's bag, who Carla Holt was, why Alex was angry, etc, etc, etc, was only making his mind race.

By the time they stepped into the lobby of the hotel, Michael was sure that Alex had just borrowed a bomb from an old lady and he was going to explode himself and whoever Carla Holt was was going to hunt Michael down in revenge. He of course didn't say that. Instead, he tapped his foot as Alex requested a room with two queens and didn't realized that the worker snorted because he was assuming they were two queens until after they were already heading to the room.

"Should I go spit in his drink?" Michael asked when he realized.

"No," Alex said, "You'd probably make it taste too sweet."

Michael again found himself stumbling over nothing and he looked at Alex, wondering what the hell was he talking about. But it was the nicest thing he'd said to him the whole trip and Michael decided to take it very personally.

"You sayin' I'm sweet?" Michael asked, grinning. A smile pulled at Alex's mouth that he very quickly schooled, slowing as he came to their room.

"I'm saying your saliva, and probably your other bodily fluids, have a higher concentration of a glucose-like chemical," Alex said, "As proved by Kyle and Liz when we got drunk."

"You guys drunkenly tested our saliva's glucose levels?" Michael asked, laughing a little. Alex finally speaking to him made his brain stop wandering as much. Not completely–he was still wondering about that box–but enough.

"We were talking," Alex said, unlocking the door with the keycard, "And noticed we all thought you three tasted sweeter than other people we'd kissed and, well, you know. So we did some tests."

"That's... Interesting," Michael said, letting the door close behind them.

Alex walked over to the bed closest to the door and carefully sat his bag down. Michael watched him, staying near the door. He was still unsure about where they stood. He knew Alex cared about him and he knew Alex didn't hate him, but he was also still holding him at arm's length. And then there was that box. He didn't want to push.

But Michael wasn't known for his patience.

"Alex," Michael said, "What's in that box?"

Alex swallowed and looked up at him for a moment before patting the bed beside him. An invitation. One that made Michael's stomach drop and twist in 11 knots. But he walked closer, sitting beside Alex. Alex stared at him, his features slowly loosening up to betray his feelings. His eyebrows pulled together in that kind of worry that meant he felt like he was drowning, scrambling to pull himself to the surface and never able to get a good grip. Which would explain the coldness, he supposed.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm... I'm working on not being so self-destructive, and, like, knowing I'm helping you out kinda helps when I feel shitty," Michael said. Alex huffed a small laugh and shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment. When he looked Michael in the eye again, he was back to being serious.

"I did something stupid," Alex said, softly like it was a secret, "I agreed to something without knowing what I was getting myself into. And I'm kind of stuck right now."

"Stuck? What do you mean stuck?" Michael said, following his lead and whispering.

"I'm figuring it out, alright? Don't worry. I'll tell you later," Alex said, reaching out to squeeze his arm before dropping it back to the bed, "And I checked before we even left that I wasn't bugged and I've kept my eye out to know that we aren't being followed. And my computer definitely isn't. We're good. They're tracking me, but only to the extent I'm letting them. It's okay."

"That doesn't sound okay," Michael said.

"Trust me like I trust you, alright?" He said. Michael reluctantly nodded. "I need you to hold something for me."

Michael blinked. "The box."

"Yeah."

"Who's Carla Holt?" Michael asked. Alex smiled softly

"It's not a who, it's a what. It's a code from my mom's side of things. She knows more about the alien shit than she let on," Alex sighed, "I didn't stand a fucking chance not being involved with this shit. My dad, my mom, you. So, you know, if you ever feel bad about that, it's my fucking destiny."

Michael swallowed and nodded, feeling more eager by the second to know what was in that box. Needed to keep hearing Alex say how fated they were to know each other. Needed Alex to touch his arm again and smile.

"Okay," Michael said, trying to stay in his own space, "So we're fated. Cosmic connection. Called it."

Alex broke into a wide smile, genuine and welcoming as he shoved Michael's shoulder gently. "Shut up."

"Show me," Michael said instead. Alex's smile faded just a little.

"Do me a favor and double check our surroundings," Alex said. Michael nodded and tilted his head, sending a chair to lodge itself under the doorknob and pressed the curtains tightly to the wall. His eyes slid closed as he did a mental sweep of the building, not noticing anything out of order. When he opened his eyes again, Alex seemed to be closer. "Thanks."

"Show me."

Alex sighed and nodded, hesitantly reaching into his bag and pulling out the box. It was clear now that it was made of really nice wood, intricate carvings covering it. Alex handled it with an extreme care that Corrie didn't have with it. His eyes flickered between the box and Michael a few dozen times before he hesitantly opened it and Michael leaned closer to see.

"It's just a ring," Michael said, almost disappointed. It looked like a normal, silver band that was old and unpolished after years of being tucked away.

"Not just a ring," Alex said, he kept his fingers very precise as he picked it up. Michael didn't miss the way it seemed to ripple at his touch.

"Something alien," Michael acknowledged.

"Something alien," Alex confirmed, "Most of the glass and even the rocks that you've had so far all seem to be crafted and at least heavily altered by your people to be as useful as they are. This... This was passed down as a pure substance that was mined and cut into a wedding band to mimic human customs." Alex looked at him. "It pre-dates your mother landing here, Michael."

Michael let out a shaky breath, eager and hungry for knowledge for the first time in a long time. He'd poured over Tripp's journal over and over, poured over Caulfield and Project Shepard records, all of it painful and sickening with an unhappy ending. And now there was something new– old –that might actually give him something more. Proof that aliens were here before his mother, proof that there was a reason they came to Earth of all places. More secrets he craved to uncover. He missed the feeling.

"It's powerful and, as far as I can tell, the last of it left. The rest was probably destroyed with your planet. But it's old and... and sentimental. One of the older women on the reservation told me the sentimentality powered it more. Because it's not just a ring that symbolizes love or a bond between two people, but it's a new start. Blending the past they chose to leave behind together with something new and different. Safer and secure. Together," Alex said. Michael swallowed, eyes unable to break away from Alex's. Alex cleared his throat and looked back down at it. "That's what she said anyway. There was probably two at one point, but I'm sure the other is lost to time."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," Michael said, agreeing without hesitation, "I'll take care of it and keep it safe."

He went to grab it, but Alex pulled it out of his reach.

"Michael," he said, "When I say it's powerful, I mean the moment you put it on, something's going to… happen."

Michael hadn't really intended to put it on, but it seemed Alex knew him well enough to know that eventually he would.

"What kind of something?"

"I don't know, Michael. I just know legend says it has unspeakable levels of power. So, please, be careful with it. I'd prefer you do it with someone around in case it overloads you or something," Alex said. Michael didn't point out what Isobel had before–he was the only one who didn't have a limit.

"Why not just put it on right now?" Michael said, "We're in the clear and you're here. Why not?"

Alex breathed in and out, staring at him with that same worried, downing look. Michael selfishly enjoyed it for a few moments–enjoying that he cared that much. So he smirked and held out his left hand, feeling confident.

"Go ahead, Alex. Put a ring on it," he said. A smile pulled at Alex's lips that he fought, but he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed Michael's hand with his empty one.

Alex's hand was warm. Michael was sort of obsessed with the feeling of it. Why hadn't they been holding hands this entire time?

"I'm right here, okay? So if you need me to take it off or if you feel like you're going to lose control, let me know. Try not to throw me," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a shit how much power I have injected into me, I'm not going to hurt you," Michael said. Alex raised an eyebrow. "Physically. Come on now, cut me some slack."

"Maybe," Alex said, putting the ring closer. Michael could feel it now that it was millimeters away from his skin, the power of it overwhelming. And Michael was intrigued. "Ready?"

"Always."

Alex slid the ring onto his ring finger.

The wave of power hit him instantly and, before he could adjust, sent him into a mindscape. Or–he thought it was. The room was damp and dark, unwelcoming. Michael looked around for something, someone, but he was alone. It was crowded with things, though, inventions and technological structures. It looked like his own lair but significantly less familiar, less comforting.

“Michael?”

Michael turned towards the voice and saw Alex at the top of a ladder, staring down at him with a face that said he was doing everything to stay calm. He had red stains on his clothes. Michael stared at him, unsure what to do. Alex was down the ladder and centimeters away from him so quickly that it could only be achieved by him seeing something that wasn’t happening just yet.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said, instinctually, “Where are we? What is this place?”

Alex looked around the room, his face betraying his pain before he met Michael’s eyes again. Then his hand was on Michael’s cheek with a warm and grounding presence. Michael’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.

“My research,” he sighed, “Half of it’s destroyed anyway. Let’s go.” Michael didn’t really think that sounded right. This didn’t feel like Alex’s space. He’d been in enough of Alex’s spaces before to know what they felt like. This wasn’t it.

“Your research?” he said. Alex gave him a look and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice sounding more irritated than he meant. He could feel the anger in his body, but he didn’t know the source. “Stop not telling me things. You keep doing that. You need to tell me.”

“You’re right,” Alex agreed, swallowing, “But we need to get out of here. I swear I’ll tell you once we get in the car. But we need to get out of here.”

“You promise you’ll tell me in the car?” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“I promise.”

They were upstairs just as fast as Alex had been downstairs. Michael saw blood. He turned his head to find the source, but Alex’s hand was back on his neck to stop him.

“Don’t look. Let’s just go to the car.”

“What, you tryna baby me?” Michael asked, “You know I’ve seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex said, still leading him towards the door as his thumb dug slightly into the muscle on his neck, “Doesn’t mean I have to show you more.”

Michael sucked in a breath and he was thrown back into his body, the power from the ring still thrumming through him and teasing a possible second surge. It was old and unused and desperate to stretch out some of it's pent up energy.

Alex was there, staring at him and holding onto him. He was so close, so real, and so was that memory that was just in the opposite direction. Michael stared at him, taking him in.

"What happened?" Alex asked, hands squeezing his biceps. His hand started to slide up, but stopped at his shoulder. "Hey, you with me?"

"Yeah," Michael said, "I'm okay."

"What happened?"

"I think, uh," Michael breathed, swallowing. His throat felt dry again. The heat of the hotel seemed to work with the heat inside him; he was on fire in the best way. "I got, like, That's So Raven'd."

Alex blinked a couple times, his thumb moving in slow circles against his collarbone not too far from where it’d been moments ago in his vision. Michael wanted to let his eyes roll back into his head and just sink into the bed with Alex beside him and let this undeniable strength course through him.

"You saw the future?" he said, "Like one of Maria's visions?"

"I think so," Michael confirmed, "Only… mine wasn't of something bad. I mean, not really, anyway."

"What was it?" Alex asked.

Michael licked his lips, studying Alex for a moment. The ring on his finger fit perfectly as if it was made for him. The power it gave settled nicely in him, pulsing and eager to be used just a little bit more, but in a childish, playful way. It wanted to stretch after too many years being cooped up.

"Hey, I'm going to try to see something else," Michael said. Alex's eyes went wide as saucers.

"What? Tell me what you saw the first time," Alex pressed, his hand shifting just enough to cup the side of his neck. Michael layered his hand over his, feeling bold and unperturbed. At some point, they were going to get there. He was sure of that more now than ever.

And he wanted to see more.

" Michael ," Alex said, but Michael closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the power in the ring take him somewhere else.

And he was somewhere else.

He was standing at the end of a driveway. He looked around and tried to grab some sort of identifier, but all he saw was a house behind him and then a school bus headed towards him. It stopped in front of him, a kid stepping off and running towards him with a backpack almost as big as she was.

"Daddy!" the kid yelled and Michael tried his damnedest to act like he was meant to be here as the little body slammed against his legs for a welcoming hug. "Is Dad home yet? Can you tell him to get ice cream? I think we need ice cream."

"Oh, you think we need it?" Michael asked, walking with the kid towards the house. It felt natural, oddly enough.

"Yes," the kid said simply, running towards the door. She threw it open and Michael laughed and jogged the rest of the way. He could hear her already telling a story about school and he was trying to stay close enough to follow.

He walked into a foyer, pictures lining the wall. Family portraits.

Him and Alex. The three of them.

When Michael came back to his senses, Alex was right there again and staring at him without faltering. The ring was still alive, but it was at a sated hum now that it had been used a few times. He wondered how it would feel doing something he understood. He couldn’t wait to try.

“Hey,” Alex said, soft and comforting as he welcomed his weight. The vision he had was definitely not what he was looking for, he wanted to know more about Alex’s research and why it all felt so wrong and where the hell they were, but the second one…

“Hi,” Michael said, breathing and his eyes drifting down to his lips. Michael had experienced a lot of urges to kiss Alex before. Somehow this felt more dire.

“Please don’t do that again,” Alex said, “Maybe we should take it off.”

Michael shook his head carefully, eyes scanning him, “No, it feels fine now. It just needed to be used after being in a little box for decades. It’s good. Feels good.”

“Okay,” Alex said, still clearly hesitant. His fingers played with the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. There were two beds, but Michael was trying to figure out how to convince him to share one. They could fit. They’d shared smaller. “What’d you see?”

Michael breathed deep, wanting to get closer. He kept his hands to himself no matter how much he wanted to touch. He was being good. To get to where those visions said he was headed, he had to be good. Good for himself and Alex.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael said softly, “What are you researching? Who are you working with?”

Alex blinked once, twice before dropping his hand off of Michael. Which definitely hurt, but the fact that Alex didn’t move away definitely helped.

“What did you see?” Alex asked again, more pressing, “I know you saw that I’m researching something.”

Michael shrugged. He technically did, but he didn’t see anything identifiable. He didn’t know what it was. He would like to. Then again, he’d always wanted to know everything about Alex Manes.

“I didn’t see what,” Michael said, “I just saw that someone’s going to fuck with it. I think. I don’t know, we were in this basement looking thing and it felt really off and, and not like you, but you said your stuff was in it. And you had blood on you and when we went upstairs, there was more blood. But you said not to look. I don’t know what you did or what happened, but, like, if you told me, maybe we can prevent it getting that extreme.”

Alex stared at him for a long moment.

“You saw that both times?” Alex asked softly. Michael hesitated before shaking his head. “What else did you see, then?”

“Um,” Michael breathed, trying to think of the right words to say, “Uh. I don’t think, um…”

“ Michael.”

“Family portraits,” he said carefully, figuring that was easier to start with than a whole person who called them dad, “Like, ours. Um. I know we don’t belong in suburbia, but I guess we fucking get it anyway.”

He laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was easier to say it like it was a joke. Alex looked at him, face confused.

“Suburbia? Like. White picket fence kinda thing?” Alex asked. Michael took a slow breath.

“I, uh, I didn’t see a fence, I was too focused on the‒” he stopped, licking his lips. Michael rubbed his thumb over the ring. It seemed to purr at the attention. Michael couldn’t wait to get back home and see what he could really do.

“On the what?” Alex prodded, reaching out to rest his hand on his leg and reigniting the contact. It felt so good. Michael really liked when he was touchy, it was his favorite thing about Alex.

“Um,” Michael breathed, feeling drunk off the attention and the ring all at once. He thought about lying, maybe that they were babysitting because that was close enough, but he was so tired of lies and half-truths and I’ll-tell-you-laters. “On the kid.”

Alex froze for a moment, “The kid?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging softly, “I, uh, I guess she was ours. She was calling us dad. Do we have any water? My throat is super dry.”

“I… I don’t think you’re seeing the future then, I’m never having kids. Do you realize how awful of a parent I would be? Awful. Neglectful. That’s not… And after I clearly fucking hurt people?”

“Maybe not,” Michael said, not about to argue right now. He was too busy feeling good. Alex kept his hand on his knee. “But whatever it was, it was good.”

Alex stared at him, quiet and clearly thinking things through. Michael let him. It was easier to give him space and time now. He’d gotten better at it before his visions, but they solidified to him that they were on a good path. It felt like they were making good choices and taking good steps. This was just a part of it.

Alex eventually took a deep breath, looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you what I’m doing, but you have to promise you’re going to stay out of it and trust me,” Alex said, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’re gonna promise to be honest with me?” Alex said, “And stay safe. Like, seriously. Don’t be reckless just because. I know you.”

I know you.

“Yeah. I’m doing better now,” Michael said, stretching his hand out, “I am. But I’m… I’m tired of not doing shit together. Doing stuff separately always gets us in shitty situations, Alex, I wanna be a team. Can I be on your team?”

Alex swallowed and moved his hand up, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Be on my team. Let’s be a team,” Alex said. He shifted and Michael waited patiently, watching him. “Okay, so. Deep Sky. It’s… it’s got some good people, I think, but it’s overall fucked. I don’t trust anyone in there, but it’s where I’m doing my research. Sort of. So I’ll tell you.”

It almost felt too good to be true to hear, but he didn’t need the ring to know that Alex was being honest. It showed him anyway. Truthfulness radiated off of him in vibrant blues and whites. He didn’t even need to get in his mindscape to be sure of it. It was strange to feel like that was unnecessary, like his body didn’t need confirmation because it already knew. It didn’t feel like he was stepping off a ledge. He hoped Alex had the same confidence, wondered what would happen if he put the ring on him.

If Alex still felt like he was stepping off the ledge, he was going to be sure to catch every inch of him this time. No piece would hit the ground like all the times before.

He was going to make this work.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

113 notes · View notes

marmaligne · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I have some hc with a protective mama Reader with Naib, Helena and Bane. They are my precious baby. I haven't play this game since season 13 and I miss them so much ahhhhhhh 😭😭. Thank you, have a nice day ❤❤🌷 (sr, my English is not good)

✨ Your English is wonderful dear ✨

[Naib Subedar, Helena Adams, Gamekeeper] S/O Is Overprotective

✨ As a reminder, my works will always include gn!reader unless specified by the requester! ✨

———————————————————————

[Naib Subedar]:

* You had been at the manor for quite awhile now, and were a rather nice person, getting along with most other survivors, and even some of the hunters to boot.

* It was quite surprising actually. You’d walked in the first day with a tough-guy attitude and gruff personality, and you didn’t seem like a very approachable person.

* Then, some survivors such as Victor and Emily started worming their way into your heart. Liam [Lucky Guy] and Norton were some of the first people to offer you a seat at the dinner table, and from then on you were one of them.

* You had scars, though most could tell they were more physical than emotional, from some sidejobs you used to complete for a gang on White Sand Street—robbing people and competing in fights with rivals.

* You quickly learned that most people fought back. Rival gangs always intruded on your own territory, and you were always left on guard, defending the last remnants of your livelihood and your sanity.

* Maybe that’s why you’re so protective over your things. Never letting anyone enter your room, never letting anyone see the pain you hide. Opening up to people enough to make allies, but never enough to show secrets.

* Now Naib…. Naib helped you out a lot. It seemed he understood you, far more than others. For some reason, he was always there for you, watching your back when needed, acting like a shield at times—sometimes literally.

* You never really understood at first, how he seemed to know you so well. From what you knew, he came from halfway cross the world, from Nepal, in India—a child, a soldier, a weapon.

* You guessed his life was rather similar, and assumed he’d come to the manor for quite the same reasons but, it was hard to see through the scowl on his face.

* At some point, you began to recognize the signs, the irritation, the avoidance. You recognized the silence, and the stiffness that came from Naib when he ate and smiled and nodded at their questions. You saw the signs of a brother, somebody just as lost and broken as you were.

* Children in the bodies of adults, forced to live life too fast and too furiously. Damaged and done in, waiting for someone to save them, but too scared to cry for help.

* Unwilling to hurt others again, unwilling to change.

* You grew wary—observant—of him eventually. You joined in more matches with him as teammate, and sat next to him often at dinner. When you noticed he didn’t eat as much, you grunted in concern. When he fell asleep in odd places, you’d bring him a blanket.

* It got to the point where he found out about your help, and tried to dissuade you from wasting your time.

* You never really listened. In fact, your worries only increased. Others might not have recognized, but you saw the signs of fatigue and death written in the lines of his face. You’d seen it every day back on White Sand.

* He gave up on making you give up, tired of attempted persuasions. Eventually began returning the favours—Naib is the type to have a ‘you watch my back, I’ll watch yours’ mentality.

* Everything you’d do for him is returned in kind. It annoyed the rest of the manor to no end because the giving and receiving eventually reached limits unheard of.

* You’d throw yourself on a rocket chair to save him, and next game you’d have your own personal bodyguard tracking your every move.

* He’d never admit it, but he appreciates all you do for him, and hopes you appreciate his efforts in making your life a little better too.

* Though your protective tendencies know no bounds, he hopes you’re a little more cautious with throwing your life on the line for him like that. This is a death game after all, be more careful…. please?

* At some point, the whole manor hopes you two could just get together and kiss it out in some storage closet. If you’re dating, what’s the need to be so consistent in you’re protective tendencies? Then you’ll always be together, which means nothing can ever happen to either of you!

* To be fair, that’s what most of them thought until an incident after the confession, where Naib wouldn’t let you out of the medical ward for a week due to a few hairline fractures.

* Please Naib! Emily begs you to let her use the examination table! You’ve hogged it for 5 days and she needs it to identify the infection spreading on Aesop’s leg! Vera broke her nose! William sprinted into the gymnasium wall and shattered his kneecaps! Please leave!

* You once set fire to a couch because Naib stubbed his toe on it.

* Please stop it you two, Freddy can’t budget for anymore furniture, and we’re fresh out of chairs.

———————————————————————

[Helena Adams]:

* Oops! Oh no her glasses! Aww shucks, Norton knocked them right off her face and onto the hardwood floor. She can’t find them because she can’t see, whatever shall she do?

* [S/o]! Please, she needs your help!

* You come in running with a pair of pliers, five bottles of anti-grease spray, and a box of extra lenses and a screwdriver.

* Oh how wonderful! You fixed her glasses—again—and saved her from the task of shuffling herself on all fours looking for them! Her hero!

* Helena…. praises you to say the least. You’re her best friend, her confidante, her…. big and strong, sometimes dumb partner!

* She adores everything you do for her, and tries equally as hard to do things for you that make your life necessarily easier, though it’s harder with her condition.

* She met you around the same time as everybody else, during your first days in the manor. Really, she didn’t actually know you were there until she bumped into a voice she didn’t recognize and became surprised.

* You quickly learned about her blindness, and made it your goal to form a friendship with her based on your willingness to help her around and get closer to her—she was very kind after all.

* Your protectiveness stemmed from the inherent feeling of a need to help guide and provide for Helena, much like a spouse would… jk, unless 👀….

* At some points, you were berated by her for your incessant protections, most of which made her feel highly dependent, which she didn’t like.

* She liked the feeling of being independent of others and being recognized as an autonomous, capable being. Especially considering what she came there for, it was a blow to her pride to be led around and pushed aside all the time.

* When she revealed these feelings to you, you had surprisingly promised her to cease in most areas of monitoring—however you still consistently check up on her—and settled into the realm of a relationship with her.

* Helena meets somebody who respects her opinions + acknowledges her intellect + isn’t a dingy asshole? Sign her up and slap on a ring, she’s marrying this person (eventually).

* She knows that your tendencies stem from a place of need and want, and tolerates most of them. Deep down, she likes being taken care of by someone who knows she can take care of herself. She really does love you.

* When you’re actually in a relationship with each other, you make sure to watch each others backs, more so you than Helena (because she can’t ‘watch’ per say), but you get the point.

* There was once an incident in a duo’s match where Helena became stranded on the Lakeside Fishing map. The terrain is rough, with piles of fish everywhere, randomly placed boxes and walls, and the barrels are bad enough when they don’t form a blockade.

* Her navigational skills, as good as they are with all her previous experience and staff, couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to move her way around a mess of box paths, pallets, and fishing stands.

* Most other survivors were occupied or dead—it had been a hard match against Jack the Ripper and Guard 26—and she was barred from reaching any form of help.

* So she screamed your name as loud as she possibly could across the map, and ended up attracting the attention of BonBon instead. During those moments where she could hear his clanks and heavy metalloid footsteps stalking towards her, the tick of a time bomb in hand, she heard a screech in the distance.

* A fierce battlecry—you came raging from around a windmill, propelled by William’s football and packing heat with a flare gun. BonBon, now stunned twice, stood there in astonishment, before chasing after you, who had grabbed Helena in your arms, running off at full speed.

* Your stamina bar, indicated by a small tab on your character, was running low, and you wouldn’t be able to run at full speed for another minute or two, having used your ability to buy time. Stopping near a closet, you lean down to place Helena on her feet, telling her to hide.

* Her blood trail was invisible from not actually having run anywhere, and she did as you said, making you promise to come get her when it was safe.

* You gave her a smirk and a small nod, assuring her that you would, before leaning in for a peck on the forehead as you shoved her into the locker.

* If only you could see her flushed in embarrassment.

* Leaving her to fangirl in the locker, you form a decoy in your arms—result of your max rescuer ability—and ran off once more, taking off around a corner just as Guard 26 reached your previous location, chasing after you and ‘Helena’ in hopes of landing two more kills.

———————————————————————

[Bane the Gamekeeper]:

* How does it feel to love a deerman? Good? Okay!

* Bane as you know is a little…. rough around the edges so-to-speak, and he has a lot of edges.

* Once you get around all the hooks, chains, and bear traps, and beneath that creepy-looking deer head of his, he really is such a sweet guy!

* At least you think so. In reality, he still acts like a complete dick to everybody else, and only shows his soft side around you, but that’s because he knows he can trust you with his lands, animals, and secrets! All those others out there only wish to hurt what he—you—have, and he’ll make them pay for it.

* Honestly, in order for him to have fallen for you so hard to have let his guard down around you, you probably would have had to be at your most vulnerable point in life, or a hunter yourself. Like a scared prey animal, uncertain of its future, waiting for something to happen, and somebody to help, or a huge predator, ready to strike out at any moment.

* Once you worm your way into his cold dead heart, there’s no way out for you. He’ll keep you close, as he doesn’t want you to be poached away like his precious animal friends from the past. He knows how cruel humanity can be sometimes.

* When you come to find out about his less-than-kind history, it’s all you can do to pity him. Your sympathy knows no bounds, and you become clingier, though he quite honestly likes it.

* You don’t want what happened to him to occur again, and with all these other traitors and murderers in the manor, you’re afraid of what the others could do.

* You keep to his side a lot more, take walks with him in the garden, and enjoy tranquil picnics from time-to-time on Lakeside. Anything to keep him close to you and away from all the pain.

* Bane can obviously see what your doing, and noticing that your protectiveness doesn’t yet border on the insane, he allows you to continue in your devotions.

* It’s honestly sweet sometimes how you both adore each other so much, even if you know that one day one or both of you will have to leave. Whether it be through death, disappearance, or another means such as escape is a question of time, and one that neither of you know the answer to.

* If you’re also a hunter, than both of you know that while you two are happier now than either of you were in life, that your individual deaths and worths will eventually determine your fates—whether that be a happy afterlife, or an eternity of endless wandering.

* It’s well known that you’ll both disappear the day the game ends, your souls being put to rest as they should’ve been however long ago. Until then however, you’ll continue to hold on to and vehemently protect the relationship the two of you have, and you’ll fight until your soul vanishes from the earth for what you have to remain that way.

* Now, if you’re a survivor, this is where the relationship can be a bit difficult.

* Avidly defending the actions of your boyfriend during and after a match to the rest of your survivor buddies isn’t a very good look for you, or your reputation. It’s been many times where you’ve almost been chased out of the dining room because somebody was pissed at you for costing them the match, or being the only one spared instead of convincing Bane for a win or tie.

* As they say, if you can’t beat em’, join em’. Some survivors, such as William, Kreacher, and Freddy, have more than once suggested that if you loved a hunter so much, you should become one to be with him. Dating the undead almost crosses the line of what is humane. Aesop thinks you’re kind of cool.

* The hunters over on Bane’s side hate you more. Are convinced that you’re the sole reason that Bane goes friendly sometimes (even in matches without you in them), and that your relationship takes away from his brutal and violent persona and nature.

* Violetta and Michiko are the most tolerant of you, mainly because you gifted them silk and a hand fan for Christmas once when they wished for them in their letters.

* All-in-all, basically everyone blames you, but you keep going forward because who cares about all the nasty bi*ches in the world, am I right?

* Once, to prove the integrity and devotion of your relationship, you set Freddy’s room on fire and locked Kreacher in a closet. You looked Bane directly in the eyes and kneeling before him stated, “I have committed arson for you m’lord.”

* You couldn’t see it because of his deerish head and all, but Bane really went “Heart eyes motherf*cker.” on you in that moment.

* You love animals and set things on fire to prove your loyalty to him? Ticket for one please, he’s riding the simp train all the way to the station.

* Just, please don’t accidentally burn down the manor, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible before he disappears.

* Also don’t joke around with your life, it’s too precious, even when you tackle your own teammate or risk getting hit by Ganji’s cricket ball to save him from being stunned.

* He doesn’t want you dying before he does—has already he supposes—or disappearing without a trace.

* You promise you’ll stick with him until the day you finally leave this wretched place.

———————————————————————

✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

#gaming #idv #idv blog #idv x reader #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #writing #identity 5 #identity v #identity v naib #naib x reader #naib subedar #idv helena #idv helena x reader #mindseye x reader #identity v gamekeeper #gamekeeper x reader

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yandere-society · 4 years

Text

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink.

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume.

So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am.

So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him.

“Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“

She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand.

“To the left!”

“Take it back now, y’all.”

Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her.

She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her.

That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma.

He growled and swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

“How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

“Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

“What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

“Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

“Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

“Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side.

“Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.”

“The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.”

Baley neck rolled back in offense.

“Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung.

“She claps your cheeks?”

Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips.

“It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“

“You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut.

He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat.

“What, fucker?” She scorned.

“I can see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?”

She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk.

“Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?”

Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle.

“I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious.

“This isn’t Taehyung.”

“Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?”

“Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

“Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

He let out a chuckle, a dark one.

“Boo bear?”

“What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

“Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation.

“HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

“W-What do you want me to do?”

See?

“Be a good girl, and come here.”

“Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation.

The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely.

“Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

Baley reluctantly— and stupidly— did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked.

“I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time.

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..”

Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...”

“GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging at Baley.

She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town.

Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

CHEATING PIG!!

Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads.

And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

“May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car.

Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

—

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart.

It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit.

You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

You still resent the police department for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind.

It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day.

“Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug.

They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

“Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it.

“Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand.

“That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim.

And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right...

He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

But holy fucking hell, did it. Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news.

“Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

“Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.”

“Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

“Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days.

But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

“FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching.

You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

“Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half, making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard.

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this.

“How’s it goin, guys?”

“Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans.

“Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it.

“Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.”

He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand, following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

“Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place.

“I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine.

“Did you polish it?”

“Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed.

“It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you.

So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot.

From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call.

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then.

Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you.

You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

“Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

“Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out.

He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

You then continued to battle with basic communication.

“So, uhm.. wh—..”

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

“I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you.

“What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part.

“All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone.

“That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued.

He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?”

“You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.”

“Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.”

Stop starring at his fingers.

“Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

“Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that.

“I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.”

“What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

“The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.”

“Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though.

“You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.”

“I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?”

“19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

“18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you.

“I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

“Whatchu mean?”

“Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.”

“I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you.

“Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?”

“Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

“Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?”

It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it.

But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can.

It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side.

Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him.

“What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

“Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?”

“Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.”

You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

“There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.”

“She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

“Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.”

“Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again.

“But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer.

“You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

“Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

“Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.”

“Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised.

“No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.”

“Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did.

Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

“I have a special surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds.

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

“WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might discover you have a mask kink.

“What the fuck is up with the voice?”

“Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless.

Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent.

“You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

“I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.”

“No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table.

And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

“Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there.

But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

“T-Take that damn mask off—“

Wrong move.

He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face.

“I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain.

He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it.

Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you.

If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back.

Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?”

“No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.”

A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him.

“I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.”

Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

“I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.”

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends..

He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly.

You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor.

Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

“Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door.

It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

“Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly.

The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off.

“Sir..?” He repeated.

“Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.”

He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

“Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.”

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now.

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

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