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oneforthemunny · 1 year

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blood soaked tears |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie gets hurt, and continues to hurt himself. you're not staying around to watch.

bad description holy shit, but if you remember from the old blog (rip) this is the angst you wanted lol. also my first fic (not repost) since starting this blog!!! a long angsty one so buckle up!!!

contains: 18+ minors dni, mafia!eddie au, blood, guns, eddie is shot and hospitalized, language, fighting, mentions of eddie's dad (derogatory), angst, angst, ANGST

You knew.

You knew from the first shrill of the black landline on your desk. You knew from the quivering sigh on the other line. You knew from the rasp in Hopper's voice, the urgent tone that he desperately tried to mask as calm when he told you, "It's Eddie. He-He's... You need to get down here. He's in the hospital."

The twisting gut punched sensation that sent a shock through your nervous systems, senses tightened with fear and shaking with every fear-filled step of your strappy heels clacking fiercely against the pavement. You could barely grasp your key to turn the ignition, all quivering hands that fumbled, a white knuckled grip on the wheel of the Porsche, the car zipping and gliding through the streets of Hawkins with ease.

Eddie had bought it for you for the speed. Told you how pretty you looked in your little sports car, how much he loved watching you drive and go fast. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, bile rising thick in your throat at the thought. You didn't want to see the state Eddie was in. You weren't sure you could bear it.

The drive to the hospital was filled with racing thoughts, consuming anxieties that whirred and raced through your mind. What happened? Are the other boys ok? Oh God, who's going to take care of the dogs? They're still at the house and need to be let out. Did anyone tell Wayne? Should I tell Wayne? I need to call him, maybe the hospital will let me use their phone.

What if he's dead?

That sickening, ringing question that only got louder and louder, deafening you with the cruelty of the words. The harsh reality that you very well could be facing your worst fears. You didn't want to think about life without Eddie. You couldn't.

You couldn't imagine not waking up next to him every day. Not feeling his sweet kisses in the morning. Never hearing him hum lowly in his chest, swaying with you in the kitchen. Being without that beautiful laugh that bubbled out of his chest, shook through his body and always left him with a dimpled smile that radiated over to you filling you with warmth. Never hearing him tell you he loved you, or holding him, or watching him throw toys in the backyard with the dogs.

You couldn't do it. You wouldn't.

The fluorescent lighting of the hospital did nothing to help the eery feeling that settled deep in the pit of your tummy.

Hopper's gruff voice stopped you, calling your name before you could get on the elevator, tunnel visioned and determined though you didn't know where you were going.

"Hop," You hated the way your voice shook, frail and wobbly; afraid. "What's going on? Where is he? I-Is he ok?"

Hopper sighed slow, heavy, a horrifying sign to you. "They've got the west wing on the second floor cleared for him." He said lowly, eyes scanning around. "We can talk up there."

"W-What happened?" You asked. The lights were getting brighter by the second, you were sure of it.

"He got hurt." Hopper said slowly, vaguely, nodding towards another officer while his eyes still scanned around. He was looking for a threat.

You passed two other men in the waiting room, inconspicuous waiting patients- but you'd seen them before. They worked for Eddie. They were here for backup, you knew enough to know that. The realization made you sick.

Hopper pushed back the restricted area, past the bustling nurses and doctors all scurrying with medical equipment, to the back elevator. The emergency elevator for staff only.

The elevator creaked, stopping with a low thud in front of you, craning open with an ominous groan. You could barely move, barely will your brain to tell your legs to get on, much too consumed with the terrorizing what-ifs.

Hopper looked ahead, spine straightening as the numbers climbed. The other officer moved his hand to his holster, gripping his gun as nonchalantly as he could, but you didn't miss it.

"Is he dead?" You asked, your own voice surprising yourself.

The other officer turned to Hopper, eyes cutting carefully to monitor his reaction. Hopper didn't turn, kept his head pointed forward, eyes trained on the doors. "No."

You could feel your shoulders fall in some sort of relief, muscles quaking at the release in pressure. The chime of the elevator accompanied the low groan of the doors parting for the three of you to step off.

The hallway ahead looked like something out of your worst nightmares. Dim and dark, flickering with lights and all together abandoned. There were men by the elevator, men by the doors, posted down the secluded halls. They all looked at you solemnly when you passed, eyes falling down in sorrow.

Gareth's mess of curls passed by the small, narrowed window of the closed door, once then twice, pacing furiously.

"Gareth?" His eyes flickered towards yours when you entered, wide and red-rimmed.

Jeff lifted his head, hands folded and placed between spread legs, head hung low with defeat. Max looked angry, furious, those steel eyes cutting and calculated; she was planning her revenge already. She was always so good at considering every step, carefully considering the best outcomes with optimal damages. It's why she was one of Eddie's closest 'goons'. He always laughed when he called her that.

Your chest ached at the thought, knowing you wouldn't hear his laugh today.

"What happened?" You asked, eyes darting from him to Jeff to Max. "I-Is he alright?"

"He got shot." Max snapped bitterly. You knew she didn't mean to be so biting, that she was angry and hurt; maybe even scared. "They got him in surgery right now."

You paled at the thought, lifeless and hopeless feeling leaving your frame and slithering down your body chillingly. The ringing in your ears returned, a dull screech that made your head spin.

Jeff called your name lightly, brown eyes drooped with pain. These were Eddie's closest friends. His most trusted friends that watched their friend get shot. He wasn't a boss to them, wasn't the mean scary mafia man who put a chilling fear into anyone with a look. To them, that was their friend; and they watched him get shot.

"He got shot in the chest." Jeff said slowly, a shaky exhale that he tried to hide, ducking his head back down.

You swallowed thickly, looking from Hopper back to Gareth, eyes begging for someone to say it wasn't true. To tell you he'd be ok. For Gareth to cackle and tell you, "Munson's had way worse, don't even sweat it," like he did when Eddie had to have stitches from a stabbing.

They didn't this time.

Instead, they all held the same solemn look in their eyes, scared and unknowing.

"They said they won't know if it hit his heart or-or a spinal chord until they open him up." Gareth swallowed, hands clenching to hide the shake in them. "He, uh, he lost a lot of blood."

You exhaled slowly, a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, ribs feeling like they might cave in entirely, crushing your lungs- your heart.

"D-Do you think he'll be," You willed your voice out of your throat, shuddering breaths that threatened to escape with the tears you held back. "Is he going to be ok?"

No one answered you.

Downcast eyes that refused to meet yours, a thick, uncomfortable tension that lingered in the air, deafeningly loud over the buzz of the air conditioning in the small area.

***

The doctor came shortly after Wayne had arrived. Eddie's uncle sunk into the waiting room chair, knee bouncing furiously, those familiar brown eyes hard and trained on the wall.

No one spoke. No one knew what to say, what to do. That was the worst part, the waiting. Gareth paced, Jeff barely looked up, Max plotted, and Hopper tried to multitask- calling Rick and checking reports, huddled by the phone.

The anxious man still in powder blue scrubs stood before you, voice wavering while he told you Eddie's condition, throwing around the word critical and coma, two phrases that rung in your ears, piercing and loud.

Eddie laid lifelessly before you, a million beeping machines monitoring his condition, a wide tube shoved down his throat, ribcage expanding and falling sharply. Thick lashes that rested neatly on his cheeks. You were always so jealous of how long his lashes were, so beautiful framing those puddle eyes you adored. The dried blood around his mouth and nose, caked on crimson that made your stomach twist.

You'd never seen him so still. So flaccid and rigid, covered in a hospital gown, too colorful for anything Eddie would normally wear. He was never this idle, not even in his deepest sleep. His body twitched, lugged arms that weighed heavy on your body. He'd snore, drool, settle in his sleep; show some signs of life and movement. You used to whine and shove him off you, snap at him the next morning for hogging the blankets.

You wish you could take that back now. You'd let him have all the blankets, you'd let him drool in your hair, drop a heavy arm on you, snore in your ear all night; you'd do anything to have him be ok. Anything to be home in bed with him.

Wayne's shuddering breath startled you lightly, pulling you out of your fixated trance. "Boy," He grumbled, jaw clenched tightly. "What have you gone and done now?"

The doctor told you to be patient, that it would take time. It would be a slow recovery.

The silence crept back into the room, now filled with a background symphony of beeps and crinkling machines to lull out the sound of your dread and pain.

You and Wayne sat side by side, chairs huddled up by Eddie's bed watching him, the rise and fall of his chest, slow and calculated. Both of you scared to look away. Afraid if you did, it might stop.

***

"Missy, didn't I tell you to go home and get some sleep?" Wayne's gruff voice poured through the room, warm and grizzly, a nice contrast to the sharpness of the machines you'd grown used to.

You huffed playfully, folding up the blanket and tucking it in the chair next to your makeshift cot. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at home anyways." You muttered, rubbing at your eyes.

It had been a little over a week since you'd arrived, scared and skittish with that sinking feeling of impending doom. It still hadn't left, consumed your insides and left you queazy, but Eddie had started to improve. The doctors came in with positive reports daily, praises of his condition on the incline. The day before, you and Wayne watched Eddie start to twitch, eyelashes fluttering and moving a tiny bit in his induced sleep.

It made you grin. A little sliver of hope that was returning back to you. Wayne had laughed with you, pulling you close into his side in a comforting hug. "Y'know I always worry 'bout that boy not gettin' enough sleep. Guess on the bright side he'll be pretty well rested now."

You could make jokes now.

Now that Eddie was getting better. Now that they were taking the tube out and pulling him off the heavy sedatives. Now that his beautiful brown eyes were groggily staring into yours, letting you give him water on a sponge to wet his tongue.

"Hi, sweetheart," Eddie's slurred finally, voice cracking and rasping from the tube. The doctor told you he'd be sore from it for a while, a little foggy while the drugs wore off too, but even in his haze his eyes held that same warming light of adoration when they looked at you.

Lips trembling and chest tightening, you flung yourself carefully into his shoulder, heaving sobs that wracked through your whole body, muffled into the scratchy material of the gown. Eddie held you still, even in his loopy state, he comforted you lightly, calloused hands rubbing up and down your spine slowly.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, Eddie," You sniffled, watery and choking on your own sobs. "Thought I lost you forever."

"Can't get rid of me that easily, baby." Eddie droned, a lopsided dimpled grin and heavy lidded eyes that made you swoon. "I'm tougher than that."

And he was. He really was. You knew that he was, his friends did, Wayne did, Hopper did, the guys who did this to him certainly did; but you also knew the doctor's orders.

Dr. Montgomery had let Eddie go under one condition: rest.

Bed rest, sleep, antibiotics, and nothing extreme at least until the stitches healed.

You'd been absolutely buzzing with excitement when you brought him home, carefully commanding the dogs when you walked in, willing them down but letting them greet Eddie with excited wags. You'd set him up in the guest bedroom on the first floor, the stairs too strenuous for him now.

"Baby, I'm fine." Eddie moaned lightly, arm wrapped around you for support. "I wanna sleep in my own bed, please."

"The doctor said-"

"I'll be fine." Eddie sighed lightly. "Please? Just help me up the stairs. I'll go really slow and careful, ok? Just please, sweetheart, I wanna sleep in my own bed with you." Those brown eyes rounded, melting into you so sweetly, you couldn't possibly say no.

So you helped him up the stairs, Gareth and Jeff aiding you to make it as painless as possible. Eddie sunk into the silk sheets, freshly washed and scented with that detergent you loved so much. You hadn't let the housemaid clean the sheets until he was better, too scared to lose the scent of him that lingered on his pillows.

You slept better than you had in days, Eddie's hand grazing your hip, your waist, your cheek. Tearful whispers and shushed kisses shared under red bedsheets, promises of better days ahead, and you believed there would be.

Until the next day.

Heavy lids, still bleary with sleep, watched Eddie through blurry vision as he grunted softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "W-What are you doing, honey?" You muttered, rubbing the palm of your hand over your eyes. "Tell me what you need. I'll get it. Y'don't need to be moving a lot. You'll tear your stitches."

Eddie smiled softly back at you, dressed in his black button down, black tailored Armani slacks, chains and rings; his work attire.

"Go back to bed, sweetheart. I'll be back in a little bit." Eddie whispered, a normally soothing tone that left you rigid instead.

Spine straightening, eyes blinking you looked at him carefully. "Eddie," Your eyes scanned over his frame. "You-What do you think you're doing?"

Eddie paused, slowly looking over his shoulder at you. "Baby," He started, that same tone he used when he was trying to soothe you; when he was about to tell you something you wouldn't like. "I gotta go to work."

Your heart stilled in your chest, a fluttering stop that left you breathless. "Are you-Are you being serious?" You blinked. "Eddie, you just got fucking shot-"

"It's nothing strenuous, baby, I promise." Eddie's quick reply came with a heavy sigh. "Jeff and Gare will be with me, and Rick made sure I was doubled up with his guys-"

"-You just got out of a coma!" You screeched, sitting on your knees, fully awake and furious. "A coma! You're supposed to be resting!"

"I will be." Eddie replied, calm and smooth, like you were arguing about something minuscule. "It's just meetings. Just planning-"

"-Eddie, you almost died." You choked on the word, that constricting around tears and fury.

There was a chilling silence, thick and ominous that settled between the two of you. Eddie's jaw flexed, eyes piercing into yours with a familiar look of fear. It always came across like a challenge, but you knew better; knew him better.

"I'll take it easy, I promise." Eddie's response was nonchalant, brushing off any of your fear and discarding it meanly away. "I'll be back soon."

Your heart raced uncomfortably, that familiar rising panic that you felt days before running through the hospital. "If you leave, I won't be here when you get back." Your heart thumped in your ears, chills shaking down your body. Eddie's hand lingered on the knob, stilling but not turning towards you.

"I swear to God, Eddie, if you walk out that door, I won't be here anymore. I'm not letting you kill yourself. You can't go back now, it's too soon. You-You'll get hurt." Your voice cracked, lip wobbling. "You're hurting me."

Eddie whispered your name, defeated and tired, eyes pleading with you like you were in the wrong. "I'll be back soon." He whispered, those thick lashed framing his eyes.

You swallowed back a sob when he shut the door, the click of the lock far too loud and heavy in the silent room. Tears rimmed your eyes, blinding your vision and spilling down your cheeks. Your heart ached, even as you waited, determined he'd come back. Sure he'd come through the door and apologize, smother you in kisses and apologies, rest like you'd begged him to do- like he'd promised he would do.

But he didn't.

The room stayed silent and still, the dogs watching you carefully from their beds, your eyes unmoving from the frozen doorway.

Unlike Eddie, you were true on your word.

He'd only been gone an hour and a half, rushing through the meetings at the warehouse, securing plans and leads before barking orders and coming back home. His chest ached, stitches healing and stretching uncomfortably, and he was tired, head still foggy from the medication.

All Eddie wanted was to go back home, pop a pain pill, and curl back into bed with you. The guilt of leaving you was eating him alive, but he had to go. Sure, Jeff or Gareth or Max could have covered the plans, he knew they were more than capable, but Eddie needed to do it; had to, for himself. The fear of getting swapped out and replaced for another was festering and stirring in the pit of his stomach.

Eddie called your name, a little surprised that the dogs didn't greet him. Instead, they were seated outside the bedroom door, whinging and whimpering pathetically to get in.

"Baby?" Eddie's brow furrowed, lips pressing together. "Don't tell me you're still mad at me, kitten. I told you I'd be back soon, I just had to finish a few-"

He didn't find you in the sea of red sheets like he imagined. He didn't find you in the bathroom, or the closet, or the living room, or anywhere. He didn't find your car gone, clothes missing, nothing out of the ordinary, but yet, he didn't find you.

Instead, he found a letter, neatly tucked in an envelope by your bedside table, scribbled words in your handwriting on a tear soaked card that tore his heart out, filled him with dread and fear and anger- not at you, at himself.

"Gareth!" Eddie thundered, sending the dogs into a frantic frenzy, barking and growling viciously.

Gareth pounded up the stairs, eyes wide in fear and alert. Eddie's tear-filled eyes met his, jaw clenched in anger. "Find her." He muttered. "Find her right fucking now. That's everyone's top priority."

"Ed, what-what hap-"

"-I told you to find her!" Eddie roared, the vein in his neck thrumming and protruding out fiercely. "Right now! Fuck!" He hobbled towards the stairs, gripping the steel banister for support.

"Ed, wait, seriously, you can't be acting like this, alright? I'll find her, but if you tear your stitches she's gonna be so mad." Gareth said calmly. He was used to this kind of attitude, exploding and chaotic, but he hadn't seen this side of Eddie in years. Hadn't seen him this scared in years, not even days ago when he was bleeding out in his arms.

"You better fuckin' find her, Emerson, you fuckin' hear me?" Eddie growled, chest heaving and ringed finger jabbing towards Gareth.

"I will, Ed, I will." Gareth held his hands up, backing away from Eddie carefully. "I'll find her just-just relax, ok? I'll find her."

***

Two days.

It had been two days of Gareth, Jeff, Max, and everyone else on Eddie's payroll searching tirelessly to find you. It wasn't until a traced call by Hopper that Eddie had his answer.

The gravel of the Forest Hills Trailer Park flew out under the tires of the Bugatti, speeding towards the familiar back lot. Eddie gripped the wheel tight, barely throwing the gear into park before he was stepping out, bounding towards the steps.

Wayne was already at the doorway, holding the screen door open with a hard glare. "Thought that doctor told you to rest?"

"Where is she?" Eddie ignored him, eyes mirroring his uncle's in a rivaling gaze. "Huh? Where's she at, Wayne?"

You stood, hidden from your place in the kitchen, peeking around the corner carefully. You could barely see Eddie's curls, wild and frizzy, clearly mussed from his hands tugging and pulling at the locks- something he always did when he was stressed.

"Thought that doctor told you to rest." Wayne repeated, stepping out on the front step. "Thought your girl told you that too."

Eddie swallowed hard, desperate to keep his emotions contained. He'd worked so hard for so many years to train himself to maintain his composure, keep his cool. "Wayne, please, ok? Please let me see her-"

"-Ya know, I hoped she was lyin' to me, boy." Wayne continues, heavy work boots clacking against the creaking step, shifting his weight with a low groan. "Thought for sure you'd be followin' your doctor's orders. Thought you'd actually want to be gettin' better after all that, might be different from your Daddy."

Eddie stilled at the mention of his father, a cold chill running down his spine at the comparison. Wayne never spoke of his brother, especially never to relate his son to him.

"You know, that girl in there called me in hysterics twice." Wayne held up two fingers, eyes slotting towards his nephew. "Once to tell me I needed to come see you, that you'd been hurt. No one else thought to do that, only her." Eddie swallowed, guilt bubbling higher and higher into his chest.

"Then she calls me to tell me you're already back out. Won't listen to the doctor, won't listen to her, too stubborn to let yourself heal after you promised her you would." Wayne could see Eddie's eyes blinking, watery and red-rimmed yet wide and watching his every move.

"I can put up with you doin' a lot of shit. Pretend not to know what them skulls on your arm mean, not talk about the obvious; fine. But I didn't raise you to be a liar." Wayne bit, jaw grinding in fury. "'Specially not to the ones you love. The ones who dropped everything to be with you. That girl in there loves you. Didn't leave your side once in that damn hospital." His finger pointed back towards the trailer where you stood, gripping the counter, hidden from their view.

"I-I know." Eddie stuttered out, a deep breath releasing from his nostrils slowly. "I love her too-"

"-Do you?" Wayne snapped.

There was a chilling silence that hung between the two men, thick and heavy, you could feel it all the way inside the trailer. Your heart twisted at the question, squeezing even harder at the potential answer.

"Don't you dare," Eddie's voice was low and gravely in his chest, catching in his throat. "You know I love her, don't you dare-"

"Don't you." Wayne sneered. "I ain't the one who's hurt her, that's you, Ed." You could see Eddie flinch through your tear soaked vision, recoiling at the harshness of his uncle's words.

"I-I didn't mean to-" Eddie stuttered, labored breathing and trembling words falling from his lips. You'd never seen him so frazzled, so emotional this way. So scared.

"Don't give me that shit." Wayne snapped, shaking his head. "You walked out that day, and you knew she didn't want you to go. You know who that sounds a lot like?"

Eddie didn't answer, neither did Wayne, the answer clear on both their faces. Eddie's father was reckless, too, so careless it ended up with his mother dead. Eddie swore he'd never be that stupid, the selfish, yet here he was. Acting exactly like Clint.

Eddie could feel his chest constrict, heaving heavily at the thought. The familiar aching burn of tears squeezing his airway, filling his lungs and throat and nose in the most uncomfortable way. Tears filling his eyes that he tried to will back, knowing once they started they wouldn't stop.

"Please," Eddie rasped, voice too unsteady for his own liking. "Please let me see her."

You could feel your own breath hitched, catching in your throat with a strangled gasp. You moved closer, trying to see Eddie through your own watery vision.

Eddie's eyes caught onto the figure moving slowly towards the doorway, lips pressing together at the sight of you; red rimmed eyes and cheeks that shined wetly even in the cloudy, sunless skies. He did this to you, fuck, he was just like his dad.

"Fuck, 'm so sorry, baby, 'm sorry." Eddie's voice wavered, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes, desperate to keep his leaking tears hidden.

Wayne turned back to look at you, lips pressed together lightly. You wiped your own eyes with the back of your hand, looking at him gently. "Can you... just give us a moment?" You asked softly. Eddie had turned, shoulder stuttering, hands running down his face.

Wayne nodded, eyes cutting back towards his nephew. "I'll be inside if ya need me." He patted your shoulder lightly, comforting, the same squeal of the hinges on the tracks before the door fell with a heavy latch.

You padded carefully towards Eddie, watching him intently with his back still turned. "Ed," You cooed lightly, stopping behind him. "Eddie?"

"I'm so fucking sorry." Eddie breathed, still not turning towards you. "I-I was scared that Rick would have me replaced or-or that the guys might see me as weak, and I-I shouldn't have..." A strangled cry tore through the air, his shoulders dropping low and shaking, chocolate curls cascading to block his covered face.

"Eddie, calm down, honey." You said softly, hands running over the silk material of his shirt. He was still dressed from before when he left for work, a little crumpled.

"I-I'm sorry." His eyes flashed to yours, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, streaming down to his chin. "I'm so sorry."

You reached for him instinctively, holding him close to you, mindful of his stitches though he didn't seem to care. Eddie clung to you, head dropping into your neck, shuddering breaths and shaky sobs mixing with soft apologies and watery promises.

You found yourself huddled in Eddie's old bedroom, pressed into the poster covered wall so the two of you could fit comfortably on the twin bed. His mess of curls, wild and tickling your cheek and chin, his cheek rested on your chest while you ran your nails soothingly through his hair, scratching at his scalp. The two of you stayed there for the week, Wayne and you swapping off on cooking, cleaning Eddie's wounds, making sure he could heal properly.

Eddie promised you, tucked under the quilt in his old bedroom, that he'd do better, he'd take care of himself for you; he wouldn't be like his dad. You whispered back your own vows to not leave him again, silent apologies passed to each other in between loving kisses and longing stares.

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seungkw1 · 2 months

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the truth is out there — csc

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader ♡ theme: x-files au ♡ wc: 8.2k ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: started rewatching the x-files recently and the idea of this popped into my head so i simply had to write it!! also, y/ln refers to ‘your last name’ bc ya know. agent stuff.

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

When you joined the FBI you didn’t expect to end up working in the basement with a peculiar agent obsessed with all things extraterrestrial, but your new assignment is certainly taking you places you’ve never been before.

10 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

taptaptap

The light knocking on your desk pulls your focus away from the almost-completed report on the screen of your monitor. Most would call report writing the boring part of the job, and while you don’t necessarily disagree your high levels of attentiveness allow you to efficiently plug away at the otherwise mind-numbing task - so, you don’t mind it so much. That is, unless you are interrupted.

“Hey Frenchie, the Bergmeister wants to see you.”

Stifling a sigh, you look up at your bothersome coworker, Soonyoung, who is currently leaning over your desk while eating a sandwich. You grimace as you see the multitude of crumbs he’s managed to drop all over your paperwork in the five seconds he’s been standing there.

“What does he want?” you ask, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“Didn’t say,” he mumbles through the large bite he just stuffed into his mouth.

The Bergmeister is the inane moniker Soonyoung and his pals call your supervisor, Assistant Director Bergman, behind his back. Frenchie is the irritating nickname nearly half the office now calls you, to your face, due to an unfortunate incident involving French dressing and the light gray pantsuit you chose to wear on your very first day on the job. You figured they’d get tired of it after a few days, but that was several weeks ago at this point - and much to your chagrin it seems to have stuck.

You give Soonyoung a very obviously fake grin to accompany your obviously sarcastic response. “Thank you, Agent Soonyoung - helpful as always.”

Soonyoung winks at you. “For you? Anytime.” You imagine grabbing his sandwich and bopping it on his head.

The muted sounds of landlines ringing, keyboards clacking, and fax machines whirring drift past your ears as you walk steadily to Bergman’s office, maintaining a false air of confidence as to mask your anxiety. You’ve never been called into his office alone in the two months you’ve worked for the FBI - you quickly leaf through your mind for anything you’ve done that could be a potential mistake, but you come up empty handed.

Bergman’s door is ajar - you rap your knuckle against it twice as you step inside. He peers up at you through thick, round lenses.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in, have a seat - and shut the door behind you.”

The heavy door closes with a deep thunk. As you lower yourself into the chair facing the desk you notice you’re joined by a man you’ve never seen before. He says nothing, but looms in the corner of the room, smoking a cigarette.

“I’ll spare you the bullshit, Y/ln,” Bergman starts. He looks more tired than usual. “Have you heard of the bureau’s division known as the ‘x-files’?”

You feel your normally stoic face contort into a confused expression. Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well, yes, sir… but isn’t that an unofficial department?”

He takes a sip from his styrofoam cup of coffee. “Correct - it’s not official, but I assure you it is very much a ‘functional’ operation.” He all but rolls his eyes at functional.

You shoot a glance at the unintroduced man in the corner, but he remains expressionless. Bergman continues.

“I’m sure by now you’re well aware of the reputation surrounding this subsect and its…proprietor, shall we say.”

You give a single nod. By your second day in the office you’d heard all about the x-files: cases allegedly involving aliens, the supernatural, and all sorts of nonsense you chalked up to pure baloney. You’d also learned of the lone employee who spearheads the whole operation from the bureau basement: Agent Choi. Nobody seems to take him, or it, seriously - so much so that you had begun to doubt if it was even a real department, and if Choi even existed. But apparently, the rumors were true.

“I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind this decision,” Bergman tells you, “but all you need to know is that this assignment is significant in nature.”

Assignment?? Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not sure I understand,” you ask hesitantly, “am I-”

“Being assigned to the x-files? Yes.”

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth to inquire what exactly it is you’ve done wrong, but clearly he anticipated this exact response.

“This is not a punishment - though I certainly know why it might seem that way. But, it’s imperative that we receive reliable insight into the operations of this endeavor.”

You sit there in silence for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “So, you’re asking me to spy on Agent Choi.”

Bergman waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know how this sounds. And essentially - yes, you will be our eyes and ears into this otherwise elusive project. Choi will know we’re sending you there to report back to us, but we don’t care. We are confident you will succeed in providing us with useful information.”

You wait for him to go on, to elaborate in any capacity, but apparently he’s finished.

“Alright then, so when do I-”

“Immediately,” Bergman interjects. You purse your lips, trying to hide your displeasure.

“Yes sir,” you reply as respectfully as you can muster.

“Great. We’re counting on you, Y/ln.” You glance once more at the smoking man in the corner, but he remains silent.

“Dismissed.”

You walk out of Bergman’s office, still trying to process what the fuck just happened. You have the misfortune of passing Soonyoung’s desk on the way back to yours - he opens his mouth, clearly about to say something annoying again, but you briskly zoom past him before he can get a word out. You make a beeline for your desk, grabbing only your purse and coffee cup before heading toward the elevator.

X-files, here I come, I fucking guess.

—-

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you step into the dim basement. The elevator doesn’t come down to this level - you spent a good ten minutes trying to locate the correct stairwell that would even bring you here. You make your way through a seemingly endless hallway of dusty filing cabinets, forgotten boxes, and broken computers before you find yourself in front of a nondescript door, not quite shut - the only thing signifying that you’ve arrived at your destination being the makeshift paper name plate with S. Choi written in ink. You raise your fist to knock but before you can do so you hear a voice call out from inside.

“Come in.”

You push the door in, its hinges giving you a high-pitched squeeeeak as it opens. You make a mental note to find some WD-40.

The sad excuse for an office is equally dim-lit as the hallway, but it’s a sight to behold: a desk at the center of the room - neat, but stacked with newspapers and case files, a small lamp lighting up the open file in the desk’s center; a bookshelf nearly reaching the ceiling, overflowing with books on seemingly every topic under the sun; archival boxes stacked as tall as the numerous filing cabinets, which are also topped with more boxes; a massive bulletin board filled with articles and photos; but most notably, pinned the wall, is a poster featuring a flying saucer, accompanied with the text I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the bizarre room sits a dark-haired man typing at his computer, his back to you.

“I presume you heard me coming,” you state.

“From a mile away,” he replies, still typing.

You wait for him to turn around, say hello, anything - but the clickclack of his keyboard continues.

Several seconds pass, but the man says nothing. Apparently, it’s on you to break the silence.

You sigh under your breath. “I’m Agent Y/ln, I’ve been-”

“Assigned to the x-files to spy on me?” he interrupts, eyes still glued to the monitor.

“They told me you’d know that,” you admit.

The typing stops. Choi turns around, the heavy desk chair giving an unpleasant creak as he leans his elbow over its back, finally facing you. His appearance takes you by surprise: strong eyebrows, plump red lips, soft dark-brown eyes - you weren’t expecting to find such a handsome face attached to the man with a reputation for being a “crazy UFO freak”, in the words of your coworkers. He’s much younger than you anticipated too, around your age - and seemingly so… normal. His eyes do a quick scan of your figure - his expression barely changes, but a quick flash of interest tells you you’re not exactly what he expected either. It is extinguished almost immediately.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone is passive, but you detect a hint of somberness in his words. His warm eyes lock onto yours.

“Name’s Choi, but I’m sure you already knew that. You can call me Seungcheol, though.” If it was anyone else, you’d think it was flirtatious in nature - but you can tell that was not his intention.

“Okay. Well, Choi, what exactly am I to do here?”

An eager grin lights up his face. He rises from his chair, grabs a case file off the pile on his desk, and opens it - throwing it back down onto the desk, facing you.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

You quickly skim the details: a series of disappearances in a small town, all teenagers. So far, no bodies have been found. Local law enforcement has compiled a list of suspects, but they don’t seem to have many leads.

“Okay, so we have a potential serial killer.”

Choi shakes his head. “That’s what the local police think. Which seems reasonable, unless you’re familiar with the location.”

You glance back at the file. Spirit Lake, Iowa.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a known UFO hotspot. Sightings have been reported for decades, most notably in 1967 when there were three different sightings - one of which was caught on camera by two different witnesses.”

He hands you a stack of old polaroids. You flip through the grainy photographs, which all appear to showcase an ambiguous but distinct saucer-shaped object in the night sky.

You stare at your new partner. “Choi, this could be anything. Most so-called UFO ‘sightings’ are nothing more than aircraft that are very much from Earth.”

“The U.S. Weather Service officially stated that it was a weather balloon, however no weather balloons were launched within 500 miles that day. There were also no flights - civilian or military - on record for the area that night.”

“And have you considered that this could all just be a hoax?”

“Sure, it could be. But what if I told you that in 1967 there were also three recorded disappearances, all coinciding with the UFO sightings?”

He hands you a separate case file on the 1967 disappearances. All of the cases are closed, as the three who went missing eventually turned up again - unable to account for what happened to them, but otherwise unharmed.

You close the file, setting it on the desk. “So let me get this straight: you think these people were all abducted by aliens. And you think the exact same scenario is happening again, this year?”

“There have been three recent UFO sightings in the area reported, and we have three missing teens. It all matches up.”

You stand there in silence, at a loss for words. Guess everyone was right, you think to yourself. The man is insane.

“Okay, let’s say you’re right,” you finally respond. “How exactly are we supposed to contribute here? Looks like they’ve already exhausted all leads. Why the hell do we need to fly out to Iowa?”

Choi gives a knowing smile. “They found the first girl this morning. Alive. Barely remembers anything, but unharmed.”

“And you want to go catch some little green men.”

“Actually, ‘little green men’ is a misconception - known encounters have widely reported extraterrestrials to be gray-skinned and not that much smaller than us. But anyway, more or less - yes, we’ll be in search of evidence that alien life is making contact with humanity.”

You stand there in disbelief. So this is where you’ve ended up - in the basement with a madman on a wild goose chase. As you’re thinking about quitting on the spot, Choi goes back to his computer.

“Anyway I’ll get us booked for the first flight out of here tomorrow morning,” he informs as he resumes his typing. “Want me to pick you up?

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“Suit yourself.”

You wait for him to say something further, but he doesn’t. You turn to leave. As you approach the doorway you hear the creaking of his chair once more. Looking back, Choi is facing you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Y/ln.”

His expression is sincere. You may be stuck with a madman, but at least he’s not a complete asshole.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You feel Choi’s eyes follow you as you exit the room.

—

11 September 1993 Spirit Lake, Iowa

The gravel driveway crunches loudly as the rental car slows to a stop. Your partner shuts off the ignition and turns to face you, his left hand still resting on the wheel.

“Ready?”

You glare back at him. “You’re acting like this is my first case, Choi. I’ve done this before.”

You open your door and exit the car before he can reply. You’ve barely gotten started on this investigation, but he’s already on your nerves.

You approach the cottage-style house and ring the bell. A disgruntled-looking woman in her 40s opens the door.

“Mrs. Miller? I’m Agent Choi, and this is my partner Agent Y/ln.” You both raise your badges. “We’re here to speak with Alexandra, may we come inside?”

Mrs. Miller practically scowls at you. “She’s already spoken to the cops three times, leave us alone.” The door slams shut in your face.

You and Choi shoot a look at each other. You hear a voice shouting inside, followed by loud arguing. The door reopens to a young girl, high-school age, with jet black dyed hair, heavy eyeliner, and a nose ring.

“Ignore my mom, she’s a huge bitch,” the girl says as she steps outside, slamming the door behind her. She marches past you. “I’ll talk to you, let’s walk.”

Choi raises his eyebrows at you as he turns to follow the girl. You join him.

“You must be Alexandra,” he says to the girl, who is still walking.

“Alex,” she corrects. The girl finally stops, turning around to face you. “Are you going to take me seriously or are you just going to laugh in my face like the cops did?”

“I believe you,” your partner assures her.

The girl turns to you, arms crossed. “I take it you’re the skeptic then?” Before you can respond she continues. “Trust me, I am too. I’ve always heard all the stories growing up about the abductions in this town, but I thought it was all bullshit. But I don’t know how else to explain what happened to me.”

“Can you start from the beginning?” Choi asks.

The girl sighs. “Yeah, sure. I was driving home from my friend Becky’s house, by myself. It was pretty late, like around 9pm. I was on Campbell Road, I had just passed the old schoolhouse. It was dark as shit and nobody else was around. Then suddenly there was this crazy bright light, it was all around me and I couldn’t see anything. I remember slamming on my breaks, but I don’t know what happened after that. I don’t know how long I was out, but I do remember waking up a few times and I swear I was in some like laboratory or something. I was laying down but I couldn’t move - I could just barely make out some figures standing over me. Then, next thing I know I’m walking down the road again, right where I was driving. No fucking clue how I got there. A deputy found me and took me to the hospital. They told me I was gone for six days. I had to talk to the cops like a hundred times, but there was nothing else wrong with me so they sent me home. And now everybody thinks I’m fucking crazy.”

“Nobody believes you, then,” your partner empathizes.

“The cops think I’m lying and that I ran off with my ‘boyfriend’ for a week,” she scoffs. “I don’t even have a boyfriend. But of course that’s what my mom believes now, so now I’m fucking grounded.”

“I’m sorry,” Choi tells her sincerely.

“Do you have any connections to the others who have gone missing?” you ask.

Alex shrugs. “I mean, we all go to school with each other, but I don’t really know them.”

Choi finds a piece of paper and a pen in his jacket pocket and scribbles something on it, then hands it to the girl.

“This is where we’re staying, if you remember anything else give us a call.”

On the drive back, Choi appears to make a wrong turn.

“You were supposed to go left,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “I want to check out the location where Alex was taken from.”

“Why?” you ask, “There’s nothing there. When they found the car they towed it.”

“Just want to check it out.”

You can tell you’re not going to get any further answers out of him, so you just sit there in silence, listening to whatever is on the local radio playing quietly in the background. Your stomach starts to rumble, so you glance at the clock: 4:54pm. No wonder, you think to yourself. You hadn’t stopped for lunch, so you were well overdue for a meal. You made a mental note to look out for restaurants on the way back.

“There’s the schoolhouse,” Choi points out a few minutes later. “We must be close.”

The sound of static fills the car as the radio cuts out. You fiddle with the knob, trying to find something else, but nothing is coming in. Guess we’re out of range.

Suddenly, the car goes silent as the engine dies. You’ve barely rolled to a stop when your partner jumps out of the car and starts running back the way you came.

“Where the hell are you going??” you shout after him. No response. With a sigh you exit the car as well. You see him standing in the road, looking at the ground. He turns as he hears you coming, pointing down to the road.

“See the tire marks? This must be where Alex hit the brakes.”

You look at the ground to see the black marks, indicating a car had braked abruptly.

“Our car shut off right as we passed this exact spot,” he says excitedly, jogging back to the rental car. As you follow, you hear him trying the ignition a few times, until the car finally turns back on.

“Look,” he commands as you re-enter the passenger seat. He points to the digital clock on the dashboard: 5:11pm. “What time do you have?”

You glance at your watch: 4:56pm.

“Many instances of alien activity result in residual electromagnetic fields. It’s often been reported that those visiting such sites will experience ‘missing time’, a phenomenon we appear to have just experienced.”

The look on his face is energized - borderline excited. You stare back at him, unenthused.

“Choi, just because my watch is wrong doesn’t mean we time traveled.”

“Then why did the car turn off in this exact spot?”

“It’s a machine, cars malfunction sometimes,” you respond, nearly exasperated. “You’re trying to connect dots that aren’t even here.”

“These events happening in tandem indicate that something abnormal is going on here, Y/ln. You’re choosing to ignore substantial evidence.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, holding your head in your hands.

Choi shifts the car into drive and makes a u-turn. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“That’s the first reasonable thing you’ve said all day.”

He smiles, but says nothing.

On the drive back into town, you subtly watch him out of the corner of your eye. He drives in silence, but you can tell he’s deep in thought - about what, who knows. Despite his ridiculous antics and asinine beliefs, you admit that his passion is oddly inspiring. You find yourself starting to grow fond of your new partner for some strange, inexplicable reason.

You push that thought to the back of your mind.

—

13 September 1993

“Can you hand me the Ramos case file?”

You look around for the requested file, to no avail. You joined Choi in his motel room early in the morning to review case files, which is proving to be incredibly difficult as he is apparently one to haphazardly leave shit all over the room while he is working.

You finally locate the folder and toss it over to him. “You know, this might be easier if the entire place wasn’t an absolute disaster zone.”

“I like to call it organized chaos,” he says proudly.

It has been six days since the second kid, Mark Ramos, disappeared - and Choi is convinced that he’ll be “returned” today, given that Alex was found after the same amount of time. So, much to your displeasure he planned for you two to stake out the location where he was last seen: the parking lot of the gas station corner store where the boy works.

“Wow, that sounds enthralling,” you told him, deeply sarcastically.

As you are wrapping up prepping for the stakeout, the landline on the nightstand rings.

Your partner reaches and grabs the phone, stretching the cord across the room and placing the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he continues working.

“Choi,” he answers curtly.

You hear a muffled voice on the other end utter a few sentences before he stops what he’s doing. A tired look washes over his face.

“God fucking dammit. Alright, thanks.” He slams the phone back onto the base.

“They just found the kid. We missed it.”

You’re secretly relieved that you don’t have to go sit in a car for hours now, but you keep that to yourself. He’s clearly peeved, and although you’ve never witnessed his bad side you’re discerning enough to know that you don’t want to be on it.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally.

To your surprise, he walks over to the bed - where you’re sitting - and plops down onto it, holding his head in his hands.

You sit there awkwardly in silence for a few moments, not knowing what to do.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask.

Your partner sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought we had this one.”

You feel the urge to ask the question that’s been on the back of your mind since you met him, but he seems really dejected - and you don’t want to upset him. Fuck it, you decide.

“Can I ask you something?”

He lifts his head up, resting his chin on his interlaced hands as he looks over at you.

“Sure,” he answers. You find yourself starting to get lost in his big brown eyes, but you force yourself to snap out of it.

“Why are you so obsessed with aliens? I mean - it seems like more than just an interest for you. It seems… personal, almost.”

Choi exhales, closing his eyes. He sits up, leaning back onto his hands, staring into the distance with a sense of sadness in his expression.

“When I was 12, my younger brother and I were very close. We were three years apart, but we had so much in common.

He pauses, lost in thought for a moment. He continues.

“Jinsang and I always shared a bedroom. We had a bunk bed, he slept on the top bunk.” He smiles wistfully. “He loved it up there. Always called himself ‘king of the world’. Even as he got older, he never lost his childlike wonder. He was the definition of pure at heart.”

You listen solemnly. You honestly were expecting some off-the-wall answer from him - you didn’t anticipate that it’d be anything so serious.

“Late one night, I was supposed to be asleep, but I was reading a book under the covers with my flashlight. Suddenly there was a blinding light that filled the room, and a deafeningly loud whirring noise that made me cover my ears. I pulled the blanket off me, but the only thing I could make out was some dark figures standing in the room. I couldn’t see who it was, so I assumed it was my parents. I called out for them, but the figures didn’t move. It was so loud and so bright. I was terrified.

Then - I heard my brother scream. He was screaming for help, but I was paralyzed. Suddenly everything stopped. The light and the sounds disappeared in an instant. I looked where the figures were standing, but nobody was there. I didn’t hear my brother anymore either. I jumped out of bed to check on him - but he wasn’t in his bed. I started to panic. I told myself maybe he had run out of the room, but I knew I didn’t see or hear him climb down. I ran to my parents crying, ‘Jinsang’s gone!’ They searched the house, but he wasn’t there. They searched the neighborhood, thinking he had run away, but he wasn’t anywhere. The police investigation went on for months. They never found him.”

He rests his head back on his hands. You sit there silently, not knowing what to say. Your mind races, trying to process his words: So, he believes his brother was abducted by aliens? He may be strange, but he’s not mentally disturbed, I really don’t believe he would just make something like that up… But what can the explanation be? Is it a false memory created as a trauma response to his brother disappearing?...

“I’m so sorry,” you finally tell him. Without thinking you place your hand on his shoulder - but after a moment you realize how awkward that might be. He’s your assigned work partner - you met him three days ago. But, you feel his tension slightly ease - your touch seems to be relaxing him. Choi lets out a deep exhale and sits up - you quickly drop your hand back to your side. He rests his palms on the bed, just barely grazing your pinky finger. You hold your breath as a spark of electricity rushes through your body - you ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. “I know how it sounds to other people. But that’s why I get so invested in these cases. I have to know the truth, Y/ln.”

You sit in silence for a few moments.

“Well,” you finally speak as you get up, returning to the scattered files, “if your theory is correct we have one last chance.”

Choi perks up, a surprised look on his face. He stares at you for a moment, then grins as he processes what you just said. You grin back at him.

“Let’s go catch these sons of bitches.”

— 14 September 1993

Your stakeout plans are back on - this time you’ll be surveilling in the middle of the woods, by the lake, where Mark had disappeared when camping with friends. Choi wakes you unnecessarily early with rapid knocking on your door. You answer in your pajamas, half asleep still. He invites himself into your room as he brushes past you and slams more files on the table. Turning to you earnestly, he begins to recant the game plan.

“Choi,” you interrupt, trying to shut him up. He doesn’t hear you. He rambles on - practically bouncing with excitement.

“Choi,” you repeat, this time louder. He stops, his round eyes animated with enthusiasm.

“Yeah?”

“It’s 6:30 in the morning. We’re staking out the location tonight.”

“And?”

“You could’ve at least let me sleep in til 7.”

“No time to lose!” he says eagerly as he turns back to his work, picking up where he left off. You let him yap for a minute before interrupting him once more.

“Can I at least get some coffee first?”

You head to the nearby shitty diner together, Choi of course working through breakfast. You can tell through his excited state that he’s on edge. This has to go right - it is, according to him, the best chance he’s ever had. You spend the day going over everything, reviewing every last little detail - cooperating with whatever he needs, whether it be tactical or simply supportive. Before you know it the sun starts to go down, and you’re on your way to the middle of fucking nowhere together, to find some aliens.

Choi parks the car on the rocky path near the shore, killing the engine. It’s quiet out here - peaceful. The lake is bigger than you expected, and surprisingly beautiful as it reflects the painted colors of the sun-setting sky.

“Romantic, isn’t it?”

You turn and look at your partner, intending to make some snide remark, but all thoughts in your mind vanish when you see him. The golden tones of the dusk sunrays bring out a beautiful glow in his skin, his brown eyes radiating in the light; you knew he was good-looking, but seeing him this close - he is absolutely stunning.

The logical part of your brain starts setting off alarms - you know you should be feeling uncomfortable in the intimacy of the whole situation (he’s your coworker for gods’ sake!!) but it couldn’t be more opposite. The other part of your brain simply has the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“Mhmm, sure,” you reply, feigning sarcasm, veiling your true feelings.

You chat informally with Choi (“You can call me Seungcheol,” the memory of his words flashes through your mind), conversation flowing naturally as you both talk about whatever comes to mind. You find yourself laughing more often than not, and you find yourself relating to your partner more than you ever anticipated. It’s easy being with him.

Logical brain is absolutely screaming at you right now. There’s no fucking way you can allow yourself to develop feelings for your work partner - you know this.

I’m allowed to like him as a friend, you say to yourself. You’re gonna be working with him for god knows how long, of course you need to get along. But you’re not convinced.

Conversation wanes into the night as darkness falls over the lake. You feel your eyelids grow heavy. Choi notices.

“You can sleep if you want,” he tells you. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him. But it’s quiet, dark - and soon you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

VRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

You jolt awake, instantly blinded by the overpowering light surrounding you. A deafening booming noise permeates the air - you don’t know what it is, but it sounds like the rumbling of a thousand jet engines.

You can’t see shit, but you can tell Choi isn’t in the car. You heave open the passenger door, straining to push it open against the rush of wind engulfing the vehicle. Once your eyes adjust somewhat you find your partner about 15 feet away, camera in hand. You look up, but you can’t make out the massive object hovering over the lake - all you can see is five giant blinding spheres of light in the sky.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” you scream to your partner - but he doesn’t hear you.

Suddenly, everything stops.

The lights, sound, and wind disappear in an instant. Disoriented in the dark, you stumble over to where Choi was standing, but you realize he’s gone - your eyes adjust and you see him sprinting down the lakeshore. In the distance you see another figure, laying on the ground. Choi approaches the figure, kneeling down next to it. You head toward them, but he turns to you and shouts from afar.

“CALL FOR BACKUP!!”

—

The figure on the beach indeed had been the missing boy. The ambulance rushed him to the hospital - but just as the previous two missing kids, he was okay. The next day you and Choi were able to get in and talk to him briefly before being shooed out by the nurse. It was the same story as the others - he didn’t remember anything, but he was completely unharmed.

Three out of three missing people now returned, safe and alive - your business here is done. You can finally get the fuck out of Iowa.

You’re pretty thrilled about leaving, but Choi is ecstatic. You remind him neither of you actually solved anything, but he doesn’t care. He got his photos of whatever the fuck was above the lake that night - it doesn’t answer all of his questions, but nevertheless he got what he came for.

It’s dark by the time you depart from the hospital, driving back to go pack up your things so you can leave first thing in the morning.

Choi parks the car, and you walk back to your rooms. As you approach the motel, he suddenly swings his arm out in front of you to stop you - the door to your room is slightly ajar, the lock broken. Choi draws his gun, and you follow suit. Holding up his fingers, he silently counts down from three. He bursts through the door, sweeping the room. You follow, turning on the light to see the entire room has been utterly ransacked - the contents of your suitcase as well as all the files from your briefcase are strewn everywhere.

Choi pops out of the bathroom. “All clear, but the bathroom window is open - if they were just here, they still might be nearby.” He sprints out of the room, pausing briefly and motioning for you to wait. “You stay here, I’ll sweep the area.” He’s gone in a flash.

You turn around and grimace at the absolute mess left behind by whoever the fuck was here. With a sigh you begin to clean up the mess, starting by gathering all the documents. As you sort through them all to put them back in some sort of order, you note that everything seems to be there. Your personal belongings all seem to be accounted for as well. Whatever they were searching for, they clearly didn’t find it.

Choi reappears in your room, sweating and breathing heavily. He shakes his head in disappointment. “Nobody in sight. Asked the manager if he saw anything suspicious, but he clearly didn’t know shit.”

He removes his suit jacket and throws it on the table before plopping down in the singular chair. He runs his hand through his sweaty hair as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Anything missing?”

You shake your head. “Not a single thing.”

“Shit,” Choi mumbles under his breath. “They were probably looking for my room.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Who-”

He waves his hand at you, interrupting. “Don’t worry about it.”

You are worried about it, but you know he’s not going to elaborate even if pressed.

“Okay. Well, I want to shower and go to sleep, so kindly get the fuck out.” Your tone isn’t angry, you’re just exhausted.

Choi gets up, but instead of leaving he deadbolts the door and returns to his seat.

“Absolutely not, what if they come back? I’ll keep watch.”

You give him the most exasperated look. “Are you shitting me? I don’t need you to keep guard, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not taking that chance,” he insists as he crosses his arms.

You’re stubborn as hell, but in the short time you’ve known Seungcheol Choi he’s done nothing but give you a run for your money in that department.

You roll your eyes. You’re too tired to argue with him. “Fine, whatever. Just give me some privacy, alright?”

Choi salutes you as he turns his chair around. “Roger that.”

You shower and make your way back to your bed. Choi is still sitting in the chair, facing the locked door, his gun and holster sitting on the table right next to him.

“Are you going to be able to sleep in that chair?” you ask. “Looks uncomfortable.”

Without turning, he replies. “I won’t be sleeping.”

“Seriously? You don’t need to stay up all night just to-”

“I’m not sleeping, Y/ln, it’s not up for debate.”

You stare at the back of his head. Sighing, you pull the covers up and go to turn off the lamp, but you pause.

“Choi?” you call out in a soft voice.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He turns his head ever so slightly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Goodnight, Y/ln.”

With a swift click you pull the chain on the lamp, and the room is flooded in darkness. As your eyes adjust, the moonlight seeps in past the closed blinds, and you can just make out Choi’s shadow as he keeps watch. Protecting you.

Within seconds, you are fast asleep.

—

You open your eyes, the bright early morning sun rays peeking in through the window. You lay there, contemplating going back to sleep, when you remember the events of last night. You sit up abruptly to see your partner still in the chair, still facing the door, awake.

“Did you really stay up the whole night?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Choi turns around, his eyes tired but still alert. He nods.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? Very quietly - it’s cute.”

“Oh, shut up” you grumble as you get out of bed.

Choi rises and grabs his jacket before heading toward the door. “Get ready, we have to be at the airport in an hour.” The door shuts behind him before you can respond with something snarky.

As you make your way to the parked car with your suitcase, you see your partner waiting for you - zoned out in the driver’s seat.

You yank the driver’s side door open, startling him as he nearly jumps out of his seat.

“Absolutely not,” you tell him sternly. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, I’m driving.”

“I’m fine, Y/n.”

You go to yell at him when you pause, realizing he just called you by your first name for the first time. He must be delirious, you think to yourself.

“No, you’re not. And I’d like to make it back home in one piece, thank you.”

“Y/n-”

“Seungcheol Choi get your dumb ass out of the fucking car NOW.”

The expression that washes over his face looks like that of a scolded puppy. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to shout at him.

“Okay, okay! Fine, you win.” He gets out of the car, walking around to the passenger side. As he opens the door he looks at you, trying to conceal the grin spreading across his face, but failing.

“I like you like this. You should yell at me more often.”

You stare at him, exhausted. “You’re insane.”

“So I’ve been told,” he says with a wink as he disappears into the car.

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time this week. After a few deep breaths, you reluctantly join your partner in the car.

“And since when do you call me by my first name?” you inquire as you turn the ignition. The car engine comes to life with a rumble.

Choi looks at you, his eyelids heavy. He gives you a sleepy smile as you back out of the parking space.

“I told you you can call me Seungcheol,” he reminds you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He gives no response, but shrugs, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes. You stare at him for a brief moment. His black curls lay unruly against his forehead, brushing against his long eyelashes. A faint shadow graces his jawline - the result of not having shaved today. The top few buttons of his shirt remain undone; he didn’t even bother with a tie. Once again, you find yourself stunned by how handsome he is. You push that thought away as your attention returns to operating the vehicle. You shift gears and pull out of the lot.

“Take a nap, dummy,” you tell him softly.

—

Not five minutes have passed into your drive before the sound of gentle snoring greets your right ear. You glance over to see Choi positively zonked out in the passenger seat. A grin involuntarily appears on your face - he may be a headstrong pain in the ass, but even the toughest agents eventually fall victim to the cursed necessity of sleep.

The “highway” out of town toward the airport is nothing more than a vacant country road. You drive for at least fifteen minutes without seeing a single other car. In the absence of Choi yammering on about some off-kilter conspiracy theory, or recounting a tale of a previous case that seems too fantastical to be true, your mind starts to wander. The events of the past week replay in your head. Unlike your partner you don’t quite believe you saw an alien spaceship, but whatever it was certainly is making you question a lot of things.

Your musings are cut short when Choi suddenly jolts awake, nearly making you jump.

“Jesus, Choi, you scared me.”

He blinks dully a few times, the gears in his head creaking back to life as he tries to reorient himself. After a brief moment of mild panic he regains lucidity, slumping back into his seat with a groan. He yawns as he rubs his eyes.

“Sorry,” he responds drowsily.

“Did you know you snore in your sleep? It’s cute,” you jest, repeating his words from earlier back to him. After a moment, he realizes.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles - but out of the corner of your eye you see him grin.

You turn the radio on low volume, tuning into the rock station the dial was already set on. A few minutes pass without words, the crooning voice of Mick Jagger supplementing the conversation. Suddenly, Choi perks up, looking in the rear view mirror before turning around to peer out the back window. You glance in the mirror to see a dark car in the distance.

“Finally, some sign of life,” you remark. “I was beginning to think we’d entered The Twilight Zone or something.”

Choi says nothing, but you notice the concern on his face. I wish he would stop being so paranoid, you think to yourself. He turns back around but keeps his eye on the mirror. Not even a minute later he snaps his head back to look out the rear window again.

“Shit,” he exclaims, his voice disgruntled.

You look in the mirror again to see the same car, rapidly approaching as it speeds toward you. Your eyes dart forward again, only to see another dark car up ahead - parked in the middle of the two-lane road, creating a blockade.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Choi, can you please enlighten me as to what the fuck is going on,” you ask nervously.

“Fucking SHIT,” he shouts, not elaborating.

“CHOI.”

“Stop the car,” he gripes, his head in his hands.

You apply the brakes, as you couldn’t keep going even if you wanted to. The car ahead is blocking the whole road, and the trees on either side are preventing you from being able to swerve around it.

The car following you parks, also blocking the road behind you. Two men in dark suits emerge from each car and casually surround the rental. One of them, from the car in front, walks over to the passenger side of your rental - he knocks on the glass twice.

“Get out of the car.”

Choi unbuckles his seatbelt, taking his time, before reaching for the door handle. He pulls the latch and opens the door slowly.

“Both of you.”

Your partner turns to you. “Do what they say,” he says quietly.

You follow the mystery man’s orders. It’s early, but the sun already stings your skin as you step out of the car.

You look at the men, trying to get some sense as to who they are, but you’ve never seen any of them before - you presume they would have nothing on themselves that would give any sort of identification anyway. The men’s guns remain in their holsters, but their hands rest on the frames. You don’t doubt that they would shoot you in a heartbeat if you made any funny moves.

“Open the trunk,” the same man orders to neither of you in particular. His tone is stern, but not overly aggressive.

You make eye contact with your partner. He gives you a slight nod.

You take the keys from the ignition and walk to the rear, inserting them in the lock and turning the key. The trunk lid gives a loud clunk as it pops open. The man signals to the two men that came up from behind you - they approach the trunk, pushing you out of the way as they open it. Choi’s hands clench into a fist, but he doesn’t move.

The men carelessly rummage through the trunk’s contents until they find what they were apparently looking for: Choi’s camera bag. The man opens it and pulls out the chunky Nikon, removing its film.

“Hey, be careful with that!” Choi shouts angrily.

Once the other man finishes fishes out the remaining film canisters from the bag, they put the camera back. They signal to the ringleader - he nods. The other men immediately return to their car.

The man in charge claps his hand onto Choi’s shoulder forcefully.

“Thank you, Agents Choi and Y/ln - very much for your cooperation,” he says smugly. Choi shoves the man’s hand off his shoulder, teeth clenched. Without another word, the man heads back to his car.

“You won’t get away with this forever,” Choi shouts after him.

The man keeps walking. He doesn’t even turn his head as he replies mockingly.

“Keep up the good work, Agent Choi.”

You watch the cocky bastard enter the driver’s seat - both cars immediately take off. It was over as quickly as it had begun.

You know Choi is infuriated, but more than anything he looks absolutely dejected. He leans onto the car, his head resting on his arm in defeat.

“Who were those men?” you ask him quietly - but you suspect he doesn’t know either.

He takes a few moments before he lifts his head, resuming his posture. His saddened eyes lock with yours.

“They’re the sons of bitches who make sure nobody knows the truth. Lying to the public, hiding information even from us - destroying all evidence that UFOs exist.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I really thought I had it this time. Turns out, I was just really fucking stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” you tell him firmly. Softer, you add, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you about… well, everything I guess.”

He laughs softly. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you. I’m the crazy alien guy in the basement, after all.”

He nudges you with his elbow, his voice friendly. “You know, you’re alright Agent Y/ln.”

You smile. “You’re alright too, Seungcheol.”

His face lights up at the sound of his first name. He smiles back at you warmly.

“Now, let’s actually get the fuck out of Iowa,” he says with vigor.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

—

20 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Have a seat, Agent Y/ln.”

You sit in the sturdy oak chair across from the Assistant Director’s desk. You are, once again, joined by the nameless man - smoking his cigarette silently in the corner of the room.

“I read your report on the Iowa case,” Bergman tells you as he flips through the open file on his desk.

You wait for him to continue.

“It is certainly… of lower quality than your usual work.”

You hide a grimace. “What exactly was the problem with it, sir? I was very thorough.”

He gives you a tired look. “Yes, of course - but the report itself is not what I take issue with. What I take issue with is its contents. I assigned you to the x-files as a voice of reason - to rein in Agent Choi, not perpetuate his outlandish theories.

“With all due respect, sir, I followed standard protocol. My report gives no indication that I agree with Agent Choi’s conviction that what we saw was indeed a UFO, and that the government is responsible for some larger conspiracy - I simply detailed everything that I witnessed in Spirit Lake objectively as I experienced it.”

Bergman sighs before closing the file. “Alright, Agent Y/ln. You do good work. But next time, maybe try to prevent your partner from chasing after little green men.”

“They’re supposedly gray, actually. According to Agent Choi,” you inform him matter-of-factly.

Bergman stares at you, incredulous. He opens his mouth to say something, but gives up. He waves you out of his office.

“Dismissed.”

[to be continued…]

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.#fic teaser #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fics #svt fics #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #s coups #choi seungcheol #scoups #s coups x reader #scoups x reader #scoups imagines #scoups fics #choi seungcheol x reader

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lynxgriffin · 2 months

Note

What are your predictions for Deltarune Chapters 3-4 ?

Hmmm, let's see...

I think Susie and Ralsei are going to work out very quickly that Kris was the one to create this fountain. Susie's going to brush it off like "Okay yeah I get why you would, it's okay we'll just have fun and seal the fountain when we're done anyway!" and Ralsei will try and act like it's not a problem, when he clearly is bothered by it, and this will start to build up some tension between Ralsei and Kris.

I am open to Toriel being another side party member, less convinced yet that we'll be seeing another adult like Undyne or Napstablook there as well. I do not think we'll be getting a Snowgrave repeat where Toriel is manipulated into killing Undyne or anything like that. If there's a weird route continuation here, it'll be handled very differently.

I don't think we'll be seeing more of the Dreemurr household in the dark world; it'll just be focused on what's on the TV. We've already got a few possibilities for areas: a cooking show, the weather report, and the monster movie, plus we do keep getting hints that the western show may show up in some capacity.

To that end...hopefully a Susiezilla sequence for the monster movie part!

Unsure of what Mike's role will be in here, but I'm anticipating Tenna as the main big bad for this Dark World.

I don't think anyone has guessed the secret boss for chapter three yet, and I don't think anyone will. Thusfar for secret bosses, there's been no hints of them from other places, and you have to go out of your way to find them. Their function as Darkners made from discarded/forgotten objects makes sense in hindsight, but isn't obvious from the get-go. All we know is that we'll need the shadow mantle for a future secret boss, and that that's missing now.

At the end of chapter three, Asriel is going to call on the landline phone and talk to Toriel briefly, but WE won't get to actually communicate with him and it's going to drive me bonkers.

We know less about chapter four, except for some very basic things...Susie and Kris have a few scenes talking out in the light world, and it's raining some of that time. It could either go the direction of an all-light world chapter, or another dark world they explore the next day.

Assuming it's the latter and there's another dark world (which makes more sense to me), I feel the best location options are the hospital, the church, and Asgore's flower shop. If there's a thread started in chapter three getting into more of the Dreemurr family history and Kris's place in it (which does seem to be the case), Asgore's shop seems the best bet to continue that thread next, so I'm going to predict Asgore's shop for chapter four.

Since that's a flower shop and all, a more Alice In Wonderland sort of theming seems likely, with more of a jungle/wild area that the Fun Gang has to explore compared to the city and sound stage areas of previous chapters.

I am expecting Catti (and potentially also Jockington) to be future Dark World partners, and either chapter four or chapter five seems a good option for that.

I think Catti is necessary as a partner 1) because of her occult history with Kris, 2) her focus on protecting Noelle, who I could see showing up in the Dark World again as early as chapter four or five, and 3) her clearly having beef with Susie.

If we're dealing with Kris's family history through chapters 3 and 4, I can see that then going into more of Susie's backstory and whatever is going on with her family. I get the feeling that Catti knows some secret about Susie that makes her dislike her more than just "she stole Jockington's hat once", and that will need to be resolved in conjunction with learning more on Susie's situation.

Every day in-game that big-headed blue bird monster is going to reveal another shelf in the second floor of the library, which will slowly give more worldbuilding lore, and it's going to be maddening just getting those little crumbs of info one at a time.

We'll be getting more Knight hints, but not a real reveal until chapter five.

#ask lynx stuff #whew that was more thoughts than I expected #deltarune theorizing

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morganbritton132 · 9 months

Note

Living for conspiracy Steve. You know if they tried anything Joan the Disservice cat would be on the case. You also know Diane clocked it during her looky loo walks and she’s got tea. An alliance is forming.

What’s funny about Steve’s paranoia with the electric company van parked outside is that it’s definitely just the electric company.

If SoMeBoDy would just listen to reason then maybe they might remember the bad weather they’ve been having. They live in a suburb just outside of Chicago. It’s windy and wind messes with powerlines, but Steve isn’t dumb. Thank you very much.

He knows that.

Just like he knows what logo Mike said was on the van that El flipped. And like he said, “It’s spycraft 101. Of course, they’re here after a storm. It’s inconspicuous.”

“Big word,” Eddie replies appreciatively. “How do you know that?”

“I took the SATs?”

“Now the word! Why do you think that they’re tapping our phones?”

“It’s in all the movies, Eddie.”

There’s an unspoken duh tacked on to the end of Steve’s sentence and Eddie kinda loves it. He kinda loves how confident Steve is when he’s convinced himself this shit is real and a little part of Eddie wants to play along, but he knows how quickly it can all go bad so, “Baby, please. Stevie, what are they tapping into? We don’t have a landline.”

Steve pauses to think and then peaks back out through the blinds. He mutters, “You don’t know how wiretaps work?”

“Do you?”

Steve just purses his lips and looks even harder out the window which is just Steve-speak for ‘no, actually. I don’t know how wiretaps works because no one does.’ It makes Eddie grin, sliding up behind him and whispering in his ear, “Don’t you think one of our half dozen nosy neighbors would’ve told us if someone was spying on us?”

“Not if-“

“Baby, Diane came over twice last week because she saw a suspicious car in our driveway,” Eddie hums. “It was our car, Steve.”

Steve relaxes back against his chest a little but he knows the battle is not yet won so, Eddie adds, “Sweetheart, think about it. They’d know.”

“That’s true,” Steve relents just a little and then says, “Unless one of our neighbors is a spy.”

“No, baby.”

“Like a nosy neighbor that’s always in our business,” Steve continues, building confidence. “And who has always been in our business ever since we moved in…and who is talking to the electric company people right now.”

Eddie looks out through the peak in the blinds Steve is making and watches as Diane makes her way down her driveway in her pink house shoes, waving at the man halfway up the telephone pole. She calls something up at him but they’re too far away to hear it.

He can feel Steve pull away and Eddie thinks, damn it.

“Well, that friendship was good while it lasted.”

#meanwhile Eddie has like three restraining orders out against people for stalking #but thinks the idea of the government spying on them is too crazy even though one of their best friends can move stuff with her mind #I love when characters are one hundred percent correct but in the wrong direction #it reminds me of this umbrella academy AU I was writing where Five unrolls a conspiracy theory correctly but then accuses #Diego of being a part of it which is wrong even if he had really good points about it #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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violetrainbow412-blog · 6 months

Text

Day 19: motel

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“There was an accident because of the storm, the road is closed,” Spencer informed you, from the driver's window, shortly before getting back into the car.

You had been delayed leaving the station about the rest of the team and, to your bad luck, the traffic caused by the winter storm in Minnesota hadn’t even allowed you to go to the runway where the jet was.

"And what are we going to do?"

“Well, we can't go another way and if we go back to the city there is a high probability that we will also suffer a car accident.”

“I saw a motel on the way here,” you exclaimed with resignation. “We can stay there and see if there is a landline, because my phone is on the fritz and Hotch isn't answering me.”

Spencer agreed with your idea and pulled the lever to take off, turning back the way you had come. Watching him drive was one of your favorite things, because you knew that he only did it when you were the one in the passenger seat and he looked very cute with that concentrated expression on his face.

“The cold is getting into my bones, at least I hope they have heating”

“Would you rather be here or in Miami?”

“You know I hate the beach, it offends me that you're even asking that,” he laughed, as you watched him wrinkle his nose in that slight way he did when he talked to you. You didn't even know if he was aware of the gesture, but you adored it.

You turned on the radio to fill the silence and on the way to the motel you tried, without success, to communicate with the rest of the team to find out if they had also gotten stuck in traffic or if they had managed to get through it. Apparently you weren’t the only ones who thought of staying there after the hopeless panorama on the road, so when you arrived at the reception the woman informed you that there were no normal rooms available.

“We only have the special room, it costs eighty dollars a night”

"Eighty dollars?" you asked scandalized. For a motel, from your point of view, it was overpriced.

“It has a jacuzzi, a mini refrigerator, and a couch for couples,” the woman explained to you, without much interest in the decision you made, while you opened your eyes widely.

“Did you hear that? A couch for couples” you said to your friend with fake enthusiasm, who was holding both luggage bags with one hand, seeing him later shake his head at your behavior. You were like a pair of siblings and that meant being ashamed of each other on more than one occasion.

“Just give us the room,” he extended his debit card to the woman and after collecting, she gave you a key, half-telling you where you should go to find the supposedly special room.

“Oh, and do you have a phone we can use?”

When you contacted your boss you realized that they had also been trying to call you and that, as you had imagined, they had managed to get to the jet. They agreed that they would stay somewhere else until you could join them and the next morning, when the storm was over, you would all fly back.

After that you followed the man down the hallway and when you entered the room you realized that she hadn’t lied about the furniture, that it amused you in a completely immature way. Spencer warned you not to even think about touching that couch because it would contain, at the very least, millions of germs and unknown fluids that you didn't want to expose yourself to.

“You won't let me use the jacuzzi either?” you laughed, pouting after speaking. You didn't even feel like diving in, you just wanted to bother your friend a little by forcing him to tell you about all the hygiene problems that accommodation places like that had.

“In fact no, I highly recommend not using it. According to a report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 208 disease outbreaks associated with treated recreational water have been confirmed in recent years, primarily from swimming pools, hot tubs, and public water parks. These outbreaks resulted in 3,646 cases of illness, 286 hospitalizations, and 13 deaths, but health experts suspect the true numbers are even higher, since many illnesses are never reported.

“I have a strong immune system,” you said without giving it much importance, while you opened your suitcase to start taking out a change of clothes. Although you were not going to use the jacuzzi if you wanted to take a good bath and you only hoped that there was hot water to save you from the tremendous cold that was outside.

“I don't think so, actually. Cryptosporidium is a parasite, living in fecal matter, that can cause gastrointestinal illnesses, including diarrhea. And they can be transmitted by an infected person who uses, oh surprise! a jacuzzi”

“But you're paranoid, how much chance is there that a person infected with that crypto-whatever stayed in this specific room and used the jacuzzi?”

You probably shouldn't have asked that, because if you had asked it ironically, he took it seriously. Spencer started ranting about statistics that you couldn't even imagine how he knew while you continued getting your things ready to get in the shower.

When you walked to the bathroom your friend followed you and when you crossed the door you were scared to think that he would do it too, however, he stopped at the door frame and leaned against it.

“Do you know that there is another disease that is quite common in hot tubs? It is Legionnaires' disease, caused by Legionella pneumophila. It is not so risky in people our age, but…”

“Reid,” you interrupted him, putting a hand on his arm so he could pay attention to you. “I have to take a shower, what if you keep telling me when I get out?”

“Are you going to shower? That shower is probably disgusting!”

“And I am too, in case you haven't noticed.”

“You don't even wear flip flops, you're going to get athlete's foot.”

“I swear you're insufferable,” you whined, pointing a finger at him. He knew you weren't serious, but he still decided to get revenge for what you had just told him.

"Oh yeah? Now you will have to shower while listening to all the statistics of deaths from diseases transmitted in motel spaces”

You closed the bathroom door, laughing, but that did nothing to muffle the sound of your friend's voice, which seemed to recite data as if it were a recorder. At one point you tried to sing to cover the sound, but even that wasn't enough and that's when you let out a snort loud enough for him to hear.

"I hate you!"

“You know you don’t!”

And well, he was right. But you weren't going to tell him.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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ms-nesbit · 9 months

Text

Empire records (jason todd x reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: masturbation, reader is female, reader is bisexual, Jason Todd is not red hood, plus size reader

Summary: Jason is a cam model and is killing it, so he heads to the record store where he sees y/n.

Notes: honestly, i loved the idea of this one. Let me know if you want me to continue with an additional chapter or something.

ao3

“God…” Jason exhaled, a slow flow of cum spurting from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing labored as he came down from his orgasm, Jason revealed the mess he made to the webcam. “Fuck, that’s so much cum.” he spoke half-heartedly, the tone masked by faux sensuality and confidence. “What do you want me to do next, hmm?” he sat up in his computer chair and bit on his bottom lip. “Let me know, Babe. I’ll be here again next week. Till next time.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his tricep exposed to the camera. He flashed his signature winked before ending the livestream, shutting off the comment section and logging off from his administrative account.

Wiping his hand clean on a nearby napkin, he remained silent, his presiding persona crumbling with each minute after the stream ended. Jason hadn’t bothered to glance at the comments - only the tips, which he gratefully appreciated; they accounted for his rent and utilities, above other expenses, including the impromptu trip to Vanity Records he was getting ready to make.

After a quick shower (graphic details spared) and his skincare routine consisting of serum and spf moisturizer, Jason adorned his already-attractive figure with dark washed jeans and a simple black tee, which was layered by his black and red-striped leather biking jacket.

Once he tied his boots, he set out the door to the record store, walking to the parking lot - riding helmet in tow - to his motorcycle.

—

“I’ve told you how many times that we don’t carry that bullshit?” y/n spat into the landline phone, wrapping her cord around her finger. “Seriously, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass that your old town carried Tom Petty. We don’t do campy bullshit. Got it?” Before she gave the voice on the other end to even respond, she abruptly hung up, rolling her eyes and wiggling her finger free from the twisted cord.

She crossed her arms and sat back in her velvet mustard lounger behind the register, pulling an inventory sheet from the cluster of papers scattered on the surface. Clanging of bells attached to the entrance door temporarily distracted her enough to drone, “Vanity Records: if we don’t have it, your music taste sucks.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. Do you have Foo Fighters?”

The voice was sardonic, but it didn’t stop y/n from giving a judgemental look to… a tall man whose black tee matched his (mostly) black hair, the white patch in the front pairing fondly with the low white collar on his leather jacket. He awaited her answer with playful eyes, though they seemed heavy. “If you’re talking about Nirvana, yes.” y/n began, crossing her arms in front of the keyhole cutout on the chest of her long-sleeved black blouse, which was coupled by black and red plaid pants, and a scowl on her face. “If you’re talking about the Louise Post-worshipping Foo Fighters? Also yes.” she stood from her seat and leaned over the clutter of paperwork, ignoring it completely in an attempt to flirt with the handsome stranger. “But if you’re talking about the mock-punk, dads-in-a-cluttered-garage-with-a-pipe-dream Foo Fighters? We don’t carry it.”

The man smiled down at her. “Could you show me?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if he wasn’t a regular customer already.

With a click of her tongue, y/n left her station, showing the man to a collection of vinyl organized alphabetically. She scanned at the waves of albums, distraught by the poor penmanship of the poor schmuck who had a stroke labeling the aisles, but made her way to the ‘dad rock’ section, reaching over and thumbing through different albums behind a poorly-enunciated letter ‘F’. In between all this, she failed to notice the man - who had been walking behind her - ingesting her outfit, and how the blouse accentuated her.

“Ah! Here we go.” She pulled out a plastic-slipped album titled The Colour and the Shape, and handed it over to the man, who grinned at her. “Anything else?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from commenting anything creepy, he chose safer words instead. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m kinda new here, and I don’t really know what to listen to.”

Y/n pondered for a moment, before asking a series of questions: “What do you like to do on a Saturday afternoon? What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you have any siblings? And…fight or flight?”

The man was taken aback by the questions, confused by the randomness of the inquiries. As he thought carefully about his answers, he zoned out, unaware of the chewing of his lip that allowed a dimple to present itself to y/n. If she wasn’t committed to her shrewd demeanor, she would have swooned. “If it’s sunny, I like to watch tv, but if it’s raining, I’ll read and take a walk; I fucking love an unhealthy amount of baklava, but I will settle for eclairs if necessary;” the man began rambling, passion strong in his voice, “I do have adopted siblings, but no blood relatives that are living, and; I suppose fight. I don’t really know when to quit.” the man smiled embarrassingly at his own confession.

Responding with a hum of affirmation, y/n skimmed over the vast selection in the compact shop. She then briskly walked to a middle aisle, dusty tile floor scuffed by her combat boots, before stopping at an unmarked section, fingering through the untouched vinyl. She pulled one out and whipped around, presenting the album cover to the man on the other end of the crates. “Human Bloom. They are fusion jazz from Chicago, but have a nice tone to it. I would give them a try if I were you.” she handed the man the record. “Need anything else…?” her question hung on a cliff, dangling in hope for a name.

“Jason.” he replied, “and no, I think that’ll be all.” he tried to look for a nametag, but found a newfound attraction to chest-placed keyhole cutouts instead.

“Y/n. The checkout is something I’m supposed to take care of with a register, not with you and your eyes.” she admonished, quirking a brow before heading back to her post behind the counter, hips swaying with each step she took.

Jason watched, unable to speak by the way he was called out. He took larger steps to the checkout, head down as he did so. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” he stammered when he finally reached the register, patting his jacket pockets for his wallet before finding it in his pec pocket (or, as he calls it, tit patch). “How much would those be?”

Y/n clacked at the old register buttons, its labels washed out from abuse. “$52.75. Cash, card, or number?”

“Pardon?” Jason opened up his wallet.

“Y’know, you could tender with cash, a credit or debit card, or your phone number.”

Jason smiled widely at y/n, finally acknowledging her forward attempt at flirting. He set his wallet down on the counter and asked quietly, “Can you do that here?”

“For you? Sure.” y/n remarked, her ‘sure’ accompanied by a survey of Jason’s tall figure with her eyes. She tore a piece of paper and opened a drawer by her hip, grabbing a pen and jamming it shut before sliding the pair to Jason.

Pen in hand, Jason jotted down his number and passed it back to y/n, who already removed her phone from one of her pockets and entered the number into it. Jason watched her every move, impressed, albeit flattered, by her determination; until, of course, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked it briefly: new text: you are as tall as you are hot, buddy.

Jason gaped at the text before looking at y/n. “I must be pretty short then.” he snickered, earning a scoff from the woman on the other end of the counter.

“Short on time? Patience?” she dipped her voice an octave. “...Self-control?”

Before Jason could respond, y/n’s coworker, Jade, greeted him. “Hey, Jay! How was work today?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. Y/n dropped her seduction tactics, returning to her guarded expression. “Yes, Jay, how was work today?”

Both employees stared at Jason with terribly different intentions, one with genuine curiosity, and the other with vehemence. “It was okay, I guess. Made some tips, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Good.” Jade chirped. “I would have stopped by on the livestream, but I dunno…camwork really isn’t my thing. Wish you all the best though!” She finished with a beam before walking away from the counter and to the back of the store, away from whatever tension she sensed.

“I can explain-”

“Over breakfast. Tomorrow.” y/n decided Jason’s fate for him, which he was happy was spared. It was rare he was forgiven for white lies, something that he was awfully rung out for. He accepted his dues with a nod and snuck out of the record store with his tail tucked between his legs.

—

Jason and y/n exchanged details on their confirmed date, so it was rather disappointing to Jason when he arrived at the Gotham Diner to…nobody. He checked his phone when the waitress seated him at a booth, and again after she poured him a cup of coffee. Nothing.

“Good morning, Jason.” y/n greeted out of nowhere, bringing Jason’s attention from his desolate thoughts to the woman now scooting herself on the abrasive booth cushion. He must have smiled, because y/n added, “Got your uppers for today?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Good to know your chipper attitude isn’t just your customer service voice.” he critiqued, to which y/n stared at him. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I think I stepped on dog shit on the way over.” she glanced underneath the table at the underside of her boot.

The silence between them was too agonizing for Jason to handle, despite it being short. “So, about yesterday, I didn’t really mean to lie like that, and I just wanted to say I’m-”

“Seriously don’t worry about it, man. I like that you’re not put off by me, y’know? A lot of guys are; usually it’s the chicks I hit on that admire my decisiveness.” y/n tore open a few packets of stevia, shaking its contents into her coffee before stirring it with the wooden stick. “Jade gave me intel on your job though.” Jason frowned, awaiting the imminent rejection he expected with the acknowledgement of his unconventional line of work. “I’m all for sex work, dude, so don’t sweat it, but camwork? Really? Isn’t that, like, outdated now?”

Jason allowed his shoulders to slouch as his nerves settled, pleasantly surprised by y/n’s reaction. “To be honest, I know a lot of people do shit like modeling, but it feels so…forced.”

“And camwork is different? I’m not sure how it is for guys.”

“No, you…you have a point.” y/n saw through him, and saw something he hadn’t quite noticed in himself; it was, to a degree, a facade. He didn’t want to jeopardize his vulnerability to the dark caves of the internet, so he simply hid behind something he wanted to be, rather than completely himself. Perhaps that was why he admired y/n so much, despite knowing so little of her.

The pair was interrupted by a waitress, who took their orders. “An egg-white only omelet, please.” Jason politely asked.

“And could you get me a large stack, please? With extra blueberries on top.” Y/n asked with wide eyes, clearly ecstatic by the antioxidant properties of the garnish.

After the waitress left, they returned to their conversation. “I do pretend to enjoy some of the stuff I’m requested to do, but I dunno.” Jason hid behind his cup of coffee, an absurd sight for y/n seeing a tall, broad figure hunched over. “To be honest, I’m kinda turned on by the idea of someone watching me. Plus it pays the bills.”

Y/n mirrored Jason’s shrug in rapport. “I see what you mean. If I had the body, I think I’d do the same, but there isn’t much of a market for stocky punk chicks.” she stated, a sliver of disappointment in her voice.

“I’d watch.” Jason blurted, before covering his face with his large hand. “Sorry, I-”

“One omelet, egg whites only.” the waitress returned, huge tray balanced in her palm. She distributed the plates and utensils. “And a large stack for y/n, our favorite regular.” the waitress beamed at y/n, who returned the sentiment. “Hope you two enjoy.” she left with a wink.

“Thanks, Wanda!” y/n called from her booth, giddily dancing in her seat when returning her attention to the stack of round, golden pancakes in front of her.

“You come here often?” Jason inquired skeptically, offended that she hadn’t indulged him in the information prior to their scheduling.

Y/n nodded and gave a “mmhmm” that was muffled by pancakes in her mouth. “You know, I used to come here in my college days.” y/n explained once she swallowed her first bite of the delectable breakfast treat. “I’d stop by with my study group - which was usually just me - and I’d sometimes order a few rounds of the stacks. Wanda there joked that my veins are probably pumping syrup more than blood, and I’m afraid I have to agree with her on that one.”

Jason let out a chuckle while cutting his omelet with a knife and fork with minimal scraping. “At least the vampires will get a tasty dessert if they bite you.”

“Maybe you’re right!” y/n stifled her laughter. “Maybe they’ll pour my blood over some waffles or something.”

Hand over his mouth to prevent omelet from flying all over the table and y/n, Jason chortled and mocked Dracula, “Mmm! ‘Vou must try this breakfast! Ze blood is vunderful!”

Y/n gasped jokingly. “How dare you mock vampires? They don’t all sound like that.”

They each took turns smacking the table and giggling, exchanging niche vocal impressions until Wanda returned with a warning. “You two are causing a distraction to some of our other patrons here. Try to keep it under control, okay?” she gave them a lambasted look. “Here is the check, since I know you two will probably want to continue your date.”

Date. Y/n blushed at the word. “Thank you, Wanda. And tell that rigid couple in booth twelve that we’re sorry, and we’re not real vampires.”

“But we will bite if needed.” Jason added with a cheap smile.

Wanda sighed and walked away, murmuring something incoherent.

As Jason was about to snag his wallet, y/n slipped a couple of bills in the receipt card. “I’m holding you hostage, so I’m paying. Don’t worry, pretty boy.”

Though the action was assurring, it was confusing when paired with y/n’s nickname for Jason. He found himself amused at the woman, and had to ask: “What are your answers, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“Your answers. To the question you asked me yesterday. You never gave me yours.”

Y/n grinned innocently, sincerity splayed across her face. Jason wished he could have taken a photo of it - her eyes were just pretty. “Gimme a sec to think,” she sat back in the booth, head hitting the backrest with a thump. “So I usually don’t do anything except listen to music and read, I have two siblings - but three if you count the imaginary turtle I had when I was six, I love a good bowl of soup and some tamales, and I’m not wearing any.”

Jason cocked his head, perplexed by the final answer. “Not wearing any? Any what?”

“Underwear.” y/n blinked innocently, despite being well aware of her suggestion. “You asked if I’m wearing underwear, right? I’m not.” her smile grew bigger with each word, and her eyes dimmed darker with lust.

So did Jason’s. “Oh, uhm.” he was indecisive, unable to choose how to respond. It wasn’t that Jason was inexperienced the art of flirtation, it was that he hadn’t quite been this interested in someone in a long time, and it showed by the way his cheeks reddened (and cock hardened in his pants) at her reveal.

He refused to indulge, his pride in the way. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t the reaction y/n was hoping for, and her tone fell with it.

They stood and exited the diner together, loitering in the parking space where Jason had left his motorcycle. Jason noticed that y/n’s spark died off when he hadn’t taken her bait, and although he felt guilt, he knew he wanted to explore the relationship more prior to sleeping together. He feared that y/n took it personally;

She did. “I’ll text you.” she said, backing away before she gave a brief wave of her hand and disappearing into the crowd of Gothamites.

—

“Jesus, what is wrong with me.” y/n sighed when she re-entered her loft, littered with old clothing on the ground, and walls decorated with mismatched posters. As she untied her boots, she replayed the rejection in her head: Jason’s nose twitching, eyes shifty, and mouth open, pausing to choose whatever denial he believed was appropriate.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, but she neglected to check it; instead, she hovered to her bed on the other end of the studio flat, and tumbled onto it, her sheets making a punched ‘oof’. Deep breaths calmed her worried mind buzzing with defeat, and she wondered if perhaps she was, in a word, bamboozled.

It didn’t make sense: the flirting beforehand, way his eyes wandered too freely on her body like a dog to a treat, yet he rejected her…why? Was it what she wore that day? The borderline offensive vampire impressions? Or was it, in the end, her determination that hammered the final nail into the coffin of the potential of their relationship?

Heels digging in the sand, y/n set off on her research, beginning with Jason’s business venture. She sat up in her bed, fixing the pillows to better suit her needs, and reached over for the laptop on the ground. Y/n opened it and waited for the startup operation sequence, the fan vibrating over y/n’s lap as it whirred.

“Alright, Todd, let’s see what camwork you’re doing.” y/n murmured as she entered the site info, creating an account to access the lewd media. “A $7.99 subscription? I didn’t know these cost money nowadays.” she chortled at the virtual pricetag while entering her card info, reluctant to provide sensitive information on her archaic device.

Upon granted access, y/n’s eyes widened, blurred images revealing themselves to her, and she was, well, intrigued, to say the least. The first uncensored media on the site feed was Jason in a public dressing room, unclothed; his hooded eyelids and smirk enhanced his smitten look; his chest was naked, gleaming from the shop lights, and his shoulders were broad, leaned back into the wall of the dressing room; his torso was chiseled, the contour of his muscles shaping into a v near his pelvis, almost as if they were a sign from god for y/n’s eyes to point to his carefully trimmed pubic hair, which failed to hide the base of his thich, uncut cock.

Y/n hadn’t even looked at the caption, so when she finally managed to strip her eyes away from his holy figure, she grinned at the words, “Imagination - life is your creation, Doll.”

A fucking Barbie reference, and she dropped the ball? Y/n scrolled to drown her distraught, searching for a video she could watch.

A notification popped on the page: Robin Hood started a livestream. Click to join. Y/n scrambled to find her dreaded wired headphones, shoving the plug into the jack on the side of the laptop. She then clicked on the notification, instantly refreshing the screen to bring her to a livestream starring the man she had just joked with about Transylvanian vampire genitalia.

The irony. “This is unreal.” y/n muttered to herself as she stared at the tall man sat back on his bed - different than his usual post in his computer seat - as he flicked open a cap of lube, applying it to his hand before he spread it on his erection. He exhaled as he did so, toned chest rising as his fingers moved along his sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, this feels good.” Jason moaned, hips bucking into his hand as his eyes remained closed. Y/n rubbed her thighs together at the sight. “I’m already so close. I wanna come so bad.”

Y/n let out a low moan deep in her throat, mouth watering at the filth transmitted through her earbuds. She watched as Jason’s hand moved from the base of his cock to its head, his wrist twisting. He searched for a speed, but was indecisive with the way his hips shot up sharply, thrusting into his hand. The wet skin sound filling y/n’s earbuds was fucking dirty, and she knew she had to shower right after finishing the livestream - she wanted to see him come, hear the euphoric, obscene noises leaving his mouth.

“Fuck” Jason grunted, holding his cock with one hand, and the other roaming his torso and thighs. “Oh, shit, you feel amazing.” his words were so intent, sincere, as if he imagined someone actually riding his cock - or it was y/n who was projecting her desires onto him, wishing she could straddle his lap and be the source of his pleasure, bouncing on his dick until she milked him dry.

“Oh,” Jason barely pushed through gritted teeth, “Keep going, y/n” he whispered, brows furrowing. Y/n stopped and blinked at the screen, doubting what her senses told her she heard. “Please, please, y/n…” he said it again, this time in a plea that sent y/n’s mind reeling into another dimension as she wanted to touch herself, but wanted, more than anything, to drive Jason over the edge.

His breaths fell staggered, jerking at his cock hard as his bottom lip trembled. “God, I wanna come. Your pussy is so good,” he admitted, eyes screwed shut, “so fucking good.” his speed became erratic, frantically searching for God in a moment’s release, and y/n was right there with him, her panties soaked from the heavenly torturous sight in front of her. She wanted to tell him to come, tell him how good he feels driving his cock into her, continuously, and how badly she wanted to sit on his pretty face until she screamed.

“Shit! Oh, fuck, god.” Jason exclaimed, profanities slipping him like a ghost leaving his vessel as spurts of cum erupted from his cock, body stilling. He thrusted into his hand once more before finally relaxing, catching his breath in a laugh.

He looked down at the mess of cum he made on his pelvic bone and torso, a splash landing all the way to his neck, and he shook his head. “Wow. Hadn’t had that much in a long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you later.” Jason smirked, propping himself on his elbows and biting his lip before the livestream ended.

Y/n sat in front of the computer screen with glossy eyes. She was his spank bank. She was. The reality set in, and it finally clicked.

But before she could allow herself to feel relief, free from the shackles of rejection in which she imprisoned herself, y/n quickly moved to her feet and grabbed her phone from the other side of the room to check the notification she dismissed earlier:

Jason. Hey, I hope I wasn’t too rude, but I don’t want to pursue any- (½) Y/n opened the message, careless of the read receipt that would be sent to him. -anything sexual, since that’s my job, and I’ve been used before. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, because I do think you’re special, but I understand if it does. I’m here if you want a second date.

Y/n skimmed over the text, and reread it to check if her senses failed her once more. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, she repeated. I do think you’re special. Y/n smiled widely as she opened up the keyboard to reply:

I thought I was too much. Usually am.

She rested her back against the wall, waiting for a response. Already, it shown as read, and the bubbles appeared at the bottom of their chat.

It’s not your fault, I should have clarified from the start. Are you free this weekend?

Y/n felt the melting of the glacier in her chest, and the cooling of the heat between her legs. She gathered her thoughts for a response:

I think I am on Sunday.

Jason’s reply was instantaneous, and y/n was thankful games were off the table for them.

Meet me at the Gotham library?

Y/n smiled. Fuck yeah.

It’s a date. Jason replied, the three words launching y/n into orbit.

So much of an orbit that she hadn’t proofread her response. Btw, saw your livestream.

Y/n regretted it instantly, eyes blown wide and apprehension rising in her.

The bubbles came up on the phone screen before disappearing, then reappearing again. Y/n cursed to herself as she waited. Finally: Good. You looked absolutely stunning at breakfast. Wanted to eat you instead of the omelet.

Maybe y/n could get used to this, after all.

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satureja13 · 2 months

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The Boys also have a R̂ān h̄ạw mum (=thai for 'corner store') now. There's a copy of LY behind the counter. They live in the Otherworld now and they prefer to be home alone (for security matters). Not even Arturo, the only other creature here, knows where they live. And no one can see or enter their lot anyway ;)

This is both an online store to sell their produce and a shop for them to buy stuff Noxee sends them. The tales of the Boys' adventures spread among the creatures and they are quite famous in certain circles ^^

I love the little 'vegetable tent' that came with For Rent.

There is also Kiyoshi's 'Moonchild' cheese!

And Jack can sell the vegetables from his garden here. And his nectar.

There will be no other customers than the Boys here but they ship their produce to the Muggle World with the device Saiwa built. There's a newer, smaller version now. The cameras show the online customers the wares and Sai also made a store page with the descriptions and prices. Then Ji Ho packs and ships to Noxee and she sends them to the customers in the Muggle World.

They call Noxee to thank her. This device is also the only way for them to 'remote communicate'. No internet, no landline, no cellphone network here - nothing ö.ö

Noxeema: "My Babees! I miss you!" They chatted for a while but it's clear that Noxee is dying to get back to Greg ^^' After they ended the call, Jack was jealous, as always: "Omg, what does she see in him!? They are together 25/7 and still can't get enough of each other!" But Jack also never understood what Kiyoshi saw in him. (That's love, Jack.) Sai: "I envy them..." Ji Ho sighed: "Couple Goal."

Jack found the 'Stranger Section'...

Sai to Ji Ho: "Was this really necessary? As if he's in need of even more weird ideas!" Ji Ho: "That was actually Vlad's idea ^^'"

And then Jack found the Armadillos... Jack: "A blue version! I've never seen this before! Look how small and cute they are! Can please I have one?"

Saiwa: "No! We have no money for this nonsense! Don't forget we have to payback Rubyn and the others." Poor Jack...

They paid

and Sai checked the new 'Postage and Communication Device' aka 'PACkeD'

And when he left the shop...

The kids these days! Ji Ho had bought the Armadillo for Jack when Saiwa had been busy with 'PACkeD' ^^'

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🛺 'Home happy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

#home happy home #underwater love #The Crappy Home #jack callahan #saiwa #woo ji ho #giga byte #grexee #armadillo #jack hates greg #sims 4 for rent #ts4 #sims 4 vanilla #tomarang #sims #sims 4 story #simlit #simblr #sims 4

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foressfaction · 3 months

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Mentions of substance usage, abuse, death, and spoilers for Origin of Cross-X

Leo’s uncle, William, wasn't just the typical alcoholic abusive character in the story. He was far more than that. When I started Cross-X’s story, I took into consideration every character I added in, and gave them all their own little story. For William though, I'm not too sure if i made it clear enough, but he was always abusive to Ronnie from the get go, just being a violent man in general, toxic and narcissistic. Ronnie didn't know any better treatment.

It wasn't fully until Leo got taken into their family. William became less physically abusive and more verbally, toning it back on Ronnie as well. It was mainly to do with Leo being still just 12 and knowing that Ronnie was a bit older now and might lash out more. Overall William didn't bother anymore..

That was obvious until he got violent with his wife Susie and got sent to jail by the secret call of Leo using the bedroom phone after William smashed the main one. (landline phones)

William vowed to be a better husband and dad to Ronnie and Susie but now held a grudge against the younger boy. He was bailed out by Susie after a financial struggle and realizing he could have changed (which was probably one of the stupidest decisions made by her.)

William was a drug addict, blew their money like crazy, verbally and emotionally abused the family, and much more further mentioned in the story.

William was secretly drugging Susie until she became a walking zombie and unable to function sometimes. This caused her to also lash out occasionally or just not understand simple sentences given to her. Eventually the succumbed to the condition she was in and William, knowing he killed his wife, stuffed her body into their mattress to rot. While William then lost himself further into the drugs and alcohol till he too would pass out on the couch occasionally.

This took Leo to finally return home after running away for months to a near year after the accident with Ronnie. He realized what happened and everything fell together like a puzzle. Anger took over him and he murdered his uncle in his own cold blood, using a shattered bottle.

We wanna believe that there was a main goal for William going this far and doing all of this but there really wasn't. This was just an example of someone born evil. Even when he was younger he caused trouble and underaged drank and smoked. There was no fixing him.

#creepypasta #slenderverse #foressfaction #creepypastafanart #fanart #crossxcreepypasta #crossx #leofincher #oc #creepypastaoc

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differenteagletragedy · 5 months

Note

heya! i loved your ol:ba headcannons, and i saw your post asking for requests, so i thought i'd sneak in here and ask for some more? have a wonderful day!

Sure, this is fun! And you too!

-- Baxter and Derek LOVE each other. Baxter would eat him up with a spoon. It doesn't matter if you end up with Derek and then reconnect with Baxter, if you end up with Baxter and introduce him to Derek, or end up with Cove and they meet at the wedding, this is the bromance we need to be talking about.

-- I thought about this because I was playing the wedding DLC last night and when you call Derek to ask him to be in the wedding party he answers "Hi, this is Derek," like yeah buddy, this isn’t 1999 on a landline, I know exactly who I'm calling. It was so cute and polite and formal, so I thought about Baxter's old texting style and how adorable it would be for them to communicate, then boom, they are best friends.

-- Baxter thinks Derek is the most charming person in the entire world, and he appreciates how well he was raised. He likes that he always opens doors and pulls out chairs. Derek does all the old-fashioned gentleman stuff too, like he always makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, if you're cold and he has at least one stitch of clothing on, you're getting it, and Baxter thinks that just so nice.

-- This isn't unique at all, but I like to think that you do all three Step 4s -- so regardless of romance, you go to your moms' anniversary with Cove, spend Father's Day with Derek, and meet up with Baxter at the wedding. So even if you end up with Derek, you make friends with Baxter again, and can you imagine planning a wedding with Derek when you and Baxter are solid buds? I love it so much.

-- One more one more -- Baxter and Derek making friends and Baxter going over to the Suarez house for events. Nicolas is OBSESSED with him, he's such a weirdo and plus Xavier likes him so that's an automatic win. But Derek's parents take Baxter in too, and now he's got a place to spend Father's Day and it just makes him feel so warm and cozy.

-- Is there another guy in this series LOL

-- There's at least a 90% chance that you cut Cove's hair for him. If you reeeeeally aren't comfortable with it then obviously he won't force it, but it just makes sense to him for you to trim it up for him when he needs it so he doesn't have to make it a whole thing. If you don't do a good job, that's ok with him -- you tried your best and he loves you for it!

-- Do you and Cove have a kid? Cove is that kid's doodle pad, and he gets at least one tattoo of a lil baby drawing your kid did. You might have to convince him not to do it every time. He loves that baby more than anything and the thought of having a little piece of them with him always, ugh, he really likes that.

-- Baxter loves cats and wants one very badly but he does that whole thing for a while where he doesn't feel like he deserves affection from any other living beings, so you'll have to talk him into it. But when you do, that cat is his child.

-- I'm not saying Baxter is in danger of turning into a crazy cat lady, but you might want to keep an eye on it.

-- "Baxter, did you spend $500 on this fancy robot litter box?" "Yes."

-- Baxter (I am currently on a Baxter kick, sorry) references magic several times throughout the story. Honestly I don't really know what else to day about this, but I think it's really sweet and important that he talks about it more than once.

-- Both Cove and Derek canonically like it when you wear their clothes, but Baxter likes to wear yours. It doesn't matter if you're smaller than him or if you wear traditionally feminine clothes, he wants in them. they smell like you and remind him of you, especially if you're long distance in the beginning after Jude and Scott's wedding. He's not going to like go out in them, but he'll wear your hoodie around the house for sure.

-- This also isn't like a hot take I don't think, but none of the boys ever change, ever. Like they grow and stuff, but if you're with Cove, he's going to be clingy and have heart eyes for you when you're 80, and there literally will not be a day that goes by for the rest of your entire life that he doesn't tell you that he loves you -- guy is going to be on his deathbed and blushing when you tell him how you feel about him. Likewise, Derek is going to be Derek forever -- always just so so excited to be with you. Hope you can handle literal decades of "it's Derek Day." Baxter does have a lot of settling to do, but please imagine a 90-year-old man smirking at you and giving you those flirty little lines. He'll never stop.

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lilbitdepressed27 · 9 months

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!reader

Summary: instead of it Tara being in the opening scenes in Scream it was you

Warnings: angst but happy ending

WC: 6.6k

Authors note: (Y/mn) means your moms name also not proofread so sorry for any mistakes. hope you enjoy:)

******

"You said you'd come."

"Babe I'm sorry but Amber said she needs me."

"Amber? Seriously? You've spent all week with her already."

"Y/n please, not this again. I just wanna spend time with my best friend."

You could hear the tone of annoyance in her voice. You felt the lump in your throat get just a bit tighter at the thought of your own girlfriend not wanting to spend time with you. What could you have done to her, for her to not want to spend time with you. For her to treat you like an after thought.

"What about spending time with your girlfriend? When was the last time we spent time together? It's always Amber this, Amber that and Amber needs me." The tears staring to build as you tired to keep your emotions in check.

"Amber says you're being controlling. That you don't want me to spend time with her because you just want me for yourself. And I don't know maybe she's right. Cause all you do is complain about amber."

Complain? Controlling? All you wanted was some time with your girlfriend. But it seemed like she didn't want the same thing.

"You know what Tara, do what ever you want. If that's what you really think of me, we shouldn't be dating then."

"What? No wai-"

You hung up and tossed your phone on the couch as tears spilled down your cheeks. The screen of the phone breaking when it bounced off the couch and on to the floor. Sliding under the couch. Not knowing that Tara was trying to reach you already. You couldn't believe that you just broke up with the girl of your dreams. She may have been yours. But were you hers?

You wiped your tears as you turned off the stove. You had planned to make dinner for you and Tara. Seeing as she was a vegetarian you had bought a book of recipes filled with vegan food. You had planned to surprise her. You tossed the book on the kitchen counter. You moved to go upstairs when the house phone rang.

The only reason there was a landline in the house was cause of your mom. She had always preferred using that phone instead of her iPhone to call her sisters in her home country. You looked at the phone number that was calling and saw that it was a random number. With the sigh you picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Well who are you trying to reach?" You already regretted answering the phone. The voice you didn't recognize but you've seen the Stab movies. Well one of them and you hated it. The dude was obviously using a voice changer. It wasn't rare to have someone do these type of prank calls. You did live in Woodsboro after all. There were plenty of kids who did these types of calls.

"Well it depends. Is this Y/n?"

"Who's asking?"

"The person that's going to gut you open like a fish."

"Go fuck yourself."

You pulled the phone away from you and ended the call. Kids were so stupid and immature. You made your way towards the security system making sure it was armed, just in case. Once you were satisfied, you looked at the cameras surrounding your home. There were a total of 13 cameras. Four in front of the house two at the front of the door entry three in the back yard and two on each side of the house. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary you turned and continued making your towards the stairs. But froze when you heard the alarm system disarm.

You reached for the tablet that controlled the system and armed it again. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when it happened again. You armed it again, only for it to disarm again. jumping in fright when the house phone rang. Without looking you answered.

"Hello."

"Tell me Y/n, do you think I made it in to your house before you could arm it again."

Feeling the the fear course through your body was chilling. You looked back up at the cameras. Focusing on the screen only for the fear in you to grow when you realized that the frames were on a loop. Your heart thumbed fast in your chest. You moved quickly towards your moms office. Knowing she kept a hand gun in her safe. She had taught you how to properly use one.

Turning the corner towards the hall that lead to your moms office you came to a horrifying halt. Your eyes widening, seeing the familiar black costume and white ghost mask at the end of the hall.

He tilted his head as he stood there just looking at you in a sinister way. It felt like he was staring at you for hours. But once he moved, you turned and ran as fast as you could towards the stairs. You had to get your phone or the house phone.

Taking a sharp turn towards the kitchen when you realized your phone and house phone were in the kitchen. Hoping to reach either of the phones. Yet when you were only inches away a arm wrapped around your neck. The knife coming down to your stomach. The scream ripping through your lips, hoping it was loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He then roughly pushed you down. Pain shooting through leg before you even heard the snap. You tried to fight. Using anything to get him off you.

But you felt every time the knife was brought down. The agony that followed. The cries of pain that you'd let out. Wishing someone would save you. Wishing that the alarm system knew something was wrong and had alerted the cops. You felt your self be turned over. Your arm shooting up hoping to block the knife coming down towards you. Only for it to go straight through your left palm. Sobbing out in pain when the knife kept on going down.

It was only when your breathing was becoming weaker when you realized that ghostface stopped. He was just staring at you. Waiting for you to take your last breath. With the little strength you had, you raised your uninjured hand. Your fingers gripping the chin of the mask and then pulling it down.

Your eyes widen in shock and confusion at who was under the mask. The familiar light brown eyes looking down at you with so much anger, cruel satisfaction and a sinister smirk.

"Y-you b—bitch."

The red and blue light appeared from distance and Amber watched as you took your final breath. They way you chocked on your blood, the way your chest stuttered in trying to fill your lungs with air. The way your body went limp as your head went to the side. Your eyes staying open. She stood up and put her mask back on before she left running through the back door as the cop cars grew closer to the house.

Not realizing that you still had a heartbeat.

Tara had spent a good two minutes trying to call your phone. But every call had gone straight to voicemail. Yes she had realized that she was spending most of her time with Amber, she just really thought Amber needed her. But you were always at soccer practice after school and sometimes it ran late. She'd get lonely in the house by herself. So in the mean time she would spend it with Amber. Her best friend. Chad had told her many times that Amber had a crush on her. But she never paid him any attention cause Amber was her best friend. Amber was also just affectionate. Something you didn't like. But she loves you, she only has eyes for you.

She knew how much you and Amber hated each other. Well it was more Amber hating on you and you never giving her the time of day. There was never a moment where you to would be together and wouldn't be arguing. Tara had noticed that you would always try to be civil but Amber was known for pushing buttons. It was jus who she was. She had tried to talk to Amber but that's when she brought up how you were just being controlling. And Tara foolishly had listened to Amber.

But the second the words left her mouth she had regretted it. She stayed with her words stuck in her throat as she heard you break up with her.

"What? W-wait. Y/n? Hello? Fuck!"

She texted Amber telling her that she wouldn't be able to go to her house. She gathered her things like her purse, phone and her inhaler before grabbing her keys. Without a second thought she left her house and headed to yours.

In car your house was ten minutes away. She saw the flashing blue and red lights before she saw your house. Cop cars surrounding your house, her car coming to screeching a halt. She saw the yellow tape blocking off the road to your house. She jumped out of the car barely remembering to put it in park.

"You can't be here kid."

"No get off me. Is Y/n okay? Y/N?!" The officer held Tara back making her swing and try to get the officer to let her go.

"It's okay let her through." Sheriff Hicks ordered as she walked towards them. She watched as the frantic short brunette searched disparately for you.

When she had gotten the call that there was a silent alarm being triggered at you house she high tailed to it. Your mom being her best friend she had promised to look out for you while Y/mn was away on a business trip. Judy was the first to arrive at your house, seeing nothing wrong as she walked towards the front of the door. She knocked but go no response. She had called out to you but got no response. So she used the spare key Y/mn gave her. Drawing her gun when she saw the mess the house was in. There had been obvious signs of a struggle. With her heart beat in her throat she continued following the mess, clearing every corner and room as she went. She’ll never forget the sight you were in when she found you. She had remembered the grief she felt when she saw your unblinking eyes and the way your chest didn’t move.

"I'm sorry Tara."

The dread that Tara felt before turned into anguish. She felt her lungs closing in on her when she took in the look of pure pity and sadness on the sheriff's face. She felt her knees cave in at what that look could mean.

"No. No! Please no."

"She was found unresponsive. Multiple stab wounds to the body, a broken leg. Tara there's a big possibility that she won't make it. I'm sorry."

The wail the brunette let out was enough to break everyone's heart. Sheriff Hicks stood there not knowing how to comfort her sons friend. She knew first hand how you and Tara were with each other. Anyone with eyes knew how in love you both were. Her eyes widen when she saw Tara's face turning blue. The way the young girl clutched her chest trying to get air in her lungs.

The last thing Tara remembered was wishing she could take back the last words she said to you.

"Where's Tara?"

"Did you not hear? Y/n was found unresponsive in her house. They're saying it was a break in and that she tried to fight them off." Liv spoke from her spot on the bench. Directing her attention to Amber.

"Oh I didn't know." Amber said as she leaned back in her seat, her expression changing in to one of false sorrow.

"Yea right, it was ghostface. Her neighbors said they saw a hooded figure in a white mask running away from her back door." Mindy argued with her brothers girlfriend. She wanted to be in the hospital with her best friends but her mother had forced her and her brother to go to school.

"Even if it was ghostface. He doesn't know that Y/n pulled through. They were able to jump start her heart when on the way to the hospital, apparently one of the paramedics said they felt a weak pulse. They were able to keep her going while they rushed her to hospital." Wes said as he got off his phone with his mom.

"What?" Amber's eyes widen at the new information.

"Yea she pulled through the surgery, I mean she lost a lot of blood so the doctors put her in Medical induced coma. Tara had a serious asthma attack when she arrived at Y/n's house last night. She's actually awake now but she's in shock. I'm going to the hospital are you guys coming." Wes stood up from gathering his things. He wanted to make sure tara was alright But he also really wanted to see you. You were his best friend. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost you.

His friends followed him to his car and they all piled in heading to the hospital.

Medical induced coma. She had to finish the job before you woke up. This time she'll make sure you never saw the light of day again.

By the time Tara woke Sam had already arrived at the hospital. When she heard from Wes that you had been attacked and that Tara had a serious asthma attack. She did not hesitate to get in her car get back to Woodsboro. Her boyfriend Richie had accompanied her, not wanting her to go alone.

"Sam?"

At the sight of her pale sister her eyes red and puffy from crying. She moved quickly wrapping her arms around her younger sister. Her heart breaking at the cries her sister let out.

"She's gone." Tara cried into Sam's chest.

"Hey no, they haven't told you, Y/n is alive. She had weak heart beat when they found her. She pulled through."

Tara didn't give a verbal response before she shot out of bed. Disconnecting her self from the machines. Her friends watched knowing very well that they wouldn't be able to stop her.

"Tara you have to rest. Y/n will be there whe-No Amber I have to see her now. Sam take me to her." Tara demanded. With a sigh Sam nodded and got the wheel chair that was in the room.

Tara covered her mouth when she saw you. You're mouth and nose were covered with an oxygen mask. Bandages covered most of your torso, your left leg was in a boot, your left hand was also covered in a thick bandage.

"Sam." The pure anguish was slowly tuning into guilt when she remembered the last conversation she had with you.

"She'll be fine Tara. I promise."

"I should have been there Sam. I was supposed to be there with her. But I blew her off. I called her controlling, all she wanted was to spend time with me and I called her controlling. I was going to her house to apologize but I didn't make it on time. It's my fau-No. Don't. Who ever attacked her is at fault. Don't blame yourself, you and I both know that Y/n wouldn't want that."

"Why would someone do this? I mean Y/n literally gets along with everyone." Tara mumbled to herself. She had wheeled herself to be right next to your bed. Taking your uninjured hand in hers. Giving it a soft squeeze, hoping that you'd be able to feel it. But you remained motionless.

"Tara I have to tell you something."

Tara had sat by herself in your hospital room. She had kicked her sister out of the room, not being able to see her at the moment. Even though she didn't want to, a part of her blamed Sam for the attacked. The thought crossed her mind but she knew deeply that it wasn't Sam's fault. But as she looked at your battered body, she couldn't help but to feel angry.

Who could have done this?

Was Ghostface really back?

But why you? Why attack you?

She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Gripping your hand as she cried softly into it. What would have happened if she was there with you? There were so many different scenarios playing in her head. She wondered if you had tired to go for your mothers gun. She knew Ms.Y/ln kept one in her safe. She had begged your mom to also teach her as well. With you begging as well, your mom caved.

She leaned back in her seat, she hadn't spoken to her sister since she was told the truth. It was almost dark and her phone had died an hour ago. There were two cops outside of your room, which made her feel a bit safe, since the killer was still out there. She been staying in your room all day, only leaving the room to use the restroom that was across the hall. She had sat at the chair next to your bed, barely eating the food Mindy and Chad had brought her. She sat and held your hand for what felt like hours. She had rested her head on the side of your bed, her hand in yours. She was dozing off when she felt something, Her snapped up when she felt your hand give hers a squeeze.

"Y/n? I'm right baby. I'm right here."

Another squeeze was what she got in response. Tara couldn't help the teary laugh she let out. "If you can hear me, I love you so much baby." She could see how your eyeballs moved behind your eye lids, but they wouldn't open. She would give just about anything to see your eyes again.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up, okay?" She whispered into your ear, she lightly kissed your temple. She closed her eyes, when she leaned down to lay her head on the bed. This time dozing off, with the hope that you'd wake up soon.

A loud crash from outside the room is what startled her awake. She shot up, her back aching from the position she had slept in. Looking at the door that was open, she registered that the halls were quiet, too quiet. She stood up, letting your hand go and gently putting your hand back to your side. Covering you in the blankets, she knew how cold your hands would get when you slept it was the same with your feet. Which is why the leg that was okay was covered in your favorite socks.

She walked towards the door sticking her head out, seeing the deserted hallway. She stepped out standing only a few inches from the door, looking both ways hoping to see at least a nurse or two.

"Hello?"

Glancing back at your resting form. She walked away from your room towards the reception desk. Her feet coming to sudden halt, at the sight of one of the police officers that was supposed to be protecting you. She also saw the body of the lady that helped her find the room you were in. One of your nurses that was trying to keep her hopes up. Her breathing was becoming short, the familiar tightens of her chest, the whizzing. Staggering backwards towards the room you were in. She fumbled with her inhaler, her shaky hands doing little to help. She closed the door to your room and locked it. Pushing the chair under the handle. Jumping in fright when bangs from the other side of the door were heard.

Tripping over her own feet as she moved backwards, the back side crashing into your bed, your heart monitor was the only thing that brought her back. She looked at you, taking you in. Ghostface was back, and he was most likely back to finish the job. Tara straighten up, her fist clenching the anger she felt before returning. She'd fight teeth and nails to protect you.

She looked around the room hoping to find something to protect you and herself with. Seeing the small oxygen in tanks she picked it up and hid. The door giving in a second after she hid.

Ghostface came into the room with only one goal in mind and that was to kill you. She titled her head as she watched you. All the wires and tube connected to you. You must have tried really hard to live. Only to die.

Tara watched as this ghostface, that could only be few inches taller than her. She took a deep breath and came out of her hiding spot slowly and quietly. Swinging the tank as hard as she could. With the force, she lost her balance only for a second. She had hit ghostface, she felt the contact. But he had dodged it, but not completely. The tank had made contact with his shoulder causing him to drop, his knife skidding to the corner of the room.

Tara recovered quickly. Trying to hit him again but he had moved on time. Tara didn't let up. She had given her all. Tying her best to make sure ghostface didn't try to get his knife or anywhere near you. She acted fast, kicking, punching, hitting him with the oxygen tank. Even though she got good hits in. He had recovered and thrown a few of his own, causing her to fall back hard. With the hit she received her focus became hazy but when she saw him get up and go for his knife, her hands shot out to grab his feet. Making him fall. She stood up, going for the folded walker that was resting next to the wall. Both of her hands gripping it as she hit him with it. She heard his grunts of pain. But eventually her worst enemies was her own lungs. She tried to push through, but she felt the familiar tightens in her chest. She moved backwards, fumbling with her inhaler, she took quick few puffs from her inhaler as he stood up. She just needed to keep calm. She couldn't protect you if she went to a panic and had a asthma attack.

"I'll kill her and I'll make you watch before I kill you."

"Tara?!"

She felt the small sense of relief at the sound of her sisters voice, followed by few other voices. That way ghostface would be out numbered.

Ghostface stood there. She knew she had to kill you. But how would she do that with Tara here. Answer was easy. Kill her to. But before she could, she heard the older Carpenter siblings voice. She took the chance of escaping when, Tara slightly glanced away from her. Taking the opportunity of picking up her knife and sprinting out of there. Shoulder checking Tara, making her crash into the wall.

Then Tara heard gunshots, causing her to flinch hard and scramble up to her feet. She got the oxygen tank again, ready to defend you. The hurried footsteps coming her way. She lifted the tank ready to hit whoever came into the room.

"Tara?! Tara are you in there?"

Shoulders dropping and the tank falling to the floor, she steeped out to see her sister.

Sam felt relief was over her at the sight of her younger sister. Sam rushed forward wrapping her arms around Tara. Tara's face had been bloody. The bloody nose and busted lip, Sam could also see some bruises forming on her younger sisters face.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I was so scared." Tara's eyes filled with tears, her eyes drifted where you laid. The heart rate was still normal. Her thoughts drifted to what could have happened if she wasn’t here with you. Ghostface would have killed you. The thought of not having you here with her. Made her sob even more.

They both jumped in fright when they heard someone behind them. Both of them turning around only to see Dewy and Richie, Dewey was helping Richie into the room. Sam moved to help her boyfriend.

"I called the cops. They're on their way. I have to go back at shoot him in the head."

"What no Dewey. You can't we'll just wait here for backup to arrive." Sam argued with the older man.

"I'm sorry Sam but I've made this mistake before, and I'm not doing it again. Stay in here and lock the door, oh it's broken. Uh okay block the door with something." He looked at the girl that was reading on the hospital bed. He heard the news on her attack. How she barely survived. He also knew that ghostface was back to finish the job. They couldn't leave her here alone. Not with that deranged fucker here.

"Just stay in here. I'll be right back." He closed the door, ignoring Sam's pleas to stay. Running after ghostface, he seen him take she stairs trying to escape.

When your mom arrived at the hospital you were at, she demanded to have you moved to a different hospital. She gotten in a few minutes after the attack in hospital. She had gotten the first flight back home when she heard that her baby had been attacked. When she saw the state you were in, she had cried her eyes out. The doctors said it wasn't safe to move you, but your mom also knew that keeping you here with that killer still on loose wasn't safe either.

Tara wanted to go with you but there wasn't enough room in the helicopter. She had leaned down to kiss the top of your head. "I'll meet you there okay baby. We'll only be a few minutes behind. Okay? I love you."

They were getting ready to take you up the helicopter. She took your hand into hers. Gently holding it as she waited for the very last second until she had to let you go. She gasped at the sudden feeling of your finger moving. She looked down at your hand and your index finger was moving along the back of her hand. She realized that you were spelling out a name.

Tara looked back at your face to see your eyebrows furrowed but your eye lids stayed closed. "I don't understand baby. What are you trying to say?"

But your face stayed the same, your finger no longer moving. Your eye brows no longer furrowed as your mind went under once again. The little energy you found vanishing.

"Ber? What the hell does that mean?"

After taking detour, to Amber's house to get Tara's spare inhaler. She had one at your house but since it was still tapped off she couldn't go to your house.

She had gone upstairs with Amber while Sam and Richie stayed downstairs clearing the party going on in the memory of Wes. Wes was your best friend and she didn't know how you'd react to the news. You're going to be devastated when you wake up. She followed Amber into her room.

Tara didn't notice how close Amber had gotten as she looked for her inhaler. While she was looking for her inhaler she saw something that made her question something 'BER'. Now she would have never guessed this. But then she remembered the feeling of your index finger on the back of her hand.

Amber.

Her eyes widen at realization. You had subconsciously told her who had tried kill you. Not once but twice. She felt three emotions at this very second. Fear. Betrayal.

Anger.

So much anger.

Someone had tried to kill you. Her y/n. The person she's deeply in love with. That someone was her own best friend. All memories of how Amber interacted with you came flashing in her mind. All times Amber would be cold towards you. All the times Amber had been close to fighting you. All the times you've told her about Amber just being weird, all those times Tara never listened.

Her hand shot out to grab the stapler on the desk, turning around hitting Amber in the face with it. Amber hadn't seen it coming but when she recovered, Tara saw the change in her eyes. The look of a killer and not her best friend. Tara reacted quickly throwing the stapler at Amber's face.

Over taken by her anger she let her fists fly. How dare she hurt you. Amber was someone she trusted, someone she considered family. For her to almost take you away permanently from her, it made her blood boil.

Amber had not expected for Tara to attack her before she got the chance to knock her out. The blows she was getting to her face hurt. She reached for the same stapler that had hit her in the face. Swing it to Tara's face. Pushing her off as she swung again.

Tara had no control over her body as she collapsed to the floor. Her vision faltering as she looked at the girl she once considered a best friend.

"Y/n put up a better fight."

~~~~*****~~~~

The noise of a slightly elevated heart rate was heard through out the room. There was something down your throat that was not allowing you to breath. That's when the panic settled in. Your eyes snapping open in a panic. You could feel yourself gagging on what felt like tube. Barely taking in that someone was next to you, they were slowly pulling the tube out. You gasped in the air you so desperately needed.

"How are you feeling?" The nurse stood in front of you. She was shining her light into your eyes. Your eyes shutting cause of how bright it was.

You opened your mouth to respond but it felt too dry. You tried to remember what happened but came up blank.

"Here there ice chips." She spoke in a somewhat loud but gentle voice. She put them in your mouth, the ice had never felt so refreshing. "Now how are you feeling?"

"Sore." You could barely talk, your voice cracking from not using it in so long.

"That's normal, can you tell me your full name and age sweetie?"

"Y/n Y/mn Y/ln uh I'm 18."

She nodded she gave you another ice chip. You wanted to look around but your body was too sore for it to allow you.

"Do you know where you're at?"

"...the hospital."

"Can you remember why?"

You looked up at the ceiling trying to remember what happened. It didn't take long for the memories to come flooding in.

The argument with Tara. The break up with Tara. Your eyes filling with tears. Then you remembered the phone call. The alarm system. Ghost face. Just as memories came crashing in, so did the pain. But you remembered clearly who was behind the mask.

Amber.

Your teary eyes widening. You tried to get up, but you have never felt so weak. "I—I need to tell them it was amber. I have to-" Warm small hands cupping your cheeks brought you out of the state of panic. Your eyes connected to the dark brown eyes you love so much.

"It's okay we're all alright. Hey, you're okay." Tara's eyes filled with tears of happiness. You were finally awake. It had been a week since the murders of Woodsboro 2022. A week since she heard your voice. A week since she looked into your eyes. She smiled through the tears her hands still cupping your cheeks. Her fingers softly creasing your cheeks.

You took tara in. A part of you was surprised to see her in the room. She stood back after you calmed down, realizing that she wasn't the only one in the room. Your mom was right behind Tara, Sam, Chad and Mindy were in the corner of the room. The more you looked around you realized that Wes wasn't in the room.

"Where's Wes?"

"Y/n let's focus on you okay. I'm going to go over your injuries and how they're doing. You have a total of eight stab wound, all which are healing wonderfully. Your leg on the hand well take longer to heel. I'm sure you have a lot of questions and I'm here to answer as much as I can. If I can't the doctor will be in here shortly." The nurse explained to you.

"Where's Wes?"

The nurse looked away from you towards your family. Your mom looked at you with tears in her eyes. She was happy you were okay but Judy had been her best friend. Same like you and Wes. Hearing that Judy died trying to save her son had been heart wrenching. Since Judy had no other family she had taken care of all the funeral costs for Judy and Wes. She had the service and funeral. She knew how much Judy hated when a persons body was kept in morgue for long. So she knew she had to plan the funeral as quickly as she could. Being buried right next to Wes, her son had always been her pride and joy. Y/mn knew you'd want to be there but she wasn't going to let Judy and Wes wait in that cold freezer a day longer.

"Sweetheart...Wes and Judy are gone."

The noise of the heart monitor was heard picking up. Everyone watched as you broke down and cried for your best friend and his mom who had been like a second mother to you. They watched as you cried, watched as Y/mn moved to hold you as the nurses gave to sedative.

~~~***~~~

Two weeks passed since you woke up. Three weeks passed since the murders. You had been discharged from the hospital. Your mom had moved you and the gang living in her country home. Far away from Woodsboro. It was a big house that could fit everyone. It was until you all left for college in New York. That was still months away.

They told you what had happened while you were unconscious. Amber and Sam's crazy boyfriend had planned to bring her back to town and kill her. How Amber was the one to kill Wes and Judy. How the old Sheriff Dwight Riley was trying to help Sam but got killed, by Amber. How Tara, Sam and her boyfriend had planned to follow you and your mom but had to go to Amber's house for Tara's spare inhaler. Sam was the one to tell you how Tara was the one to kill Amber. Shot her in the two times in body and then in the head.

Tara had killed Amber.

The first thing you did when you left the hospital was ask your mom to take you see Wes and Judy. She agreed knowing very well you had to say goodbye. It was just you and your mom. Your mom had said that almost snuck into the car but you personally requested for it to be just your mom. You love Tara, you do. You were also glad to see she was alright.

But she trusted Amber over you. The person she claimed she loves.

"I know what you'd say if you were here, I can practically hear your voice. 'Hear her out you dumbass. Give her a chance to explain.' Mama Judy would most definitely would have slapped you upside the head for cursing." You chuckled slightly your uninjured hand moving the leafs from their tombstones. You were sat on the grass your mom not far from you.

She still cried when she'd see their tombstones.

Looking down at your hands. Your hand was still bandaged up but not as much as it was before. It hurt from time to time. "I'll talk to her when I get home. I love you buddy. Love you to mama Judy."

"Okay sweetheart we're home and I want you talk to that poor girl. I can't say I understand you sweetie but what I do know is Tara spent every day by your side. Even when she knew you didn't want to talk to her. She'd stay outside of your room waiting. Sam had to practically drag her out of the trunk where she was hiding. I don't think she knows I saw them. She's been mopping around in your room." Y/mn had parked outside her house, they had just arrived and she could already see the movement behind the front curtains.

"I'll talk to her mom. I promise."

Y/mn got out of the car opening the trunk to get out the wheel chair. She had a ramp installed when the doctors told her that you'd be able to go home soon. She helped you out of the car on to the wheel chair, she heard the front door open. She moved to stand behind you as your friends came out of the house.

"Hey buddy. Good to have you home." Chad smiled down at you. You returned the smile. Your friends nodded in agreement all showing how happy they were that you were home. You looked at Tara who shyly smiled at you hesitant to show too much emotion. But you could always read her. Like your an open book. You're favorite book.

Your mom rolled you inside the house. Chad went on and on about how he bought some new games on your ps5 so you wouldn't get bored and how you'd have fun playing the new Hogwarts game.

"Can, can I actually talk to Tara. Please. Alone. If that's okay with you." You asked everyone but your eyes stayed on Tara. She looked you, her eyes filled what looked like fear, sadness and what looked like rejection?

Everyone left the living room giving you both space when Tara nodded. The room stayed quiet for a few minutes before Tara was the one to break the silence.

"Did you mean it?" Her voice came out sounding small, filled with tears she tried to blink away. At your confused look she continued. "Are we...done?"

"Tara—Please just be truthful, okay. I know from the moment you woke up you've been, different towards me. If it's because of what I said on that phone call, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I said that." The tears escaping her eyes as hastily wiped them away.

"You called me controlling." You whispered looking away from her. "You believed..her over me."

"I know. And I regret it with all my heart. I'll regret it till the day I die. You mean the world to me Y/n. The world. As soon as you hung up, I canceled on her and went straight towards your house. And I understand if-if you don't love m—Stop Tara." She hiccuped as she tried to stop the sob that tried to escape her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut. Preparing herself for what you were about to say.

"Hey look at me." You reached for her hand with your good hand. Once she looked down at you, her eyes red from crying. "I still love you Tara. With all my heart." You saw the relief in her shoulders. The small smile that took over her lips.

"You do?" She asked in a doubtful voice. Like she wasn't so sure cause of everything that happened. You hated yourself for ever making her doubt your feelings for her.

"Of course I do you dummy." You pulled her towards you. Pulling her on to your lap. You reached up wiping her tears away. Feeling like an idiot for ever doubting her. She smiled down at you her face soft and the bruises she had before were now barely there. You returned the smile and bringing her closer to you. She buried her face in your neck hugged you closer.

The two you stayed there in each others arms.

#tara carpenter x reader #fem reader #scream #tara carpenter #x reader

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musings-of-a-rose · 2 months

Text

Falling Slowly - Chapter 7

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 4000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This chapter is back to reader/Daisy’s pov

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**Divider made by @benkeibear

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

<<;Chapter 6<<

Outbreak Day: Daisy

I snuggled into bed after tucking Jax in, fully intending on reading my book until Tommy came home. It shouldn’t be too much longer, depending on how well the Rivieras can hold their liquor. But after a couple of chapters, I was actively fighting on keeping my eyes open, a day of packing and chasing Jax around finally catching up to me. I set the book on my stomach, closing my eyes to just rest a moment…

A blood curdling scream from outside rips me from my sleep and I jerk myself awake, heart racing and frozen in place while I try to listen for more, my hand automatically feeling for Tommy in the bed next to me, but feeling cool sheets and no Tommy. In the distance, I can hear some light commotion but I can’t quite place it. I quickly get out of bed, grab the wireless phone off its stand on the side table and pop my head into Jax’s room, finding him still asleep. I dial Tommy quickly, but when I put the phone to my ear, all I hear is beeping. I hang up, putting the phone to my ear before dialing this time and hear the same sound. Which means the phones are down.

Fuck.

I head downstairs quietly, ears on full alert for the slightest sound or movement as I grab my cell phone and unplug the charger. It’s fully charged but it too has no signal. This is not good. Landlines and cell signals cut?

I move to the living room and switch on the tv, colored lines reflecting in my eyes as channel after channel alternates between colored lines and displaying the same emergency message:

NATIONAL ALERT

PRIMARY ENTRY POINT SYSTEM

ISSUED AN

EMERGENCY ACTION

NOTIFICATION

“...indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions….Stay indoors. Law enforcement-”

I switch off the tv, fully awake and alert now. What the fuck was going on? Are we being invaded? And where’s Tommy?

I hear more sounds outside, car doors slamming and helicopters moving about in the distance and it jerks me into gear. Tommy had taught me some basic things to do in case we had to get out fast, in case of an invasion or something else. I don’t know all of what he saw when he served overseas but he said it was good to always be prepared, just in case.

Thankfully, our bags were already packed, suitcases and backpacks against the hall wall waiting to be put into Tommy’s truck. I dashed into the kitchen and packed a bit more food than I had initially intended, tossing some extra filled water bottles into a tote and setting it down by the backpacks. I quickly went upstairs and changed into jeans and a shirt, grabbing one of Tommy’s flannels and sliding my arms into it, trying to at least get some comfort from his scent. Hair pulled back to keep it from my face, I lace up my shoes, trying to tell myself this would all be for nothing, that it was really a test and Tommy would be coming home any moment to tell me everything was fine. Another quick glance at Jax shows me he’s still asleep and I let him sleep for now. There’s not really a reason to wake him until I’m certain we have to move. I toss an extra outfit of jeans and a shirt in his backpack just in case he can’t change before we head out, an extra pair of shoes stuffed in a bag on top of his clothes.

It’s when I head downstairs to wait for Tommy that I hear it again, that scream that sets my entire body on high alert, nerves coursing at their full fight or flight.

I move to the front window and slide the curtain back just enough to peek outside, hearing crashing coming from next door. I can’t quite make it out, but it looks like Mr. Johnson is attacking Mrs. Johnson? No, that can’t be right. But then they move into the streetlight, Mrs. Johnson’s scream ringing out again and that’s definitely the one I heard and Mr. Johnson is definitely not behaving right.

Without thinking, I grab the baseball bat near the door and open it, stepping out into the yard and quickly sneak up on the couple, Mr. Johnson having pinned Mrs. Johnson to the ground. He’s hunched over her, an odd wheezing sound coming from him. He seems to sense me, his body stiffening and when his head turns towards me…what the fuck is that coming from his mouth? Before he can move I swing, my bat landing its target square in the face, Mr. Johnson flying back and laying still on the ground. Carefully, I walk over to them, glancing over at Mr. Johnson who’s face was definitely smashed in from my swing. Fuck, I didn’t mean to kill him!

But then I hear gurgling from Mrs. Johnson and I look down at her, seeing the exact moment when the light leaves her eyes. She’s still for a moment, the sounds of car tires screeching and helicopters flying overhead getting a little louder. Then her body jerks inhumanely, and I back up quickly, gripping the bat tighter in my hand. As she sits up, she turns her head to me and I can see the same whatever the fuck coming out of her mouth just like Mr. Johnson and my entire body yells “JAX! GET JAX AND GO!”

So I do. I turn and run as fast as I can back to my house, hearing screeching and feet pounding the cement behind me, Mrs. Johnson chasing me back to the house. I try to slam the door closed but she’s there, bouncing off of it, scrambling to push it open and I don’t wait, running down the hall and throwing everything I can reach in her way, even chucking the bat at her head. It seems to slow her down just enough for me to take the stairs 3 at a time, launching myself into Jax’s room and slamming the door shut and locking it, putting my back against the door as Mrs. Johnson screeches and pounds at the door from the other side. Jax is sitting up in bed, wide eyed and afraid and it kills me I can’t move to him, to comfort him and shield him from whatever horror is happening.

“Hey buddy!” I’m struggling with the door but I have to get him safe.

“Mommy?”

“Listen, Jax. I need you to play a game for me, ok? I need you to get in your favorite hiding spot.”

“Mommy, who’s knocking on the door?”

I dig my heels into the floor, pushing my back harder against the door as Mrs. Johnson continues to pound into it.

“Don’t worry about that, little man. I need you to hide. Can you do that for me? Be silent and wait for me, daddy, or Uncle Joel to come get you. If you do, you win.”

He’s still scared but can sense my urgency and nods while hopping out of bed. “Ok, mommy. Hug first?”

Tears fall down my cheeks and I hope he can’t see them. “Not right now, bud. I really need you to hide and not come out for anything other than daddy or Uncle Joel. Can you do that now, please?”

He studies me for a moment before nodding. “Ok mommy.” He moves to his closet, getting inside and closing the door behind him. I hear him rummaging around, going deep into his favorite hiding place and I pray to whatever is listening that he will stay there, stay safe. Even if….even if I don’t come back.

“Ready bud?” A quiet, muffled “Yes” meets my ears and I choke back a sob. “Ok baby, remember to stay silent, ok? No matter what. Until Daddy or Uncle Joel comes for you. And remember…. I love you bud.”

“I love you too, mommy.”

The sob gets stuck in my throat as Mrs. Johnson heaves herself against the wood of the door. I take a deep breath and open the door, letting Mrs. Johnson clamber into the room, falling onto the floor with the force of her movements. While she’s trying to get up, I grab Jax’s Rangers bat from where it hangs on the wall, my eyes never leaving Mrs. Johnson as she growls and launches herself at me. I push her back with the bat but damn she’s strong, what I can only describe as tendrils coming from her open mouth as if they’re trying to reach out to me. I push her back and she stumbles, hitting the floor and I turn, running out of the door and making a lot of noise as I do. She follows me without hesitation, falling down the stairs but clambering up more quickly than someone her age should do. She chases me around the kitchen island and I pull out all the drawers, knocking everything off the counter onto the floor or at her as she runs after me, growling and screeching. I manage to make it past her and back out the front door, quickly glancing around before running to the backyard of our other neighbor’s house.

Mrs. Johnson bounces back up, running full out after me as I run through 2, 3, 4, 5 backyards, eventually spilling back out onto the street, other people now outside throwing things into cars. New screeches join the one coming from behind me and I run the opposite way down the street, making sure to stay out of the streetlights. I get behind a car and squat down, turning to look where I came from. Mrs. Johnson had chased me for another block down this street, but then a man emerged from the house across that street and she changed course, lunging after him as he screamed, sounds of a scuffle coming from inside his house.

I take a moment, my chest heaving, trying to catch my breath before glancing around. I’m about 3 blocks from our house and I have a choice to make: I can either take the streets, which will be brighter to see by but definitely have a higher chance of running into those…things. Or I can take the backyards, infinitely darker but less likely to run into whatever they are. I hope.

I decide on the latter, taking a couple of deep breaths before glancing around. Seeing no one paying me any mind, I run, back through a few backyards before reaching the end of my street. I turn to duck into the backyard but a movement catches my eye and I’m able to quickly turn as a man falls past me, growling, outstretched hands just barely missing me. I run again, in the opposite direction of my house, trying to keep him away from Jax at least, the man chasing me as I run down the street. The cramp in my side is making me slow, reverberating pain shooting out into the rest of my ribs and I know I can’t keep this up. I spot a semi-truck without its trailer and I head for it, getting a running leap and praying I make it. I manage to get high enough up on the front to pull myself up quickly, but then a hand shoots out and grabs my ankle. I quickly kick out, knocking the man in the face and he goes down, pulling me with him. My back hits the pavement and the air whooshes from my lungs, momentarily stunning me. My vision swims but then he’s on me, his face leaning towards mine, tendrils reaching for me and I put my arms out, and push against him, gluing my mouth shut as he pushes closer to me. Then my hands land on a rock and I grip it, slamming it into the side of his head. He slides off me sideways and I raise the rock again, sitting up and slamming it into his head over and over until he stops moving.

Fuck I hope this doesn’t infect via blood. I really, really hope it doesn’t.

I don’t have time to think about it, my sole focus on getting back to Jax and getting him safe. Even if that means I have to…get rid of myself.

I stand up, glancing around and figuring out where I am, silently moving back towards my house through the backyards, listening closely for any sounds of movement. Thank God I run into no one else, moving around the front of my house and heading inside. I really made a mess in here but hopefully that deters anyone else from coming in. Not that those things really care. I go upstairs and see Jax’s door still open from when Mrs. Johnson chased me out, what feels like days ago. But then I see Jax’s closet door cracked open and it definitely wasn’t open when I left.

“Jax? Jax, it’s Mommy

. Are you still there?” I open the door, holding my breath, tears silently flowing down my cheeks and burning my eyes, praying that I don’t find him here, hurt. But then…he’s not here. I look around the rest of his room. No Jax.

“Jax?” I yell out of his bedroom door, my voice echoing around the upstairs. Nothing. No noise, no movement. I check every room to be sure but find nothing. I’m freaking out, no idea if Tommy or Joel came back and got him or…or.

I can’t think about the or.

I stand in my destroyed kitchen, debating on what to do next, when my eyes land on the table, my backpack on it. Which is definitely not where I left it. I quickly walk over to it, shifting it slightly and that’s when I notice the piece of paper on it with his handwriting.

Tommy’s.

Hey Darlin’,

We’ve got Jax and Sarah. We’re heading to the cabin. We’ll meet you there.

Please be safe. I love you.

Tommy

I clutch the paper and hold it to my chest for several moments, allowing the tears to freely flow as I hold on to the hope that this letter brought me. He’s safe. Jax is safe with his dad. Joel and Sarah too. I wonder if they found Rose….

Snapping my eyes open, I shake my head to clear it of my emotions, carefully folding the note and sliding it into my pocket. I quickly run upstairs and pop into Jax’s room, quickly grabbing his favorite stuffed bunny from his bed where he laid unpacked and forgotten in the hustle to get to safety.

I toss the luggage into my trunk, grabbing my backpack last and tossing it into the passenger seat. I take one last quick glance around, grabbing some photos from the fridge before I manually open the garage door, hopping into the driver’s seat and locking the door and my clicking my seatbelt into place. At the end of my driveway I look back to my house, our house, and allow 1 tear to shed down my cheek as I pull away from the only house that had truly been my home.

I had to re-route myself several times trying to get to the back highway that would eventually lead to the cabin we’d purchased a year or so ago. It seems like a lifetime away with all that’s happened in the last few hours. I stop for no one, my only goal to make it to the cabin to my family. Then we can go from there.

Miraculously, I make it to the nearly hidden drive without a hitch, grateful Tommy had taken us on several back roads so I was more familiar with alternate routes. I hadn’t seen another car or person in at least 2 hours, but that was normal. Most people had closed up their cabins for season after Labor Day, and no one really went down this road aside from random homesteaders or a handful of farmers. I wonder if they’re ok.

I nearly miss the turnoff, stopping quickly and backing up a little to turn between the brush, branches, and twigs snapping at my car. I make the final curve and the cabin pops into view, looking exactly like it had when we left it last.

No lights. No truck.

No Tommy.

I turn off the car, staring at the cabin for several minutes, but nothing happens. No one is here. Or at least, no one noticed I am here. Or made a move about it. Well, there was only one thing to do. I took a deep breath and got out, moving around towards the trunk and getting out the crowbar stashed by the spare tire. I grip it and head towards the cabin, eyes scanning everything to sense movement. I quietly try to turn the handle on the front door, but it remains locked. Sliding the key from my pocket, hands shaking I push it into the lock, hearing the little click it makes as it opens the door. I push it open and stand back, just in case. But the house is still and silent as I poke my head around the corner. I move throughout the cabin, checking all of the rooms. No one is here and, by the looks of it, no one has been here since we were here last. He’s supposed to be here, with Jax, with Joel and Sarah and maybe Rose. Where are they?

The cabin is quiet, eerily silent and I try not to let panic envelop me. They could have had to reroute like me. Maybe they ran out of gas and have to go on foot? I didn’t pass anyone but they could be behind me. Or hiding from the main road. Because regular people were behaving almost worse than those things.

I jump into action, quickly unloading my car into the cabin and parking it in the garage. I take the outside broom, and the shotgun Tommy had kept here, and walk down to the end of the nearly hidden drive, sweeping the tire tracks from the drive. This will help to keep this place hidden, and it’s far enough away from the road that even if all the lights were on and it was dark outside, no one could see us tucked away in the trees. A couple hours later my tracks are hidden and I’ve checked the power grid how Tommy showed me, grateful as fuck to the Joneses for wanting a fully off the grid place and having most of that installed before they sold it to us for practically nothing. I leave the fancy electric metal window coverings on the windows, changing nothing of the cabin’s outward appearance. People were nuts and, as of this moment, I am a woman, completely alone in the middle of nowhere.

Alone.

Everything locked up and lights dimly on, I quickly take a shower and again, thank the Joneses mentally for the solar power they hooked up so I could take this shower and have some light. After, I unpacked our suitcases, hesitating over Jax’s clothes. He usually sleeps in the 3rd bedroom with Sarah. She was officially going to let him have the top bunk this weekend and he was so excited. I start to cry then, pulling out all of his tiny clothes and, instead, folding them and setting them on shelves in our closet. I can always move them into the spare room if he wants it. It’s when I reach Tommy’s suitcase, opening it and getting a whiff of his cologne, his scent permeating my brain that I lose it, officially. Grabbing a shirt of Jax’s and Tommy’s, I lay on the floor and cry, huge heaving sobs until I fall asleep there, clutching each of their shirts to my chest.

They don’t turn up the next day. Or the next. I try to keep myself busy so I pull out all of the bed sheets, fluff them out and put them on the beds. I dust, cleaning everything that was already clean. I take out all of the food I’d brought with me, along with some sustainable things we already had there and take stock. I do the same with the medicine cabinet and first aid kits. Hell, I even dig out the sewing kit and fix the tiny tear on the side of the couch. But by the end of that first week, I could no longer find anything to do inside, my nerves leaving me jumpy at every gust of the wind.

So I go outside. I check over the greenhouse and the root cellar, making note that the self watering system seems to have worked on most of the vegetable plants. Reading my gardening journal, I see that I should plant some things soon, so I pull out my little box of seeds and get to work, planting what needs done both in the greenhouse and the root cellar. This takes me nearly another full week, as I decided to clean it up a bit and reorganize things.

2 weeks and still nothing. No one.

I wasn’t running out of food per say, but I knew adding 5 more mouths to feed would bring us to the end of our stores pretty quick. So I tried my hand at fishing, which was not really my forte. I did manage to catch a couple, but I would need a lot more than a couple small/medium fish. Well, practice makes at least better, which is what I tell myself as I work at it for the next few days, eventually getting a little better and finding a better spot to fish from. I had found a homesteading book on the shelf that showed me how to prepare fish, so I followed that and froze a bunch, hoping this would at least help when they showed up.

I never strayed far from the cabin, afraid that if I did, they would show up and leave, assuming I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to miss them again and every time I thought about how I had missed them back in Austin, I wanted to cry and scream and throw things. I really wasn’t sure what to do other than what I was doing - preparing and waiting. I had no idea where they were, or if they were… no, they were alive. I could feel it. But even if I wanted to go find them, where would I start? The more I thought on this, the less I knew, driving every possible route in my head but nothing with a clear path to finding them.

5 weeks. Well, almost 5 weeks. Still alone.

His scent is fading from his clothes, the flannel I kept with me and hold at night barely smelling like him. I had put others in storage bags, hoping that I would only have to pull them out to give them to Jax and Tommy and not just so I could smell them and feel, just for a moment, like they are here.

I pull Tommy’s flannel top tighter around me, shifting the covers a little higher on my shoulders when I hear it - an engine.

I sit bolt upright, my ears straining to listen to what was obviously getting closer. I hadn’t heard anything since I came here, not even a truck passing on the road. I hop out of bed and quickly grab the shotgun, my heart racing along with my brain, the many possibilities of who is out there swirling around enough to drive me crazy. I shake my head a little and look out of the peep hole in the front door. A car pulls up slowly, not one I recognize. The sun was just rising, not enough light to see inside the vehicle. If it were bad people, surely they would’ve brought a truck? Maybe not. But then the side door opens, and a mop of black curls gets out of the backseat and my heart stops, breath seizing my lungs as the person straightens out, gripping a shotgun in his hands as he turns towards the cabin and a sob ripples through me as I rip open the door, standing there for a moment in utter shock as my eyes lay on him. My other half, the love of my life.

Tommy.

>>Chapter 8>>

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seungkw1 · 2 months

Text

the truth is out there — csc [TEASER]

♡ pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader ♡ theme: x-files au ♡ teaser wc: 1.5k ♡ warnings: none ♡ a/n: i started rewatching the x-files recently and the idea of this popped into my head so i simply had to write it!! also, y/ln refers to ‘your last name’ bc ya know. agent stuff.

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

👽 full fic out now 👽

10 September 1993 Washington, D.C.

taptaptap

“Hey Frenchie, the Bergmeister wants to see you.”

“What does he want?” you ask, not bothering to hide your exasperation.

“Didn’t say,” he mumbles through the large bite he just stuffed into his mouth.

You give Soonyoung a very obviously fake grin to accompany your obviously sarcastic response. “Thank you, Agent Soonyoung - helpful as always.”

Soonyoung winks at you. “For you? Anytime.” You imagine grabbing his sandwich and bopping it on his head.

The muted sounds of landlines ringing, keyboards clacking, and fax machines whirring drift past your ears as you walk steadily to Bergman’s office, maintaining a false air of confidence as to mask your anxiety. You’ve never been called into his office alone in the month and a half you’ve worked for the FBI - you quickly leaf through your mind for anything you’ve done that could be a potential mistake, but you come up empty handed.

Bergman’s door is ajar - you rap your knuckle against it twice as you step inside. He peers up at you through thick, round lenses.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, come in, have a seat - and shut the door behind you.”

“I’ll spare you the bullshit, y/ln,” Bergman starts. He looks more tired than usual. “Have you heard of the bureau’s division known as the ‘x-files’?”

You feel your normally stoic face contort into a confused expression. Whatever you were expecting him to say, it wasn’t that.

“Well, yes, sir… but isn’t that an unofficial department?”

He takes a sip from his styrofoam cup of coffee. “Correct - it’s not official, but I assure you it is very much a ‘functional’ operation.” He all but rolls his eyes at functional.

You shoot a glance at the unintroduced man in the corner, but he remains expressionless. Bergman continues.

“I’m sure by now you’re well aware of the reputation surrounding this subsect and its…proprietor, shall we say.”

“I am not at liberty to discuss the reasons behind this decision,” Bergman tells you, “but all you need to know is that this assignment is significant in nature.”

Assignment?? Surely he doesn’t mean…

“I’m not sure I understand,” you ask hesitantly, “am I-”

“Being assigned to the x-files? Yes.”

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth to inquire what exactly it is you’ve done wrong, but clearly he anticipated this exact response.

“This is not a punishment - though I certainly know why it might seem that way. But, it’s imperative that we receive reliable insight into the operations of this endeavor.”

You sit there in silence for a few seconds, dumbfounded. “So, you’re asking me to spy on Agent Choi.”

You wait for him to go on, to elaborate in any capacity, but apparently he’s finished.

“Alright then, so when do I-”

“Immediately,” Bergman interjects. You purse your lips, trying to hide your displeasure.

“Yes sir,” you reply as respectfully as you can muster.

“Great. We’re counting on you, y/ln.” You glance once more at the smoking man in the corner, but he remains silent.

“Dismissed.”

X-files, here I come, I fucking guess.

—

Your eyes take a few seconds to adjust as you step into the dim basement. The elevator doesn’t come down to this level - you spent a good 10 minutes trying to locate the correct stairwell that would even bring you here. You make your way through a seemingly endless hallway of dusty filing cabinets, forgotten boxes, and broken computers before you find yourself in front of a nondescript door, not quite shut - the only thing signifying that you’ve arrived at your destination being the makeshift paper name plate with S. Choi written in ink. You raise your fist to knock but before you can do so you hear a voice call out from inside.

“Come in.”

You push the door in, its hinges giving you a high-pitched squeeeeak as it opens. You make a mental note to find some WD-40.

The sad excuse for an office is equally dim-lit as the hallway, but it’s a sight to behold: a desk at the center of the room - neat, but stacked with newspapers and case files, a small lamp lighting up the open file in the desk’s center; a bookshelf nearly reaching the ceiling, overflowing with books on seemingly every topic under the sun; archival boxes stacked as tall as the numerous filing cabinets, which are also topped with more archival boxes; a massive bulletin board filled with articles and photos; but most notably, pinned the wall, is a poster featuring a flying saucer, accompanied with the text I WANT TO BELIEVE.

In the bizarre room sits a dark-haired man typing at his computer, his back to you.

“I presume you heard me coming,” you state.

“From a mile away,” he replies, still typing.

You wait for him to turn around, say hello, anything - but the clickclack of his keyboard continues.

Several seconds pass, but the man says nothing. Apparently, it’s on you to break the silence.

You sigh under your breath. “I’m Agent y/ln, I’ve been-”

“Assigned to the x-files to spy on me?” he interrupts, eyes still glued to the monitor.

“They told me you’d know that,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” His tone is passive, but you detect a hint of somberness in his words. His warm eyes lock onto yours.

“Okay. Well, Choi, what exactly am I to do here?”

An eager grin lights up his face. He rises from his chair, grabs a case file off the pile on his desk, and opens it - throwing it back down onto the desk, facing you.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

—

a/n: thank you for reading this teaser!! i'm v excited for this one :) reblogs, comments, or any kind of feedback are all greatly appreciated <3

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