#I would give anything to just fuckin eat a sleep aid that will knock me out until Monday

[oglegoggle]

I don’t get it. I do not fucking get it. Why the fuck am I expected to support those around me no matter the circumstance but it’s too much to handle when I need support? Where the fuck is my support????

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Personal Demon (Indruck)

@pantstacular requested: 58 Is such my entire jam I’d pretty much die if you did it with Indruck.  “I’m a demon, you’re a witch, we’re enemies but when I show up to kill you, you’re crying and I really don’t know what to do now.” SFW

A talented, young warlock will employ the most complex, innovative, and powerful wards on their home. 

A seasoned warlock who was never that excited about all this in the first place will employ straightforward but deeply aggravating wards on their home. 

Indrid’s nemesis is in that second category. His wards are never fancy, but they’re durable and reliable, an utter pain in his tail to break down. Some cannot be broken by spells at all, and even a demon of his skill could burn through all his power trying to destroy them.

Which is why Indrid simply pays a passing human twenty dollars to kick a gap in the salt barrier, grits his teeth passing through the Rowan trees while his skin feels like he’s getting a full-body tattoo, and uses an oven mitt to open the iron door knob (the door is lined with iron, so he cannot slip as a shadow beneath it), hissing in pain all the while. 

“Duck Newton…” He lilts, certain the warlock will be terrified to hear his voice in his strong hold, “it is time to end things once and for all, dearest enemy.”

He keeps his eyes on the present, not wanting to spoil the fun for himself by peeking at the futures. He glides into the human’s bedroom, plants his feet on the floor, “your worthless soul is mine.” 

“Ughhhh” a muffled sound, Indrid flicking on the lights to find the human face-down on his bed, “are you fuckin serious? Now?”

“Yes, Duck Newton, now” dark energy crackles in his fingertips. 

Thwump

“Ack!” He shakes his head, Duck now sitting up, preparing to throw another pillow at him. 

“Get out.” Duck glowers, voice flat. 

“You dare to order me-”

Thwump

“Get!” Duck’s eyes are wet, red-rimmed, and Indrid notices he’s in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt that’s damp in patches. 

“Have you been crying?” 

Thwump and his glasses are knocked askew. 

“How many of those blasted things do you have?” 

Two hovering pillows turn to four and all collide with him at once.

“Clearly you are, ow, in no mindset to, ow, duel me as I, ack, see fit. I shall return!”

He dissolves into shadow and speeds out the door, materializing on the sidewalk and paying a passerby ten dollars to fix the salt ring. 

Not willing to let a plan go to waste, he repeats this process the next night. This time, Duck is laying in the darkened living room. 

“Now, my greatest adversary, it is time to meet your end--why are you still crying?” He cocks his head as Duck magics the light on. 

“Because I’m in my own fuckin’ house and can do whatever I want.”

“But you seem upset.”

“No fuckin shit, sherlock.” Duck raises a throw pillow and Indrid covers his face far faster than he’d ever admit in public.

“I merely mean that, ah, perhaps a duel would be a welcome change of pace?”

“I look like I’m in the headspace to duel to you?” 

“Not at the moment, but that could change, yes? I do wish to destroy you, is that sufficient motivation to shake off this fog of misery that’s hanging about your soul like stale cologne?”

Duck groans, but straightens, reaching over the far arm of the couch. Indrid perks up, approaches at a safe distance, certain he will see a familiar sword or spell in a moment. 

What he gets is misted with holy water.

He hisses, wiping his face in a hurry. His power is so great that the diluted mixture doesn’t harm him, but it’s as if someone is squirting him in the face with lemon juice. 

“I banished you worse ways than this, demon, but I’m fuckin tired and you ain’t worth the goddamn energy and you don’t wanna end up straight back below. So get.” He raises the spray bottle, spritzes him again and Indrid backs away, spluttering and hissing. 

“You, you think you can threaten me, shoo me out like OW some common ghost GAh that was in my nose that time fine, fine I am going.” He stumbles over the threshold, falling on his ass on the pavement as Duck slams the door. 

Perhaps a new plan is in order. 

----------------------------

“You wanna know Ducks’ what?” Aubrey taps her spoon on the edge of the potion she’s mixing. 

“His favorite food. I wish to cheer him up. Unless of course, you wish to simply tell me what is troubling him.” Indrid grins at the witch.

“You know the rules, Cold; I don’t trade information between sides. And, like, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you what’s going on with him. It’s...personal, okay?”

Indrid sighs. He expected that answer. Aubrey is the child of a witch of the light and a witch of the shadows, giving her a rare balance of powers. It also means entities of all moral alignments will come to her for aid. Her rules are simple; no fighting in her house and no getting her in the middle of major conflicts.

For all that, Indrid still has never told her his true name. She calls him ‘Cold,’ as everyone does. 

“French Onion Soup. That’s his favorite thing, from the Wolfe Grill downtown.”

“He likes that coffee fudge too, the one Barclay makes” Dani, Aubrey’s wife, adds from her spot spinning fur off a massive angora rabbit. 

Barclay is a kitchen witch, one with whom Indrid has a shaky truce (he egged on a fight in the restaurant, needing some quick points with the higher demons. It’s not his fault one of the humans knocked over a candle). He can probably manage to buy fudge without being scolded.

Duck’s added more fortifications since yesterday, and Indrid only needs a few moments anyway. He finds a sliver in a plane that lets him slip into Duck’s mirror, knowing the human is getting ready for bed. 

The human senses him, looks up from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He blinks once, to tired to even count as annoyance.

“ ‘wat ‘ow?”

“I have brought you food.” Indrid waits until Duck spits into the sink to pass the two bags out of the mirror. 

“Why-”

“It will cheer you up. It is your favorite. Then you will have your fight back, and be ready to face me.”

Duck takes the bags, then several steps back, “y’know, most demons would see this is a chance to get me while I’m down.”

“Well” Indrid sniffs haughtily, “I am not most demons. Besides, what good is claiming your soul if it was like stepping on an ant?”

The warlock looks at the food, then at Indrid, “I ain’t gonna eat this.”

“Bu-wha-I got it specifically to please you!”

“And it could be poisoned or cursed or some shit.”

Indrid growls in frustration, “fine, wallow in your misery.” Then he’s out on the street again, ready to cause some evil. Or to go back to the bakery and drown his aggravation in a caramel eggnog latte.

----------------------------

Duck stares at the bags, still sitting on his kitchen counter. If he’s not going to bed any time soon, he should at least eat something. Not that though. Even if it’s his favorite. How the fuck did the demon know that?

Cold has never quite been like other demons Duck’s run across. When he’d yanked him out of Boyd (because Ned decided to read the inscription on a new artifact for the Cryptonomica), he hadn’t taken it personally, but proceeded to try and tempt Duck for two days solid with everything he could think of. Then he decided he liked Kepler and could do plenty of demonic work in it, which had Duck worried. The demon is powerful, he can feel it when they fight. But, while he still worries, Cold sticks to being a mid-level threat at best even if he keeps promising to destroy him.

God that soup smells good. 

He picks up a piece of amethyst, runs it over and over the air around the bag. No trace of anything dangerous. 

Fuck it.

Twenty minutes later his belly is full, he actually feels kinda sorta almost borderline happy, and he hasn’t turned into a frog or been transported to the underworld. 

When Cold inevitably shows up again a few days later, Duck doesn’t even look up from the model ship he’s working on . 

“Thanks for, uh, for dinner.” 

“How did you know I was here?” The silver-haired man steps out of the hall, red eyes glowing behind redder glasses. 

“I may not be able to sense auras or souls or shit, but you and I been dancin around each other for long enough that I can tell when the hair on my neck is standin up thanks to you.”

“Then you are prepared to fight?”

“No. Look, I dunno now how it is for demons, but takes more than nice food to make a fella get over somethin serious.”

“I see…” Cold looks around the room, “are you certain you are not interested in even a small bit of conflict?”

“Nope. Busy.”

“Well I am not!”

“Can’t you just go find another warlock to bother?””

“No! Well, yes, but I do not wish to. You are my adversary, the one I devote most of my time to tormenting.”

“That’s kinda an exaggeration. And it don’t change that I’m workin on this.” He points to the model, “so I’m just gonna ignore you until you leave.”

There’s a huff, followed by the fluttering of his mail as the demon knocks it onto the floor. He glances up and notices that Cold’s tail is now visible and twitching with agitation. When Duck does nothing else, he knocks the remaining mail on the ground. 

“That ain’t changin my mind.”

A roll of glass on tile, Cold pushing a water glass towards the edge of the counter with his finger. 

“Y’won’t like what happens if you do that.”

The glass tips over. As water spills onto the floor, Duck summons a towel with one hand and a dish of salt with the other. Before the demon can stop him, he draws a salt circle, trapping him in a small spot by the table. 

“Erase that this instant.”

“Nope. You been poppin in and out the last two weeks and not leavin when I ask nicely, so now you’re gonna stay right here until I decide you can leave.”

The demon drops down onto the floor, arms crossed and tail thrashing, “I just do not see what is so severe it makes you uninterested in anything but work, sleep, and making ships that cannot go anywhere.”

“Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Yes, but you also will not tell me so how can you know if-” a future flickers into vision, “your romantic partner left you.”

“That’s cheatin’.”

“That is what has upset you so?”

“Yeah, because we were together for six fuckin years, and she watched me grow up since I was eighteen and was my mentor and it feels like a big constant in my life is just fuckin gone.” He leaves out the part where he'd felt it going for awhile, where part of him knew it needed to but the rest wanted things to stay as they were. 

The demon cocks his head in that way of his, smirks but says nothing.

“Nevermind. You’re a demon, love ain’t somethin you got a concept of.” He stands, retrieving another bottle of adhesive from the too-empty living room. 

As he picks up the next piece, Cold murmurs, “It is not so foreign a concept as you might think.”

Duck shoots him an incredulous look. 

“I was a creature of the divine once, beings capable of great love, even if many of them do not utilize that capacity. Even if I was not supposed to in my role. But more than the memory of that feeling, I have moments in which I suspect I can feel it still.”

“Like when you see someone do somethin real wicked?” 

The demon doesn’t rise to the paltry bait, “When I go sit in a park, or those woods you like, and draw and watch people coming and going in a thousand little moments of mundanity, I feel something more than mere tranquility. Sometimes I will go to movies or to concerts, to feel the swell of joy and excitement, and it almost seems as if I love those around me.”

It’s the last thing Duck expects him to say, and so all he can do is stare at him a moment before returning to his work. The demon, content with the silence, watches cross-legged. When Duck grabs a packet of cookies from the kitchen he pauses, then hands one to Cold. 

The demon sniffs it, proceeds to nibble on the edge before making a delighted sound and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. 

“You never had Girl Scout cookies before?”

“No. I do not need to eat, and often only do so when temptation requires it. Or when Barclay makes something with eggnog in it.  Which is a pity; I really enjoy human food, you come up with such interesting things. Now it is my turn for a question. Why are you making those?”

Duck looks at the near-complete model, “I dunno. Helps me relax, nice to just be able to focus on one thing rather than worryin’ about work or warlock stuff or dyin’ alone or if you’re gonna randomly turn up in my goddamn bedroom without warnin’.”

“Knocking is not exactly demonic.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, the smile on his face oddly honest, that Duck cracks up. Giggles spill out of him as he rests his face in his hands. His elbows slip on the shiny tabletop, collapsing him forward, laughing loud enough to startle the cat from her hiding place. 

“Yeah” he sniffs, finally sitting up while wiping away tears and still chuckling, “guess it ain’t.”

The demon is smiling again, softer than his usual grin that glints like a knife in the dark. 

“Will you show me more of your ships?”

“You ain’t gettin outta that circle that easy.”

“I am aware. But you could bring them where I could see.” He seems genuinely excited at the idea. 

Duck stands, hands him the packet of Thin Mints, “I could do that, yeah. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

-----------------------------------------------

Duck picks up to the two reusable grocery bags, locking doors and throwing up extra wards behind him as he walks to his car. 

He slides into the drivers seat, sets the bags in back behind him. Turns around and finds the passenger seat occupied. 

“Venturing forth at last, I see.”

“I ventured forth plenty.”

“That was only for work. You have been the picture of a hermit since you were dumped, Duck Newton.” Cold adjusts his glasses in the rear-view mirror. 

“Have not. And it was mutual.”

“Shall we get out of the car so I can destroy you?”

“We could do that. Or…” he points at the bags, the demon peering into them curiously, “we could take these two bags of snacks to a concert in the park.”

Cold bites his lip. Duck holds his breath, already gearing up his spells in case the demon says no.

A seatbelt clicks, “very well.”

They find a spot under some trees, far back from the crowd. Cold is in his human disguise, but Duck would rather not risk being seen if his tail or horns make an appearance. The concert is all movie soundtracks that Duck doesn’t pay attention to. He’s too busy watching the demon gleefully explore the food he brought (he chose the weirdest desserts and snacks he could find, wanting to give him a taste of things he’d never had) and talking with him about more or less everything.

As they’re getting into the car under the light of the half moon, Cold sighs happily, “we should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, we could. Just uh, don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck is up to his elbows in the pieces of an IKEA dresser when Cold’s voice comes through the mirror.

“I need to be let in right now please and thank you.”

He sounds pained, so Duck hurries out to the front yard and opens the circle, allowing the demon to pass through. He’s hunched at an odd angle, clutching at his back. Once they’re inside he strips off his coat, revealing a splinter at the base of his neck. 

“Shit, what happened?”

“I materialized in the house of a well-prepared witch and was immediately backed into a Hawthorne bush. Lucky I am not a vampire, but gracious it stings.”

“Why come to me?” Duck is already guiding him to the couch.

“I thought you might be able to help. Also it is movie night.”

Duck examines the injury; it’s a small splinter, but the skin is already looking sickly. 

“Should be an easy fix. Lemme get my tools and I can get to work.”

------------------------------------------------

Indrid waits patiently for Duck to return, tries not to hiss at him too loudly when he pulls the splinter free. The human works quickly, and soon a tingling salve coats the sore spot. 

Rather than pull away, Duck smooths his hands down Indrid’s back, “damn, you’re all knotted up.”

“I was trying not to move too much and aggravate it.”

Duck’s thumbs rub small circles along his back, “here, I can fix that real easy.”

Indrid foresees where his fingers will touch next and let’s his desire overtake his caution. When Ducks hands come down again, he whimpers and wiggles happily. 

“Uhhhhh”

“It is my wings. In a way. They exist on another plane when not manifested here, and where you are touching is the place where it feels as you are stroking them.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes, but you do not need to continue if you do not waAAhnnnt” he gasps as Duck slowly, steadily, runs his fingers over the spot again and again. 

The human leans forward, giggling, and whispers in his ear, “you’re purrin’.”

“I am awarerrrrrrrr.” His tail and horns appear, seeming to understand there is no need to hide here.  One of Duck’s hands skates up to his head, petting his hair and stroking his horns.

He whines, pushes his head into Duck’s hand for more. 

“Is this-”

“No Duck Newton, it is not sexual. It can be, but at the moment it simply feels comforting and pleasurable.” He purrs louder as Duck rubs the base of one horn. 

“That’s a good, uh, good demon? Bein’ so patient while I patch him up.” Duck coos. 

“Yes.” Indrid whimpers. 

“Lookit you, goin all mushy on me, so goddamn cute. Who knew you had it in you.”

“Duck.” Something is coiling through his veins, warm and ecstatic, as the human keeps up his stream of praise.

“Right here, demon of mine, just relax, lemme tend to you, there we go, you’re bein so good, such a charmin demon.”

Tears prick his eyes; he can’t, he can’t handle Duck speaking this way but speaking as if Indrid could be changed out for any one of his kind. He wants to know he means those words for him, he must, the feelings flooding him are incomplete without it and if they remain so he will wither away.

“Indrid, please, call me that.”

“Indrid.” It sounds joyous in that drawl as Duck adds a hint of pressure to his touches, “Indrid, you oughta stop gettin into trouble, oughta just stay here and put your head in my lap.”  The human is getting carried away, the fantasies becoming more elaborate, interspersed with his name, until the name itself becomes the litany. 

Indrid cries out, the energy in his veins enveloping him utterly for a moment, wings of absolute darkness flashing into view for an instant

He collapses forward, shaking, hoping the thanks pouring from his mouth are intelligible. 

“You, uh, you doin’ okay--Oh FUCK!”

Indrid whirls, finds Duck staring at his arm. There are glowing markings on it, blue and black light fading into a facsimile of ink on his skin. 

“What did you do?”

“What did I do? What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”

“Because this wasn’t there a minute ago! And you got one too!”

“I…” Indrid gapes at his forearm, where a matching symbol is setting in his skin. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“It is, ah, well, it is a soul bond.”

“How in the everlovin’ fuck did that happen--wait, fuck, is Indrid your true name?”

“Yes.” 

“Shit! I thought you gave me another false one, or I never woulda kept saying it. I ain’t that kind of warlock, I don’t want a personal demon.”

“I am not exactly thrilled either. I cannot return to the underworld, and for the first few days of the bond I will need to stay very close to you. All the same, that was rash of me and I am sorry.”

Duck rubs his forehead, takes a deep breath, “we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Right now, all I wanna do is sleep.”

“I as well. I suspect that took a lot of energy from both of us.”

The human stands, heading off towards the bedroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, pangs pulse through Indrid’s chest.

“Ah, Duck?”

A groan, “yeah, I feel it too. Get in here.”

Indrid hurries to the bed, finds Duck down to his boxers as he turns over the covers. 

“I, ah, I can sleep on the floor, or get a blanket for that chair, or lay by your feet.”

Duck pats the bed, “sleepin next to you ain’t nothin’ compared to bein’ soul bonded. Bed feels too big anyway. And none of that by my feet talk; you’re my equal, not my fuckin pet, even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.”

Indrid crawls in beside him, lays stiffly on his back as the lights go out. After so much contact, his body aches to touch Duck again. 

A hand rests in the space between them, and Indrid takes it.

“Duck? I, ah, I am glad that if this had to happen to me, it was you who it happened with. I cannot think of another warlock I would actually enjoy being linked too.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Duck squeezes his hand, voice gentle.

Indrid rolls to face him, and in the dark he can just make out the slight smile on the warlock’s face. 

“Goodnight, Duck.”

A yawn, then, “sleep tight, Indrid.”

[lava-pops]

Various mine craft monsters and how I feel about them, in order of how long I ranted about them

I have strong opinions and time on my hands, and so I will subject you to the entire fucking essay. Please understand that in an unobserved, socially distant singleplayer state, and wielding god-like powers, some less palatable aspects of my personality have emerged. Rest assured the end credits told me I played the game well.

Slimes: I fucking love slimes. They don’t do anything particularly amazing but the fact that they exist delights me.

Phantoms: Beauty. Beau-ty. Fucking love these guys. All glowing like. Majestic. 10/10. Gorgeous night sky. Delight of the heights. Need 100x more of them.

Blazes: Love. The drama. The decadence. The burning ethereality. The alien geometry. The wicked Fortress. Fuck me up.

Zombies: I’ve accepted them. Sometimes you’re just going to get attacked by zombies. They used to be you. So you need to be more understanding. Mild stress and disgust mixed with grief and concern, but if there are more than one zombie, emotions are cancelled out by adrenaline and sheer bloodlust.

End Dragon: Fuckin sick!!!!!! What a beautiful creature. I just wish I could spawn a bunch of them, and baby dragons, and unleash them on the world. I’m still disturbed by how it eats Endermen. It could also eat them in a less bloodcurdling way, but I’m not complaining.

Ghasts: Morbid fascination. I find them really interesting. It’s interesting how huge they are and their odd little noises. Don’t judge me but I like to spawn them inside walls so I can hear them all screaming at once. It just sounds weird okay. I think I might do that with my sound up and see what my roommates think of it. Really makes you feel like you’re in Hell.

Wither: I don’t really mind the Wither at all, just because it helps me make places look authentically exploded. This would be a different story in Survival. I would probably shit myself at that doom sounding gong, then be so upset it literally ripped limbs from trees just to hurl pieces of itself at a pig until it was dead that I would quit the game and finally keep Minecraft uninstalled for more than 24 hours.

Creepers: I have cursed these aggressively many times and on my blog and really, I don’t hate them. Rather, I am in awe of them and the bottomless well of terror they have shown me I am capable of feeling in a split second. I’m in awe of the way they have demonstrated to me the brutality of nature. When I see one I hear the Metal Gear yeet sound, but there is no bloodlust here. I am but a prey animal who knows how to run. And sometimes I don’t know how. Sometimes... I just watch.

Vexes: Get it!!!!! Kill it!!!!!! *Fly swatter sounds* These horrible little mosquito bitches!!!!!! I love the wings and how it can phase through things, except without the murderous intent. During a sleep-deprived chaotic rampage, I was amazed to find that after all the mobs that had fought the Wither, this one was actually doing damage to it. How did I feel as I watched the Wither succumb to an eternally rising swarm of Vexes? I’m not really sure on that one. It was kind of like watching something die horribly on the nature channel.

Witches: I love them in a critical way. I totally vibe with them. I sometimes fantasize about living in a hut in a swamp alone with my ominous cat. However, my feelings were really hurt when they helped the Illagers attack my swamp village. It’s like, why would you hurt a Villager? Just why? If you have a functioning brain -- Zombies and Skeletons don’t have that -- how could you? On the one hand, I love how they use Minecraft First Aid on themselves, but it’s fucking stressful in a fight. It’s like, STOP DRINKING THAT STUFF!!!! I DON’T KNOW HOW HEALTHY YOU ARE!!!!! *knocks McDonalds cup out of your hands*

Drowned: Blessed. Listen. They’re so pretty and blue. One of the head motherfucker ones with the trident ruined everything, shoved me out of my boat just to fight, knocked my stuff over everywhere, hurt my cat and fucked my wife, and also I died and searched for my devastated livelihood in vain for three days, but I love that there are mini Poseidons everywhere. They’re basically mermaids to me. I don’t mind if they kill me a bit. I trust the ocean to be vaguely threatening to step into. And you know the guys with the little shells? Really. So pretty. They have everything... ancient little houses... magma... treasure.

Skeletons: Whereas Creepers activate my primal prey animal instincts, Skeletons just really offend me. I feel like every time they give me that shady squint and shoot their arrows because they won’t face a move I call Raw Mutton Persistence, they are saying, “Bitch.” They have faces that beg to be slapped. What kind of skeleton doesn’t grin? Be grateful for your bones. The fact that I am not galaxy-brained enough to have diamond bling and usually don’t last long enough to actually slap them leaves me with all sorts of simmering resentment that violently surfaces when I see them in Creative Mode. I think the most distinctive flash of indignation I have experienced at their hands, or rather, their shitty little bitch arrows, was when one followed me into the water and still tried to shoot me as their arrow went super slow in a pathetic downward arc. What is your fucking problem?!!! 

Illagers: Malevolence. Vengeance. They are certainly fascinating, compelling, and realistic, but god damn I hate these guys. They can eat my entire ass. I made a blue wool sculpture Illager style on top of their Outpost in the shape of a dick and balls and made a waterfall pour out the tip of it, and then I zoomed out feeling both smug and bad about myself. In fact if there’s a war crime you can use against an Illager, I’ve done it in Creative Mode at 3am in a quarantine-enabled inner void, hoping I’m not going to hear about it in the afterlife. Have I always hated them? Perhaps. You must understand that back in the day, when they first went grunting pompously around my swamp, I had no idea what the fuck I was looking at. I just knew it had to catch these hands. I didn’t know what a Raid was either and thought Minecraft had just become sort of intense for a little while. But I will always remember when they were standing under my Giant Wharf Prismarine Vaguely Religious Rectangular Condos shooting at my adorable Villager with his precious leaf hat (all of my Villagers are gay men) sitting in a boat not hurting anyone and I’m still mad, bro. They shall know my wrath

[write-havoc]

This Is How I Disappear Ch. 23

Summary: A girl named Chuck finds herself in the exact place she doesn't want to be, living with violent men in a desolate nursing home. After her former gym teacher finds her, will he be the savior she was looking for?

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Completed (story continues in The Flame Is Gone, The Fire Remains)

Contains: swearing, violence, sexual assault, blood, smut

Readers 18+ of age only

Masterlists in my bio

——— Negan’s POV ———

I put my radio back on my belt after I finish telling Simon my fuckin’ plans for tomorrow. About twenty or so workers are headed off to RA outpost to get it fully operational. And I’m gonna fuckin’ oversee all that shit.

I put my fuckin’ plates in the sink and head out of my apartment toward the wives’ lounge. I’m not getting any off of Chuck tonight, so maybe one of them will oblige. I’d rather have Chuck, but... whatever.

I should ask the wives to make sure Chuck eats tomorrow, too, since I’m gonna be fuckin’ off site and she didn’t eat tonight. Her emotions have been all over the place lately and the first fuckin’ thing she does when she gets upset is stop fuckin’ eating. We’re not going back to being fuckin’ malnourished like before. I will _ not _ let that happen.

“Good evening, ladies,” I call out as I step into the room. The women are still sitting at their table, finishing up dinner of their own. And none of them say a word to me. Just fuckin’ staring at me like I grew a second fuckin’ dick. “Okay, then,” I say to myself with a chuckle.

I sit my ass down on one of the couches and wait for them to finish their meals. It takes me about three seconds to get bored as shit, so I clear my fuckin’ throat to get their attention. Get them to hurry the fuck up.

“What do you want, Negan?” Sherry says to me all bitchily.

“Je-sus Christ! The fuck is your problem?” I ask with a laugh. What the fuck has been going on up here that has her panties in a fuckin’ bunch?

The women start to clear their plates and Sherry comes out to stand in front of me, arms crossed, foot fuckin’ tapping impatiently.

“Well?” she spits out with a shrug.

The other women come out to sit on the couch behind Sherry. Apparently whatever is eating her is eating them, too, because they’re all giving me the fuckin’ stinkeye. Even Kayla! And she’s always a goddamn sweetheart.

“First of all, what the fuck is this attitude?” I wave my hand in front of Sherry. “And second, why the fuck are you acting like I need a reason to visit my own fuckin’ wives?”

Tonya lets out an incredulous huff and shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable,” she says under her breath.

I throw my arms up and look around. I have no fuckin’ idea what the fuck _ I _ did. I haven’t even seen the wives since yesterday morning when I took Kayla back to her room for some fuck time. Maybe it’s cuz a didn’t fuck any of them this morning. But I was fuckin’ busy getting on the road to the outposts!

“You’re gonna have to fuckin’ help me out here because I have no fuckin’ clue why you girls are pissed at me.”

Sherry moves back to stand beside Kayla, who is no longer giving me the fuckin’ stinkeye, but looks upset. Shit. The fuck happened?

“Yesterday,” Kayla begins, “when we were... I didn’t bring it up then, but when you were with me, you called me Chuck.”

Oh shit.

That can’t be. I don’t think I did that. Why the fuck would I do that? I’ve never called any woman by the wrong fuckin’ name before. Ever.

I chuckle to cover up my own shock. “You must’ve misheard, darling. I probably said ‘fuck’. They _ do _ rhyme.”

��Really, Negan?” Sherry groans with a disapproving look on her fuckin’ face.

“Were you fuckin’ there, Sherry? How the fuck would you know?” Goddamn, Sherry can piss me off sometimes.

“I know what I heard, Negan,” Kayla speaks up. “I know what this is here. My place. I know you don’t love me or anything, but it still hurt my feelings to think that I’m, you know, second choice when you’re with me.”

“Look, sweetheart, don’t think too much about it,” I direct at Kayla. I definitely want to end this conversation quickly. “I wanted to fuck you yesterday, so I did. Easy as that. You weren’t my second fuckin’ choice.”

That was _ mostly _ true...

The wives don’t look convinced, though. Of fuckin’ course. Anything to make my life fuckin’ more complicated.

“If you’re in love with Chuck, I don’t want to have sex with you anymore,” Kayla blurts out.

I can’t hold back my sudden laugh. Why the fuck do they think I love Chuck so much? That’s fuckin’ ridiculous. Isn’t it?

“Don’t be such a dick,” Tonya yells.

I stop laughing a little to respond. “I _ am _ a dick,” I exclaim as I gesture up in the air. “That’s the fuckin’ point. I don’t _ feel _ for anyone. You all know that.”

“Are you trying to convince us of that or _ yourself_?” Sherry scoffs.

Alright. Now Sherry is getting on my last goddamn nerve. “I don’t give a shit if you guys believe it or not. You’re fuckin’ stupid if you don’t, but that’s on you.” I look at Kayla. “And if you don’t wanna fuck anymore. Fine. That’s your fuckin’ prerogative. I mean, Sherry already doesn’t fuck me and Tonya and Frankie fuck each other more than me anymore, but what-the-fuck-ever. Your choice. But my dick will be ready when you want a ride.” I start to get up to leave.

“It’s not like your dick will be too lonely without us,” Tonya starts with a sly smirk, “since you’ll still be fucking ‘I’m-not-in-love-with-her’ Chuck.” She uses fucking finger quotes.

I halt my movement and turn slightly back to them. “You have a _ problem _ with her now?” That shit won’t stand if they do. Chuck is here to stay, no matter fuckin’ what.

Sherry butts in. “We don’t have a problem with Chuck. We have a problem with you lying to yourself. And her.”

I glare at her. Why haven’t I learned that fucking multiple women always gets fuckin’ complicated. And I don’t even fuck Sherry!

“Since you think I favor Chuck so much, why don’t you guys make sure she eats fuckin’ breakfast tomorrow while I’m gone. She’s not feeling good.” I say it all sarcastic, but I mean it.

I’m almost to the door before Tonya opens her smartass mouth again. “So _ that’s _ why you were here. To tell us to check up on your _ girlfriend_.”

I don’t fuckin’ turn around. I just continue on to my own fuckin’ room.

——— ———

Chuck wakes up to a soft knock on the door.

“Chuck. It’s Sherry,” comes from the other side.

“Come in,” Chuck calls out then yawns.

Sherry pushes the door open and enters. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Chuck greets after sitting up. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Negan told us you didn’t feel well and to make sure you ate breakfast. We have a plate waiting for you in the lounge,” Sherry says in a friendly tone.

“Ugh. Did he really tell you to do that?” Chuck gets out of bed to follow Sherry out the door.

“Are you sick or something?” Sherry asks casually as they head to the lounge.

“No,” Chuck drags out as they walk. “I went off site yesterday and some stuff happened. When we got back I didn’t feel like eating, so I just went to bed.” By the time Chuck finishes her statement, she’s in the lounge. “Since I didn’t eat last night, Negan apparently thought I needed assistance this morning,” Chuck drones with an unenthusiastic tone.

“What happened yesterday?” Kayla asks, having heard most of what Chuck had said to Sherry.

Chuck sits down, grabbing a plate of scrambled eggs and toast to eat with the other women. “I went to the outposts to teach first aid and a herd went through,” Chuck explains before she takes a bite. She’s actually very hungry now, her sour stomach from the night before having passed.

“No shit?” Tonya cries out.

“How big was the herd?” Frankie asks.

“About a hundred.”

“Wow,” Kayla breathes out in shock. “That’s scary!”

Chuck shrugs and finishes her food. She hangs out with the wives for a while after breakfast, but they seem weird. Like something is off. They are being nice and joking around, but something is different. She can’t quite put her finger on it, but everyone’s mood seems weird. Like they don’t want to talk about something with her.

Chuck says her goodbyes, telling the wives that she’s going to get dressed then take some books outside to read in the sunshine. She dresses in skinny jeans and her Misfits T-shirt and grabs one of the pregnancy textbooks and a Sherlock Holmes mystery and heads outside.

She finds an isolated tree on the property and sits down under it. It provides enough shade so her fair skin won’t burn, but the air is still warm enough to be comfortable. She begins to read the medical text until it starts to get too dry, then starts the mystery.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a streak of orange pass by. She turns her head to see that it is the mommy cat and she’s making her way away from the trailers in back.

“Shoot!” Chuck cries out to herself. She gathers her books and walks quickly to her room to get the key to the cats’ trailer.

_ I forgot to feed her yesterday! I hope she found something to eat on her own. I’m such an idiot! _

Chuck dumps her books on her bed haphazardly and pockets the key from her desk. By the time she gets back downstairs to the kitchen, she’s a little out of breath from rushing around, but she picks up the scraps from the kitchen anyway and makes her way to the trailer.

Mommy cat isn’t back yet when Chuck enters, so she sets the bowl down on the floor, noticing that the kittens are nestled back in their bed sleeping.

“Sorry, mommy kitty,” Chuck says aloud. “Whenever you get back, you’ll have some nice food to eat.”

Chuck crouches down to try to coax the kittens out to play with her, but they are fast asleep. Suddenly, light fills the dark trailer causing her crouching form to cast a large shadow over the kittens in front of her. The light seeps in from the door which had opened and closed behind her. Standing and turning toward the door, Chuck furrows her brow in confusion at who would be in this part of The Sanctuary.

When her eyes fully focus on the person now standing in front of her, a chill runs down her spine.

Brendon.

“What are you doing here?” she asks quickly. Her mind races to find a good explanation as to why Brendon is in the trailer with her. She hopes it is purely innocent, but fears it is something worse. That Negan had been right.

“I followed you out here,” he answers flatly as he takes a step forward.

“Why?” She tries to back up but there is nowhere else for her to go, her bottom hits the counter behind her as she takes a step.

“I’ve _ been _ following you. Watching you. Since I first saw you here. And I know what you’ve been up to.” He takes another step. “I’ve seen you head up to Negan’s floor. So... why did you lie to me?”

Her voice trembles as she responds. “I didn’t lie to you about anything.”

“Are you really going to tell me that you don’t fuck Negan?” he asks in disbelief.

She doesn’t know what to say to this. Yes, she sleeps with Negan. But, no, she didn’t lie about it. Brendon hadn’t ever asked that. He asked if she was Negan’s wife, and she had responded truthfully that she wasn’t. Not that she thinks it is any of Brendon’s business, anyway.

“Why should it matter to you what I do?” she asks, trying to sound assertive.

“Just admit it to me.” He takes another step.

Chuck swallows to try to center herself. “I don’t have to admit anything to you. I owe you nothing.”

Brendon’s cold laugh fills the small room. “Don’t admit it, then.” His laugh drifts off, leaving rage to seep onto his face. “It doesn’t really matter what you say now.”

“What are you doing here, Brendon?” A tear of fear falls from Chuck’s eye as she speaks. Her intuition is telling her that this is a very bad situation to be in.

“Negan ruined my life because of you.” The look of confusion on Chuck’s face causes Brendon to chuckle darkly. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking know that, Chuck.”

“I _ don’t _ know what you’re talking about,” she chokes out.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he yells, making Chuck flinch.

“I’m not!” Her fear is getting the best of her as her heart rate picks up.

“I had a full ride to UVA for baseball. But they pulled my scholarship when Negan cut me from the team. And I couldn’t afford it on my own.” His seething tone fills Chuck with dread.

“None of that matters now,” Chuck says softly, trying to convince him.

“It doesn’t matter?! My dad kicked me out for not going to college! He refused to talk to me! I had _ nothing _! And I never saw my dad alive again because of Negan! He had a heart attack and died still pissed at me for fucking up!”

“I’m sorry-“ she tries to get out but Brendon cuts her off.

“You’re sorry? You should be. Because it’s your fault, too.”

“I don’t understand-“

“It’s because of you. And whatever shit you had going on with Negan. He overheard me in the locker room saying I liked you. The _ next day_, he cut me! That’s not a fucking coincidence.”

“That’s not true. He cut you for being late,” she tries to reason.

“Is that what he fucking told you?” His face seems to soften minutely. “He’s been lying to you, Chuck. How could you love him? He’s evil. Don’t you see that?”

“I-I don’t...” Her brain is short circuiting.

“He almost _ killed _ Mr. Hanson. And that was before all this. Before killing was the norm. Did he tell you that?”

She nods meekly.

“And you’re still with him?!”

“Mr. Hanson wasn’t a good man-“ she reasons quietly with her head down.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! He took me in when I had nothing! When Negan took everything from me. Even though Negan had taken everything from _ him_, too! He gave me a job in his workshop. He taught me everything he knew about woodworking. Everything that Negan wants to exploit from me right now,” he responds coldly.

“He was inappropriate with students.” As soon as she says it, she realizes that arguing with him is probably not the best thing to do.

He leans forward aggressively. “He never touched anyone! And you remember what you girls looked like! You think Negan wasn’t looking at you the same way Drew was?!”

It’s obvious to Chuck that Brendon isn’t going to calm down and just leave her alone. She knows she has to try to get ahold of this situation.

“Brendon, please,” she pleads softly, but Brendon is intent on not listening to her.

“Me and Drew, we knew Negan was still alive after the end. He had to be. And we wanted to show him what he did to us. We wanted to make him pay for it.”

Chuck holds her hands up in a placating gesture. “Brendon, we can talk about this. Us and Negan. We can work it out.”

“No! No talking! This is how it needs to be.”

“Brendon. Think about this. There’s no way for you to get near him. It’s suicide if you try to kill him.” She tries to explain to him.

“That _ was our plan. To kill him. We looked for him, but... Then Drew got bit and I had to put him down. And I thought... It was stupid to get revenge, now, so I stopped looking. But the universe thought different. It _ brought _ me to him. Like some sorta sign. And the second I saw _ you, I knew what I had to do. Killing him would be too easy for him. I want him to suffer.” Brendon takes another step forward. He is now about an arms length away from Chuck. “I’m going to take away something that he loves.”

“Brendon. Please. Please don’t do this.” She tries desperately to convince him to stop.

“Shut up,” he demands flatly. “I’m going to ruin you for him. I have to, Chuck. I have to do it. And then I’m going to take you away from him.”

“Brendon, no! Please!” she begs through shuttered breaths.

“Take your clothes off.”

“No. No. No.” She shakes her head fiercely. “Please!”

“TAKE YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF!”

——— Negan’s POV ———

“We’re headed out,” Dwight says into the radio from the driver’s seat of my truck.

“Copy that, D,” one of my saviors responds.

I can’t wait to get fuckin’ home. I’m tired as fuck after spending all goddamn day directing those dumb fucks at RA outpost. Setting up chain of command. Laying out what I expect of them in terms of goods and fuckin’ services. Scheduling fuckin’ pickups and drop offs.

I just wanna eat fuckin’ dinner and bury my dick in Chuck’s fuckin’ wet pussy.

When we finally fuckin’ drive through the gate, I hop out of the truck, give a few orders to Simon, and head upstairs. Chuck should be up there waiting for me. Hopefully fuckin’ naked, but I won’t hold my damn breath for that. I doubt she would even fuckin’ think to welcome me home that way. She’s too fuckin’ sweet, doesn’t have the dirty as fuck mind for that. Maybe I’ll fuckin’ drop the hint that I would like that. See if she’ll obey me.

I peek my head in the wives’ lounge to tell them I’m back and get an unenthusiastic response from them.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m glad I’m fuckin’ home, too,” I say sarcastically as I start to walk away.

“Oh, Negan?” Tonya calls out to me and I fuckin’ walk back in to see what she wants. “Your girlfriend is feeling better.” She smiles a smug fuckin’ smirk and waits for me to react.

I let out a deep sigh and rub my hand over my face. “Stop fuckin’ calling her that. Jesus Christ, Tonya.”

“What?” Tonya says almost joking.

“Did you guys give her shit today?” I ask, getting irritated. “Because she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Calm down,” Tonya says with a chuckle. “I’m just fucking with you. Chuck’s a sweetheart. We wouldn’t be dicks to her. We fed her and hung out for a while, then she went to read outside.”

Fuck, Tonya’s hard to read. So fuckin’ hot and cold. Is she pissed or not? I looked at the other girls and they don’t seem too mad. Frankie is even chuckling to herself. I wouldn’t think anyone would ever have a fuckin’ problem with Chuck. She’s one of the only genuinely good fuckin’ people I’ve ever met.

“You’re a weird fuckin’ chick, Tonya,” I comment and walk out, hearing the wives giggle behind me.

I walk into my oddly fuckin’ quiet apartment, turning the lights on as I go.

“Chuck?” I call out as I enter my bedroom. She’s not there.

I let out a growl of frustration. Now I gotta get my ass all the way down to her room. Fuck, I wish she just lived up here. Or we had fuckin’ elevators.

Her room is fuckin’ empty, too, of course. Two books are thrown on her bed, which is kinda fuckin’ weird. She must’ve brought them back up here after she was done reading outside like Tonya said. But where the fuck is she now?

Maybe Carson needed her for something.

If she’s not down in the infirmary, I’ll be pissed. Fuckin’ traipsing all over the fuckin’ place looking for her. She’ll be lucky if I don’t fuckin’ lock her in my room for good after what happened yesterday.

Carson is just locking up when I get down to the infirmary. He goes to kneel, but I stop him.

“Chuck help you out today?” I ask, getting right to it.

“Not today, sir. I haven’t seen her.”

“Hmm.” I scratch my head.

I walk away from the doc, headed for the cafeteria. I doubt she would fuckin’ be there, but I take a look around anyway.

She’s not there.

Alright. This is weird. Something’s happened.

I walk out the doors, trying to keep calm.

She’s fine. Nothing could happen here, right?

Simon comes out of the doors just behind me, giving me a nod. “Something up, boss? I saw you in the cafeteria. You looked weird.”

“Have you seen Chuck?”

“I saw her this morning walking around with some books. Why? She wasn’t upstairs?”

“No.” As a last resort, I call her on my radio. She should have hers on her. I fuckin’ hope. “Chuck?”

No answer.

“Chuck. Where are you?”

Silence.

“Anybody fuckin’ seen Chuck?!”

“_You mean me, sir? _” Fuckin’ Charlie the savior answers.

“Not fuckin’ you! Chuck the girl. 25. Redhead. Works with the doc.”

No one answers.

Then a familiar voice comes through the speaker.

“She’s dead.”

Brendon.

I feel the blood drain out of my face. I look up to Simon who looks equally fuckin’ shocked.

“I killed her with my bare hands. Right after I fucked her raw.”

No.

No. He didn’t.

It’s not fuckin’ true.

I see red. I throw my radio to the ground, smashing the fuck out of it. I bring Lucille down on any pieces I can see until nothing is left. I grunt and growl, screaming at the top of my lungs, barely in control of myself.

“Boss.” Simon tries to get my attention. “Negan!” he yells, finally snapping me out of it.

When I lift my head, I see that several other fuckin’ saviors have grouped around me. I look down to Simon’s outstretched hand and take the radio from it. I take a few deep breaths to try to calm the fuck down.

“Where is she?” I growl into the radio.

“You’ll find her soon enough. Or rather, she’ll find you. You know... when she turns.”

I look up to the saviors around me. They are all staring at me, fuckin’ waiting for me to say something to them. Not only did they see me freak the fuck out, but they heard everything that fucker said on the radio.

“I want _ everyone _ fuckin’ searching this place for her. Start in the least populated places. The cells. The garage. The fuckin’ furnace room. Those kinda places. Search the fuckin’ grounds, too. I want her found. _ Now_.” I scratch my beard. “And no one fuckin’ touches her. No matter fuckin’ what you see. You call me first.”

“You don’t want us to put her down, sir?” someone asks.

I almost hit the fucker with Lucille. “She’s not fucking dead. She’s not.” I bring the radio up to my mouth and hold the button down with so much force that I hear the plastic crack. “You are dead where you stand, motherfucker. You hear me? You will never know another fuckin’ moment’s peace because I _ will _ find you. I will scorch the fuckin’ earth to find you. And _ when _ I do, I won’t fuckin’ kill you. No. I’ll keep you fuckin’ alive. But you’ll wish that you were dead. I’ll cut bits off you and fuckin’ feed them to you for fuckin’ dinner. You haven’t known fuckin’ pain like the pain I’ll inflict on you, fuckin’ cocksucker.”

“Nothing you could do to me will ever take away the fact that I won. I beat you. Because I took something away from you and that is so fucking sweet. Almost as sweet as she was.”

This needs to end now. He needs to fucking die.

“I want him found! Someone get a team outside the gates and find that fuckin’ piece of shit. He’s still within radio range so he’s no further than two fuckin’ miles! Bring him back alive! Simon, you’re with me. We’re searching the grounds.”

Me and Simon search for-fuckin’-ever. Or at least it feels that way. The longer it takes, the more desperate I get.

“Anyone got anything?” I hear Simon say into his radio. His voice is fuckin’ tense and choked. I know he’s struggling with this, too, but he’s keeping it together.

The radio comes back with a bunch of negative responses.

I flip the fuck out and use Lucille to hit a bunch of pallets I’m standing beside. A fuckin’ cat jumps out from behind them and it just about scares the shit outta Simon.

Fuck.

The cats.

“Simon!” I call out as I break out in a full sprint to the back of the property. I hear him running behind me as I round the building heading for the goddamn trailers.

The trailers that no one ever thinks about.

The trailers that haven’t been fuckin’ searched yet.

“Chuck!” I scream, hoping to hear her answer.

Nothing.

There are three fuckin’ trailers back here, but I know which one she would be in. The only one with a lock on the door. The only one she’d be anywhere near. That fucker must’ve followed her back here. Ambushed her.

Fuck.

I run up to the fuckin’ door. The padlock is locked. And I’m assuming the only key is inside. With her.

“Baby girl, you in there?” I call out as I pull on the door.

All I heard is a shuffling. No answer.

“No! No no!” I growl out.

She’s not turned. She’s not dead. She can’t be.

No time to break the lock. The cheap ass door is fuckin’ weaker anyway. I start to kick the door, trying to break it down. Simon jumps in, too, and we break a huge hole in it. I push him back and rip the rest of the door off so I can fit though.

She is there. On her stomach.

Fuckin’ naked and hogtied.

But I can’t see much in the darkness.

“No, baby girl,” I cry softly as I fall to my knees.

——— ———

“Take your fucking clothes off now or I’ll rip them off you,” Brendon growls harshly.

Chuck knows she has to do something to get out of this situation. Now.

She tries to run past Brendon to get to the door, but he grabs her by the waist and slams her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her and disorienting her. By the time Chuck stops gasping for breath and comes to her senses, Brendon had ripped her shirt, pants, and bra off.

“No! Stop!” She screams tries to push him away from her.

He punches her on the left side of her face hard enough that her head snaps to the side. “Shut the fuck up!” He bunches her underwear up and rips them from her body, leaving brush burns on her hips.

Her mind is hazy as he forces her thighs apart roughly. She barely registers the sound of his zipper and his weight on top of her.

“Please don’t,” she slurs. Tears stream down her face and pathetic whimpers leave her mouth as she waits for that familiar pain to register. The pain she thought she’d left behind at Rolling Acres. The pain she thought she’d never feel again.

But it doesn’t come.

Brendon lets out a frustrated growl into her ear and sits back up, stroking his soft dick. “Come on,” he growls. “I have to do this,” he hisses to himself between his teeth.

Chuck thinks quickly. This is her only chance to stop him. “Brendon. This is wrong. You know it.”

“Shut up!”

“Please. You’re a good man. You don’t want to do this. Just stop.”

“I said _ shut up_!” He slaps her face and roughly covers her mouth. “Shut your fucking mouth. Stop crying.” His own eyes are filling with tears. “He has to pay. This is the only way.” He leans back over her, one hand still covering her mouth and one still on himself trying to get him hard. “This is the only way,” he growls.

Chuck opens her eyes to look at him. His eyes are screwed shut as he continues to grunt and growl with frustration at himself.

“Fuck!” he yells in her ear causing fresh tears to fall from her eyes. He sits back up, wipes his face, and tucks himself back into his pants. He shakes his head, seemingly wrestling with what to do since he couldn’t go through with his first plan. “I can’t let him get away with this, Chuck. I can’t.”

Suddenly, his hands grip Chuck’s throat, cutting off her oxygen. She struggles under him, trying to get him to release her.

“I’m sorry, Chuck,” he says through his tears, which now flow freely. “Why did you fall for him?! He did this to you! It’s his fault! He made me do this to you. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”

His repeated apologies start to sound further and further away as Chuck gets weaker. Just as she is about to black out, he releases her. She coughs and sputters, sucking in the breaths that her lungs desperately need.

He sits back up on his knees between her legs, bringing is arms up to put his hands on the back of his head. “I can’t!” He shakes his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t do that to you. Fuck!” He stands up, frantically pacing the room as she gets her breath back. “Drew could’ve done it. He would’ve done it. But I can’t. He was the strong one.”

Something in the corner seems to catch his eye. A rope. He picks it up and flips Chuck onto her stomach, tying her arms and feet together behind her back.

“I would’ve been good to you, Chuck. Without Negan... we could’ve been happy together,” he says from behind her, softly stroking her hair. “I know it.”

Chuck hears him pick up the radio that is still attached to her pants somewhere in the room. Then he leaves without another word.

Chuck wait several minutes before she starts to scream for help. Her throat is already raw from being nearly strangled to death, so her voice gives out very quickly. Next, she tries to get loose from her bindings, but it is no use.

A wave of nausea hits her hard. She leans up, trying to make sure to vomit away from herself. Somehow she manages to remain clean, and scoots herself away from the mess she made.

She takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself and her stomach. “Must have a concussion,” she says to herself as she turns on her side. She tries to take stock of any possible injuries she has, but thinks there is nothing major.

So she waits. And waits for someone to come. She knows that someone would find her eventually. Negan would search for her. Unless something is keeping him. Through the small cracks in the covered windows, she sees that the sun has set. The passing of time has Chuck even more worried.

_ What if something happened at the outpost and Negan won’t be back? God. Why won’t anyone come for me? What kind of a person am I that no one misses me? _

Her heart rate starts to pick up. Her exhaustion, the heat of the trailer, what she had just went through, all of it, has her on the verge of a panic attack.

For a moment, she thinks she heard Negan call for her, but she isn’t sure if it had actually happened.

Then she hears it again.

Negan is at the door.

She tries to call out to him, but her voice is too quiet for him to hear, so she tries to shift herself closer to the door, so she could be heard. There is a sharp bang at the door, which makes Chuck halt her motion.

Negan is breaking in.

She is going to be safe.

She feels him enter the room and get on his knees behind her. “No, baby girl,” he whimpers sadly.

“Negan...” she rasps as loudly as her damaged throat will allow.

Negan lets out an excited noise and scoops her up tightly in his arms. “Oh, fuck, baby girl. I thought you were dead. He said you were dead,” he whispers into her hair. “I thought I lost you.”

Simon goes around them and cuts the ropes from Chuck’s hands and feet, giving her head a soft caress after. “I’m gonna call the doc. Make sure he’s in the infirmary waiting for us,” he says quietly.

“No. I want to go home,” Chuck whispers as she wrapped her free arms around Negan.

“Home?” Negan asks in confusion.

“Take me to your room,” she answers.

“Tell the doc to meet us in my room,” Negan commands to Simon as he pulls away from Chuck. He takes his jacket off and puts it around her, picking her up bridal style afterward.

Simon follows after the pair, Lucille in hand, giving Negan’s orders to Carson through the radio.

Chuck holds onto Negan as if her life depends on it, allowing him to carry her all the way to the fifth floor to his room.

[kpopismytae]

A Very Disturbing New Years FF (Kpop)

I hear a loud knock on the door and jumped up.

“Ugh. Can’t they knock quieter? I’m taking a nap,” I say sitting up, going out of my room and into the living room, opening the door and groaned, “Go away!”

I slam the door right in their faces until Minho opens it back up, “How welcoming.”

“That’s why Areum usually opens the door,” I walk to her room straight-faced, still in my pajamas and see her putting makeup on, “They’re here.”

She smiles and jumps up, “YAYYYYYYY” and ran into the living room.

I walk back in there and scratch my head, “why are you here so early?”

“It’s 9,” Kibum says, “We came at a normal time.”

“And where the hell is Sehun?”

Jonghyun said, “He’s coming later. He’ll be here in around 30 minutes.” “He’s the only person I was excited to see, “I sigh and go to the couch and lay down, “Shut up and let me sleep.”

Jinki runs into the kitchen and opens the fridge, “CHICKENNNNNNNNNNNNN”

“I said to shut up.”

“So mean,” Taemin laughs.

I glare at him, “shut. Up.”

Areum jumps up on Minho’s back and shouts, “TAKE ME AWAYYYYYY”

I get up and go to the kitchen and grab my pan. I run after them, but Minho is way too fast and wouldn’t let me hit her, which made much just want to hit him.

“Get your ass over here,” I shout.

A door opens and I turn my head to it and drop the pan, “Sehun!”

I run up to him and jump in his arms, “I missed youuuuuu”

He smiles, “I missed you too,” he looks at me from head to toe, “Why are you still in your pajamas?”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go so what’s the point?”

Minho comes over and chuckles, “Nobody would want to see her in a dress anyway.”

I jump out of Sehun’s arms and pick up my pan and start chasing him again, “Get back here you fuckin asshole!”

A pair of arms then picked me up and took the pan out of my hands, “calm down.”

He sets me down and I turn around and see who it is, “TAEMIN WHAT THE FUCK?! DON’T TOUCH ME LIKE THAT! I probably have aids now.”

“I don’t have aids!” he shouts

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Stop flirting and just give us some food,” Kibum says, “I’m hungry.”

“Me tooooooo,” Areum whines.

“Nobody asked you,” I respond, “Starve.”

“Stop being so mean to meeeeee.”

“You should be used to it.”

“I don’t want to be used to it. It’s not nice!”

I roll my eyes, “I don’t care.”

I go into the kitchen and take out my cauliflower and sour cream and go to the table and eat it, “I thought you guys were hungry. Go eat something.”

“GO EAT A DICK!” Areum shouts.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Taemin mumbles, “eat my dick.”

I cringe, “ew no… That’s nasty. I don’t want bumps in my throat anyway.”

“Hey, I was kidding!”

“Sure.”

Kibum sits down, “He probably does have herpes or something.”

Jonghyun sits next to him and leans on the table, “as long as he doesn’t spread them to anyone I don’t have a problem.”

“What if I have aids?”

“Then go get an std test I don’t want any in my asshole.”

“I don’t actually have any aids.”

Areum shouts, “You probably do!”

Jinki covers his ears, “Stop! The Easter bunny won’t give you any candy if you talk like that!”

“I WANT CANDY!”

“THEN BE GOOD!”

“I AM GOOD!”

“NO, YOU’RE NOT!”

“YES I AM!”

I shout, “Shut up! You kids are giving me a headache.”

Sehun whispers to me, “shouldn’t Jinki go to the hospital.”

“Probably too late for that now. He got hit by it 10 years ago.”

“Fun times.”

Jinki shouts, “It hurt like a bi- AHHHHHH A BRAT!”

“Aww is Jinki not getting his easter candy?”

“I HAVE A CONFESSION!”

“What?”

“I PEED ON THE EASTER BUNNY LAST YEAR!” he shouts, “It feels so good to finally tell someone.”

Everyone at the table judged him.

Taemin looks at me from across the table, “your eyes are so expressive and beautiful.”

A blush creeps on my cheeks, “w-what?”

He smiles, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Stop flirting with my sister,” he nudges him.

Jonghyun says, “well you don’t seem to have a problem flirting with my sister.”

Kibum rubs his chest, “calm down baby.”

“Fine,” he sighs.

Sehun leans over a bit and smiles, “see, he probably likes you too.”

I punch his shoulder, “shut up!”

I stand up and put my food away, “I’m done.”

Everyone stands up and goes into the living room and sits on the floor.

Areum says, “Who’s bored?”

Kibum says, “Everyone.”

“How about a game of 7 minutes in heaven?”

Minho looks at her and goes, “What? You’re going to have sex with someone else?”

Jonghyun looks at him and glares, “What?”

“I mean… nothing,” he smiles.

“We’re not dating anyway,” Areum says, “Just friends with benefits. I’ll call some girls over so we can have more people for the straight guys. If it is the gender you don’t have an interest or you’re related in you can just spin again.”

She took her phone out and called the neighbors and soon a knock came on the door and it opened.

“Irene, Wendy, and Yeri! Come in!”

“Why did you want us to come over?” Irene asks.

“7 minutes in heaven!”

Wendy says, “You need to get me drunk first. Where the soju?”

She told her where it was and she brought 2 bottles and shot glasses for everyone.

After we all got drunk, we all started playing spin the bottle with a now empty bottle of soju.

Areum leaned her head against Minho and started laughing hysterically. 

“Chillllllll,” I say in a drunk voice, “someone spinnnnn”

Areum stands up and starts spinning, “I’m spinninggggg.” “I WANNA SPIN TOO!” Jinki gets up and starts spinning with her until they both fall and laugh a lot.

Wendy raises her and says, “I will spin the bottle.”

She leans over and spins it and lands on Minho. They stand up and go into one of the rooms and begin their 7 minutes.

Areum starts sobbing, “SHE TOOK MY B-BOYFRIEND!”

“I thought you weren’t dating,” Jonghyun says.

“BUT I LOVE HIMMMMM,” she sobs harder and curls in a ball.

Irene goes to her and pats her back, “Areum it’ll be ok. Just have a good cry.” She starts crying with her.

“You guys are being so emotional,” I say, “Also, you’re the one who recommended this game.”

“I knowwwww,” Areum whines, wiping her tears and sits up, “I’m ok now.”

“You’re too drunk…”

Minho and Wendy come back with their clothes messed up and sit down.

I raised my hand, “I go now.”

I spun the bottle and landed on Taemin and smiled, “come on let’s do it”

He stands up and while leaving Minho shouts, “If you give my sister aids I‘ll chop your dick off.”

We got into my room and we sat on the bed and started making out. He put his hand up my shirt, ready to unhook my bra, but I stopped him, “w-wait.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to confess something. I’m a virgin and I don’t feel right losing my virginity like this.

“Honestly, I’m a virgin too.”

“What? You are?”

He nods, “But I’m embarrassed by it.”

6“So do you just want to make out?”

He attaches his lips to mine and moves down to my neck and sucks on my sensitive skin. A soft moan escapes my mouth and I run my fingers through his soft hair.

Areum comes and knocks on the door, “YOUR 7 MINUTES ARE UP! GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE!”

He didn’t listen and kept leaving hickeys on my neck.

“Don’t you t-think we should go b-back?” I stutter out.

He puts his lips back on mine and we start backing up and going into the living room.

“Ooooh Seulgi’s getting some,” Areum says.

We sit back down, still making out.

Minho clears his throat, “I think it’s Areum’s turn.”

We detach our lips and Areum goes to the bottle and spins it, landing on Kibum.

“EWWWWWWWWWWWWIE,” she shouts, “I DON’T WANT TO!”

Kibum says, “It’s the game. We have to.”

She sighs and stands up, “okay…”

They go into the room and finish their 7 minutes.

After playing 7 minutes and heaven and drinking 2 more bottles of soju we were tired so we all went into the rooms and Irene, Yeri, and Wendy went home.

(My room: Taemin, Kibum, and Sehun; Areums room: Jonghyun, Minho, and Jinki)

At 11 pm we all woke back up so we could celebrate the new year at 12 and we sobered up some. We went into the living room and drank a bit more because it’s new years. We watched some fireworks and at 12 watched the countdown on the tv.

“5,” the tv started counting, “4,” it continued, “3, 2, 1...HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Areum started making out with Minho. Taemin and I looked at each other and started making out again. Kibum and Jonghyun did too and I did overhear a special conversation that Sehun had with Jinki.

Sehun sighs, “I’m so lonely.”

“Me too,” Jinki whines.

“Are you at least a little gay?”

He shakes his head, “But I don’t mind trying something out.”

Sehun and Jinki started making out with each other and Jinki sat in his lap.

The next morning we all woke up in our rooms. I had no memory from last night and I was the last one sleeping so no one else was in the room.

I got off my bed and went into the hall and saw everyone sitting at the kitchen table. I saw Taemin and remembered everything. I put the hood of my onesie on and hid my face.

“What the fuck did I do?” I think to myself.

Sehun looks at me with a smile, “Oooooh Seulgi come here!”

Jinki rubs his head and pouts, “My head hurts.”

Minho slaps him in the back of his head, “That’s why you shouldn’t drink so much.”

“But he becomes more normal when he does,” I say.

“I’m scarred for life,” Areum says, “I had sex with Kibum.”

“Well, I had sex with Wendy,” Minho says, “Let’s just keep having sex with each other.”

Areum jumped up on him and they started making out then moved to her room.

“I’m too hungover to care,” Jonghyun says, looking depressed.

Kibum rubs his back, “I’ll get you some hangover soup.”

And that’s how everything got awkward.

...

TO BE CONTINUED

…

Next: A Very Disturbing Valentines Day

[jackson-phillips-blog]

You Outta Know || Janton and Chase

Tagging: Jackson Phillips, Anton Mishka Morozov, Chase Olsen Setting: Jackson’s apartment, Afternoon of Tuesday, April 25th Summary: Chase comes over to check on Jackson and Mishka comes home from work. Awkwardness ensues and more than one secret gets revealed. Warnings: None

Jackson had been home for a few days and while he still wasn't feeling great--far from it actually--he definitely wasn't as miserable as he'd been at first. The limitations of his injuries still frustrated him infinitely and for as much as he appreciated Mishka's help, he still had trouble admitting that he needed it or accepting it when it was offered. It was slow going and a learning process for both of them but finally, he'd convinced his boyfriend to go back to work, that he didn't need to be watched around the clock. It was easier said than done, but eventually Mishka had left the apartment for a shift at Tall Tales and he'd gone back to sleep on the couch.

It was a little before noon when Jackson finally woke up and it didn't take long for the urge to do something hit him. But he knew he needed rest so instead, he fired off a message to Chase, asking his friend to come over. What better than time hanging with a friend, not to mention the peace of mind that his burn was healing normally? It wasn't that he'd purposely waited until Mishka was gone to invite the other man over b--okay, yes it was because on top of everything else he was still and would always be worried about being outed. Chase already suspected something and showing up to his one bedroom apartment where two men lived was hard for anyone to sell. Jackson made his way to the front door at the sound of a knock, not bothering to fight his way into a shirt. “Hey, man,” he greeted his friend before stepping back to allow him inside. “I was wonderin’ if ya got lost.”

Chase had already written out the instructions for Jackson after their conversation the other night and had left them next to a box of Thin Mints on his kitchen counter so he wouldn’t forget either thing whenever Jackson asked him to come over. Things at work were chaotic as usual, but Chase thrived off of chaos. It was much easier to throw himself into his work and put all of his focus on that than anything else. He had just gotten home and out of the shower when Jackson texted, quickly changing into clean clothes before he heads over, smiling as his friend opens the door. “Hey yourself. Sorry, I had to get changed.” The brunette says apologetically, holding up the bag he had brought with him as he steps inside, chuckling softly. “I come bearin’ cookies and instructions on how to take care of your arm. Want me to get that look over over with now? It’ll only take a minute.”

“I'm just fuckin’ with ya, Chase. Thanks for comin’ over,” Jackson said with a laugh as he pushed the door closed behind the other man. He couldn't help that his spirits lifted a little at the mention of the cookies and he nodded. “Yeah, just kick ya shoes off and come on in.” As he spoke his eyes flicked down to where his hand pointed at the line of shoes against the wall. After a second, his eyes went a little wide as he spotted a few pairs of Mishka's mixed in with his. Fuck. He hadn't even thought about that since his boyfriend has moved all his stuff in. Maybe Chase wouldn't notice though. He cleared his throat and did his best to shake it off mentally as he turned for the living room. “The couch’ll work, yeah?” Jackson asked.

“No problem, man. Anytime.” Chase replies, kicking off his shoes at Jackson’s request. “Yeah, couch is fine.” Grabbing the pair of gloves he had brought with him from the bag, he slips them on, setting everything else aside before following his friend over to where he sat. “How’s it feelin’? It’ll start gettin’ itchy as t heals, try not to scratch it too hard. You can put some plain lotion on it though if it gets too bad, just try not to overdo it otherwise the skin’ll stay wet and not heal.” The brunette murmurs as he looks Jackson’s shoulder over, being careful not to hurt his friend. “I don’t see any signs of infection - just keep puttin’ on whatever they gave ya at the hospital and bandaging it and it should heal up just fine in a couple of weeks.”

Jackson settled down on the couch and helped the slide the band of the sling out of the way so the bandages could be peeled back. “I mean, it hurts, but nothin’ like it was after it happened.” He hummed quietly in reply to show he understood the instructions and he was more than relieved to hear it looked good. Not that he didn't trust Mishka's first aid skills, but it was just good to have that reassurance from someone with medical training. “That's good to hear. Thanks, bro,” he said as he waited for everything to be shifted back like it was. “Just wish the swellin’ would go down already. I wanna take this damned thing off.” Jackson sighed at his own words though. He wasn't the type to complain this much. “Do I get my cookies now?”

“No problem. You could try putin’ ice on it a few times a day, if the pressure’s not too much.” Chase suggests as he reapplies the bandage, giving Jackson a smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll grab ‘em.” Getting up, he tosses the gloves out before going back to his things, grabbing the box of cookies. “I left the instructions for ya on the table. They should be pretty self explanatory, but if ya have any questions, ya know how to reach me.” The brunette says, shrugging as he opens up the Thin Mints, offering them over to his friend. “I’m no doctor, but I’m way better than Google. Google just freaks people out, I swear.”

“Jus’ have to figure out a comfortable way to make the ice pack stay where I put it,” Jackson said. It's something he'd have to get creative with, but it would be worth it if it meant the swelling would go down faster. He shifted around on the couch when Chase disappeared, fidgeting with strap of the sling for a few seconds. He really was over the damned thing but he knew better than to risk having to wear it for longer. Jackson grinned at the cookies when they were opened and held out for him. At least this was still normal more or less. “Oh yeah, have folks thinkin’ they've got some incurable shit,” he laughed as he tugged a few cookies from the pack and bit into one. Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed and he sat the cookies down in favor for his phone. Fuck being one-handed. Of course that minor irritation was erased once he opened the snapchat from Mishka, the picture making him angle his screen away from Chase until the time was up.

“Try a bag of frozen peas. They’re easier to bend around your shoulder than an ice pack.” The brunette replies, leaning back against the couch a bit.  “You can always put the sling strap on top of the ice pack or whatever too.” Shrugging, Chase helps himself to a cookie, chewing it slowly. “Yeah, it’s crazy. I hate it when people call us thinkin’ something is terribly wrong because they’ve looked on Google and then it turns out to be somethin’ real simple.” He replies, shaking his head a bit. “You need to get that?” He asks once Jackson reaches for his phone, brows furrowing slightly as he moves his phone away - not that he was going to creep on whatever Jackson was looking at. “I can go if it’s bad time, the cookies are yours.” The EMT offers, not wanting to get in the way of anything, even though Jackson had invited him over. But Chase knew things came up all of the time, and he wasn’t gonna pick at it and start a fight. At least not with one of his friends. “Earth to Jackson, anyone in there?”

Jackson typed out a quick response to the picture before turning his screen off and tossing his phone down to the couch. “Huh? What? No, no, no,” he said with a laugh, waving Chase’s words off. He knew it had been rude to answer his phone while they were hanging out but he also knew that Mishka would have thought something was wrong if he hadn’t answered back. “Just a snap from my...friend.” Right, because that didn’t sound suspicious at all. The other man had already hinted he knew there was more to his ‘friend’ as it was. “You-uh--ya want anythin’ to drink or anythin’?” Jackson offered as he picked up one of the cookies he’d put down and took a bite.

“Mhmm.” Chase mutters in response, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Jackson was acting cagey, and it wasn’t the pain medication talking. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t trouble yourself, man. You should be restin’. EMT’s orders or whatever.” He says firmly, giving the brunette beside him a look, though he’s only half serious. He really doesn’t want anything though, pushing the sleeve of cookies back towards Jackson. “Don’t worry about me. You eat cookies and relax.”

Boy, was Beckie glad to see him again. Their relationship was purely based off of their profession, but he could tell that managing the store by herself and some newly hired employee hadn’t been easy. The second Anton had walked into work he saw how disorientated a lot of things was, but he was kind of happy for the distraction. It kept him busy for most of the shift and when his last hour was almost up he had been fairly surprised at how non-offending work was today. He had gone in expecting there to be some sort of Hell fire, alright poor choice of words considering the accident that happened recently, but he didn’t walk out of work with a permanent crease between his brows. Which, was a pretty rare thing to come by really.

As Anton walked back to Jackson’s place he texted Wade. His friend sent him that reminder about keeping Friday free and he had to reassure the Brit that he wouldn’t skip out. It wasn’t like he had a choice last time anyways- and even if he did he still wouldn’t have gone out to that art show. Not when Jackson had just gotten home and all of that. By the time he had his keys jingling in the doorknob he was smiling down at his phone. Leave it to Wade to say some stupid shit to try and ‘threaten’ him for the tenth time about not flaking out on the evening plan. “Гребаный идиот,” he muttered to himself as he unlocked the front door. “I’m back.” Anton pushed the door open and stepped inside only to toe off his shoes right away. “Beckie says hi by the way, and I have a thing on Friday to go to.” He pocketed his phone and nudged his shoes over towards the usual spot he left them but found the area occupied. Huh. Weird. Anton did a double take and frowned, but he didn’t think much of it until he went over towards the living room. “It’s an art show that Wa-”

Oh. Oh, fuck. His mouth remained open as he saw who was sitting on the couch. There was Jackson, of course, but there was also someone else that automatically made his stomach churn unpleasantly. It wasn’t because he found Chase unpleasant or anything, but it was more based off of the guilt he hadn’t gotten over. Anton pressed his lips into a thin line as he looked from one man to another. His hands flexed by his sides out of a nervous habit and he avoided eye contact for a moment. “Uh, hey.” It was said in the others’ general direction as he busied his eyes with the lily that sat by the windowsill.

Jackson had been in the middle of explaining how there was nothing left on Netflix that appealed to him when the door opened so he didn’t pick up on it right away and it wasn’t until he heard Mishka’s voice that he was aware they weren’t alone. He nearly choked on his cookie, a bit of panic rising in him immediately. Was his boyfriend home early or had that much time passed without him realizing it? He blinked up at Mishka as he stepped into the living room, his eyes a little wide. Not that he’d been doing anything other than hanging out with Chase, but that wasn’t what he was worried about being caught in. “M-Mishka...D-Did you get off early?” he asked, his voice shaking way more than he wanted it to. “This is my friend Chase, the EMT that bullied me into goin’ t-to the hospital.” Jackson turned back to Chase, trying to gauge exactly what was going through his friend’s mind at the sudden arrival of another guy in his apartment. “C-Chase, this is Mishka, my fr…” Fuck it, he was already caught now. “My boyfriend.”

Chase recognizes Mishka’s voice as soon as the other male lets himself in, and suddenly everything starts to click. The way both males are refusing to make eye contact, the way they’re both stuttering - this was the friend Jackson had been talking about. “Hey. We’ve met, actually. Over at the pool.” He replies calmly with a shrug, not about to throw Mishka under the bus. Obviously the other night hadn’t been brought up yet, and he wasn’t gonna do that to Jackson. “Yeah, don’t listen to him. I was just doin’ my job.” Gesturing vaguely, Chase shakes his head, moving to his feet slowly. “Jackson, it’s fine, you don’t-” He’s halfway through telling his friend that he doesn’t owe him an explanation when the truth comes out, causing him to pause. It wasn’t that he cared if Jackson liked guys or not, because it didn’t matter to him and it really wasn’t any of his business, but the fact that he had almost hooked up with his friend’s boyfriend a few nights ago was enough to cause concern, at least for Jackson. There was obviously more to the story there, but now wasn’t the time to get into it. “Well then I have instructions for ya, Jackson asked me to write ‘em out just to be safe.” The brunette finally adds on, nodding towards the kitchen. “I can go over ‘em with ya real quick before I go.”

He didn’t actually see how surprised Jackson was, but he sure could hear it. Hell, he could probably smell it if he wanted to the same old dramatic self he always was. Except he didn’t feel like that right now. All he felt was this crippling crash of how much of a shitty person he was all at once. It was always there in the back of his mind, but he was good at just going with it. Now though? Not so much. While a part of him was pleasantly surprised that Jackson admitted their relationship out loud, he couldn’t get over the fact that these two men were friends. Just leave it to him to find the one person that was on good terms with Jackson and himself. Anton cursed himself to hell and back internally as he finally sighed, but none of the growing tension in his body was released with the heavy breath. When Anton looked back over to the pair his gaze was tired and strained. The telltale tick jumped on the corner of his jaw as he listened to what Chase said. There wasn’t a reason to freak out, alright? There really wasn’t, but he felt his stomach go cold and his throat threatened to tighten. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be grand,” he said with a crooked smile that lacked the passive happiness he had walked in with. Anton rubbed the back of his neck as he went over towards the kitchen to see where the instruction were as he tried to keep his breathing steady again. Panicking wasn’t the solution to this, it never was for any situation, but the shitty part of his mind was already spewing crap into his conscious about how terrible of a person he was and the worst part was that he didn’t deny any of it.

Jackson honestly had no idea what had possessed him to introduce Mishka as his boyfriend. It was the truth, obviously and he’d wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t ashamed of that. And Chase was his friend, right? Surely if anyone would understand, it would be the EMT. At least, that’s what he’d thought but it didn’t seem to be the case with the way Chase was suddenly trying to get out of the apartment and how he seemed to pause at the admission. Even Mishka was acting off, but Jackson hadn’t noticed it as much because panic and worry was rising in him. Had he just lost another friend? It was the main question on his mind as Mishka and Chase moved towards the kitchen, the fact that the two knew one another not really clicking in the moment. “Y-Ya don’t gotta leave, Chase,” he called after them, though his voice made it clear he was already sure he’d fucked up. Jackson didn’t even bother to move from the couch, not wanting to make himself look even more ridiculous by trying to chase the EMT down.

Chase can hear the panic in Jackson’s voice and his stomach sinks, mentally cursing at himself. “You go ahead, they’re on the table.” He mutters to Mishka before moving back towards Jackson, offering his friend a smile. “C’mon, ya don’t need me watchin’ over ya if Mishka’s here. We’re good, I promise. As long as you’re happy, Jackson...that’s all that matters to me, y’know?.” The brunette says, trying to reassure Jackson as best as he could in the moment, carefully giving the other male a one armed hug. “I’m gonna go talk to Mishka real quick, do me a favor and take a deep breath or two? Ya look like you’re about to pass out.” Chase murmurs, protective as ever. Jackson was still Jackson, and who he dated wasn’t gonna change how he saw him. Returning to the kitchen, he grabs the paper, giving it to Mishka to read over. “Alright, sorry. It shouldn’t be too hard ta follow, just make sure the bandage gets changed a coupla times a day. I checked Jackson’s arm out earlier, it looks like it’s healin’ pretty well so far.” He says, unsure whether or not he should bring up the other night or not. Mishka was already panicking, and Chase didn’t want to make it any worse. “You have any questions?”

If he wasn’t in the turmoil of staying here in the present then he probably would’ve stayed in the living room to try and smooth things out. There really, really wasn’t anything to be so freaked out about because he knew that the thing that happened between Chase and him was in the past. Things couldn’t settle at just that though. Of course it couldn’t. Anton merely leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn’t a defensive pose but rather one that was more geared towards making himself smaller. If that actually worked it’d be a damn miracle, but he knew that it’d never come true. He listened intently to what Chase said, finding the instructions a nice distraction from the constant drone that ran in the back of his mind. “No, um, not really,” he said with a fraction of a shrug as he covered his mouth with a hand. The urge to chew on the insides of his cheeks came up but he pushed past it.

“But, uh, yeah if you want to stick around then that’s fine. If you’re into Cinnamon Toast Crunch then we have a ton of that shit here too.” It was a weak attempt to keep himself out of the caverns of his mind and it didn’t much to make him feel any more positive than before. “I’m just, going to go to the bathroom for a bit, yeah?” For what reason? He had no idea, but it sure as hell didn’t have to do with taking a leek or washing his hands. Actually, a shower sounded pretty great but then his mind quickly countered that with that one time where things went to shit in said shower. Anton just continued to smile tensely as he excused himself. He made sure to smile at Jackson as he passed by, and he really hoped that his boyfriend didn’t pick up on how thin his mental state was in. Again. It was downright embarrassing at this point. He had gone several years without a single break but now he was experiencing them left and right. It was a way for his mind to tell him that he needed to quit running from shit, but he really wanted to just deny that and look the other way. Anton got to the bathroom, and instead of leaving the door cracked open like he usually did, he closed it with a soft click. His to-go reason was because of how weird it might be to leave the bathroom door open while a guest over but that wasn’t the case at all.

Jackson had slumped back against the couch, prepared to accept the fact that Chase was walking out because of what he’d just admitted to, but he sat up again quickly when the other man turned back to him. Honestly, he was a bit surprised by what his friend said, having fully expected...well the exact opposite of acceptance. He couldn’t find his words in the moment, so instead he just nodded and pressed back into the half hug slightly, shifting back when Chase moved towards the kitchen. It took a moment, but he truly couldn’t recall a time when he’d gotten that reaction when coming out to anyone that he wasn’t getting naked with. Jackson settled back onto the couch, doing his best to breathe as Chase had said. He heard the pair talking in the kitchen and a few moments later, Mishka was passing him and heading off to the bathroom. The smile seemed a little...tight, but he didn’t think much into it just yet.

“Mishka...” Chase sighs, running his fingers through his hair slowly. “You don’t have to go anywhere, this is your place too.” If anyone should leave, it should be him, but Mishka has already disappeared down the hall and Chase is left in the kitchen staring at the space where the other man once was. Sighing, he sticks the instructions on the fridge with a magnet before walking back towards Jackson slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew he had to come clean about the kiss, especially now that Mishka walked off. “Hey...I gotta tell ya somethin’, okay? An’ I’m not sayin’ it because I want to make things weird or cause any trouble, but because we’re friends and you should know.” Chase says slowly, letting out a breath slowly. “I don’t know how long you  guys have been together or anythin’...but the other night I ran into Mishka at a club and we went back to my place. We kissed a little, but that’s it, I swear. He started panicking an’ I got him a car to take him home.” The brunette explains, his eyes trained on the floor. “You know I never woulda done anythin’ if I knew about you two...I’d never wanna hurt ya like that, Jackson.”

Jackson had half expected Chase to head out of the apartment, but when the other man reappeared a few moments after Mishka passed by he just assumed his boyfriend had somehow convinced him to stay. His mouth had opened to make a comment on just that when the EMT spoke up first. And the way he was acting...The mannerisms plus the words were enough to make Jackson freeze before the other even finished speaking. Of course he knew about Mishka going out and picking someone up because his boyfriend had admitted to as much. But he’d never said the person he’d nearly had a drunk hook-up with was his best friend. The confession caught him completely by surprise and for a moment he just...sat there, not sure what to do or say.

Finally, Jackson’s brain seemed to kick back in and he shook his head over at Chase. “I-It’s not your fault, Chase. Ya didn’t know,” he said as he looked over at his friend. And that was the truth. He’d made sure to be so paranoid and secretive about Mishka and whatever they were that there was no way he could expect Chase or anyone to just know how he felt. Not to mention the fact that nothing was official until the day after this...encounter had happened. It still didn’t mean he was thrilled about the revelation, but Jackson knew that at the end of the day, the blame rested squarely on his own shoulders. “Thanks for tellin’ me though.”

“I’m still sorry.” Chase mumbles, forcing himself to meet Jackson’s eyes with his after a few moments. He had wanted Mishka to be the one who was honest with Jackson, but he also hadn’t wanted to lie any longer. Jackson was easily his best friend in Atlanta, and he never wanted to hurt him or make things weird between them. “I didn’t wanna be the one to tell ya, but...I didn’t wanna keep it from ya either.” He adds on, sighing heavily. “Look, you should talk to Mishka. We’ll hang out again soon, okay? I promise. But I should get goin’.” Giving Jackson a small smile, Chase heads towards the door, slipping his shoes back on. “I left the instructions on the fridge for you two. Don’t eat all of the cookies in one sittin’, yeah?” He jokes, chuckling softly as he lets himself out, heading back home.

Jackson would admit that maybe the news hadn’t been the easiest to hear, but he was doing his best with it. He just had to keep reminding himself that he and Mishka hadn’t been together and Chase hadn’t known. Still, he couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped a little and his face fell when his friend continued to apologize and shuffled to leave. He wanted to stop him, but at the same time, he knew Chase was right. He needed to talk to Mishka and there was a good chance that the EMT needed to get out himself. “Alright, yeah. Thanks like I said and I’ll see ya later,” he called as he watched Chase slip out the door. He sat on the couch for a few minutes longer, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out exactly how to talk about this with his boyfriend. Finally, Jackson pulled himself up from his seat and padded towards the bathroom. “Mishka? Baby?” he called out as he knocked on the door lightly. “Is everythin’ alright?”

The only question he had running through his mind right now was how he had gotten so weak. Since when did he let this side of him speak up and actually beat him down? He had always been cynical- at least ever since he had learned what sarcasm was and self deprivation, but it had never.. Hurt like this before. Then again, a lot of things hadn’t happened before since he was usually gone and out of any relationship that actually made him feel something. Maybe the reason was because he only had himself to look out for. He had to force himself to be somewhat calloused person he is today because he didn’t have anyone to fall back on, and now that he could he wasn’t sure how to accept it completely. It was new, everything was too new, and it was a moment of weakness that his self loathing self didn’t’ hesitate to jump on.

Anton honestly didn’t hear what Chase and Jackson talked about. He was more focused on taking deep breaths, holding it in and then releasing it. Most of the time he could avoid an episode by controlling how tense his body was. Right now though? It was a little bit more of a struggle than how it usually was. His hands clutched the edge of the sink as he closed his eyes. All he needed to do was just to breathe and it’ll be fine. He didn’t know that Chase was Jackson’s friend. Hell, he didn’t even know that they knew each other, and he tried his best to beat the guilt out of him. Yet, it was easier said than done. The moment he heard a knock on the door he gripped the sink even harder. His knuckles bled white and he cursed at himself for shaking a little. How could anyone want to deal with you? He honestly didn’t know. And yet here you are, still here about three seconds away from crying. Again. Yeah, yeah he was but he still couldn’t bring himself to just barge out and leave town. There wasn’t a single hint of want to do that anymore. He was just stuck in a rut and he didn’t know what to do. Anton ignored the way he winced from the pet name and made sure to suck in a really deep breath this time. “Um.” Amazing, really intelligent there. He couldn’t push another word out as he tried to mentally coach himself into letting go of the sink so he could at least stand upright.  

Jackson waited silently on the other side of the door, doing his best not to fidget. The silence from Mishka was not a good sign. Then again, he didn’t hear sobbing so maybe the lack of sound was better than he thought. His shoulder began to ache out of nowhere and he shifted in his sling, the pain coming from how tense he was. Tense? When had that happened? Honestly, he thought he was handling all this fairly well considering it had come out of nowhere. Sure anger was simmering somewhere under the surface and definitely jealously, but all that was easily missed because of the guilt and the sense that this was all his fault. He should have manned up and handled things differently and then the opportunity for what had happened would never have presented itself.

Jackson’s ear pressed against the door at the mumble, hoping to hear more, but that seemed to be all Mishka had to say in the moment and it worried him. “Mishka, I’m coming in,” he announced as his hand went down to the doorknob. A turn proved the door was unlocked and he pushed it open slowly, wanting to give his boyfriend plenty of time to see him coming. He let out a sigh at the sight of the other man, gripping the sink and looking a bit pale. Immediately, he crossed over, shifting behind Mishka as a hand came up to rub over his arm. “Hey, are you alright, darlin’?”

This had to be the nth time he’s had to tell himself that he’s overreacting but it still didn’t do anything to calm himself down. He heard the door open but he didn’t look over. His eyes stayed closed until he felt his arm get touched. Anton didn’t flinch and he honestly didn’t understand why he even thought that’d be a reaction in the first place. There was a response lodged in his throat but he couldn’t seem to push it out at the moment. So he just proceeded to breathe normally until he felt his throat loosen some. “He tell you?” He asked, voice slightly hoarse from how strained he had been up until this point. There was an awful gnawing sensation in the bottom of his gut from a lot of different reasons that were mashed together, but he tried to keep himself as casual as he could afford to. If Jackson was mad then he wouldn’t be surprised. Actually, he’d be more surprised if he wasn’t mad.

Jackson knew his boyfriend enough to know his tells, knew that he was close to a panic attack and that tears were threatening just from the way his muscles tensed and how his voice seemed almost forced out. His hand continued to soothe over Mishka’s arm as it made it’s way down to close over one of the other’s own that was still gripping the sink with white knuckles. He tugged at the fingers lightly, trying to loosen the hold. “Yeah. He told me he was the guy ya went home with last week,” he answered, his voice calm and maybe even a little softer than normal. Jackson didn’t bother to add in the rest of the details Chase had given them, even if there had been few. Maybe that was for the best because honestly, anymore of a play-by-play would have put an image in his head he wasn’t sure he could handle. It had happened, Mishka and Chase had done whatever they’d done, there was no way around it. And a part of him knew he had no right to be upset about something that had happened in the past before he had a say, so he was doing his best to hold onto that. “But that don’t answer my question. I asked if you were okay, baby boy.”

He couldn’t even try and hold his breath as he waited for an answer since he had to keep breathing unless he wanted to really fall into another break. Just hearing those words come out of Jackson’s mouth sounded so wrong, but he couldn’t help but feel even more sick than before. It took him a few seconds but his fingers started to uncurl from the the hold he had on the sink. Anton opened his eyes a little, just enough to see the physical progress he was making. “Okay enough,” he said after swallowing thickly. Yeah, he was always okay enough. This would pass- it always did eventually and he was honestly so tired of falling in and out of this.

Jackson was patient as he felt Mishka’s fingers slipping away from the sink slowly and he twisted his own in with his boyfriend’s digits lightly. While he had to admit he hated to see the other man like this, it was getting easier for him to know just what to do for him when it happened. He pressed his body against his boyfriend a little more solidly and his chin dropped to rest on Mishka’s shoulder as he tried to catch his gaze in the mirror. “I’m right here with ya, babe. He’s gone, just so ya know. I-I’m sorry I didn’t know and I wouldn’t a’ had him over if I’d have…” His head shook lightly against Mishka’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

It was slightly humorous, in his own shitty reasoning of course, that he felt this bad about what happened. He had gone from sleeping with whoever almost every other night to this single person. The same man that kept easing him out of the current distressed state he was in. He still didn’t understand how Jackson could be this patient and not be fed up with how he acted. The feeling of his boyfriend pressed against him helped. Another deep breath was taken in and he let his eyes close again just so he could try and kick out the shitty feelings and thoughts that had almost dictated his mind. “Not your fault.” It really wasn’t and he wanted to elaborate more on that but he’d get to that later when he could say more than just a few words. “Don’t need to be sorry.” He was the one that should be apologizing but he didn’t want to say that while he couldn’t see. As scary as it could be, he felt like Jackson deserved more than just some half assed apology. His body slowly relaxed as he felt more grounded and stable. The next breath he took ended in a sigh as he opened his eyes all the way. He couldn’t help but look at their reflection. Wow, he looked like shit and he had been just  fine a few minutes ago. Actually, that wasn’t true. He always had some sort of facade on whenever he was outside, but whenever he was here, at home, he let all of that fall away. So this was him. The real him and he still wanted to be scared of how open he was being but he let himself ignore it just so he could relax fully. “I’m sorry.” He had said it before but he still meant it through and through.

Jackson had honestly never found himself in such a situation. His boyfriend--of course that being a new situation for him in and of itself--and his best friend having a history together, however brief it was. He knew that he wasn’t willing to let something like a few kisses ruin either relationship and he could only hope the other two men would feel the same. He kept so few people close, relationships were hard to come by for him so the thought of losing any of the ones he had was not something he wanted to dwell on. He shook his head again at the apologies, catching Mishka’s gaze in the mirror finally and holding it as he moved to press his lips lightly against his boyfriend’s neck. “Everybody’s sorry,” he said, his tone almost sounding light as he shifted back to keep from trapping his boyfriend against the counter more. “But it happened and it can’t be taken back. So everybody’s sorry and that’s good. It’s over though, right? You’re not...interested in Chase, are ya? B-Because if you are, then…”

The urge to just melt into Jackson’s hold was tempting but before he could he felt the other pull back slightly. Then a look of surprise slapped the worried guilt off of his face a second later. It probably looked comical with how wide his eyes went but he craned his head around so he could stare at Jackson face to face. “There’s no fucking way I am,” he said with more strength than he had felt ever since he got back home. “You’re the only one I’m interested in- I only did that because I was fucking drunk and being really fucking stupid and honestly.. I was thinking about you the whole time. It’s the only way I could’ve done it and then I-” And then he went into a full on panic attack and just the thought made him suck in a sharp breath, but he didn’t fall apart again. “And then I panicked and got really sick but I swear I cleaned the toilet after.” It was jarring to go from only being able to say a few words to talking like a madman, but he couldn’t help it.

Jackson’s head spun a little with how fast Mishka seemed to turn around at his words and the sudden swing from near panicking to almost offensive had him blinking to make sure he hadn’t imagined it or the pain pills weren’t fucking with his head again. But his boyfriend was always full of surprises like that, zigging when he expected him to zag. Still, there was a part of him that was...hesitant. He was head over heels for Mishka and had been since the day he’d met him--even if he hadn’t known it then. But Chase...Surely he was better than Jackson. He was older and had more experience and...He let out a sigh, doing his best to stop the flood of his own thoughts. His head was never a good place to get stuck either. His hand came up to rest on Mishka’s chest and he forced his gaze up. “I hate it, alright. I know we weren’t official and I know nothin’ really happened...But you’re mine, Mishka. Chase is my best friend and I hate the thought of even him near ya like that but...I-I’m not mad at anybody but myself.”

Anton almost squinted his eyes at Jackson but he just stared with his brows slightly creased instead. It was nice to feel some contact again, and as much as he wanted to look down and visually reassure himself that this was as real as it felt, he held Jackson’s gaze without faltering. He reached up and covered the other’s hand with his own as he listened. It was surprising just how much he didn’t like to hear that ‘they hadn’t been official’ because there was a big part of him that was used to thinking that they were a pair. Which, again, slightly terrifying but he didn’t question it. It felt like his heart did a kickflip against his rib when he was told that he was Jackson’s, which he totally was, and then he only frowned deeper. “I am yours and I promise you that I don’t see him like that. Only reason that happened was because I was too afraid to let myself want you- to want this, but now that I have it- now that I have you you’re the only person I ever think about. Especially when it comes to kissing and that stuff, like I’m not joking when I say that you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

Jackson shifted his hand on Mishka’s chest to twine their fingers together once more and he moved to bring the back of his boyfriend’s hand up to his lips. It felt good to hear those words, a bit grounding. But he couldn’t help that he still struggled to let the weight of them settle onto him comfortably. Despite so many things, his insecurities were great no matter how much he tried to hide them. “You’re goin’ a lil’ overboard there, baby boy. My ego ain’t that big,” he said as he pressed another kiss to Mishka’s hand before letting it drop down a bit. In truth, he knew that his boyfriend was way more experienced in nearly everything regarding other people and relationships, love and sex. It was embarrassing to admit that out loud, though he was sure Mishka would find it out eventually. “Are we done hidin’ in the bathroom now? I really...wanna go sit or lay down.” Jackson hated admitting that he needed the rest, but he didn’t want to push himself like Chase had warned against.

A smile threatened to come to his lips from having his hand kissed but he kept that firm look on his face. “I’m not doing nearly as much justice as I could be,” he said stubbornly. “But you know mine’s the biggest since I’m so vain and all of that.” And oh look, there came the pessimistic and cynical side of himself again but he didn’t feel like he was being dragged down this time. Anton was back to how he normally was with statements like that and he was thankful for it. A part of him wanted to say that they weren’t hiding in the bathroom, but that was exactly what he had come in here for originally. He just nodded and waited for Jackson to take the lead since he was fine with both options.

“Do we need to whip ‘em out and measure right now?” Jackson teased. Mishka seemed to be feeling better and he definitely wanted to encourage that. What had gone down between Chase and his boyfriend wasn’t great, but it was in the past and he wanted to keep it there. Harping on it would just make everyone miserable. He offered Mishka a small smile as he turned for the door, tugging him along towards the couch. It was more comfortable lately because when he hit the bed, the urge to lay down and stretch out was strong enough to make the mountain of pillows he was exiled to more irritating than they really were. Jackson moved the box of cookies from one of the cushions before urging Mishka up as he settled down back in the spot he’d occupied before. “Are ya hungry? We can order somethin’.”

A soft snort escaped him as he followed after Jackson. “Rather whip something else out and measure,” he mumbled out loud before he could stop himself. Anton actually rolled his eyes at himself because now really wasn’t the time for that. It didn’t occur to him that his responding innuendo was what his boyfriend hinted at but he let it drop from his mind as he arranged himself on the couch. “Always hungry for something.” That he should want to have, and god he was going to bang himself upside the head with a frying pan or something. “But, nah I had lunch earlier on break but you want to order then I’ll eat too.”

Jackson was not the least bit bothered by all of Mishka’s innuendoes. If anything it just told him that his boyfriend was relaxing and feeling better. He settled down and tugged the other closer, tossing a bit of a smirk at the implications. Truth be told, sex hadn’t really been on the agenda...since before the fire. Wow, that realization hit him out of nowhere. Not that it bothered him, really, but Mishka’s teasing made more sense now, even if it wasn’t a conscious thing. “Maybe in a lil’ bit then,” he said as he moved to grab the remotes for the tv. The movement was met with a hiss of pain though because for just a moment he’d forgotten he didn’t have that other hand to use.

Anton merely smiled back tiredly as he leaned in close. It hadn’t been intentional but his lack of filter was in the negative numbers now with how scattered his head had been just a few seconds ago. “M’kay,” he mumbled back right before his eyebrows nearly flew to his hairline from the noise of pain. His hand was already lifted to, well, hover since he didn’t exactly want to reach out and touch the injured arm like he would have done instinctively. Anton leaned forward to get the remote and as he handed it to Jackson he turned towards the man to kiss him on the cheek. “What’d you have in mind?” He asked as he resumed his previous position before Jackson had tried to move.

Jackson let out a huff of frustration both at himself and the alarm on Mishka’s face. He’d get his shit together one day, but hopefully he wouldn’t be stuck like this for much longer. He accepted the remote and the kiss to his cheek soothed the irritation for the moment. Shifting around a little to get comfortable again, he clicked on the tv and began to browse through titles to see if anything caught his eye. After a moment, he settled on one of his boyfriend’s favorite movies and clicked play. “This,” he hummed out, tossing the remote to the table before he reached to tug a blanket down from the back of the couch.

He was thrilled to see what they were going to watch and it managed to pull a bigger smile from him even though he felt like he was about a minute away from falling asleep. Dealing with his emotions and mental health was a lot more tiring than any other physical exertion, but he was happy to spend this time together with Jackson. It seemed like there was always something out there to hit them over the head with bad luck so he was quick to appreciate small moments like this. They could use the rest and they were both healing. Well, it was in their own way, but it was fine. Everything was fine for now and he left it as that.

[unpopcorned]

.

.

“…what the fuck’re you doin’?” She stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed, a towel in her hand. She’d opted to take a shower first, before Jacob had a chance to hog all of the hot water. Her hair is still wet, dripping onto her shoulders - she wrings it out into the towel. Now dressed in a tank top and one of Jacob’s boxers, Veronica stands at the entrance of the small kitchen, annoyed, “Hey. You listening?”

“Heard you loud and clear,” Jacob pulls his head out of the fridge, a carton of milk in his hand. Veronica watches him closely, tosses the towel onto the counter, “Y’know, Ronnie, you should invest in actual food.”

She’s well aware of the state of her fridge - doesn’t need him telling her that, “I don’t need food in the fridge. There’s restaurants for shit like that. Outside food.”

He looks amused with her, “Outside food? Try cookin’ something for once.”

“What the hell do I have you for then?” Out of the two of them, Jacob was the one who stayed in the kitchen - who actually tried to keep the freezer and cabinets stocked. Veronica didn’t mind it - it was comfortable, maybe even felt a bit homey to her. Even in a shit hole like this, “I don’t cook.”

“It’s only ‘cause you ain’t learned,” Jacob insists, “I can teach you.”

“No, thanks,” she’s already annoyed with the conversation, reaching over to try and snatch the milk from him. He doesn’t let her, he takes advantage of his height, twisting his body away from her and jerking the carton in the opposite direction of her hand. A heavy weight hits the bottom of the milk carton, jostling inside of it before going quiet.

Jacob looks at Veronica. She pointedly looks at the kitchen wall. Frowning, he pulls open the top of the carton, peering inside, making a face, and proceeding the dump the contents onto the counter. Money falls out, all banded together in a few stumps of hundreds, heavy - one almost falls onto the floor.

Jacob raises his brows high. Veronica makes a vague gesture with her hand, “It’s for safe keepin’.” His eyebrows go higher, “If someone broke in, who the fuck’s gonna look in the fridge?”

He looks like he’s fighting off a grin, it only fuels her irritation. Cursing, she snatched the carton from his hands, ignoring his laughter, “We should go to my ma’s to eat.”

“I look like shit, so no.” Barely any sleep, anxiety causing her to crawl up the damn wall. She doesn’t know why - there’s always some type of itch that needs to be scratched. Jacob, always so relaxed and easygoing, cups her shoulders, rubbing the skin there soothingly. She wants to hate how much it helps, “Your mom is always starin’ at me.”

“Starin’ at you like what.”

“Like - I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“A mom?”

“Yeah! It’s annoying. I don’t know how you deal with it on a day to day basis.”

“Hey. I love my mom–”

“Shocker.”

“–she makes me food when I’m hungry. Gives me advice, don’t forget the hugs and kisses–”

“Why don’cha marry her?”

“Very funny.” He refuses to let her go, pressing his chin into the crown of her head, holding her against his chest. She makes an halfhearted attempt to get him off - he’s pretty solid, “Fine. If you wanna stay in, I’ll go out and get somethin’. Want anything specific?”

She wants to tell him he doesn’t have to, she’s gone more than a few nights without eating before. But she keeps quiet, giving a stubborn jut of her jaw when he tries to kiss her, “Don’t touch my milk again.”

“Weird request, but sure, Ron.” Even with her putting up a fuss, he still kisses her, it’s a quick and familiar one. Something couples do. A short goodbye or something they do just to touch the other. It makes her uncomfortable, makes her feel weird. But, she can’t really blame him - she’s not making an attempt to push him away anymore, “And for the record, you look good.”

“Oh, yeah?” She doesn’t sound the least bit amused.

“Yeah, sexy. ‘Specially in my clothes.”

“Fuck off, just go and get the food.”

There’s a bit of a back and forth between them, he’s trying to plant another kiss, but she’s holding him away with her hands on his chest. He still manages to get one - on the corner of her mouth, his lips spreading into a smug grin when she complains. It should be more annoying to her, her lack of reaction towards this type of shit is becoming worrying.

Sighing, she watches as he leaves. Whenever he’s gone, it’s almost - overwhelmingly quiet. Jacob talks all day, every day, a mile a minute even. He never shuts up, Veronica tells him to be quiet before he even opens his mouth in the morning. But it’s comfortable, definitely too comfortable for her liking. She shouldn’t feel so weird, so lonely when he’s gone. She’s getting too soft, feels like.  

Veronica rubs at her forehead, she can already feel a headache coming on. Swiping the towel from the table, she hesitates beside the cabinets, reaching inside and recovering an unopened bottle of vodka. She has nothing to mix it with, so she rips open the top. Just as she’s about to take a drink, there’s a hurried knock at the door.

Veronica rolls her eyes to the back of her head, annoyance is quickly pricked. Crossing the room, she practically yells, “If you forgot your keys again, I swear to fuckin’–” The door opens before she can do it herself, and she blinks at the sight.

“…Jax! What the fuck?!”

Jax looks pale in the face, drained. But still offers one of his stupid big smiles, “Hey, Veronica! How’s it goin’? Jay around?”

She can’t get anything out, Dex is already speaking up before she has a chance to, “Cut the chit-chat. Move out the way, V.” It’s not like she has much of a choice - they stand in her doorway, three men. Jax, Dex, and some guy - that’s fucking bleeding all over the floors, the landlord is gonna have her ass. He looks close to unconsciousness, one arm thrown over both of their necks. They looked as if they were carrying most of his weight, there was so much blood, Veronica couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from.

Dex forces his way in, lugging the guy into the small apartment home, “Where’s the couch?”

Jax answers for her, “Over here.”

“Hey! Don’t do that on my shit! You’ll–” They’re already putting him down, blood immediately seeps into the cushions. Not like the couch was worth much, but it was still shitty, “Dex! What the fuck is your problem!’ She rounds on Jax next, “And you! What’re you even doin’ with him?”

Jax looks flustered, some color has returned to his face. He’s probably more at ease being in a more familiar environment - him and Jacob hang out on the couch all the time, “I’m sorry! I panicked, this was the closest place!”

“Take him to your shit hole! Better yet, drop him off at the hospital!”

“No…hospitals…” A soft murmur comes from the guy on the couch, Veronica looks at him - really looks at him for the first time. Through the swollen lip, the tattoos, the blood, she knows she’s seen him before.

“Miguel?” She’s surprised. Not only to see him, but in this state. Last time she’d heard about him was from Jax, was when she discovered Melissa had passed. She rounds his side, ignoring Jax’s jerky movements as he tried to explain, “What the hell happened?”

“Someone’s been on our block is what the fuck happened,” Dex snaps from beside her, already removing his jacket and throwing it onto the coffee table, “Set me up.”

Veronica can’t get much out of Miguel, he was in and out, so she asks, “Who?”

“Who the fuck you think? That Commie piece of shit, he’s been runnin’ rounds, I know it.” Veronica tenses slightly, her shoulders hunching. Cautiously, she looks over her shoulder to see Dex glaring at her, “Your boy. The Russian.”

“…you’re paranoid,” her voice sounds weak even to her own ears, “West isn’t that stupid.”

“You’d think so, huh?” Dex sounds bitter, he’s laughing at her - but there isn’t a shred of amusement in the sound, “He’s taking my guys! One way or another. Buying them out or killin’ them! He almost got Miguel!”

“How do you know it’s him? Maybe its a better business.”

“I fuckin’ know. You callin’ me stupid?”

“No. You talk to Mr. Rubio?”

“My uncle don’t believe me. Doesn’t want to engage. Said we gotta play our game right! He’s goin’ fuckin’ soft! He’s a pussy! He’s lettin’ this white boy steal our territory!” The angrier he gets, he begins to pace, drags a hand down his jaw. His beard is growing back in, he looks rougher than usual, more tired, “I’m gonna stop it.”

“You goin’ against West with no backup is fuckin’ stupid. Shut up,” Veronica returns her attention back to Miguel - Jax is trying to get him as comfortable as possible on the couch, wincing whenever Miguel groans or too much blood leaks onto his hands. He looks close to vomiting - figures Jax would have a weak stomach when it came to these sorts of things, “We gotta stop the bleeding.”

She looks over Miguel, finds the wound fairly quickly. It’s his leg, and with the amount of blood on him, he’s lost way too much. He isn’t going to last much longer if they just sit around with their thumbs in their asses. Veronica looks at Jax, “Go to the bathroom, find whatever looks like it can help.” She has no way of knowing if she kept it stocked with anything - she’s barely home as is.

As soon as Jax nods, she sets to work in trying to open Miguel’s jeans. He’s too out of it to care, but jostling too much could cause the bullet to move, if it’s still inside, “Did it go through?” Scissors are already on the side table, she begins cutting through the material of his jeans, ripping it the rest of the way. The wound is bad, blood spills out in worrying red lines, “Fuck.”

“I don’t think so,” Dex’s voice is quieter as he settles behind her, settling his weight on the coffee table in front of the couch. Veronica stays on her knees, inspecting the bullet hole - it was messy, she thinks one of them tried to dig it out by finger. Fucking idiots. “It’s still in there.”

Jax returns with an old looking first aid kit. But it was definitely sterile enough. She wasn’t looking for anything fancy. She takes it with bloodied fingers, opening it quickly, “Miguel, hey. Listen for a second. Stay calm, yeah? If you panic, high blood pressure might fuck you over.”

Miguel makes a weak sound - it almost sounds like laughter, “…mmm.”

Veronica knows a thing or two about bullet wounds, it’s pretty obvious these two were just Dumb and Dumber at this point. She would have to give them direction, in the end, “Jax, prop him up a bit more. Carefully. Don’t manhandle the guy.” Jax still looks queasy, eyeing Miguel uneasily, but he follows what she says. Hooks his hand under his armpits, forces him higher up so he’s sitting. Fortunately, Jacob had left his half-full water bottle on the floor, and she lightly pours it into the wound, using a guaze to wipe away any access blood, just so she can see it better.

Miguel puts up no fuss, or maybe he’s too tired to.

“Shouldn’t we have gloves?” Jax asks quietly, looking over the bloodied man on her couch.

“Oh, great fuckin’ idea, numb nuts. Y’know where they got gloves? The fuckin’ hospital,” Veronica grouses at him, pulling at the skin underneath the wound to inspect it, “Fuck. It really is in there. I’m gonna need pliers.”

“You’re gonna pull it out?” Jax looks alarmed this time, throwing a look at Dex, “Holy shit.”

“You got a better idea?” She’s losing patience with both of them - even if Dex hasn’t said much, “Just - be useful, for once. Go get me a towel. A few of ‘em.” Jax reminds her a lot of a puppy, he does what he’s told with little to no complaint, “Dex. Hold him down.”

Dex raises a brow at her, doesn’t move. She sneers her lip up at him, plucking a pair of tweezers from the table.

“Just fuckin’ do it. If he moves too much, I could fuck up. I ain’t a doctor.”

This time, he gets up - he looks deep in his thoughts, still pissed, but at least he’s helping. He grips Miguel’s shoulders, strength firm. Veronica breathes in once, releases it through her nose, and then delves the tweezers inside as far as they’ll go. It takes a few tries, Miguel tenses and squirms and makes these small huffing noises, but Veronica finally grazes the bullet on the fourth try. It takes maybe four minutes to get a firm hold on it, pull it out carefully and slowly, blood underneath her fingernails and leaking onto the floor.

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters under her breath, inspecting the bloodied bullet, “It might’ve hit somethin’, we gotta patch him up.” His bleeding is way too fast, it’s alarming. Dex only nods, setting in motion to grab the first aid kit off the table. However, they all stop when they hear the door open.

“Ronnie, babe. Guess the fuck what, they actually had duck sauce at the corner store. Chinese guy got all fuckin’ bent when I asked for some at the restaurant, said he only gave out two packs. I told him ‘your eggrolls are dry as hell’, you need more duck sauce. It’s common sense, it’s American, y’know! Apple-eating, fifty stars, all that shit, right? So–”

He only stops when he spots blood in the doorway, trailing after it, and finally landing his gaze onto the four of them in the living room. Jacob sets his lips into a firm line - looks from Miguel, Jax, and Dex. He settles onto Veronica, she only gives him a look right back.

“Hey, man. Smells good.” Jax says from beside Dex, holding a few towels to his chest. Dex only scoffs, glances at Veronica out of the corner of his eye.

“Fuck is he doin’ here?”

Veronica makes a face at him, “Why wouldn’t he be here?”

“You shackin’ up? Playin’ house with a gringo, eh?”

“It’s - uh, Dex, right?” Jacob already speaks up before Veronica can, and when she looks at him, she spots the tight smile on his face - he’s far from amused.

Dex stops what he’s doing, raises his brows high on his forehead, “Y’know me?”

“No,” Jacob says, shaking his head once, “Actually never heard of you. Don’t know you. Don’t wanna know you.” Veronica hears the first aid kit hit the table - Dex put it down with far more force than necessary, “Hey, watch out there, man. Might hurt yourself.”

Dex was already angry before, no need to press his buttons even further. Before he can step closer to Jacob - Jax actually tries to grab a hold of Dex’s arm, which he roughly shrugs off - Veronica speaks up, “He stays here. Sometimes.”

“Oh, be still my beatin’ heart, Ron. You got a real way with words,” Jacob drones on, even with Dex so close to him, leaning around him slightly to look at her, “You should go into poetry, baby.”

“Hey, white boy,” Dex says from between clenched teeth, Jacob only raises his brows in bemusement, facing the other once again, “Let’s get one thing straight, hm? Just ‘cause you stickin’ your five inches in V, don’t mean y’don’t show any respect. Try that fuckin’ act again and–”

“Five inches? I doubt Ronnie’s gonna settle for that. Try six, man–”

“Jacob!” Veronica’s voice is sharp - talking about his dick size is the last thing on her mind, “Can you guys have your pissin’ contest or whatever the fuck you’re doin’ later? I’m working over here.” When they begin to quiet - Dex has such a temper, he sometimes forgets the subject at hand - Veronica sets back to work, searching through the abandoned first aid to look for a needle. It doesn’t take long to get it ready, looping the thread through and biting off the end.

Jax has to look away during it, she doesn’t care. Dex reclaims his spot holding Miguel in place, but she can see him cutting Jacob looks out of the corner of his eye. She can practically imagine Jacob smiling and waving at him behind her back. When she’s finished, Veronica does an extra coat of antibacterial cream, cleaning the area around the bullet wound before she asks Jax to help her with wrapping it.

She done before she knows it, hands sticky with blood, “He might deal with infection, but it should be fine.”

“Good job, Veronica!” Jax clasps her on the shoulder roughly, jostling her a bit. When she cuts him a sharp glare, he drops his hand, “Sorry! Just - glad he didn’t - uh, die or anything. Would’ve been a bummer.” She can see the relief there, it’s in his big brown eyes as he watches Miguel.

“See if he can drink water. He’s gotta have a lot of fluids,” Veronica tells them both as she stands, grabbing a towel from the table to try and clean her hands. It’s a vain attempt, the blood has already caked onto her skin. She’ll have to take another shower - just to wash it all off, along with the nerves.

“It okay to move him?” Dex asks as he rounds her side, crossing his arms over his chest, “Take him back home, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Veronica nods, faces him. She’s quiet for a few seconds, glances at Miguel and then back to Dex, “Y’sure it was West? Don’t make any half-assed guesses.”

“I’m sure,” Dex fumes, voice quiet and low, “I know it was. I ain’t fuckin’ stupid.”

“No one’s calling you stupid, Dex. I’m just sayin’ - why would West want your area?”

“Cause he’s fuckin’ crazy! He has a death wish. Fucker don’t know where to cross the line. I’m gonna show ‘em though.”

“How?”

“How do you think?”

“You’re gonna end up like Miguel if you slip up, and I ain’t gonna be there, got it?” Dex only goes quiet, fixes his glare on the wall. Veronica can feel Jacob’s gaze burning into her shoulder - he’s in the kitchen, setting aside the food, “…you talk to her?”

Dex’s voice is impatient, annoyed, “Her who?”

“Nixie.”

Dex visibly tenses at the name, his gaze slides over to Veronica’s face slowly, “…no. She hasn’t answered shit from me.”

“If Miguel got shot, she would know about it.”

Dex doesn’t take that very lightly. He rounds on Veronica suddenly, dark eyes nearly pitch black, “You think she’d set me up like that? She ain’t like you!” He barks at her - the change in volume is so sudden, it makes Jax jump.

Veronica doesn’t waver, though, “Like me? Like me?! Who the fuck just patched up Miguel, no questions asked, huh?” Her anger is just as easily flared as his, “When’re you gonna fall outta this fuckin’ fantasy that she’s givin’ you? It’s been five years, Dex!”

“Shut the fuck up.” His words are hissed at her venomously.

“Keep beatin’ your dick off to her, then. She fucks to get a few notches up, and you still defend her like she’s Mother Theresa!”

Dex says nothing, she can see the subtle shake in his hands, though.

“Y’know how I know she would set you up? ‘Cause she knows your corners by heart,” She knows what he sells, what time he sells, and where he sells - it didn’t take rocket science to get the shit down pack, “’Cause she would do anything if it meant just a couple bucks. She sold you out. She sells everybody out–”

He suddenly steps closer, leaning closer to her, spitting his words, “And what’re you then? Turnin’ your back on everybody. On family. If you’re right, V, then you’re just like her! Fuckin’ around to get somewhere,” He makes a gesture in Jacob’s direction - Jacob, who’d been slowly making his way back over to them, “You nothin’, empty. Used up, you fuckin’ bitch–”

It happens without warning. One second, she’s looking up at Dex, ready to hit him - but, well - Jacob does it for her. Jax, who’d been pretty much an innocent bystander, manages to catch Dex’s arm before he retaliates, using most of his weight to hold him still.

“H-Hey! Let’s not fight, guys! Let’s just–Ow, Dex! Come the fuck on, man!” Jax is having a hard time keeping him still, “Veronica, look–”

“Get the fuck out,” Veronica says, she also makes an effort to keep Jacob at bay, he looks like he’s having fun if anything, “I said get out!” It takes longer than she’d prefer to get them out of the way, the shouting is already eating at her nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” Dex is yelling, “Y’hear me?!”

“Oh, yeah, man! Loud and clear! Don’t puss out, yeah?” Jacob calls after him, “Y’got the address, right? Need me to write it down anywhere–”

“Fucking–piece of shit–cheap shot–”

“–We got a welcome mat for a reason! Come back whenever the fuck you want!”

“Shut up,” Veronica snaps at Jacob, she closes the door - twists the lock in place. Hopefully, she doesn’t have to deal with the landlord later over all the noise. When she turns back to Jacob, he jerks his eyebrows up, waiting, “The fuck is the matter with you? You tryin’ to get killed?”

“What!” Jacob looks offended, “He’s full of shit. Fuckin’ stronzo - all fuckin’ talk. He a chick or what, Ron?” He’s more annoyed than she’d originally thought - of course, he wouldn’t show it in front of Jax and Dex. She’s beginning to notice his accent becomes more prominent when he’s irritated, which is rare on its own. When she gives him a withering glare, he continues, “What did you expect? You were gonna hit him anyway.”

She was, but she doesn’t need him pointing that out. Veronica only nudges her head towards Miguel, he was still quiet on the couch, in and out. Jacob follows her line of sight, falling silent for a few seconds, “I can call some people in the morning. Have him dropped off somewhere. Y’know his address?” 

She doesn’t want to know what people. Too tired to care. She waves a hand dismissively - the couch and floors are fucked, it’s gonna take forever to get the stains out either way. He seems to have more or less calmed down now - he’s much better at it than her. But Veronica nods at his question vaguely, grumbles underneath her breath, “I need a shower.”

“Want company?”

“No, you fuckin’ idiot. Sit down, shut up. Think you’ve done more than enough, yeah? Or you can leave, whichever is simpler.”

“Well, we both know me leavin’ ain’t the least bit simple, Ron. So how ‘bout the first one?” He gives her a particularly weird look when she looks back at him - it does funny things to her. She nods her head again slowly, doesn’t fight him when he leans in and kisses her firmly on the lips, “Don’t use up all the hot water.”

“It’s my shower, asshole,” She watches as he walks back towards the kitchen, waits until she hears him rifling through the cabinets before stepping closer to Miguel. Blearily, he glances over at her, his eyes look muddled and unfocused, “Hey.”

“…Where’s Dex?”

“Left.”

“…he comin’ back?”

“Probably not. I’ll take care of it.”

Miguel smiles a bit, just the slight hitch of the corner of his mouth, “…yeah. I know. You always got me, V.”

She goes quiet at that, looks down at the blood on her hands. And then back up to him, he looks close to falling back to sleep, “…I heard ‘bout Melissa.”

“Mmm…”

“She was so good to you, y’know? Always smiling. It’s weird to know she ain’t there anymore.”

Miguel grunts under his breath, shifts slightly, winces, “…Miss her like crazy. Every day. So much, V,” he’s quiet for a few seconds, “When I got shot, bleedin’ out in Jax’s shitty car, I was just thinkin’…wouldn’t be so bad dying like this. Seeing her again, y’know. Cariña…you don’t get girls like that everywhere.”

“…she was good. Real good.”

“Yeah…she was.”

Veronica watches him fall back to sleep, she hopes a fever doesn’t set in. Hope he hasn’t lost too much. Raising her chin slightly, she continues, “I’m gonna find out, Miguel. Who did this. Don’t worry about that.”

Only a week later, and she keeps to her promise.

One more inhale, and then Veronica flicks the cigarette onto the sidewalk. The streets are more or less empty, besides the bums here or there sleeping in alleyways, drunks stumbling home or to the train. She thumbs at her lip, looks over to the side when she sees Jacob shift next to her.

“If you don’t wanna stay–”

“I can leave, got it.” Rolling her eyes, she takes a drink from the liquor sitting in between them. Her teeth are close to chattering in this type of weather - fortunately, snow hasn’t started sticking to the ground yet, “Y’know, alcohol doesn’t really make you any warmer.”

“Thanks for the newsflash,” she mutters, keeping her eyes straight ahead, “Anything else I should take in?”

“I mean, technically, it makes you feel warmer. Just won’t keep y’from gettin’ hypothermia. It actually lowers the core temperature of your body–”

“Jacob,” she puts down the bottle, just so he could shut the fuck up. He smiles at her, she grimaces right back. For some reason, she doesn’t find him as annoying as she did a few months back,”Try not to talk for a few seconds, okay? Maybe even minutes.”

He nudges his shoulder against hers, “C’mon, you know me, Ron. That ain’t ever gonna happen.” It’s quiet for a few seconds, Veronica returns her attention to the more pressing issue, further down the street. Jacob leans a bit more of his weight onto her, “Never told me the plan.”

“Who says there’s a plan?”

“Since this isn’t a one-woman-show, I’d think there would be.”

“I didn’t tell you to come,” When he only looks at her, she twists her mouth to the side, glaring across the street now, “Fine, yeah. Okay. I got a plan.”

“Sharing is caring, babe.”

“The plan is simple. Get in. Talk to her.”

Jacob looks at her again, eyebrows go high on his forehead before the skin creases, “Just talk?” When she only gives a half-assed shrug of her shoulders, he mutters, “Veronica, we ain’t goin’ to kill anyone.” Turns out he knows her too well - not that she was planning to jump her, just ask a few questions, if anything.

But - she doesn’t deny it, “It ain’t just anyone. It’s Nixie.”

“Like that makes it any better.”

“She’s a whore. It’s not like anyone’s gonna miss her–Hey!” Jacob had reached around her while she was speaking, searching her jacket’s pocket and stealing her pocket knife in the process, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Keepin’ you outta jail for tonight. Or the next twenty years. Gimme a break here.”

“You can’t be fucking serious!” She stands, and he does the same, “She almost got Miguel killed. I know it was her.”

“And I believe you,” Jacob tells her, leaning in so that their faces were close together. Whether she likes it or not, his cologne was a comforting smell to her - the fight in her is tempted to drain quickly, “But we can go about this a smarter way, Veronica. You know that.”

She glares pointedly over his shoulder, crosses her arms.

Jacob rubs at his forehead, exasperated, “I don’t want y’involved with this shit, okay? You gonna end up dead ‘cause none of ‘em can handle shit on their own. You see how Dex just walks around like he owns the place? You? You’re not some errand girl. You don’t gotta do anything for these guys.”

Veronica shoves her hands into her pockets, flickers her gaze from the pavement, the street, and then back to him.

“If you ain’t gonna let it go, let’s at least worry about it in the morning. It’s freezin’.” He takes off his long scarlet scarf, throwing it over her head and wrapping it around her neck and jaw, “Better?”

“…I bet your mom knitted this for you, you pansy.”

“Maybe she did. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that–” His attention is caught, he blinks once at something over her head, and then a grin graces his features, “Officer! Hey, thought I smelled bacon around here.”

Veronica turns her head, nearly scowling at the sight of Detective Howard. He’s bundled up as well in a thicket jacket, winter hat on, grimacing with obvious annoyance towards Jacob, “Detective Howard. What’re you two doing out so late?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Officer Sir, are we bein’ interrogated?” Jacob was having too much fun already, the same smile is still there. He throws an arm over Veronica’s shoulder to pull her against his side, quietly pocketing the knife in his jacket as well, “If you must know, we’re on a date.”

“Fuck we are,” Veronica grouses, trying to escape his grasp. It proves to be unsuccessful, so she rounds her annoyance onto the Detective, “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

Elijah barely acknowledges her, only a quick glance is thrown in her direction before it’s back on Jacob, “Read the sign,” he points briefly to the left of them, “No loiterin’.”

“Oh, shit!” Jacob holds a hand to his heart, “I didn’t even see that. Thanks for pointing that out, Officer Sir, we’ll be sure to be more careful. What would we do without ya’–”

“Cut it with the sarcasm, kid,” Elijah scolds, “Train is twenty-four hours, right? Get on it, go home.” Veronica is in no mood to watch them go back and forth - and Jacob was right earlier, it is freezing - but when Elijah opens his mouth to say more, sirens cut through the air sharply, a police vehicle speeding around the corner, nearly sliding on the wet pavement.

As it headed further up the street, the Detective frowns, looks at Jacob, points at him again, “Train. Now.” With that, he’s following after the police vehicle. Even though Veronica’s sure he’s off the clock. She sighs, a puff of air leaves her lips when she does.

When she glances at Jacob, he’s looking towards the direction Detective Howard went. He’s speeding walking down the sidewalk, turning the same corner the police cruiser went. Veronica frowns, moves past Jacob, grabbing his wrist along the way.

“Ronnie–”

“C’mon.”

There’s at least three police cruisers parked outside of the strip joint. From behind her, she can hear Jacob come to a slow stop, slightly out of breath. Veronica attempts to get a better look, she can spot Detective Howard speaking to a police officer, she comes around the side of the first cruiser, only stopping when she spots more officers by the door. They part - allowing someone to step outside.

Dex is the first person she sees, hands cuffed behind his back, a woman officer leading him across the walkway and towards the second car. The lights make it hard to see his face for a moment, Veronica backtracks, tries to get closer.

“Dex!”

He looks up at her voice, there’s a hard set of his jaw - an almost determined look in his dark eyes. He doesn’t say anything to her, lets the officer touch the top of his head to lower him into the car. Veronica only stares - flickers her eyes down to his sullied clothes, the slight trace of red on his hands and shirt.

“Dex! What did you do?” 

No response.

“Dex! Dex, what the fuck did you do?” 

Her hands touch the window, he ignores her. There’s nothing from him, barely any reaction, an officer asks her to keep her distance, the woman gets into the driver side, pulls away as if she’s not there. Dex continues to hold her gaze until she can’t see him anymore. 

Until the back-lights are the last things she can make out. Until the sirens drown out with the rest of the noise.

.

.