#Josh you fucked yourself bad on this one buddy

[postsetstoner]

Losing my mind over the most recent episode of mbmbam, someone from my hometown doxxed himself bc there is only one amusement park/arcade in Frederick Maryland.

It took about two seconds to find out the question asker is my little brother’s friend who I have personally met. Just small town things I guess but absolutely hilarious that I was able to dox him in like under an hour just by texting my brother.

[g4yforethan]

anything

pairing: mike schmidt x male!reader

summary: reader ends up working the late shift with mike and catch feelings for each other

warnings: cursing, top!mike, bottom!reader

a/n: i honestly loved the fnaf movie and josh hutcherson is sooo cuteee istg

“do you want the job or not?” your employer asked you as you sat in his office. this job was your only hope since you had some troubles with your previous jobs and getting fired from every single one for always showing up late. "i mean what do i even have to do?" you were confused. he was offering you a job at an abandoned pizzeria and when you looked it up, it looked like an evil chuck e cheese. he explained the job and you decided to take it. "would i be working by myself?" you asked him. "no no of course not. you're gonna have a buddy to work with. name is mike schmidt. ran into a little trouble but seems like a nice guy." you agreed and got ready for the job.

you arrived at the pizzeria at around 9 pm and saw another car parked and went inside. as you went inside, you saw the whole place truly was abandoned as all the lights were off and the main stage that featured the animatronics was filled with dust and spider-webs. when you went into the security room, you heard a scream as you went in. "AHH JESUS CHRIST." "oh my god i'm so sorry. i guess they didn't tell you you were gonna have a partner huh?" the look on his face said that he didn't know. the both of you laughed it off and started to get to know each other.

“haha so you’ve been seeing anyone lately?” mike asked you. you were taken back by what he said but answered his question. “uhh no i haven’t found the time to do any of that you know.” he nodded his head and started to get closer to you. “well i think a guy as cute as you should already have a boyfriend.” you blushed and turned away so he wouldn’t see but he grabbed your face and looked straight into your eyes. “i’m being serious.” he said to you as you both kept eye contact with each other. he licked his lips and went in for a kiss on your lips.

the two of you began smothering each other with kisses as he grabbed ahold of your face and you grabbed his back. he moaned as you bit on his lip."i'm sorry." you said as you paused to look at him. "don't. i liked it." you smiled and continued kissing each other as he placed you on his desk and removed all the papers that were on it and laid you on your back. he started to take his shirt off as did you and proceeded to give you several hickies on your neck and chest. you moaned as he started playing with your nipples and rubbed them to elevate you. "i wanna fuck you so bad right now." "then do it already." you told him as he quickly understood you and unzipped his pants and you did as well.

he pulled out his long, thick cock and quickly inserted it into your mouth. you began sucking on his dick for a few minutes as he grabbed your hair and shoved it down your throat. you continued sucking before he pulled out. "fuck i was gonna cum. turn around baby boy." you did as he said and turned around and positioned yourself with your ass facing towards him. he started going down and licking your hole and leaving marks on your ass. your moans seemed to turn him on even more as he started digging his fingers inside your hole. you begged him to fuck you already and he listened.

he went in slowly scratching your back and leaving marks all over. he went at an angle that had you hooked and he knew this. he started going at a medium pace, this time grabbing ahold of your waist. he went even deeper digging into your hole as your moans filled the room. he started going even faster and started pulling your hair back with his hands making sure you wouldn’t pull out. “fuck. fuck im gonna cum.” he came inside of you filling your hole with his warm, thick cum. afterwards, the both of you put back your clothes on and laid next to each other on the ground. “you know we should get back to work in case anything goes wrong.” you tell him as mike slowly starts to doze off. “mhm after a quick nap.” he pulls you in and gives you a kiss on your lips and neck before the both of you fall asleep.

[indigogvf]

How can you not see it?

Authors note: this is my first time writing smut!! Any feedback/thoughts are much appreciated but please be nice :)

Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Angst (i cant help myself🤭), fluff, drinking, swearing. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: After being fuck buddies with Josh for a few months, he begins to act out when he sees a man buy you a drink. Is this little arrangement between you over, or does it turn into something more?

You walked up to the bar, standing there for no longer than two seconds before an unfamiliar arm snaked around your waist. “This one’s on me. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be paying for their own drinks, hm?”

‘Okay, gross…’ you thought, turning to look at him. He had dark brown hair that was gelled to the side, brown eyes with slight stubble on his face. I mean, he wasn’t ugly, but that pick-up line was plain nasty.

“I’m okay, thanks though.” You presented a closed lipped smile in hopes that your bluntness would deter him.

You were wrong.

“C’mon, just one drink. I’ll leave you alone after that, I promise.” He asked, looking at you hopefully.

‘Maybe he isn’t so bad, I mean that’s a pretty reasonable offer.’ Looking over the man’s shoulder, you caught Josh’s eyes burning into you.

“Okay, just one drink, but you have to leave me alone after that.” Accepting his compromise, you took a seat at the bar whilst he ordered you a drink. You caught Josh’s eyes again, noticing that he appeared to be angry. You and Josh have been sleeping together for a few months now, but so far, it has been nothing serious.

It happened at the end of the last tour, when he was pent up after a show and had absolutely no shame in asking for your help in the midst of his desperation. There was no denying that Josh is attractive, and you’d always had a small thing for him, so you happily obliged. But then, it carried on, which isn’t necessarily a problem, but he’s a very confusing person. You know that he’s only using you for a quick fuck, but considering your friendship, you assumed he’d have a tad more respect. You are painfully aware that sex is all it is to him, but you can’t help feeling hurt at times, especially when he has no shame in chatting up random girls when you go out somewhere. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to do the same, but stopped yourself out of respect for Josh.

However, it had been a week since you and Josh last had sex, and the guy currently chatting you up seemed nice enough. You didn’t have any intention of sleeping with him, but it was nice to share a drink with someone, even if it was not the person you wanted to be with.

You finished your drink and said your goodbyes to the guy at the bar, who you never actually caught the name of. Or maybe you did… you can’t remember, and truthfully, you don’t really care. You headed back to the group, which only consisted of you, Josh, Jake, Danny, and Sam. “Who was that?” Jake asked, sharing an intrigued look with the rest of them.

“Just some guy, he said he’d buy me a drink and then leave me alone. Seemed like a fair deal and he was nice enough.” You looked around, and it seemed like your answer was satisfactory. Until you landed on Josh, who was still wearing the same grumpy look. You frowned at him, wondering what his problem was. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

‘What is his problem?’ You thought, frustrated with the lack of communication.

“Where are we going after this?” You asked, trying to avoid Josh’s stare.

“You’re not going home with that guy?” Josh asked, hints of sarcasm seeping through his already harsh tone. You were dumbfounded, Josh never acts this way.

“Excuse me?” You asked, pure confusion evident in your tone.

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty content with him.” You looked around trying to gauge everyone else’s reaction, which was seemingly the same as yours.

“I already told you, he bought me one drink and promised to leave me alone. If he hadn’t made the promise of leaving me alone I would have been opposed to the idea, but he did. It was a harmless drink.” You spoke calmly despite the anger that was flowing through your veins.

‘This is unbelievable! Since when is this a problem for him? He has no issues chatting up girls, but when I have a harmless drink with someone he acts like I’ve committed adultery in a marriage that doesn’t even exist.’ You were fuming, but doing a good job of hiding it.

“Could’ve fooled me” he responded, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Josh, chill out. Let’s just go back to mine because it's the closest.” Danny pipes up. You weren’t even sure you wanted to stay out after the way Josh has been acting. It was awkward now, no one was really sure of what to say because no one knew what was wrong.

“I think I might just head home for the night. This has been really nice though, we need to make more of an effort to do this more often.” You hoped that they wouldn’t question it. Josh had entirely sucked the fun out of the night and your mood to socialise had gone down the drain. They all protested, asking you to stay just a couple more hours. Josh stayed silent, confirming that he was still in his pathetic little mood. That gave you even more reason to leave, so you did. You all said goodbye and they subtly told you to just ignore Josh and that he’d get over whatever was bothering him.

As soon as you got home you stripped from your restricting skirt and top and got in the shower. The warmth felt so good, releasing all the built up tension from Josh’s digs at you. It started to dawn on you that maybe the whole arrangement you had with Josh was a bad idea. Realistically, it’s never a good idea to sleep with your friends without the intention of more. But, it was going fine, it hadn’t affected your friendship at all until now. You wonder what had changed.

You reluctantly got out the shower and put on your comfiest pyjamas. Then, you ordered some takeout, which is a necessity after a night of drinking. It was still quite early and you weren’t going to go to sleep for a few more hours, so you poured yourself a nice, full glass of wine. You heard a knock at the door before you could enjoy.

‘That was quick…’ you opened the door and was met with Josh’s familiar face. ‘Fucking brilliant.’

“What do you want now? To ruin the rest of my night, too?” You asked. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“No, I was going to apologise but it seems you’re still clinging on to whatever it was I did.” You audibly laughed in his face.

‘Unbelievable. Is he serious? This is so obviously because the rest of them forced him to come and apologise.’ You theorized.

“Seriously, Josh? You were rude. You have no problems chatting up women at bars and I never bat an eyelid. Was it shitty to watch? Sure! But I have no reason to stop you because we are not together. We fuck Josh, that’s the extent of it. We’re friends who fuck. Why is it a problem when I have a drink with someone? I was never going to agree in the first place out of respect for you. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to go home with someone, but I haven’t, because despite the fact that we aren't together, we’re friends. But it’s only fair if I get to talk to other guys. I don’t know what your problem is, but our little arrangement is done. It’s clearly affecting our friendship and you seem to be able to get a good fuck whenever you want, so you obviously don’t need me for that. Now, if you’re not going to sincerely apologise for your pathetic behaviour, I’d like you to leave before my food gets here.” He stared at you, mouth agape in shock. All of the emotions you just poured out started to sink in, and it’s became overwhelming. You hold back the tears and wait for him to respond.

‘Why is this getting to me so mu-‘

“I love you! Jesus, how can you not see it? I’m head over heels for you. Have you never noticed how I always take care of you after we have sex? I stay with you every single time. Have you never noticed the way I look at you every opportunity I get? Have you never thought about why I always get you the most meaningful gifts compared to everyone else? Or why I always sit next to you when we go out? I’m in love with you. I never meant for us sleeping together to become a regular thing, but having you as something more than a friend was better than just being seen as a friend by you, even if it was just as a fuck buddy. The way I acted tonight was wrong and unfair, and you’re right. You should be able to talk to whoever you want because that’s exactly what I do. I’m sorry.”

You were shocked to say the least, but it made sense. Everything made sense. You love him. That’s why it always bothered you to see him talking to other girls. As you stared at him completely baffled, your food arrived, which was honestly perfect timing. It brought you back to reality. You invited Josh into your home and sat down with him, “please say something, you’ve been silent for way too long”

“I’m sorry. I just- it all makes sense now.” You thought about the best way to go about this. You weren’t exactly planning on admitting your feelings for Josh tonight, specifically because you are admitting to feelings that you didn’t even realise you had until five minutes ago. ‘Fuck it.’ “I love you too. I didnt even realise, but it makes sense. It hurt to see you talk to other girls, knowing you could pull any of them whenever you wanted. I just didn’t put the pieces together.” You stared up at him, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him into you, kissing him with so much force that it made your head spin. He gladly reciprocated. Your mouths moved in sync as his tongue swiped your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted. He pushed you further into the couch, and you wrapped your legs around his waist bringing him in closer. This felt so different; it wasn’t just need and desperation; the atmosphere was filled with love and passion. He groaned into your mouth as you started grinding your hips on him, looking for some type of friction to ease the aching sensation. You could feel how hard he was.

He pulled away to remove your top and groaned when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. “Fuck. You’re so pretty, mama.” You smiled at him as you moved your hands to his waist and attempted to unbutton his pants when he stopped you, “No. Let me make you feel good, first.” He removed your pants, leaving you completely naked below him. He ran his fingers through your folds collecting the wetness. “All of this for me?” You moaned at the feeling of his fingers on you, bucking your hips to try and get some friction on your aching clit.

“Only for you, Josh” he pushed a finger inside of you, eliciting a moan that was louder than intended. He was moving at an antagonizing pace. “Please, Josh.” You whined. You needed more, you were so desperate for something.

“Please what, baby?”

“I need more. Please.” He pushed another finger into you, increasing his speed. “Fuck! That feels so good.” You moaned. You could feel the warmth blossoming in your belly, getting closer and closer to your release. He knew it, he knew your body so well. He could feel you squeezing his fingers, and just as you were about to come, he removed them. “No! No, no. Please Josh. I was so close”

“Soon, mama. Let me take care of you.” he leaned in, kissing you much softer than before. You whined into his mouth, bucking your hips in an attempt to relieve your desperation. He was just as desperate as you, if not more. You could feel the heat radiating from his cock.

“I need you Josh. I need your cock, please.” You begged. He pulled down his pants along with his boxers and released his achingly hard cock. His head was red and dripping with pre cum, begging to be touched. You reached your hand down and stroked him delicately. “Fuck. Your hands feel so good, baby, but I need to be inside of you.” He lined his cock up with your entrance and bottomed out. You both groaned in sync. He was stretching you out so good.

“Please move Josh.” You begged, and he obliged. He moved slowly, picking up his pace. This was different, he was going slow but so deep compared to usual, where he would mercilessly fuck you. You used your legs that were wrapped around his waist to bring him in closer, digging your nails into his back. He moaned into your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Your orgasm was approaching quickly after having it taken away a mere five minutes ago. It was so rushed but you couldn’t care less, you just needed him.

“Faster Josh, I’m so close. Fuck!” He did as he was asked, thrusting into you faster. He grabbed your leg and chucked it over his shoulder, somehow achieving an even deeper angle than before. “Jesus Christ, Josh. You feel so good.” Your head rolled back into the cushions behind you as you quickly approached your long awaited orgasm.

“You gonna come for me? Give it to me, mama. I need to feel you come around my cock.” Josh’s words of encouragement threw you over the edge and caused you to come, hard. You don’t even know if you were actually saying anything or if you were just making noises, but you didn’t care. He fucked you through it, picking up his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “I’m close, baby. Can you give me one more?” You nearly cried when he said that. You were beyond fucked out, the alcohol from earlier starting to tire you out.

“I can’t, Josh.” You whined. His hips were faltering now, giving him away. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was hanging open. “You can, I know you can. C’mon, mama. Just one more for me. You feel so good. Be good for me, please” his voice was strained, which encouraged you even more. You could feel yourself getting closer. He reached his hand down to your clit and within seconds you were coming again. You saw stars, your legs clamped around his waist even harder as you came. You were shouting his name like a mantra as he thrusted into you at a merciless pace, chasing his own release. You felt him twitch inside of you.

“Fuck! I’m gonna come” he groaned as he stilled inside of you, releasing his hot spurts of cum. His head dropped to the crook of your neck as he worked himself through his orgasm. You both stilled as you caught your breath and he rolled off of you.

He wrapped his arms around you and brought you closer, kissing your forehead gently. “I’m sorry for earlier. I love you.” You smiled up at him and ran your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. I love you too, Josh.” You cuddled into him.

‘This feels so right.’ He leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips whilst he caressed your face. He pulled away and his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

“How does a shower sound?” He suggested, a cheeky glint in his eyes. You grinned up at him and peeled yourself away from his embrace. “I’ll race you.” You giggled, quickly getting up and giving yourself a head start.

“Oh, you’re on!” He chased after you, laughing to himself.

‘This feels so right.’ He thought, too.

[starshine-wagner]

Kodak Moment

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader

Summary: You decide to document a special moment during drum practice with Danny.

Word Count: 1,200

Warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive content

A/N: This is a re-upload to move it from my old blog to my current blog.

"Dammit," Danny huffed. He slammed one of the drumsticks down onto the snare and took a deep breath, stretching his fingers. He'd been trying a new bit on his Age of Machine line, but just couldn't seem to get the beat right. The two of you had been there for the better part of an hour.

"If I'm being honest, I didn't notice that it was o-" you started, but Danny cut you off.

"I did," he bit back, "And Jake did last night. And Josh will be up my ass about it soon enough."

You knew enough not to be too hurt by Danny's reply. It wasn't that he was frustrated with you. He was just a bit too hard on himself, sometimes. With a sigh, you sat up from your spot on the ground next to Danny and wandered around the stage while he continued practicing.

You paid a visit to Sammy's little Plato statue. You thought it was endearing that he kept a little buddy to keep him company on stage. He told you the story of how he got the figurine sometime last year, but, if you were being honest, you hadn't totally been listening.

It was before Danny and you had been dating and, with Danny sitting across the room, you had no chance at really hearing what Sammy had to say. Between stealing yearning glances at his best friend and feeling the butterflies flutter in your stomach, it truly was a lost cause.

You dragged your fingers across the keys, noticing that the stagehands had already set Sammy's his incense for the night. He'd been trying different scents lately, but, after a sniff, you determined that you weren't too fond of the one he'd picked for tonight. It was too musky for your taste.

Being on the stage was like taking a little peek into Danny's mind. You enjoyed watching him in his element, especially up close. Of course, during a show, you'd never be able to really see what it was like. But, during these little pre-show sessions, you could at least get a taste. Looking out into the empty seats, you felt a pit in your stomach and were immediately brought back to your 3rd grade piano recital. With a shudder, you turned back to Danny.

Just then, he let out an animalistic yell and, at first, you couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

"Let's fucking GO!" he shouted. You raised your eyebrows to him in silent questioning. "That one was damn near perfect," he nodded. Running up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. That's when your eye caught it. One of the disposable cameras the fans so oddly loved.

The guys had really gotten into the whole disposable camera trend this tour. You thought it was a little silly, considering they all had cameras with 10x better quality in their pockets at (almost) all times. But, they enjoyed messing around with them. They'd always be sure to have one on stage on the off chance that Josh decided to fool around during one of Danny's drum solos. And, of course, the fans went wild anytime he'd take pictures on stage.

You quickly released Danny from your hold and skipped to the front of his drum stage to reach down and grab the camera.

"Think Josh will mind?" you asked, lifting the camera into his view.

"It's fine. But what for, baby?"

You spun the gear on top of the camera until it was locked and loaded, and then aimed the lens at Danny, just as he was checking to see a notification on his phone. Probably Jake checking in. The flash went off and he whipped his head back up to you.

"You didn't tell me to pose!"

"I didn't want to! It's to commemorate you getting that part just now. That way, the next time you doubt yourself I can make you remember," you said with an all-knowing smile.

"Gimme that," he said, reaching his arm out to you from across the kit. He was glistening with sweat, but you don't think the camera captured it well. It couldn't ever really capture his beauty.

He turned the knob and aimed the lens at your face just as you went to pull a stupid grin.

"Absolutely perfect," he murmured. Once more, you came around to his side and tapped his thigh, letting him know that you wanted a seat. He spread his legs open just enough so that you could sit and face him.

"You know, they really should make these stools bigger," you thought.

"Well I don't think the manufacturers are typically envisioning more than one person on the seat, Y/N."

"Touché" you responded, kissing his breastbone. When you pulled your head back up, his thumb caressed your cheekbone while his other hand held you securely on his lap.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he frowned. "I shouldn't be short with you when you're just trying to love me."

"Thank you, Danny. You know I understand, but you're forgiven." Now it was your turn to admire his cheekbones. You had already helped him paint a pair of small triangles under his eyes in preparation for tonight's show. Though you admired your work, you admired his natural beauty even more. "You're a pretty boy, you know..." you reminded him.

"Yeah?" he smirked. "Pretty?"

"Very pretty," you murmured just before you moved to take his lips in yours. His hand moved down from your face and wrapped around your neck, applying only the slightest bit of pressure. He went to move it down further when you let out the smallest, barely-noticeable moan at his gesture. He rethought his decision and decided he liked holding your neck best. Your hand made its way onto his for just a moment before you had a bright idea.

Not breaking the kiss, you reached behind your back to grab the disposable Danny had placed on the snare. Silently winding it up, you stretched your arm out. Before he recognized what was happening, you'd snapped a photo of your little heated moment. Danny, once again surprised by your photography, pulled back.

"I don't think this is quite what they were envisioning when they coined the phrase 'Kodak moment', babe," he said, chuckling.

"Well," you started, running your hands down his chest, "I was thinking earlier. Sammy has his little tokens on his stage. Josh has his props. And Jake... well, Jake is too busy playing with his eyes closed to see anything else. But, you don't have anything personal with you on stage. Nothing to keep you, like, grounded."

He listened intently, his eyes still glancing at your lips, clearly wanting to get back to business. "So, once we get this developed, maybe you can keep it with you. You know, I can tape it to one of your stands or something..." you trailed off. The more you spoke, the more self-conscious you became.

Danny was silent for a few beats before his gaze met yours through his eyelashes.

"I mean..." you braced yourself for a pang of rejection. Maybe he didn't want to have that kind of thing with him at work. The right side of his mouth twitched up as he continued, "I mean, I think we can do a little better than that, yeah?"

Oh. Oh. The self-conscious knot in your stomach turned into something... else.

And so, back to business you went. The two of you made very good use of the next few minutes and the last few exposures on that roll of film.

Josh didn't need that camera anyway.

[starlitvalyria]

always by your side;

© credits to the author, i found on pinterest. if you own it, let me know so i can add your @

bucky barnes x reader

Summary: you were seeing someone, one night you bring them to the compound but at the same night bucky has a terrible nightmare and you drop everything to comfort him

Word count: 1282 (every word is worthy, i promise)

Warnings: mention of alcohol drinking, angst, curse words and panic attacks

Author's note: in this story steve did not go back to the past and all the avengers are alive. english it’s not my first language so I’m deeply sorry for any mistakes or inconveniences.

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you’ve been seeing this guy name josh for about a month now, it was nothing serious, just fuck buddies and out of nowhere, he asked you if you could spend the night together, without thinking you agreed.

when you arrived at the compound everything was quiet and calm, but you didn’t expect to find steve, bucky, and sam hagging out in the kitchen. obviously, bucky was the first one to notice you, sometimes the super-soldier wished he didn’t have assassin instinct. he looked at the man beside you with a death glare.

“who’s the new guy?” sam asked looking at josh who quickly put a slime on his face and step forward, “im josh, is so nice to meet y’all”

steve looks at you with a raised eyebrow and bucky is just dead silent staring at you.

“let’s go, josh” you say while holding his arm and guiding him to the elevator. when you’re almost in the elevator you can hear steve questioning bucky, “you good, man?” and sam joking him right after, “you were staring really hard, dude. if a look could kill, we would be hiding a body now”, bucky was quicky to respond “fuck off”.

Josh felt threatened when he walked into your room, the place was full of pictures of you and your friends but the ones with bucky really highlighted.

“what’s your thing with Sergeant Barnes?” there was a bit of jealousy on his voice but you elected to ignore it.

“we’re just friends, we've known each other for a long time” you hope he gives up in the subject but that doesn’t happen. “didn’t know friends looked at each other like that” he points at a picture in your dresser. full of that you spit what you think “josh, we are not a serious thing, we’re fuck buddies, so don’t act like i own you some explanation because i don’t” he flinched when you touched him and that made you feel bad, he thought you would hurt him. “let’s just watch a movie and go to sleep” you grab the remote and lay down on your bed waiting for josh.

…

it was pretty late a night when you woke up with the sound of a scream, you knew that it was bucky. he was having nightmares for a long time now, and sometimes they are so realistic that he panics and someone has to calm him down, actually, you are the only one he allows to be around him during a panic attack, even steve can’t get close.

you quickly stand up and drag your feet to the door, without thinking you get yourself out of the room to find steve and peter in the hall staring at bucky’s door. already in the hall, you go to steve but you feel a hand on your shoulder

“he's not your problem. if you guys are really just friends, stay with me” steve looked at you in disbelief, he was shooked, just like you. “here” you place a key in josh’s hand “that will give access to the front door, use and get the fuck out”

the awkward silence ends when bucky breaks something in his room, so you rush at his door “he’s gonna hurt you, just like he did with all those people” steve was the one who responded this time, full of rage. “man, please get out.” josh opens his mouth to say some dumb shit again but you're already in bucky's room.

the place was a mess, things were thrown on the floor, some things were broken and when you looked at bucky you could feel your heart breaking a bit. He was covered in sweat, his face was red like a tomato and he had some scratches where the flesh meets metal.

"hey, it's y/n… can i come in?" you were standing with your back against the closed door, waiting for permission.

"i'm not in my right mind, please don't come close. i don't wanna hurt you, y/n"

"you could never hurt me, buck" without questioning you stand by his side, left hand on his shoulder and the right one on his metal arm "do you wanna talk about the nightmare?" he nods signaling "no"

just by your touch bucky’s whole body relax, he felt safe like he never felt before.

"you can go back to your date, you don't need to be here" all this time bucky was looking at the floor, ashamed to look you in the eyes, until now.

"you're crazy if you think i'm leaving you… i will always be by your side" your hand that's was resting on his shoulder goes directly to his cheeks, wiping the tears who were running down his face "and that guy… he’s a douchebag” a small smile appear in his face “you’re cute when you’re smiling” you point it out holding his cheek on your hand.

“you are james bucky barnes, you are not the winter soldier anymore and i trust you with my life” bucky hugged you really tight, with his arms around your waist and face buried on your neck, when he lets you go with a smile on your face you suggested “why don't you take a hot shower to calm down and i can show you something”

while bucky was on the shower you got out of the room to talk to steve who was waiting this whole time

“is he good?” steve was really worried, the last time bucky woke up screaming took 2 days for him to get out of his room. “he’s taking a shower, he didn’t talk much about the nightmare but i’ve never seen him this broken before, stevie” the captain sighs in distress

“you think it will be bad to stay the night with him? i usually calm him down and we go back to sleep separately but he doesn’t have to be alone and i don’t want him to be.”

“why would it be bad? you’re good for him” you smile at steve. “just don’t do anything to break his heart, i don’t know if he can patch it up” the captain goes back to his room to try to sleep again and you keep waiting for bucky on the wall

when bucky leaves his room, he’s looking fresh. wet hair on his forehead and his body looks more relaxed. he cracked a smile when he saw you. going to his side you grab his hand and you both get to the compound roof.

“what are we doing here? are you gonna throw me off the roof?”

“only in your dreams, barnes” a smirk crosses his face “but what are we really doing here?” he question

“for the past years when im too stressed to even function like a normal person i come here, usually with a glass of wine and a book” the steel-blue eyes meet the y/y/c and everything stops “but you can’t get drunk, and getting drunk is not a healthy way to deal with things, so i thought we could stargaze” bucky places his hands on your cheeks, cupping your face and looking directly into your eyes “i don’t know what i would do without you, doll” you both smile at the same time “i don’t even have the word to thank you” you come close to bucky, resting your hands around his sides

“you don’t need words… you can just kiss me”

and that’s exactly what he does, traveling his hand to your waist, one pressed in your lower back bringing you together and the other in the back of your head.

when your lips touched, nothing mattered anymore

©deadivyy

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tag list: @watersofmars @lifeofafangirlfandom @auromalima

[thespiritoflife]

Pairing: Raymond Smith x reader

Summary: Your father finds himself in troubles with the dreaded Mickey and you pay for it.

Warnings: violence, nudity, swearing, mention of character's death, long story, grammatical errors

I don't know if I'll make a series of this. But you know, feedback is always appreciated!

Bloody rose 🥀

"You're doing great, Y / N!"  my friend Tracy said.

I smirked.  I did a Cartwheel for the last time and then I stopped.

"Thank you, hon," I shouted at her.

She handed me a towel.  "Take it. Then we have to go,"  she muttered.

"Where?"  I was in no hurry.  Oh, I loved Fridays.

"At that party, you fool,"  she said.

I sighed.  "Tracy, no. I'm not going to that party."

"Buut ... at least for me."  she threw dog eyes at me.

"No. I don't understand why you want me there, at all. I'm not a party woman. I hate parties. And you'll have a bunch of buddies there. And your boyfriend."

"God, there's no fun with you. Fine. I'll go there alone. But how do you spend Friday night? Staring at the ceiling?"

We started walking to the parking lot.  I laughed.  "No, Tracy. I'll relax. I'll go to the bathtub. I'll open my wine ... relax. I deserve it."

She didn't say anything.  She just turned her head inconspicuously in some direction.  I turned and rolled my eyes.

Josh was there.  My .. what?  Classmate.  And he kept flirting with me, even though I told him a thousand times that I am not interested.

"You should give him a chance, Y / N."

Sweet Tracy. 

Don't get me wrong, Josh is a great guy.  He's nice too.  Funny.  Athlete.

But he didn't attract me. 

I was not interested in the relationship.  I was attracted to guys, yes, but ... I haven't dated anyone yet.  And that was strange, according to other people.

"Y / N! Are you going from gymnastics, aren't you? You look like a goddess. Let's go for coffee!"

I moved to my car, which he was leaning on.

I smiled falsely.  "Josh .. I am.... Not. Interested..."

He waved his hand.  "You're just saying that today."

I told him this every day, but okay.

"But you can change your mind tomorrow, can't she, Tracy?"  he winked at her.

Tracy nodded.  "As Y / N's best friend, I promise Y / N will be only yours for coffee tomorrow."

"Tracy!"  I hissed.

She just shrugged innocently.

"That's great. See you tomorrow, then!"  Josh hugged me and walked away.

"You're great. Not to hold my side, no."  I told her angrily.

"Come on. You need fun. You can't just ... give him a chance at least once. Go on a date with him. Poor boy, he's been trying for you for years."

Her cell phone rang.  I knew immediately who was calling her.  I wanted to roll my eyes.  Really?

"Love!! Yeah! Come after me, we'll meet ... yes, there. Don't wait. What? I love you too. Have a nice day, I'm sending kisses."  Tracy's voice changed completely as she spoke to her boyfriend.  But completely.

"I'll say goodbye to you now, Y / N. Goodbye, at school! And enjoy your date."  she, too, walked away and waved cheerfully at me.

I got angry in the car and sighed in defeat. 

I stood in front of a huge luxury villa.  Yes, I live here.

I opened the door and a cat stopped at my feet immediately.  I leaned over.  "Mickey! You're hungry, aren't you?"

He whimpered in agreement.  I gave him granules and stroked him.  He was the only one in this house who kept me company.

I lived with my father.  He stopped here that very rarely.  He was really rich, he had his own business and he had some company.

I had a good relationship with him, but ... I missed him.  I didn't want to be alone.  I didn't have siblings and my mom ..

I looked at the painted picture. My father had her painted while she was still alive.

Yes, she died.  She died in a car accident when I was very young.  I don't remember her at all.

But she looked like me.  She had my hair and my eyes.

Okay, I'm going to relax.  I deserve it.

I was lying in the bathtub with my eyes closed.  I have dreamed.

"You're so beautiful, Y / N .." someone whispered to me.

"I love you," I said, holding someone's hand.

"I can't believe I finally married you."  someone said.

"Life is unpredictable .."

The smell of a candle hit my nose.  That wouldn't be weird, I lit the candle myself.  But what was strange was that ..

That I smelled a men's perfume.

I opened my eyes immediately.

An unknown man stood beside the bathtub, looking at me.  If it weren't for the bizarre situation, I would have thought he was attractive.  He had wide shoulders, an overgrown face, blond hair, blue eyes framed by stylish glasses.

I screamed in an instant.

What. The.  Fuck.  Is. This!

He immediately ran to me and stuffed my mouth.  "Be quiet, sweetheart. Please,"  he said in a rather pleasant voice.

I shook my head.  I didn't like it!  An unknown man was at my house!  And he probably wanted to kidnap me.

Suddenly male voices came from the hall.  I thought I heard my father.

My father is here.  Everything will be explained.

I calmed down.

The man noticed it too.  "I'll let go of my hand now, but you can't scream, do you promise?"

I nodded.

He released his hand, but at that moment I got up (yes, I got up naked from the bathtub) and left and put my feet on the floor.  I quickly took the only weapon I had and that was a hairdryer.

The man tried not to stare at my naked body, but he looked furious.  "What the fuck are you doing, girl?"

"If you don't tell me what's going on in a moment, I'll throw the hairdryer in the bathtub!"  I screamed.

"You're crazy."

I approached the bathtub.

"Would you like to kill yourself?"

"I have nothing else left! Tell!"  I shouted.

He shook his head.  "You'll find out at the right time ... well! Just don't get any closer to that fucking water!"  he shouted.

"Your father cheated on us and he has to pay for it. He's talking to my boss Mickey now."

"You're fucking kidding!"

"I don't, girl. And now, if you were so kind ..." he approached me.

He carefully took my hairdryer and I stared into space.  What?

I stomped on his leg, he screamed in pain and I wanted to run away from this bathroom, but he managed to grab me in his arms.

I swung in his arms like a furious puppy, and somehow he couldn't keep his balance and we both ended up in the bathtub again.

He was with me.

"Get off me! Immediately!"  I demanded.  I didn't like it, to hang out with a naked guy like that.

He took my hands.  I couldn't run away from him.  "If you try anything else, you'll just make trouble, young lady. Do you understand?"

I was silent.

"You understand?"  he repeated the question.

I nodded angrily.  What was I supposed to do?

He released me carefully and came out of the bathtub angrily.

He mumbled something under his nose, but I didn't listen to him.

I pressed my knees together.  I tried not to cry.  It's over with me.

"Do you have any clothes here?"  he asked me.

"I don't know," I said.

"Come on. Don't lie,"  he demanded an answer.

I gave it up.  "My father has something in that locker," I pointed to the locker.

The man walked over to her and opened it.  He started rummaging in it, but I didn't listen to him, I didn't notice.

It will be over with me.

I will die.

The man had changed in the meantime, but I wasn't looking at him.

I pressed my knees together and stared at the ceiling.

He walked over to me and looked at me regretfully.

"Put this on, please."  he held my clothes in his hand.

I had no desire to object.

I wanted to get up and fulfill his wish, but he stopped me.  "I'll leave your privacy. I'll be at the door."

I piled up and got dressed.  He was a gentleman.. who wants to kidnap me or something.

He locked the door and left.

HE ALREADY SAW ME NAKED but ok.

Dressed, I carefully opened the door.  He was there, leaning.  He offered me his shoulder, but I refused.

I walked into that fucking living room, where male voices came from.

I saw a few men.  Everyone in tuxedos and on the couch was sitting with my father.  He looked startled.

"Y / N!"  he shouted.

"What's going on, Dad? Will you kindly explain it to me?"

"I'd hear that, too," a man shrugged.

I ignored him and looked at my father.  "So?"

"Y / N, honey .. I didn't mean .."

"What did you do? Tell me straight."  I asked him.

"I ... I ... I had some business with them. I was late paying and ..."

"And?"

My father must have had something on his tongue, he didn't want to answer.

The guy answered me.  "He killed our man."

I felt sick.  "You're making fun of me, aren't you? My father wouldn't kill in his life ..."

"Confess to her."

"I'm sorry ..." my father looked at me.

I fell to my knees.  "Father, what did you do? You threw us in danger! We will die for you! You should not have gotten involved with any mafia!"

"I am sorry.."

"I don't want to hear anything from you anymore."  I wanted to cry, but I was silent.  I screamed inside.

The cat also broke into the living room. 

"Mickey," I whispered and took him in my arms.  He has always been my support.

The man, apparently the boss of it all, was intrigued.  "What did you call him?"

"Mickey,"  I said.

The man who was in the bathtub with me laughed.

The boss frowned at him.  "What happened to you, Raymond? You're in a different outfit."

How could they be so callous? 

"That's a long story,"  he said, looking at me.

I kept clutching Mickey, even though he was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Hey, let go of that cat, we need to talk."  the boss spoke to me.

"About what? Kill me right now,"  I shrugged.

The man laughed.  "No, it won't work that way. I have no plans to kill you. You're just a daughter ... of an evil father. You'll pay differently."

Sweat ran down my forehead.  "What are you going to do with my father?"

"It's none of your business anymore,"  he replied.

"Leave him alone. You better kill me."  I declared and finally released the cat.  He was running away from here.

He didn't want to be here.  Like me.

"Y / N!"  my father shouted, but I ignored him.

The boss scratched his chin.  "I call it ... child's love. Too bad your father doesn't love you that much. He offered your life to save his life."

For the second time, I felt like throwing up.

"What? That ... really?"  I looked at him.  I had tears in my eyes.  Finally, some tears.

It hurt.  Like hell.  My father wanted to say something, but I didn't listen to him.

My father betrayed me.

"But we won't grant his wish, will we, Ray?"

The man in the bathroom with me, apparently Raymond, nodded.

"Take the girl away, Ray."  the boss stood up.

Raymond came up to me.  I did not understand.

He took me.  "Come with me.."

"What, no!"  I shouted.

Raymond looked at me.  "Trust me, you don't want to see this. Come on."

"What..."

And then it went awry.  Raymond lost his temper with me, grabbed me hard, and took me away.  I didn't understand why.

And then I understood.

One of the boss's men aimed his gun at my father.  But my father did something weird.  He picked his gun by himself and shot himself in the forehead.

And suddenly I heard it.  The sound of a gun.

"No no!!!"  I screamed.

"Let me go!"  I shouted.  I already cried.  My father fell to the ground dead with a hole in the middle of his forehead.

"It's after him. It's his fault, sweetheart... he's decided that way ..."

He said something else to me, but I didn't notice him because I cried a lot.

I only heard snippets of sentences.

"... take her with you ...."

"... why me? I have nothing to do with her, Mickey ..."

"Don't ask me why, just do it until we decide what to do with her. She looks awful, put her to bed."

"Of course she looks awful. She lost her father ... I'll do as you say, boss ..."

Some days seem so boring.  Also, ordinary.  Immutable.  Nothing is happening.

And then there are such days.  When something happens that will change your life forever.

[damn-behzinga]

Taken Over

Harry Lewis Centric

summary - Harry has a seizure after a shoot, the guys help him.

warnings - seizures, mentions of insecurities, embarrasment.

a/n - I did a lot of research for this but if this seems inaccurate and you have more knowledge on seizures then please message me and let me know. 

masterlist + request info

The men walked about the field collecting up their equipment. Ethan and JJ walked ahead of Tobi, Vik and Harry, whilst Simon and Josh walked behind them. 

Vik and Tobi were talking about some football match. Harry didn't chime in, trying to focus on grounding himself. He kept turning to the other men, blinking rapidly to try and focus on the conversation. Harry felt his left arm suddenly fall heavier to the side, causing him to stumble in his step.

"Woah, you all right there, Harry?" Tobi asked.

Harry looked to see his friends and slurred out a few garbled sounds of nonsense. All the men now have full attention on Harry. The men watch in confusion as Harry tensed and fell forward.

Thankfully, Ethan is there to catch him before he hits the ground. He lies him down softly. Harry was already babbling a series of 'No's by the time they circle him to block others from seeing him. Tobi was quickly on the floor, trying to ask Harry what was happening.

Harry simply groaned and the men immediately knew a seizure coming. Vik took off his jumper and laid it down under Harry's head. Tobi and Vik worked together to move him onto his side. Josh opened up his phone and started the timer. Ethan, JJ, and Simon made sure no one was watching. 

Josh, Vik, and Tobi watched anxiously as they waited out their friend's seizure.

Harry's seizures weren't a new concept to the friend group. Harry had told them that he suffered from seizures when the first met in real life. He had told them all they had to do was make sure they timed it. Josh had asked Harry loads of questions about it, wanting to make sure he was fully prepared in case of an emergency. Harry had told Josh that he only had serious one (he was seventeen, it was over five minutes long which is bad) but Harry had shrugged it off.

They watched sadly as blood poured out of their friend's mouth after he bit down on his tongue. Tobi sighed sadly as a wet patch appeared on Harry's shorts and took off his jacket so Harry could cover himself after. He cursed himself for not bringing a spare pair of shorts. After two minutes, his convulsing calmed down and his seizure stopped. 

Josh, Simon, and Tobi rolled Harry over to his side and waited for Harry to wake up. They waited a few minutes when Harry started to come to, eyes fluttering open. 

Josh reached forward and tried to talk to Harry, "Hey, buddy."

Harry groaned and started flapping his right arm towards Josh. The men knew this as 'Post-Seizure-Toddler-Harry'. Harry tried to move away, anxiously looking side to side, trying to find where he was.

"No. No!" Harry yelled. "Go away!"

"Harry." Simon stood forward. "Hey, buddy. It's me, it's okay."

Harry's eyebrows scrunched my eyebrows together. "Where?" Harry's head whipped around to try and look for anything familiar.

"It's okay, Harry," Tobi said softly. "We just finished filming, and we're going to go home soon."

Harry stared blankly for a few minutes before laying down and crying. Tobi sat beside Harry and calmly spoke reassuringly. Harry continued to sob but when Tobi reached to comfort him, Harry slapped his hand away.

"Okay, okay." Tobi put his hands up. "No touching, I understand." Harry angrily flailed his hands about as he let out a sob. Suddenly, he turns to his side and vomits. Tobi tries to move back as smoothly as possible so he doesn't scare Harry.

"You okay?" Simon asked. Harry groaned and let out a small huff. He ignored the man and stared at his shorts, looking at the wet patch.

"It's okay." Vik tried to reassure the man but Harry kicked his legs out in frustration. The men grimaced as Harry let at angry yell at the sky. Harry reached up to his lip and touched his cut.

"Ouchies." He whimpered.

"Yeah, you caught yourself a bit there." Tobi chuckled.

"Here you are." Ethan passed Harry a tissue. Harry shakily took it and dabbed it against his cut and where there was blood. Harry groaned and laid down, trying desperately to reliever his headache, rubbing at his forehead.

"Sorry," Harry whispered after a minute of cleaning himself up.

"It's all right," JJ said.

Harry looked down, tears running down his cheeks. "I want to go home. I look fucking disgusting. I need a shower. I want to go home."

"It's okay-" Josh started.

"No, none of this is okay! Why couldn't I be born normal?" Harry exclaimed. He was crashing, although it was heartbreaking, the men knew it meant he would be coming back to normal. They watched as Harry continued to cry and angrily punch at himself. They all knew not to stop him, the first time they did, JJ got punched in the face. Harry apologised profusely for the next months but JJ knew that it was just the fact that Harry was scared and confused.

"You're okay," Tobi said sternly. "You are here with us. We love you, okay? Nothing could change that."

Harry just nodded, leaning his head against his knees.

"Lets get you to bed, okay?" Ethan said, helping Harry up and to Tobi's car.

"Love you guys." Harry mumbled.

"Yeah, we love you too, bog."

[babbushka]

Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

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

You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.  

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.  

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

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

Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run. 

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I’m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

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

I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

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

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn’t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.  

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

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

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.  

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.  

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.  

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

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

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

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

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

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

Tagging pals!  @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler  @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware  @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker  @goodboybensolo  @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca​ @1-800-choke-that-snoke​ @ktellmeastory​ @anongirl007 @zimmerxman​ @okk--maaan​ @flapjacques​ @aweirdlookingtree​ @callmemania-pls​ @theold-ultraviolence​ @og-selene​ @pinkmoontribe-blog​ @schopenhauerdeathsquad​ @nekonaomitard​ @feminine-machinegun​

[joshstambourine]

GVF as Your Best Friend

"Hii can I request gvf as besties and dumb things that they would do with the reader, also can the pronouns for the reader be neutral 🥺" - @guitarfingers

Thank you so much for sending this in!! I really wanted to do it quick cause I just loved the idea so much!

Please please please, if anyone wants me to write something with neutral pronouns, please let me know (same with male pronouns). Sometimes I get on autopilot when I'm writing and start using female pronouns without thinking.

These fics are mostly written whenever I get five minutes to myself, so sometimes I get distracted as well but that doesn't make it right.

Warning: Cursing

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll

Josh

Oh what a loud friend. What a noisy naughty friend. What a rotten rotten boy.

Lmao just kidding.

Though Josh is probably a lot of those things when it comes to being your friend. He already seems like a little gremlin who is surprisingly wise in general but as someone's best friend?? Oh man you're in for a time.

Your camera roll is just dumb pictures of you and Josh. Almost exclusively. Probably some you don't remember taking as well---

10/10 the "I double dare you to do the thing" type of friend.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it---"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! YOU DOUBLE DARED ME---"

"You're a terrible person (Y/N) how do you live with yourself?" //Gobblin snickering//

Has even less of a filter when he's with you, "oh fuck, you look like something the cat dragged in and then ate again and then--"

"What the--- Josh???"

Josh also has a foul mouth from what I gather so if you're going to be friends with him be ready for a lot of cursing.

Take it as a compliment! It means he's comfortable with you!

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Yes and your mom as well."

Despite all that. Josh I can imagine being a very protective friend.

Think the kind of person who gets mad when a person insults you and says, "Whoa, what the fuck, only I can say mean shit like that to them." 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine Josh..."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

Puts an arm around you, "Good.... it would have sucked to tell you they were right if you were upset."

Probably just //Demonic screeching// most of the time the two of you are together.

Other times a lot of philosophizing and asking important questions. Or questions he feels crucial to ask.

Probably because he's baked but---

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes Josh?"

"Why don't we call big Ants… Gi-ants?"

"I'm not talking to you anymore."

Josh also would be very keen to take an interest in things his bestie is interested in. Especially important things.

As an example: If they are religious he'd want to make sure he understands their beliefs. He wants them to know he respects these things.

Over all, he's a chaotic force to be reckoned with... but one that is going to carry you along with him. You're never going to have a dull moment and you're never going to feel alone.

And most importantly you'll know you're loved at all times.

Jake

Jake always strikes me as so relaxed, someone who likes to keep to himself.

Despite that I do also see he and Josh are twins and have some things in common.

He probably is just as much of a gremlin, though less loud and obnoxious about it.

"I just want to make sure... you picked out that outfit right? Not your mom?"

"Yes...?"

"Okay good, I don't want to offend your mom."

More than anything I picture him and you sitting quietly together just doing separate things in a comfortable silence half the time.

I mean that might seem lame but those are my personal favorite kind of friendships.

The ones where you can look up from whatever you were doing and just make a face at them...

... and since he's that kind of friend he'd raise his brows first, but then immediately make a corresponding face silently.

I feel like deep conversations are the thing the two of you would be best at. No shooting the shit. Always straight to the important stuff.

Drinking whiskey by a warm fire vibes.

If you have any interest in music, even slightly, Jake would be all over that. He'd want to expand that interest to make it a love.

"I'll teach you!"

"You're too busy you don't have time..."

"No way! You're my best friend, I'm not letting some random person teach you how to play guitar. Be serious (Y/N)."

I can picture Jake laying beside his friend on the floor just smoking and listening to his favorite records.

Also a really warm and sentimental friend I think. Now this might just be a me thing but it's something I could see him doing, not often just for really important things. Maybe saving little things?

Like a ticket from a concert he went to with his best friend. Or a receipt from a really nice hang out.

Probably a Polaroid boy because of that.

That might just be me. I really feel like he likes to have things to look back on.

"Oh wow you still have that??" You ask pointing to a concert ticket from years ago tucked into the side of his mirror.

"Of course I do! I loved being there with you!"

Jake treasures his time with his friends, and its important to keep his best friend safe always.

Sam

ANOTHER FORCE OF CHAOS.

But. Sam definitely seems like one who actively tries to be a chaotic force, whereas Josh has it come naturally.

So I imagine a lot of making super dumb videos together.

"Hang on before we start!! (Y/N) can you do up my braids??"

"Fuck yeah i can."

I would want to see cooking videos made by the both of you. They'd be hysterical I know it. Get on it please.

Lots of spontaneous dancing together.

"What are you guys even doing...?"

(Horrendous dance moves that are not in-synch intensifies)

Probably a lot of shopping trips together, not necessarily to shop. Just to be out together.

Probably also would fight over who pays for lunch because neither of you can just pay separately.

Is it bad that I sorta imagine him being a bit of a wine aunt friend??

Like--- you both are just at a table drinking a glass of wine and just complaining about everyone and gossiping non-stop.

I do think he'd want to have a movie night with his best friend. They take turns picking, but hardly ever watch the movie... too busy making comments over the movie and pointing out flaws in it.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE!! GET IN THE HOUSE--- ladies in horror movies man---"

"You'd be the first one to die in a horror movie... im almost positive."

".....thanks for that (Y/N)."

All that said Sam strikes me as one of those people who take note of little things about people.

So you would always get super personal gifts from Sam. Something that is irreplaceable.

It also means that by the expression on your face at any given time he knows how you're feeling.

"...oh? (Y/N) are you okay...?"

"Huh??"

"You look upset, did something happen?"

"Ah... just an upsetting text that's all."

"You wanna vent, I'll get the wine?"

A friendship with Sam means excitement of course but also a strong personal connection you probably won't be able to replace in your entire life.

Danny

I think he's the kind of best friend that wants to chat with your parents.

You know that friend. We can all picture that friend we have. The one who your parents adore and make you pretty sure they wish this friend was actually their child instead of you?

Danny is that friend.

All the boys seem to really enjoy the outdoors but I do think Danny strikes me as one of the boys who seems to enjoy it the most.

I can picture him wanting to be outside with his best friend.

Hikes. A day trip to the beach. Golf.

"Cmon (Y/N)! Can't have ya falling behind!" He'd yell when too much space builds between the two of you on a hiking trail.

I'm sure all the boys would do this but, I do think Danny would be the type of friend to go out of his way to make your life easier.

Even if this means doing something drastic.

"Your parents won't be able to make it out for the holidays...? Let's drive out there together."

"What?? We cant---"

"I've already got it planned don't worry about it."

There's also always the added benefit of getting to take out your emotions on his drum kit whenever you need to as well... this is an open ended invitation.

Danny unfortunately seems like the kind of person that listens most of the time and probably doesn't get to be the one to complain himself.

So you would have to keep an eye on him and prod a lot to get him to open up.

Even then I think you'd have to get him drinking before he'd actively talk about his problems.

It's not that he doesn't trust you. He just doesn't want to burden you, especially if you have a lot happening.

The kind of friend that wants to bond with your pets (they probably listen to him better than they ever did for you).

Let's be honest he'd bring your pets gifts so much.

"Another bandana?? Danny where are you getting these---"

"It has to match the collar I got him."

"Jeez get your own pet man."

All in all. Danny is a gentle soul, so keep that in mind as his best friend. He will give his all, probably 150%... make sure you keep up your end.

Otherwise he will burn himself out.

All in all:

Look it's pretty easy just to assume that all the guys would be good friends.

They all are sweet guys.

They all seem like people who enjoy learning about new things and people's interests.

As a group---

There would be so much fun and merriment as you all explore nature.

Bonfires and music baby.

Camping invitations of course.

Probably lots of drinking games (if you drink).

"Haha--- (Y/N) has to drink kings Cup!"

"Fuck my life..."

"Sucks to suck buddy!"

Lots of music being played.

Long drives with the windows down.

Stupid jokes.

Dumb faces.

A good group of guys that will honestly accept you as you are.

And that will also make fun of you mercilessly.

All out of love of course~

//Hopefully you liked it! For those who noticed, yes I did post this early by accident, I went to save this and like... hit the save button. And then I opened up my feed and there it was so!!! I don't know what happened.//

[hookingminor]

cardigan - pierre-luc dubois

a/n: another folklore fic for you all, spoiler it’s sad and unresolved (much like the song)

word count: 2.8k

summary: based on taylor swift’s cardigan

warnings: cheating? not exclusive but still

*italics are flashbacks and it’s like half flashbacks

-

It took you a long time to process why it happened. You didn’t know why he did it, the way he acted was so contradictory to everything he’d said to you over the course of your relationship.

Pierre acted like he was in love with you. You two acted like a couple; you were even seen with him in public multiple times. He often spent the night at your apartment and vice versa. You went to games, were on a first name basis with a few other girlfriends, met him after the games and engaged in very public embraces. Sure, you’d never exclusively declared the nature of your relationship, but it seemed, to you at least, that you were more than just a fuck buddy. You couldn’t comprehend what made him walk away from all of that.

-

When you entered the bar after Pierre texted, asking you to join the team, he immediately caught your gaze from the booth tucked away in the corner. He reached out when you approached the table, pulling you onto his lap by your waist.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be affectionate around his friends, but this looked like an obvious claim if you ever saw one. Pierre seemed unbothered by his sudden boyfriend-ly behavior, bringing the hand that wasn’t holding your ass to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes widened a little at the unsolicited contact, catching the eye of Josh’s girlfriend, who gave you a suggestive smirk. She was constantly prodding you about your relationship with Pierre, but you could never give her a real answer.

A few of the guys exchanged some looks. Pierre’s adoring face and actions hadn’t gone unnoticed by them, and they were a little shocked to see him like this.

“Hey, baby, glad you could make it,” he said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek.

“You didn’t really give me much choice. You kept drunk calling me, idiot,” you said with a scoff.

“I just wanted to see my girl,” he mumbled against the skin of your neck, taking the opportunity to press a few kisses there.

“Alright, Luc, leave the poor girl alone,” Josh teased, his girlfriend lightly jabbing his side, “Are we doing shots or what?”

Whoops sounded around the table at the sound of shots, and Pierre took his attention off you to focus on the drinks being poured. You grabbed the one he pushed in front of you, joining the rest of the team in throwing it back.

One shot became two shots, two shots turned into four, and after four was when you stopped keeping track. The night blurred past, and soon you were stumbling outside of the bar entrance, a drunk and laughing Pierre clutching onto you.

“Pierre, you gotta pick yourself up a bit. You’re too heavy for me to carry,” you said slightly out of breath, his weight threatening to crush you both. It seemed to work, though, because he stood himself up with ease, using your body to keep him steady as he walked.

Despite the shots you’d done, you were considerably more stable than he was as you steered yourself towards the direction of his apartment. Pierre draped his arm over your shoulders, tripping occasionally as you walked through downtown Columbus.

You dragged him through the sidewalks that ran along the river when he suddenly stopped walking.

“We have to keep walking, bud,” you say with a sigh, but Pierre breaks out of your grip to run down the grass toward the river.

“Pierre!” You call out, glancing around to make sure no one is noticing the drunk man running amuck.

“Come down here!” He shouted back, animatedly moving his hand to wave you over. You chuckled to yourself before following him down the grassy hill until you met him on the bank.

“Skip some rocks with me,” he said, waiting for you to cup your hands so he could place the rocks you hadn’t seen him gather in them.

“You’re drunk and these are not skipping rocks,” you replied with a laugh when he dropped the roundest stone in your hands.

“Watch me. I’ll make it work,” he slurred confidently, pulling back his arm in preparation for a throw. You watched him wind it up and launch the pebble into the river. It took half a second, but you saw the rock in the distance plop into the water, only ripples instead of skips emanating off the surface.

You doubled over in laughter at the pathetic attempt to skip a rock. Pierre glanced down at your crumpled form, a frown appearing on his face.

“It’s not nice to laugh,” he said in mock offense, but you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

Due to your inebriated state, the alcohol threw you off balance when you bent over, and now you were falling on your ass. You hit the ground with a thud, your hands flying back to catch yourself.

It was Pierre’s turn to laugh at you now. You brushed off the dirt you’d gotten on your hands when you fell, glaring up at him.

“It’s not nice to laugh,” you retorted with a scowl.

His laughter died down slightly, and then Pierre was lowering himself into a crouch before he flopped down next to you. He laid out onto his back, folding his arms behind his neck. You watched him lay on the ground, a laugh leaving your throat at the sight of him splayed out comfortably in the chilled grass.

He turned his head to give you a playful look, and you took the hint to join him. You curled yourself into his side, resting your head on his chest as your hand wrapped around his abdomen.

“You’re my favorite person, you know that?” He said quietly while you two started up at the starry Columbus sky. You knew he was drunk and that, given any other sober situation, Pierre wouldn’t be telling you this, but you reveled in the way your stomach fluttered anyway.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied with a smile, soaking in the silence of the city at two in the morning.

Another half hour passed laying out underneath the stars, the two of you taking turns to trace fake constellations with your fingers. Pierre took your hand in his, bringing your finger to the star where he swore he could see the outline of a duck.

You laughed out loud as he kept moving your arm around, but no matter where he pointed, you couldn’t see anything more than a cluster of dots in the sky.

“Okay, babe, we need to get you back to your apartment,” you announced, moving into a sitting position.

With newfound energy, Pierre hopped up onto his feet, reaching down to offer you a hand. You gladly took his hands, using his body to pull yourself up.

“You’re spending the night, by the way,” he stated when you resumed your walk to his apartment.

You hadn’t expected to go home tonight, but the fact that he was telling you to stay made your heart clench at his softness. You walked the rest of the way with a smile on your face, feeling lighter than you had in days.

-

Everything felt so natural between you. There were no awkward phases of “what are we?” conversations. One day he was calling you over for a late night booty call, and the next day he was inviting you to spend the night. Nights turned into mornings, mornings turned into breakfast, and breakfast turned into days spent cuddling on the couch.

It wasn’t just sex. It couldn’t be.

-

“Baby, stop moving,” Pierre whispered into your neck. He was in the middle of pinning your body to the couch, but you were too busy wiggling out of his grip.

“No, your hands are cold!” You exclaimed in laughter at the feel of his hands attempting to slip under your shirt to warm them up.

“They’d stop being cold if you let me warm them!” He retorted in his own fit of laughter, successfully pressing them beneath your back.

Your body shivered at the cold contact, a small squeal escaping your lips. Pierre ignored your complaints as he shuffled his body into a more comfortable position so he was laying on top of you, nestled between your legs.

“I love your boobs. They’re, like, the perfect pillow,” he said with a content sigh, nuzzling his head deeper into your chest.

“Are you comfortable now? Can we finish the movie?” You asked in fake exasperation.

“I didn’t even want to watch this movie but, yeah, I’m comfy,” he muttered against the cotton of the shirt you wore, which was actually his shirt that he always set aside for when you came over.

You pressed play anyway despite his comment. You were excited to watch this movie, and you weren’t going to let Pierre stop you from seeing it.

It took all of two seconds for the movie to resume playing before Pierre was lifting your hand to his head, encouraging you to play with his hair.

“Pierre, you said you’d—,” you huffed, running your hands through his hair the way you knew he liked.

“Shh,” he hushed, “I lied. I’m going to take a nap instead.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, though you knew he couldn’t see. You should’ve known better than to expect him to sit through a two hour movie with you. He fell asleep almost immediately after you two had sex. He was constantly on the verge of falling asleep.

Not even five minutes had passed before you felt his breathing even out, and as much as you liked to tease him about it, you liked it when he fell asleep around you. It always felt more intimate than what you knew your relationship was, like he trusted you more than anyone else to let himself sleep on you.

Even after he’d fallen asleep, you continued stroking his hair for the rest of the movie, your heart skipping a beat every time he unconsciously tightened his grip around you.

-

You couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where it started to go wrong. It was a combination of things, really.

It started with him brushing you off. The texting slowed down until he was only inviting you over for sex. Afterwards, he ran the same lines he used to say when you first started hooking up: “I have practice in the morning,” or “I gotta pack for an upcoming road trip,” or the classic “Do you need me to order an Uber?”

The worst thing about it was you knew the lines were all fake. He knew you knew the lines were all fake, and yet he told them anyway.

And if the brush-offs weren’t bad enough, then came the straight up ignoring. He stopped inviting you to games and out for drinks altogether, and when you asked some girlfriends what was going on with him, none of them had a clear answer. Everyone was just as in the dark as you were.

At first you blamed it on the stress of the season. Maybe he just didn’t have enough time, but then came the rumors of him sleeping with other women.

Now, you weren’t dense enough to believe that he didn’t have women chasing after him, but you thought you were close enough to where Pierre would admit he was seeing other people.

You were wrong about that.

It built up for a couple months. You let yourself believe that he was just busy, but clearly he wasn’t. He just didn’t want to see you.

So, you showed up to his apartment one day to demand answers.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked with furrowed brows when he saw you on the other side of the door.

“We obviously need to talk,” you replied, pushing your way into the foyer, “You’ve been ignoring me for a while now.”

“No, I haven’t,” he said, having the audacity to lie to your face. You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, you have. It doesn’t need to be a complicated thing, Luc. I just want to know what’s going on,” you said, crossing your arms.

“I’ve been busy is all,” he muttered as he avoided your eyes.

“Stop with the lies!” You said with a loud groan, “I know we were sleeping together, but I thought we were friends at the very least! You can’t just drop me, drop what we have, without an explanation!”

“What we have?” He repeated, “We didn’t have anything, Y/N, we were just casual.”

Even as he said that last part, you both knew he was lying.

“We were more than casual, and you know that,” you said, tears springing to your eyes.

He didn’t respond, so you took a chance to say what you’ve never said before.

“I love you,” you breathed out, “But I’m sure you knew that already.” And still, he said nothing.

“Can you at least tell me why?” You asked, trying one last time.

“We’re young, Y/N,” he said finally, “I’m only twenty-one, I can’t tie myself down right now. Yeah, you’re cool, but you can’t be the only girl I see.” He didn’t meet your eyes, keeping his gaze trained on the floor beneath his feet.

“Is that what you think or is that how you feel?” You asked.

“I don’t know, Y/N. What’s the difference?” He said with a sigh, clearly ready to have this conversation be done with.

“Just checking, I guess,” you said, resigned, “Well, I’ll stay out of your way then. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

You left his apartment without waiting for his response, and you made it all the way back to your car before the tears finally spilled.

That was a year ago.

To say your “breakup” didn’t affect you would have been a lie. He was, probably, the most important person in your life, and you knew he felt the same. He felt the loss of you the minute the door closed behind you.

You went through your own stages of grief after that. First, you were mad. So unbelievably mad you wanted to call him up just so you could yell at him for letting you go.

Then came the sadness. It hit you in waves at random times, your throat closing in on itself whenever you walked downtown past the river or saw a bulldog. You missed him more than you cared to admit, missing the way his sweatshirts smelled or the way he would wrap his arms around you from behind. You missed the kisses he placed on your forehead when you watched basketball games on the couch and the way he would try to distract you by slipping his hands underneath your shirt.

And finally came acceptance. Not the acceptance that he was over you and time would heal all wounds, but the acceptance that he was making a mistake and would come back to you.

You spent a lot of time the first few months cursing him and crying into your pillows. You saw the pictures he posted on social media, you saw the girls that tagged him in posts, but even with everything telling you otherwise, you knew he’d be back.

Sure, you weren’t the instagram model of his dreams, but you knew him better than anyone else. You knew that when the thrill ran out, he’d miss the way you played with his hair and baked his favorite cookies before roadies.

And he did miss you.

It only took a month before he realized what a dumbass mistake he’d made. Pierre would dial your number without a second thought, ready to call you and tell you about his day before he realized that he couldn’t anymore. You were the only one he wanted to talk to.

Every time he went to get dressed in the morning he would see your favorite t-shirt folded away in the corner, untouched and unworn. He never put it on, but every time he saw it, he felt his heart flip in his chest.

And more than anything, he missed the comfort you brought. He missed having someone to sleep with and cuddle with and cook dinner with. He missed having someone to walk the dogs with and eat ice cream with. His apartment felt empty without you in it and his heart felt empty knowing that you loved him and he rejected you.

It was only a matter of time before you heard from him.

He planned it out for months, playing and replaying scenarios in his head. Pierre tried calling you a few times, but it always went to voicemail. Left with no other option, he showed up at your place unannounced, in a similar fashion like you did all those months ago.

It was after a particularly bad loss, another addition onto a string of bad losses. The Blue Jackets were in a painful losing streak, and he wanted nothing more than for you to hold him in your arms and console him.

So, he knocked on your door, just like you knew he would, and waited for you to answer.

“Hey, Pierre,” you said, your face expressionless.

“Hey,” he said meekly, “Can we talk?”

[59writes]

THE DRAW (PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

if you’re reading this as like an actual fic: first of all I’m sorry. how did you end up here. it’s most definitely 2 am go to bed. this fic was literally made because of a fucking uquiz about “ what kpop boy are you enemies to lovers with”

second of all, ignore any chess mistakes. idk I know legit fuckall about chess, my brother just always bitches about it whenever I want to stop playing because I just have my king left or smth like that because I know I’ve lost. mf reads chess books.

like look: I UNDERSTAND the game and how it works, and the idea that you have to think ahead and plan. but I’m adhd as shit and there’s no such thing as time or planning. ergo, I suck. like I SUCK. I feel like if I applied myself I’d be great but fuck that. I’m a bad chess player and y’all gotta deal.

third: I mention League Of Legends at one point. I’m so cringe yes shut up ok but I’ve been special interest-ing League for several months now and I need to let you know that Josh, y/n, and Jeonghan play a mean jungler/adc/support combo (respectively). I have so many more headcanons typed in my draft or whatever but I know nobody wants to see it so

anyways pls enjoy this train wreck of a fic lol

If you had known playing chess would have led to this bullshit, you never would have started playing in the first place.

You wouldn’t have worked your ass off, wouldn’t have pored through strategy books and watched live-streamed games, wouldn’t have competed for months to become an official grandmaster. Absolutely not. None of that hard work and pride deserved to be wasted on Yoon Jeonghan.

Thanks to your exceptional academics and study habits, as well as your headlining pursuits in chess, private schools crawled to your front door and begged for you to give them money just so they could brag about having you as arm candy. You didn’t care. It was free scholarships, a chance to leave your tiny town, a chance to start anew with people just like you. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t know your fame status, or would be used to the junk by now. Some would probably be even more popular than you.

So you grabbed a paper, scribbled a signature on, and packed your bags.

You had picked an academy for the arts, as logic games apparently counted as one. They figured they could do something with your whimsical essay writing as well, submit you in scholastic contests. It didn’t matter. You were free, and there to play some goddamn chess.

They had a hardcore club there, meeting daily on weekdays and occasionally for casual play on the weekends. Everyone there was excellent, all clever players with quick logic and a competitive edge that you hadn’t seen in a while. It was refreshing, but still not enough of a challenge.

You swept the floor with your classmates, and rose to the top of the club’s rankings within a week.

Of course you lost games here and there, as everyone did, but for the most part any game you began was imbalanced from the beginning. Your opponent could at best only defend themselves, only able to pick off pawns or bait bishops that inevitably ended in a brutal checkmate.

You were top of the class, and for once it took some effort. You felt like you’d earned something, and you were actually interacting with serious chess players who wanted to learn, not fawn over your work. They played fair and every game was fun.

That was until the blond bitch came in.

He sauntered into the class about a month after you’d hit the top of the leaderboard, long blond hair tied back in a neat and slick ponytail. You barely noticed, immersed in a game with another boy, Joshua. You studied the board as your opponent looked up, grinning wildly.

“Jeonghan!” He called out, waving at the other boy.

Jeonghan’s ponytail whipped across his shoulder as he turned, matching Josh’s smile with a killer beam of his own and jogging over.

“‘Shua!” He chirped, playfully wrapping an arm around Joshua’s neck, strangling him while his other hand smooshed Josh’s hair around.

You watched them wrestle for a second before clearing your throat. “Josh, your move.”

“Aw shit.” Josh says, wrestling Jeonghan’s arm away from his shoulder. “Back to the ass kicking.”

You grin. “If you hadn’t made that dumb move literally third turn in-“

“Hey! We are NOT talking about that!”

You snort and glance at Jeonghan, who’s gone quiet, studying the board. He crouches down and whispers in Josh’s ear, both of them scanning the board. Josh finally nods, pushing one of his pawns forward.

“What was that about, Hong?” You ask, capturing said pawn with a neat L from your knight.

“Nothing.” He replies sweetly, while Jeonghan smirks.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Josh doesn’t reply. The rest of the game is tensely quiet, interrupted only by Jeonghan murmuring into Joshua’s ear every few minutes, a devil on his shoulder.

But it was fine, you were ahead by a few pieces, your bishops slowly inching towards a checkmate. The next move was it, the game in the bag.

And then your queen is gone.

Jeonghan takes the liberty of removing it from the board with a proud smile while Joshua cackles.

The game doesn’t last much longer, soon the both of you down to just pawns and your king, and then just the kings. A draw.

And let’s be honest here: Joshua kinda sucks at chess.

Josh counted it as a victory, though, hitting Jeonghan with a high five that echoed around the classroom like a firecracker. The boys talked briefly while you set up the board again for the next duo and packed your bag, ready to head to your dorm for a much-needed nap.

You wave to Joshua and turn to go, only making it a few steps before someone grabs your wrist. You whip around, ready to tell them off, only to be met with Jeonghan interrupting whatever swear you were about to say with a sharp smile.

“I’m playing you on Monday.”

He lets go of your wrist and turns around, resuming his talk with Josh as if nothing happened.

Rubbing your wrists ruefully, you headed home.

•••

Of course, his bullshit didn’t stop there.

You did, in fact, play him on Monday. He had you cornered within five minutes.

The next time, in four.

He gathered a crowd a few games in. Every time you’d meet his gaze he’d smirk, eyes brimming with some sort of superiority that made you furious, always endlessly cool and calm. He’d flick his hair over his shoulder every so often, even stopping to talk to spectators while you puzzled over the board, trying to hide your stress.

You were second place by Wednesday.

•••

“You cheated.”

Jeonghan just raises a brow.

“Put the rook back.” You growl, firm.

“Sorry?” He ignores your request, instead poking at one of your previously captured pawns he has resting on the table next to him. “Can you move? I’ve almost got checkmate.”

“My rook, Yoon.” You hold out your hand. “Give it back, or put it back yourself. H6.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you resign? If we were using a timer you’d have been disqualified sometime last week.”

It’s taking every ounce of self control to not slap the living shit out of the smug bastard. “Jeonghan, if you don’t-“

“How’s the game going here?” The chess club leader had made her way to your table, grinning widely upon seeing her favorite students.

Jeonghan smiles kindly at her while you curl in on yourself, trying not to explode. “It’s fine, Ms. Lee. Almost done with this one.”

“Are you missing a piece? Looks like the black rook-“

“Must have fallen off the table.” Jeonghan chirps, ducking under the table and returning with the piece in hand. He sets it with the rest of his captured black army, sending a thumbs up at Ms. Lee. “Thanks for noticing, we don’t need to lose any more pieces.” It’s an innocent sentence, but it makes you turn a boiling red. Lose a piece, my ass.

“Well played, both of you.” She replies, patting Jeonghan on the head fondly before walking off. The blond rolls his eyes, ducking his head so Ms. Lee can’t see.

“Jeonghan, you asshole.” You hiss as soon as Ms. Lee is out of earshot. “I saw you take it out of your pocket, you lying-“

“If you’re not moving, I’m going to.” Jeonghan replies, moving his bishop forward to capture your queen. “Checkmate. Good game.”

You can only gape as he grabs your hand to shake it and walks off, approaching Joshua.

That was when you really knew you hated him.

•••

You studied his games from then on, partially to learn, partially to gather evidence. If he was cheating this consistently with other players, you could definitely get him kicked out of the club and subsequently your life once competition season started, as well as learn and potentially steal his strategies.

Infuriatingly, though, every single game he played besides the hellish ones with you were completely fair. No pieces being slipped into his thin hands when nobody was looking, no clock taps that discreetly took a few seconds from his opponent’s timer. Even with Josh, who he was best buddies with: not even a joking steal or a prank of any kind.

It was just with you.

Every single game you played together, he managed to do something to piss you off, if not blatantly cheat. If it was one of the days you had spectators, his harassment would come in the form of heavy looks and obnoxious “I’m waiting”-esque moves: tapping his nails on the desk, raising a brow, checking his watch.

And if you were alone, you basically had to glue your pieces down to the board to stop them from slipping their way into his pockets. It was obvious when he did it, too, always sending you a smile, too innocent.

It was infuriatingly adorable how proud he was of his nasty behavior. And he was focused too: none of his other opponents got the thought and effort he put into outwitting you and attempting to steal things without you noticing. As much as you hated him, you had to admire it.

Which is why it was so hard to finally draw a line and refuse to play with him anymore.

Though he shrugged when you put your foot down, his dark eyes watched you the rest of that club session. Every time you caught him, he held your gaze for a moment before looking away and resuming cheerfully animated conversation with his opponent.

God, how was he so easily likeable?

He respected your decision, though, and didn’t even attempt to talk to you. It was genuinely polar and strange, and it made you lost in thought as the months passed.

You almost missed the absence of anger, as stupid as it was. School had always been boring and simple, and chess with Jeonghan was the only thing to have made you frustrated in a long time, to have truly challenged you in a long time.

Even when you buckled down on trying to get him out of your head, he seemed to follow- being friends with Joshua (and honestly most of the other club members) almost always devolved into chats about the club and “why aren’t you playing Jeonghan anymore?”. Josh often suggested playing video games with the two of them, and you had to refuse (although playing League with Josh was so fun).

It was lonely.

Stupid Jeonghan.

•••

Finally, tournament season started.

Following (what was apparently) club tradition, the entire team dyed their hair between practices. You settled with a simple streak of blue that was stolen from Josh (he went completely teal, the madman).

The next day, Jeonghan came to practice with his blond ponytail gone, replaced by a dark brown undercut, hair bluntly chopped to end around his jaw.

Unfortunately, it suited him.

He saved a blond spot for a bit of Josh’s blue, however, and Josh dyed it for him in the middle of the clubroom, laughing the whole time. They’d planned it, clearly, as you were pretty sure Josh didn’t just carry around dye in his backpack.

Which means he knew you two would match when he did your hair.

It was confirmed by an apologetic shrug when you cornered him while he threw away the dye-stained gloves.

“Give him a chance, please y/n?”

“Hong Jisoo. You know how I feel about that dumbass-“

“y/n-“

“Why are you so insistent on having us talk again? He’s a two-faced-“

“y/n, you’d like him. He’s funny, and genuinely nice. I don’t know why he was acting like that with you, but that was almost three months ago. Give him a chance.”

“You should be glad I like you, you stupid fucking rat.”

Josh laughs as you walk away, fuming.

Unfortunately, you did like that stupid fucking rat, and so when he offered dinner after an out-of-state tournament (he pinky swore he’d pay) you finally gave in.

Jeonghan coming?

lol yea

that ok?

not rlly

I’ll give him a chance tho

:D thank u

you owe me

I’m buying ur food :(

josh we r literally getting fast food

you owe me

lol k >:)

[myhockeyworld87]

Labels - Josh Anderson

Word Count: 1,872

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Language

To say that your relationship with Josh was complicated was an understatement. A chance meeting at a bar in Columbus had you falling into bed with him that same night. You thought it would be a one-time thing, as you snuck out before the sun came up, but then as you headed for your morning coffee two days later; who did you run into, but Josh. Some would call it fate, but you weren’t one of them, though you did exchange numbers. 

 You weren’t looking for anything serious, and neither was Josh, but sex with him was so amazing; it was only natural that you became friends with benefits. When Josh was home it was inevitable that most nights, he would end up at your place or you at his. It was exactly what you needed, great sex with an equally great guy. That was until things started changing.

 It was subtle at first. Josh would call when he was on a road trip, usually horny. He would con you into phone sex or FaceTime, where he’d want to see what you were wearing and try and coax you out of it. Those conversations led to more. There were ones where he was having a bad game and just wanted to talk. They then turned into hour-long chats about nothing in particular. When he came home, your sex life resumed; though now he didn’t get up and leave right away or he’d ask you to stay and have breakfast in the morning. This all led to coming over for pizza or take out, before you two would get down and dirty; and before you knew what was happening you were catching feelings for him. Which, as everyone knew, was a big no, no, for anyone in a friends with benefits relationship.

 Your friends knew that you had a thing going on with someone; you’d just never mentioned that it happened to be an NHL hunk. So, when you sought advice from your best friend; she said the only thing to do was get under someone new. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, so you tried to distance yourself from him first. That didn’t work. He’d call and the weak part of you would answer. The next thing you knew, you were at his house, on his couch, in his kitchen, in his bed, and most importantly in his life.

 The times when you didn’t answer, you started to wonder what he was doing? Or more importantly who? The two of you spent a lot of time together, but there were periods where he would go out with the guys and when he didn’t call at the end of the night, you were curious if he’d taken home someone else. It ate at you. 

 One particular night, Josh said he was going out with Seth and Boone. You decided that maybe your friend was right and convinced her and some others, to go out as well. Maybe if you found someone, just for the night, it would help you put things with Josh into perspective. The bar was crowded. You ordered a couple shots and drinks before hitting the dance floor. “What about him?” Cassie asked, pointing over to a guy that was totally your type. 

 You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 “Come on (Y/N), he’s hot and you know it.” Cassie was right, of course, you were just comparing him to Josh and well…any guy here would come up lacking. You glanced back in the guy’s direction and he nodded; you did the same. It wasn’t long before he was heading across the dance floor towards you. 

 “Hey, I’m Jeremy.” 

 Before you can even answer, Cassie was pushing you towards Jeremy. “And this is (Y/N). She could really use a drink.”

 “Cassie!” You hissed out.

 Jeremy just lightly chuckled. You realized he had a really nice laugh. “Well (Y/N), how about I buy one?”

 You blushed, as he was forced into getting you a drink now. “That would be nice, thanks for the offer.” You elbowed Cassie in the ribs before heading off to the bar with Jeremy. The two of you talked for a bit, the conversation nice and easy. You’d lightly touch his arm now and then, and when someone came over to order a drink, he rested his hand at the small of your back to draw you nearer to him. You were so busy flirting that you didn’t notice Josh and the guys walk-in or the girls that were attached to them.

 “What do you say we get out of here?” Jeremy finally asked you about thirty minutes later.

 There was a pit in your stomach, for as nice of a time you were having with him; it just didn’t feel right going home with him for the night. You realized you just wanted to be with Josh. You placed your hand on Jeremy’s chest, before saying. “I’m sorry. You’re a really nice guy and all, it’s just…”

 That’s when you heard Josh say your name. “(Y/N)!” You looked over and there he was, some random girl hanging onto his bicep. It took you a minute to find your voice. 

 “Josh, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” Your hand dropped from Jeremy’s chest as if it were burnt. The scowl on Josh’s face as he looked from you to Jeremy made your skin grow cold. You knew what he thought, and he wasn’t entirely wrong; though who was he to judge, considering the woman that was latched onto him. You decided not to wait for Josh to answer you and turned back to Jeremy instead. “You know what, I changed my mind. Let’s get out of here.”

 Jeremy, for his part, knew something was going on between you and Josh and sent you a questioning look. Which you shrugged off. Grabbing his hand, you headed to the door, only to be stopped by the brick wall that was Josh. “We need to talk.” The woman was hovering at the bar and you looked over at her before trying to move around Josh. He stalked your every step.

 You blew out a frustrated breath, before huffing out. “Fine.” You turned to Jeremy then. “This will only take a minute.” He nodded and you let Josh lead you outside where it was quiet. Once you were out of the bar, you stared daggers at him. “So…” you prompted, folding your hands across your chest, not realizing that you were giving Josh a great view of your breasts.

 “So? That’s all you have to say? Like what the fuck (Y/N)? Is this what you do when I’m out on the road?”

 You blinked hard, was he really throwing all this back at you. “Me? What about you? That blonde in there looks awfully cozy with you and how many others are there?” He cocked his head at you. “What like you don’t have one in every city?” He opened his mouth but you weren’t done yet. “Is that all I am? Just a regular hookup to you?” He ran his hands through his hair, a telltale sign that he was frustrated. “This, us, was a fucking mistake and I should have known the second things went further than planned.”

 You started to head back inside, but Josh grabbed your arm pulling you back so that you had to steady yourself against him. “What do you mean further than planned?”

 Your hands were pressed up against his chest, while he had one of his wrapped around your wrist and the other at your waist, pressing you against him. “It’s just…” You put your head down not willing to look him in the eye at that moment. “We were only supposed to be fuck buddies Josh.” It was all you were willing to give as way of explanation.

 He grasped your chin and tilted your head to look at him. “Is that all you think we are?”

 “It doesn’t matter what I think. You obviously only see us as that, or you wouldn’t be out with that…” You struggled to not say whore, and instead went with, “bimbo.”

 “I’m not with her (Y/N). She’s someone that came out with the woman Boone likes and just attached herself to me. I’ve been trying to get rid of her all night. I only want to be with you baby.” You searched his eyes, hoping to see the truth and when you found it; it made your heart melt. “But (Y/N), do you really want to go home with that guy in there?”

 “No!” You blurted out your answer without even thinking. “I don’t want him, Josh. It was just a silly idea that Cassie had for me to get over the fact that I’m in love with you.”

 “You’re in love with me?”

 Oh fuck, you closed your eyes. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. This situation was already messed up as it was, you didn’t need to go announcing your feelings like that. It would probably send him straight back to the bimbo’s waiting arms. You took a deep breath then opened your eyes back up to see Josh with the happiest grin on his face. Could it be that he loved you too? There was only one way to find out. “Yes, Josh, I am. I mean…I love you.”

 His mouth was on yours in an instant, as his hands snaked around your waist and pulled you so close you almost couldn’t breathe. He pulled back long enough to look down at you and say, “I love you too.” Then his lips were back on yours, kissing you with a passion that made you weak in the knees.

 It was your turn to break away from the kiss this time, as you pushed on his shoulders to get some air. “Wait so, what does this mean?”

 “It means, I don’t want to be just friends with benefits anymore. I want to be more, so much more (Y/N).”

 “More,” you said on a breathy sigh. 

 “Yeah, a lot more baby. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms every night and you still to be there when I wake up in the morning. I want to take you out on dates to the finest restaurants in town. I want to go on vacation and see you walking around in a bikini and know that I get to peel it off of you later on.”

 You giggled at all the things Josh wanted to do. “So um, I think what you’re saying there Anderson, is that you want to be my boyfriend?”

 “Mmm. I like the sound of that, especially since it means that makes you my girlfriend.”

 “It does have a nice ring to it.”

 “Come on let’s go home.” He said practically pulling you down the street.

 “But what about…”

 “I’m sure they’ll be fine, maybe they'll even hit it off. As for our friends, we’ll just text them and I’m sure they’ll understand.” They did of course, though Cassie made you spill every juicy detail once she found out you were dating Josh Anderson. Oh, and you also had to promise her an introduction to Seth. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch is getting a chance to meet the local Sheriff and to say he is not excited would be an understatement.

Read chapter 9: ‘Addressing the Public’ on AO3 

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

For his first day off from the grocery, today sure seemed like it was determined to make its mark so he couldn’t possibly forget it. At this point, it was about burned into Stretch’s memory, for sure.

First there was Doris who added her clues into his trick r treat bucket, then the town assholes showed up for their serial killer practice. Then, as a treat, he got to have the double punch of a lunch with Edge, a sweet and sour mixture of possibly flirtatious revelations coupled to an unwanted chat about his own traumas, served warm over some delicious pie.

Now it looked like he was about to get a sequel to the Assholes: Part Deux, the Assholes’ Revenge, in the form of a sheriff filled with blustering indignation and accusations, and all Stretch had was a mouthful of pie to defend himself. Worse, his only witness had already paid the bill and left.

Stretch swallowed his last bite, chasing it down with water when it tried to stick in the back of his throat as he went over possibilities. He could try to explain the situation, but if there was one thing he’d learned from living in Ebott, it was that if a Monster was talking to the cops, it was best to keep it short, sweet, and polite. Don’t try to explain or admit to shit, ‘cause they’d be more than happy to add another line to the list of things to harass you about.

Seriously, he missed being able to shortcut, this whole facing trouble head-on thing wasn’t for him.

The sheriff huffed again, loudly, and it fluffed up his broad mustache like a human-shaped walrus. He propped fists about the size of a baby’s head on his broad hips and growled out, “So? Is that it? You’re here startin’ some trouble in my peaceful little town?”

Stretch looked up into those mirrored sunglasses. If they were standing, Stretch would probably have a couple inches on the guy, but sitting here in the booth the sheriff loomed over him ominously, his own distorted reflection showing back his nervous face.

“no, sir,” Stretch said politely. Stick with the basic, that was good for a start, and hopefully Red would be willing to bail him out if that became necessary. At least Red wouldn’t have far to go.

The rest of the diner was staring, not a single fork was engaged as they watched the latest scene in the town drama unfold. Not that he blamed them, this was probably about the most action they’d seen in weeks, but he did sort of wish someone would be a little concerned rather than eagerly interested. Waiting to see if maybe the local sheriff was gonna slap on some cuffs so they could whip out their phones for a nice tiktok video while he was getting read his rights?

“No?” the sheriff demanded. His sunglasses reflected the overhead light, making Stretch wince back. “I heard you were out there riling up the corn yesterday. And today you were playing dog days with the doggerel boys?”

That was true, except how it wasn’t, and a trickle of sweat was winding its way down Stretch’s spine despite the air conditioning. Before he could wheeze out another ‘no sir’ or any other answer at all, a sudden, booming laugh filled the entire diner, loud enough to echo from the greasy grill before rolling back out to rattle the windows. The sheriff hooked his thumbs into a belt with a buckle so big that could probably double as a satellite dish, guffawing loudly, “Aw, you ain’t in any trouble, I’m just joshing ya, boy!”

Oh. Ohhhh, this was only a little goodnatured small-town hazing, that he could deal with, if he managed to swallow his quivering soul back down where it belonged. Stretch tried on a smile to match the sheriff’s ongoing laughter and found that it fit pretty well, all things considered.

“can’t be joshing, my name is stretch,” Stretch said with cautious humor. “but i guess stretching me would be an entirely different meaning. think they gave that one up in the middle ages.”

The sheriff bellowed out another laugh that practically shook the silverware, actually bending over to give his knee a loud slap. Around them rose other chuckles around mouthfuls of pie and how strange was it that he could feel the difference between people laughing at him and laughing with him. There was a certain fondness in that laughter, in the warm expressions coming his way from townsfolk that he sort of knew; these were people who’d bought their toilet paper and fresh apples from him on any given day, who’d give him waves and smiles when he passed them on the sidewalk and maybe it was an unusual form of kindness, but their humor still made unexpected tears prick in his sockets.

Stretch grabbed his napkin and dabbed hastily at his face as if he were wiping away sweat before anyone could see and misunderstand. How could he explain to them that in all his life, he’d never felt such a wash of overwhelming fondness from anyone except maybe his own brother.

(Not even from the person who’d told him so often and so tenderly that he loved him…until he didn’t, fucking hell, he wasn’t thinking about that right now, he wasn’t.)

The sheriff was obviously no fool and already his expression was softening into remorse, maybe coming up with an apology that Stretch desperately did not want, not for this. Rescue came almost too late and from an entirely unexpected source. Granny Collemore was so short Stretch could only see her steel-gray hair piled up in a messy bun over the top of the booth as she approached, but he heard her hollering well enough.

“Buford, you let that poor boy alone!” There was a smacking sound of a cane hitting flesh and Stretch couldn’t see where the blow struck, but the sheriff, Buford, let out a yelp, hopping on one foot as he frantically rubbed his shin.

“Sam Hill, granny, I was only playin!” he grumbled. He pulled up the leg of his trousers to examine his granny-inflicted wound. There was a reddened welt on the skin, already shading to purple.

“You hush yourself,” Granny huffed, “I’m half-past give-a-shit today and you may be the sheriff in these parts, but you ain’t too old for a hiding!” Granny shuffled into view, her cane hooked over one arm. She reached out with her wrinkled hands and Stretch leaned over obediently to let her to cup his face gently in her palms as she clucked with concern. “Does he look like he’s up for your shenanigans?” she groused loudly, “‘specially since this feller is working over at the grocery with Red, bless his heart.”

“That a fact?” Buford pushed his hat up and offered a crooked smile. “Must be a brave soul, then. Well, you tell that sonavabitch I’m gunning for him this Sunday. He better be there with silver bells on and you tell him that whatever aces are up his sleeves, better make sure they ain’t spades, ‘cause that’s the reverend’s favorite cheat.”

“i’ll do that,” Stretch agreed, a touch bewildered. Hell, he’d thought Red was joking when he said the sheriff was his poker buddy.

That sounded like an exit line, it was starting to look like Stretch was going to make it out of here unscathed, and he might have if Granny hadn’t put in, happily, “Anyhoo, Buford, you just miss seeing Edge. He was here sharing a slice of pie with our new fella.”

Dark eyebrows rose up over those mirrored lenses and Buford hooted a laugh, “Oho, that how it is. On a date with our Edge, were ya.”

Great, that was exactly what he didn’t want getting back to Red. Enjoying a little flirting was one thing, but not if it started the wheels of the gossip train turning. With his luck, it would crash right into a dumpster fire. “uh, no, no dates, just pie.”

He did not expect Buford to suddenly look a little offended, those eyebrows drawing down into a frown behind his glasses. “Why in the Sam Hill not? Ain’t he your type?”

“Uh.” Stretch looked around a little wildly, away from Granny and Buford to see the rest of the diner was still watching them with interest. No, not just interest, there was an awful lot of sly looks there and whispering behind hands, along with soft expressions and doe-eyes…

Oh. Oh, shit, it was worse than he thought. They were invested, everyone in this diner was taking sides and they were choosing the romance option, this was bad, this sort of thing was infectious and the last thing he needed right now was an entire town of matchmakers trying to hook him up with the local hottie. It was like an unsolved Agatha Christie took a sudden, sideways turn into a Hallmark Gyftmas movie.

Buford and the rest of the diner were all waiting for him to explain why he and Edge weren’t dating and Stretch was sitting here, fumbling around at the pass.

“we’re not dating, we’re just—” Stretch coughed awkwardly, hesitating. The truth was ‘it’s complicated’ was probably most accurate, although ‘barely met acquaintances’ was a close second, or even the generic, ‘he’s my boss’s baby bro whose ass i am definitely not staring whenever i see him but also his smile is really nice and—' “—friends,” Stretch finished, lamely.

Buford nodded like he’d offered not a nugget of wisdom, but an entire ten-piece with the tangy sauce. The light reflected in his mirrored gaze as he said, kindly, “That ain’t a bad thing.”

Relieved, Stretch let out an unsteady laugh, “kinda surprised you don't think i'm a cousin or something.”

Buford snorted loudly at that, “Son, you boys don't look a thing alike.”

And that there was another surprise to add to his daily total. In Ebott, Stretch was constantly getting mistaken for Papyrus or Sans, even his own brother once or twice. Half the time, people either didn’t know his name or didn’t care to, and Backwater was a strange place, no question, but that sure didn’t mean it was bad.

Buford didn’t seem to notice his shock as he went on, “Now there’s a boy who could use some en-ter-tainment. Works too hard, damned if he don’t.”

Now that was a clue looking him right in the face and Stretch took the Velma leap and pounced on it, trying for a little discreet nonchalance, “yeah? what does he work so hard at?”

A shame Buford seemed to be pretty quick on the draw. He gave Stretch a shrewd look, “He ain’t told you?”

“no, sir,” Stretch sighed glumly. Seriously, he was the worst Velma ever.

Buford went ahead and poured salt into the open wound with another short laugh, “Naw, I’ll ain’t stepping in that cow pie. I’ll let him talk to ya about that. But see if you can’t get him to slow down for another--” Buford gave him a sly wink and actually hooked his thick fingers into air quotes, “’friend date’, wontcha?”

Then he grunted as Granny Collemore jammed her elbow into his soft gut, tutting loudly, “You never did shake the ants outta your pants did you, Buford! Let those boys alone, they'll go at their own pace.” To Stretch she offered sunny, toothless grin, “Come on, and walk an old lady out.”

“yes, ma’am,” Stretch said. Hey, he might be an idiot, but he was no fool. He stood up, ready to make his getaway, halted only briefly by Buford snatching up his hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake, though his grip was gentle on the delicate bones.

“Welcome to town, Stretch,” Buford told him. For once he was completely serious as he said, low, “and don’t you worry about those boys.” He tapped the side of his nose, his broad finger reflected in his sunglasses. “I know what happened, it’ll be taken care of.”

“i appreciate that,” Stretch said, and he meant it. He turned and followed after Granny, only dodging ahead to hold up the door so she could shuffle out.

“Thank you, sonny,” Granny huffed as she made her slow way through the door. “These old bones ain’t as spry as yours. You should head on home now, there's a storm a’comin'."

Stretch looked up into the cloudless sky in confusion, greeted by endless blue.

“Oh, you can trust me," Granny grimaced and rubbed at her hip, "these joints don't lie."

“i will,” Stretch agreed. After his lesson with the corn, he was taking the townsfolk at their word and if granny said a storm was heading this way, he expected to see clouds blowing in any minute now.

He left Granny to make her way home and headed back to the store. Red only grunted when he came in, didn’t even look up from his book as he hooked an absent thumb towards his apartment. There was a bag sitting on the table and when Stretch looked inside, there was a sandwich neatly covered in plastic wrap, a bag of chisps, and a bottle of juice. He was still full up on pie, but it would make for a nice, simple dinner, good thing he had Red up there looking after him. Maybe he should suggest to Red that he get a tattoo, a nice heart engraved on his arm with ‘Mom’ in the middle, since now he had one.

Stretch took the bag upstairs with him and opened the window. He took a moment to breathe in the already cooling air, a herald to the coming storm.

The book was sitting where he’d left it last night when he’d dragged himself off Red’s sofa, limbs spaghettied from sleep and his mind noodly mush. He’d brought the book along without even thinking about it and now the hardcover seemed to mock him with the necessary knowledge hidden somewhere within those pages.

Welp, there was only one way he was gonna get the info out of it and that didn’t mean beating it against his skull until the words shook out. He picked it up and settled to sit cross-legged on the bed, bracing himself for what might well be hours of boredom as he turned it to the first page.

And frowned. At the top of the page was a family name, ‘Anderson’, along with the date, ‘1884’. There was a short selection of first names beneath it and next to each was what looked like a telephone number and an address.

“what the hell?” Stretch muttered. He flipped to the second page and it was the same thing, only the name was ‘Armstrong’ and there were a lot more first names to go with it, someone was getting busy on the weekends, for sure.

Stretch flipped to the next page, and the next. All of them had the same thing, a last name, then a collection of firsts with a number and an address. Finally, he flipped back to the title page. There, right underneath the scrolling text declaring the book ‘The Informal History of Backwater’ was a tiny addition he hadn’t noticed before, stating in a small, stark font, ‘Municipal Directory.’

For a long moment, Stretch could only stare at it, until the words started floating in his sight. Laughter bubbled up suddenly, fizzing in him like a shaken soda. "sonofabitch," Stretch burst out, snickering madly. The damn thing was a glorified telephone book and Edge had flat-out given him his damned address already, practically gift-wrapped it! And he'd almost refused to take the damn thing! Guy wasn't only sexy, he had jokes and if he wasn't already a treat to the senses, that would have upgraded him to a bone-ified snack.

Address had to be in here, all Stretch needed to do was find it. The book was bigger than he would’ve thought from a small town, but from the look of it, they never took anyone out, only kept adding on. Occasionally next to a name he saw an abbreviated ‘dec.,’ so maybe this was a bit of town history, after all, kind of a family tree, anyway.

It still took him awhile to find their names, flipping through the book. The names were alphabetized, but that didn’t help much when the family he was looking for didn’t have a last name. Finally, under the surname ‘Skeleton’, he found them.

“should’ve tried that to begin with,” Stretch muttered. He read the entry, following along with his finger, only to pause in confusion when it came to the date recorded neatly by their names. It listed them as arriving in town over a decade ago and if that was when they came to Backwater, then whoever printed this needed to proofread a little better, because that was impossible. Monsters had only been on the surface for a couple years, not quite three now, so it had to be a mistake.

Except, Edge struck him as the kind of guy who was pedantic enough that there was no way he wouldn’t bitch until it was fixed; anyone who ate their pie like it was a military maneuver wouldn’t be able to stand such an egregious error. And he’d made sure to give Stretch the book, so he damn well knew he’d be seeing this. So what the hell did all this mean?

What did any of this mean?

Stretch sank back against the wall behind him, tipping his head up so he could stare at the ceiling. There was a crack in the plaster in one the corner, spidering off into a shape like a lightning bolt and that was exactly what Stretch felt like he’d been struck with.

What the hell was this place? Some kind of fairytale, where one day in town was a week on the outside? If he hopped on another bus and made his way to the next town over, would the papers tell him it was next Tuesday or the next century?

It was enough to inspire him to check his messages. Stretch fumbled for his phone, opening the text app for the first time in days. The amount of alerts made him wince but it was the last message that roused that endless ache in his soul back up to true pain.

I understand that you’re hurting, brother. You don’t have to tell me where you are. You don’t even have to call. All I ask is you send me a message every once in a while to let me know you’re all right. Please.

Stretch closed his sockets and swallowed against the sudden knot in his throat. Before he could rethink it, he typed a hasty, i’m all right and sent it, then lurched over to shove his phone into the nightstand drawer, slamming it shut.

Even so, he couldn’t help listening, straining to hear but there was no vibrating buzz, nothing to indicate a return message.

Good enough.

Stretch took a deep, shaky breath, then dragged the book back over and studied the entry again. Red’s address was the store, no surprises there, but Edge was listed under 637 Wood’s End Drive.

Wood’s End. Seriously?

Welp, it was one mystery solved, anyway, even if he’d skipped the meddling kids part. Now all he needed was to plan a field trip.

A sudden flash of lightning lit the room, putting the fake bolt on his ceiling to bitter shame and the sky outside seemed to burst, rain pouring down and pelting through his open window. Stretch scrambled over to slam it closed, shaking away the damp on his hands. All the sunshine from earlier was gone, the sky darkened into angry, swirling storm clouds as the downpour drenched the parched earth.

Yeah, field trip was postponed on account of rain, but not for long. He’d get there and maybe once he showed up on Edge’s doorstep, he’d finally get some real answers.

For now, though, all Stretch wanted was a towel.

tbc

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - THREE

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.389

Warnings: Family reunion. Memory overload. Realization. Hurt. Self-loading.

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @katerka88​ @littlefreya​ @hell1129-blog​ @radaofrivia​ @gothwhopper​ @fcgrizi​ @vania-marie​ @mary-ann84​ @sciapod​ @mitzwinchester​ @omgkatinka​ @mis-lil-red (your tag isn’t working 😢)

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated. Seriously, please tell me all the good and bad stuff, else I won’t be able to develop into a better writer if I don’t know what I’m doing right and wrong. I swear I don’t bite.

[ONE] [TWO] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE] [TEN]

Lucas was sent home to Georgia to heal. Joshua, the Syverson’s biological son, flew across the Atlantic Ocean to meet and bring him home. Silvia Syverson was a stern woman, and when she wanted her younger son to pick up her adoptive older son that is what she would get. His brother had been curious about what had happened, as a medical practitioner he was also compassionate and wanted to help in any way he could.

A 12-hour plane ride later Lucas was back in his childhood home, lying in his old bedroom filled with rock music posters. On his dresser sat an old boombox and next to it, a towering stack of CDs.

Silvia had demanded he got some rest. There he was. Staring at the ceiling like a good little boy. Fuck. He was a captain in the US Army. He had seen death and destruction enough to last two lifetimes, and he was still a little momma’s boy.

After dinner that evening, Lucas asked his mother for the things he had with him when he was sent to be fostered by them.

“Are you sure you want to rip up in the past?” Silvia asked him, her brows pushed together in concern.

“Ma, I need to know.”

She sighed and motioned for him to follow her. Joshua was right behind the two. All three entered the basement and towards the wall filled with stacks of boxes.

“One of them should be labelled Trevor Thompson.”

Lucas started lifting his uninjured arm to one of the top boxes, but a steely look from his mother made him back away and sit on the stairs.

“Joshua, come help your old mother,” Silvia commanded her younger son, who was snickering behind his older brother.

“There’s nothing old about you, ma,” the younger man said and kissed his mother’s cheek. He started taking box after box down. Of course, the box that belonged to Trevor Thompson was at the bottom of the pile.

It contained Trevor’s birth certificate, fostering papers, adoption papers, name changing papers, and a black photo album. Lucas opened it with one hand and a pair of blue eyes were staring right back at him. The same colour as his own haunted eyes. Beneath the photo was written ‘Jennifer Thompson’. The next page shocked him even more. ‘William Thompson’, Lucas was the spitting image of him, besides the eye colour. In his dream, his father was always too far away to get a close enough look besides some minuscule features.

“Wow, Luc, you look just like your dad,” Joshua exclaimed, “You even have the same freckle on your lower lip.”

“Josh, that is creepy as hell that you notice stuff like that,” Lucas looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m a doctor, I would be a terrible one, if I didn’t notice the little things. Now turn the page and let’s see those brothers of yours.”

Lucas sighed, preparing himself mentally to take a look at his biological brothers. Brothers he couldn’t remember until a week ago. They had shared a womb, so why the hell couldn’t he remember them?

Silvia noticed the change in her son. She put a hand on his good shoulder and squeezed. He looked into her green eyes that were giving him the confidence to face the past.

“Lucas, you were five years old. Don’t beat yourself up for not remembering.”

“I just have this feeling that we were so very close as children. I feel bad for forgetting them. They are my brothers. I’d do anything for my brothers, those in the army and even Josh.”

“Gee thanks, bro.”

Lucas chuckled and turned the page. Three identical young boys were smiling back at him. One of them had a front tooth missing. Probably himself. He couldn’t even see the difference between who was who in that picture. Only the names under each boy answered his question.

Trevor, Oliver and James.

“Aw, Luc, look at how innocent you looked once. Now you’re a grumpy old man with a beard,” Joshua was teasing him. Lucas ignored his little brother and looked at the next page, which was of the entire family sitting on a porch swing all together, laughing and smiling. The boys were smaller, maybe three years old at the time.

A sense of sadness washed over him. The flush of some childhood memories overwhelmed him. Lucas closed the book. He handed it back to his mother and walked away from the basement. Both mother and brother calling his name, he didn’t listen, just kept walking. He needed to be alone, to collect his thoughts. His mind was flooding with a million memories, his heart was racing, his legs just kept walking, until he was standing at the end of the driveway. He went into a sprint and ran as fast as he could to the beach, or as fast as his broken arm would allow him.

The beach was almost void of people. Only a few were out swimming or walking along the edge of the water. Lucas sat down and just let his mind wander. Letting all the memories in. His brain was throbbing, the feeling was like it wanted to escape from the cramped space of his skull.

Memories of smiles, laughter, love. He remembered the devastating feeling when two policemen came to the front door and told their neighbour, who had been watching over them, that their parents had died. A social worker, Marcy Kane, had taken care of the boys until they were divided into new families. He remembered a lot of yelling and screaming.

“They are only young boys. You shouldn’t separate them. They need each other!” Marcy roared at her boss.

“Nobody wants to take in three boys at the same time, so either you calm down, or you are off the case.”

The next he remembered was Marcy crouching in front of the three boys. They hadn’t said a word since the news of their parents’ death. They had vowed not to talk or be happy again without their parents.

“James, Oliver, Trevor. I’m sorry.” She started and hugged each boy in her warm embrace. It nearly made Trevor cry. As the eldest of three, he needed to stay strong for his brothers.

The families came and picked up each of the boys, separating them, forcing them apart from each other. Marcy put the medallion of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton over each boy before they departed. None of the boys cried. They had made another pact, to find each other when they were old enough. A vow all three of them forgot as they grew up.

Now it was time to make that vow come true.

Lucas stood and brushed the sand from his well-shaped ass. With a clear mind, he walked home to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Joshua drove him to city hall. They released his papers but there was nothing hinting where his brothers had ended up.

Back home he called an old army buddy, Aiden, who had started a private detective company when he was released from the military. It took Aiden a few hours before he called back.

“Aiden, any news?” Lucas asked the minute he answered the phone.

“Yeah. I have some good and a whole mountain of bad, which one do you want first?” His friend told him.

“Give me the good ones. You found my brother? James?”

“I did. He was sent to live with a family in Minnesota. He’s still there. He changed his name to Walter Matthew Marshall, and guess what, he’s a police detective. He used to be S.W.A.T. and, dude, he has a daughter.”

“I have a niece?”

“Yes, congratulations Uncle Lucas. Are you ready for the bad news?”

“Hit me.”

“The brother, Oliver, you met in Iraq, he was moved to Virginia and changed his name to August Christopher Walker.”

“August? What the fuck kind of name is that? August is a month, not a name.”

“That’s not the worst part. Lucas, he was in the CIA.”

“He was definitely well trained. What else?”

“He rebelled.”

“What do you mean ‘rebelled’? What did he do?”

“Luc… your brother is wanted for planning to set off nuclear bombs around the world.”

Lucas nearly dropped his phone. His parents and brother were giving him worried looks. He went to sit down on the sofa before telling Aiden to continue.

“They thought he had died somewhere north of India, but they haven’t found his body. And there’s a warrant for his head from all the intelligence agencies around the globe.”

“How much?”

Nothing. Aiden kept his mouth shut.

“Aiden, tell me. How much?”

A heavy sigh could be heard through the speaker.

“A hundred.”

“A hundred what? Just a hundred? A hundred thousand? Spit it out, man.”

“A hundred million dollars. All the agencies want him gone, Lucas.”

“What does the warrant say? Dead or alive?”

“Both.”

Lucas groaned in frustration. What the hell had his brother done? Why had he done it? What happened to him?

“Thanks, Aiden. I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem. Call me if you need any help. Any kind of help.”

“Will do.”

Lucas pushed the end button and threw the phone on the coffee table. His mother came to sit next to him. She touched his left bicep, trying to comfort him without saying anything.

“What now?” Joshua asked and sat on his other side.

“I don’t know.”

“Son, look at me,” his adoptive father, John Syverson, was a rather large man himself. Don’t be fooled by his grey hair and grey beard, he might look like a nice old man, but he could kill people with a spoon. Lucas heard the authoritative tone in his general father’s voice and looked into the compassionate green eyes. “What are my rules?”

“Always be kind.” Joshua and Lucas said at the same time.

“Treat your woman like a queen,” Silvia chimed in.

“Don’t judge people based on the first look,” Joshua continued.

“Don’t do things to make other people happy, do them to make yourself happy,” Silvia smiled.

“And never leave a brother behind,” Lucas’ voice was firm. His mind was made up.

“I’ll book you a ticket to Minnesota.”

“Who’s going to Minnesota?” A soft female voice said from the hall. Four pair of eyes looked at the curvaceous woman entering the living room. The Syverson’s only daughter, who had been born a year after they had adopted Lucas. Her long curly brown hair was put up in a bun, her glasses sitting at the edge of her pretty little nose. She had her father’s deep green eyes.

“Melanie, darling, we didn’t know you were coming home,” Silvia exclaimed and went to hug her daughter.

“I heard through the grapevine that the captain was home, so I had to come home and say hello,” Melanie smirked at Lucas and squeezed his left side, avoiding his casted arm.

“Good to see you, shorty. How’s the University treating you?” Lucas asked and kissed his sister’s forehead. She went to get kisses and hugs from her other brother and father, before plumbing down with a huge sigh on the armchair.

“I love my job. I love that I can do research all day long, I never get tired of that, but lately…” She started.

“Lately, what?” Joshua gave his sister a quizzical look.

“Lately it’s been a bit boring. It’s too much of the same. I know it is what I signed up for when I accepted the job, but I was also promised more fieldwork, where I would be able to travel and study the texts, ceramics, and people up close, not from a computer where someone is streaming. So, I’m taking a sabbatical, one year where I figure out, if I still want to do desk research or if I need to find a job that is better suited for what I want and need.”

Silvia and John gave each other a look that only a married couple could give. They were communicating non-verbally. Lucas looked at his parents.

“No,” he said sternly. “Not in a million years.”

“You need someone to help you,” Silvia told her son in the same hard voice.

“I can take care of myself.”

“You’ll need help with the cast.”

“Josh can help me.”

“Sorry, bro. I have to be back at work on Monday.”

Lucas sighed and turned to the young woman, who had put her hair down. Her long curl cascading down her shoulder.

“Melanie, will you come with me to Minnesota?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Anything for you, Luc. What’s going on in Minnesota?”

“We’re going to find my brothers.”

Lucas had filled his sister in on his history. She had taken one look at all his documents and said she would figure out why in the world they had to be separated into three different states. They dropped their belongings off at a nearby hotel, walking to the precinct where Walter Marshall worked.

The secretary at the front desk didn’t even look up when they entered and just told them where to go.

“Hey Marshall, when did you break your arm? And I thought you said something ‘bout never wanting to cut your hair.” A young man, fresh from the police academy by the looks of it, was yelling from the other side of the room. He walked over and gave Melanie an appreciative look over. Lucas clenched his left hand into a fist; it wasn’t his dominant hand, but he could still break the little fucker’s nose.

“Hi, we’re looking for Walter Marshall, could you direct us to his office?” Melanie asked as she blinked a few times. Lucas smiled; he knew the look in her eyes. The charm-glare as he called it. That look that had gotten her out of trouble countless times.

“Well, miss, he’s right here,” he motioned at Lucas.

“Cade, get back to work or I’ll wring your neck,” a deep grumpy voice said behind them. Lucas turned around to look into another mirror version of himself. Walter Marshall was standing with his leg spread, his arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a black jumper. His eyes widened as he looked at Lucas. “My office, now.”

[popculturebuffet]

Close Enough Reviews: The Canine Guy

We’ve finally reached the end.. hopefully not of the season and there are hints that there’s a little more to come so fingers crossed, but of the massive bomb. 12 episodes, with three thankfully done already. 1 day. Doors open let’s go after the blurb and the cut.  Josh and Alex have a falling out over a yearly tradition that leads to Josh befreinding a talking dog raised on Jim Carrey movies, while Bridgette drags Emily to a cabin in the woods, wooo ooo, to try and get their music duo back on top and run into musical legend and living god Weird Al Yankovic. Dare to be stupid under the cut. 

Like many episodes of this show, and what i’ve said is a strength this episode is two plots tha tsomehow end up smashing into each other but unlike the rest it’s 22 minutes. The show was, unsuprisingly originally convinced this way, as recently revealed by JG himself during the show’s premiere day reddit ama, but the execs later decided to simply cut most of hte episodes down to 11 minutes to improve hte pacing, which as we’ve seen clearly worked . But this one DOES make full use of it’s 22 minutes and does make me hope if hte show gets a season 2 they feel free to ping pong a bit. So with that settled, let’s dive in.  Our A-Plot starts with a flashback showing Josh and Alex’s yearly tradition: Going to midevil times together, due to having seen it in the cable guy, even qouting it and other jim carrey movies as the two were super fans. This continues fine into college but by last year alex just.. isn’t as into it. IT’s a sacred friend ritural and all but Alex is just getting bored.  Things come to a head in the present where, when Alex tries to just flat out get out of it, as he has press agents looking at his viking novel he’s been working on who might actually publish it and as his characeter profile, if not the series makes clear, just like josh and emily’s own dreams this is his. It’s resonable, they could just resschedule.. but Josh feels betrayed lashes out, Alex calls medivial times stupid and historiclaly inaccurate (even if he loves fecatia dippers with tomato soup ), and Josh storms off. Josh wallows, and finds the mead tastes like horse piss (Which leads to an utterly great and gross gag when it turns out ita ctually is, the guy serving it says “He’s on to us”) And switches to brownies using the same horse. Sometimes a grossout gag can work.  However Josh soon finds a new buddy in a talking dog named dog guy who was tourtred by and is running from the scientest who created him for reasons we’ll get to in the climax. And since the dog was also raised on jim carrey movies, and gets josh’s refrences and love of htem, the two quickly bond. Alex is pissed and jealous, somehow more than with his own ex wife, to see this despite trying to clear his schedule to make things up to josh, as he’s still a good guy and can realize he was wrong, and has his meetings, which are boring or frustrating, whie also stalking JOsh and Dog boy. Alex in a fit of rage at seeing dog boy seemingly tear up his manuscript calls the scientest, who popped by earlier looking for him.. only to find out that he just tore up the ending because he felt , as ac ollege graduate no less, that it could be a franchise and the two become friend. WHile Josha nd Alex fight over him Dog GUy’s creator kidnap him and the two head off, their freindship exploding over josh calling the cops and the two both wanting the dog to be their new best friend as well as the whole medievil times thing. Meanwhile Pearles tracking dog guy’s creator, because as she explains to ready cold cases are her majong and lets Candace be the corrput denzel washington type which unlike the previous pearle bit has REALLY not aged well for a number of reasons, but none I can blame the show itself for. 

Alex and Josh head after dog boy and find that the crazy lady who made him is making animal films (It was tourture because she’s bad at it and she was still genuinely abusive) and seeing dog guy as a failure wants to chop up his balls (after using 80 diffrent terms with alex scremaing “Just say balls), to make new dog guys.  Meanwhile in the B plot we first see Bridg and Emily’s comedy rock act which is genuinely funny but fails to impiress with Bridgette having grown frustrated over emily’s focus on candace, in a nice parallel.It also shows that for all her social mediaing and partying, Bridgette DOES take her music seriously but it hasn’t been able to progress without her musical partner.Emily waffles on joining her for a cabin retreatto work on it, with bridgette evne assuming with a fake emily she made out of pillows that emily would bring candace but nope: Candace is left with pearle and josh is busy with a dog so Emily is free. Things still don’t go well: Emily still won’t focus and is on her phone constantly, and emilys defense of “well you were on your phone at your wedding” when BRidgette calls her on it falls flat in a nice moment when bridgette points out she’s divorced. It’s also a nice moment of self relfeciton that shows Bridgette has learned from “Robot Tutor” and accepted her part in her marriage falling apart. The two fight until an angel appearls: Weird Al Yankovic! Like I hoped it really is him! Not that it’s HARD to get him to do voice work, he’s done quite a bit and he’s always happy to pitch in for another comedian, as Red Letter Media recently pointed out he’s kind of the bridge to all eras of comedies as he never really went away. When the two ask which is better: using your family or shutting it out, he admits there’s no perfect way to write a song or no one right way you just do your best.. and in his case stab yourself iwth a narwhal tusk and pray to a demonci god. Then one of the crazy lady’s animals attacks, we get another trailer homage and as they approach our herooines both apologize, Emily admitting Bridg is like her sister and in a funny but still sweet moment BRidgette admits she’s like a half sister... and only dosen’t say the full sister because she has a sister and dosen’t throw that around lightly, but the sentiments the smae. But the animals are recalled to deal with Josh and Alex, so while Emily and Bridgette follow them we get our climax.  Alex and Josh naturally crumble under hteir new foes, but both , like their spouse and ex spouse, reconnect over their mutual love of dog boy and apologize for their behavior to one another, sharing one last dumb and dumber most annoying sound in the world.. which ends up being the key to defeating the animals with Pearle soon swooping in to arrest dog boy’s creator.. for unpaid parking tickcet,s a good gag. She’s in jail, Dog Boy is free and the whole madness and talking dog has given Bridgette and Emily a new song. Our friends are all best pals again, Dog Boy spends time with bost his best friends before nleaving to start his own theater and work on his acting career, so he could show up again and I really hope he does. That last part was revealed via a hilarious where are they now that shows where all the animals oepn up and we close, hopefuly not on the series but on this day Final THoughts; This was a really good one. While admitelly havn’t not watched any pf the classic jim carrey films in years, though I own dumb and dumber I just haven’t gotten around to rewatching it, it was a nice throughline and the kind of specific nostaliga this show is great at. It was also nice to see a conflict where alex is being througly resonable to start and shows that beneath his nutty exterior (he also assumes the scinetests plan is at first to make furries even sexier (his note, add more nips)) is a guy who like his friends has a dream. We see the same with Bridgette who most of the time is’nt on give a fuck mode but here we see there is something besides her friends and ex husband she cares about: her music. It’’s a nice roll reversal to see BRIDGETTE, be the one to take something seriously and Emily to be the one who can’t commit to it and it takes compromise and both realizing they need each other to work. IT’s a nice examination of the shows core freindships that also has a wonderful talking dog and of course weird fucking al being amazing as allways. A stellar close out to this swarm of episodes and hopefully not hte series.  I”ll give my thoughts on the season as a whole later if this turns out to be the season and in a few weeks if not, but for now I finsihed this matharthon and i’m glad: Close enough is a damn good show that while having some more eh episodes, has a good strong emotional core, a great cast, great humor and is creative as hell while improving on the genre and even it’s predecessor. Just a delight to watch. I have regular coverage of Amphibia and Owl House coming up saturday, and hopefully close enough will continue each week, but if not until we meet agian later days. I’m going to go lie down. WOO. 

[candyshua]

It’s a Long Way Home | Chapter 10 (Finale)

Pairing: Joshua x Minghao x Reader

Synopsis: It was dark, and then it was light. You’re finally lucid. After 15 years of not being conscious, you wake up in a desolate and post-apocalyptic earth where infected flesh-eating beings roam the streets. Soon enveloped into a mysterious group of survivors, you consistently wonder who they are. But most importantly, who are you?

Genre: Heavy angst, some fluff here and there

Warnings: Gore, bad language, physical & verbal abuse

Word Count: 2k

The world unfolded before your meek eyes. What was happening soon sunk in, and you immediately ripped your already bitten arm from "Joshua's" grasp. Looking down, you noticed a bite mark was there.

But then, like magic, it disappeared. It faded off of your skin gradually within the course of a few seconds, and you displayed no signs of turning any time soon. The moment your blood touched Joshua's tongue, a series of gargles elicited from his mouth and then he fell, clutching his chest. The Doctor watched intently, and Minghao merely rushed over to help you. "Are you okay?" He stuttered, and you just nodded emptily. You paid no mind to Minghao, your attention was on the dramatic scene happening in front of you.

The first thing you noticed about Joshua was his eyes. Soon, a familiar brown coated the white vastness, and pupils sprouted like a sudden unexpected rainstorm. Color returned to his face, and his flesh tightened and cleansed itself. The reverse transformation was surreal, along with extremely satisfying. His teeth whitened, his lips weren't a pale blue anymore; he was Joshua.

Clutching his chest with both of his hands, he fell to the ground and passed out in front of you. If somebody would've walked in at this very moment, they would've seen four humans.

Soon, your eyes widened and the tears on your cheeks dried. Your eyes wandered to the open cut on your arm, no signs of being bitten near. It was just a cut, like being sliced with a knife.

You were immune.

And you were the cure.

-

Time blended together in a haziness. Days felt like weeks, as your mind swam in and out on consciousness. The reality of the power you held kind of drove you mad temporarily, but any heated haziness can be replenished with a sweep of ice cold reality.

It started when Joshua would wake up in the middle of the night, in the hospital of Fort Lockwood of course, and then he'd puke up blood. You assumed it was just his body getting rid of the infection, but to be fair you had no idea how to react in this situation. Any medically experienced fellow would have been absolutely stumped. Slowly, Fort Lockwood was rebuilt and The Doctor was under constant surveillance. You helped revive the fort to what it used to be, along with taking care of the excess scientists.

You had felt heaps of guilt, knowing many people died due to their mere inconvenience. So many souls succumbed to the title of "Collateral Damage". They were executed because they were in the way - and that was that.

Truth be told, it had been four days since your attack on Fort Lockwood, but it felt like four months. Everything was so slow, worry tended to drag things out until the final show - where everything all comes crashing down. It was like you were in a play, and the end was near.

But one more plot twist was in store, just to mess with you.

Today, you would finally talk to The Doctor - face to face. Alone.

You walked into the dimly lit basement where Joshua was once constricted, that thought being enough to stimulate an anger deep inside you. You strode over to the beaten down man, who once reigned down upon his own miniature civilization. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Now, he was under the control of somebody he used to own, somebody he used to control.

You could do whatever you wanted to him. You could torture him like he did to you, you could let him starve to death, hell - you could untie him and let him walk out a free man. You weren't foolish enough to do so, but you knew you could have.

You were powerful. This time, you were mighty and great, you were no longer the girl subject to a glory-desiring genius or her amnesic self. You were the one with the good hand, it was like showing your royal flush to fellow poker players. The prize was so close, yet so far. But, was it as glorious and magnificent as it was prophesied to be? Was power what you wanted?

You knew you wanted to make him suffer, like he did to you.

Alas, you were a living example of it - you had won.

And, The Doctor had many answers you needed. But, you wanted his name to be forever tainted - not glorified as he had wanted. So, when you walked in that room, you had a vision in your mind.

"Hello." You hissed, the pure rage burning inside of you. The Doctor scoffed, his ragged, pale skin and scruffy grey beard only adding to his pathetic and defeated nature. His icy blue eyes were no longer sparking with the evil dreams that blew inside of him, instead they were hollowed out with the harsh winds of you. You played with the gun in your waistband, until you pulled it out and pointed it directly at his head.

"I'm making it quick. Have fun rotting in Hell, buddy." You grumbled.

And then you squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang through out the room, but you didn't care. The incessant ring in your ears was overpowered by your triumphant smile. Victory was yours, and it tasted oh so sweet.

-

A week later, Joshua's puking wouldn't stop. You had talked to Seungkwan about it, but his blood loss was extremely risky and potentially fatal. You didn't have the technology nor the staff to figure out what was happening.

Yet, you didn't really need that. Joshua called you to his room one day, and he knew exactly what was happening to him. The thick quiet atmosphere spoke louder than so many things you wanted to say, the air impregnated with a poignant awkwardness. You two had talked over the course of this week, but there was something gone. He wasn't the Josh he was before, but did you expect him to be?

"He did horrible things to me." Joshua mentioned oddly, the once quiet air now drowning in those sad words. You didn't need to be told, for you knew the horrible extensiveness of The Doctor's actions. You just nodded and let him talk.

"He told me why he did it...How he created the virus, how you were immune...And then he fucking injected me with it- and you saved me." He continued, and you just nodded solemnly. "I don't think your blood cured me though, Y/N. I think your blood reversed whatever happened...I think it's poisoning me."

The cruel reality of fate was quite entertaining at times. It was obvious -- if your blood was the cure, then why didn't The Doctor have you hooked up to a machine? Of course he had tested your blood before. And, of course, it didn't work.

What were you supposed to do? Pretend to be shocked at the inevitability? You and Seungkwan had tried everything in your power to end Joshua's sickness, but it was no use. You knew - you god damn knew - that Joshua was going to die. And it was your fault.

You wanted to cry, but it was like you were dried out from the insurmountable amount of tears you have cried this week. You just sighed, and then laughed.

You laughed hysterically, to the point where tears rolled down your face endlessly. Joshua didn't react, he knew it was an odd reaction of some sort. Soon, your laughs surprisingly turned into tears, and then choking sobs. "I'm so sorry!" You wailed, and Joshua just held you like he used to, before everything went to shit.

You weren't at home when you in Joshua's arms. Joshua wasn't himself anymore, and you both knew that. "It isn't your fault." Joshua soothed. Truth be told, it really wasn't. He would've continued to be a mindless infected buffoon if you hadn't tried to save him with your blood. You had given him a little more time.

"I fucking poisoned you..." You shakily sobbed, as he stroked your hair and bit his lip. He wanted to cry, but he had accepted his fate. The pain of knowing that Joshua couldn't hold on to his love for you is what troubled him the most. For your love was a flame, but eventually it dwindled and burned out.

Now, just ashes were remaining. And here in the pile of ashes, you cried for what could have been.

"You gave me more time, Y/N."

"I shouldn't have killed The Doctor. He could've fixed this-"

"You did what was understandable." Joshua interrupted, hushing you softly. Soon, a comfortable silence engulfed you two, and all that could be heard were your quiet sobs or Josh's soft, slowing breaths.

"I want you to be happy, Y/N." Joshua mumbled, and you knew what he was getting at. You knew he knew, but you refused to believe it. Denial was a strong force after all.

"What do you mean?" You questioned dumbly.

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't guilt yourself into being alone forever. I can rest happily knowing that you'll be happy." Joshua mumbled, and you just sucked in a sharp breath.

You wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he shouldn't give up because you loved him, but that wasn't true. You weren't at home with Joshua, there was no warmth. The love was gone, and it rekindled for the man who had been waiting for you. Joshua had still loved you, and he would die loving you. And in another life, he would be happy with you.

Just not in this one, for you would be happy with someone else. And Joshua? Well Joshua would be dead.

-

That night, Joshua had died beside you. And soon you learned that your blood wasn't the cure.

Not only that, you had discovered everybody from the ship you were previously on came down to Earth, and your father was no where found. And now, you lie in bed next to Minghao, a year later, still in Fort Lockwood. The world would continue on, and The Doctor's name would forever be cursed.

You and Minghao sat on top of the watch towers, looking over the forest that surrounded Fort Lockwood. It was around 2 AM, and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. You wanted to say something, like that your period was late -- or that it had been a year since Joshua died.

But you just sat there, in silence. It was like Minghao knew the sound of the silence, he could listen to it.

During this past year, you and Seungkwan had worked endlessly with samples of your blood. No cure had surfaced.

Not only that, but no word from your father had been heard either. And as you stared into the dwindling dawn, you realized some questions would never be answered. Then, the sun rose and everything went on, like it always had.

And for a split second, you were again that girl who was confused with herself, who didn't know who she was or what she wanted, but then the feeling died. You lied in bed next to Minghao, resting after your night shift, and stared at his closed eyes.

A new passion erupted in you, a passion that was fueled from your love and experiences. It made you want to protect Minghao, it made you regret not being able to protect Joshua, and it made you you.

It was like a new reality was discovered -- a clearer more dense one. You weren't one of the good guys -- you had killed, stolen, and lied. You did all of those things because you thought you were right.

Yet looking back at it, you were so wrong. And an even harsher reality sunk in once you realized you could never make it right. You would forever be a killer, and a burglar, and a liar.

Your eyes sunk into Minghao's closed ones, and tears fell out of your eyes before you could stop them. Everyday, you would try to find a cure to help the fucked up world you lived in. You had no time to think about your happiness, because the world sat in your hands.

In another life you would be just another normal girl -- but not in this one.

THE END.