#The face he made as he got off the elevator was terror

[respectthepetty]

When you're the new employee, and you are trying not to out yourself to your boss.

Then someone from your past shows up, and you have to play the pronoun game.

Because you definitely had a crush on that person when you were an undergrad.

That's what being an adult is like, on repeat.

I feel seen.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

GUINEA PIG ───

jonathan crane ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I think we most fully understood each other when once I tried to kill him with a kitchen knife.” — ‘South and West’, Joan Didion

pairing. switch!jonathan crane x professor!reader

summary. you and your dear friend, jonathan crane, have an odd relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. one day, you experiment your aphrodisiac on him.

warnings. swearing, use of aphrodisiac & fear toxin, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, mention of death, murder, drugs, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, face fucking, dubcon(?) SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. the enemies to friends to fucking pipeline is sooo real and i love it. BTW! this is really self indulgent and again, i’m a beginner to writing smut so pls don’t judge😭 the beginning is also oddly plotty, so i apologize for that.

You and your colleague, Jonathan Crane, have a harmonious, albeit slightly sick and twisted, relationship. 

Your repertoires, opposite in every way, complete one another like you were made to match. You are messy, frenzied, intimate; he is neat, calculated, distant. He is impatient, histrionic, stubborn. You are tolerant, deadpan, submissive. 

This is an odd, good-cop bad-cop dynamic you’ve built, but it works. Your traits uphold the order you’ve built around yourselves; you allow each other to function. 

Who ever said something so codependent, so parasitic, would fall apart? That it was dangerous, destructive? Everyone, but in your case, it has been anything but. 

These are the simple rules of your relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. This partnership came to bloom when, after years of competing to be the “better” psychology professor at Gotham University, he sent you a gift that sprayed with you with fear toxin, and you baked him a cake that knocked him out for 24 hours following, heart rate so low he could’ve been mistaken as dead. 

“Fucking - hell,” You murmured under your breath, stumbling halfway across Gotham City to locate Crane’s absurdly lavish condo in the Diamond District, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

You were being visually assaulted by dozens of images, all your phobias no matter big or small, dancing across your senses. Spiders crawled all over your body, you saw yourself about to step off a steep, snowy cliff, you felt yourself suffocate as you were buried to death in a casket. It was utter torture, and you would have to endure it until you found Crane. 

You must’ve looked like one of those tweaking drug addicts from down in the Narrows, shivering, sweating, and rubbing all over your body to remove some of the “spiders” taking over your body. The terror was settling into you, into your spine like a terribly malignant disease. 

At last, you found the apartment building, blearily snuck in behind a drunk couple, and scanned the mail boxes until you found J. CRANE: 525. 

You headed up the elevator, grasping at the walls for dear life, feeling that growing, unmistakable sense of dread start to take over your mind. You felt like you were going mad, now, not just afflicted with something that made you look like it. 

When you finally got to his door, it was left open a crack, and you welcomed the small mercy of Crane’s overarching narcissism: he didn’t lock his door, often, because most days he felt more invincible than fucking god. 

“Crane!” You shouted, clutching at your head and staggering into his large apartment. “Crane!” you repeated, this time more desperate, more fearful than anything. 

However, your deepest fear, at the moment, had come true. You stepped into his kitchen, and found the man laying on the floor unresponsive. 

“Fuck me,” you cursed. You’d sent the man home with the cake twelve hours ago, when he took the half-day off from GSU, and you came home from your after-class tutoring hours just moments ago. 

You’d opened the mystery package on your front porch promptly, and you found yourself having been gassed with a compound that made you see every little thing you were afraid of. Immediately, you’d known it was Crane; the man’s pet specialty was fear. 

As for you, you wanted your… gift, to serve a reminder to him that he should not overstep your boundaries, your territory, as the psychology professor who was there first. If knocking him out was a little bit mad, he was bordering insanity for the toxin he poisoned you with. 

Even so, your threat was an empty one. You weren’t counting on the man to even eat the cake - hell, you’d never seen the man consume anything but straight black coffee. 

You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know now, and laid there on the couch of his apartment, waiting for the twelve hours to be over. Waiting for Crane, the fucking madman, to wake the hell up, blaming him for the predicament despite your very obvious involvement in it.

You breathed in and out, harried and rapid fire as you tried to focus, tried to block out the horrific things you were seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting. 

(Your eyes are swarmed, viscerally, by a grotesque hallucination of your family burning to death; you hear them cry out, voices interrupted when they’re fire gets to their lungs; you smell their death, the smell of flesh burning, how the smoke chokes you — you taste their blood on your tongue, how tender a raging fire makes charred flesh. 

Tender, you think on your choice of words again, and almost throw up.

What have you done, you think, and what is going through that fucked up head of yours, Crane?)

You tried to ground yourself, tether your lost mind back to Earth. You’re sitting in a field in Northwestern Ireland, you said to yourself, inhaling. Up ahead is the beach; water is crashing on the rocks. You exhaled, the wind tastes like salt, and it is just you and I, here together. It is only I and you, here, together. 

Like so, 12 hours passed. Not so much passed — that word gave the connotation the hours slipped past you, the way a peaceful stream of water does; no, more accurately, it dragged by, like when an arm slips out of the ambulance cot on its way to the emergency vehicle, and drags on the concrete. The EMT’s don’t notice what’s making their trip so hard, so slow, until the hand is rubbed raw and bloody. 

You repeated that mantra so many times you were starting to get queasy when you thought the words “you’re sitting in a field..” but nonetheless, the string of words kept you sane. 

Sane enough, at least - you weren’t sure you’d be the same blissful person you were yesterday. Sure, you were always a little bit… unorthodox? Petty? Competitive enough to bake so many drugs into a cake your opposing professor knocks out? 

But, with this — this being drugged by Crane — made you feel a piece of yourself break away. There would be no more of your life lived without knowing how fearful, well, fear, is. It's like discovering the Boogeyman and never being able to stop checking under your bed; the paranoia moves into your head and never leaves. 

Crane began stirring, and your eyes opened as soon as you heard the noise. Surprisingly enough, however, you were no longer being hammered with the hallucinations that had been distressing you just half a day ago. 

Had it been the mantra? The near-prayer you now swore was etched on your heart? 

“Fucking…” Crane said, getting up off the floor. He was clutching his head, eyes squinted, body hunched and tense. Looks like spending half a day on the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but you didn’t give a fuck — atleast he was sleeping. If you had to be mentally destroyed by his toxin, you’d best believe you were taking the couch. 

“Why - why are you here? What the hell did you do to me?” He said after noticing you, voice raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in a while, after all. 

“I could say the fucking same for you,” You muttered, giving him a pointed look. “You - what the fuck did you spray me with?”

Immediately, a twisted grin was bared on Crane’s lips, despite his fatigued demeanor. “Did you like it? My fear-toxin,” he preened, like the winning kid at a school science fair.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could control your tendencies, you’d swung back and then socked him straight in the face. 

Crane double-backed, looking terribly affronted, as if he hadn’t sent you the gas knowing how it would affect you. “Ow,” is all he said, face contorting oddly around the pain. 

“Yeah, “ow”. Fuck you, Crane.”

Crane raised a brow. “You’re acting like you didn’t feed me a poisoned cake!” He said incredulously.

“It wasn’t that poisoned,” you bit out, teeth gritted. “Not so poisoned I was hallucinating my family dying for twelve hours straight.”

“Ah, thanatophobia, not really one of my favourites—“ Crane started, like he was losing himself in a romantic daydream, before snapping back to reality. “Did you just say twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours for me. Twenty-four for you.” You said, reveling in how panicked he looked. 

“I — that’s long enough for me to be killed a hundred times over,” he mumbled under his breath. “What the fuck did you put in that cake?”

“I never expected you to eat it, Crane. You’re fucking skin and bones, I thought you’d just throw it out.”

“What did you put in the cake?” he repeated. 

“Ugh,” you sunk into the couch, “some amytal, zolpidem. Some melatonin. I didn’t measure, okay, and again, I wasn’t counting on you eating it.” You didn’t know why you had this urging feeling to respond to him, to humor his jabs, his dumb fucking theatrics, but you did anyway. 

“Some amytal? Some zolpidem? Some melatonin? Jesus fucking christ - is that what you wanted? To kill me?” He was leaning down, face inches away from yours now. 

You pushed him away, disgust on your features clear as day. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some sociopathic fear-freak like you, Crane. I don’t mix compounds in my creepy little office with the thought of drugging out my fellow professor in mind. It was just an empty threat.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “Mixing barbiturates and medications into a cake sounds like an empty threat to you?”

“You know what?” You said brightly, getting up off the couch, “I don’t have to argue with you. I came to get my cure, woke up having cured myself.” Then, you burst out the door, fury rolling off you in waves, and you left.

There was something about the incident, however, that seemed to intrigue Crane to no end. Soon enough, he began entering your office during your breaks, asking to have a chat. Or, he’d walk in during your lessons, forcing you two in the hall alone. Sometimes, he’d even wait for you after school, dozing off in front of your classroom and waiting for you to exit your office. 

You couldn’t tell what was making Crane so interested, but he was hanging off you and your every word like some lovesick puppy.

You, on the other hand, also couldn’t get Crane out of your head. Certainly not for some weird, fucked up reason like his, but because of what he had created. A lot of people doubted his intelligence, mostly because of his obsession on things nobody really cared about, but that obsession made way to the destructive fear-toxin you’d inhaled, and it was seriously unlike anything you’d ever experienced, hell, even read about. It was a brand new creation, and downright deadly. 

Your interest in the man was more so on… keeping him in check. As rivals did. But his was on how you’d breezed past the effects of his toxin in just twelve hours. He’s expected you to go half mad, honestly. Your threat was empty… his was, decidedly, not. 

By the end of the next week following the incident, you two began eating lunch together, asking for joint classes, and spending nights over at each other's places. Not in that way, of course — your way was like a group of scientists having a forever eureka, because your minds fit like perfect puzzle pieces. 

Your intrigue had met his intrigue, and it felt natural, coming to a united front like that. You found you had more in common than you thought, something you should’ve found out about a long time ago, 3 ½ years kind of long time ago. Apart, you two were volatile; angry, spewing threats, attempting murder on the other. Together, however, you were absolute perfection: productive, well-mannered, motivated. 

Now, fast-forward coming on two years since the incident. You and Crane - now, Jonathan, have been inseparable since that time. You two were close, closer than siblings or children and parents or couples; you felt like the same person that had been split into two. Being together was the only thing that felt right, being back at the origin, like being at home. 

Fuck’s sakes, you did have the same home — you’d moved in together. Not to his, nor yours, but to a big house you bought on the outskirts of Gotham, with a big yard and an even bigger lab in the basement. It was like a scientist's amusement park. 

Maybe it - this relationship of yours - was codependency. But maybe it was utter genius: your careers had both never seen so many accomplishments until you and Jonathan came together. Partly because you had a greater inspiration when coupled with the other, but, mostly because you had a body to test on during preliminary trials. 

Creating things, like the fear-toxin, required human testing, and finding a way to get that done always slowed Jonathan down. Since finding you, however, it’d been a breeze. 

You offered yourself up readily, given Jonathan would do the same. And, besides, Jonathan had never been worried about you and his toxin very much — after that first time you took the toxin, you could easily find yourself out of its effects. You were the only person he’d ever encountered who could do this, and it was downright fascinating. He wanted to keep you, see how that strong little mind of yours worked overtime to fight his toxin off. 

You, on the other hand, rarely tested anything like that on Jonathan. Your interests lied elsewhere: what smells activate the human mind to recall memories, what are ways to accurately fight off drugs like GHB — all mental stimulation. 

That, however, changed one evening, when you had been brewing up a serum for the past few weeks. You’d gotten to the point in creation where you needed to test on someone, and observe the effects. 

“Jonathan,” you called out, looking down at your notes. The man in question was grading assignments for the psychology class you taught — now, in joint lessons more often than not — sitting at a desk a few metres away from you in the lab. 

“Jonathan!” you repeated louder this time, looking up from your notes. 

“What?” He shouted back, still hunched over on the ungodly amount of assignments he needed to mark. 

“Come here. I need to test something on you.” You said, nonchalant. 

That, however, piqued Jonathan’s interest to no end: you hadn’t tested anything on him in nearly a year. It hurt, a little, to test you endlessly and have nothing to give in return - so this, no matter what it was, Jonathan would take in stride.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, “Okay.” He then dropped all he’d been doing on the desk and made his way over, before sitting in the chair next to you. You made quick work, tying his arms and legs to the chair like he’d done to you so many times before. He watched you work, completely enraptured in how you looked while experimenting. 

“So,” He said, tearing his sticky gaze off of you, “what’re you pumping me full of?”

You sat back in your desk chair and scratched your cheek, a little unsure how to say this. “Well, I created a serum that, once injected, would lower or lose all inhibitions of the victim. They’d be completely malleable, agreeable, if you just, um,” you fanned yourself, feeling a little too close to the man in front of you, room feeling incredibly warm.

“Just what?” He pried, leaning back in his chair. 

You exhaled shakily, “if you just promise to - to provide relief to them. Sexual - relief.”

Jonathan let out an incredulous laugh. “You made a working aphrodisiac?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly — I don’t even know if it works, for sure. If you don’t want to- take it, then you don’t have to.” You offered up weakly. 

“How d’you get it out of the system?” He said instead, ignoring your words and picking up the needle you had ready for him on your worktable, which was filled with a thick, pink liquid. 

You flushed. “You, um, help the victim relieve themselves, until the feeling is gone.” 

Jonathan looked up at you, a sly smirk on his lips. “And you were going to give this to me?” 

You turned away, face red, exasperated. “I told you, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“And let you pleasure some random guy you snatched off the street? No way,” he said, before you heard a familiar prick, small whine leaving Jonathan’s mouth.

You spun back around so fast you thought you got whiplash. “Jonathan, wait—“ you said, alarmed. You were really, seriously, considering not giving the aphrodisiac to him — it would disrupt the careful balance you and he had built over the past years. 

You were afraid that if he took the serum, and let you, for lack of a better word, get him off, you wouldn’t be able to look at him without remembering him needy, hot and bothered, calling your name out like it was the only word he knew. 

He’d done it anyway, though. And now, you both just had to get through this… experiment. 

Quickly, you grabbed your pen and notebook, ready to approach this scenario as detached and clinically as possible, ignoring the pulsing need in your insides as you saw Jonathan’s face slowly contort into a warm, heavy-lidded lustful one. 

“How do you feel, Jonathan?” You said, standing further away from him so he couldn’t so much as feel your body heat on him. 

“I…” Jonathan blinked rapidly, licking his lips, looking you up and down. “Warm. I just feel… warm.” He readjusted in the seat, unable to sit still. “And - kind of, tingly? Like I - well, I don’t know…”

You noted his words, as well as some of your own observations: his pupils were dilated, so much so the crystalline blue of his eyes were merely slivers, his lips were pursed, plump, and he was pink all over; pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck. He was talkative, loose-lipped and a little out of it.

You inhaled, then exhaled, before starting the next phase of the experiment. “Jonathan, how do you feel when I touch you here?” You said, raising the back of your hand to caress his cheek. 

Jonathan was affected almost immediately, eyes shutting tight. “It feels,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch, “ah… nice. Good.”

You nodded, promptly pulling away as soon as he’d finished his sentence. Subject enjoys physical touch. Jonathan then peered up at you, looking slightly… disappointed? 

You shook yourself, getting back on task. “How do you feel now?” You pried, noticing he looked far more affected than before. 

Beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead, making his wavy brown hair stick to his skin. He was breathing heavily, and, when you had touched him, he was extremely warm, like he had a fever. 

“I’m, I…” Jonathan trailed off, eyes shutting, shaking his head. “Mmm… my head feels — fuzzy,” he bit out raspily. 

“Okay. Good. It's exactly as I thought,” you murmured, continuing to scratch down notes. 

You ignored him for a few minutes, writing up a list of side effects and observed results of the aphrodisiac. Then, your gaze drew back to him, who had been focussing intently on you the whole time. 

“Jonathan?” you called out quietly, seeing his dazed expression. “Talk to me.”

Jonathan shuddered, leaning forward in the chair, head hanging low, “My - my body’s, hnngh… it feels— feels weird.” He bit his lip, face screwed up and tense. “I’m warm all over…”

His shoulders were hunched in, and he was trembling. You lifted a hand up to his head, petting him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Ah…” Jonathan squeaked out at your touch, face going slack, “I feel like I need you to - to…” he sighed exasperatedly, “I need you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek conflictedly. On one hand, you needed to finish up a few more tests, meaning Jonathan would be teased - or tortured, depending on how fast the aphrodisiac was affecting him - a little longer. On the other hand, he was already a breathy mess, begging for your touch. For you. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, turning away from the man who’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head at the way you tugged at his locks. “No, no,” you fought your internal struggle. You would not give in to his pleas - you would finish this experiment. 

“Okay. Okay.” you said to no-one but yourself, extracting your hand from his velvet soft hair. “Let’s be professional about this. Jonathan, I’m going to take your clothes off, but you can’t move, and you can’t touch me, okay?”

Jonathan’s breathing became more labored as you spoke, and you swore you could see desperate tears filling his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t touch you? But… but why not?” He was practically whining for you.

“Because, Jonathan, it wouldn’t be beneficial to the experiment.” You didn’t look your partner in the eye, because his complete and total change in behavior had you feeling, quite frankly, as warm as him. 

You continued by undoing the restraints on his arms and legs, and his sharp intakes of breath as your fingers brushed past his skin didn’t slip past you. Not at all. 

Firstly, you undid the man’s white button-up shirt slipping it past his flushed torso. Jonathan’s skin was actually pink and warm all over, and he was breathing heavily now, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Are you okay, Jonathan?” you asked absently, as you began unbuckling his belt and slipping down his fly. 

Jonathan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t answer you, biting down on his lower lip to stop any desperate moans from escaping him. 

You finally finished undressing your partner, then redid his restraints, before you stepped back to see him fully. Jonathan was shivering, faint tear tracks on his pink cheeks, head cocked back. 

“It’s just - one, or two more tests, Jonathan.” You murmured quietly, kneeling down in front of him. 

Your hands pressed flat on his thighs, rubbing him up and down, grazing your fingers lightly on his feverish skin. You had to regularly ground yourself, stop yourself from inching up to the poor, untouched tent in his boxer shorts. 

Above you, you could hear Jonathan let out a low groan, “Ah, hnng— please,” he called out to no-one in particular.

“Does that - feel good, Jonathan?” You ask, getting back up on your feet. His desperate groans were getting to you now, how needy his little keens were. 

“So - good,” he panted. “Your— you, I want— need, I need…” he trailed off, babbling, lost to the pleasure of your touch. 

“Jonathan, if I… touched you more, would you do anything for me?” You said finally. The invention of the aphrodisiac was intended to sway someone's motivations, make them bend to your will. Sure, there was that added sexual aspect, but it was created with less… pleasurable intentions. 

“Anything, anything at all,” he said deliriously, rolling his head around. “Jus’… just need you to- touch me.”

“Would you give yourself fear-toxin, Jonathan?”

“Yes! Yes, just — please… please! Stop asking me— questions… I need you so fucking bad, ah…”

“Jesus,” you said. Your aphrodisiac was stronger than you thought. You were satisfied, however, with the results of it. The first trial was a success, and you saw how you could use this on anyone - even people in particular positions of power, and get them to do your bidding. Quite helpful, indeed. 

Now, you needed to… get Jonathan out of this state. By, ah, relieving him.

You had decided to do this, to test him, so you had to be responsible and help ease him out of this experiment. Quickly, you stripped your own clothing, even your underwear, before undoing the restraints on his arms and legs. 

Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched you undress. “Are you - are you… gonna t—touch me? Now? Please?” He practically begged, almost drooling at the sight of your naked body. 

“Mhm,” you said, a tremble in your voice. “Gon’ help you get out of this.”

Then, you climbed onto Jonathan’s lap, shutting your eyes as you felt his hard cock within his boxer shorts slide between your legs deliciously. 

He let out a guttural groan as your weight pressed down on him, feeling your wetness soak his shorts. That measly piece of fabric was all that was keeping him from entering your plush, velvet folds, and he was going practically insane at the feeling. 

“M’god,” Jonathan whined out, leaning his sweaty head on your shoulder. “Y’feel so, a—ah, good…”

You couldn’t help the breezy laugh that made its way out of you. “I haven’t even touched you yet, Jonathan, and you’re already so worked up,” you whispered in his ear, hot breath fanning on his warm skin.

“P-pleeeease,” He begged, slowly grinding into you. Jonathan was barely coherent, mind just focussed on chasing the release he so desperately needed.

You raised a brow, but complied, slipping your warm hands down his boxer shorts and pulling his thick length out. You pumped him lazy, feeling how he writhed under you, tasteful whimpers slipping out of his mouth. 

After another second of you stroking him lightly, your thumb grazing past the tip and collected a decent amount of precum, he actually did come, wet hot load spurting upwards on his chest and your face. “Ah - hnngh, oh my — oh my god,” he drooled, jutting into your hand. 

It dripped down from your cheek onto your lips, and Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. You swiped a handful of his cream off your face, before covering his still hard, curved cock with it. 

“You’re not done, aren’t you?” You said to him quietly, his hips stuttering as you artfully smeared his come on himself. Jonathan was arching into your touch, completely putty in your hands. 

“Nuh- no, m’still— still need you, need you so bad.” he whimpered shamefully, hands stuck to your waist.

“Look at you go,” you found yourself cooing, dragging a creamy hand down his equally as creamy chest, your fingernails grazing him. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, you lifted yourself up off his lap, and carefully situated your slit on the tip of his head. “Christ,” you called out as you slid down, “you’re fucking big,” 

Inch by inch, you took him, and Jonathan’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, a string of senseless groans and whines leaving his mouth. “Feels so warm, so so warm,” he choked out at last, looking at you adoringly. 

You started to lift out of him, your cunt stinging slightly at the sheer size of his cock, when you felt a heated liquid shoot through you, Jonathan’s knees buckling under your ass. 

He’d come, again, even before you could get started. You shook your head incredulously at the terribly horny man beneath you, eyes glazed over in the pure ecstasy he was feeling. 

“Stop, fucking — coming,” you scolded, bottoming his cock into you once more, “you’re gonna get me so — ah— fucking - pregnant if you keep coming.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said sheepishly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Can’t help it— you feel so — hnngh — feel so good.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, then focussed on getting a good pace of sliding in and out, your hips rolling deeper and deeper into his own. You were bouncing quickly on his cock, dick-riding him like you’d never done before. 

With all other sexual partners you had, they wanted to be all vanilla, always just missionary, going slow until they were close, no sense of creativity or any other wishes that just feeling you. With Jonathan - especially in the state he was in now - you could do whatever you wanted, as long as his cock was in your cunt. 

“Good — god,” you screamed out, when Jonathan suddenly gained control over himself and snapped into you, rough hands pinching the flesh of your hips. He rutted into you, hard and fast, for a moment like that continually, before his control melted once more into nothingness, and all he could do was let you take the reins. 

“Please— how’re you so — ah, how does your pussy feel so good…” he murmured, trailing off into a high-pitched moan when you pulled out, then just as fast sunk down on him. 

Jonathan’s fingers trailed up your body, rubbing at your soft flesh, before they found your breasts, kneading you tenderly. He chanced several licks on both your erect nipples, and you shuddered, tightening around him. Your cunt was sucking him in, devouring his length no matter how big he was, and he could feel how his length was stretching your walls wide open. 

“So fucking big.” You panted, arms wrapping around his neck, “fat fucking cock all needy, just me.”

“Jus’… just for you! All - ah, all for you,” Jonathan repeated with a squeak, lips bitten delicately between his teeth. 

Your hands trailed all over his body, and as the pleasure was getting to you, making your head dizzy and your thoughts foggy, you bounced down on him and your nails scratched up his back, surely leaving small wounds. 

This miniscule amount of pain seemed to amplify Jonathan’s endless pleasure, and you could feel him pumping you full of his come once again, the tip of his dick pressed flush against your cervix. His come made you feel so full, fuller than you already did with his monstrous cock nestled into you, continually rubbing up on the toe-curlingly spongy spot in your cunt every time you pushed him back in. 

“Mmf,” Jonathan groaned, pleasure muffling whatever he was was going to say, “m’gonna… gonna get you pregnant,”

“Yeah?” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut, “Is that what this needy cock wants? To get my wet cunt full and me pregnant?”

“Yes, yes, hnngh, please, wanna come - wanna come more,” Jonathan cried out. 

“‘kay, okay,” you nodded vehemently, “then make this pussy feel good.” 

Then, you slid out with a whimper, two loads worth of come spilling out of your worn-out cunt, turning around so your ass would face him, before you sunk back down on him. You were chasing your own pleasure now, the unmistakable feeling rumbling within your lower stomach. 

Jonathan was completely fucked out, just a shaking, hot and bothered mess on the sticky wooden chair you’d both occupied, but he still welcomed your warm pussy back on him with open arms. Your folds beat any other cunt he’d ever been in, and he knew nothing, not even his own hand, could match up to how addicting you were, how delectably you took him. 

The new angle had you reeling, your hands gripping Jonathan’s thighs for some much-needed support. You were buckling, getting weaker with every bounce, but were still desperate for release. It affected Jonathan too, and he was pressing his face up against your hair, biting down lightly on your shoulder to collect himself despite the earth-shattering pleasure you were inflicting on him. 

Your fleshy cunt met his rock-solid cock every moment perfectly, and soon enough your back was arching, head leaning back on Jonathan’s shoulder. That knot in your stomach was tightening, a fire burning within you and begging you not to stop.

Jonathan’s needy hands were coursing all over your body, rubbing on you in all the right places, and when his calloused fingers began pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples, you saw white. That burning feeling dragged across your entire body, your jaw tensing, and you felt positively fuzzy, pure pleasure destroying all coherent thoughts you’d been having, your mind now focussed on the insane way he made you orgasm. 

There was nothing that could compare to how you felt now, this being the hardest you’d orgasmed in your entire life. There was just something about Jonathan — be it how unbelievably big he was, or perhaps the odd tension that surrounded you two for the past few years — that made this experience ten times, no, a hundred times, better.

It was like his dick had been artfully crafted to stretch you out and stuff you full; that thick cock, made just for you. 

In place of your weakening strength, Jonathan kept his hand tweaking your breast, and his other hand gripped your hip tightly, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. Thus, the pleasure was maximized by his touch, and you rode out your high like that for a few more long moments. 

You stayed there, on his lap panting and drooling, for a few more seconds, before you climbed off of him, grimacing at the loss of his sweet cock in you. 

You stood shakily, feeling his come ooze out of your sticky hole, and you were surprised to see that Jonathan was still hard. He was panting, head leaning against the chair, hands and legs trembling, but his dick could probably still pump out another round of come. 

You did always wondering how he’d taste, and after seeing how long and thick he was, you wanted to know if his dick could make you cry, too. So, you kneeled down on the cold floor, pulling him by the ankles a little further off the chair, so you could get better access to him, and buried your pretty little head between his shaking thighs. 

“What’re you— doing?” Jonathan said blearily, but before he could continue, your soft lips wrapped around him, and your tongue began artfully swiveling his sensitive head.

The loudest moan you’d heard so far was drawn out of Jonathan, and more, similar noises came out of him. It was nonsensical, and unintelligible, but you could tell he was having the time of his life — as if he hadn’t just orgasmed three times prior. 

You started slowly, mouth taking his cock until you felt like you couldn’t anymore, before forcing past that point and making yourself take him to the back of your throat. Tears lined the rims of your eyes, your head swimming from lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to hear him whimper and whine out from how good you were servicing him, his pretty groans reaching your ears like music. 

You pulled his cock out of your mouth when you felt like you were going to pass out, and then you began lapping up at his cock, sucking and curving your tongue around his long length. You sucked him hard and fast, and then, his hands grappled at your hair. 

At this point, you believed the aphrodisiac was wearing off, and Jonathan, now a little more clearheaded, began face fucking you, filling your sweet mouth full with his filthy cock. He couldn’t resist doing so, especially with you looking up at him through your tear-stained lashes, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping his thighs like your life depended on it. 

You gagged on him, several times, but he didn’t care, and with a jolted thrust past your swollen lips, he came, squirting all he had left down your throat. You sucked and swallowed every drop of him into your mouth, loving the taste of his salty liquid. 

Now, you were both fucked out, beyond tired, the strain on your muscles settling in. Your core had been properly exercised, what with how many times you rutted into Jonathan, and he, similarly, had a strained back with how much he arched into your touch, his aphrodisiac-clouded mind wanting nothing more but to be touched by you. 

“Good god, woman,” Jonathan said, collapsing into the wooden chair, which was sticky with sweat, come and your cunt’s soaking wetness. “You could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,”

You panted, dropping down onto the cold floor beneath you and wincing. “We’re — we were, just friends.”

He waved away your words, “We live together, darling. Not quite sure if that's “just” friends.”

You looked up at him, before laughing agreeably. “Felt good though, didn’t it?” A smug grin made its way on your lips, remembering how submissive Jonathan had been, how desperate he’d been just for the slightest bit of touch. 

“Amazing,” he said exasperatedly. “But next time, you’re not topping.”

“Next time, huh?” You said brightly, shakily getting up. Jonathan helped you, both of you limping exhaustedly up the stairs to your actual house, where you really should’ve been fucking, instead of the clinical environment of your large basement lab.

Jonathan’s hands found your ass, pulling you flush against him and kneading the flesh roughly. “Why not? Don’t you wanna know how I fuck?” he whispered suggestively into your ear, nibbling at the lobe. 

“I think, you’ve still got some aphrodisiac in you, Jon.” you said, laughing breezily. 

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 9

WC: 1088, Masterpost

Cass hummed happily. Moving their new brother to the better safe house had gone so well that Cass was finally getting to meet him— to meet Danny! His name was Danny. Cass rolled the name around on her tongue, silently trying out out.

It was a good word day, a good day in so many ways, but Cass knew that the excitement of it all could make her tongue trip up. She wanted to get Danny’s name right this first time. Cass knew how much names mattered and she wanted to do the best by her new brother. Danny deserved the best, after everything he had been through.

Her arms were full of things that would hopefully help Danny continue to improve: soft clothing, a weighted blanket, a heat pack stuffed animal, and fresh groceries. Jason met her outside the elevator to help carry it all.

“Hey, Cass,” he said. His exhaustion pulled at his words.

He never tried to hide how tired he was from her, not like he did around the others. Cass knew it was because he knew that she would see past it, but it still felt nice to be the sibling that Jason didn’t mask around. (Dick still thought that he could get away with it.)

“Hello, Jason,” she said and took the opportunity to brush a kiss against his cheek when he leaned in to take the groceries from her.

It made his smile a little softer. “Thanks for bringing this stuff.”

“Of course,” Cass chirped. “Rules?”

“More guidelines,” Jason said. “No sudden or big movements, no loud noises. Metal sounds seem to set him off sometimes, so be careful in the kitchen. Oh, and stay where he can see you, at least at first. We figure we’ll have you over maybe one more time and then put you on rotation with us watching over him.”

“Yes, happy to help,” Cass agreed. She could follow those rules easily, even if they were more guidelines. “You need more rest.”

Jason chuckled dryly. “Yeah I do. That’s part of getting you and then Babs introduced. We’re still keeping someone awake in case he has a night terror or something.”

Cass hummed. Those were never any fun. “Hot chocolate?”

“We’ve got some on the cabinet. I’ll be sure to show you where everything is,” Jason assured her.

“Good. New brother now, please,” Cass said. She rolled her eyes when Jason gave her a look. “Yes, yes. Danny once in the door, not new brother. I know the ‘guidelines’.”

“Brat,” Jason grumbled but in that way that meant ‘I love you’.

It made Cass smile happily as they entered the apartment. She slipped her shoes off inside the door. Like the others, she had dressed in athleisure wear and a domino. She hoped it put their new brother more at ease than her mask would have with the stitched mouth. With the wide eyed way that Danny was watching her with, anything that would help him feel more settled was good.

She gave a little wave and smile. “Hello, Danny. I am Black Bat.”

Danny’s eyes flickered between her and Jason before he pulled one hand away from the tangle of himself him and Dick made to wave at her. “Um, hi Black Bat.”

“I brought things,” she said as she slowly lowered the bags onto the kitchen bar.

Dick perked up. “Ooh, candy?”

“Of course candy.” Cass didn’t bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at that. “But also…”

She tried to keep the noise down as she searched for the right bag. Pulling out the stuffed animal, she spun back around to face Danny and Dick. “For Danny,” she said, the soft, blue, teddy bear held in front of her face.

“Me?”

Cass hummed in confirmation and crept closer to the couch. She crouched down before she was too close, and held out the teddy bear towards Danny. He clearly wanted to reach out, but he held back. He was worried; she understood.

She hate that she did, but she did. She new too well what it was like to have something nice turned into a punishment.

“No tricks,” she assured him. “No payment. No catch. Just because, for you.”

Danny studied her for a long moment before he finally, slowly reached out to touch the teddy bear. When she didn’t pull it back, he took it and buried his face into the fabric.

“It’s soft.”

Cass nodded. “Yes. And yours.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Cass assured him with a beaming smile. She backed up a little and sat on the floor.

“B.B. here might be looking after you with Hood and I,” Dick said as he let Danny settle back in against him. “But only if you’re alright with it. She’s the best though.”

“Favorite,” Cass said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason said from the open kitchen where he had finished putting away the food. He came up to stand behind her and she leaned back against her legs. “We all love you.”

“Yes.”

Jason snorted at her easily agreement. “Now Danny, do you want your big meal now or a snack now.”

“Do I have to?” Danny asked, softly, before snapping his mouth closed ducking back against Dick.

“Sorry Danny, but yeah,” Dick said. He brushed his fingers through Danny’s hair, but didn’t try to make him move. “Remember what you and Hood talked about this morning?”

The reply was whispered into the new blue bear. “That I have to try at last a few bites each time, even if I’m not hungry.”

“Exactly. But that sounds like to me like a snack might be best right now?” Dick waited for a nod. “Okay. And then a big meal later. Hey, maybe we can play a game to pass the time! It can be you and me against Hood and B.B.”

“Oh you’re going down,” Jason crowed, playing it up just enough to get Danny to peer out from behind the bear at them.

Dick gasped dramatically. “You would beat our dear,” a fraction of a pause where Cass knew Dick wanted to say brother, “esteemed guest? How could you?”

“Hey, alls fair in love and board games, you know that. But we’ll let you and Danny pick the game you want to lose at, won’t we B.B?”

“Only fair,” she agreed with an innocent smile. When Danny eyed her dubiously she couldn’t help but laugh. This new brother would be very fun to have around.

---

AN: This part has needed the very ending for a good bit now and it finally got there! Cass is always so much fun to write, even if she takes me a little to get into the swing with. Danny seems a fan so far too! Now who might he meet next... ^_~

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.

[beforetimes]

if there's one thing that can be said about peter maximoff, it's that he's always got his ear to the ground when it comes to gossiping. it's like, his thing by now. if anyone wanted to hide their secrets from him they'd be fresh out of luck because despite how much he darts around and lets himself trail off sentences in the middle of them to zip off and do something else because he got tired of slowing himself down in the middle of it, he is surprisingly good at being quiet when he needs to and being at the right place at the right time. he has a very good record when it comes to this stuff, so he knows it's not bullshit when he's figured out that his dad—which, like, wow, his dad?—is in the dating scene. he knows it. what's more of a surprise is that he's gotten all strung up with charles xavier, of all people.

which, like, peter doesn't hate the guy. he doesn't! he was just under the impression that ten years ago—wow, ten years really fly when you really think about it, that day feels like forever ago and yesterday at the same time—that charles and erik hated each other. so he guesses he missed the memo where they kissed and made up after punches were thrown in the pentagon's elevator by a drenched, half-sober man who looked like he would laser erik to death with his eyes the way scott tries to do to peter about four times a week without even taking off his glasses in case he'd accidentally make it stick. though he couldn't, because, like. peter is very fast. duh.

so. the evidence behind his claims goes as follows (of course he collected evidence, peter says to ororo, affronted, when she asks if he even had proof. what was he, an ameteur?):

1. erik keeps taking lunch breaks.

it's not like he didn't before but he was definitely less likely to. when they were rebuilding the x-mansion after it blew up and he was their heaviest lifter, it would be rare to peel him away from all the construction. erik was actually weirdly good at building, which peter didn't really expect for some reason because he was always under the impression all the guy did was like. terrorize people. or kill them. or twist spoons into pretzels just because he could. but no, nowadays he's been taking more lunch breaks than ever and it's a very pointed difference, even though they've already finished construction a few months ago and erik didn't really have a reason to stay. unless the reason to stay was so he could be with charles! (scott stares at him with that unimpressed, laser-eyes look again so peter flips him off and continues past the sputtering).

2. he's also like, weirdly nice now?

which isn't to say that peter didn't think terrorists couldn't be nice. which sounds bad but erik might be the one exception. anyway, when peter saved him about a decade ago he remembered the guy being kind of an asshole when he met up with charles for the first time and yes he knows that it puts a damper on his dating theory, jean, but he's not done yet so wait a second. anyway, he was less of an asshole when he came back to help fix the mansion after trying to kill the whole world so peter guessed he kind of swings on a pendulum between good and evil and whatever they get on that day is like the worlds most important and demented coin flip. that's besides the point. so when he was back here to help fix things up he stayed out of everyone's way and he wouldn't do much to bother anyone because in peter's opinion erik didn't want to scare the little kids who knew of his reputation even if they didn't know his face. but, like, now he's been here a while it's like a complete 180. peter caught him teaching a seven year old how to tie his shoes the other day. a thirteen year old shortstack was rocking back and forth on her heels while erik got her a book from one of the higher shelves of the mansions newly refurbished library (who knew that once you saved the world there would be at least one or two places willing to donate books on top of charles' infinite wealth?). it was like stepping into the twilight zone. but it was real. like, peter saw the hint of a real smile on erik's face one time when he saw the man looking over the grassy field of the school. it freaked him out a bit.

3. charles knows how erik takes his coffee

this is admittedly one of his weaker arguments from the lead-in, peter concedes when he gets blank stares from storm, jean, scott, and kurt. like, even kurt! he didn't think that was a look he could pull from that kid. anyway, peter says that it's pretty damn obvious that erik has a whole thing when it comes to charles being in his head. he's heard from someone who heard from a friend who eavesdropped on a teacher who overheard charles and raven after a faculty meeting that the helmet erik wore all the damn time when he was evil was to keep charles from getting into his head. which explains a lot. anyway erik has a complex about charles getting in his head. but he doesn't wear the helmet now and peter heard charles one morning when he was getting ready to start the day off by eating at least two and a half boxes of poptarts. he heard the man say something like coffee? and he heard erik reply with a hum and charles went how dyou want it and erik said don't you know already? and peter had peered in then and seen erik gesture to his head. and he wasn't defensive about it at all and charles had this really weird look on his face that peter spend a few seconds examining in hyperspeed before getting away from the whole thing because the vibes were so weird. but yeah. erik let charles into his head just for some coffee after spending like two decades trying to keep charles out of his head. which has to mean something (and peter knows he's hooked them now because even scott is leaning in like he's interested and that kid would pretend he had a ticklish throat and needed a water bottle more than anyone else in the immediate vicinity if peter was on fire in front of him).

4. all the chess boards

like, they're all over the place. it's excessive. there's a different game set up in the library, on a table in the garden, on charles' desk in his office, on erik's desk in his office and his bedroom. and no one touches them because no one likes fucking chess except for cute little ten year old jenny because her grandfather taught her before she accidentally turned his house into clouds and seventeen year old thomas who's a prick because he thinks he's more distinguished than anyone ever because he came all the way over from europe or whatever the fuck and peter can't see either of them sitting down to play one game, let alone multiple. and he knows chess is charles and erik's thing because he saw the board in erik's room one time—(you were in his room? ororo asks with a very deep look and peter nods and goes yeah we've been bonding lately but it's kind of one sided because it's more like me showing up and him tolerating me until i leave but like it's progress!)—and peter asked before erik could get a chance to politely kick him out and erik actually paused and told him that chess was a shared hobby of theirs from a few years back and get this, peter says conspiratorially, leaning forward as the rest follow suit. he smiled. like a full on real smile with teeth. and peter was so taken aback he was like that's sweet man and then left before he could be kicked out. and now he knows that the only people who play chess in this mansion are dickhead european thomas and sweet little jenny and charles and erik, all the games all over the place have to be charles and erik's which means they spend a lot more time together than he thought before. and they plan to spend it together because a lot of these games are half finished, like they leave and come back every few days depending on how much free time either of them have. (and now everyone looks thoroughly hooked because the evidence peter brings is good because peter is a hell of a gossip, dammit. he won't have people questioning his skills when it comes to this. he was made to be at old little women's tea parties where they talk about their evil husbands doing war crimes. that's what he guesses goes on there, anyway, considering his first gossip session with his mom went that way)

5. charles is happier now

and jean frowns at this one right off the bat but no one really says anything because the way peter said it was soft and kind of less jokey than the rest of his tirade. because it was something he wasn't really expecting? because charles wasn't sad per se, he was always happy in front of the kids and he didn't try to drag them down with his own moods and ever since the guy got sober he's looked a hell of a lot more put together than when he showed up on peter's doorstep, tired and hungover and just plain heartbroken. but even in that small time frame between defeating apocalypse and the mansion being rebuilt, he was just... sort of happy. happy he lived, maybe. happy the world made it and his mansion was being rebuilt so he could home all these poor kids without anywhere to turn to that understood them. but wow, the stark difference between a charles that was kind of okay and a charles that was happy was like night and day. he was just so much brighter now that it took peter aback sometimes. he hummed under his breath whenever peter walked by him in the halls at a human speed and those old withered plants in his office started to stand taller, as if someone finally started watering them. and hank stopped staring at charles the way he did when peter met them a decade ago—waiting for something to give. so, yeah, charles is definitely happier now when no one even knew he was unhappy at all. and it all started when erik started taking lunch breaks.

and jean and scott and ororo and kurt are looking at him less like he's pulling their legs and more like he's made a point that makes them a little sad which wasn't the goal but he gets it. charles is like, jean's dad in a way, and the rest really look up to him despite only being here just shy of a year, so to hear this guy that they always saw as this strong bastion of optimism and goodwill was just sort of sad all the time right under their noses was probably depressing the hell out of the four of them. but it was the truth. and peter knows it was because he can practically see them recalling how the professor was before he got there and before he made up with erik.

so yeah. peter is right. erik and charles are probably dating and now four more people know that charles is happier than he was before and erik is too. and privately, peter thinks maybe if erik is happy to find family in charles, he'd be happy to find family in peter, too. but that's something for another day. he's just suddenly aware of the fact that he's so glad these guys who were so bent out of shape and angry and irritated and heartbroken and assholeish ten years ago are looking at each other like the sun took up custody of both their smiles or whatever.

anyway i'll see you guys later, peter tells them, and races off before they can say anything. he's already halfway across the school and in his room playing pac-man before any of them can blink.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 003

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[10.4k] A court hearing leaves the pogues scrambling for anything to get John B out of jail. And fast.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, corrupt law enforcement, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, graphic depictions of injuries,

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ A lot of questions answered in this chapter and I think TR was such a girlboss here

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THE FIVE OF YOU SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURTROOM, hidden perfectly in plain sight. John B was arrested yesterday, Shoupe and his men leaving you all distraught and soaked in the middle of the woods. They had to cuff John B’s unconscious body and basically load him into the back of the squad car. 

You were sat at the end of the row, next to JJ who’d wiggled between you and Pope. You had on a hoodie and shorts, the hood pulled over your head as you slouched in the pew. You kept taking glances across the court room, Rose and Ward sitting on the other side, acting oblivious and innocent.

“This is such bullshit.” You scoffed, playing with the strings of the hoodie. 

Suddenly, a bony hand grasped your shoulder, making you turn around, coming face to face with an old woman. She pointed in your face as she spoke. “You’re in public, young lady. You may want to watch your mouth.”

You made a face at the woman, turning further in your seat to look at her. “You may want to watch yours. Your dentures are segregating themselves from your gums, you old, senile-”

“She’s sorry about that.” JJ cut in, pushing your shoulder forward and shooting the woman tight lipped smile as her jaw dropped and she put a hand to her chest. Once you were facing forward, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We’re already down a person for a crime, let’s not add elderly abuse to the list.”

You waved him off, slouching in your seat again. Just then you heard Sarah sigh, the four you looking at her at the other end of the pew.

“When are they bringing him out? His hearing was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago…” She said, seemingly mainly to herself as her foot tapped against the floors.

Right on cue, the doors opened, one brawny officer guiding John B to stand next to his lawyer as a hush fell over the courtroom. The cuffs around his wrists jingled as he shuffled towards the court appointed lawyer he was given, standing next to the woman awkwardly. 

The judge thanked the officer, peering over her glasses as she read the documents in front of her.

“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section fourteen, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances." The statement made you cringe. "If convicted, the maximum sentence would be…” The judge continued, elevating her gaze to look at John B directly.

“...the death penalty.”

…

What?

The entire courtroom broke out into hushed chatter, your hand curling into a fist in your lap. The death penalty? Was this some kind of joke? That didn’t even make any sense. 

Without thinking, you stood from your seat, hands gripping the back of the pew in front of you. “He’s seventeen, you can’t do that!” You shouted, the courtroom falling into mild chaos as some people got up to leave and others stayed behind, voicing their opinions.

“Hey, c’mon…” Pope tried, a hand on your arm as he tried to escort you out of the courtroom along with the other people who were leaving.

“They’re trying to give him the death penalty, Pope. They’re going to try to kill him.” You said, trying to push the boys hand off of you. “He didn’t kill anybody!” You shouted over his shoulder, the boy using more force to guide you outside.

“John B, we’re gonna figure it out!” JJ pointed at John B who was looking back at the five of you with an expression somewhere in between pity and pure terror.  The judge slammed her gavel down, demanding order in the court just as Sarah seemed to snap, pushing her way through the crowd calling for John B as the bailiff carried him away, Kiara escorting the blonde out of the court with the rest of you.

“Is this a joke? Are we in hell, or…?” Kie said, walking down the steps.

“...I should’ve never come home.” Sarah said, voice muffled from her crying. 

Right then, Ward walked by you all, another couple trailing him and Rose. You made eye contact with the Cameron man for a brief second, sending him the meanest glare you could muster as the couple behind him talked. “I’m sorry that this is what you and your family have to go through. Thank God the system works…”

He couldn't be serious.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You jumped in, stepping towards the man. “You think a minor being presented death penalty is the system 'working'? Of course you think the system worked because it was made to protect you and people like you. I mean, who shows up to a court hearing they aren’t apart of in a suit, just to kiss the ass of the only actual murderer here?” You spat, pointing directly at the man in question.

He simply adjusted his suit, tilting his chin to the sky. “Your friend will have his day in court. A jury will decide.”

“He doesn’t belong in court!” You objected, eyes drifting towards Ward. “The real people who should be up on that stand are Ward and his psychotic son!” You ranted, Shoupe and his deputies that were on standby rushing in between the five of you and the four of them. 

“I know you’re upset. Okay? I understand.” Ward tried, Rose hanging onto his arm as he played victim in front of half the island. “He’s got you all fooled-”

“You don't understand shit. And the only people being fooled here are your kiss-ass neighbors.” You mocked incredulously, swiping the hood off of your head. “You wanna see upset, Ward?-” Was the last thing you said before swinging on the older man, your nails swiping against the skin of his cheek, but doing no damage, before Shoupe wedged his way fully in between, pushing you and your friends back.

“Show some respect!” Ward pointed, patting his cheek to make sure he was unharmed.

“You're going to hell!”

“Get off of her.” JJ lightly shoved Shoupe back, the officers hands falling away from you. “Why don’t you take down the Kooks for a change?” JJ suggested, almost intimidating the older man. 

“You wanna get arrested?” The man asked, hand on his hip, right on top of his gun holster. “Go home. Now. All of you.”

“...’s is bullshit.” Kiara mumbled, eyeing Ward and Rose as they walked away. 

“No wonder his daughter’s walking with us...” You called out, the statement making Ward pause in his tracks to look back at you with deadliest look in his eyes. You looked the man up and down before turning around and walking away with your four friends.

“...I’M GONNA TESTIFY UNDER OATH.” Sarah announced with conviction, arms crossed as she paced the patio of The Chateau — rain pouring outside. “I was there. I just need to get ahold of my sister…”

The four of you surrounding her sighed, shifting in your seats. “Sister…” JJ muttered under his breath.

“Kie, do you have your phone?” Sarah asked the girl closest to her, taking the device from her hands when it was offered to her before turning to face JJ. “Wheezie is the only other person who knows that Rafe wasn’t home that day.” 

“...Wheezie?” JJ reiterated unbelievably. It was the most serious, flat, annoyed tone you’d ever heard him speak in. 

“I don’t know what else to do!” Sarah threw her hands out. “I got us into this mess. I’m gonna do my best to get us out...” She proclaimed sadly before entering the home and isolating herself from the four of you. The sky was a sad mix of dull grays and icy blues, the sounds of raindrops hitting the ground and thunder filled the silence until JJ spoke again.

“Wheezie…” He scoffed, crouching and leaning against the wall. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Well, she’s right about one thing. We gotta do something.” Pope said from his place in a lounge chair.

“John B is being held captive by the enemy right now.” JJ said, using his hands for emphasis, his face turning a dangerous shade of red as he ranted. “Our boy is sitting in a cell, being scheduled for execution. Are we really just gonna sit here?!-”

“Okay, well what’s the plan?!” Kiara stood up from her seat, taking steps closer to the two boys. “What? We kidnap Shoupe?”

“Maybe!” JJ retorted. “That’s not the worst idea-”

“That is actually the worst idea.” Pope piped up, still seated. 

“It’s pretty bad…” Sarah added from inside the house — the window to Big John’s office was wide open, allowing the girl to pitch in on the conversation.

The three of them continued arguing back and forth about shitty ideas and previously failed plans and who was more to blame than the other. You just sat on the loveseat, playing with your fingers and biting the inside of your lip. 

You and JJ’s conversation about the evidence was still fresh on your mind. You’d gone through everything about Big John’s case. The evidence was hard — an entire confession. But you still had yet to go through your father’s files. And knowing how Kildare’s Police Department operated, you’d have to play this smart. You needed more than a confession. More than anything, you needed to persuade Shoupe.

“I still have the tapes.” You interrupted, looking up at your three friends who had turned to you, Sarah peeking out of the window.

“...I’m sorry.” Kiara started. “What?”

“The tapes that I stole from my mom’s law office. I still have them.”

“...And you didn’t think to say anything? This whole time?”

“Of course I did.” You said bluntly. “But let’s not kid ourselves. We brought Shoupe an entire gun. The gun that was used to kill Peterkin and he did nothing.” You retorted matter of factly. “A couple of confessions won’t make a difference. Ward is Shoupe’s friend, he’ll just conjure up some deluded explanation in his head. We have to bring him undeniable proof, connect the dots for him.” You explained, sitting up straighter in your seat. “I went through Big John’s files but I still haven’t opened my father’s. If Ward had anything to do with what happened to my dad, that links him to at least four murders in the last year, right? That plus the tapes? That’s something Shoupe can’t deny-”

“Yeah, well, we don’t really have time for that anymore.” JJ cut you off harshly, snatching the hat off of his head. You stumbled for a response, eyes on the blonde.

“It was literally your idea.”

“That was before they put John B on the chopping block-”

“They aren’t gonna lethally inject him tomorrow, JJ-”

“You don’t fucking know that!” He shouted, the outburst sending a hush over the five of you. They’d never seen JJ yell at you before. Because he never had. You never knew what it felt like to be at the sharp end of his irrational anger. And although you knew this was far from the worst of it, it still formed a pit in your stomach. “You all can sit here and sort through papers ‘n shit. I’m gonna do somethin’, make somethin’ happen.” He said scoffing, standing up fully and walking towards the porch steps, his eyes on you and you only. “Even if I have to do it by myself.” He finished, swinging open the screen door and leaving towards his parked bike. 

You looked out at nothing, semi-shocked at what happened while Kiara sighed. “Look, I’m gonna hit my parents, see if I can get money for a decent lawyer.” She said, grabbing her jacket as the sound of JJ’s bike pulling off echoed through the trees. You couldn’t help but look back, watching the blonde drive away with a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Right.” Pope nodded. “I’ll dig into anything I can find out about this key that Limbrey was talking about in case your plan doesn’t work out.” Pope said in your direction, you nodded in reply. Pope had explained that during his time with Limbrey, she was borderline interrogating him about key she thought he had in exchange for a tape she has that could exonerate John B. 

All of your evidence pointed the finger at Ward, it didn’t necessarily prove John B didn’t do anything. Hopefully, you could change that by the end of the night.

THE OLD BOX STARED YOU BACK IN THE FACE WITH NO REMORSE. You were in the living room of The Chateau, planted on the sofa as your fingers drummed nervously against the skin of your thighs. Everyone else was out on some kind of side quest, aside from Sarah who took a stress walk down to the pier in the backyard, anxiously trying to get a hold of Wheezie, leaving you in the house alone.

Even taking the box down from the top of the fridge had your hands shaking — it was heavier than Big John’s box. Which meant you were in for a much longer ride. 

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you edged closer to the coffee table, your bottom almost hanging off of the sofa. In one swift motion, you took the top off of the box, letting it clatter against the wooden table. Your eyes scanned over the items inside — another cassette tape, one small USB drive, and one manila file folder. Everything was inconspicuously labeled — the tape was labeled WCCT 2/2 and the folder was labeled OG Report, both in your mother's distinctive hand writing. It looked like there was more than just papers in the folder. And you weren’t too eager to open it up.

You didn’t know where to start or what order to go in. But something told you that this wasn’t as hard as you anticipating it to be. You figured it best to start with the tape, having experience with them. Picking up the blue tape player that you’d found all those weeks ago, the same player you used when you found out what happened to Big John, you picked up the tape.

You weren’t quick to let it play, giving yourself a moment of pause. You were seriously debating putting all of this shit back. But then you remembered what you were doing this for. Who you were doing this for. And you pressed play.

...

“...Are you ready?...Okay, then. Please, state your full name and why you’re here.” Your mother’s voice echoed in the living room. It’d been so long since you heard her voice. At all.

“Again?” Ward’s voice rang out. “Is that necessary?...*sigh*. My name is Ward Cameron and I’m here to confess to the murders of Big John Routledge and Owen Carter.”

“Okay. You can continue now. Tell me what happened to Owen, starting from after you disposed of Big John’s body.” You wondered how she could sound so calm collected while sitting across from a murder, asking him to detail how he killed her husband.

“...After I threw Big John overboard, Owen was hysterical. He wanted to call someone and I kept saying no, that we couldn’t. What was done was done. He called me a monster, said that I shouldn’t have done it. He was right and I knew that. I was getting frustrated because Owen wouldn’t stop yelling. I turned around and pinched my eyes shut, I don’t know for how long, I was just trying to drown him out when I heard something hit the water. I didn’t even realize he’d stopped ranting. I turned around and he’d taken the lifeboat and was already feet away, it didn’t help that the damn thing had a motor. I didn’t think before turning the boat around and going to follow him, but he was gaining speed and putting so much distance between us. We were already hours away from the island, I didn’t think there was any way he’d make it all the way there on that small boat…”

Your hands were shaking as you listened, your bottom lip held hostage between your teeth.

“...The sun was going down by the time I got back to Kildare. I’d lost sight of Owen hours ago and when I got back, his truck was already gone from the parking lot. Owen was a family man over everything, so I figured that if he was in danger, the first place he’d go was home to make sure that he could protect his family. I got in my truck and went to his house. By the time I got there, the street lights were on and it was dark and raining. The front door was wide open and I pulled up just in time to see Owen racing out of the house with two duffel bags in his hands, about to put them in the trunk. I couldn’t hesitate, I didn’t have the time. So, I jumped out of my truck with a gun in my hand and hit him in the side of the head from behind. He fell limp to the ground and I wanted to go back in time and fix everything. I didn’t want to hurt him-”

“Stay focused, Ward. I’m not here for your sob story.” Your mother reprimanded.

“…After that, I threw him in the backseat of my truck and drove off as fast as I could. But I didn’t know my way around The Cut and I had no idea where I was going or what the plan was. I ended up on the shore of the Marsh. It was an empty area, surrounded by sand hills and tall grass, a couple palm trees. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Owen must’ve woken up at some point during the drive because when I went to get him out of the backseat, he jumped up and punched me square in the jaw. We got into it for a minute and I knew that Owen was stronger than me so when I could, I grabbed the gun from my waistband and aimed it at him. He just seemed betrayed and hurt. Kept asking why I did it, why I was going to do it again. He even promised to not say anything…if I let him go so he could be with his daughter. I thought about it, even considered it. But Owen was too good. He had morals and beliefs and I knew that eventually he’d say something. So, I lied and said that I would let him walk. I thought maybe I wouldn’t feel as bad if I knew he died thinking he was going home to his child. So, when he turned around…I shot him.”

You couldn’t suppress your sobs. The worst part of it all was that your father didn’t beg for his life, he begged for you. The one thing on his mind in his last moments was going home to you. You thought that was enough to make you hate Ward Cameron for the rest of your life. He didn’t kill his friend. He killed your father.

And he killed a part of you, too.

“...I knew dumping his body so close to the island was risky, so when I realized that it didn’t look like he’d been shot in the head, I slit his wrists to make it look like he’d killed himself, then I pushed his body into the water and left him drift out. Everything from that point on, you already know.” Were the last words Ward’s voice detailed before the cassette stopped rolling, a deadly silence filling the living room as tears rolled down your cheeks and hit the floor, one after the other.

You’d never felt so angry in your entire life. Not when your father went missing, not when his body was found, not when the police told you he’d killed himself. This was real anger. Because if you could figure this out and get some kind of justice for you and John B’s father’s, then the authorities just had to have not cared enough or at all. Two men from the cut go missing and they have one common factor between them but no one bats an eye?

It was bullshit.

Complete and utter bullshit.

Sobs broke through your throat as you swiped glasses and other miscellaneous objects off of the coffee table — everything but the box of evidence. Glass shattered against the floors as you kicked the leg of the furniture and hurled something random at the wall, watching it break into shards as you clenched your jaw, teeth showing like a violent dog. You felt like you could barely breathe, fists curled so tightly that you were sure your nails were cutting into your palms. Falling back down on the couch, slumped against it as you tried to regain your composure.

Once you felt okay enough to resume sleuthing, you sat up straight. You disgustedly pushed the tape player away from you, letting it rest in the corner of the table. Reaching into the box, you clutched the USB drive between your fingers. Luckily, you had your laptop on the coffee table from the night before, researching all the possible outcomes for John B, even though nothing indicated the outcome of today.

Opening the device and plugging in the drive, you let the files appear on the screen — a folder titled KCPD. Clicking on the file, it revealed two MP3 files to be listened to:

KCPD_Dispatcher276_1042pm.mp3

KCPD_Dispatcher276_1143am.mp3

Your brows furrowed in curiosity. Police files? Why would your mother need police calls to protect Ward? And more importantly, how did she get them?

Turning up the volume on the computer, you double clicked the first audio file, letting it play…

“Kildare County Police Department. This is Dispatcher 276, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?”

“What took someone so long to pick up?! My husband, he’s gone missing! I think he’s been taken, I don’t know-”

“Okay, ma’am, calm down for me, please. What’s your address?”

“Its…8702 Oak Valley Street.” If there was any doubt in your mind before, there wasn’t now — this was your mother calling in to the police department the night your father vanished. And that was your old address, on The Cut.

“Okay, I’m sending police out to you now. Can I ask your name?”

“It’s Rebecca. Rebecca Carter. My husband, his name is Owen, Owen Carter.” She sounded panicked, like she actually cared. You guessed this was the point in time when she did.

“Alright, Rebecca. I need you to answer some questions for me that will help police in locating your husband, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You said his name is Owen, right? What was Owen wearing, do you know?”

“Um, dammit…I think he had on a, um, yellow-ish button down? And a pair of, like, jean shorts and these shoes I’d just bought him, they’re just generic white sneakers, I can’t remember the brand.”

“Okay, that’s fine. And how old is Owen?”

“He just turned thirty-five yesterday. Oh, baby don’t cry. Everything’s gonna be fine, the police are gonna find him…” She was talking to you. You remembered that night so vividly, you were crying so hard with no idea as to what was going on.

“Is there someone else there with you Mrs.Carter?”

“Yes, sorry. It’s my sixteen-year old daughter.”

“Did she see anything? Can I ask her a couple of questions?”

“No. No, she didn’t see anything, she was asleep and she’s not okay to answer any questions.” She sounded appalled that the operator would even ask. “You can ask me.”

“Okay, I’m just trying to get as much information as possible.” The woman on the other end assured. “Did anything happen leading up to your husband’s disappearance?”

“No? I...He said he was going fishing with some of his buddies. He was gone from around noon until around ten tonight.”

“And do you know exactly who he went fishing with?”

“Not all of them. I know that Big John Routledge was there. They’re friends and he lives down the street, our kids are friends, too.”

“And have you tried contacting Mr.Routledge?”

“Yes. His phone went to voicemail both times. Oh my- Y/N, call John B, make sure he’s okay.” That was the worst night of your life. Especially having to call one of your best friends and find out that he hasn’t seen his dad either. You took the worst of night of your life and split the pain with John B. 

He called his dad a million times that night.

Every single call went to voicemail and by the end of it, Big John’s voicemail box was full.

“Did your husband say anything before he disappeared? Was he acting strangely?”

“He was just rambling. He just kept saying we had to leave, something about it not being safe. He told me to wake up our daughter while he threw our stuff into bags, when my daughter and I came outside, he was gone and the bags were on the driveway then some truck sped away with it’s tail lights off.”

“Can you describe the truck? Were you able to catch the license plate?”

“No, it was too dark. I just know it was black and it looked almost like a pick-up truck.”

“Okay, we’re gonna do our best to find your husband, Mrs.Carter. I need you to stay on the line with me until the police arrive, alright?”

“Okay…I think I see them now, I can see lights down the streets…Okay, yes, it’s them, I see them. An officer is approaching me, now. Can I hang up?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

Then the line died out. It was odd to hear that side of your mother again, it seemed so foreign to you now. But you were still left wondering why this had anything to do with your mother covering for Ward? It was just the 911 call. Nothing incriminated Ward himself or her. Maybe it conflicted with the suicide theory? Maybe it made your father’s death look like foul play.

It only made you more eager to listen to the next file, mouse already hovering over the audio. Clicking it twice, you let it play, the familiar static of a phone call sounding out once more before voices were heard. 

“Kildare County Police Department. This is Dispatcher 276, do you need police, fire, or ambulance?” It was the same dispatcher from before, same line and everything. Was this the same call or a different one? A quick look at the label had you realizing that it was indeed the second file.

“...I need police.” It was your mother. Again. With the same dispatcher? Maybe the operator on the other end couldn’t say anything or mention the familiarity in her voice, but it was so distinct, there was no way she missed it.

Your father and Big John were the talk of the town for months during everything, I’m sure the operator remembered your mother’s original call.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I found a dead body.” Her voice was so flat. 

“...O-okay…Where are you ma’am?”

“Near the Marsh. Behind Ollie’s, that abandoned surf shop off of Deerfield Drive.” That was where they found your dad.

“And are you sure the person is dead?”

“...I’m positive.”

“I’ll send an ambulance as well, just to be safe. What’s your name, miss?”

“I’d like to remain anonymous.”

“Okay…that is your right…” The operator sounded skeptical, but it wasn’t her job to dig any deeper. “Are you comfortable attempting CPR on the victim, miss?”

“...No.” She said firmly. She almost sounded annoyed. “Look, he’s dead. He’s gray and bloated, he’s barely recognizable. Half of his hair is even missing, he’s dead.”

“...Do you know the person in question?”

“What?” Your mother snapped, her voice biting even in the poorly recorded audio. “No, I don’t.”

“Right…well, I need you to stay on the line with me until the police arrive, ma’am. They’re having trouble finding the location.”

“No. No, I can’t do that. How far are they?” Now, she sounded worried. Why call the police in the first place? If she was covering for Ward, why not just push the body back out? Was this a way of controlling the situation?

“They’re not far. I really need you to stay on the line with me-”

“Look, his body’s on the sand. They’ll know it when they see it but I can’t stay on the phone or here. I’m sorry.”

“Ma’am-”

The dispatcher failed in getting your mother to stay connected, hearing the line go dead.

What did these calls have to do with anything and why did she need them? This second call had your head spinning. Why even call at all? Wouldn’t handling it herself be better for her deal with Ward?

It didn’t make much sense but you doubted you ever get the chance to get it from her directly.

There was really only one thing left in the box — the folder. You were hoping, praying, that this had something you could bring to Shoupe, something to bring your circle of evidence to a full close. 

Picking up the folder, something rolled out in the bottom of the box.

A plastic bag with a bullet in it. You dropped the folder. Letting it slide to the floor, eyes wide as you pinched the top of the plastic bag between your fingers and held it up, letting it swing in front of your face. A small, bronze bullet sitting inside — spotted with dried blood.

You swiftly used your other hand to pick up the forgotten folder, letting the bullet bag fall back into the box, flipping the folder open, revealing just one thing inside — an autopsy report. 

…But this couldn’t be the one the police had on file. This one completely went against what the department said was your father’s cause of death. It documented the gunshot wound to the back of his head, the apparent blunt force injury from when Ward hit him the first time, alongside the slits on his wrist that documented as ‘not consistent with self-inflicted injuries’, as well as noting that they were done post-mortem. 

Everything on the paper in front of you pointed to your dad’s death being a homicide, even ruling out any kind of drowning theory considering it says there was no water found in his lungs. 

But the best part of this was the fact that you had the bullet. You had the bullet and the report. This? This was evidence. A bullet that could be traced back to Ward’s gun, your father’s DNA on the bullet, and the original autopsy report to prove it all.

You could clear John B. And you could take down Ward.

This wasn’t something someone would be happy about. And considering everything you’d just learned, you should be curled up on the floor balling our eyes out. But you win some you lose some, right? 

Knowing how your dad died dampened your heart, of course it did. But nothing could be done now. You could get him some kind of justice and let him rest while getting one of your best friends out of jail. And when it was all said and done, maybe you’d break down crying or throw something else at the wall. But for once, it felt like you were on the winning team.

As soon as you stood from the couch, ready to march down to the Sheriff’s Department, the front door swung open, an angry Kiara throwing her backpack down onto the floor as she paced with her hands atop her head.

“Kie?” You startled the girl. She whipped around with wide eyes, a hand on her chest in shock.

“Jesus…” She breathed, letting her hands fall against her sides. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“I just finished looking through my mom’s things. You won’t believe what I found-”

“Not to be rude or anything, I just really can’t pretend to care right now. My... elitist parents just fucking kicked me out.” She interrupted, drawing her lips into a thin line and turning around as she walked towards the fridge, swinging it open and pulling out a beer. “I mean, they’re acting like I was gone for weeks. It was like two freaking days. Can’t they just be grateful that I’m even alive?” She ranted, taking a long swig of the drink, wincing as it went down.

Your eyes followed her as she walked to place herself on the far end of the couch.

“Like I’m sitting there telling them about John B and how he needs a lawyer and they start talking about how everything I do is for ‘those boys’ as if they aren’t my fucking friends. So, I told them I hate living there and all of sudden I’m homeless. My mom told me if I wanna be a pogue then I can go live like one. And you know what? That’s exactly what I’m gonna. She wants to kick me out so I can live like a pogue? I’ll show her a pogue. Next thing you know she’ll be pleading for me to come back home…” She shrugged, her monologue finally ending as she slumped into the couch.

You were gobsmacked at her words. She’ll show her a pogue?

“Wow…” You reacted, eyes impossibly wide as your jaw went slack. Kiara simply cocked an eyebrow at you, gulping before opening her lips to speak.

“What?” She asked, shaking her head as to say ‘spit it out’.

“Nothing, nothing…” You scoffed. “While you were off claiming your pogue card I actually found something that can clear John B, if you even care-”

“What do you mean claiming my pogue card? Am I not a pogue?-”

“Apparently only when it’s convenient for you to be one.” You cut her off. “You really think I, me, someone with nothing but a couple hundred dollars to my name and no family left but a dog. who by the way, got taken, wants to hear you complain about being kicked out of your single family home because you are choosing to be a pogue?” You told her, tone harsh. “And then you have the nerve to brag about living like a pogue solely to piss off your parents like you don’t have five friends going through hell right now.”

“...Just because I have money doesn’t make me any less of a pogue, I still go through shit just like the rest of you-”

“Why is that all you care about?!” You shouted, hands balling into fists at the sides of your head in frustration. “Pogue this, pogue that — you wanna be real for a minute, Kie? You aren’t a pogue, okay? And your obsession with proving that you are one is really starting to get old. By means of all the laws in the pogue handbook, you’re a kook. And you’re really starting to show it right now.” You explained, looking her up and down. “So, you can sit here and mope. I’m gonna find JJ so we can get our friend out of jail.” You spat, swinging the front door of The Chateau open and walking out, leaving a stunned Kiara behind.

YOU BANGED ON THE PASSENGER SIDE DOOR OF THE AMBULANCE WHEN YOU RAN UP,  A head of blonde hair visible through the window. JJ’s gaze whipped to the side, muttering under his breath as he pushed the door open for you. Hopping into the passenger seat, you shut the door behind you, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Finally decided to hop on the ‘get John B out of jail’ train, then?” He sassed, grimacing at the end of the sentence as he avoided your eyes.

“You must be at the wrong station because that train has already left.” You retorted, you saw his eyebrows pinch in on each other before he turned around — eyes going wide as he saw the plastic bag pinched between your fingers.

“...What is that?” He asked, eyes fleeting between the swinging bullet and the folder in your lap.

“This is the bullet the medical examiner pulled from my father’s head. Shot from Ward’s gun and coated in my father’s blood. And this?” You picked up the folder. “Is what I’m assuming is the original autopsy report that proves that my dad was killed.”

“...Why are you so happy about this?” He asked, face downturned into an expression of pity. 

“Not sure.” You said, letting the items fall into your lap. “I think it’s either that it hasn’t kicked in yet or I just don’t have any real shock left in me after everything that’s happened. Either way, this is our ticket to getting John B out of the dog pound. So, whatever plan you’ve conjured up, abort it.”

Suddenly, JJ was sucking in air through his teeth. “No can do, princess.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m still mad at you.” You told him, deadpan expression on face.

“Which I still don’t get why-”

“Look, we can talk about it later. Don’t hold me to that because I still want to shove my entire foot up your ass-

"Wait, how did you find me?"

"...I have your location, JJ."

"How did you get here? I don't see your car-"

"I walked. Well, ran. My car didn't have gas-"

"You know I hate when you walk around at night by yourself-"

"Aw, boohoo, as if you actually care."

"Uh, as a matter of fact, I do. You know I do."

"Yeah, right." You scoffed.

"If you were planning on acting like this, why did you come find me?"

He had you there. "...To make sure you were okay. But that's not important, okay? You need to drop your plan and we need to get to the police station so I can give this to Shoupe-”

“Again, no can do. I already stole my cousin’s truck, I have to go through with Plan A.”

“Which is…?”

“...We break Bree out of jail, to put it mildly.” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze once again. 

“...Weren’t you the one telling me that we’re already down a Pogue and not to add any more crimes to the list?”

“Well, I was left with no other choice.” He replied, throwing his hands up.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an impatient little shit-” You stopped talking when a police car pulled up next to the ambulance, the road empty aside for the two vehicles. The two of you fell into silence, immediately dropping the conversation and looking ahead of yourselves nonchalantly, or at least attempting to.

“...I hate when it’s slow like this, you know?” The officer in the squad car beside you started conversation. You and JJ both turned your heads in sync.

“Tell me ‘bout it, man.” JJ said cooly, resting his hands atop the steering wheel.

“Hey, what happened to Ricky?” The officer inquired, leaning further in his seat. Ricky was JJ’s cousin, the one he stole the van from. “He bang out?” 

JJ exhaled, sticking his head out of the window to talk to him more clearly. “Somethin’ like that?” 

Fortunately, a female voice broke through the radio inside of the ambulance. “One three Eddie. We got an unknown at KC Detention.”

JJ was quick to pick up the radio and respond. “Uh, yep, ten-four. We’ll be right there. Thank you so much. Over.” Slipping the radio back into its holder, JJ turned back to the officer in the squad car. “Duty calls.” He grimaced, sending the man a light-tipped smile. “I’ll see you later, Officer. You have a good night, though, okay?”

He shifted gears and prepared to drive off while you looked out the passenger side window, fist against your lips. 

“Hold up…” The man demanded, your heart dropping to your ass. “I got nothing to do. I’ll pace you.” He smiled, shifting his own gear and driving off.

JJ whipped his gaze between you and the road, you threw a hand out in the direction of the windshield. “Well, don’t look at me. Follow him.”

ARRIVING AT THE DETENTION CENTER, The guard at the front gate inspected the inside of the ambulance quickly through the driver side window, simply shining a flashlight inside and waving it around before giving you both the green light to proceed into facility.

“I thought this was supposed to be the most advanced security system on the planet.” You muttered under your breath, joking mainly to yourself but you caught JJ smile smally to himself in the corner of your eye.

Reversing the vehicle into the loading dock, a woman approached the driver’s side with a clipboard in her hands, motioning for you and JJ to get out and follow her. You gave each other one last weary look before exiting the vehicle, the woman waiting on the both of you as you came to a stop in front of her.

Her brows pinched together, looking you both up and down. “Where’s Ricky?”

“Ricky?” JJ inquired back, eyebrows raising high as he swung the keys to the van around his fingers. “Food Poisoning.” He shrugged. “Y’know Ming Dynasty off of Highway Twenty-Five? Them egg rolls, dude…They’ll get you good.” He covered as the woman seemed to buy it, nodding her head.

“And where’s your uniform?” She was directing her question towards you.

“I’m…” You dragged out, hands in your back pockets as you searched for the right thing to say. “Training. Yeah, I’m...not certified, just his ride along for the day.” You said cooly, not trying to seem to eager.

The woman seemed to accept your answer as well, sighing and turning around with clipboard in her hand as she walked you further into the loading bay.

“Patient fell out. No LOC but he’s orthostatic.” She explained to the both of you. “Stage four lymphoma. He’s been in and out of chemo for the last three months.” At this, you and JJ exchanged glances. JJ had explained that his idiotic plan of the day was to break John B out of jail. Since when did John B grow a stage four lymphoma?

Your questions were answered when the jail door buzzed and an officer came out, rolling an inmate out in a wheelchair that had too many years under his belt to be John B. JJ’s key swinging stopped as he eyed the patient in the chair, clearly not who he was hoping for as you drew your lips into a thin line and shot the blonde the most disappointed look ever.

“Uhh, is that the only patient here tonight, ma’am?” He asked nervously, peering harshly into the small rectangular window in the door.

She just chuckled as she and the officer wheeled the man closer to the van doors. “Why? You wanna take more than one tonight?”

“I mean, I would if I had to.” He perked up, spinning around to face the woman. “I’m just saying, I was called in because my patient had appendicitis?” He tried to reason, taking the hat off of his head.

It was clear to see that the woman was now skeptical, cocking an eyebrow and crossing her arms. “...This is our only patient.” She said simply, eyeing the two of you back and forth. “Where did you say you work?”

“Kildare County.” You shot out while JJ was too busy stuttering. You shot the woman a lazy, welcoming smile. 

“I worked over there. Never seen you.”

“Like I said, I’m new and not even certified yet. And my superior here, he just transferred from another facility, right? That’s what you told me, isn’t it?” You turned to JJ, trying to play into the whole power dynamic role here.

“Uh, yeah, that’s right.” He said, fitting the hat back onto his head and pulling out the keys. “Look, I would love to sit and chat but we gotta get our patient to the hospital-” He rambled, walking over to the double doors of the vehicle and attempting the first key.

“JJ…” The man in the wheelchair slurred. “Is that you?”

JJ simply looked to you and then the man in the chair before averting his eyes to the woman. “He’s delusional as shit.” No one seemed to see it as a red flag, allowing the blonde to continue trying to open the door to the vehicle. “We just got new rigs up at our facility, so…” He tried to avert any suspicion. 

You don’t know how JJ didn’t know what key opened the door but luckily, you did. When you were younger, his cousin Ricky used to let you, JJ, and John B go for joyrides in the back. The key to open the van was the only silver key on the ring. But you didn’t want to raise suspicion.

“Hey, let me.” You told JJ, holding your palm out. “I broke the key ring the other day, remember? So, the keys are all out of whack, sorry about that.” You directed your apologies to the two people on standby. Isolating the silver key and entering it into the slot, the lock turned easily allowing you to open the doors.

“Alright, let’s get him on up there.” 

JJ assisted the officer in loading the patient into the back of the van just as the phone on the wall began to ring. JJ’s eyes snapped to the phone and to the clock, obviously worried.

“Where’s your partner?” The woman asked JJ. His eyes went to you as he pointed in your direction. “No, she’s not a certified EMT. You need another certified EMT to look after your patient while you’re driving.”

“Can’t she drive?”

“No…” The woman said skeptically. “Again, only certified EMT’s can drive EMT Mandated Vehicles. Do you not know your own policies?”

“No, I do. I do, Uh, what about you officer? Can’t you drive?”

He simply shook his head. “No, he’s an inmate. I gotta be in the back.”

“Okay…Hold on, officer. “JJ started, clearly taking the high moral ground approach. “You’re saying that you’re gonna be responsible for me not taking care of my patient and not giving my ride-along her needed experience to get this oh-so important certification? Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” He continued, actually seeming to do a good job of convincing the two. “Look at him. He’s weak, feeble, and...pale and shit. And I gotta do medical stuff on him, and show my partner how to do medical stuff on him, or else we’re gonna lose him, okay?” He said, hopping into the back of the van as he tossed the officer the keys, holding out a hand to help you up as well.

You took it, using his assistance to get into the vehicle. “You don’t want that on your hands, do you?” He egged on the officer, the man looking back at the woman in charge. 

“...This didn’t happen.” He told her, hesitantly rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat as JJ closed the doors while the woman went to answer the phone. The two of you stared out of the window in the back at her as she talked on the phone, her eyes whipping towards the vehicle you were in just as the officer started to drive off. Her eyes were as wide as golfballs.

As the van exited the loading bay and passed the entrance gates, you and JJ sat down in the van across from one another when a thought crossed your mind. Nudging JJ’s thigh with the tip of your sneakers, he looked at you.

“What?”

“The folder.” You whispered, jutting your head in the direction of the driver and passenger seat. 

“What about it?”

You sighed, smacking your teeth and rolling your eyes. “It’s in the passenger seat, JJ. The folder is sitting in the passenger seat next to the officer.”

Then his own eyes were going wide. “Well, why did you leave it there?” He whispered back harshly.

“Maybe because I didn’t think a police officer would be driving the van while we camped out in the back playing paramedics!” You whisper-shouted back. Just then, a voice broke through the radio up front, it came from the officer’s personal radio.

“10-63 in progress. I repeat, 10-63 in progress. Do you copy?”

“...Copy.” He replied.

“Continue with the patient onto the hospital. We have backup on the way do you copy?” The woman on the radio copied back, you and JJ looked at each other, worry clear in both of your eyes. 

“I read. Ten-four.” He said finally, his eyes peering at the two of you in the back through the rear view mirror.

JJ cleared his throat, leaning forward. “Officer, everything good up there?” The man didn’t respond, simply sliding the plastic cover shut that allowed the people within the different sections of the van to communicate, leaving you and JJ in silence. “...Officer?”

You took initiative and got up, pulling at the handle to see if it would open from the inside.

It wouldn’t.

Just then, blue lights and police sirens gathered your attention, looking up to see at least three police squad cars tailing the ambulance. “Shit…” You cursed, finally starting to let the panic kick in. “JJ.” You turned to the blonde behind you with his hands on his head.

“Get a hold of Pope or Kie or Sarah, tell them where we are, and to find out a way to stop the van. If I lose that folder, we lose everything.”

As JJ texted, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the police cars. It felt like everything was going wrong at once. You finally had what you needed to potentially end this nightmare and it was all going down the drain.

Were you all paying for the sins of the people in your lives that came before you or something? What could a couple of teenagers do to deserve a life like this?

Just then, you and JJ went flying forward as the van came to an abrupt stop. You landed on top of the blonde who landed on his back, your foreheads butting painfully.

“Go! Get out of the way!” The police officer yelled to whoever caused him to stop, you and JJ getting up simultaneously when Kiara’s faint voice filled the air, muffled.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Without hesitation, you and JJ bumrushed the door, basically breaking it open and hopping out. You knew you couldn’t go anywhere without it, so in one swift motion you ran to the front of the vehicle, swung open the passenger seat and took the folder, the officer too busy yelling at Kie to even notice, even you carefully let the door shut on its own. 

You eventually caught up to JJ, the two of you booking it into the woods without a single cop on your trail. Hopefully, Kiara would take the hint and meet the two of you on the other side.

And that she did.

Coming out of the trees, you spotted her SUV parked and waiting on a secluded street, you and JJ practically rolling inside.

“Go! Go!” JJ urged, slamming the door behind him as you both straightened in the back seat.

“Where?!” Kiara asked, pressing her foot on the petal.

“The police station.” You told her, folder in your lap as you made sure everything was still there. “Go to the police station.”

“AND YOU’RE SURE THIS’LL WORK?” Pope piped up from the passenger seat as Kiara pulled to a stop in front of the police station. You sighed, looking out of the window and up at the building. 

“No.” You told them bluntly, looking at the three people in the car. “But what other choice do we have?” Those were the words you left your friends with as you exited the car and walked up the steps to the Kildare County Police Department.

Walking through the double doors, you spotted a female officer behind the desk, her eyes shooting up as you stood in front of the counter. She eyed the folder clutched to your chest, then looked at you once more.

“...Is there something you need?”

You swallowed harshly, holding the folder tighter against your chest. “I need to see Sheriff Shoupe and Pathologist Daniels.”

“LISTEN, KID. THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT ‘CAUSE I GOT A WHOLE LOTTA OTHER SHIT I OUGHTA BE DOIN’ RIGHT NOW.” Shoupe warned as he settled into the wheelie chair behind his desk. A man, who you assumed was the pathologist you’d requested, stood on the right side of the man in charge. He looked too calm for your liking.

You were sat in the chair across from Shoupe, the man cocking an eyebrow as he settled into his seat and clasped his hands atop the desk. “C’mon, now. I ain’t got all day-”

“You’re the pathologist, right? M. Daniels?” You cut off Shoupe, eyeing the man behind him. You were calmer than you thought you’d be. He failed to respond but the answer was clear when Shoupe looked at the man to his left, who was staring at you.

He shifted his weight, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t have on any kind of uniform or coat. He didn’t even look like he was on the clock. “...That would be me.”

“Okay.” You said, sitting up straighter in the chair. “Do you recall performing an autopsy on Owen Carter? The man who went missing along with Big John Routledge almost a year ago and was found dead?”

He scratched his head, looking to Shoupe for a brief second before looking away and gathering himself. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And what were the results of that autopsy?”

“Ah- I…don’t believe I’m allowed to disclose-”

“Just answer her question, Daniels.” Shoupe sighed, almost annoyed. “It’s his daughter.”

The pathologist’s eyes went wide, lips falling apart. He swallowed harshly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “To the best of my knowledge, it was concluded that your father’s injuries were consistent with suicide. There were two sizeable slits made to each wrist which severed several arteries and veins, which he bled out from.”

You nodded suspiciously, sitting up straighter in your seat. “Mhm. And what about the other two injuries?”

“...What?” The man’s faux obliviousness only made you feel better about your next move — flipping open the folder in your lap and placing the original document on the desk for Shoupe and his employee to examine.

Daniels looked like he was wrong move away from shitting bricks, a bead of sweat immediately forming on his hairline.

“The other two injuries.” You reiterated, pointing at the autopsy report on the table as you spoke. “You see, in this report, there are four injuries documented — the two slits on his wrists, which were concluded as not consistent with self-inflicted injuries, alongside the blunt force injury to his right temple and a gunshot wound to the back of his head with no exit point-”

“Now, hold on just a minute-”

“I’ll get to you in a second, Shoupe.” You snapped, piercing eyes gazing into the Sheriff’s before they drifted towards the pathologist once again. “In this report, signed with your signature, it’s concluded that my father’s cause of death was the gunshot wound, not the slits to his wrists that, in your own written words, were ‘made post-mortem’.”

“Alright, alright,” Shoupe cut in, leaning forward on the wooden tabletop. “You can’t just come in here with some unofficial documents claiming that, what exactly, he covered up your father’s death?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The paper is right in front of you, Shoupe-”

“That paper don’t mean a damn thing. You could’ve printed this out at the local library for all I know.”

You simply scoffed. This man was truly unbelievable. Denial was one thing, blatant disregard was another. “You know what? You’re right. I could’ve have just printed this out and ran down here in hopes to accuse some random pathologist of covering up my father’s murder. But if that were the case…” You dragged out, lifting the plastic bag with the bullet inside up for the two men to see. “Where would I have gotten this, Shoupe?”

“The hell is that?...” Shoupe squinted, eyeing the swinging object as you sat it down the desk and pushed it towards him. The pathologist was visibly shaking at this point. 

“The gunshot wound I mentioned? That’s the bullet that made the injury. The bullet that, Doctor Daniels here, extracted from his skull and basically pawned off. Along with the original autopsy report.”

Shoupe looked up at the man from his seat — Daniels face was a dangerous shade of red, sweat dripping down the sides of his face now. Then, he was turning back to you. “Pawned off to who exactly? Where’d you get all of this?”

“That’s the easiest question you’ve asked me all night.” You quipped. “I got all of this from my mother.”

“...Don’t play games with me, kid.”

“No one is playing games, Sheriff.” You assured. “Haven’t you noticed that she hasn’t been dragging me around Figure Eight for the last couple of weeks?" You pointed out. "I figured out she’d been working with the man who killed my father, taking payments from him periodically ever since my dad died in exchange for her legal services. I got all of this out of a locked drawer in her law office. Haven’t been home since.”

“Working with the man who killed your father? Now, why would she do that?”

“Beats me. My theory is the money. Or maybe because he’s too powerful of a man to take down alone. You actually know him quite well.” You told him. “Ward Cameron?”

Shoupe scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “...You’re trying to tell me that…that Ward, killed your father and then recruited your mother to help him cover it up?” He asked incredulously. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I’m aware of how it sounds.” You hissed, squinting your eyes meanly at the man. “But you cannot deny what’s in front of you, Shoupe. I know Ward is your friend and you want to trust him but we’ve been trying to open your eyes for weeks now. Just consider the facts.” You reprimanded, planting your hands on the desk. “The day Peterkin was murdered, Ward’s plane was the one leaving the tarmac. Gavin, the man me and my friends saw him kill? That was his pilot and he had the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin, the same gun we turned into you that he was blackmailing Ward with it. Big John and my dad? They were both out on the water with Ward that day and somehow, Ward was the only one who was still alive a day later." You explained, laying out the pieces. "Can’t you see, Shoupe? He’s playing you.”

“No...” He shook his head, standing from his seat as you followed. “This don’t make any sense…”

“It does. Just listen, for once. Even if I’m wrong, which I’m not, this connects Ward to at least four crimes within this year alone. That has to be enough to bring him in for questioning.”

“Questioning?” He laughed, hand on his forehead as he paced. “Question him about what? Some autopsy report you dug up and a…random bullet?"

“It’s not a random bullet.” You snapped, eyes on the pathologist who was frozen in place. “You didn’t immediately change the report, did you?” The man shook his head despondently, probably silently coming to terms with the fact that his career and life was over. “You changed it when my mother came to you, she wanted you to forge the report to say that my father killed himself and to give her the bullet. But you couldn’t, because you’d already sent it off to the officer on the case to be sent to ballistics, so all you could do was alter the autopsy report, right?” You theoreticized frantically. “Right.” You concluded when he nodded silently, eyes back on Shoupe.

“So, what does she do next?” You threw out, eyes following Shoupe’s frame as he walked slow circles around the room. “The only way she can get the bullet is to go to the officer in charge of the case. She pays them off and secures the bullet before it’s placed into evidence. Her only mistake? The ballistics report had already been processed.” This got Shoupe’s attention, his pacing ceasing as he made eye contact with you. “I read your departments policies online. This county’s police department doesn’t allow files to be deleted without authorization from their superior. They can be deleted from an officer’s personal desktop, but the file is ultimately sent to the trash bin within your computer to be deleted completely if you choose to do so. So, there’s a very good chance that, since you are now the superior following Peterkin’s death, the ballistics report that never made it back to her, is sitting on your computer right now.” You said all in one breath, motioning for the closed laptop on his desk.

Shoupe’s eyes went between you and the laptop before he seemed to cave, sighing heavily and basically slamming himself back down into his chair and opening the device. He typed and scrolled and clicked for a few moments before you saw a visible change in his demeanor. You were still standing, looming over the older man as he searched. 

“...There’s a deleted ballistics report from the officer that was on your father’s case.” He sounded defeated. “The bullet examined was extracted from the body of Owen Carter and was concluded to be fired from a… Colt Rail gun, serial number 18J…Dammit, Ward.” He sighed, clearly realizing the truth. At least you knew he’d at least looked up the gun in the system when you all gave it to him. It was about damn time he did his job with integrity. “What the hell I’m supposed to do with all this, kid? Huh? You just made my job a whole lot harder…”

“I want you to drop the charges against John B.” You told him firmly. “If you need to run the bullet again, run it. If you need to analyze the autopsy report, do it. I don’t care. John B didn’t kill anyone and you know it. You have a minor sitting in jail right now with the death penalty hanging above his head. And I am telling you right now, Shoupe. If John B dies," You warned, walking towards the door

"...I will kill Ward Cameron my damn self and take your entire department down with me.”

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Chapter 2: Night Terror ✮⁺₊

Miguel O'Hara x reader prev part

Your neighbor is strange, to say the least. Miguel O’Hara: Alchemax’s newest scientist, genius, most sought-after bachelor … and according to your wildest suspicions … a vampire?

*ੈ✩‧₊

He waits for you, standing tall in front of your apartment door. He's got a motorcycle jacket on, a dark navy t-shirt under, tasteful worn out jeans, and he's carrying a box full of your room decor; it's like a manifestation of your 18 year old fantasy delivered right to your door.

You approach him. He looks down at you, offering a slanted smile, still standoffish, but you can tell he's trying.

He was a focused student then. He paid no mind to the eyes glued on him as he rushed to class, or maybe he was too oblivious to notice. Eyebrows knit together, as he rummaged through his notes, all while walking at the same time. He had very few friends, kept to himself, and was envied by his academic competition, so it made sense why he was the way he was. And it, of course, made you want him even more.

You scramble to pull your keys from your back pocket.

"Got them," you mutter nervously, avoiding eye contact with him. He tilts his head, watching you. You open the door, and he takes a step back to let you walk in first.

He follows behind you as you reach the kitchen counter.

"You can leave it right here. Thank you, Miguel," His name feels new, weird on your tongue, but you like it.

"No problem," he replies, placing the box on the counter. "So this is what it looks like in here," he says, surveying the spread of the place, as he takes his jacket off.

"Yep, this is it," you smile, watching him from the side, "Feel free to take a look around."

He's huge, and tall, way taller than you remember, but this is also the closest you've ever been to him. He runs a hand through his hair slowly, biceps flexing as he wanders around the barren apartment. He could destroy you. If you hadn't had a massive crush on him all this time, you'd think it insane to let a beast like him into your apartment.

But you admire him.

You take in this sight of Miguel. You know this is the only possible way the Miguel O'Hara would ever willingly come into your home.

You step back and watch his eyes explore your new home. His hair is tousled, and his outfit doesn't look like Alchemax attire.

You force yourself to talk; you don't know when you'll see him next.

"Did you just come back from work, or school?"

He tucks his hands into his front jean pockets, shaking his head.

"No, I was umm just out, running some errands," he says, looking you up and down.

Did you overstep? Or had he just not had the chance to fully look at you?

"Hey, you never told me your name," he says, eyebrows furrowing, as he walks up to you.

"Y/N," you blurt, looking up at him.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Pretty and hard to forget," he says, smiling down at you, as he slowly towers over you.

Seeing his real smile evokes your real smile immediately. His crimson eyes stare into yours; you could stare into them forever, if you weren't blushing and panicking internally.

"So you're my neighbor, huh. Perfect timing running into you on the stairs there," you say, breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, I don't ordinarily take the stairs, but today felt different ... just wanted to try something new,"

"So you ordinarily take the elevator?"

He tilts his head, "Yes, yeah the elevator."

You back away and head for the pile of boxes on the floor.

You ignore the fact that Miguel O'Hara is standing in your apartment. You have to start somewhere.

You kneel on the floor, looking through the boxes, trying to find a place to start.

He stands behind you, watching you, almost analyzing you. You look up at him to find him watching you intently, like he's trying to read your mind.

What is he thinking?

You look back at the boxes, pretending to be unfazed by his attention to you. You brush the hair out of your face, and take a deep breath, hoping the red in your cheeks will fade away.

"You look familiar," he mutters, crossing his arms.

You look familiar? To Miguel O'Hara?

You always thought there was a slight chance he was aware of your existence. You had one class with him; he was a TA and you were a student. It was a huge lecture hall, three hundred people. So he couldn't have. There's no way he ever noticed you sitting in the back of the class. He graded your work. That's all.

He consistently left thoughtful annotations on your work, notes that you read too much into, but they were always helpful and you found them ... sweet. You always aced your coursework, maybe here and there he marked you down a point for going above the word count, but you aced them nonetheless. And he saw that.

Maybe he does remember you and he's just fucking with you. In that case, you'll fuck him right back.

"I get that a lot," you mutter, looking back at the mess you're digging into.

"Hmm I'll figure it out," he says, shrugging confidently, like he's onto you. You've learned quite a bit about him today. The way he acts, the way he talks, how he carries himself. You've gotten a pretty generous glimpse into the new Miguel.

"You do that," you mutter.

You lift the box up from the floor and carry it to the restroom. He follows behind you. You're flattered but also slightly confused by how long he's been accompanying you.

You leave the box on the closed toilet seat, and begin to unpack your things onto the sink counter. Miguel stands in the doorway, watching.

His arms are crossed as he leans against the door frame. You look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his forearms bursting with muscle, his dark blue tee snug exposing the outline of his abs, his gray briefs peeking out under his jeans.

"You must really think you know me, stranger ... watching me unpack in my new home," you say sarcastically, looking up at his reflection.

"Yeah, I figure if I stick around a bit, it'll come to me, just need a bit more to work with," he shrugs.

You scoff. "Okay, let me know when it comes to you."

"I will," he says, nodding, his eyes still on you.

You hear a hard thump, then shuffling coming from the other side of the wall beside you, his apartment.

You both sharply turn to look at each other.

His eyes widen a bit; his stare becomes focused, he's trying to listen, figure out what that noise was. Shouldn't he know?

"You live with someone?" you ask, standing up straight to turn and face him, slightly alarmed by how loud the thump sounded.

"No ... I uh, I'm dog-sitting for a friend,"

"You're a terrible dog-sitter, over here bothering your neighbor instead of checking on the poor thing," you tease.

"Yeah, I'll go take care of him now," he says, standing up straight, then heading for the door. You follow behind him.

He grabs his jacket from the counter as you open the door for him. He stops right outside, between your two doors, his apartment being right across the hall, six feet in front of yours.

"It was nice meeting you," he says, nodding. He smiles, then begins to unlock his door, looking back at you, "And Y/N, if you ever need me, I'm right across the hall, so just knock, and I'll be here. Uhh except at night, I'm usually ... out, at work."

"Got it. Thanks," you smile, hiding behind your half-open door.

You watch as he unlocks the door, and opens it a few inches.

You hear a muffled whine. Neglected puppy.

"Shit," he breathes out.

He looks back at you eyebrows furrowed, then looks down and flinches, before looking up to flash you a forced small smile.

"Ha yeah, gotta help the little guy, I'll– uh I'll catch you later," he says, blocking the crack of his open door with his backside.

"Catch you later," you nod.

You both shut your doors.

︶꒦꒷ ❦︎ ꒷꒦︶

You've unpacked a bit, showered, and finally, after a long, exhausting day, night has fallen.

You curl up in bed, your room cold and empty, besides the little corner of the bed you occupy, lit up by the warm light your beloved stained glass lamp provides. Your eyes rest on the colors reflecting on the wall, as you reminisce about Miguel back in university, and the Miguel you met today.

Miguel O'Hara was in your apartment, talking to you, interested in what you had to say and who you were. Okay, but it's not like he's some huge celebrity, he's just a ... big deal in the science world ... and the biggest crush you've ever had.

He's not any cooler than you. He's not. You're cool. You're smart. You're hot.

The rain beats against the window, pattering and lulling you to sleep. You turn off your side lamp, and cover yourself up. You're exhausted from the move, and you know this is going to be some real deep sleep. You close your eyes and drift off.

You toss and turn, your deep sleep holding you hostage to nightmares of screams and glowing crimson eyes.

A muffled scream wakes you up. You sit up in pure darkness, sweating and breathing heavily. Was that a part of the dream? Or was that real? 

You see a figure in the corner of the room. You squint, your vision blurry and recovering from your sleep. 

The moonlight glows against the window, illuminating the wet rain beating against the glass, the noise pounding and disorienting you.

It’s Miguel. 

The moonlight creeps in, lighting up the side of his face.

He's soaked. His t-shirt wet against his body, hair dripping onto his face. There's blood on his hands.

You quickly turn to pull the lamp on.

You turn back. He's gone.

You lay back down, ignoring what had just happened and accept it as a part of your dream.

You haven't gotten a full night's sleep in days. You're emotionally drained, physically drained, and extremely sleep deprived. You doze off to sleep.

That was the first night you dreamt of Miguel O'Hara, the first of many. 

*✧･ﾟ

ch.3 here

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[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Brotherly Love Pt.6 J.T D.W

Summary: You get hurt by a frightened Meta-human, and your brothers become defensive.

Warnings: injury, a gun, death threats.

~☆~

It was Friday, and you agreed to spend time at Penelopes apartment with her and Reign. Not yet used to the idea of staying the night with someone, but they were happy with whatever you were comfortable with.

The three of you laughed in sync over a stupid joke, until you were cut off by a loud crash coming from outside, screams of terror following soon after. Penelope let out a yell as Reign held onto her as a way to calm down her nerves, which hardly helped because she could feel how badly he himself was shaking.

Reign yelled out for you as you creeped up to Penelopes bedroom window to see what the noise was. In the middle of the street, you could see your father...well, Batman. Robin's unintelligible yelling could be heard, but you couldn't see him, that is until he popped up right in front of you, suprise evident on his masked face as he realized who you were.

Reign and Penelope retreated further into the apartment to try and distance themselves from the noises coming from outside, screaming your name as they tried to get you to follow them.You fought with yourself on whether you should go help or not. On one hand, you were a trained assassin. On the other hand, you were a random Gotham civilian.

Your legs moved faster than your brain as you ran out of Penelopes apartment, running down the flights of stairs rather than taking the probably non working elevator. Stopping your movements once outside you gazed into the street, watching as Batman tries to talk to a boy around your age. Robin is creeping up behind him, a thick type of collar in his hands as he attempts to get close to the boy. A hand landing on your arm alerted you, causing your reflexes to move faster than your brain. Your movements falter as you recognize the man, Red Robin, Tim, your brother.

"Get inside Y/N." He says in a stern tone that's still laced with concern.

"But-" you try to argue with him.

"Y/N!" You could tell by the slight whine in his voice that he's wasn't telling you he's begging you. You nod before turning to look at your father one more time, instinctively your gaze moved to the boy he was talking to. Your eyes trailed down to the boys hand. It flexed as if he was going to shoot something out of it. Looking back up at his face, you could see his eyes dart to the side, trying to see Robin, as if he knew he was there. He must have heard Robin because his hands shot up towards Batman, your legs ran towards your father, attempting to push him out of the way. Whatever invisible force the boy shot at Batman was now colliding with you, sending you flying into the brick wall of a building. A jolt of pain overtook your body, and the air was knocked out of your lungs, making you gasp. Each breath only filled you with agony. Your eyes drooped as you watched a fugure run towards you, cupping your face as it finally got by your side. You attempted to keep your eyes open for longer, but being able to hold them got harder by the second, a muffled voice came out from beside you, yelling out at the men in the street then whispering to you.

"Y/N, please stay awake!" The muffled voice pleaded as they watched your eyes close, darkness engulfed your vision, and ringing in your ears started as you passed out.

~☆~

Your eyes slowly peeled open as you awoke, the bright light above you made it hard. A hand grabbed your arm as you finally got your eyes open, coming face to face with the same green eyes you had hardly seen before passing out. Damian's voice slowly filled your ears as he attempted to tell you where you were, you knew exactly where you were. Tucked into the corner of the Batcave, in the little makeshift hospital room that was added on for moments like this.

Your body attempted to sit up much against Damian's protests. However, you didn't make it far because the pain overtook your ribs. Damian tried to coax you into laying back down, but you continued to try and get off of the bootleg hospital bed, Damian's hands snaked around your abdomen as your feet touched the ground.

"Where is he?" You croaked out, trying to find out if the boy was okay.

"Absolutely not." Damian stated, already knowing that you were going to try and talk to the boy. Tim came around the corner, still in his Red Robin gear.

"He's out here." He whispered as he took you from Damian's hold.

Walking further into the batcave you spot a giant clear box, the boy from earlier inside of it, with the collar Damian held in the street around his neck. Tim held you up before you swatted his arms off of you, leaning against the cage that the boy was in. Tim guided Bruce away from the two of you, sensing that you wanted to be alone for the moment.

As you heard their footsteps get further away you finally looked at the boy, his dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at the floor.

"Hello." You whispered, trying to grab his attention. His head shot up as he stared at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at your hunched body.

"I-im so sorry." He whimpered out, seemingly trying not to cry as he looked at you with banages around your torso. You let a gust of air out of your nose as you chuckled, trying to lighten up the situation with a laugh.

"You were scared." You smiled at him "You were scared, right?"

He looked back down at the floor, picking at his fingers before nodding his head.

"Whats your name?" You asked, his head once again shot up to look at you, confused as to why you were standing here asking for his name after he threw you into a building.

"Arkin...kinda like Arkham." He whispered.

"Hello Arkin, I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself, smiling even wider, causing Arkin to quickly look back at the ground.

"They're gonna take me away." He whispered again, breaking the silence that had taken over the cave.

"I know, but I'll make sure you're okay." Arkins head slowly rose back up to look at you, blush evident on his cheeks. A shy smile crossed his lips before quickly falling again as Red Hood stormed into the cave.

"GET AWAY FROM THEM!" He yelled at the boy, talking about how Arkin was right in front of you now, rather than huddled in the corner of the cage. Jason was obviously seething with rage as he grabbed you from behind and pushed himself in front of you, pointing a gun at the clear material that kept Arkin separate from you. You were about to try and calm Jason down before your father and other brothers stepped in to help.

"Hood, please calm down." Batman tried to coax Jason.

"CALM DOWN? HE HURT Y/N!" Red Hood yelled.

"Guys please stop!" You yelled out, only your words fell onto deaf ears.

"I'm siding with Hood, you should be seething father." Damian calmly spoke, not caring that Arkin heard him call Batman 'father'.

"Please, he was scared!" You tried to reason, Tim nodded along with you, trying to signifythat he's on your side no matter what.

"I SHOULD PUT A BULLET IN HIS HEAD!" Red Hood screamed, pulling his gun back up to the box, obviously it meant nothing, the material that held Arkin was made to stop meta-humans, no bullet could peirce through it.

"JASON, ENOUGH!" Bruce yelled, making everyone stare at him.

"IM PISSED BELIEVE ME, BUT HE IS A CHILD!" Bruce yelled again.

Everyone stared at Bruce with looks of shock, Jason lowered his gun before looking away, jaw clenching as he thought of what to say. He turned to look at you before pushing against Bruce and heading up to the Manor. Bruce let put a sigh as he turned to look at Tim and Damian. Your eyes landed on Arkin, who had tears streaming down him face.

"Take Y/N upstairs." Bruce whispered, turning to look at Arkin himself.

~☆~

The two boys held you around your waist and shoulders as they held you up in the hidden elevator that the batcave had, Damian eyes never once left your face. The doors opened, displaying the luxurious Manor, Alfred was already waiting for the three of you to arrive. He tried to take you from both of the boys' arms only to earn a glare from Damian.

Tim stepped away as Alfred took his place at your side, walking you upstairs to your room.

~☆~

Alfred lightly layed you in bed, Damian just stood watching your aching body try to stay awake. Even though you had just awoke from being knocked out, you still had the desire to sleep for the rest of your life. Alfred made sure that the pillows were layed to your liking and you were tucked in comfortably before pressing a kiss to your forehead and walking back downstairs.

"Go take a shower." You told Damian who hadn't left the room yet, his Robin costume still clinging to his skin. The boy stood watching you a little longer before finally leaving you to your slumber.

~☆~

When you awoke, there was a body next to you, petting your hair with their hand. You breathed in, seeing if you could uncover who it was without opening your eyes. Gunpowder was the first thing you smelled. It was strong, masking the other scents that clung to the body. Tobacco, leather, slight scent of lavender, and the smell that sticks to the room after you've baked.

"Jason?" You croaked out, trying to see if your guess was right.

"Yeah kid, it's me." He whispered, still playing with your hair.

Your eyes opened, finally revealing the man beside you. He wasn't in his full Red Hood gear like he was earlier. He lacked both masks, and his jacket was discarded, along with his shoes. His hand that wasn't toying with your hair lifted up to point at your nightstand, well, the book that layed upon it. It was the same green book that Jason had read and given to you when you met him, the one that had its name rubbed off and the spine falling apart.

"What did you think?" He asked with genuine interest.

"I didn't really take you as a romance type of guy." You teased him, both of you let out a chuckle at your comment.

"It was good though, i liked the part where Madelyn punched that one guy." You confessed. Jason stared down at you with a smile on his face, watching as you went into more detail about the book, but were cut short when you tried getting out of bed.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, sitting up himself.

"I want to go see Arkin." You told him, Jason only furrowed his brows.

"Who?" He asked you, you only looked back at him with wide eyes.

"I...I need to go down to the Batcave." You whispered, turning away from Jason and standing up.

"No!" Jason almost yelled as he walked around the bed, trying to get you to sit back down. "Absolutely not, Y/N." He said sternly.

"Jason, please." You whined, looking up into his eyes.

"He hurt you!" Jason tried to reason, holding you tighter as you tried to escape him.

"Jason he's scared." You whined again, still trying to get out of his grasp.

"Y/N, No!"

"BRUCE!" You yelled out, hoping that he would barge in and help you. Jason's grasp on your arms loosened as you yelled out for your father, giving you and opportunity to get out of your room. As you walked down the hallway you passed Bruce, who was seemingly heading to where you called him, your hand raised as you pointed to your room, where Jason still stood, hoping that Bruce could talk to him.

~☆~

You walked down into the batcave, wanting to bid goodbye to Arkin before he was sent off to God knows where. Damian however was already stood infront of the cage that Arkin layed in, seemingly asleep.

"Go back upstairs Y/N." Damian spoke, already knowing it was you who was walking up to him.

"I wanted to see him." You whispered, the way you were hunched over put you at the perfect level to look into Damian's eyes. The boy next to you let out a sigh as he let his eyes land on you, his body still facing the cage.

Damian and you stood there until Arkin started to stir, that was enough to make Damian walk off, back to the Manor.

"Y/N?" Arkin croaked as he caught sight of you.

"Hey..." You whispered to him.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"Um, I have water." You mentioned, opening the lock that opened a little window for things to be placed in. Arkin watched you, expecting you to place the bottle into the cage and close the window back up. His eyes widened as you didn't let go of the bottle, a small smile stretched on your lips as you waved your hand a bit, giving him a go-ahead to grab the water. Arkin slowly scooted forward, reaching an arm out. Your fingers lightly touched each other before Arkin quickly retracted his hand.

"I'm sorry." He whined, retreating further into the cage, distancing himself from you.

"Hey, you're okay, Arkin." You smiled at him, lightly placing the bottle on the ground. Arkin's lips slightly raised at the corners as he listened to you. The boy in front of you grabbed the bottle, downing the water inside, his eyes stayed locked on your own as you watched him. The door to the little window stayed open as you and Arkin sat in silence. You knew you were gonna have to talk to Bruce about staying in contact with the boy in front of you.

~☆~

As you made your way back up to the Manor, you decided that it was probably best if you call Reign, knowing he'd still be with Penelope. Your disappearing act probably wasn't the best thing you should've done to them. The phone only rang twice before it was immediately picked up.

"Hey are you guys okay?" You questioned, hoping that they would say yes.

"Are we okay?!" Reign yelled "Y/N, you're the one that ran out there and didn't come back!" He exclaimed, still speaking loudly.

"I'm fi-" You started before being cut off.

"Y/N, BABY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Penelopes voice yelled, desperate to hear from you.

You let out a little chuckle before talking about how they shouldn't wory, you're back at home and taken care of.

The three of you talked until the elevator doors opened and you walked into an empty room of the Manor. After bidding goodbye, you walked into the living area of the house that was surprisingly empty. You would've figured that at least someone would've been in there.

You plopped down on one of the couches, allowing your aching body to relax from your standing. Almost immediately, Ace ran into the room, jumping up to your side and resting his head on your thigh. Dick came running into the room after him, yelling out your name and settling on the other side of you, hugging your head in between his arms. You let out a groan as your ribs started hurting from the way your body leaned into Dick. He immediately let go of you and rested his head on your shoulder. Tim walked into the living room after hearing a commotion, Ace jumped from the couch and onto the floor, next to your feet.

"You feeling okay?" Tim asked as he sat beside you. You let out a tight smile and nodded your head yes. Your body was tense because of both of the men resting their heads on you. Physical contact was still something you were getting used to.

~☆~

Bruce and Alfred walked into the living room side by side, but stopped in their tracks as they caught sight of the three of you on the couch.

Dick, Tim, and yourself were passed out cold, leaning on one another for support. Alfred retrieved a blanket to place over the three of you, whilst Bruce watched with a smile on his lips.

~☆~

Yes, the name Arkin is taken from Arkin O'Brian... I like both of those movies.....<3

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[cas-kingdom]

I think

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!” And “I swear, it’s the truth!”

Would be really funny with Chicago Fire if you’d be so kind 🥰🥰🥰

Matt Casey liked to think that every return he made back to Chicago was a breath of fresh air. Not that looking after the boys was difficult and he didn't enjoy it, but a reminder of his old life was often exactly what he needed in his new one. Of course, seeing you was the primary reason he came home, but his 51 family was more than a bonus.

Matt had decided to make for the station before the hotel. There were only a couple hours left of shift and he was ready for the placid atmosphere typical after twenty-two hours already on the job.

“I didn’t know they were weed brownies!"

The bounce in his step waned slightly as he let the door shut behind him. He could tell his sister's voice from a mile away, but the tone of it was one he wasn't used to.

"I swear, it’s the truth. These little kids were selling them, I thought they were sweet kids—they seriously looked like sweet kids."

“I, yeah—" There was a snort of laughter. Sylvie. "We believe you, Y/N.”

"Don’t doubt it, girl!" Stella sounded as enthusiastic as possible, but that same hint of amusement was evident in her voice.

Matt couldn't help his concern, quickening his pace and rounding the engine truck. The ambulance back doors were open, and you were sat at the edge, terror written all over your face. Stella was sat on her haunches in front of you, hands on your knees. Sylvie was on one side, a blood pressure monitor in her hands, and Violet was rummaging through a bag on the other.

Your wide eyes—wide, groggy eyes—met his the moment he made himself visible.

“Matty!” You made to jump up, but the girls stopped you before you could, blurting all kinds about slowing down and blood and heart.

Matt could tell you were on the verge of tears, could see the quivering of your lips and the watering of your already watering eyes. Quickly, he dropped his bag on the floor and rushed across to envelop you in a hug, cupping the back of your head to his chest. "Hey, there," he said. He met Stella's eyes, the captain having stood up, and mouthed a "what happened?" over your head.

Stella mouthed a simple "brownies" back, as though that answered the question perfectly. Luckily, you helped out.

“Matt, I took drugs," you spoke quietly. Matt's frown deepened.

The girls jumped to attention. "Not on purpose!" Sylvie said.

"Not on purpose," Stella confirmed. "Some douche was giving his kids weed brownies to sell outside his garage. Either that or someone got their recipes seriously mixed up. Boden’s sent CPD down there.”

You twirled a lock of your brother's hair around a finger, still clinging to him. “CPD’s gonna beat someone's ass," you said pointedly, "I paid eight dollars for those brownies.”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, Y/N, how many did you eat again?”

“Four.” Your voice was muffled, yiur face buried in Matt's chest, but everyone heard it.

Sylvie. "Rough."

"They were so good," you said.

There was a general silence, something concern probably should have filled, but after a moment the amusement of the situation set in, and smiles broke out.

"Can I assume she's gonna be fine?" Matt asked. He gently pulled away from you and guided you to sit back down on the truck.

Sylvie nodded, crossing her arms. "She's got an elevated heart rate and she'll be loopy for a bit longer but yeah, she'll be okay."

"What if the kids come after me?" You let your head drop against Matt's shoulder.

"What's that, sweetheart?" Matt asked.

"What if the brownie kids come back because I sent the cops on them?"

Sylvie put a fist to her mouth

"That's not gonna happen," Matt assured you, "don't worry."

Stella clapped her hands together after Kylie's voice asking for her echoed throughout the station. "Okay, crazy, I'm gonna take you off duty for the rest of shift, okay?"

You face fell. "Oh, but—can I still stay at the firehouse?"

"Probably best," Stella agreed.

Matt stood up. "Hey, Lieutenant, you need someone to fill in?"

Stella grinned, pointing a finger towards him as she backed out of the room. "Luckily for you, ex-Lieutenant, a spot just opened up. Go get a drink, Y/N, and stay where we can keep an eye on you. Hey, hey, Hermann, can you escort her into the common room? Don't leave her."

Hermann, who'd been passing by with an apple in hand, didn't have much of a choice as Matt passed his sister onto him with a kiss to your hot forehead before running off to change. Hermann took your arm in his when you went to fall.

"The hell's up with you? You sick?"

"I took drugs."

"What?"

Chicago Fire Masterpost

[dianesdiaries]

scorched earth| Homelander x Y/N

Synopsis/AU;Homelander becomes a madman after Vought decides they have the better facilities of taking care of Ryan, realizing the pain and abandonment he went through Ryan would believe his dad left him to face. In a fitted rage, he destroys the Vought building one by one, taking a life every minute it takes to return his boy. Y/N is assigned to the special forces team responsible for 'cleaning up his mess', and ensuring that nobody gets hurt. By the time special units have reached the building, Homeland's already taken a liking to toppling down dominoes.

TW: lots of violence in this one! I didn't really know what to write but I thought it would be a cool idea to see homelander go cray cray again lol

NOTE: this is short but I feel like would make a rlly good part 2 lmk!

I searched the premises top to bottom, looking for any signs of imperfections left behind in his massacre. God knows what he had in store for the rest of the world, and not one person has a single clue what could've led to this trajectory. I watched as bright stars peaked in the sky, cameras and vans swarming the building like bees to a nest. My gun slinged along my arm as I slowly watched the stars get closer, and closer..

It was bodies.

The sound of bones mushing into pavement made my stomach hurl. But when it rains, it pours. Dozens of civilians began falling from the sky, bouncing off the concrete in sync to the sounds of blood curling screams arising amongst viewers. I know, I was assigned to special forces for a reason. But he's lost his damn mind.

"All units, Move in! NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW! I SEE ONE MORE BODY DROPS ITS GONNA BE YOU!" The chief demanded, his coffee splattered across his long tattered coat in a fuel of rage. Hoisting into gear, I took one last look at the pain behind me. News vans scampered back and forth across the roads looking for a way out, avoiding the bloody trouble Homelander had flung into their direction. But something was wrong. I began to sweat, and it didn't stop. Drops of water began covering into my helmet vision, tactical gear cooking my body as the temperature increased. Metal scraping against brick made my ears squeal, quickly retreating into the building for safety. Red lasers danced across the city scape, quickly sawing whatever came into its way.

The building couldn't be any more worst than outside. Scarlet red painted the walls like an artists' touch, the main floor wiped of human life. I was assigned no other job but to simply talk to him, my guys in route watching closely as we made our way to the elevator. Quickly, I swiped my feet at the feeling of someone's touch, backing away in terror. There lay A-Train, who once was the world's fastest man quickly turned to nothing but broken bones. He crawled gently towards my ankle, pleading with his eyes as he winced in pain. "Send a paramedic team in, now. He's still got time" I demanded, the group of SWAT enforced men looked at me puzzled. "You're going up there, alone?..." one brave suit asked, I couldn't see his face but his tone ensured everyone was equally as terrified. I could see right through the supes facade, Homelander didn't scare me not one bit. I nodded my head in approval, the boys quickly sweeping to A-Train's rescue as they steadily carried the poor runner out of the building. I stared at the hopeless elevator entrance ding open, inhaling deeply as the doors closed behind me. Soft elevator music hummed in my ear, steadying my heart beat to a soft thump. I had to be prepared for the worst of it all, he could cut me into two pieces by the time the door opened and nobody would know until it was too late.

39,40...41.....42..........42.....

The elevator came to a holt, its bright led numbers flickering as the music came to a stop. My feet jolted below me, holding steadily to the railing as I waited in silence. He knew I was here. He knew someone was coming. My heart roared through my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, what the fuck was I thinking taking this job?

distress fled into my body, watching the doors pry open to the grip of ruby-red gloves. I fled to the ground, covering my head with my heads, watching the door opening wider. And wider. His cold distilled blue eyes emerged from the peak, analyzing me through the small crack. Homelander demanded, "Take off the helmet and let me see your face", watching my hands unravel from fetal position as my breath quivered. Slowly emerging from my helmet, I took the might of speaking up. "Homelander, I know your stressed... I'm not sure what happened, but.. we can work through this-". In the blink of an eye, the metal doors tore as gracefully as paper, falling into the ever abyss of the metropolitan below. My pupils constricted at the sight of him, his face was dim in expression and yet said so many things. His once "all American dream" blue suit covered in the blood of his coworker's, his hair a frilled mess, mania scampered in his eyes to the sound of his laughs. The dazed man grabbed my neck in a grip, and pulled me towards the gravel of the roof. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach, watching him edge closer and closer to the end of the building. "Homelander, wait.. Homelander please d-don't do this! Listen, okay? I'm Y/N, now you know me. Just tell me what happened, I'll listen!", pleading for my life as my gear scraped across the floor. The crazed supe held my head against the edge, a thousand feet of death kissing my eyes in return.

"They took my son. Away from me. My son is gone. you're going to tell me where he is. Or you can go say hi to your friends for me" he said, my hands pushed in denial as I screamed at the force of his body swinging me back and forth. "Where is Ryan! Goddamnit-where is he!" Homelander roared, his eyes holding threat in a bright neon red, I could feel my life draining from me in the moment. I had to think quick. I could keep my job, and do as I'm told. Or, I could save my life. I could do what I was good at. What Butcher taught me best. Rationalizing.

"Listen- look, okay? I can help you find Ryan, but you got to let me go! Without me, not a single fucking person at Vought would tell you his whereabouts. Besides, what they did to you.. Could be happening to him as we speak. Y-You want that?", my words could be playing with fire. But I had to give it a shot. Homelander laughed in mockery of my bravery, hastily letting go of me as he clapped and laughed in rejoice. The man's madness made me sick to my core. I could feel fresh acid forming like a lump in my throat, but I had to keep composure. I couldn't show I was scared. He would kill me without hesitation. He paced back and forth in thought of my offer, hands on his hips as I tried to catch my breath and pushed up against a corner of the roof. The screams from below echoed like the gates of hell, I could tell it was riling him up. "I have an idea, but.. We need to do it my way. You understand? No diverting, no nothing" I exclaimed, he looked across at me as blood dripped off his icy blonde tips stained a muck brown. "We leave. Now. Before they find out you were responsible for this, we can pinpoint it on another supe and you get Ryan back. Homelander- if this gets on the news...", I carefully stared back into his cold gaze, gulping at the words stuck in my throat. "You might not ever see Ryan again if Vought finds out you did this" I said.

The supe almost took that as a challenge, raising his eyebrow at my comment. "Really? And what makes you think I'll listen to you?" he chuckled, approaching slowly as I backed my heels into the ground. He towered carelessly over me, crouching low to meet my gaze. The smell of death reeked off his clothes, his teeth blinked brighter than the sky filled with mourning souls. Without thinking, the man lifted me carefully and began to back away from the building, I could feel our bodies lift off the ground and up towards the clouds. It calmed me, to know that I was able to do something perfectly for once. The one moment that could've possibly ruined my entire life, I saved myself. But I couldn't save the others

"Before we go.. You want to see something cool? I've been meaning to do this for a while" he chuckled, stopping in position as we levitated above the downtown metropolitan. The feeling of course hot beams almost burned through my suit, as I watched the Vought building explode into an array of flames. The building's base was untouched, Homelander squealed in laughter watching people rush onto the streets like ants. "They had what was fucking coming for them. And they knew it. Nobody to blame but themselves, right Y/N? I mean, you have to agree. We're friends now. And you!-You Are going to get me my boy back", his head shook vigorously as if he agreed with his own sentence, looking at me for the approval of his message. I understood that he was setting me up, but two can play that game. "We need to see Butcher. Now. He'll know what to do" I explained, my eyes refused to watch the city below. I had nowhere to look but right into his eyes. And I prayed that he could feel the hatred feeling through my body. Effortlessly, the dazed supe began to track throughout the clouds, elevating so the bare naked eye could barely see us through the cotton-field of clouds.

[eviesaurusrex]

“ᴍʏ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴏɴꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ.” | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

summary: Bucky’s girl has to get her wisdom teeth removed, and he would go to all lengths to protect her from that experience—but he has to deal with the aftermath and takes care of her in the best possible ways.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of blood and surgical environment, mentions of pain and panic, Bucky being overprotective, mentions of his nightmares/night terrors, mentions of teeth removal, but overall more fluff than angst!

author’s note: This is entirely self-indulgence on my behalf bc I got mine removed on Tuesday, and it was probably the scariest experience I ever had in a doctor’s office. So, I need to imagine Bucky would be there and worry about me and take care of me.

;

He sat in the hallway, forearms resting on his knees, of which one bounced rapidly to ease the need to jump up and walk straight into that room. Steve was right next to him—Bucky suspected that YN had asked him to sit down with him, just in case—and he was thankful for his best friend’s company because the sounds he could pick up in the distance almost drove him mad.

Bucky knew that Steve probably heard them more clearly, but the faint sounds were already enough for him to want to jump up and save his girl from the excruciating fear she now had to face in there. She sounded like an injured and scared animal, and he could hear her sobs traveling to his ears—it reminded him so much of the sounds he woke himself with night after night, the panic all-consuming, and only her tender touches could pull him back out of the memories. Listening to YN making those exact same noises almost broke his heart to a million pieces.

“Why can’t they just put her under,” he mumbled angrily, hands pushing through his now short hair, which YN had cut for him during a sunny but lazy Saturday morning. Steve softly patted his shoulder. “You know her body would burn through the anesthesia faster than they could work, and they can’t use the stuff Bruce developed because she tends to get high blood pressure from it.” Steve tried everything to get through to Bucky, to console him, to make him understand that this was the only option—and that everything would be alright. “She will push through it. They gave her something to calm down, and she doesn’t feel any pain.” His words seemed like a joke as another sobbing moan was heard by the two super soldiers. “Doesn’t sound like it,” Bucky mumbled, face buried in his hands.

The blonde man sighed deeply before speaking up again. “Friday?” The AI instantly woke to life. “Yes, Captain Rogers?” He threw a look at his friend before asking the question. “How is YN holding up in there?” They had to wait a few seconds before Friday spoke again. “Agent LN‘s blood pressure is slightly elevated, but Doctor Hilton just said they would be done in only a couple of minutes. The last tooth is rotated, and he needs a bit longer to remove it than he did for the previous three. I will notify you when they are done.”

Bucky slumped back against the wall behind him, releasing the held breath in a deep sigh, but still continued the wringing of his hands. The wiring sound of his metal arm increased as he raked his metal fingers through his hair once more, his eyes closed and dark brows furrowed. At least he didn’t hear the pained moan coming from his girlfriend anymore, but he still could make out her soft crying.

The following minutes passed as slowly as eternity probably would feel before Friday announced that the procedure was finished and the last stitch was made. Neither Steve nor the nurses who worked in the medbay of the compound could stop the brunette soldier as he jumped off the too-small chair and rushed through the hallway. He didn’t even bother to check if he was allowed to enter the sterile surgical room; instead, he just stalked in there, throwing everyone a dark look, before hurrying himself over to YN, who still rested on the horizontal chair, eyes red and puffy from all the crying, tears still running down her already slightly swollen cheeks.

“Oh, YNN,” he whispered gently and softly, prying open her cramped fingers, which held tensely onto each other. He took her hand in his, pressed it against his chest, and leaned down to pepper her forehead in soft kisses, not wanting to risk hurting her if he dared to kiss her cheeks. “You did so well, doll. So, so well,” he continued his whispered praises and brushed the salty tears off her cheeks and from underneath her eyes with a feather-like touch of his thumb. She looked up at him, tears still clearly visible in her watery eyes, and another sob escaped her throat. But suddenly, she choked on it, and a bit of blood escaped her lips as she coughed, which Bucky was fast to dab from there with the towel laying on the surgical tray right next to her.

“There. All gone.” He smiled down at her, and YN stretched her arms out to him, desperation and the remnants of panic and fear on her still pretty face, and he softly pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the chair. “Make sure she lays upright for the first couple of days,” the surgeon says after Bucky has turned with her securely in his arms. “Cooling is essential, so start with it right away. When her cheeks swell up, you can do lymphatic drainage—Friday has the instructions. Check-up is tomorrow, and we will remove the stitches a week from now.“ The soldier nodded after every point made. “The painkillers and the antibiotics are in this bag, along with some instructions concerning her nutrition for the upcoming days, but Friday also generated a meal plan.” Again, another nod from Bucky while YN just clung to him. “She did really good,” Hilton smiled at last and released the couple.

Bucky carried her out of the room and let Steve accompany them on their way upwards onto the living floor. YN threw the blonde a thankful look before opening her mouth slightly. “Thanks, Stevie.” It was only a mumble, almost incomprehensible due to the cotton pads between her teeth and the still working local anesthetic, numbing her entire mouth, including her tongue, but Steve understood her nonetheless. “Everything for my sister-in-mind,” he returned with a soft smile and gently rubbed over her back. “Get some rest, cupcake.” She nodded at his words before snuggling her head back onto Bucky’s shoulder while Steve walked off and left them at the door to their shared bedroom.

“How is the pain, doll?” YN shrugged at that, clinging to him as he tried to put her on the bed and wanting to leave her alone. “Dongo,” she mumbled, and the soldier smiled down at her, crouching in front of the sitting woman. “Was never my intention, pretty girl. Just wanted to get your shoes off. Do you want some fluffy socks? One of my Henleys?” She nodded at both with brightening eyes, and Bucky smiled again before softly kissing the crown of her head, a hand gently combing through her hair. “Be right back, darling.” And he held his word, returning with her favorite pair of fluffy socks—the ones with candy canes and reindeer—and her favorite Henley—the dark red one. He helped her into both, always careful not to touch her cheeks.

He moved her into the middle of the enormous bed, propping her up with the pillows lying around and tucking her in. “Gonna do a quick run to the kitchen to get you those cooling packs, doll. Need anything else?” She shook her head and watched him as he left and even stared at the door when he returned only minutes later—arms filled with all kinds of stuff.

YN raised both brows in silent question after Bucky had neatly piled everything on top of the bedside table and tried to figure out how he could attach the cooling packs to her face. He would hold them day and night, but the soldier was sure that his girlfriend wouldn’t be fond of that suggestion. “Don’t give me that look, doll. Y’know, I can’t let you starve or dehydrate. Nat gave me those drink meals? And Tony found some of those squeeze puree bags Peter used when he got his removed. I don’t know; it says something about banana and strawberry flavor, and that sounded quite good, didn’t it? Oh, and I got you lots of water, and Wanda will bring some tea later. She said it would be antibacterial? S’supposed to help with the healing and—…” He rambled without pause, and YN gently pressed her pointer finger onto his lips and let him shut up. “Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin with a bashful smile.

“Give me those.” YN took the cooling packs out of his restless, moving hands and pointed to their shared closet. “Could you bring me a scarf?” Bucky was up and on the other side of the room within a blink of an eye and held three options over his head, a questioning expression in his eyes. “Which one?” YN smiled softly and slightly shook her head. “Doesn’t matter, silly,” she told him, but Bucky still treated the decision like the most important one on this day. “I think we should go with the grey one. It’s soft enough for your skin, it’s not too expensive to be crying over it when you ruin it, and it’s big enough for whatever you might wanna do to it,” he finally decided and brought it to her before plopping down next to YN and watching her in her doings.

She folded it in half lengthwise and put the two cooling packs in the middle before wrapping them in the fabric. Then, she lifted the now-heavy scarf and started to make a knot on the top of her head—the section with the packs now tightly resting around her chin and cheeks. Bucky stared in awe at her inventing mind, and a chuckle escaped him after YN had turned her head to face him. “You look like a little bunny. Or that one Disney character with the long ears.” YN giggled at that. “You mean Goofy?” He nodded with a grin before pulling her close to his body.

“How is the pain? Do you need some of those painkillers?” He had to make sure that it didn’t get worse while he was gone. And he was glad he asked because she nodded slowly, almost shyly. “Yeah… Think the anesthetic is wearing off,” the agent mumbled, and he was quick to get the package from the bag and one of the water bottles he had brought. “There you go,” he mumbled after carefully removing the blood-drenched cotton pads from her mouth, and she had thrown one in and emptied the bottle halfway. “Don’t have to feel embarrassed, love. Just tell me if you need another one, yeah? You don’t have to suffer only because you think you have to.” YN nodded gently and leaned her head heavily on his shoulder.

“I was so scared in there,” she finally dared to whisper and felt his hold around her tighten. “I know, love. Heard you through that entire hallway. It broke my heart not to be able to protect you from that. But you did so, so well. My brave girl,” the usually grumpy super soldier mumbled into her soft hair, pressing several kisses to her temple. “Sorry for worrying you. And scaring you. I just… just couldn’t stop the tears and the sounds because it hurt so bad but didn’t hurt at the same time because everything was numb, but my jaw…” The memory of the feeling when a tooth was pulled out alone made her nauseous again, not to mention the sickening sound when the surgeon had to crack one of her teeth in order to get it out of her damn jaw.

Bucky held her even closer at that and hummed softly. “It’s over now, love. And stop apologizing, hm? It’s my responsibility to worry myself to death when it comes to you. You’re my everything, YNN. It’s natural for me to worry about’ya.” She looked up at him and accepted the incoming forehead kiss with tiredly closing eyes, finally feeling comforted and loved and safe again. “But y’don’t have to hang here the entire week. I know you have missions and the evaluation of the recruits, and—…” Now it was Bucky’s turn to tenderly lay a finger to her lips and urge her to look up at him again. “Did you really think for a second I’d leave you all to yourself? To let you look after yourself alone? Silly woman,” he grinned and pecked the tip of her nose with a soft kiss. “You’re my responsibility, doll. So it’s my responsibility to take care of you this entire week. Haven’t had so much time with you in weeks, so I’m very willing to stay right here where I am.”

YN blinked slowly, comprehending his words, and sniffled a bit as tears tried to rise in her eyes. “You really stay here?” She couldn’t understand the luck she had to have Bucky at her side. But his nod showed her that he meant it. “You can bet on it. You will be so sick of me after these seven days,” he chuckled and let her cuddle tightly into his chest. “Not possible,” she whispered, and within a few seconds, Bucky felt her body getting heavier in his arms and all he did was hold her while she slept off the adrenaline and panic from earlier.

;

As already mentioned, this was entirely selfish to write because I really needed that. But still, I hope y’all enjoyed it at least a bit :3 As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

taglist: @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @nyctophilic0vitnir

[marble-anime]

Toxic Fan Culture

Pairing: Isaac Foster x Reader

Summary: The infamous serial killer, Isaac Foster, meets someone akin to a fan that would love nothing more than to please their idol.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, blowjob, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie

Word Count: 2.4k

You’ve been down here for days. Weeks? Maybe even months. You weren’t sure. Not getting a beam of sunlight or a breath of fresh air made the days blur together. You didn’t mind though. As long as you were with him it didn’t bother you. You’d heard of him before, everyone had. The rumors of the laughing reaper spread like wildfire. The infamous Isaac Foster. It came as a shock to everyone when the killings ceased, it seemed like he had just up and vanished. Who would’ve thought that all this time he was hiding in the basement of a chapel?

You always wondered what happened to him. You’d walk down dark sketchy alleyways just to see if he’d pop out and grab you. Ever since you were a child you knew to keep your morbid fascinations to yourself. Having been on the receiving end of many distasteful stares as you shared your analyses about different serial killers and what went on in their minds. That paired with your constant, abnormal, state of arousal branded you as a ‘freak’.

Personally, you thought you were completely normal. After all, you’d been this way for as long as you could remember. What else were you supposed to think? Perhaps you watched one too many horror movies as a kid. Or maybe you were just born with a few screws loose. The only downside was that he found you as off-putting and disturbing as everyone else did.

Zack thought you were insane. Normally the sacrifices were terrified from the moment they stepped a foot onto his floor. And rightfully so, being abducted and waking up in an elevator lowering down to a basement that looked like an escape room brought to life.

You were the one exception. Either you were good at hiding your terror or you truly weren’t afraid in the slightest, waltzing out of the elevator as calm and collected as you could be. But that was about to change.

Unbeknownst to you he’d been stalking you as you made your way through his killing grounds, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. He quickly grew bored of your blank face and hid inside a boarded-up alleyway, listening to the sound of your footsteps getting louder the closer you got. When he heard you on the other side he swung his scythe. Cutting through the boards and almost killing you right then and there.

Your eyes were wide, mouth agape, as you watched the bandaged monster step out of the alley, wooden shards crunching beneath his boots. It was the way he psychotically laughed at your shocked expression that tipped you off.

In your starstruck daze, you reached out to touch him, asking, “You’re Isaac Foster right?”

He pushed you away, suddenly being reminded of an encounter he had similar to this one. A woman reaching out a shaky hand, trying to seduce him into letting her go. Her facade crumbled to dust immediately when he rejected her advances. Although being lied to left a sour taste in his mouth, he couldn’t deny how gratifying it was to cut her up into pieces. And soon your body would be sliced open as you cry and scream for him to stop just like she did.

“I’ll give you till the count of three to run,” he started his usual spiel, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “One.” You just stared at him. Poor thing, he thought sadistically, you must be frozen in fear. “Two.” He raised his scythe. “Three.” You were hit by a gust of wind as the blade cut through the air, stopping only millimeters away from your neck.

“Huh?” His excitement vanished, replaced by confusion. “Why the hell aren’t you runnin’?”

“Hey.” Your fingers grazed the blade, lowering it from your neck as you stared at the man in front of you in awe, “How long have you been hiding down here? And what exactly is this place? Are there more serial killers in this building or just you?”

Frustrated by your curiosity, he threatened to hurt you. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t deter you from asking him anything and everything you could think of. His first instinct was to kill you, especially with that giddy look on your face, but the way you looked at him gave him the creeps.

So he ended up letting you live. It was the same old song and dance every day since then. He would distance himself from you while you constantly pursued him, sometimes even romantically. God, the thought made him want to vomit. How sick in the head were you to want to have a fling with a literal serial killer? Regardless, he had to get rid of you soon or he was gonna lose his mind even more than he already had.

He was lounging on the couch in his room, trying to get some rest when he heard the door open. He groaned, “What now?”

When you didn’t answer he turned his head to look at you. His body went stiff at the sight of you. You hid behind the doorway as you peeked inside the room. Your body was trembling, short breaths escaping your parted lips. You looked terrified. You gasped as your eyes met his and you took off. Almost as if he was possessed, he quickly grabbed his scythe and ran after you.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, his laugh bouncing off the walls, as he chased you through his floor. You disappeared into the room at the end of the hall and closed the door behind you. Zack slammed his shoulder into the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges. He paused as he entered the room. You didn’t try to run or hide. You just stood there with that fearful expression, batting your eyelashes as you spoke, “Please don’t kill me, sir. I’ll do anything.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” As his head cleared, he realized what you were doing. He gripped the handle of his scythe in anger. “You were faking it?”

“It was the only way to get you to pay attention to me,” you said.

He was seething as you approached him. You shoved him, catching him off guard as his back hit the wall. “Hey!”

“You have a scythe,” you pointed out, pressing your body up against his. “You can stop me if you really want to.”

Zack’s eyes never left you as you leaned in to kiss his lips. He watched you for a moment, not moving a muscle. He didn’t know why he was letting this happen, anyone else would be a red splatter on the pavement. If it weren’t for his pride he might’ve been able to entertain the idea that maybe he enjoyed the way you looked at him. Your eyes filled with adoration like he was your idol, desperate for his attention. Even now, when you touched him you were as gentle as could be, not wanting to hurt him.

Lids fluttering shut, he began to move his lips against yours. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he kissed back. You hummed in contentment and stood on your toes. The kiss heated up quickly with both of you releasing your pent-up tension. He craned his neck, trying to keep up with you. His hood fell to his shoulders as you ran your hands through his hair. You gasped into each other's mouths for oxygen. He flinched away when he felt your tongue graze his lips.

Looking up at him, you could see the hint of arousal in his heterochromia eyes. Being desired by him made you feel like you were on top of the world. You dropped to your knees and began undoing his pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not bothering to stop you.

“Sucking your dick.” You pulled his pants down just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You teased, “Are you always hard when you kill or is this just for me?”

“Shut up,” he spat through gritted teeth as he anxiously awaited your next move.

You kissed from the base of his cock to the tip before taking it into your mouth. “Shit!” The loud clang of the scythe hitting the ground echoed through the room. He fought off a moan, your mouth felt so good. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand.

You felt him brush his fingers against your shoulder, not sure where to put his hands. You halted your movements and swirled your tongue around the tip as you grabbed his wrist. You placed his hand on the back of your head, helping him nudge you forward. He quickly picked up on what you were trying to tell him and pushed your head down his cock. He tried to get your lips all the way down to the base, relishing in the sound of you gagging on his dick.

“Fuck.” The tears pooling in your eyes as he violated your throat was doing more for him than it should have. You held eye contact with him as tears ran down your cheeks. You reached a hand up to grab his hip, trying to pull him towards you. He thrusted into your mouth, tangling his bandaged fingers in your hair to get better control of your head. You allowed him to go as fast as he wanted, taking all he had to give. Of course, with Zack being Zack, he set a brutal pace.

Saliva ran down your chin as he violently fucked your face, aggressive grunts and groans leaving his mouth. You gripped his thigh when he shoved his entire cock down your throat, breathing through your nose so you didn’t suffocate. You went to touch his balls but it wasn’t needed, the vibrations from you choking on his cock was enough. Both of his hands held you in place as his salty cum flooded your mouth.

You slurped it down and pulled off his cock, noticing that it was still hard. When you got back on your feet he beat you to the punch. With his hand cradling your face, he pulled you into a deep kiss that had your knees going weak. He lifted you by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss he walked back to his room and threw you down on the couch.

As you both quickly undressed he warned, “I’ve never really…”

“It’s fine.” You threw your clothes on the ground and stood up. “Just lay down and I’ll guide you through it.”

Zack laid on the couch, completely bare except for the bandages wrapped around his body, and you climbed on top of him. You grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip against your slick pussy. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

You slowly sunk down on his cock until every inch of his was inside you. The air left Zack’s lungs, his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy sucking him in. A stunned expression adorning his face, you asked, “You okay?”

He squirmed beneath you, adjusting to the new feeling. “It’s so warm.”

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest and rolling your hips. Zack tried to hold back from cumming right then. In an attempt to distract himself from your velvety walls massaging him, he teased you just as you had done to him, “Do you fuck all serial killers you come across or is it just me?”

Knowing what he was doing, you answered, “Just you,” and began to bounce on his cock. “Damn it.” He knew he wasn't going to last long. Throwing his head back, he tried not to watch your boobs bounce as you fucked yourself on his cock. But you weren’t gonna make it easy for him. “You wanna feel ‘em?” You placed his hand on your breast and, unable to resist, he groped and kneaded your boob. His other hand traced up your voluptuous curves, taking note of how soft your skin was compared to his burned flesh.

“Ah, Zack!” you moaned, reaching down to rub your clit. Your walls clenched around him as his hips bucked into you, hitting your sweet spot. “Keep doing that.”

His hands found their way to your waist, helping you rock back and form as he thrusted up into your warm, wet, cunt. “Just like that.” Feeling his cock twitch inside you and the growls that left his throat, you knew he was close. So you raced to get yourself to the edge before he reached it himself. But honestly, it wasn’t all that hard. As inexperienced as he was, he was still so fucking sexy. And the way he manhandled you earlier left your skin burning with desire.

“Harder.” His nails dug into your flesh, bracing you for what was to come. He pounded his cock into you, leaving you breathless as he used you for his own pleasure. Your moans became irregular and choked up at the feel of his erratic thrust hitting deep inside you. You gasped, body convulsing as your orgasm rippled through you. He gave you one last powerful thrust before emptying his balls deep inside you.

As he lowered his hips, you kept yourself steady by leaning your hands on his torso. “That was amazing.” Zack hummed in response, trying to catch his breath. He was shocked by your next words, “You wanna go another round?”

“You can’t wait five minutes before your tryin’ to bang me again?!” he asked, his cock was still sensitive from your previous activities.

“I just love sex,” you shrugged. “If you could kill people all day then wouldn’t you?”

“Duh,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well that's what it's like with me,” you explained, “just with sex instead of murder.”

He frowned at your flushed face as he contemplated it in his head. Damn you, he thought, you were still looking at him with that loving expression. Sighing, he said, “Give me ten minutes and we can go again.”

“Yay!” you cheered.

You grabbed a blanket that was hanging off of the armrest and used it to cover you both. Zack grimaced when you placed sweet kisses on his chest. “The hell are you doing that for?”

“I’m giving you affection.” You cuddled into him, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Gross.” He closed his eyes, letting you hold him close as you both rested. Maybe keeping you around for a while wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Do it again.”

[foolstower]

Comfort

(Sebastian(stardew valley) x fem!reader)

Comfort smut?? I got a little lost in the sauce with this one.

Your legs grew weaker as you ran. Shadow like creatures chased you endlessly through the tunnels of the cave. Your breath grew ragged, you felt like you had been running for hours. Unarmed and afraid, you thought you could keep going until you found an elevator. But they drew closer with every step. You could feel their claws lightly scratching the surface of your arms and legs before something managed to grab your ankle.

You fell and hit the ground hard. Looking back you saw the familiar face of a friend. His clawed hand gripped your leg tight, enough to bruise.

"Krobus? What's going on?" You rasped out. Still winded from the impact. He looked off, long claws almost punctured your skin, his usual friendly demeanor was long gone and when he spoke you couldn't help but notice his mouth full of sharp, rotten teeth.

"You should've never gone this deep." His voice was distorted and strained. "Now you'll never leave." He groaned as he melted into a pile of black goo. You tried to get up but started to sink into the floor. The same black goo your friend had just melted into was now the entirety of the cave floor. Your feet were the first to go. Black tendrils snaked up you body and desperately tried to pull you under. The panick set in and you cried for help.

"Please!" You sunk further and struggled to stay above the floor. "Help me!!" You sobbed. soon your whole body was one with the cave your head was close to submerging before you cried out one last time.

"SEBASTIAN!!!"

Your body was wrapped in a warm embrace. A soothing voice muttered above your form and a hand caressed your back. Your face was buried in someone's chest and by the familiar scent of cedar and cigarettes you knew exactly who.

Another nightmare, you concluded. Your body immediately relaxed as your wrapped your arms around your husband's torso. His t-shirt was wet with tears where he cradled your face. His hand drew unknown patterns on your back as you came to.

"Another nightmare?" He asked. You nodded. Ever since getting to the bottom of the caves and pocketing the skull key, you've had night terrors every now and again. Sometimes they were tame, but sometimes they were like this one. More intense. More realistic.

"It was about the cave again." You muttered softly into his chest. "Im tired of this."

A sad smile graced his features. He felt for you, he really did. After pulling countless all-nighters for the same reason he was glad he at least knew how to comfort you. Holding you in his arms always calmed you down.

"You're home now, you're ok." He comforted. You both stayed like that for a long while before you slowly made your way out of the comforting embrace he trapped you in. A puzzled look played across his features as he moved to release you. "Where you goin'?" He asked.

"I'm just gonna grab a water real quick. I'll be back." You smiled before leaving the room. Sebastian stayed in his position, his back was against the headboard and he proceeded to lose himself in his thoughts. What was causing you to have so many nightmares all of a sudden? His heart ached everytime you cried out his name in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, hearing his name come out in a small mumble, your grip would tighten around him before calming down. But now they were worrisome. Occasionally waking up to you screaming his name or you sobbing at the edge of the bed by yourself. He knew you were exhausted. He felt like shit because he couldn't help you more. He wished he could just take all your pain away.

"Seb? Are you ok?" You asked as you came back in. Sebastians thoughts shown clearly on his face. He was worried, worried about what would happen if this keeps up.

He smiled at you none the less. "I'm fine babe. I should be asking you that question." He softly chided as you crawled back into your spot on the bed. You looked at him with soft eyes. He was always like this. Deflecting your concerns toward him back at you.

"I'm ok now, because of you." You said as you rolled on your side. He chuckled, one of the many qualities he loved about you was your ability to to bounce back from stressful situations. It was a charming quality that made him feel less anxious about things.

"Tomorrow I'm taking that stupid key to the wizard, maybe he can tell me what's up with it." You mentioned. "Im almost positive that's the root of my problems." You explained. Sebastian sighed in slight relief. He's glad you had suspicions of the key as well, he didn't want to suggest that it was the problem just in case it was too far fetched. But ever since you brought it home with you there's been nothing but bad juju around the house.

"I hope that he can help you out. I'm starting to get really worried." He admitted. "It seems like you're getting worse as time goes on, sometimes you scream like you're in pain." He explained as he scooted down the bed to a laying position. He rolled on his side to face you and propped himself up on his elbow. His hand lovingly caressed your cheek. His sad eyes looked at you, gently moving to comb his fingers through you hair. A lone strand escaped and he delicately tucked it behind your ear. You gave a content sigh. No matter how many years you'd been with sebastian, his touch still made your body feel like static.

Your hand came up to grab his, cherishing the feeling of his warm skin. You grabbed his hand that was just playing with the loose strands on your shoulder and brought it to your lips. You kissed the back of it and looked back up at him.

"I love you sebastian. As long as you're with me, I'll feel safe." You whispered. His concerned look softened.

"I love you too. I just wish there was more I could do for you." He said sadly. His hand came down to rest of your waist. You stared up at him for a second before an idea came to mind. Something that always took both of your minds off stressful situations.

"You could help me forget." You stated. He looked at you confused.

"Huh?" Was all that he could utter. You got up from your comfy spot and pressed on his shoulder. Gesturing him to lay on his back. You proceeded to sit in your usual spot on his pelvis. Both of your thighs were exposed and his warm hands didn't hesitate to grip both of them.

"You can help me forget.....you know how." You leaned down to whisper in his ear. His grip tightened a little at that. The scarlet hue you loved so much spread across his cheeks. Both of your arms pinned him down by his shoulers.

"Are you su-" before he could finish his sentence you ground your hips against his. He groaned at the contact and gave you a lustful glare. His erection pushed up against his boxers beneath you wanting nothing more than to feel your skin.

"I'm positive." You smiled. The only thing you wore were one of his t-shirts and your panties. Surely a sight for the beholder. One of his hands snaked under your shirt to play with your exposed nipple. You whined a bit at the contact.

"Sebby.....what do you want to do?" You offered. He thought for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

"I don't want you to do anything.. Just let me take care of you tonight. Ok?" He said as he changed your positioning.

You were now on your back. Your head rested on soft pillows and the silky comforter felt good on your now bare skin. Sebastian kissed a trail from the base of your neck to your inner thigh. His fingers massaged the sides of your hips as he made his journey.

Ecstasy. That's what he'd give you to forget about your troubles. Your loving husband was the only one that could provide you with this. To allow you to indulge in endless pleasures and forget about everything. Even if it was only for a moment. He'd make you whole again.

A moan pushed its way out your lips as sebastians slender fingers pushed themselves into your dripping core. They slightly curved up knowing by now just where to press to entice a cute reaction out of you.

Your hips arched into his palm trying to create more friction as pulled his fingers out agonizingly slow. You pouted. He brought them to his lips and locked eyes with you before sucking the juices off both of them. He seemed more confident tonight. You felt like you could melt with the way he looked at you. He gave a satisfied expression.

"Keep looking at me like that." He instructed. You watched as he positioned himself between your thighs. He had a vice like hold on one of your legs the other stayed on your hip. "Don't look away." He smirked before divulging himself.

You could feel his tongue lick gentle streaks from your entrance to your clit. The continuous motion made you skin feel hot to the touch. His hands spread your thighs open more allowing him more access to suck on it. Sebastian always knew just what to do when eating your cunt. Licking and sucking, the sounds he made were enough to make you cum.

Your hand instinctively grabbed a fistful of his soft hair. Keeping you grounded in reality and keeping the hair out of his face while he worked. You huffed and moaned. A coil in your stomach was about to snap. Just a little more.

"Fuuckk.... you feel so good." Your throaty praise reached his ears. Your free hand played with your own breast and you felt his deep laugh . He began to focus primarily on your clit flicking it until you finally came.

He held his head there for a moment, admiring how you were a gushing mess. Only he was allowed to see this side of you. The messy side. A part of you he never would have known existed had he not asked for it, one night years ago.

He climbed his way up your body and planted a wet kiss on your lips. Through half lidded eyes you could tell he wanted more. You were happy to oblige.

"You ready?" He teased. Pulling his boxers down just enough to expose his member. Thick and hard, you always wondered how it managed to fit inside you. He pulled you closer to him, kissing and biting at your neck as he slipped inside with little to no resistance. He made you feel so full, so satisfied and loved. Breathy moans filled the room, hands groped and nails dug into any flesh that it could. He pounded into you roughly. Wanting you to feel how much he needs you. His hand found its way to your neck and gave a gentle squeeze. Your walls clenched around him causing his thrust to falter before he finally came inside. You could feel his seed fill and spill out of you as he buried himself deeper. You both were a panting mess as your high came down. He pulled out and laid next to you, pulling you into his arms holding you close to his chest.

"I love you y/n....I'll never let anything hurt you." He muttered into your hair. You sighed, perfectly content as long as you were with him.

"I love you too... i know you won't." You said. You still needed to clean up but for now....

You'd rather just stay in this moment with him. For as long as you can.

[digitaldiarystuff]

False Hope Pt.3

so… i’m kinda back, well i at least hope so after ditching the blog completely lol

i’ll try to be a little more active starting with some requests after this, please don’t hate me 🥺

————

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N

summary: you’re close friends with Pedri and pretty much in love with him, pretending you’re not you went to comfort him but he seeks the comfort in a different way than you would’ve expected

genre: suggestive but not quite, angst

————

“I’m outside, come out”

Your eyes scanned the text a million times just to make sure it was real and you weren’t actually dreaming. It was only when James reached over and touched your cheek that you came back to your senses.

“Is everything alright?” he asked concerned and you looked up at him with terror in your eyes.

Your mind was so full that you couldn’t even comprehend the situation, why was Pedri here? Did he check your location to find out where you were? Was the black Porsche his? And most importantly, what are you going to do now?

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just my friend, she reminded me of a quiz we have tomorrow.” that was the first lie you could come up with.

“Do you have to get back home?” James asked with slight disappointment.

You looked at your phone once more and up at him, Pedri has occupied your mind for years at this point and gave you false hope that there may be something more between you two but that had to end. You knew if you decide to walk out now, you’d be stuck in the same cycle you always have and wait for him to finally pick you, but you deserve more. You were moving on and choosing your own happiness over his.

“No no, I’m not going anywhere.” you smiled hoping he’d buy your lie and didn’t question it too much and judging by his mood change he ate it up.

You placed your phone back into your purse also shutting it off hoping Pedri would realize you weren’t going to respond and leave quickly because you knew if he’d send you any more texts it’d be over.

Out of sight, out of mind you thought and reached for James’ collar pulling him in. He got the message and quickly started kissing you, you closed your eyes trying your best to enjoy the moment and it was nice. It was good, actually but you couldn’t help but wish it was someone else’s hands finding your hips pulling you into him and pressing sloppy kisses across your neck and cleavage. That’s when you opened your eyes and saw Pedri’s dark eyes instead of James’ and freaked out pulling back immediately.

James looked worried asking you if everything’s okay or if he did something wrong.

“No, no it’s not you. I’m sorry I just need to handle this quiz tomorrow. I have to get home and deal with it.” you apologized knowing you couldn’t go any further with him. Your mind and heart wouldn’t let you knowing Pedri may be out there waiting for you and you hated yourself for it. You even felt like you were cheating on Pedri even though you were not in any sort of relationship, this was stupid but you couldn’t help your feelings.

You apologized to James a couple more times, grabbed your things and left the room in a hurry. You felt bad to leave him high and dry and couldn’t face him anymore. On the way to the lobby you turned your phone on trying to see if Pedri sent any more texts but found none and that made you feel sorry for yourself. You had a great guy trying to give you exactly what you wanted and deserved but still left him hanging just because Pedri sent a single text.

You exited the elevator hurriedly hoping he didn’t leave just yet when you heard his voice. At first you thought you were dreaming and scolded yourself for being this obsessed but soon you realized he was standing at the reception talking to the receptionist.

“And I understand your policy but I need the room number and yes I don’t know the last name but…”

You heard him talking, asking about James’ room number. You didn’t even know he knew the name but Sara probably told them at the club.

“Pedri” you walked over to him and he immediately turned your way his eyes softening as he released a sigh of relief.

“Y/N” he walked over without even glancing back at the receptionist and pulled you in a hug.

“What are you doing here?” you asked apprehensively.

“I came looking for you when you didn’t answer me and she wouldn’t let me look at the guest list. She said it was against hotel policy and I was just telling her the name but she still didn’t tell me anything.” he started rambling but didn’t give you a clear answer.

“That’s not what I’m asking, why are you here Pedri?”

He pulled back possibly realizing you didn’t hug him back and gave him cold shoulder. His eyes were so soft this time.

“I… I just came to check on you.” he shyly said as he looked down at his shoes.

“Why?” you pressed. “I already told Ferran I was good.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what Pedri?” you raised your voice a little and he warily looked around hoping no one could hear you.

“Can we go out to the car please? Let’s not do this here.” he tried ushering you out but you didn’t budge.

“You can’t stay here.” he said as if he was stating the obvious.

“Why do you care if I stay here or not?”

“Look Y/N, there are people here. Let’s go back to mine and talk there, calmly.” he tried again this time reaching for your arm to pull you but you pulled back from his grip immediately.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well you’re not staying here.” he firmly stood. You considered your options, you could either go with him and set everything on the table possibly ruining your friendship but no matter what happens you could say you tried or leave on your own getting in a taxi and try to forget this night, fight or flight.

You made up your mind and started walking past Pedri, he took a couple seconds but followed suit. Once you reached the front door of the hotel he caught up with you and opened the car door for you to get in. Even though you were upset with him, you felt a slight sense of warmth with his gesture.

“Do you want to talk now, or we could just wait until we get home.” he offered once you both were settled.

“Let’s talk here.” you coldly replied.

“Okay” he whispered.

“Talk”

“I don’t know what to say”

“You don’t know what to say.” you turned round him and laughed but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“You ignore me and leave the club, then follow me to a hotel where I’m with a guy, text me to come out, try to find my room number to come get me yourself when I don’t and when I’m right in front of you you don’t know what to say. Be so for fucking real Pedri” you started yelling and he put his face in his hands huffing.

“What do you want me to say Y/N?” he asked also raising his voice.

“I want you to be honest for god’s sake!”

“I was worried.” he finally said.

“Why?”

“You just met this guy and you go to a hotel with him, this isn’t you.”

“Oh so it’s okay when you do it but when I do it’s not me.”

“Yes, I know this sounds hypocritical but yes it’s not you.”

“You’re so right. It’s hypocritical.” you sighed and leaned back in your seat.

“I needed to forget, that’s why I came here.” you admitted because you realized he was never going to give you what you’re looking for. You finally accepted the fact that after tonight, Pedri wasn’t going to be a part of your life and you needed to get everything out of your chest.

“Forget what?”

“You” you simply said and closed your eyes afraid of his answer but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Why did you kiss me that day?”

He sighed loudly.

“Because I wanted to.”

You laughed a little.

“I’m serious.”

“No you’re not. You’re never serious Pedro.”

“Pedri” he corrected.

“I don’t think we’re on that basis anymore.” you admitted and his eyes turned to you in shock.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, tonight we say everything we need to and tomorrow we live our lives like we did before we met.”

“No” he started protesting but you held your hand up stopping him.

“I can’t go on like this, Pedri. This has to stop before it’s too late. I can’t wait for you any longer.”

“Y/N it doesn’t have to be like this, we can just go back to our normal ways.”

“You can, I can’t.”

“But I don’t want to let you go.” he whined and you felt your heart breaking, you really didn’t want to cause him any pain but you also couldn’t carry on any longer.

“Do you love me?”

You could easily cut the tension in the car with a knife now, it was dead silent.

“That’s the reason we can’t go back to how it was. Because I love you.” you said without opening your eyes but still felt tears start running. Pedri shuffled in his seat and placed his hand on your cheek wiping the tear away. You couldn’t fight it any longer and leaned into his touch and placed your hand over his.

“I love you too.” he whispered and you opened your eyes to see him staring.

“I know, it’s just not the same kind of love.” you sadly smiled. “It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” you reassured him because as much as you were hurting you never wanted him to.

“But I’m not.”

“It’ll pass.”

He pulled you closer and you leaned over the console to lie on his chest. He kissed your head and you placed your hand on his heart feeling its rhythm. You stayed like that for what felt like hours just holding each other knowing it’s the last time you’ll do it.

As sad as it sounds, you felt more at peace than any other moment.

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (AOS Edition) Chapter Twenty-Five

AOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Five: Executing the Plan

Summary: The Enterprise crew reunites and begins to battle against Krall.

            (Y/N) tensed as they sat contemplating what the Enterprise crew could consider next to escape or get a proper message to Starfleet. Uhura and Sulu, sitting beside them, looked at them in concern.

            “What is it?” asked Uhura.

            “Someone’s coming, and they seem very pleased,” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes.

            “Does that mean Krall got what he wanted?” said Sulu, alarm rushing through him.

            “Him and his men seem to be getting what they want,” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow in frustration.

            “That’s not good…” said Uhura, worried.

            “No,” said (Y/N). They stood as a guard approached the cage. “And this can’t be good, either.”

            “Then what do we do?” said Sulu warily.

            “We have to not get killed and get as much information as we can,” said (Y/N), keeping their expression calm as the guard approached with three others. They had a terrible feeling their situation was about to get worse.

            And, as the guards grabbed Sulu, Uhura, Syl, and (Y/N), they knew they were right. They had angered Krall before, and, now, he was undoubtedly going to remind them who was in charge.

l

            Sulu, Uhura, (Y/N), and Syl were shoved into a small room with Krall. He held the artifact in his hands, now attached to a metal ring was well.

            “This is Abronanth,” he said, a grin on his face. He was pleased at being able to gloat about having won. “It was used by the Ancient Ones as a weapon. But when they could not control its deadly power, they split it into two and ejected the halves into space, hoping it would be lost forever.”

            I wish they’d destroyed it, thought (Y/N). No matter what the weapon did, they knew their feelings about it wouldn’t change.

            Wham!

            Hidden barriers slammed closed, locking Syl and (Y/N) into a smaller room with Krall while Sulu and Uhura were left outside. It was an elevator, and it began to speed upwards.

            “But I am grateful,” said Krall. “I have spent lifetimes searching for it, only to have you find it for me.” The elevator doors slid open, and Krall walked out. Unable to do anything else, (Y/N) and Syl followed. “The poetry of fate. The world I was born into is very different from yours, Lieutenant. We knew pain. We know terror. Struggle made us strong. Not peace. Not unity. These are myths the Federation would have you believe.” He sneered and walked away.

            (Y/N) followed him while Syl remained frozen in fear. (Y/N) refused to stand down. “You have strong words. You even believe them.” They cocked their head. “And yet every time you have any failing, you are afraid. You are not nearly as strong as you believe.”

            “(L/N)!” Syl ran forward as the doors slammed closed. She was trapped.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Syl!”

            A device in the middle of the floor lit up, and lights spiraled around the room.

            “What are you doing with her?!” cried (Y/N) angrily. “You got what you wanted, so let her go. Whatever you’re about to do, do it to me!”

            Krall ignored them and pushed the abronanth into a depression in the wall. It fit perfectly, and he twisted it. Within the room, a black mass came out of the abronanth. It sparked with energy and swirled around Syl.

            “Stop!” said (Y/N), but Krall wouldn’t move.

            The energy engulfed Syl, eating away at the very atoms of her until nothing was left. (Y/N) let out an anguished gasp as they felt Syl’s pain and were unable to do anything. Krall twisted the abronanth once more, and the black mass retreated. (Y/N) held their hand over their mouth in shock, and Krall turned away, satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

            “Manas, it’s time,” said Krall.

            He turned and grabbed (Y/N), pulling them with him and Manas. They exited the building and walked towards another. All of Krall and his men were pleased, excited, and angry. Whatever they were planning on doing with that weapon, it would involve death, and they were anticipating it eagerly. (Y/N) was disgusted.

            “The Federation has pushed the frontier for centuries,” said Krall. “But no longer.”

            So it’s the Federation specifically he dislikes, thought (Y/N). If they couldn’t stop him yet, then they could figure out what he was planning and what was truly going on.

            “This is where it beings, Lieutenant,” said Krall. “This is where the frontier pushes back.”

            Vroom!

            Manas, Krall, and (Y/N) whirled to see a motorcycle (what an antique) speeding towards them. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a familiar aura radiating towards them. It was Kirk! He zoomed towards them, and Krall fired his gun even as (Y/N) let out a shout. It hit Kirk, but he disappeared. It was merely a hologram. From behind a rock, the real Kirk sped out and fired several shots at Manas and Krall. They ducked and covered their heads.

            (Y/N) took their chance and ran. They darted over the rocks and scrambled over shingle to get away from Krall and get to their friends. Around them, a dozen Kirks whipped up a storm, distracting all the guards. One—the real Kirk—released a strange smoke from the exhaust pipe that hardened into a crystal wall. It provided a shield from the phaser-fire of their enemies.

            (Y/N) dove to the side to hide as an opponent fired at them. They braced themself against the rocks and cursed their bad luck. They needed a chance to escape, but it was proving difficult to get back to their friends without being shot.

            The opponent drew nearer, tracking (Y/N) down, and they raised their hands. If a fight was what they wanted, a fight was what they would get—empathy and all. Instead, (Y/N)’s eyes widened as Spock rounded the corner, and the enemy raised his phaser to shoot him. (Y/N) ran forward and barreled into the opponent. They pushed their hands between the slats of armor and forced powerful emotions of fear through the man. He seized up and collapsed, unconscious.

            “T’hy’la,” said Spock, instantly pulling them to him in a tight hug. He was unable to avoid the display of affection, not when he had been so worried.

            “Spock!” said (Y/N), hugging him back. “You’re alright! I was so worried.” They couldn’t handle the thought of Spock gone, but there he was, alive, and he had come for them.

            “I was concerned about you,” said Spock softly.

            (Y/N) smiled before jumping. “The others! Uhura and Sulu are trapped with the officers, we need to get to—”

            “Dr. McCoy and a new ally are freeing them,” said Spock. “And Mr. Scott is beaming them to safety.” He touched their fingers. “We only need to worry about getting go the beaming sight as well.”

            (Y/N) nodded. Of course, Spock and Kirk had come up with a plan. They never doubted them for a second. “Let’s go. We need to get out of here and stop Krall. He wanted to attack Yorktown.”

            Spock nodded, and the pair ran off towards the Enterprise crew. While they wanted to speak more—Spock had thoughts of marriage swirling in his mind because all he wanted was to stay with (Y/N) and keep them safe forevermore—there was no time for a proper reunion at the moment. There was still danger to be faced.

            Above them, various swarm ships were lifting off and speeding into the sky. (Y/N) cursed but had to focus on avoiding phaser fire. Spock kept them close to his side until they spotted Bones with the last of the crew. Bones’s emotions turned to pure relief upon seeing them, and he urged everyone up onto a flat rock.

            “Come on, let’s move, now!” he said. “Let’s go, come on!”

            He and Spock fired at the enemies trying to approach. Kirk appeared from a jump—still with the motorcycle—above and landed. He sped around them and put a crystal wall. He nodded to Bones, Spock, and (Y/N), who nodded back, and watched them safely dematerialized. Now it was just him and Jaylah left.

            While Bones urged the Enterprise crew towards his makeshift Sickbay to check them over, (Y/N) and Sulu stayed with Spock to wait for Kirk’s return.

            “Captain, your beacon!” said Scotty, urging him to turn on his location so he could be beamed out.

            “There it is!” said Chekov as soon as it turned on.

            “Energize!” said Scotty.

            A moment later, Kirk’s body appeared, falling to the ground because he had literally leapt through the air to grab onto Jaylah. Fortunately, it worked out, and Jaylah materialized on the Franklin.

            “Okay,” groaned Kirk. “Let’s never do that again.

            “I agree, James T,” said Jaylah.

            “Are you alright?” said Sulu, running in to help Kirk up. He nodded.

            “Captain, we have urgent news,” said Spock.

            “Already?” said Kirk, groaning.

            “The artifact he has—he’s going to use it to destroy Yorktown,” said (Y/N) grimly.

            Fear threaded through everyone’s auras. Sulu’s heart ached for his husband and child. (Y/N) thought of Merope and Alekto. No one wanted to lose those they cared about or any of the other millions of lives in Yorktown.

            “You take my house, and you make it fly,” said Jaylah fiercely.

            Kirk almost smiled and nodded. “Scotty, can you get this thing started?”

            “Started, yes. Flying, sir, that’s a different thing,” said Scotty. “These old vessels, they were built in space. They were never supposed to take off from atmosphere.”

            “Make it happen,” was all Kirk could say. They had no other option.

            “They’re called starships for a reason, Captain,” said Scotty.

            “You’re telling me this now?” said Kirk.

            “Because I didn’t want to disappoint you, you know, in case you didn’t make it back,” said Scotty.

            “How thoughtful, Scotty,” sighed Kirk.

            “Captain,” said Spock from where he stood protectively by (Y/N)’s side. He refused to allow them out of his sight after they had been taken. He wouldn’t lose them again.

            Everyone looked out the window to see what Spock had noticed. Their eyes widened. The entire swarm of ships was flying up out of the atmosphere—towards Yorktown.

            “He’s launching,” breathed Kirk.

            “The attack on Yorktown may be just the beginning,” said Spock. “Armed with this bio-weapon—” (Y/N) had explained what they had seen it do to Syl “—he could rid it of all life and use the base’s advanced technology to attack an untold number of Federation planets.”

            “Then we have to get this ship flying,” said (Y/N) with pure determination.

            Kirk nodded. “One way or another, we have to get off this planet.”

            “We cannae just jumpstart it, sir,” said Scotty.

            Kirk grinned and faced them all. He had the familiar “I’m going to propose something crazy and we’re going to try it anyways” look in his eye.

            “Oh, dear,” sighed (Y/N), knowing everyone was about to have a heart attack no matter how this plan turned out.

l

            “Okay! All systems online,” announced Chekov once they were “prepared” (not mentally, though). “Dilithium chambers at seventy percent and climbing. Primary support engines standing by.”

            Every sat down at their stations and strapped themselves into their seats (though the seatbelts were old and not as secure as the Enterprise’s).

            “Mr. Sulu,” said Kirk. “You can, you know, fly this thing, right?”

            “You’re kidding me, right?” said Sulu, raising a brow.

            “Fantastic,” said Kirk.

            “Are you ready, T’hy’la?” said Spock. The affectionate was usually reserved for their private moments, but, after everything, Spock just wanted to keep reminding (Y/N) how much he cared about them.

            (Y/N) smiled and nodded at him. For the first time since their strange discussion before the mission, (Y/N) felt secure once more in their relationship. Were they still apprehensive of what was going to be discussed? Yes. But did they also want to treasure what they had right in that moment? Yes. If they were going into danger, they’d face it with love in their heart, not fear.

            “I am, dear,” said (Y/N).

            “Scotty, how we looking?” said Kirk over the comms.

            “Ready as she’ll ever be, sir,” said Scotty.

            “That’s what I like to hear. Alright,” said Kirk. “Bones, where are we with the crew?”

            “I could use a functioning Medbay,” huffed Bones over the comms. “But otherwise we’re secure down here.”

            “Mr. Sulu, we have to achieve terminal velocity in order for the stabilizers to provide lift,” said Chekov to Sulu. “Are you sure this drop is high enough to do that?”

            “We’ll find out,” said Sulu.

            Everyone looked out the viewscreen and took a deep breath. It was time.

            “Call it, Mr. Sulu,” said Kirk.

            “Aye-aye, Captain,” said Sulu. “Mr. Chekov, be ready to hit the forward stabilizers full on my mark. One quarter impulse.”

            “Aye,” said Chekov.

            The engines turned on, and the Franklin listed forward over the cliffs below.

            “One half impulse, Mr. Chekov,” said Sulu.

            “Aye,” said Chekov, swallowing as the ship shook. Nerves hung in the room.

            “Easy, Mr. Sulu, let’s not break her in half,” said Kirk.

            No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Franklin pitched forward. It hung over the cliffs. It fell. Everyone fell forward and held onto their seatbelts as the canyon floor rushed up towards them. Spock reached out and grabbed (Y/N)’s arm to keep them secure.

            “Any time, Mr. Sulu!” said Kirk as they plummeted.

            Sulu was focused, intent on the line approaching terminal velocity. “Now, Mr. Chekov!” he shouted at nearly the last moment.

            Chekov slammed his hand forward on the lever, and the engines turned on. Spock, (Y/N), Kirk, Uhura, and everyone on the ship tensed as they continued to fall. They held their breath as the ground approached.

            And then the Franklin flew.

            It was clumsy, they hit cliffs, and they jerked back and forth, but they were flying. Sulu pulled them up, and the Franklin dove out of the cliffs and towards the sky above. Sulu grinned as adrenaline coursed through him. Chekov let out a breath, and Kirk let out a nervous chuckle. Uhura heaved a sigh of relief. (Y/N) and Spock looked at one another in acknowledgement that they were still alive.

            They had done it. They had escaped Altamid.

            They had a chance of saving Yorktown.

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[marvelmaniac715]

A short while ago I posted about my hope of Chucky’s human body being in Season Three, and it got me thinking. How would Nica react to the original Chucky now that he can tower over her? I decided to write that as a fic. I hope you guys like it, because if it doesn’t end up happening in Season Three, at least this fic exists to entertain the idea of it :).

———————————————��————-

There was something deeply wrong. Nica didn’t know exactly what it was, but she could feel it deep within her bones. Some sort of forbidden knowledge made her shiver in both fear and anticipation, as she grew antsy at the multitude of terrible possibilities. There was only one person who had ever made her feel this way, but he was dead now. Wasn’t he?

Pushing down her looming dread of something horrible happening, Nica went about her day, running a few errands, grabbing a coffee and a chocolate cupcake, even buying herself a new book to cheer herself up. She had almost forgotten about her bad feeling by the time she was nearly back home, but just as she approached the elevator that led up to her apartment, she felt someone grab hold of her wheelchair. 

Nica tried to pretend that her chair had gotten caught on something, but then she felt someone breathing down her neck. With a rising sense of horror, she craned her neck upwards, only to be met with a horrifyingly familiar set of blue eyes and a twisted grin. There was no reason to ask who this was. She knew, even if he looked much older, and there were bones and maggots poking out of his skin. This was Chucky. Alive. But… how?

Nica began to hyperventilate in her immense panic, and she hardly noticed when Chucky stepped out from behind her chair and rested his far too cold hands on her shoulders, squeezing very tightly. Deeply confused, Nica took a gulp of air and asked:

“Whose body did you steal this time?”

Chucky simply shook his head and smirked, infuriating Nica, who immediately continued.

“What do you mean? You can’t just shake your head and not-‘

Chucky cut her off with a laugh and responded in a patronising tone:

“I didn’t steal this body, Nica. This is me.”

It didn’t click in Nica’s brain for a second, then it suddenly made sense. This man, whilst clearly older than the pictures and home movies she’d seen of Charles Lee Ray, looked exactly like him. They had the same eyes, the same face structure, even the exact same voice. Sure, Chucky could use something similar to his voice in most bodies he possessed, but this was an exact match. 

Then the terror set in. She was staring up at Charles Lee Ray, in the flesh. All of a sudden, she understood the terror people had felt when he’d slaughtered them in the eighties. Her heart ached for her poor father, because the last person he’d seen was this terrifying man looming over her. Then of course, a secondary realisation set in. One of the hands that was currently squeezing her shoulders far too tightly had paralysed her, put her in a wheelchair, all before she was even born. 

These horrifying realisations had left Nica stunned, unblinking. Seemingly noticing this, Chucky smirked and leaned in so that his face was mere centimetres away from Nica’s. Cold, mocking blue eyes met frightened, almost glazed over in terror blue eyes. The sensation of his breath on her face brought Nica back to reality, and her eyes landed on the maggot that was still burrowed in his cheek. Almost self-consciously, Chucky’s confident act dropped for a moment as he took a hand off of Nica to poke at his face, asking:

“Is there still one on me? I thought I’d gotten rid of these little bastards for good.”

Losing herself in the absurdity of this situation, Nica helpfully pointed and responded as Chucky began fumbling around:

“Yeah, you’ve … got one right there. No, no, not there, look where I’m pointing. Yeah, that’s it, do you want me to grab or are you gonna-‘

Her sentence was cut off when Chucky yanked the maggot from his face and slammed it against a wall, effectively and brutally killing it. Nica’s stomach turned, and her disgust returned tenfold. As Nica cringed, Chucky backed away from her and did a little spin, spreading his arms out as he asked with a grin:

“Well, what do you think? You reckon I can still get some tail like this?”

Nica’s brain short-circuited again as her mouth began moving on autopilot. If she’d been rationally thinking things through, she would’ve stayed silent. But instead, her nose wrinkled as she scornfully scoffed:

“You’re old!”

It was a rude thing to say, but that fact did come as a genuine shock to her. Of course she’d always known at the back of her mind that she was battling against a guy who was 31 in 1988 so he’d have to be in his sixties, but what has to be understood is that hearing a voice and trying to kill a children’s toy is one thing, but being confronted with the fact that she’d tried to slaughter a senior citizen was something else altogether. Chucky looked very hurt by this, and, looking down at the floor, he muttered:

“I’m 65.”

Trying to cover up her blunder, Nica queried:

“How is that possible? The bodies you inhabit don’t normally… age. It’s not that you look bad per se, it’s just that, it’s unexpected, y’know?”

At this, Chucky looked less hurt and grinned again as he began to explain.

“Well, as you probably already know, after a certain amount of time the human body begins to decompose. By the time I gathered enough remnants of my soul in various doll vessels in order to return to my original body, there wasn’t a scrap of flesh left on my bones. I was just a skeleton, which gave me the weirdest out of body experience of my life, let me tell you. But I still went through with it, and because there wasn’t any skin or features left, the voodoo magic I used improvised and aged my body to the age of my soul, making me look, well, old as you so eloquently put.”

His last few words were said with a pointed glare in Nica’s direction. This made the woman gulp as she began heavily regretting her choice of words. She knew that Chucky was vain, and as a doll he wasn’t that hard to get rid of- a kick or a punch could send him flying. But now he was human again, and tall. If he wanted to, he could simply put the brakes on Nica’s chair down, trapping her there as he killed her. The only reason she still lived was by the grace of Chucky’s benevolence, as fleeting as it was.

Instead of confronting her word choice, she decided to change the topic, gathering some of her courage as she asked defiantly:

“Aren’t you scared of dying soon? Flesh isn’t as resilient as plastic.”

There was a bitter laugh, then…:

“Nobody lives forever, Pierce. I’ve made my peace with death by becoming an executioner of sorts. I have plenty of doll bodies roaming around, not to mention two kids who carry my bloodline and the parts of me that I’ve left in you, Kyle and Andy, meaning that part of me will never die. I didn’t possess my original body as some sort of power play, I just wanted to return to something familiar. I missed the feel of my own teeth.”

Brushing off the last part of Chucky’s confession, Nica immediately became drawn to the part about him never dying, the parts ‘left’ in her, Andy and Kyle. Was that just metaphorical or something related to voodoo? She had to know. 

“What do you mean about leaving parts of yourself in me, Kyle and Andy?”

Chucky sat down on a nearby bench and inspected his fingernails, seemingly ignoring her for a good long while. Then, he glanced at her and said:

“I like to think of my influence as a weed. Your once noble and heroic brains are the gardens I’ve slowly overtaken. The part of me in Andy Barclay led him to torturing a vessel of mine’s head for an entire year. Would a purely good man do that? The part of me in Kyle Simpson made her drug teenagers for God’s sake. That’s something I’d do, hell, I once swapped paint darts for real bullets so teens would shoot each other to death. The part of me in you is a little harder to spot, but whilst sharing your brain I noticed that your perception of right and wrong was becoming slightly… crooked. I didn’t think much of it until I learnt that you tried to shoot Tiffany. Of course, I wasn’t happy to hear that the bullet hit my kid, and I’m still not entirely over it, but I suppose there was nothing to be done.”

It took a special brand of narcissism to see one’s influence as being so powerful, but given the evidence that had been presented to and by Chucky, his view of the situation made a lot of sense. But that throwaway comment about Glen didn’t seem quite right to Nica. It seemed kind of flippant, like he didn’t really care, so she pressed further.

“Wow, you’re really torn up about your kids ‘dying’, aren’t you?”

Chucky’s expression became unreadable, and his tone emotionless as he said:

“They’re together in one body again, just like when they were first born. What sort of father would I be if I wasn’t happy for them?”

After that, there was an almost amiable silence between them, interrupted every so often by someone coming up or down in the elevator. Eventually, Nica softly asked:

“Why did you come here? You don’t seem like you want to hurt me.”

Chucky replied in an unsure tone, as if he wasn’t quite sure.

“I… wanted you to see me. Yeah, I wanted you to know what I actually look like. We have quite a history, don’t we Nica?”

All Nica could do was nod as she watched Chucky raise his right hand in a little wave. She knew what was coming, but still she stayed silent as he continued.

“I think it was this hand that did it, all those years ago. To think that such a small stab could have such life altering consequences, it’s weird to think about, isn’t it?”

Again, Nica nodded, eyes brimming with rage-filled tears at the injustice of it all. Then, Chucky did something very strange. He got up from the bench, walked over to Nica, knelt down in front of her and took hold of her chin with his left hand. With his right hand, he brushed a strand of hair out of a now quivering Nica’s face as he mused aloud to himself:

“Y’know, you look quite a lot like me when I was young. You’ve seen the photos, you know what I mean. You remind me of myself too, over the last few decades. Trapped inside a body you can’t escape. Ironically, both of our predicaments were my fault. I think that’s why I like you.”

Nica didn’t even get a moment to think about what he’d said before Chucky stood up and regarded her with a cold stare. He folded his arms behind his back as another maggot poked out of the bony holes in his flesh. As he began backing away, he commanded her in a voice that was worthy of his former reputation as a terrifying serial killer - the Lakeshore Strangler.

“Now, when you get home, I want you to call your little friends, Barclay and Simpson. Tell them that I’ve got a new body, and that they’ll never guess which one. Also, please let them know that I’ll pay them both visits soon so that they get to ‘play’ with someone their own size.”

With that, he walked away, whistling under his breath as Nica processed what had just happened.

[just-a-random-person24]

EPISODES 10, 11, AND 12! EPS 13 AND 14 WILL BE UP LATER AND EPISODE 15 AS ITS OWN POST CAUSE THAT ONE IS LONG AF

Episode 10

• different logo. It's! yeah!!

• Forcefully gives Walter guns to carry. Immediately almost gets shot by him

• Took flying lessons! Will come in handy later

• thinks CO2 canisters look like torpedos

• The Shining reference. Thinks he's killed enough people to be qualified as insane

• talks to himself, says he's a little schizophrenic because of that

• has no clue how long he's been stuck I'm Black Mesa for, assumes a couple hours even though his earlier guess was a day

• not happy to see another scientist locked in a train car

• then gets locked in the train car with Rosenberg, tells the military they'll hear from his lawyer

• says he's stealthy as a ninja

• “Barney Calhoun, demolitions expert”

• doesn't know what wound Rosenberg is talking about, says ‘this thing?’ but says it's just a scratch

• gets injects with some *strong* shit. Very high

• thinks Rosenberg was doing pull-ups in the train car after he said he needed to rest

• says he's now ‘totally peaced out right now’

• gets people bits in his mouth, thinks he's a cannibal now

• says being totally covered in blood is a new Gothic look

• was probably not listening when he was told they'd have to go *back* through the facility

• lost count of how many times he's been covered in blood

• assumes he's being shot at because of how much blood he's covered in

• says he'll never meet a soldier he likes

• calls Gordon his best bud :)

• not sure the elevator they're in is safe says he has a bad experience with them

• left behind Walter :(

• damn counter: 0?

Episode 11

• back to the normal logo

• repeated ‘I hate elevators’ while hiding and crouched in the corner

• calls Rosenberg a nerd while he's a ‘buff badass machine-gun toting alien killing security guard.’

• very confused how Walter made it to the labs before him and Rosenberg. More confused than that time he got high and watched an animated version of the Hobit

• finds everything Rosenberg is saying boring

• not surprised he's the only one able to go to the border world

• does *not* like all the lasers of death

• thinks his crappy laptop starts up faster than the teleporter

• the portals tingle

• thinks Xen is creepy

• also Xen is sticky. Fun

• gets stabbed by one of the… pointy tentacle things.

• healing pools are comforting

• gets distracted terrorizing the little light things, reminds himself to focus

• has lots of fun with Xen's lower gravity

• doesn't like caves. Or crawling through things

• hates bees

• thinks the crystals are radioactive

• damn counter; 1

Episode 12

• says that with the aliens, soldiers, and head humpers. Cancer is the least of his worries

• only remembers complex cancer names because Gordon told him them 2 year ago

• confused why a dead HEV suited scientist was carrying grenade shells

• “The tunnel suddenly widens into a small cavern as our protagonist sneaks forward-” Gets cut off by a headcrab but nerd ass moments going on

• getting pissed off by the headcrabs

• says they're as bad as his college roommate, who used to hide around corners and scare Barney. Probably stopped after jumping out and scaring Gordon one time and getting punched in the face. Why was Gordon there? shrug

• thinks Gordon can be badass whenever he wants to. Says he could take Gordon

• needs a name for the Bullsquids. Comes up with Bullsquids cause they remind him of bulldogs and squids.

• really hates bees

• says he doesn't need a bag to hold his stuff because he has Walter

• mimics the dying Barnacle noises

• “soothing warmth of pooly goodness.”

• officially done with being in sewers

• comments on the lack of handrails on an alien planet

• has absolutely no clue if he's going the right way

• says he's a pro at jumping now

• “giant flying donuts”

• more sewers!

• alien sewers smell worse than human ones

• now officially smells. R.I.P

• “yay! I'm alive!”

• thinks about going down and going on the alien trampoline again but decides not to

• damn counter: 7