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riptidewaters · 1 month

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My Sunshine

Blair Waldorf x Chuck Bass

Requested by @miaandthediamonds (Soo sorry for the delay, this was in my drafts forever and I forgot to post it)

‘You could stop you know?’ Samantha Adams said holding Alexis Bass-Waldorf’s hair back, lifting her head up from the toilet, Alexis smirked, ‘Now- where’s the fun in that?’ This is mostly how Friday nights went for the two best friends, Alexis drinking and Sam holding her hair back as her puked the remnants of her parent’s fancy dinner. This one was no different, yelling a ‘Bye Mom! I’m going to Sam’s for the night!’ Alexis closed the door and walked towards the waiting bike on which her ‘boy of the night’ would be waiting for her, stopping at a public restroom and discarding her meek sweater and long pants for a glittery dress that barely covered her ass. Getting back on the bike, they got off at a club showed their fake id’s and made there way inside, quickly blending in with the sweaty bodies dancing to a song that rendered irrelevant to most of the people who were basically dry humping on the dance floor. The boy she was with- Lucas? Or maybe it was Liam, motioned for her to follow him. Leading her to a dark corner of the barely lit club her produced two small plastic bags, each with one dosage of cocaine, grinning, Alexis grabbed the bag and inhaled the pack mouthing a ‘Thank you’ to the boy. Pulling him in for a kiss she made out with him for a few minutes, then getting considerably bored, she pushed him back and made her way towards the dance floor. A few minutes in she felt a hand snaking towards her waist, turning around Alexis’s eyes met with that of a man that looked at 25 or 28, trying to push him away she muttered, ‘Not interested, sorry’ ‘Oh come on!’ He said pulling her closer, struggling for a few seconds she finally lifted her foot up and pressed her 3 inch heels in his toe, ‘Fuck!’ He swore loudly, walking backwards, ‘You could’ve said you weren’t interested you bitch!’ He said, ‘Yeah? Well I did dickward!’ ‘

'You’re asking for it SLUT!’ and with those parting comments the man, escorted by security, was thrown out. Unaware of the damage he had caused to the young heiress.

______________________________________________________________________

Running to the restroom, tears flooding out of her eyes, Alexis threw open the cubicle door and sank to the floor, kneeling and head in the toilet she inserted two fingers in her mouth trying to puke and get rid of the remnants of parents fancy dinner. A few minutes later pulling herself up, she shakily got her phone out, wiping her tears and offering a confident persona, dialing a familiar number she took a deep breath, ‘Hey Sam! I’m- um- I’m drunk, could you- um- could you pick me up?’

______________________________________________________________________

Alexis took a shaky breath as she hung up the phone, her heart pounding in her chest. She leaned against the bathroom stall, her reflection staring back at her from the cracked mirror above the sink. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair was a tangled mess from the chaos of the night.

As the effects of the cocaine started to wear off, she felt a pit of dread growing in her stomach. It wasn’t just the nausea; it was the realization that she was spiraling, just like her parents had years ago. They had always warned her about the dangers of excess, about how their youthful indiscretions had nearly destroyed them both. But in her defiance, Alexis had chosen to walk the same dark path, fueled by a cocktail of rebellion and inherited self-doubt.

When she stepped out of the club into the cool night air, she spotted Sam’s car pulling up to the curb. Sam jumped out, worry etched on her face as she hurried over to her friend.

“Alexis, are you okay?” Sam asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Alexis nodded, though she knew she was anything but okay. “Just take me home, please.”

The ride back to the Waldorf penthouse was silent, Sam glancing over at Alexis every so often, unsure of what to say. When they finally arrived, Alexis quietly thanked her and slipped out of the car, sneaking inside the house without making a sound.

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath. She was safe for now, but she knew she couldn’t keep this up. The weight of her secrets was becoming too much to bear.

---

The next morning, Alexis tried to go about her day as if nothing had happened. She joined her parents for breakfast, forcing a smile as she sipped her coffee. Blair and Chuck were deep in conversation about something trivial when Blair’s phone pinged with a notification.

“Ugh, it’s Gossip Girl again,” Blair muttered, rolling her eyes as she glanced at the screen. But her expression quickly shifted from annoyance to horror as she read the post.

Chuck noticed her change in demeanor and immediately grabbed the phone from her. His face paled as he read the message aloud:

“Spotted: Alexis Bass-Waldorf leaving a club with a nose full of trouble. Just like Mommy and Daddy, huh? Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

The room fell silent as the words hung in the air. Alexis felt her heart drop to her stomach as her parents turned to her, their eyes wide with a mix of concern and disbelief.

“Alexis, is this true?” Blair’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that sent chills down Alexis’s spine.

She wanted to deny it, to come up with some excuse that would make it all go away. But as she looked into her mother’s eyes, she knew she couldn’t lie anymore.

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Blair and Chuck exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Alexis could see the pain in their expressions. They had tried so hard to protect her from the mistakes they had made, but it seemed history was repeating itself.

Chuck stepped forward, his voice gentle but firm. “We need to talk about this, Alexis. We need to figure out what’s going on and how we can help you.”

Alexis nodded, knowing that this was the moment she had been dreading. But maybe, just maybe, it was also the moment she needed.

The tension in the room was thick as Alexis stared at her parents. Blair and Chuck had always been pillars of strength to her, but now they looked vulnerable, fragile even. The weight of disappointment and fear in their eyes was almost unbearable.

Blair took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Alexis, we love you," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "But we can't help you unless you're honest with us. How long has this been going on?

Alexis wiped a tear from her cheek, looking down at her hands. "I don't know... a while," she admitted. "It started with just partying, like everyone else does. But then it got... worse."

Chuck's face tightened as he asked, "Worse how? The drinking, the drugs, the... bulimia? How deep are you into this?"

She winced at the mention of bulimia, shame washing over her. "I... I didn't want to end up like this," she confessed, her voice cracking. "I thought I could handle it, but it just got out of control. I didn’t want to worry you."

Blair reached out, placing a hand over Alexis's. "Sweetheart, it's not about worrying us. It's about you. Your health, your future. We’ve been down that road, and trust me, there’s nothing glamorous about it. It nearly destroyed us."

Chuck nodded, his tone softer now. "We’ve made mistakes, Alexis. We know what it’s like to be young and feel invincible, to think that the rules don’t apply to you. But the truth is, they do. And we don’t want you to learn that the hard way."

A tear slipped down Alexis’s cheek. "I didn’t want to disappoint you…"

"You haven’t disappointed us," Blair said, her voice firm but filled with love. "But we are worried. And we’re here to help you get through this, no matter what it takes."

Alexis looked up at her parents, feeling the sincerity in their words. For the first time in a long time, she felt a small sense of hope. Maybe she didn’t have to do this alone.

"I don’t know how to stop," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I try, it feels like I’m losing control. And I’m scared."

Blair squeezed her hand. "We’ll figure it out together. We can get you the help you need, whether it’s therapy, rehab, or anything else. We’re not going to let you go through this alone."

Chuck nodded in agreement. "You’re our daughter, Alexis. And there’s nothing more important to us than making sure you’re okay. We’ll fight this battle with you, every step of the way."

Alexis felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had been so terrified of their reaction, but now she realized that all they wanted was to help her. Maybe this was her chance to finally take control, to break the cycle before it consumed her completely.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears streaming down her face now. "I’m ready to get better. I don’t want to be like this anymore."

Blair pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as she cried. Chuck joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them in a protective hug.

"We’ll get through this," Blair whispered into Alexis’s hair. "Together."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Alexis believed her. And maybe, just maybe, things would start to change.

#chuck bass #blair waldorf #gossip girl #future #bulim14

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saintsofwarding · 2 years

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EMBRYO

Chapter 3: Rose Above it All

She kept running until she was off the school grounds and into the tangle of streets beyond. It was only once she slowed, legs shaking, a stitch in her side, gasping searing breaths of the frigid late-afternoon air, that she remembered she'd forgotten her bike.

"Shit," she panted. "Shit-"

She turned around, but couldn't move. She couldn't make herself go back to the school. What if Sam had followed? What if she was outside? What if she was hurt?

What the hell had she done?

Her face was hot, her eyes stinging. Cold wind buffeted her; she shrank inside her coat, chin inside her collar. If she hadn't blown it before, she sure had now. She'd let her powers out. She'd let them out big time. It had felt like a reflex, a breath- Sam had grabbed her, so, without conscious thought, she'd lashed out.

If I can't control them-

Panic tightened her breathing. She leaned against a telephone pole, trying to get her breath back. Cars passed on the road behind her, slewing slush from the last rainfall over her boot toes. Rose pressed her eyes shut, counting her breathing, just like she and Heisenberg used to do when she was a little kid waking up from nightmares of blood and chains, black wings and shrieking laughter, a village locked in snow. In and out. One, two, three. He'd knelt by her bedside, holding both her small hands in his own, counting to her in a low voice. One, two, three. Just a little trick I learned a long time ago, kid. See if you can put it to use.

Her breathing eased, but she stayed against the telephone pole, not wanting to move. Maybe she could stay there forever. Build a little shack around the pole and live there like some kind of weird hermit. Yeah, that sounded good. Change her name, too. Rose who?

"Feeling better?"

Rose gasped and whirled. A girl stood a few feet behind her, hands in the pockets of her oversized black jean jacket. She smiled. She was about Rose's height, maybe a little shorter; her black slip skirt and black sweater, coupled with straight jet-black hair, made her nearly blend in with the dark streets behind her; she was paler, though, than even Rose, with a pointed, foxish face that seemed to nearly glow in the gathering dusk.

"You looked like you were about to throw up or something," she said. Her voice should have been sweet, sing-song, but there was a sharp edge to it that made Rose feel like she was being not-so-subtly mocked.

"Uh?" Rose said, stupidly, then shook her head. "...No...I was just- um, rough day."

"Ohhh. I know how that is." The girl tilted her head to the side. "What is it, then? Hard math test? Friendship drama? Ooh, let me guess. Boy troubles?"

"No," Rose said, frowning a little. "Actually. Do I know you? I don't recognize you from school."

"You wouldn't. I'm a new transfer." She grinned, then in one fluid movement, hopped up onto the short brick wall that bordered the sidewalk. Her combat boots went clomp. She began to walk up and down the wall, arms held out for balance.

"I think we're gonna have a lot of classes together, though," she went on. "Maybe all of them. Maybe we can talk."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Maybe we can...be friends." She leaped down, right in front of Rose, who flinched back. "What do you think?"

"Yeah. Maybe." Rose edged back. "Listen- I, uh- I forgot something at school, I have to go- um, get it..."

"You want me to walk with you?"

"No. No! I mean, don't go to the trouble." Rose made herself smile. This girl, weird as she was, had only been friendly. Ish. Friendly enough. Whatever. "See you tomorrow."

"Definitely," the girl said.

Rose turned and began back toward the school gates. A few steps on, she turned back.

"I'm Rose, by the way," she said.

The girl smiled in return. "Eveline."

***

The school grounds were quiet. No sign of Sam. Rose retrieved her bike and wheeled it toward the bus stop. Dread ached in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated her fight with Heisenberg that morning. Would he still be mad? Was she in for a night of awkwardness? Yet someone else she'd completely blown it with? Her palms were slick on her bike handlebars as she waited for the bus, her fingers quivering as it pulled up and she got on.

She went to the Goodwill nearest the apartment building for a couple hours, sorting through the racks, trying on this oversized sweater or that, browsing all the inappropriate romance novels in the used book section, killing time so she wouldn't have to spend it at home, or, worse yet, with her own thoughts. This place, with its too-bright lights, its comfortingly-shabby items on sale, the other shoppers flicking through vintage blouses and polyester '80s pants, was as far from the mold and her nightmares as anything could be.

Her phone buzzed a couple times in her bag; she didn't look at it. The evening grew darker and darker outside, mist swirling across the pavement, rain spattering the big plate glass windows. At last, the employees began to look like they just wanted her to leave, and after buying a stack of old paperbacks and stuffing them into her backpack, Rose finally bit the bullet and left.

She arrived home as the last of the light left the sky and the rain began to fall in earnest, a freezing October deluge that soaked through her coat and into her skin after only a few minutes. Locking up her bike, she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and, with a shaky exhale, let herself into the apartment.

Silence greeted her. The living room was dark, save for a single lamp by the squashy green couch; it illuminated the mess of un-put-away groceries on the kitchen counters, the weird welded-together scraps of metal on a card table shoved near the window, the cluttered bookshelves so stuffed with books and Engines Quarterly and knick-knacks they looked liable to collapse. Throw pillows embroidered with Romanian designs covered the couch, the only thing Heisenberg had added that Rose considered pretty.

The apartment had yellowing walls and kind of a funky smell in the summer, but Rose couldn't help but feel a bit of tension drain from her as she kicked off her boots and slung her backpack onto the couch. Here, she never had to pretend. Here, if the mold made an appearance, if she did something really freaky, no one cared.

Us monsters have to stick together, Heisenberg had told her. But what if Rose didn't want to be a monster all the time? What if she wanted Sam to look at her without fear in her eyes? What if she wanted to show her truth to someone that wasn't Heisenberg and have them smile, and go to her, and touch her, and not be afraid?

Couldn't she have them both?

Couldn't she?

Heisenberg would only mock her if she talked about this with him. Nothing wrong with you. Fuck anyone who says different. Rose wanted to scream in his face that just because he'd come to terms with his own power and was okay with being a weird shut-in who didn't have any friends and spent all his time welding spoons together didn't mean she had to be the same way.

Okay, that was mean. He didn't really deserve that. But he didn't get it. He was old, older than he looked, and he'd had time. Rose just had him.

And she wanted more.

She padded into the kitchen. A note stuck to the fridge with a horse-shaped magnet read, in Heisenberg's slightly childlike scrawl, food in fridge. b back soon brat!!

Sure enough, half a microwave lasagna awaited her in the fridge. Rose smiled a little to herself. While it warmed up in the microwave, she leaned against the sink, staring out the single small kitchen window into the rainy darkness beyond. Traffic pulsed and rumbled from the nearby freeway. Somewhere in another apartment she heard the bass beat of music. Raindrops pattered softly against the glass.

Quiet. Calm. Everything was okay.

What are you? Sam yelled, her eyes bright with fear.

It sniffed you out-

Hunted you down-

What are you?

And what if she was right? What if she was endangering everyone around her by her mere existence?

She was just scared, Rose told herself, but she couldn't stop feeling the surge of power inside her, the mold responding on instinct to the threat. And there was more, she knew. There was so, so much more. She just didn't want to look deeper in case the depths were crawling with horrors.

Could be crawling with wonders, too, the voice in her head whispered.

The note gave no indication as to how 'soon' Heisenberg would be back. Knowing him, it could be five minutes or five hours.

The microwave dinged.

Rose ate her lasagna.

She went to her room and pulled on dark clothes, a hooded jacket. She put on her boots. With a last glance at the apartment around her, she left once again.

The roof access was, technically, supposed to be locked, but Heisenberg had shattered the padlock approximately five seconds after they'd moved into the building. He'd souped up the wiring to their apartment, too, so he could run four or five TVs and a bunch of power tools at once without the meter reading ever showing a spike in consumption. Just a nice side effect of being a living electricity generator.

He never went into extreme detail about what exactly had been done to him- his past was a murky fog, much like Rose's own, and she didn't want to press him too hard. He got a faraway look in his eyes whenever it got brought up, and it was so far removed from his usual sardonic glitter that it was a little scary.

Rose headed through the metal door and onto the slick, rainy expanse of the roof. The night air hit her, making her shiver; steam poured from a vent, making a muggy cloud in the freezing rain. Rose stuck her hands deep in her jacket pockets, pulse ticking in her throat. Was this a stupid idea? Probably. She should probably go back inside, do her homework, waste some time on the internet, read her new smutty paperbacks.

She didn't. She made her way to the edge of the roof and looked down. Traffic streamed by, a river of light. Regent City spread on and on before her, a grid of steel and glass and smoky darkness, all the way to the distant curve of the bay far beyond.

This was the first seaside city she and Heisenberg had moved to- they never stayed in one place more than a few years- and Rose loved the open sea. A plane of nothingness; a slap of salt wind. Sometimes when she looked out at the ocean she felt like she was living on the edge of the world.

She took her hands from her pockets and lifted them. They trembled a little.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "Work with me, now."

She turned to face the open rooftop, her feet apart, her shoulders braced. She splayed her hands, trying to call the power on her own terms. Just a little. Don't break anything. Light flickered through her nerves, behind her eyes-

Nothing happened.

"Come on," she muttered. She shook her hands and did a little jog in place. Stopping, she let out a long breath, then splayed her hands again.

The darkness slithered around her.

A pulse blasted through the rain, clearing it in a sphere around her for a moment. Black tentacles burst from the rooftop before she realized she'd called on them, great whipping structures that looked like the roots of trees rendered in glistening, iridescent oily blackness. They roared ahead, toward the far side of the roof.

Rose screamed; she dropped her control, and the mold dropped, too, splashing down in a gooey puddle that coated the concrete. It slithered back to her as she swayed on her feet. She sat down heavily on the edge of the roof, nausea bitter on the back of her tongue. Her pulse pounded. It sounded deeper than before, a drumbeat vibrating through her; she closed her eyes, trying not to be sick, and the darkness was there, too, like she hung above an endless abyss. Like the ocean.

What's down there? Fall and fall forever. Voices rose, a gibbering chorus of them. Come on, Rose, just take a look- just fall a little-

Rose?

She drifted in the darkness, suspended, her skin glowing like moonlight. It spread below her, on and on. An endless sea of mold. Glistening swells; waves of oily black. They formed faces, hands, bodies.

Moments.

Two people embracing. A woman kneeling in the snow by a graveside. Feral monsters ripping and tearing at what once might have been a body. A baby cupped in a man's arms, one mangled hand stroking her cheek.

On and on. Further and further. All she needed to do was descend into the mold, sink down, down, and she would find it all. Everything.

Everyone.

Rose, it whispered to her. They whispered.

Rose.

"Rose."

Her eyes snapped open.

Heisenberg stood silhouetted by the open rooftop door. The rain pattered against his shoulders, slightly hunched in his old trench coat. He was hatless, his gray hair soaked in ropes around his face. From that, and from the half-smoked cigar in his hand, Rose guessed he'd been standing there for way too long.

"I..." she started. She glared at him. "How long have you been watching me?"

"It's almost nine, kid. How long have you been sitting there?"

"Nine?" She'd gotten home around six-thirty. Oh, god. Had she been out here for almost two hours? "I was- I was-"

"Enjoying our world-class view?" Heisenberg said, making an expansive gesture with his cigar. "No accounting for taste."

"I-" Rose began. Heisenberg regarded her, slowly smoking his cigar. "I was- brooding."

He guffawed. "Brooding."

"About...Sam."

"Yeah? How's that going for you?"

"Not good."

"So the same."

"Yeah. Today..." She trailed off.

"Bad?"

"Pretty much." "Kill her," Heisenberg suggested, with a shrug.

Rose laughed, out of shock more than anything. "What?"

"Kill her. Then you won't have to worry about her anymore." "I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

His grin widened, becoming sinister. "That depends on your answer, Rosie."

Usually, this kind of sociopathic advice made Rose feel better, made her laugh at the absurdity of it all, made her look at things from a lighter perspective. Now, it grated at her. What did he understand about it?

"Maybe that's how you'd do things, but I actually want her to like me," Rose said. She stood up; her joints creaked, aching with cold. Two hours. She'd been sunk in that black void for two hours. Horror shuddered up her throat; to cover it, she pressed on, reckless and hot. "You don't get it, do you? You're never gonna get it."

"Rose." He spread his hands. "Come on, now-"

"Don't," Rose told him. "Just. Don't."

She pushed past him and hurried back inside, making it back to the apartment and into her room before she even heard him begin to follow. She shut her door, then after a beat, dragged her overflowing laundry basket in front of it. Her room spread around her, cozy, messy, and scruffy, strings of fairy lights tacked up haphazardly around the window and over a wall of magazine cutouts and posters. Her ancient laptop hummed on her desk, which was covered in a mess of nail polish bottles, art supplies, a couple anime figurines. A poster of Gillian Anderson in the X-Files was decorated all over in little pink heart stickers, and one of her favorite Goodwill finds, an old Audio-Technica turntable, sat stacked at a rakish angle atop one of her overstuffed bookshelves.

She had this fantasy of inviting Sam over, them sitting in her room, Rose casually mentioning oh, would you like to hear a record? I've got some real groovy beats. They'd sit shoulder to shoulder while the record spun and scratched its doleful sound through the room. Sam would look at her, and Rose would look, with passion in her eyes, back. A hand would rise to cup the face. They'd move in. Lips would touch.

Usually her fantasies cut off there; in her romance novels the dude would generally rip off some article of clothing, exposing various expanses of creamy flesh, but Rose figured Sam wouldn't really like her to rip any of her cool clothes.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the apartment. Something went crash; Rose heard Heisenberg mutter a stream of sound that contained the word fuck a few times. She guessed he'd run into the coffee table.

Rose had to get Sam to trust her. That wouldn't happen unless she could control her powers. And when she used them against nothing...that was when the nightmares came. She needed an enemy, a real enemy. Not Heisenberg. She couldn't hurt him. Imagining life without him in it...she didn't even want to contemplate that.

She couldn't bring him into it, either. This was her problem, not his. And she wanted to take care of it herself, show him she was her own person, that despite all he'd done for her, all they'd been through together, she wasn't a little girl anymore.

The footsteps approached her door.

"Kid," Heisenberg said. "Listen, uh...I know this stuff is, uh, important to you and all..." She could actually hear the gears grinding in his head. "But look, whatever you're going through, it is gonna end, you know that, right? One day you'll wake up and you'll be as old as me and Sam will probably be long dead and it's just not gonna matter anymore..."

Rose was only half-listening. She went to her window and fiddled with the latch.

"...I get it though, I really do, you care about people, and usually when you care about people you don't want 'em mad at you and you don't want to deal with your feelings for certain individuals by murdering them..."

The window came open with a crack of breaking paint. Rose stuck her head out. The sheer drop plunged below her, four stories down to the pavement.

She lifted her hand. Black tendrils unfurled from her skin, reaching for the sill, grabbing on and winding in.

"...And I know I historically dealt with all my problems by crushing them into dust or turning them into a mechanized monstrosity, but that doesn't mean I haven't had moments of contemplation in my life that don't involve artificial blood and screaming..."

Rose glanced back at her room, at the door. Then she looked to the drop. With an exhale and a little nod to herself, she grabbed the sill and swung over, into the empty darkness beyond.

#Re8 #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #Rosemary Winters #Karl Heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #chapter 3

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bikeloversgifts · 1 year

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iridescene · 3 years

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for the kiss prompts, 33 (kissing it better) w/ kazuha ehe luv you

a/n: self-indulgent biker au. gender neutral reader. word count: ~600 warnings: minor character death, graphic description of pain and injury. also angst aha ost: 🎶 ‘homura’ by lisa

kazuha moves gentle like the wind.

so tender and kind were his movements that when he first walked into the humble gas station convenience store where you worked part-time, he had caught you off guard. compared to the other burly, hardened truckers and bikers you faced on a daily basis, his presence seemed delicate, graceful, ethereal almost; completely out of place among the harsh badland routes and their even harsher people.

when he rides, he rides fast, blending in seamlessly with the rest of his crew; but when he rides alone, the speed of his bike is but a means to amplify the meagre desert winds, one of the many facets of nature he sought so earnestly to appreciate. against the unforgiving landscape his heart shines unreserved and bright, his exuberance echoing the scintillating gold of the desert sands, his unabashed laughter defying the cloudless sky overhead, its serene blue a stark mockery of the cruel world beneath it.

kazuha moves gentle like the wind.

so when you hear his frantic pants and heavy footsteps echoing towards your front door, you know something is wrong.

no sooner had you heard those noises had you undone the locks on your door, pulling it open for him. he tumbled into the house in a frenzy, pushing the door shut as he leaned against it and slumped to the floor. his beloved maple print jacket was in tatters, his face marked in grazes and bruises, and from his right hand, palm and fingers singed with raw, angry burns, fell the molten remains of a biker’s helmet, the decal of a white cat visible against the blue plaid pattern across its surface.

“kazuha–” your eyes grow wide as you fall to your knees and reach for his injured hand, only to have him pull away in a single swift motion. tears sting the corners of his eyes as he grits his teeth, a hitched breath escaping the confines of his chest. he balls his injured palm into a fist and, with as much force as he could muster, brings it down against the floorboards. “fuck!” he yells.

you flinch. you had never seen him like this before. yet he cares not for the concern you exhibit nor the pain surging through his nerves, for he is too absorbed in his own grief, his own frustration, his own incompetence to care for anything else. even as his wounds begin to seep an ominous, clear fluid, he showed no sign of ceasing his frenzy, bringing his fist upon the floor repeatedly. “shit. fuck. FUCK!”

you blink yourself out of your initial shock and reach for him. the grip with which you halt his motions is firm yet reassuring, and you hope with all your heart it did not add to his pain. in your grasp you watch as he begins to relax, if only a little; and though he refuses to meet your gaze, you hope the single, tender kiss you press to the back of his fingers is enough to convey all the comfort you wished to offer him.

his shoulders droop even further now, hitched sobs becoming more audible as he allowed the knot of sadness within his heart to come undone. gently you release his wounded hand, shuffling towards him as you envelop him in a gentle embrace. as your arms wrap around him his do the same around you, his sobs turning into wails as he clings to you in desperation; to your warmth, your kindness, your love, to his only beacon of light in that dark, tragic night.

“shh… it’s okay. you’re here. you’re safe now,” you whisper those comforting words to him as you stroke his pale, disheveled hair, allowing him to ride out his sadness, to stay in your arms for as long as he should need.

“i’m here for you, for now and for always.”

#kazuha x reader #can u tell im rusty. im not humble bragging can u honestly tell im rusty.#its rlly been a hot fuckin minute since i sat down and wrote properly jeez #i hope this came out somewhat alright tho #my perfectionist ass spent hours on this yet the mediocrity kind of. :lies down: anyway sorry end rant #:mal:#:notepad:#:thurs:#:kazuha.txt:#:xreader:

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aries-writingblog · 3 years

Text

Home Again

Summary: “Home is not where you are born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.” ~ Naguib Mahfouz

Word count: 1318

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: some angst, mentions of wounds

A/N: GIF is not my own, credit to original creator. The quote used in the summary is also credited to original owner

It had been a very long, very tiresome three weeks for one James Barnes. One of the longer missions he was sent on, three weeks in the middle of nowhere Russia with no unnecessary communication. He would consider contacting YN a top priority but no one else seemed to share the sentiment.

The mission started badly. They couldn’t land the jet, too much risk. So he, Sam and Steve all had to jump. The freezing wind and icy snow he landed in jolted his memory- tossing him carelessly into the Austrian Alps again. His mind tricking him into thinking it was 1945. He was thrown off his game the entire day. Being shot in the chest the same week would worsen his mood.

Three weeks with Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers could drive any man mad- no matter how fucked their brain already was. Add in no outside contact, no sleep and nightmares- the man was a wreck. To top it all off, they had lost the market arms dealer they were tracking. It took an extra four days to track him down again.

As soon as the jet touched down at the Tower, Bucky was on his bike. Doing ninety to nothing- desperate to get home. To her. He had nearly fallen off the bike at a red light, distracted and over- exhausted. But he made it.

Home. To Bucky it was a blend unlike any other. It was two story house on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Granted, the building was a fixer upper- the porch was old and splintered. He had plans to repair it but they kept getting pushed back. The inside was basically gutted, every room was bare. Save for the kitchen and bedroom they were certain to fix up first, before moving in.

Hints of YN filtered through- mixing with the old house. The way her hair brushed her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes as they stood together. Facing the newest challenge. Her smile, her laugh. Her. A cacophonous symphony of warmth and love unknown to him before.

Daylight was breaking, light reflecting off the windows. He practically melted from the motorcycle- shoving his backpack off his shoulders upon entering the door. The pack hit the ground with a dull thud.

His footsteps were louder than normal- it had been a grueling mission. Bucky was so close to home that he couldn’t hold himself together anymore. He allowed the heavy boots to make dull thuds across the wooden floors, too exhausted to tread lightly. His movements choppy.

He toed the boots off at the door- he knew better than to track mud through the house. Even if it was currently in a state of disarray. She would still have his ass later if he did. Passing through dark, empty rooms, Bucky couldn’t stop from scanning every corner as he continued his trek. Eyes methodically dismantling each room, searching for anything out of place. Any bad news he could find.

He only smoothed his movements as he neared the bedroom door. He made sure his steps were quieter, movements more fluid as he turned the handle.

And there she was.

YN. Home.

Bucky couldn’t stop the sigh pushing from his chest as he laid eyes on her. The thick comforter was pulled all the way up her chest, even with the ceiling fan turning leisurely above her. The morning sunlight was drifting through the blinds- a hazy halo of light arcing across the pillows. Landing over her glossy hair in strips of golden glory.

His eyelids drooped lower upon seeing the bed before him. Bucky made quick work of his jacket and pants, shedding his t shirt as he stumbled toward the comfort he had been craving.

As he lifted the sheets, YN rolled over, her eyes peeking open. A sleepy smile pressed at her lips as she held her hands out to him- making grabby motions. Bucky chuckled, fatigue dripping from the sound as he settled in beside her.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologized, feeling her warm body press to his. YN shook her head, arms wrapping around his middle.

He watched as her eyes scanned his body. The healing bullet wound on his chest, the cut across his eyebrow, the bruise on his temple. She was careful as she scooted over, pressing her head ever so lightly against his chest. Arms squeezing him tightly- trying to replace the feelings that followed him home.

“Missed you, Jamie.” She muttered, voice raspy and deep from her interrupted slumber. Bucky sighed, allowing his arms to rest against her waist, tugging her closer. He felt his muscles relax with her touch. Cells responding on a molecular level- writing the stress and damage he had endured away and replacing it with a loving embrace from the woman he loved.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling her shampoo. A familiar scent. On It’s own accord, one hand crawled up her spine, fingers tangling through her hair. Holding her face to his chest. Clutching her to his body as though she would soon dissipate if he weren’t holding her together. “You have no idea, how much I’ve missed you.”

YN heard the crack in his words- the emotion lacing his tone. She also noticed the fatigue in his limbs, the weight upon his shoulders. Body collapsing in upon itself as he neared her.

“You want to talk about it?”

Bucky shivered, a cold chill burning his spine. His lips brushed her temple softly, building up his voice. A restrained burn in his chest. The rolling pit of his stomach.

“No… I… I just want to be home right now.” He clarified, his fingers landing on her pulse in her neck. The sedated beats under her skin grounding his wandering mind. The heat from her body, scent of the bedsheets, making him drowsy. “I just want to sleep.”

In her sleep hazed mind, YN could register the weight of his words. Bucky barely slept- almost never slept in their bed at that. The fear of being ambushed by the Soldier- his body hijacked while he slept… he vehemently opposed putting her in that position. Then he tossed and turned on the cushy mattress, annoyed at himself for having the potential to wake the sleeping beauty at his side. It was a rare occasion to find him stumbling through the dark, hands tugging the sheets and pulling her close.

He would never admit it but the nights he found comfort in her were the nights it was all too much. Too many voices, too many memories…too many regrets. By then he was exhausted beyond repair. Appearing to wear every one of his 107 years on his skin, on his face and expression. Most nights, he would busy himself around their home, doing quiet activities he had lying around. Painting the top portions of the walls she couldn’t reach, repairing plaster on the walls, staining the wood or things of the nature. He had even started on her soon- to- be gardening plots out back one night. It helped to have the projects- it gave him something to do with his hands. Gave his mind a reprieve.

YN had already ducked under his arm, curling around his body and pressing her face to his chest. Intent on providing for him in any way she knew how. Gentle, physical touch always made him calm, she had learned. She heard his breathing stutter and quicken. Felt his chest heave twice as he composed his emotions. Only revealing parts of himself through the receding darkness of their bedroom. Pressing a gentle kiss to his chest, she felt him squeeze her shoulder, giving quiet thanks for her actions.

“Then sleep, beautiful.” She whispered. Her angelic tone charmed his ears, only adding to the weight of his eyelids. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james barnes x reader

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obae-me · 3 years

Text

Upside Down- CH 2

Author’s Note: I swear I don’t hate Mammon, he just happens to be the subject of everything right now, but don’t worry, the comfort will come. Just hold out for the next one, the healing will start I swear!

Tags: Cussing, fighting, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death, toxic friendships, blackmail (As always, read safely, feel free to ask about any of these tags)

Word Count: 4683

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

An Unlucky Break

Honestly, at this point, you weren’t sure what was worse. The humans? The endless noises? Or the devil-forsaken sunlight?! Groaning, you pulled another blanket over yourself, tugging it up above your head. Taking the pillow, you used it to try to muffle the sounds of the outside world. It was all so much. How did the humans even get any sleep? How could they see with all the blinding sun rays? You cocooned yourself tighter, imagining that you were back inside your home where nothing but endless moonlight existed and you were left exactly how you wanted to be. Alone.

But all those dreams and imaginations were dashed when you heard a single name roar throughout the house. “Mammon!” If it wasn’t his name, it would be another. They always seemed to be screaming at each other for something around here. At least they had the decency to leave you--

The door to your bedroom door opened, then shut itself quietly, the sound of panting followed by whispered cursing invaded your space. “Why’s he always gotta be on my ass? It’s just a little money, he’d spend it all on useless plastic or junk anyway. It was better off in my hands for sure. For sure...” A little bit of pacing, a small chuckle. “Just gotta lay low in here. It’s abandoned and dark as hell, he surely won’t find me.” It was bitterly amusing how your supposed “babysitter” seemed to have forgotten all about you. Although you stayed quiet, not really in the mood for conversation. Besides, you always had a knack for blending in.

The both of you sat in silence--well, relative silence, since it was obvious the human didn’t seem to understand the definition of being still. He kept mumbling to himself. But the two of you listened to whichever brother was on the hunt go rampaging through the house. Doors kept opening, slamming shut, the footsteps pounding angrily against the floor upstairs. Then it all went quiet. The brother of greed seemed as hopeful as you were that it was a sign they’d given up the chase. Mammon sighed, much too heavily. So of course, the handle slammed against the wall as the room was raided. “There you are, you--you---you!” Then the fighting started. A heavy sound of a body hit the side wall.

“Son of a--get offa me, will ya!? I don’t have your damn money!”

The newcomer growled. “That’s the problem!” The scuffle didn’t seem to end. Neither of them really dug too badly into each other, pushing, shoving, slapping. It was hard to tell if you were intrigued or annoyed. Regardless, you slowly took the blankets off of you, getting a better look at the fight. It was immediately disappointing, or maybe this was as intense as humans could take it? Mammon had his brother’s head in some sort of lock, while the attacker was simply tugging at Greed’s hair with two full handfuls. Neither of them were getting anywhere. No, this was definitely lackluster.

You were back to being annoyed. Sitting up, speaking up finally, you were going to ask, ‘can you two beat each other up elsewhere’, but you couldn’t even get that far. “Can you two--” were the only words you managed to utter before the both of them shrieked in startled fear, high-pitched enough to leave your ears almost ringing. The fighting dropped immediately, the humans instinctively grabbing onto each other in a supportive hug. They stayed like that for a good while before one of them broke away to flick the light on. The intense brightness had you blinking away spots.

Bright blue hair, a shirt with some sort of strangely drawn figure with...large proportions, a curved device around his neck, the brother’s previous assertiveness instantly melted. “W-who are y-you?! God, Mammon, call the-the cops or something!”

Sheepishly, Mammon caught his breath and cleared his throat, the look of recognition coming back to him. “Wait, Levi, this is the guest Lucifer told us about.” The one you were supposed to take care of. Not that I care.

“N-nani?!” So this was Levi Morningstar. Everyone labeled him as Envy. The third eldest and third strongest. So many of his demon followers drove themselves beyond mad, jealous that they couldn’t be as envious as the human. And if that was enough to tell you about this brother… “I thought that was, like, a prank or something! How long have they-they-they…” With every word, he seemed to turn more pink, and yet his face looked almost angrier. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” And he was back to fighting, taking Mammon by the front of his shirt. “I’ve been singing the opening song to ‘Kiss Me I’m Your Princess’ in the shower for the past week!” It was true. He had. “That’s supposed to be private!”

Mammon shrugged, his forearms raising with his shoulders. “Not very private if the whole neighborhood can hear ya, and besides I did tell ya! You were just so upset about the money you must’a not been paying attention!” He shoved Levi off of him. “So that’s on you!”

The older of the two really knew--or maybe he didn’t know--exactly how to push buttons. Levi, his anger reignited about the mention of his money, knocked Mammon to the ground. “Scumbag!”

Mammon pushed his brother off with a knee to the gut, turning the tables and getting on top of his opponent. “Fuckin’ weeb!” It was obvious Greed was the more physically capable, his speed and reactions praiseworthy, perhaps even for average demon standards. However, Levi was bringing his own to the fight--if you could even really call it a fight. He was more adept at using his surroundings as well as guessing predictable movements to stay in the ring.

Should you stop it? Human bodies were much more fragile than demon ones weren’t they? While they might have not been digging their heels into swinging, they were still aggressive, and it was only escalating. The binding marks around your wrists left a dull heat across your skin. Like it or not, you had to keep them in decent health to observe them. So you got up, placing your body between them. They quickly put their fists down, although Levi’s got dangerously close to your face, his knuckles so close they tickled your cheek. The intensity of battle fizzled instantly, and Levi touched a sore spot on his chin. Looking right past you, the blue-haired boy scowled. “You’ve got 24 hours, Mammon, you hear me? If you don’t, I’m taking this straight to Lucifer!” He went to leave, but then turned around to add something else in. “I’m sure he would compensate me by letting me sell your dumb bike!” Again, he went to the door...and again, he stopped to add another comment. “And-and forget about me lending you money ever again!” Finally, he slammed the door behind him. Which meant that finally the fighting was over with. Peace and--

Someone took you by the shoulders, giving you a shake. Every nerve in your spine sparked, the feeling of being touched burning you up and leaving you chill all at once. You slapped the hands off your body and took a good few steps back. “Are you an absolute idiot?!” Mammon yelled.

Who was he to talk to you like that? “Excuse me?”

“Struttin’ up and steppin’ right in the middle of a fight, did you wanna get hit?!” He outstretched his hand, ready to move your head. “Did he land one on ya?”

Blocking him, you used your arm to cover your face. “Don’t touch me.” The words came out harsh and yet desperate. You didn’t mean to sound so emotional. They left your chest heavy, and apparently the human picked up on it. He backed up, his arms dropping. He turned his head away from you with a snap of his tongue.

“Damn it! How am I supposed to pay him back by tomorrow?!” Mammon started pacing, the wheels in his head visibly turning. “First I lose my precious Golide, I can’t lose Ruby!” He really was near crying over this. He verbally shouted out ideas, most of which were getting more loans from others to pay off the one to his brother. Not a smart option. But, somehow he came to an even worse conclusion. “I’ll just have to gamble it back!” Suddenly he looked excited. “Today is a lucky day, I can feel it! That way, I get to have fun and Levi gets his money back! Win win!” Or a lose/lose, if he, you know, loses. But that aspect didn’t seem to even dawn on him. “Come on, get dressed!”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Well, you’re coming with me, aren’t ya? Don’t you want to get out for a bit? I haven’t even seen you out of this room once, made me completely forget about ya!” He laughed, every bit of negative emotion gone from his body once the addiction of gambling was rushing through his veins. Without even really giving you a choice, he was opening your suitcases which you hadn’t bothered to unpack, handing you an outfit. “Come on, come on! I do better with someone there watching me!” Were all humans this into invading personal space, or was it just him? “It’ll be fun! I’ll show you my home away from home!”

Your top eyelid started to twitch. “Don’t you have someone else to drag around?” It was meant to be spiteful, maybe a bit hurtful to get him to go away, but he just slowed. Then a familiar hue clouded his bright eyes, dulling them. A color you knew too well, the color that stained your soul. The loneliness of isolation.

He shook his head, and although you could feel a bit of his aura cry, he just smiled. “Nah, n-not many people are good enough to hang out with the Great Mammon! So-so be thankful I’m inviting you along!” It was demanding, brash, boarding on rude, but yet it came off to you like a beg.

It nearly churned your stomach at the thought of casually spending time with a human...but...those were your commands. You couldn’t hole yourself up in this room forever. At some point you’d be expected to hand in your findings, to try to restore these brothers to see if humanity was capable of change. You turned over the human clothes in your hand, the style of them vastly different than you remembered human fashion being. Sighing out of your nose, you gave in. “Fine.” His expression almost blinded you as badly as the sun.

It was very clear to you that there wasn’t going to be a single mode of human transportation that you enjoyed. They were all loud, bumpy, and the smell of metal and plastic that stayed in your nose and settled on your tongue made you gag. Mammon, however, was extremely enthusiastic about them. He had brought you to a special room of the home called a ‘garage’ , a special resting room for the family’s many...many vehicles. Each sibling seemed to have just one car, but Mammon had a few. He had waved you over to his specific end of the large room, gesturing to--as he referred to them-- his treasures. A bright yellow low-set sleek one that he named ‘Amber’, a tall black one with a carriage for storage attached to it--called a truck apparently, but he just called it ‘Ob’. But the one he adored most was one that looked vastly different to the others. This was Ruby, the one Levi threatened to sell in exchange for the missing loan.

Although, if you were being honest, you didn’t understand why Mammon didn’t let him. “It’s broken,” you claimed.

“What?! My baby?!” He left your side immediately, scouring over it, his eye scanning over every inch of the thing. “What are you talking about? She looks fine.”

Was he blind? You pointed to it. “It’s missing two wheels. All your other motorized vehicles have four.”

Waving a hand at you, he scowled. “Don’t joke around about something like that! I thought you were serious for a second!” I was serious...Oh well...It wasn’t anything you wanted to concern yourself with. He threw his legs up over the bright red two-wheeled thing, sitting on it like one might a horse. After he fiddled with it for a second, it roared to life. The sound pounding in your head, meanwhile, Mammon was thrilled. “Ah, yeah!” The machine continued to make this deafening deep...scream. You brought your hands up to cover your ears. Did they like the noise? Was basic human hearing so dull that they didn’t find it inconvenient at all? “Come on! The sooner we get to a casino, the sooner I can get more monay!” Isn’t it supposed to be Levi’s money? Mammon seemed adamant that you join him on the...Ruby. You shook your head, and with a little frown, Mammon turned the infernal thing off. “What, are you motion sick or something? Usually people would die to take a ride on a bike like this! With me!”

“Do you have something quieter?”

Dismounting the bike, he pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He clicked a button and the black truck lights flashed. “I’m already startin’ to regret this. You’re a buzzkill, you know that don’t you? And here I thought Lucifer was the one who didn’t know what fun was like.” He opened the door and hoisted himself up into the car. It already sounded much quieter than Ruby. It still rumbled and made your heart leap, but it seemed steady. It appeared to you that luckily most cars operated the same way, so you remembered how to pull the handle to open the door. Settling yourself in the seat, you shut the opening behind you, trying to calm your already churning stomach. Waiting for the thing to start moving, you braced yourself, but the truck stayed motionless. “Hey, man, I know I just called you a buzzkill and all, but I can’t afford another ticket right now, so seatbelts on.”

You could only understand about half of those words. Trying to blend in with the human world was going to be harder than you thought. Maybe some studying was in order...But you had to come up with some sort of excuse that made it appear as if you knew what he was telling you. “I don’t have one.”

It was practically an insult that he looked at you with such disappointment. “Come on, playing dumb won’t work on me, Lucifer’s already pissed from the last time I got pulled over.” Individually the words themselves made sense, but the phrases were almost gibberish to you. Taking too long trying to piece things together, Mammon sighed, leaned over, much too close to you, reaching behind your head. He tugged on an extending fabric, pulled it across your body and attached it to a clasp near your hip. As it fastened, it clicked. A seat belt. Strange. Why was it necessary for them to restrain themselves like this? “Rule number one about hanging out with Mammon,” the human started pulling a similar belt around him. “When you’re in my car, I’m in charge!” He hit a button, extremely loud music pouring out of every corner of the car, making the entire carriage thump. Screaming to be heard above the audio, he tugged on a lever in the middle. “Whoo! Roulette, here I come!” Your insides lurched as the front of the room lifted open and Ob moved forward.

Off in the distance, two adolescent humans were pushing each other around, speaking much too loudly about idiotic things. The car a little ways to the right of you had a human with long hair and tired eyes sucking on a piece of metal, blowing smoke out of their mouth. And as lines of more vehicles chugged on, and people talked in ways you didn’t comprehend, it started to hit harder how far you were away from home. This was a foreign land, filled with sins and distractions at every corner. And...food dipped in liquid apparently. As you raised the bag, you felt the slick underside of it rub off against your fingers. “Oi, oi, oi, oi, don’t be like my brother and get greasy fingerprints all over the place! I just got Obby detailed!”

You placed the bag in your lap. “I thought this machine was named Ob?”

He smiled to himself. “Ob, Obby, they’re the same. Technically, it’s Obsidian, but I like to give ‘em nicknames you know? Anyways, I ain’t like Lucifer, you can eat, but just be careful, ya hear!” He reached a hand into his own bag while the other hand was on the directional wheel. He pulled out a...fried stick and put it in his mouth. Mammon had stopped by...it was called a drive-through. At least you were starting to get the hang of their fairly straightforward naming system. You didn’t want anything, but apparently he got you something anyway. You didn’t even know what was in here, and honestly you were a little scared to find out. It was...dare you say, rather polite of him to consider feeding you. “Lucifer’s gotta give me my card back for sure! For looking after you so nicely and all! You better be thankful! I don’t do this stuff for anyone, just so you know!” And of course his ego ruined the gesture completely. Every action he made was a move to get him closer to more material gain.

Appetite was lost on you, not that this sickly human food was appealing anyway. It was all too much. The stimuli of everything was driving you mad. You put the bag beside you, leaning against the inside of the car, trying not to notice the seatbelt and how suffocating it all felt.

Suddenly, the deafening music turned down. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? You’re not feeling sick are ya? No being sick in my treasure!”

You were sick. Sick of all this. “I want to go home.”

Something about that must’ve resonated with him. He sighed, turning his head to look out the window. “Ah, geez…” Quickly, the mood turned awkward. “Hey, I mean, I can always turn around if you want.”

“Not your home. Mine.”

Mammon remained quiet at that, something that seemed like a rarity for him. It didn’t last for too long though. “They said your folks died, or something like that right?”

The lie the prince had come up with nearly made you laugh. You let out a single scoff instead. “Something like that.”

Even though you hadn’t been around Mammon for too long, he ended up surprising you. “That sucks, man...Listen...I-I know what it’s like.” The tone of his voice sounded uncertain, like this had been the first time in a long time that he’d been honest, vulnerable. The pitch was unsteady, struggling to try something on that he hadn’t worn in ages. “Losing someone...it stays with ya. Broke my family apart...if you can even call us that anymore nowadays. Once she was gone, we all found a different way to fill in the gaps.” There was humanity in him yet, buried deep beneath heavy sorrow. “But you know what helped me out the most?” You raised your head, actually wanting to look at him for the first time since you’d known him. Mammon pulled up into a lot littered with a bunch of other human cars. Just as you glanced at him, the goodness and seriousness in him retracted. He glanced out the window at a large shiny building. His particular “fill” he had mentioned had such a tight grip on him, it was hard to tell if he understood how much it controlled him. The lights of the casino hypnotized him, erasing any sense of despair that lingered in him. Or perhaps covering it up was a better explanation. This was no cure. “There’s nothing quite like a casino! Trust me,” He patted you on the shoulder. “Play a few games and you’ll forget that you wanted to go home in the first place!” Ob turned off, the shudder of the frame dying. Mammon hopped out of the car without a second thought, treading towards the entrance, leaving you behind. For a moment there had been awareness, a connection. Now, there was only one thing on his mind. Greed.

There were two options for you. Stay in this stuffy thing or follow the human inside. Neither were great options, unluckily. However, now your curiosity was piqued. Was it truly possible for this Morningstar to change? But did you have the patience to try? Maybe this was your own gamble. You landed on the solid grown below, making sure to remember to shut the door behind you. The bright white hair of the human was in your sights for only a second before he was engulfed in a crowd. At the worst, it might be fun to watch him fail...So inside you went.

If you thought outside was overstimulating, you were drastically underprepared for the contents of a human casino. Screens were flashing, noises rang out from every single inch, the carpet was almost louder than the buzzing in your ears. The aroma of tainted beverages and smoke sent your vision swirling. People bumped into you, some blind from crying, some far too lost in their indulgences to notice you were there. Mammon was gone. But even amongst all these attacks on your senses, there was one feeling that rose among them all. The presence of demons. You should’ve known a place like this where people sold their soul for the rush of a Jackpot would be where your kind thrived.

Knowing your luck, today would be the day Mammon lost more than the pot. You had to find him, quickly.

A circle of hell…this is what this had to be right? An hour had passed and still no sign of the cursed human. The only thing you kept note of was the same dumb sign that promoted some sort of membership that was obviously a borderline scam. You had seen it three times already…you were walking in circles. It wasn’t your fault! This place was a maze, a blinking, haze filled maze. You were running out of options, as well as sanity.

A large bulky man stood against the wall, keeping an eye over the many glossy-eyed consumers. You headed up to him. It took a second for him to notice you staring. “Yeah?”

“Have you seen a white-haired man, about this tall,” you moved your arm to about where he was against your own height. “Wearing a brown jacket?”

The man huffed out a laugh. “You think I remember everyone that walks past me? Listen, I’m just here making sure people behave. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Useless. Turning your back on the human, you walked off again, head on a swivel. Your eyes spotted a woman, still sober, also looking around for someone, maybe she’d spotted who you were searching for instead. Coming up behind her, you didn’t wait this time for them to notice you. “Excuse me?”

“Hm?” Brown curls bounced across her forehead.

“I’m looking for someone. Have you seen-“

The woman’s attention left yours, looking up past you. “Oh, there he is!” Following her gaze, you looked over your shoulder to see someone else entirely. Someone who was without a doubt not Mammon. Without listening to the rest of your question, she brushed you off, matching strides with the person she had found. So annoying…

Then a warm sounding voice pricked your ears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help but overhear.” A different human man approached, someone with shaggy light brown hair with eyes to match, the shadow of a fresh growing beard darkening his jawline. His black leather jacket hung loose off his body, a few sizes too big, like it wasn’t his. Not to mention it smelled of cologne and cigarettes. “You’re looking for someone? I might’ve seen them, I’m good with faces.” His smile was wide and spotless, so flirtatiously perfect you had your doubts about him.

But any help would be worth it at this juncture. “White hair, golden brown eyes, a -“

“Mammon Morningstar, right?” The answer was so sudden. “He’s in here all the time, it’s hard to not remember him, you know? Well, that and he happens to be a good friend of mine.” The lungs in your chest stopped as soon as he put his arm around your shoulders. “Tell you what, why don’t we go find him together?” The mysterious helper started dragging you forward, and as he did, a few other people pulled away from their spots in the background, carefully weaving through the crowd, trying not to seem as if they were following you...but they were. Everything in you was tempted to tear the human off of you by his arm and chuck him into the nearest machine...but that would garner attention. “You know, it’s weird…” your escort wondered. “I’m really good with faces, and yet, I can’t seem to recall seeing yours. Where are you from?”

As blandly as you could, you gave him a completely honest half-answer. “Not here.”

The man laughed. “Oh, good!” Then he turned his questions in a different direction. “How long have you known Mammon? Because he hasn’t...ever mentioned someone like you before...and Mammon tells me everything.” The amusement was sour, bitter, just like this human’s soul. Simeon had been shocked when he’d discovered you’d never taken a mortal soul. But how could you when they were always so...revolting?

Your fondness for humans had already sunken to the bottom, but somehow you found yourselves wishing to be annoyed by Mammon rather than this…human in devil’s clothing. ”You’re asking all about me, and yet, I don’t know a single thing about you. What’s your name?”

Never give a magical being your name, that was the first thing legends taught humans, at least, the last time you visited they did. Either legends had long but died out, or this human was cocky enough to pass out his name to you on a silver platter. “It’s Cory.” As soon as he handed himself to you, demonic insight did the rest. Glimpses of terrible secrets, of all the wrong he had done in his life. What greed and anger had encouraged him to do. He was dangerous, and this human had Mammon centered in his focus. “But all my friends just call me Cash. So feel free to call me that too, yeah?” You opened your mouth, ready to finally get rid of this pest and drag Mammon to his house if you had to, but Cody’s arm left you. Outstretched, he moved away from your side to greet another familiar face. “There’s my Golden Boy!”

Standing in front of a table, rattling around dice in his palm, Mammon stopped himself from rolling them. At the sound of Cody’s voice, his shoulders tensed, his expression losing it’s playful tone. Cody’s hand’s gripped Mammon’s shoulders as he came up behind him. “C-Cash, fun-funny seeing ya here!”

It was obvious ‘Cash’ also wanted to avoid unwanted attention, although anger started to darken his eyes at the sight of his ‘good friend’. Ignoring the stuttering, Cody smiled. “How’s it going? Winning anything?”

Confidence faltering, Mammon tried to chuckle. “N-not yet.”

Three of the bodies that had been shadowing you and Cody stood directly behind you, far too close for comfort. There was something odd about their presence...You were picking up a smell, something you were sure human’s couldn’t possess. Yet, each of the humans behind you possessed something that was shockingly similar to dragon’s breath… Leaning in a bit closer to Mammon, Cash let some of his true colors show. “Well, I sure hope you start winning something soon.”

Another loaner had come to collect his dues.

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nitannichionne · 3 years

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If He Was Your Fan, A Henry Cavill Fanfic Chapter 65: Birthday In Bed (Henry POV)

Chapter 65: Birthday in Bed

HENRY POV

It was her first time at my home, my real home. My birthday seemed like the proper time.

She came over that night. She said she wanted to be next to me when my birthday began, which was technically at midnight. She dressed in a beautiful blue gown that I was going to enjoy watching her float around the house in, and then I asked.

“I have a request.”

Her eyes widened, a sign of attention and compliance.

I could only smile. I presented her with the jewelry.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s all I want you to wear….for now.”

She gasped softly. “Seriously?”

"Birthday boy says, as you told me earlier." I shook my head at her. “I can’t be more serious. I guess you haven’t noticed the drapes are all drawn, blinds shut?”

I put them on her and she literally stepped out of the gown as I slid it down her shoulders and pushed it gently over her hips, feeling like I was unwrapping her as one of my gifts.

“I like the look of this gown by the way,” I tell her, kissing her shoulder. “Would you mind leaving it here?”

I open my eyes. The room is still dark, drapes drawn, but I smile. The gown is gone, but I smell cooking food. I turn onto my back, putting my hands behind my head, and smile, closing my eyes again.

The clock struck midnight as I lowered her onto me. My body rejoiced in relief, feeling her stretch and gush at the same time I sheathed myself within her, my body tingling in the places she had bathed with her tongue, leaving not much unattended to. I admired how her back arched, her hips spread over mine. I used one hand to clasp her wrists, the other to guide he hips as I thrust upward, reveling in her gasp as I greedily pulled her down.

“That’s it, darling!” I hissed as she bounced, rewarding her with the occasional thrust that made her moan and cry out, chase our climax. Her whimpers and cries snaked down spine, making me drive harder, and she drove me wild as her hips moved and snapped deliciously, I kept licking and biting my lips in pure lust, still tasting her on my lips and tongue.

“Henry!” She cried out, her head falling back. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” She let out a long cry and her body leaned forward as she clasped hard, making me cry out with her.

But I was in rare form tonight. It was my birthday. The woman I love was finally in my bed, and I felt hungry for her in ways I couldn’t define. Oh, how I had waited for this, like a starving man for a feast. And now…now…

I turned her to me and seated her on me again. Her fingers dug into my chest, but then slid to my shoulders for a firm grip. “Ride me, love…ride me.”

And she did…

I opened my eyes. To work out or not to work out, that was the question. I wasn’t hitting the gym, that was for sure, but a little spin on the exercise bike…?

“Nope,” I tell no one. I’d had plenty of cardio last night, and was planning for more. In fact, I was ready for more.

I roll out of bed and head for the shower. I turn it on, and hear padding feet hurrying toward me.

“Sorry!” she whispers, getting in and taking my sponge. She begins bathing me.

“What—” I laugh happily and she giggles as she wets my hair. “I can lift a finger or two, you know.”

“I want to do it,” she whispers, her eyes on the sponge. She liked running her hands over me, she liked caressing me, even rubbing me down. That warms the heart, the soft but firm touch, that feeling of being cherished in such a way. The water thankfully hides a couple of tears. “I put breakfast in the oven to keep it warm. It’ll be fine.”

“In that case—” I lowered to my knees and brought her foot up on the lip of the tub, licking on the way down.

“Ooh…” she half whispers, half moans, the sound blending with the shower. One of her hands sets on my shoulder the other in my hair. “It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly,” I whisper against the apex of her legs before I snaked my tongue out to taste her. I gave her such a lashing she collapsed against the wall moaning, unable to stand. I rise and hook her bent knee, and then she wraps it around my hips and does the same with the other as once again I sank into her. I enjoy watching her mouth fall open, her eyes roll closed. I work her up and down my length and she moves with me, her hands around my neck as I brace her against the wall. I open my eyes and I can see the tears in her eyes, different from the water and I wonder if she sees mine. We move together, panting, calling each other’s names as we find yet another release in the shower.

“How come you don’t have pajamas?”

“I sleep nude a lot,” I shrug. “when I’m home.”

“Ah.”

“But I have pajamas.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” I roll my eyes. “Me Mum gave them to me my first Christmas here. Never wore them except that day.”

She grows excited. “Never?”

I catch on quickly, rolling my eyes at her. “Darling—”

“Please?”

Ah, that little girl in her, the one I fall victim to with a smile. “Not wearing the top.”

“Alright!”

I lead her to back to the bedroom. “I only thought of them because you are wearing the same shade of blue, love.” I take them out of a drawer. “See?”

“Oh, put the bottoms on!” she smiles brightly, and I do without protest. “You look handsome, brings out your eyes, baby.”

“Tell you what,” I say, throwing the buttoned top at her. “You put that on.”

She slips it over her head and it looks like a mini dress of sorts. She steps in the mirror. “Wow, looks big.” She flounces her arms, her fingers somewhat visible.

I walk over and roll the sleeves up. “Ah, now you can wear it.”

“But—”

“Birthday boy says.”

She giggles and turns back to the mirror. I hold her from behind around her waist and kiss her shoulder. I look up at our reflection and her head is turned to kiss my cheek, eyes closed. She is leaning into me, against me, breathing me in…me.

I breathe with her. I listen to her hum happy birthday Marilyn Monroe style in ear, and I melt inside. How long do I have to wait? She belongs here! Why doesn't she see that? And then the inner voice asks, Why haven't you proposed yet? What are YOU waiting for? I sigh, wanting the perfect time, for her to feel ready for it, but more than anything to not be turned down. I sigh at the ring on her finger.

"What?"

Shit, quiet too long. “Tell me, love, have you been to a pub?” I ask.

“Not…not really.”

“Well, I’d like to go with you.” I wait. I do like to drink, and now that I am in between productions, I am known to get knackered now and again. I take a deep breath. I know she isn’t a drinker. She told me that alcoholism did some things to her family, but….

“Alright.”

My whole body relaxes. I didn’t realize I was so tense. I chuckle softly. “Thank you.” With that, I sweep her up in my arms.

She whoops with surprise. “Where are we going?”

“To breakfast.” I carry her toward the kitchen.

“Ah.”

“Then back to bed.”

“Back to bed?”

“Yeah, then tea.” I say softly.

She giggles.

“Must have that tea, milady, I am British.” I steal a kiss from her. “Then back to bed, but we can have tea in bed after that, you know, elevensies?”

She’s laughing now.

“You don’t know your tea times?” I cluck my tongue at her. “Well, we’ll set that right.”

“What do you do between sex and tea?”

“Go to the loo?”

She curls her arms around me, laughing so hard I can’t help but join her. Now that she has been here in my home, I know that I won't-I can't-wait much longer to make things permanent...

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #august walker #captain syverson #clark kent #geralt #sherlock #superman #walter marshall #will shaw #witcher #happy birthday henry cavill

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

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Where Three Stars Meet

Sope x Reader ; PolyBTS

“We’re meant to be it’s written in the stars...”

Rating: M

Word Count: 6,046

Release Date: July 22nd, 2020 @ 9 p.m. (GMT-4)

Warning: The following contains material not suitable for all audiences. Includes murder, recreational drug use, homophobic slurs, smut, and toxic relationships. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

YN awoke to the sight of Min Yoongi staring down at her sleeping figure, that in itself would’ve been concerning if it weren’t for the fact that Yoongi’s clothes were covered in blood. “What happened?” YN threw the covers off her body and rushed to Yoongi, who simply stared at her with dead eyes before shrugging. “Shush, calm down.” The smile he gave her barely graced his cheeks. “Some homophobic pigs tried to attack Hobi and me. We defended ourselves, but things got kind of messy.” Even in the dark of night, YN could see there was far too much blood on Yoongi for it to have been from a normal fight. Perhaps Yoongi could see the furrow between her brows and the doubt that hung heavy on her tongue. For the second she parted her lips, he interrupted.

“I’m tired, YN. I just want to rest.” With no further warning, he began to strip off his soiled clothing. Letting it drop to the floor.

YN immediately jumps out of bed, gathering the clothing into her arms and heading into her bathroom. Thankfully her mother ran a late shift tonight, for the sound of the washing machine starting up would have roused her from sleep. Though YN’s mother was more understanding than most - even she wouldn’t tolerate a man in her daughter’s bed this late at night. In the silence surrounding her, YN wonders why Yoongi came to her of all people. Sure, they were friends but things had been different lately. There were plenty of other people who could provide better comfort to Yoongi in a time of need. He has Hoseok after all.

Warm strong arms wrapped around YN’s torso causing her to let out a shriek. A large palm covered her mouth muffling her screams. “It’s just me.” Hoseok’s dulcet voice whispered into her ear. YN huffed, as if that makes things any better, then pushed against the arms encaging her. Though the space in her bathroom was limited, YN sought to put as much room between her and the dark figure. Once her eyes adjusted to him, YN saw that Hoseok’s clothes were in a much worse state.

“What happened?” She rushed forward, hands gripping the bloody material of the shirt and jacket. YN couldn’t see any wounds on Hoseok’s body given the low lighting but considering he wasn’t flinching she took that as a positive sign. “Calm down, star.” YN glared at his use of the nickname. “We got jumped ‘took care of it.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. As if the amount of blood on their clothes didn’t lean more towards a massacre than a petty fight. YN sighs, frustrated by the lack of answers she was receiving. “What are you even doing out so late?”

“It’s two am, YN. It’s not that late.” YN tugs at the end of Hoseok’s shirt and he proceeds to strip, handing everything to her. Just from holding it, she could tell the blood had dried. Great. That meant the stains were going to be harder to take off. YN reached into her bathroom cabinet and took out some peroxide spraying it messily on the clothes before dumping them into the washer too. Now that YN was facing away from the man, she asked what was really on her mind.

“Are you hurt?”

The only response she received was scoff and the small 'click' of the door closing behind him.

Hoseok and Yoongi had never been in YN's room before this moment, but they had already made themselves comfortable in her bed. The two of them snuggled up in their boxers while YN realized that though she might have been comfortable sleeping in a shirt and underwear with her best friend before - things had changed. "What are you doing?" Yoongi asks, right when she was about to turn the door handle to go downstairs. Surely it was obvious enough. "I'm going to crash downstairs." YN shrugged, though she felt uncomfortable with the stare both of them were giving her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Yoongi looked almost upset that YN had tried to leave.

“Come here.” He held his hand out, inviting her to join them. When YN hesitated for a second the glare directed her way, had her practically running to the bed. Hoseok adjusted the sheets so that she could crawl in while Yoongi, always the tiny spoon, decided to switch roles today. Forcing YN to be sandwiched between him and Hoseok. Yoongi’s hand rested on YN’s hip bone while he finally made himself comfortable. YN could feel the softness of his skin brushing against hers. Not to mention the body heat that radiated off of Hoseok. Speaking of the man, when YN’s eyes finally met his dark ones, he winked. Suddenly leaning over her to peck Yoongi on the lips. Not wanting to see the smug look on his face, YN closed her eyes once more.

She was going to have to skip work, it was inevitable. YN couldn’t function without a full night’s sleep and here she was being awakened again. Hoseok and Yoongi stood at the foot of her bed now dressed in their clean clothes. It made YN wonder just how much time had passed, it couldn’t possibly be more than an hour. Maybe two? Hoseok looked at his leather watch before muttering a “We have to go” to Yoongi under his breath. The latter of which seemed to finally notice YN had woken up. “Come with us.” Though that suggestion was more of an order, considering Yoongi was pulling on her arm and dragging her out of bed. Figuring there was no way out of it, YN looked for a pair of jeans.

“Pack a bag,” Hoseok mutters without sparing a glance her way. YN wasn’t wearing a bra and wasn’t going to bother changing into one. Already aware of the eyes on her as she bent over to pull up her pants. Quickly she shoves her uniform shirt, toothbrush, clean underwear, and a phone charger in an old messenger bag. Yoongi thankfully offered to carry it and the three of them headed out.

The cruiser wasn’t as fast as Hoseok’s gsxr750, but it had the space needed to carry three people. Though it caught eyes, it wasn’t so flashy that law enforcement would notice it, something Hoseok thought of when purchasing it. The light blue c90t had been hidden on the side of YN’s garage where it blended into the bushes. YN remained quiet while the two of them fastened their helmets and silently prayed to not die as she settled between the two of them. The ride wasn’t a long one, though Hoseok lived on the other side of town, they were blessed with many green lights.

With the exception of the one positioned right in front of Chang’s Choppers. It was right in the center of downtown and it was a bit odd that it be so vacant. The lack of sunlight or anything similar supported YN’s theory that it was still fairly early in the morning. Chan’s regulars didn’t leave until the sun forced them too unless they were willing to face a walk of shame. Or be busted by the cops. They usually waited out by the alleyway, the one right next door which was a dead-end because of the ten-foot-tall locked gate installed in the back. YN stared at this alleyway while waiting for the light to turn, noticing a figure lying on the ground. Unmoving. YN assumed it was likely some drunkard, but the longer she stared at it the more unnerved she became. When her vision was starting to become adjusted, noticing details in the man’s clothing, the bike sped away.

“Are you guys hungry?” Hoseok asks, voice devoid of any emotion. YN shrugs not particularly caring, while Yoongi speaks up. “I could go for some.”

Nearing a twenty-four hours convenience store, YN expects Hoseok to pull up to the front of the store but doesn’t say anything when he pulls up to the side instead. Yoongi doesn’t comment on it either and YN notices that some feet away by the side door a tall man smoking a cigarette is watching them. Hoseok takes off his helmet, turning around and placing it on YN’s head without saying a word. Then he marches up to the strange man and begins to chat. Far too casual for it to be serious.

“Hey look at me.” Yoongi’s fingers slightly turn YN towards him. A signature gummy smile adorning his features which makes all of YN’s worries melt away. His sudden embrace catches her off guard as Min Yoongi is not one for public displays of affection. Then again he has been acting out of sorts recently. “I’ve missed you.” Yoongi tightened his hold on her. YN was so close that she could smell his and Hoseok’s cologne on his skin. “Why have you been ignoring me?” She could hear the pout in his voice and though she wanted so badly to be honest with Yoongi, the lie rolled off her tongue before she could even think about it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you, Yoongi.”

Of course, she had, it was the only option she saw. Yoongi had embarrassed her in front of everyone and damaged her pride. Though it was likely nothing more than a sick joke to the men, they couldn't be that ignorant of her feelings. Even YN's mother was aware of them and she could barely remember her own daughter's birthday. Looking into the man's sharp cat eyes YN could see the emotion hiding behind them and decided that no: Yoongi knew. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

“You know why, Yoons.” Instead of giving her the response she so desperately wanted Yoongi only chuckled in response. By then Hoseok had come back, hands stuffed into his pocket. YN cleared her throat trying to push down the emotion threatening to spill. “Where’s the food?” Hoseok looked at her humorously, as if there were some kind of inside joke she missed. “At home. Where else?”

The building the pair called home was your standard apartment complex, the only difference was the side of town it resided on and the hidden fourth floor that Yoongi and Hoseok called home. It wasn't explicitly hidden, but the structure would make anyone believe it was merely a maintenance floor on the roof. It housed fewer units and currently, only two of them were occupied. One by an elderly woman in the corner and Hoseok's right in the middle. When YN had first visited, when Yoongi had moved in, she found it a bit eerie that he'd chosen one right in between two abandoned ones, but later found out the choice had been purposeful.

The apartment wasn't that nice, a standard studio, that Yoongi helped maintain clean. There were a couple of things here and there, but nothing that displayed exuberant wealth. Not the kind that YN knew Hoseok possessed. The second the door opened YN headed for the couch, limbs weary and mentally exhausted. Only to be stopped by Yoongi once more. "Relax YN." His fingers interlaced with hers as he dragged her over to the large king bed in the corner of the room. "You're far too tense." YN sighed, something had triggered Yoongi's neediness and unfortunately it was centered on her tonight.

Hoseok remained silent rummaging through the cabinets trying to find food. YN wondered what he thought of his boyfriend’s sudden change in attitude. Does it have something to do with the fight? Yoongi wasn't one to be scared by a little blood - or a lot in this case - YN had been around long enough to know that though Yoongi never instigated the conflict, he didn't flee from it either. "Finally." Hoseok pulled out snacks, drinks, and a bong. Should’ve known. That was likely what he had purchased from the sketchy guy. Hoseok stripped down to his boxers, throwing the clothes into the dirty clothes bin, and pulling out a pair of sweats laying on a chair.

“Do you smoke YN?” They know she doesn’t. The three of them have been together at enough parties to know that though she doesn’t mind being around people when they do it. YN would never actively participate. Yoongi takes off his shirt too, likely not wanting the smell to get on it, proceeds to lay on the bed. His long nimble fingers played with hers, toying them to a specific rhythm resembling a piano. When was the last time he played?

"C'mon Star, you're safe with us. Just try it once." How could YN say that she doesn't feel safe? That ever since the two of them showed up in her bedroom, bloody, and evading her questions at every turn, she had felt everything but safe. Yoongi and Hoseok were always strange, but today felt off. Still, whenever Yoongi's lips turned into an adorable pout and Hoseok's charcoal eyes darkened some more she was putty in their hands.

YN had already become accustomed to the smell - years of exposure does that to you. Plus Hoseok and Yoongi seemed to be in their little world, the latter laying across Hoseok drawing little stars into his abs. If Yoongi was lean then Hoseok was fit, but not in a way that made his body too hard. YN had never really seen him work out but knew he often did with Namjoon. Imagining Hoseok joining Namjoon in a pilates class caused her to crack a smile. Hoseok caught onto her and smiled back as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Here," he said, holding out the pipe for her to grab. YN takes a deep breath and takes a hit, barely managing to take it all in - at least she doesn't cough. Though YN was sure she didn't even get a proper hit, it seemed enough for the men who observed her with smiles on their faces. YN passes back the bong, thinking she's in the clear. She is until Hoseok takes a hit and blows all the smoke into YN's face. YN coughs, waving the cloud away, while Yoongi is rolling on the ground in laughter.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” YN stands up waiting until she’s turned around to roll her eyes. Before she can even take two steps, Hoseok’s hand latches onto her wrist. “Don’t take too long.” YN nods and heads for the bathroom, not hesitating to lock the door once inside.

“What the fuck was that YN?!” Wendy whisper-yelled, YN could barely pick it up over the blaring loud music outside the bathroom door. Unconsciously YN shrugged, her mind still reeling as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Yoongi kissed me. “Holy shit.” YN gasped, her hands gripping the countertop so tightly the tips of her fingers were turning white. While she was on the brink of going into shock Wendy was at the complete opposite of the spectrum: she was raging.

“All those bangtan boys are assholes!” YN couldn’t help but agree with her on that. “I mean why would he kiss you in front of his boyfriend?! Not to mention your date.”

YN froze, her head slowly lifting to look at herself in the mirror, her cheeks were red and eyes wide. If she focused hard enough she could feel the racing of her heartbeat in her ears. “What?” She turned to look at Wendy. Her friend seemed to have misunderstood exactly what YN was questioning. “Youngjae was right there watching the whole thing. He followed you after Yoongi dragged you to the smoke room.” Truthfully YN couldn’t give a damn about a Youngjae. How could she have forgotten that Hoseok was right there? In front of them!

“Oh my god,” YN moaned, her hands running through her hair. This night had been the worst and now YN would have to deal with the fallout that was sure to come from the kiss.

“They always do this YN. Every time you get a date or a new friend the two of them pull some stunt. It isn’t healthy!”

YN turned towards Wendy who in her right arm held both their bags. Thank god. "Look, Wendy, I'm far too drunk for this conversation. I think I'll just head home." Wendy looked like she was about to say something, but was interrupted by the banging on the door.

YN opens the door to Hoseok leaning on the banister. "Everything alright?" YN nods, thankful that the red from her cheeks has finally gone down. "Good because I have to pee." Hoseok shoves her away and begins to pull down his pants, causing YN to bolt out the door. Back in the main room, Yoongi is scrolling through his phone, "Change into that." He states without even looking at her. The shirt is rather large on her frame: the entirety of her neck and some areas of her shoulder being exposed. It does reach mid-thigh though which is preferable to what she's wearing now. Quickly she changes into the shirt and out of her jeans, by the time she's done Hoseok is out of the bathroom.

"Get in." He motions toward the bed, knowing there's no point in arguing YN does so. This time facing Yoongi and cradling into his chest. Hoseok gets in soon after turning off the lights, his hand comes to rest right above YN's thigh. She looks up at Yoongi, but the man has already closed his eyes and she opts to do the same. Hoping to rest this time.

"My head is killing me. Shit." YN had to smile awkwardly at a couple of customers who turned to look at them in indignation. "Sooyoung, quiet please." The brunette turned to YN and sent her a reproachful look. YN ignored it knowing it didn't mean anything. Sooyoung leaned against the counter, her upper half resting over the register.

“I’m going to quit.”

YN chuckles, “Don’t you always say that.”

“I know,” Sooyoung huffs glancing around the store seemingly bored by her surroundings. It isn’t until she glances outside that a question pops into her head. “Doesn’t your mom usually drop you off?”

“So?”

“I didn’t know your mom had a bike.” The look Sooyoung sent her could best be described as mischievous. YN ignored her in favor of switching the topic. She glanced around and saw someone that went to her college, raking over the vintage magazine so violently he was sure to break them. “Have you heard from Wendy?” Sooyoung groaned, the two of them weren’t exactly on the best terms. “Last I saw from her was at yesterday’s party. Clinging onto your scraps.” That caught YN’s attention, “What do you mean?” Wendy had been ignoring her, but that wasn’t exactly out of character for her.

“She was all over Youngjae like a bitch in heat. It was uber pathetic especially when everyone knew she was doing it to piss you off.” Sooyoung laughed, “Should’ve seen the look on her face when you didn’t show up.”

YN frowned, Yoongi's distrust of Wendy popping into her head. "I didn't even know there was a party." Still, she found it weird that Sooyoung, Wendy, and Youngjae would be at a party without YN knowing about it. Unless… “Were Yoongi and Hoseok there?" The look Sooyoung sent her was enough of an answer, "Duh. Do they ever miss a party? Especially not when Seokjin throws it." Of course, they would purposefully exclude her. Whenever something occurred between them and YN, she would be treated as an outcast. A sick punishment they had devised as if her social anxiety wasn’t shit already.

Sooyoung glanced up towards the clock, "Oh your shift it up." YN raised her eyebrow, "I thought I had a six-hour shift today." Sooyoung nods, "You did, but I needed the hours so I told Park I'd cover for you." YN shook her head disapprovingly. "Oh come on, it isn't like you need it. Please, I'm behind on rent." YN relents and heads towards the office to clock out. At least this means I get to go home and sleep. Though there was that to look forward to, YN didn't enjoy the thirty-minute walk home she would have to endure. She waved goodbye to Sooyoung and hoisted her bag around her body, thanking god for the clear weather.

The walk home gave YN the much-needed solace she needed, time to dwell on everything that had happened. Something had shifted in her relationship with the men. Though their relationship was never conventional it wasn't anything that could justify what had happened last night. Though YN had a crush on Yoongi since she had met him freshman year, and though he had always been a bit possessive of her, it wasn't until he began dating Hoseok that things took a turn. Hoseok had always been a part of the group, but he never really made an effort to get to know her like the rest of them had. When the two of them began dating it was like Hoseok skipped all the steps and getting to know each other and went right into calling YN a friend - though he'd never say it out loud.

The three of them were always together and she was smart enough to know what most people in town thought about their strange relationship. YN knew what she thought about it. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok’s insight, though, was something she severely lacked. It's all because of that stupid kiss. YN adjusted her ponytail behind her, pulling at it to tighten the band.

As she was nearing home, the loud siren and flashing lights drew her attention. The patrol car dashed through the street and kept going straight, presumably headed downtown. Most of the trouble that occurred came from that area of town, which YN found ironic considering Kim Seokjin lived nowhere near.

The house was yet again empty and YN knew her mom had yet to arrive from her shift. Poor woman. The least YN could do was cook her a meal. She set her dirty clothes in the bin and headed straight for the kitchen, making the rice and seasoning the beef so that all her mother would have to do is fry it. She had been alone, all of thirty minutes when the banging on the door commenced. It was so loud it made YN jump in surprise. Quickly she walked over to the window trying to see who was at her front door, only to see an angry Hoseok and Yoongi. A sigh she didn't even know she was holding in left her as she braced herself.

“Didn’t you say your shift ended at six?”

Well hello to you to Hoseok. “It did, but they changed it without telling me.” She held the door open so the men could walk in. It felt strange having them back in her home - not drenched in blood that is.

Yoongi was quiet, but from how the veins bulged in his arms she could see how tense he was. She tentatively touched his arm and felt the muscles relax beneath the skin. “I booked a room for the weekend, Star. You should join us.” YN turned to face Hoseok, the expression on his face was unreadable. Even though this was her home YN felt the men wielded all the power. “When was the last time it was just us?” Yoongi’s arms wrapped around her torso embracing her from behind. His chin resting on her shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

"Do you have anything better to do?" Yoongi asked as if the only thing that would possibly make her hesitate was a previous engagement.

“No.”

"Then that settles it," Hoseok states walking further into the house and sitting on the couch, making himself comfortable.

YN turns her head slightly to look at Yoongi, her voice was hushed. "When are we leaving."

When Yoongi turns to look at her they are mere millimeters away. "Right now," YN asks for at least an hour to get ready which Hoseok grants as she races to finish the food and get prepared. In forty-five minutes YN showers, shaves, and packs her clothes. She decides to bring along a bikini since the weather has been warm as of late. When she exits her bedroom Hoseok is standing there with her phone in hand. "It kept ringing. Think it was an alarm." She grabs her phone but finds it weird that there are no notifications or missed calls. Not dwelling on it for too long she shoots her mom a text:

'Staying with a friend for the weekend. Left the food in the microwave and there's lasagna for tomorrow. Love ya'

The beach house belonged to Seokjin, as did most things the group utilized, but the area the three of them were staying in was a closed-off room. More like efficiency than an actual studio. Which meant YN was likely to be sharing a bed with the men again. Now far away from everything YN was able to think some things through. Particularly her relationship with Yoongi and Hoseok. She never enjoyed confrontation but figured this was one sleeping dog that could be awakened.

The sun had yet to set when they arrived, so while they couldn't use the beach, the pool was free-range. "I fucking hate the water." Yoongi groans, clinging onto the pool's wall like his life depended on it. YN giggled, which caused the pout on Yoongi's lips to grow exponentially. "Don't you know how to swim?" He looked offended by the question. "Of course, I fucking do. Doesn't mean I like to." YN playfully rolled her eyes. The complete opposite of Yoongi, Hoseok was currently swimming laps around the pool. "He's a fucking dog," muttered Yoongi. A strange thought popped into YN's head that had her going underwater just so Yoongi wouldn't see her embarrassment.

She almost swallowed water when Hoseok pulled her even lower, putting a finger to his lips while going behind Yoongi. YN went up for air, gasping slightly which caused Yoongi to frown. "You okay?" YN nodded, "Perfectly fine." If Yoongi didn't believe her, he didn't have a chance to voice his doubts as Hoseok pulled him underwater. YN couldn't contain her laughter as she saw Yoongi fight against his boyfriend like an angry feline. "What the fuck Hoseok!" Yoongi screamed once the two of them finally emerged. Hoseok only smiled teasingly, sending a flying kiss to his angry lover.

YN only laughed more, the bell-like sound drawing the attention of the men. Twilight surrounded them all around, the purple sky reflecting off the clear water doing a nice contrast with the hue of the skins. "What is it?" YN asked, once her laughter died down. Not understanding why the two of them gaped at her like that. All YN did was blink and suddenly Yoongi's lips were on hers. Pressing urgently, passionately, as if she contained the oxygen he needed to breathe. YN stood frozen eyes wide open until she made eye contact with Hoseok who didn't look the least bit upset. Instead, he gazed at them with fascination, then he nodded. The action so curt YN would've missed it if she wasn't paying attention.

YN closed her eyes, giving in to her desires. Yoongi's lips were much harsher than she remembered, but they were sweet. Intoxicatingly so. YN wondered if this was all a dream. If she'd hit her head or perhaps swallowed too much pool water. Her previous idea had proved to be right, Yoongi was robbing her of her breath. But despite the numbness, YN was beginning to feel the two of them continued the kiss until they were forced apart by their need for air.

"I think it's getting late. We should head in," stated Hoseok, looking in between the two of them before heading towards the stairs. Yoongi followed after him and YN remained alone for just a couple of seconds. What just happened? It wasn’t until Yoongi climbed out of the pool that YN began to swim, unsure of what this meant for the night. Hoseok had allowed for the kiss to happen. So does that mean that the previous kiss - "Hurry up, star? You'll freeze to death." Hoseok stood near the edge of the pool holding a towel open. YN attempted to grab it once she had gotten out, but the man didn't let go. Wrapping her in it instead while Yoongi walked toward their room.

“We should shower to get the bleach out of our hair.”

“Wouldn’t have to do that if you didn’t pull me under Seok.”

“You loved it, babe.”

YN trailed behind them silently observing the night sky and noticing how Orion’s belt loomed over them.

"The boys are coming over later," Yoongi said, as you gathered some of your clothes in your hands ready to hit the showers. "Don't worry though they won't be staying the night." YN's thankful for that. She enjoyed the guy's company, but she wasn't necessarily in the right state of mind. YN opened the bathroom door to see Hoseok in there peeling of his trunks. "Sorry, my bad." He chuckled, "Hey Yoongi, why don't we save water?" All the blood in YN's body rushed towards her ears at what she had just heard. A silent 'what' left her lips which caused Hoseok to smirk as he pulled her in.

"You don't mind, do you Star? Didn't you and Yoongi use to take baths when you were kids? So did we." The context was incredibly different from back then, but YN was smart enough to read between the lines. In a bold move, she said, "As long as you keep your hands to yourself." Hoseok laughed, leaning in. "Where's the fun in that?" His eyes trailed slowly all across her body before he turned around and dropped his trunks.

Yoongi came in just then, "Hoseok has a bit of an exhibitionist streak in him." He too then began to take off his shirt and fiddle with the strings holding up his trunks. They were eyeing her - waiting for an acceptance or a rejection. Good thing YN had decided to be valiant this weekend. She reached behind her back and undid the laces, sliding the top off before walking towards the shower. Despite the size of the room the bathroom was fairly large with the shower fitting the three of them comfortably, of course, that didn't mean she wasn't sandwiched between them. It seems they were keeping their word, mainly focusing on rinsing themselves off and using the soap on themselves. Then came YN's turn.

"Can I?" Yoongi asked as he held the lavender-scented soap bar in his hands. His hands were just a hair away right near her navel if YN breathed too deeply their skins were sure to touch. "Yes." Yoongi placed soap on her skin and proceeded to lather it in, moving all across her torso. It was only ever the sides of his palm, his fingertips, his knuckles that brushed against her skin but it left goosebumps in its wake. Hoseok was too busy ringing the soap off his body, but eventually, he did turn around. The other soap in hand, "Can I help?" YN could swear he even batted his eyelashes though that might've been the water getting into his eyes.

Hoseok dropped to his knees with little hesitation using the same technique as Yoongi to cleanse her legs and thighs. He always avoided touching her pelvis directly by millimeters, YN thanked hindsight for keeping her bottoms on. Though that might've been so the men couldn't see the absolute state of arousal she was in. Eventually, Yoongi reached her breasts, lathering up his hands before gently massaging them. YN gasped as a soft mewl escaped her, she leaned back against Yoongi's chest. He didn't comment simply continuing the motions despite YN feeling the effect she was having on him on her backside.

"Take them off," Hoseok spoke as he rose to his full height, soap still in hand. YN hooked her fingers at the side and dragged them down slowly, allowing them to slide down her soap-ridden legs before kicking them to the side. Hoseok kissed her cheek as a reward. Then he cleaned the areas he hadn't been able to before, being extra careful with the inside of her thighs and hips while entirely avoiding her core. The water was beginning to get too hot, the fog filling up the bathroom warming YN.

“Guys.” Hoseok’s hands reached towards her back gripping her ass tightly, before beginning to massage it as well. It's too much. Far too much, but she couldn't get them to stop. Didn't want to. The heat was making YN disoriented and she blinked several times to clear her vision. Finally, she felt it: the pressure and then the release. Her body slackened slightly and Hoseok and Yoongi held her up. Before the former unclipped the showerhead from the wall and rinsed YN off. They helped her get dressed, YN assumed her sudden exhaustion must have been from the long day.

Thankfully she was able to walk to bed all on her own. Laying under the sheets, while the two of them finished getting dressed. "We're going to get food. We'll be right back." Hoseok stated, before leaning over and planting a peck on her lips. That would've been enough to wake her up, was she not already half-asleep.

“You’re the brightest thing in this town YN. You shine like a star and deserve so much more.”

Loud blaring had YN jumping out the bed as she looked around the room for the source of the noise. She saw her phone vibrating violently against the countertop and ran to get it, worried it might be her mother calling. Instead, it was an unfamiliar number. Hesitantly she picked up and put it against her ear.

“Hello?”

“YN!” Wendy’s loud voice caused her to wince. “Why...you….calls-”

"Hold on Wendy," YN checked her signal and sure enough only she only saw one little bar. "Let me go outside because you're cutting off." She walked towards the door unlocking it but leaving it propped open. Outside the summer air was cool - a strong distinction from this afternoon. "What's going on?"

“Why have you been dodging my calls? I’ve been trying to get into contact with you since this morning.”

“I swear this is the first time I’ve gotten a call all day.” YN paused to look at the number, “Why aren’t you calling me from yours?”

“Cause the calls aren’t going through. Are you mad at me? Did you block me?”

YN shook her head, “What? Of course not Wendy!”

“Well whatever,” Wendy sounded anxious. Though she was typically loud, YN had never heard her like this. Scared. “Youngjae is dead.”

She felt her phone slipping her hand and tightened her grip. “What?” Instead of Youngjae’s face popping into her head, an image of bloody Hoseok and Yoongi did.

“They found his body this morning beside Chan’s place. All cut up and disfigured like in the movies.”

YN was finding it difficult to breathe. T-the body in the alleyway. It wasn’t a drunkard sleeping. It was Youngjae. YN had seen his body in the alleyway and -

“...he left the party last night pretty early after the fight. I don’t even know why he would be near Chan’s since he lives nowhere near.”

That piqued her interest, “Fight? What fight?”

Now it was Wendy’s turn to be silent. “YN…”

"Goddammit, Wendy just tell me." She didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be true. They wouldn’t. Would they?

“When you left the party the other day Youngjae got upset that Yoongi kissed you and called Hoseok and him freaks and fags. They ignored him but yesterday at the party…”

YN recalled Yoongi’s words: “Some homophobic pigs tried to attack Hobi and me.”

“YN. Hoseok and Yoongi are the prime suspects.”

YN could hear the motor of the bike being turned off and the steps climbing up the stairs. “Star?”

#yandere min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yandere jung hoseok x reader #yandere jung hoseok #yandere sope #yandere sope x reader #yandere min yoongi x reader x jung hoseok #yandere min yoongi x jung hoseok #yandere jung hoseok x min yoongi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bangtanarmynet #ykn #where three stars meet #WTSM #girlmeetsliv3

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unholyhelbig · 4 years

Text

We Sold Our Souls | 001: Beca

Summary: A small-town rock band continues to play even smaller venues well past high school graduation. Aubrey, Beca, Emily, and Chloe struggle with newfound fame and the long bloody road to get there.

[Based off of "We Sold Our Souls" By Grady Hendrix"]

Read on AO3 | Dt to the amazing @ifionlyhadmorepaper

Beca’s fingers were split and callused where Chloe’s were warm and protected. They were covered in bandages of all shapes and sizes, little adhesive papers that browned at the edges from dirt or from blood that hadn’t been dabbed away. They were wrapped, lacerated where she had pressed too hard on the velvet cords of her guitar. Beca Mitchell would play until rustic oozing syrup covered the face of the instrument.

They stung, sometimes, but right now she leaned into the numbness that the temperature in the office provided. She wanted to spread them in an equal motion over the glass of the desk so each finger lined up with a toe in her Doc Martins. Instead, she placed them calmly in her lap and stared at the silver pen that rested next to the contract.

She picked silently at the ace bandage that she had strategically wrapped around her pinky finger. It had been the newest slice; a wound still fresh to the sterile room. She was sure it would drip one, maybe two drops of red on the white linoleum.

Beca glanced up from the writing utensil and saw nothing but a suit, a slate and dull grey that blended perfectly with the rest of the room. There were no photos on the wall, nothing but a bland black leather sofa and a glass coffee table that matched the same desk they sat at now. She wanted to look through the floor to ceiling windows but saw nothing but white. Everything was white.

She was the darkest thing in the room.

Her boot tapped against, a low and thumbed rhythm. She waited for him to say something, to say anything. But she realized quickly that he may be darker than her. She could stare into the abyss that was his face, into the shadow but it would mean nothing. There were no defining features other than a crisp, business-like smile.

She had switched from pulling at the dressing of her wounds to picking at the frayed edges of her black jean jacket, littered with patches and permanent marker. Beca traced a signature that Chloe had drawn on one drunken night.

They had popped a bottle of champagne and the bubbles made the cuts on her fingers burn something fierce. But she let the golden liquid slosh onto the carpet of the hotel room, and bubble up in her throat until she couldn’t quite hold it between her lips anymore. Chloe kissed her and she tasted like weed and cherry.

It was the first night that their song was played on the radio.

The four of them huddled around a radio, its antenna stretched to the ceiling of that dingy room. The lights buzzed as much as the static, and it was close to three am; too late for the bar handlers to be heading home, and too early for the suits to be warming up their cars. But they played it- they played it.

They could quite possibly be the only four people in the entire world to hear the first song from the DEMO that Beca slid under the studio door.

When she leaned forward, the leather her pants made an ungodly noise. She didn’t’ want to read through the stack bound with a thick black clip. The first page was highlighted where she needed to initial and bolded at the most important parts; the parts that distracted her from what really mattered.

Her father was a stockbroker before he was dead, and he would tell her every single time he brought home a new contract, that they make the glittery things darker. That’s not what she was supposed to read; she was supposed to look at the little pieces of text that had stars next to them. People liked to trick you with shiny things.

Beca moved her finger across the large stack; the paper was cool to the touch and caught on the adhesive of her ace bandage. “What exactly are you offering me here?”

Summer 1985

It took her four whole months to save up for the old white Charvel that sat at the back of Shawl's pawn shop. There were bars strapped across the windows and an ugly neon orange sign that let Beca know when they were closed and when they weren’t. She would cling to those bars when old man Shawl would tell her to buy something or get the fuck out.

He stared at her even harder when she emptied the shoebox of change and crumpled up bills stained with sweat and sticky substances onto the glass counter, but even he couldn’t turn down a profit. She waited for ages while his liver-spotted hands counted the money carefully. Then he pursed his lips and pulled the beat up guitar down from his perch above his shoulder.

In later years, Beca knew she didn’t have nearly enough, and she thanked him silently for taking pity on her and passing it over anyway. She was driving all of his customers, she reasoned, by sulking on the hot sidewalk in front of the shop, letting banana flavored popsicles drip onto her fingers until it was nothing but a stick left.

She had fastened the worn leather strap around her chest and straddled her jet red bicycle. Beca had never peddled so fast in her life. The Mid-August heat clung to every inch of her was humming with sweat by the time she skidded to a stop in front of her house. She let the bike drop and got an instant hit of relief when she crossed the threshold into the open garage.

Beca scooted past the dusty Monza that barely fit in front of the door leading into their kitchen. Her mother had bought it off a stranger that came into the diner back in 78’. There were questionable stains in the backseat and an odd scent of Clorox that they could never get rid of. But it ran back and forth, and that’s all they needed.

She pulled open the honey blossom fridge and grabbed the closest thing they had to a cool drink. Beca drank tang straight from the pitcher, letting it drip down her face and soak into the collar of her shirt. She was noisy when she drank, and oblivious to her mother watching her from the archway as she tied her apron around her waist.

“We have glasses, Bec’s”

Her mother didn’t’ comment on the guitar strapped to her back. She figured that her daughter had picked up another hobby. Last year it was basketball, and the year before that she begged and begged for a set of baseball cards from the local hobby shop. After they were shoved under her bed she was told to fund her ventures on her own.

Beca swallowed the last of the orange flavoring on her tongue and took a savoring breath to fill her burning lungs. She turned to the woman and smiled “That would just dirty two things instead of one. Besides, you don’t drink this anyway.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her mother wrestled silently with the faux pearl earrings that matched the beaded necklace against her collarbone. The soft blue tone of her uniform washed out her skin and made her look pale despite the summer heat that lingered well into August.

Beca placed the glass decanter back into the bottom half of the fridge before she mock saluted her mother and wandered back out to the garage. Her skin instantly became slick with sweat. She pulled an empty milk crate a few inches from the line of the setting sun.

She finally pulled the old Charvel from her back and situated it in her arms. It was far from a perfect fit. She reached over the neck and felt the way the side dug into her ribs uncomfortably. The strings were frail and sounded rough as she dragged her thumb against them.

Beca had only learned the start of one song, the first few cords of Black Sabbath’s Tomorrows Dream. They had printed the cords on the back of the record sleeve, each specific note highlighted in a comically large dot. Beca would breathe in the dust of the garage and listen to the record on a constant loop, pressing her fingers down against the notes.

She took a deep breath and started to follow the instructions that she had completed a million times over. The strings were too tight and it sounded choppy, sharp, and thick all at once. She cringed at her half-hearted attempt and the way the cords cut so deeply into her fingertips they stung.

She ignored the old car pulling out of the garage, and the way she had to squint at the darkness after a while. There was still the sour taste of orange on her tongue and sweat dripped from her nose. But she played and played, and played until there was blood against the white face of the instrument and tears pinching at her eyes. It sounded somewhat like Black Sabbath.

“You like metal?”

Beca jerked her hand back quickly and drew in a sticky warm breath of air. She had been so wrapped up in her task that she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone anymore. A girl stood in the dull light that leaked from the garage and into the pavement. She didn’t’ quite pass the threshold- instead, she lingered.

A certain chill had invaded the air and the girl folded into herself. Her wild mane of orange hair fell around her shoulders and ghostly blue eyes lit up optimistically at the sight of a guitar.

“Uh,”

“That’s a Charvel, right? I begged my parents for one last Christmas but they got me an acoustic instead. Hooked me up with lessons from Miss Jensen. I learned one country song and started pocketing the fifty bucks a week instead.”

“Yeah,” Beca swallowed hard “It’s a Charvel”

“That’s cool,” she rocked back and forth on the souls of her sneakers. The cold didn’t’ seem to get to her much anymore. Beca tried to place her. Her ears were ringing and her fingers hurt. The crickets were hissing their own song. “You go to Kennedy don’t you?”

“I’m second year”

“I’m third.” She beamed “I live right next door, I’ve seen you around.”

Beca lifted her chin; she had seen the girl around too. It usually followed loud screaming and slamming doors. She would sit on her stoop and stare at the way her cassette player would turn. Beca had seen her flip a tape four times once- still like a statue until the music stopped and hat to be reset.

“Listen, I uh- don’t want to intrude, but maybe we could play together sometime?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” She found herself saying, the orange drink in her system making her stomach churn. She nearly felt bad, felt a pang of sadness for the girl. “I’m Beca.”

“Hi, Beca. I’m Chloe.”

Winter 1994

Beca let the case fall shut a little too loudly. The acoustics on the small stage seemed to catch all the wrong things. She couldn’t get her voice to carry earlier in the night, but the fur-lined box that they housed their amp in bounced all the way to the entry of the little venue in Portland.

She blinked hard, trying to ignore the harsh red lights that covered every single inch of the place. There were bumper stickers covering the spotty paint of the walls and a bar that was more piss and peanut shells than anything. Emily gulped down warm beer and struggled to keep it down momentarily. She didn’t look up at the noise, her stare trained on a coaster, and the crumbs that lie next to it.

Beca leaned back on her heels and pulled in a thick breath. She smelled like sweat and blood and alcohol. Her little stunt had drawn the attention of Aubrey, the woman wrapping the cord to a different amp around her forearm and palm. She narrowed her unripe stare.

“This was fucking shit,”

“I’m doing my best”

They spoke at the same time. She knew that Aubrey’s anger was buzzing, it was festering until it finally burst. She looked pale under the red lights, the same tattoo they had all gotten two years ago stretched under her tank top and down to the gap between her jeans.

She knew what Aubrey was going to say. Her best wasn’t good enough, and it never was; they had been doing this for years, eight long years and they were still playing the shit-stink venues in even shittier towns. They barely had an audience tonight, and it had all been Beca’s fault. The whole room was thinking it, but no one had the balls to say it other than Aubrey.

Chloe moved from the corner of the room, “We’ll get a better place, Bree.”

“Yeah? When? I’m tired of giving my all to an audience that doesn’t’ fucking exist. We’re not kids anymore.”

“We’re shit broke.” Emily turned in the creaky barstool, swallowing the foam at the bottom of her glass. “I don’t even think we have gas in the van.”

“How much from this gig?” Chloe asked.

Her hair was matted with sweat and her thumb pulled at the chain around her neck. It was fastened with a marbled red pick, one from their first real venue ever. She had nervously wiped away the gold lettering and now the smooth plastic was all that was left. Beca hated disappointing her, and she did it often these days.

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred? Beca that’s barely enough to cover the hotel rooms.” Aubrey let the wrapped cord fall back to the stage “We don’t break even on this. It’s not fucking worth it. It never was and it never is.”

They all knew what came next. Emily stared down a coaster she had begun to shred. The remaining foam on the glass culminated at the very bottom of the glass and she knew she couldn’t muster enough change to order another one. So she sat with the sour taste in her mouth and festered.

Aubrey would mention Julliard.

“I could have had everything.” She hissed instead.

Beca didn’t dignify it with a response. Instead, she leaned down and pulled the amp up with nothing more than a grunt. Instead, she walked out into the cold Portland air and let it make her skin tighter. She blinked away the red light and searched for the keys in her pockets. She had left them inside.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #Emily Junk #Aubrey Posen #Junksen #band au #rocker au

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lovelyasfcuk · 4 years

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Voyager

A Mandalorian Story | Din Djarin x F!Reader

IV: The Lawless

Summary: With a simple plan gone awry, Din must get himself and the child to safety, forced off planet. He must come to terms with a new reality, as his perspectives continue to be challenged and walls being broken down.

Warnings: Violence. Anxiety. Injury. Mentions of blood. Pining.

A/N: This chapter is a little longer, because I am so very much in love with the reader and where we are going!

From behind the stall, you carefully lifted the canvas flap, peering side to side for any threat. Creeping along the back wall and turning the sharp corner, you found a black speeder bike, carrying a sleek black helmet at its handlebar. An outdated commission, by the look of it, and displaying loyalties to the old empire. Readjusting the knapsack around your chest, you mounted the bike, hastily firing the ignition.

Din realized your disappearance from the stall and quickly searched through the scope, checking every face in the commotion below. Suddenly, a blaster fire shot passed him from where he was now crouched.

Din zeroed in on the individuals with their blasters aimed, and squeezing the trigger, their forms vaporized in a flash. One after the other, but even with him having the high ground, many others were joining the action.

A small group of mercenaries had started ascending the hill on its flank, during the battle that had ensued. Taking cover from behind the stalking trees, they took aim at the Mandalorian and opened fire. In a swift move, Din grabbed the child, tucking him protectively against his body and rolled behind a rock face nearby.

Bolts framed the boulder, as he waited for an opportunity to take his own shot. Hunters and any criminal who had heard the rumors in the port, willing to take a chance for their own gain, were called to attention by the scuffle. More and more began making their way out of the port, toward the gunfire echoing against the ancient ruins.

Din soon confirmed in his mind that you had fled the scene, along with any chance of supplies and the credits. Anger and frustration flared in his chest at the thought, instead he tried to refocus his efforts on escaping to the Crest.

With the growing number approaching, returning on foot was not an option. Their only hope would be the jetpack, but he would have to minimize gunfire to protect the child.

Pinned behind the boulder, he took the first opportunity he could, quickly aiming the blaster and firing, taking out a Trandoshan. He took cover again, safely tucking the child behind his body.

Again, he primed himself to take another opportunity and as he tried to take aim, a bolt hit Din causing him to fall back to the damp soil. A strangled cry cracked through the modulator as he rolled behind the boulder, breathing heavy against the rock.

A deafening roar grabbed the duo’s attention, as a speeder bike sped up the hill, lifting higher than its natural hover as it made the top. Din quickly aimed his blaster at the rider, watching it skid to a halt - an imperial scout, he thought. The rider quickly pressed a button on the side of their helmet, visor snapping up.

“Get on!” you called out; your voice altered by the helmet’s speaker. You quickly pulled your dual blasters, opening fire on the mercenaries to cover the Mandalorian as he mounted the bike behind you.

Din sheltered the child between your bodies, wrapping one arm around you and clutching the bike with the other. Once secured, you peeled the bike out of the hilltop and down into the forest out of the line of fire.

You rode at top speed, masterfully banking rock formations, keeping away from any carved path and out of sight within the darkness. You both knew you would be followed, many catching up sooner than you would hope. Din scanned through the blur, blaster in hand and finger hovering over the trigger.

The journey back to the Razor Crest would be quicker and you silently prayed you had put enough distance between you three and the assailants. Just then, three speeder bikes sped forward, flanking on each side. You pulled the bike, weaving swiftly between the towering trees, trying to keep eyes on the approaching bikes.

Din took aim and shot, knocking a rider off his bike, before it collided into a trunk and erupting in a plume of fire and smoke. You caught sight of a part of the forest, too dense for this chase.

“Hold on!” you yelled, as Din quickly locked his grip on your body and the child, bracing himself.

Hitting the breaks, the bike skid to a halt, throwing it in the opposite direction and gained as much speed as you could. Both riders slid to a halt, avoiding the trees and after a moment, continued in the same path.

Panting as the panic grew, you saw the clearing up ahead, the sun’s rays glowing through the leaves. Your muscles tensed as you approached, slowing the bike as you entered, until it glided up to the Crest. Din hit the button on his gauntlet, activating the loading ramp and threw his leg off the bike, lifting the child with him.

You scanned the clearing; it was empty. Your heads both snapped up at the distant sound of humming, growing louder by the second. You pulled Din’s knapsack from around your body and handed it to him in haste,

“This is just about everything. It should get you to your next few destinations. I’m sorry, I wish I could have done more.”

Din took the bag in his fist only to be interrupted by entry of the speeder bikes. You pulled your blasters from your holster and took aim, opening fire. A land speeder arrived, five passengers disembarking and joining the gun fight, advancing on foot.

“What are you doing? Get out of here!” you yelled as the Mandalorian slung the knapsack around his chest and drew a blaster.

“There are too many. You won’t make it out of here alive.” He replied, the fire growing louder.

More bolts began darting into the clearing from different sides of the forest – you were surrounded. Din began retreating toward the Crest’s ramp, shooting down as many as he could within range.

“Let’s go!” He called out to you.

Knowing the fight was already lost, panic began building in your chest, tightening with every shallow breath you took. The roaring blaster fire and shouts from the attackers, blended with the louder thoughts within your mind.

You narrowed your eyes and squared your jaw, as you returned your blasters to her holster. Without another thought, you held your arms out; hands outstretched with tension. Eyes snapping shut, you took a deep breath and cried out.

Din stilled at the rumble around them and the abrupt end of gunfire. An unseen blast had thrust the mob from the clearing, the trees and ferns blown back by the force. He looked to you – your outstretched arms becoming limp and your chest heaving, gasping for air - you met his stare with caution.

“Go. Go now.” you barked, throwing your leg off the bike and marched to his still form, still clutching his blaster in hand.

The Mandalorian paused, trying registering what he had witnessed. Your helmet’s visor still retracted; he searched your eyes. They gave you away almost instantly, where your body created a more convincing disguise.

He knew the feeling well, as he saw it for most of his life in those around him – fear.

“You can’t stay here. You have been marked. More will come and you know it.” He told you confidently.

Your jaw still set, you focused up at him from under furrowed brows.

“Leaving now is your only hope for escaping with your life.” He concluded, quickly scanning the clearing’s edge, knowing there was only borrowed time.

You both turned at a sudden grumbling off in the distance. Your sight met once more in silent agreement and you hurriedly stalked past Din toward the Crest.

-------

The navigation screen sputtered as Din tried to key in the next destination. He tapped the dashboard above it twice with this gloved finger, attempting to clear the screen. A faulty command flashed in error. He sighed, taking control of the steering, redirecting the Crest in the flight path he used for their arrival and set autopilot.

In the cargo hold, you sat against the ship’s wall, thoughtfully gazing at the trooper’s helmet in your hands. Din snapped you out of your contemplation as he made his way down the deck ladder with the child tucked between his arm and chest.

You met the gaze of Din’s helmet and looked back at the stolen one, “You can drop me at your next destination.”

Din cocked his head at the chill in your tone. “I’m…sorry…about having to leave.” He finally spoke, unsure of what to say.

“It was likely for the best.” you replied in a sigh, “Nothing is ever permanent.”

Din paused, watching you trace your fingertips across the sleek lines of the helmet, knowing your thoughts were far beyond the conversation. He approached and sat on the cargo next to you, setting the child down at his hip. You stilled momentarily, not used to the proximity.

“What happened in the clearing…” He began.

Your body tensed at the question, bracing for an invisible impact.

“He can do that as well,” Din continued, tipping his head down at the child. Your wide eyes lifted off the helmet in your hands and met the large brown eyes watching you, gazing at each other for a moment.

“You told me he belongs with his kind, which is the reason for what happened on Nevarro. I was told of a people called Jedi…” He confessed.

Your eyes shifted to Din; his gaze fixed on you. With a sigh, you set the helmet down between you, “I am not a Jedi, if that is your question.” you returned your attention to the child and slowly reached your palm to his tiny claw.

The ever-present electricity was something familiar now, but when your hands touched, it seemed to pulse. The child cooed in contentment and reached out to you.

“The force is strong with you, little one.” you spoke softly, enjoying the calm that fell upon the hold.

“The force?” Din asked incredulously.

“Do you not believe in the force?”

“There isn’t much truth in myth.” He continued with the same skepticism.

“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t make it myth. The great Mandalorians? The Mandalorian creed? Are they not truth?” you asked.

The Mandalorian fell silent and looked down at the child as he held onto your hands. You watched his visor for a sign of opposition - a slight move, a tilt. All you found was stillness, and in his silence, you sensed forlorn.

“You have witnessed his strength. You have been told the Jedi are his people and made it your life’s mission to reunite him. It is the very reason your heart beats after every battle. It is what brought you to him. How is it that you still do not believe in the force?”

There was no defense for your words, penetrating his beskar without hesitation. Din remained still, but his mind hummed with revelation.

The child had climbed into your lap and began idly toying with the pocket flaps on your belt. You watched the steel form next to you unmoving, watching the child, seemingly processing your words. You paused and bit your lip slightly, finding your strength.

“I have searched…most of my life…for answers. This mission you are on - it is a difficult undertaking. You will need all the luck you can get.” you said, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Not luck. A partner. You have knowledge in what he can do and where to continue. With your help, Ic can reunite him with his kind, and maybe, you will find your answers along the way.”

You listened to the confidence in his voice and how intently his gaze was fixed on yours.

You chuckled in response. “What is your name?”

“Din. Din Djarin.”

A delicate smile played on your lips and your eyes softened, as you extended your right hand toward him. Din placed his hand in yours and grasped your fingers, feeling so fragile and small in his. The warmth of your touch seeped through his gloved hand. The feeling, he could only compare to the distant memories of comfort in his childhood.

“Din.” you repeated his name, sending a jolt through his body and feeling his heart stutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Your eyes drifted from his visor to your joined hands, his orange tipped gloves encasing yours, when your eye caught a dark shadow.

“You’re hit!” you exclaimed, unable to mask your shock. Beneath his right pauldron, a charred rip was torn within the canvas that covered his bicep, seeped dark with blood.

“A graze.” He returned, dismissing any fuss.

Immediately, you stood and marched across the hold to retrieve the med kit that hung on the wall with the Crest’s supplies. Returning, you set the kit down in your place.

“Allow me?” you asked hesitantly, reaching out your palm.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Please? It’s the very least I could do after saving my life.”

Din hesitated for a moment, but quickly nodded and stretched out his arm toward you. You lifted the stolen helmet, set it down on the grated floor and sat in its place.

Din felt himself tense and tried to focus on anything but the present moment, so he watched you -

You seemed to relax under pressure or in concentration. You absentmindedly tucked your hair behind her ear and squinted. Your hands were steady, sure of yourself. Your movements were fluid, fingers dancing as you worked.

Your features were delicate, yet somehow strong – your cheekbones, the line of your jaw, your chin. A tiny wrinkle sat between your brows. Your eyes were bright and alert, a full fringe of lashes fell upon the light shadow tinged skin under them. He had the feeling you did not have opportunity to smile often. Your lips were full, slightly pursed as you focused, glowing a soft hued pink.

“It looks like they just missed the beskar by a few centimeters.” you commented, breaking the silence. Feeling his glare, you glanced over at his visor. “What?”

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” He spoke in almost a whisper.

“I have been on my own for a while. I have seen a thing or two, in many different systems. Most times bacta was a luxury.” you smirked, reaching for a bacta patch from the med kit. You slid it beneath the open canvas, positioning it over his wound, before gently pressing.

“There. Good as new.” you smiled at him.

At that moment, a rustling filled the serenity, as the child had found his way into the knapsack resting at Din’s feet. He reached down and pulled him out of the bag, only to find him grasping to one of your texts.

“I’ll be taking that, you little sneak.” you chided, gently pulling the text from his claws.

“I guess leaving wasn’t a huge loss.”

“I’ve learned to carry only things invaluable to me. Not every moment is promised.” you said as you gently caressed the cover. “I believe there is a thing or two in these that might give us a clue.”

“First, I need to see about repairs to the Crest. We won’t make it far with the nav out.”

“I might know someone who can remedy that. However, we’ll need to head to Black Spire.”

“That will take some time without hyper speed.” Din replied with a sigh. “I will set the course. In the meantime, you should get some rest. Uh…Thank you.” He said motioning to his arm, then gathered the child into his arms as he made his way to the cockpit, clicking switches disabling the overhead lights within the hold.

The gentle glow of the ambient lighting filled the space. He hesitated at the ladder and turned, “Make yourself…comfortable. Anything you need…”

You raised your hand gently, shaking your head. “I’ll be just fine. Thank you, Din.” you smiled.

“Sleep well.” The modulated voice gently murmured.

......

Tags: @babybelou @pascalsky

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #star wars fic #baby yoda #grogu #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedro pascal characters x you #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #voyager #black spire

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adarlingwrites · 4 years

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s Notes: A character study for my AiB OC, Minami Yamane. The story takes place months before the main events of the series.

Edit 4/27/2021: I edited the chapter and added a few more paragraphs to highlight how desperate Yamane's living conditions were before the Borderlands. Some of the changes include more scenes of her happily pillaging stores because she never had plenty of groceries before, and changing her apartment into a 1R apartment.

everybody's looking for something / some of them want to use you / some of them want to get used by you

Mice and rats are vermin.

They are filthy, scurrying little creatures that will take anything they can lay their little paws on. In an urban city such as Tokyo, they thrive outside the human view, in the dank, dark underbelly of the bustling city.

They have no place in polite society, and neither does the girl running from an accessory shop in the populated streets of Harajuku.

It was just supposed to be a simple swipe. She had been shoplifting for quite a while now, ever since her parents threw her out and cut all her access to their money.

Yes, this little mouse wasn’t always one.

This happened all because she no longer wanted their control on her life anymore.

“You’re going to take Business Administration and take over the family business,” they would always remind her, drilling it into her thick skull since she can remember. But screw that, she’s not about to let them decide what she will be any further.

Now, look where that got her.

Scurrying, panting, and her feet skidding against the sidewalk, she ran into a busy boutique, blending in with the crowd. She almost ran into a baby carriage, muttering a quick apology to the annoyed mother pushing it. Eyes alert, she spotted an open storage closet an employee had left open. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she slipped inside, and shut the door.

Outside, the police are asking around if they had seen a girl with her description. Heart in her throat and pulse rapid, the mouse bit back a curse when the woman with the baby carriage pointed at the storage closet she’s in. Their footsteps approaching, she was bracing herself to slam the doors open once they’re within range.

But the lights flickered, and the officers never came.

Dark, damp, and musty, she’s a rat in a cage. Her only source of light was the faint sunlight that streamed through the glass storefront, seeping into the corners of the door. It was so quiet; too quiet. She swore she can hear her own heartbeat and the sweat rolling off of her skin.

With caution, she slowly opens the door, and the previously populated boutique is deserted. Not a single soul was in sight. Anxiety and bewilderment made her pulse quicken even more.

“Where the hell is everyone,” she mumbles to no one.

Confused, she runs out of the store, to the streets. The city is bustling no more. Everyone vanished.

If this was some kind of sick joke, this little mouse was not having it. She takes out her cell phone from her bag, only to see that it’s dead. Cursing, she runs back to the store to find an outlet, and plugs her flip phone in, to no avail. It’s still dead. She looks around and sees that all the displays are powered down.

Electricity is gone, and so is the water, she found out when she went to the bathroom in plans of dousing herself awake. All utilities had been cut. Taking a moment to compose herself, the mouse left the store once more to walk around. The streets are deserted, cars lining up in the desolate roads. Some of the windows are rolled down, and the mouse reaches in to unlock the door.

Turning the keys, she tried to get it to run, but to no avail. With a baffled look, she looks around in the car. Beside her was a plastic bag, still warm to the touch. A fried chicken sandwich is nestled inside, along with the receipt, a half-eaten bag of fries, and a few packets of ketchup.

She takes that, steps out of the vehicle, and begins eating while making her way back to her apartment, occasionally checking inside cars to see if anyone’s inside.

Everyone is gone, and no one is watching.

Relief replaces the little mouse’s horror upon realizing that among those gone are her landlady. “If she’s gone, I don’t have to pay rent anymore,” she gasps to no one in particular, and a smile slowly spreads on her lips.

“I don’t even have to pay bills anymore. I don’t have to watch out for security guards and cops.” The mouse starts laughing at that point, palming at her forehead.

“Ha! I can finally do what I want now.” Her laughter was equal parts bitter, and cathartic.

Upon arriving to her apartment, she realizes that the chicken sandwich would probably stave off her hunger for the afternoon. She still had her bike and her delivery bag with her from work, and an idea forms in her head. She doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but if no one is around to watch her… she might as well do the thing she’s best at: take.

She will need to survive while waiting this out, after all.

Riding her way to the nearest convenience store, the mouse stuffed her bag with canned and non-perishable goods, filling it to the brim with groceries she normally couldn’t afford. From behind the counter, she takes several plastic bags and fills it with frozen goods, and dumps that in the front basket of her bike. The food probably needed to be heated up, so she made it a point to check for a butane stove. Luckily for her, there was one in the back, along with a few canisters of fuel.

Giddy, she bikes her way back to her apartment, unloads her haul, and comes back for more.

She targeted the water next, but found it too heavy for the bike. Not willing to leave the goods behind, she grabbed a shopping cart and filled it to her heart’s desire, until it was almost too heavy for her to push. The mouse carted the goods back to her apartment, exhausted, but genuinely relieved for the first time in months.

By the time that the sun is down, the mouse is sitting happily in her apartment, sorting through groceries that would last her weeks, if she’s careful with them. The mini fridge was still cold despite the lack of electricity, so she stuffed the frozen goods inside, the door barely closing due to the amount of content inside. Once littered with cobwebs, her pantry is now full with various dry goods and snacks. Some of them couldn’t even fit in the shelves, so she put them in the bedroom instead, which doubles as her living space, separated by a divider from the kitchen.

A contented grin on her face, she takes a breather and opens one of the snack cakes she took, and a box of coated biscuits.

The mouse finished her snacks blissfully, not one care in the world as she devoured them.

When she was walking back to fetch her bike from the convenience store, a billboard lights up, catching her attention.

She was in for a world of danger.

Two weeks later, the mouse stays in her apartment, her nest in this strange new world, tending a shoulder she bruised days ago. She quietly thanked herself for scouring the pharmacy after her first game.

The last one she participated in was a Three of Diamonds, and she almost didn’t make it out. It was good to see other people, but she had witnessed them die right before her eyes because of a wrong answer, and plain selfishness.

It was a game held in an abandoned variety show set. Get the answer right, you get to live to answer the next. Get it wrong, you have to work with the other contestants to survive a game of hole in the wall... or fall in a pool of acid. Contestants will take turns answering questions, and they weren’t allowed to coach each other.

The contestants were Mugi Nakamura, a high school girl in a swim team, Taro Kobayashi, a salaryman and father of two, and the mouse herself, Minami Yamane, a part-time seamstress in a factory by day, food courier by sundown, and a full-time troublemaker.

It was going so well. Yamane had gotten all of the questions right, and so did Nakamura, but Kobayashi made a mistake. The curtains drew back, and the wall revealed a single, round hole near the bottom. Time was running out.

Eyes haunted, Yamane looked at her reflection in the mirror as she pressed the compress against her shoulder, the dark circles under her eyes deepening, and so did her frown. There are some things she wished she could scour from her memory.

Kobayashi was willing to throw the two girls under the bus, despite Yamane insisting that they can all survive it if they formed a straight line and curled into a deep bow. Disgusted by his selfishness, Yamane shoves the salaryman aside and dives through the circle. She turned around to see if Nakamura followed suit, but the only thing she saw was her body dissolving in the pool.

Their pained, agonized cries filled the room, and Yamane couldn’t tear her eyes away. The last thing she saw before she got a “game clear'' was Nakamura’s faux fingernail floating to the surface before getting eaten away by the acid.

Around her, makeup and trinkets that she couldn’t afford on her salary littered the desk, her small sources of comfort and joy. Empty packages of frozen foods lined neatly up in her trash can, and so did the empty cans and bottles. Yamane was beginning to run low on her supplies. She will have to scavenge farther from home. That wouldn’t be a problem. On days that she isn’t risking her life on a game, she started working out to improve her stamina, and improve her odds of surviving these games. Spade games were the most physically demanding ones.

The little mouse is starting to get used to this life. There are no parents to tell her what to do, and no expectations from society, but in return, she will have to risk her life playing these treacherous games.

After tending to her shoulder, it was time for Yamane’s nightly routine. With make up wipes, she’d wipe off the makeup off of her face. She undoes her twin buns, and brushes her hair down; thankfully, it wasn’t time to wash them yet, and her shoulder hurts. Cleaning herself off with a towel and a little water, Yamane changed into cleaner clothes and went to bed, nestled in pillows and sheets she snatched from a nearby mall’s home section on the way home from the Diamond game.

There were other people loitering about when she made her haul. The initial relief she had upon meeting people in the games were replaced by paranoia after that game with the salaryman. Purging the mental image of their dissolving bodies off of her mind, she pulls the covers over her head and curls into a fetal position.

Her ears perked up when she heard footsteps in the kitchen.

“Shit, did I forget to lock the door?” Yamane thought to herself.

Listening intently, she approximated the size of the person intruding her home through their footsteps, something she learned to do while living under the scrutiny of her family. They were light.

Like a child’s.

Carefully getting out of bed, Yamane tiptoes her way to the kitchen, and clamps her hand over the intruder’s mouth.

“Don’t make a sound,” she hissed, and she can sense the fear coming from the small body. Yamane spins the intruder around only to see a young girl. Judging from her height and prepubescent looks, she might be in early middle school. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Oneesan, I’m so sorry for trespassing, but please, I’m starving. I saw you walking away from the grocery store with a huge haul a few days ago-”

“Great,” she thought. People are starting to notice her hauls.

“Out. Get out now.”

“B-but please! I don’t know what else to do. I’m not a thief, but I’m so desperate… I’m so hungry.”

Taking a deep inhale, Yamane eyes the girl. She’s rail-thin, her uniform is soiled, and her hair is a tangled mess. Her lips are dry from the lack of water, and her hair is dull from the lack of proper nutrition. Groaning and rubbing her face, Yamane relents.

“Fine, take what you need and go.”

“Can I please stay with you?”

Yamane scoffs. “What? I don’t have time to look after a kid.”

“I can’t find my parents. I have no friends to talk to. It gets scary at night without all the lights too. Please, let me stay.”

Yamane should be kicking this girl out. Instead, she’s now handing her a pillow over as the kid ate dinner on the floor couch in her room. It was nothing special, but Yamane went through the trouble of preparing something somewhat healthy for the girl, despite her reluctance in letting her stay. Begrudgingly, Yamane tosses her a blanket too.

“This help’s not for free. You’re going to have to make yourself useful if you want to stay with me. And if you try to steal from me, I won’t hesitate to hurt you,” Yamane says, sitting on her mattress right across the couch.

“I promise I’ll be good.”

“What’s your name? How old are you?”

“Fumiko Sato. I’m twelve years old.”

The mouse’s expression softens against her will. Yamane thought someone that young shouldn’t be in a world such as this. Sure, it suited her, but it didn’t suit the preteen sitting on her couch. A girl her age’s problems should be about school, crushes, and which accessories she should wear tomorrow, not a brutal survival game.

“I’m Minami Yamane. Twenty three. How many days do you have left on your visa?”

“Two.”

“Shit”, Yamane thought. “I’ll have to bring her to a game soon.”

“Go to sleep. You’ll help me scavenge tomorrow, then we’ll go to a game.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best!”

Without uttering another word, Yamane goes to bed, pulling the covers over her head. It’s been a long time since she looked after someone else. Exhaling slowly, her mind wanders back to home.

“I wonder how Mai and Riku are doing”, she thought.

A photograph of her and Mai, her little sister, sits on a desk, with a picture of an infant boy attached to it. Mai would have been nineteen now, and Riku would have been three. Such a huge age difference between the siblings, a result of her father remarrying after her and Mai’s mother died.

Yamane didn’t even visit her funeral.

Not wanting to waste precious minutes she could’ve used to rest on thinking about the life she left behind, Yamane got back in bed and closed her eyes.

The next morning, she woke up to the smell of food.

“Good morning, oneesan,” Sato greeted, setting rice balls and two cups of instant miso soup on the table. Yamane checks out the stove, and the butane is almost out. They’ll have to look for more. Without electricity, it’s a precious commodity, especially if they want to continue having hot meals.

Sato says her grace, and without saying a word, Yamane sits and eats the food prepared for her. The middle schooler was looking at her with expectant eyes as she chewed on her rice ball.

“These are good. Thanks. I hope you rested well. We’re going to the train station to get you a bike, then we’ll go to a grocery store father from here for goods.”

Sato nodded and they spent the rest of the meal in peace. After freshening up and getting dressed, Yamane tosses Sato her thermal bag. “Be alert around strangers and stay close to me.” Yamane instructed her as Sato strapped the bag on. “For now, you’ll be riding on the backseat.”

Nodding, Sato follows her down the apartment complex’s stairs, feeling secure for the first time in days. She gets on the bike, and wraps her arms around Yamane’s waist as they ride to the train station.

Meanwhile, Yamane’s mind wanders back to her little sister. They used to ride like this when she was a little younger, before her parents forced her to go to university for Business Administration. Five years ago, on her eighteenth birthday, she and Mai snuck out of the house to celebrate with her friends. They ate shabu shabu together and Yamane had her first taste of liquor.

They never heard the end of it when they got back, and Yamane got a few bruises from the beating she had to endure, but it was a precious memory.

Yamane and Sato arrived at the train station, and took a bike from the rental booth. This one had a child’s seat at the back, which was decent for groceries too. The bike is Sato’s bike now.

Today’s haul was bountiful. Aside from necessities, Yamane even managed to score some box dye. Her highlights were fading out. Sato also found clothes her size, and a mild, fruity cologne for teenagers, then she placed those in the front basket of her bike, along with some sweets she was previously wasn’t allowed to eat too much of.

After sorting the groceries and having dinner, Yamane and Sato sat in the older girl’s room, where the younger girl helped the older one dye the fading red streaks of hair, just like her friends did.

“Maybe having this kid around isn’t so bad”, Yamane thought to herself. She’ll have an extra pair of eyes to watch her back now. Sato helped her rinse her hair in the bathroom sink and they laughed together.

“Alright. Time for some rest,” Yamane says, running a towel through her hair, sitting on her mattress. “We need to participate in a game tomorrow to extend your visa.”

“Okay. Thanks again for everything, Minami-neesan.”

Secretly, Yamane’s heart leapt from being called older sister again. But she would never admit it. She convinced herself that she’s only using her as a pack mule.

The next night, they arrived at a game venue. An arcade. A laser tag arena, to be precise.

The two of them took phones from the table, and waited for other participants. There was a rowdy group of four boys, all high school age, and judging from their appearances, they must be delinquents. Or perhaps, in this world, they have the freedom to act tough now. Sato stepped a little closer to Yamane, feeling uneasy.

Then, two men arrived.

The group of boys fell into a hush at their arrival. Yamane kept her head straight on, but she was looking at them from the corner of her eyes, her field of vision obscured by her shades. Sato, on the other hand, was trembling beside her.

One of the men was wearing a black patterned shirt, part of his shoulder-length hair tied, and on his face were various piercings. He was toting a gun, and he shoved one of the highschool boys aside, brusquely telling them to get out of his way.

The other was the quiet type. He was taller than the other man, shoulders broad despite his wiry build and bad posture. This one had tattoos on his face, wearing a sleeveless cloak with the hood up, and he carries a katana.

“Where did he find a fucking katana,” Yamane thought to herself. If there’s one thing she couldn’t find on her hauls, it was decent weapons to defend herself with.

Yamane pretends not to notice them, but Sato is staring at the two men outright. The younger girl pulls at Yamane’s sleeve urgently.

“Oneesan, they’re scary.”

“Don’t give them any attention. Focus on the game.”

Sato keeps quiet, fidgeting and sweating. The preteen made the mistake of looking at them again, and she tugs on Yamane’s sleeves once more.

“Oh God, they’re looking at you!” Sato whispers urgently, wrapping an arm around Yamane’s.

Yamane tilts her head, and sees that they are indeed looking at her. The one with piercings is openly leering, his tongue slipping out of his mouth, revealing another piercing. The one with the tattooed face was harder to read. His mouth was slightly open, twitching on one side.

“Let them stare,” she tells the younger girl.

“Just what I needed,” Yamane muttered, a wave of discomfort washing over her. “They look dangerous. I hope they’re not perverts,” she adds, shielding the younger girl, and Sato couldn’t help but take another peek.

“Ew, they do kind of look like perverts, oneesan. Especially that one with the piercings.”

“Then let’s not attract their attention.”

Yamane pulls her jacket’s hood over her head, then she folds her arms and looks away. She knew better than to provoke them.

A third man catches up with the two. Then, Yamane notices it; the tag on their wrists with numbers. The other two had them too. Were they a team?

Yamane had no time to think when the final contestant arrived, a balding middle-aged man. He took the last phone, and the synthetic voice flooded the room.

“Please proceed further into the arena.”

Instead of the usual laser tag equipment, they were met with real firearms, along with some melee weapons. The sight of them made Sato squirm, and Yamane herself was disturbed. There are written instructions to take as many weapons as they desire.

The delinquent boys eagerly reached for the guns, leaving Yamane and Sato with none. The two intimidating men and their third companion didn’t need them, and stayed in their spots, watching the two girls pick a weapon. Sato sheepishly opted for a pocket knife, while Yamane quickly reached for the daggers. They came with leg holsters which she strapped on her thighs.

She can feel the two’s gaze burning her back as she bent over to adjust the straps.

“Great. They are perverts,” she thinks to herself, straightening and looking over her shoulder to give them a chastising look.

The monitor comes to life, and the synthetic voice crackles through the speakers. The participants’ faces were on the screen, where they are divided into two teams. Team A consisted of the four delinquent boys, and the middle-aged man. Team B consisted of Yamane, Sato, and the three men with the bracelets.

“Please sort yourselves accordingly and proceed to your team’s base.”

Yamane didn’t know if she should be relieved or concerned that she got sorted with those two. She stands next to the one with tattoos. Her shades obscured her eyes, which trailed on his arms, observing the ink. A muscle flexes as he unsheaths his katana; he looks like he possesses a wiry strength. Then, he turns to her, slowly, and Sato squirms beside her. Yamane only pulled her shades down slightly and stared back, raising an eyebrow.

The tense moment was shattered by the synthetic voice once more.

“Registration closed. There are currently ten players. Difficulty: Seven of Clubs.”

“Seven? That’s difficult, isn’t it?” Sato asks Yamane, and she hushes her.

“Game: Elimination. Rules: Work with your team to eliminate the opposing team. Clear condition: Team with the most number of members left by the end of the time limit wins. If there are equal numbers of participants from each team, everyone loses. Time limit: thirty minutes.”

“Wait, wait! Elimination? We’re supposed to kill the other team? Minami-neesan this is bad!” Sato exclaims, pulling on Yamane’s sleeve again.

“Calm down, calm down! We just need to survive until the thirty minutes is up,” Yamane hushes her, pulling her closer.

“That’s right little mice, you two better hide,” the man with the pierced face interrupts them. “Don’t get in our way.”

“We have no intentions to,” Yamane replied sharply, before whisking Sato away to look for a hiding spot.

Yamane looks over her shoulder one last time, and the tattooed man gives her one last curious look before walking towards the arena.

“These thirty minutes are going to be hell.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #fanfiction #character study

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.09

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2145

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean stops to pump gas after approximately an hour — she wouldn’t know exactly, time is a fucking construct nowadays — and goes into the store while she waits by the motorcycle. Y/N leaves her helmet on, just to be extra safe.

He comes out after a couple of minutes, and only then does she dare take her helmet off. She places it on the seat.

Dean still looks at her like she’s something fragile, which, given the circumstances, she maybe is. He hands her a chocolate bar. It’s dark chocolate, not really her favorite.

“Eat it. It’ll help calm you down.”

She can’t help but smirk at that, thinks it’s cute how he cares, but then realizes that he’s only doing his job. Which is her. And then she thought that Dean really did her too, she grins a little because she thinks she’s funny, which is really not the right time to be right now.

Y/N’s his job. Period. Because that’s what she is to him, isn’t she? Only a job and an added burden with them getting shot at.

Looking down, she nods and unwraps the chocolate, but before she can take a bite out of it, Dean pushes his fingers below her chin, tilts her head up to look at him, “Hey, everything alright?”

How can she tell him that everything’s not al-fucking-right? That her life’s a fucking mess and that she’s slowly but surely falling for someone who only sees her as a job? How can she tell that she’s scared shitless and that she won’t ever be able to fall asleep again without hearing bullets flying against the wall and into her home?

Instead of telling him all that, though, she nods, “Yeah, just never been in a shootout before.”

“It’s been a while for me either,” He huffs out a tired chuckle.

That’s right. He’s been deployed, has probably had a fair share of being shot at. She never asked him what he did, not that she doesn’t want to. It’s more that it doesn’t really matter to her who he was or what he did. What matters is that he’s here when she needs him the most.

There are scars, though. She’s seen them, even if the light was dim. She also felt them underneath the pad of her fingers.

Dean sighs before his hand comes up and he lets his thumb brush over her chin, thumbs at the corner of her lips and the crease between his eyebrows grow. Apparently, she’s a terrible liar.

He leans closer and speaks in his soothing husky voice, “I got you, okay? I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

She nods teary eyed, “Promise?” She wants to believe him.

Dean smiles. It’s wide and white, there are crinkles around his eyes, “Cross my heart.”

Leaning down, he steals a kiss, his lips are warm and soothing.

He waits for her to finish the chocolate bar so they can drive to wherever he takes her. She doesn’t really ask him anymore where they’re going, because she had made the choice and at this point, she’d follow him anywhere.

After about what felt like another hour's drive, they arrived at another safe house, hidden by another forest. The sun’s slowly coming up, there’s a hazy glow and the ground condenses, little patches of fog rise up.

If it wasn’t for her being on the run, she'd say that it’s beautiful here, that it’s picturesque and maybe if there are other circumstances surrounding her being here, she might even be able to enjoy it. But she swears, she’s already a little sick of the damn trees.

Dean halts his bike and waits for her to get off before he gets off it himself, and walks around to take the bags, places them on the ground. He then wordlessly wheels his bike behind the cabin.

She hears plastic, some leaves rattling. Didn’t dare to go look or follow him. She’s just too tired too and she stands there, waiting for him with her arms wrapped around herself. The mornings are cool and the effect of too little sleep makes her shiver to her bones.

About five minutes later — could be longer too, she wouldn’t know — Dean comes back, rubbing and brushing his hands against each other, a satisfying smirk decorating his face.

He comes to stand before her, towering over her, as he rubs at her arms and pulls her into a warm embrace, “You okay?”

She manages to nod, her teeth are already chattering together.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside before you freeze to death,” Dean places his warm lips on her forehead, before he picks up the bags from the ground, takes her hand to walk to the front of the cabin.

On the porch, Dean walks to the far right side, kneels down and opens a little trap door to take out a box. Inside of the box, he finds keys to the cabin.

They step inside and she takes in her surroundings. Everything looks almost the same as the previous cabin, only a little more modern, cozier, too. The sofa is bigger, the TV is the same as in the previous cabin, though.

“You want anything to drink? Or food?” His voice jerks her back to reality.

“No,” She says warily, “Thanks, I’m good.”

“The bedroom’s over there,” Dean jerks his head to the adjacent room while he walks into the kitchen to drop off things he bought at the store, “Go to bed, get some rest.”

She nods and makes her way to the bedroom with her backpack in hand. The bed’s bigger here. Could easily fit the both of them without her having to move too much out of the way. Not that she thinks he’s going to stay in the bedroom with her, though. She doesn’t really know where they stand after last night. Didn’t dare to ask because there are more important things right now. For example trying not to get killed.

Dropping her backpack into the closet, she takes off her jacket and shimmies out of her pants, climbs into bed, and covers herself with the blanket. She lies there on her side. Exhausted but not tired enough to fall asleep yet.

Dean walks in after a while, a mug of coffee in his hand. He slowly moves over, as if he wants to see if she’s sleeping yet and when he sees that she isn’t, he sits on the bed, on the side where she’s curled up, and places the mug on the bedside table.

“I don’t want coffee, thank you.” She mumbles.

“Who said it was for you?” He chuckles while his hand comes up to stroke at her head, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, “You should try to get some sleep, I’ll be in the living room, doing some paperwork.”

Y/N looks at him, her eyelids feel heavy, “Can you stay close?” She didn’t want to come across as needy but it’s hard because right now, that’s all she is. She wants him close, wants to know that he’s here to protect her.

“Of course,” There’s a warm smile on his face. It came out too quick. Like he didn’t even need to think about it at all, “I’ll just get my laptop.”

Dean takes the mug and walks out, only to return with the laptop in his other hand. He takes off his shoes and gets into bed, too, sits with his back to the headboard and she turns herself the other way, curls up next to him.

He strokes her hair back, “Sleep, okay?”

She nods, her eyes are already closing.

Y/N wakes to something heavy draped over her body.

The sun is bright in the sky, she guesses that it’s mid afternoon. Not that the time of day matters, since recently, one day blends into another fucked up day.

She blinks the sleep out of her eyes before she looks down on herself, sees the source of the thing that crushes her.

The heavy thing is Dean’s arm.

He’s sleeping soundly, one hand protectively draped over her. She stirs a little and that was already enough to wake him. God, he’s such a light sleeper. So jumpy all the time.

Dean lifts his head alarmed and looks around, but soon lets it fall back onto the pillow and closes his eyes again when he sees that it’s her.

“I thought you were going to be working?” She says teasingly.

He squints one eye open, his voice is raspy and full of sleep when he speaks, “You looked so peaceful, and then you started to talk in your sleep.”

“I did?” Her cheeks feel warm, and she’s a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, you trashed around and called out my name. I had to hold you down and then I couldn’t resist falling asleep either.”

Y/N blushes. She called out his name? She wishes the bed would open up and swallow her whole.

Dean hand goes under the blanket, finds her waist, and pulls her closer into him. He kisses her forehead, “No matter how hard I try, I can’t resist you. No matter how professional I try to keep things between us, I fail, because one look at you and my walls come crashing down.”

Her heart beats ridiculously fast upon hearing him say those words. Just when she opens her mouth to say something. Opens them up to tell him that it’s okay, that she welcomes it when he isn’t going all bodyguard on her. That she feels the same and wouldn’t want him to go back to being professional— his phone rings.

He tilts his body, reaches for it blindly, his hands search on the nightstand and when he finds it and looks at the caller ID, he frowns a little. Dean holds it out, shows it to her.

Chuck.

Dean picks up and puts Chuck on speaker. She knows that it’s also his way of reassuring her that he isn’t behind any of Chuck’s plans.

“Hello?” Dean’s voice is still raspy and he clears his throat.

“Mr. Winchester, I didn’t get a text this morning and am worried!”

Chuck sounds weird, his voice is a little higher than usual. But she can’t miss the annoyance in it.

Dean places the phone between them, turns to brace himself on his elbow, “Yeah, uh, I’m sorry, sir. Everything’s fine. We are alright. I was out at the store because we were running out of food.”

There’s a long awkward pause until Chuck talks again, “Okay,”

“I don’t have to remind you that you should be careful, do I?”

“No, sir.”

She can see the tense in Dean’s shoulder. And really, who is he to tell Dean how to act? Chuck crosses the line but that’s so typical.

“Good,”

“Do you have any news for us?” Dean asks and looks at her.

“News? Uh.. no, there’s still none. You stay put.”

“Of course,”

“Report back to me, Mr. Winchester.”

Chuck hangs up before Dean could say anything. And he didn’t ask about her once.

“Wow,” She huffs out hot air, “Do you think he knows?”

Dean rolls on his stomach towards her, pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks at her and chuckles, “You mean about us?”

Us.

She tries not to get too excited at the mention.

Y/N groans and rolls her eyes, “Duh,”

“No, and he doesn’t seem to care about you one bit anyway,” Dean says and she knows that he’s right.

Dean gnaws on his bottom lip, his face deep in thoughts. He’s thinking of something and she thinks she knows what bothers him.

“You think he knows about the shooting,” She states as a matter of fact.

He breathes out, pinches at the bridge of his nose, “There’s something fishy about it, yeah.” He leans down, kisses her gently, “And I absolutely hate how he treats you.”

Before she can say anything, Dean pushes himself up on his knees, runs a hand through his hair, “I mean, he usually doesn’t even care if I miss on some texts. Why care now? He also never calls. Good thing he doesn’t know that we changed our house yet. I’d like to keep it a secret for a little while longer.”

Getting off the bed, he reaches under the blanket, and searches for her legs. When he finds them, he pulls at them with one swift motion, making her shift down until her feet are dangling off the edge.

He inspects her calf, “We need to change the bandage.” And then with the next breath he says, “Come on, let's fix you up and find something to eat before I eat you up.”

Well, she can’t say that she would mind if he does.

CH.10

#cross my heart #dean winchester #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #nathalie writes

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate- [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n:.... yall ready for this???? + For some reason, the link isn't working but I looked all over and found this really bitchin [😉] synth score for your guys' scene. You of course don't have to listen to it or anything but it's REALLY cool and fits the scene well I think. It's called

Sorcerer by S U R V I V E

I recommend it! I understand though, if you don't 🥰Either way, happy reading! And yay, snowball next!!

Warnings: suffocation, noticeable amount of violence, more blood. Baddassery. Edit: a slightly tweaked sad endgame quote my subconscious slipped in there

||3rd Person POV||

Steve and the four party members now sit at the entrance of the tunnel that had brought them to the hub, all canisters now completely empty. The hub reeked of gasoline that manages to sting their throats despite their masks.

"You ready?" Steve asks, glancing back at the kids.

A chorus of muffled agreements ring out, and only then does he pull the lighter from his breast pocket.

Dustin looks up at Steve, sending him a curt and reassigned nod.

"Light her up,"

Steve sighs, taking one last look at their work. The tension in the air now palpable.

"I am in such deep shit,"

He flicks the lighter open, and in one swift click, it comes to life with a sharp and threatening hiss.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The flames in the fireplace grow brighter and far more intense as it reaches and swallows the bigger pieces of firewood. Will's screams have turned to violent grunts has his grip grows tighter around his mother's neck. Jonathan is already at her aid, trying with all his might to release her but Will's grip is unnaturally strong and unwavering.

Seeing this, Nancy jumps into action and quickly maneuvers around the bed to the fireplace. She can't bring herself to leave the poor injured girl passed out against the wall without sending several silent apologies to her. I'm sorry, Y/n! She makes it to the fireplace and pulls the tong loose from the fire where it had been cooking and shook a few logs loose.

The end was a bright and glowing shade of yellow, and Nancy fought a deep breath and the hesitation creeping up, but she had to do something! Her grip around the firepoker tightens until her knuckles turn white.

Behind her, the fire begins to pop as the loosened logs begin to shift, and several embers are sent flying. Several of them land on Will, angering him further. It's almost enough to make him let go, but he does not relent. The firepoker is already in his side, burning right through his shirt with a horrible sizzle, and the boy howls in pain, Joyce now set free.

His back arches in horrible pain, the stick plunging further into his side and another screech is let loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

This was it. It was now or never. The dogs weren't going anywhere, and he had to get El to the gate. Hopper's eyes flutter closed, and he counts to three under his breath, the cry of each beast echoing in his skull and beating against his chest.

One...

Two...

Three...

He throws himself through the door, gun first, and his finger on the trigger.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Joyce now towers over her son, spit flying and her voice strained from injury. Nancy had helped her to her feet and was now aiding the rest in restraining Will.

Joyce takes a deep breath as strained screams bellow from her.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SON!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The lighter in Steve's gloved hand cast out into the fume soaked air, it's small but greedy flame swallows the entire room in seconds. The vines once woven into the dirt come alive in seconds, and they reach the ceilings, writhing and squealing as the flames engulf them.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A strong and booming roar erupts from deep within Will's chest, the deep voice of the Mind Flayer they had caught a glimpse of in the shed, returns at full force. His back arches once more, the back his head digging deep into the pillow. He is shaking violently now, as he had the night the lab had set the tunnels on fire.

Joyce stumbles back as his shaking grows more violent. His head arches back even further against all odds, and that's when they spot it.

"His neck!" Nancy cries, pointing feverishly as she returns to Jonathan's side. "Look at his neck!"

Several thick and dark veins began protruding through his skin as it crawled up his neck, and it looked as if they were full of dark sludge.

"The Mind Flayer's losing," Jonathan mumbles.

Will's head shoots up at the words, the veins have already spread to his face and even stretch across his arms now. They all jump back as his head whips off the bed, his eyes completely black. The Mind Flayer's grip on the boy tightens, his rage stronger than his pain at their audacity to tempt his strength with Henderson's presence.

"AND HE'LL DIE WITH ME!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The end of Hopper's gun finds its first target, but before he can pull the trigger he sees them writhe and hiss. Their slender bodies begin to shake violently in pain and for a moment he hopes...

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Go, go, go!"

The party does not hesitate, they are already on their feet and begin their sprint for the exit.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The bed begins to shake with him, every muscle in his body tensed with his fists clenched at his sides and shaking. They all watch in horror, his deep screams turn to grunts, not realizing what he is truly doing until it is too late. His left leg bursts free, the rope still dangling around his bleeding ankle and the others scramble to restrain him. His leg reels back before barreling into his mother's ribcage.

With his unnaturally given strength, she is sent flying a couple of feet, landing just in front of the bookshelf. His rage burns as hot as the fire that fuels it.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The fire in the hub spreads, already flames rain down from the ceiling as every inch is consumed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Demodogs shrill howls climb even higher, as they twitch. But their attention never leaves Hopper. They crawl and stalk towards him, heads bowed and hissing. They weren't weakened.

They were pissed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rushes to his brother, pinning his one free arm back down.

"You're... gonna lose... him!" The words are spit from Will's mouth, a struggle through the growing pain.

Just as the monster had hoped, Jonathan hesitates, his tearful eyes widening and his whole jaw quivers fighting back a sob. Will's fist breaks loose from his grip and before Jonathan can catch it, it meets his nose sending the older boy flying back into the couch, knocking his breath loose.

Another painful scream erupted as the fire beneath Hawkins spread, but he fights it as much as he can. He was almost free. But most importantly, he couldn't let them win. Not with her on their side.

His black eyes meet with the one they called Nancy, who had been kneeling over Joyce on the floor. Her wide eyes locked onto Will's, and she froze. Her eyes darted to the spike she had left near the pit and she made a run for it.

But he was too quick and had been expecting it. Just as he had with the mother, his heel collided with her jaw and sent her to the floor as he let out a painful scream. Every movement was pure agony, but he knew he could take them now.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hopper's bullets are sent into several Demodogs, but he only manages to bring down two. The swarm was advancing on him, they had nearly crossed the glass when suddenly they stopped altogether.

In a matter of seconds, each of their screams blended into one and they began to writhe and shake, one of them even collapsed. Its body was still crying out in pain, but it was as if it could hold it's self no longer. One by one they began to mimic their sibling, their twitching growing ever violent. They were rooted in place, they couldn't walk.

That's when Hopper felt it. The ground beneath his feet had begun to rumble, the steady stream of cold air that had drifted in from the gate began to dwindle. He lowered his gun, his attention pulling him all around the room as it began to shake.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Let's go, let's go!"

Steve calls back to the group of kids, unable to run without checking behind him every few moments assuring everyone was with him.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god," Dustin pants as he runs.

A screech leaves his throat as he finds himself on the ground once more, but it was no vine or root that tripped him. Everyone felt it, a great rumble that shook their very bones. They all stop and Max helps Dustin up to his feet.

"What is that?" Lucas calls over the booming rumbles.

By now, the vibrations were so intense, the dirt was being shaken loose from the vines and rained down from above.

"I think it's an earthquake!" Mike cries.

A light breeze picks up in the tunnel from where they're headed, carrying with it a warm toasty wave of heat that answered their question.

"No, not an earthquake!" Dustin's eyes went wide from behind his goggles as he looked to others excitedly. "It's Y/n!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Henderson child had managed to pull herself from unconsciousness, and she now stood across the bed. Her arms were stretched out before her and a blazing fire resided in her eyes, a grunt pulled from deep within her throat. Three bloody lines where his nails had caught her ran diagonally down her vein covered face. Each vein protruded from her skin as blood poured from her nose and ears.

Like a broken dam, all that raw power trapped inside her burst free. Y/n was a supernova, a sight to behold as everything inside her exploded all around her. She allowed the weight of all that she had endured to shoot to the surface and engulf her completely. It awakened every cell in her body and touched every nerve in her system.

She didn't have to close her eyes to relive the painful memories as she did on the side of the road. The vast and seemingly neverending pool of dark thoughts and feelings swallows her whole and it all washes over her in angry red flashes.

《•••》

Like her friends, she had mounted her bike ready to flee the Wheeler house and away from the bad men who had found them. She paused in fear, looking over her shoulder at the man who stood before his fleet of vans.

He had stark white hair and his slightly wrinkled face and surrounding him was an aura of menace.

It was him. Martin Brenner, the power-hungry man responsible for the threat that had reached Hawkins. And the man obsessed with Eleven. And herself as she would soon discover.

It was the same man who struck fear into her very soul only minutes ago through the window.

His cold eyes bore into El, but then he turned his attention to her. Something about him and the way his eyes were fixed on herself... it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her blood ran cold.

It was the day he had caught her scent.

•••

"Dustin? Dustin!" She shrieks.

Her brother's desperate calls for her break her heart, but it turns to fire when she hears the man's voice.

"Y/n, don't fight it. You belong with us. We are your true home. Come home to us, Nine"

•••

The intense and raw ache of her heart as she choked on every moment of silence El was in the bath. Everyone surrounds her as she floats silently amongst the saltwater, everyone including Y/n watching with bated breath. When her voice breaks the silence it is a soft whimper, a plea for life as she says the boy's name.

"Will?"

Y/n's hands grip the edge of the pool so tight she fears the skin of her knuckles will tear. Every moment of silence is devastating but the small snivel of Will over the walkie and what he says, deliver the final dagger to her heart.

"Y/n?"

《•••》

Y/n can feel the dagger even now, the devastating weight of all the strain and heartbreak flooding her lungs and escaping in an ear-piercing scream that moved the earth.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El joined Hopper's side in cautious steps as she traveled through the tremors, her hand coming to wrap around his elbow to steady herself. Her widened brown eyes were surveying the shaking world around them, and she could see rubble breaking loose and raining down from the ceilings around them. The warm burst of heat hit her face and neck, and that is when her eyes meet with Hopper when it finally clicked.

Simultaneously their attention is pulled to the gate where the entire army of Demodogs begins collapsing into the dark abyss one by one. The darkness swallows their bodies and their many lingering wails of agony as they fall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The underground team looked at one another in astonishment as the reality settled in, their hands still clinging to the grimy walls around them for balance. Steve broke from his temporary stupor and began waving the kids out.

"Come on, team, keep it moving! Keep it movin'!"

They fell into action, clambering back into line as they tried to make a break for the exit. They were close, but still had several turns to make. Steve helped the children through, catching them as they fell and sending them on their way with his eyes above their heads watching carefully. All the while in his sprint, Dustin cries out proudly into the air, a beaming smile hidden behind his bandana.

"Yeah, that's my fucking sister!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The world bent at Y/n's will, everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

"She disappeared... Bang," El said slowly, a saddened frown forming on her face. "Gone."

"So, my mom? She's...?" Y/n took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat and El nodded.

•••

"Jane, let me put it this way. Does it not bother you that not only did your friend get a better life than us, but our lives were made worse because of it?"

•••

"This could be your home, you said it yourself, we're sisters[...] We'll look after each other. We understand each other. Y/n will never understand you. But I do. Would you like that, Jane?"

•••

"That pesky tag-along friend of hers, what about her?"

"I have no use for her. She's not to be trusted, I want her gone by morning."

《•••》

The heartbreak that fills her up inside no longer slows her down but instead fuels the fire in her chest. Not the Mind Flayer's hatred for her, but the fact it was using her best friend as a puppet. The awful things he was doing to Will, not only to hurt him but the ones he cared about.

《•••》

"Get out!" She winces, but this time she doesn't listen to him. "GO AWAY!"

"No. Not until I talk to Will."

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

"-Will," Joyce tries.

Will's small frame starts to move again, fighting as hard as he can against the restraints under the harsh light in the shed. His teeth are bared and his usual warm and kind eyes are dark and cold as they burn holes into her skull. Hopper has to pin him back again, but the hatred bottled up inside him for her is undeniable.

•••

"NO! NO! GO AWAY! NO! GET THE HELL OUT!" He screams. "GET OUT! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

•••

Y/n watched tearfully as Joyce began to choke on her words at the pride of her son as she listened intently from the corner with a simultaneous swelling, and breaking of her heart. "You said she should have it because she was sad. She's sad, Mom, and I want to make that go away."

"I love you so much," Joyce tearfully coos. "So, so much."

The heartbreak evident in Joyce's voice brings a whole new level of pain to her heart, unable to imagine the position Joyce was in as his mother. The thought of watching your son endure such a horrific thing, not knowing if he'll even survive. It pissed her off even more.

•••

"...I asked you why you were being so nice to me, why you wanted me to be apart of your group,"

A small sob came out in the form of a chuckle, and she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"And you told me it was because..." her lip quivers as the words tumble out. "because that was your birthday wish."

A tear slips down Will's cheek, but his expression remains as still as stone. She can practically hear the breaking of her heart as she sees Will losing his battle before her very eyes. His body shakes violently in an attempt to regain control but the Mind Flayer quickly pulls him back down, swallowing him in darkness as he tries to silence him.

《•••》

Each of these moments are enough to send her over the edge, but the words she had yet to shake from her mind were the ones to do the trick. The words still bouncing violently around her skull, taunting her and reminding her that they were all moments away from losing Will forever.

As the storm inside her reaches its peak, swirling around her head and heart in a violent mass closing in on her, all she can hear are the last words she had heard from her best friend before he had attacked her.

"KILL HER, DAMMIT! KILL HER! KILL HER!"

The room grew from dim to blinding in a matter of astonish-filled moments.

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while Will's small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. Will's mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

It grows larger and larger, circling over the boy and looms over the entire room as it had the last few days. Will's body goes limp, falling back onto the mattress as the dark mass zips across the room and through the front door breaking it open.

Nancy quickly recovers her footing and chases it out of the door to assure it's leaving for good. Sure enough, when she reaches the porch she spots the black dust circle the trees before disappearing into the sky.

The first thing that stops is the light, all that illuminates the room now is the dim lamps they had flipped on and light of the flames. Everything in the room begins to settle, the rattling of dishes and furniture, and dust rained down from the ceiling from where it had broken loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

By now, their trek back to the exit is halfway through, their gloves now completely damp from grasping the walls as they navigate through the tremors. But they find themselves slowing, meeting each other's eye excitedly when the earth gradually steadies again.

They picked up speed immediately, eager not only to escape the tunnels but to see their friend - and sister - again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A thud breaks the shocked silence as Y/n collapses to her hands and knees, coughing and panting for breath. The room is blurry and she only catches every other word. Her arms feel just as weak and strained and she allows herself to collapse against the wall nearby.

The scuffling of shoes enters her subconscious as she fights to understand what's going on. Y/n can barely register what is happening when she feels a hand lightly touch her shoulder. She nods either way and the figure scurries away.

It had been Joyce, who had pulled herself up from the ground and came to check on Y/n when she gave the all-clear. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds and she could feel herself falling asleep against the wall. She tried to stay awake, to know if Will was okay but again she found herself catching every few moments.

All heaters now unplugged, the door left open to let in the cold autumn air.

Jonathan had helped untie the rest of his restraints, and Joyce now sat at his bedside as he lay unconscious. His eyes were sunken, his eyelids dark. He was still awfully pale but already he looked more himself. Will's limp body shifts around as his mother lightly tries to shake him awake, her chest sore and her throat strained but she doesn't care. She just wants her baby.

"Will," she sobs. "Will. Please, Will. Will."

Through sobs of his own, Jonathan places one trembling hand onto his brother's head, brushing away the stray hairs as pleas leave his lips. "Come on, buddy. Come on."

"Please," Joyce wails. "Can you hear me?"

"Come on,"

"Will?"

With great struggle, his eyelids finally flutter open. When Will sees who is in front of him, he feels relief overwhelm him. His lips tug into a weak smile, eliciting an excited gasp from his mother.

"Mom?"

Will feels his limp and drained body being pulled into his mother's embrace, he happily welcomes it. His sobs of relief are buried in her hair and he can feel his shoulder dampening further with her own tears. His eyes are squeezed shut, and despite his lack of strength, he squeezes with all his might, never wanting to let go. He was all too afraid none of it was real, and he doesn't realize it to be possible but his happiness grows when he feels his brother join the hug. Jonathan locks his long arms around his family, like them, not ever wanting to let go.

Nancy has already returned, and when she found the Byers in a tearful embrace, she was happy to know the youngest was now okay. But worry remained and quickly she maneuvered through the now cluttered cabin floor to Y/n's side and knelt to her knees to check on the poor girl.

Y/n's head was propped up against the wall, her chest moved up and down in shallow breaths but the blood seemed to have stopped flowing. Nancy lays a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling her from sleep. Y/n looks up around the room, trying to see through her foggy vision who was with her now.

Nancy whispered to her softly, her thumb subconsciously running soothing circles into her shoulder as her mother always did for her when she was unwell. "Y/n, are you okay?"

"I..."

She tries to speak, but her mouth is too dry. Her dry tongue meets her dried and cracked lips as she tries to find her voice and that is when she notes the taste of salty copper on her tongue. Her blood had mixed with tears, she hadn't even realized she had been crying. When her vision clears, it lands on Will's trembling form as he clings to his mother and brother in relief.

Her eyes begin to sting, and she looks at Nancy, trying to form words but none seem to come. It feels as if a rock sits in her throat, and she can feel more tears streak down her cheeks stinging the scratches on her face. She should be happy that Will was alright! She was, but what she had just done...

It was all too much for her at that moment, and sobs choked her airways. Y/n's limbs were growing heavier by the second and she felt herself collapse into Nancy's shoulder. Nancy pulled Y/n in, her eyebrows knitting together in a sorrowful frown. Y/n's tears and blood soaked her neck and shirt further, and like Joyce, she couldn't care less. Her arms wrapped around the girl's shaking form and began rubbing her back soothingly.

"You did it, Y/n," she whispers, eyes closed, holding back tears of her own. "You were so great..."

The words coax another sob out of the Henderson girl as all her emotions come flooding out, no longer held back. The words Nancy speaks to her are the words she hadn't known she had needed to hear.

"It's okay," she mutters. "It's over, now. You can rest."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The rest of the pack had disappeared down into the abyss, Hopper's right arm still secured tightly around El's shoulders in a protective manner. The warm wind gusting through the broken glass separating them from the abyss gingerly fades away, allowing the cold atmosphere leaking in from the gate to return.

The earth had stilled completely, leaving behind an eery silence that rose the hair on the back of their necks. They didn't have to say anything, but when their eyes met, they knew then and there that Will was safe.

Y/n had done it.

As if reading their thoughts, the walkie Hopper holsters crackle loudly disrupting the deafening silence, and Jonathan's voice booms over the other side.

"Chief, are you there? Chief, do you copy?"

Hopper hastily draws the walkie from his pocket and up to his lips, his breath shaky. "Yeah, I copy."

"..."

Both pairs of eyes land on the gate before them as Jonathan speaks, dread soaks them to the very bone and the icy chill returns to the stale air.

"Close it."

||Reader's POV||

"Close it,"

It takes about all the energy I have but I manage to peel my eyes open at the sound of Jonathan's voice. He's speaking into a ham radio attached to the wall, and his face is hardened in a frown.

The room shakes once very suddenly, or at least it feels like it does as my head throbs. I groan, my eyes screwing shut. I hear more footsteps, and the low steady creak of the bedsprings dipping as Jonathan takes a seat next to his brother.

It all washes over me again, the intensity of it all. My chest tightens and I feel more tears brimming. It hurts to breathe, to move my chest since my entire body is aching, every muscle.

But I also feel... Really good. Finally confronting all of my pain, and letting it all out... In a way, it felt like fresh air and natural light streaming in after years of living in a dark and stale room. The change felt good.

It's an intense and bizarre cocktail of emotions that barred my thinking and made it hard to function. But over it all, I know one thing for sure. I need to rest.

I'm not sure I could do anything else if I tried, but I'm just thankful it's over. And above all, that Will is safe. Still, I can't quite wrap my head around what I had just accomplished, everything that still sits on the surface.

I feel more tears squeeze past my eyelids as the grief washes over me in its usual steady waves. They streak down the sides of my face and disappear through my scalp, tickling my cheeks as they glide across my skin. It finally clicks that I'm no longer on the floor, but the others must have moved me to the couch where I now lay on my back, head propped against a woolen pillow. The searing hot tears diverge in many paths in a new batch and now soak into the creases of my ears.

My joints scream at me in protest as I reach limply to swipe away as many tears as I can, my eyes still closed and my lip screwed in a quiver. On instinct, my palms travel across my face as I try to rub away the tears, and the blood from my nose and ears but I surprise myself with a whimper.

I barely register a small and gentle gasp and the scuffle of footsteps heading towards me as I try to understand why my face is stinging. I feel the couch dip slightly, and a pair of soft hands touch my wrists urging me to pull away. Soft shushing captures my attention and I recognize it to be Joyce. I fight against the pain of the soft light illuminating the cabin that sears my throbbing head to look at her, and it takes a moment to adjust but for the first time since I opened my eyes I can see clearly now.

Joyce sits next to me, her eyes are swimming in tears as looks at me and her lips are stretched across her face in a beaming smile, though her bottom lip still quivers. I feel more tears escape as I try to find words, but none come and that seems to break her more.

She shakes her head with the same expression still fixed on her face and sniffles. When she speaks her voice is still hoarse and raspy but I can still make out the pride in it.

"I know, honey. I'm so, so sorry." I feel her hand intertwine with mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so sorry,"

Through my blurry vision I make out Nancy's figure approach us from behind me, and she hands something to Joyce who mutters a thank you. Her hand releases mine as she unfolds what Nancy had brought her, and I realize now that it's a wet cloth. She bunches it up and meets my eyes with a soft motherly gaze.

"This might sting a little, but it'll help, okay?"

I nod, my eyes fluttering closed again as a shakey sigh escapes. I feel the cool cloth meet my skin, stinging the three prominent streaks across my face. I bite back a hiss, feeling soothed just ever so as I hear her muttering softly to me.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Almost done,"

The worst of the pain begins to fade and my eyes flutter back open. She pulls the cloth away to turn it over, and I spot the dark smears of blood already soaked inside. She brings it back to my face, dabbing away the dried up streaks that had tightened my skin under my nose and the streaks under my ears.

Joyce pulls away, bunching up the cloth dropping it in her lap forgotten, her eyes back on me. It hurts to swallow, so I can feel the uncomfortable build up in my mouth as more tears seem to brim. I catch Joyce's hands gently reaching for mine and I let her take it, both her calloused but soft hands sandwich my own and it forces me to meet her eyes.

"You are so, so brave," she chokes, tears spilling from her eyes. "and so strong..."

Her head shakes back and forth slightly as if trying to will the tears away but she can't. She can only try to compose herself long enough to get the words out. Her right-hand breaks free and her thumb gently wipes away one of many stray tears on my cheek and comes to stroke my chin in one gentle swipe.

"I'll never be able to thank you properly for what you just did..." her lip quivers violently now, but the large smile returns, breaking out on her face as she speaks with absolute certainty. "I am so proud of you,"

An audible sob shakes my body, and with some struggle - and help from her - I pull myself up and into Joyce's arms. She gladly pulls me in, sobs leaving her lips as well and I feel a different kind of warmth spread through my chest, all the way to my fingertips and toes. It wasn't a hostile warmth, but a comforting one, and I realize for the first time why both her and Nancy's embrace and words meant so much to me.

It was the warm motherly reassurance I hadn't realized I'd been missing. My own mother had no knowledge of my powers, my past, anything that had truly happened in the past year. And therefore knew nothing of the enormous weight the Upside Down, my powers, Will, all of it, had on me. And to have the acceptance and reassurance of Joyce - even Nancy - after going so long without it, felt almost intoxicating in the moment.

I burrowed my head in the crook of her shoulder, and as Nancy did, her palms rubbed soothing circles into my back as she let me cry into her hair. I kept hearing her mutter the words softly in my ears, assuring the words stuck inside my brain so I wouldn't ever forget it.

"I'm so proud, baby, so proud," her voice was low and soothing and she cradled me. "You did so good."

My heartbeat had already slowed significantly in her embrace, and it felt as if I had melted into her shoulder. She never broke the hug, showing me she was here for me as long as I needed her which I greatly appreciated. Finally, my eyes fluttered open and I slowly pull away.

For the first time since waking, I am getting a good look around the cabin, and my mouth parts slightly in shock. It looked as if it had been ransacked, so many things had fallen to the floor and I looked at her worriedly. She smiled, shaking her head.

"It's okay hon, it's fixable," she assured, she then picks up the bloodied cloth from her lap and sends me a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back,"

I nod silently, still fighting back a wince as I look behind me at the fallen stools at the breakfast bar and the many things littering the floor that had once been on shelves. The lamp on the table had fallen over and several shards of glass from the bulb were sprinkled across the table and floor.

My eyes wander back to the living room and my breath catches in my throat when I see Will. Jonathan and Nancy sat on either side of him talking to one another as well as him. But he was looking at me, and I felt my heartbeat spike significantly. His face was full of guilt as he had been examining my face, most likely where he must have scratched me. He didn't break away when I met his gaze, and for a moment we shared silent apologies.

I offered him a weak smile, telling him it was okay and he seemed to melt. And yet, the sight was enough to make my insides melt as well. It was such a wonderful sight to see after the past few days, knowing and seeing him okay. My stomach begins to flutter when I see a blush creep up on his cheeks. It wasn't hard to spot given his still paled skin, but I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as well.

But just as soon our attention was pulled to the lights around the cabin. It drew everyone's attention, including Joyce who paused at the kitchen sink as the lights grew brighter and brighter. The cabin grew blindingly bright for the second time that night, and halfheartedly my palms raised off my lap to silently say 'it isn't me this time.'

My brain races to connect the dots as my eyes squint through the blinding light of the bulbs when it finally clicks. Jonathan and Nancy seem to have made the same connection when I meet their wide-eyed stare, the word tumbling out of my mouth in a whisper.

"Eleven."

||3rd Person POV||

༄ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ༄

The final lock is secured with a defined click, signifying the end of Hawkins Laboratory. One of the final many guards to lock up steps away from one of many chained up entrances revealing the large signs plastered over the wall behind him.

WARNING RESTRICTED AREA

The man climbs aboard the jeep and no sooner does it take off down the main exit of the now-abandoned lot, bleeding into line with the rest of the troops.

Thanks to Nancy and Jonathan and the help of an eccentric conspiracist, Murray Bauman during the unfolding events of the prior month, the three had concocted a plan to take down Hawkins Lab. With enough proof - a secret audio tape of Sam Owens discussing the cover-up of Barb's death - were able to fabricate a smaller conspiracy big enough to take down the lab.

A conspiracy that was now being broadcasted nationwide.

"Since the release of the incendiary tape, the once quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana, has spent time in a place it never expected."

One by one the line of military troops file out of the main entrance to the lab for good. Sat comfortably in a lawn chair outside his parked van was none other than Murray Bauman, who watched the parade of troops merrily with a smug grin on his bespeckled face.

"The national spotlight."

The man giggled happily, one hand leaving his pocket and waving an exaggerated salute at the man in the jeep. Glaring as the car carried him by, he sent the smug man the finger without breaking contact from the road. Murray's giggles only grow more mischievous, and he sends a very kiddish wave to the rest, his cheeks sore from smiling.

"Under mounting pressure, several high-ranking members from the U.S Department of Energy have admitted involvement in the death and cover-up,"

Several sullen figures dressed all in black surround the polished coffin being lowered into the ground. Three of these figures, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and Steve Harrington.

"of Hawkins resident Barbara Holland who died due to exposure to an experimental chemical asphyxiant, which had leaked from the grounds of the lab."

Mr. And Mrs. Holland stand in each other's embrace at their daughters grave in tears, grasping tightly to one another. The long search for their daughter over in the most devastating conclusion.

"We send our own April Kline to Hawkins to speak to residents,"

The news anchor's voice echoes throughout the Hideaway bar from the small television set sat high on the shelf. The walls and shelves are decorated with many chunky Christmas lights for the upcoming holiday. The bar is filled with small chatter that fades out over the TV and the occasional clinking of glasses.

"residents who told us they thought they lived in a safe town. A kind of town where, they say, nothing ever happens."

The entrance to the Hideaway is pulled open with little strain, the warm air trapped inside is swept out with the demanding winter breeze that quickly takes its place. Wrapped up in a thick winter coat, Hopper steps inside and takes a quick look around. It hadn't changed much since his last visit over a year ago during his investigation of the lab and Will's "death". Funny enough, he used to frequent the place often, but since El had entered his life, he had quickly lost interest.

His eyes find the man he had come here to meet across the bar, sat at one of several booths enjoying a ham and turkey sandwich. Making his way across the bar, Hopper discards his heavy jacket, folding it up against his chest and tossing it in the corner of the booth before taking a seat across from Dr. Sam Owens.

"Cheif-o," the man pipes with a smile.

"How's the leg?" Hopper questions with a small smile.

Owens nods, swallowing the last of his bite and gestures to his right leg.

"Better," he chips. "Pretty sure my football career is over."

The two men share a small chuckle. Owens picks up the half of his sandwich he had touched and pushed the plate full of chips and the rest of the sandwich across the table in offering.

"Want some of this? No way I'm gonna finish it."

A tight, polite smile plasters over Hopper's face as he waves it off and gives him a shake of the head.

"No. I'm, uh... on a diet." He admits, thinking of El.

He had done a lot of thinking, and he knew now that he wanted this kid in his life for good. And that meant taking good care of himself so she had someone looking out for her.

It was also the very reason for this visit, and why he had been so anxious to talk to Owens. He stared at the man across from him as he spoke. Not bothered to try and hide the intimidation in his eyes as he prepared to reap the threat that was sown back in Hawkins Lab all those nights ago.

"Well, you're a better man than me," Owens says, immediately perking as he turns to his discarded jacket pocket. "Hey, got a little something for you."

Hopper sighs, leaning further back in his seat a bit taken aback. He watches curiously as Owens pulls a sealed white envelope out, places it on the table, and slides it across into his hand.

With a furrowed brow, Hopper picks it up and the envelope opens with a small crinkle. A somewhat thick piece of parchment lays inside that makes his heart skip a beat, all previous intimidations he was prepared to throw at the doctor vanish completely. He tucks the ends out of the envelope to get a better look, also being cautious of any possible prying eyes but no matter how many times he reads the words it doesn't seem real.

STATE OF INDIANA Certificate of Birth

This Certifies that according to records if the State of Indiana

Name 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁 Was born in 𝙷𝙰𝚆𝙺𝙸𝙽𝚂 Child of 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙰 𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂

"Congratulations, Pops," Owens smirks.

Hopper's wide eyes dart to across the table to the man watching his reaction. "I thought--"

Owens shrugged. "Sometimes I impress even myself."

Hopper slips the parchment back into the sleeve, and folds up the envelope before slipping it into his jacket pocket where he wouldn't lose it. His defenses creep back up at what the man says next, though not as bad given the progress.

"Still, I'd let things cool off for a while, if I were you."

Hopper subconsciously squares his shoulders, his long and bulky arms coming to stretch across the table in an intimidating manner. His brows bunch together in a creased frown, tilting his head.

"How long is a while?"

He tries to remain patient with the man, but it proves more difficult than anticipated considering the heavy weight of his guilt. Hopper couldn't deny he played just a big of a part in El's captivity in the cabin, even if it was out of good intentions. All the more reason he was now determined to make it right.

"Want to be safe? Give it a year," Owens answers.

Hopper's brows shoot up. "A year?"

Shit.

His chest deflates in a sigh and snatches the untouched sandwich off the plate, taking a rather large bite out of the side. He thinks for a moment, an idea forming in his head.

"What about one night out?"

"One night?"

"Yeah," he hardens, quickly attaching himself to the idea, knowing how important it was to El. "How risky would that be?"

"What's so important about one night?"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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melbee · 4 years

Text

Biker Babe’

David Lee Roth x Reader

Summary: You thought keeping a relationship between an ordinary Catholic school girl and a notorious, eccentric rockstar should be kept under wraps. So when you agree for him to pick you up after school... well ordinary was never in David’s vocabulary.

Note: My first ever one-shot, let alone fan fiction. However, I couldn’t resist after this idea had been on my mind. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: none ;) except for some ass-grab lol

Words: 1,894

~Late May, 1983~

“y/n?” I heard my best friend whisper over to me, tugging on the lapels of my jacket harshly, as I looked up from my textbook.

“Yeah? What is it?” I said, a bit of annoyance seeping through my tone as I flicked my gaze between my friend and the text I currently read in the library, my mind riddled with anxiety due to the exam that now loomed over me.

If I can get at least a B in life science, I’ll be able to have a stress-free summer. Warm, tropical breezes... a delicious rockstar-

“Er.. well.. the librarian is trying to get you to go over there.. she seems to be talking to someone on the phone..” she said to me a hint of peculiar curiosity in her orbs, as her eyes were now dead set on the old woman, that looked menacingly at us.

“Okay...” I replied hesitantly, not quite sure as to why it seemed too important until a devious smile loomed over my friends face as she swiveled her head.

“Do you think it’s...” she said as she stopped before completing her sentence.

I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t think so Ann, he’s hardly back from tour.. plus he’s got more important things..”

“Oh shut up you dimwit, now go answer.” She said as she pulled me up rather forcefully to my unfortunate demise.

I sighed as I gave her a pointed look before walking my way over to the main desk, the click of my leather shoes in time to the beat of my heart. why was I so nervous? It couldn’t be him..

“Hello, Sister.”

I finally made my way over to the desk as I perched my hands flat on the table looking up at the librarian who stared at me pointedly. “Glad you could finally make it Ms. y/l/n, I have a man on the line who would like to speak to you..”

My eyes widened as my curiosity set in, who could possibly be calling, let alone the library line, how would they have known I was in here? I went to reach for the phone, but the lady hesitated. Uh oh... here comes the lecture..

“I would advise next time, Ms. y/l/n, to not have visitors call until the specific time-set hours occur, and being at the designated call stations, not the library desk. However, he seemed urgent, be thankful.” She said as she raised her head high her veil swooshing menacingly behind her.

“I am Sister, God bless.” I bowed my head, trying not to snicker, and looked up, her gaze tinged only minor approval before motioning for me to come to the side.

I smiled as I grabbed the phone connected to the dialer and brought it near to me, putting the phone up to my face.

“Hello?” I said hesitantly

“Do you always say ‘Sister’ to your teachers, or is there something I should know about your extended family?” A familiar deep voice sounded out of the phone, as a giddy smile loomed over my face.

“More of a religious thing.. David.. I... why are you calling?” I asked as a confused looked came over my face.

“Why do you sound surprised, doll? You are my significant other..” He said as he chuckled a bit over the phone.

“I mean.. yeah I just thought you would’ve been a bit busy all with getting back to town from tour...” I said as I twirled the cord around my fingers as I glanced toward librarian who gave me a glare, as if to say to speed things up.

“Nonsense, I always have time for my best girl.” He said as I picture that cheesy, adorable smile fall on his face, my heart thumping at just the mere image of seeing him. Oh god I missed him..

“Well, what do you have in mind, hot shot?” I asked grinning.

“Hm.. what are you wearing?” He asked slowly, drawing it out as if he were trying to entice me.

I rolled my eyes as I bit my lip, “Behave.. I’m wearing my skirt.. why?”

“Oh perfect! We’ll blend well today then.” He said over the phone, as I paused my reply as I realized his actual words.

“What do you mean? Today?” I asked, as I was thinking of any plans I had, and the absurdity that would be David, picking me up.

“Yes the day is today, and I figured being the great boyfriend that I am, I’ll carpool you.” He said, as I heard shuffling over the phone, and the vaguely familiar sound of his garage door opening.

“David.. I don’t know.. what if people recognize you?” I asked hesitantly over the phone. I was worried this secret of ours would be foiled.

“I thought Catholics had too many sticks up there asses to care about rockstars?” He said as he laughed at his own joke. Typical.

I rolled my eyes, “You underestimate the power of 20 year olds..”

“I sure did, for one in particular...” he said as he seemed to draw into thought. My heart swooned at his little statement, and knew he had won me over with his little plan.

“Fine.. be chill..” I asked. My nerves seeping in at what might happen.

“Baby I’ll be borderline frozen” He said so firmly.

He was NOT borderline frozen.

As I stood near the gate of where cars came through to pick up friends and family for weekend vacation, I heard a rumble vibrate the ground.

It became ever louder and apparent, as the rumbling got closer till you could make the figure of a dark, black motorcycle with custom shining leather, and gold encrusted finishings between seat and the grooves of the wheels.

While the bike was classy-rocker and bright, the man who laid so smooth on it, had even more going for him. He sat so confidently in his all leather ensemble his bell bottomed leather pants flowing, along with that mane of hair. A clean-fitted leather jacket showing off the dips of muscle, and chest hair he displayed so confidently. Shades sat atop his face so effortlessly, making the cut of his jaw so powerful, a cigarette hanging loosley on his full lips.

I watched as nearby girls in their cliques and parades stop, their jaws dropped, and gazes etched with awe, confusion, and most definitely desire.

I looked to my right to see my friends’ jaw dropped as well as she looked to him then to me, as he got closer. “Oh. my. God.”

I wish I could kill that man...

“Ann... You’ve met David before..” I said as I gave her a pointed look, not before turning my head to watch as he made his way closer to where we were.

“Uhm.. only briefly until he wooshed you away for some romantic, rocker, sexy time..” She said as her eyes followed the movement of the motorcycle.

I couldn’t help but snort at her, “Really...’rocker-sexy time��?” I said as I looked at her incredulously.

She flicked my arm as she rolled her eyes, “I saw it in a movie.. look are you going to get your ass over there, or are you going to let those girls drool all over your man?”

She was indeed correct, as he made a stop to the main front, before turning off his bicycle, and hopping off, the sway of his hips so unfairly evident, as he leaned on the front of his bike, taking a drag of his cigarette.

I saw a couple girls try and make their descent towards David, but not before my friend pushed me down the steps, in a fast attempt to get me there first, not before making me stumble slightly right directly in his line of sight.

I glared at my friend as she shrugged and gave me a hug, and an air kiss to David before skipping excitedly to the side, where she waited for her ride.

I tucked my y/h/c hair to my ear, as David and I finally made contact for the first time in a while. I sucked in a breath as I finally really reeled in the glory that hailed from such an aura as him, his leather combo really did suit his assets well.

and I mean all of his assets.

His eyes glowed as he crushed his cig out and onto the floor much to my dismay, he smiled brightly as he drew a finger beckoning me forward to him as a mischevious look filled his eyes..

I made my way to his arms length, no sooner grabbing him into a bone crushing hug, kissing the sides of his face, his jaw, his nose, then his lips.

He grinned as he grazed his hand under my skirt, grabbing my ass to pull me in closer, biting my lip, until we found ourselves in a steamy french kiss.

No doubt we had everybodys attention now.

He groaned as we groped each other in effort to make up for some sort passion we had missed when we were not together. “God.. I missed my little school girl..”

I laughed as I pulled away, trying not to get too ahead of ourselves. “I missed my golden-haired rockstar..” He laughed at my comment, and gave me one last kiss, the tips of his fingers grazing my lip gently.

“Well, come on we’ve got to get this school girl back home...for some much needed home-work.” He said as he slapped my ass playfully, my face-cheeks burning as he grabbed my hand toward the other side of the bike and watched as he stepped on first.

Thankfully, this wasn’t my first bike ride with David, and I shimmied my way on the back, straightening the ends of my skirt to the best of my ability.

I may not be afraid to make-out with my boyfriend in public, but I still need to maintain some decency.

I grabbed onto the sides of his waist, feeling the firmness of the muscle, and felt it stretch as he reached down to adjust the seat before popping his shades onto his nose.

“Oh I almost forgot!” He said as he made a point to put his finger in the air, he grabbed a pair of shades from his pocket and handed it to me. “To my newly recruited biker babe’, may this signify a start of our journey as a bike couple.”

I laughed loudly, as I grabbed the shades and put them on, “Which I’m sure is very different from a normal couple..?”

“But of course..” He said as he grabbed my leg and patted it. “Now let’s get a move on, gorgeous.”

He started the bike, a soaring rumble gravitated across the plaza, signifying again of where we were, and who we were. “I’ve got a new title for a song.”

“Oh yeah and what’s that?” I whispered in his ear, as the rumble started to make our voices incomprehensible.

“Hot For Student!” He yelled loudly, so loud in fact I’m sure the whole school had heard him as he started off out of the line and toward the exit.

We turned the corner, and pushed on the gas as we drove toward the West Coast sunset, a smile not once leaving my face.

#david lee roth #van halen #fanfic #x reader #classic rock #fun #oneshot #david lee roth x reader #hot for teacher #eddie van halen #1980s #rocknroll #80s

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