#danger days is their most pop punk and even then i hesitate

[grogfrogg]

lately i've seen so many people on tik tok push the narrative that mychem is pop punk 😭😭 i so desperately want to understand where they're hearing the pop 😩

[bffsoobin]

Dulce Periculum

➤ Halloween!au, highschool!au, (vague)80s!au, punk!yeonjun x reader, general horror, ghosts, fluff, angst

↳ when yeonjun’s best friend dares the two of you to spend Halloween night camping in the abandoned old school your whole city thought was haunted; you think nothing of it. After all, there was no way the rumors of spirits that would follow you home were true, and you really wanted the prize from winning the bet.

Warnings: general horror themes, breaking and entering, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of drug use, ghosts, mentions of blood, hauntings, creepy shit in general so don’t read if you’re sensitive/not a fan.

Word Count: 4,994

A/N: I hope no one is surprised that I wrote an actually scary Halloween fic 💀 this was so much fun and totally captured all of the things I really love the most! It also felt so good to write another long fic for Yeonjun since I definitely don’t do that enough. As always, I didn’t proof read or edit this, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! (also pretend this gif is dark hair Yeonjun for the vibes)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“Seriously?” Yeonjun lifted a dark eyebrow as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. You held out your hand to silently ask for one that he set in your hand with no hesitation. Your usually populated lunch table was eerily empty today, and even inside the walls of your high school, the chill of the October air had you leaning into Yeonjun’s body to soak up his perpetual warmth. Across the table, Johnny sat on the top of a chair, exaggerating his already insane height as he spoke down to the two of you. 

“Seriously, man! The place is haunted. My cousin went there once a few years ago and-”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the sight of tough looking Johnny; donning his classic black leather jacket and silver belt chains, a half burnt cigarette glowing eerily orange at the end with a thin streak of smoke leading it’s way to the ceiling, visibly frightened over the idea of a haunted old school. 

“You’re losing it if you think the place is actually haunted. Johnny. It’s just a town legend for gods sake. People just go there and get high and fuck. It’s called Grave Academy. You think that shit is for real?” You spat, disbelief soaking every edge of your voice. You loved a good horror story just as much as the next fucked up teenager, but there was no fucking way that half burnt building was actually haunted. Beside you, your boyfriend had reduced himself into a fit of giggles, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you until you were almost sitting in his lap. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the cool metal of his lip piercing making your nose crinkle. 

“I love when you act like that,” he whispered, gently biting at the lobe of your ear before laughing even more at the gagging noise Johnny had begun to project into the air. Yeonjun backed away just as suddenly as he had descended on you, taking his scent of mint and smoke with him.

“What’s your point, Johnny? Just tryin to scare us?” Yeonjun asked, balancing his chin on his palms as he stared lazily across the table again.

“The point is a dare,” Johnny began, leaning forward as if he were about to tell a secret only your ears could hear. “I dare you to spend Halloween night at Grave Academy. Then you’ll see how haunted that place actually is.” He took a long drag off of his cigarette, ignoring the pointed throat clearing of a cafeteria worker you knew for a fact smoked at least three a day while sitting in the parking lot. Johnny waved her off and reached into one of his jacket pockets, producing the worn leather wallet that he kept on him like a religious talisman. From its folds he produced a crisp, wonderfully green 50 dollar bill and held it between his fingers. Your eyes widened at the bill, and if it weren’t for Yeonjun’s hand on your thigh stalling you, you would have been launching yourself across the table to snatch it from Johnny. “I bet you,” his voice was muffled around the cigarette, “this 50 dollar bill and a six pack that the two of you couldn’t spend a whole night there without getting spooked.”

You and Yeonjun exchanged incredulous looks as Johnny continued to watch over the two of you. 

“Well, yeah,” Yeonjun announced, standing so abruptly that the chair he had once occupied was sent skidding awkwardly against the tiled floor. He extended a paled, jewelry decorated hand across the table and waited for Johnny to meet it in the middle. As soon as their hands connected, the smirk on Yeonjun’s face widened. “It’s a deal.”

-----

Halloween of ‘87 brought along frigid whipping winds that cut to the bone. You and Yeonjun had layered up in all your warmest clothing but he still had to crank up the heat in his old car as the two of you drove to the abandoned school to meet up with Johnny. With your hands tucked underneath your legs, you grumbled, “it’s way too cold for this shit, Jun.” Still focused on the road, Yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

“Got another idea for how to make 50 bucks and get a free case of beer?” He finally glanced over to you, eyebrow arched in question as you pouted. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll warm you up when we get there.” Despite the chill of the air, a warm blush sprouted on your cheeks that Yeonjun only smiled at as he made the final turn before crunching the gravel of the parking lot under the tires. Johnny was already there, leaning against the side of his car with a freshly lit cigarette balanced between gloved fingers. Seconds after Yeonjun parked the car, Johnny was next to it in two large strides, leaning down and knocking on the driver’s side window. Yeonjun pushed the door open, forcing Johnny to step back instead of getting nailed in the legs with the heavy metal. 

“Hello to you too,” Johnny grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child. “Nice of you to finally fucking show up.” Yeonjun laughed as he rounded the car to pop the trunk and haul out the copious amounts of blankets and pillows you had insisted on bringing. 

“What, Johnny? Afraid out here all by yourself?” Your boyfriend teased as you scooped a pile of blankets into your arms. Johnny exhaled through his nose, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Well fuck, Yeonjun. I don’t know, is it wrong of me to be afraid of the ghost of the little kid who literally got possessed and killed all of his classmates? Or the fact that all the kid’s spirits are stuck here? Plus, it’s Halloween so you know...the dead walk among us and shit.” He was shifting on his feet, taking intermittent drags from his cigarette as he spoke. You snickered to yourself, the weight of the blankets in your arms making your muscles a bit sore. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You ask loudly. 

“I would love to,” Johnny nods, patting Yeonjun on the shoulder and gently shoving him toward the old, slightly crumbling building. After the initial fire, the lot had been bought and rebuilt as a halfway house for troubled youth. The company ended up going bankrupt and the building was left to rot. 

“If you two make it out alive, my money and beer are yours.” Yeonjun nodded as a gust of wind ripped through the lot, sending a complaint flying from your mouth as you glared pointedly toward your boyfriend. He took the hint easily, maneuvering his blankets under one arm and placing the other at the small of your back. 

“See ya tomorrow, Johnny,” he waved him off easily, pushing you forward through the rusted, overgrown gate. You heard Johnny peel out of the parking lot just as you and Yeonjun stepped onto the first cement block of steps. An old sign hung at the top of the entrance, paint chipped off in large strips that have disintegrated with time. For a moment, you hesitated, your chunky black boots seemingly stuck to the surface under you. 

“C’mon,” Yeonjun encouraged, walking up the next four steps until he wrapped his free hand around the tarnished iron handle. “Aren’t you cold?” He asked, prompting your feet to move behind him. You wouldn’t admit it to Yeonjun, but a slight feeling of anxiety was beginning to make your palms sweat. Producing a flashlight out of his pocket, Yeonjun readied himself to step into the building. 

The door opened with a high groan, it’s hinges crackling underneath the weight of Yeonjun’s push. From your spot just outside the door, it was hard to understand the layout of what was once considered a grand building. Hiding slightly behind your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, all you could see was part of a staircase which surely had steps rotted away from years of disuse. A sudden fear for the integrity of the floorboards shot through you, and if you had had a free hand, you would have clutched it into the soft material of Yeonjun’s jacket. 

Forever fearless, he took the first step inside the building and hummed thoughtfully. 

“Well,” his dark mass of hair swished around as he looked side to side, “no ghosts that I can see.” You knew he was joking for the sake of your comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to rally back as you took a tentative step inside. From this point, you could see the interior of the entry hall in its full glory. 

Wallpaper, which you assumed was once a gentle cream color, was peeling in jagged, messy strips to expose the inner structure of the house. A more recent addition, the various colors of spray paint from other visitors, struck a stark contrast with  Above you, a dangerously loose looking chandelier hung. It was small enough, but still obviously made with a tough metal that had begun to fall down with the water-logged sagging and cracking of the plaster ceiling. The image of it falling down had your stomach churning. Maybe Johnny had been right. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way inside, surveying the floors through the measly yellow light of the flashlight until you found a good spot to place your blankets. Although it was “good” in the sense that there were no massive holes in the wall or ceiling to expose you to the cold, you still felt uneasy. As you set to work laying down a thick patch of blankets to protect you, Yeonjun took a lap around the room to see what he could find. This room, like all of the others, had streaks of spray paint on almost every surface. Most of it was harmless, and it almost gave you comfort to know that so many other people before you had come here and made it back out alive. Not that anyone would miss you or Yeonjun if you didn’t. Another shiver, this one not borne from the cold, ran down your back. Once you’d made a successful little nest, you found the will to walk over to Yeonjun again. 

He was slouched a bit, studying something with a surprising intensity. When you walked up behind him and slipped your hands under his jacket-mostly to warm your hands- he startled a bit. 

“Did I scare you?” You teased, pushing your face into his back as you nuzzled up closer. 

“No, just surprised. Can I steal the flashlight?” Pouting, you handed it over and resumed your snuggling in hopes that he would finally catch the hint. If you were going to be stuck in this creepy house all night you might as well have some fun. The vague thought of stealing a cigarette from Yeonjun’s back pocket crossed your mind, and your hand was well on it’s way until he muttered under his breath. 

“What?” 

“Just- look at this,” his voice was higher pitched, bordering a bit too close on surprised for your liking. Your mind buzzed as you slid to his side to lean into the point of interest. While you were making up the blankets, Yeonjun had been messing with what seemed to be an inconspicuous old blackboard, shut tightly due to years and years of misuse. Somehow, he had managed to slide it open, revealing a second layer of blackboard underneath. For a second, you were going to make a joke about skipping school and forgetting what a blackboard looked like- until you saw the writing. 

Inside the ring of light casted by the flashlight, a sentence made of slightly messy, too close together letters stood. 

“Don’t let him catch you.” 

Neither you or Yeonjun moved as you processed the words. 

“Jun,” your voice was wavering, choked over the tears building in the back of your eyes. “Maybe we should-”

“No, I’m sure it was just someone here before who messed with it. It wasn’t even that hard to push and there were obviously other kids here before us.” He turned on his heel quickly, putting your backs to the wall and taking your hands in his calloused palms. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, but he still looked the image of perfection. 

“Still cold?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as he leaned imperceptibly closer to you. All thoughts of fear vanished, replaced quickly by the heat that swamped you upon seeing the gleam in his honeyed eyes. You couldn’t ignore the way the black metal of his lip ring glinted in the low lighting. 

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed quickly, tearing your eyes away from his lips just long enough to get the message across. Swiftly, he pressed his lips against your own, the cold brush of his nose skimming against yours making you giggle. He laughed back, using his hands tangled in your hair to keep you steady as he walked you backwards in a direction only he could see, deepening the kiss until you forgot that you were deep in the heart of Grave Academy. 

----

Morning came surprisingly fast after you and Yeonjun had worn yourselves out to your heart’s content. When you woke up, it was to the soft sound of the fall breeze rustling what was left of the leaves on a nearby maple tree. In the stark daylight, the building felt like much less of a scare than it did last night. As you laid on Yeonjun’s chest, blankets piled high over your body for insulation, you almost felt at peace. Even the once ominous looking spray paint on the wall now made you chuckle as you read the curse words and artist tags that overlapped in a rainbow of colors. The movement stirred Yeonjun awake, his eyes blinking slowly until he finally adjusted to the daylight. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice thick and full with a surprisingly restful night of sleep. “Feel up to a beer later? Celebrate our survival?”

You smacked his chest playfully out of reflex, silently reveling in just how easy this bet with Johnny had turned out to be. Your pile of protective blankets slipped down your back, exposing you to a rush of cold that made you frown. 

“How about we get going? I’m starving.” 

Yeonjun took no more convincing than that, fully motivated by the idea of food. It took almost no time at all to fold up all the blankets and make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

“Oh, the flashlight!” You stomped your way back over to the blackboard where you’d left it, feeling much bolder in the sunlight. You pocketed the flashlight easily, tucking it away in the jacket that used to belong to your father. As you straightened back up, you came face to face with the same board that had almost sent you straight home last night, only to see that there was nothing written on it. 

The blackboard stared back at you, totally blank. The cramped, messy words from yesterday night had completely vanished. Not even a trace of wiped off chalk stayed behind to suggest that Yeonjun may have erased the words without you noticing. A sick feeling washed over you, nervousness balling in the pit of your stomach until you felt like you could pass out. 

“Y/N?” Yeonjun called, whining as the blankets weighed him down and his stomach growled. His voice snapped you out of your stupor as you quickly turned, striding toward him in confident steps to assume him- and yourself- that everything was just fine. 

----

“Yeonjun,” you hissed, leaning across your desk to better catch his attention. He turned lazily, half asleep as a result of the 20 year old projector video. “Did you steal my pencil?” You accused, slightly annoyed that he would have the nerve to take one of the very few school supplies you still bothered to bring, even if just for show. His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. 

“No, why the hell would I take your pencil? I stopped taking notes in sophomore year. Are you sure you didn’t just drop it?” 

Violently, you shook your head. 

“I already looked, Jun! It’s gone! I literally just had it!” Anger bubbled in your chest as you abandoned all reserve. Yeonjun’s eyes went wide with concern as the teacher turned toward you and shushed loudly. 

You spent the rest of the day in an angered stupor, having to borrow a pencil from the nerdy kid who salivated over you every day in biology. It bothered you much more than it probably should have, but losing the pencil seemed to set off an odd emotion within you. You were many things, but you were never disorganized or forgetful. There was no way you simply lost the pencil. 

----

Senior year crawled by and your missed days of school stacked up quick. You and Yeonjun wasted the days away, sharing cigarettes and liquor bottles until the day was over. On one surprisingly nice winter afternoon, the two of you went for a walk. The route was innately familiar, as you’d been walking it since you were both young children. As you curbed the corner near Mrs. Berger’s house, Yeonjun stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Did you see that?” He asked, grasping at your forearm and making you slip a little on a patch of ice. 

“Did I see what?” 

“That- over there!” Yeonjun pointed toward a patch of bare trees laced with snow. There was nothing odd among them, but he was clearly convinced. “You don’t see that?” He hissed, an edge of fear in his voice that made you glance around for possible threat. 

“No, I don’t. Yeonjun, are you okay?” 

“Seriously, Y/N, now is not the time to fuck with me,” he pleaded, pulling on your arm harder. He was scared. 

“Yeonjun, let’s go, let’s just go back to your house, please, you’re scaring me-”

“SHIT, go go go!” Suddenly he yanked you into the snow covered yard to your right to avoid the slip of ice as the two of you sprinted, hand in hand, not stopping for a second until you reached his home. 

Chests heaving, you sunk to the floor with tears in your eyes. Yeonjun slumped into the couch, hand resting on his stomach as he tried to calm himself. 

“It was-” he gasped loudly, “a little boy. He was wearing like-like a fuckin’ school uniform? Just standing there like a- a little demon. And then he started to walk, and when I realized he was coming near us I just fucking panicked.”

If you weren’t already breathless, the words would have sucked the air right from your lungs. 

Don’t let him catch you.

----

You and Yeonjun had made a vow to never speak of that day again. Silently, you both had an inkling of what was going on, but neither of you wanted to admit it. Who would? 

Two days later, the two of you sat in the parking lot of a fast food joint, passing a cigarette back and forth. Neither of you had slept more than a few hours, and you were starting to feel it as the pull of another tension headache came to wreak havoc. Yeonjun said nothing as you closed your eyes for a few seconds, allowing yourself to succumb to a comforting darkness. The pain began to subside as you let yourself tire, the steady sound of Yeonjun’s breathing lulling you even further. 

Just as sleep began to invade the edges of your mind, a faint whisper sounded. You couldn’t quite make it out, so you just assumed maybe it was the way the wind whipped or your mind filling in some gaps. Just as you relaxed again, the whisper reignited, louder this time. You couldn’t make out the words, but the voice was childish and made your heart race. In a panic, you tried to open your eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. 

“Y/N, why won’t you play with me?” The voice asked. “You came to visit and then you just...left me.” Fear wracked your body the longer you fought against the voice. You knew that you hadn’t fallen asleep. This was not a dream. 

Suddenly, the face of a wide-eyed little boy crowded your vision. His eyes were piercing, upturned nose charming enough to distract you for half a second. But it didn’t take long to register the streaks of blood running from his hairline down to his chin, dripping off in thick drops. It was almost like you could feel them falling down, landing with a wet plop every time. A sick grin split his face, revealing a mouthful of blood just as dark and thick as the stuff running down his face. Your heart was hammering loudly, threatening to burst right out of your chest. Hot tears streamed down your face as you fought against whatever was ailing you. 

“Don’t you want to play?”

Suddenly, like coming up for air from underwater, you were back to reality. The sunlight burned your already sore eyes, washing out your vision so much that you almost didn’t see Yeonjun hovering over you as best as he could within the confines of the car. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped, gathering you into a tight hug as your body shook. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. 

“I-I wasn’t asleep,” you sobbed, grabbing at his arms desperately. “It was him,” you choked out, shuddering at the thought of that demonic little boy whispering to you. Yeonjun swallowed harshly, slumping back into his seat with a shake in his limbs. 

----

That night, you both skipped sleep. Yeonjun turned on all the lights in his bedroom and made sure that every single door to the outside was locked before you laid down together. On the small screened television a late night program played nonsense that provided welcome white noise. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the image of the little boy dripping with blood. How he called you by your name and implored you to play. 

“I think it’s the same,” Yeonjun finally said. 

“The same?”

“Yeah, the same...the same kid. The one I saw outside, the one you saw. I think it’s the boy who-”

“Please don’t even say it,” you whined, burying your face into his shoulder. Deep down, you knew exactly what he meant. It was a million times scarier to hear it out loud. 

The sound of the talk show host suddenly quieted, television shut off suddenly with a crackle of light. 

“What the fuck,” Yeonjun groaned, getting up to check the outlet he had the unit plugged into. The plug was still secure in the outlet, giving no answer to the sudden end of your background noise. “Maybe the cable went out,” he suggested, dropping the subject as quickly as he began it. He wasn’t much for late night television anyway. On a normal night, he would have tried to make idle chit chat, or maybe even bite a few bruises into the column of your neck; but today he simply laid next to you and played with your hair. 

In what first seemed like a stroke of luck, the television set roared back to life. Both of you sat up in alarm, confused at the sudden change, but you had almost no time to ponder it as the rest of the lights in the room cut, plunging you into a sick darkness. Immediately you cried out, indescribable anxiety crawling up your throat and leaving you speechless. Yeonjun tensed, selflessly guarding your body with his as the television flickered static patterns at you. A high pitched whine emitted from the speakers, prompting you to search the sheets for the remote until the sound stalled. 

With all other sources of light drained, the television seemed to glow as bright as a full moon as scrolls of distorted text began to roll across the screen. They were a bit hard to make out, pixelated and cramped at first, but soon became clear as day in their full form:

YEonJuN, Y/n

WhY wON’t you PLAy WiTH ME? 

YOU CaMe tO visiT mE, BuT yOu DIDN’t StaY. 

I aM LOnEly. 

i KILled aLl OF mY FriENDS.  

Too stunned to react, you simply clutched onto Yeonjun’s shirt for dear life and squeezed your eyes shut in hopes this really all was some awful dream. 

“Holy shit, Y/N, Y/N!” Yeonjun yelled, forcing your eyes open just to witness the sight of the same horrificaly thick and deep red blood you’d seen earlier begin seeping from the top of Yeonjun’s bedroom walls. Everywhere you looked, streams of blood stained his walls red, ruining the collection of poster you’d memorized. The room smelled so strongly of iron that it made you gag, the threat of puking right at the back of your tongue. The television began whining again, high and shrieking until morphing into the sickly sweet voice of a young boy. 

“Don’t you want to play? I promise I’m nice.” 

Upon recieving nothing for a response from either of you, the voice let out a sigh. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to force you to play with me.” 

The television fizzled out again, plunging the room into temporary darkness as both you and Yeonjun shake with fear. As if nothing had even happened, the lights resumed their warm yellowy glow, exposing completely clean walls. 

----

“You two look like shit,” Johnny laughed, picking at the soggy tater tots on his plastic lunch tray. He had recently dyed his hair a deep black, and the dye was still staining the sides of his neck and his hands. “On a bender?” 

Yeonjun gave a noncommittal laugh, eyes downcast as you shrugged loosely. 

“Jesus, some bad cocaine? Did you buy from Taehyung? I told you he’s the worst to-”

“Stop, please,” you groaned, a tension headache permeating from the base of your neck to the top of your head. “You wouldn’t even believe us if we told you.” 

“Try me. I’ve gotten blow from all of Bangtan, they aren’t the most trustworthy all the time, especially that Namjoon guy. He charms you into thinking it’s good and then-”

“We did not buy blow from Bangtan!” Yeonjun exploded, drawing the attention of a few passersby. 

“Oh.” Johnny blinked, shocked by his best friend’s sudden loss of temper. “What’s wrong?”

“Grave Academy,” you mumbled, laying your head on the cold tabletop as Yeonjun rested a steady hand on your back. 

“Huh? You were there months ago.” 

“Yeah, that’s the issue. We were there months ago and we’re both still,” Yeonjun paused, unsure of what to even say. “We’re still getting haunted.” 

“You what?” The hurried scrape of his chair had you looking up again just as he crossed the distance until he was right next to Yeonjun. “My cousin...he- he had the same thing happen.” A sudden edge of sadness overtook his voice and your eyes widened. 

“Really? D’you think this happens to everyone?” Desperation spilled out alongside your words although you tried to stop it. 

“I think...I think that I’m definitely fucking with you.” Johnny laughed, standing back up to his full height as both you and Yeonjun deflated. “My cousin is literally insane. Always has been. So it was no surprise to us when he started ‘seeing ghosts’ and finally got himself carted away.” 

“Fuck you, Johnny.” Yeonjun snorted, pulling you up with him as he left the lunch room in a hurry and waltzed straight out of the school. 

----

“What do we do?” Yeonjun’s eyes were bloodshot, for once a side effect of nothing but lack of sleep. 

“We can run.” You suggested weakly, picking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. “If we stay here we’ll either get send to the looney bin or murdered. And no one will miss us here, anyway.” Yeonjun knew you were right, but the thought plagued him still. Would running away even help? 

“I guess you have a point.” He surmised, glancing around the home that he had come to run basically on his own. Since the death of his mother, his dad had been reckless and absent, only sending enough money for basics in a manila envelope every few months. If he left, the house would be reclaimed by the town and no one would be any wiser to why the two of you left. Just your run of the mill high school dropouts. 

“I’d rather run away with you than die here.” You added, shrugging again as you imagined some kind of perfectly twisted life traveling the country with Yeonjun, living day to day. “Maybe you can finally start that band and I can be your groupie,” you joked, running your hands through his greasy locks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll start packing a bag.” 

The next morning, you and Yeonjun said what little goodbyes you had to make. You visited Johnny, telling him an abbreviated lie about a cross-country trip that he bought well enough. If he suspected anything when Yeonjun hugged him for longer than he had in their entire friendship, he didn’t say much. 

The two of you made a stop at the cemetery, bidding farewell to your respective parents, before climbing back into his old Chevy. It was kind of hard to believe that all of your belongings fit snugly into his trunk, but it made escaping that much easier in the end. 

The town you’d grown up in disappeared in the rearview mirror, and as you held Yeonjun’s hand tightly between your own, you hoped that your misfortune would disappear too. 

You would never tell Yeonjun, but even as you drove miles and miles away from Grave Academy, you could still hear the little boy whispering every time you closed your eyes. 

[kimberly-spirits13]

Enemies HC:

Warnings: Abuse, attempted kidnapping, anxiety attack, and overall, terrible parents

K’halder:

·       You were the child of Ocean Master

·       You had been abandoned and the guards found you around the palace one day

·       After gaining the good graces of the King, you had been trained and then sent to join the team where he hoped that you and K’halder would get along

·       He hated you

·       Figured that you had gotten to the king to betray him and he did not trust you one bit

·       Everyone on the team liked you but him and you tried to brush it off like it was no big deal but it sucked

·       It wasn’t until one day after training that you were sick of everything and confronted him

·       You were tired of being treated so terribly and not respected

·       You made him know this and he started to respect you after that

·       Once he got over himself, you guys started hanging out more and after proving yourself on a mission where your father showed, he confessed his feelings

·       Once he saw you fight for the team like that, he was hooked

·       You were one of the most elegant and wise person he had ever met and you were so kind to everyone

·       It’s like a breath of fresh air every time that he glances your way

·       He loves talking to you often either in your room, the library, or the cave water entrance

Wally West:

·       You were the child of Heat Wave

·       Once you went to flash freaking out about your dad and his plot to set a massive nuclear facility on fire

·       After that, he decided that maybe he was not best to help you master your powers, but he would be more than willing to help

·       You joined the team after around a year and Wally was not happy

·       The rest of the team loved you

·       I mean you were smart and very likeable

·       M really liked having someone to talk to and just have a good friend despite your powers being very dangerous to her

·       Wally on the other hand was terrible to you

·       The moment you walked into a room you could see him crap talking you or glaring daggers at you

·       You knew that your father was a bad person but you had never done anything wrong in your life

·       It was unfair but you just bit your tongue and moved on with your life not saying anything

·       M knew it bothered you and told Wally off a few times

·       Everyone knew it bothered you but he hated that maybe in some way he was falling for you and he hated you for that reason

·       One day, on a mission, your father showed up and recognized your powers

·       During the end, without hesitation, he picked you up to kidnap you

·       You screamed, fought against him, kicked him, bit him I mean you were literally fighting for your life

·       It took all of that for Wally to kick into high gear and completely shatter the man

·       It wasn’t until he saw you start to hyperventilate that he stopped and caught you right as you passed out

·       You were in the med bay for a day and a half, him at your side the entire time till you woke up

·       “Wally what are you doing here?”

·       “Look, I know that you just woke up and I know that you’ve had a hard few days, and I know that I was a complete piece of trash and I am so so so so so so so so so sorry for it. I just... didn’t really like that I actually really really like you.”

·       “Wait what? I thought you hated me?”

·       “I’m so sorry I j-“

·       You kissed him and then slapped him for being a piece of garbage but now he is like the greatest boyfriend ever

·       He is really upset he acted like that and never has ever again

Dick Grayson (This is a bit cliché but it makes sense so here we go):

·       You were the child of *drum roll* the Joker and Harley

·       One day you went to Batman asking for help away from your parents saying that they had planted 9 bombs around Gotham to go off during the night and you gave him the literal keys to the safe house

·       He was very skeptical until you showed the various scars on your jaw or arms from them

·       And then he understood

·       He took you back to the cave and you got cleaned up and wrapped into a blanket with tea after he gave you a comm so that you could tell him everything you knew piece by piece

·       You had had some training on top of immunity to like every toxin for every supervillain

·       After a few more months of training, he put you on the team

·       Dick was not okay with it and was very distant and cold from you

·       The rest of the team was very accepting and you were so sweet

·       It was a sin that someone like you had to go through what you did back there

·       You and Artemis became really good friends, at first bonding over terrible dads

·       You guys hung out a lot and often you ranted about Dick to her

·       Meanwhile, he about you to Wally

·       God, he didn’t understand what Batman was doing

·       You were the child of their greatest enemy and he just let you in

·       One night, you guys were on a mission and he was there

·       You stopped dead in your tracks the moment you saw him

·       He threatened you team, everyone was down but you

·       The team had never seen anything like it, it was like a switch flipped and suddenly you were the most ruthless fighter they’d ever seen

·       Everything you’d felt for the past 14 years was because of him so you took all of it out on him

·       You were screaming at him, cursing his name to the wind after he said that your mother, Harley, hated you and wished she killed you as usual

·       Aqualad came and pulled you off of him and everyone was silent the rest of the trip home

·       You went straight to the showers and then to your bedroom for the next day

·       Then gradually you came out

·       Dick had gained so much respect for you after that and was ashamed he judged you so harshly

·       You were talking to Artemis one night in her room

·       “I feel like the only reason I might be of any value to this team is because I’m good bait. Anyone acting up from Gotham? Send out Y/N. Poison Ivy has a killer plant? Send her out” “I swear I’m purely judged by my father and mother even though I had nothing to do with what they were doing. I was designed to lose and life will always be like that for me no matter what because of the blood running through my veins.”

·       Dick heard every word and was horrified but eventually, the next day apologized so much you kissed him for him to shut up

·       Now you guys are inseparable and either watching movies or just talking

·       If you ever are in a situation where your parents are brought up, he is just by your side faster than one could blink, a hand on your back tracing patters or just keeping your anxiety at bay

Conner:

·       You were the child of Maxima (had to pick a normal one who’s not Lex... ew)

·       He was cold to you and often popped off at you for nothing

·       You had gone to Wonder Woman instead of Superman and she took you in

·       One night, you got back and everyone could tell that there was something off about you

·       You were lost in your thoughts when you bumped into him and he went off

·       “Pardon me, sorry”

·       That was when he got mad and all you were trying to do was leave for your bedroom

·       You popped off

·       “I am sick of you talking to me like this. What have I ever done to you to make you feel the need to just start acting like a freaking mad man every time I breathe. If you have such an issue with me, I suggest that you get over it and grow up because I’m not leaving to go back to my mother.”

·       The team was shocked and you went into your bedroom without another word

·       The next day he came to apologize

·       You were skeptical at first

·       “Where are the cameras? Am I being punked?”

·       “No, I am actually here to say sorry.”

·       After a few weeks, one day before a mission, he kissed you and you were floored the rest of the mission

·       Then you got back and hit him in the arm

·       “What was that for?”

·       “You kissed me before a mission and expected me to pay attention to anything?”

·       *smirks smugly*

·       Now you guys are partners in crime

·       Then he got Wolf and it was even better

·       Needless to say, he can be frustrating but he gets over it pretty quickly

[worldwidebt7]

Hell[L]ing || 04

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,416 § — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Kookie being the sweet helpful bun that he is.

§ — A/N: So, banged this entire chapter out in a day and a half because, well, QUARANTINE. I should have been working on my commissions or my Webtoon contest entry, but I had an itch to get the next chapter of this out because it’s about to get GOOD. Oh, and there’s a decent amount of Jungkookie in this chapter~ Enjoy!

 Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

Today, it was raining. If you had the ability to have the sky open up and rain on you every day, you would do it in a heartbeat— you loved the rain. It was the only time where you felt fractionally normal around other people. The constant interference of energy caused by rainfall created something like a static that made it easier to drown out invasive outside emotions. You could have a conversation with someone and not get barreled over by wave after wave of their feelings. Plus, you couldn’t resist opening the windows of your home to let the sweet, clean air left behind a recent rain shower wash away any stagnant atmosphere that may have accumulated within its walls.

Beyond that it was raining, it was also, suddenly, surprisingly, pleasantly, Friday. After the short, but no less exhausting, encounter with your neighbor, Seokjin, and his sickly roommate, Taehyung, the rest of the week passed by with little excitement. Namjoon had given you the look—one you were expecting to get, but nerve-wracking nonetheless— once he found out that you had yet to write basically the first 75 pages of your novel, though at this point he was not surprised if the lack of spike in his aura suggested anything. He had given you until Thursday to write at least an outline of events so he could have a better understanding of how the heroine falls into the unfortunate situation she finds herself in. Thankfully, you had been able to accomplish this task, and was even able to send in dialog samples. Namjoon, for now, had been placated.

The other thing about Friday, or this Friday in particular, was that it was the third Friday of the month signaling your bi-weekly visit from your favorite grocery delivery boy, Jungkook. He would be arriving a little after 4pm, as he kept your delivery to the end of his route. Good thing too; the two of you have recently gotten close and your chattering would often cause tardiness to Jungkook’s other appointments. Not to mention you lived fairly far out of the way for your delivery boy who drove nearly 45 minutes just to drop off six measly bags of filled with the food items you had texted him the previous day.

Honestly the boy was too helpful for his own good. There was one Friday where he had popped by with your things when you off-handedly mentioned how the ice-maker in your freezer wasn’t working properly and making too much ice. The angel that is your delivery boy spent the next 20 minutes with your irritating ice-maker, chipping away at the ice that had frozen over the rotator and fixing the setting all so you wouldn’t have to go with your original plan which involved defrosting your freezer, losing your frozen goods, and cleaning up a cold, wet mess afterwards. He had not complained once. Not about the ice, not about having to use a screwdriver as a pick, not even when his fingers had become so cold that you could feel the pain— literally.

This was one of many examples of his unbridled kindness, and one of the many reasons you were always excited to see the boy. As you straightened your house and rearranged your pantry to fit the incoming foodstuff, the rain continued to strike the outside of your house, mixing in well with the low-fi hip-hop you had playing in the background on your stereo system. It almost made you sleepy, but your relaxed state wasn’t enough to deter the building anticipation towards your future visitor.

When you were pleased with your pantry, you backed away and closed the door, just in time it seemed, as there was a quiet knock at your door. You sighed happily— you hadn’t felt the boy coming at all, bless the rain and its emotion-jamming effects. Ah, wait, the rain…

You zipped over to the door, realizing a bit sluggishly that Jungkook would be standing outside in the rain with all of your groceries until you opened it for him, as he was always the model citizen and wouldn’t enter without your knowledge. Clad in only socks, you slide across the hardwood flooring and straight into the door, hitting it against your shoulder with a slight ‘thud’, before regaining your footing and flinging open the front door. On the other side was a wet, mop-headed delivery boy, looking rather shocked at the speed in which you had approached the door and more than likely hearing the impact your body made with it.

“Sorry, sorry!” You said, picking up the reusable bags that he had lugged from his car and sat on your front step. Before you could grab a third bag, his hands shot out to stop you, fingers grazing your arm and allowing you to finally get a clear read on his emotions— he was like the air after the rain: sweet, clean, and refreshing.

“Noona, you don’t have to do that, I got those.” He said, picking up the other four bags, two in each hand, before following you into the house and, albeit with some trouble, kicked off his boots. Jungkook really had no wicked bone in his body, not one. He never had a second agenda, never said something he didn’t mean, never held a grudge; and his emotions reinforced all of these facts regularly. It was no wonder you liked being around him— you never needed your abilities to tell you what he was really feeling or thinking. He was an open book for you, and he did so with the knowledge of what you were capable of.

“Thanks for coming all the way out here for me, I really appreciate it.” You chimed, setting the bags down on the counter, Jungkook following suit. He gave a light-hearted shrug before ruffling some of the water out of his own hair.

“It’s okay, you are paying me after all,” A small huff escaped your lips at his comment as you placed your new gallon of milk into the refrigerator. Humor spilled into the air as you became accustomed to his energy despite the rain and he stifled a laugh at your reaction. “I’m only joking— well, no, you are paying me— you know I like hanging out with you!” You cracked a smile, not even able to continue to pretend to be mad at him.

“Yeah, yeah… took you long enough to talk to me though!” Teasing him had quickly become one of your favorite past-times. He was so easily embarrassed, and the way he always touched his ears when he was especially bashful entered dangerous territories for your heart. Precious boy.

“Yeah, well, I’m not, I didn’t, UGH. You know what I’m trying to say!” You sputtered out a laugh, not even the least surprised that you did, in fact, know what he was trying to say. He had confided in you shortly after communication had been established that he got nervous around new people, most specifically women. You weren’t sure why, he was a kind, bright, good-looking young man, and he had never produced much of a reason for it either. That’s just how he was. Perhaps he didn’t want to overstep any barriers and make people uncomfortable? Though now that you knew him, being uncomfortable with Jungkook was entirely impossible. And at his pink cheeks and pout, you caved, throwing a grape at him just to make him flinch.

“Alright punk, I forgive you.” You said before popping a different grape into your mouth. The dark-locked boy rubbed his chest where the grape had bounced off, feigning offence, the continuous stream of humor flowing off of him enough for you to know that he was enjoying your banter.

“Thanks, noona, really appreciate it, almost a year later!” He crinkled his nose at you as if he were irritated before tumbling into a fit of laughter, where you joined him merrily. Precious boy.

“So, what have you been up to? How’s school?” Routine questions, but you honestly wanted to know. He looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly trying to think of any recent changes in his life. You raised an eyebrow as you closed the door to your fridge once you finished putting away the chilled goods. As expected, he shrugged.

“The usual.” He began helping you by unloading the canned goods onto the counter top. “My film class is getting pretty interesting though.” Folding the tote bag the groceries were in, he placed it on one of your bar stools and then looked at you. “What about you? Anything interesting happen lately? Any more birds fly into your window?” You rolled your eyes at his teasing— living out here by yourself, you rarely had anything substantial to share with your friend. This time, however…

“Well, I’ve got new neighbors…” You revealed, picking up a few of the canned goods. Jungkook raised his eyebrow, following your lead and collecting a couple of cans to help you on your way to the pantry.

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, nodding your head as you placed your cans on the shelf.

“Mmhm. A tall guy with purple hair and his roommate that’s apparently always sick.” You elaborated, not mentioning names for now. “They’re… nice.” At your hesitation, you felt a slight buzz of uneasiness from the man beside you. You looked at him, knowing he was aware that you felt his change. “What?”

“Just nice?” His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at you like he was trying to read your energy, which you believed with little doubt he could. You spent too much time by yourself anymore and you long had forgotten how to properly dress your expressions for social interactions. You let out a breathy chuckle at his concern.

“Yes, nice.” You reiterated, plucking the cans from his arms. He gave you an unimpressed look that was garnished with a pout. With a sigh, you indulged him. “I can’t get a good read on either of them…” Your confession only left him more confused.

“You mean your empath stuff, right?” A nod of affirmation. “Why can’t you read them? I thought you didn’t know how to turn it off?” You hummed thoughtfully, taking the last can from him.

“It’s not that I can’t read them, it’s just that…” You turned from the pantry after placing the last can on the shelf and ran a hand through your hair. “The one dude is always freaking out— panic, panic, panic— all the time! I’m afraid that he’s going to give himself a heart attack! But beyond that, I have a gut feeling telling me that he’s a good person, even when he deliberately lies to me.” Arms crossed, Jungkook looked at you pointedly.

“So… a good liar?” He asked, trying to understand your instincts. You shrugged with a groan.

“Maybe? I don’t know, I really do think he’s… good.” You stepped back over to the counter to grab your new paper towel rolls and plastic wrap to be set in their proper locations. Jungkook slid onto a bar stool and leaned against the counter.

“Okay, not really sure what that means, but…” You glared at him, and he grinned at you, obviously trying to hold back laughter. “What about the other one?” At that, you paused. How were you supposed to explain ‘the other one’? Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t bother putting way the items in your hand, rather opting to just set them on the counter again.

“Well, uh…” You trailed off, not entirely sure if he would believe you seeing as the last time you tried to explain something improbable with Yoongi didn’t go as you had hoped. However, looking at the wide-eyed boy in front of you, everything about his aura was open and trusting and you knew that if you told him, he would believe you. “His emotions come in ‘blips’.”

“’Blips’?” He repeated— not in a condescending way, but rather as if he were trying to place the definition of the word. You nodded, less than prepared to explain yourself.”

“Yeah, I can’t feel his emotions all the time, they go away and reappear like radar blips. But they’re always super intense.” Resting your forearms on the counter, you let the edge press into your ribs a bit as you leaned forward. Even without your abilities, you could tell that Jungkook was trying to think of an answer, anything that could be the cause. You almost smiled at his thoughtfulness— there was nothing to suggest he didn’t believe you.

“Well,” he started, breaking you out of your trance. “You said he was sick all the time, right? Maybe that could affect your readings?” You had thought about that possibility as well— you had never been knowingly near a significantly ill person, so you couldn’t say that it wasn’t conceivable; though saying that was the only issue would be erroneous. Still, seeing as this was the only reasonable explanation you had come up with, you chose to put your faith in it.

“Maybe,” You agreed, nodding. You didn’t bring up the midnight visitor or the crawly feeling of being watched the last week or so, knowing the kind boy in your kitchen would likely throw a fit trying to figure out a way to help you. To be honest, you kind of wish he would, though that was only in your own selfish interests. Since you hadn’t had any real incidents besides that one, you decided not to worry the boy.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s visit this time around had to be cut short, as he had other responsibilities to attend to in the evening. You gave him sass of course, stating that you couldn’t believe that he had something more important to do than keeping you company. He laughed and apologized, though a small twinge of guilt in the air made you realize that he knew the hidden meaning in your friendly repartee.

You were lonely.

You were also aware that he knew you’d be able to feel the minute change in his emotional state even with the rain, but neither of you commented on it before you ushered him out the door so he could drive home while it was still light out. He bid farewell before sprinting to his car to avoid getting completely drenched and you waved from inside the doorway, flinching when he peels out of your driveway like he was Brian O'Conner from the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.

Sighing, you stood in your doorway for a bit longer, listening to the rain and watching the reflections in the puddles dance. This was the part you hated most— the emptiness that follows the end of social interaction. You were used to being alone, and the longer you were alone the more used to it you became. However, the small instances when you were able to talk to another person, be near them, smile and laugh with them… they reminded you that humans were codependent on each other. You needed other people. As much as you were physically pained to be near them, you needed them. As you spent more time in isolation from the world, the more you yearned to be normal.

The sound of a blunt object hitting the glass of your window wall had you spinning on you heel out of reflex. As Jungkook had teased you earlier, it was common for birds to fly into the large window panes. More often than not, they were fine and they flew off. But every once in a while, they injured themselves, and you took it upon yourself to assess their injuries and making them comfortable if need be.

So, imagine your surprise when there wasn’t a small, winged creature on your back patio, but rather a tall, soaked, handsome boy with his palm pressed against your French doors. You blinked a few times for good measure, hoping this was just an illusion and that you weren’t currently looking at your sickly neighbor with the weird readings standing in the rain outside your house. When you realized he was just going to continue to stand there looking into your house until you greeted him, you quickly shut your front door and hastily made your way over to let him in.

As you got close, you realized there was a buzzing in the air, like it was vibrating, again in blips like radar. You recognized this as anxiety or nervousness and quickly deduced that it was coming from your neighbor. You paused before opening the door— you didn’t know this man; you’d barely met him more than once and only heard him speak a single time, and it wasn’t even to you. Plus, you still couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling you got whenever he was within your range; there was too much similar between how you felt about the boy in front of you and the thing you saw that night. Were you really about to let him into your house?

Almost like he could feel your hesitation, his hand slipped from the door and he looked at the ground dejectedly. A hole appeared in you doubt at this innocent act, and a quick, shooting pain pierced your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was your own guilt setting in or his emotions afflicting you, but you opened the door without another lingering moment to think about how bad of an idea this was.

‘He’s sick and shouldn’t be in the rain,’ You told yourself as you now stood in front of this near-stranger without the protective barrier of your glass door. You swallowed, your own nerves now wreaking havoc on your body, though the dark-haired boy in front of you look more shocked and more nervous than you did. In fact, if you didn’t get him to calm down soon, his nerves would probably cause you to throw up. And the fact that his emotions only appeared like explosions in the atmosphere around you wasn’t helping. Still, the way he looked down at his feet rather than at you, just…

“H-hello…?” You greeted; your uncertainty evident in your shaken speech. He made the smallest movement, like he was flinching at the sound of your voice and you almost wanted to backtrack. Good lord he was skittish. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I-I mean, can I help you?” Fumbling over your words wasn’t new for you, but for some reason you were especially aware of your tongue’s missteps at the moment.

He stood there for a moment, contemplating you surmised, before peeking up at you through his wet bangs. You made eye contact and— sweet heavens— you forgot about the alluring abyss that was his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he looked at his feet again, which, you finally noticed, were completely bare.

“You said…” Now it was your turn to be startled; only now remembering how deep and velvet-like his voice was, even with how soft-spoken he currently was. “…that I could come….” He shifted, his nervousness beating around you like drums as you let his words sink in. You said he could come… you said he could come? When did you—

“Oh, um, well my house isn’t too far from yours…He’s welcome to stop by from time-to-time if he’s able… It’d be no problem… It’d be nice to have company every once-in-a-while.”

You suddenly remembered that, yes, you had invited him to visit you during your interaction Monday afternoon. At the time, you had your reasons, reasons that you couldn’t remember for the life of you at the moment. What on earth possessed you to tell a stranger it was fine to wander over to your house just because you were neighbors?!

And yet, the way his large body looked so small in front of you, like he was pleading with you to let him in…

“I-I did…” You relaxed your face enough to smile at him, your nerves still eating at you and a headache starting to set in from the intensity of his. You stepped aside to let him in, to which his head shot up and his eyes widened— you suppose he didn’t think you would actually let him in, but the sudden, yet agreeable change in his emotional blips was enough to tell you that he was relieved, pleased even, as he stepped in from the rain. “I should probably get you a towel, huh?”

Tags:

@sana-b​ @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​ @babbitybabo​ @softmxchi​ @halijahfan @chimchimsauce​ @coolavidreader​ @beesthoughtsblog​ @breadcaaat​ @lucian-kinnder​ @wolfgirl-m​  @sogrossstuff  @kpop-nolife​ @unoriginal-username15432​ @cvbachacbitch​ @rhayad​ @lladyow​ @jiminot7​ @parkminhee​ @ditttiii​ @sathom013​ @megazdl​ @sugabased 

[jemelle]

these are ties that bind (4/8)

you can also find this story on ao3!

fandom: criminal minds

rating: t

(chapter) word count: 2,469

masterlist

summary: emily and hotch must pretend to be in a long-term relationship in order to foster carrie. shenanigans and serious conversations alike ensue.

a/n: this was supposed to be pure fluff, but emily and hotch have a way of getting in their own way. (also, if you want to be on a taglist for this story/my writing please let me know!)

four.

Before long, the Hotchner-Prentiss household had settled into a routine. Hotch got up early, getting ready before anyone else was even awake, while Emily and Carrie both preferred to sleep in as late as possible, rolling out of bed just in time to get ready for the day ahead. On the days he slept at their house, Jack woke only as the smell of breakfast drifted into his room. They ate breakfast together and Emily, no matter how tired she was, always made sure to see Carrie off to the bus.

Hotch and Emily took turns driving to work. On their drives, Emily discovered that Hotch had a soft spot for classic rock, and he in turn was privy to her truly awful taste in both acoustic pop and the punk bands of her youth. If anyone asked them why they had arrived together, they played it off as simply carpooling, and the ban on inter-office profiling stopped any outward questioning. 

One thing the rest of the team did notice was that their working relationship was better than ever. Hotch looked to Emily when he needed an extra opinion on something in her wheelhouse and Emily, noticing this, worked on turning her combativeness into constructive suggestions. “Worked” being the operative word. There were still days where neither could see eye to eye, days when Hotch told Prentiss to “remember her place,” when Emily started sentences with “respectfully, sir” and didn’t mean either word. The drive back those days was silent.

Regardless of how the day went, they ate dinner together every night. Emily wasn’t a great cook, but she could make simple dishes and Hotch taught her how to saute vegetables and prepare meats other than chicken. Carrie, who had joined various activities at school, would come home just in time to set the kitchen table. 

The structured routine irritated Emily at first. Her parents had mostly given her free rein until the “incident,” and the only time they ever got together as a family was for formal functions. Slowly, though, she found she appreciated the way it allowed them to connect. They avoided talking about work, but Carrie told them about school and they all talked about sports and books and movies and the news. It was mundane conversation, and although Emily knew they would have to confront Carrie’s trauma eventually, she supposed this was progress for all of them.

On weekdays, Hotch and Emily finished their paperwork in separate rooms. He had picked up quickly that if they worked side by side, Emily couldn’t help but feel as though he was assessing her. Now they only interacted when Emily asked Hotch questions from the other room.

When Emily was done, she headed upstairs. Hotch, as she had previously noted, spent an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, so she liked to get there first. After getting ready for bed, Emily usually laid in bed with a book, waiting for Hotch. 

The shared bed had been awkward, initially, with Emily building a dividing line of pillows down the middle, but now they stuck to their respective sides without the barrier. She wouldn’t have hesitated to throw Hotch out if she detected any hints of inappropriate behavior, but he was (as always) the perfect gentleman. Now, although she’d never admit it, Emily enjoyed the saccharine ritual of reading quietly together before one of them called it a night.

~

On one of those nights, Emily was busy making a list. One of the strangest things about living in suburbia was her inability to walk to the nearest store. When she lived in her apartment, both the workers at the corner store and the nearest Chinese takeout knew her well. Now, though, all shopping trips had to be planned well in advance. She understood now why housewives went crazy; there was no room for spontaneity in their lives. 

Hotch peered over her shoulder, and Emily resisted the urge to pull the piece of paper to her chest. She watched his face as he scanned the simple list she had compiled: toothpaste, deodorant, Advil. Being responsible for others still wasn’t her strong suit, but she could at least handle a trip to the drugstore.

“You forgot tampons,” he said, tapping the paper. “We’re almost out.” 

To say Emily was surprised by Hotch’s reaction would be a gross understatement. In her experience, it was a rare man who was comfortable acknowledging the existence of periods, let alone saying the word “tampons.” The more she learned about Hotch, the more his brusque work self felt like an elaborate facade (not that she could judge).

“Thanks.” She noted it down, an idle thought escaping her mouth. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

He froze. Emily had spent enough time with Spencer to know that people only made that expression when their minds were going a mile a minute.

“Just… leftover from my marriage to Haley, I guess.” His voice shook a little.

Emily nodded, nonplussed, before returning the piece of paper to the nightstand and picking up her book. She didn’t feel comfortable probing the source of his obvious discomfort, but if she curled up closer to Hotch as she read, noticing the way his breathing steadied as she neared, well, the rest of the team would never know.

~

Toddlers are not at the most coordinated stage of their lives, as Emily quickly learned. Jack could walk and run well enough, but seemed to not possess the balance necessary to kick a ball or throw with any accuracy. To his credit, neither of those facts seemed to dampen his enthusiasm.

Saturday morning found them all at the local park. It was early, so the park was mostly deserted. Scattered parents watched kids swing on monkey bars and play in the sandbox, but Jack had a different mission in mind. He made a beeline directly for the soccer field, tugging Carrie behind him. Hotch and Emily followed, leaving Jack’s stroller on the sidelines.

As a result of spending much of her childhood in Europe, Emily’s soccer skills were passable, although in no way comparable to JJ’s. Hotch was no better, though, and they spent a great deal of time chasing after the runaway ball. 

Judging from their matching grins, Carrie and Jack were both having a blast. As an only child, Emily had often wished for siblings, and she felt an echo of that longing as she watched Carrie pass to Jack, careful not to give the ball too much spin. Carrie still hadn’t opened up about her family, and Emily wondered again what her relationship with her brother had been like. There was something about her interactions with Jack that suggested the need for atonement. 

Emily shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. It wouldn’t do to mar their outing by bringing up Carrie’s past. She headed over to the sidelines of the field, noticing another woman watching their little game. 

“Yours, I assume?” the woman asked, gesturing towards Hotch, who was now doing a very exaggerated slow dive towards Jack.

Emily nodded, slightly uneasy. Working at the FBI did no favors when it came to seeing danger around every corner. Still, idle curiosity could be just that. 

“Is your family here?” Emily kept her tone friendly.

The woman pointed to the playground, where two girls were chasing each other around. The younger one, who looked to be a little older than Jack, got tagged and shrieked, before reversing direction and taking off.

“The older one is Evelyn and the younger one is Julia,” she said, pride evident in her voice. 

As if on cue, the girls turned as another woman called their names. They ran to her, giggling as she picked them up one at a time and swung them around.

“And that’s Amy… my partner.” The woman looked at Emily, gauging her reaction. Emily had been the one giving that look far too many times, wondering if what followed would be disgust or understanding. She made sure to telegraph her acceptance with a kind smile.

“Oh, and I’m Edith.” The woman visibly relaxed, and Emily mirrored her, certain now that she harbored no ill will. Edith turned to her, obviously expecting a reciprocation of introductions.

Emily obliged, pointing out Carrie, Jack, and Hotch in turn (although this time she remembered to call him Aaron). She and Edith chatted about their families until Jack came to ask Emily to rejoin the game. As Emily let Jack lead her away, the two women exchanged numbers and promised to schedule a playdate, an almost surreal parody of suburbia.

Upon reflection, Emily was surprised by how little jealousy she felt. Here were two women, happily living a life her younger self didn’t even dare to dream of, and yet Emily couldn’t picture herself in their place. Loath as she was to admit it, she had always been in search of a perfect someone. That hope had kept her from settling down, every girlfriend just not quite the right one. 

In a way, Hotch was the perfect choice. He had given her the chance to have a family without having to worry about happily-ever-afters. Or rather, she supposed, watching Jack nap in the back of the car as Carrie played with her phone, he had given her the possibility of a different kind of happy ending.

~

When they got home, Hotch slipped off to take a shower while Emily shepherded Carrie and Jack into the living room. 

“Emily, can we watch a movie?” Carrie asked, having settled herself on the couch. Jack was sitting at her feet, happily entertaining himself with a dinosaur.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Emily didn’t miss the way Carrie smiled at the nickname. “Your pick.”

Carrie scrolled through various options before settling on some new action movie and turning to Emily for approval. It didn’t look too violent, and Emily figured Jack wasn’t paying attention anyway, so she okayed the pick and they began watching. 

It was in fact a fairly tame movie, and Emily was right in her assessment of Jack’s lack of interest, but (of course) Hotch walked in just as the violence started.

He took one look at the screen before scooping up a now very sleepy Jack and carrying him out of the room. When Hotch returned, jaw set and face stony, he didn’t mince his words: “What were you thinking? Jack shouldn’t be watching this.”

Emily crossed her arms, getting up to face Hotch. “Jack’s two, Aaron. He won’t remember any of this. He wasn’t even paying attention.”

“It’s my call. What do you know about childhood development?” Plenty, Emily wanted to retort, mostly in the vein of “how to be an absent parent who still manages to ruin your child’s life.” She opted for a simpler response. 

“Don’t pretend you’re some kind of expert on it either.” She was willing to bet Hotch had done all the required reading leading up to Jack’s birth, but reality was always more complicated.

“Either way,” he said, and Emily thought for a brief moment she had won before his next words came crashing down. “I’m his parent and you’re not.” 

Emily could hear the blood rushing in her ears, but what could she say to that? It was easy to forget that she and Jack were technically bound by nothing, but Hotch was right, though she hadn’t expected him to use it against her. She opened her mouth to retort, not sure of her next words but with a sinking feeling that they were likely to tank their whole arrangement, when Hotch spoke again.

“Carrie, are you alright?”

At his words, Emily spun around, anger temporarily forgotten. Carrie had slid off the sofa and was sitting on the floor with her legs pulled against her chest, hands over her ears. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Please… please don’t fight.” 

Emily and Hotch were both by her side in an instant. Wordlessly, they split the job of comforting Carrie, with Emily rubbing soothing circles on Carrie’s back while Hotch helped her get back on the couch. Carrie was apologizing now, tears threatening to spill out at any moment.

“It’s okay. No one’s mad at you.” Emily murmured. Internally, she could feel her anger returning: how could Hotch have allowed Carrie to feel she was at fault? Rationally, she knew that Hotch hadn’t blamed Carrie at all, but anger was a better option than helplessness.

They sat together, Hotch and Emily glued to Carrie until her breathing began to even out. “I didn’t mean to cause this,” she said again, sniffling slightly.   

Hotch took one of Carrie’s hands in his, guiding it away from her face. “I know, and I wasn’t upset with you, not even for a moment.” Carrie gave a shaky nod but Emily could tell she didn’t really believe him. 

“Let’s just watch another movie, okay?” Emily suggested, flipping the channels until she reached something fluffy. Carrie curled up into her side, seeming much smaller than her fifteen years. 

Hotch was hovering awkwardly, and Emily found herself watching him instead of the movie. Her anger still simmered, compounded with the fear that Hotch was right, but she could see fear in his eyes as well. He was scared that he had messed up, Emily thought. She remembered the forgiveness he had extended her and knew she would have to do the same, provided he apologized. And if he didn’t, well, there would be hell to pay.

Thankfully, Hotch was the kind of person to know when he was in the wrong. His apology came that night as they laid in bed. Emily was preparing to turn off the light when Hotch rolled to face her and started speaking.

“Emily, I’m sorry. I acted condescendingly and I was wrong to imply that you don’t care about Jack. You’ve been really great with him and I’m thankful every day that I don’t have to go this alone.” Although the apology sounded pre-planned, his tone was sincere, and Emily supposed that was what counted.

“I just need you to believe that we’re both trying our best,” she replied, voice insistent. “We’ll both end up making mistakes, but if we can’t communicate we’ll never be able to fix anything.” She had enough first-hand experience in that to last her a lifetime.

Hotch was silent for a moment before he spoke again. 

“I can’t promise to be perfect,” he said, words measured. “I’m so used to being the leader that it’s hard for me to let others make the key decisions, and sometimes I scare myself with how strongly I react, but I always respect you and I’ll do my best to make sure that we can work together instead of pulling each other apart.” 

It had to be enough.

[heartslogos]

seas who could sing so deep and strong [154]

“Oh.”

Everyone watches in complete shock, stunned silence, and disbelief as the Empress, the most feared Saryn in the entire system, a legend and a myth all on her own, powerhouse and destroyer, falls for the fifth and final time against the Wolf of Saturn.

It doesn’t matter that the Empress was working a frame she had just applied a forma to. It doesn’t matter the she was using weapons that aren’t her normal wheelhouse. None of it matters.

Of course Chic, Punk, Kore, and Judge got their asses handed to them by the Wolf of Saturn even if they were at their best. It doesn’t matter that all four of them got knocked out and now their frames are non-functional until they get back to their ship for repairs and recovery.

The idea that the Empress would fall to the Wolf of Saturn is unbelievable and, prior to this day, something Judge never would have considered.

Empress’ Mag is a heap on the ground, her face dull and limbs limp. One of her tonfa rolls a little away from her.

And that’s when the terror sets in. That there is something that exists in this dimension that can possibly hurt and overpower the Empress. It makes Judge’s mind start to scream gibberish. Without their warframes to boost transmission signal everyone’s voices are a little faint and far away. He could break transference and be on his ship to hear through the ship’s speakers, but if he leaves now he’s worried that his warframe might get lost. And no one else has left, either.

But he can hear all of them breaking out into broken curses and hysterical chattering.

“Well,” the Empress says, very softly, voice very far away and sounding stunned. “My love, don’t make a mess.”

There’s a sudden burst of bright, brilliant, blinding, and blooming light. And then the actual force of the power almost knocks Judge out of somnatic link with how overwhelming it is.

They forgot Alpha.

They always forget Alpha, but somehow they’re always surprised by their forgetting of him.

Alpha’s Oberon glows with unrestrained Void energy and Judge watches in complete awe and fear as Alpha’s energy starts to corrupt and warp the metal of the Grineer ship around him. There is still, of course, slight blooms where the Alpha stands — Oberon’s ability to generate the faintest traces of life ever present — but everything around him starts to distort. Judge can hear the very audible sound of metal crunching, groaning in distress.

Alpha draws his daggers with a gravitas that Judge swears makes his heart stop. And he points at the Wolf of Saturn.

“Don’t. Move,” Alpha says.

The Wolf of Saturn turns to the final tenno standing, raising his war hammer and letting out a furious battle cry that is both taunting and menacing.

Alpha is a gold and black blur as he moves forward, lean and long, an arrow tipped in daggers as he slides underneath the Wolf of Saturn’s slow hammer strike, curling into a crouch and springing up, daggers drawn and hunting blood.

The entire time his Void energy is a pounding heartbeat that makes the entire Grineer ship groan and scream and hiss as the metal distorts. Rivets pop out of place, entire wall panels begin to curl and corrode, pipes burst and release hisses of furious steam.

“Careful,” the Empress says, quiet and calm despite the obvious shock. “My warframe.”

The Wolf of Saturn’s foot is dangerous close to her Mag and possibly crushing it.

Oberon’s hoof lands a solid hit on the Wolf of Saturn’s side and despite the size difference the Wolf skids a good ten feet, trailing sparks and skid marks on the floor as the Alpha puts distance between the Wolf and Empress’ Mag. Alpha stands between them and releases his Hallowed Ground, sending sprays of golden grass and vibrant green ferns sprawling across the floor, encasing Empress’ Mag and reaching Kore’s limp Nidus, as well as brushing against Chic’s fallen Equinox. Judge’s Inaros and Punk’s Atlas are too far out of reach. And still Judge can feel the outpour of energy.

It’s this astounding pressure that moves like waves, holding him place but also pushing against him. Crushing him. Judge isn’t even physically present, but he can feel it in his head, feel the phantom touch of it on his own skin.

It reminds him of that first time ever met the Alpha in person, but it wasn’t like this. It was nothing like this. Judge has no idea if this  means that the Alpha was holding back before or if this is the Alpha consciously trying to hurt someone.

Alpha holds his daggers at the ready, crouched for another melee as the Wolf re-evaluates the situation. The Wolf’s lackeys ready another volley of flaming projectiles — that’s what got Judge down — and the Alpha lets out a low, rumbling, warning snarl of his own.

The lackeys falter. Reasonable enough. They must be very, very loyal in their Wolf of Saturn. Or trust him a lot. Because Judge would’ve run. The Wolf does not falter. The Wolf does not hesitate. He probably should have.

And the two collide again, sparks along their weapons as the Wolf bears down on Alpha’s Oberon. Alpha meets the Wolf’s snarling face head on with Oberon’s regal face before saying, calmly and firmly, “Surrender now, and I promise not to hunt you into your shallow grave.”

He doesn’t know how the Wolf of Saturn doesn’t turn and run, because Judge isn’t even the target of any of this and his entire everything wants nothing more than to escape to a different…anything. To just not be here to witness this.

The Wolf’s response is another wordless snap and an attempt to grab Alpha’s Oberon by the head with one oversized fist.

Alpha dodges, jumping up and landing on the Wolf’s outstretched fist, daggers held on either side as his delicate hooves find balance as the two continue their stand off, eye to eye.

Alpha nods once before, jumping up and flipping over the Wolf’s head to delivery a flurry of blows to his back. “I will bury you.”

[gaylortruther]

(many) tag games

saw someone else do this so i figured i’d go through all my tag games in one looong post instead of spamming you all with a bunch of separate posts!

i’m gonna tag everyone now and yall can choose which tag games you want to do or whether you want to do them all (or whether you want to do any)!!

thanks to everyone who tagged me in all of these! i LOVE being tagged in tag games and i am always up for more! <3

tagging THE SANCTION (including ppl that i haven’t gotten up on the page yet im sorry abfjffsdhsjbjsdf it will happen SOON):  @newdivinities @wolvesofarcadia @maskedlady @victoiirres @sancta-silje @bumblebeesonpaper @wasting-ink-not-youth @horrorspell @ya-lady-tauriel @awritinglen @purpleshadows1989 @ivonoris @theforgottencoolkid @the-ichor-of-ruination @grotesqu-e @lucacangettathisass @tea-ndi @hazeywrites @lunar895 @thewordsinthesky-andstars

[LAST LINE TAG]

TAGGED BY  @melwrotethat AND @hazeywrites

thank you both for the tags! these are the last few lines of the prologue-excerpt-thing i wrote for the page i’m working on for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Somehow, Collin hears them. Silently, she rolls up her sleeve, and Rowan feels the Collin Sutherland they knew is somewhere far, far away. The tattoos are black, geometric in design, two on each arm, and eerily similar to the ones Rowan has just discovered on their own left arm. They're sure if they were to roll up their right sleeve, they would find more.

"I should have told you a long time ago," Collin whispers. "I didn't know you were a part of it, but I should have guessed. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"I'm not- I don't- in danger of what?"

The waves crash onto the shore, and in the distance, a seagull cries, sending Collin into action. She grabs Rowan's hand and starts pulling, dragging them back behind the house.

"Come on. We don't have a lot of time, we have to get going. I can tell you everything on the way. I don't know why he brought me here instead of straight to the veil, damn it-,"

"Wait!," they say, wrenching their hand out of her grasp. "Just- stop! Where are we going?!"

Collin's eyes flash bright, despite the lack of sunlight. "Home."

yeah, a bit long, a bit unedited, but *shrugs*

[SPELL OUT UR URL USING SONG TITLES]

TAGGED BY @tea-ndi

thank you sage!!! <3

hard feelings/loveless | lorde

another one of those days | cavetown

let’s fall in love for the night | FINNEAS

ocean eyes | billie eilish

honey and milk | flower face

i know | king princess ft fiona apple

dreamz | sara king

iloveyou | BETWEEN FRIENDS

nobody’s home | gnash

greek god | conan gray

sycamore girl | rex orange county 

and there you have a small sample of my music taste! add in literally every taylor swift song (dont judge me), some lo-fi tunes without ANY words whatsoever, and the occasional fall out boy or panic at the disco goddamn absolute banger, and you have my XANDERS JAMS playlist on spotify. ENJOY

[11/11/11 TAG]

TAGGED BY @awritinglen <333333333333333333333333

thank you for tagging me len!!! your questions were so fun!! i’m doing this for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Name all OCs in your WIP

OMFG okay,,, wait do you mean full names?? POV characters as of rn are Collin Aisling Sutherland, Rowan Tilley (doesn’t have a middle name) and Avery Bristol Charter. then the next most important one is Isaac Michael Rosewell, even though he’s the antagonist. then the side characters that are still very featured are Noah Rosalyn Pratten, Reese Iseul Radley, and Sage Emarosa Delgado. THEN we get into the very very side characters, Willa Robinson and her son August Robinson. then we have Avery’s parents, Alaric and the late Octavia Charter. and thennnnn we have Beldane Moreno, Avery’s uncle and Collin’s grandfather (undecided abt that last name but going w it for now). i promise it all makes sense. i promise anfnfsjnfdjsfd

Name at least one hobby your Main character love

i’ll give this one to Collin, she is a musician! Avery’s mother always taught her music before The Accident (dun dun dunnn) and after Collin was abandoned in the Nigh she threw herself into music. she plays guitar mostly, but she secretly loves piano the best out of every instrument she knows

3 sentences about your current WIP

OOF. im so bad at summaries why would you do this to meee abfhshjbsbshfjsbf. “A determined believer wants to return to a home that never wanted her. Almost 4000 miles away, an incisive, intellectual outcast of a dreamer muses over getting out of their hometown. And infinities away from them both, a teenage revolutionary disappears into thin air, on his way to bring back his past and fix his (and everyone’s) future.”

Is there a romance in your WIP and did you plan it from the beginning?

yes! there are three! they are definitely a main focus of the plot, but not THE main focus. Reese and Rowan were definitely planned from the beginning. Collin and Noah were, too, but they weren’t originally enemies to lovers, and they are now (hehehehehe). and Isaac and Avery were DEFINITELY not planned from the beginning. in fact, Avery was originally paired up with Sage, but it’s literally so much better this way and i’m so glad it’s been changed. Isaac and Avery has been planned since about when Isaac’s character was thought up, one year into planning WTCMTS.

What genre(s) is it?

a mix of dystopia and urban fantasy. and it’s YA, borderline NA because some of the characters are 19-20, but i still think YA is appropriate because of the style of writing.

What’s the aesthetic of two of your characters?

fun question! Collin’s aesthetic is very emo-punk, with a splash of yellow towards the end of the series. piercings, blue hair, rips on clothing, dirty converse, smudged eyeliner, safety pins. the yellow comes in as part of her character arc, as she learns to accept that her childhood memories are tainted and not actually perfect utopia. Rowan is way more minimalist (sometimes). they’re into the bookstagram type aesthetic, and mom jeans with sneakers, jean jackets, plants against a white wall, colorblocked windbreakers, rain against a car window.

When did you start your current WIP?

WTCMTS was started in august of 2017 

How far along are you in the process (i.e 1st/2nd/3rd draft, worldbuilding)

still worldbuilding, unfortunately, for personal reasons

Who’s the hardest character for you to write?

OOOOOOF. sage or rowan?

What music genre best decribes your main character(s) and whats their favorite?

Collin - alternative (favorite band would be like twenty one pilots, p!atd) 

Rowan - ichillwave (clario, rex orange county)

Avery - emo (fall out boy, all time low)

Isaac - indie alternative OR instrumental lofi (jaymes young, birdy)

Noah - electropop (lorde, halsey, charlie xcx)

Reese - folk rock (the head and the heart, of monsters and men)

Sage - indie pop (lana del ray, florence + the machine)

Are you working on more than one WIP?

yes! i have four currently but only two are important lol, ILLUNIUS and WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY (this one). WIP PAGE

MY QUESTIONS

how did you come up with the title for your WIP?

is there anything you want to change about your WIP but you are hesitating on?

do you have a favorite character? a character that is your baby?

write a tinder bio for one of your characters.

how do you feel about epilogues? does your wip include an epilogue?

what changes does your MC go through over the course of the story?

what is the most significant insignificant thing that happens in your story? don’t explain why it is significant if it spoils things ;)

do you know what will happen after the ending of your wip, or would you rather not picture it?

how long does your wip span? is it a novel? a series? does it have prequels or spin-off wips?

what is a major internal conflict for your MC? 

do you include flashbacks in your wip? do you like writing flashbacks?

[HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A ______ NOVEL TAG]

TAGGED BY @writevevo​ AND @wolvesofarcadia​

thank you both for this tag! it’s so much fun and both of your novels sound like novels that would be very interesting to be stuck in :D

inspired by this post

HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A HALOHIDINGS NOVEL

you’re an older sibling and you have a younger sibling. you’re extremely bitter towards your younger sibling for stealing opportunities from you, damning you to a life you never truly wanted. your younger sibling adores you and just wants to please you. they never meant to do it. 

you’re stuck in constant, wistful wanderlust, never feeling like you truly belong, never fitting in anywhere, not with friends, not with family, and when you finally find the place you’ve been looking for, you realize it’s nothing like you dreamed or remembered.

you’re not heterosexual. no one around you is. no one is cisgender either. where are they? no one knows. 

you have a peculiar capability dancing under your skin. it trickles from your pores and muddles with your mind. maybe you asked for it, maybe it was predestined, maybe you never wanted anything to do with it. whatever the reason, it’s there, and you don’t know what’s you and what’s it. maybe you’re not meant to ask. maybe you’re meant to succumb. 

your memories are as fickle as the rain, coming and going and breaking through the clouds, shattering the fog and disappearing with the sun. you can’t recall what you’re doing here, or where you’re meant to be instead. what’s your name?, they ask. you don’t know.

there are two worlds. one world is blissfully unaware of this, or at least, as unaware as any world of millions and millions of people can be. no secret can be kept forever, they tell you. you are desperately trying to keep the secret.

the one closest to you, despite your abhorrent denial of this fact, the one you would trust with your life, will betray you. because of their decision, their selfishness, you will either lose them, or lose yourself.

THOSE WERE SO FUN OMG. they all mostly apply to both of my major wips, which is probably bad. oh well LMAO

SORRY THAT WAS SOOOOOOOO LONG hope at least someone does one of these tag games lol <3 

xander out

[the-rats-story]

Don’t Look Back

Chapter 7

Spider Dance

Chapter 7

“Ruby, this martini is to die for!” Emily exclaimed after taking the first sip of her drink. Frisk smiled at her best friend, who was currently sitting at Grillby’s bar. Emily had pounded on Frisk’s door earlier in the day, the biggest grin Frisk had ever seen on her face. She proceeded to tell Frisk that she had the day off and wanted to do “something fun”. It had near broken Frisk’s heart to tell Emily that she had picked up a shift that night. Emily, not one to let a little bump get in the way of her plans, had simply told Frisk that she would come with her to work!

Frisk had been a little nervous about how Grillby would react to her friend hanging out around the bar, but he didn’t mind so long as Frisk wasn’t too distracted from her job. Frisk promised that she wouldn’t be. Luckily, it was a slow night, so Frisk had plenty of time to talk to Emily while she worked.

“I’m glad you like it, but you should tell Grillby, he is the one that made it.” Frisk replied with a smile.

“Oops!” Emily swiveled her head to find the fire monster, “You are aboslute bees-knees, Mr. Grillby!” Frisk could almost swear she saw faint tints of pink flame where Grillby’s cheeks were. She couldn’t blame him, though. Emily was beautiful, inside and out.

“Just Grillby is fine.” The bartender replied, nodding his head in thanks.

“Oh, well then, Just Grillby, you are the absolute bees-knees!” Emily repeated, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Grillby’s flames hissed and popped as he let out a small laugh. Frisk raised a brow at him; normally Grillby wasn’t affected by patrons attempts at humor. Seeing the look, Grillby shrugged. Frisk tossed him an understanding smile and continued polishing the silverware in front of her.

“So, Ruby, I was thinking….”Emily began, Frisk looked over at the girl, confused. She sounded hesitant, and Emily was anything but. “I know that last time didn’t work out well, and you had a really bad experience, so I totally understand if you don’t want to, but I was thinking maybe, if you’re okay with it, we could try to go out together again? Only if you’re comfortable!” Emily rushed. She wasn’t looking at Frisk when she asked. She was staring intently at the martini before her, shoulders hunched.

It had been almost two weeks since the incident at Alibi. The day after Frisk had woken up from the drugging, Emily had burst into her apartment, food and tea at the ready as well as a thousand tearful apologies. Frisk had almost cried herself, overwhelmed by someone caring so much for her. The two girls had practically been attached at the hip since that night, only seperating when they had to work.

“I would love to try again, Em.” Frisk replied, putting a hand on Emily’s shoulder. She could feel Emily relax and shot her a gentle smile.

“Oh, Ruby! I’m so happy! I promise this time will be so, so much different! We’ll pregame at my apartment, no drinks at the bar! And we’ll go to a different club! I was getting bored of Alibi anyways! I’ve heard of this great new bar, it’s called Celestite! I heard it was named after the glowing crystals in the Underground that looked like stars or something! They always have great bands! And I heard that the gangs don’t usually hang out there, so we don’t have to worry about too much danger!” Emily explained, energy returning as she went on, “And we could go dress shopping and get you something more modern! Maybe in red! I feel like you would look amazing in red!”

“heh.” Frisk stiffened when she heard the all-too familiar chuckle. Emily whipped her head around and gave a little yelp when she found sans sitting right next to her. The stool had been empty a few seconds ago. Frisk had seen sans around since the incident, but they had avoided each other. Both feeling awkward.

“Something funny?” Frisk asked, ice lacing her voice. Emily looked wide-eyed at her. Emily knew exactly who the skeleton was. Frisk had filled her in after the incident and now Emily was caught between fear and anger towards the skeleton. He was one of the most notorious gangsters in the city, with a rumoured body-count to rival the actual Grim Reaper, but on the other hand, he had continuously insulted and creeped out her best friend. But then again, he did save Ruby. But he had stalked her to her house before that. Emily decided to treat him with neutrality.

“jus’ thinkin’, ruby dressed all in red. sorta fittin’ innit?” sans replied, looking at Frisk with a smirk. Frisk narrowed her eyes at sans, unsure if he was making fun of her or just trying to crack a joke to break the tension. Not sure what to say, she simply shrugged.

“still can’t take a joke, kid?” sans scoffed. Frisk rolled her eyes.

“For the last time, I’m not a kid. I’m 22.” She crossed her arms and gave the skeleton a glare.

“22? such an adult.” sans muttered, raising the bottle of ketchup to his mouth. Frisk quickly reached out and squeezed the bottle, causing the ketchup to burst out and splatter all over sans’ face.

The bar went silent.

Frisk stepped back, hands over her mouth, eyes wide. sans’ eyes were blank, his hand still holding the ketchup bottle. Ketchup slowly dripped off of his face. The skeleton’s permanent grin seemed even more intimidating and Emily slowly inched away.

“I-I am so sorry, sans, I don’t know what came over me.” Frisk snapped into action, grabbing the nearest clean rag she could find, she reached out towards his face to clean off the ketchup. I am so fired. I am so dead. I am so fired. I am so dead, her mind kept screaming. Her hand froze mere inches from sans’ face when she noticed the skull shaking.

“heh...heh heh. heh-hahahahaha!” sans burst out laughing, the suddenness causing Frisk to jump back again and clutch the rag to her chest. She looked over to Emily, What the fuck? Emily shrugged, I have no idea.

“Are you….are you okay, sans?”  Frisk asked, unsure of how to proceeed. She nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on her shoulder.

“He’s fine, Ruby,” Grillby said, looking down at the human.

“oh, man, you- haha!- you should have seen your face!” sans pointed at Frisk, other hand on his ribcage. He didn’t even seem to notice the ketchup sliding down his face. His eyelights had returned and he caught Frisk’s eye.

“it’s been a while since i’ve had a really good laugh, thanks, kid. yer face cured me of all my ales,” sans said with pointed look at the beer taps. Frisk felt her temper flare again, forgetting entirely the fear that had overcome her just moments ago.

“You’re one to talk, bonehead, you look like you’re doing a poor impersonation of a tomato. All round and red.” She snapped. sans’ laughter cut off and he shot her a glare.

“and who’s fault would that be?” He demanded.

“You started it.”

“did not.”

“Did so! You kept calling me a ‘kid’!”

“ain’t a good enough reason ta dump my drink all over me. i’m a payin’ customer.” sans retorted, reaching over and yanking the rag out of Frisks hands to mop off his face. Grillby cleared his throat.

“I wouldn’t call you a paying customer. You haven’t paid your tab in months.” He interrupted, leveling sans with a glare.

“er... i’m a customer that’s gonna be payin’.” sans amended.

“He does have a point, Ruby. This is not how we treat our customers, regardless of whether or not they’ve paid their obscenely large tabs.” Grillby scolded. Frisk blushed a furious red.

“I’m sorry Grillby.” She murmured. Emily reached over the bar and put a comforting hand on her arm. Frisk shot Emily a grateful smile.

“I’ll look over this one incident, Ruby. Only because there’s not many people here to have seen it and sans did start it.” Grillby shot the skeleton a glare when he tried to interrupt, “Just try to exercise more self control in the future.” With that last warning, Grillby walked to the other side of the bar to finish polishing the martini glasses. Frisk and sans glared at each other for a moment, then sans smirked at her.

“don’t worry, kid, i’ll get ya back fer this.” he said, casually taking a sip of the remainder of the ketchup. A chill went down Frisks back, but she didn’t let any fear show.

“Bring it on, bonehead.” She hissed back at him.

“yer gonna regr-”

“SANS!” Frisk, Emily, and sans all jumped at the loud voice. Marching towards the bar was a tall, blue fish monster with hair even more red than Emily’s. A black eyepatch covered her left eye and she wore a black pinstripe suit. The glare she had could melt steel.

“aw, shit.” sans muttered before chugging the rest of the ketchup. Frisk looked between the two monsters. Was this woman his girlfriend?

“Sans! Why the HELL weren’t you answering your phone? I’ve called you at least  ten times!” She yelled, not bothering to lower her voice as she got closer to the skeleton. sans gave his pockets a pat down before pulling out a cellphone. He grimaced when he saw the screen.

“jeeze, undyne, ‘at least ten times’ is a bit of an understatement. i haven’t even been here long enough for you to call 42 times. didja just let it ring once, hang up an’ try again?” sans asked, tired already from dealing with her.

“Shut up, punk! You need to answer on the first ring! What if it was an emergency?” The fish lady demanded.

“is it an emergency?” sans asked, sliding a hand down his skull.

“No! But it could have been! Your brother always answers on the first ring, you have no excuse!”

“i don’t recall it being in the job description to have ta answer it so quickly.” sans quipped. Undyne grit her teeth. She must be his superior in the gang, Frisk thought to herself. She felt pity for the fish woman. He must be a real pain in the ass to deal with.

“Could I get you a drink while you’re here, ma’am?” Frisk asked, worried that if sans worked the fish woman up any more, she would break something. Not that Frisk would have blamed her.

“Not now,” Undyne said with a quick glance. She went back to talk to sans and her good eye widened almost comically when she looked back at Frisk.

“A human!? Grillby!” Undyne called the bartender over and pointed at Frisk, “Did you know there was a human behind your bar?!” She yelled. Frisk heard the flame monster let out a quiet sigh.

“She’s my employee. Ruby, meet Undyne. Undyne, meet Ruby.” Grillby explained before going back to his polishing, clearly annoyed at the days events.

“Nice to meet you, Undyne.” Frisk said, holding her hand out. Undyne glared at the hand as if it had just insulted her mother. With much reluctance, she held out her own and shook Frisks.

“Hmph. I’ve got my eye on you, human.” She said when the handshake was over. She pointed a finger at her good eye, then back at Frisk.

“don’t worry, undyne, i already got two eye sockets on her.” sans supplied, earning a glare from the fish woman. She reached behind sans and grabbed the back of his shirt collar.

“Get your ass in gear, sans, we gotta go. We’re already late because of you.” She grumbled as she literally dragged one of the most dangerous gangsters in the city out of the bar.

“catch ya later, kid.” sans called with a mocking salute as he was hauled out of the door.

“Well….”Emily began, “you certainly work at an interesting bar.”

----

“Okay, how about this one?” Emily asked, a smile about ready to split her face in two. Frisk could tell that Emily was really in her element. The girl was a natural at shopping. The dress she was holding out was stunning. Bright red with black embroidery and sequins. Long, sheer sleeves covered with sequins in an art-deco pattern. The dress was longer than any of the other’s Emily had pointed out, and the fringe elongated it even more. And best of all? Emily had picked it up from the clearance rack.

“I knew you would like it! Nice and modest, just like you wanted, but still gorgeous. Personally, I don’t like the sleeves, but I know you prefer them. Honestly, the sleeves are probably the reason it’s on clearance, nobody wears dresses with sleeves anymore. But that’s perfect for us! You have to try it on! Oh! And try it on with these shoes!” Emily shoved a shoebox into Frisk’s arms with the dress, “C’mon! Hurry, I wanna see what you look like! I bet ya you’re gonna be the belle of the ball!” Emily exclaimed, pushing Frisk into a changing room. Frisk smiled as she began to strip out of her everyday clothes. She quickly put on the red dress before opening the shoe box. Inside were a pair of t-strap heels. Unlike Frisk’s t-strap flats, these were made out a shiny material and goodness the heels were high! Frisk took a deep breath and, full of determination, put the monstrosities on. She stood up and wobbled a bit on the carpet flooring, but was able to balance herself out. She opened the curtains and struck an awkward pose, much to the delight of Emily.

“Oh my gosh! Ruby! That dress looks amazing on you! Red really is your color! And those shoes! They have to add at least five inches! Your legs look like they could reach up to heaven! I’m going to have to beat men off of you with a stick! And probably women, too! Oh! Goodness! You have to get them! I’ll buy the shoes for you! No buts! Unless it’s yours shakin’ it in that dress! I owe you after last time, so at least let me get the shoes. Plus, they weren’t on sale, and I know you’re trying to save your money. Okay, go put your other clothes on! We still need to get you a purse! I think a cute little black clutch? With sequins? Yeah? Yeah. That sounds good. Tonight is going to be such a blast! I know exactly what I’ll do with your makeup.” Emily continued to ramble on as the two paid and left the store. They walked down the street, stopping only to buy a clutch that had stood out in a window. Frisk felt positively giddy. The sun was warming her skin and for the first time in years, the feeling didn’t spark fear. Something about Emily’s attitude was just contagious. Frisk had spent more time in the daylight in the past few weeks than she had since- since before. For a moment, Frisk felt the familiar cold fear race through her veins at the thought of her past. He could still be searching for her.

“Hey,” Frisk’s thoughts were interrupted by Emily’s voice and a gentle hand on her arm. Emily looked up at Frisk with worry, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, sorry, just tired.” Frisk gave a warm smile to her short friend. Emily held her gaze for a moment before grinning back.

“Well, we’ll have to get you some coffee, we’ve got a long night ahead of us!” Emily gasped and her eyes lit up, she practically hugged Frisk’s arm, “We should go to Muffetts! She sells coffee, too! Not just pastries! I’ve been meaning to take you! This is perfect! And maybe, if she’s free tonight, we could invite her! I’ve been getting pretty chummy with her lately! You’re going to love her,Ruby, and I’m sure she’ll love you, too!” Emily began tugging on Frisk’s arm, hurrying the pace up.

It was a surprisingly short walk to Muffett’s Bakery. Emily’s stream of chatter making it seem even shorter. Frisk couldn’t help but stare at the little bakery. The little shop was covered in shades of pink and purple with white and black accents. There was white lace made to look like spiderwebs decorating the displays. The pastries on display in the windows made Frisk want to drool. Emily saw the look on Frisk’s face.

“I told ya it was cute! C’mon! I wanna introduce ya to the main lady herself! Hopefully she’s in! The store is rarely open without her bein’ there, but ya never know!” Emily led the way in, cheerful bells rang as the door opened and closed. Frisk gasped, if the outside was cute, it paled in comparison to the interior. Lace and frills were everywhere, but somehow, didn’t overwhelm the aesthetic. Frisk felt almost as if she had stepped into a rich little girls dream dollhouse. And, stars, the smells! Frisk was sure that this was what heaven smelled like. Simple, clean, and sweet.

“Hoo, hoo, hoo! Hello, deary!” A voice called from behind the counter. Frisk tried not to stare, Emily’s description had been spot on. A purple spider monster with five eyes and six arms was manning the register, a fanged smile on her face. The monster wore a frilly dress that matched the scheme of the bakery and managed to look fantastic on her. Frisk noticed that little spiders were crawling around on the dress, making the patterns appear to move.

“Hello, Muffett! This is Ruby! My friend I told you about? I finally brought her!” Emily exclaimed, presenting Frisk with such an exaggerated pose that neither Frisk nor Muffett could help but laugh.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Miss Ruby, Emily has told me all about you.” Muffett said, extending one dainty hand over the counter. Frisk extended her own hand and was surprised at how firm Muffett’s grip was.

“Likewise. I love your pastries, Emily has been feeding me them nonstop.” Frisk replied with a smile.

“I’m always glad to hear that, deary! I’ll be sure to tell the chef,” Muffett said with a wink of multiple eyes, “Now, what can I get you lovely ladies today? I just finished up some lovely spider doughnuts, they’re still a bit warm!”

“Always business first, right Muffett?” Emily asked playfully, “Well, in that case, we’ll take two doughnuts and two… black eyes!” “Staying up late tonight?” Muffett asked as she directed her little spiders around the shop to prepare the meal, using a couple of her own hands to ring up the total.

“Yes! We’re going to Celestite! Gonna dance till we fall down! Kick and twist and shimmy!” Emily exclaimed, handing over the money owed to one of Muffett’s outreaching hands. Frisk had learned not to try to argue when Emily wanted to pay for something, the girl could be as stubborn as a mule. Frisk had managed to pay once, only to find money from Emily stuffed under her door later.

“Why that sounds like a wonderful time! I’ve heard great things from some friends who love going~ I’m sure you’ll have fun ~ hoo hoo hoo!” Muffett said, leaning over the counter and handing the girls their orders.

“Well, Muffett, Ruby and I were wondering if you wanted to join us tonight! You work so much, you deserve a night of fun!” Emily offered. Muffett blinked slowly, surprised. Her smile grew.

“You know, I think I might just do that. I’m sure some of my friends will be there, and I could introduce you. It would be like a big party ~ hoo hoo hoo!” Muffett giggled. Frisk smiled at her. Two weeks ago, the thought of meeting strangers outside of work would have terrified Frisk, but Emily, unknowingly, was helping her get past her fears. It’s been seven years, she reminded herself, he must have given up by now.

“Wonderful! Ruby and I are going to drink at my apartment before we go out, so we can save money, do you want to join us or would you rather meet at the club?” Emily asked, bouncing with excitement.

“I would love to meet at your place! Hoo-hoo hoo! And I could bring some monster liquor, as a treat, free of charge~” Muffett replied, eyes gleaming. Emily exchanged addresses with the spider monster before the two girls bid her farewell. Muffett still had a few hours before she would close.

Frisk had a feeling she was in for a good time.

[sunnysynthsunshine]

San-Soho (The Young Ones/Black Mirror)

note: even though there are meta-references to the actors playing these characters (Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson) the characters are still the same, even if they have similar appearances as their actors outside of the “san soho” realm.

Some dialogue I have added in myself, but the rest of the fanfic’s format was based on the original script of the Black Mirror episode San Junipero written by Charlie Brooker and directed by Owen Harris) they own the concept,and (The Young Ones was written by Ben Elton,Rik Mayall and Lise Mayer, Directed by Paul Jackson,Geoff Posner and Ed Bye, with the characters belonging to the actors who played them).

Britain's equivalent to San Junipero is San Soho

(when Rick Pratt wanders San Soho he meets a punk called Vyvyan as their lives change forever)

(this is also mainly told from Rick's perspective)

Chapter 1

The year was 1985

Walking along the sidewalk of neon sparkling Soho was the sarcastic but socially timid Rick Pratt,

A young man in his early 20s he was dressed quite plainly

He experienced 1985 before this was one of those many times

He decided to visit the local nightclub

He had a loose grey shirt, black badge covered blazer and red boots on, not usual nightclub attire but he wasn't really a party person so he focused on Pac-man which he was not good at

when suddenly he saw a beautiful orange-haired man in a trihawk dancing on the dance floor to The Clash.

Rick tried to ignore the punk but he noticed him

“Oi!”

He tried to run off but the punk kept gesturing to him moving his head in his direction when he wasn't moshing

“Wanna join”

“Pardon?” Rick said unable to sense the gesture due to the loud atmosphere

“Right” the punk mumbled before he ran over to Rick and dragged him to the dance floor to join him

“You're going to enjoy this” the punk shouted before Rick started to mosh

Swaying his body in an animated fashion like that of a vintage cartoon character

The crowd was crashing like a wave except covered in spike studs and band logos

Rick felt like a stammering Ian Curtis as he clambered making sure he didn't hit anyone

He ended up clambering with that punk from earlier.

Part of Rick wanted to enjoy this cool “rebellious” activity but the other felt like he was ruining the event simply by being there.

He felt uneasy he didn't want anyone thinking anything weird was going on.

Rick was unsure about the concept of moshing but tried to continue anyway.

Chapter 2

When the song was over he left the dance floor he felt a bit embarrassed he could feel his nerves acting up so he just sipped his lemonade and walked out the fire escape door.

The punk from before caught up with him “Why are you running away?” he asked

Rick  made an awkward smile “Sorry I’m not into *moshing*”

The Punk answered back “No shit you were like the world’s most stiff giraffe back there”

Rick was going to walk off only for the punk to say “I was taking the piss...obviously”

“I’m Vyvyan, sorry for forcing you to mosh with me, I only get to do these on Saturday nights

Rick sat on a low wall

“It wasn't that Everyone was looking at us crash into each other”

Vyvyan tilted his head “Why would they care?”

Rick made a couple miming gestures with his hands

“You know? two blokes grinding into each other like cheese graters”

Vyvyan lit a cigarette and smoked it

“Okay: one, there’s not as many uptight tory folks here as there used to be, and two,

This is a punk part of town nobody’s judging here”

“You want one?” he offered as he leaned over holding his lighter to where Rick was sitting

Rick nodded as he also took a cigarette

Vyvyan spoke again “if they were staring it’s because they were intimidated by me sod em”

Rick chuckled “your such a stupid fascist you know that?”

Vyvyan smirked proudly “Thank you”

Rick looked at the sky “I’ve never moshed before”

Vyvyan stared at him surprised “Never, as in you’ve never gotten a gang of mates to just destroy the dance floor to Iron Maiden?”

Rick shook his head “Never I’d usually listen to punk rock music alone

Living in a right-wing house that was frowned upon, tattoos, androgyny the whole lot

Vyvyan was shocked “What are you a hermit? that’s one drab existence you’ve got there”

Rick shrugged

“They vote the pigs, the officers attack people like rabid dogs I want to be a revolutionary Anarchist poet but I can’t do much else they worship thatch like she’s God outside of literature I’m politically pathetic”

Rick looked down when Vyvyan sat next to him

“Yeah, Well. No one knows about half the shit I’ve done, like Riding a motorbike up someone's staircase”

“With your folks, they come from a different place on the political spectrum tories will always be nasty in my eyes”

“Yep I agree with you there, it doesn't help to have no mates, they simply don’t understand concepts like shyness, trust issues or anxiety

I get panic attacks sometimes around crowds and what they say is just deal with it.

“from past social experiences I’ve had to repress many things depressive episodes, nerves and flashbacks just because I don’t want to bother others or bring the mood down”

“I always feel weird when put into lively situations but that’s because I haven’t gotten the chance to fully express myself in that way”

Rick kicked his legs against a wall when Vyvyan looked at him

“What would you like to do that you’ve never done before?”

Rick smiled “Oh so many things I’d like to go to concerts, I’d like to perform for people, I’d like to, I’d’ like to

Vyvyan put his finger on Rick’s lips “Soho is the party hub of London might as well nick all the time we have left while we still can”

They went to fortune tellers, they went to thrift shops, they bought some “magazines” and they checked out the local comic strip club seeing the likes of French and Saunders, Alexi Sayle and Peter Richardson and Nigel Planer onstage telling jokes.

Rick and Vyvyan then ran off to a pub where they got completely sloshed usually Rick would be able to hold his lager but when “Come On Eileen” was playing on the radio Vyvyan had thrown him into his arms as they danced until after a few more minutes Rick was getting tired and Vyvyan was getting bored “Boring bastard” he mumbled angrily as he grabbed Rick’s sleepy face shoving his head into the cake that was in front of him.

Rick cheerfully said, “Hey Vyv this is like Laurel and Hardy or do you prefer Chaplin?”

This ramble of questions cascaded into Vyvyan yelling “Shut Up!” in Rick’s face

Rick was suddenly silent he was probably asleep but then Vyv remembered what he said about mental health before as he quietly carried Rick over his shoulder driving him back to his place in his yellow Ford Anglia.

At Vyvyan’s house, he let Rick relax on his sofa covered in his universal monster themed blanket

He was about to mumble “I’m sorry” when Rick suddenly awoke to scoff “You bloody fascist” pointing his finger at Vyvyan aggressively before he threw a tantrum “You got your hands over me  How dare you! And to think you thought you’d get a snog from me”

Vyvyan was annoyed but not annoyed enough to get violent so he chased Rick around the room

There was a short intermission from the fight when Vyvyan accidentally turned on his record player making the Cliff Richard hit “Living Doll” play which made Rick pause going into a dream-like trance badly singing out of tune

it was not long until they were both yelling “Virgin” at each other while pillow fighting.

However, because of the fun “fight” as they were no longer angry they were laughing

When Rick’s pigtails were undone Rick then pulled at Vyvyan’s hair leaving orange hair dye stains on Rick’s shirt

What started off as a chase around the house, dancing and pillow fighting resulted in Vyvyan trying to playfully choke Rick only for him to aggressively hug Vyvyan in return

After the snog and shag was over

Rick innocently licked his lips “I’ve never done anything like that before”

Vyvyan smirked “All the more reason” as he unlocked the handcuffs from his bed

Rick hesitated “you're a lovely bloke. I can’t”

Vyvyan shrugged “Alright then”

Rick stumbled over his words “you see -I?”

Vyvyan nodded “I understand”

Rick looked at the time and scrambled to get his clothes on before he was about to dash outside “I have to go”

Vyvyan stared “in this crap weather?”

Rick shouted back “It’s been great to meet you”

Chapter 3

He shook Vyvyan’s hand before he left

Later in the early morning, Rick was looking around his wardrobe for different outfits

He tried a green suit but it didn't work, he tried a basic shirt with a tie and jeans that didn't work, he even tried a blue and red anorak but that didn't work so he just had to settle with his pair of yellow dungarees.

A few days later at the same club, they met at Vyvyan tried to talk to Rick but he was talking to someone was that Peter Richardson’s son he was with?

He wandered into the restrooms that Rick had went off to he surprisingly still had his pigtails in

They said nothing

Rick looked in the mirror his hands on his cheeks unhappy a fake smile projected on his face amongst the red lip balm smudged under his lips

“I don’t know how to do this”

Vyvyan was confused “do what?”

Rick whined “Just help me can’t you just”

He settled “It’s like talking to a bloody hologram”

Vyvyan looked down and then back at Rick’s upset face he smiled

“You want to get in my car?”

Vyvyan raced his Ford Anglia down the highway the street looking like it was a 1980s music video

Rick asked, “How long have you been here?”

Vyvyan answered, “In Soho?”

Rick nodded

Vyvyan thought for a while

“ a couple months but the main thing is I’m planning to enjoy myself before I finally pop my clogs...guess I’m a lurking wanker like you”

Rick chuckled “Yeah”

Chapter Management

Edit Chapter

Chapter 4

Vyv’s car suddenly ended up in the upcoming lane luckily they prevented danger as the car skidded to a halt

“SHIT!” Rick yelled

Vyvyan started erupting into laughter his gravelly nasally voice being more loud than the traffic

“Your face”

They then went back round to Vyvyan’s place to have another shag even though outside of the dream system version of Soho Rick and Vyvyan were virgins

They then chatted about their past loves Rick apparently once had a big crush on a Scottish makeup artist and they remembered about when they watched the comic strip days before that Vyvyan and Jennifer Saunders were making subtle body language to each other.

Rick then remembered not only were they in the simulated afterlife of Soho but they were fictional characters with vague memories of the meta actors who played them in real life

He looked at the clock and then remembered something dark,something secret something Vyvyan should never know.

“I’m just going to party and nothing is going to stop me not Tories and definitely not that facist God”

Rick then walked off in a huff

Vyvyan continued to enjoy life in Soho without Rick but that was hard

A few days later and Soho looks like it’s in the 2000s

Vyvyan walked into the night club while Feel Good Inc by the Gorillaz played in the background

Vyvyan could see Rick with his hair down in more “Emo” attire playing dance dance revolution only for him to stop when he noticed Vyvyan.

Vyvyan started hounding Rick with questions in the restroom

“Wait a minute I’ve been looking for you why did you piss off like that?”

Rick was irritated “Why are you here?”

Vyvyan shouted “Why did you hide from me?”

Rick ran off some people could notice when Vyvyan saw that Rick was on the roof of the nightclub

Vyvyan ran up to where Rick was “Please tell me your pain slider is turned down”

Rick moved his eyebrows “Maybe,Maybe not”

Before he walked away “I’m not going to jump”

Vyvyan sighed looking down and then back at Rick “Look I’m sorry alright,I’m a lurker too I-I

Rick felt solemn “I don’t know how long there is,I wasn't prepared for this I wanted to…”

Vyvyan shut him up with a kiss

They had another passionate night in Vyvyan’s place but then the unpleasant question was mentioned again

Rick exhaled “I have 3 months”

Vyvyan whined “Why? I’ll have nobody to play fight with at the pub every night nobody to have slapstick arguements with it’s not going to be the same”

Rick explained “my real life self, he was married he had kids,he had a happy life he entertained many but then he took a tumble on a quadbike and lost part of his spark eventually that caught up with him and he’s in the afterlife now I’m still around because I’m a fictional entity he created but like with imaginary friends I’m fading the more I’m forgotten I don’t want the same fate"

Vyvyan started to sob “Don’t leave me this way”

Rick smiled at him “I’m dying the people’s poet is dying nothing but that scares me”

Vyvyan whimpered “I want to visit you,let me say hi”

Rick again walked off the time changed from 11:59 to 12:00

Later a more grown up Vyvyan arrived at a hospital 

he now had glasses and was balding looking like an old man he was taken to a private room where Rick was quietly resting he was a lot more older than before he looked like he was in his 40s or 50s.

he looked at Rick for a moment

“It’s time for you to pass over and me soon probably”

He shrugged,

Vyvyan then took out a ring and put it onto Rick’s frail finger

As he was given the device to transport him and Rick back to Soho

After a few days, he did the same 

It was a sunny day in early March when in Soho Vyvyan parked his car near the seaside as he ran over to rick who was folding his hands happily,

“Miss me?”

Vyvyan  was lost for words “Of course I bloody missed you Happy Birthday” he shouted as he aggressively hugged Rick in an embrace as they ran along the seaside chasing each other like old times.

The End~

(dedicated to the late great pan global phenomenon,Lord of Misrule and Peoples Poet) Rik Mayall (1958-2014) (The Future is as bright as you make it, Love is the answer~!)

[chierafied]

Entangled

For @inu-miko who asked me for a SessKag Yakuza AU a long, long time ago. ^^;

Ms. Higurashi had the phone in a white-knuckled grip as she looked out of the window, to where her son and daughter were raking leaves in the yard.

“No,” she said, her tone firm and forceful even as her voice shook. “We will have no part in it. Neither me nor the children, you hear?”

There was a short pause before the cool male voice on the line responded. “Ms. Higurashi –”

“No,” she repeated, her jaw clenched. “Do not involve us. You know he wanted to keep us out – that is why we lived apart and had minimal contact… why the children think he died years ago.”

“Very well, Ms. Higurashi.” The voice at the other end betrayed no emotion.

Ms. Higurashi watched Souta flick a leaf at Kagome. As both the children burst into laughter, her heart ached in her chest. She hesitated for a moment. She’d drawn the line in the sand, but nonetheless…

“May I come and visit his grave?”

“Of course. I will text you the details.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her fist to her chest.

“Goodbye.”

The line clicked silent before Ms. Higurashi had a chance to reply.

She put the phone down.

She’d been young and foolish then, Ms. Higurashi reflected, swept up in a whirlwind romance.

But she could not regret it, not even now.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she drew a quivering breath.

“Goodbye.”

 Kagome was glum that day as she walked home from school.  

Stupid maths, stupid supplementary lessons.

She kicked at a rock in her path.

It was as if the world was conspiring against her. Wanting to hang out with her friends after school really wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

She hated missing out. She hated sitting through supplementary lessons of maths while her friends were out having fun; sitting, laughing and chatting at their regular table at the WacDonalds.

Who needed maths anyway?

Kagome scoffed.

She was sure that after she graduated high school, she’d never again have to find the X.

Briefly, she considered popping into a convenience store on her way home to get herself some ice cream therapy… but then, she just wanted to get home, and she was already almost there.

A group of guys was loitering on the sidewalk. Guys Kagome had never seen before. Guys, who were big, burly, and decidedly unfriendly-looking.

Kagome swallowed, suddenly nervous, and kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead as she walked past them.

None of them made a move or offered any untoward comment, and Kagome’s shoulders slumped a little in relief.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, was already shifting her weight to start to go up the stone steps when a drawling voice made her freeze.

“You Higurashi?”

Kagome turned.

It was one of the guys who had spoken, a hulking man with a scar running down his cheek.

Kagome’s stomach sank, trepidation shivered down her spine. Her eyes darted back and forth.

The guys were moving now, coming closer, subtly closing a circle around her so she would be wholly surrounded by them.

“He asked you a question,” another man growled, his dark eyes glinting with menace.

Kagome licked her lips, squeezed the straps of her backpack so tight her knuckles were white.

She was completely boxed in now. Kagome’s head swivelled but she couldn’t find a way to escape.

It was hard to give any kind of an answer, when her heart was hammering in her throat.

“I’m Kagome,” she said, hoping the answer would throw them off enough so she could still get away from the situation.

The man who had growled at her grinned. The hairs at the back of Kagome’s neck stood up at the sight.

“It’s her,” he said.

“Higurashi Kagome.” The man who’d spoken first – their apparent leader – held out his hand. “You’re gonna have to come with us.”

“Why?”

“You don’t wanna put up a fight. I’d hate to bruise up such a pretty face.” His eyes flashed. “But I will if I have to.”

“I don’t understand,” Kagome babbled, panic flooding her body as the leader grabbed her arm, yanked her towards him so roughly that she stumbled. “I haven’t done anything!”

“It’s not about you, doll,” the leader said, clamping his other hand on her shoulder. “It’s about power.”

“There’s got to be a mistake,” Kagome cried. She tried to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight, his fingers bruising her shoulder. “You must have the wrong –”

Something barrelled into the leader and Kagome staggered together with him – then she realised she was free and darted away from the lot.

There were a lot of shouts and grunts now; and other sounds, ones that turned Kagome’s stomach. 

Everyone was moving, a whirl of limbs and bodies Kagome could make a little sense of. 

But she understood enough to know that someone had come and was pummelling down the gang that had been after her.

Bodies fell to the ground, bleeding and moaning – and then a man stepped forward. He grabbed Kagome’s wrist in a very similar fashion to the punk from earlier.

She didn’t have time to protest now, he was pulling her along and she had to run to keep up with him.

Why had the world gone crazy on her all of a sudden? What the hell was going on?

Confusion filled Kagome’s mind as she watched the tall back and broad shoulders of the man tugging her along. He was wearing a suit, his hair was an odd silver-white colour, long enough to brush past his shoulders.

She swallowed her questions. Fear was still squeezing her throat and her heart raced in her chest as she ran with this stranger. 

She didn’t pay attention to her surroundings, she was too busy conjuring up horror movie scenarios of what this guy would probably do to her. He looked like someone who was up to no good, and the way he had just beat up all those thugs back there…

He stopped, let go of her wrist and whirled around.

Kagome gasped, took a stumbling involuntary step backwards.

This guy had tattoos. On his cheeks, on his forehead.

Oh, he was definitely bad news. Criminal record kind of bad.

And his eyes were cold and gold, narrowed in anger as they pinned her down.

“Are you hurt?”

Kagome gaped at him, the words barely registering.

He took an impatient step forward, which sent Kagome scurrying back.

He ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath through gritted teeth.

“Are you hurt?” he repeated.

Kagome swallowed, trying to ease her dry throat.

“N-no.”

He started pacing, and Kagome’s gaze snapped to his hands, squeezed into fists by his side.

“I knew this would happen,” he spat.

Kagome wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself.

“I tried to warn your mother, but she wouldn’t listen –”

“My mother?”

What would her mother have to do with criminals and hooligans?

Kagome’s stomach lurched.

She hadn’t got a loan from disreputable people, had she? Her mother wouldn’t be reckless… But then, the shrine was hardly profitable and grandpa had been sick for most of the summer and Kagome would have her entrance exams in a few more months and university tuition wasn’t exactly cheap…

“I called her, about a week ago,” the stranger said, cutting into Kagome’s panicked thoughts. “Apprised her of the situation.”

“What situation?”

He stopped pacing. He faced her, and their eyes met.

She was still afraid, but she was starting to think that this man, criminal though he might be, would not be meaning her harm after all.

And then he dropped the bomb on her.

“I worked with your father.”

Kagome stared at him. Blinked. Shook her head. “No. No you’re not old enough to – my father died ten years ago.”

His eyes flashed. “Your father died ten days ago. He was killed in an altercation with a rival gang.”

“R-rival…?” Kagome’s voice trembled, her nervous fingers had squeezed into fists. “What are you talking about?”

The man looked at her, unblinking. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suspected as much,” he muttered to himself, “but still…”

“Suspected what?” Kagome said, impatience flaring; briefly drowning out the building dread.

He levelled her an irritated stare. “That your mother had told you nothing.”

Kagome bit her lip. “I don’t understand.”

He crossed his arms and watched her through narrowed eyes.

The look in them really upset Kagome, though she didn’t know why.

“Your father,” he began, speaking in a slow overly-patient voice that only highlighted his frustration, “was the leader of one of the prominent yakuza syndicates operating in the Kantou region.”

Silence stretched heavy between them, but even as the man’s words began to sink in, they didn’t make any more sense to Kagome.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, that can’t be right. My father was not a criminal.”

The look he gave her chilled her to the bone.

“Ten days ago, there was an issue with a rival gang and your father was killed,” he repeated. “We avenged his death quickly and harshly. The rival gang seemed intent on starting a vendetta, so I called your mother to inform her of the turn of events, and to warn her that she and her children could be in danger. I offered her our protection, but she didn’t want it. She wanted nothing to do with the syndicate.”

Kagome shook her head again, but the gesture was weak now.

It just couldn’t be true. This guy had to be lying. After all he was a perfect stranger – and not a very kind one at that.

Then again, what reason would he have to lie? And why had those thugs attacked her earlier?

Kagome hugged herself, as her lower lip trembled.

He heaved a heavy sigh. “I understand this must be much to take in, all at once,” he told her. “But as you have seen for yourself, the danger is real. Allow our gang to grant you protection.”

“I…” Kagome drew a quivering breath. “I need some time, to think.”

“Very well,” the man replied in a clipped tone. “Will you at least allow me to walk you home?”

Kagome wanted only to be alone, to digest everything he’d just told her – but the terror from earlier was still fresh on her mind, and the mere thought of those vicious thugs made her shiver.

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.”

He nodded, and the two of them started walking back towards the Higurashi shrine.

  Kagome had taken two days to mull over everything that had happened and that she had heard. Then, she had squared her shoulders and steeled her heart, and gone to talk to her mother.

She told her about the thugs and the man who had come to her rescue and about everything he had said about her father. 

Her mother had wrung her hands in distress and her eyes had filled with tears. Finally, she had bowed her head and admitted to Kagome that everything was true; that Kagome’s father had been a yakuza boss and that he’d actually been alive until twelve days ago.

Kagome knew all of it by then, yet hearing her mother speak of it was a shock.

She couldn’t blame her mother for keeping it all a secret. She understood she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the criminal underworld.

But now, four days after her run in with the yakuza, Kagome had to admit there was no going back to blissful ignorance.

She hadn’t seen even a shadow of another gangster since.

Yet, paranoia had set in: she walked to and back from school quickly and with her senses in high alert, swift to glance behind her, her eyes always sweeping over the crowds of pedestrians.

Fear still trailed her every step, and she jumped at sudden noises; gave any groups of men a wide berth.

She felt ashamed of being a scaredy-cat – and yet her fear was very valid. Yakuza could be vicious, and vendettas were no joke.

And that’s why she was now sitting at her desk, staring at the business card in her hands; the one her father’s associate had handed to her after walking her home safely four days ago.

 She brushed her thumb over the middle kanji in his name. The kanji meaning ‘to kill’.

Sesshoumaru. Who had given their child such a name?

Or was it a name he’d taken upon himself when he’d joined the yakuza?

Kagome wasn’t sure.

But she knew one thing: she could not continue to live like this: in fear.

Like her mother, she really didn’t want to get entangled with criminals… Yet, she had no choice.

As the daughter of a yakuza boss she was already entangled. People from rival gangs were after her and wouldn’t stop to listen to any explanations about how she wasn’t involved in his father’s syndicate in any way.

Kagome took a deep breath.

There was no use in weighing her options, when there really weren’t any left.

Her mouth set in a grim line, she reached for her phone and punched in the digits printed neatly on the business card.

Heart thundering in her chest, she listened to the dial tone – and startled when the call was picked up almost right away.

“Taishou.”

“Mr. Taishou? This is Higurashi Kagome.”

“Miss Higurashi, I’m glad you called.”

Kagome bit her lip. Was he, really?

“Have you made your decision?” his toneless question cut into her thoughts.

Kagome squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “I have.”

“Well?” he drawled.

Kagome could picture the impatient annoyance – the glare of his hard golden eyes was vividly imprinted in her memory.

She swallowed to ease her dry throat.

“I accept your offer. I’d like your protection.”

Silence hummed loudly on the phone line.

The he answered, his voice a little softer. “That is an excellent decision, Miss Higurashi. I will take care of you.”

“Thank you,” she managed, not sure if her heart had skipped a beat out of relief or trepidation.

“I will be in touch,” he promised.

The call disconnected.

Kagome’s fingers trembled as she set the phone down.

She wasn’t sure if she’d made the right call. She really didn’t know what she was getting into.

And yet she felt a little lighter. A little safer.

Some long-buried instinct told her she could trust Sesshoumaru, so she would do just that.

And entrust him with her life.

[diamonddeposits]

BEST TRACKS OF 2017-ARTISTS LIST #12

WOOZLES

Emotional rock as bright as a votive candle.  Woozles is the avatar of Connecticut's very own  Conor Ryan and in his sound he perfectly captures the essence of relationships between friends and lovers, the restlessness of days both good and bad and the enduring spirit to carry on even when life keeps giving you the hits. His Wasted Nights LP was released earlier this year via the venerable Z Tapes . In 2017 he will be gifting us more music. Here is his list with some thoughts on his favorite artists that did not make the cut!

2017 has been an awful year in general, but an incredible year for music. If I were to have not given myself limits on this end of the year list it would have included Tyler the Creator, Paramore, Khalid, Lorde, Deerhoof, Japanese Breakfast, Fleet Foxes, Grizzly Bear, Phoenix, Big Thief, and so many others. However, I wanted to try to focus on some "lesser known" bands that in my opinion might not have gotten the exposure they deserved this year. For anyone that just wants to listen instead of reading my rambling, here's a Spotify playlist of all the songs on this list that are available on Spotify. I hope you find some new hidden gems with this list and if you can be sure to support these artists! They need you! 

01. Rose by Sam Nazz I can't pinpoint in words exactly what makes this song so magical. Sam's vocals are absolutely incredible and the melody melts my heart. The lyrics are still cryptic to me, but somehow still hold a lot of meaning. For whatever reason, listening to this song has helped calm me down on multiple occasions this year and has helped me through a lot. 

02. Dark Red by Steve Lacy Wow this song is....amazing. The lyrics on this song hit hard for me and talk about dealing with anxiety in relationships, "What if she's fine / It's my mind that wrong." Steve's vocals are executed so well and I love the way the arrangement flows. There's a whole lot of amazing ideas packed into this three minute long song. This is going to be a bop for years to come. 

03. Lake by Flossy Clouds First of all, I want to say that this entire album is amazing. As a whole, it lives in a very special sonic world all on its own that I love to revisit, especially when I need to step back from the things running through my mind. This song in particular is a highlight that blends a borderline trap drumbeat with cycling acoustic guitars and emotional auto-harmonized vocals. Lyrically, like the last song, it touches on anxiety in relationships, but ends on a hopeful note, "But I remember when we're on the road / It doesn't matter where we go"

04. Footscray Station by Camp Cope Everything about this song is so special. The way this song unfolds rips my heart apart and makes me feel some kind of hard to pinpoint nostalgia. The lyrics are packed with such specific imagery that by the end of the song I feel like I've just finished reading someone's diary. Not to mention that the vocal delivery is so packed with emotion that it's hard to not hear this song without having tears in my eyes. 

05. Fault by Alex Napping Welcome to the heartbreak song with one of the best choruses of the year. It's a reflective song about feelings of guilt and blame in a relationship. The song builds a musical atmosphere that's painful and cathartic all at once. Not to mention, Alex's vocals are soaring on on this track, which elevates it to a whole other level. 

06. Makin' Excuses by Mister Heavenly Here's another song where it was hard for me to pick just one song from an album. Mister Heavenly is an indie supergroup composed of Honus Honus (the front person of Man Man), Nick Thorburn (the front person of Islands), and Joe Plummer (the drummer of The Shins). This song is a bop through and through. It has an infectious groove that bursts into pure sonic fun during the impossible-to-not-sing-along-to chorus. Lyrically it's about the hesitation that can come with starting a relationship. That feeling of not wanting to open yourself up completely and just be yourself with another person. On top of all this, the video is weirdly endearing and super creative. 

07. The Bus Song by Jay Som I can't say enough about how much I love this song and how much it means to me. The production on it is absolutely perfect, which is even more impressive when you consider that Melina Duterte wrote and recorded the whole album almost entirely by herself. The song is impeccably arranged and unfolds so perfectly. It's easily one of my favorite songs lyrically that I've heard in a long time, "Take time to figure it out / I'll be the one that sticks around" hits me so hard every single time I hear it. I've cried to this song more times than I'd like to admit, but it's also helped calm me down more times than I can count and I'm just so thankful that it exists. Also the music video might possibly be the most uplifting music video ever created. 

08. Divinity by Jelani Sei Before I go on, you all should buy this EP immediately. Trust me, it's so worth it. The first time I saw this band live I was absolutely blown away. I'd never listened to their recorded material before, but I was absolutely floored by their performance and immediately fell in love with their sound. Listening to this song on headphones is such a special experience. The production is just so creative and well executed. The actual arrangement is so groovy with so many moving parts, but that all fit together into a cohesive whole. I love this band with all my heart and can't wait for them to become huge because they truly deserve it. 

09. Gone by Queen Moo A staple of the Connecticut music scene, I've seen this band play live more than anyone else. On their sophomore album, Mean Well, they capture their own special brand of punk that twists and turns with an almost infinite amount of catchy hooks packed in. "Gone" is a highlight for me because it ebbs, flows, and builds so effortlessly both musically and lyrically. If you want a truly unique experience, treat yourself and dig into to this whole album. I promise it's worth it.

  10. Bronxville (Gasoline Fantasy) by False Priest Holy shit. This song should be a an alternative rock hit immediately. This should be blasting as you're flying down a desert highway with the setting sun as a backdrop. I'm gonna admit that I've listened to this song 10+ times in a row because it's so damn catchy. Everything is mixed perfectly with each instrument having just the right amount of punch. The lyrics deal with feelings of restlessness and that creeping feeling we all sometimes have of wanting to leave a situation, whether physically or emotionally, "A full tank of gasoline / Is really all you could need."

12. Interstate Vision by Lomelda The lyrics to this song capture something special that a lot of artists try and fail to bottle in a song. The chorus is simple, but with Hannah's vocal delivery it becomes extremely powerful, "Can you feel me now? Do you know me yet?" I feel a whole lot of random nostalgia while listening to this one. It's a magical song. 

13. Fit to Be Found by Harvey Trisdale This song is really special to me. It's the first single from my friend Jeremy's new band, who you might know as one of the songwriters in the band Furnsss (and his can't miss hit "Where Did My Pets Go?). We've been friends since 4th grade and he's one of the most talented musicians I know. Fit to Be Found is just ridiculously catchy and the dynamic builds throughout the song are perfect. Keep an eye out for the full album next year because it's going to blow you away. 

14. Jacuzzi by Cheem Bop bop bop bop this is a major bop. Cheem's sophomore LP, "Downhill," is definitely one of my favorite albums of the year. Short songs packed to the brim with an incredible amount of extremely well-executed musical ideas. The chorus of "Jacuzzi" is catchy as hell, there's an awesome musical breakdown, the two vocalists (Sam and Skye) have some amazing vocal interplay, and the production is spotless. Lyrically it hits hard because it touches on dealing with mental health while trying to maintain a relationship, "You don't even know, the pressure that keeps me so low / Hold me close, I'll float away if you let me go." 

15. Anywhere by Fuvk This song is from an album that's technically two EPs put together in one. These collections of songs are both heartbreaking. The production, especially when listened to on headphones, is all encompassing. Everything feels so close and painful words pour out over gently plucked guitars and instruments that pop in and out in these beautiful arrangements. "Anywhere" is the opener and it immediately sucks you in. It's best experienced while lying on your bed staring at the ceiling. 

16. Need to Feel Your Love by Sheer Mag How can you listen to this song without grooving to it? I love everything about this song. Hooky guitar parts, powerful vocal delivery, a sweet bass groove, and "toasty" production to tie it all together. I love the lyrics for this song because they talk about wanting, as the song title says, to actually feel the love of someone else they're interested in. Both of the people in the song have been hesitant about opening up to the possibility of truly loving again, "I've been holding back so much / But at what cost?" In the end though, the chorus rings out as a proclamation of being willing to try again after all. It's a triumphant and dangerously catchy song that stays on repeat every time I put it on. 

17. On Top by Hoops Is this a perfect dream pop song? Hell yeah it is. There's a real warmth to this production that brings the instrumental arrangement to the next level. First of all, "On Top" is ridiculously catchy, which as you can tell by now is something that I'm a sucker for. The real reason I love this song though is the lyrics because the chorus is essentially cheering you on through those hard days, "Keep your head up, you're doing fine / I know it's hard but you'll be alright." This sounds wildly cheesy, but when I'm having a bad day and I put this song on it really does help me to push through. Thanks, Hoops, for rooting for me.

[noodlecupcakes]

I Own You

Summary: For @noodlecupcakes 21st birthday here’s a little smutty piece featuring Possessive!Negan and her f!OC Roxy who looks like Amber Heard and is a general badass. This is set in a Mobster!AU where Roxy misbehaves a bit and Negan has to remind her who is boss and who wears the pants in their relationship…without either of them wearing pants.  

Word Count:   6892

Warnings: Foul Language, Sexual Imagery and Language, Negan being Himself as Always, Outright Smut, Daddy Kink, Jealousy, Spanking, Knife-Play, slight Choking Kink, Hair Pulling, a gratuitous Ezekiel cameo

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday to you and America!

Author: @genevievedarcygranger

Tagging: just for those that I think would be interested @purplemuse89 @backseat-negan @ladylorelitany @ofdragonsanddreams16 @alyisdead @collette04 @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash

Today was going to be a damn good day, and a productive one at that. After so many years of gang wars, it was all about to end with Negan on top – just where he belonged. Negan and his crew, the Saviors of Staten Island, had brought New York City to its knees. Through hard work and a lot of illicit activities, he subjugated four rival gangs: the Alexandrians in Brooklyn, the Hilltop in Manhattan, the Scavengers on the New Jersey side, and Oceanside in Queens. All of them worked for him, and hell, he even had most of the cops on his paygrade. The only rival gang left was the Kingdom of the Bronx – and today their leader Ezekiel and a small entourage were coming here to form a partnership with Negan.

The formalities would take place in a private meeting where Negan planned on passing Ezekiel a contract demanding half of their shit. He’d muscle, threaten, persuade, however the fuck to get Ezekiel to sign it, and then afterwards there would be a swanky ass party. After that it would be smooth sailing for Negan running this city – easy peezy lemon fucking squeezy.

Life was good for Negan now, but it hadn’t always been this way. He used to live a simple life before, married to his first wife Lucille and running a restaurant that the Savior gang would frequent often. Back then the Saviors were petty punks and nothing much else. But then, Lucille got cancer, and Negan didn’t have the money to pay for her treatments. He joined the gang to pay, and it did pay – handsomely.

It didn’t matter, though, because she died anyway. Left with nothing else, Negan abandoned the restaurant and threw himself whole heartedly into the gang, getting reckless and taking risks because he wasn’t afraid to die. It was his fearlessness that helped him swiftly climb the ranks, and soon he became addicted to the money and the power and the status – and then he met the second greatest love of his life: Roxy. Roxy was a lot like him in a way, hungry for power and a lustful bitch for revenge. For a while they fucked around together, and it was with her help that Negan obliterated this gang called the Walkers. Once the Walkers were gone, Negan realized that he had fallen in love, and when he became the leader, the first thing he did was marry Roxy. Both she and his position as leader of the Saviors renewed Negan’s vigor for life. Negan and Roxy been together and rule together ever since for the past five years.

One of the first things they did after returning from their honeymoon was get to work, and soon the other rival gangs were falling like dominos. Negan was no fool, he knew that none of this would’ve happened without Roxy’s help planning. For that he owed her everything, and she owed the same debt to him. Life’s been good to him so far and everything between them was going swimmingly. Life was perfect…well, almost perfect.

As it was, Roxy was more than a little pissed at him currently. The other day one of the girls from the escort service they ran – some chesty girl named Ruby – had come onto him. Ruby had had her hand done his pants and wrapped around his dick before he could push her off, but not before Roxy could walk in and catch them. Roxy was furious, but rather than making a scene right then, she stormed out. Negan tossed Ruby out on her ass and had sent Simon to bring Roxy back, but she refused. Embarrassed, Negan gave Roxy her space, hoping that time would cool her off so he could explain himself.

He hadn’t seen her in nearly three days, too busy giving her time and organizing the party and agreement for Ezekiel. He was starting to miss her, and not just for the sex, but actually missed her. She was his wife and he loved her after all. Ruby meant nothing to him and he never intended to cheat. His wife was his everything and no other woman could compare. In fact, Roxy to Negan meant more than everything he worked so hard to achieve, and he’d give it all up for her. That was a dangerous attachment to have in this business, but Negan was confident that Roxy could handle herself and that Negan would never allow anything to happen to her anyway. She was his lady.

Negan was just doing one last brief scan of the contract he was going to sign with Ezekiel when there was a knock on his office door. Sitting back in his chair, Negan snatched off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, who the fuck is it?”

The door swung open silently on its hinges, and Dwight popped his head in, looking at Negan with his good eye. “Ezekiel is here. Should I send him up?”

Stowing away his glasses in his desk drawer, Negan impatiently answered, “Yes, yes, go ahead. Shit, he’s early isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but Fat Joey already has the food ready.”

“Thank fuck for Fat Joey’s appetite,” Negan breathed a sigh of relief, “Have Simon mix the drinks and keep an eye on everything for me Dwight.” He stood and pushed his chair back under his desk, moving the mirror on the wall to give himself a look over. After all, he had to look well put together for the ‘King’ Ezekiel. Before he dismissed Dwight, Negan cautiously asked, “Is Roxy here, D?”

Dwight didn’t even hesitate, “Yes, she’s the one who greeted Ezekiel at the door. She’s keeping him entertained right now.”

Negan nodded, glad for Roxy’s help, though he had a feeling that all wasn’t quite forgiven yet between them. He still had to apologize to her. “That’s fucking good. Well, D, send the fuckers up.” Pleased with everything so far, Negan pulled out his box of Cuban cigars. If Ezekiel signed the contract promptly, Negan might even share one with him.

Not soon after Dwight left, he came back with Ezekiel in tow. The king’s entourage would wait outside with Negan’s men. While Negan and the Saviors had a certain street style like a biker gang to identify themselves, Ezekiel and his crew wore a medieval crest of an eagle and had tiger stripes on their sleeves. Given the importance of the meeting – and the fact that they were the top men rather than the underlings – everyone was dressed to the nines today. No real reason to show their colors if they planned on working on a truce together.

For that reason, Negan was dressed in his nicest suit – sans tie – in black on black on black. It was a slimming color and it worked for him, given him a lean and mean but undeniably handsome appearance. Ezekiel was dressed nice as well in a three-piece brown suit, also without a tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, giving him a casual appearance, but it was the feathers in his hair that solidified his eccentric aesthetic. After both men sized each other up, Negan finally donned the role of a gracious host and greeted his guest, “Ezekiel, looking fucking sharp as hell. Find the house, okay?” He stuck out his left hand for a handshake.

Without missing a beat, Ezekiel took his hand, not choosing to comment on the fact that it was the wrong one to shake or that Negan didn’t use his self-appointed title as ‘King’ either. “Negan, your wife is charming, and your home is lovely. Of course, it was no trouble to find it. It’s the biggest in the neighborhood with Rottweilers and men on guard. One would even call it a fortress. But every man’s home is his castle, and a castle isn’t complete without a queen. Roxy is quite the queen.” Both men’s testosterone skyrocketed as they kept their grip firm in the handshake, still trying intimidate each other despite this being a peace accords of sorts. ���Is that suit John Phillips?”

It took a tremendous amount of self-control on Negan’s part not to clench his jaw so hard as to crack a tooth when Ezekiel mentioned Roxy first thing. While most men might consider it a compliment to themselves to flaunt their wives like arm candy and jewelry, Negan had a possessive streak the size of Kansas. He’d nearly beat a man to death for even looking at his wife – but he did gut a prick for refusing to leave her alone at a bar. The body would never be found, but if it was, all the intestines would strangely be missing. Not Negan’s problem. Instead of immediately snapping at Ezekiel, Negan played nice and masked the tick in his jaw by smiling at the man. “Yup. Roxy is the love of my life, and home is whenever I’m with her. And fuck yeah, it’s John Phillips. I have two others, too.” Finally releasing his hold on Ezekiel, he moved away to his desk again, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. Casually, he passed the contract to Ezekiel. “So, I’d offer you a fucking drink, but that’s gonna come later after you sign this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding his fists.

Swathed with his own put-on airs, Ezekiel glanced over the contract once before he looked back up at Negan. “May I sit?”

“Shit, yeah, you can.” Negan withdrew one of his hands from his pockets and gestured to the armchair in front of his desk. Ezekiel bringing up Roxy had thrown Negan off his game, and it wouldn’t do for him to be distracted. Negan sat heavily on his desk, sitting back on his hands, attempt to effuse confidence. Really, he should have apologized to Roxy before this meeting with Ezekiel that way he could be sure that they didn’t make a scene. They had to give off the appearance of a rock-steady power couple, and Negan had to admit that when they weren’t united, accomplishing their private goals often meant impeding the other. This could be difficult.

Crossing his legs, Ezekiel took his time reading over the contract, and Negan let him, impatience simmering just below his deceptively calm surface, though not palpable yet. Finally, Ezekiel looked up at Negan, and Negan braced himself for negotiations. “You know, Negan, your wife Roxy really is quite the charmer.”

Nothing could have prepared Negan for that. Ezekiel’s casual remark was so singularly disarming that Negan truly was knocked off balance, not expecting a comment like that at all. Tamping down on his temper, Negan took ahold of what was left of his patience with both hands and charged forward, “Yes, my wife is a wonderful woman. She completes me.”

“Not only is she a beautiful woman,” Ezekiel blithely continued, seemingly unaware of Negan’s discomfort, “but I was under the impression that she was managing most of your business. I would even go on to say that I’ve heard she handles some of the unsavory business matters as well.” If Ezekiel knew he was treading into dangerous territory, he didn’t let on.

Still, Negan tried to warn him as much as he said a little too sternly, “If what you are implying is that my wife can’t handle such affairs, then you are sadly mistaken, Ezekiel. Zeke. Can I call you Zeke?”

Unsurprisingly, Ezekiel ignored the comment. “No, that’s not what I’m implying at all, Negan.” Ezekiel rolled his ankle is a slow clockwise motion, completely at ease and acting far too comfortable in Negan’s home for his liking. “I had never met Roxy before today. Of course, I had seen her face in news articles fairly regularly. Charity works, art museum opening, the police gala, tree-lighting ceremony around Christmas. She was always a pleasant, pretty face to see when the newspapers had more ghastly headliners.” He paused, and Negan forced himself to unclench his jaw again, the tendon muscle in his neck relaxing. “When she met me today it was with open arms and the reception was with such warmth that I realized something vital that newspapers unfortunately lacked.”

It took everything in Negan’s will power not to suck his teeth and darkly mutter, “Your name in the obituaries?” Instead Negan just tilted his head, feigning curiosity and simply asked Ezekiel, “Oh yeah? What?”

“Your wife’s beauty goes beyond a simple picture,” Ezekiel answered and then smiled so wide as if he told the funniest joke. Negan mirrored the smile, though not as wide, and it lacked his teeth, as he was afraid if she showed them it would be perceived as a snarl – not far from the truth actually. “Truly, Negan, you are a lucky man to have a woman whose beauty cannot be described in a thousand words or less like a picture does.”

Feigning humility now, Negan looked down at his shoes, picturing in his mind’s eye grinding his heel on Ezekiel’s face until the smile was destroyed. “Yeah, I don’t know what I would do without her, she’s been a tremendous help for the business and she’s a joy to have around.” Negan looked up and caught Ezekiel’s eye. “I love Roxy, would do anything for her. She’s my better half.”

It was like that was what Ezekiel had been waiting for all along. He gently tapped his palms on the arms of his chair as he exclaimed, “Yes, I agree whole-heartedly!” Much calmer, her stated plainly, “She is your better half.” Ezekiel held out the contract at arm’s length to Negan and dropped it, allowing it to float and flutter to the space of floor between them. “Clearly, you didn’t let her have a hand in this contract because the contract lacks sense. You couldn’t possibly expect me to sign that and half of my Kingdom over to you so easily.”

As Negan’s hazel eyes tracked the contract’s journey down to the ground, they shifted from ice to raging fire in an instant. When he looked back up at Ezekiel, he was outright glaring, and didn’t bother to hide any of his frustration now. “I don’t give a shit if you don’t think it’s fucking fair. Fair is whatever the fuck I say it is, and I say I want half your shit or we’re going to war, buddy. What the fuck is it gonna be?”

Nonplussed, Ezekiel coolly retorted, “What’s going to happen is this: you are going to summon your wife, and I’ll cut my deal with her. Clearly, she’s the more reasonable one between the two of you. The pretty face for the public, the muscle, and now, I see, she’s the brain behind this operation as well.”

“Oh, you want me to fucking summon my fucking wife?” Negan growled and pushed himself off the desk as he marched to the door. “You fucking asked for it, dumbfuck.” He jerked open the heavy door to his office and it slammed loudly against the wall causing everyone waiting outside to jump in their skin. It seems almost everyone was waiting on them with bated breath. Negan’s most trusted lieutenants were ambling about, keeping an eye on Ezekiel’s entourage. “Dwight!” Negan barked at the man, “Fetch me my fucking Lucille!” The door slammed closed and Negan whipped around to face Ezekiel, who had not moved from his chair. “You’re fucking in for it now you dipshit!”

Ezekiel didn’t even bother to turn around his chair to look at Negan as he addressed the man, “Is Roxy not your wife? Who’s this Lucille?”

“Roxy is my second wife,” Negan explained, and then there was Dwight – good, ol’ reliable Dwight who hustled and moved his ass to fetch Lucille off her ceremonial place on the mantle. Negan snatched Lucille, his wooden baseball bat with barbed wire wrapped around the business end, away from Dwight and pointed it at the back of Ezekiel’s head, taking aim. “Lucille was my first wife. She’s dead now.” Dwight quickly left, and Negan strode forward until he was in Ezekiel’s line of sight. He twirled Lucille around with practiced ease, enjoying the reassuring weight of her in his hand. “This is Lucille and she – is – awesome!”

For once, Ezekiel looked impressed as his eyes focused on the weapon held inches in front of his nose. Without looking away from it, he raised his voice and called, “Jerry!”

Now it was Negan’s turn to ignore what Ezekiel was saying as he started monologuing, “Now you said you wanted to fucking negotiate with my fucking wife, well here she fucking is! Ain’t she a fucking beauty? Fucking gorgeous, isn’t she? I love her, but she can be a bit of a jealous bitch when it comes to Roxy. Now since I’ve married Roxy and became leader of the Sanctuary, I had to retire Lucille. I only bring her out for special occasions now, ceremonial shit and stuff, you get it. See, look at her one fatal flaw.” Negan shoved the bat closer to Ezekiel’s face, narrowly missing cutting the man’s cheek with the barbed wire. He twisted Lucille in his grip, turning her over until her blemish was dramatically revealed – a single bullet lodged tight in her. “Some fuck shot my Lucille, and I had to kill them. But that’s what I fucking get for bringing a fucking bat to a gun fight like a stupid fuck.”

“Jerry!”

“Now, Lucille is my fucking thirsty girl, Zeke,” Negan swung her through the air and the air whistled through her barbed wire, sweet music to Negan’s ears. God, he missed carrying Lucille around; the reassuring weight of her in his hand; the smooth wood grain against his palm; the coolness of her polished surface rapidly warming up in his grip. “She’s a fucking vampire bat.” Negan swung Lucille again and he allowed himself to toddle on one foot, gloating over Ezekiel, displaying his power like a cock strutting through the hen house. If Negan were a peacock, Lucille was the only feather he would need. “And right now, she’s fucking thirsty for fucking blood – your fucking blood, Zeke.” Negan gestured with her at Ezekiel. “Don’t you know it’s fucking rude to deny my pretty lady a goddamned drink. You got something fucking better you can fucking offer her?”

“JERRY!”

“Negan, stop it,” came a cool, feminine voice. Negan jerked around, deeply surprised, and there was Roxy in all her glory. She had her blonde hair elegantly curled and pinned up around her pretty face, skin fresh and flawless, lips painted blood red and eyes just sparkling and demanding a blood sacrifice. Roxy wore a fashionable – and almost needless to say expensive – evening gown that Negan had yet to see her in. The gown had slit up the side to her hip, and if Negan squinted, he was sure that she wasn’t wearing panties. Her gown was a flattering shade of deep purple. Royal purple, Negan belated realized.

“Stop your posturing,” Roxy continued, “You’ve scared him enough. Offer him the contract again, he’ll accept it this time.” Her eyes slid away from Negan towards Ezekiel, frozen in place in his armchair. Negan watched in fascination as Roxy’s face bloomed into a smile when she locked eyes with Ezekiel, and Negan felt jealousy pour into his heart like hot, boiling lava. “Won’t you accept the contract now? Surely, you can see how reasonable we’re being?”

Quickly, Ezekiel was out of the chair and standing before Roxy. He caught her outstretched hand and brought it to his lips, brushing them sensually over her knuckles before he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. “Roxy,” he greeted smoothly and Negan choked on his spit. “Thank goodness you’ve arrived. Your husband has quite the temper.” He shot a look at Negan as he continued, “For someone such as you, I thought you’d marry a prince rather than a dragon.”

“Oh, Ezekiel,” Roxy simpered at him with sweet smile dripping with sugar and honey.

Ezekiel said, “Be that as it may, Roxy, you deserve a king rather than a prince or dragon…or troll.”

The grip Negan had on Lucille was so tight he felt like one flex of his knuckles would snap her in half. As it was, he could do nothing, watching this play out before him like some sick, twisted nightmare. Negan knew Roxy was doing this on purpose to make him jealous, he could see it in her eyes, he could see it in her smile. This was all one big act, a show, and she was succeeding too well. It hadn’t escaped Negan’s notice that Ezekiel was still holding her hands, and Negan nearly brought Lucille crashing down Ezekiel when he saw the man’s thumb sweep over her knuckles.

“Ezekiel,” Roxy tittered, and Negan had never heard her laugh like this for. He marginally relaxed, more reassured than ever that this was an attempt to get him jealous. “Ezekiel, you flatter me,” Roxy managed to convey through her giggles, “But I suppose that was enough excitement for tonight. Why don’t you sign the contract now, and I’ll change just one thing about it.”

“What would you like to change about it, Roxy?” Ezekiel inquired and he turned away to fetch the contract from the floor. When he bent over, Roxy eyed his rear, and Negan eyed Roxy eyeing Ezekiel’s rear with bridled rage in the form of lava bubbling through his veins.

“Oh, just a stipulation that all drugs sold in your kingdom cannot be sold to minors – and to us that means if they can’t drink, they can’t buy your drugs, no matter how much money they offer,” Roxy informed him, “Additionally, I’ll make you a promise that so long as you give us half of everything, no Saviors can enter the Bronx without your permission. Not even when they’re off the clock.” Roxy practically glided across the floor to Ezekiel, and when she walked it expose one long, long leg from her delicate ankles to her creamy thigh. She took the contract and place it on the desk. There she took Negan’s ballpoint pen and slashed it across the page, adding her adjustments in a footnote. Holding the pen in front of her face vertically, nearly kissing it with her sinfully red mouth, Roxy asked Ezekiel in a teasing sort of tone, “Do we have an accord, my king?” Negan tasted ash in his mouth and he wished he could breathe fire so he could burn Ezekiel down where he stood.

Unaware of Negan’s murderous thoughts, Ezekiel stared at Roxy. He was as equally surprised as he was pleased with the offer. “Well, how do you know I’ll deliver half to you if no Saviors are permitted in the Kingdom?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Roxy said and glided back across the room, once again showing off her flawless leg. Negan watched her progress, getting twitchy with Lucille the longer this carried out, but he was ashamed of himself for losing his temper so quickly and falling for Roxy’s mind games. He was going to let her finish this out since that seemed to be her goal from the very beginning, and as soon as Ezekiel finished putting pen to paper, Negan intended to confront Roxy. Well, actually, he intended to do more than just confront her. He just hadn’t decided what yet.  

The abused office door was gently opened by Roxy this time and she curled her fingers in a come-hither motion at some man that Negan couldn’t see from where he stood, but it didn’t matter because Negan instantly hated him for it. The man entered the office anyway. “This is Gavin,” Roxy introduced him to Ezekiel and explained, “He will be the one primarily doing business with you. Only Gavin and a few of his most trusted men will be allowed to enter the Bronx with impunity. He is one of the most reasonable and level-headed man I know.” Roxy assured Ezekiel, “You can trust him.”

“Gavin, if you come with such high praise from Roxy, then doubtlessly, I intrinsically trust you!�� Ezekiel proclaimed. “Where do I sign?”

Negan couldn’t believe it. Roxy had done it. Everything she did is exactly what Negan would have wanted and negotiated for, too, if he hadn’t let himself be driven mad by jealousy. He watched in silence as Roxy passed Ezekiel the pen, swatting at his chest playfully. Ezekiel signed and Roxy cheered, looping her arms through his as she led him out of the office. She was telling him about the party they had planned and was encouraging everyone to head down and enjoy Fat Joey’s cooking and Simon’s expertedly crafted drinks, but Negan couldn’t hear her over the dull roaring in his ears.

Before she could leave, Negan caught her by the elbow. “You go on and start the party without us,” Negan addressed Ezekiel, “please, excuse us. I need to have a word with my wife.” Before Ezekiel or anyone else could say anything, Negan slammed the door shut.

His wife Roxy jerked her arm out of his grasp, but Negan wasn’t going to stand for that shit. He whipped around and was on her in an instant. “What the fuck are you doing trying to cut my damn legs out from under me? You wanna castrate me and keep my huge ass balls in your fucking purse?”

“Did you at least have the curtesy to fire that whore?” Roxy asked cuttingly, standing with him nose to nose.

“Fuck, Roxy, there was nothing between me and her.”

“Then why the fuck did she have her hand down your pants, Negan?” Roxy jabbed her finger into his chest, not believing him for one minute.

Frustrated, Negan pulled away and put Lucille aside on the armchair that Ezekiel had recently vacated. Pulling himself together, Negan scrubbed his hand through his short beard before he turned back to Roxy to explain, “That was her shit way of trying to convince me she deserves a fucking raise. It didn’t fucking work, and yes, I did have Sherry fire her presumptuous ass.”

“Her way of getting a pay raise was to get a literally raise out of you?” Roxy shook her head.

“Roxy, baby girl,” Negan began placatingly.

“No, don’t call me that, I’m angry at you.” She crossed her arms, and Negan could tell that she was fighting the urge to pout.

“Baby girl,” Negan called her anyway, “you know you’re the only woman for me. There is no other woman.”

She held on to her grudge for only a moment longer, and then Roxy came to him with a breathy sigh of relief. “Negan,” she lovingly called and wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace. Tilting her head back, she looked at him with soft eyes. “I forgive you, but if I catch you with another woman, I’ll cut off your dick.”

Despite knowing the severity of the threat, Negan laughed it off. “There’s my girl.” He caught her by her chin and brought their mouths together in a loving kiss. “Speaking of you being my girl,” Negan growled lowly to her, “What was that shit you were pulling back there with Ezekiel.”

Feigning innocence, Roxy batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, it was nothing, Daddy.” At the invocation of his pet name, Negan knew he had the go ahead.

“Uh huh, I don’t fucking think so, baby girl.” His hand slipped down and wrapped around her pretty throat. “You’ve been a bad girl, and I think you need a fucking reminder of just who you belong to.” Negan’s other hand around her waist slipped inside the slit of her dress and confirmed his suspicions: no panties. “Good girls wear panties, baby girl, so where the fuck are yours? I know I bought you a cute little lacey black pair very fucking recently.”

Playing the part, Roxy gasped back to him, “I lost them, Daddy. I’m sorry.” She fanned her eyelashes at him again, coy.

“Oh, no the fuck you’re not. Not fucking yet you aren’t, baby girl.” Releasing her, Negan stepped back and imperiously pointed at the desk. “Fucking strip for me, baby girl, and then lay yourself across the desk and spread your legs. You need some fucking punishment, and I wanna see what’s mine.”

Stifling her excitement, Roxy was torn between wanting to strip her gown off as fast as possible or put on a little show for Negan. She went with the latter option, but as soon as Negan cottoned on, he immediately shut that shit down. He wagged his finger at her. “No, baby girl. No bullshit. I know what the fuck is under there because it belongs me. You’ve worn my patience out.”

Shivering a little, Roxy knew she was in for a rough night, and she was looking forward to it. “Yes, Daddy.” She did as she said, leaving her evening gown pooled on the floor. Stepping up to his desk, she draped herself across it, the contract pressed against her breasts. Roxy made sure to push her rear up and out, spreading her thighs just wide enough to allow a little peep of her already glistening pussy underneath.

Surprisingly, Negan kept her waiting, and Roxy could hear him rummaging around in one of his cabinets. She wondered what he could possibly be looking for since she couldn’t remember if they kept any of their toys stored in his office. But then there was a sharp pain on her ass as Negan brought the flat of his hand crashing down. “Fucking count for me, baby girl.”

“One!” She managed to gasp out, and she lifted her arms so she could grasp the opposite end of his desk.

Again, Negan brought his hand down hard, but on the opposite cheek this time, spreading out the pain so it wouldn’t become too intense.

“T-two!” Roxy stuttered out, louder this time.

His hand came down with a crack, lower on her bottom this time, achingly close to her pussy.

“Three!” Roxy groaned, biting down hard on her bottom lip, eyes rolling back.

He switched to the other cheek again, spanking her harder, not pleased with her volume levels. “Louder,” he ordered her.

“Four!” Roxy made sure to shout, and her pussy pulsed, dribbling out signs of her arousal.

Negan paused to admire his handiwork so far, taking his time on where to land his next strike. The anticipation nearly killed Roxy and she jumped when he finally spanked her.

“Five!” She cried out, and tears began to form in her eyes.

This time Negan smoothed his hand over her stinging ass, his touch gentle. “You’re doing great, baby girl. Already halfway there and you’re taking it like a champ.” Then he cracked down again.

“S-six!” Roxy’s voice was watery and the tears spilled down her cheeks, smudging her makeup, though she hardly noticed that.

He spanked her again, brutally hard, but he knew she could take it.

“Se-seven!” Unintentionally, she flinched away, overly sensitive now.  

“No, baby girl, none of that pussy shit. You can handle this. Don’t you fucking hide from me.” Negan waited for Roxy to move back into her previous position. “Don’t make me start over, baby girl. You’re not gonna fucking like that, and I’m getting a little fucking impatient over here.” Obediently, she spread herself again. Roxy knew that if she wanted to, she could invoke their safe word, but she wanted to push herself. Pleased with her, Negan spanked her three times in quick succession.

“Eight! Nine! Ten!”

“Great job, baby girl. Knew you had it in ya.” Negan gently traced his fingers over her tomato red ass. His fingers dipped lower and traced teasingly around her wet labia. “Seems like this wasn’t in fucking punishment for you. My naughty, dirty, baby girl. You’re kinky as fuck and so damn good getting wet for me like this. Do you think you deserve my fat dick, baby girl? You think you’ve been a good girl for Daddy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Roxy eagerly whined, pushing her rear back into his touch. “Make me yours, claim me.” She dared to look back at him over her shoulder, and gave him her best ‘fuck me’ eyes. Her mouth dropped open and she swept her tongue across her bottom lip, moaning at him. While her back was turned, Negan had untucked himself from his suit and now his dick was hanging out, thick and heavy and needy – just like how she liked it. Immediately her eyes were drawn to it, but then Negan lifted something shiny in his hand. Then Roxy finally saw what Negan had rummaged around for earlier

It was Negan’s knife, serrated edge and obscenely huge. When Negan and Roxy first started working together, she accused him as using that knife and Lucille as compensation for something. She couldn’t have been more wrong about that. Roxy had fond memories of the knife. It saved their lives more than once, and on one very special occasion, Negan used that knife to gut some creep that wouldn’t stop hitting on her. That’s how that knife earned that fond nickname the Pig Sticker. Like Lucille, though, the Pig Sticker was retired once Negan took his place at the top. Roxy couldn’t think of a single time where the Pig Sticker had to be used again. Now, though, she had a faint idea of what kind of special occasion it was going to be used for.

Waving the Pig Sticker in the air, the blade flashed and so did Negan’s smile. “That’s right, baby girl.” Stepping up to her, Negan simultaneously teased Roxy by rubbing his dick between her sopping wet pussy lips and ever so carefully dragging the flat of the blade over the curve of her rear. The cool blade soothed Roxy’s heated cheeks, and she couldn’t help but push herself back into Negan and against the Pig Sticker. “Ah, ah, ah, baby girl. You gotta be extra still for Daddy when I have this.”

Gnawing on her abused bottom lip, Roxy nodded her head. “Yes, Daddy.” Holding still was going to be hard to do when he was rutting up against her like that. Honestly, Roxy wasn’t afraid if the Pig Sticker would accidentally nick her either. Still, she did as Negan said because she knew otherwise he wouldn’t fuck her. She had to be a good girl for him.

Humming gladly at Roxy’s docile nature, Negan dragged the blade up her spine on the serrated edge side. The teeth were just barely pressed against her skin, enough to caress, but not deep enough to cut her. Part of Negan was very tempted to cut a small ‘N’ right on her shapely rear, but now wasn’t the time for that. Maybe later he’d take her out to get his name properly tattooed on her. Tucking that idea away for later, Negan gripped her hip with his free hand hard enough to bruise and teasingly dipped the mushroom tip of his cock in her entrance. “You ready for me, baby girl?”

Throwing her head back, Roxy whimpered, “Yes, Daddy, please fuck me. Please.” Normally it would take a lot more for her to beg, but she had missed Negan as much as he missed her. Besides that, she was too on edge, desperately in need of release that only he could deliver. Touching herself hadn’t been enough these past few days.

Not able to tease himself as well any longer, Negan thrust inside her to the hilt, and groaned at the feel of her hot, velvety walls around his cock. She was so tight and yet, squeezing him just right. And he himself was so thick and long, able to hit that special spot within her right on the head of his cock every time. They were practically made for each other.

As he started to move, he situated himself where he was bent over her partially. He grabbed ahold of her hair and pulled her back until she her back was bowed inward. The Pig Sticker was held up to her throat, just held there, hovering, though Roxy could sense its close proximity. Negan quickened his pace and began muttering to her desperately, forced to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of her guttural moans.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby girl, that you’ll be ruined for any other man. You are fucking mine, you hear me? Fucking mine. You don’t look at anyone else, you don’t need anyone else. I’m the only one who can meet your fucking needs. No one can fuck your pussy this damn fucking good. Shit. Fucking scream for me, baby girl.”

Right on cue, Roxy’s already hoarse voice started screaming at the top of her lungs, “NEGAN! OH, GOD, NEGAN!” Over and over again she chanted, and with Negan’s encouragement she didn’t stop. His name was shaped like a prayer, a desperate plea for that sweet release, a litany of all she knew how to say.

“That’s fucking right, baby girl,” Negan grunted in satisfaction and slammed into her harder. His bony hips smacked against her still sore ass, deliciously mixing her pain with her pleasure. The Pig Sticker never wavered, and Negan pulled harder on her hair until her hair follicles were screaming in agony, too. “Scream louder and let everyone know who the fuck you belong to. Who the fuck do you belong, too?”

“Negan!” Roxy screamed one final time and then her shouts were wordless and mangled in her throat as she came without him even having to touch her on her clit. Her pussy spasmed around him, and it triggered his own orgasm, though he fucked her through both of theirs. She milked him for all he was worth, and Negan didn’t stop until he had completely emptied his balls inside her.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he cursed softly at her. He pulled the knife away, dropped it to the desk with a noisy clatter too loud now in the near silent office, so at odds with how it was just moments ago. When Negan let go of the strong grip he had on her blonde hair, Roxy immediately dropped forward on the desk, breathing heavily, altogether a sweaty mess.

Negan inhaled deeply through his nose, enjoying the stench of sex, and then took a wobbly step backwards to examine what is his. had properly ruined her meticulously styled hair, and there was no saving it. Her ass was still blushing prettily for him, and there would probably be bruises on her hip the size of his fingertips from where he grabbed her earlier. Negan’s come mixed prettily with Roxy’s, now starting to drip out of her fucked cunt since he had slipped his flaccid cock out of her.

He made a noise of contentment, slipping his hand down and pushing his come back inside her. Roxy weakly rocked her hips back into him, making small mewling noises. Negan didn’t stop finger-fucking her until she had another orgasm, albeit smaller, but an orgasm nonetheless that caused her thighs to quiver, and she collapsed fully on the desk now, unable to stand on her own.

Pleased, he removed his hand and walked around the desk to where her head was lazily lolling to the side. “I need you to lick me clean, baby girl.” Expectantly, he held his fingers to her lips, and she sucked them into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and cleaning the fluids off. Then Negan pushed his dick in her face, and Roxy cleaned that with kitten licks until her lipstick was smudged all over her face. Negan made sure to tuck himself away before he could get fully hard again.

“Alright, Roxy, you need to be a big girl for me and put your dress back on. We’ve got a party to go to.”

A little shocked, Roxy looked up at him in disbelief. Negan actually expected her to go downstairs and face all their guests while his come was still in her, drying on her sticky thighs. Her make-up was ruined, her hair unsalvageable. There was no way she’d be able to sit and walking was going to be a problem, too. But he was going to flaunt her and call her beautiful anyway, even if she looked like a disaster. He loved her.

“Okay, Negan,” Roxy said with a smile and pushed herself up off the desk.

“Atta girl, Roxy,” Negan said to her with a smile just as big. He leaned over and kissed her, his whiskers tickling and burning her skin. “I love you, my wife.”

“And I love you, my husband. I’m yours.”

“You’re mine.”

“I belong to you.”

“You belong to me,” Negan agreed, and kissed her again. Then he whispered so low and almost darkly that Roxy felt arousal pool in her stomach again, “Don’t forget, baby girl, I own you.”

Gulping, she nodded in agreement, and then kissed him back. Then she pulled away before it could get too passionate again. They had a party to go to with guests waiting them. Roxy gathered her confidence. She would not be ashamed of anything. They would know that she was Negan’s.

HOT FUCKING DAMN SON, IM DYING, I CANT STOP GRINNING AND FLAILING. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WRITING THIS, ITS AMAZING, I LOVE IT, FUCK THE REST OF MY BIRTHDAY PRESENTS TUESDAY THIS IS THE ONLY THAT MATTERS. YAAAS

[hollywritesinstardust]

Like and Follow

Request: I really liked that Spencer Reid x Famous singer on Youtube OC. Can you write one with Derek Morgan?

A/N: This one was fun and actually easier to write than the last one I made for @dusknightmare. Thank you for requesting!

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters/Pairings: Derek Morgan/Reader, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau

Words: 1,622

Y/N – Your Name

Y/L/N – Your Last Name

            After a long day at work, you were too exhausted to even think about editing your latest video. You’d recorded it almost a week ago, but between several other factors, you just hadn’t been able to bring yourself to recut, edit, and upload it to YouTube. Aside from your boss running you ragged at work, you had recently gotten an… admirer.

            This admirer on your channel was different than others. The comments seemed weird. Since they seemed generally harmless, you hadn’t flagged the user – but that was before they started to get unnerving. Lately, you’d been more and more worried to post a video. For the last three months, unfailingly, they would get responses that seemed creepy. In fact, some of the newest ones seemed borderline serial killer-ish, and it was really starting to bother you, especially since one of them had said you lived in the same city. You had no idea how they would even begin to find out where you lived.

            You opened up your YouTube channel, just to check it out. You had a few more subscribers than you’d had when you checked that morning. It made you smile slightly, despite how stressed you were. Your hope was to one day get enough to sing professionally and be paid by YouTube to keep making videos. Lord knew that your current job wasn’t half as much fun.

            You went to your most recent cover to look at the comments. You’d decided to do a pop-punk version of an older Rat Pack song after being persuaded by a friend who had a love for Sinatra and classical orchestra. Most of your subscribers liked it, even if they didn’t recognize the song, and some of the comments said you should put your own spin on even more.

            And then, there it was. That username. You hesitated to look back to your screen, but your ceiling was only so relaxing, and after a few seconds, you decided to just get it over with.

            I can’t wait to see you perform for me in person.

            Immediately, you exited the window and turned off your computer.

            Two weeks later, you were still having unnerving messages left on your videos, though you hadn’t put up any new ones. It was getting harder to push yourself to check your account, and scarier to read the messages. You only did it out of a morbid curiosity, and a little bit of fear, and a lot of hope that maybe if you just disappeared from the internet for a while, they would go away.

            It was with that mindset that you stopped spending your free time on YouTube. After finishing your last recorded video, it just sat, collecting digital dust in your computer files. You got some more sleep, read a book that had been on your reading list since you got it for your birthday, and even got ahead in some work assignments.

            On a Saturday, you decided you’d done enough work at home to avoid going in person, so instead of getting up at six, you slept in until eight and then chose to go out and spend the day at the mall. You lived about a twenty-minute drive away, and on the way was your favorite coffee stop. You got a parking spot close to the entrance and went inside, wallet in your pocket.

            “What can I get you?” The smiling teenager asked you behind the counter. You related your favorite coffee order and gave her your debit card to swipe. Because you knew the next thing she would do is ask for your name, you went ahead and gave it to her so she could write it on your order. “It’s for Y/N, thanks.”

            Patiently, you went and stood by the counter, looking over the magazines on a rack curiously. A couple of minutes later, someone sidled up to you on your right. You tensed slightly. Usually you were more sociable, but your online stalker put you on edge and made you wary of strangers.

            “Excuse me, madam,” a low and friendly voice called for your attention. You looked up. He was tall, strong, and very handsome. He wore jeans and a plain black short-sleeved shirt and leaned over the counter. “My friends and I overheard your name, and now we’re in an argument over whether or not you’re Y/N Y/L/N. Would you care to settle the argument?”

            At first, you were incredibly nervous. A stranger knew your last name, which you hadn’t told the barista. Then you remembered that you were a YouTube personality. Still, just to be safe, you looked around the few tables in the coffee café. Sure enough, there were two blonde women sitting down and watching you with the man with interest. One was straight-haired and slender. The other had eclectic, bright clothes and coral-colored streaks in her hair.

             “Er, yeah,” you answered, smiling tentatively. You had always liked to meet fans before you’d started to fear that one of them might kidnap you. “Hi.”

            He held out a hand towards you. “Derek Morgan.”

            “I’d introduce myself, but it’s clearly unnecessary,” you replied politely with a small blush.

            Derek chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet the owner of the voice that’s always in our techie’s lair.”

            “Lair?” You questioned wryly.

            He nodded towards the women at the table. “You think Garcia looks normal enough to have an average office?” He inquired humorously. You guessed that Garcia was the one with the dyed hair and pretended to consider it for a moment. In actuality, no, you couldn’t picture her in a boring office cubicle. “Ah, I think this is you.”

            Right then, the barista came up with a drink. She recognized you from the counter, beamed as she gave you a drink, and chipperly wished you an excellent day.

            “Could I invite you to our table?” Derek asked, standing back.

            You only thought about it for a second. “Sure,” you nodded. He was polite and attractive. And you’d have witnesses, your brain quietly reminded you of the other women before you hushed it. You hated that you thought that way now. You never used to.

            They introduced themselves as Penelope and JJ. You sat down and went through most of your drink while they finished theirs, chatter coming easily. Penelope was excited and sweet, while JJ was calmer. JJ also seemed to instantly understand that you were stressed, and she managed to steer the interaction in a way that made you feel like you were with old friends.

            By the time you had finished, you were a little bit reluctant to leave, but JJ reminded her companions that they had to get to work sooner rather than later.

            “Wait,” Garcia called, uncrossing her legs. “Is it okay if I ask why you haven’t put up any new videos? Usually you have a new one each week, but it’s been three weeks and nothing! I thought maybe you were sick, but you seem fine now. Not fine as in fine, but fine as in healthy and awesome, because you are awesome.” She grinned.

            You bit your lip. “It’s just a little unwanted attention,” you answered with a sigh. “I’m laying low for a while. Maybe if I don’t respond, it’ll go away.”

            JJ and Derek both shared a concerned, serious look before they both looked back to you. “What kind of attention?” JJ asked carefully.

            Shrugging, you described the kinds of comments you kept receiving. A shiver went up your spine. “Just things like that. It’s not really threatening, but it’s very distressing to get those kinds of messages from someone you don’t know.”

            “Oh, you poor darling!” Garcia sympathetically agreed, looking pleadingly at Derek. “We’ve got to do something. Can’t we?”

            “Sounds like cyber harassment,” Derek agreed. “Y/N, we’re all FBI agents. I know a guy in cybercrime, and Garcia here is dangerous with a laptop. Is there any chance you’d let us take you to file a report?”

            With their assessment, you felt a weight coming off of your shoulders. You had thought that there was nothing law enforcement could do unless something really happened – your apartment was broken into or something. Hearing that they could pursue it before you were really in danger made you feel like you could cry in relief.

            “Absolutely,” you agreed without a second thought, nodding so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash. The mall could wait for next week.

            Garcia, JJ, and Derek became your best friends. Over the next two weeks, the cyber division of the FBI handled your problem, tracing the IP address and username to a secluded man with several restraining orders against him already, all of them filed on the grounds of harassment and stalking. You added your own restraining order to his file with some help from Garcia and JJ, and the three of them were the first to know when you had the mental fortitude to upload your newest cover. This one was of a love song.

            Some of the first comments made you grin widely. You were back in business, and with no creepy messages in sight.

            HackerWitch: Beautiful! I could cry. Please marry me?!

            JJJareau: I’m seriously going to commission you to make some lullabies for my kids.

            DerekM: A love song? Have you read my mind?

            You spent the next several hours puzzling over what he meant with his comment, until your doorbell rang. When you went to look through the peephole, no one was there. Appropriately cautious, you opened your door just enough to look into the hallway at first. You saw no one, so you opened it the rest of the way.

            There was a bouquet of roses delivered to your door.