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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

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48 from touch prompt list and 75 from prompt list 5 🥺🥺🥺 im so proud of you love such an amazing achievement i love you

-efirstly i love you thank you so much 🥺 secondly the PERFECT two prompts together you have a galaxy brain and i can truly not thank you enough for this!!

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol consumption & brief olden-time being married young talk.

Prompts: #48 - Dancing with each other & #75 Talking in an Elizabethan style to woo somebody

A/N: I listened to the ‘So Close’ song from the Enchanted soundtrack the entire time I was writing this so...put that on if you want!

A reminder I’m taking prompts for my 1k celebration until May 21st! :)

If Penelope Garcia loved two things in this world - Derek and science fiction aside - it was costumes and parties. So it made sense that for her birthday, she’d decreed she’d be throwing an Elizabethan-style ball. And that everybody had to dress up accordingly. Derek, always eager to put a smile on her face, had offered to throw it at one of his houses.

So it was there that you were headed, on this glorious Saturday night. In a not-so-glorious and infact, quite heavy, Elizabethan era gown. It was a good job you’d elected to take an Uber, because quite frankly the dress weighed a ton. It would have been impossible to drive in.

Good job they didn’t have cars back in the Elizabethan era.

Not that women would have been allowed to drive them anyway.

You’re only a little late when you arrive. Fashionably late, you’d go so far as to say.

“____!” Penelope greets with a squeal, rushing out to embrace you into a hug. You don’t even make it all the way through the door before she’s on you with a flurry.

If you thought your dress was a lot, you have to hand it to the birthday girl. She could never be upstaged. How her gown actually fit inside the house was a mystery, it was huge - puffy with a corset that cinched her in tightly at the waist. Her hair was coiffed into perfect curls. She looked stunning; like she’d stepped right out of a painting.

“You look amazing!” You tell her, squeezing her tightly.

“So do you! I’m so glad you took the theme seriously!”

“I take all themes seriously when it’s you threatening me about them.”

She laughs. “Well Derek did too. And Spencer, the others...” She frowns, “Well, I’d like to say they tried, but Rossi definitely didn’t. He did, however, pay for a gazebo and a live band so I’m willing to let it slide.”

You smile, allowing her to take you inside. She babbles some more on her way in about all the decorations, food, and how next time she’s going to make everybody send her pictures of their outfits beforehand.

She’s right about the gazebo though - it’s beautiful. It has elegant fairylights adorning it, illuminating the place in a candescent glow. The live band is an instrumental one - there’s even a fiddle.

Where the hell did Dave find a fiddle?

He’s rich.

That has to be the satisfactory answer for now. There are far more pressing matters at hand: like everybody’s costumes.

Horch is wearing some fancy suit, Emily has one that’s similar, Rossi clearly is just dressed in his normal attire. J.J appears to have picked one up from a fancy dress shop, but if anyone could make that look good, it’s her. Derek looks an absolute dream - clearly dressed by Penelope. It’s Spencer though, unsurprisingly, who has gone all out. He has a miniature version of one of those puffy collars on, his suit a gorgeous maroon colour. He even has white tights on, with the boots that matched. If there were prizes for best costume - which knowing Penelope, there might well be - she’d be up against some fierce competition.

“Spence!” You chime, opening your arms to greet him, “I love your costume!”

“I love yours too!” He beams, hugging you tightly, “The skirt of your dress is very fitting to the period.”

“Thank you!” You say, reluctantly letting go of him to greet everybody else in turn.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off him though, and everybody knows it. You and Spencer had been dancing around each other for months, the epitome of the will-they-won’t-they, and you can’t help but hope that tonight you might finally cross that threshold.

It’s Penelope’s birthday.

Who are you kidding? Penelope would be ecstatic to claim credit.

***

You’re giddy, not just with the glass of wine in your system. With happiness, the exuberant kind that comes from watching all your friends exist among one another. It doesn’t hurt that Spencer barely leaves your side the entire night. He’s a veritable treasure trove of Elizabethan era facts. You’ve learnt more than any history class could possibly teach you.

A slow song comes on, which is when you decide to seize your opportunity.

Now or never.

You bump your shoulder against his. When you have his attention, you nod towards the dance floor, “Come and dance with me.”

He furrows his brows, clearly weighing up his options in his head.

You affect an Elizabethan lilt, “Thou art going to leave me alone at the ball, fair Lord Reid?”

“I could hardly dream of it,” He says, imitating you, “Would thou care to dance with me?”

He offers out his hand. You take it, noting how he gets the barest blush on his cheeks.

“Thou had me practically petrified, I thought you may never ask,” You tease, accepting his hand, squeezing it once for reassurance.

He laughs, nose crinkling. He rests his hand on your hip hesitantly, only solidifying his grip when you rest yours on his bicep. His other comes to rest on the other side, just above where your dress puffs out. The song playing sounds vaguely familiar, although it’s harder to place with it being an instrumental version.

You lean into him, side-stepping in time with him. He’s not a dancer by nature, that much is clear, but he is surprisingly good at leading.

It’s easy to let him guide you around the dance floor. You stutter a bit, almost tripping. His grip on your hip tightens.

“Be careful fair maiden,” He reprimands teasingly, “Thou wouldn’t want to fall.”

“Thou wouldn’t want to be seen with a maiden who has made a royal fool of herself.”

He shakes his head, “I could hardly bare it.”

“I do not know how you can bare to be seen with me regardless. I’m practically a haggard spinster,” You say, with a dramatic sigh.

He twirls you around, voice slipping back into his normal tone, “Actually it was mainly women from wealthy families who would marry young, from age 12. With poorer or middle class families it was most common for women to be in their mid-twenties by the time they got married, the average age was about 24.”

“Still younger than me,” You retort, stepping in time with him. You’re pressed up against his chest now.

His breath fans over your cheek, from the way he’s bent, from the way you’re leaning in to him. His big hand spans over your back, holding you close to him as he steps to the right.

“Well,” He says, affecting the English accent, “Thou art a lady of the highest stature. A commoner could not possibly hope to marry one such as yourself.”

You giggle, “Oh fair Lord Reid. Whenst will I possibly find a husband?”

With surprising ease, he dips you, allowing you to fall gracefully into his arms. He’s study, supportive. Before you know it, you’re back on your feet.

“Thou might be looking in the wrong places.”

“Pray tell, wherest would one suggest a lady like me ought to look?”

“Perhaps closer to ones home,” He says, English accent - if you could call it that - slipping a little, favouring sincerity.

“How much closer?”

His hands return to your waist, and yours to his chest. There’s only an inch between your bodies. He looks down at you with sincerity brimming in his eyes, “Perhaps a little closer.”

Your hand trails up to his chin. It dips at the mere weight of your thumb resting on it, “Gallant Lord Reid, perhaps this close?”

“Perhaps,” He swallows, voice morphing into the accent again, as if he’s afraid to be vulnerable, “Thou art a maiden, thou art to be courted before marriage.”

“And where would one court a fair maiden like me?”

“Where would the fair maiden like to go?”

“Wherever, as long as you’re the one taking her.”

He swallows. His eyes scan your face, watching how you deliberately look to his plump lips. He hesitates for only a moment longer, before leaning in and planting the most delicate kiss upon them.

If it wasn’t for the elated drunken giggles of everyone else around you, you’d have been lost in the bubble of a moment forever. It’s okay though, because at your wedding, Penelope is sure to tell the tale of the Elizabethan ball where you - the fair maiden - finally got together with your perfect Lord. You have to admit, it’s a good one.

Permanent Spencer tagslist: @ssa-m-187 @reidingmelodies @cyanide-mustard @shesalatesh @sapphic-prentiss @geostarr @kathrynisadogperson @rem-ariiana @spoonielivingfree @starsandshit90 @spencerreidat3am @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187 @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @reidsnose @wheelsup @ellesgreenaway @sunlitspence @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reiding-recs @bauemily @cmily @retrxbarnes @jhillio @txmhoelland @spenxerslut @im-autistic-not-stupid @amoeebaa @veridianluv @sad-bitch-h0ur @nighttimerain123 @ytj2304 @reidtome @converse-spence @randomfavtingswall @bethc54 @hubbybowenss @sebstan-is-the-man @justanothercrazyfangirl @eli-side-blog @vntgreid @reidmeastory @reidemandweep @ggublerss @s1lverhand @cigarette-day-dread @newtmyheart @i-understood-that-reference @willowrose99 @v-is-obsessive

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic

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olivinesea · 3 years

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Space Is Only Noise If You Can See

a/n: I don’t know why I’m doing this. Maybe it’s because I handle change & uncertainty extremely poorly and that is all my life is rn. Maybe I just need to find out the extent of my evil powers. Regardless, you’re about to experience something unpleasant. TW major character death, suicide mentions, guns, violence, you name it, it’s happening. Only positive is I actually outlined the whole thing first this time so I know where we’re going (it’s not good). ~2.8k

Mr. Scratch surrendered. Or did he? Discuss.

It was always the smell that got to him. The sickly sweet scent of decaying flowers. He wondered who had made the decision to flood all funerals with the same noxious lilies. Didn’t that smell make anyone else feel ill? It lingered in the back of his throat, fogging his vision. He scowled at the offending arrangements—ostentatious wreathes shaped like hearts with hollow messages in a stock cursive font. He had been to so many funerals at this point he was reluctant to admit he sometimes got confused about where he was, who he was mourning. He tried to focus on the portrait of the deceased, but the outline kept shifting.

He blinked hard to settle his contacts, tears always had a detrimental effect on their usefulness. He needed to remember to wear his glasses to the next funeral. A twisted laugh threatened to slip, gallows humor at its finest. No matter how hard he tried, there would always be a next funeral. He wondered how many more before it was his turn, before he no longer had to be the one staying strong for everyone else, pretending the smell didn’t make him choke. He looked again, determined to figure out when he was before he was required to do anything, before he let on that he wasn’t fully present.

The coffin, shiny and black, occupied center stage. Where he thought he’d seen people solemnly walking up the aisle to say goodbye, there was only empty space. He realized he was unnervingly alone. Yet the coffin was not, it was flanked on either side by identical shapes, the light reflecting from their polished surfaces dazzling his vision. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tightly to the smooth wood of the pew in front of him. He rubbed his fingers against it, distracted by the grain, worn down by decades of touch. He looked again and there were six coffins, the once open space crowded and bent to accommodate so much loss.

He swayed, confused, it must be the damn flowers. The whole room seemed to tilt and he fell into the aisle, landing hard on his knees. He looked up just in time to see the coffins, doubled, tripled in size, rolling toward him, shuddering as they picked up speed.

Hotch gasped as he woke up on the jet, gripping the armrest tightly as he scanned the area around him. No one noticed the slight disruption, he knew well how to stay still, how to disappear in response to distress. Everyone was dozing or lost in their thoughts, drained from long days on the road. He counted their heads to check that everyone was accounted for. They were coming back from another case, he wasn’t quite sure from where. His hands shook from holding the seat too tightly so he put them in his lap, absently running his thumb across his other fingers.

He pulled out his phone to check the time and, more importantly, to check the date. He’d been struggling ever since the Scratch case to keep the details of time in order. It was embarrassing and he did his best to hide these lapses in awareness. The disorientation was always worse after one of these dreams. Though he was too practiced to show he was having nightmares, this one was starting to get to him. It had been coming back again and again since that night when he watched his team die. One right after the other, unable to stop it, unable to even be sure it wasn’t himself pulling the trigger. Though they were safe, were still alive at least, he couldn’t shake the fear. It had been so real. And it had been his fault.

He tried to tell himself to let it go, that it was only a hallucination brought on by a chemical attack from a psychopath. A man who was now in prison, successfully captured by his very alive teammates while he sat uselessly on the floor, afraid to trust his senses. However, he couldn’t quite escape the nagging fear that Scratch didn’t surrender, that in the mess of it all he had gotten away. When he let himself think about it, it never made sense that a man so calculated, so many moves ahead of them, would simply give in. He couldn’t be sure that the surrender wasn’t one of the false memories.

There was no way to distinguish between them, the real and the nightmare. He could only convince himself that his team was alive by watching carefully as they breathed whenever they weren’t looking. By their heated bickering over who would ride where. Lately he had even relinquished the driver’s seat, worried that his loosely tethered mind might sweep them all off the road. He fixated on their little habits, certain that these were things his mind couldn’t make up, proof that his family was really there in front of him. The orange fingerprints on case files and every single coffee mug disappeared from the kitchenette, lost wherever Reid set them down before forgetting, caught up in some exciting train of thought. Things that might have frustrated him before became lifelines to reality, the reality he hoped with all his heart was true.

In the immediate days after the attack, he would ask Dave, quietly, for assurance that Peter Lewis was locked up, unable to harm his team. Dave was understanding, remembering how he had been that night, eyes full of loss. But the looks he gave Hotch grew longer and more worried with each repetition of the question. Now, again unsure, he was too ashamed to ask.

It had been so hard to keep things straight in his mind. For awhile he had been writing himself notes: “Peter Lewis is in prison.” Except he would find them again later, letters added, message changed, unable to tell if it was still his handwriting. It didn’t make sense for it to be someone else, fuck he kept these notes in his pockets, in his desk drawer, in his medicine cabinet. He couldn’t remember changing them though. Maybe that was what he had written in the first place. The confusion of the notes started making him feel worse so he stopped writing them. Every time he found another one, he tore it into tiny pieces, all the while trying to convince himself nothing was wrong with his behavior, nothing was wrong with his mind.

On Saturday, rare in its lack of crisis, Hotch was sitting on the couch, finally free to read a book while waiting for Jack to get home. He had been invited to a movie with some school friends. He started thinking about how relieved he was that Jack had friends to do normal things with and lost track of the story. As he scanned back, a little surprised how far he’d read without absorbing any information, his phone rang. His lungs constricted. Fear was always the first reaction to the phone ringing. He leaned forward to pick it up from the coffee table, brushing away his irrational feelings. It was Spencer. That was a little odd but not unheard of. Sometimes Spencer learned a new fact that only Hotch would appreciate and couldn’t wait until they got back to the office to share it. He smiled as he answered, anticipating an excited rush of speech. Instead there was silence.

“Hello?”

Nothing. He listened hard, not sure if he could hear breathing. There was some rustling, muffled and indistinct. Maybe Spencer dialed him by accident. He hung up and tried calling back. It rang without answer. He tried one more time but got the same result, the voicemail picking up quicker the second time. He told himself there was a mundane explanation but anxiety crawled like a spider up his neck. He was about to make another call, was trying to decide who was most likely to be helpful. Penelope? Derek? But then Jack walked in the door, hyped on candy and popcorn and wanting to repeat every joke from the movie. He let it go, if it was important Spencer would call back.

Monday morning and Spencer wasn’t in the office. Hotch had been there since 6 am, buried in paperwork, perpetually stuck in a state of catching up. He didn’t notice the absence until JJ came to ask him if he had any update from Spencer.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t heard from him. Update on what exactly?”

“Oh well he was supposed to come over for game night on Saturday but he said he wasn’t feeling well.” She assumed he was still sick, that he had called out. It was very unlike him to skip out on work, though perhaps he was just very unwell. Images of Spencer, pale and shaky, in the depths of his addiction, flashed through both of their memories and they exchanged looks. It had been so many years, and he did such a good job of pretending it never even happened, but they still remembered. It always came back whenever some uncertainty with Reid popped up.

“Have you tried calling him?” He tried to be logical, not everything needed to be the end of the world.

“Just goes to voicemail.” She raised her eyebrows at him, the silent question—what do we do boss?

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the files covering his desk, he’d already put in several hours today, he could use a break.

“I’ll go check on him.”

She started to offer to go with him but he waved her off. If Reid was sick there was no reason for both of them to be exposed. If it was something else, well, it was probably better if Hotch was alone for that too. Just as he got to the elevator, Derek caught up with him.

“I hear you’re going to check on pretty boy,” he was trying to sound light-hearted.

Hotch made a noise in response.

“I’m coming with you.”

Hotch looked over at him and saw the steel behind the statement. He wasn’t asking. Neither one needed to say aloud the worry laying just beneath the surface. That dreaded what if that swam around in the back of all their minds. He gestured for Morgan to get in the elevator ahead of him.

They got to Spencer’s apartment with still no word from him. He didn’t answer when they knocked on the door and though neither wanted to admit it, they were starting to panic.

“He better be passed out on cough syrup,” Morgan muttered as he flipped through his keys to find Reid’s spare, still trying to mask his fear. When they got the door open the apartment was cold and empty. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. Once they flipped the lights on everything seemed normal though unoccupied. The apartment was relatively neat, stacks of books and papers operating as some kind of decor.

“Reid?” they called even though they could tell he wasn’t there. They wandered through the small apartment, checking for signs of their friend.

“Hotch!”

Hotch caught the edge of the door with his shoulder and swore as he hurried out of the bedroom to respond to Morgan’s distressed call. He was standing in the small kitchen, looking at the counter. On it were Reid’s keys, phone and wallet. They could have been tossed there upon his arrival. But wouldn’t he have taken them if he had gone somewhere?

“Where is he?” Morgan’s voice was tight.

Hotch shook his head, this didn’t make sense. He picked up the phone and saw the list of missed calls from the office, from JJ, from him. He unlocked it and checked, heart sinking as his fear was confirmed. The last call was to his own phone on Saturday evening.

“Call Garcia,” he said, checking Reid’s messages.

“What’s going on Hotch?” Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off Reid’s phone, the frantic way Hotch was scrolling through it.

He stopped and looked up. “I…I don’t know.” The images from his dream, his nightmare were threatening to envelop him. Reid crumpled on the ground, a gunshot still ringing, dark wood with rounded edges cradling his lifeless body. The phone screen blurred when he looked at it again and he dropped it on the counter, using his hands to hold himself up.

“Hey man, are you ok?” Derek started to move closer but Hotch turned away, effectively closing himself off.

“Call Garcia, we need to start a search.” And I need to get a grip, he thought as the world around him shifted disturbingly. If something was as wrong as it seemed, they would all be looking to him to solve it. He certainly couldn’t do that if he wasn’t even sure if he was clinging to the counter or the floor.

It was hours later when they finally got a lead. It was not the lead that they wanted. There was a report of a body matching his description at a morgue one town over. It had been pulled out of the river in the early hours on Sunday, spotted by a couple of unhappy fishermen. There had been no wallet, no ID, no way to figure out who he belonged to. They had put him down as a John Doe, a presumed suicide and he was being held until they could get around to trying to match dental records. Garcia teared up as she relayed the information to the rest of the team.

“That can’t be him! Are you sure?” Morgan spoke more harshly than he meant to, nerves frayed by hours of fending off worst case scenarios.

Garcia hesitated, holding a folder. “They sent pictures but…I can’t look. I’m sorry.” She started crying in earnest now.

“Oh baby girl,” Morgan put a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled the file away. He was reluctant to open it as well. Hotch saw this and quickly took the folder and walked to the other side of the table where he flipped it open. His mouth formed a grim line and he didn’t have to say anything for them to know. He was glad he took it, happy to spare them the sight of waxy pale skin, the only color a deep purple beneath his closed eyes and his startlingly blue lips. It looked like he was wearing make up, like this was just another Halloween look Spencer was testing out. Hotch stared at the picture a moment too long. This is real, he told himself.

“Aaron?” Dave tried to pull his attention back to the room of anxious agents. Even though they knew, there was still the tortured hope that if he didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t true.

He sighed, “It’s Spencer.”

Garcia let out a sob and turned into the hug that Morgan wrapped around her. JJ, sitting at the table stared into the distance.

He tried to organize the facts, solidify them in his mind by repeating them silently to himself. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he normally suppressed to avoid having it sticking out wildly.

“I’ll go formally identify the…” He couldn’t call Spencer a body. “I’ll go see when we can get him transferred to us.”

“I can come with you,” Dave offered but Hotch declined. Looking at the others he felt like they needed someone to stay with them that would ward off anything too impulsive. They were all stunned at the moment but the feeling in the room was unsettled.

“You’re wrong.” JJ spoke without looking at him, her gaze still fixed at a spot on the far end of the table. “Spence wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He realized she was crying and felt a weight start to crush his chest. With effort he moved to where she sat, unable to find anything to say. He touched her hand but she jerked away, suddenly standing and glaring at him.

“You’re wrong,” she repeated before leaving quickly.

There was a hand at his elbow, squeezing gently. “I’ll go talk to her in a little bit. You should get going, it’s already late.”

He tried not to pull away too quickly as he nodded his thanks at Dave, who looked at him curiously.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to come with you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I can do it.” He hoped Dave would ignore the shake in his voice. He was fine, he could do this, he didn’t have a choice. He walked to his office to get his things, stopping for a moment to pull out Reid’s phone again. He needed to check the calls one more time, to confirm what he thought he remembered. Sure enough, his number remained the last outgoing call. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that it was real.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #tw major character death #tw suicide mention #tw guns #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jj jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #dont hate me

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

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not an ultimatum : d.d

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED UNTIL SEPTEMBER. Please do not send one in right now, as I can’t get to it sorry guys. (also double sorry for extending the delay in requests - i’ve been away and had an accident and had to get some things checked out)

brief summary: everyone knows you as an actress alongside david’s girlfriend. but what they don’t know is that you’re pregnant, and neither does david ..

word count: 1.5k requested: yess by the SWEETEST anon ily angel! warnings: mentions of abortions, angst (but fluffy ending!)

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

“Fuck.” You can’t help but stare down at the stick in your fingertips as your phone begins to ring, yet you let it ring out.

Dropping the stick, you bury your head in your hands as you stifle a cry. This can’t be happening, you were more careful than this, right?

Obviously, you weren’t. One drunken evening after dinner on your anniversary, things got sloppy. A small groan escapes your lips as you begin to recall the events that took place, along with the words you muttered to David. ‘we don’t need it tonight, baby.’

Well, clearly you did. Congrats.

Looking over to your phone, you watch as it lights up once more, another missed call from David and a text from your assistant.

‘when are you coming out? they’re filming in twenty.’

A long sigh leaves your lips as you force yourself to your feet, throwing the stick into the trash as you exit the toilet in your trailer. As you walk over to grab your things, your hand instinctively rests on your stomach, on the non-existent baby bump.

“There you are!” A small scoff sounds from Katy, your assistant as she leans against the door to your trailer. “Y/n, are you okay?” Her voice softens as you turn around to face her, paler than usual as you blink slowly.

“I’m, I’ll be fine.” You stumble over your words as you try to walk past her, but Katy holds your upper arm lightly. “I’ll be fine, Kitty Kat.” You tease with a forced smile, one Katy doesn’t buy but allows it to slide.

“Break a leg!” She calls out, something she’s done since she first began to assist you.

Throwing her a thumbs up, you carry on towards the set for this afternoon.

Today was the scene you were dreading; it was your fight scene. You insisted on doing your own stunts as a challenge to yourself. There was always your stunt double on stand by, but ninety percent of the time, it was you.

“Okay, Y/n!” Mark, the director calls as you wave to him, taking your position on set as your hair and makeup is touched up. “So, scene twenty-seven, take five. And, action!” He yells, and suddenly you’re back into the world of the movie.

“Listen, we can take this the easy way, or the bitch ass way.” You smirk to your costar, Jacob, who scoffs playfully.

Besides you, the camera pans in on the sudden drop in your expression as you lunge yourself forward, tacking your costar to the ground as the coordinated fight between you fully commences.

After the first few fake punches, things are going smoothly. “Okay, and cut there!” Mark calls out and you straighten up as your costar pats you on the shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n, you feeling alright?” Jacob asks, his face beginning to blur into three as you fall backwards. “Can we get a medic on set?” You faintly hear as you lie on the ground, seeing faces surrounding you before you fully black out.

Groaning lightly, you slowly open your eyes.

“There she is,” Katy smiles brightly as you try to sit upright, only to have her hand lightly rest on your shoulder, guiding you back down on your couch. “I’d take it steady, medic instructed me to ensure you drink this and stay seated.”

Accepting the bottle of water, you take a long sip whilst Katy keeps her eyes focused on you. “What is it, Kitty Kat?” You raise an eyebrow to your assistant.

“I don’t wanna pry, Y/n,” She starts, quickly trailing off. “but, the medic asked me if anything was different about you, and I know you’ve been sick a lot lately, and, and you’ve been having these mood swings.” She explains, focusing on the floor instead of looking you in the eye.

“Katy, it’s okay.” You force a small smile as you reach your hand out, snapping her from her own thoughts. “Does anyone else know this or just the medic?” You ask her quietly, glancing over to check the door to your trailer is closed.

“Just the medic.” She ensures as you sigh in relief, taking another sip from the bottle that’s close to empty now. “Have you told David?” Katy questions hesitantly and watches as you shake your head.

Tears build up in your eyes within seconds, and a small sob escapes your lips. “I don’t know what to do,” You blubber, wiping your eyes as Katy passes you some tissues. “I, I’m in the middle of shooting a movie! David’s career is skyrocketing, I,” You sigh in exhaustion as you collapse back down into your sofa whilst Katy daps your eyes lightly with more tissues.

“I guess you won’t know until you talk to him, Y/n/n.” Katy forces a smile as your trailer door opens, and your co-star appears.

“Oh, sorry,” Jacob nervously laughs. “I just came to check you’re alright as Mark wants to carry on shooting the stunt, but we can use your double?”

Sniffing, you sit upright as Katy holds her arms out cautiously. “Tell Mark to carry on with the double, sorry ‘bout this Jacob.” You apologise to your co-star who shrugs it off and exits the trailer, leaving you alone with your assistant once more. “I’m going to have to tell David,” You bury your head in your hands as Katy rubs your back supportively.

“It’ll be okay, Y/n.” Katy tells you, wondering deep down whether this is going to be a good thing or not.

“Y/n?!” David yells as the front door closes, and he rushes from editing to the hallway, seeing you stood there with a tired smile on your face. “Katy texted me, you feeling any better?”

Immediately you’re enveloped into a tight hug, one filled with so much love and concern, and you just break down.

“I’m sorry,” You cry, pulling away from your boyfriend who furrows his eyebrows as you wipe your eyes forcefully.

“Hey, it’s okay,” David hushes as he helps you toward the couch and sits beside you, lifting his hand up to wipe your tears away. “are you feeling any better? How was filming?”

You simply shake your head as you fixate on the awards displayed from both your careers. So many achievements in a few years, how could you take potential opportunities away from him now?

“I, it wasn’t so bad.” You shrug your shoulder. “But, there’s something I need to tell you,” Shifting on the couch, you face David and take his hands in yours.

“Okay, what’s so serious?” He chortles but quickly cuts himself off as your lips turn down into a frown, and sadness coats your gaze.

“You know I’ve been feeling kinda sick lately?” You slowly start, and David nods along. “Well, today I felt even worse, and I thought it might be my period, but it’s late.” You explain, looking up as David tenses up.

“How late is late?” David questions quickly, holding your hands tightly as you hold back another cry.

“Late enough to know it’s not coming, because I’m pregnant.” You quietly state, hearing it aloud for the first time as silence looms over both of you. “And I know, the timing couldn’t be any worse, but I did some research on my way home and there’s a clinic like a half-hour away, and-”

“Wait,” David cuts you off abruptly. “you, you don’t want it?” His voice softens to a whisper.

“I, I don’t know.” You mutter, feeling David’s hands slip out of yours. “Are we even ready for a child, Dave?” You ask as he stands up and begins to pace around the living room.

“We could be, but from the sounds of it you’ve made up your mind.” He scoffs, rubbing his eyes as you lean back, taking a cushion and covering your stomach.

“I’ve not made my mind up, David.” You shoot back. “I’m just thinking of both of us here, what it’ll mean for our careers.”

David pauses and sighs. “But we could make it work, others have!” He exclaims, but you shake your head. “Are you not ready for this? For a family?” David kneels down in front of you with those big doe eyes.

“I’m scared, Dave.” You whimper, clutching the cushion closer to you. “You really think we could raise a kid in all of this,” You motion to the world around you, your world that you’re both consumed in.

A small smile tugs at David’s lips as he pulls the cushion away from you, focusing on your stomach. “I think we can do this, but only if you’re ready to, Y/n.” David comforts you before sitting down beside you as you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever I decide, you’ll be there for me?” You quietly ask, biting your lip as you glance up at David.

“I’ll always be there for you, Y/n.” David kisses the top of your head as you snuggle closer into him. “Whatever you decide, I’m not going anywhere.”

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most-wanted-fanfic-and-love · 3 years

Text

Most Wanted 2 fanfic

☆ Masterlist

Chapter one - Old friendship

Words: 2203

Warning: anxiety/panic attack

A/N: This is a remake of the chapter I published months ago (link). Not only the grammar mistakes were corrected, but I added more scenes. I hope you enjoy it, wether you are a fan of MW or not, and remember - creative criticism is always welcome! ❤

By the way, the second chapter is going to be released next week 😄 and takes place in the present. Stay tuned!

//////

“...Each one of you is going to write a memory from your childhood. The minimum of words is a hundred.”

After giving the assignment, the teacher sat down on the desk. Everyone started to rip a page from their notebooks, some focused, others whispering to their colleagues. In one of the desks from the middle of the room, a boy with brown dark hair was lost in thoughts… when someone touches his arm. He looks startled to the right, sighing afterward.

“You scared me…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” - giggled a girl with black hair - “Davey, as your seatmate, I couldn’t help but notice you were traveling in your own world.” - she whispers so the teacher wouldn’t catch them speaking - “You don’t know what to write for your assignment?”

He shrugs, whispering too - “Hmm, actually, I might have an idea…” - Dave pauses for a moment, not wanting to talk about it - “What about you, Cass?”

“I have a few ideas in my mind, but I don’t know which one to choose.” - Cassandra twirls her hair, thoughtful, while glancing at her notebook.”

Dave slightly smiles - “Hey, I can help.” - he says, while grabbing a yellow pencil and pulling the empty paper - “Can I scribble here?” - Cass nods, and he proceeds - “Tell me your ideas, but we need to be quick…”

After a while, everyone was writing their assignment, including Cassandra, thanks to Dave’s help. But he wasn’t having any luck in progressing with the text. Dave took a deep breath after crossing a phrase.

I'm not having any luck with this.

He decides to look around the busy classroom. A sense of dread was suddenly taking over Dave, as if he was going to be the first person to talk about what he wrote. But that wasn’t the issue.

There was only one thing he could do at the moment to relieve the uncomfortable feeling. After some seconds which seemed like an eternity, Dave raised his arm. When the teacher stared at him, he tried to speak with a normal tone - “May I go to the washroom?”

...But his anxiety didn't help with it. Dave prayed internally that no one had noticed the trembling voice. After the teacher nodded, Dave, hesitantly, left his seat and headed to the door. Behind him, Cassandra Leigh was observing discreetly whilst frowning her eyebrows.

Through the big windows from the long corridor, Dave could feel the scorching that was the Californian weather. His heart was racing, so he started to walk fast, making his best effort to not start sobbing. Fortunately, there was no one else in the corridor at the moment besides him and the noises from the classrooms with the doors open. Dave turned left, to the quiet courtyard of the school. That's when he allowed himself to blink his eyes and let the tears fall.

Meanwhile, Cassandra was almost finishing her assignment. Glancing at her seatmate’s paper and noticing that he didn't write anything besides the scribbles, she put down the pencil.

Dave, sitting his back against the big tree, touched his face, angry - “I shouldn’t be here. I’m not the kind of student who skips classes…” - he reluctantly wipes a tear - “I don’t want my classmates to find out that I was adopted. It would be extremely awkward.” - a pigeon lands on the grass, looking for something to eat. Dave observes the bird - “But I could write a memory without mentioning it. God, I’m making a scene...”

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try to feel calm and ease the chest tightness. He has been feeling like this these days, but today is the worst. To the point of needing to skip the class...

Suddenly, Dave heard the door of the courtyard opening, and he immediately opened his eyes.

“...Cass? What are you doing here?”

“I ask the same question.” - said the young woman, slowly approaching Dave - “The teacher did let me check you. I knew something was going on.” - Cass kneels at his side, looking concerned - “What is worrying you?”

Four words were enough to make him weep louder. She gently touches his arm - “Look, you don’t have to tell me everything in detail.” - after biting the lower lip, cautious, she says - “But I take it you need to vent to someone right now.”

Dave didn’t answer right away. Then, he laughs nervously, using his arm to clean off the tears - “I should have known you would notice my trembling voice when I asked the teacher if I could go to the washroom. You know me too well, after all.” - he couldn’t resist but smile for a moment - “I’m... glad we’re classmates… hey, you can sit here” - Dave touches the grass - “It’ll hurt if you stay on your knees for too long”.

As Cassandra accomoded herself, he began to explain what was troubling him - “I barely slept last night, so… you can see that it hasn’t been a good day for me.”

“Nightmares?” - Cass whispers.

“Yes...”

When Reyes was seven years old, he witnessed his own mother being murdered in front of him. It was a heavy situation to endure as a child, losing his only progenitor in cold blood. Dave barely had memories of his father, who died in a civil construction accident when he was just a baby. But the mother… was the only family he knew. Because of it, Dave was inevitably taken to the orphanage. Years later, he ended up being adopted, together with other kids he grew up with, by a good family. Since then, Dave has been living in the Vermont Square neighborhood, in the southern part of Los Angeles.

“So that’s why you were drinking coffee when I arrived at school.”

He nods, taking a deep breath - “Exactly.”

They stay in silence for a moment, watching together the blue sky with the white clouds in the distance. Cassandra breaks the silence - “Now it makes sense why you are feeling like that. The nightmares last night, and now an assignment about childhood memories... it isn’t pleasant.”

“But it shouldn’t be an excuse to skip the class-”

“Dave, listen...” - they look into each other's eyes, and Cass continues - “...don’t blame yourself. I’m sure the teacher is going to be understanding about your situation.”

He got up, apprehensive - “The teacher... she is going to speak to me when the class ends, isn’t she?”

“We both know the answer.”

Reyes runs his hand through the brown hair - “Oh, of course. And then she will give me advice to speak with the school counselor. I... I understand they care for my well-being, but I just don't want to bother anyone with my problems. Last week, I spoke twice to the counselor. Twice!"

“You are going through a bad phase, but it’ll get better. There are ups and downs...” - Cass got up, walking towards Dave - “And if you need to vent, you can always count on me.” - she puts her arms around him, hugging tightly. He does the same.

“Only you to make me feel better.”

As they return to the building, Dave stops at the entrance - “Uhh.. it’s going to be awkward, entering in the middle of the classroom. What if the class is already presenting the assignments?” - Cassandra turns around, looking at him - “I know it would also be awkward if I only appeared when the bell rings, but you know… unfortunately it is inevitable.”

“You’re right, it’s awkward either way. But, I have an idea to make you feel better and look forward to the end of the classes…” - she winks - “Do you want to attend the theater group?”

Dave was now feeling a mix of anxiety and enthusiasm.

“The one you spoke about a lot of times?! And you are inviting me to see you all participate?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I appreciate the invite. For real. But I need to talk to my… parents to see if they allow me to come to school after dinner. Although I'm certain they will.” - he now takes a step forward, taking a deep breath - “Let’s get going. I don’t want you to miss your assignment because of me. Oh, and… one more thing: when you become a famous actress, don’t forget about our friendship.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks flushing - “What-what makes you think that I’ll become famous?”

“You are talented. Who knows, maybe in the future you are going to act in a blockbuster movie!”

“Davey, me and other thousand girls in L.A have the same dream. Ok, I’m exaggerating in the numbers…” - she couldn’t stop blushing. One thing was her parents saying this, another was her best friend - “Ahem. It’s true that I’m one of the best students from the theater group, but let’s not have high expectations... but answering your question, of course I won’t forget you if that ever happens.”

-----

The pink sunset sky announced that summer was coming. Dave Reyes wished the doorman good night as he entered the school precinct. There were no students in the courtyard - it had been two hours since the last class of the day was over. Dave, serene, took one last look at the sky before opening the main door. Her best friend's dinner and invitation made her feel better, even if not a hundred percent, but it was a good feeling.

Inside, on the second floor, Dave could hear a noise coming from the auditorium. As he approached, he put his hand on the doorknob …

… and saw a group of 5 young people on the stage, rehearsing their lines and laughing. Four were girls, in long dresses. The boy, who appeared to be a senior in high school, was coordinating the scenes.

“Rita, you have to speak in a more authoritative tone. That means no giggles- ”

"How do you want me not to laugh around them?" - the girl with curly hair and black eyes pointed at her colleagues - "They are my besties!"

Dave focused his attention on Cassandra, who was behind the group watching the explanations closely. "Psss, hey, Cass." - he spoke softly, so as not to interrupt the conversation. Luckily she heard him, because then she walked gracefully towards her and jumped off the stage - "Dave! There you are.” - she approaches him, touching his shoulder caringly as he smiles - “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better thanks to your invite. I’m not overthinking at home.” - Dave looks around the auditorium, interested in knowing more about the play - “How's the rehearsing going?"

“Very well, actually! We are all feeling ambitious in doing our best. Of course, there is fun stuff happening in the middle, but we also need it from time to time to relax-”

“Leigh! Who is that guy?” - spoke the coordinator, staring at them -”Did your boyfriend come to watch?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Sammuel.” - Cassandra crosses her arms, feeling a bit annoyed - “Platonic friendship with boys exists, in case you didn’t know. And you are older than me, so you should know how to tell better jokes...”

“Calm down, I was only teasing you.” - he smiles - Your friend is more than welcome to watch the acting, as long as he does not reveal the dialogues and story to his classmates.”

“I won’t.” - says Dave, shyly.

“Good. Leigh, you can come back now to the stage as your friend sits in one of those chairs” - Sammuel points to the brown seats in front of him.

It's interesting watching the behind the scenes. Dave opened the schoolbag on his lap and took out the water bottle. Rita, the girl who Dave heard laughing earlier, was arguing with Cassandra. Or well, the characters.

“...I’m going to win the contest, Julia.” - she looked down to Cassandra, snobby - “If you were truly smart, you wouldn’t waste your time with this. You are going to fail miserably and be humiliated in front of everyone.”

“I refuse to accept your wish.” - she looks determined to the enemy. There is a long pause between them. Dave waits, anxiously to know what will happen next.

The snobby girl pulls out Julia’s necklace, in rage. The pearls fall down, breaking the silence of the tension. Cassandra looks around the auditorium, speechless, to make the scene more dramatic. Then, she fell on her knees, crying - “You are so evil! If you think this is going to stop me, you are… wrong.” - Cass pronounces the last word with poison.

“It’s perfect!” - shouts Sammuel, doing a sign to stop the acting - “The two of you improved this scene splendidly! The viewers are going to love this, oh that’s for sure.” - he whispers to himself - “And I’ll get a good grade for coordinating this teather play.”

Dave was preparing to get up when the older guy looked at him -”Hey you, what is your opinion?”

“I loved everything. I’m sure the theater play is going to be a success.” - he smiles as everyone is watching him mindfully - “I don’t know much about acting, but it seemed great from my point of view.”

“Hmm, good, good…” - Sammuel scratches his beard - “What is your name?”

“Dave Reyes.”

“Reyes, do you want to take part of our team? We are in need of a boy for our next theater play, and I think you are a nice option.”

#choices stories you play #choices pixelberry #choices fanfiction #choices most wanted #most wanted #most wanted 2 #dave reyes #cassandra leigh #most wanted dave #most wanted cassandra #choices most wanted fanfic #fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

12 | gangsta; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

T W E L V E.

[773 - 589 - 7956] attachment

[773 - 589 - 7956] I think I decided how you can repay me, scarlet…

[773 - 589 - 7956] Better enjoy your quiet and happy little life while you still have it, scarlet. Because soon it’s all going to be ripped right out of your pretty little hands.

[773 - 589 - 7956] That boyfriend of yours isn’t even gonna be able to save you this time, scarlet. You’re mine.

[773 - 589 - 7956] See you soon, scarlet.

Each new text that came in had me tensing up. Careful to keep my phone out of sight of anyone who was nearby. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest and my stomach felt like it sank to the floor. I was barely listening to anything being said around me and I guess it was more obvious than I thought because Toni cleared her throat, nodding to the phone in my hand.

Gazing at me in concern.

“Everything okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Yeah,yeah. Everything is fine.” I lied. I think at that particular point in time, I was just trying to convince myself that this was all some kind of bad dream. Or worst case scenario, Dave was making empty threats.

Toni eyed me suspiciously. I tried to give her a convincing smile, but I’d have had to be an idiot to even think for a second that she believed me. She eyed my phone and reached for it. I managed to shove it in my pocket.

“Trust me.” I pleaded. She gave me a wary look and sighed, grumbling “Fine, okay. Alright.” under her breath.

And I did my best to push the texts out of my head. Jumping in the conversation she had going on with Cheryl and Veronica. Laughing and talking as if nothing were wrong.

Lying through the skin of my teeth.

XXX

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

The question caught me off guard. I wanted to tell someone what was going on, I really did, but… I didn’t want to worry anyone, either. I was at least 99.9 percent sure that there was absolutely no way that Dave would show up in Riverdale, at least that’s what I was hoping.

I did my best to play it off. Shoveling french fries into my mouth just so I didn’t have to answer right away. My cell phone lit up and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Toni reached for it and I quickly grabbed it and shoved it in my pocket. She gave me a concerned look and I muttered quietly, “Probably just Reggie...again.”

“Reggie’s with that new girl though?” Cheryl spoke up. Gazing at me thoughtfully. My breath caught in my throat because if anyone would catch on to there being something truly wrong with me or something off in the way I was acting, it’d be her or Polly.

So far, I’d managed to fool everyone else into thinking I was alright, even my dad and my brother.

,, Dave won’t come here, it’s not worth the hassle. He’s just playing mind games. That’s all this is. Pull yourself together.” the thought came and I managed a smile, shrugging.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, now that I’m thinking about it.” Cheryl was the one who said it and she gave me an expectant look. Waiting.

“I have not.”

,, I do have one secret I can spill. Maybe if I tell them about my crush on Sweetpea…” and so that’s what I did. Sighing as I reached for the shared plate of fries between the three of us. Raking my fries through my vanilla milkshake and taking a few deep breaths to kind of collect myself, both from Dave’s harassing texts and what I was finally about to get off my chest about having feelings for Sweetpea.

“You have. Start talking.” Toni spoke up, watching me. Sizing me up. If I had to guess, I’d pin money on her sitting across the booth, trying to figure out what was up with my jumpy attitude all week.

“Okay, alright. Fine. But what I’m about to tell you two does not leave this table, okay? It.. It can’t. If Sweetpea ever found out, pretty sure he’d start avoiding me and things would get weird.”

Toni and Cheryl exchanged a look and then Toni nodded. Chewing a mouthful of fries as she muttered calmly, “Go on.”

“ I may or may not have a crush on Sweetpea.”

“Oh, you definitely have a crush on him. It’s kind of obvious.” Cheryl gave a soft teasing grin and I sighed. Dragging my hand through my hair and taking a few seconds to let her words sink in. I almost dreaded asking, but I felt like I had to given that she said it was obvious. “Oh god.. He doesn’t suspect anything.. Right?”

“Oh, he’s the only one whose oblivious. But the rest of us, we’ve known a while.” Toni teased me. Then asked calmly, “Is that all? Why’s that have you so jumpy?”

“Because I know how bad I am at hiding things, okay? I was kind of… I dunno, freaking out I guess.” I eyed her, waiting. Searching her face in the hopes that she accepted what I said and didn’t keep pushing. A few seconds passed and she laughed softly. Took a sip of her strawberry milkshake and asked with a smirk, “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

“Probably not. Every time I even think about it, I manage to talk myself right out of it. He’d laugh his ass off, okay? Besides, remember all the flirting he was doing with Josie when they had to work together during the play?” I pouted as I pointed it out.

Cheryl and Toni exchanged looks and Toni laughed. “He was doing that to make you jealous. Or that’s what I think he was doing. Either way… I think you should do something. He’s not going to and trust me… I’ve known the guy my whole life. I know him well enough to say that I know he has a thing for you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so cranky when you two first met?”

“I thought he was just naturally grumpy?”

“Oh, he is, but the way he was towards you was totally different. He’s only that grumpy when he’s trying to keep his defenses up.” Toni informed me before finishing off her shake.

The door to the diner opened and Sweetpea walked in, Fangs in tow. The two of them were laughing about something. I gave both Cheryl and Toni a pleading look and Cheryl seemed to pick up on my unspoken plea to change the subject thankfully, because she asked, “Are you going to F.P’s retirement party at the Wyrm?”

“Yeah.” I answered, finishing off my milkshake. Sweetpea flopped into the booth beside me, carelessly slinging an arm over the back of the seat. His hand brushed against my shoulder and I swear just the small brush against me felt like someone had taken a livewire and dragged it over my body real slow.

Toni smirked at me, nodding at Sweetpea while he was too busy wolfing down french fries to notice and I shook my head.

“I dare you. No… I triple dare you.. Flirt with him.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she mouthed the words to me and I swallowed hard.

She’s not playing fair. She knows I can’t turn down a dare.

I happened to glance out the window of the diner and when I thought I saw Dave standing there, leaning against a streetlamp, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette dangling between his lips, I nearly choked. This prompted Sweetpea to start hitting me on the back lightly as he laughed and looked at me in concern. “Damn cherry, are you trying to kill yourself?”

Toni’s brow raised and Sweetpea explained what happened earlier in the day, how I’d nicked myself with the scalpel in our first period class while doing a dissection. What Sweetpea didn’t know was that when it happened, it was because I thought I’d seen Dave standing outside in the parking lot, only to blink and the parking lot be empty.

I have got to stop letting his stupid mind games get to me. It’s just because he’s texting me again. It’s just because he knows how to work me up and get me all scared, he used to be good at it when we dated.

He’d never come to Riverdale. He’s just doing this to me for his own sick amusement and every single time I let him get to me, especially when I’m to a point where I’m so paranoid I’m imagining that I see him everywhere lately, it’s letting him win and that pisses me off more than anything.

I’m supposed to be stronger than that, damn it.

Toni eyed me suspiciously and I braced myself. When she didn’t bring up my skittish behavior, I relaxed a little.

I wanted to tell someone what was going on, but at the same time, why? I’m pretty sure this is just Dave, being an absolute bag of dicks.

It has to be that. It has to be.

XXX

He stood outside some podunk little diner right in the heart of town. The hazy red neon gave off a comforting and inviting warmth and he lit his cigarette, fuming in anger as he watched her sitting inside.

“I know you’re not ignoring me, scarlet. I know you’re not.” he muttered, mostly to himself as he turned the collar of his leather jacket up against the wind and started to walk towards the South Side.

Maybe it was time he paid his old buddy Eric a visit. Eric was out of prison. Eric was the one who’d told him where Alyssa was to begin with, though he didn’t realize it.

Dave chuckled and shook his head as he walked towards the shitty apartments on the opposite end of town where Eric lived. Eric owed him a few favors. He was coming to collect.

“Did you really think I was jokin when I told ya I have friends all over? That you weren’t ever gonna get away from me?” he mused to himself as he knocked on the door of a first floor slum apartment.

Eric opened the door, leaning in it lazily. Blinking at him in a daze and smirking. High fiving him as he asked him why he was in town.

Dave whipped out his phone, showing Eric a picture of Alyssa. At first he gave him some story about her running off while he was in the pen. Eric wasn’t buying it, he could see it written in the expression on his face. And that only made him angry. Eric owed him. He was here to collect the favor owed. All he wanted was for Eric to help him out on this one little thing.

Eric shook his head, chuckling in disgust. Gazing at him with a brow raised. “I think you need to leave, man. Now. You don’t want the heat this is gonna bring down on you. And I’m not about to get on a Serpent’s bad side, even if the Serpent in question is just a damn kid.”

“See, I’d like to just put this all behind me, man... but she’s the whole reason I even went to prison to begin with. Then I get out and find out not only is my girl not loyal, she’s also the one who snitched on me?” Dave eyed Eric. Getting irritated because this was not how he saw the conversation going.

“I’m telling you, you need to leave. Forget about Alyssa. I see her around all the time with some kid… Sweet Pea or Green Bean, some shit. The Serpents are not people you fuck with, man. Not around these parts.”

“You know the Serpents aren’t shit to me… Right?” Dave quipped, smirking. “I’ve got this under control. I just need you to help me out a little… C’mon, man. You owe me.”

“I don’t fucking care. I’m not helping you do whatever it is you’re here to do. What I oughta do is put a bullet in your fucking head for even thinking I’d be down for this shit. She’s a kid, man. A fucking kid... Favor or not, man… I’m on the Serpents side with this. Not yours. You need to leave.” Eric warned, giving Dave a firm glare as he folded heavily tattooed arms over his chest.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re playin, huh? Okay. Alright. All I wanna do is see her again. I’m not going to do anything. I just want to straighten things out. Get a little closure on the situation...”

Eric scoffed. “This coming from the king of overreaction. I don’t trust you.I’m breakin code of my gang by even talking to your ass. Nope. The answer is no. I’m not helping. Do whatever you have to do to me, but I’m not about to help you scare some kid. I’ve got better things to do with my time, buddy...”

Dave’s arm shot out and he pinned Eric against the door of his apartment. Smirking at him calmly. “I know you haven’t forgotten just how much your sorry ass owes me. Because that’s what this sounds like.”

“I guess that’s what it is then. Because I’ve seen what the Serpents can do. I’m not about to bring all that down on my head.” Eric stepped back inside his apartment, slamming the door in Dave’s face, leaving him to glare at the closed door and take a swing.

“Guess I’m doing this all by myself.” Dave mused as he turned and wandered down to a shitty dive bar nearby. He needed to have a few rounds. Come up with a plan.

And a little after midnight, after finding himself a few new talkative friends in some local Ghoulies, things were starting to look up for him. And he was slowly forming a plan.

Now he just had to wait. Pick his moment. Toy with her a little more.

“I’m so close I can almost touch you, scarlet. Soon… Soon you’re going to pay for running your mouth to mommy about me...” he smirked to himself as he unlocked his hotel room and stepped inside.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea fic #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea imagines #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #// stalker tw #// seriously. these next two parts are gonna get a little... scary.#// you have been warned

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get-your-fics · 5 years

Text

hostage

Summary: Steve takes it upon himself to protect you after your family was taken in the blip, but he ends up going to extreme lengths to do so.

Pairing: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: Smut, non-con/rape, stalking, kidnapping, violence, language, angst

A/N: This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s in the dark! writing challenge. She is an absolutely amazing writer, so please go check her blog out if you somehow haven’t already haha. Congrats on 3k, Roo! You totally deserve it!

“Marco!”

“Polo!”

You tried to slink away from your little sister in the water, but her head snapped in your direction. She waded towards you cautiously, her arms stretched out in front of her. You panicked and started to swim away, not caring how much noise you made. She laughed and started to chase after you at full speed. You dodged around other people in the pool and flashed them apologetic smiles. You found yourself trapped in the corner of the pool, and you cursed under your breath. A hand clamped down on your shoulder and whirled you around.

“Gotcha!” She grinned at you triumphantly.

“No way!” You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and pulled her to you. “You had your eyes open the whole time, I know it!” You ruffled her hair.

“I didn’t cheat!” she whined, pushing you off of her. “Now, stop being a sore loser. It’s your turn.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you sighed. You swam to the middle of the pool and closed your eyes. You counted to ten to give her time to move around. “Marco!”

“Polo!” Her voice was faint, and it sounded like it was coming from behind you on the left.

You turned around and swam towards where you thought she was. “Marco!”

“Polo!” Her voice was closer now.

You smiled as you heard the splash of water. It was barely audible over the noise of laughter from other people in the pool as she was trying to move quietly, but it was just loud enough for you to hear. You doggie paddled in her direction. “Marco!”

“Po...” she trailed off, but you could hear her right next to you. You reached out your arms, expecting to grab onto her, but there was nothing there. You furrowed your brow. She must’ve gotten away fast.

“Marco!” You waited for her response, but it didn’t come. “Marco?” Still nothing. You huffed. “Emily, we talked about this! You have to say polo!” You spun around. Dread started to settle in the pit of your stomach. “Emily?”

In fact, it was eerily silent. The only sound was the slosh of the water around you. You opened your eyes and looked around you. There was no one in the pool, and the once clear, cerulean water was now tainted black. Black as ash, black as char.

Black as dust.

“Everyone disappeared that day. My family, my friends. That was over a year ago now, but I can still remember it as if it was yesterday.” You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, your eyes welling with tears. You must’ve told this story a thousand times, but it still got to you. “No matter how hard I try, I just can’t forget.”

“You don’t have to forget to move on, (Y/N). It’s important to remember the loved ones we lost,” Michael who led the support group explained to you in a soothing tone. “But we can’t let our futures be ruled by the past. We have to build our lives while honoring the memory of those who are gone, to move on in a way that they would be proud of.” His eyes locked with yours. “Thank you for sharing your story, (Y/N). Hopefully, it will encourage other people to share theirs as well.” He glanced down at his watch. “That’s our time for today. Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’ll see you all again next week, same place, same time.”

The legs of the metal chairs screeched against the tiled floor as the other people in the circle stood up. They gathered their things, most of them heading straight for the door while some of them hung around after and chatted. You grabbed your bag from where it was slung over the back of your chair and threw it over your shoulder. You were ready to join the rest of those bolting for the exit when a man named Dave stepped into your path.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?” You nodded wordlessly. “I just wanted to say you were really brave for sharing that with us. I don’t think I would have the guts to do that.” He laughed nervously.

“Thanks, Dave.” You offered him a weak smile. He had only been in the support group for a couple of weeks. He didn’t really speak much. The only reason you knew his name was because of the introductions at the beginning of every meeting.

“My parents disappeared in the snap too, so I know how hard it is.” He lowered his gaze to his shoes. Everyone you met had lost someone nowadays. It was the new normal. “If you ever want to talk about it one on one,” he reached into his jacket and retrieved a small slip of paper, “feel free to call me. We could go get coffee or something.”

You looked down at the paper in his hand. Scrawled on it was his phone number in black ink. You took it from him and shoved it in the back pocket of your jeans. “I’ll think about it,” was all you said.

“Okay, cool. Bye, (Y/N).” He waved to you as he started to retreat. “See you soon.”

You waved back and watched him leave. You waited, giving him a head start, before moving towards the exit to the church where the support group was held. You took the slip of paper out of your pocket and discreetly disposed of it in the trashcan next to the doors. Many people had started to reach out to one another, to make new connections to fill in the gaps and holes left from the old ones. But you weren’t one of those people. Your associations were few and far between, and you were starting to prefer it that way. The less amount of people in your life meant less of a chance of getting hurt again.

You kept your head low as you left the church and headed back to your tiny, studio apartment in your hometown. You had been attending the support group meeting for a little over a year now. It was your last hope, but nothing had changed. You still felt like there were heavy chains attached to your ankles weighing you down and holding you back. You still wished that you had been a part of the fifty percent, that either all of your family had survived or you had gone with them.

You took a shortcut through an alley to your apartment and immediately regretted it when you saw a shadowed figure leaning against the building. It pushed off of the brick wall and was on you in a second. You heard the cock of a gun and saw the glint of metal in the dim light of the far away street lamps. “Purse, now,” the deep voice growled.

You didn’t argue with the man. There was no point. He was way bigger than you were, so overpowering him would be impossible. You let out a small sigh before letting the strap of your bag fall off your shoulder. You did what every adult had advised you to do ever and threw it a good distance away from you so if the mugger dove for the bag, you’d have a chance to escape.

The man didn’t move. He stood stock still in front of you, like he was contemplating something. “The necklace too.”

That sent a pump of fear surging through your veins. Your hand absentmindedly reached up to touch the small, diamond pendant dangling from the gold chain around your neck. It had been your mother’s before she had given it to you. “I... I can’t,” you stammered, holding back tears.

“I don’t think you understand.” He raised the gun higher so you could see it clearly. He aimed it directly at your head. “Give me the necklace now, or I put a bullet through your skull.”

You slowly lowered your arm to your side. If you had to die over protecting your mother’s necklace, then so be it. You rolled back your shoulders and lifted your chin. You stared down your nose at the man. He tightened his grip on the gun, readying to pull the trigger.

A hand wrapped around the back of the man’s neck and lifted him off of the ground. The man’s eyes bulged, and he let out a sharp yelp as he was slammed against the wall of the building by another shadowed figure. The figure held him up like a rag doll and punched him square in the jaw. He let go of him, and the mugger dropped to the gravel in a dirty puddle, limp and unconscious.

You pressed yourself up against the brick wall opposite the figure, panting for breath. Whoever this man was, he was unlike anyone you had ever seen before. He was tall and stocky, with broad shoulders and huge biceps straining against the fabric of his hoodie. He unclenched his large fists, and you could tell he was restraining any animosity he had and unbridled strength he possessed. He slowly turned around, his face shadowed by the hood pulled up over his head.

“Are you all right, miss?” You furrowed your brow. His voice sounded strangely familiar, like you had heard it somewhere before.

He reached up and lowered his hood. A slat of light streaming in from the end of the alleyway shone down on his face. He had chiseled features, a strong jaw, short, golden hair. His glossy, blue eyes caught what little light there was and reflected it like the stars in the sky.

“C-captain America?” you stuttered.

A soft chuckle fell from his pink lips. “That’s me.”

That only added to your confusion. “I didn’t know avengers saved people being mugged in alleyways now,” you joked.

“I happened to be in the area.” He leaned down and picked up your bag from where you had thrown it. “But I’m not what’s important right now. Are you okay?”

He held your bag out to you, and you took it from him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” What business could an avenger have in your hometown? Shouldn’t he be off saving the world somewhere or hunting down some big, evil villain? Shouldn’t he be trying to reverse the effects of the blip?

“Really, it was no problem.” He beamed at you triumphantly, his face alit. It was strangely off-putting.

You looked over his shoulder at the mugger collapsed in a heap on the ground. “Is he going to be okay?” There was something odd about the way he was so still. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

Steve’s face twisted with confusion before he saw who you were looking out. “He’s just out cold. He’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours.” He looked back at you. “Why does it matter? He attacked you.” His focus on you was undivided, like you were the only thing in the world.

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” You forced a strained smile on your face. “Thanks again for your help. Goodbye.”

You started to walk away when he blocked your path. “Where do you live? Maybe I could walk you home.”

“That’s really not necessary.” You wrung your hands together.

“Please, it’s the least I could do. Wouldn’t want you to get into another incident like this one without me there to save you, now would I?” He grinned.

Your smile faltered. “I can take care of myself.”

He raised his brows, like he was taken aback at your response. “Really? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you would be bleeding out on the ground right now if I hadn’t have come to the rescue.” He loomed over you. “Why is that necklace so important to you, you’d be willing to die for it?”

You shrunk away from him and grasped the diamond resting against your collarbone again. “My mother gave it to me. She was-”

“Taken from you in the blip?” he finished for you. You nodded. It was a pretty obvious guess. “I understand how it is, (Y/N). I lost people myself, but you can’t let it rule your life forever.” He extended a hand to you. “Now, please. Allow me to take you home.”

Every muscle in your body froze. “How did you know my name?”

An unreadable expression came over his face, but it was replaced in a second by his usual poster-boy smile. “You told it to me, remember?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No, I didn’t.” You eyed him suspiciously.

He slowly lowered his arm and dropped it to his side. The corners of his lips twitched before his smile slipped from his face. His lips pressed into a thin, straight line, and his blue eyes hardened. All the light drained from them until they were two blackholes in the middle of his face, sucking and drawing you into them.

“I’m sorry we had to meet this way, (Y/N).” His tone was dark and low, and it made chills run down your spine. “I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, but I guess we rarely ever do.”

Some instinct deep in your gut told you to run. You tried to sidestep him, but he was faster than you. He grabbed your arm and pushed you back against the wall. The back of your head connected with the brick, causing your field of vision to go blurry. You could barely see Steve in front of you as he reached in the pocket of his hoodie and took out a syringe filled with a bright green liquid. How did you think you could outrun a super soldier?

You struggled against him, but his arms kept you still. He pressed his chest flush against yours as he jabbed the syringe into the side of your neck. The sharp sting of the needle piercing your skin cut through the dull ache in your skull. “Shhh,” he shushed you as he injected you with the liquid. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. You’re with me now.”

His voice sounded muffled to your ears. Your body relaxed as whatever he had injected you with involuntarily invaded your senses. Gray, fuzzy dots formed over your already hazy vision until it was completely enveloped in black, and the sweet bliss of unconsciousness took its hold over you.

You slowly returned to your senses. You felt like you were trying to move through molasses as you tried to get the gears spinning in your brain again. Your limbs felt heavy and weighed down, like they were made out of lead. Your eyes fluttered open, but you still couldn’t see anything. There was a bag over your head, shrouding you in darkness.

You let out a low groan, and you heard footsteps draw closer to you. They stopped right in front of you, and the brown bag was ripped off of your head. You winced as you were blinded with light. You blinked rapidly to adjust your gaze before taking in your surroundings. You were in a rather spacious room with concrete walls and a cold, stone floor. The only source of light was the singular, overhead lamp shining down on you, keeping everything beyond the pool of light you were in out of focus.

You became painfully aware of the position you were in. Your wrists were tied above your head to a rope hanging from the ceiling. You were suspended enough so your toes just barely touched the ground, keeping you in a state of constant discomfort and exhaustion. Your bones and joints were sore, and you struggled to balance yourself on the tips of your toes. A strangled cry crawled its way out of your throat.

“I know, little girl.” Your head snapped to Steve who stood in front of you. He looked completely unhinged now. His lips were twisted into a sinister grin, and his blown out pupils swallowed all light that hit them. “I know it hurts, but this is temporary, as long as you behave.” The way he said behave made your stomach coil in repulsion.

“Where am I?” Your voice was hoarse and strained.

“Somewhere where no one will find us, where we can be alone.” He lifted a hand to caress your face, and you jerked away from his touch. His grin wavered. “You know, I have to commend you, (Y/N). You are a smart girl. Most people wouldn’t notice a slip up like that, but you are not most people. That’s why I like you so much. You’re cunning, like when you threw away Dave’s phone number because you knew he’d never be worthy of someone like you.”

You bristled. “You were watching me?” He nodded. “Why?”

He reached in the back pocket of his jeans and held up a crinkled piece of paper for you to see. It was a newspaper clipping of an article about you detailing the loss of your family and friends. A lot of them had been run about people after the blip. This one featured a picture your best friend had taken of you on a bridge overlooking a river. Even though the ink was faded, you could make out the radiant smile on your face and the bright look in your eyes. You felt like you were staring at a completely different girl. This version of you was so foreign to you now.

“You lost everyone dear to you in the blip, and all because of me. Because I failed to prevent it, failed to stop Thanos.” He clenched his jaw so hard the veins in his neck stood out. “So I thought that maybe if I followed you for a little while, if I could just help you from afar, I could make it up to you, but it wasn’t enough.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “You need me. The only way I can truly protect you is if I have you in my grasp. Our little run-in in the alley showed me that.”

You shook your head. “You’re insane.” He was Captain America! Wasn’t he supposed to be the good guy, the one whose face was plastered over all the posters with inspiring words attached to them? The star spangled hero? The man standing in front of you now was anything but that. He was like a depraved, funhouse mirror version of him. I guess the blip changed us both. “You think just because you feel guilty you can stalk me and try to control my life!”

He chuckled, the sound bouncing off of the walls. It sounded so out of place for the situation and slowly morphed into maniacal cackling. “You know, another thing about you is that you’re really stubborn. You’re so insistent on being alone. I mean, you didn’t even want me to walk you home after you almost died in an alley by yourself!”

“Because I don’t need you, you sadistic fuck! I don’t need anyone!” Your voice shook with rage. Angry tears sprung from the corners of your eyes and dripped off your chin.

“You do need me.” He cupped your face in his large hands, wiping away the tracks left behind by your tears. “More than you realize right now, I know. But we’ll work on that. I’ll teach you to trust me, to not isolate yourself so much. I’ll give you your old life back.” His hands drifted down to your hips. “I’ll make you whole again.”

You moved back as much as possible, ignoring the way the rope cut into your skin at the undesirable position. It rubbed your wrists raw until they were red and irritated, and you could feel wet blood rolling down your arms in thick drops. You screamed wildly before kicking your leg at him with all the force you could muster. He caught it before you could land a solid blow to his gut, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“I know every move you make, (Y/N). I know everything there is to know about you.” He reached for the fly on your jeans. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“No! Get off of me!” You shouted desperately as he undid the button and zipper on your pants. He pulled the denim and your panties down your legs in one fell swoop. “Get away from me! Let me go! Let me go!”

He threw the discarded garments over his shoulder and grabbed your hips again. “Shhh,” he shushed you as he pulled you close to him. “I just want to hold you. I just want to make you feel better.”

He gripped your thighs and forced your legs to fold around his waist. He lifted you up, and you hated the flush of relief that ran through you as the weight of your body was removed from your arms and shoulders. He smirked at you and moved his hand in between your bodies, pulling his cock out of his jeans. Fear coursed through your veins as you got a glance at the size of him.

“Stop it. Get away.” Your voice cracked. You knew it was hopeless.

“There’s no stopping me, (Y/N).” He positioned himself at your entrance, and you didn’t have time to prepare before he pushed in. Your mouth fell open as the head of his cock stretched you open. You tensed against him, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. “Just relax,” he whispered in your ear. You tried to listen to him, willing to do anything to stop the searing burn as he entered you. He slid into you to his limit, pushing you way past yours. “There. Isn’t that better?”

He moved in and out of you at a slow pace. You gritted your teeth and willed yourself to focus on the pangs of pleasure sent rolling through you with each thrust of his hips. Slick coated the inside of your thighs, and he sped up as you relaxed around him. Your cheeks were flushed from the heat and embarrassment at taking any pleasure out of this at all, but you were grateful that your arousal meant his rough treatment hurt less.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he grunted. “To touch you,” he carded a hand through your hair, earning a squeak from you as his fingers caught on the tangles, “to kiss you.” He smashed his lips against yours, silencing any screams that wanted to escape.

He tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, certain to bruise. The obscene noise of skin slapping against skin filled the otherwise quiet room as you bounced up and down on his cock. He pulled away from your lips and nuzzled the tip of his nose against your cheekbone. His short and shallow breaths filled your ears, and his white t-shirt clung to his chest with sweat where your bodies made contact.

“Cum for me,” he managed between pants. His hand snaked up your torso to cup your bouncing tit. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You could feel a wall of pleasure building inside you. You twisted your hands in the rope, desperate for something to cling onto. You could no longer stop the needy mewls falling from your lips in time with his thrusts. Your walls clenched around his cock as the wall came crashing down, euphoria washing over you. You leaned your head back, your thighs twitching around him.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He fucked into you at an inhuman pace. You were too dazed to realize he had cum inside of you until it was too late. He stilled inside of you as his cum painted your walls.

Your chest rose up and down violently as you caught your breath. You closed your eyes, relieved that this torment was finally over. Then, you felt him harden inside of you again, and your eyes snapped open. A whine left your parted lips.

He chuckled. “Oh, little girl,” the lustful, dark look in his half-lidded eyes shocked you to the core, “you didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”

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dirtydobrik · 5 years

Text

getaway - d.d.

plot: you’ve been secretly dating david for a couple months, keeping your relationship a secret from everyone including your friends, and one day you go on a “business trip”/beach vacation to spend time together and a fan sees you out together and shares pictures, essentially outing your relationship

requested: yes, by anon! Reader going on a business trip and being in a secret relationship with david and its like that episode of friends were monica and chandler are hiding their relationship and they go on a “business” trip but its only to spend time together and thats how their friends find out theyre dating.. if that makes sense :) lol

author’s note: hi! i’ve been writing a lot of sad/angst fics lately so here’s another fluff piece. this was requested anonymously so hopefully it was something similar to what you wanted. if you want to send in a request for an imagine, send me a message! (i have been so behind on requests lately but i am trying to get caught up, so i’m trying to post 1-2 times a day so people don’t have to wait ages for me to write their requests)

this picture just radiates boyfriend vibes i’m in love

word count: 1695

masterlist

"Babe, can we please go on a vacation," you begged. You were tired of being cooped up in LA, hidden from the world. You had to sneak over to David's late at night just to spend time with him since none of your friends knew you were together yet.

"How are we supposed to get away from our friends from an entire week?" he questioned, and you sighed. The idea seemed impossible.

"What about just a couple days?"

"I'll see what I can do," David answered and you grinned. You two were in desperate need of some serious alone time. The hardest part of planning this trip would be figuring out how to hide it from your friends.

A few days later David dropped two planes into your lap while you were sitting on the couch in his living room and your eyes widened. They were for a trip to North Carolina from Tuesday to Friday.

"A beach vacation?" you asked, a huge smile on your face. David nodded, and you gave him a hug.

"I'm going to tell everyone that I need to go to New York to go over some things with my publicist and you can say you have to go on a business trip for work. I think that should work."

"It's a perfect plan," you agreed, mentally reminding yourself to take the days off from work.

Tuesday afternoon, you were on your way to the airport. Natalie was dropping you both off, and although she knew you two had something going on, she didn’t think anything of it. You went checked in and went through security, settling into a seat and waiting for your flight. David had a baseball cap on and his hood up so people wouldn’t recognize him.

Seven hours after boarding, you touched down in North Carolina. You got to your AirBnB, a small house right on the water and you couldn’t stop smiling.

"I can’t believe we're here!" you exclaimed gleefully. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement to just have time to enjoy being David.

Wednesday morning you woke up next to David, and he begged you to not get up yet. You rolled over, draping your arm over his chest and leaning up to kiss him.

"Good morning," you grinned, still not over the fact that you were on vacation and alone for the first time since you started dating two months ago.

"Hi, baby," he smiled, kissing your forehead. "What do you want to do today?"

"Anything, everything," you sighed, running your fingers through his hair. You were just excited to spend uninterrupted time with your boyfriend.

"How does breakfast sound?"

After finally getting out of bed and getting ready for the day, you were walking hand in hand to a small café down the street from where you were staying. You sat at a table outside and you thanked god that Carly and Erin had gotten David hooked on coffee since you both needed some type of caffeine. You snapped a photo of him with his coffee, having to stop yourself from posting it.

You were almost in the clear during your outing, until David was recognized while paying the bill.

"Oh my God! You're David Dobrik!" a voice shrieked form inside the café. "Can I get a picture? I'm a huge fan," she asked, and when David agreed, you feared your cover would be blown. You pushed your hat down to cover most of your face and looked down in case she knew who you were too.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, giving David a hug before leaving.

Once the girl was far enough away, David came back outside and sat down with you.

"That was close," he sighed.

"Maybe it's a sign that we shouldn't leave the house," you giggled. "No one will find us if we hide out."

You two decided to lay out on the beach, leaving your phones inside, which turned out to be a bad idea. When you went back inside a couple hours later, your phones were blowing up.

"Shit," David muttered, scrolling through his texts. He had gotten sent pictures of you and him walking together and some of you at the café.

"Babe, this is not good," you groaned. You felt like this was your fault. You had just wanted a few days alone with him and now everyone knew you were on vacation together. You both didn’t want to face your friends, having no clue how they would react, and judging by the texts in the group chat, they weren't too pleased.

David was pacing around the kitchen as he talked on the phone with his publicist asking what, if anything, he should do. Your phone continued to ring but you didn't want to answer.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, when David rejoined you in the living room.

"Hey, no. This is not your fault, babe."

"I wanted to go on a getaway, so yes, it is."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. This easily could've happened in LA," he tried to reassure you.

"But people would expect to see us in LA, since that's where we live. The two of us being alone in North Carolina is unexpected and people are going to make a big deal about it and it's my fault," you rambled, David interrupting you by kissing you.

"Look, I love you, and yeah, it's partly your fault, but that doesn't matter. People know we're dating, how it happened doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what to do next."

"Okay, so what do you want to do?" you asked, looking him in the eye. This was a decision for David to make, since he was the one in the public eye.

"I think the only right thing to do is tell people that we're dating. Our friends are already pissed that we hid it from them for two months, we might as well just announce it to everyone," he shrugged, and you nodded in agreement.

David shared an post introducing you as his girlfriend across all of his social media platforms, and you didn’t feel anxious like you thought you would've.

"Sorry we had to announce it so soon," he frowned, feeling bad that you were now going to be the focus of most of his interviews and that you were going to be publicly thrown into the public eye.

"It's okay, Dave. I'm more worried for how our friends will react when we go home, though," you admitted, breaking eye contact and looking down.

"They already know and love you, so there's nothing to worry about, I promise."

You felt David's arms pull you into a tight hug and you let out a long exhale, relieved that he had handled the situation with such grace and ease.

For the rest of the trip, you were able to go out and about, not having to worry about hiding from fans that you might run into. But you were still dreading going back to LA and talking to your friends.

You had texted a few of the girls, giving them all of the details they were begging for, and none of them seemed upset that you didn't tell them ahead of time. They understood the difficulties of dating within the friend group and wanting privacy, although most people tried to keep their relationships a secret from David so he wouldn't exploit them on the vlog.

You and David landed in LA on Friday night with Natalie there to pick you up.

"I should've known something was up when you didn't bring Jason or me with you on your fake trip to New York," Natalie laughed when David opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in.

"Yeah, I'm surprised you and Jason didn't question it. Like I knew no one else would've, but I expected questions from you and Jase," David chuckled.

"Jason said he's known about you two for a month, or at least that's what he's telling everyone."

You racked your brain trying to think of how or when Jason could've found out, but couldn’t think of anything.

Back at David's, your friends were awaiting your arrival, with a list of questions they wanted answers to, starting with why you would pick David when you could've gone for literally any other guy in the entire world.

"I knew something was up when you two had to go to New York together on the same day for the exact same length of time," Carly insisted.

"I knew something was going on when no one else got an invite to New York, not even Jeff, and he's from there," Zane added.

"I knew something was up when David wanted to record the podcast on Monday night when usually he'd have me come out if he had to travel to record the podcast," Jason said.

“Yeah, I knew something was wrong when neither of you posted about going to or being in New York,” Erin piped in.

"Okay, okay, we get it. You all knew about us before we told you," David muttered, rolling his eyes. They had all come up with theories after they saw the pictures since no one said anything or suspected anything until the pictures were leaked.

“We’re happy for you guys,” Erin smiled, everyone else agreeing.

“Thank you,” you replied, giving her a hug.

The rest of the night was spent sitting on the couch with you finally being able to cuddle and be close to David without people asking any questions about it. It was such a relief to have your relationship accepted by your friends. It wasn’t that ever doubted them, you were just nervous telling anyone that you were dating him since you weren’t a YouTuber and didn’t want to take anything away from David and his future.

And while this wasn’t the way you had planned to tell everyone you were together, it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was the fact that you two were confident enough in your relationship to tell the world, even if it had come a lot sooner than you anticipated.

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

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Bloggin’ bout HS^2 Commentary from start to Mid-Jan-2020

Sigh. Time to pay the piper. Someone’s gotta extract whatever plot-important and plothole mentions get mentioned in this commentary, even though reading behind-the-scenes stuff about Homestuck makes me even more nervous than reading frontend stuff ever could so I don’t really want to. FYI, that’s what you’re going to get out of my posts on these -- anything regarding plot stuff and plotholes, things we would’ve misinterpreted or missed otherwise, not any of the other paid content such as sketches or full quotes from them about things.

TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS A MONTH!???!?? Is Andrew even seeing any of this cash? --no, not much of it I guess, he would want to make sure the WP folks get paid enough after the--

Yeah I’m not gonna even think about that.

Fuck it. I’m ponying up.

Alright, first commentary post on the Patreon, commentary and bonus sketches for Ghostflusters... whoa, this is long and extensive. Is it going panel by panel??

I guess I’ll give you a small quote just for a taste of how this starts...

Page 33: Not sure what any of this shit means. It’s pretty deep though. We were going for an echo of the beginning of the epilogue when John is dreaming in anime. Except here it’s Jake, and nobody is dreaming, at least not yet. Also an anime dream wouldn’t be a nightmare for Jake, since Jake likes anime. Or he used to. Now anime probably just reminds him of Dirk.

Good thing we’re never gonna hear from that guy ever again.

...because this commentary is sort of stylized. They’re kind of riffing on what they’re doing, and I get that -- when you have to write commentary you’re asking people to PAY for you can easily feel like you have to be entertaining. But they are describing the rationale for the shot choices they made and such. They’re also going for a sort of Andrew-recap sort of attitude, and I don’t blame them for that choice, either.

[Candy] Jade is...well, you’ll see.

GOD DAMNIT. Don’t remind me that Dave vanished on her forever while they were doing pro-revolutionary work and she’s probably going to be in a bit of a state! Stupid knowing author future allusions...

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here blogging about the commentary for you guys -- for me to relay Authorial Intent on Stuff That Happened That Seemed Plotholey and Hints About What’s Going To Be Relevant.

I just, uh... didn’t expect there to be that MUCH of it. And that casual phrasing for that Candy Jade Is Going To Be Seen And Or Relevant hint is... kinda indicating to me that there’s gonna be a LOT more of that here than I wanted. :|

Continuing... there’s talk of why they started with Jake here, being unused to writing for middle-aged characters in Homestuck terms, et cetera, but again, I’m only here to relay anything with plot impact or SERIOUS perspective on how we should / the authors are viewing this. The rest stays behind the paywall for whichever of you all think it’s worth $20, I don’t really have a choice. At least now I know why there was no one to tell me what details were actually BEHIND the paywall. Seriously, that’s steep.

Speaking of how stylized the commentary is here, I can get why some might read it and view the authors as slightly callous -- I’m giving them PLENTY of benefit of the doubt, though. Andrew was FAR from callous and he hurt us worse out of love of artistic intent with the Epilogues than the HS^2 folks could EVER hurt us. Real Dirk-like, actually. Dirk is practically half of a self-insert, as we well know. No wonder Andrew thought the right thing to do was to take his hands off the story, what with Dirk’s villainous action being putting his own hands ON the story.

We like to make fun of Jake English as much as the next guy, but he probably is actually pretty good at “doing things” if the need arises.

Mhmm; there are some jibes at how screwed up Jake has made his life, but I don’t believe these authors actually disrespect Jake at all. He was dealt a bad hand by the story leading up to this point (quite INTENTIONALLY by Dirk’s narrative control in the Epilogues, too) and HS^2 and its bonuses so far have been exploring the heap of merits and potential he’s still got in him.

It’s kind of sweet how he wants to clean out his ecto-son’s house, even if most of that is to prevent the slow creep of mounting existential dread and narrative relevance.

Huh. So they think Jake can sort of feel that narrative relevance is seeping in around him, to him? That’s not out of the question at all.

Continuing... they’re going on a bit about the same sort of things I mentioned about their choices in detail or detail-less-ness when depicting people in this new format, considering ages and the paired text descriptions and such. That’s the sort of thing you’d traditionally want to pony up for commentary for, so rest assured that all that IS in their commentary posts if you want to do that. I’m kind of extracting the plot stuff out of the paywall just on principle.

A lot of making this comic--and every other comic ever--is trying to convey as much information with as little space as possible.

Quite so.

From this conversation we find out a couple things. 1) that Brain Ghost Dirk knows about Ultimate Dirk, and he thinks he’s a dickhead. 2) Brain Ghost Dirk knows who Jeff Bezos is, and Jake doesn’t. This could be a sign of a couple things, all of which are probably stupid.

This is ALSO what I came here for: Legitimate “don’t worry about it” handwaves about stuff that shouldn’t matter to us. I never ascribed the slightest bit of relevance or inference to BGDirk making a Jeff Bezos reference, and I’m glad I was completely justified in ignoring it. So far I agree with this probably-plural-but-acting-like-a-singular author’s train of thought.

Come to think of it, it’s maybe strange that in this Cool Future Earth where all of our characters are rich as hell, none of them have bothered to have any sort of corrective eye surgery. Jane, Jake, John, and Jade all still wear glasses. I guess they do have “signature looks” to maintain in regards to their brand.

I had to include this, I was legitimately curious. Understood it was probably an artistic decision to stay on-brand a fair bit -- and losing glasses even temporarily has a lot of thematic significance whenever it happens in Homestuck Proper -- but it’s nice to have some confirmation that this was the understandable rationale behind the choice.

Here we find out what Dirk thinks about Jake’s behavior of the last few years. In other words, we find out what Jake thinks about Jake’s behavior over the last few years. [...]

[Brain Ghost] Dirk is manipulating Jake here, but he isn’t actually saying anything demonstrably untrue.

Again, most of this was obvious at the time, but it’s nice to have authorial confirmation on what was being brought across as per the strange divide between Brain Ghost Dirk’s independent will and his mostly-part-of-Jake status.

Seriously though, shoutout to the conceit that god tiers can just fly endlessly, with no visible effort. It’s a really excellent form of narrative shortcut that fits perfectly into the bonkers vibe of earth c as a whole. Oh there goes one of the Creators, just flying over the Wal-Mart like an asshole.

You know... who IS doing the commentary here? One of the authors, all of them? One of the artists?? This really is a COLLABORATIVE effort between the authors and artists involved here, I think, and it shows in their clear surprise and appreciation for each others’ work that only settles into a full understanding instead of just knowing what one intended off the bat.

It calls into question exactly how much of the Condesce’s mind control was actually mind control at all, and how much was just a lowering of inhibitions.

Right, right.

We see Jane greeting Jake here with open arms, which makes you wonder exactly what is going on here. If you’ll remember from Candy, Jane has already served Jake divorce papers. A mystery in need of solving, for sure.

HERE we go! This is the potential plothole we were concerned about that got me alerted that the commentary had something to add in the first place. John mentioned toward the trail-end of the Candy epilogues that divorce papers had shown up for Jake. (And we also saw an HS^2 update ago or so that Jane hadn’t actually KNOWN Tavros was “awol” at all until he was literally a part of this whole clowncorpse logistics business.) So in light of what this post continues to say:

It could be that Jane has put aside the nasty business of their divorce in order to have a strong chest to cry on. Can’t really say I blame her. Jake English has many flaws but he does seem like a good person to drape yourself across and really let loose on. And without Gamzee there, Jane needs another punching bag.

...it all finally fits as pretty logically consistent, although the author is being deliberately coy in a way that leaves it open for more to be revealed later about exactly how this is happening. Good! No obvious plotholes in HS^2 (yet). That’s an honest relief. The more often they have something in mind where I’d previously worried they’d screwed up, the more often I can give them credit and speculate properly on those gaps in story-logic expecting something there, like we so often got to with Andrew before the retconsplit made even THAT kinda fucky.

If you’ve ever had a friend or family member go evil, you’ll know that one of the hardest parts is there’s always still elements of them that you like.

I can definitely say that from nearly personal experience.

Also, at this point in the story there is no lingering doubt that Jake and Dirk have had a sexual relationship. There’s a familiarity there that wasn’t around when they were teens.

I assumed so, but I guess I never thought ABOUT how I assumed so. Huh.

Do any of the creators have a moral leg to stand on if all they’re doing is curling up into a ball and hoping the world gets better without them? Actually, does anyone have a moral leg to stand on if they do that?

Almost Riddley, there.

These posts are certainly interesting! Steeply priced for what they are, but interesting. Moving on to the second of four so far... this one’s about Catnapped Part 1.

Taking over Earth C's business world certainly would have required rubbing shoulders with the already-powerful on the planet.

--yep, which I never doubted even when brought up in the Epilogues is a large part of her supply-side government views.

Ah, looks like the bonus commentary is a good deal shorter! But that bonus section was a good deal shorter than the story section covered earlier too, so.

On to the next one, for Clown Logistics.

Page 58: If you love Vriskas, i hope you enjoy more Vriska content. If you hate Vriskas, well. Here is another one that is kind of different. Feel free to contemplate nature vs nurture and how best to apply this dichotomy toward emoting about the vriskas of your choice how you see fit.

I’m starting to really enjoy this author commentary.

Tavros being named Tavros sure was a decision. Go back and reread the commentary for panel 58 but stop before the nature/nurture thing, since they are not clones, or even the same species. They just have the same name, which, in this universe, means you at least type kind of the same.

Hmhmm.

Page 65: Sometimes you try and come up with something to say about a page, and you cannot, and so you wait 8 hours, and go see Knives Out, and then you have 2 white russians, and then you still can’t come up with anything to say, but oh well! Commentary needs writing. Tavros is experiencing an emotion here.

Now THAT’s a mood. I gotta go see Knives Out sometime soon.

...Alright, I can see why some people think MAAAAYBE this author might be being a little disrespectful to the audience, but if they’re going based on THIS, I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. This comment could have come from Andrew’s fingertips any day of the week!!! I honestly wouldn’t WANT replacement authors who couldn’ comment like this in there for a page in paid commentary, especially in a lighter section of the story that doesn't need too much said about it.

And I paid $20 for this shit.

...Continuing, I’m loving all this commentary on Harry Anderson. Representative excerpt:

Again, direct your eyes toward the boy. What a fucking asshole.

...these commentaries are honestly improving my mood! I didn’t expect that, really.

Ah, I didn’t even notice that the flying cars appear to be self-driving. I think maybe the back of my mind MIGHT have noticed but only a bit.

Referring to the corpse-carry crew:

Page 82: Pokedex entry for Magneton in Pokemon Sun: When three Magnemite link together, their brains also become one. They do not become three times more intelligent.

Ain’t THAT a mood.

(...I just had an internal “Wait, am I using that right, it being a “mood”? Isn’t that the hip new term, how do I have any right to latch onto that however much I feel it? Ohhh gosh I’m so fucking old” moment.)

It’s clear from the commentator’s complaints that the crew never viewed this commentary ALONE as worth upping the pledge to $20, but that’s... not quite a bad thing? I think it’d have been more disrespectful to think that they COULD make the commentary worth that. I doubt there’s a single person on their team who feels quite right about the business model (besides the artists they have plenty of context to know how deserving they are of a living goddamn wage), but it’s what they have to live with and go with, here. I feel weird for honestly understanding ‘em, and more than slightly pitying for how many people will look at all this and read “these assholes don’t care about us”. I really can’t think that’s anywhere CLOSE to true from this without more context. (And I really DON’T want more context, don’t send me any. I’ve got to read HS^2 and I’m enjoying reading it so far so let me keep enjoying it please. Background drama details make me nauseous, DON’T give me any if there is any (which I wouldn’t know about in the first place beyond an opinionated friend or two dropping hints in a bad mood).)

Did you know there are people who I’ve seen honestly believing “Undertale is pretty good but the creator is an arrogant asshole”?????

Because they saw his tweet about the game score passing Kojima’s MGSV on metacritic briefly and misinterpreted his wide-eyed disbelief, disbelief honed to nervous laughter to maintain sanity by Toby’s insecurity about his unprofessional work and work product??? They thought he was SERIOUS without any of the context of the usual insincere little dog persona they should’ve read into the game of his they played??

Awh man. That just ticks me off.

Anyway where were we.

Page 91: This is a flashback so I didn’t write this one, which means I thankfully don’t have to say anything about it.

Wait. What?

Are they trading off writers between chapters, or...? Hm.

Whatever they’re doing, it fits together pretty darn well SO far.

Alright, that finishes that off, time for the last commentary post on the second bonus update.

I don't know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don't mean just in Homestuck's dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth.

Now that’s a mood.

I've been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you're making in 2019 has to either address what's going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus's sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

Now THAT is a god damned MOOD.

The author(?) goes in about why this is happening, why Jane is being confronted this way, why she IS this way, et cetera.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it.

That’s one of the biggest goddamn reasons for the inequality and political landscape we have today IRL, yeah.

She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

Jane's favorite comic, a noir-detective drama steeped in the pop-cultural trappings of pulp Americana, reflects this mindset.

So, our catgirl Seer of Light takes us through the looking glass, and we get to see an old friend.

Hm!

Nothing really to say, I just had to share this fitting context the author is giving. How things fit together even better than they seemed to, and this was all far from random.

I feel warmly ensconced in the womb of nostalgia, gently cradled on Norman Reedus's chest.

Pffffffff

Yep, more of what we already surmised and appreciated, how Swifer and Cliper were giving us some much needed perspective... the commentary post even has little traditional-Homestuck sprites for ‘em.

And... that’s it for the commentary so far! Again, I enjoyed all that more than I expected. $20 doesn’t sting for me as much as it does for others in general, but it stung a lot less after I was through reading all that honestly somewhat-entertaining stuff confirming a lot of the insights I’d thought the plot was having.

I’ll probably wait to check for further commentary posts until like... after bonus updates come out, in the future, and then just blog about whatever I’m not caught up on. Sound fair? I’m going to blog as often as a real or bonus upd8 comes out, but I’m not going to pop in more often than that for my own sanity’s sake. Have a good MLK weekend, y’all. :)

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #Homestuck Commentary #blastyoboots

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90simaginesandfanfics · 5 years

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Cradle Broken Glass - Chapter Fifty Five

“Well I need him to be here in five minutes, completely sober, if the record company is going to even consider still promoting the album.” Kelly said down the phone to Layla, and she sighed as she took in the sight before her.

“KC, we’ll be there in two seconds, I can see the studio from here.” She replied, and tried her hardest to sound like everything was under control. She turned back to the rest of the band as they tried to get Eddie and Mike to stand up properly. They were at a bar on the other side of The Site, the studio they were recording at. Everyone was drinking and were in good spirits, but like usual, Eddie had gone overboard again.

“Ed, please give me a hand, I can’t fucking carry your whole body weight.” Jeff said, exasperated as he tried to pick Eddie’s slumbering body up and get him out of the bar. Layla moved to Mike’s side, where Stone was trying to stop him from throwing up. Dave was nowhere to be found, and had probably made his own way back to the studio, since him and the guys barely spent any time together anymore unless they were rehearsing. The band trudged down the street and made their way into the building, Eddie barely even able to stand up properly without the help of Stone and Jeff and Mike gulping down a bottle of water to sober himself up. Once they entered they were met with the thunderous face of Kelly.

“Look, I don’t have time to shout at you guys, but there’s two executives from Epic Records here, so you better get your heads out your asses soon and sober up, and play them a fucking song that’s finished. If you even fucking have one!” He shouted, before storming into one of the backrooms. Jeff and Stone both shared a look, and then hauled their other band members to where the studio was. Layla stood out by the reception, pacing back and forth.

After 20 minutes past, the door opened again, and the band stepped out, along with Kelly and two men in suits. The men shook hands with KC before leaving soon after. Once they had, he turned to Eddie and Mike.

“You two are fucking lucky I managed to get you out of this one. Next time we have a meeting, you better be sober and I don’t want to hear any fucking excuses anymore, especially from you Eddie, Mr. I’m the band’s lyricist yet I can’t even write a fucking chorus. What the hell is the matter with you! Mike might get wasted every now and then but at least he still pulls his weight!” Kelly screamed out, his gaze directed at Eddie while the singer stared at the ground emotionlessly. Kelly sighed before running his hands down his face.

“I need you guys here first thing tomorrow morning. Since you managed to fuck up today, we’re going to have to travel to Epic’s Los Angeles offices which is 6 hours away from Nicasio. So pack your shit and I’ll find a hotel for us to stay at tomorrow night.” Kelly finished and loud groans were heard throughout the room. Layla saw Jeff glaring at Eddie for getting them into the whole ordeal, while Stone slapped Mike on the shoulder. Layla simply huffed out an annoyed breath and followed Kelly back to one of the office rooms.

*****

“Stupid fucking record companies. All they want is money, and they make it out like they give a shit about the music and they don’t. Why can’t they just come back to the studio, it’s not like they couldn’t just stay at a hotel for the night. But noooo. The whole fucking band has to drive to L.A. for the meeting, which is probably only going to last for half an hour. And don’t even get me started on….” Eddie went on. Layla was sat on the bed in the little apartment the band were staying at near the studio, packing a bag for tomorrow. She has zoned out completely, not paying attention to what Eddie was saying, since he has been ranting for the better part of two hours since they had got back. She had packed a bag for him and even managed to make sandwiches for the drive tomorrow, all while he was shouting about how ungrateful the record company was for their band.

She was biting her tongue, not wanting to anger him even further when he was clearly already pissed off, but she was starting to get really frustrated. He was going on and on about today, yet refusing to acknowledge that it had anything to do with him. He was the one who decided to get black out drink at 3 in the afternoon - which had turned into a habit despite him promising to not go near alcohol - and he was the one who apparently refused to play or show any material to the two executives when Kelly had got them into the studio. If he hadn’t have acted like a child they wouldn’t be in this mess. He was also refusing to acknowledge it was affecting anyone but him. All of them had to drive up tomorrow, not just him, and the band couldn’t get anywhere near producing an album if he wasn’t writing lyrics at the same rate they were producing songs.

“.... and I fucking hate recording in L.A. anyway. It feels so commercial, and I don’t fucking understand why we couldn’t do it in Seattle…” He continued and Layla hummed in response, barely paying attention.

“.... and Stone said he was pissed at me, but It’s not like the execs were even trying to be understanding about the situation…” Layla nodded, but with the movement, she caught something in her peripheral vision. Eddie was opening a bottle of beer. He continued to talk as she walked over to him, but abruptly stopped when she grabbed the bottle out of his hands.

“That’s enough.” She said meekly. Layla looked up to see Eddie’s eyes staring at hers in confusion.

“What?” He replied, almost incredulous.

“I. Said. That. Is. Enough.” She bite out her words in staccato, her tone turning bitter as she glared up at him. Eddie’s eyes flared with anger and he grabbed the bottle back.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He retaliated, and Layla saw red. She took the bottle out of his hand forcefully and then stomped to the front door, swinging it open and tossing the beer bottle out onto the street, the glass shattered and liquid seeping down the concrete of the pathway. She slammed the door shut and looked behind her to Eddie.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” He questioned, his voice quiet but she could sense his fury.

“I’ve had enough Eddie. You need to fucking sort yourself out and stop blaming everyone else for your problems.” She said to him, her eyes burning as she glared at him. He suddenly smirked and scoffed at her.

“Well isn’t that funny? The pot calling the kettle black. Because I seem to recall that’s your speciality right? Blaming people, specifically Phil for how fucking messed up you are.” He bit out.

Time seemed to stop. She felt like she stood there immobile for hours, taking in what he had said to her, although it was probably only a few seconds. But in those few seconds thousands of thoughts rushed around her head.

What that what he thought of her? That she was one big basketcase trying to pawn off the blame to someone else? Was she really that pathetic in his eyes? Hadn’t he been the one to support her, to get her out of the situation with Phil? Wasn’t he the one who helped her realise she was in a toxic relationship? Was he suddenly changing his mind about her, or did he just say that to hurt her because they were arguing? No matter how uncertain she was over the questions roaming in her head as she stared at him, there was one thing she was absolutely sure about. He had changed. She had seen it for a while, knew that it was happening somewhere along the line, but now she saw it as clear as day. He wasn’t the same Eddie she met when she went to the record store and a handsome guy with dimples got the record she couldn’t reach.

Tears started to collect in her eyes, and his face suddenly swarmed with guilt over what he had said. She ran to the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her, before sinking down on the bed and crying, trying to come to terms with everything that was going on. She still loved Eddie, more than anything, but she felt like she didn’t even know the person he was starting to turn into. The one who drank all the time and seemed to always have fun except when she was around. He only seemed to be interested in her when they were alone and he needed comfort, otherwise he was barely even around her. Did he even want her anymore?

The tears started to fall harder and before Layla could process her own emotions, she felt herself falling asleep, mentally exhausted.

*****

Layla groaned as she felt the bed dip beside her, waking her up. It was dark out, but she could see the outline of Eddie’s body as he crawled under the sheets next to her. He turned to face her, only then noticing that she was awake. Eddie hesitantly wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body, cradling her while he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean that at all. I was just defensive and angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He whispered, his voice gravelly, and she could tell he had been crying. She nodded into his chest and got closer to him, appreciating these small moments when she felt like she meant something to him. He kissed her on the head again and then whispered an ‘I love you’ before he started to fall asleep. Laying in his warm arms, Layla asked herself a question which she had been dreading to ask herself for weeks; Am I happy?

*****

I know I’m a complete bitch for making their relationship even harder than I already have, but what can I say, I’m a masochist. Anyway, hope you enjoy and give me some guesses as to what you think is going to happen in the next chapter xx

#eddie vedder #Eddie Vedder Fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #Pearl Jam #pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #grunge #grunge fanfiction #grunge fanfic #imagine #imagines #oneshot #cradle broken glass #90s #alice in chains #nirvana #soundgarden #fanfiction #fanfic

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blatherkatt · 6 years

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Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 33: Declarations

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention, depiction of an emotional breakdown, trauma aftermath; Illustrated; Pesterlog

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] —

CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

— tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum! —

CG: FUCK YOU, I CAN SEE THAT FOR MYSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM. I’M GONNA FUCKING YELL ANYWAY.

CG: I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PICK ME UP AT NOON. IT’S LIKE, 1:30 AND YOU STILL AREN’T HERE, WHAT GIVES?

CG: IF YOU GOT KIDNAPPED, TOO, I SWEAR TO FUCK I’M PERSONALLY PUTTING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN FAMILY UNDER PERMANENT WATCH.

CG: I’M NOT ABOVE SITTING ON YOU ASSHOLES IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES.

TG: okay first off i know youre like a literal alien but heres a protip for ya:

TG: general human earth etiquette is to not text people who you know are probably driving?

TG: its like a whole thing

CG: WHY

TG: idk probs because texting while driving’s a great way to fucking crash lol

TG: anyway!!

TG: yeah im real sorry about that mom fucking rang me up like

TG: hi im at the airport come get me!

TG: out of fucking nowhere because everything has to be a fucking hassle with this woman

TG: so i had to go get her

CG: WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE AT THE AIRPORT?

TG: because fuck me is why

TG: and THEN shes like

TG: ooooh i gotta do some mysterious whatthefuckever errand at some mall out in the middle of nowhere

TG: so now im sitting in the parking lot waiting for her to get back which might be a while because her bad leg’s been acting up lately

TG: and thats why im not there yet >:(

CG: WAIT. WAIT, HOLD ON, I’M CONFUSED.

CG: BY “MOM” ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT RACHEL? I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE HAD A BAD LEG.

TG: nonono

TG: ray is like. dirk and dave and rose’s mom

TG: i dont call her mom i just call her aunt ray cuz shes not my mom yknow

TG: my mom is aunt ray’s sister

TG: aunt ramona? they talk about her?

CG: OOOOOOH. YEAH.

CG: THE WOMAN WHO WRITES THOSE SHITTY SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE BOOKS KANAYA LOVES.

TG: hahaha yeah her trashy shit is great

CG: SHE’S HERE?

TG: apparently!!!!!!!!

CG: I’M SENSING SOME BITTERNESS.

TG: ugh its fine she just always does shit like this

TG: womans always gotta make a fuckin entrance even if that means not telling anyone shes coming

TG: and its goddamn annoying as shit!!

TG: but its fine i get it shes here to help out and we are kinda all hands on deck

TG: speaking of tho i heard something about kanaya not coming along after all?

CG: NOT YET, NO.

CG: SHE’S BEEN TALKING TO ROSE, AND APPARENTLY DAVE’S BEEN PRETTY UNEASY WITH THE NUMBER OF NEW FACES AT THE HIVE.

CG: HOUSE. WHATEVER.

CG: TEREZI’S PROTECTION DETAIL HAS HIM KIND OF ON EDGE, I GUESS?

CG: SHE’S GONNA COME AROUND LATER PROBABLY. AND MIGHT END UP STAYING WITH PORRIM AND KEEP IT TO VISITS, AT LEAST UNTIL THINGS SETTLE DOWN A BIT.

CG: SO IT’S JUST ME FOR NOW.

TG: ooooh yeah geez i bet

TG: poor dave :( :( :(

TG: i gotta tell you and mom some uh. serious shit about him when i pick you both up

TG: id pass it on here but its probs better if i just tell you face to face?

CG: OH, WONDERFUL!

CG: MORE NO DOUBT HORRIFIC NEWS REGARDING DAVE.

CG: I CAN’T WAIT. THIS PANIC ATTACK’S GONNA BE ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS, I CAN JUST FEEL IT!!!

TG: :(

TG: tl;dr hes not in great shape but hes getting better but theres some stuff we gotta go over

TG: jfc mom what the fuck are you doing its been ages

CG: SO WAIT. SHE JUST HAD YOU DRIVE HER OUT SOMEWHERE AND WALKED OFF ALONE?

TG: yeah

TG: woman can take care of herself just fine so like im not worried??

TG: but still, like. cmon woman!!! whatever it is hurry up a little

TG: it cant be that important we got places to be

In terms of location, it was almost an outlet mall; somewhat detached from the nearest city and surrounded by forest. It was mostly all one building, positioned in a dip in the ground next to a clear stream, and these features had helped make it a serviceable fortress during the invasion, although Derek had regularly complained that he’d have preferred a site that held the high ground. Still, they’d made do; the roof was high enough that one could see for quite some distance, the stream offered fresh water, the trees provided decent enough cover during skirmishes, and the walls were thick enough to turn away most weather and weapons. It hadn’t been much, but it had served well enough as home for six years for around threescore ragtag survivors-turned-fighters.

Out in the surrounding forest, those who hadn’t survived that conflict still lay buried in pitiful graves marked only with a stone or a chunk of wood. There hadn’t been time to properly put anyone to rest; it had been risky enough for two or three people to slip out during a stretch of quiet with a shovel and a body. They simply hadn’t been able to afford to have any sort of formal burial, not with the threat of an attack constantly looming.

Even so, even so…

Derek had picked a spot he would remember.

In life, the oak tree would have been the kind people would have thought of as a monarch, with branches spread wide and gnarled wood ancient and strong, holding children in its branches as easily as if they were made of nothing; but the tree had already been dead by the time the invasion started, a great, ancient, dried-out husk. Even so, decades later, it still stood, its branches reaching toward the sky, the other trees forming a circle around it as though too respectful to come too close. Mushrooms and trails of greenery crept about a quarter of the way up the ancient trunk.

At its roots, a rotting wooden spar stuck up out of the ground. This, too, had been reclaimed by flowers, grasses and mushrooms, decorating the splintered and decayed timber with dark summer greens and pale white-and-lavender blooms.

Derek Strider, down on one knee with his sheathed sword held in his right hand, sighed. Of course, the trouble with having to bury the dead so hastily meant that there’d been no one to look over the graves, so it was to be expected that it be in such disrepair, but even so, seeing this one choked out by the invading flora was…

It wasn’t right.

Overhead, the ancient branches rustled slightly, and the raucous calling of a bird broke the silence. Derek narrowed his eyes and ignored it, tried to write the disrespectful noise out of the scene.

The crow seemed to have other ideas. The bird lighted down on the wooden grave marker, red eyes fixed on Derek’s face. It flapped its wings a few times, cawing incessantly. Derek scowled, unsheathed his sword, and struck —

The blade passed through the bird with no resistance whatsoever. The creature’s body split in two, bloodlessly, as though Derek had cut through smoke — it even looked like smoke, like a cloud cut in two by a passing jet. As Derek looked on, uncomprehending and with a growing sense of dread, the bird’s body seemed to pull itself back together, a video played in reverse, and the bird’s accusatory squawks started up again as though nothing had happened.

Derek was on his feet in an instance, stepping away from the beast, and as he did, he happened to look up…

Perched on nearly every branch of the old tree were ravens. Unlike the crow, they were all silent, and aside from the occasional shifting of a foot or tilting of a head, motionless. Scores of staring animal eyes bored into him.

Derek had never been a superstitious man, but nor was he the sort of fool to ignore the truth his own eyes showed him. He’d spent six years fighting alongside a witch, and seen enough to learn that some things really couldn’t be explained away as coincidence.

Had it been anyone else, he would have responded to the sound of footsteps approaching this site with a furious attack; even Ben knew better than to disturb him here. But when he whirled to face the intruder, he froze.

She’d aged more since he’d last seen her than he would have expected. Hints of silver streaked her hair, and she leaned heavily on her gnarled black cane. A faint breeze stirred the black fabric of her dress, playing with the light shawl laying across her shoulders. The crow had fallen silent.

“Put that thing away before you take someone’s eye out,” said Ramona, nodding nonchalantly at Derek’s sword.

Derek narrowed his eyes, and did not respond aloud, instead choosing to slowly and deliberately slide the sword back into its sheathe. Only after his left hand had returned to his side did Ramona nod and continue.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now we can talk things over like reasonable adults. Mind you, I ought to do the world a favor and wipe you out right now,” and Derek took a slow, deep breath at that, as she continued, “But I’d prefer not to desecrate your brother’s grave by staining it with your blood. I respect him far too much for that. You, however, have somehow managed to exceed all of my worst expectations to a nearly unfathomable degree, as of late. I’ve held off on this confrontation out of respect for the past, but I can see now that this was a mistake.”

Derek shifted. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect our damn planet, Ramona,” he started, but was cut off.

“Really?” she said, “Well, then. I’m not about to attempt to ask you to cease killing trolls, as we both know that would be pointless, but I would very much like to know how exactly burning your own son alive plays into your grand battle strategy?”

“He…he turned on us,” Derek said, through gritted teeth, “He forced my hand, left me no choice!”

“He is a child!” Ramona snapped. “And you, of all people, should know better! If you really must follow this path of self-destruction to its end, fine, but he should never have been involved!”

“I—”

“And in any case, you had a perfectly good sword on hand, I’m sure. If young Dave really did need to die, you could have executed him with minimal pain, but no, you wanted him to hurt, to know he was dying and to fear you and suffer as he passed. How do you justify that, Derek? How does anyone, especially a child, deserve anything of the sort?”

The eyes of the ravens and that damned crow still drilled into him. He could feel the stares on his back, but kept his eyes locked on Ramona’s, refusing to back down.

He wasn’t going to take back what he’d done. There’d be no guilt, he’d done nothing wrong except overreact a bit. It was justified. That…that boy wasn’t Dave. Ramona was using the name like a blade, but she’d not win that way. He didn’t deserve the fucking name, didn’t deserve to have anything to do with Dave, he never would have let Rachel name the kid that if he’d known he was going to grow up to be such a pathetic, useless little coward.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ramona, folding her hands over the top of her cane. “I’ve a fairly good idea, in any case.” She sighed. “The war is over, Derek. The time to put aside this violence and misery is long since behind us. Our children do not deserve to grow up as we did.”

“The trolls are still here,” Derek spat.

There was a long silence. Ramona sighed again.

“Fine, then,” she said, “So be it. Do as you will. Chase violence as long as you like. But if you come near my family again, I will consider it an act of war.”

She turned, and he was tempted to take the bait, to try attacking her while her back was turned, but he held still. It was infuriating, knowing what a pointed insult turning her back on him was, knowing that she knew he would not risk attacking her—but she was right. She was much too dangerous.

“Come along, little one,” she said, abruptly. The crow rose off the grave and flew to land on top of Ramona’s cane. If Derek had cared to pay any attention, he might have noticed the crow look back at him with something like regret in its eyes, but Derek was already far too lost in his own thoughts.

As one bird, the ravens took wing, dispersing in all directions, leaving him alone again.

The trouble with trying to go from Alternian to English was a multifaceted one, to be sure, but so far the most obnoxious piece of it that Karkat could see was the tendency of guides on how to speak English to simply use the closest Alternian equivalent as an English word’s translation. More and more, the two languages were notably extremely different, and while he could speak English well enough that he’d never had any serious problems, there were any number of words that he kept tripping over as a result of a translation being extremely unclear and culturally misleading.

Witches, for instance, were clearly something very different on Earth. The Alternian word that was translated to English as “witch” was, like most Alternian words, a series of noises in the ‘click and growl’ family that most humans lacked the anatomy to create, and generally refered to certain lowblood prophets and healers in Alternian folklore. They were those who lived away from society and who, through some lucky genetics and convenient psychic powers, were able to fend of drones and effectively disappear from the world at large’s knowledge. They kept to themselves, sought to harm no one who didn’t attack them first, offered shelter to the weak and the hunted, and as such were always portrayed as utterly despicable beings in fiction, as no writer with any sense of self-preservation had dared to portray such reckless treachery under the rule of the last Condesce. There might have been some changes to the lore under the new one’s rule, but things like that changed slow.

In any case, they certainly weren’t anything like the old woman in a shawl who was sitting next to Roxy in the front of her car.

She was dressed all in black, for one thing. Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear much black. Some Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear all that much clothing at all, really. Most seemed to belong to ancient religions that weren’t particularly fond of shirts.

Ramona was definitely magic as shit, though, Rachel’d been right about that much. Was that all a witch was on Earth, just someone with magic? Fuck, if that were the case, then probably like at least a third of all trolls were witches by Earth’s standards. Then again, maybe magic was another poorly translated word? English didn’t seem to have a word to separate “things that we (read: trolls) know exist, like psychic powers and psiionics and ghosts and chucklevoodoos,” and “things that are super fake and don’t actually happen ever and make no sense.”

Whatever. In any case, Ramona didn’t look at all like Karkat had expected, and when he climbed into the back of the car, she didn’t react to his presence with anything stronger than an amiable nod. She seemed to have her mind on other things, and was largely silent at first.

Roxy wasn’t; she immediately piped up happily as Karkat swung open the door with a “Hey, man! Sorry about taking so long! Can you, uh, do me a favor and check on Jaspers? He’s in the carrier behind Mom, Rose asked me to pick him up while she and Aunt Ray were gone. He’s been missing them a lot, all staring out the window and kneading his blanket and shit, and he’s not a huge fan of car rides.”

“He’s asleep,” Karkat said after glancing into the little crate.

“Awesome. Alright, buckle up and we’ll get this damn show on the road.”

“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on—”

Karkat tilted his head as the car’s radio abruptly changed from quietly playing some human pop song over to something much louder and completely different. Ramona stifled a snort as Roxy stabbed a button, switching the radio back to the previous channel.

“No, thank you,” she said, glaring. “Christ, the fuck is with this thing today, I swear to god.”

“I suppose it may simply be getting into the spirit of things,” said Ramona with a smile. As the car pulled away from the curb, she turned back a bit to face Karkat. “It’s Karkat, isn’t it? Rachel’s been sending me any number of emails with updates, and from the sound of things, you’ve been rather instrumental in bringing young Dave back into the fold, so to speak.”

“…Into the what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, meaning in this case that you’ve helped us return him home as well as helping him to adjust to being there,” she said. “For which you have all of our heartfelt thanks. Ours is perhaps not the most functional of families, but it is ours, and as I’m sure you’ve seen firsthand, ripping away a piece of it the way Derek did has had some very painful consequences for all involved. We owe you a great deal.”

“Yeah, man!” Roxy said. “And from what Rose has been telling me, you were kind of a big part of why he finally spilled what he knows. Which, he did bee-tee-dubs, which means he’s off house arrest finally, so that’s good—”

“—And a partridge in a pear tree,” the radio crackled.

“What the fuck? It’s August,” Roxy scowled. She turned the radio off altogether as Ramona glanced hurriedly out the window.

“Speaking of Dave,” Karkat said, hopefully before anyone got distracted again, “Roxy, you mentioned that there was something that you needed to say face to face?”

“Right, shoot, yeah,” said Roxy. The car turned onto the long road that led eventually to the Lalonde hive. “Okay, so, like. There’s definitely some shit you should know before we get there, but I wanna preface it all real clearly by saying that Dave’s okay, y’know? He’s got a lot of healing to do, but the doctors said that as long as he’s looked after and we change bandages and shit and he gets plenty of rest, he’s definitely not in any danger anymore. He’s…weak, but he’s not like gonna keel over at any moment, okay?”

“Not actually making me feel any better, Roxy!” said Karkat. Oh, boy, with a preface like that…

“Well, fuck, I tried, I guess. Uh. So, Dave did get hurt…pretty bad, and there were some other complications—oh, for fuck’s sake!!”

“Watch me, watch me, hey, watch me, watch me!” The radio was louder than ever. Ramona’s hand flew up, poorly hiding a grin.

Karkat leaned around Roxy’s seat to glare at her.

“What the fuck, Roxy,” said Karkat.

“I’m not doing this!” Roxy said, waving her hand wildly. “I swear to fuck, I wouldn’t! I really do need to pass on some shit about poor Dave, and the radio’s never done this before? It’s been acting up since a little before we picked you up, keeps changing on its own and shit, augh!”

She fought with the controls, but the song stopped only for a moment before getting even louder.

“Why the fuck do you humans even have this obnoxious song?! Who listens to this?? It’s literally just some squawking wiggler screeching for its lusus’s attention!”

“I mean, I kinda love it for that honestly, it’s terrible and stupid and wonderful, but like, come the fuck on??? What’s with this thing?! Now is not the time!”

“Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass—“

“GOD, that’s even worse!!” Roxy yelled, slamming her fist down on the dashboard. “Fucking stop!!”

“That’s enough for now,” Ramona said, almost murmuring it.

The radio turned off. Karkat and Roxy both turned a suspicious eye on Ramona, and with equal simultaneity, decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway,” Roxy said slowly, “What I was trying to say is, um…Karkat, do you know what it means for someone to ‘flatline?’ Because, um. Dave kinda did, for like, a minute and a half.”

Karkat shook his head, realized Roxy probably couldn’t see him with her eyes on the road, and said, “Uh, I have no idea what that word means, no.”

“Well, um…”

“It refers to a heart monitor indicating that the heart has ceased beating,” Ramona said. “The machine indicates activity with a line which shows peaks and valleys, and it goes flat when that activity has stopped, thus, ‘flatline’. The organ we call a heart serves an equivalent function to what trolls call a ‘blood pusher’ or a ‘pump biscuit.’”

Karkat felt for a moment like his own pump biscuit had stopped.

“Shit, Mom, when did you get so good at translating to trolls?” Roxy murmured.

Ramona shrugged. “I’ve made efforts to reach out,” she said. “The war ended, after all, and since we’re allies now, it doesn’t hurt to learn about each others’ cultures.”

“His fucking—What?!” Karkat screeched, unable to keep the harsh buzzing whine out of his voice. God, that was such a moirail noise, and any other time he’d have yelled at himself for not keeping it under control, but not now, not when… “His fucking blood pusher stopped and I’m supposed to be calm!?!”

“They got it moving again!” Roxy said. “He’s okay now, the doctors said it was going strong! It was, um, mostly just exhaustion, they think? Like, the burn wounds could’ve killed him on their own, sure, but they got on those quick enough that if he’d been healthy to begin with he probably wouldn’t have been so bad off? But between ten years of, you know…and just, apparently he hasn’t been eating enough even while he’s been back with us? And Ray’s gonna get on his ass about that, but, just—look, the thing is, Dirk doesn’t know about this yet, and Aunt Ray’s asked that we try to keep it that way, and I don’t really get why but I think she has her reasons?”

Karkat was definitely hyperventilating, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ramona’s hand reached back to touch his own, snapping him out of it.

“It’s fine to be worried,” she said, gentle. “I promise you, though, it is as Roxy says: he’ll be fine given time to recover and the safety with which to do so. He’ll be alive when we get there.” She sat back in her chair, turning towards the road again. “As for Dirk, I suspect Rachel is waiting for things to settle down before breaking it to him gently. He is, for better or worse, very like his father, and Derek handled his brother’s death poorly, in large part because at the time we could not afford to mourn. Rachel probably wants to make sure that Dirk does not feel he has to force himself to be strong when she tells him.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Roxy muttered. “Anyway, the main thing about that is that he’s not got a lot of energy right now, so don’t…take it personally if he just falls asleep on you sometimes? Especially with the painkillers he’s on, apparently that’s a side effect, too. He can walk short distances, but he gets wobbly quick and needs help sometimes, so there’s that too.”

“Fuck,” said Karkat, softly.

The next ten minutes of the ride were carried out in tense silence. This was broken by the radio once again bursting back on and blasting the ass song again, at which point Roxy threatened to pull over and smash the fucking thing to smithereens.

By the time they actually got to the fucking house, Karkat felt like his soul was going to vibrate right out of his fucking body with impatience. They had yet another delay in the form of Terezi’s protection detail—Terezi herself wasn’t there, but some officers were, and they insisted on knowing about any weapons the three of them had as well as names, and went in to check with the family while making them all wait outside by the car. Karkat already had his fucking bag in hand, he was ready to go, but no, they had to go through this tedious procedure! Sure, it was probably a smart move, and when he was feeling a little more sensible he’d be more okay with it as it was the sort of thing that probably would make them all feel a bit safer (especially poor fucking Dave), but right now the were a pain in the ass and he was going to fucking explode!!! If they didn’t!!! Let him get in the fucking hive!!!!!

Rose stepped out as they were still talking to the police, and for the first time in his life Karkat was unspeakably happy to see her. She quickly confirmed to the police that all three of them were in fact expected and trusted by this household, and then gently let Jaspers out of his carrier. The cat immediately yowled and threw himself into her arms, kneading at her shoulders and rubbing his face against hers, and it all would have been super cute if Karkat didn’t have his mind on other fucking things.

“Come on in,” Rose said, nodding towards the door. “Dirk’s on the couch and Dave’s in Mom’s room, as neither of them can handle stairs right now and Dave needs his bandages changed at least twice a day. Karkat, do you—”

She was talking to air. He was already in the fucking door.

And then had to face the fact that he’d never actually been to Rachel’s room. Fuck. Rachel was coming up the hall, though, and a slightly bewildered young human (wait, fuck, that was Dirk, what happened to his hair? It looked so weird hanging down like that instead of spiked up) was sitting on the couch with an Earth husktop on his lap. Roxy pushed in the door with Ramona right behind her, dropped a heavy wheeled bag right next to the door, and immediately launched herself at Dirk, who gave a startled yelp as she did so.

Rachel rested a hand on Karkat’s shoulder as she passed him, rushing up toward Ramona throwing her arms around her shoulders. The two shared a long hug, and Rachel kissed Ramona’s cheek.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Karkat heard Rachel murmur, before Rose tapped his shoulder.

“I was asking if you knew where Mom’s room is,” Rose said.

“Uh.”

“It’s down the hall to the observatory, but you take a left before you get to it. Make sure to make plenty of noise on the way over, Dave gets really jumpy when he’s the only person in that room. He can’t block the door since we need to be able to come in and out, and it’s got him a bit on edge.”

Karkat nodded, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat. He more or less just dropped his bag on the ground and pushed past, zooming around toward the room indicated. Dave looked half-asleep when Karkat pushed the door open, and waved as he sat up with some effort.

God, the photo Rose had taken didn’t do justice to how fucking bad he looked. There were bruises across his face and neck turned a weird greenish-gray but still dark against his skin, and bandages everywhere, his hair was a mess (although that might have just been from sleeping). He was in some oversized shirt with an Earth hoofbeast on the front that was probably Dirk’s judging by the size, and Karkat had no idea why Dave had it on but right now he didn’t care.

“Hey, man, uh. Shit’s been crazy, huh?” Dave said with an awkward grin. He didn’t have his shades on either, which made sense if he’d been sleeping, except they weren’t on the bedside table (which did instead contain a nearly empty glass of water, several bottles of pills and salves, and a first aid kit from which clean cloth bandages overflowed).

Two weeks of emotion boiled over all at once. Wordless, Karkat stomped across the room and grabbed Dave’s stupid fucking shirt in both hands and tugged him close.

“It was three days, Dave,” Karkat hissed.

“Wha—?”

“Three days! And you got yourself fucking kidnapped by a terrorist on day goddamn two!! What the fuck, Dave?!” His voice was threatening to abandon him, but Karkat forced it right back into place by sheer willpower. This tangent would not be fucking stopped, hell no. “I take my eyes off of you for two days, and you get yourself into shit again! What the fuck!!! Do you have any idea how-how fucking agonizing it’s been waiting for news?! And you’re just sitting there like ‘Oh, hey! What’s up?’ What’s up is my foot up your waste chute, you hopeless fucking—!” Okay, nope, his voice was leaving after all, actually. He felt tears roll down his face, and he should’ve been more worried about that, but Dave already knew about his blood color and he was the only troll in the house right now, so, fuck it, fuck it all! Helpless, he tugged Dave closer again, letting his face press against that stupid shirt, claws still twisted into the fabric as he sobbed.

“Holy shit,” Dave muttered.

“I was so fucking scared,” Karkat gasped. This was pathetic, they weren’t remotely a couple, Karkat had no right to be this worked up and he knew it, but…Dave wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either, was he?

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t even…It wasn’t planned this time, it just sorta happened, and Dirk got hurt, and I…”

“I’m not actually angry at you, despite having so much right to be that legislacerators everywhere have preemptively declared me innocent. I’m just fucking screaming for the sake of it, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

The awkward pause that followed was filled with only the sound of Karkat’s weeping, which, fuck, he was probably too fucking embarrassed to tell him off. Except…Dave’s hand lifted up to rest gently against Karkat’s back, so, maybe he didn’t mind that much? Was that wishful thinking?

“Sorry for this,” he said, just in case, as he pulled away a bit. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, I know, I just…”

“It’s cool, man,” said Dave. Then, with a wink, he said, “I know you got your massive Strider homocrush, it’s only natural—”

“Dave, I swear to fuck, injured or not, I will pummel you into dust with a fucking pillow, don’t test me!” Karkat snapped.

Dave snorted. “Hey, man, it’s fine, everyone’s allowed to be a lil gay sometimes with their friends, it’s only natural.”

“I’ll ‘natural’ you!! Motherfucker, I spent the two weeks worrying about your wellbeing and you come at me with more of this bullshit!!”

Dave cackled with laughter. Karkat rolled his eyes and sniffled. He feigned annoyance as best he could, but, God, it was such a relief to hear Dave laugh. Rubbing a sweater sleeve furiously across his eyes, Karkat pulled back, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Okay, but seriously, what’s with the shirt?” he asked, gesturing at the floating head of the hoofbeast. It wasn’t even a joke or a drawing. It was just…a straight photo of a hoofbeast’s face, with no text or explanation of any sort. What the fuck??

Dave glanced down, and snickered. “Oh, shit. Uh, yeah, we needed something that’s easy to get me in and out of, since the bandages on this fuckin’ burn need to be changed like, a lot, not to mention the gross-ass cream they have us slathering all over it on the regular. We tried a button down, but the buttons were kinda chafing, and like…who the fuck wants to ruin a fancy shirt with gross burn juices, right? And Dirk’s shit is more comfortable, and this one’s big enough that it’s real easy to take off even if I’m high on the damn painkillers.”

Karkat winced slightly, but decided not to comment. The scream from the video echoed somewhere in his think pan. “Where’re your shades?”

“Bro fuckin’ stepped on them or something, man, I dunno. They fell off at some point, and they were already cracked before all that, and Terezi just found pieces. Which fucking sucks, I mean God dammit, those were a gift from John. Shit sucks.”

“John?” Karkat tipped his head.

“Yeah, he’s like, an old friend of mine. Have I not mentioned him to you? Whatever, he, uh.” Dave scratched at the side of his head. “He was an online friend from before Bro started doing the, uh, raid shit, and I kept talking to him and another friend, Jade, for a while afterwards even though I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Jade’s name I remember,” Karkat said.

“Haha, yeah, yeah cuz I told you about…anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I guess since Dirk’s college is starting up again soon, not that he’s going for the first couple weeks with his leg and a fucking concussion, but, it’s starting up, and John’s sister goes there too, and he’s gonna come with so we’ll be able to hang out for a bit? Which is fuckin’ rad, I haven’t even talked to the guy in three years and we’re finally meeting in person.”

“You want him to be here? While you’re this badly injured?” Karkat yelped.

Dave blinked at him like he’d just grown a secondary head.

“I mean, yeah?” Dave said. “Like, yeah, I’m not in great shape and I guess it’ll be a lil weird for him to see me like this, but I’ve missed him.” Before Karkat could press the question further, though, Dave yawned. “Ugh, fuck, I wanna keep talking, but I’m…halfway to falling asleep, shit.”

“Oh,” said Karkat. He got up, ready to leave. He wanted to stay, wanted to curl himself around Dave’s obnoxiously lanky frame as best he could and protect this fragile idiot human from the entire universe, but…it wasn’t his place, was it? No.

“You leaving?” said Dave, rubbing at his unbruised eye.

“You said you wanna sleep,” Karkat said.

“Right. Uh. Could you, like…fill this back up for me, then, I guess?” Dave said.

“…Sure,” said Karkat.

He was…still confused, but Dave was tired, so he didn’t press. But he couldn’t wrap his head around wanting a friend around while he was so injured—well, he’d wanted Karkat around, hadn’t he? He’d seemed happy to see him, aside from the, uh, yelling. Still, it didn’t make sense! Every troll knew as a small child that the only people you could trust when you were injured were your lusus, your moirail, and maybe your matesprit! Anyone else might take advantage of the weakness and kill you, that was just basic logic! But Dave didn’t even seem to be thinking about it.

And…and yet, come to think of it, Roxy’d been awfully forthright about how bad Dave’s condition was. Hell, she’d heard it from Rose, who seemed like the one most likely to know not to spread that weakness, but the humans were all sharing it and passing it around. It wasn’t just that they didn’t seem to care who knew that Dave and Dirk were injured, it was like they wanted people to know.

And as he filled up the glass of water in the kitchen, he watched as Roxy and Dirk talked on the couch, as Dirk told her that he’d passed on the news of their condition to Jane already, that Rose had told her and Dave’s friends, and it just kept going. Everyone had to be up to date on the fact that both brothers were injured and vulnerable, and yet…

“I hope the flight wasn’t too long,” Rachel was saying to Ramona.

“Nothing would be too long right now,” she said in turn, blowing gently on a cup of tea that Rachel had just poured her. “Times like these, we all need to do our part. I know I might not be able to do much, mind you. My leg’s been acting up something fierce, as of late, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Something clicked. All at once, the curtains pulled back and Karkat saw the whole picture—saw maybe not what it always was, and certainly not what the Lalondes achieved on any sort of regular basis, but what it was supposed to be, how it was meant to work.

On Alternia, everyone lived in constant competition. Trolls had to be strong as close to all the time as they possibly could, or at the very least find a moirail who could, because otherwise their society wouldn’t particularly care much if they died. That just meant they didn’t deserve to be a part of the gene pool or to contribute to society. If they were injured badly and left vulnerable, it was seen as normal for others to take advantage of that weakness and exert power or outright kill a rival. It was how they survived so long, or so the cultural narrative had so long stated: by this competition, the strongest survive. Nevermind that this survival was built on the corpses of uncountable trolls who didn’t make the cut, it Worked.

As a result, trolls had been bewildered just as Karkat had by how humans as a species managed to be so frail and yet so reckless and to still survive, especially when they didn’t exactly have the kind of numbers that trolls did. Humans lacked the numbers to be expendable, lacked the strength and toughness that kept Trolls alive, and yet they looked Death in the eye and pointed and laughed, and pushed themselves to extremes for no purpose other than to have some warped idea of fun. It was a question that had lingered around his consciousness for ages; how the fuck do humans even work as a species? How had such a seemingly doomed race not died off yet?

The answer that hit him now, as he watched Roxy help Dirk stand up and balance himself on a pair of crutches, was that humans didn’t have to be strong all the time, and that was the magic of their little social units, their families—they took care of each other. No one person had to be good at everything, or so good at one thing that it could keep them safe in any situation. It didn’t matter that their skin was thin or that they weren’t particularly strong or fast, they always, always had others around who would pick up the slack, others who would come even across oceans to offer what aid they could in times of strife; they weaved together all their strengths and weaknesses into a fabric able to withstand just about anything. Fuck, no wonder they’d wanted Dave back so badly. The Lalondes may have been less a tapestry and more a patchwork quilt, but it was still their quilt, and Dave was a part of it….

He felt a near-agonizing pang of envy that he didn’t have a quilt of his own. Humans might have been stupid about a lot of things, but this…this they’d gotten right.

“Fucking water? Is that really the best you could think of? Fucking dumbass,” Dave muttered to himself. God. This was stupid. This was all really fucking stupid. He couldn’t even deal with being alone while he was asleep, for Chrissakes! Too scared of nightmares of a big mean dog, like some fuckin’ little kid.

Yeah, he was tired, but he really, really didn’t wanna be alone right now, was the thing. Not with that fucking troll-drug-induced nightmare lingering around the edges, waiting to chase him down again at its first chance. But. Like. Karkat was kind of right? Bros don’t watch each other sleep, that’s fuckin’ creepy. Like. Okay, so maybe they’d done a bit of that way back when Karkat had been kidnapped, but they didn’t have a choice back then, and anyways they mostly slept at the same time during that experience, which was super different from just asking his best alien friend to fuckin’ hold his hand so the bad dreams wouldn’t get him. Fuck.

So he’d asked Karkat to refill his glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty right now, because it was an excuse to make Karkat come back, at least for a few more minutes, and they could talk for a bit, and maybe Dave’d stop being tired, wouldn’t that be rad.

Karkat came back in looking really thoughtful. He handed the glass over, and Dave took a sip to try and look like he hadn’t been 100% bullshitting there, and mumbled a thanks as he set it down. Then, just as a thought, he jerked his head toward the rest of the bed—it was a big king-sized one, probably left over from before the divorce and Mom had just never downsized or whatever, so there was a lot of space to Dave’s right—and told Karkat he could sit down if he wanted, Dave wasn’t gonna, like, pass out right this minute or anything, haha.

Karkat stayed quiet, which was fuckin’ weird, but he did sit down. He stared at the sheets for a minute, and then spoke up suddenly, saying, “I think I get it.”

“Get what?” said Dave.

“Why they wanted you back so bad,” said Karkat. “I mean, way back when you were first arrested. I kind of fought with Dirk over it at one point, because my only experience with the word Dirk used for why you should be with him was fucking Strider. And also I think I get why this shit all works, for humans in general. I mean, I’m probably just saying obvious shit, but it’s not how trolls work, we don’t take care of each other, not like this.”

Dave tipped his head.

“I mean with the whole fucking family thing,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get it this whole time, but this shit’s used to justify so much bullshit with you humans, and I think I get it now, and why it’s so fucking important to you as a species.”

Dave snorted. “Dude, it’s not that big a thing—”

“It is, though! It just seems normal to humans because it’s how you always work, but, Dave, I’m serious, back on Alternia it’s every troll for themself. Maybe you have one person who has your back if you’ve got a moirail, maybe some are lucky like me and have friends who are actually consistently on your side and won’t take the first chance they get to kill you or fuck you up some other way, but we definitely don’t have a whole cluster of others we can just fall back on any time we’re met with something we can’t handle alone.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Dave started, but Karkat just kept going. Apparently he’d had some sort of fuckin’ epiphany in the past two minutes.

“It took me so fucking long to get this, but I get it now! You know what I don’t get, though, is why the fuck you ever tried to convince me that Strider is part of your fucking family.”

Something in Dave dropped like a stone.

He’d…had a similar thought, really. Repeatedly. Multiple times, over the past week or so. He’d been kind of trying to avoid it, because every time it popped up, he got really stressed out.

“And don’t give me any of the bullshit about being ‘related’ or what the fuck ever, I don’t wanna hear it,” Karkat kept right on going. “I still don’t get why you humans care so much about that. The whole point of this family thing is that you all take care of each other, not that you’re related or whatever! Your aunt’s here, did you know that? She flew across an entire fucking ocean just to make sure she could help out you and Dirk! What the fuck did Strider ever do for you?”

It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was: aside from trying to kill him, do you mean? Hahaha.

Karkat was still talking, but Dave wasn’t really hearing him. Fuck, this had been a mistake, he should’ve taken his chances with the fucking nightmare dog. That was better than this old song and dance with his own thoughts.

The facts were pretty simple. He’d operated under pretty clear logic when he went up against Bro: We’re family, so he loves me, so therefore if I ask him to let me leave and explain that I really can’t deal with this, he’ll let me go. Except, Bro had tried to kill him, which meant that…

That was as far as Dave ever got. He couldn’t think any farther than that.

He felt like…like the next thought should be obvious, but he couldn’t make himself think it. It was too big—not so much a square peg in a round hole as it was trying to cram a grain silo into a pinhole, and the thought threatened to overwhelm and destroy him, so instead of thinking it, his brain kept rejecting it, the effect being like a broken record skip-skip-skipping, over and over, repeating the last thought he could get to before the Big One, because he couldn’t not think the Big One, either…

It was so fucking stupid, it was just a thought, why couldn’t he…

“Hah, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I was always kinda wrong about this shit, wasn’t I?” Dave said, unable to stop the sardonic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “I mean, fuck, no wonder it took you so long to get, I probably gave you the wrong idea. My dumb ass was convinced he’d never try to kill me, cuz we’re family, and, well, here we fuckin’ are!”

Skip, skip, skip—

Karkat was still talking in stuttered phrases in the gaps of Dave’s own flood of words, looking almost scared, but Dave didn’t comprehned any of them, and anyway, the ranting had started, there was no stopping this shit now. “Like, what the fuck was I even thinking, right? I really thought that was gonna work, that somehow he’d just let me go if I asked, like a fucking idiot! Haha, what a fuckin’ dipshit, right?! And here I was thinking he—” Frantic laughter bubbled up, overtaking the words, not that more would’ve come, that next thought was just too big. Was he crying? Fuck, Karkat didn’t need to see any of this shit, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skipskipskipskipskipskip—

It wasn’t Karkat’s fault. It really wasn’t. He might’ve set it off, but the storm had been building up for days, now, and it broke hard, sweeping Dave up in a torrent of just wordless mental screaming. He couldn’t think the next thought. He couldn’t. But the thing was damming him up, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he was stuck in the middle and left to just completely melt down and dissipate into the flood.

A sound like a cicada crossed with the creakiest horror movie door ever to creak ripped through the tides, and suddenly Dave found himself tugged into a full body hug, wrapped up in four limbs with his face pressed into a thick sweater. The touch dragged him out of the flood and onto dry land, brought him back into now before he even knew what was happening. Karkat’s whole chest was vibrating with some intense cricket-cat hybrid purr, and this should’ve been so embarrassing but he was so tired and so lost and it was fucking comforting, so who the fuck cared. Who cared anymore. It was all bullshit. He could be embarrassed later.

Too soon, Karkat seemed to have the same thought, and tried to pull away. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is really presumptive and I know you aren’t even into boys,” he babbled.

Dave groaned, wrapping his arms around Karkat’s chest and pulling him close. “Dude, if you try to make this about alien romance right now, I swear to fuck,” he gasped out between harsh sobs. Christ, he was going harder than Karkat did like twenty minutes earlier, what the fuck.

Karkat paused. Good. It meant his warm arms were still there. “Dave, I…I mean, this is troll romance, this is textbook moiraillegience, and I shouldn’t just be throwing myself at you because you had a moment of weakness, no matter how bad I, uh.”

Dave sniffled, wracked his brain for a moment…Karkat had explained this stuff about a million times, which one was…”That’s like…the bros quadrant, right?”

“The what.”

“The one that’s, like, platonic and shit.”

“…Yeah?” The cricket-purr started up again, cautiously.

“We fuckin’ kinda do most of that shit already, don’t we?” Like. Yeah. He wasn’t gay. That was still a thing. But Karkat was warm and solid and real and Dave was fucking exhausted and didn’t want to be alone, especially not when he felt right now like he was wrapped in safety. “Please, Karkat,” he added, because why not beg. He was already at maximum pathetic, there was no digging this hole lower, fuck it. “I really don’t wanna be alone right now, just, please don’t go.”

Karkat was quiet for a long moment, but finally, the cricket-purr went back to full volume and Karkat’s arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Dave let out a breath he’d barely known he’d been holding and went back to crying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” Karkat murmured, which put him at about normal volume for anyone else.

“Later, then,” said Dave, and let himself finally fall the fuck asleep.

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #roxy lalonde #longpost//#u BET UR BUTT THIS OENS GOIN IN THE DAVEKAT TAG #ITS ABOUT TIME #fanfic #fanfiction #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #katt does a writing #jkdfsgfjhsfjshf not the best start to a relationship but like its something #lord this got long.#why tf did i think 32 and 33 would ever fit into one chapter.

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yourjughead · 7 years

Text

Bruised Beauty

Requested:" if you don't want to write it I 100% understand. Would you mind doing one where Y/N lives in a really rough house and her dad is doing everything wrong you could do as a parent (alcoholic, abusive,drug addicted, ect) and her mom is just trying to get by but one night her dad comes home and gets in a huge and terrible fight with Y/N and she ends up running away to her boyfriend jug to live with him and he helps take care of her after the pain she just went through. Kinda a heavy request so I completely understand if you don't want to do it" Pairings: Jughead x reader Warnings: Swearing, (gambling, alcoholism, drug dealing and drug abuse) mentioned, blood//cuts//bruises mentioned throughout. Medium to full description of abuse do not read between the *** if you will be triggered by such scenes the story should still make sense without it but reader discretion is advised my lovelies. And finally Fluff, you'd need it after this hahahah A/N loved writing this request, really interesting to write and I hope it is what Anony is looking for. I did change it slightly so the mother has left just because I don't think y/n would leave her mother behind in an abusive home, or maybe she would idk. Enjoy Xx REQUESTS OPEN. ------------------------------------------------------- 3rd Person You had always been a fighter, a born fighter, a forced fighter. Your dad, if you could call him that, was an all out alcoholic, drugged gambler, the full nine yards. He even had a stint in drug dealing, a stint that lasted your life time. Originally it had been you and your mother against the world but the world had got to much for her and she fled it, leaving Riverdale and you behind. The beating was particularly savage that night. You didn't go out that weekend, instead treated your wounds the best you could and hoped your friends would believe your lie that you were away. Through all this you lost your self confidence, couldn't see the beauty in yourself but your spirit, although damaged, continued to grow thanks to one person who couldn't see anything but the beauty in you, your boyfriend Jughead. You had neglected to tell him, or anyone for that matter, about your father's bestial behavior. Instead you had elected to wear loose clothing to hide the bruising and cuts that lay beneath on your wilting body and never invite anyone to your “home”. It was mid January, almost a year into your relationship with Juggy, that the dreaded question once again reared its hideous head. “When am I going to meet your parents y/n/n? I mean it's been almost 1 year..kinda” Jughead smiled at you. The two of you were strolling to the bus stop after having Pops with the gang. Poor Juggy you thought, he had never pressured or pushed you into anything thinking it was because you didn't want to and not because your body was mangled beneath it's facade. “Umm I'm not sure Juggy, I'm sorry” “It's okay” he caught both your hands and kissed your forehead. “But soon maybe? Please? It's just I feel like we're sneaking around or something despite the fact everyone knows” you could tell by this that it was really bothering him. You couldn't meet his eye as he searched yours “Finnnnee” he sighed releasing one hand carrying on the short walk. You closed your eyes holding back tears at disappointing the sweetest person in the world. “Is it something wrong with me?” He clearly wasn't going to let it go as ye reached the empty bus stop. “No jughead it's not!” “Then what y/n what?!” His voice began to raise and you became a little unsteady on your feet. You had no reply to him. “Well?!” This time he gestured quickly with his hand outward and you flinched. You flinched badly. “Woah woah Y/N….did...did you think I was going to hit you?” He put his hands on your arms and gently squeezed them, you tried to ignore the pain of him touching your wounds. “I...I...I..” you couldn't speak as the fear that your lie was about to unravel stole your voice. “Y/N?” just as his name left his lips the bus screeched to a stop next to you causing you to jump again. “Um...I gotta go Juggy” you kissed his cheek briefly before his worried eyes watched you step aboard and pull away from the crib. ~~~~ It had been an hour since you left a defeated and confused Jughead. He had texted you multiple times but you didn't reply which spurred him on further. You busied yourself cleaning the entire apartment and making dinner. You had finished your weekend work with Jughead at the diner and now sat on your bed waiting for the storm to blow in. And it did. Your father slammed the door on entry and you heard his heavy footed gait stumble into the kitchen. Great he's in a horrific state you thought. You didn't move a muscle trying to prolong the time without his hands on you. “Y/N!!! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!” he hollered. You rose from your bed shakily and timidly walked into the kitchen, a dinner plate smashing off the wall, narrowly missing your head. ***************Description of abuse*************** “WHAT IS THIS SHIT Y/N!!” he gestured to the pot. “Umm umm umm” he threw another plate coming closer to you this time, bits of porcelain covering you. “DON'T STUTTER. WHAT.IS.THIS” he slurred. “Its...ehem it's bolognese...” “WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME YOU WHORE!” he threw a plate full of the dinner this time hitting you in the stomach. The boiling sauce clung to your skin as you attempted to pull the fabric from your flesh. Your phone buzzed out on the counter with Jugheads name lighting up the screen. Your father picked it up glaring at it. “Jughead?” you hated hearing his name on his lips. Him saying Jugheads name felt wrong, like he was tainting it. “WHO IS JUGHEAD?! IS THAT THAT FP’ SON?! HE WOULDN'T DEAL FOR ME! I DON'T WANT YOU TALKING TO HIS SON I DON'T WANT YOU NEAR HIM! YOU BETTER STAY AWAY YOU STUPID BITCH!” he spat at you. “No.” You couldn't believe you just said no to your father and neither could he at first but then his eyes darkened “what.did.you.just.say.to.me” he bit out. Your father lunged at you, throwing you back against the counter, handles digging into you. He began striking, flogging, thrashing you as you screamed out. He hit harder at your calls for help. He started hurling verbal abuse too harsh and barbaric for anyone's ears let alone yours. He's scrawled and scraped you, leaving no part of you not aching. He let you laying on the kitchen floor, blood rising from your scalp from being beaten off the cabinet. Discoloration was appearing in your eye as your body cried out in pain. *************** You balled up as small as possible in the corner as you heard your dad clamber out of the house once again slamming the door behind him. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to restore your uneven breathing, failing at first. You glanced through blurred eyes at the clock. 11pm. He wouldn't be home till at least 3am and even then, you wouldn't be there. You slowly stood up fearing if you stood to fast you'd faint. You stumbled into your room grabbing all you owned and putting it into two bags. You took your school stuff and went to kitchen slowing picking up the pace as you adjusted to the pain. Reaching to the top shelf of a cabinet, now slightly covered in blood, you took a deep breath and wheezed through the pain as you retrieved a jar full with cash. You took all of it. You took one more look around the hell hole you had become accustomed to and closed the door not looking back. *Sms:BeanieBrainxX: hey jug..sorry I didn't reply emm listen I'm after getting into a little accident, well I mean it wasn't really an accident he meant to do it...anyway ive left my house and just need somewhere to stay just tonight, only for tonight. You know I hate asking for anything from anyone and I understand if your foster parents wouldn't be okay with it. Let me know Xx- 11.41pm *Sms:Y/N/NxXX: Yes of course you can! Where are you?! I'm coming to get you!!! Karen and Dave are away this weekend xxxxx -11.42pm *Sms: BeanieBrainxX: I'm actually outside your house now, I walked...well limped here- 11.44pm. Almost instantly after you hit send a light flashed on in the front room upstairs in the house. Jughead lashed open the door and ran to you while you hobbled to him. He met you in an embrace as you sobbed into his chest dropping your bags beside you. Jughead rocked you gently in his arms and supported you as you walked inside and up the stairs, him carrying your bags, words yet to be exchanged. You sat on edge of his bed as Jughead rushed in with half a pharmacy in his hands. He started by picking bits of porcelain out of your hair and gave you frozen peas to hold to your eye. He had nothing but sorrow and focus plastered across his face, nothing but pain and shame across yours. He cleaned your head wound and attempted to get the matted blood from your hair but failed and moved onto cleaning the cuts on your face. It stung but his reassuring eyes kept you from crying any more tears. He stopped and stood back to check for any more cuts and more shame rose to your face. You achingly pulled your shirt and hoodie off in one revealing new and old cuts and bruises accompanied by a new burn mark across your stomach. Jughead couldn't hide the shock and anger on his face as he reached to treat them with you flinching every time. You couldn't help but feel ashamed, sitting in your bra in front of your boyfriend, body completely coated in marks of aggression. “Did...did your parents do this?” Jughead treaded carefully with his words as he continued cleaning, “dad” you barely whispered. “Is this why you flinched at me today?” You nodded. “This wasn't a once off was it?” his sad eyes glanced over the new gnashes and the ones scarred over. You bit your lip and shook your head. Tears started to come to Jugheads eyes at the thought of anyone hurting you. He caught your hand softly and whispered “He can't hurt you now y/n...he'll never hurt you again” you leaned your head on his shoulder and began crying again. Jughead quickly enveloped you in a hug. Head buried in his chest you cried again. “shshsh y/n/n...It's okay y/n/n I won't let anyone hurt you like this ever again...I'm sorry it happened you in the first place” he kissed your forehead ever so gently. “Listen I want you to go take a shower and just wash away all the dried... blood” his voice caught on that last part. You nodded and let him lead you to the bathroom. “but first y/n...before you shower we're going to have to take photos of what your...what that man did to you okay? It's for the police so we have as much proof as possible okay. We'll call tomorrow, you need to rest tonight okay my lovely”. The thought of people seeing what had gone on behind closed doors frightened you but you knew it was the right thing to do and with Jughead by your side you could feel you could once again take on the world. ~~~ You had taken the longest shower you'd ever taken in your life. You watched the red swirl down the drain and although the cuts stung in the heat of the water you didn't mind, you were used to it. You dried yourself off and put on the one of Jughead's long tees he had left for you. You walked into his room and found him on his bed typing away at his laptop. He met your eye and gave a small smile and you returned it, on seeing your smile his grew wider. Jughead patted the space next to him and you crawled in next to him. He slung his arm around you and you cuddled in while pulling the duvet around yourself. You watched him type away for awhile before he shut the laptop down and put it on the floor. Jughead rolled to his side so you were both face on. “I told Karen and Dave about what happened, they said they'd be onto social services in the morning and that the oncall team can't do much now.” “Okay” you murmur. “Y/N...I don't want us to keep any secrets from each other anymore okay.” “Okay” “Promise?” “I promise Juggy” you snuggled deeply into his chest as he rests his head on yours, careful to not lean on the cut. “y/n” “Yes Jughead” “I love you Y/N Y/L/N and I don't want anyone to take you from me or try to change that” You smiled into his chest at his first verbal profession of love. “I love you Forsythe Pendleton the III” “Ughhhhhhh” he whines playfully above you and you laugh lightly. “I love you Juggy” “Yes, much better” he kisses your cut lips and tangles his legs in yours wanting to be as close as possible. It was the best night's sleep you've ever had. ---------------------------------------------- Teehee Xx Tag: @sunshine51879

#jughead jones #jughead x reader #jughead fluff #jughead fanfiction #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fluff #riverdale graphic

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desperatepenguin722 · 7 years

Text

Sunrise

Pairing: Lin Manuel Miranda x Reader

Request: @constellationsniall “Hey!!! I just had an idea for a linxreader fic, and i was wondering if you would be willing to write it??? so my idea is that lin is hosting a ham4ham show before one of the shows. He is in love with the reader, but the reader doesn't know it, and on the ham4ham show that day he brings out a lot of the cast to sing some sort of love song (you could choose), and he seems to be singing more directly to the reader than anyone else?”

A/N: So this is my second Song fic and my third hamilcast fic so, I hope y’all like it! Requests are always open!

You took a steadying breath, looking out the window of your dressing room down at the quickly gathering crowd. Excitement bubbled up and formed into a small smile that settled upon your lips. But, along with that excited feeling, a sense of dread soon followed at the inevitable ending that would be coming in less than five hours.

It was your last performance as Peggy Schuyler and Maria Reynolds.

Sure, you’d only been playing the roles for a little over a month, but at two shows a day six days a week, you’d grown quite a fondness for, as Lin liked to call the characters, “Sober (Y/N), and drunk (Y/N)”. You’d disagreed with a scoff, but you hadn’t exactly done anything to prove him wrong. Although you hated to admit it, you knew the role wasn’t the only thing you’d miss. You’d miss the cast.

You’d quickly grown fond of your quirky partners-in-crime, there was something in each of them that drew you. To your happy surprise, they were just as ready to accept you into their family, not hesitating to give you a chance as soon as Lin excitedly went on and on about your vocal range after he’d heard you at a karaoke bar one night. If you’d have known he’d be there that night, you would’ve sang something less sexual than “Earned It”. But maybe not. You’d never forget the way he rushed up to you after the song, rambling on about his show and how, “You’d be perfect for the role of a forgotten sister and an seductive mistress”. You shrugged an okay.

Now, two months later, you were here. Sitting at the window peering down at Ham4Ham fans with a boatload of memorable shows stored forever in your mind. Shows where you played Peggy, the innocently adorable little sister. Shows where you played Maria, the not-so-innocent young mistress of Alexander Hamilton. Shows where you got to repeatedly kiss Lin...

You shook your head, a dark blush settling on your cheeks. They were just stage kisses, that’s all. You told yourself. Even if you had felt something in those kisses, there’s no way Lin did. No way he’d felt those fireworks you’d felt since the first rehearsal, since the first time his hand caressed your sides and you felt his breath on your neck, since the first time you’d entangled your fingers into his jet-black locks, since the first time you had told him to stay.

He would’ve said something by now, Lin wasn’t one to hide things. Even on a TMI level.

“Yooo,” A familiar head of curls appeared in the doorway, “How’s it going?” Daveed, dressed in a gray tank-top with ‘Fuck Gender Roles’ written in a white graffiti font and dark blue jeans, walked towards the window you were standing at.

“It’s going...” You shrugged, turning your eyes from the crowded street below to him.

He smiled, ruffling your hair like an older brother. Daveed had become one of your closests friends in the past two months as well as a protecitve big-brother. He’d constantly insist on walking you home, even if you already had an Uber. he’d walk you to the car and make you sure had enough money to get back to your small studio apartment. “Gonna miss this place? I won’t ask if you’ll miss me, I mean, that’s kind of inevitable.” He tossed his hair back with an aura of cockiness.

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Are you Jefferson or Daveed?”

“Neither.” He bent down, mock whispering in your ear. “I am actually Lafayette.”He made his typical French accent even thicker, causing you to giggle. “There’s my girl, no being sad on your last performance. I mean, Maria Reynolds was sad but you’ve gotta wait until The Reynolds Pamphlet to show that. Until then, you’ve got to be all ‘Hey Lin, let me kiss you and seduce you with my curves and shit’” He ran his hands slowly up and down his sides and pretended to swoon.

The action should’ve sent you into a fit of laughter, but all it did was cause your cheeks to catch fire and your eyes to widen. “I-I’m not trying to seduce Lin, I-I’m just playing the part.” You quickly explained, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush spreading down your neck.

He cocked a brow, stopping his show. “I was just kid-” His eyes widened, “Holy shit. You like Lin. Like, like-like him.”

You rolled your eyes, internally cursing yourself for being able to blush so easy. “How eloquent Diggs.”

“And she doesn’t deny it!” He grinned, clapping his hands.

Anthony walked in, his hair already tied back but still wearing his usual plain navy-blue tee and black jeans. “Doesn’t deny what?”

You groaned. “Daveed don-”

“Her crush on Lin.”

Anthony nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just now catching onto that?”

You furrowed your brows. “Wait, what?” You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, practically the whole cast can see the chemistry between you two up there. It’s kind of awkwards sometimes when we don’t know if y’alll are actually gonna start getting it on.” He chuckled, dodging the box of tissues you threw at him.

“Well, tell the man how you feel girl!” Daveed blurted.

You rolled your eyes. “Great idea Diggs, ‘Hey, I know we only met like two months ago and you’ve had to kiss me almost every night since then but I actually really like you so since I’m leaving and your schedule will be far too busy for me, want to go grab coffee? Oh, you don’t feel that way towards me and I’ve just ruined our friendship? Okay, excuse me while I go and pass out in shame.’ “ You shook your head. “No.”

Anthony smiled at Daveed, pulling out his phone and typing something. A minute later, Daveed’s phone buzzed and he started typing. This went on for a few minutes and finally you rolled your eyes.

“Guys, i’m standing right here. You aren’t as slick as you’d like to think.”

“Shh! No time for that now, we’ve got a ham4ham to perform in!” Ant declared, grabbing your hand. Daveed gave you no time to respond, quickly ushering you out and down to the back door.

“I don’t know what the hell you two are up to, but I swear if you-” Anthony opened the door and pulled you out before you could finish your threat. John had just finished his rendition of “Helpless” with Lin, the audience erupting in a mix of cheers and laughs. You couldn’t help the smile that fell upon your lips at John making eyes at Lin and Lin making eyes right back.

“Alright alright! John, stop fawning over Lin and make some noise for (Y/N)(Y/L/N)!” Anthony declared, pulling you next to Lin. The audience cheered at you, Daveed and Ant’s appearance. You gave a little wave and a smile, facing the audience so you wouldn’t have to look into Lin’s hypnotizing eyes.

“So,” Daveed began, grabbing the megaphone from Lin, “We all know it’s (Y/N)’s last show.” The audience erupted in cheers and groans, something that made your eyes start to tear. “I know, I know, we’ll all miss her. Some of us more than others.” He more muttered the last part, eyes darting momentarily to Lin before continuing. “On that note, who thinks (Y/N) and Lin need to have one last song?” The crowd cheered and clapped, screaming excited Yes!’s. You glared at Daveed, mouthing, ‘What the hell are you two up to?’ to Anthony.

He responded with a smile and shrug, taking the megaphone Daeed held out. What the hell were they planning? You looked over at Lin, who appeared just as lost as you felt. “Anybody from the audience have any suggestions?” He cupped his ear and leaned to the side as the crowd shouted so many songs at the same time. “Did I hear someone shout “Sunrise”?” Shouts of agreeance and excitement erupted and your stomach dropped. Sunrise. One of the biggest love songs from ‘In The Heights’.

You sent a glare at both Ant and Daveed, hoping they felt the fire you were trying to shower them with. This is what they’d been planning. You turned back to Lin, who smiled and shrugged.

“I’m down. Come on Nina, let’s do this!”

His confidence and smile melted your heart and you found yourself only able to nod, grabbing a mic that one of the crew handed you. You and Lin walked about five feet from each other, the audience quieting and the cast gathering around behind the two of you. Lin sent yo a thumbs up and tied his hair back. Shame, it always looked so nice down, but it looked really cute up, too.

You sent one back, clearing your throat and beginning. “Are you ready to try again?”

Lin smiled, nodding. “I think I’m ready.”

“Okay, here we go. Esquina.”

“Corner.” He sang back.

“Tienda?” You cocked a brow.

“Store.”

“Bombilla?”

“Lightbulb.”

“You sure?” you teased, smirking at the crowd. You turned back to him just as he playfully rolled his eyes and answered.

“I’m sure.”

“Three outta three, you did alright.”

“Well teach me a little more...” He took a step closer, making the space between you smaller. You took a quick breath, heart pounding at the fact that by the end of the song, you two would be mere inches from each other.

“Calor.” You took a small step forward, the crowd slowly fading as your eyes focused on him.

“Heat.” His smile grew smaller, but still remained.

“Anoche.”

“Last night.” He sang, winking at you.

You felt calor fall upon your cheeks again, but suddenly didn’t care whether he saw or not. This is the time you’d be able to express how you felt to his face, without really telling him at all. You weren’t really sure if you were Nina singing to Benny, or you singing to Lin. “Dolor.” Your voice dipped, and you tried not to let the emotions through too much. Just enough to put on a belivable show.

“Pain.” He nodded, walking forward then stopping.

You bit your lip, looking down. “That’s right.” You glanced up at him through your lashes. “Llamame.”

“Call me.”

“Azul.” It was your turn to walk, but you suddenly felt glued to your spot. You were afraid that if he saw the way you were looking at him, the way your heart was coming out in every lyric, he’d back away.

“Blue.” He moved forward.

“Amame?” You tried to make it come out as a question, but it sounded more like a plea.

Lin was only a foot away now, and he reached out and grabbed your hand. Your eyes shot up, this wasn’t part of the plan. “...Love me?” His plea matched yours and suddenly, your courage rose along with your voice.

You nodded slowly. “Perhaps...I do.”

He paused for a moment, pulling you gently to him by the hand. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask if this was part of the act or not in fear that if his answer was yes, you wouldn’t be able to finish the song. “Well,” He tilted your chin up so your eyes met and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “How do you say, “Kiss me”?”

“Besame.” You whispered into the mic you were white-knuckling.

“And how do you say, “Hold me”?” He held his hand on the small of your back, holding you as close to him as he could.

“Abrazame. Al amanecer. At sunrise.” You tore your eyes away, looking up and past the audience at the sun, hanging high in the sky.

He guided your chin back and looked deeply into your eyes, smiling nervously and tilting his head slightly. You took a breath, preparing to sing with him.

“Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise.” The cast echoed the last word, everything flowing in perfect synch.

“Sunrise.” You repeatedly, your nervous smile matching his.

Now it was his line.

You waited, along with the cast and the audience, time itself standing still. Everyone waited tensely for Lin to continue the song, you waited to continue so you could focus on something other than the way his lips were only an eyelash length away from yours or the way his chocolate eyes were gazing down into yours or-

Suddenly, his lips were on yours. And he kissed you like no one had before, slowly, tenderly, lovingly. Your eyes shut as you wrapped your arms aroujd his neck, melting into the kiss. His lips seemed to be speaking the only language you ever wanted to use after this, one of understanding, of care, of passion.

You only noticed the cheers and whoops of the audience and cast after you pulled away, breathless. You opened your eyes, unable to keep a smile from your face. Luckily, he was beaming just as hard as you were.

“Benny, I think it’s your line.” You chuckled, some of the crowd laughing with you and most of the crowd still “aww”ing and snapping photos.

“Right.” He rested his forehead against yours. “At Sunrise.” He sang.

A whole new meaning coming to the word.

#lin manuel miranda #lin miranda #lin x reader #hamilcast #hamilcast reader insert #hamilcast x reader #lin manuel x reader #lin mauel imagine #in the heights #hamilton #hamilton fandom #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic

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leslieohdamnjr · 7 years

Text

Denial (Thomas Jefferson x Reader)

Word Count: 1408

Genre: Mostly fluff.... humor?

Request/Summary: Interruptions (Yes, you do have to read interruptions for Denial to make sense)

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x Reader

AU: Modern

Warnings: Cussing, implied smut, that should be it, let me know if you catch something else.

A/N- This has been sitting in my drafts for ages and I decided I’d finally post it and spur ‘the interruptions series’ yes I will still finish requests. Yes I still plan on another part to ‘the noise complaint series’

Standard TJeffs A/N: Historical Jefferson was an evil dick, I write for the character from the play

I can’t find the perfect daveed gif for this. I’m sorry. We’ll have to go gifless again.

Waking up to his bare chest pressing against your back instantly made you weak at the knees. You released a content and shaking sigh, slowly opening your eyes. You felt him leaving warm, open mouthed kisses all over the back of your neck and your upper back. You exhaled with the look of a love sick puppy morphing your face.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He asked between kisses, his voice husky from sleep. Each kiss drew a tingle to where it was placed and each word in your ear brought you closer to shivering.

“Hmm… I dunno.” You teased, rolling onto your back next to him.

“Maybe we should try again.” You could almost hear his mischievous grin. “I can't just leave you dissatisfied.” With that, he ducked under the covers, pushing up your tank top and trailing his kisses down your torso.

“Thomas! I have work!” You squealed.

“There’s still time.” You heard him argue from beneath the covers, growing tantalizingly close to the hem of your pants with his kisses.

“Yeah, but I have to use that time to go back to my place for all my stuff.” You told him, releasing the shutter that had been building up earlier.

“Mmm… what stuff? He hummed, unbuttoning your pants for just another inch or two of skin.

“I have to shower and brush my teeth and-” Your list was cut short by his fingers pulling your panties down the slightest bit, only enough for the hem to dip downward, giving him just a little bit more to kiss. The relentless taunting was beginning to get to you but you reminded yourself yet again of the dreaded ‘work’ you had to go to.

“Come on Jefferson. I’m serious.” You informed. His head popped up next to you once more with that annoying smirk plastered on his face.

“I have an idea.” He stated conspiratorially.

“What’s your idea?” You queried, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“You could leave a toothbrush here…” He kissed your nose before moving on, “And a few changes of clothes…” Your cheek. “Shower here…” Your other cheek. “Problem solved.” He finished, finally kissing your lips. You couldn't keep yourself from kissing back, pulling him closer to you with an arm around his neck. His hand lightly ran down your stomach, where your shirt was still pushed up, causing your skin to tickle at his incredibly soft touch.

“Okay.” You forced yourself to push him away. “I’ll consider it, but we really haven't been together that long.” He pouted as you crawled out of bed, straightening your shirt.

“You’re so cute when you pout.” You mocked playfully, ruffling his already messy hair.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH HIM?” Eliza asked, almost yelling, you had grown quite close to her since your uncle’s office party and this was your fifth time having lunch together.

“Yes. But no need to tell the world!” You scolded. “Afterwards I was about to leave, I was all dressed and everything but right before I was about to step out the door he grabbed my wrist and just went ‘stay.’ and…” You trailed off.

“And?” Eliza prompted.

“I stayed.” You bit your lip guiltily.

“You stayed?” She asked in disbelief. You nodded hesitantly before your face melted into that of a child dreaming of sugar.

“But ‘Liza, the morning was just bliss.” You sighed.

“YOU HAD SEX AGAIN?” She nearly shouted again.

“No. We didn't.” You laughed. “I woke up in his arms, an-”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to fall in love with him.” She interrupted.

“I’m not.” You shook your head, snapping out of the dream state.

“And it's only been a couple weeks, nobody falls in love after only that long.” You argued.

“I did.” She stated.

“Fine. You did. But the mojority of humans don’t fall in love that fast. And I’m not going to fall in love with Thomas until I know he loves me back.” You denied.

“Okay. There is literally nothing you can do to keep yourself from falling in love and honestly (Y/N), I think you're already in love.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm not!”

“But ‘Liza, the morning was just bliss” She imitated. “Honey. You're in love.”

“I can't be.” You shook your head.

“Wait a while before you tell him though. See if you can decipher how he feels.” Eliza shrugged, taking a bite of her salad.

“Okay first of all, I already told you. I'm not in love with him.” You declared. “And second of all, my uncle said he’s… tricky.”

“Tricky?” She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

“Well he said that Thomas… his exact words were ‘he’s broken a lot of hearts’ but I’ve taken to understand that he'll be really affectionate… then brutally crush the women he's with.” You explained.

“Oh c’mon. He can't be that much of a monster.” She argued.

“You are literally married to Alexander Hamilton.” You pointed out.

“Yeah. So?” She asked.

“I’ve spent a maximum of twenty minutes with him and I already know how much he hates my boyf-... Thomas.” You told her.

“Quite the long pause.” She noted.

“We just haven't labeled ourselves yet.” You shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

A week after your lunch with Eliza you were sitting on Thomas’ couch. You traced swirling designs on the back of his hand as he held you.

“Hey Thomas?” You finally broke the silence.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Am I… Am I your girlfriend?” You asked.

“Whaaat…” He began, causing your heart to stop mid-beat. “Yes.” He whispered into your ear with a chuckle.

“You didn't even ask?”

“It's non-negotiable.”

“Good thing I like it then.” You murmured, Turning to kiss him. He took hold of your shirt collar and deepened the kiss before flipping you over so you were beneath him on the couch.

“Now?” You sighed contentedly between kisses.

“Now.” He responded, bringing his mouth down to your neck as your legs latched around his waist.

“I won't complain.” You breathed, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off his shoulders.

“He says I’m his girlfriend.” You announced.

“I saw that coming” She smirked. “C’mon in.” You hung your head as she pulled her apartment door open wider.

“Who’s whose girlfriend?” Alexander asked, peeking over his wife’s shoulder. A blush overtook his cheeks as soon as he saw you, likely remembering the first time you met.

“(Y/N).” Eliza answered him.

“And whose girlfriend are you?” He questioned. Eliza leaned over and whispered in his ear. His eyes widened as soon as she leaned away. He promptly turned on his heel and walked away mumbling “I can’t deal with this.”

“Go change Philip then!” She called to him.

“No wait, I’m coming back!” He stated hastily.

“Too late. And besides, it’s your turn anyway.” She responded. He groaned childishly before walking off again. She dragged you over to the couch and sat down, gesturing for you to join her.

“So how did it happen?” She asked excitedly.

“I don't know, we were just sitting there and then stupid me was like ‘am I your girlfriend?’ and he was like ‘whaaaat? Yes.’ and then we had sex.” You shrugged.

“Okay. Lesson one: I don't always need to know when you have sex.” Eliza told you. “Lesson two: I don't get why you're so paranoid, it doesn't sound that bad.”

“Eliza, I’m not letting my guard down. I don't care how adorable those curls of his are, or how sexy his voice sounds when he’s tired, or how much I love it when he-”

“Okay,” Eliza interrupted. “But from what I’ve heard, you're not doing a very good job of keeping those walls up.”

“You're right. I need to rebuild.” You agreed.

“That’s not what I meant.” She tried to say.

“Jesus, how could I let him in so much?” You ignored her.

“To be honest (Y/N),I don’t think you’re afraid of letting him in, I think you’re afraid of letting anyone in.” Eliza set her hand on your arm, her voice softening. She could tell you’d had your heart broken, crushed. It wasn’t hard for her to see, she’d noticed it not long after you’d begun talking to her about Thomas. She’d seen it in you just as she’d seen it in Angelica. And now it was her job to help you find your way back. That being said, it was also her job to change the ways of one Thomas Jefferson.

#thomas jefferson x reader #hamilton x reader #hamilton imagine #hamilton imagines #interruptions series

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literary-lioness · 5 years

Text

Nanowrimo Day 9

This morning I was thinking about how behind I have felt in working on this novel and how bothered I had let myself become about not making my daily goals and word counts, and I realized something. Stressing about this was making me dread writing. Normally I have a pretty good time writing, I enjoy it, but I have not felt that way in the past few days, which is a big problem.

My solution? Forget word counts and just enjoy writing again. Don’t get me wrong, I plan to continue working on this project, but if I don't finish all 50,000 words, or the story itself ends up being shorter than 50,000 words? I’m not going to stress about it. Again, I still hope to finish the 50k, but I’m not going to sacrifice my love of writing to do it. Anyways, here is what I wrote today.

Nanowrimo Word Count: 12230

VII

Emery

Emery and Bucky were taking their nightly walk down main street, when Emery’s phone rang. She stopped walking to pull her phone out of her jacket pocket and check the caller id. Bucky pulled on his leash a little bit before stopping with a huff, one leg stuck straight backward in his funny little snow boot walk. He looked at her indignantly as if to say, first you make me wear these ridiculous things on my feet and now you make me stop walking?

“Sorry, bud. It’s Lauren,” Emery said apologetically. She hit the green accept button and put the phone up to her ear, “Hello?”

“I am dying over here, Em. Spiiillll,” Lauren said into the phone.

“So dramatic,” Emery laughed.

She resumed her walk knowing that Lauren had no intention of letting her off easy.

“I am not dramatic! But, you defiantly made me wait too long!”

“She’s dramatic,” She heard Dave say in the background.

“Hush, you. Ok, so tell me about the very gorgeous Quinn Stone.”

Emery felt her cheeks heat, “There is nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit, tell me.”

“She really just came so that I could show her some of her niece’s work, and then she left. She was there for less than five minutes, and that’s about it.”

“Uhuh, and then?”

“What makes you think there is an ‘and then’?”

“’That’s about it’ is Emery code for, ‘there are other pieces of this story that I have not yet told you’.”

“Unfair.”

“Whatever, just tell meeee.”

“When I was leaving, she and Daisy were throwing snowballs around, one hit me, and I might have engaged with them.”

“Oh, spicy, a sexy snowball fight.”

“Jesus, Lo, you heard the part where her niece, my student, was there correct?”

“Admittedly it was out of my mouth before I could stop it.”

“I see that,” Emery said chuckling.

“And that was it?”

“Yeah, that was it.”

“Ok, so, you’re totally into her right.”

Emery heaved a sigh, “I wouldn’t say totally.”

Lauren screeched in delight, “I knew it! I saw the way you looked at her in when you walked in, all wistful.”

“Knock it off, even if I am into her, I’m not going there.”

“What?! Why?”

“Well first of all, her niece is in my class, so that would be weird.”

“Weak! Next reason.”

“What? That’s not weak, it’s a valid concern, what if it causes a conflict of interest! Imagine how weird it would be if I gave Daisy a poor grade and then I had to face Quinn? What if she asked me to give Daisy a better grade?”

“Does Quinn strike you as that type of person?”

“Well no, but I mean, what if?”

“Like I said, weak.”

“Ok, well what about Daisy? She might now want her teacher and aunt to date. She’s my student first and foremost, I want her to feel comfortable in my class.”

“While more valid, still weak. What if Daisy doesn’t care or is happy about it?”

“Ugh, you’re turning it around on me.”

“I’m just asking a different ‘what if’ than you, so if we’re done with that scenario. What is your next reason?” Lauren asked.

“Ok, well I don’t know if she is interested,” Emery said.

“That-is actually fair. I defiantly didn’t get a vibe from her one way or the other.”

“Maybe because you were too busy staring?”

“I was not,” Lauren said indignantly.

“You were.”

“Fine, maybe a little. Anyways, I get where you’re coming from, but I think you should put yourself out there.”

“Lauren, I literally met this woman three days ago, and on two of the three occasions we met, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“And yet, here we are.”

Emery groaned, “I just don’t think it’s the right move.”

“Ok, but just like, be open to it?”

“Maybe,” Emery said. She paused when she saw a familiar figure walking toward her. Jade. Great. “Hey, Lo, can I call you back?”

“Sure, but be warned! I shall not be made to wait too long again!”

“Drama Queen,” Emery said and hung the phone up.

Bucky started growling, his hackles rising as Jade drew closer.

“Bucky, you know me,” Jade said, trying to play nice with the little Frenchie.

“And he doesn’t like you,” Emery said firmly.

Jade’s laugh sounded forced and Emery had to fight the urge to draw away from her, “He never really did, huh?”

Emery shrugged, “I can’t say that I blame him.”

“Ah, don’t be like that. I saw you walking and wanted to say hi to you.”

“Pleasantry received. Look it’s cold, and I need to get Bucky home. I’ll catch you later.”

Jade bit her bottom lip in what she probably felt was a seductive manner, but the only effect it had on Emery was to make her stomach roil, “Maybe I could walk you home.” She ended the statement with a wink. Clearly, Jade thought she had a chance of seeing the inside of Emery’s apartment.

“No,” Emery said in a tone that would have shut down anyone else.

“Ah, Em, don’t be like that,” Jade said reaching out to touch her arm and step closer to her.

Emery pulled her arm back and wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. She stepped away despite her efforts to hold her ground, “Leave me alone Jade.”

Jade leaned closer to her still, “Ah, but we had so much fun last time.”

Emery shivered, shame and regret washed over her. She knew exactly what Jade was referring to, and it wasn’t something she liked to dwell on. Bucky let another threatening growl fill the space between them. He had never bit anyone, but in that moment, she wished he would just take a little bite out of Jade’s leg.

“Ms. Webster!” A yell of joy ripped through the air, and Jade immediately drew back

Emery looked past Jade to her savior, and saw Daisy barreling toward her. She caught the little girl in her arms and help her tightly like the lifeline she was, “Hey Daisy.”

She looked up from Daisy and saw Quinn walking toward them with her hands in the front of a black Nike hoodie. Emery had never been so glad to see other people before.

Quinn looked from Emery to Jade and raised an eyebrow, “Everything ok, here?”

Jade forced a smile onto her face, “Of course, I was just offering to walk Emery home. I don’t think we’ve met; my name is Jade.” She stuck her hand out toward Quinn.

For a moment Emery thought Quinn wouldn’t take Jade’s hand, but she shook it briefly, “Quinn.”

Quinn looked back at Emery and asked more directly, “Are you ok?”

Emery’s throat felt dry, Quinn was offering her a lifeline, she took it, she gave her head a small shake. Quinn raised an eyebrow and turned back to Jade, “You know, I think Daisy and I can handle walking Emery home.”

Jade’s eyes narrowed, “Excuse-.”

Quinn cut her off, “You’re excused. Have a good night.”

Daisy, who Emery was still holding onto said, “Um, Ms. Webster? You have to let me go if we’re gonna walk you home.”

“Oh! Sorry honey,” she released Daisy and turned toward the direction of her apartment, “I’m this way.”

Quinn nodded stoically and walked closely beside her. So closely that she could smell the pleasant scent of cinnamon wafting from her.

“Ms. Webster? May I walk your dog please?”

“Sure, he’s a good boy, just make sure you keep an eye on him, if he sees a cat he might try to chase it,” she said handing Daisy the leash.

“Is that how he ended up in the street the other night?” Quinn asked, casting a sideways glance at her.

“Unfortunately.”

They walked a little further, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Emery could feel the questions hanging in the air between them, “Thank you, by the way, for the save.”

“Thank Daisy, she’s the one who saw you when we came out of Sam’s.”

“Still, you helped.”

“You’re welcome. You looked pretty shaken up, I couldn’t leave you there. Who was that jerk anyways?”

“My ex, she doesn’t seem to realize that all parts of the relationship are over.”

“Ah, the worst,” Quinn said.

“The very worst,” Emery replied.

They continued to walk in silence, Emery’s hand brushed the back of Quinn’s, and she felt her cheeks heat at the simple contact. She had to fight against doing it again, or worse, grabbing Quinn’s hand. Finally they reached her apartment building, “Well, this is me.”

“Woah! You live in a tall building, Ms. Webster,” Daisy said in wide eyed amazement.

“I do! Except, I only live in a small part of this tall building,” she said smiling.

“Oh, neat!”

Quinn laughed, “Alright Daisy, tell Ms. Webster goodnight so we can head back.”

Daisy gave her a third hug, “Bye Ms. Webster!”

“Bye Daisy,” she turned her eyes to Quinn, “Bye, Quinn and thank you again.”

“Bye,” Quinn said simply, before taking Daisy’s hand and walking back toward Sam’s pizza.

Emery picked Bucky up and carried him up the stairs to their studio. When she got inside, she closed the door and leaned against it for support. Maybe totally was the correct word to describe just how into Quinn she was. She sighed and thought about calling Lauren but didn’t. Lauren would call when she wanted to talk anyways, and right now Emery just needed a moment to collect herself.

She thought about Jade and their encounter. She wished that she had never muddied the waters after their break-up, somehow leading Jade to believe her door was open anytime she wanted. She knew she needed to get the situation with Jade under control, she didn’t ever want a repeat of those three minutes before Daisy and Quinn had saved her.

She felt her heart do a flip when she thought of Quinn. She had saved Emery. With a single look she was able to tell that she needed help and hadn’t hesitated to swoop in to save her. That doesn’t mean she’s into you, crazy. Emery told herself, though that didn’t seem to stop her brain from thinking fondly of the red-headed woman. Of her soft hand, or her inviting lips.

Emery’s eyes widened at the thought, and she shook her head. She forced the thought of kissing Quinn out of her mind. She refocused on all the reasons she would never get involved with Quinn Stone. The only probably was that now, as Lauren had said, they sounded weak.

She turned the TV on as a distraction and flipped to Hallmark, they would be showing some sappy Christmas movie with a woman leaving her inattentive suit-wearing boyfriend, for the handsome, small-town carpenter that would defiantly take her mind off Quinn. Except the one that was showing was about a small-town doctor. Emery sighed, settled into her sofa, and accepted that the universe was going to force her to think about a woman she had sworn she wouldn’t get involved with as penance for her misdeeds.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2019 #literarylionesswriting #fiction #lesbian #christmas novel #word count 12230

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