#it sucks that they have one overhead out of all their jumping moves and it's the one thats so short ranged its so hard to hit

[twola]

Your latest reblog of Arthur shaming himself in the mirror made me think of how badly I wanna jump his bones in front of one 🪞🪞

Mirror Image

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“Ugh, you ugly bastard….”

God damnit. You’re sure he thinks you can’t hear him from the open door to the balcony, but the self-deprecating muttering he is doing under his breath reaches your ears and you sigh. Gripping the wooden railing overlooking Strawberry, your eyes flutter closed for a moment and you curse all those who came before you that made him think this way.

“No wonder they all leave you…”

“You know something I don’t?” Your voice cuts across the room, making his shoulder jolt and catching him off guard, something you’re surprised by, gunslinger that he is.

Arthur turns away from the mirror, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly, knowing he’s been caught.

You don’t let him spiral any further, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff, “Are you ending this between us?”

“What -no…sweetheart-” He sputters, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Then why are you talking like that? I ain’t leaving you.”

Arthur looks down at the floor, “You will-”

“I won’t.” You step closer, the small heel of your boots thumping on the floor as your brow sets, narrowing your eyes as you raise your voice, “Why… why do I feel like I have to constantly prove to you that I’m not going anywhere?”

“Cause you deserve better than a sour-faced idiot like me,” Arthur snaps back, realizing his tone only after the words have spilled out, seeing you wince slightly at the outburst, “Sweetheart…”

You sigh again, and let your arms down from your chest, looking at the floor for a moment before pursing your lips in frustration. After a moment, you march pointedly toward him, catching him off guard again as you press your frame against him, hands maneuvering his large body in a quarter turn so that the two of you are prominently displayed in the reflection. 

“What’re you doin’-”

Arthur audibly groans as you sink to your knees, gazing up at him as your hands move to unbutton the fly of his trousers, and then the lower buttons of his union suit as his pale skin becomes visible to you. 

“Darl- you don’t-”

You cut him off further by pulling his burgeoning cock from his pants, coaxing it to fullness as you continue to look up at him. His hands curl into fists at his side, and with a glance toward the mirror, his eyes follow yours to see the reflection of the two of you. As he breathes out heavily from his nose, you return to your ministrations, pumping him until he stands rigid and blood-filled. His gaze is locked on the mirror as you lean toward him, taking his member into the warm cavern of your mouth.

You suck at him, bobbing back and forth on his shaft as one of his hands finds its way to your head, his fingers pulsing as your tongue pressed against the head of his cock before you take him completely into the warm cavern of your mouth again.

Pulling off of him with a wet sound, you find his gaze in the mirror, slack jawed and panting, his free hand’s knuckles white at his side from trying to hold restraint.

You lean in and press your lips to the underside of his cock, making all six foot of him shiver, before standing to your full height. 

“Jesus, woman-” Arthur pants, his hand flying to his cock to stroke it, but you bat his arm away with one hand as the other wraps around his spit-slicked cock. 

“Why is it so hard for you to think you deserve good things?”

He frowns, about to open his mouth before he has to bite his lip as you catch him on a downstroke. You give his cock several more pumps before moving half a step back, pulling your blouse out from where it is tucked into your skirt. He’s unable to do anything but watch you in that mirror as you quickly disrobe - your blouse is tossed to the side. Your skirt pools at your feet. You kick your boots off somewhere behind you. You pull your chemise overhead and throw it to the floor. Your bloomers join your skirt around your ankles.

“Look at me.” You order, and his eyes snap from the mirror and back to you, lust-blown and wide with surprise. 

“You deserve to fuck me.” You state with force, grabbing one of his hands and shoving it between your legs, where moisture gathers, “You deserve to warm your cock in me and fuck me til you can’t anymore.”

He is completely flustered, only able to rub at your folds after a moment of gathering himself, breathing heavily as his other hand rubs his neglected cock.

After several moments of enjoying him touching that sensitive skin, you turn around, pressing your back against him, wiggling your hips against his pelvis for a moment before leaning forward, laying your arms upon the dresser as you gaze upon him in the mirror, your bodies side-profile in the reflection.

“Take what you deserve, Arthur.” You whisper, bent over at the waist in front of the mirror, and in an instant, he’s rushing that half a step forward as he unhooks his suspenders, his pants shoved to his knees as he guides his cock into your waiting cunt.

He slides in almost embarrassingly easily, and when you feel his hips press against your rear, he groans, holding still for a moment, his hands flying to your hips as he tries not to come simply from the rhapsody of being sheathed in your warmth.

You give him that moment to gather himself before throwing your hips back, urging him to move, and he grunts in surprise before taking the hint, quickly finding a rhythm of thrusting himself into you, staring at the two of you in that mirror, a full reflection of the carnal joining of your bodies.

“Say it.” You keen, arching your back to take him deeper still.

“Say -god- say wh-what?” He grunts out between thrusts, his hands tight around your hips as he watches his cock piston in and out of you, well glossed with your slick each time he pulls out.

“That you deserve t-this-” Your composure falls as the head of his cock hits that spot within you that makes your knees shake. 

“S-sweetheart-” Arthur grunts as he tightens his grip on your hips as you nearly stumble, whining as you grip the dresser for dear life.

“Say it, goddamnit-” you nearly yell, your mouth hanging open as you pant, one of your hands snaking between your legs and rubbing yourself above where he spears into you.

“Fuck - Jesus…” Arthur throws his gaze to the ceiling before breathing out heavily through his nose, trying to recenter himself, “I-I deserve this.”

“You deserve m-me.”

“God, darlin’. I d-deserve you.”

“You, agh- you deserve to fill me up.”

That, that, is something he is not able to articulate into words. He lurches forward, groaning loudly, his entire body crashing into yours, emptying himself into your velvet core, gasping like a damn fish out of water.

You’re bent over the dresser, panting, your nakedness covered by the six foot frame of your beloved, whose forehead rests on the curve of your neck as he comes down from his release. After a few centering moments, he grunts as he extricates himself from you, and you cannot help the whine that escapes you at the loss of his flesh. The space that he carved for himself within your body is now empty, the warm drip of his release down your inner thighs the only evidence of your joining.

“Y’gonna -” you breathe out heavily as you push yourself to stand, your knees shaking slightly as you wince, continuing to lean over the dresser, “Y’gonna stop with that bullshit now?”

Arthur doesn't respond, and as you clench your teeth to lecture him again, you catch the view of him in that mirror - he’s completely stricken, his gaze unable to be drawn from the reflection of the wet streaks of him that trail down from your inner thighs. He stands there, breath still heavy and full, pants at his knees and cock hanging as it softens.

You close your eyes and let a long breath out your nose, and figure you’ve lectured him enough for the day. Getting him to truly believe that he’s deserving of good things… it’s going to take more than just today.

His fingertips surprise you, sliding between your thighs to trace where his spend stains your skin. It’s gentle, the way he touches you, until his large hands grasp at your thighs and lifting you up and into his embrace as you yelp in surprise.

“Bed- ain’t done with y’."

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 20

part 1 | part 19 | ao3

"Eddie! Hey!" he brightens. Tells himself to take it down a notch; schools his face and voice into something a little less pathetically eager. “What’s up, man?” 

“Not much, dude,” Eddie teases, one dimple popping out. He looks good. Dressed up. Red and black flannel with the top buttons undone; light dusting of chest hair on pale skin, the edge of a tattoo Steve’s never seen. He’s got his black leather jacket and black jeans with no holes and black riding boots on. All he’s missing is a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm.

“What’s with the, uh…?” Steve gestures to his outfit, because he realizes he’s sort of just been staring at the dip of his throat. Eddie raises an eyebrow. Steve clarifies, “You got a date or something?” 

“Oh, this?” Eddie laughs. “Uh, no. Nope. Can’t say that I do.”

He hops up backward onto the counter, his ass right next to Steve’s elbow, legs dangling over the edge, and he ignores Steve’s protests to get down from there as he leans in to ask in a mischievous hush, “Can you keep a secret?” 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat, twists into a bitter twinge of nerves. He can keep a lot of secrets. Maybe he learned that from his dad.

“Yeah…?” He leans in on his elbows.

Eddie moves in closer still, cups his hand around his mouth and whispers, “I totally forgot to do laundry last week.” 

Oh, my god. “You’re an idiot,” Steve laughs. “That’s your big confession?” 

Eddie’s smile widens. “Yeah. I got distracted with rehearsals. This was the only clean shit I had left.” He kicks one leg out straight to show off his boot. “I’m only wearing these so you can’t tell I don’t have socks on.”

“Gross!” Steve laughs harder and shoves at Eddie, who tumbles theatrically over the edge of the counter, flinging himself to the ground and rolling onto his back so he can fake a couple death spasms and then lie there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a fucking weirdo. “You’re so weird.” 

“This night sucked before I showed up, and you know it,” Eddie says from the floor. He opens one eye to wink at Steve, then he gives one final death twitch and drops the act, popping back up to mirror Steve’s pose, elbows propped on the counter between them. 

Steve’s arm hair stands on end. “How was your show, anyway?” 

“Oh, it was greeeat,” Eddie says. “Drunk assholes yelling slurs at me, Gareth barfing in the bushes. Standard Hideout gig.”

"Was someone harassing you?" Steve frowns. He knows the Hideout's a shithole — a ‘dependable dumpster fire where we practice for the gigs that actually pay us,’ as Eddie had put it — but he thought the people there were, like, accepting, or whatever.

Surely Eddie's style isn't any more out there than the rest of the regulars.

"Holster your eyebrows," Eddie sighs, "it was fine. Really.” 

“Holster my— dude, what?”

“Your eyebrows,” he repeats. He reaches out with the tip of his pointer finger and gently prods the space between them. “At ease, gentlemen.”

“So weird,” Steve says again. He rolls his eyes and swats Eddie’s hand away, and Eddie just laughs and says ‘There we go!’ because his antics actually did get Steve to unfurrow his face. Little bastard. “Were you gonna rent something, or…?”

“Hell no, my late fees are fucking ridic—”

Eddie cuts himself off, his eyes darting over Steve’s shoulder.

He goes skittish all of a sudden, starts backing toward the exit, stammering, “Ridiculously non-existent. Is, uh, is what I was gonna say. Obviously. Um. Right.” 

His back hits the front door, the bell jangling overhead, and before Steve gets a chance to ask what the hell his problem is now, Eddie starts rambling at triple speed that “Dustin wanted me to check in on you and now I have checked in on you so okay-gotta-go-bye” and practically sprints out of the store.

Doesn’t even look back to give Steve a parting wave. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

“What. the fuck…” Steve jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Robin’s voice. He whips around to look at her; realizes she must have been what spooked Eddie. Her nose and cheeks are bright red from the cold, her eyes bugging out of her head, and her jaw is halfway to the floor as she gapes at him, “...was that?”

—

part 21

tag list part 1 below cut comment if you want to be added tomorrow

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[aaizawashouta]

It’s your weekend, but today is important. He's a good father, your ex is, and deserves to celebrate his day with his children. Waving from the car, you blow a kiss to your two boys before driving home. There’s a father at home who is also being celebrated. He just doesn’t know it yet. 

He’s sleeping still, he came home late from patrol. Even those are far and few in between anymore. Eri sits at the counter practically vibrating with excitement. Giggles bubble out of you both, finger pressing against your lips to remind her that this is a surprise — quiet. 

With pulled out pans, and needed ingredients, you set out to make a grand Father’s Day breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Putting the coffee on a timer, knowing that Shouta will be awake soon. Spotify is playing softly in the background; loud enough for your hips to move to the beat and to mouth along to the lyrics. It’s the best and only way to cook. Especially when you’ve got a little Eri copying your every move. You’re in the middle of stirring the batter when the overhead light to the kitchen flicks on instead of only the dimmer lights hanging over the island. Jumping, you turn quickly on your heel, hand pressed tightly over your chest to see Shouta leaning against the fridge with a raised brow.

“Why are you awake?” You ask after a small moment, turning back to the stove.

“Haven’t slept.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because someone wasn’t asleep in our bed last night.” You freeze at his words, a rush of heat spreading over your face. You gasp when a light tug comes from behind you, pulling at the shirt you have on. “This is mine, by the way.”

“I always wear your shirts to bed, Sho,” you reply with a side eye. Rolling your shoulders before looking up at him fully. “We had a good night last night.”

“I bet. The boys were passed out in the living room and you were snoring snuggled up with this one.” 

Eri giggles with his attention. Quick fingers lightly digging into her sides. It’s moments like these that you wish you could pause. How far the little girl that lights up your home has come. Watching the love of your life thrive in being a parent, a husband. Going above and beyond your wildest dreams. You and your boys are so lucky. There isn’t more that you could ask for.  

You shake your head focusing on flipping the pancakes. You give him a stern look when he moves beside you to help cook. That’s Eri’s job — this was her idea and you don’t want anything to take away from that. From the look of it, though, it seems she’s just as happy having him with you as you are. You watch him, discreetly as you can, watch his hands as they crack open eggs over the heating pan.

“So what’s the occasion,” Shouta begins, lips pulling up at the corner, telling you that you’ve been caught in the act. “The boys aren’t here, I’m not forgetting someone’s birthday am I?”

“Are you serious?”

Shouta’s smile is so smug, it makes the heat dip low, burning as your thighs clench. You groan and turn from him, pulling two pancakes off the pan. You eye the stack doing a quick estimate. He bumps into you, getting your attention back.

“You could have woken me up, you know.”

“It’s fine, sweet girl. By the time I realized you and Eri were snuggled together like a bug in a rug.”

You smile. “She likes me for some reason.”

Shouta doesn’t say anything. You continue on in silence, breakfast getting done a lot quicker than you had anticipated. The coffee maker turns on just in time.

You grab a plate, filling it full while your husband fills two mugs of coffee. Pushing him with your hip, you nod towards the table. Your cheeks heat when he kisses you. He calls for Eri, who somehow disappeared in all the cooking. You can hear the tv from the living room now that you aren’t sucked up in Shouta’s orbit. Shouta shakes his head at your triumphant smile as he pours Eri a glass of juice and settles her at the table next to him. 

His hand squeezes you as you set the plates down in front of them. Eri giving a quick thank you before diving into her food. Pancakes, whip cream and strawberries don’t stand a chance against her. Shouta’s hand travels up your thigh when you finally sit, your own stomach rumbling with hunger. Your foot nudges Eri’s chair and her eyes widen, fork full of food shoved into her mouth. 

“Happy Father’s Day!” It comes out sloppy, mumbled, but heartfelt all the same. 

Shouta just smiles. 

You kiss his cheek, his stubble scratching at your skin. “Happy Father’s Day. You really are so cool, Eraserhead.”

[giggly-squiggily]

*slinks into your inbox like the Grinch to the fridge*

I waited a couple days to try and give other people a chance to request something from you, but since you still have some slots open, how can I not jump in? 🤩

I'm gonna circle back to an oldie for this one if I may! Platonic!KageHina has been on my mind a lot recently and I just LOVE your fics for them so much, friend! Perhaps something a bit more casual? Like just hanging out chatting turns into something? I don't have an exact scenario in mind; I just know you've done some volleyball-related ones for them in the past and thought it could be neat to shake it up a bit. But whatever you wanna do, I trust your writing judgement with my life! Thank you in advance and remember to drink water! 💖

Girl the way I CACKLED! kkarjkaerkjajrkeawjk That opening was amazing! And the prompt EEE! I haven't written for Platonic!Kagehina in awhile, so this was a delight! I've gotcha covered!

CW: swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Is it good?” Hinata asked, watching as Kageyama took a hesitant sip. A new boba shop opened up recently, something the tiny redhead insisted on going to. “We’ve never had it before! Come on!” Was all he said before practically dragging Kageyama with him.

The brunette sat back, letting the taste settle on his tongue. Then: “Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

“Not much of a reaction.” Hinata laughed, leaning away when the other offered a sip. “No thanks- I don’t like milk.”

“What- what do you think our drinks are made out of?” Kageyama blinked, watching the redhead suck on his bright orange beverage.

“Juice!” He cried with a grin, teeth pumpkins. “It’s way better! Want some?”

“Nah- I don’t like orange juice.”

“Huh.” Hinata hummed, the two sitting side by side sipping on their drinks. Then- “Why not?”

“Too sour. Makes my face hurt.”

“This isn’t sour at all. I got extra sugar in it.”

“You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls. Not that you haven’t been doing that already.”

“Oh please- like you’re so above that.” Hinata snorted, looking at the creamy boba tea Kageyama held. “Is that sweet?”

“Don’t know. Want a sip to find out?”

“No way. Milk’s gross.”

“That’s why you're short.”

“Oi!” Hinata puffed as Kageyama smirked. “I’m not short- you’re just too tall! You’re built like a stalk of celery.”

“Better than being built like a baked bean.” Those were fighting words, but Kageyama didn’t stop himself from saying them. He quickly moved their drinks aside before it could be knocked over, Hinata’s cries of war nearly muffled as he was knocked flat onto the bench they shared.

“Take it back right now!” Hinata demanded, fingers already in action. Kageyama didn’t even get a chance to reply before he was fighting down the giggles rising in his throat. “Take it back, you celery looking jerk! Take it back I say!”

“Ne-nehehever!” He cried out, halfheartedly shoving at the hands pawing at his stomach. “Bahahhaked beahhan b-bohohoke!”

Hinata gasped at the alliteration, clutching his pearls. “You-you-you son of a- that’s it! I’ll show you what this baked bean can do!” Motivated, Hinata put all his energy into tickling the other, grabbing Kageyama’s wrist and pulling it overhead. Once there, he took his other hand and slowly began walking it up his side, pressing in sharply with each step. “Coochie coochie coo! A tickle tickle tickle Tobi-Toe!”

“GAH!” The setter all but yelped at the touch, arching some before dissolving into giggles. “Yoohohohou ahahahahss! Dohohoohn’t- noohohoht the bahahhahaby tahahhaalk! Geahhahahahaha!”

“Yes baby talk! Babies love milk, so that makes you one! A coochie coochie coo!” Hinata made his voice extra sweet- talking like a mother to her newborn as he viciously dug into the center rib along Kageyama’s side. It was a terrible spot- one that nearly sent him flying with how hard the other writhed. “Who’s a ticklish whittle baby? You are! You are!”

“SHUHUHUT UUHUUHP! SHHIHIHIHT! YOHOOHOU AHAHAHASS!” Kageyama cackled, squeezing his eyes shut as he kicked his feet against the bench. Oh how he was gonna destroy this little turd! “MOHOOHOVE SOOHOHOEMWHEHEHERE EHEHEHLSE!”

“Huh? What?” Hinata paused his tickles briefly as he leaned in, a hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you- you’re far too quiet! Wanna try again, whitt-”

His teases were quickly ended when Kageyama flipped the tables- literally. How he managed to keep them on the bench in doing so amazed him, but there was no time to wonder. “Thehehere, you ahahahss! I’hihill show yoohou who’s the bahahaby here!” Kageyama was quick to repeat Hinata’s previous move, grabbing his wrist and going straight for a bad spot. The redhead didn’t stand a chance.

“AHHH!” Hinata shrieked like he was in a horror movie, quickly dissolving into laughter as Kageyama dug into his stomach. “Kahahhahahahhagehhehahahhhaha! Mehahahahhahahaha nooohohoht my behehehehlly! Geahahhahaha pleahhahahahhse!”

“Hmm, no. You get what you get.” The setter snickered, an idea coming to mind as he shoved up Hintatas shirt. “Don’t think I forgot your little comment earlier, Boke. Tobi-toe, huh?”

“Yeahhahahah cahahhsue youohohu lohoohohook like a tohoohohie-EHEHEHEHEH!” Hinata arched with a loud squeal as Kageyama dragged his finger against warm skin, drawing out a tic tac toe grid. “Wahahhait wahahhaait whahahhahat?”

“X’s or O’s?” Kageyama asked, tapping the center “square” rapidly as Hinata struggled to think. “Pick before I decide for you.”

“Eheheheheh! Fihihihine, fihihiihne Oohohohohs!” Hinata cried, giggling harder as Kageyama scratched out an “x” on the center square. “Nohohohoo fahahahir, I shoohoohuld get to gohohoho first!”

“Too bad. Where do you want your “O”?”

“Ehehahhahah! Gehahahhaha- uuhuhuuhper mihihihidle-EHEH!” Hinata kicked as an “O” was drawn. One after the other- x’s and o’s were “sketched” into his stomach, leaving him a squealing, shrieking mess. Eventually leading to…

“Damn, a drawl.” Kageyama hummed- drawing out a massive “C” across the entire graph. Hinata was near silent with mirth, wheezing against the crook of his trapped arm as he gasped for air. Seeing this, Kageyama stopped his tickles- waiting patiently for the tiny jumper to catch his breath. “Want me to stop?”

“Hehe..hehehe..” The ginger giggled. He whispered something- so quiet Kageyama couldn’t quite hear him. With his free hand, he gestured him closer.

“I said…” Hinata began, only to quickly grab at Kageyama’s side. “Take that!” The setter yelped and collapsed against him, cackling the entire time. Soon their controlled tickle fight turned into an all out brawl- their hands poking and grappling at each other's tickle spots as their laughter filled the area all around. Eventually, everything came to an end when they rolled off the bench.

To their amazement post the tickle fight- they somehow avoided their drinks. Small victories.

~~~

“Heh..hehehe..whhohooho one?” Hinata giggled out, haphazardly flopping into Kageyama’s side as he gasped for air. Kageyama wasn’t any better, leaning back into him as he wiped mirthful tears away from his eyes.

“Hell..I dooohohn’t know. Truhuuhce?” He asked, humming as Hinata nodded. Reaching out, he blindly reached out for his drink, bringing it to his lips.

“Mm!” He yelped when his tongue was assaulted by citrus. He grabbed the wrong one. “Oh….oh.” He took another sip, nodding. “You know…that’s not bad.”

Hinata blinked, then he reached across the other- grabbing the milk tea. After a few sips, he nodded. “You know….I still hate milk.”

Kageyama sputtered so hard it came out his nose. Hinata cackled, falling on his back as he laughed and laughed- Kageyama practically in tears once more against him as he did the same.

Thanks for reading!

[fartlovingblkguy69]

A Flight to be Remembered (Part 1)

Tim is a 6’3, black, openly gay, formerly athletic, handsome guy with a little extra now that he was 5 years out of college and had stopped working out and started drinking a bit more. He’s a flight attendant who lives in Atlanta, where the airline was headquartered. He had sworn to himself that he would only do this job for a year or two until he found something better, a cushy government job, but things hadn’t panned out that way and it was 5 years later. He was currently being yelled at by a 35 year old, 5’11, in shape man who wanted someone to wait on him hand and foot, including grabbing his luggage for him and bringing it to his waiting UberX. Tim was hoping to get a tip since what he got paid for this flight would barely be enough to make ends meet and he needed some extra cash, so he graciously brought the man’s luggage to the car, making their way together through the airport and accepting the man’s endless flirting and bragging about how well his new start up was doing and that he paid his workers well, but worked them to the bone! After Tim loaded the man’s luggage into the car he waited expectantly, only to be pushed aside and told “Thanks! Have a great day!” as the man slid into the back of the car without another word or glance at Tim. Tim was furious and had had just about enough of these spoiled, entitled passengers! This was way above and beyond and a mere thanks would not do this time! “Aren’t you going to tip me? You do realize that was not in the job description, right?” “What, you want a tip for making a high paying passenger feel accommodated? That’s a pretty low bar to expect compensation. No, I don’t think so! You’ll have to do a lot more to earn money from me! And I know just the way to start!” the man said while staring at Tim’s big, round ass. There was a wild look of lust in his eyes and a bulge in his pants. Tim hoped this meant he would get a bigger tip, but the man was dead set on waiting. He made Tim come back to his hotel room, saying his wallet was in his suitcase and groping Tim’s bubble butt while they were in the elevator. When they got there he immediately demanded a blowjob: “My name is Josh. You can call me Mr. Logan, Sir, or Daddy. Now, if you want a tip, you will give me whatever I want. For example, I want a blowjob. Get my dick clean too! I haven’t been able to shower in 24 hours! Get any cheese you find on it and open wide while I fuck your pathetic face! Then maybe you’ll get $5 out of me!” Tim was seething and asked “Sure thing Mr. Logan! Could I just use your restroom quickly?” with the best fake smile he could muster. As soon as he got into the bathroom he turned on the overhead vent and covered him mouth with his arm so that could scream and get his frustration out! While he does this, he feels his stomach gurgle a bit harshly. He slides his slacks and underwear down and sits on the cold toilet seat, inspecting the light skids on his underwear, wishing he didn’t feel so cold! He rubbed his stomach, trying to massage the gas that was trapped in there, wishing he hadn’t ate all that mac and cheese on his break. He was lactose intolerant, but he loved cheese so much! His stomach would be killing him in a bit though! Then he got an idea! He pulled his slacks off and jumped in the shower, washing himself off real good, with sweet fruit scented soap. After he was done, he toweled off and removed his belt from his slacks before walking out to find Mr. Logan sitting on the bed naked. Perfect! Now I just have to get him to trust me and then he’s all mine, he thought! He pushes Mr. Logan down so he’s lying back and begins to suck his short, but somewhat fat dick, making sure to clean it as he went. It tastes disgusting, but at least he wasn’t the only one about to broaden their tastes. His stomach gurgled quietly, letting him know he needed to move quickly. He began to lick down Mr. Logan’s taint toward his hole, giving him a light rimjob, before telling him to flip over so he could get in there deeper.

[ns-imagines]

Dog Tags (Preview)

Nikto x Reader | SFW | Word Count: 1.4k

Authors Note: Preview/Introduction to the new fic im writing!!

Warnings: Depictions of gore/injury and mentions of medication

It's been over four years. You’ve been trying to catch him. 8 different counties. Your heart was pounding from adrenaline. “I finally got you” you proudly proclaimed as you dug your knee into his back. Nikto groaned. His leg was broken from a failed escape attempt earlier. It was honestly the only reason your squad was able to detain him. You were quick to handcuff him. The other agents from NATO watched. All of them armed and ready to give Nikto the lead if needed. One of the men read Nikto his rights. Wanted on 17 counts of terrorism and suspected war crimes. He was fucked.

Nikto looked around him, a cold gaze on his face which was covered by his mask. He looked for any possible escape. The pain in his leg shot up to his knee and hips. “You got me, but at what cost?” Nikto barked out in a cocky tone. You roll your eyes and put more weight on your knee in the small of his back. He winced but he still managed to force out a chuckle. You gave a quick nod. Immediately after, two men squat down to slide a hand through the gap by his arm pits. You back off as they lifted him up, holding him so he could put weight on his good leg. Nikto swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He was in so much pain he wanted to cry. Glancing back at him, you turned to one of your men with a radio. “Call the medic for his injuries. I want them on the aircraft before we evac.” You said as you walked away towards the extraction point just outside. The man nods and calls it in on the radio.

Nikto hopped over while being supported by the two men. His wrist ached from the cuffs being put on too tight. Tears prick his eyes from the pain in each jump. They make it to the extraction point where a V-22 can be seen approaching. Nikto lets his head fall down in front of him. He stared at the ground trying to collect himself. He would hide it well but Nikto was panicking. Last time he was caught like this he was tortured. Americans don’t torture, right? He sucked in a sharp breath, noticing he had forgotten to breathe. He felt betrayed by his own leg and how it would make his escape almost impossible.

You walk onto the aircraft talking to the necessary people. They are all asking what information to report back to base. Nikto is forced onto the aircraft. The two men that escorted him seated him down and secured all his limbs except his leg to the seat. They buckle his waist and overhead chest straps. After speaking to at least 10 people, you went and sat across from him. Crossing your legs and arms to glare at him. He returns the look with a cold and dirty look.

A young medic walks over to the two of you. He had just left his schoolhouse, so he was brand new to hitting the fleet. His name tape reads “Pellet”. Nikto watches Pellet closely as he speaks to him. “Good Afternoon Ma’am! I'm here to assess your injuries.” Pellet chirps out. You smile and reassure him youre okay and point to Nikto seated behind Pellet. Pellet basically turns in one hop motion to face Nikto while saying “oh”.

Pellet kneels and smiles at Nikto as he explains to him his rights under the Geneva Convention. Nikto zones out. Occasionally, giving you dirty looks. Pellet clears his voice and says “I'm going to have to cut your pants to assess your leg.” Nikto nods and says nonchalantly “Fine. Just do it quickly.” Pellet nods and pulls out a syringe and fabric scissors. Nikto watches him, his body stiff in fear that hell would bump his injury. Pellet starts with Nikto's ankle and stops cutting at just above his knee. Damn, he's white. You smile thinking about how you could tease him about how he should go get a tan. Pellet continues his work by sliding his pants a bit higher to expose his thigh. He carefully injects the morphine. Pellet moves his attention down to the break. It looked disgusting. All black and blue plus it was swollen. Pellet took down notes and stated that “I'm thinking transverse fracture in the fibula” You both look at him confused. “What” You both say at the same time reacting in a glare towards each other. Pellet lightly runs his finger about 3/4th down Niktos shin. “Clean break right here. I need an X-Ray when we get back for sure.” Nikto winces at the touch.

“This is going to hurt or feel very uncomfortable but the morphine should help.” Pellet states as he takes out a SAM Splint. (A split used in field military care. It looks like a big slap bracelet that doesn't bend.) Nikto looks at the roof and squeezes his eyes shut. He didn't want anyone touching his leg. It hurt to the point where it made him mad. Pellet wiped down Nikto and applied the SAM splints on both sides. Nikto was clenching his jaw so hard he thought he would break his teeth. Pellet quickly wrapped it up with field dressing and some athletic tape to secure it. Pellet stood up admiring his work. “All done.” He said, turning to face you. You dismiss Pellet and stand up to walk away. Pellet injects more Morphine into Nikto. He can feel his body relax. It makes him tiered almost.

The aircraft takes off. Nikto overhears it's a long flight back to the U.K. then they will fly to the states. Pellet comes around periodically to inject more morphine. Nikto falls asleep. Bad dreams and memories still cloud his dreams. Nikto's eyes fluttered open to someone running by. He groans and looks over to the cockpit where a small crowd stands. He can see you talking to the pilots. There were a lot of arguments and beeping noises all at once. Nikto listens to what he can. You grab the radio and speak on it in a serious but worried tone. “This aircraft is on humanitarian order and is carrying civilians. Stand down.” He hears you repeat it multiple times. A man stands next to you barking orders at the other men to take their seats and strap him. The aircraft jerks to the side. You repeat yourself on the radio before the pilots tell you to strap in.

​You rush to sit by Nikto, immediately pulling the shoulder straps over you. “You fucking bastard.” You bark at Nikto, who is looking at you blankly. He says nothing as you buckle the last remaining straps. You look at him disgusted. “Who did you call?!” Niktos' eyes changed to an expression of shock. “Me?! I've been tied to this chair!” He says, annoyed. His accent was getting thicker with anger. You scoff “You aren’t getting away from me again. I'm turning you in no matter what.” You grab the straps on your chest and squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft jolts. Nikto notices your knuckles turning white from squeezing. You being worried makes him become worried. He goes to poke you but he is quickly reminded his hands are restrained to the seat. “What is happening?!” He demands, looking at the agent and Pellet who is seated across from them. Nikto didn't even notice him buckling in. Pellet was crying…? No one answered him.

It all happened in seconds. A loud bang. Heat. Cold air slapped him in the face. The whiplash. Then there was blood in his eyes. His heart felt like it was going to explode. He couldnt breathe, the pressure was so great. Blurring his vision. Sharp pain hitting his leg from getting hit with debris made him scream out in pain. Light. Then dark.

…

Nikto woke up slowly to a red flashing light and silence. A headache hit him. He could feel his head pulsing. He felt strange until he realized he was upside down. The blood rushing to his head didn't help. You were still strapped in next to him unconscious. Across from him Pellet was- Nikto wanted to vomit. He had to look away. Pellet's head was completely gone along with one of his legs. A disgusting blood mess. Nikito's vision starts to blur and blacken. The headache. The blood rush was so uncomfortable, almost painful. His leg was completely numb. A second later, he was unconscious again.

-

Military Lingo Key

V-22 Osprey- its like helicopter half plane. Pretty sketchy. Super loud when flying and bumpy.

Field dressing - softer brace that wraps covered wound or sprang. Its like the stuff they wrap around ur arm after giving blood but fabric.

[clarepreed]

Fade

Part One: Deirdre & Archer

Story Content and Summary - 6,972 words. Fae woman Deirdre saves human man Archer from being mugged. Then, she faints. No resus. Symptoms, first aid, vomit.

--

That man is about to be mugged.

Deirdre West’s lavender blue eyes snapped from the lanky human with his hands in his pockets to the shorter but brawnier human walking up behind him, a hood pulled low over his eyes. They were about to pass through a section of sidewalk where the streetlights had burned out and a large tree loomed overhead. She sat in the driver’s seat of her car, parallel parked across from the soon-to-be incident. Meditating after a tense conversation with a vendor, she’d opened her eyes and lucked into spotting trouble.

Her breath quickened, and she felt her heart thump irregularly, undoing the effects of her meditation. Stay calm. This isn’t your business.

The would-be mugger passed by a gap between parked cars and reached into his pocket.

“Dammit!” Deirdre took a deep breath and muttered: “á tereciùin…” Be calm.

A quick glance in the side mirror confirmed there weren’t any cars coming toward her position, so she quickly popped the door open and jumped out into the street, waving her arms like a madwoman. If she’d had more time, she would have pretended to be someone he knew, hoping the assailant would be reluctant to attack the man with an audience. Instead of all that, she screamed.

The sound tore her throat, but she sucked in a deep breath and shouted: “BEHIND YOU!”

The tall man flinched, his hands coming up into the air, palms out. He wasn’t moving fast enough, seeming more concerned about her than what was going on behind him. She glimpsed his face, his startled eyes flashing in the dark. Her heart skipped a beat. Then something else flashed, and she reacted, warmth pulsating through her heart and her hand reaching toward the knife the second man had produced. 

The man skidded to a stop, screeched, and dropped the knife. 

All three of them froze for three seconds, and then the assailant pivoted and took off running, abandoning his weapon. Deidre wavered on her feet, wiping a sudden surplus of sweat from her brow.

“What the hell?” The man’s voice was rich, though at the moment it reflected tones of amazement.

Deirdre swiveled, her eyes lifting to the tall human’s face. Her chest was heaving, and she felt her heart lurch. She felt sick, and her eyes darted back toward her car before returning to the man in front of her. The human took a step toward her, and the lights from a passing car swept across his face. She registered high cheekbones and dark hair before her vision went black in spots.

“No hospital,” she muttered, as the spots coalesced. “No…”

The sidewalk rushed up to meet her, but she blacked out before she hit the cement.

***

Archer Neal shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried down the sidewalk, lengthening his stride. He’d stayed too long at his brother’s practice, and now he was late for dinner with friends. The night was cool, with a breeze that made dessicated leaves rustle across the cement and pavement. He thought rain must be in the forecast; the air smelled musty and felt electric. Traffic was slow, and very few cars navigated the road along which he walked.

Despite the lack of traffic on the road beside him, vehicles lined the street, belonging to people who lived, worked, or played in the downtown district. Archer wasn’t far from his own car. There hadn’t been space available in the parking deck, so he’d ended up two blocks away from his brother’s office on a side street. He’d already texted the group to start without him. He didn’t want them to lose their reservation.

He raked his hand through his hair, thinking about—

A woman’s ragged, horrified scream pierced the air. Archer flinched, uncertain where the sound had come from other than close by.

“BEHIND YOU!” the woman shouted. Archer wasn’t sure who she was yelling at, or who she even was, so he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and peered between parked cars. A petite woman was rushing toward him. Archer lifted his hands, either to ward her off or to display that he wasn’t a threat. He glimpsed pale skin and long hair, and then she dashed between vehicles and lunged, her hand outstretched.

Blue light flashed, seeming to come from her chest. Headlights, catching on something reflective pinned to her top. Then a man screamed, and Archer whirled in shock, just in time to see another stranger dressed in dark clothing as something small slipped from his hand. The object made a metallic sound as it skittered across the concrete. Archer, the woman, and this stranger in a hooded sweatshirt started at each other for several heartbeats. Then the other man turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.

“What the hell?” Archer gaped down at the sidewalk, feeling ill when he saw the blade shining in the meager light from a far off street lamp. He heard someone panting and looked up, catching the gaze of the woman.

Even in the dim light, she looked unwell. He didn’t have to know her to see that. Her lips were white, and her short hairs were sweaty and clinging to her skin. He saw her eyes dart toward the road and back just before she wobbled on her feet. Archer instinctively took a step forward. 

“No hospital,” she said suddenly, her voice thick and her eyes heavy-lidded. “No…”

Then she went limp, her body quickly collapsing toward the hard cement.

Archer lunged for her, awkwardly catching her weight in his arms. She was boneless and like to slip out of his grasp if he didn’t keep a firm grip on her.

“Shit!” he exclaimed. Her head lolled and her arms flopped, and he kneeled with her limp body. Her legs folded. He cradled her as he laid her on her back, long hair pooling beneath her head. Archer bent over her, resting one hand on her clammy forehead and the other on her chin, opening her airway the way his brother had taught him. Then he leaned down, putting his ear close to her lips.

Something inside released when he felt her breath waft against his cheek. She was breathing shallowly, but considering how bad she looked, he’d take it. Archer raised up enough to look at her face. She remained senseless, her eyes closed beneath thick eyebrows. A distant part of him registered that she would be very pretty if she would open her eyes; she had smooth features and an overabundance of hair. Her white lips were full and slightly parted. Archer moved his hands to her shoulders, squeezing.

“Miss! Er, ma’am? Hey, wake up!” Archer released her shoulder and dug into his pocket for his phone. 

No hospital, she’d said. Not that he could fathom why. If she didn’t wake up soon, he wouldn’t have a choice. He would feel responsible for any unconscious person on the sidewalk, but this strange woman may have saved his life. He owed her at least the care he’d offer to any stranger, regardless of unreasonable wishes communicated as she was losing consciousness.

I could call Asa, he thought. Having a cardiologist for a brother came with perks.

Archer looked down at her again, moving his hand to her belly. She was breathing more strongly now. At first glance, she’d seemed quite young; now he wasn’t sure. Anywhere between twenty and thirty; beautiful people were often hard to place by age.

As he watched, her pretty features pulled into a grimace, showing him her white teeth. He watched her eyes move under her delicate eyelids. Then her hands flinched.

Archer sat his phone on the sidewalk and reached for her hands, wanting to comfort the pretty stranger who’d come to his aid. “Hey! You’re alright. You’re alright.” Her slim fingers felt cold in his grasp, so he laid her hand on her stomach and began shrugging out of his jacket. 

She still hadn’t opened her eyes, so he tucked the jacket under his arm and reached for her hands again. “I’m just going to roll you onto your side. I don’t want you to barf on your back. If you need to vomit, that is.” The woman didn’t respond, so Archer straightened one of her arms and drew the other across her chest. He slipped a hand under her left knee and then scuttled around to grip her hip and her shoulder. He rolled her onto her side, slipping her hand under her cheek and making sure her left knee rested on the sidewalk. Then he tucked his jacket in around her and reached for her face, holding his hand in front of her mouth.

“Good,” he murmured. Before he could think to stop himself, he caressed the hair off her face, tucking the soft strands behind the shell of her ear. “Just keep breathing for me.”

I have to call Asa, he resolved. This has gone on long enough.

He dialed his brother and held the phone to his ear, his other hand resting on the woman’s shoulder.

Asa answered on the second ring. “This is Asa. Did you forget something?”

“Hey, no… Listen, I’m maybe a block and a half away from your office. Are you still there?” The woman stirred but still didn’t waken, her fingers twitching again. She heaved in a deeper breath.

“I am,” his brother responded. “What’s up?”

“It’s a long story, but I’ve got a woman laid out on the sidewalk. She fainted, but before she fainted, she told me she didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“Archer, is she—”

“She’s breathing. I’ve got her in the recovery position you showed me, and she acts like she might wake up any minute. I thought you might—”

“Where exactly are you?” Rustling sounds carried through the connection, and then Archer heard a door close.

“Turn right out of your office, then right on Starling. You know where the street lights have been out for months? Right there.” The woman let out a low, ragged moan and Archer found himself rubbing her shoulder. “I was hoping you’d come out and take a look at her—”

“I’m already headed your way. Just stay on the phone with me and let me know if her condition worsens. We may need EMS.” Asa’s breathing picked up, and Archer wondered if he was running. “Excuse me! On your left!”

“What—”

“Not you!”

“Ohh…” the woman groaned, and Arched crawled around to her other side so he could see her face. As he watched, her eyelids fluttered. Another few seconds passed and then the feathery lashes lifted. A pair of unfocused light eyes came into view.

“Hey! Miss—ma’am! You’re okay!”. Archer reached out to steady her, but his hand stopped just before he rested it on her hip. Now that she was conscious, he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about him touching her. “You fainted.”

Footfalls drew his attention, and he glanced up in time to see a young couple skirting around them, their eyes wide as they rushed to get past. He dismissed them and looked further down the row of businesses, spotting a man in a white coat sprinting down the sidewalk. “Asa!” 

A gagging sound drew his attention back to the woman just in time to see her cough up her stomach contents. Not that she appeared to have much on her stomach to vomit up. Archer touched her then, gripping her shoulder to keep her steady as she shuddered and retched. He tried not to make a face, choosing instead to murmur: “Hey now. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Asa reached them then, his breathing harsh as he kneeled on the concrete beside the woman. He’d brought a black duffel with him, and a smaller red case.

“She’s awake,” Archer said unnecessarily. “And she just threw up.”

The woman spat and then looked up at Asa. Archer watched her take in his white coat and the blue nitrile gloves he was slipping on his hands. “No… hospitals! No… doctors…” She tried to push herself up from the cement, and Archer grabbed her arm, unthinking.

“Hey, calm down! This is—”

The woman’s blue eyes snapped to his face, and he stopped speaking with a grunt. He felt like she’d reached into his mouth and pinched his tongue.

***

Deidre reached for the surface of consciousness.

I didn’t die? That’s good.

A man was talking. Not to her, she didn’t think. He sounded tense, though it was hard to be certain with unfamiliar voices. Someone, possibly the same person who was speaking, rubbed her shoulder as though to comfort her. The gesture had the intended effect, and the dangerous tension coiling inside of her eased incrementally.

Nausea instantly replaced the tension, and she must have gasped out loud because the man stopped speaking and his hand lifted from her shoulder. She heard him moving and forced her eyes open, staring blearily up at the worried-looking almost-victim from before. 

“Hey! Miss—ma’am! You’re okay! You fainted.”

Deirdre didn’t hear sirens, but there were people walking around them. She had a moment to study his face while she tried to gather her wits and settle her stomach. More in the light now, the shadows sculpted his features. The high cheekbones she’d noticed before were accompanied by an aquiline nose and refined brows. His hair was dark and wavy, long enough to curl around his ears and down his neck. 

He looked up  and called out a name: “Asa!”

Then Deirdre lost the battle with her stomach. Saliva flooded her mouth, and she gagged, too weak to do more than move her hand out of the way as she vomited stomach bile onto the cement. 

“Hey now. It’s okay. You’re okay!” The stranger gripped her shoulder again, and she registered with a start that he was rubbing her soothingly with his thumb, drawing small firm circles through her clothing. 

“She’s awake,” the man said, glancing up as someone kneeled behind her. “She just threw up.”

Deirdre spat, her mouth foul. Then she rolled slightly away from the stranger, looking back and up at the person who’d joined them. She took in similar features to the first man before his white coat, stethoscope, and the telltale snap of medical gloves distracted her.

“No… hospitals!” she gasped, panicked. “No… doctors…”

Deirdre tried to push herself upright, planning to escape from the two well-meaning strangers. The first grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Hey, calm down! This is—”

Another flash of blue light, this time barely more than the tip of a laser pointer, and the man stopped talking with an unattractive gurgling sound. He stared at her in surprise as her heart gave another frightening lurch. She watched him struggle to speak, her own face growing warm.

Deirdre released the man, managing to squelch the flash of light threatening to give her away. Her face flushed hot. Losing control like this was unacceptable.

What next? I unfurl my wings in the middle of the street? Pick him up and fly him to the Capitol Building and announce the definitive existence of fae to the US House of Representatives?

Archer looked puzzled, the fingers of one hand trailing across his mouth.

“Ma’am, I’m a cardiologist,” the human called Asa said. He shooed his brother out of the way and crouched where she could see him. “Dr. Asa Neal. I’m his brother. He called me instead of calling an ambulance. Not that I would recommend he do that ever again.”

Dr. Neal cast a quelling glance at his brother, who’d opened his mouth to defend himself. Then the doctor continued: “What’s your name?”

“Dierdre.”

“Alright, Deirdre. Do you mind telling me your age?”

“Thirty,” she said automatically. She’d had a lot of practice not giving out her true age. If either of them were surprised, they didn’t let on. She pushed herself up onto her elbow. “I don’t need to be poked and prodded for hours at the ER before I’m given a bill and told to see my cardiologist.”

“May I take your pulse?” Dr. Neal asked. She’d expected him to ask about her condition. She laid her head back down on the concrete and extended her wrist wordlessly. Truthfully, she felt too weak to do much other than lay there and breathe. The doctor cradled his wrist in his palm and pressed two fingers to the inside.

“She was pale and sweaty before she fainted,” the other man said. “I laid her down, and she was breathing shallowly, so I called you. Then she woke up and vomited.”

“Sounds about right,” she murmured.

“Do you faint often?” Dr. Neal asked. He couldn’t quite pull off disinterest; the tension in his jaw told her he was very much interested and very much trying to hide it. He and his brother had similar appearances, though Dr. Neal kept his hair cut short and possessed both a squarer jaw and a slightly crooked nose.

“I have Romano-Ward,” she said. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was the closest human diagnosis she could give him. “I’d like to sit up now. I’m practically laying in my stomach contents.”

“I see,” the cardiologist said. He gave her a narrow look, and she wondered if he was the sort of doctor who got excited over “special” patients but had the good manners to hide it. “Yes, of course. Archer?”

Archer reached out with both hands. “I just realized I never introduced myself. My name is Archer Neal. Let me help you sit up.”

Dierdre accepted his hands. His grip was firm, and he pulled her to a seated position and then placed a hand at her back. He seemed apologetic.

“Sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to fall over. In case you feel dizzy again.” He reached into his pocket. “I also think I have a clean Kleenex if you want to wipe your face.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the tissue, blotting at her lips. “I’m Dierdre West, by the way. Since we’re giving out last names.”

“You own a boutique on this street,” Dr. Neal said. He’d pulled a blood pressure cuff from his bag. “I’ve seen the name.”

“I need to thank you,” Archer blurted, looking from Dierdre to his brother and back. “I haven’t thanked you yet. I believe that man may have stabbed me if you hadn’t intervened.”

“There was a mugger,” she said, noting that the otherwise unflappable Dr. Neal was looking alarmed. “I just happened to see him from my car.”

“Archer,” he said, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Diedre’s upper arm. “If you ever get stabbed, please call 9-1-1 before you call me. I am not trained to put your guts back inside you or repair intestines.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Archer looked at Diedre. “And I would have called an ambulance if you’d gotten any worse. Even though you didn’t want me to.”

She sighed, listening as Dr. Neal inflated the cuff by pumping the bulb at the end of the tubing. Then he pressed his stethoscope just beneath the cuff. “I understand. It wasn’t fair for me to put that on a stranger. I… panicked.”

They were all silent for what felt like a very long period, until Diedre heard the blood pressure cuff hiss in release, followed by the tear of Velcro as the doctor removed the cuff from her arm. “Your blood pressure is eighty over fifty-five, which is low. Not low enough to call for an ambulance, but I would not suggest you try to drive. Is there someone you can call?”

Dierdre repressed a second sigh. The answer was no, because she was not currently speaking with her family. Or her friends.

“What’s Romano-Ward?” Archer asked. He was frowning at her, and he hadn’t removed his hand from her back. “And hell no, you shouldn’t drive.”

“She might not wish to discuss that with you, Arch.” Dr. Neal smiled at her apologetically. “I can’t be for sure since I haven’t hooked you up to a monitor, but I don’t think you’re in immediate danger.”

Dierdre decided to answer Archer’s question. After all, he would just ask his brother later. Or Google it. “Have you heard of Long QT Syndrome?”

His expression was difficult to read in the dim lighting, but she thought his frown deepened briefly before he smoothed his features. “I have. Asa… It was in the news recently, and Asa explained it to me. I feel a little worse about what just happened, though.” He quirked his eyebrows at her.

“I’m alright,” she said, her tone brisk. “All’s well that ends well. But my ass is getting cold sitting on the dirty cement.”

“Would you like us to call you an Uber?” Dr. Neal asked, tucking his blood pressure cuff back in his bag. “Archer should probably do it, as you’re my patient at the moment and that seems inappropriate.”

“I can,” Archer said. He lifted his hand off her back, though he seemed reluctant to move too far away. “But…”

He fell silent, and Dierdre arched an eyebrow at him before busying herself by picking leaf debris from her clothing. She’d managed not to get any vomit on herself, or this nice stranger’s coat. She held it out to him. “You’ll want this back.”

“Not right this second,” he said. “I assume yours is in your car?”

“Your car will be alright overnight,” Dr. Neal said. “I’ve left mine in this area countless times. No ticket. Not even a nail in a tire.”

Archer drew a deep, noisy breath and let it out in a huff. When he had her attention, he said: “I would like to drive you home. I don’t feel right putting you in an Uber.”

Dierdre’s mouth opened in surprise, but she shut it quickly.

This always happens, she thought, tired enough to feel jaded. The humans can sense something is off about us. Some react with fear or disdain. Others are intrigued or attracted. This man is attracted. It’s giving “Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”

Then she sighed. In truth, Archer seemed like a nice man.

“You did not just ask a strange woman if you can take her to her home address,” Dr. Neal said, his tone implying he thought Archer was an idiot. “Undoubtedly, she has someone who can come check on her, and the last thing she wants is to invite you over as though this were a ‘Lifetime’ movie!”

“You watch those?” Archer asked, blinking.

“That’s beside the point!”

“I would like that,” Dierdre said, surprising herself and Dr. Neal both. She’d just been thinking about her town house, cold and empty from another long day at work. Nobody would be there because she wouldn’t call anyone. No one would be there while she struggled up the front steps and curled into a despondent ball on the sofa. Just thinking about it made her chest ache, and she couldn’t have that. She smiled hesitantly at Archer. “I don’t have anyone to call who’s in town at the moment, as it turns out. It would be nice to have someone see me home. I should be feeling better by then.”

***

A few moments later, Archer watched his brother pick up the knife between his gloved thumb and index finger, holding it out like it was a pair of soiled underwear. “And where am I putting this?”

“Down the storm drain,” Deirdre suggested. She was still sitting on the ground, but she was shrugging into her coat, which Archer had just retrieved from her car. “No crime was actually committed, but we probably shouldn’t leave it just lying around.”

Asa shrugged, casting both of them a bemused look before he stepped over to the curb. “This is a little exciting, though I’m not sure why.”

“All those ‘Lifetime’ movies,” Archer said, grinning. “You can’t even flip me off because Dierdre is here.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said. She sounded amused, looking between the two brothers as though she found them fascinating. Deirdre, as he’d predicted, was quite attractive now that she was feeling better. He had a hard time believing she was thirty, not that her age was any of his business. Maybe it was just because she was so small.

Archer tore his gaze away and watched his brother drop the knife into the storm drain. Then he peeled his gloves off carefully, pulling them off inside out and bundling them together. He jogged over to the nearest trash can and threw them away. 

“Are you feeling well enough to stand?” Archer asked. Deidre’s car, a gray hatchback, was sitting in the road now with the blinkers on. There was just enough room for an SUV to squeeze past if it had to, he thought, but he didn’t want to test the theory. “Or I can carry you to the car if you need me to.”

Deirdre laughed. She had a nice, husky laugh, belying whatever condition she was or had just been in. “I can stand. Thank you for the offer. Do you mind helping me?” She reached up toward him.

“Not at all.” Archer took her left hand with his and wrapped his right around her upper arm. She pushed off, leaning on him only a little. She didn’t try to let go of his hand.

“Feeling dizzy?” Asa asked her. He’d packed everything up but was watching her carefully. 

“No, just very tired.”

Asa nodded, then bent over to grab his duffel and the other case. Archer realized with a start that the small red case had the letters “AED” on the side. “That’s normal. Archer?”

Archer started, then looked up at his brother’s face. “Mmm?”

“Call me if you need me. Unless you need EMS. Then all 9-1-1 before you call me.” Asa gave Archer a stern look. “Understood?”

“Understood,” Archer said, not taking the bait laid in the subtext of his brother’s words. He was keenly aware of Deirdre beside him, her smaller hand folded into his. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Deirdre said. Now that she was feeling better, she had a precise manner of speaking, her lips gliding over her teeth to form each word. 

“Take care of yourself,” Asa said. He offered her a warm smile. “And please, call me Asa. Coming out to take your vitals was the least I could do, considering. Call me tomorrow, Archer?”

“I will. You’re okay to walk back to your office?” 

Asa rolled his eyes. “The knife is in the storm drain. Whatever do I have to worry about?” Then he laughed at his own nonsensical joke and tossed them a wave before heading back up the sidewalk.

“You have a good relationship with your brother,” Deirdre said, accepting his arm. He escorted her around to the passenger side of her hatchback and opened the door for her. 

“Asa’s a good brother,” he replied, after he’d climbed into the driver’s seat. He buckled his seatbelt and glanced over to make sure she’d done the same. “Our parents were good people. I think we were bound to come out alright. Asa can be a little overbearing, but I think he just feels like he ought to be since he’s older.”

He wanted to ask her why she didn’t have anyone she felt comfortable calling when she was unwell. She’d understandably seemed sad after mentioning that she’d be alone. 

“Your parents,” she said, after making sure that he turned right onto Mitchell Ave. “They died?”

“Car accident.” Archer felt his chest tighten the way it always did when he thought about the accident. “I was in college. Asa had just finished med school. Mom was driving. Just went right off the road without braking. They both died on impact, or at least Dad did. Asa thinks Mom might have already been dead.”

“Heart trouble?” Deirdre asked, her voice soft. 

“We’ll never know for sure, but probably.”

“Drive until you get to the bowling alley, then make a left.” She was silent for several seconds before she said: “Thank you for telling me about your parents. I probably shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. I actually like talking about them. Even the bad stuff.” Archer shrugged. “Asa calls me an ‘over sharer.’”

Deirdre yawned and sank lower in her seat. Slow to cover her mouth, she laughed and apologized. “I’m sorry. It wipes me out when that happens.”

“That’s why I’m driving you home. Don’t worry about it.” Archer glanced over and saw her typing an address into Maps. 

“So we don’t miss a turn,” she murmured, resting the phone in the center console cup holder. “I’m just really sleepy��”

Shortly after that, as he braked for a stoplight, her head tipped forward, lolling loosely on her slim neck. Archer reached out, parting the curtain of her hair and holding the back of his hand in front of her lips. Her breath puffed gently against his fingers. He had time to nudge her back against the seat before the light turned to green. Deidre mumbled something unintelligible and drew her legs up into the seat, leaning against the window.

Archer felt warmth grow in his chest, something that he knew he shouldn’t feel for this fragile stranger. Asa would tell him it was just a reaction to what had happened, and he needed to let it ease off naturally. But Asa was also fond of telling him to do things like “follow your heart” and “do what makes you happy.”

Holy shit, he thought. He must watch the Hallmark channel, too.

The GPS instructed him to make another turn into a trendy neighborhood, quieter than downtown, but immensely charming. The city council voted to zone this area as mixed-use, allowing for cafes, pubs, markets, and other businesses amidst the residential buildings. Deirdre had a parking sticker and a designated street spot, which he located about the same time that the GPS announced that they had arrived. 

Archer stopped the car, got out, and walked all the way around to her door before she stirred. He opened the door carefully, reaching in to support her as her posture wavered.

“Need to sit here… minute,” she mumbled, slurring her words. “Gotta… take it s-slow…”

“Are you okay?” he asked, crouching by the car to better see her face. Her eyes were closed, but she peeled them open and looked at him blearily. She had the most unusual eyes, a pale blue-gray that looked almost lavender. 

“Faint sometimes,” she said, reaching up to rub her face. “When I wake up.”

She chuckled before he could say anything in response.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, bemused.

“You’d regret driving me home if that happened.”

Archer reached in and bumped her leg with his knuckles. “Pretty sure that’s the entire reason I drove you home, silly. In case you had another fall. I know what to do now.”

“Call your brother,” she said, yawning. “Unless you shouldn’t.” 

“Exactly.” He glanced around the interior. “Do you have a purse or anything that we need to bring in?”

“Backpack,” she said, fumbling a little with the buckle before she released it. Her hair kept slipping off her shoulders to swing down into her face. “I tossed it in the backseat when I got in earlier.”

Archer opened the back door and found her pack, slinging it over his shoulder. By the time he was beside her again, she had swung her legs out of the car and had her feet on the pavement by the curb. “Ready? Feeling okay?”

“Just sleepy,” she admitted, blinking up at him. “I hope you’re not a predator, because I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.”

He laughed and held his hands out to her, palms up. “I promise I’m not a predator.”

Deirdre arched a groomed eyebrow at him, but dropped her hands into his and let him pull her to her feet. He held her there for a moment, watching her face for any signs that she might feel lightheaded. Her color looked fine, at least as much as he could tell under the streetlight. He thought her lips had pinked up even since they’d gotten in the car. Her hands were warmer, too.

“Don’t get too close,” she murmured. “I have… exceptionally bad breath.”

Archer let out a surprised laugh and dropped one of her hands, guiding her onto the sidewalk and then closing the door. “Thanks for the warning.”

She gasped out her own laugh, shaking her head. “I mean, I did barf. I don’t normally have bad breath.”

“I believe you.” He kept hold of her hand while they climbed the steps to her house. When they reached the top, he held her keys out to her. “Here, sorry. I realized you might want to take possession of these and let us into your house yourself.”

Deirdre unlocked the door, and he leaned in to hold it open for her. A strong scent wafted out; something floral or herbal or earthy. He closed the door behind them as she dropped her bag and keys on a bench by the door and kicked off her shoes. She wavered a little, either from exhaustion or poor balance, and he took her elbow.

“Come sit in the living room,” she told him. “I’ll be alright. But it would be nice to have someone in the house while I get ready for bed.”

“You don’t have to go up those stairs, do you?” He’d released her elbow as he took off his shoes, but his eyes were on the staircase leading to the second floor.

“No, my bedroom is on this floor.” She led him down the short hall and through a curtain made of tiny shells.

The living, dining, and kitchen areas were open plan, and she’d filled much of the space with plants. There was a ficus tree in the corner by the sliding glass doors, and shelving laden with succulents. He glanced to his left and realized she’d decorated the wall with air plants tucked into a wood and wire structure. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” she asked, walking to the glass doors and closing the curtain. 

“I think I’m supposed to be doing for you,” he said, chuckling. 

“What kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer?” 

“One that passed out on the sidewalk and had to be driven home by a stranger?”

“Touché.” She yawned, her jaw cracking with the force. “Got me there. If you’ll be alright, I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Just call out if you need me.”

Archer spent his wait walking around her living room, studying not just her plants but the pillar candles and smooth stones that seemed to cover most of the surfaces. She did have a television, he realized, though she had a piece of painted driftwood leaning against the screen. The design was pink and lavender flowers; hydrangea. 

She didn’t have any photographs out. Instead, small pieces of framed art sat where photos of family would have been in any other house. He spotted a yoga mat rolled up in the corner, next to a shallow table with a small chest, a mug tree, and an electric kettle.

The floor was hardwood, but she’d laid several plush rugs out, the sort that looked nice to lie on but a beast to vacuum. No coffee table, just a very large, plush chair, a simple end table, and a sable sofa with short legs and an upholstered back that curved around to form armrests. He expected it to be uncomfortable until he actually sat on it and discovered it was much more luxuriously padded than it looked. Asa had mentioned a boutique, and Archer wondered if she sold furniture like this there.

“Thank you again for staying.” Deirdre’s voice from the doorway captured his attention. She’d put on a pair of gray leggings, thick socks, and a flowing white tank top. He had just enough time to notice the dark shadows of her nipples through the fabric before she pulled a knitted blue shawl over her shoulders and drew it closed in the front. 

Archer felt his face burn hot with embarrassment and hoped she hadn’t noticed. He stood and took a few steps toward her. “Can I get you anything?” His mind reluctantly filled in before I go, though he couldn’t make himself say it.

“I was going to make some tea.” Deidre’s voice was both husky and lilting, like smoked whiskey poured over rocks.

Oh good God, he thought, nervously raking his hand through his hair. Don’t say anything like that out loud!

“I can do that,” he said instead. He jerked his thumb toward the electric kettle. “I found your stash. Why don’t you sit and I’ll get it started.”

“The chamomile’s in the chest, in the top right drawer. It’s all loose leaf, the diffusers are in the bottom…” Deirdre sank into the big chair, visibly relieved to be off her feet. She drew her legs up, tucking her socked feet beneath her.

Archer stood by the tea table, making sure the kettle had water in it before he turned it on. The glass-sided kettle turned blue, casting an ethereal glow on the ivy trailing down from a wall-mounted container. Then he opened the bottom drawer, smiling at the confusing mass of spoons, diffusers, muslin bags, and other cozy clutter. He withdrew a spoon and one of the cotton bags, then opened the upper right drawer. The first bag visible in the drawer was labeled “chamomile,” so he used the time the water was heating to spoon the dried yellow buds into the tea bag. He pulled the drawstring closed and put everything else away. Then he selected a mug from the tree, blue like her shawl, handmaid. He dropped the bag into the mug and carefully wrapped the string beneath the handle.

The water in the glass kettle shimmered, not quite boiling yet, but progressing. Archer looked back at Deirdre. She was watching him, though she looked like she might fall asleep at any moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured, almost too softly for him to hear at that distance. “This is… nice.”

A lump form in his throat as watched her in return, wondering again how she could have absolutely no one who would help her in a time of need.

A bubbling sound followed by a click made him turn away. The kettle had turned off, the water inside still bubbling slightly. Archer lifted the kettle and poured hot water into the pottery mug. He reseated the kettle and picked up the mug, turning to bring it to Deirdre. She’d laid her head down on the arm of the chair when he turned, and now her eyes were closed.

“Deirdre?” he whispered, half of his attention on the steaming mug in his hands. 

Deirdre didn’t stir, and Archer carefully placed the mug on a coaster sitting on the small table between pieces of furniture. Then he leaned over her, long enough to ascertain that she was breathing. She smelled like mint and lavender. He wished he could touch her; his hand hovered briefly over her hair before he pulled back.

Now you’re being creepy, he thought.

Archer took a few steps back, uncertain. He should be able to secure the bottom lock when he left, which would be good enough. He’d missed dinner; he could go home and eat something and write a little before bed. Truthfully, however, he was reluctant to leave. He wanted to exchange numbers, at least. 

Archer spotted a blanket on the back of her chair and retrieved it, slowly unfolding it before he draped it over her sleeping form. Then he backed up again, still indecisive. After a moment, he snapped to attention and turned on the lamp at the far end of the sofa. Then he flipped off the main light.

She’ll probably wake up and want to sleep in her bed. Archer sat on her sofa, leaning back against the plush upholstery. I can wait until then.

***

Deirdre opened her eyes and stretched.

Surprised to find herself in the living room, she pushed herself upright, blinking in the dim light of the tall lamp on the other side of the sofa. She spotted Archer soon after; he’d taken his shoes off and stretched out on his back on the sofa. Now he appeared to be deeply asleep, one arm behind his head and the other over his eyes. 

Deirdre watched him for several minutes. She could hear him breathing; a sound that was not quite a snore rattling in the back of his throat. 

The air in the house was cool; Deirdre preferred it that way at night, but he laid on her sofa without so much as a blanket. She was wrapped in one, and wondered if he’d tucked her in or if she just didn’t remember doing it herself. 

Time to go to bed, she thought, rising from the chair and gathering the blanket up in her arms. Deirdre eyed Archer’s prone form with guilt, not wanting to wake him and send him on the road in the middle of the night. She wondered how long he’d sat there before he fell asleep.

After a moment, she walked over to the sofa and carefully covered him with the blanket. He didn’t stir, even when her fingers accidentally brushed against his hand. As she leaned over him, she smelled cedar and musk and sweat.

Deirdre straightened and took a step back, watching his chest rise and fall beneath the blanket. She found the rhythm soothing. Another moment passed, and then she turned off the lamp and made her way to her bedroom.

Sleep well, stranger.

--

Part Two

[billhader]

Here You Come Again

Chapter Three: Other People

A Cobra Kai fanfiction

Read Chapter Three on AO3 || Chapter Two || Chapter One

Chapter Three Summary:

Anoush is sick and tired of Tom Cole. Louie is sick and tired of going to work when there's nobody to bully. Cole's scheme to buy out LaRusso may help them both get over themselves.

Rating: Teen (canon-typical profanity)

Word count (chapter): 3.9k

Relationships: Louie LaRusso/Anoush Norouzi

Characters: Louie LaRusso, Anoush Norouzi, Amanda LaRusso, Daniel LaRusso, Samantha LaRusso, Anthony LaRusso, Tom Cole

Tags: Canon Compliant, Star-crossed, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, more like co-workers to friends to strangers to coworkers again to lovers, Lovable Himbo Louie LaRusso, Angst with a Happy Ending, poor communication skills, Family Bonding, Missing Scene, Slow burn

This chapter covers the events during and surrounding season 3 episode 3, "Now You're Gonna Pay". Some of the plot and dialogue in this chapter comes directly from the episode itself, because I want to make sure there's enough context to understand what's going on without y'all having to go back and rewatch the episode...and their chemistry in this episode is off the charts lmao.

Let me know what you think!! <3

(Full chapter text below the break)

“Earth to Faroush. You have the contract, yeah?”

Without a word, Anoush held up the black binder, and Tom Cole flashed his surgical smile. He hung behind his current boss as they walked up to the front of Larusso’s Encino branch. The sleek building façade loomed overhead, and a gurgle from Anoush’s stomach made him question whether he was really over the odious twenty-four hour bug that had ruined his weekend plans. His digestive system did not perform at its best in stressful conditions - these days, nearly all of his conditions were stressful. A battle-fortified demeanor of professionalism could only mask so much of his innate social terror. 

Had Anoush known what he was giving up when he walked away from Daniel and Amanda, he may have walked a tad slower. The slightly larger paycheck - and it was slight - did not make up for what the Valley’s other self-proclaimed auto king was putting him through now. When he’d accepted Tom Cole’s invitation to lunch at Mistral in Sherman Oaks after a week of stewing it over, the matter-of-fact conversation they had left Anoush feeling like his feet were on solid ground for the first time all summer. Cole made the choice to jump ship seem exceedingly simple. It wasn’t that Anoush was witless enough to trust the guy, but the facts were the facts.  He could compare commission rates, promotional incentives and 401k contribution matching; or, he could compare how gratified he was by his work at LaRusso for over ten years to how despondent he’d become in the three months since Daniel moved him to the North Hollywood branch. When Daniel stood him up on that final day, Anoush was already detached. He was just another LaRusso who’d claimed to care, then left him high and dry. 

While Anoush held no guilt walking away from his old boss, he did wish the hazing from the new boss would end soon. Roping him into this slipshod attempt at humiliating the competition was all too typical of Cole and his small army of filler-ridden white boys at the Van Nuys location. Anoush had faced down far worse insults, pranks and plain old beatings in middle and high school. That didn’t mean that the racist and antisemitic nicknames, or the gauntlet of repetitive trainings designed to keep his window of time for actual sales as low as possible, were fun to endure day after day. But if he could hang in long enough, the rest of the sales team would forget about him and find someone else to harass. Anoush was looking forward to invisibility. On the airy, tranquil LaRusso show floor, he was completely exposed. He sucked in a breath and held it as they marched towards Daniel and Amanda, who were huddled together by reception with stony expressions. Only one customer was on the floor, being coaxed into a mid-size SUV by--

Oh.

Of course.

“LaRussos!” Cole proclaimed, sweeping his arms wide like a televangelist ready to burst into song. Anoush stared at the iridescent flecks in the smooth marble underfoot. Whatever Cole was rambling about, he couldn’t hear properly. He felt like he was encased in a glass water tank. Shapes blurred, colors muddled, sounds didn’t travel quite far enough for him to decipher. In the corner of his vision, a navy blue form in the general outline of Louie LaRusso tucked its amorphous arm behind the customer’s back. The two figures floated down the corridor and out of sight. Louie hadn’t seen Anoush standing there. He must not have, otherwise he would have dropped everything to butt into the awkward bunch and pepper Anoush with dozens of invasive and embarrassing questions. Louie would have come over for one of his notorious bone-crushing hugs if he’d seen Anoush. But perhaps not. Anoush only knew Louie in a context that no longer existed, and that was no accident. In current reality, there was no evidence to suggest Louie would do any of those things. Maybe he had seen Anoush from across the floor and left in the opposite direction on purpose. That seemed most likely.

“Really, Anoush? You walk in here with this guy and let him talk to me like that, huh?”

He heard Daniel loud and clear, crashing back through plate glass to land face-first in the burgeoning hostilities. Meeting the indignant glare of his ex-boss - his ex-friend - only confirmed his suspicions, and there was no way he could look at Amanda. The couple regarded him as the interloper he’d chosen to be. If one LaRusso had beef, it transferred vicariously throughout the family. 

“It’s just how he talks,” Anoush said in a monotone, with no idea what smarmy insult had been leveled at the LaRussos. “You get used to it.” His three-piece suit was far too hot for the glass-enclosed floor space, but his hands were growing clammy. “Uh, excuse me. Restroom.” He rushed away from the others, stomach churning with a vengeance. 

***

In his big shiny office, Louie was grooving on his new sale paperwork. Dean Martin played on the Bluetooth speaker, and he whistled along to “Volare” as he kicked his feet up on the desk. His customer had just left with the promise of a brand-new Audi and a vibrant flush overtaking her face - just how Louie liked to leave ‘em. Amanda could gripe about numbers all day long, but he was doing pretty fucking peachy considering he’d only been back for a week. If Amanda was so concerned about how many cars they were selling, why was Louie the only one out there selling cars? Yeah, he supposed there needed to be actual people present in the building to sell cars to, but that was a technicality. Louie’s strategy was to sell to anyone who walked through the door - and if no one came in, he’d make them come in. He had his ways. 

His cousins were too freaked out about the school fight, but when Louie questioned if they really wanted the business of folks who were idiotic enough to blame the LaRusso family for what happened, he was met with withering glares and grumbling. “Of course we want to sell to those people,” Amanda had snapped. “We’re trying to sell cars, Louie. Ve-hi-cles. As many as possible, to as many people as possible. The manufacturers don’t care how stupid a customer is, do they? You see a box for that on the form, Louie? Let’s see, How stupid is the buyer on a scale of one to a hundred? Who did the buyer vote for in the presidential election? Did the buyer have any pets growing up?-” Louie had backed out of Amanda’s office at that point. He wasn’t there to piss her off, although it was pretty funny to watch her slow descent into an automobile-induced nervous breakdown. It was way more fun to prove his worth by single-handedly saving the family business, if that’s what it came down to. And when they’d weathered the storm thanks to Louie’s powers of persuasion, he would rub it in Amanda’s face for years. That idea alone kept him in great spirits. 

“Hey, man, look alive.” Daniel didn’t bother to knock on the open door, and Louie almost fell out of his chair. “You busy? Don’t seem busy.”

“I just sold you a fucking car,” Louie retorted, holding up his paperwork by the stapled corner of the packet. “You’re welcome.”

Daniel didn’t acknowledge the attempt at banter. He was looking over his shoulder. “Will you just come out and watch the floor for a sec? I don’t know where the hell Marcus wandered off to…”

“Yeah, fuck Marcus.” Louie tucked the paperwork into its proper folder like the stellar employee he was before getting up. “You and the missus headed out for the day?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, Tom Cole just showed up with Anoush. Cole’s completely insane. He actually has the nerve to walk in here and try to buy the place out from under us. I swear, if it weren’t for the school fight, he’d be laid out on the show floor right now.”

“Huh.” Louie was trying to button his suit jacket, but suddenly he couldn’t find the button-hole. He fumbled, dropped the button, and tried again. Then he quit trying and just stood there, staring out the door into the hall. Daniel was looking at him funny.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, that’s crazy. I’ll go watch.” Louie cleared his throat, took a glance at his reflection in the mirror above his desk, and brushed non-existent lint off his lapels. He brushed past his frazzled cousin without another word on the way out. As a kid, Louie spent more time in detention than in the classroom. Walking out to the floor now as a grown man was scarier than any death march toward the principal’s office ever had been - and for once, Louie hadn't done a damn thing wrong. It was just Anoush, for crying out loud. The little fucker was about as intimidating as a basket of laundry. And yet, when he turned the corner and saw Anoush standing next to Tom Cole, arms folded tight in front of his chest, Louie’s control of his limbs evaporated. He stopped dead next to the intake desk and looked for a pen, a brochure, anything to look busy.

“Louie.”

Fuck. Amanda’s quiet, ferocious voice was a force Louie didn't feel like reckoning with.

“What's happening?” He pointed at Tom Cole and grinned like his life depended on it. “Hey, how you doin’, Mr. Cole? Ready to give up on that racket you got going down the street and join the cool kids?” He was cringing at the sound of his own words, but he had no clue how to handle the people in front of him. Amanda just shook her head, Cole’s silicone face didn’t budge, and Anoush’s cheeks puffed out like a hamster's. Louie knew he was doing that stuck-up little fake sigh he always did when he objected to something Louie said, or the way he said it, which was all the damn time. It meant Anoush was still judging him from afar - a tiny quirk that used to drive Louie up the fucking wall. Now, recognizing Anoush’s expression was a relief. 

“If the cool kids are cool with violence,” said Cole, clasping his hands together, “then call me a square.”

“What?” Louie scoffed. He glanced at Anoush, gesturing towards Cole like get a load of this guy. He thought, or imagined, that the corners of his mouth twitched. Then Anoush turned his head away to stare at the wall.

“Don’t you get it, Louie?” Amanda said brightly. “He’s saying we’re all thugs. Tom, why don’t we get settled in the conference room, okay? Daniel’s on his way.”

“Now, now. No need to be dramatic.” Cole followed Amanda, oblivious to the daggers she’d been glaring at him the entire time. Daniel passed a moment later to join them in the conference room, mouthing something at Louie that he didn’t quite catch. That left him alone on the show floor with Anoush. Louie shoved his hands in his pockets, following Anoush’s stony gaze towards the front entrance. He wasn’t used to the air between them being so quiet. Then again, Louie wasn’t used to being near Anoush at all anymore, and he didn’t get why he had to make this weird. Wasn’t he gonna say hello? At the very least, he thought Anoush might show some sign of being happy to see him. Damn, Louie thought. If that’s how it is…

“I can’t believe you’d go work for that mamaluke.”

Louie got exactly what he was after - Anoush’s attention. The wrinkle that appeared between his brows told Louie all he needed to know. Anoush had a lot of tells when Louie got under his skin. 

“That is the most goombah thing you’ve ever said,” he retorted. Louie’s frustration flared hot in his chest. 

“Hey! Take it easy, okay? That’s not your word, that’s our word.”

“Is it, though?” Anoush always did this. He pushed on every point Louie made, searching for weakness. He’d never let Louie relax. Every conversation was a battle to determine who had to play the most defense, and who could withstand the barrage of personal barbs the longest. It got Louie’s blood pumping.

“I don’t know. Still, I didn’t like your tone, the way you said it.” A picture-perfect volley, designed to goad Anoush into his favorite subject of argument - semantics. But where Louie expected him to step up and snap back, Anoush just deflated.

“Okay.”

With the flow of energy cut off, Louie was unmoored. He hated the lurch in his stomach, hated Anoush for making him stand there like a dick with nothing to say. Louie refused to allow this bullshit to continue. He was bull-headed, obstinate, and proud of it -  he’d keep pushing and pushing until Anoush either decided to chill out or to murder Louie with his bare hands.

“You still over on Lankershim?” he asked. Anoush shifted on his feet, rewarding Louie’s effort at small talk with perfunctory eye contact.

“No. Upgraded to a small two-bedroom over on Outpost.”

It took Louie a second to recall where Outpost was. “Oh, good for you, man.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m tryin’ to move right now, I’m still over at the 99 Cent Store. That place sucks, man.” There was no denying Anoush’s smile now, though Louie wasn’t completely sure whether it was friendly or mocking. When it came to him and Anoush together, there wasn’t much of a difference. “You gotta see the degenerates that come in and outta there. But I'm gonna get my own spot now that I got a little job stability.” For a brief giddy moment, Louie thought they were over the hump. But Anoush frowned, his lower lip jutting out slightly, and Louie had seen that face before. It was never good.

“...Don’t be so sure of that.”

Louie felt blindsided. Why did Anoush have to speak in fucking riddles? “What you talking about?” 

Anoush opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He scratched his temple and fidgeted. Louie was beyond done with fucking around. 

“Anoush. I know you know something. What do you know?”

Their eyes connected steadfastly for the first time. Louie had no idea what to think. All he knew for certain was that Anoush looked exhausted. He’d forgotten how it made him feel to see Anoush genuinely downtrodden because it was so rare. Watching Anoush look over his shoulder at Cole made him furious on his behalf. In a brain ruled by impulse, reaching out to grab Anoush by the arm and tell him everything would be alright seemed like a great idea - but he didn’t. What was most important to him now was keeping Anoush right here. If he scared him off now, he’d never forgive himself. Not to mention, he didn’t know if everything would be alright.

“Okay,” Anoush said, “you didn't hear this from me.”

***  

Only a few hours had gone by since Anoush had re-entered the LaRussos’ lives under extreme duress, but several months worth of fatigue set in as soon as he sat down in the solitude of his own car. He shucked off his suit jacket and scrambled to unbutton his waistcoat. When he pulled a lever on the bottom of the driver’s seat, it reclined all the way into the back. Anoush laid flat in the seat, crossed his arms over his face to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun, and let out a long groan. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

He never imagined that he would grow weary of being treated to lunch at the most delicious restaurants in the Valley, but the dragon roll Daniel bought him wasn't sitting right in his stomach. The conversation itself had gone well, Anoush thought; it was lovely to catch up with Daniel now that he had a foot back in the real world. But he couldn’t bring himself to make any promises, and the disappointment was plain in Daniel’s expression as he toasted Anoush with lychee strawberry soju. Anoush knew Daniel understood that he was in a difficult position and had a lot of factors to consider, but he was so tired of letting people down.

Anoush was startled out of feeling sorry for himself by a brash ringtone playing over his car’s Bluetooth speaker. “For fuck’s sake, harām zādeh,” he grumbled, digging in his pocket for the phone. A solid five minutes of peace and quiet was too much to ask of the universe. He answered without looking at the screen. “You’ve got Anoush.”

“What the fuck, dude? “You’ve got Anoush”? When you start answering the phone like a corpo douchebag?”

Anoush sat up straight so fast that he tweaked something in his lower back. “Ow. Louie?”

Louie was openly laughing at him over the speakers. It reminded Anoush of a weird dream he’d had last year. “What happened at lunch, you fucking nerd?”

“How do you even know I’m done with lunch?”

“I dunno. Call it a fifth sense or whatever.”

“Or Daniel told you.”

“Maybe.”

“So you already know what happened at lunch.”

“Not really. You think I just called to hear you talk?”

The interior of the car was way too hot. Anoush turned on the engine and cranked the air conditioning as low as it would go. “Kind of seems like you did.”

Louie laughed again, but started coughing in the middle. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You still there?” Anoush asked. He wanted to kick himself for daring to skirt around the elephant in the room, but the elephant was throwing a tantrum and spraying water everywhere. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” Louie finally replied. “Sorry if the sound’s weird. I’m out in my car.”

“Me too.”

“So what’d you tell him? He wouldn’t give me shit. I asked real nicely, too.”

Anoush figured their conversation wouldn’t be quick. He sank back down on the flattened driver’s seat, and reached for the knot in his tie. “I didn’t really tell him much besides what I told you. His contract with Doyona’s void at the end of the month. Cole made him out to be a maniac.”

“So what’s he gonna do?”

“I don’t know for sure. He mentioned flying out to meet with Doyona.”

“All the way in Japan? Jesus.” Louie’s frustrated exhale created a burst of static on his end of the line. “This shit is so crazy. Hey, did he say he wants to take me to Japan with him?”

“...You know what? Oddly, that didn’t come up.”

“Man, I just want one of those sick-ass Japanese swords. Bring it back with me.” Louie made a few swish, swish noises, and Anoush could picture him swinging the air katana in his driver’s seat. “If that blond asshole comes around the dealership again, he’s gonna be sushi.”

“Fuck that guy. He never paid me for the shoes he ruined.”

“Amanda said he hurt you,” Louie remarked. Anoush waited for a joke or a childish, vulgar nickname that never came. 

“Johnny? Yeah. Punched me in the stomach.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”   “I shoulda been there.”

Anoush closed his eyes and made himself to inhale and exhale, deep and long, ignoring how his breathing wavered. He loosened his tie completely and pulled it off. On that day, he’d thought the same thing.

“What would you have done?” he said, forcing the levity in his tone. “You couldn’t beat the guy when you had a baseball bat.”

“Hey, hey, that was a dirty-ass fight. You weren’t there. Don’t talk about shit you don’t know, Anoush.” He could hear the smart-alec energy return to Louie’s voice. “But then I guess you’d never have shit to talk about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about? Six months ago, you told me with a straight face that you thought Elton John was a woman until you were twenty-five.”

“I fucking told you, I misheard it my whole life! Not my fault I never saw his fucking name written down. Thought his name was Ellen John.”

“Ellen fucking John.” Anoush was laughing so hard he curled up in a half-hearted fetal position on the seat. 

“Well, what kind of fucking name is Elton?”

Their laughter eventually trailed off and left dead air in Anoush’s car, with only the drone of the fan filling his ears. This silence didn’t carry expectation or dread; they’d gotten something out of their systems together. Anoush thought about what must have led Louie to finally look down at Anoush’s contact card in his phone and tap it. He wondered if Louie had considered hanging up before he got an answer.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted to Louie.

“I mean, you just tell Cole to go fuck himself. Right?”

“Ideally, yeah.”

“And then you come back over here.”

Anoush sighed. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“What the fuck is un-simple about it? They want you back, man.”

“...I just know things won’t be the same as before.” There was no way to tell if Louie understood what Anoush meant by that. He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, himself.

“Fuck no. It’s gonna be way better. They’re gonna be so glad to have us both back, we can have whatever the fuck we want. You gotta see the office they gave me, it’s fucking ridiculous. What, do you not wanna come back because you’re scared I’m gonna beat the shit out of you this quarter?”

“Not really much competition when the quarter’s half over.”

“Yeah, you better stay over there at Tom Cole’s daycare then.”

“Fuck you, Louie.”

Anoush had missed saying that so much. 

“Just come back,” Louie said softly. “Don’t…don’t be an idiot. Just come back.”

“...Fine.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Yeah.” Anoush didn’t need to look in a mirror to know his face was burning bright pink.

“I thought you were gonna be way more of a pain in the ass about it. I had a whole speech ready,” Louie fake-complained. 

“No, no. I wanted to leave on day one. Just waiting for a good enough excuse.” Anoush really didn’t want to hang up - they had months worth of bullshit stories and heated arguments to catch up on. “Can you leave me alone so I can call your cousin?”

“Fuck, finally. I thought you’d never shut up.”

“I want to hear that persuasion speech on Monday morning, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah. I made that shit up.”

“I still want to hear it.”

“Okay. Damn. Bossy bitch.”

Once he brought himself to end the call, Anoush didn’t rush to get Daniel on the line. He stared up through the sunroof of his Porsche at the cloudless sky and wondered if he’d just hallucinated the entire conversation - or maybe he’d hallucinated the entire summer. On Monday, Anoush would wake up and stop for coffee or donuts or both on the way to work. He would arrive before Louie, and set a Boston cream long john on his desk for when he inevitably rolled in fifteen minutes behind schedule. Everything would be the same - or almost the same. The morning Louie never showed up would become a distant nightmare rather than a catalyst of chaos in Anoush’s life.  And one day soon, they might laugh about it together. Unable to stop smiling, he sat up and dialed Daniel’s number.

“Hey. Yeah, let’s do it. I can have Cole back there in an hour if you really want to rub it in his face…just promise not to punch him, okay? I don’t feel like being named in a lawsuit. And Louie has to promise, too.”

[thunderblessedhero]

OFFSCREEN POST

———

Keldeo’s hooves thundered against the ice, causing it to crack and crumble away under the sheer force- but the young legendary was too fast to be taken down with it. August tightened their grip on their steed’s mane, flattening themself against his back to hold against the velocity of the wind threatening to send them tumbling off.

Kyurem hovered just up ahead, temporarily stunned by an earlier assault from Keldeo. In that moment, August knew- this was their chance. They wouldn’t get another shot like this. If they didn’t split the dragons right now, then the fate of Unova was decided.

Bracing themself to jump, August readied themself just as Keldeo went galloping over the edge, the bridge of ice shattering to pieces below him. No turning back.

Time seemed to slow down. In those final, pivotal seconds, August sucked in a deep breath, before giving the command in one final shout-

“SECRET SWORD!”

Rearing his head back, Keldeo let out an echoing bray as a radiant, crystallized blade sprouted from his horn. Kyurem looked up just in time to see him hovering overhead, golden eyes widening as the trainer and legendary dived in.

With a swing of his head, Keldeo sliced straight through Kyurem’s chest, leaving a cut where beams of dazzling light would pour from. As the mighty dragon let out a prolonged, agonized screech, August leaped off just as Keldeo began to fall- grabbing onto Kyurem’s chest spike and dangling from it.

Moving purely on instinct, their hand dove into their pocket, snatching a syringe-like device- the DNA Splicers. The new set that Colress had made in such notice. Whether or not they actually worked, the scientist couldn’t have said, but August didn’t have time to worry about that right now. They lifted it above the cut, and with as much force as they could muster, stabbed it straight into the god’s heart.

After that, everything fell silent. Deadly silent. For that split moment, August’s felt a jolt of panic within them when nothing happened- thinking maybe the splicers hadn’t worked, or they’d done something wrong.

Then, light swallowed them. It was blinding, and August felt everything at once- it burned like flames, crackled like lightning, stung like frost. It was all so much- they hadn’t even realized their hold on the dragon’s chest had slipped and they’d began to fall.

Kyurem’s roar shook the heavens, reaching the moon and the stars beyond as its form began to divide. It ripped as seamlessly as paper, leaving three pieces behind to plummet to the earth. Long after its bellow of defeat had dwindled into nothing, August could still feel the Original Dragon’s pain echo in their eardrums, piercing into their very soul. It’d been a cry of relief, yet one of sorrow. One of joy and gratitude, yet once of remorse and pain.

In their fall, they blinked away tears that ascended from their eyes in glistening droplets, feeling a heaviness settle inside their chest. In those last moments of consciousness, they had one last thought, a whispered question that no one would answer- “Have I done the right thing?”

•

“August?”

“August, wake up...”

“It’s over now. You did it. You won.”

“Come on kid, wake up…”

“August? Hey, c-come on, we just beat that thing, you- you can’t…”

“August!”

Brown eyes shot awake, and the young trainer jolted in the arms of someone they couldn’t see. But there was a warmth, a familiar warmth- they looked down, seeing a red jacket sleeve, then moved their eyes up to see its wearer.

Hugh sucked in a sharp inhale, his face lighting up upon seeing his best friend awake. It was a rare expression August wasn’t used to seeing on him- usually he carried this furious scowl or a brooding frown, but now, he actually smiled.

“Oh thank gods, you’re-” he stammered, letting out a shaky chuckle and moving his wrist up to wipe away some stray tears. He stopped, though, when he noticed this unreadable, entranced glaze over August’s eyes. “H-hey, you okay there?”

“You’re…” August trailed off dazedly, tilting their head to the side as they tried to find the words. “I’ve… never seen you smile like that before.”

Hugh just gave them a bewildered blink, before he just blurted out a laugh and face-palmed at their remark. “You’re a dumbass.”

The sound of his laughter making them feel a bit lighter, August smiled up weakly at him, before glancing to the side and noticing two others- a distinct duo of pink and green hair.

“N? Blake?” They mumbled, relief swelling in their chest at the sight of the two older trainers. “You guys are okay!”

“Yeah…” N sighed, shrugging a little and giving them a tired half-grin. “Sorry about the whole attacking you thing. I don’t… exactly remember what happened?”

“Yeah, me neither,” Blake mumbled sheepishly, shifting on their feet and rubbing the back of their head. “But you did good, kiddo. Sorry we only got in your way. I just remember hearing Reshiram’s voice, and… everything kinda went blank.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being mind controlled,” August huffed lightheartedly, sitting up beside Hugh and slightly leaning on him. “I’m just glad you guys are back to your old selves…”

“Trust me, we are too,” said Blake, before they stood up straight and pointed somewhere off to the side. “Oh, and look who else is!”

Eyes following their finger, August let out a joyful gasp when they were greeted by not only Keldeo and the other Swords of Justice standing before them- but the faces of Reshiram and Zekrom, as well. Finally two again- and gazing softly down at August with thanks.

With an excited whinny, Keldeo bucked before he cantered over to August, giving their face an affectionate bump with his wet nose. They giggled, reaching their hands up to scratch his neck. “Hey buddy,” they greeted him, pressing their forehead against his. “You were great out there. You sure made your mentors proud, huh?”

Cobalion crooned in agreement, strolling forwards and lowering his head down to August’s height. Surprised by the gesture from the usually standoffish Legendary, they reached a hand out hesitantly towards him, before carefully gripping on one of his horns as he helped pull them back onto their feet. They wobbled a bit upon standing up, but with a little support from Hugh they managed to steady themself.

“I am deeply sorry for ever doubting you,” Cobalion apologized sincerely, stepping back and rising to his full height once more. “It… would seem that I have some reconsidering to do in terms of my views on humanity as a whole… but what I can say for certain- Keldeo is unbelievably lucky to have a Chosen like you.”

“Thank you…” August acknowledged his praise with a respectful nod, before their eyes turned back to the dragons towering over the rest of the group.

“We must express our gratitude as well,” Zekrom stated, taking a step forwards along with her brother, remaining cautious of where they moved due to their gargantuan size.

“Had it not been for you, we would have likely razed the region we hold so dearly to the ground under Kyurem’s command…” Reshiram murmured rather sorrowfully, averting his gaze to his feet.

Casting a sympathetic gaze to the pair of divine creatures, August offered them a smile of understanding, trying to assure them it wasn’t their fault. But at the mention of Kyurem, their expression shifted into one of concern, and they took a quick glance around the area for any sign of the third dragon. “Wait a minute… where is Kyurem?”

Reshiram and Zekrom became uncomfortably silent at that question, meanwhile August’s human companions all shared a look of cluelessness, wondering the same thing as well.

“We don’t know,” Hugh admitted. “When they all separated again, there was this big explosion, and… well, it definitely wasn’t there when we found Zekrom and Reshiram unconscious.”

“Maybe it went back home?” Blake suggested with a shrug. “Either way, I don’t think it’s gonna bother us again, so that’s a good thing- right?”

“I suppose so…” N mumbled, a finger raising to his chin in thought. “But I can’t say I don’t feel uneasy leaving it to roam unchecked.”

“Yeah…” August mumbled, awkwardly rubbing their arm. “It’s just that… when I struck Kyurem with the DNA splicers, it sounded like it was in so much pain… For a second there, it almost made me wonder if I’d done the right thing by separating it.”

“Of course you did,” Blake calmly assured them, crossing their arms and gesturing towards Reshiram. “You saved our dragons- and that thing would’ve used them to flatten Unova if you hadn’t.”

“I-I know, but-…never mind.” With a sigh of defeat, August dropped the subject and waved a hand dismissively. “I dont think Kyurem should have to suffer either,” they kept the words they wanted to say confined within their thoughts. This seemed like something they could worry about later- right now, they just wanted to finally enjoy this short period of peace with their friends that they’d gone through hell to earn.

N furrowed his brows in concern, before exchanging a look with Blake. The two almost seemed to communicate something silently, but before August could ask what they were both thinking the pair of Chosens had already moved on from it.

“Welp, no point hanging around here,” Blake declared, placing their hands on their hips. “Are you kids alright? That must’ve been a nasty fight, you don’t need a hospital or anything?”

After mulling it over for a second, August simply shook their head. “No, I feel totally fine actual- Woahh-!!” They were soon to be corrected when they took a step forward, only for their ankle to give out under them and send them teetering forwards. Thankfully, Hugh caught them with lightning fast reflexes. “…Okay no, yeah, I need a doctor.”

“Alright, hang in there,” Blake just chuckled, offering them another arm to lean on as they helped lead the kid over to Reshiram. Meanwhile, N watched all of them with a fond smile, the sight of his little group back together bringing warmth to his heart after these… hectic last few weeks.

He could hardly believe it. It was finally over. Plasma had been disbanded once more, another crisis had been averted… there was still this gnawing feeling inside him, filling him with anxiety that another crazy twist would be thrown their way… but he knew that feeling would go away with time. Right now, in this moment, everything was fine. Everyone was safe. For now, he was just going to relish that.

Feeling a tug at his boot, he glanced down to see none other than a certain shiny Zorua nipping at his laces- Nyx. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he kneeled down to give the little Dark-Type some scratches behind the ear, to which she enthusiastically leaned into.

The poor thing was scruffier than she’d been last time he’d seen her, visibly shaken by that big near-calamity and patches of dirt caked in her dark fur- but other than that, it was clear August had taken good care of the little one in his absence. He’d have to make time to thank them later.

For a moment, he pulled his eyes away from the kit, and stared rather absentmindedly across the desolate fields Kyurem had left in its rampage. After all of this, there was only one last loose end remaining…

Sage Rood and the other ex-grunts had sworn to him that they’d do everything in their power to rescue any and all Pokémon that’d fallen into Team Plasma’s grasp. They’d assured them that- no matter how long it took, no matter who they had to track down or how far- they’d get Nox back for him.

He trusted their word, of course, but… there was this voice haunting him, this creeping fear that made him wonder if it was too late. It might’ve very well been his Zoroark in disguise, taking that Hydreigon’s Hyper Beam in Blake’s place…

A startled yip from Nyx was what caught him before he spiraled into grief and panic over his missing Pokémon- when he looked down, he was to be surprised as well by sight of his Zorua companion having… duplicated?

Nyx stared at her doppelganger with dumbfounded eyes, while the second Zorua simply licked at its fur casually without a care in the world. N’s mouth hung open as he tried to make sense of the sight before him- was he just seeing things, or had another shiny Zorua really just appeared out of the blue…?

Before he could question the little creature, it shot him a devious smirk and bounced back up onto its paws. His shock would only increase tenfold when the Zorua was swallowed by shadows, its form changing and growing into a larger one.

From the illusion, emerged a Zoroark. Long mane of red, with new scars burned along the right side of its face, shoulder, and arm- but despite all the changes, N would recognize those sharp eyes anywhere, even after two years apart.

He froze stiff, his voice coming out in a murmur of disbelief. “…Nox…?”

Without a word, a grin spread across the fox’s face before he quickly tackled the young man to the ground, wrapping his fuzzy arms around him in a tight hug. N was quick to return it, a shaky sob escaping him when he was overwhelmed by the feeling of his companion’s warmth he’d missed for so long.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, sitting up and ruffling the Pokémon’s mane. Nox let out an excited bark, nuzzling against him as N waved to get Blake’s attention. “Blake, look!”

Looking up from helping lift August onto Reshiram’s back, a gasp escaped Blake upon seeing the familiar Zoroark at his side. Their eyes watering up and a smile breaking across their face, they quickly jogged over with their arms outstretched. “Nox! Oh my gods, you’re alive- oof-!”

They were abruptly cut off by Nox jumping up onto them, causing them to topple over backwards and thump across the ground. Blake just giggled and accepted it though, squishing their face against his as they squeezed their arms around his shoulders. “Haha, I missed you too!”

August watched the scene with a somber smile from the back of Reshiram as Nox continued to leap around the two older trainers, before he just resorted to grabbing each of their arms pulling them both in for a group hug. For a moment, August’s gaze trailed off to the side, and they swore they saw a trio of shadowy figures looming from atop a nearby cliff in the corner of their eye- but they were gone by the time August tried to focus on them.

As if seeming to know exactly what they were thinking, Hugh crossed his arms and followed his friends’ gaze towards the same cliff. “So, where do you think Colress and the triad went…?”

“You don’t know?” asked August, looking back down at him.

“Nope. They were all just kinda gone after you beat Kyurem.”

Had August not been too utterly tired to care, they probably would’ve been a bit more worried about the absence of the four shady individuals than they felt. But they just decided to brush it aside for now- Team Plasma was gone, if not then probably in the process of crumbling at this very moment, so it’s not like any of them had anywhere to go to cause more trouble.

“I hate to say it, but… we kinda owe him for making us those new DNA Splicers, don’t we?” Hugh suggested.

“Not when he was partially the reason Ghetsis had the means to fuse the dragons in the first place,” August scoffed. “If anything, that was him paying us back for all the trouble.”

“Touché.”

———

[hazza-bear-care]

Scream Queen

A haunted house trip almost blows out Eddie's eardrum.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, scary descriptions, tw for anxiety, let me know if I missed anything!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the week before Halloween, and Hawkins High was buzzing with excitement. People had planned parties for the entire week, but not the Hellfire Club. Eddie had invited the members of his party to an intense haunted house, one that had their guests sign waivers before entering. Eddie was so excited that he cancelled the special Halloween themed Dungeons and Dragons session he had spent the better part of a year planning, hoping that he could add some new villains to the session after walking through the haunted house.

At 7:45 pm Friday night, Eddie had called every member of the party in order to confirm the plans for Saturday. Everyone had confirmed that they would be there, and Eddie couldn't help but fall asleep with a smile on his face that night.

Saturday had come with a bright sun, full of optimism and excitement. The shrill ringing of a phone snapped him out of the trance he was in. Eddie placed his guitar on the floor by his bed and hurried out of his room to the kitchen.

"Munson residence, Eddie speaking." He answered, out of breath due to how quickly he ran to the kitchen.

"Hey, man. It's Gareth. Listen, something came up and I won't be able to make it to the haunted house tonight. I'm sorry, but family shit, you know?" Eddie's smile dropped slightly, but he cleared his throat and dismissed Gareth, explaining that he understood and hoped they'd get together soon.

After they hung up, Eddie sighed. One person was out, but that didn't mean that everyone else was! Eddie continued to be optimistic about the plans for the day....

Until 5 pm when Eddie's phone started ringing off the hook. Everyone had cancelled, including Steve and Robin, who promised Eddie that they'd find someone to cover their shifts at the Family Video, even if it meant telling Keith to go fuck himself.

Later that night, Eddie stood waiting in line, looking over his shoulder every five minutes to see if his friends had changed their minds, hoping deep down that he wouldn't have to go through the haunted house by himself.

"Hey, Munson!" Y/N called, tapping Eddie on the shoulder, giggling slightly as he jumped in surprise.

"Hey! Oh, I'm so glad you could make it!" Eddie replied, wrapping Y/N in a hug.

"Of course! Where's everyone else? Are they running late?" Y/N asked, her bright eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looked ahead of the line, trying to recognize Gareth's signature haircut.

"Actually, they all cancelled. Bullshit reasons left and right, but I'm not upset about it." Eddie shrugged off his hurt feelings, just trying to focus on living in the moment with his best girl.

"Oh that sucks! What shitty friends we have, huh? Well, tell me about this haunted house!" Eddie and Y/N stood in line talking for about 20 minutes about how intense this haunted house was supposed to be.

Y/N was nervous. She didn't usually like to be scared, or put into scary situations, but Eddie had invited her and after finding out that everyone else had cancelled, she was determined to stay and tough it out. As the line moved and the couple got closer to the entrance, Y/N's palms got sweaty. She pulled her hands out of her jacket pockets and wiped them on her jeans, popping her knuckles anxiously before shoving her hands back into her pockets.

"Are you ready?" Eddie asked, handing her a pen and paper.

"Um, yeah I guess so." Y/N responded, gingerly taking the waiver from Eddie, who turned around so she could use the flat surface of his back to sign her name.

Once the pair had signed away their rights to personal space, Eddie laced his fingers with Y/N's and led her into the darkness of the haunted house.

"Welcome to Hell!" A disembodied voice boomed from the speakers overhead, causing Y/N to jump in surprise. Eddie chuckled a bit as he led her further into the haunted house, adrenaline pumping through his blood.

"You look delicious!" An evil voice hissed from Y/N's right, a hand wrapping around her neck and pulling her in, the scare actor licking a broad stripe up her cheek which caused her to scream and flail her arms, batting the actor away from her face.

Another actor grabbed Eddie's arm, his nails digging into the leather of Eddie's jacket and scratching down to his wrist. Eddie flicked the actor away and wrapped his other arm around Y/N as she buried her face into Eddie's shoulder, attempting to keep another person from licking her face.

A few feet down the hall, another hand shot out from the shadows and curled into Y/N's hair, yanking her out of Eddie's grip. Y/N squealed as the actor who grabbed her pressed a knife to her neck.

"Hello, gorgeous. Wanna be my next wife? I promise you won't end up like the others...." As he finished his sentence, he whirled Y/N around until she was face to face with four women suspended from the ceiling, all of them with slit throats and blood pouring from their eyes.

"Eddie!" Y/N called, desperately trying to tug the actor's hand away from her neck so she could get back to her friend.

"You cry too much. I don't want you." The actor responded, pushing Y/N back to Eddie so hard, she tripped and fell to the floor.

While Y/N was being held hostage by the wife killer, Eddie was ambushed by a clown, a maniacal laugh filling his ears.

"Fuck off, Shawn." Eddie said, recognizing the actor and pushing the clown away just as Y/N came barreling towards him.

Lights started flashing as they transitioned to another area of the house, ghoulish looking actors waiting for their next unsuspecting vicitm.

A ghostly woman reached out to Y/N, screaming for help as she was yanked away before she could grab Y/N and take her along for the ride.

A child circled the living area on a bicycle, asking everyone he passed if they wanted to play, leading the group down to another dark hallway.

While they were walking, hands came out of the shadows again, this time grabbing onto their victims in different places. Hands grabbed Y/N's arms, legs and hair while the same thing happened to Eddie. Towards the end of the hallway, someone with a chainsaw popped out from behind a dark corner, chasing Y/N and Eddie into another area with mannequins positioned in multiple areas of the room.

"Eddie, I'm not having fun," Y/N whimpered, wrapping herself around his arm as he escorted her through the mannequin room.

"You're not having fun? Well, we need to change that!" A voice responded, yanking Y/N away from Eddie. She screamed, desperately clawing at Eddie's leather jacket in a futile attempt to stay with him. Y/N was dragged to the center of the room and the actor that had grabbed her held her hands behind her back, restraining her as actors off all shapes and sizes got in her face. Another actor had restrained Eddie off to the side, forcing him to watch as everyone who worked in the haunted house scared the ever-loving shit out of Y/N.

"Let her go!" Eddie screamed, watching as Y/N attempted to curl into a ball in order to get the actors to leave her alone. She was in tears, her blurry vision and darkness combined to make the experience much more terrifying.

"Aww, lover boy wants us to let her go! How sweet," The actor holding Eddie taunted, running his fingers through Eddie's hair.

"We'll let her go, you just won't be going with her!" Y/N screamed once again as she a trap door opened beneath her and the actor, the latter locking the girl into a cage. A light turned on, briefly blinding Y/N. When her vision cleared she came face to face with Eddie who was still restrained by the previous actor from upstairs.

"Y/N, whatever you do, don't turn around," Eddie prompted, his eyes wide with fear. Y/N's breath shuddered as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, whipping her around so fast she got dizzy. A giant monster with a cleaver in his head was locked in the cage with Y/N, who was immediately picked up and thrown over the monster's shoulder.

"Eddie!" Y/N screamed as the monster chained her up against the wall, the chains hanging heavily from her wrists. Once she was chained, the monster grabbed one of her hands and positioned pliers to her fingernails.

"This won't hurt a bit," the monster started, clamping the pliers onto her thumbnail and pulling, causing Y/N to scream in pain.

"Stop! Please stop! I'm done, I want to go home!" Y/N cried. The actor playing the monster immediately stopped, unlocking the chains and then the door, letting Y/N run towards the safety of Eddie's arms.

"Get them out of here." The monster told the actor holding Eddie. The actor nodded, tapping Eddie on the back and gesturing for them to follow. Eddie held onto Y/N tightly as he followed the actor out of the building. No one else scared Y/N as they were escorted out of the haunted house and into the safety of outside where she finally took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, pulling Y/N away from him and looking at her, placing his hands on her face and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. The smell of urine wafted up towards his nose and he looked down, seeing the dark spot that had formed on Y/N's jeans. She had been so scared, she peed her pants.

"I'm s-sorry-y Ed-die. I didn't mean to ru-in the fun," Y/N stuttered out an apology, embarrassed that she had gotten freaked out and ruined Eddie's time in the haunted house.

"No, no Angel, you didn't ruin anything. I'm sorry you got so scared." Eddie pulled Y/N into another tight hug, not caring about the wet patch on her pants. He shushed her, combing his fingers through her knotted hair, attempting to calm her down.

"I wasn't expecting it to be that bad." Eddie chuckled slightly, pulling her out of the hug to look at her face again. Her eyes were wet with tears that hadn't fallen yet, the fear still ever prominent.

"I know, but you did so good for me. Let's get you home, Scream Queen." Eddie grabbed Y'N's hand and led her towards his van, the sounds of screams still filling the air.

The ride back to Eddie's trailer was quiet. Y/N still gripped Eddie's hand tight, scared that if she let go, she'd be grabbed by another scary person and thrust into a situation she couldn't get out of.

Eddie led Y/N inside the trailer, leaving the girl standing shyly by the front door as Eddie scurried around. He stomped into his room to grab a shirt and boxers for Y/N to change into.

"I didn't mean to pee myself," Y/N muttered as Eddie returned, handing her his clothes and leading her to the bathroom.

"It's okay. I promise I won't tell anyone. You can shower if you want, I'll be right outside, okay?"

"No! Please, Eddie, I don't want to be alone right now." Y/N begged, eyes wide with fear again.

"Okay! Okay, honey. How about I stand outside until you get in the shower, then I'll come back in?" Eddie offered. Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, prompting Eddie to leave the bathroom. In less than five minutes, Y/N had stripped out of her pee soaked clothes and jumped in the shower, calling for Eddie once she was situated. Eddie sat in the bathroom while Y/N cleaned herself up, offering light conversation to help calm her down further.

Once her shower was done, Eddie had gathered her dirty clothes and put them in the washing machine while Y/N changed into the clothes she borrowed from Eddie. The pair met up in Eddie's room, silence thick between them.

"Did you wanna watch a movie?" Eddie asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yeah. What do you have?" Y/N murmured, still not quite ready to talk fully. At this question, Eddie turned to the stack of tapes he had on his dresser, flicking through the titles to find something decent to watch.

"Sorry, Scream Queen, all I've got is horror movies." Eddie responded sheepishly. He'd stocked up on as many horror flicks as he could find, hoping that once he and his friends were done with the haunted house they'd want to keep going with scary movies.

"That makes sense based on the activity you'd planned tonight. I guess 'Nightmare on Elm Street' wouldn't be too bad..." Y/N sentence trailed off as she picked at her nails. Her thumb nail was still sore from where the pliers had yanked on it, which caused Y/N's anxiety to spike again as she nibbled on her lower lip.

"Y/N, honey, we don't have to watch anything if you don't want to. We can just light a joint, relax for a bit, and then I can take you home." Eddie's heart squeezed with regret as he watched his best girl resist the urge to curl up in a ball on his bed.

"No, I don't want to be alone tonight. I already told my folks I'd crash here anyway. A joint sounds good though." Y/N ceded, replacing her bottom lip with her fingers as she began to bite her nails.

As Eddie gathered the smoking supplies, a knock sounded on the door, followed by the creak of the hinges as it opened.

"Hello, hello! It's Steve and Robin! We brought supplies!" Steve called, his voice carrying down the hallway to Eddie's room.

"Hey, Y/N! how was the haunted house?" Robin asked as she flopped beside Y/N on Eddie's bed, ignoring the fact that Y/N was wearing Eddie's clothes.

"I'd rather not talk about it. How was closing the video store?" Y/N responded, quickly diverting her friends towards another topic.

"Ugh. Same shit, different day. What movie are we watching?" Steve answered as he started divvying up the snack they'd brought.

"We were actually going to smoke first. Y/N didn't have a great time at the haunted house, so we're gonna relax for a bit, then decide what to watch." Eddie had reappeared in his room, a rolling tray in one hand and a bag of weed in the other. He situated himself at his desk and began expertly rolling two joints for he and his friends to share. It didn't make sense to be mad at Steve and Robin anymore since they had showed up.

"I'm gonna go check on my clothes, Eds. I'll be back." Eddie nodded as Y/N slipped out of his room, tugging the back of his shirt down over her ass as she left.

"Spill, Munson." Steve demanded after Y/N had left the room.

"She got so scared he peed herself. I swear to God, Harrington, if you make fun of her, I'll leave you at the haunted house by yourself. See if you could make it all the way through without pissing yourself." Eddie's threat fell on deaf ears as Steve tried to stifle his laughter.

"Is she okay?" Robin asked with concern lacing her voice.

"She will be. Scream Queen just isn't in the mood to be scared anymore, so I hope you guys brought over something different."

"Scream Queen?" Robin asked, turning to face Y/N who had walked back into the room.

"Yeah, she screamed so loud I nearly burst an ear drum." Eddie explained, shoving the joints in his pocket as he sauntered to the front door. His friends followed, Robin wrapping her arms around Y/N's shoulders and rubbing them. Eddie held open the door as Steve, Robin, and Y/N gathered on the small porch of the trailer. He stepped out with them, handing one joint to Steve lighting it before handing the other one to Y/N and lighting it for her.

Y/N took a puff, the stench of weed wrapping around her and warming her from the inside out. She passed the joint to Eddie, wrapping her arms around him as a heavy silence settled over the group.

"So, Scream Queen, you didn't like the haunted house?" Steve asked, breaking the silence as Robin took a hit off the joint Steve had handed her. Robin shot Steve a look that he ignored, his focus remaining on the girl who was trying to shrink further into Eddie.

"No, Steve. I hated it. But everyone else bailed." Y/N explained, shooting Steve a glare.

"So you felt obligated to go in?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. But it was nice hanging out with Eddie outside of Hellfire." Y/N defended, separating from Eddie long enough to take another puff of the joint he'd offered her, smiling slightly as Eddie rubbed her arm and kept her close.

"We always hang out outside of Hellfire, sweets." Eddie explained, bringing the joint back up to his mouth.

"Yeah, but we never hang out, like, just us. We always have Gareth or Jeff or even Dustin with us. It was nice, just the two of us, ya know?"

Robin smiled softly at the interaction Eddie and Y/N were having, watching as Eddie handed her the joint again. Y/N shook her head and excused herself to go back inside, saying she was cold.

The crisp October air had settled around them, the wind kicking up slightly.

"You guys are cute together." Robin commented, taking one final hit of the joint before letting Steve finish it. Eddie blushed and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"You should go for it. I think the Scream Queen likes you back, Munson." Steve teased, snuffing the joint out on the handle of the porch, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Shut up guys. Let's go watch a movie, okay?" Eddie led his friends inside his home, smiling brightly when he saw Y/N curled up on the couch, the snacks Steve and Robin brought scattered over the coffee table. She was wearing her jeans again, but Eddie's shirt still remained.

The group got situated, Steve and Robin on the floor, Eddie and Y/N smushed together on the couch as Steve pressed play on the movie.

"Labyrinth? Really?" Eddie asked. Steve and Robin shrugged at the choice, turning back to the TV as David Bowie started singing, the majestic barn owl flying around the screen.

"I figured it was a better choice than the others they brought." Y/N muttered quietly, gesturing to the pile of VHS tapes on the table.

"I didn't know you had picked it. I'm sorry for making fun of it." Eddie apologized, wrapping his arm around Y/N and pulling her into him once again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and watched as the main character, Sarah, traded her baby brother for some peace and quiet.

Maybe his Scream Queen did like him, but Eddie loved her.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into the Unknown, Part 51

First

Previous

Marinette did not understand why the DMV had to be so damn slow.

Surely, there had to be a more efficient way to get her driver’s license.

Legally. It was very easy to get a fake driver’s license, especially in Gotham.

Hell, it was even easier for her to get a fake, considering she had Tim, who was an expert hacker and had gang affiliations. But when she’d tried to get him to give her one, he’d laughed a little and said that he couldn’t, because he would accidentally make the license photo look too good and the cops would instantly know it was a fake… she was pretty sure he just wanted to laugh in her face at her face.

Truly, no one had ever suffered like she did.

She grumbled off-brand curses to herself as she watched the numbers creep along on a screen overhead. They were increasing, getting closer and closer to calling her up, but were they? Were they really? No.

At least Damian (the reason her curses were limited to things like sugar and fudge) was enjoying himself. He was quietly reading. And, of course, this meant that people would coo over how he was such a sweet, demure little guy and how she was definitely raising him right because ‘most kids these days spend all their time on phones instead of reading’. Ignore the fact that Damian absolutely spent a lot of time playing games on their phones. Marinette huffed a little, a mix of amused and exasperated. Damian basked in the praise, and she wasn’t going to ruin his fun. Especially not if it might encourage him to read more.

Marinette sighed as another elderly woman hobbled off, leaving them alone. She let her smile lessen just a little and rolled her eyes before ruffling his hair.

Damian looked up at her.

She pinched his cheek. “I’m raising a little manipulator,” she teased lightly, as if this were new information.

Damian giggled and reached up to grab her cheek as well.

She grinned. “You’re dangerous. Soon enough, I’ll be sucked in, too.”

Damian nodded his agreement. She wasn’t sure that he understood what she was really getting at, but it was fine. It wasn’t like she hadn’t already been sucked in that first day that they’d met.

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

And then she heard her number get called. Honestly, she thought she was hallucinating. That she had gotten so desperate over the hours she’d been waiting that her brain had decided to take things into its own hands (which would be her hands, actually, but thinking about it like that was kind of discomforting, somehow). But then she looked up at the screen and found her number emblazoned across the screen.

She would have jumped for joy if she’d had any less self-respect. She still pumped her fist, though.

She gathered up Damian and his stuff in her arms and speed walked to get her picture done.

It was a little hard, because Damian apparently decided that this was the exact moment he was going to sit himself in her lap and start screaming whenever she tried to move him away but, eventually, the person doing the photo managed to figure out how to crop him out.

And so, her new ID in hand, she headed home.

As expected, Tim laughed at her picture.

Still, as she swiped it away from him with a glare and a complaint about how he was actually secretly a villain, her expression quickly fell back into something softer.

It was… surprisingly nice to have the ID. She looked down at the card, running her thumb over the plastic in a way that could only ever be interpreted as fond. It was useless, really, completely arbitrary. But it was the first connection to this world that she’d legitimately had. Something permanent.

She sighed quietly and tucked it away in her wallet.

~

Tim smiled as he tucked Damian into bed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of the sleeping kid’s forehead, and then giving Frank one last scratch behind the ears before tiptoeing out.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he smiled to himself, a new spring in his step as he made his way over to his own bedroom. Marinette was already in bed, glancing up from her computer to greet him with a slightly tired smile.

“Ready?” She asked, and he could see her finger fly across her trackpad to exit out of all of her current tabs.

He narrowed his eyes just slightly. She did that when she was guilty of doing something she thought he wouldn’t like. Particularly when she was trying to find workarounds to the safeguards that kept her from working outside of office hours.

She seemed to be aware that he had found her out, because she gave a slightly sheepish smile and pulled him down for a quick kiss.

And, well, he was weak. So, he forgave her.

(He also knew that she would never find a way around the software he had added to her computer, so he didn’t mind her attempts all that much.)

Besides, it was movie night. Who can be mad on movie night?

He slipped into bed with her, drawing the blanket closer to his side. Marinette gave him a dirty look out of the corner of her eyes as she navigated to their chosen movie, but made no attempts to steal the blanket back. He grinned and curled closer to her, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder, and her head tilted just slightly to press their cheeks against each other.

Like that, they watched another aimless action movie.

Usually, the event happened with little to no fanfare. They liked to make fun of the martial arts in action movies, it had become a bit of a tradition to do so at least once a month.

But Marinette… wasn’t into it quite as much as she usually was. No one else would have noticed. She was still laughing and joking around just as much as usual. But the crinkle in her eyes was a little forced, and her smiles lasted just a hair too long for him to think them anything but false.

The movie finished, and Tim swallowed thickly in the newfound silence.

He loved Marinette. Which was exactly why he was so hesitant to prod her about this. He understood, better than anyone in this universe ever could, just how terrible an idea it was to push her into talking about things. She was a Parisian, she was used to keeping all hints of her true emotions under wraps, and trying for more would only stress her out. She had been getting better about it, she sometimes opened up just slightly. She was capable of genuine moments, even if they were just moments. But expecting much more than that was stupid. They weren’t characters, they were people, and their ‘stories’ and ‘arcs’ weren’t the type to be wrapped up in 140k words. Progress takes time. It wouldn’t be linear, she would be liable to good days and bad days and a lot of days that were simply fine. It would be hard, too, as it’s so much easier to let things stay the way they are than it is to change.

It wasn’t something that he could do, either. As much as it pained him to think about, change has to come from within. He could encourage it but, in the end, it was all up to her.

And it wasn’t like he was all that great about confronting people about things, anyways.

So, he approached it at the most slanted angle he could, ready to be rebuffed:

“Anything on your mind?”

Marinette opened her mouth, a crooked grin already in place, but no sound came out.

She closed her mouth again, pressing her lips together thinly, her gaze flicking away from him.

She exhaled shakily and pulled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that felt almost defensive.

“This doesn’t have to be temporary, you know.”

Tim went still.

“We don’t have to go back to our world. And, even if we choose to go back, there’s nothing that says we have to go back to the way we were.” Her fingernails dug into the skin of her arms. “We don’t have to be special, y’know? We can just… be.”

He mulled over the thought in his head a few times. It wasn’t like he had never considered it himself. He was happy here. Far more happy than he had been back in his old universe, that was for sure.

But it wasn’t realistic.

This world felt like a dream, but you have to wake up from dreams eventually.

He didn’t want to have to disagree. Not in general, and especially not when she was actually trying to open up for once.

He bit his lip, thinking hard.

“We can’t,” he said, eventually. “I want to, but we can’t. We have responsibilities… and…” He sighed, pushing up the glasses on his nose so he could rub the space between his eyes. “I don’t think I’d be able to stand by, knowing that my family is getting hurt and I can do something about it, but won’t.”

Her eyes, briefly, found their way to his own, before falling to her lap. “Well, I don’t think I’m going to do it. I’ll still be the guardian or whatever, but I’ll do it in the way our Master used to. I… can’t do it anymore. And I can’t do it to Dami. He… needs to have someone, if something goes wrong.”

Tim nodded jerkily.

It was quiet for just a few moments more.

And then Marinette sighed and rested her head against Tim’s shoulder again. “You know, Ava is adopting a kid. She’s been complaining my ear off about how hard it is for single people to adopt for weeks.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, but he was perfectly willing to follow her onto the new subject. “Have you suggested stealing the kid?”

“Oh my god, yes, but she just won’t listen to me!” Marinette said, throwing up her hands frustratedly. “It’s not like anyone is actually gonna check in Gotham, anyways!”

~

Marinette watched as Ava shifted nervously from foot to foot. Honestly, the woman was so nervous that it was making her nervous. And, yes, it was understandable that Ava was nervous, today was the day, she was about to officially have a kid of her own… but, really, think about how Marinette was feeling.

Listen, she did say that she was also feeling nervous. Rambling and making jokes was her coping mechanism.

At least they didn’t have to wait all that long.

A little girl of about eight, dressed in a pretty pink dress, waved at her, smiling a gap-toothed smile. She looked a bit nervous, gripping her backpack tightly, but she was clearly trying her best to seem brave.

Marinette waved back, a tiny smile of her own making its way across her face.

And then she turned to Ava. “You know, Damian is going to be pissed that he’s not the oldest anymore.”

Instantly, the tension in her friend snapped and she brought a hand up to try and hide the grin that was making its way over her face.

~

Damian gave them both pleading eyes, but Tim was holding strong.

… okay, not really. In the end, it was Marinette that reminded Damian of the rule:

“No dessert until everyone is done eating.”

Damian made his little lower lip wobble.

Marinette looked determinedly away, at Tim. “How was work?”

Tim snapped out of it enough to direct his eyes at his pizza instead. In his defense, it is very hard to ignore it when a kid is giving you That Look. Even Marinette seemed a little stressed. Her knuckles were white where they gripped her glass of water like a lifeline.

Honestly, you’d think that they were all in some modern adaptation of Tantalus’ story.

What was he supposed to be thinking about again?

Oh, right. Work.

He rambled on for a while about the usual stuff. Annoying parents that hadn’t realized that he would actually teach their kids to throw a punch (they should have warned him), people that insisted that the things they learned street fighting weren’t going to hurt them (they would, given time), a person who had tripped over a mat, a –.

“Why is he still talking?” Damian said, frustrated that he wasn’t actually finishing his food and therefore, rudely, making him wait even longer for dessert.

Tim felt heat rise to his face. Especially since Marinette was clearly trying to hide her smile behind the water that she had conveniently remembered.

He sighed lightly, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m done eating. You can have the cookies.”

Damian cheered and started immediately making grabby hands for the plate of cookies on the counter.

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenz-z @imarivers8 @jeminiikrystal @adrestar @twsssmlmaa @literaryhiraeth @trippingovermyfeet @ev-cupcake @its-maemain

[madeanaccoutbecuaseihadto]

Meta Analysis: The Amazing Digital Fight Game!

Read this as a youtube guy's youtube video

Jax. jax is the top of the meta right now, and for good reason. he's both the fastest character in the game, and has the best combo game in the game, letting him build meter very quickly. With fast heavy and neutral moves with the largest vertical jump and some very strong down airs, Jax is very good at juggling opponents, particularly heavier characters in Zooble and Kinger, who he can infinitely loop until they die. Gummigoo is an exception for reasons we will get too. He also has a very strong opening move in his side heavy, which hits fast and early, letting him combo off from a surprising distance.

Jax isn't perfect, however. what he has in speed, he lacks in range and damage. His average range is 0.28, but when you ignore his lengthy side heavy, it drops to 0.23. In comparison, Pomni has the second shortest range in the game, and she sits at 0.28 naturally. This means that Jax has a difficult time confirming kills outside of combos. That and his specials suck, and are rarely seen used.

Moving to the queen of A tier, Ragatha is (arguably) the only defensive character in the game. having an alright matchup against jax with a counter and a vanish special to escape jax's combo game, and all her special moves having priority, she is one of two characters that has a direct answer for close combat with Jax. her match up everywhere else is also pretty good, as her side specials have more than decent reach on them

Rags does run into an issue with her kit in that her meter needs constant management. Being a very special heavy character, it is very easy to run out of meter on her, and her combo's are not the best. She's not a combo oriented character like Jax or Gangle. She has a couple of them, but nothing truly impressive. Ragatha would not be in A tier if Jax was not the king of the meta right now, but as she is a solid counter to most of Jax's shenanigans and has a decent match up at worst against every one else (except zooble) it lands her firmly in A tier.

Zooble, much like Ragatha, is also somewhat special oriented. Being the only dedicated ranged character in the game, their specials are integral to her range dominating playstyle. their surrounding normal and heavy kit is also pretty strong, coming with long reaches and good knock back. You can take advantage of this if you manage to catch a floaty Jax or rushing Pomni off guard and stutter them with an up or side special, but this is difficult considering their slow speed and clunky movement.

Zooble is the second heaviest character in the game, making their recovery time longer and having less knock back. They are normally combo fodder for most characters if they can get in close, but her ability to control space makes up for that. Traditionally, Jax, gangle, and Pomni have better chances than most, but a skilled Zooble player can render their speed or combo oriented gameplay mute with well placed specials and jabs.

Pomni. Pomni is the face of TADFG, it's poster child. it's no wonder that she is the easiest character to pick up. with a straight forward combo focused on looping Side normal into overhead heavies and a small, fast moving target she is very good at closing the distance to her opponents. her damage output is also surprisingly chunky, being able to delete sections of opponents health bar by just brawling it out. While Pomni is simple, it does not mean she isn't elegant or comes with a low skill floor. There are several ways to get combo extensions using various movement techs or special animation cancels where most other characters would have to give up and reset.

That being said, she lacks specific uniqueness or special powers. Unlike Jax, her actual vertical is only average and her range is the second smallest with no great reaching options. her arial game is also sub-par, and she lacks unique defining playstyles. She doesn't have defenstive tools or super armor like Ragatha, or range control like Zooble, or a strong mix up game like Jax.

Kinger is the only character in C tier. Being the second character with a mix up oriented playstyle. Kingers moves are rarely telegraphed and his combo's are branching, leading to a difficult to predict style that leaves you guessing as to where you want to be blocking. While all his combo's do eventually end before confirming a kill, they come pretty close to it. Something kind of unique about Kinger is that he doesn't suffer from the weight class issue. Most combo's in the game end up having a fall off point, heavy characters having that fall off point be later on in the combo. Kinger doesn't have this problem, letting him pull off the full combo on even the lightest characters in the roster.

Kinger does struggle in the air though, and lacks strong arial mobility. He has the shortest vertical in the game, and his aerial moves not very good at all. this leaves him waiting for more mobile characters like Jax and Pomni to come to him, which in this game is not a good thing.

Gangle is a character that feels left behind. Supposed to be the other combo character, Gangle has been given a strong set of grappling moves to work with in the form of her up and side heavies. These moves lead into a series of normal aerials followed by a down special, which is a strong spike. The issue is that the set of aerials is very easy to tech out of or escape, and does not do a lot of damage.

Gangle is a character full of contradictions. She has good reach and range on her grounded normal, but she is designed around a grapple into aerial combo. her specials lack range and are meter heavy, but her aerial combo's do not build meter rapidly enough to consistently end the combo with a special. her resets do not start with grapples, but rather her grounded normal which don't allow for the throw that leads into her aerial combos. Gangle feels like two separate kits that accidently got mixed together and never really separated into a aerial grapple character and a ranging brawler.

And finally we have the bottom of D tier, our newest character, Gummigoo. Gummigoo has.... a problem. Gummigoo is slow, his moves are very telegraphed and easy to dodge if you are not in the middle of your animation. While he has a large health bar and a stunningly good range on his side normal, it doesn't mean much when you can just run circles around him. Gummigoo amounts to a skill check: Can you not get caught pressing buttons, or panic. Honestly, he should be in F tier, but isn't for one very simple reason.

His normal and heavies (grounded and aerial) all have super armor. This means that Jax (and that extent Gangle) can't do shit to him. it is impossible to combo Gummigoo, because you will be punished with one of his devastating heavies. While outplaying Gummigoo isn't hard and can be done with good timing and spacing as his attacks are the slowest in the game, if you lack the damage on your attacks to actually damage him (looking at you, Jax) you can't kill him.

if he does catch you you can say goodbye to your health bar. And he will catch you, eventually. Gummigoo is the only character where learning special animation cancelling is a must, as it will make landing normals much easier. Gummigoo is in a very interesting position in that he is a hard counter to the best character in the game, but is easily beaten by anyone else that knows what they are doing. Pray that Gummigoo never receives any buffs.

[dontfeeltoohot]

thinking about canonverse steddie where eddie is sick and sad one evening so he pops in to family video to rent a movie he can veg on the couch to, but ends up spending the last few hours before closing time hanging with steve at the counter (it's a tuesday night so there's no customers anyways). and yes he's sniffling and sneezing up a storm, and his head hurts because the lights are a bit too bright, but at least he's not alone and gets to talk to a cute boy.

anyways. lots of thoughts™

Normally, Eddie wouldn't give a shit that he's sick. Sure, he's been raised by Wayne to be polite and hygienic, but he's never really been shy about colds or the flu, not when he so rarely gets sick. At least, not until Steve Harrington came into his life with his perfect ass and flawless hair. Sure, Steve is an absolute mess when he's sick, so it's not like he'd judge Eddie for being under the weather, but the musician still doesn't want to be gross around him.

Giving one final, soupy sniffle, the long haired man opens the door to Family Video, two hours before closing. It's a Tuesday in January, so the place is dead, leaving Steve to putter around, mindlessly fixing VHS tapes and candy boxes.

"Welcome to-oh, hey man," Steve greets, his customer service voice dropping the second Eddie comes into view.

"Hey Harri'gton," Eddie smiles, tired eyes brightening slightly at the sight of his crush.

The reason for coming was straight forward- find and rent The Exorcist for a night on the couch. Instead, he finds himself drawn to the stores counter, where Steve is leaning. Moving towards him, he sniffles and clears his burning throat, tampering down a cough that wants to break free. Steve watches him with his big, dumb puppy eyes, a crinkle appearing in the middle of his forehead.

"You okay? You look a little-"

"ih'NGgkshew! hihIKshuhEW! SNF! iigKTschew!"

"-sick."

"Uh...yeah, think Gareth got me sick or some shit, I don't know. Doesn't normally happen, so..." Eddie shrugs and drops his arm that's been snuggly pressed against his face, nose swiping against the rough flannel material as it goes.

"Damn, that sucks. Shouldn't you be at home, instead of out in the cold? Eating soup?"

"As if Wayne can cook," he snorts and scrunches his nose up when it reverberates through his sinuses.

"They have cans of it ya know, all you gotta do is pour it in a pot and heat it up."

Eddie fake gasps, throwing a hand to his chest in mock surprise, but the sudden inhale makes his breath catch and he shields his face with his unbuttoned flannel shirt, turning to cough into it. Fuck his throat hurts like a bitch. When the coughs die down, he turns back to an unimpressed Steve.

"I never knew they had canned soup, when did this happen?" Eddie knows he's being a little shit, but the other man makes it too easy.

"Okay, okay, you asshole. Just...you should take care of yourself."

"Don't worry Princess, I'm..snf! I'm all good. I know I need to eat. I'm actually here to grab a movie for when I lay down on the couch and most likely fall asleep before ten minutes in."

Eddie heads over to the horror section in the back corner while Steve helps a customer who walks in. He finds The Exorcist and ends up snagging The Bloody Judge too. The lights overhead make him squint as he looks to see if anything else jumps out at him, head starting to ache. When he hears the door open and shut again, he turns and the store is once again empty.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"Jesus Harrington, you're surprisingly quiet for someone your size," Eddie huffs, using his free hand to swipe at his nose.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, you're just...muscular and shit," he blushes, face heating up. Maybe he has a fever, because he's definitely not embarrassed.

They end up talking far longer than Eddie intends. They migrate to the counter, and the metal head ends up sitting cross legged behind it while Steve sits on the stool. Neither realize it's eight pm until the lights overhead automatically shift to half on. The change makes Eddie rub his face and stand, nostrils twitching for what feels like the hundredth time.

"iihNGkSHuhew! hihgkSHhew! ihh...heh...igKTSHhEW!"

"Jesus Eddie," Steve frowns as the older man sniffles wetly, keeping the cuff of his sleeve pressed to his nose. "Do you always sneeze like that? Like, in threes?"

"Y-Yeah have since I was a kid, snf! Uh...you got any tissues around? Thihhnk I could use one," Eddie scrunches his nose desperately, not wanting to sneeze again, not with how stuffy he can tell he is.

"Yeah, I think so...Robin had a cold a few weeks ago, gimme a sec."

Steve walks away and into the back. Eddie keeps his cuff to his face, rubbing the tip of his nose in tiny circles to try and starve off the inevitable sneezes. It helps until Steve's walking back out, a tissue box in hand.

"ihNGKChhEW! hih-KSHuh! ihhgKSHuhEW!"

Steve holds out a tissue which he takes with his free hand, pressing it to his nose to attempt to clean up some of the mess that's now running onto his lip. Fucking colds.

"Bless you."

"Tha'gks. I should uh...head home...but it was nice ha'ging out with you."

"Yeah, maybe we can do it again when you feel better...could get some dinner or something."

Eddie grins, shoving the tissue in his pocket.

"It's a date then, Harrington."

"It's a date."

[whitephoenix81]

After the war with the giants, and Percy is seriously pissed at Zeus for not helping and not allowing the other gods to help. Mix in PTSD, depression, and alcohol you get this:

"Hey! Big Z," Percy screamed at the sky. "Do you think that the reason that you keep looking for other people to sleep with, is because when you try with your wife, you end up putting her to sleep? Eh, Big Z?!"

Lightning struck the ground not six feet from where Percy was standing, as thunder boomed so loudly it shook the ground beneath his feet.

" Yeah! Yeah!" Percy waved him off like one does a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Suck my dick! I hear you're good at it!"

If it were possible, the sky grew even darker. Before it was a dark purple, now it was pitch black. The lightning in the clouds, all gathered in one point. Right over Percy's head. The lightning was stark against the blackness of the thunder clouds.

Percy stood there, his eyes riveted to the gathering lightning. Knees bent, and ready for anything. The water in the lake, and in the sea worfe bubbled and churned. Waves so high and violent, that not even experienced surfers would dare ride those waves.

Static in the area, beneath and around the storm, became so great that no one could touch anything for fear that they would get shocked violently. Everyone's hair stood on end. Everyone's, except Thalia's.

With the anticipation mounting, everyone either ran for shelter against the coming storm, or standing in awe at the growing electrical storm overhead.

There was a moment of silence. The silence before the storm, as the world seems to stand still around you. Before the dam breaks, and you are flooded with noise. A massive lightning bolt, the likes of which no one has ever seen, shot out from the center of the storm, streaking through the air. Heading right towards Percy.

The water in the lake and sea jumped over Percy and the camp, forming a shield of water. As the Lightning struck the shield, Percy felt himself being forcefully pulled back. An arm wrapped around his middle, dragging him with ease out of the way. The water slowed down the lightning, took away some of its momentum, but it in no way stopped.

In the span of a heart beat, Percy went from hurling insults to the sky, to being wrapped in a comforting, warm, yet restraining embrace pulling him effortlessly away from the apex of the lightning bolt. The lightning hit the ground, and his world turned white. When his vision cleared, Percy stood horrified.

Camp Half-blood was gone. Nothing more than a smoking crater.

He broke free from the arms holding him back, and ran as fast as he could. All the way to the pavilion. At least, where it should be. Where he last saw Annabeth.

He searched and searched, until his legs collapsed under him. His hands, dirty and bleeding from moving debris. His face caked in dirt, lines running down his cheeks from his tears. But they were all dry now. He didn't have anymore tears left to give.

He heard the footsteps of the one who had pulled him back. Who now was pulling him up. He looked in the concerned face of his father. Later, after Percy and Poseidon had retrieved Percy's family, and brought them to Poseidon's palace for their safety, Percy sat with his family eating dinner. Thinking.

His parents kept a close eye on him. As this was very unlike him. It was Paul who gently asked, "Hey kiddo. What'cha thinking about?"

Percy was honest with them as he stared at his plate, pushing his food around. "I remember one time when one of the Demeter kids had talked about the five stages of grief." Percy's face hardened, his eyes had long since lost its playfulness of the Atlantic Ocean. Replaced by the hard, cold and frigidness of the Arctic. As his fork scrapped against the plate. Sounding like nails on a chalkboard. His voice shaking with the strength of his rage. "I would like to propose a sixth step.

"Revenge."

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 1

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: T (eventual E 18+ MDNI)

wc: 2.8k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, train robberies, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, assuming Ellie’s gender, reader has backstory, no use of y/n

authors note: it’s been a really long time since I’ve had the confidence to post a new series here. But these two have taken over my brain and I’m excited to share them with you. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and generally cheering this idea on.

You’ve found yourself in some spots before but never one as tight as this. You’re seated in the passenger car of a train bound for Chicago. If you make it there, you’ll hang.

Your knee bounces anxiously. You’ve been wracking your brain for hours now. There’s got to be some way to escape but you’re fresh out of ideas. Unless you can smash the window and jump out of a moving train, you’re screwed.

“Quit that twitching or I’ll give you a real shiner,” Brown says from behind his newspaper. He’s sitting on the aisle, between you and freedom. There’s a holster on his hip, his fancy pistol a promise that you won’t get far if you try to run.

As you suck your teeth in response, he chuckles to himself, and you wish you could punch him again like you did back in Laramie. 

Six years in Wyoming and your luck has run out. It’s bad enough that you’re getting hauled back east but being pinched by a Pinkerton man in a silly bowler hat and that ridiculous tin badge is humiliating. He’s actually twirling his fucking mustache, the bastard. 

“I’m hungry,” you tell him as he neatly folds his paper. You’re not but you’re grasping at straws now, trying anything that might get him to give just an inch. 

“That’s too bad,” he says. He pulls a little paper bag of jelly beans out of his coat pocket and pops a few into his mouth.

Fucker. 

You chew on a hangnail, pressing your forehead against the window. Your best chance of getting off of this train is Brown dropping dead. You’ve been wishing for him to have a heart attack for the last 35 miles but no luck yet. When the train stops in Cheyanne, you might be able to make a break for it but it’s too risky. There aren’t a whole lot of elegant solutions left.

The landscape of the west rolls by as the train chugs along. Wide, churning rivers, thick forests, and mountains dusted with snow. It was beautiful back when this was your refuge. Now, it’s just something else to scowl at while you listen to Brown munch his candy. 

Your sigh fogs the glass. All you can do now is hope for a miracle. 

The train reduces speed to take a curve and all you can see are thick, tall trees with branches that shade the tracks. They go from a blur of green to clutches of pale, white trunks and you realize you’re seeing more and more details on each branch. The locomotive’s slowing. It’s huffing and puffing with effort, sparks flicking off from the wheels as the hulking thing crawls along. Soon it’s so slow that you could run faster. There’s no station in sight, you’re still deep in forest here. Something’s amiss. Maybe the train is broken, maybe they ran out of coal. How trains work is a mystery to you to begin with but they must break down sometimes. 

You chance a look at Brown. He’s all suspicion, sitting up a little taller, eyes searching around for the answer to the same question that’s on your mind. What’s going on here? 

Suddenly the train lurches to a halt. A hat box falls off of the overhead shelf and a few passengers brace themselves against the seats with grunts and complaints. 

“Are we stopping?” a man a few rows ahead of you asks no one in particular. 

The locomotive answers with a long, tired hiss. 

“You got something to do with this?” Brown asks you in a hushed tone. 

“How could I stop a train all the way back here?” you ask him. 

“Maybe one of your compatriots,” he says. 

You give a laugh. If there’s one thing you’ve never had in your life it’s scruples and if there’s two, it’s compatriots. You’ve been on your own since you were sixteen and there sure as hell isn’t anybody in the world that loves you enough to stop a train for you. 

You don’t feel sorry for yourself, never have. RIght now, in fact, you’re feeling pretty pleased. Any delay on this trip means more time to think. Hope blooms in your chest and you have to keep yourself from grinning so Brown doesn’t get the wrong idea.

The train is motionless for a while, murmurs of speculation from your fellow passengers. 

Then the car door slides open and in walks an outlaw with a pistol in each hand.

He’s slight. Short and scrawny and youthful, maybe sixteen years old. The bottom half of his pale face is covered by a dark red bandana, mousy brown hair under a worn hat.

“Ladies and gents, I regret to inform you that this here is a hold up,” he says, tone so cheerful, you’d think he was a carnival barker. But his voice isn’t as deep as you expected. In fact you’re skeptical that’s a boy under there. “Keep your hands where I can see ‘em and nobody gets hurt.” 

The other passengers gasp and whisper, nervous looks shared about the car. Your foot begins to bounce again as your mind races to figure a way to make this new wrinkle work in your favor. 

“That means you, too,” the kid says, sidling up to Brown. Now that she’s closer, you’re almost certain this outlaw is a girl. “No need for heroes here.” 

The Pinkerton man’s hand is laying on his revolver. 

“I suggest you move along to the others, young fella,” Brown replies. 

“Don’t be an idiot, buster,” the kid says. She cocks a pistol. 

There’s a long standoff between the two and nobody in the whole car dares to even breathe. 

The door slams open and you jump. 

A second outlaw enters. There’s a noticeable shift in the air. He’s imposing and dark, stalking in like a big dog, spurs jingling with each step. 

“What’s taking so long?” he asks. His voice is a cowboy drawl. He adjusts a canvas mail sack on his broad shoulder, no doubt stuffed full of money from the train’s safe. 

He’s dressed like any other outlaw, and you’ve seen your fair share. Shabby shirt, black waistcoat, a leather belt heavy with bullets around narrow hips. He’s got on a black hat and beneath it you spy dark curls threaded with silver, much older than the other robber. 

All you can see of his face are two brown eyes that flit between the standoff in front of him. He whips his colt 45 out of its holster with practiced ease. 

Brown’s outnumbered now. This is your chance. 

“You’ve got to help me, mister,” you say, rising from your seat with your hands up in surrender. 

Your sudden movement draws all of his attention. He points the barrel of his gun at your chest and your breath catches. There’s no point in being afraid, though. Odds are you’re going to die on the gallows anyway.  Maybe he’ll shoot you but at least you tried. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears.

“I ain’t on this train of my own free will,” you explain. 

“Quiet, you,” Brown growls.

“He’s a Pinkerton man. He’ll shoot you dead if you let him,” you say.   

You're sure Brown would love to glare at you if he didn’t have his attention trained on the man in front of him.

“Don’t worry about her,” Brown says. “I’ve got no quarrel with you, friend.”

The outlaw’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit.

“I’ve got a bounty on my head,” you say. All of your words are coming out fast.

“How much?” the outlaw asks.

“Enough,” Brown says. His hand stays on his gun. 

“He’s taking me to Chicago and I’m facing the rope,” you explain. “There’s a warrant in his breast pocket. It’s the god’s honest truth,” you say. 

The outlaw thinks for a moment and you tense. It never ends well for you when men think too much. 

“Take it off him. And the gun,” the outlaw says to his partner. Then he turns back to Brown and says, “Hands up.”

“I don’t intend to interfere with your business so long as you don’t interfere with mine,” Brown says.

“If you think you’ll have that gun up and shooting before I’ve put a bullet in you, you’re sorely mistaken. So I’ll give you one more chance to get your hands in the air,” the outlaw warns. His cold words light an exhilarating heat in your belly. 

Brown clenches his jaw but with two guns drawn on him he has no choice but compliance. You feel some vindication as he slowly raises his hands. 

With some fancy flips, the kid holsters one of her guns. Brown lets her take his pistol and pull the paper from his coat though he frowns all through it. 

You watch the outlaw skim the words on your warrant. His eyes bounce between you and the page. 

“She don’t look like the murdering type,” he says.

You suppose he’s right. You’re still rough around the edges but in your straw hat and prim, full skirt you might be mistaken for a school marm. That you certainly aren’t.

The kid looks at you with new interest.

“That’s up to the judge,” Brown says. “My job’s just to bring her to the law.”

“I’d be much obliged if you prevented that from happening,” you say. 

“Why should I?” he asks. 

You swallow. You’ve had to sing for your supper before but it’s never been a matter of life and death. 

“You’re going to steal her necklace and his wallet,” you say with a nod to the other passengers. “What’s the difference between that and little old me?” you ask. 

“Aiding and abetting is the difference—“ Brown begins indignantly. 

“You give her that black and blue?” the outlaw asks and there’s a new edge in his voice that thrills you.

You’ve almost forgotten about the mark on your cheek, when you and Brown came to blows that first encounter. He got you right in the under your eye where a big ugly welt remained. 

“She struck first,” Brown says with a smug little smile.

You want to knock his teeth out and it seems the outlaw has the same fancy. He whacks Brown right in the nose with his pistol. Brown wails and grabs his face, blood pouring between his fingers. Some of the other passengers gasp and a woman cries out in horror. 

You laugh so hard that it hurts the bruise.

As you step off the train you’re so flooded with relief. You’ve never been closer to catching a rope and your narrow escape, the pure fate of it all, is invigorating. The leaves look brighter than before and the air feels fresher even though coal smoke hangs all around you. 

You’ve got a second chance. Well, more like a hundredth chance. Anyone with an ounce of sense would see this divine intervention as a sign to change their ways, do things right. Not you. You just thank your lucky stars that you’ve put off meeting your maker by one more day. Whoever’s up there, you’ve managed to outsmart him so far and sometimes you’re arrogant enough to believe that you might avoid judgment day altogether. 

It takes you a moment to notice there are no other outlaws on standby. The tracks are obstructed by a pile of railroad ties which explains how such a small party could get aboard but other than that, it’s just deserted forest. The coal man and engineer must be tied up in the locomotive. An impressive feat for five men, let alone an aging cowboy and a teenage girl. 

“Keep moving,” the outlaw says and leads you away. 

He whistles uncommonly loud and two saddled horses— one the color of whiskey, the other nearly black— trot out of the tree line. 

A gun’s report echoes from the train. 

“Shit!” You duck. Brown and a Marshall stand on the caboose, aiming in your direction. 

The outlaw returns fire. A direct hit. He strikes the Marshall in the chest and his body topples over the rail onto the tracks with a great thud. 

“Come on!” The kid calls from the saddle of the brown horse. She’s got her hand out to you. 

You pull yourself onto its back behind her as more bullets whizz by. The kid shoots without taking time to aim. Her shots ping off the metal train car and Brown takes cover long enough for her partner to mount his horse. 

“Giddy up, Shimmer!” She kicks the horse and you’re carried off down the tracks, back west. 

The gunshots quiet and eventually stop and soon the train has disappeared from view when you’re around that bend. The horses take you off the gravel shoulder of the train tracks and into the trees, hooves picking carefully through the brush. They don’t stop until dusk is falling, miles away from where you started. Their hideout is a cave along the banks of a deep river. 

The kid hops out of the saddle south a celebratory holler and pulls the mask off to reveal delicate features removing her hat allows a long braid to tumble down her back. So you were right, that was a girl under there. 

“You see that shooting back there?” she asks her partner. 

He gives a gruff kind of chuckle but says no more. 

For the first time in days your whole body relaxes and you can’t help but giggle to yourself. You made it. 

“I’m Ellie,” the kid says after you’ve got your feet on the ground.“This here is Joel Miller.”

You’ve heard the name. The man notorious for robbing stagecoaches, banks, and trains stands before you. He tugs down his bandana revealing patchy stubble and a full set of lips that look like they’ve never seen a smile. It might be that he just saved your life but you can’t help but find him handsome. He’s rugged and square jawed, his neck dotted with beads of sweat. 

“As I live and breathe. I suppose I owe you one,” you say. 

You put out a hand for him to shake but instead your wrist is clamped in iron. He’s locked a handcuff around you. 

“God damn it!” you snap. You yank your arm back but he holds the other cuff in his fist. 

“Joel! What the hell?” Ellie says. 

He fixes his own wrist in the other cuff. You’re locked together with only about a foot of chain separating the two of you. 

“If you’re worth $10,000 I don’t need you wandering off on me,” he says and tugs back. 

All of the good will in you evaporates and you feel fire rise in your gut. You’ve never expected honor amongst thieves but this is more than treacherous. 

“You son of a bitch. You’d turn me into the law? I bet there’s a bounty on your head three times the size,”you gripe. 

“Four,” he tells you. 

Your face is hot and you’re ready to fight but Joel Miller isn’t just some city detective. 

“You’re a wanted man. How do you figure you can just waltz into the sheriff and ask for the reward?”

“You don’t worry about that, missy,” he says. 

The little moniker makes you want to slap him right in the face. 

“Joel, no,” Ellie says, features painted with disgust. 

“Don’t start with me,” he warns her. 

“We don’t need the money,” she protests. 

“Ellie.”

“Fuck you, you ugly lily-livered bastard!” you say. 

“Hey!” he barks, pulling the chain taught. “Listen here, missy. That handbill said ‘dead or alive.’ If you can’t be quiet, ain’t nothing stopping me from putting a bullet in ya.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine. There’s no reason for you to believe that’s an empty threat. Angry tears brim in your eyes but you’ll be damned if he sees you cry. You’re capable of violence, too, but unarmed, outnumbered, and imprisoned, you’ve got no choice but to shut up. 

You don’t go down easy, though. You spit at the ground between you and the frothy wad of saliva lands on Joel’s boot, then slips into the dirt. His nostrils flare and for a second you think he’s got mind to put you over his knee. You stand your ground, glaring into his dark eyes. 

There’s a twitch in his jaw and Joel turns away, working at the strap on his saddle, taking you with him. 

“Ellie, get that fire going,” he orders. “We’ll ride to the Boot tomorrow. Lay low for a week. Then we’ll go to Jackson and deal with her.” He nods at you. 

“You serious?” Ellie asks. She looks at you with apology in her expression. 

Joel tosses her the reins and she sighs. He shoves his saddle bags into your arms. 

“Make yourself useful,” he says. 

Your mind is already working again. You made it off of a moving train, you’ll find a way out of this new predicament. You’ve got one week to slip out of Joel Miller’s clutches. 

Chapter 2 - Series Masterlist

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Asks always open and I don't bite (much).

[ebitchwriting]

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Summary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse. Chapter Summary: Finding an escape from this compound was easier said than done when everything was locked, and the captor was seemingly watching their every move, pulling their strings where the captor wished. More than that, it was getting harder for Lea to hide her true nature from her fellow prisoners, and there seemingly being a feral creature around every corner, ready to tear them apart. How long could Lea keep her mask up in the carnage? Chapter Warnings: blood, gore, guns, death, and sensory overload issues.

I'm back! After a month! Sorry, an ice storm hit, which led to me losing power for 12 days. Then I noticed how literally every single chapter has typos or weird nonsensical crap in it because, apparently, Grammarly sucks now. So once I got power back, I obsessively started to go over each chapter and edited out all the mistakes until it was acceptable in my eyes. And, in all honesty, my MA Apprenticeship overwhelmed me as well. Regardless, I'm back with a new chapter and working on the next! However, I will be changing my upload schedule to once a month rather than once every two weeks to account for the apprenticeship, this fic, and also the passion project of my own epic fantasy world. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think of it!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

Chapter 15: Locks and Keys

No one said a word as Claire took the first step forward. No one said a word when they pushed past the door and entered yet another ominous, dark hallway, lit only by the flickering overhead lights. Moving slowly, cautiously, anticipating someone or something to pop out and attack them. Yet, with each step, nothing jumps out of the shadows. Leaning against the wall behind Claire as she peered over the edge, there was still nothing. Turning past the corner, everyone stayed eerily quiet, not wanting to tempt fate. 

‘… And whoever is puppeteering us…’ 

Lea couldn’t help the twitches at every distant screech. Wails reverberated off the walls, and it was impossible to tell where they originated. Eyes wide beneath the cover, darting back and forth as she shuffled forward. 

‘… The doors conveniently unlocking… that butchered guy dropping as soon as Claire grabbed the keys… the fact we found each other damn near immediately… There is no fucking way that whoever kidnapped us isn’t watching us right now...’  The corner of her mouth twitched into a grimace. Back taut, feeling like a thread threatening to snap under the tension. 

‘… This is actually worse than Wesker… at least that fuck couldn’t be bothered to keep tabs on me after… that…’

Another corner. Another stop to peer over the edge for anyone or anything malevolent. After a moment, Claire silently begins moving again. Moira tentatively followed, honey eyes alert and darting around the dimly lit area. Lea languished behind, struggling to keep her movements calm and controlled. 

‘… They always have a goal… no matter how fucked it is… there’s always one… I’m swear if it’s godhood again…’   

Claire pushed open the red-lit double doors, the hinges groaning, timed almost perfectly with the low wailing of something far in the distance. Every hair not singed from Lea’s body stood on end as a rush of frigid air poured out from what looked like the remains of a morgue. Teeth chattering, shivering hands reaching up to rub at her shoulders. Lea’s clothed gaze stared enviously at the other two and their jackets. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” Moira whispered, rushing towards the knocked-over desks, rummaging through the drawers as fast as possible with shaky hands. The corners of Lea’s lips curled into a vindicated smirk at the sight, rubbing at her shoulders as she trembled. 

“It’s L-” Lea froze, eyes falling to the floor as she tried to focus on what I.D. the B.S.A.A. supplied her. She cringed with every second that passed as Lea struggled with her memory. 

“… Uh, you alright?” Moria asked, giving her a quizzical look as she moved across the room, idly looking over the counters for anything useful. 

“Yep! It’s… um… Lana… Westerna.” Lea awkwardly drawled out as the name finally resurfaced, instantly burning with embarrassment when she peeked at Moira’s incredulous face. 

“… Like from Dracula?” Moira asked, quirking up an eyebrow at her, eyes meeting cotton. Lea could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she blushed harder from the embarrassment. 

“At least they didn’t name me Lucy,” Lea tried feebly to laugh it off, her attempts at laughter sounding painfully forced. Lea cursed under her breath for jokingly suggesting that name and her inability to use the correct tone. 

“Shh, we still don’t know what’s out there. Come on.” Claire warned, the octaves of her voice falling down a few notes for a moment. The two quickly finished giving the room a once-over before falling back behind her. 

Out and around the corner, the group found a ladder going down. Lea rises to the tips of her toes, peering over Claire’s shoulder to the lower platform. A surprisingly small room, hardly lit by fallen lights, just as run-down as everything else in this building. Her gaze locked with the two corpses on either end of the room. One covered in a bloodied and dirtied white tarp. After a moment of focusing her gaze, she recognized the fallen butchered guard as the other corpse. 

“Alright, we made it. Key’s over there.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief, stepping down a few rungs of the ladder before gripping the sides and sliding down. On the other hand, Moira chose to go down each rung, complaining about the smell. After a pondering second, Lea slid down like Claire, not wanting to waste more time than necessary. 

Tentatively stepping toward the butchered guard, about fifty feet away. Forty. Cries of agony, but the other two didn’t hear it.

‘… Not safe yet…’

Thirty feet. Twenty. A loud crash that as all flinching back. 

“Shit, what was that?” A scared muttering nearby, Moira, perhaps? Or was it herself? It certainly wasn’t Claire. 

Ten feet. Five. Then, finally, they’re at the body, the air thick with apprehension as Claire kneels and inspects the corpse. The more experienced woman grimaced slightly at the sickly-sweet stench of death but ignored it. 

“The key’s gone.” 

‘… The keys aren’t on the belt… did it fall to the ground..? No... nothing… not a damn thing… maybe it’s caught..?’ 

Claire pulled out the handgun from the guard’s belt, quickly ejecting the clip and inspecting it alongside the chamber of the 9mm. Lea’s eyes were trailing upward, looking at possible hooks and crevices. A shuffling step backward echoes in the room. 

“Do you, uh… are you gonna use that?” Moira asked timidly, her voice just wavering a little bit. Shuffling of fabric, something plastic being clicked open. 

“More reliable than any person,” Claire responded without a beat. A click, then something being pulled out from under the corpse, quickly followed by something plastic clicking close and something heavy being holstered. More shuffling steps backward. 

“If you say so,” Moira said, her tone wary but dropping the subject. Lea opened her mouth to ask Moira a question when a metallic glint caught her attention. The keys, hanging off the side of a rusted water tank. 

“I found the keys!” Lea excitedly announced, pointing at the rusted tank with a smile. A smile that fell as soon as she turned around and was met with the confused gazes of the other two women. “Uh… I really don’t need much to adjust to the dark…” Lea mumbled under her breath, reaching a hand to scratch at the back of her head. 

“Moira, shine on light on it, will ya?” Claire asked, unholstering her gun. Lea didn’t miss how Moira’s amber honey eyes flickered with fear as they locked onto the 9mm. After a moment, the pixie-haired girl shook her head and pointed the flashlight at the water tank. Lea quickly raised her hands to cup her ears and turned away from the pair. 

A jolt of pain shot through her head the second the trigger was pulled, followed by a high-pitched ringing muffling all other sounds. The jingling of the keys as they were quickly scooped from the ground was barely audible, much less the loud, mechanical beep of the nearest door being unlocked. Lea shook her head, rubbing at her ears as if that would make the ringing go away quicker. 

Turning around, the three started making their way back. Fifty feet, forty. Lea nervously glanced around the room as she followed Claire, her nerves filled with urgency. Memories start flickering in the back of Lea’s mind, sidestepping her attempts to shove it down. Thirty feet, twenty. The temple, bullets flying back her head, debris coating her lungs, blood dripping down her hands. Ten feet. 

The door crashes open, practically hanging off its hinges, as another mutilated shell of a person starts wailing, spewing blood and saliva everywhere. Without waiting another second, Claire aims and shoots, the bullet lodging in its throat and sending another jolt of agony through Lea’s head. Lea’s clutching at her head, hardly aware of the whine that escapes her lips. 

A hand grips her shoulders, and suddenly, she’s being pulled along and toward the ladder. Someone’s shouting voice warbled as if from underwater, the horrid ringing muffling anything identifiable. Snapping back into action, Lea climbed the ladder as fast as possible. Sprinting down the hall, skidding around the corners. Eyes locked forward, ignoring everything behind her. 

Slamming past the door and entering the frosted morgue, skidding to a stop at the sight of another one of those creatures baring its teeth at Claire. Lea’s eyes went wide. Claire lashed out with her knife before Lea could try to launch herself forward. She slashed the cheeks, forcing the thing to clutch at its face. Spinning around, Claire kicks at the thing, sending it back into the knocked-over trolley. 

Claire looked over her shoulder, shouting something indiscernible back at the two girls before running again. Lea’s eyes flitted to the mutilated body in the corner for a moment before going against her instincts and following Claire and Moira. 

Through the double corners, swerving around the broken door hanging off its hinges and down the hall. Skidding around the corners to a screeching stop. There was no one in sight except another one of those monsters. It shrilly cried out, charging her. 

Lea cringed at the sound but forced herself to slip into a fighting stance. Closer and closer, leaving bloody footprints on the linoleum floor. Shoulders tensing, eyes locking with a bloated, malignant form. As soon as it reached out to grab Lea, she grabbed the closest arm, flipping and slamming the body into the ground. One swift stomp to the skull, crushing it beneath her heel. The ringing still hadn’t let up, but Lea could feel the crunch, the wet slick of blood and tissue. 

‘… Doesn’t matter… need to find the others…’ 

Lea’s eyes roamed the corridor for anything familiar. After a few seconds, a flash of movement. Eyes snapped to the barred windows, and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of auburn hair and a dirtied hoodie. 

Relief was short-lived as the door at the end of the corridor flew open, and another one of those creatures toppled out. It wasted no time to start sprinting at Lea. Just as Lea slipped back into fighting stance, a shot rings out, the bullet lodging in the eye. The teen flinched but forced herself to close the distance, grabbing and slamming the skull into her knee. Once, twice, thrice, then it went limp.  

A hand grabbed and pulled on Lea’s shoulder, and it took everything in her to not twist it off, focusing instead on the flash of auburn hair and blood-spattered leather jacket as they started sprinting again. Lungs burned with every breath, muscles aching with every step. Mind blank for once as her gaze is locked forward, uncaring of whatever is behind her. 

Another walking, screeching horror charges from the opened isolation rooms. Another shot rings out, bringing the monster down to its knees. Instinctually, Lea swings down into its temple with her shin, bringing it down. From the corner of her eye, she saw Claire quickly searching for something in the isolation room. 

Before the three could continue their escape, something leaps out from the dark. Without thinking, Lea pushes Moira out of its path. Within a second, it tackles the teenager. She reaches out with her hands, keeping it as far away as possible. It clawed at her with its gored and reeking hands. Lea gagged at the stench. From behind the writhing creature, Lea’s covered gaze caught the glint of the barrel pointing at the thing. She ducks her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut. Another shot, and the splatter of something hot and putrid coating the back of her head and shoulder. Lea pushed the corpse off and flung herself back onto her feet. Running.  

Slamming past the blue door, sprinting up the stairs. Claire practically rips the key from her pocket, shoving it into the lock and unlocking it. Yanking the key out of the lock, her hands push the door open, and all three rush past the threshold, slamming and locking the door behind them. 

Moira and Lea collapsed, heaving and trembling, while Claire leaned against the door. Lea cupped her ears, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing through her mouth, trying to not gag at the never-waning scent of decay and excrement. The slowing thrum of her heartbeat. The feel of her now sweat-slick skin and sticky hair. Slowly, the high-pitched ringing ebbed, and the mumbling curse words of Moira right next to her brought Lea back down to the present. Behind the stained cloth, Lea opened her eyes, taking in the image before her. Moira, on her hands and knees, dry heaving and cursing up a storm that would put a sailor to shame. Claire, leaning against the door, breathing slowly and deeply, eyes closed yet focused. 

After another blessed minute of rest and silence, Claire’s cerulean eyes opened, darting between the two younger women. She knelt, helping Moira back onto her feet before switching to Lea, offering her hand and a tired but warm smile. Tentatively, Lea took Claire’s hand and pulled herself up. They all exchanged glances with each other before Claire took the lead, slowly walking down the new corridor. 

They had barely turned the corner before coming upon another corpse. However, Lea wasn’t focused on the fresh carnage but rather on the extended barrel of a shotgun that lay just out of reach of the gnawed hands. Very little of his blood contaminated the gun, only the barest amount on the handle. Claire grabbed the weapon and slung it over her shoulder before moving past the body. Lea couldn’t help but notice how Moira’s already pallid skin grew greyer at the sight of the weapon, honey eyes locking with it as the three turned the corner. 

Claire swipes at the wooden crate, shattering the fragile wood. She knelt to rummage through the debris before picking up a small pack of shotgun shells. She holstered her 9mm and grabbed the shotgun slung over her shoulder. 

“You need a gun too, Moira,” Claire said flatly as she started loading the shells. Moira froze mid-step, eyes going impossibly wider. 

“No, I really, really don’t. Sorry, I don’t do firearms.” Without a beat, the words rambled out of her mouth. Her eyes fell to the ground as they seemed to grow distant, far away. “Not after what happened,” Moira asserted in a hush, her arms crossing over her chest, almost as if cradling herself. Claire swiped the knife through two more crates, grabbing another pack of shells and a handful of green herbs. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Claire turned, looking at the brunette. She let out a small sigh as her eyes trailed to the floor, pondering momentarily. “Maybe we can find you something else.” Claire raised her eyes to try to meet Moira, but the brash young woman scoffed, brushing past Claire. 

“No, I’ll just… be on flashlight duty or something. It’s fine.” Moira insisted, despite the waver in her cadence. Walking over to the surprisingly intact storage shelf in the corner, rummaging through the cluttered boxes for anything useful. There were a couple of 9mm bullets, which were hurriedly handed off to Claire. Then, there was something small and blue glinting in the light, but it was pocketed away before Lea could look at it. “Nice,” Moira pulls out the discarded and surprisingly not dirty or rusted crowbar from behind a few boxes on the bottom shelf. “Blunt weapon. I can do blunt weapons.” Moira moved to the other side of the room, inspecting the bright blue graffiti on the wall. 

‘… What the fuck happened…’  Lea wondered to herself as she observed the pixie-haired girl walk over to the door, using the crowbar to rip off the nailed-on bar. 

‘… I need to step up and get my shit together…’  With a muffled but loud grunt, Moira ripped the bar off, breathing laboriously. 

“Lea,” Claire quietly called out, her voice slightly hoarse. Lea stopped, turning her clothed gaze towards the more experienced woman. “You know how to use a gun, right?” Lea’s gaze fell to the shotgun still in the older woman’s hands, the barrel pointed to the ground. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. My uncles and aunt taught me, but I only know basic shit.” Lea said awkwardly, bringing a hand to the nape of her neck to rub at it. “I’m fine with the shotgun. It’ll give me more distance.” Claire nodded, handing the gun and shells over to Lea. Claire moved to the door, motioning for the two younger women to stay close behind her. 

As soon as they pushed the door open, they were met with the menacing sight of flickering lights, blood stains drenching the walls and ground, and a lone figure dressed in something white and poofy. In an instant, Lea’s jaw dropped in horror as she processed that it was a little girl. Before anyone could react to the sight, the girl ran off, eerily silent. 

The three froze, staring ahead where the girl was for a long moment. Claire slowly started inching forward, the others shuffling behind her. 

“Clarie, you saw that, right?” Moira tentatively asked as the group turned the corner, careful not to step into the coagulated blood puddle. Rounding the corner, the dark hallway was nearly entirely silent, save for the rasping yet even breathing of dozens of probably more of those things. Were they resting? 

“Yeah, I saw… something.” 

“Something? That looked like a kid.” Lea snapped before remembering that the two couldn’t see as well in the dark as she could. “Fuck, I hope that’s not a kid. She doesn’t deserve this… no one deserves this.” Lea tacked on, feigning uncertainty as another rush of anxiety flowed through her veins. 

“Are you sure, Lea?” Claire paused, turning to face the teen, tone deadly serious yet unjudging. Lea inhaled sharply before nodding just as sharply. “Then we need to keep an eye out and bring her with us. No sudden movements, don’t yell, and stay calm.” Claire flicked her eyes between Lea and Moira, not moving until they both nodded or made affirming noises. 

Bizarrely enough, no child was in sight when the three crossed the next threshold. The prison door was sealed and barricaded with large metal crates. There were no crevices she could have hidden in, nor lockers or unlocked crates. After a moment, Claire sighed dejectedly as her cerulean eyes trailed over to a metal divider lifted just slightly so that someone could crawl underneath it. 

The group fell back into the routine of breaking the wooden boxes and searching the crevices between the metal crates. Luckily, the search yielded more ammo but did nothing to ease the dread settling in their guts. 

‘… There’s no way that kid is infected… too quiet… too good at hiding…. how long has she been here..?’  The thoughts rolled uneasily through Lea’s mind as Claire and Moira started to lift the metal divider to eye level. Lea quickly slid under the divider. She gripped the bottom edge of it, holding it up while the other two crossed over before letting the barrier slide down as quietly as possible. 

The horrid stench of dried, old excrement got more potent with each and every step up the stairs, making Lea gag under her breath. The rasping yet even breathing also got louder as they made their ascent, leaving no doubt in her mind that there were at least a dozen more of those poor bastards throughout this new area. 

When they reached the last step, Lea immediately recognized this area as an abandoned detention center. Like every other room in this hellscape, blood and dirt caked the walls and floor, though some stains appeared fresher. The stench of urine and fecal matter emanated from the locked solitary cells, strong enough to force Lea to breathe through her mouth to avoid its inescapable odor. The hanging lamps didn’t even flicker, so the only light source came from the tiny slivers of sunlight shining through the barred windows above. As Lea walked underneath one of the slivers of sunlight, she shivered in the minuscule warmth the feeble ray provided compared to the desolate prison. 

A familiar electronic screech from a radio filled the relative silence, shocking them to a halt, heads whipping around to find the source of the noise. 

“Fear what you will become and become what you fear.” A husky feminine voice languidly said, slightly distorted by the radio waves. Claire lifted her now orange wristband to her ear quizzically. 

‘… She’s the bitch… I can feel it in my bones…’

“Are you afraid? You can tell me. Talk to me.” The mysterious voice continued, taking on an almost hissing, cold tone. With every word the mysterious woman said, the more her suspicions started nibbling at the back of her mind.

‘… Why does she sound so familiar..?’

“Those bracelets change color in response to fear.” The voice cryptically trailed on, frustratingly holding only clues and yielding no answers. Even though Lea couldn’t see the face of their captor, she could envision the sadistic smile painting her lips. 

“And who exactly are you?” Claire demanded, not an ounce of fear in her tone. Eyes hard, lips pressed into a firm frown, Lea practically sees the fury rolling from the woman in waves. For a moment, she was envious of Claire’s fearlessness and collectedness. Why couldn’t she be like that?

“So much suffering… you don’t even know what to be afraid of yet.” Just as suddenly as the melodic voice had come, the voice went silent, leaving the three with even more questions as well as a palpable and undeniable atmosphere of annoyance. The more experienced woman rolled her eyes and started walking again. 

“Was she talking to us or at us?” Moira vented, rolling her eyes as the group entered the next room, a dark room lit by a singular fluorescent light in the corner, otherwise devoid of objects. 

“At us. She was definitely talking at us.” Lea concurred, walking over to the desk off to the side. Immediately, she took the map to the detention center before opening the drawers. She grimaced as she noticed that the drawers held nothing. “Here, found this,” Lea said, walking up to the leather-clad woman and handing the dirtied parchment over. For a moment, Claire said nothing nor moved, just stared again with an exhausted expression. 

Scrunching her eyebrows, Lea’s eyes traveled over to where Claire was staring. Immediately, she understood Claire’s expression. There was a path, possibly an exit, barred and locked off. Just next to the doorway were gears, clearly missing two vital parts.