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thewordswewrite · 2 years

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Lonely Is Our Lives

Chapter 4 - Poison

Pairing | Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

!!VERY IMPORTANT A/N!! | I want to preface this by saying I DO NOT condone Billy’s actions throughout the series. I DO NOT condone his violence or abuse, ESPECIALLY against Lucas but also including Max and the others. At the time season two came out in 2017, nearly FIVE years ago at the time I'm writing this, I was very angry and frustrated at the world, resentful of a younger sibling, and disconnected from the people around me so I kind of latched onto Billy as a character and what he represented. I absolutely DID NOT understand what his actions against Lucas truly meant and I DID NOT register it as the racism it was. Knowing what I know now I've decided to write a fic where Billy is able to let go of some of his anger and have someone there to check him and his actions in order to set him on a better path. I wrote this for me as a bit of a redemption fic for both of us.

Playlist | Link | Chapter Four: Songs 13-16

Story Summary | One fateful 1983 night you narrowly escape death on Steve Harrington’s property while Barbara Holland is presumed dead. Left jaded and angry, you carry on towards your senior year in a haze of sex, drugs, and alcohol just to get through the day. But, when Billy Hargrove moves to Hawkins, Indiana during the fall of 1984 things get worse before they get better.

Chapter Summary | You start feeling uneasy in your agreement with Billy and begin pulling away. At school, you make progress with Nancy but your good mood is quickly ruined. You try to avoid Billy but he shows up at your job and the two of you have an interesting night.

Story Warnings | explicit language, angst, abusive parents, smut 18+ minors DNI, heavy drug and alcohol usage, alcohol/drug abuse, implied physical abuse, injuries,

W/C | 4.2k

Taglist | @youcantbesirius @xronniexo @zzokks @marihoneywk @darlingjae @lem0ns7

A/N | Sorry I took a long time off guys I moved across the country for college and I have been trying to get into a routine so I haven't had much time to write. expect the final chapter a little later than next week but probably not months later lol we’ll see..... anyway thanks so much for sticking around though hope you enjoy!! -Smoe

Donations | Link

You suppressed a cough as you took a, longer than necessary, drag from the blunt before passing it to Billy. It’d been about two weeks since you started hooking up and in that time Billy took to lingering after sex. You’d been hesitant at first to let him stay; you had a strict no-cuddling policy in place for all your flings and didn’t intend on breaking that for Billy. Billy, though, began to stay in bed longer and longer before getting dressed and it had escalated to lying around and smoking, or drinking, or talking. Billy claimed it was because he was tired from ‘fucking you into the mattress for an hour’ but you guessed he might just like the peaceful company. He was always yelling around his sister and her right back so you could imagine the volume at which his house operated and couldn't say you blamed him.

As you laid against Billy’s shoulder, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, you felt a heavy weight settle in your stomach; the way he had begun to pull you to his side, the feel of your combined heat and the post-sex smell lingering in the air. The casual closeness of it all had you on edge. It needled in the back of your mind though that maybe he stayed for you, which scared you far more, suddenly wishing he’d just gone home.

“What’s up?” Billy suddenly broke the silence and your easy mood curdled. He didn’t sound concerned necessarily but the interest was there.

You feigned ignorance, scrunching your eyes closed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just seem…” He gestured with the arm you were laying on, jostling you. “Off.”

He was right of course but you didn’t want him to know that. An honest explanation would either wind up with him thinking you were crazy or worse: he’d believe you and think he owed you honesty as well. The thought had you caught between wanting him to tell you everything going on in his life and wishing you didn’t know his name.

You took the blunt back from him, hastily shoving it between your lips and with a shaky exhale rubbed your forehead. Half-truth it was. “It's just–there's an anniversary coming up and it’s got me wired.”

You felt him nod and his chest puffed up before he heaved out through his nose. “I get it,” He plucked the remainder of the weed from your fingertips and finished it off before speaking again. “When my mom left…” Oh God. “It’s fucked and I get fucked in the head about it.”

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. He thought you were talking about your mom. You played it safe and still he gave you sincerity. Your throat was closing up quick and you had to respond. “Yeah,” you rasped, words thick and sticky in your mouth. “It’s fucked.”

Your shoulder was throbbing, the ache spreading up to your head and you quickly broke out in a sweat. The desire to get away was overwhelming and you pulled yourself from Billy. His fingers stayed lazily attached to you, as if second nature, until you were physically too far away for him to reach you. The final brush of his fingers burned against your skin as you sat on the edge of the bed, your head resting in your hands. You glanced at him over your shoulder, desperate to find him uninterested in you, but were met with dark eyes instead. It unnerved you that he wasn't saying anything, just watching and waiting. Patient. This is too much.

“I need a shower.” You took a steadying breath and stood up. You didn’t give him time to respond as you left the room and locked the bathroom door behind you.

You shed your shirt and climbed into the steaming water. The shirt was just another thing he didn’t question you about after that first time; just another thing that Billy Hargrove did that made you want to cry. Things were getting too close, too real. Billy was just supposed to be a distraction and you supposed it worked because now he was all you could think about.

You felt hysterical, you thought you never talked about anything serious but now you realized you knew his favorite color was blue, deep like his Camaro, and that although he didn’t really listen to anything other than hard rock he didn’t really mind the records you put on when he came over. He often told you how he thought Max was ‘such an annoying shitbird,’ but you heard how as he talked his voice grew more fond than irritated. You knew things about him but you’d never divulged much to him before today and it changed things, you felt the tactile shift yet Billy seemed unfazed.

Your fingers rubbed over the grooved ridges of your scar and you shuddered. Memories of the Upside Down mixed with your unease towards Billy made you nauseous. You wracked your brain trying to think how you had let him this close in just two weeks? You stood in the water for longer than you knew, the hot water loosening the physical tension in your body but your mind still raced.

You only turned off the shower when you noticed you’d begun to shiver, the water having gone cold, and you grabbed your towel, wrapping it around yourself. In the silence of the house you listened closely to see if you could hear any indication of Billy’s presence and when you couldn’t you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, eyeing your bed from the hallway to see that it was empty. Relieved, you walked to your room and quickly got dressed.

As you laid in bed staring up at your ceiling, you thought the stress would dissipate but, once again, you were wrong. It wasn’t the type of anxiety that buzzed around you and had your leg shaking a mile a minute, it was the inescapable type that coated your insides, making it all too easy to lose yourself in between sparse breaths. You curled in on yourself, the feeling weighing you down like it was its own source of gravity, pulling you in. Your eyes watered but the tears refused to spill over so instead, you squeezed them tighter and pushed the feeling down.

You needed to sleep, you had school in the morning.

~ ~ ~

The day had been slow going. Your realization of just how entangled your life had become with Billy’s was all that more startling when that morning you noticed yourself unconsciously taking steps towards Billy’s car. Recently you rarely spent those early hours without him; you’d taken up the habit of sitting with Billy in his car and smoking until first bell but today you searched the parking lot for Steve. You spotted him leaned up against Jonathan Byers car, Nancy between the two boys and sneered. You felt a stab of betrayal towards Steve but you’d been so wrapped up with Billy, you didn’t even notice you only saw your best friend at lunch. Steve moved on from Nancy’s harsh words, and you hadn't even given yourself a chance to.

Throughout the day, your classes dragged and you could barely keep your eyes open because of your restlessness the night before. You confronted Steve about Nancy during lunch and he said he’d simply forgiven her.

“I just don’t understand how you can do that after what she said to us,” You seethed.

Steve sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I love Nancy. She’s important to me,” Steve raised his eyebrows accusingly, “And I don’t want to throw that away just because she’s not in love with me.”

Your eyes rolled so hard it nearly gave you a headache. “I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me.” You pushed your fries around your tray and looked back at Steve.

Steve’s voice dropped a bit and his eyes were sad. “Well you’ve been M.I.A. and I missed my friends.”

You’d apologized and promised to go to his basketball game that Friday and hang out afterward. You didn’t mean to spend all your time with Billy, in fact, you hadn’t even realized you were until the night before, when it hit you all at once and you panicked. Avoidance was something you specialized in, most of the people in your life though, did not.

“I’m sorry!“ A feminine voice assaulted you, pulling you out of your own head. You jumped and looked to see Nancy standing behind your locker door. You just stared blankly at her and continued to rifle through your locker so you could leave. “I was really drunk and I kept thinking about…” She trailed off.

“Steve forgave you, right?” You deadpanned, and slammed your locker closed.

Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed exactly like they always did when she was confused and the way the space between her eyebrows creased was so startlingly familiar it made you ache with longing. You never had many girl friends growing up and even those you did before, you could never say you held too close to your heart but something about Nancy hurt. She cared so deeply about all the people in her life and was quite literally willing to fight monsters for them, for you.

“He did.” She was twisting her fingers together anxiously. “But-”

“Then fine, I forgive you. Happy?” You moved to sidestep her but Nancy blocked your path. Her long skirt swished around her and her newly permed hair shone in the light. She seemed stronger and more confident than before you knew her as ‘Nance’ but the sadness you both shared echoed within her.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I know you’re trying to get better and what I said wasn’t fair.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she strained against the emotion within her.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced away, her pleading starting to get to you. “You were really shitty for that.”

Nancy smiled softly and with regret, “I was.”

She looked into your eyes the way only she could and there wasn’t anything you could do but relent. You heaved a sigh and grabbed her shoulder to pull her into a hug. Her hair smelled eerily similar to Steve’s and you smiled into her shoulder at the idea of Steve giving Nancy hair advice. The two of them were your weakness, they were closer to family than anything else and you missed that.

“You’re such a messy drunk, Wheeler.” Nancy laughed and squeezed you harder.

When you pulled back, you saw Jonathan beginning to walk up to the two of you. Steve and Nancy had only been broken up for maybe a week so the fondness you found in the Byers boy’s eyes caught you off guard. You released Nancy from your hold and smiled tightly at the boy. Nancy turned and when her eyes caught his they softened, your chest tightened. They shared a silent exchange before your friend finally remembered you were there.

Jonathan stepped forward until Nancy was resting her back against him. No possessive gestures or tight arm around her shoulder but anyone who looked at them could tell they were together. They fit well, all easy touches and quiet words.

“Are you going to Steve’s game on Friday?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah,” You nodded mildly confused. “Getting food after too.”

“Awesome, we’ll save you a spot,” Nancy smiled and leaned off of her boyfriend. She took his hand and began to lead him away. “See you later!”

You simply put a hand up in goodbye then finished getting your things from your locker.

You were getting ready to swing your backpack over your shoulder when you felt the sting of a slap land on your butt followed by a bruising grab.

“Lookin’ good babe!” You whipped around to see Tommy Hagan with his arm wrapped around Carol, one of his goonie friends following in his wake. Tommy shook his head apologetically and pointed to his friend who held his hands up in surrender, a dopey smile on his face.

You took a step towards him, ready to return the assault when someone shoved after you. You watched as Billy stalked up to the boy and shoved him full strength to the ground, quickly climbing on top of him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Billy had the boy’s hoodie twisted in his grip. “You think you can touch my girl like that?” There was spit flying from his mouth as he yelled at the boy below him.

You watched, almost in horror, at the display in front of you. Your arrangement wasn’t supposed to mean anything and now Billy had told anyone and everyone who was listening you were ‘his.’ You wanted nothing more than to go up to Billy and scream in his face that you didn’t belong to anyone, let alone him, but you couldn’t. You flinched at the noise of skin connecting to skin followed by a dull crack as Billy broke the nose of the boy who had grabbed you. You began to retreat backward, bumping into people as you went and made a B-line to your car.

You figured work would help you cool off before you had to face Billy again now that he’d fucked you over. You didn’t date. You weren’t dating. He had no right to act like that…jealous. Billy Hargrove had another thing coming if he thought you were ‘his.’

~ ~ ~

Work had been boring. Robin was only there for half your shift before she got off and you were stuck sitting in an empty record shop for three hours. Almost no one came in except for a few kids right after the middle school let out, but that’s when Robin was still there and you weren’t alone with your thoughts. You’d cooled off after a while but sitting there alone had riled you back up.

You were now sitting at the counter, having already reorganized the records and done stock, the dull thrum of Van Halen in the background and your head resting in your hands. You had more important things in your life to care about other than Billy Hargrove and his ego. There was something stirring in Hawkins and you had been as ignorant as everyone else, content to see nothing. Jonathan and Nancy had been doing recon work on the lab and met up with some guy named Murray to expose the experiments. Hell, even Steve kept busy taking care of the kids but you had been so wrapped up in Billy you hadn’t seen it.

Although it bothered you that you were out of the loop, you were also a little relieved you could forget about the Upside Down for a bit and pretend you were just a dumb high schooler. No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, it had been relaxing to lie around with Billy after you fucked, or at least until your shoulder throbbed and you were brought back to reality. You sighed heavily at the memory of Billy’s head between your thighs and dropped your head down onto the counter. In desperation, you looked behind you at the mounted clock and closed your eyes in relief, just fifteen more minutes.

You quickly began your closing routine: turning off neon signs, stopping the music playing over the speakers, and doing one final sweep of the shop before you were putting on your jacket and locking the door behind you. You did a quick sweep of the parking lot and froze when you saw that goddamn blue Camaro parked right next to your car. Your shoulders dropped and you dragged your feet as you walked to your driver’s side door. Billy didn’t even give you the chance to unlock the door before he stepped out of his car and leaned against the hood.

“Come with me,” He wasn’t even looking at you, more occupied with lighting his cigarette than bothering to spare you a glance.

“I’m tired, Billy.” You sluggishly rubbed your eye. “And I can’t just leave my car here.”

Billy stretched his neck, “C’mon, I’ll drive you back when we’re done.”

You shook your head incredulously. “I’m not fucking you tonight!”

Billy’s eyes drew together and he finally looked at you. “That’s not-,”

“You know you have some nerve showing up at my job and demanding sex, especially after that shit you pulled today!” As he stared at you, you noticed that his lip was split and your anger softened.

“Just come with me,” By all accounts to anyone else Billy would sound almost demanding but to you, he sounded…pathetic. “I’ll bring you back, I promise.”

You examined him carefully, searching his face for anything that would put you off and when you found nothing, finally conceded. “Fine.”

You walked around your car to Billy’s and sat in the passenger seat you’d unknowingly grown accustomed to. When Billy got in, you saw him reach for his favorite—because you knew these things now—cassette and quickly batted his hand away.

“If I’m coming with then I get to pick,” You challenged.

Billy paused but just put both hands on the wheel and began to back you out of the parking lot. As you flipped through his tapes, you watched Billy out the side of your eye but quickly looked away when suddenly he was doing the same. You felt your cheeks flush from being caught and pulled your full focus onto the music. As you read the bands, you noticed a funny pattern.

“Ya’ know you have basically the same music taste as my buddy Eddie,” You saw Billy’s hands grip the leather of the steering wheel a bit harder and smirked, deciding to push the subject. “Yeah, he’s into all this hard rock and metal stuff,” Nail in the coffin time. “He’s even got this wicked guitar on his wall, it’s like his prized possession.”

“You’ve seen his wall?” Billy tried to ask with as much nonchalance as possible but you knew him too well by now; he was pissed.

“Well, yeah,” You fully faced the window to hide your growing delight. “I get my fix from him…same as you.”

Suddenly, Billy swerves the car off the road and onto a dirt path leading into the woods, the leather of his seat sticking to your exposed legs the only thing keeping you from nearly flying out of your seat.

“Billy, what are you-” Before you could finish your sentence, Billy was throwing his cigarette out the window and his smokey lips were on yours. Frustrated, you pushed him off of you and pressed the heels of your hand into your eyes. “What is your problem?”

“What’s your problem? You’ve been acting insane,” He exploded. “One minute you’re screaming and riding my dick the next you’re leaving and telling me to fuck off!”

“That’s all this is! You’re not my boyfriend!” You yelled back. “We agreed, just sex, nothing else. I. Don’t. Date.”

Billy closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the headrest and you decided to make your point once and for all. Your hand reached over the center consul and found its place on Billy’s thigh, causing him to suck in a quick breath and look at you.

“We agreed, sex is fine,” You raised your eyebrows in question and waited until Billy slowly nodded. “But that’s it.” Billy nodded again and your fingers moved to his belt, slowly undoing it as you watched him get antsy. The button on his jeans looked ready to pop as you palmed him through the denim and you relished in the breathy sigh the boy before you let out at your touch.

You’d previously taken for granted the way you were able to make Billy fall apart, so you wanted to draw this out as long as possible. When you finally freed him from his underwear, he was all but panting at your small touches.

You took his length in your hand and did a few experimental pumps to gauge how needy he was and smiled when he held his breath, straining against the seat. You had only planned to jack him off but in a moment of impulsiveness, you dipped your head down and wrapped your lips around his cock. Unprepared, Billy’s hand instinctively gripped your hair, causing you to immediately release your suction and sit up.

“That’s not how this is going to work,” You narrowed your eyes and leaned as if to kiss him but stopped just a hair short of his lips. “You don’t touch me and you take what I give you, understand?” Billy’s eyes were locked on yours and he looked a bit taken aback but once again nodded. “Good boy.”

You moved back down to his lap and Billy grabbed the headrest behind him to steady himself as you once again locked your mouth around him. You took him in painfully slow and you could feel the tension in Billy’s thigh where you had your hand perched to support yourself. When you finally had him at the back of your throat, Billy let out a groan and bucked just enough to make your eyes water. You bobbed your head a little faster and heard Billy’s breath quicken.

You heard the tell-tale sounds of his impending orgasm and quickly let him go with a pop of your lips, making sure to stop just before he could reach his peak. He huffed out a breath and in apology, you licked up the underside of his cock until you reached the tip and planted a kiss.

Billy looked down at you helplessly. “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy after what you pulled today did you?” You began stroking his length again. “I want you to admit I don’t belong to you, then I’ll let you finish.”

For anyone else, this would have been a no-brainer deal but you knew Billy’s pride. His eyes hardened and he shook his head. “I’m not going to beg.”

You smirked. “We’ll see.”

It was a vicious cycle, watching him so close to coming undone and waiting for him to say the words only to have to stop yourself. You knew he was becoming aggravated but truly you didn’t know how long he could hold this up, so you let out a tentative moan to switch things up.

Almost immediately Billy’s mouth fell open and you could hear soft pleads but not the words you wanted from him. The moans continued to spill from your mouth and reverberate around the car and Billy became louder in his begging.

“P-please,” He choked and slapped a hand over his mouth.

You took him from your mouth and continued pumping. “You know what you have to say,” You smirked to yourself and replaced your hand for your mouth.

You could feel him about to cum and he finally began to speak. “You don't belong-”

The sound of knocking on the window and a light shining through into your eyes startled you both from your fog of pleasure. When you got up, you saw the unmistakable look of disappointment on Chief Hopper’s face. Billy’s face on the other hand was stark white, a cold sweat having broken across his forehead. He was trying to quickly shove himself back into his pants but his hands shook, making you impatient. You rolled your eyes and reached over his lap to roll down the window.

“What’s up, Hop?” You smiled gruffly, past the point of being embarrassed by this man who you fought side by side with.

“C’mon kid, you know you can’t do things like this,” He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Sorry Chief, you know how it is,” Your body felt heavy now that the adrenaline of the situation wore off and you yawned. You dared a glance at Billy who’d been uncharacteristically quiet and saw him staring at his lap.

“Look, son,” Hopper turned his flashlight to Billy. “You follow me out of here and I won’t call any parents tonight. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy’s voice was horse and he made no attempts to move.

“You’re lucky you’re here with this one,” Hopper nodded at you, “If it were anyone else tonight would’ve ended very differently, Hargrove.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hopper sent you a pointed look and you watched as he walked back to his cruiser. Billy sagged in relief as soon as the two of you heard the slam of Hopper’s door closing and stuttered out a shaky breath.

“What a mood killer,” You joked trying to ease the tension.

“That can’t happen again,” Billy declared in an even voice as he started the car.

You quirked a brow and shrugged, “It’s Hopper, he’s not gonna bag us for anything. Trust me we go way-”

Billy slammed his hand on the dash. “That can’t happen again.”

“Fine then,” You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry, about the blue balls though, California. Maybe next time.” You smiled sardonically at Billy’s seriousness undercut by his still bulging pants. “Now, take me back to my car.”

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lottiethroughthelookingglass · 4 years

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15x20 Coda

Can’t believe it’s the year of our Lord 2020 and I’m writing Supernatural fix it fics at 3am.... This truly is the bad place. Anyway here’s what happened immediately after the credits rolled on whatever that was...

“Sam and Dean stood, arms around each other looking out towards the vista. Heaven. Their heaven. United again, after everythi-“

“-Is he for real?”

“That’s what was saved on my computer. Supernatural – Final Draft.”

“This is bullshit.”

Becky shrugged, taking her laptop back from Sam as his face twitched uncomfortably.

“Who did I even marry? Like, it wasn’t even Eileen?”

“I don’t know man but you named your kid after me. I’m holding you to that one.”

“I don’t even want kids. Our lives are crazy. Why would I do that to a kid?”

“Well I’m just glad Chuck didn’t get to go ahead with that one.” Becky said, sitting back down with her laptop, “I mean all of his drafts were honestly terrible but that one… I mean it didn’t even make sense considering your character arcs. Dean literally died like he thought he would at the beginning of the series and Sam, grows old with a random woman and doesn’t do anything with his life and not even mentioning Cas even though he was right there in heaven-“

Becky looked up to find Sam and Dean staring at her.

“I’m sorry, not that you guys are just characters or anything. But just, when I came back and I found that I was really worried you’d actually died in barn because you fell on a nail.”

“Yeah well I will be avoiding all barns from now on.”

Thunk. The three of them looked up to where Cas had knocked over a Funko Pop Sam.

“Sorry,” Cas readjusted Funko Sam so he could go back to back to fighting Funko Crowley.

There was an awkward moment of silence as the group processed the revelation of Chuck’s ending. Becky sipped her tea as Cas sat back down next to Dean. Dean looked over to him, their eyes met briefly and they shared a small smile.

“Did I never even ask about Cas?” Sam shook his head breaking the silence. “Like, you come back from fighting Billie and say he’s dead and I just… never question it?”

“Well, none of you seemed very upset about my death in that story.” He turned back to Dean, “You were far more concerned with the pie and the dog.”

“To be fair that was probably the only thing that felt right there – pie is more important.”

Cas rolled his eyes and picked up another biscuit from the tray Becky had brought them. Ever since becoming human again he’d picked up a real sweet tooth. Dean was silently waiting for when Sam would start having a go at him too about healthy diets.

Like hell I’m going because of a rusty nail in a barn, Dean thought, I’m getting killed by a heart attack and Cas’s gonna die of diabetes. Sammy’ll still get to outlive us both though.

“It’d be nice to think Jack is doing that with heaven though.” Sam said, “You know, rebuilding things, making it actually good.”

“I guess we’ll have to see when we get there. Which will not be soon, we fought for a bit of peace and I’m intending to actually enjoy mine.”

“We can just ask him next time he’s home.” Cas added.

Dean shook his head stifling a laugh with his hand, “Can you imagine if we’d made him God I mean- He’s three for crying out loud. He made me buy him a Marvellous Marvin the Talking Teddy three months ago.”

“You bought him that?”

“Wait so Jack didn’t become God?”

“God no, no he’s not God.” Dean plucked the biscuit Cas had just picked up out of his hand and started to eat it, “I mean he is up in heaven, but he’s just helping Michael get things running again with all the angels back from the Empty.”

“I’m confused, so you didn’t kill Chuck?”

“Noash fukind matr-“

“Chuck’s gone, but he’s not dead.” Sam interrupted the garbled explanation Dean was trying to make through a mouthful of cookie. “We found a way to umm- bind him I guess? In his own mind so he didn’t even know it was happening. Rowena and I did the spell and Dean set the trap.”

“I was still as useless as in Chuck’s version.” Cas clarified taking another biscuit to make up for his stolen one.

“Hey, if you hadn’t saved me from Billie we’d all have been toast. You were key.”

“Wait so Chuck’s not human and he’s not dead?”

“No- God I can’t believe he made himself human. I can’t believe we made him human and then said that was a punishment – sorry, no he’s kind of in a uhhh…”

“Alternate universe.” Sam added, “but one just for him. It’s more like an alternative plane of reality inside his own mind where he can write whatever stories he wants and think they’re real but they’re not. They can’t hurt anyone.”

“But he’s God so…. They might be real? He could be making them real.”

Sam twisted his mouth thinking, it was something he’d considered but didn’t want to dwell on.

“Well it’s not us.” Dean declared, “And honestly, if he makes another world with other Sams and Deans and Cas’s and Jacks then they’ll defeat him some other way. Like Inception, but with God!” He grinned at his reference even as the rest of the room ignored him.

Becky leant back in her armchair letting out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you guys are ok. You too Cas, he was really adamant about killing you off.”

“Dean was very adamant about bringing me back.” Cas looked over to Dean, a soft smile and look of adoration of his face.

Dean blushed, trying to cover it up with a cough. “Yeah well, I had some stuff to say.”

Becky grinned, taking a sip of her tea as Sam suddenly started to find the wallpaper very interesting.

“So, what are you guys going to do know?” Becky asked after the moment had become sufficiently awkward. “I mean no Chuck, no apocalypse, no world to save. Are you going to keep hunting, or…?”

Sam, Dean and Cas looked at each other.

“I don’t know,” Sam said.

“Honestly, I’m thinking Chuck had it right with the pie festival.”

Becky and Sam laughed at that.

Cas took another biscuit

***

Dean closed the boot of the Impala with a soft thud. Becky had given each of them one of her dioramas she sold on Etsy. It was always a bit weird being reminded that their life was a story that some people liked to collect stuff from for fun but he had to admit the miniature scale replica of Baby she’d given him was awesome.

Sam stood at the door giving Becky a hug and thanking her for the lunch. She hadn’t quite explained to the rest of the family who these three strange large men were that were randomly joining them for lunch beyond “They’re just some Supernatural fans I know from the internet.” Her husband had spent the entire time struggling to believe that lie even moreso after Cas had slightly traumatised one of the kids with an in-depth description of the dangers of invasive wasps to honey bee colonies.

Dean wandered over to where Cas stood beside Sam and Becky.

“Thanks again for checking on us Becky.” Dean said, accepting the hug she gave him.

“Of course, I always knew you’d beat him but it’s good to know for sure.”

“Sure is.” Dean took a step back, “Well I guess we’ll be seeing you?”

“Next Supernatural convention?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if there’s a ghost?”

“You do know we’re not the only hunters in America.”

Becky bit her lip.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she paused, “it’s just, this is exactly how I would have written it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise, Dean brows knitted as Cas tilted his head.

“I don’t- not that you had to go through all that. Just that now you can actually take a break. Be normal, do your laundry-“

“-Sam and Dean have always done their laundry. That’s how they clean their clothes.” Cas piped up in confusion.

“-Be happy. Get to actually enjoy living in the world you saved. Have free will and be at peace.”

Dean chuckled, “I mean I’m personally good with never doing my laundry. But you’re right, it’s weird but good.”

“We’ll stay in touch Becky.” Sam said.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They waved their goodbyes and walked back over to the Impala. Dean got in behind the wheel, Sam in shotgun and Cas in the back.

Turning the key the Impala revved to life. The radio began to sing, the opening chords to Kansas’s Carry on Wayward Song filling the car.

Dean slammed the radio off.

“God, I think Chuck has forever ruined that song for me.”

Sam laughed, in the back Cas even let out a chuckle as he leant his head against the window ready for the long drive home.

It wasn’t their heaven. Not yet anyway. And that made it so much more.

#spn fic #spn spoilers #supernatural coda #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #spn #supernatural #spn 15x20 #as you can see i'm not impressed #also becky's gonna be real mad when she gets back from being thanos snapped and runs into sam ten years later at the mall #only to find out that dean died ages ago from a rusty barn nail #that will be her villain origin story #my fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Something causes Lan Qiren to just SNAP, go absolutely fucking feral, and run off to become a rogue cultivator.

Beautifully Spent

- Chapter 1 -

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

“It is your duty, Qiren.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked coldly. “I believe you’re thinking of my brother. You might remember him – the sect leader?”

He’d never spoken that coldly to anyone, least of all an honored elder, one of his own teachers, but he had no choice.

Ever since he was young, Lan Qiren wanted to become a traveling musician - to wander the world freely, without the burdens that would fall on his older brother, the prospective sect leader. Even as he got older, he'd never quite let go of that ambition, refining it until it had become not only a dream but a plan.

He would see that plan come to fruition, no matter what it took.

His teacher looked at him helplessly. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You know your brother has chosen seclusion –”

“I know that in the eyes of the sect I have never been a quarter the man he is,” Lan Qiren said quietly. “I know that in each instance that we have argued, you have all taken his side. I know that I was asked, time and time again, to yield – because he is the elder, because he is the heir, because he is the more talented of us two. I have always yielded, because I am a filial son, a good brother, and I love my sect. I have always yielded.”

His teacher cast his eyes down to the ground.

An acknowledgement of guilt.

“I will not yield this time,” Lan Qiren said simply. “This is the rest of my life, honored teacher. This is my entire life. For once, let himbe the one to yield – to do his duty to his sect, as he was always meant to.”

“But –”

“I have always been here for him.” Lan Qiren did not allow him to interrupt. “I have been his scapegoat when things have not gone his way, I have been his pawn in political games, I have even been his punching bag when he needed to vent his irrational anger. Everything he has had the freedom to do, he has done because he has had me here. If I were not here, would he be able to go into seclusion?”

His teacher was silent.

“He would not,” Lan Qiren concluded. “To go into seclusion when you are the only option to lead the sect is to be an unfilial descendant of our ancestors. And so, if I am not here, he would be obligated to live up to his duties.”

“His heart has just been broken. Do you have no empathy for him?”

“As much as I do for the woman who was forced by circumstances to agree to marry him, and no more.”

“Qiren…”

“Think of it as me being dead, honored teacher,” Lan Qiren said, and ignored his teacher’s flinch at such inauspicious words. “Do you need me to remove my forehead ribbon before I go?”

“Qiren! Of course not!”

“Ask my brother,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “He will have the final word, as usual, and he does not like not getting his way.”

He left that day, his head held high.

He did his best not to think of his brother, who had, in his own way, wanted freedom, too.

Lan Qiren travelled, after that. It was just as he’d always planned it: quiet nights along forest paths, visits to small towns in out-of-the-way corners of the world – inquiring and then solving any issues they had that required a cultivator, and playing for them when no such issues remained. He had anticipated hardship, knowing himself to be a rich young master who’d never really faced the world; he hadn’t anticipated kindness: a few married women in one town taking the time to show him how to do laundry, giggling at him all the while, a group of young woodcutters in the next the best way to forage and cook food when one was hungry, a merchant and his wife teaching him how to bargain to avoid getting cheated…in time, through the generosity and enthusiasm of others, he learned all the skills he needed.

He refused payment for night-hunts – amazingly, his sect did not cut him off as he’d almost expected them to, and he was still able to collect his usual allowance – but accepted it for his music, and from his place behind his guqin he watched, quiet and content, as life swirled around him in all its myriad forms.

In between music and night-hunts, he idly taught some skills to the children in the towns he passed through – the vast majority were common people, completely lacking in cultivation skills, but his sect’s rules and the philosophy behind them were applicable in far more situations than that, and basic martial skills in even more. Whenever he stayed somewhere for more than a few days, he added in lessons in basic literacy, mostly because the idea of not having books at hand was abhorrent to him; the parents involved were generally more grateful that he was keeping their children out of trouble than especially interested in what he was teaching them, but it’d never hurt anyone to know a little bit of reading.

When he happened upon a place already governed by another sect, he did not take particular care either to avoid or to approach them; if they happened to meet, and to invite him to stay with them, he would. Lao Nie tracked him down six times for that very purpose, citing increasingly less plausible excuses, before Lan Qiren finally agreed to make the Unclean Realm a regular stop on his travels just to make him stop; in contrast, Cangse Sanren just showed up at the camp he had made for himself one day, her husband as always by her side, and simply refused to leave for the next three months.

He did not visit the Cloud Recesses.

Not when he heard about how his brother had, however reluctantly, come out from seclusion and begun to do the work of sect leader, and do it well, the Lan sect prospering under his leadership as they had always expected to. Not when he got news that his nephew was born; not when he heard that one nephew had become two. Not even when he heard that his brother’s wife had died, though the thought of that miserable woman’s self-inflicted fate had moved him enough to write a letter of condolence to his brother – their first contact in seven years.

Lan Qiren did not expect anything to come of that impulse, though perhaps he should have known better: it wasn’t more than a week later that he received a letter in return, the heavy formal parchment used by the Lan sect as familiar to him as the back of his hand, his brother’s equally formal calligraphy very nearly as familiar.

The words on it weren’t familiar at all.

I have made a terrible mistake, his brother wrote. I need your help.

Lan Qiren was perhaps not especially filial to his sect, having abandoned it as readily as he did – but despite everything, he did love his brother.

He went home.

“Lan Huan, courtesy name Xichen,” his brother said, nodding at the small child, pudgy and fat and adorable, quivering like a pudding even as he tried to force a smile onto his face, clutching onto a baby only a few months old, the little one strangely solemn despite the inexpert manhandling. “Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji.”

Lan Qiren was not as shy as he used to be, and he had gotten better at dealing with children. He knelt down until he was level with them, though he did not force himself to adopt any expression that did not come naturally. “Hello,” he said. “I’m your uncle.”

“Hello, uncle,” Lan Xichen said.

Lan Qiren held out a hand and waited, even as his brother took his leave, busier than ever. It took a little while, but Lan Xichen eventually put his own hand in his, and walked with him; after a little while, he even entrusted him with little Lan Wangji, fussing until Lan Qiren had tucked him into the corner of his arm in a manner he found appropriate.

By the time his brother found them again, Lan Xichen was chattering on and on about his xiao lessons, while Lan Qiren nodded along and added his own observations – he was decently skilled at the xiao himself; while it was not his preferred instrument, there were times when it was easier to carry than a guqin, and he had had time, when he was younger, to indulge himself in learning more than one instrument.

When Lan Xichen saw his father, he fell silent at once. He did not hide behind Lan Qiren’s robes, though Lan Qiren half-thought he wanted to – his little hand trembled in Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Would you like to take your brother back?” Lan Qiren asked him. Lan Wangji was a good baby, crying only a few times, each time responding well and easily to the usual things a child his age wanted – milk, a burp, attention. Moreover, Lan Xichen was good with him, thoughtful and careful; Lan Qiren had no concerns entrusting the baby to him, and Lan Xichen brightened a little when he realized that, nodding happily and taking Lan Wangji, pausing only a moment to glance worriedly at his father before scurrying off.

Lan Qiren looked at his brother.

“He’s afraid of me,” his brother said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

A blind man could tell. Lan Qiren said nothing.

“Wangji cries whenever I hold him, too, even though he almost never cries the rest of the time. He’s not even a year old, and he already knows.”

“Knows?”

His brother looked out into the horizon. His hands were behind his back, clasped in a formal pose. “That I’ll ruin them, too.”

Lan Qiren put his own hands behind his back as well. After a few moments, he said, “You care for them both. That’s not nothing.”

Their own father hadn’t managed even that. He had treated Lan Qiren with utter indifference, while treasuring his eldest beyond the point of reason, encouraging him to always think only of himself; the seeds of their estrangement were planted long before either of them knew it, each of them learning different lessons from their father’s mismanagement – Lan Qiren how to be inferior and doubt himself, his brother to be self-absorbed and careless with the feelings of others; Lan Qiren to bend himself to the point of breaking, his brother to refuse to bend at all.

It had served neither of them well.

“I don’t know what love is, except possession,” his brother said. “Xichen torments himself to try to live up to my expectations, and all I’ve managed to teach him, other than fear, is how to say yes to everything just to make people go away. I find myself falling into the habit of thinking of him as an extension of myself, which is still more than I can do with Wangji, who doesn’t even cry like a regular child should…” He paused. “You didn’t cry much as a child either.”

Lan Qiren glanced at his brother, surprised. He hadn’t known his brother had paid enough attention to him back then to even notice.

His brother smiled thinly. “Our family is known for its quiet children, did you know? I hadn’t, but they told me after Wangji was born. Apparently, there’s a few in every generation: a little slow, a little strange, with minds that don’t work quite the same way as the rest of us. The ones that don’t like to look you in the eye – sometimes they learn to speak, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’re brilliant. As babies, they’re generally a little too quiet. There were three in our father’s generation, but in ours there was only you. And now, there’s Wangji…”

He shook his head.

“I wronged you before, Qiren. I don’t want to do it again – I don’t want to know what sort of father I’d be to a child like you. I’m not willing to risk waiting to find out, either.”

When Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses, he took with him a qiankun pouch weighed down with more money than he’d ever had in his life, two children, one smiling happily as the other burbled quietly, and his brother’s trust.

He had no idea what to do with any of it.

#mdzs #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #not set in the same universe as spilled pearls #but will probably make the most sense if you've read that first #beautifully spent

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francium-hydroxide · 2 years

Text

Day 2: Dancing

day 2 of @tntduo-brainrot-is-real's valentine's day week thing. i genuinely just made up the plot as i went because i totally scrapped my first idea & didn't want to stay up late writing this. so i hope this wasn't too confusing to read. also i think i kinda sidetracked from the main idea of dancing towards the end, oh well. anyways i hope this wasn't too bad, both grammar and plot wise( if you could even consider this fic to have a plot) & i hope you enjoy <3

word count: 588

~~~

It was important to note that Quackity was drunk, because the sober version of him would never have agreed to this no matter how much Wilbur begged him.

“Stop stepping on my shoes.” Quackity shot a glare at him. “How is it that I'm drunk, but still have better coordination than you?”

Wilbur stepped on his foot again.

“Hey give me some credit, I haven’t been able to use my limbs properly for thirteen years.”

“Stop pulling the dead card and just admit that you’re not good whatsoever at this.” Quackity looked up at Wilbur who only rolled his eyes in response. He smiled. “You afraid to tell me? Or is your ego too big for that?”

“I can name something else bigger than my ego.”

“Oh yeah me too. Let me think…” Quackity paused, feigning a thoughtful look. “The coffin you were buried in.”

"Don't you dare steal the dead jokes from me, that's my thing."

"Your only thing."

They continued swaying unevenly and entirely offbeat from the music playing through the speakers.

Why did Wilbur ask for a dance with his rival knowing that Quackity had absolutely zero interest being anywhere near him?

Perhaps because they were at a banquet hosted by their dear friends Ranboo and Tubbo, who put just so much effort into this and it’d be a huge shame if Wilbur weren’t to utilise the dancefloor the pair had spent a lot of time building.

Perhaps because Tubbo had called for everyone to find somebody to slow dance with and as guests moved across the room to their desired dance partner, Wilbur took pity on Quackity.

Thus, he approached him, despite knowing he already had company around him- five glasses of champagne littered on the table and beside him, an entire bottle ready to be opened and dowsed straight down his throat because he couldn’t be bothered to get another glass.

They continued pushing and pulling away from each other. Wilbur personally much preferred the push where their bodies pressed against each other. And though it was in these moments where he noted the strong scent of cologne Quackity wore, so strong in fact that he felt strangled by it, he didn’t mind at all.

Maybe Wilbur could replace inhaling lit cigarettes with inhaling the scent of his rival’s cheap cologne. Both got the job done, made him feel good and gave him something to be addicted to. Except with the cologne, he didn’t have to worry about being buried six feet deep again.

Perhaps Wilbur asked Quackity for a dance because it was the only way to get close to him, physically, without actually having to tell him the truth. That truth was he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering off to indulge in thoughts of him ever since their little incident at Niki’s birthday party some time long ago.

He wanted to recreate that moment. Not now of course, but maybe sometime later in the future where Quackity didn’t hate him as much as he did right now.

So this was just baby steps to achieve that.

Tonight he had drank away his fears and second thoughts in order to muster the courage to ask Quackity to dance with him. Then later when the latter had judged his lack of coordination, he had pulled the dead card. Why?

Because he thought it was funny.

Because it was easier blaming death, instead of the person he was holding against his chest right now, for making him act and feel this way.

Because Quackity was right. He was afraid.

#tntduo valentine's day week 2022 #tntduo #wilbur soot #quackity #dream smp #tntblr

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eatyourchancletas · 3 years

Text

SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not! (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce.

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw.

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation…

“looking for something?”

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action.

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room.

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list.

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.”

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n.

“alright, let’s go check out.”

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar.

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.”

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group.

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!”

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!”

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets?

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received.

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him.

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.”

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.”

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair.

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back.

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame.

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room.

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa.

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

#t.k chapter #tinted kisses #kpop x male reader #x male reader #choi san x male reader #san x male reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #series #top male reader #ateez #ateez x male reader #kpop imagines #kpop series #kpop fics #ateez fics

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migila · 3 years

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Fic time! Naruto time!

Not Alone

Naruto could see his father’s back, the text “Fourth Hokage” standing out brightly on his white coat, yet no matter how much he ran, how far he stretched out his hand, he couldn’t reach him. He couldn’t reach his mother either, standing right there next to his father, her back to him as well, giving him a clear view of her long, beautiful red hair.

But it was okay.

It was alright, he was used to it. And it’s not like being unable to reach his parents meant that he was alone; not at all. He wasn’t alone, he never had been. Even if his parents had died on the day he was born, they’d left someone else to watch after him. And that someone was always there.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Naruto saw Kurama’s looming form behind him, as usual. With a grin, he held out his fist to the fox, who met it with his own. But then, the fox started moving, walking past him.

That had never happened; Kurama had always stayed behind him.

“Kurama?” he questioned as the tailed beast walked over to his parents “Where are you going?”

Kurama looked over his shoulder after reaching the couple, before looking forward again. Then, the three of them started walking away.

Leaving him behind.

“Wait, Kurama!” this wasn’t how it was supposed to go; Kurama was always there with him. Always. His parents never were, but up until now, Kurama had always-! “Don’t go!”

Naruto ran after the three, after the fox, but despite going as fast as he could, their backs only got smaller, their presences further. He reached out his hand desperately, calling after him-

“KURAMA!” Naruto shot up in his bed, hand reaching out. Sitting there, it took him a few seconds to process the situation.

“It was a dream” he realized “Just a dream.”

Except no, not really. It wasn’t just a dream; Kurama was gone for real, just like his parents.

Gone.

Kurama had never been gone before; they’d never been apart before, save for that short time during the war he’d been forced out. Sure, Naruto hadn’t even known he was there for the first 12 years, but he’d been there all the same.

He regretted not hearing the truth earlier. He regretted those three or so years that he knew but hadn’t really put any effort in to talking to Kurama. He had never even thought of asking the fox’s name, a fact that had filled him with shame for years now. At times, he wondered if they could’ve become proper partners earlier if he’d asked about it.

Tears of frustration tingled at the corners of Naruto’s eyes. There was nothing he could do about that anymore, absolutely nothing. And now Kurama was gone. For the first time in his life, he was really, truly-

“Lord Seventh?”

Naruto’s head shot up, and his eyes met Kawaki’s as the boy sat on the couch, a book hanging in his loose grip as he stared at the older man with eyes that were definitely concerned.

“Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah!” Naruto hastily wiped his eyes. He didn’t like the idea of the kids seeing him cry, but considering his circumstances, it was even worse that it was Kawaki who saw him cry. The boy had enough worries of his own; he didn’t need Naruto’s on top of them!

Kawaki kept staring, and Naruto had a feeling he was going to ask. Not wanting things to get there, he got up and looked at the clock. Fortunately, the timing was good.

“Dinner’s probably ready soon; we should head down” he says, going to the door. His hand is on the handle when Kawaki says: “I’m sorry.”

Naruto freezes.

“The Tailed Beast… Kurama, you called it? It’s dead because Jigen came after me” Kawaki continued “I’m sorry.”

Naruto closed his eyes. He should’ve known it’d come to this.

“It’s not your fault” he says “If anything, I’m the one at fault for failing to protect you.”

And failing to protect Kurama.

“But- “

“Kawaki” he says, now looking at the boy “It’s not your fault. Kurama was the one who suggested that I used that technique, even though he knew it’d kill him. It was his idea; he chose to give his life to protect us.”

And Konoha.

And the whole world.

The one who was thought of as nothing but a mindless beast for so long, the one that many still thought so of no doubt, had given his life to protect others.

Naruto would have to make sure that this part of the Tailed Beast’s history would be recorded down just the same as his attack on the village. The future generations needed to know just who had protected the Will of Fire so that it could be passed on to them.

And speaking of passing it on…

Naruto took few steps back in to the room to reach Kawaki, who was still sitting down, before patting his head.

“Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“…What is it?”

Kawaki wasn’t the type to agree to something before knowing the details. Not that this surprised Naruto in the slightest; he’d already figured that one out.

“His name was Kurama” the Hokage said “Not Nine Tails, nor tailed beast. Kurama. He had a name. Make sure you remember it.”

“…I will”

Kawaki was sincere, Naruto knew. Not that he would’ve expected anything else. He smiled.

“Good” he said “Now let’s get to that dinner.”

This time Kawaki followed, but as they were on the stairs, the boy said: “There are more tailed beasts, aren’t there? Aside from Kurama?”

“Yeah, there are. Eight of them”

“Do all eight have names?”

Naruto stops in his tracks again, looking at Kawaki over his shoulder. The boy stops too, cautiously eyeing the older man “…What?”

“Nothing, nothing” Naruto grins, recovering from the surprise and continuing his way down “Yes, they do. Of course.”

Speaking of which, how many people besides him knew them? How many used them? He knew Bee knew them all, but did he remember? Either way, there were way too few people who knew them.

“They haven’t specifically asked me to keep them secret or anything, so would you like to hear?”

“Sure”

Naruto reached the kitchen door, pulling it open.

“Naruto, good timing; the dinner’s ready!” Hinata said as she brought the pot of nabe to the table “Is Kawaki with you?”

“Yeah” Naruto walked in, Kawaki following close behind. The blond spotted his son on the couch, playing with a game console, and Himawari was currently setting the table. The whole family was there.

He was not alone.

A rare urge to show physical affection taking over, Naruto walked over to his wife to press a kiss to her temple. Hinata blinked.

“Ew, dad, there are others in here!” Boruto called from the couch, pointedly facing the other direction “Have some manners!”

“You’re overreacting, Boruto” Naruto laughed, holding his arms out for Himawari who rushed towards him, pulling her in to a hug “Now come eat. And it’s about time I taught you kids something.”

“Like what?” Boruto put his game console down, interest clearly caught as he came over, sitting on his usual seat. When everyone else were on their seats as well, Naruto started: “You kids remember who Kurama is, right?”

“That’s the Nine Tailed fox’s name, isn’t it?” Boruto asks as Himawari and Hinata nod “Didn’t you say that he’s… gone now?”

“Yeah, he is. But it’s important to remember him. And not just him; he has eight siblings” Naruto says “Do you guys know their names?”

“Names?” Boruto repeats, thinking “Um, well the one tail is- “

“Shukaaku!” Himawari cuts her brother off.

“Close enough; it’s Shukaku” Naruto corrects with a smile “Most people don’t know their names, or even know they have ones, but I think it’s important to know them.”

“Well, guess it would be rude to just refer to them with the number of their tails” Boruto agrees with a shrug, and Naruto’s glad that he gets it.

“Mom, has dad taught you their names?” Himawari asks. Naruto turns to Hinata. He’d told her, had told all his close friends, shortly after the war, but he doubted she’d remember, at least not all.

“Of course, he has” Hinata replies, and to Naruto’s surprise, she starts listing the names: “One Tail is Shukaku, Two Tails is Matatabi, Three Tails is Isobu, Four Tails is Son Goku, Five Tails is Kokuõ, Six Tails is Saiken, Seven Tails is Choumei, Eight Tails is Gyuki and Nine Tails is Kurama.”

Naruto stares at her in surprise. That was all of them; she got all the names right and didn’t even mix any of them up.

“How…?”

“You did tell us, didn’t you?” Hinata smiles at him “They’re important to you, so I made sure to remember.”

Naruto knew he was getting too emotional lately; tears were prickling in the corners of his eyes again.

“Thank you”

His voice is quiet, but right now, he doesn’t have the strength for more.

“I’ll make sure to remember them, too!” Himawari cheered.

“Yeah, me too” Boruto agreed “…Though I might need to write them down; I don’t think I can remember from just hearing them once. Right, Kawaki?”

“Speak for yourself” the boy replies “I can remember.”

“Huh?!”

Naruto watches his children bicker, too amused to interfere. Why had he been down again? Kurama, the one who always stayed by his side, may be gone, but he’d be alright.

He was home.

He had a family.

He wasn’t alone.

#I head canon that naruto taught the names to all his friends #but only few actually remember them all #boruto 218 #boruto naruto next generations #fic #kurama #kyuubi #Nine Tailed Demon Fox #uzumaki naruto #uzumaki family #uzumaki kushina #namikaze minato #uzumaki kawaki #uzumaki hinata #uzumaki boruto #uzumaki himawari #i thought I'd remember all the names without having to check #but my brain drew a total blank for number three and I had to google it #sorry Isobu!

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

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out of the ordinary (chip taylor/reader)

Title: Out Of The Ordinary

Request: no

Couple: Chip Taylor/Fem!Reader

Category: smut/angst

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrative sex, fingering, oral (fem), sex while someone is injured, breeding kink, groping, praise kink, multiple orgasms, hair pulling), swearing, blood and other bodily fluids, graphic descriptions of violence(!!!!), mentions of sexual acts, 68 Kill Spoilers, mentions of a dead partner, mentions of drugs (unknown), guns and gun violence, talks about kids (in the very far future),

Word Count: 9,562

Summary: Reader works at a hotel where she sees a lot of things out of the ordinary… Including a man running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a small towel around his waist. If only she knew her day was about to get weirder

A/N: day three of what might have been the biggest mistake of my life. But i had fun! Idk how april does it bc i was struggling. Anyways, here is some chip smut. I didn’t edit this too super well, so please pardon any of the editing errors/grammatical issues. The next ones will/are beta’d and edited… thank you so much for sticking with me on this! Tomorrow is something i had a lot of fun writing! Here is the masterlist for 7days 7fics! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!

{***}{***}{***}

I wish that even though I lived in a small town, in the middle of butt-fucking nowhere, I would see normal things. You know? Things that happen in small towns in the middle fucking nowhere. But, because it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the highway goes right through the middle of our town, we get a lot of… interesting guests. Which makes my job a little entertaining, sometimes.

Sitting behind a window at a tiny, run-down hotel early morning to mid-afternoon was what I did for a living. 90% of the time I spent my time just sitting there, reading a book/magazine, messing around on my phone, or working on an assignment for my class. That other 10% is checking people in or out of their rooms.

My day was so close to coming to an end. 11:30… I just needed to be here for one more hour, and then I can go home and go to bed. And, surprisingly, nothing weird had happened. It was a successful day, praise the fucking Lord or whoever is watching down.

Until, I jinxed myself…I thought I had hit the one allotted out of the ordinary thing for the day. That was until, as I was finishing up this essay, and I heard something from out in the parking lot. When I looked away from my laptop to investigate. And what I saw was not what I was expecting, at all.

A tall man was running across the parking lot, coming right towards the check-in/out window. Now, you might be wondering why this was out of the ordinary. Well, you see, he was running across the parking lot wearing nothing but a face washcloth around his waist. Let’s just say it left little to nothing to the imagination.

“H-hey! Hi,” he spoke, coming right up to the counter. I was more than happy that there was a counter and window between the two of us. I’m happy he was attractive, in all sense of the words. He was very attractive. “Do… Do you have a phone… That I could borrow?” he asked, looking at me with actual worry and terror in his eyes and face. I stared at him with a raised brow.

“What happened to the one in your room?” I moved away from my laptop and leaned on the counter beside it. He looked over his shoulder at the room he stayed in. I cocked my head to my shoulder and stared at him. “What room number are you?”

“Uh, that… That doesn’t really matter? Um, I’m running late,” he cringed as he looked back at me. I blinked slowly before looking down at the clipboard with the most recent check-ins.

“Sure,” I looked right at the last name and noted the time he checked in, “Mister Delacroix?” I slowly looked back at him.

“Chip,”

“Well, listen, Chop,” I paused my words as I walked over to the door to let him in. I was just happy he didn’t correct me when I called him the wrong name. I could have corrected myself, but I was just annoyed that I’d probably have to take care of the mess in his room.

“The owner’s son texted me, telling me that the people in your room had a rager last night… So, if I have to go clean that room and see cum and piss all over the room, and a coke tray on the counters, I’m charging you double,” I looked up at him as he entered the office. He was a lot taller standing in front of me. I don’t know why I thought he was shorter. Maybe its because he was standing on lower ground and I was inside.

“I… Rager?” He stared at me with a confused crease in his brow. I stared at him before slowly nodding. “Do… Do you know who came over? Do you know who it was?”

“I… Uh, I’ll have to ask the owner’s son. But, by the sounds of it, it was a little rough. I’m surprised you’re still up and walking without a limp,” I chuckled. I slowly looked up and down his body, taking in how he looked. He was slightly muscular, and though he had abs, his tummy was slightly pudgy. Which I could get with. I could appreciate a bit of a tummy on a guy like him.

“Listen,” he started, his words showing more urgency than before. I looked up, away from his body and at his face. It was probably his urgency that got my attention because I definitely almost went a little lower than the towel. “I need to know-Do you have any clothes? This is slightly distracting,” he looked at me. I wasn’t too sure if he was talking distracting for me, or for him. But I do agree, it was very distracting.

“Uhm,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I pulled my stare off him and went to look for the lost and found box, “There’s not much in here, but I’m sure there’s something,” I glanced at him as I placed the box on the counter.

“Right, thanks,” Chip looked at me before going to dig around in the box, “Do you know who came to my room last night?”

“I think… Hold on,” I muttered before rushing to the counter, shuffling some papers to find a random sticky note with some sloppy hand writing, “Christ, I forget he doesn’t speak english,” I shook my head as I stared at the writing. “Some goth chick and her boyfriend, or whatever. Uh, yeah, he told me about it this morning before he left. Like, 6 other people I think,” I swallowed roughly and shook my head, “It sounds like they roughed the place up?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he looked away from the box for a brief moment. I watched as he pulled out a white and red t-shirt (that was left behind by a group of younger women) and a pair of sweat-shorts. “Great, now I gotta go back to that fucking gas station. Fucking fuck,” he muttered to himself as he dropped the towel to the ground. I widened my eyes and couldn’t help but stare at his ass.

“Gas station?” I asked, keeping my eyes on his body as he turned to face me. That was when I got a view of the full frontal package. I swallowed roughly.

“Are… Are you going to turn around?” he looked at me with nervousness in his eyes as he held the pants and shirt close to his body, lower towards his crotchal region. I smirked, raising an eyebrow and cocking my head to the side.

“Nope,” I looked up at him with a smile. When I noticed that he wasn’t going to move to get dressed, I dropped my shoulders before turning around.

“Which gas station are you talking about?” I asked, looking at the ground. I wasn’t entirely sure why I asked which gas station it was he was talking about. There was just one gas station in the whole town, and I knew he was in a bit of trouble.

From behind me, I could hear Chip muttering strings of profanities to himself. Part of me wondered if he needed help with anything, or if I was just a disposable person in his day. Probably the latter.

“The one down the street,” his voice was low. I wondered what he was thinking about and what his urgency was all about. “You can turn around. Can I use the phone,” he asked as I turned to face him. I looked at him and held back a laugh. Which, in turn, earned a glare from him.

“Yeah, yeah, you have to dial 1 before the number you’re calling,” I went to move the phone closer to him, nearly pushing/pulling everything off the counter.

“Thanks,” he looked over at me before picking up the phone and dialing his number. I watched as he turned away from me. He wasn’t on the phone for very long, and it didn’t sound like it was a good call.

“I… I gotta go. Can I use your car?” Chip asked as he looked out at the only car in the lot. I followed his gaze at my shitty 2001 Saturn. I furrowed my eyebrows before looking back at him.

“I can just give you a ride, you know… And, it’d probably be better if you had a partner with you. That phone call didn’t sound good… At all. And, no one will take you seriously dressed like that,” I nodded at his attire. He looked down at what he was wearing before looking back at me. “Back up just in case? No one will notice I’m gone,” I let out a dry laugh.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he looked at me with worry in his eyes. I shrugged before looking at the ground.

“I could use a little danger in my life,” I laughed before looking back at him, “I’ve been sitting in this stupid office, doing this stupid job since I was 16. The hundreds of people I’ve seen is crazy. This job is boring, I need something risky.” I explained when I noticed he needed more information.

“You could die,” he pointed out. I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I could die just sitting here. Let me help you,” I stare at him with wide eyes. He looked at the ground and sighed. I could tell he wanted to fight with me, to get me to stay. But I could also tell he really needed help, and really needed to get out of this stupid town and state.

“Fine, you can come. But, you can’t ask any questions,” he pointed at me. I smiled before closing my laptop and grabbing for my car keys.

“Fine, let’s go,” I looked at him before pushing past him and leaving the office.

Chip was close behind me, still muttering to himself. From what I did hear, I heard the number 68,000 and then the word dollars. 68,000 dollars??? And he’s in a shit town like this?! What the fuck? What the fuck am I getting myself into? Fuck, this is a mistake… Fuck.

The ride to the gas station was quiet. Chip must have been thinking of what he was going to say or do when he got there. Let’s just hope it wasn’t Monica there. Bitch is crazy.

“Stay here, I have a feeling what I need isn’t here,” he muttered as he got out of the car. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“W-w-wait, you don’t want me to go with?” I asked as I slipped out of the car too, “Listen, I know the family that owns this gas station. They’re crazy. They’re nuts.”

“I got it. Just… just wait here,” he looked over at me one last time before going in. I stared at the door that he disappeared into before slamming the door shut. I leaned against the side of my car, patiently waiting for Chip to come back out.

I don’t even know how long he was in there for. But, it was a very long time. Worry took over as I began to overthink things. That dumb bitch probably killed him.

My worry melted away once he stepped outside with nothing but shame on his face. I raised an eyebrow, watching as he walked closer to me and my car.

“You look like you saw a ghost or something,” I chuckled as I pushed myself off my car and back around to the drivers’ side of the car.

“No, no it was much worse than a ghost,” he muttered before getting in the car himself. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked towards the doors of the gas station.

“Whatever,” I shook my head before slipping into the car, “Where to now? Monica’s trailer?” I raised an eyebrow as I glanced over at Chip. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth and wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, yeah,” he looked over at me before looking around my car.

“Do you have a plan? Or… Or a gun?” I asked as we got closer to the trailer park. He looked at me with a little terror in his eye. No plan or gun? Seriously? Good thing there’s a gun in my glove box. “You can’t go to these guys with just luck, Chip. That’ll get you killed,” I glanced at him as I reached over for the glove box, pulling it open and pulling out the gun.

“What the fuck! Where did that come from?” he asked, watching as I placed the gun on my lap. I glanced at him as I pressed down on the gas, speeding down the highway. “Jesus! Slow down,”

“You’re the one who fucking lost $68,000 to fucking Monica! You go in and get her money-”

“It’s not her-”

“It’s her money now, Chip. Jesus, she stole 3 of my bikes when we were little,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Chip looked at me again and nodded. “You’re lucky you have help,” I muttered as I kept my eyes on the road.

“You know this bitch?” Chip stared at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“She’s my, like, second cousin. My Dad’s niece’s kid,” I shrugged before shaking my head, “She’s a cunt. A fucking cunt,” I scoffed as I remembered my childhood with her. Chip was silent as I pulled into a driveway and parked the car.

“Oh good, looks like there’s a metal baseball bat in the yard,” I smiled at him. Chip looked at me with wide eyes, actual terror sitting in his eyes. I watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt and rested his hand on the latch to my car. He stayed still for a moment before turning to face me. I could tell that there was a moment of hesitation. I don’t blame him, do be honest. I hesitated to bring him here. Taking him here is basically signing his death warrant.

“Stay… Stay here… If I’m not out in an hour… Call the cops,” he looked at me before slipping out of the car. I watched as he walked up the driveway, picking up the metal bat, and walked towards the door. I almost got out of the car and went after him, but I didn’t. I’ll listen to him. He must have a plan worked out if he didn’t need my help yet.

I swallowed roughly, watching him knock on the door and wait for it to swing open. And when it did, a familiar looking guy stepped out of the trailer. It was obvious he was sizing Chip up, mocking him as he spoke. Chip looked over his shoulder at me, silently pleading for help of some sort. I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t understand what he was asking for.

A bell ringing came up the driveway and passed me. A familiar blonde riding a bike rode up the driveway.

“Oh, you again,” Chip spoke out loud at the blonde woman. Amy… Of course. Of course she shows up. She’s probably the one who told him where that bitch, Monica, even lived. I was just happy she didn’t even see me when she rode past me. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that bullshit.

Then he was pulled into the trailer.

“Fuck, this… This isn’t going to be good,” I muttered as I slouched down into my seat in the safety of my car. I wished there was something more that I could do to help him. Because just sitting here for an hour and waiting to call the cops won’t help me or him, specifically Chip. Fucking around with Monica and her… I don’t even know what to call the people she hands out with.

I grabbed for my gun again, pulling out the magazine and looking at how much ammo I had. Just as I put my hand on the handle to get out, a loud bang came from near the trailer, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I sat, frozen, paralyzed in my spot, staring at the trailer. They’ve just killed Chip. Or, Chip just killed them

“I don’t know what… What do I do…” I whispered to myself as I stared at the door from the safety of my car. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. What I should have done was follow my own advice to Chip and come up with a secondary plan… I can’t exactly go in there guns blazing… Unless, that’s exactly what I do. They won’t expect Chip to have a partner with him.

Okay, that’s it… That’s my plan… Bust into the trailer, and just go for it… But, I think… Should I wait the hour Chip told me to wait? What if he’s in trouble? Who am I kidding, he’s totally in trouble.

{***}{***}{***}

I just wish I hadn’t fallen asleep. Because, the next thing I knew it was morning and Chip was still in Monica’s trailer. Chip was still in danger.

I quickly fumbled my way out of the back seat and into the front. It was even worse as I rushed to get out of the car, my body nearly falling to the ground. When I was finally out of the car, I recollected myself, hyping myself up as I walked towards the trailer.

I had my gun tucked into the back of my pants as I walked. I didn’t want to be quick, but I also didn’t want to be slow. Chip could be in danger, and it was a little bit my fault. He’d be out of that situation if I hadn’t fallen asleep.

My fist carefully knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer sooner rather than later. When the door flew open, Monica was standing in the door frame, looking down at me with slight disgust.

“We don’t want girl scout cookies,” she looked down at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Good thing I’m not a girl scout, Monica,” I took a deep breath before pulling the gun out from my pants. I lifted it up and pointed it right at her chest. “Where’s Chip,”

“You want him?” Monica asked, cocking a hip as she leaned against the door frame. She wasn’t even bothered by my weapon being pointed at her chest. It was like she was used to it. “He brought you as back up? Oh that poor boy?” she looked down at the gun. I took a deep breath as I stared at her.

She knew I wasn’t going to use it. She knew me well enough to know that I just had this stupid gun for looks, and that I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. But, what she doesn’t know is that I’m not afraid of her anymore. She may have tormented me when we were kids. But I’m taking it all back now.

“Where’s Chip and the money, Monica,” I spoke, my voice low as I spoke. I slowly cocked my gun as I stared at her.

“Oh, you know about the money too?” she asked before looking into the trailer at her friends and, I’d assume, Chip. “Did you hear that? This slut knows about the money,” she spoke, looking at everyone. I swallowed roughly as she looked back at me, “Is she replacing that other slut we killed last night?”

“Just go! Get out of here!” I could hear Chip yell from somewhere in the trailer. Monica stared down at me, watching me as my hands shook with the weapon in hand.

“Too afraid to use that gun?” she mocked in a whiny tone. I blinked slowly as I moved my finger to the trigger. Everything happened so fast, when I opened my eyes, Monica was stumbling back, her hand over stomach where blood was spilling out. Blood was being coughed up as she fell against the couch, looking up at me with wide eyes. “You actually did it,” she coughed, staring at me terror in her eyes.

“I’m not scared of you anymore, Monica,” I spoke as I stepped into the trailer. I smiled as I looked down at her, cocking my gun and pointing it down at her again, “You terrorized me when we were kids… But not anymore… No,” I took a deep breath before as we made eye contact.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whimpered, looking at me, struggling to move as I got closer to her, “Listen, you can take Chip, and… and the money and go… I’ll leave you alone now…”

“Sorry just isn’t going to do it, Monica, not this time… Not ever,” I shook my head, “You can burn in hell for all I care,” I scoffed as I stared at her. Blood was dripping down the sides of her lips as she pleaded with me, but at this point I didn’t care about anything she was saying.

Chip called my name, causing me to look over at him. They really did a number on him. I wonder if they would have gotten this bad had I actually called the cops and did something last night.

My hands and shoulders dropped as I looked at him. I didn’t even bother with the others around me, I’d take care of them after.

Or, so I thought… One of Monica’s friends stood up and charged after me. I stumbled back, fumbling to cock the gun before pulling the trigger at him, getting him right in the head. He fell to the ground with a thud, a slab of meat just on the floor.

“Anyone else?” I looked at the others around me, really feeling my sudden anger and annoyance come through for everyone. The people around me backed away from me. I looked back at Chip, appreciating the way he was looking up at me. Just as I went to my knees to help him, the sound of a shotgun being cocked came from behind me. I froze as the barrel of a gun was pressed right to my head.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sweet Heart?” a woman’s voice asked from behind me. I took a deep breath as I dropped my gun to the ground. I looked back at Chip and noted how the adoration he had in his eyes slowly turned into terror and fear. “Where’s my money, Chip?” the woman asked. There was a certain fakeness in her words that scared me a bit.

“I… I don’t have it!” Chip shouted as he struggled to stand up. I cringed as Liza pushed the barrel into my head a bit more. I swallowed roughly as I looked at Chip.

“L-liza? H-h-how did you… How did you find me?” Chip exclaimed as he looked past me and at the woman.

“I told you, Chip, I always know where you are,” her fake sweetness really struck a chord in me, pissing me off more than I was before. “Now… Where’s my money?”

Someone from the sidelines jumped to their feet and instantly charged at Liza. It was terrifying how quick Liza was to turn and shoot the gun at the man. I quickly moved away and grabbed my gun from the ground. I felt a little bad for moving behind Chip, using him as a shield from this new woman.

“You’re so quick to move on, Chippy,” Liza spoke as she looked back at me. I appreciated that Chip actually covered me instead of cowering away like I half expected him to. “First the whore from last night and now her?”

“I’m not a slut or a whore,” I stared at her. She cocked her head as she looked over at me. Yet, again another one of Monica’s people came after us, only to be stopped by a different person, their arm being sliced off in one swift motion. If you blinked you would have missed it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” one of the three girls shouted front he couch. Liza turned to face the person behind her before saying something else.

“What… What do we do, Chip,” I whispered as I tugged gently on his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at me before lifting his finger to his lips. I stared at him for a moment, watching as he thought of a plan. The level of chaos in the building was starting to stress me out. I wasn’t expecting two terrifying people to show up at an already terrifying place.

“Go have fun with that one, Dwayne-y,” Liza pointed towards one of the girls on the couch. The guy looked over at the girl before grabbing her and pushing past Chip and I. I fell against the wall and blacked out for a moment.

When I came too, Liza was standing in front of Chip, talking to him about something. It was eerily quiet in the trailer now, other than Liza and Chip’s voice. My guess was Liza took everyone out. But, why’d she keep me alive? Chip probably bargained for my life. I’m honestly just a bystander in this whole thing, wasn’t I?

“You can let him run away… you can hunt him down, and kill him… Or… Or you can discipline him.. Teach him to heel or whatever he’s supposed to do,” Liza cocked her head as she looked at Chip. I took a deep breath, looking at the ground and noticed the gun on the ground right behind Chip. “So, Chip, what option do you want?” her tone was filled with that sickening sweetness, and it made me want to beat the shit out of her.

“Violet said there’s always another option,” Chip spoke softly as he looked at Liza. I carefully moved and grabbed the gun.

“Oh, she… She did? Well, I don’t see her here… Because she’s dead, Chip,” Liza scoffed. I took a deep and shaky breath before moving around the chair and aiming the gun right at Liza. “Oh, look who’s got the balls now,” Liza looked past Chip and at me. I stared down at her, feeling nervousness in the form of bile rise up my throat. “Are you gonna shoot me? Baby’s gonna sho-” her statement was finished short by a bullet to her head. I closed my eyes and looked down at the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Chip shouted as Liza’s body fell to the ground. I took a deep breath before looking down at him. “She’s dead!”

“She was going to fucking kill both of us, Chip!” I shouted back, looking at him with wide eyes. Chip looked up at me as he stumbled to his feet.

“Okay, okay,” Chip looked down at me, placing his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “$68,000… My clothes, and then we fucking ditch this fucking place,” he pointed towards the door where the creepy man from before dragged a girl. I swallowed roughly as I looked towards the door.

“Here,” I handed him my gun before nodding towards the door. Chip looked down at me, a slight glare in his eyes before he took a step forward. I followed behind him, staying close to his body. He pushed the door open and immediately fired the gun, killing the guy instantly.

“I’m never going to sleep again, holy fucking shit,” I muttered as I looked at the horrors in front of me. He fucking ripped the girl a part.

“Stay here for a minute,” Chip muttered before stepping away from me. He didn’t seem bothered by everything. I was impressed that he was able to step into the room more and move stuff around. One he found what he was looking for he came back beside me.

“Let’s fucking go,” he muttered, holding a shoe box under his arm. I looked at the box as I followed behind him. I could kill him right now, and take that 68grand. I could start a new life on my own…

“Yeah, let’s go,” I looked down at the ground, “Shouldn’t we clean up the place first? Our fingerprints and DNA is all over the place,” I looked around the trailer and at all the dead bodies. Is it bad this didn’t phase me at all?

“You’re right. Hold this,” he muttered as he shoved the box into my hands. I looked down at it with wide eyes before looking back at Chip. He had a bottle of straight whiskey in his hand and was splashing it around the room, going into the other rooms before coming back. “You think this will be enough?” he asked, looking down at me with a certain exhaustion in his eyes. I tried to look past all the injuries he had earned, but it was hard when they covered his whole face.

“Hopefully,” I shoved the box back into his arm before leaving the building. I waited just outside as he lit a lighter and tossed it to the floor, causing the whole building to be engulfed in flames.

“Where to?” Chip asked as we walked back to my car. I looked over my shoulder at the blazing trailer and shrugged.

“Somewhere away from here. But first, we should get you a first aid kit,”

{***}{***}{***}

We drove for a long time. A very long time. I think we both wanted to make sure we were away from Monica’s trailer before we rested for the night. Which also meant we had to wait a long time before Chip could get the proper care he needed. It wasn’t fair to either of us that this was the case at the moment. I wasn’t ever expecting this to be what happened to me the other day when I woke up. I was just happy that after the second day of driving, he was actually okay.

“I’ll go get a room, you stay here,” I looked over at Chip. It looked like he was asleep, which I was expecting, so when he lifted his head and looked over at me I was a little confused.

“No, no let me,” he mumbled as he fought to get his seatbelt undone.

“Chip, you look like you just got out of Fight Club… Let me go get the room,” I placed a hand on his to stop him from moving anymore. He looked up at me with a little bit of terror in his eyes, “I’ll be right back, I promise,” I kept my voice low as I spoke to him.

“Okay, you’re right,” he mumbled before moving his hand away from the buckle. Chip rested his head against the head rest before closing his eyes lightly. I sighed deeply before sliding out of the car and towards the entrance of the hotel lobby.

I kept my voice low the entire time as I spoke to the front desk manager. It was hard when I also looked like I just got out of a war and the manager kept looking at me like that was the case. When they finally handed me the room key, I let out the deepest sigh of relief and returned out to the car.

“We have a room… Two days…” I looked over at Chip as I drove to a parking spot near our room.

“Two days… Nice, nice,” he murmured and nodded. I looked over at him and watched as he slowly unbuckled.

“You go into the room, I’ll grab the food and first aid kit,” I handed him the key before we both got out. Chip nodded before leaving and going towards the room. I made sure to be quick as I grabbed the stuff from the back.

“Should I shower?”

“No, no, let me clean your wounds up first,” I nodded towards the bed. Chip looked over at the bed before going to sit on it. I was relieved when he laid back on the bed like nothing mattered in the world. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Are you going to play nurse with me?” he asked, looking at me with a playful smirk on his lips. I laughed and nodded as I approached the bed.

“Unfortunately, I think I’m all you got,” I laughed as I sat on the bed beside him. He sat up and moved closer to him. We were both quiet as I pulled out alcohol wipes and gauze. I looked at his face, trying to figure out where to start. Thankfully the swelling in his eyes went down, but I cracked an ice pack to help.

“This is gonna sting,” I looked at his face as I lifted the wipe to his face. He winced as I began wiping the wounds on his face.

“Are you okay?” I looked up at him as I carefully placed butterfly band-aids and regular band-aids over the wounds. He looked back at me, a certain softness in his eyes. I was happy that he’d probably just need a few band-aids on his face instead of gauze and stitches like I’d thought. We both didn’t want to go to the hospital…

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered as he tried to not move away from my touch. I frowned looking at his face. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he added. I looked down at his hands and nodded.

“Did you want to go to the hospital and tell them the truth?” I raised an eyebrow as I shifted closer to him with an alcohol pad. He cringed as I pressed it to the open wound on his hand. “Sorry,” I cringed as he flinched.

“You’re right, though… I don't think I could make up a believable lie in the hospital,” he looked at me, watching me clean the injuries..

“Was it worth it?” I asked, feeling a small smile grow on my lips. Chip shrugged a bit like he wasn’t too sure what I was talking about.

“Was… Was what worth it?” he asked, trying not to furrow his eyebrows. I laughed lightly and shrugged.

“The 68 grand that you risked your life for, Chip,” I laughed as I grabbed a bandage and picked it open, “Is it okay if the band-aid is pink with butterflies?” I held it up to show him the design. He swallowed roughly before nodding.

“Yeah, it was worth it,” he whispered, causing me to look back at his face. I furrowed my eyebrows when it became my turn to stare at him. “Because if I didn’t lose the $68 thousand... I probably wouldn’t have met you… And you saved my life,”

“Oh please, don’t compare me to Violet,” I laughed and shook my head. I felt a little bad for bringing up his dead friend, but I personally felt like he was comparing me to her. Just a little bit.

“I’m not,” he looked taken aback by my sudden statement. I shrugged, not entirely believing him. He knew that too. I looked at him, noting the cut and bruise across his nose. Who knows how long that was going to take to heal, but I hope it didn’t hurt him too much. “I’m being serious,”

“That makes me feel better,” I smiled as I began cleaning up the first aid kit we had bought when we pulled into a new town, “I should probably let you go your own way, come morning. I don’t want to get in the way of you while you’re trying to flee everything” I laughed as I clicked the first aid kit shut, “I’ll let you have my car,”

“Please stay,” he whispered, watching as I stood and walked across the room. I almost didn’t hear him. But I was preoccupied with my thoughts, trying to figure out how I’d get home if I had given him my car to leave. I was 2 days away from home… That’d be a long way back. “I probably would die if you didn’t come with me,” he added as I turned to face him.

“I’d be pretty useless if I came with. Is your life always like that, Chip?” I asked, placing my fists on my hips. He stayed quiet. “Because if it’s always like that, running from danger and shooting guns…”

“You’ll go back home, I get it. What happened the other day was-”

“I never said that,” I cut him off, “Yeah, what happened the other day was terrifying, Chip. But, I don’t think I’ve ever had such an eventful day in my entire life. I just don’t think I would be able to do that again. That parts gotta go,”

“Consider it gone,” Chip shook his head, watching as I slowly walked back over towards him. I looked down at him, appreciating the way he looked back up at me. “Forgotten. We can… We can buy a house in… In Iowa. Have kids, have a family. Get as far as we can from that place,” he moved his legs and allowed me to stand between them.

“Iowa?” I scoffed, wrinkling my nose at the thought of moving to Iowa. “And… You want to have kids? After everything that happened? You want to bring kids into this world?” I sighed deeply as I looked down at him. I left out the part of how we just met 4 days ago. He doesn’t even know me.

“Yeah, but if you were their mother, I think they’d be pretty safe,” Chip laughed as he reached up to grab my hand. I stared at him, feeling my heart swell in my chest.

“You don’t even know me, Chip,” I laughed lightly. He furrowed his eyebrows before shrugging. “And you already want to have kids with me?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think it matters. You saved my life,” he pointed out. I bit my lower lip as he brushed his thumb across the back of my hand.

“Yeah,” I paused, taking a deep breath as I stared at him, “You saved mine too, Chip,” I smiled at him, “I think Liza might have killed me if it wasn’t for you,” I laughed lightly out my nose. And, it was true. She probably would have killed me after she knocked me out...

“Well, good thing Dwayne was easy enough to take care of,” he returned the laughter, “Can’t believe I dated that bitch,” he sighed as he looked up at me.

“Yeah, I was about to say…” I smiled softly. Chip smiled as he carefully tugged my hand so I would fall forward slightly.

“Kiss me,” he whispered as I braced myself on his shoulder with one hand. I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down at his lips. The cut on his upper lip had thankfully stopped bleeding.

“Is that a good idea,” I pulled my hand off his shoulder and gently held his face. He wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. “Chip, I’m serious,”

“I am too,” he begged as he looked at me, “I could di-”

“You won’t die tomorrow. You’re safe now,” I smiled softly as I looked at him.

“So, what’s stopping you from kissing me,” he asked, pointing out the fact that there was indeed nothing stopping me from kissing him.

“Why you gotta be like that?” I asked, moving my hand up his face. I carefully brushed the wound on his temple before carding my fingers through his hair.

“Be like what?” Chip asked as I pushed my hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head.

“You’re so… nice. You’re not like other men, the ones who look at women like objects,” I laughed and shook my head, “You wouldn’t even hurt a fly.”

“You do know I killed, like, bunch of people yesterday,” he asked. I smiled and nodded. He pulled his hand from mine and rested both his hands on my hips. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” I sighed deeply and cocked my head, “You won’t regret it, will you?” I asked, my voice hardly a whisper.

“Regret what? Kissing you?” He asked, his thumbs playing with the hem of my shirt, just barely touching the skin of my hip. I nodded lightly. “Why would I regret kissing you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy regret kissing me,” I whispered as I looked away from him, “The last guy I dated… He dated me as a joke… It wasn’t till after we… Well, we did a little bit more than kissing, did he tell me that it was all a joke,” I whispered before looking down at the ground.

“Nothing about me asking for a kiss is a joke, I promise,” Chip replied, his voice causing me to look back at him. He lifted a hand and rested it on my shoulder. “We don’t even have to do anything… You don’t have to ki-”

“I do… I do want to kiss you, Chip,” I whispered softly, “I’m just scared, that’s all,” I stared down at him.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he smiled softly, running his hand down my arm before grasping my hand. I swallowed roughly before moving to straddle his legs. He took a sharp breath as I adjusted myself on his legs.

“Sorry,” I cringed as I tried to get off his legs. Chip looked at me before resting his hands on my hips, keeping me in place on his lap.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, bringing a hand back to my face. I stared at him, feeling a small smile grow on my lips.

After a moment of just staring at each other, I moved forward, closing the space between. Our lips connected, and it was the softest, gentlest kiss ever. Although my lips were still dry, his lips felt dry, drier than the sand on the beach. The blood that was on his lips dried slightly, but it didn’t bother me at all.

Chip placed his hand on my lower back, moving me closer to his body. My arms wrapped around his neck, my body willingly moving closer to him as if it couldn’t get enough of him. I could tell that he craved me too, his other hand moving hastily around my body.

“Is this a good idea?” I murmured against his lips. I was careful as I pressed my forehead to his, feeling a small smile tug on my lips. “You’re like… Seriously…” I stopped myself from saying ‘seriously injured’.

“I’m okay. I’m fine with it if… If you’re fine with it,” he whispered, his hands going back to the hem of my shirt. I closed my eyes and let a deep breath of air out my nose. A small smile grew across my lips as his hand finally slipped up my shirt and up to my bra. “Please tell me your fine with it,” his voice wavered slightly with his words. I swallowed roughly and nodded, our noses brushing together as my head moved.

“Yeah, yeah it’s… I’m fine with it…” I nodded, taking a deep breath before opening my eyes, “I’m more than fine with it,” I whispered as I looked at him.

That was when he kissed me again. It was different than before. Because, before it was gentle and soft, like he didn’t want me to melt away. But also it was soft because we both had mild- not so mild injuries, and I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. The differences between this one and that one is, fervent and passionate, it took my breath away.

Chip’s hand on my back fiddled with my bra as he tried to unclasp it. I couldn’t help but laugh as he began to struggle. It was clear he was getting frustrated with the struggle, so when I went to help him, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he fought to pull my shirt off. I laughed and shook my head.

“No, it’s okay,” I whispered before lifting my arms in the air. Chip smiled before pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it somewhere behind me. I sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air hit my bare chest. Chip was careful as he pressed his lips back to mine, then on the side of my mouth, before trailing down my neck. It was gentle, and soft, but it was enough for me to notice him sucking soft spots on my skin. My hands went back to his head, carefully pulling at the hair on the back of his head.

My head tilted to the side the further down my neck he went. A small gasp fell from my mouth as he attached his lips to my breast. My fingers gently pulled his hair, causing him to hum lightly. It was hard not to react to him and his touch. I needed him more than I needed air.

“D-don’t stop,” I whispered, my words wavering with each syllable. It was so hard to concentrate on anything as he placed his lips around my nipple. A shiver went down my spine, causing me to arch my back into him more.

Chip stood up, causing me to latch on to him so I wouldn’t fall, before turning around to put me on the bed. I looked up at him, my breathing picking up slightly as he stared down at me. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth as he looked at me.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I whispered, lifting a hand to his face. He could hear the worry in my words as I spoke, letting his lower lip fall from his mouth. “Your lip is bleeding.” I left out that it was only bleeding a little bit, but it was enough to notice the red.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, bringing his hand to rest on my cheek. His thumb brushed against my lower lip. My body shivered slightly before I opened my mouth slightly. He smirked before slipping his thumb between my lips. I swirled my tongue around his thumb as I stared at him.

“Good girl,” Chip hummed, resting his other hand on the mattress by my head. I swallowed roughly before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down to my face. He moved his thumb from my mouth and looked down at me.

“Please don’t make me ask more than once,” I whispered, releasing my hand from his shirt to lift it to his face. He flinched away slightly as my hand barely touched his face. I could feel my face soften as I looked at him. “I won’t hurt you, Chip. You’re safe now,” I whispered as I moved my hand from his face.

“I know, I know,” he shook his head before lowering his face to mine, lightly pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, wrapping my arms around his neck again. “You won’t have to ask more than once,” he murmured against my lips. He looked down at me before pressing his lips to mine again, slowly kissing down my neck and chest.

Although he was quick to move down my chest, he was slow once he got to my hips.

“Hold on,” he stepped away from me, rushing to the bathroom real quick. I sat up, resting back on my hands, as I waited for him to come back.

“What… What are you doing, Chip?” I asked, my patience starting to wear thin as the seconds ticked by. I swallowed roughly as he stepped back out of the bathroom.

“Cleaning my face a little bit more,” he looked at me with a small smile on his lips. I furrowed my eyebrows as he came back to stand between my legs.

“I-I’m confused,” I looked up at him. Although, I really shouldn’t be confused. I’m the one who said ‘Please don’t make me ask more than once.’ and he obviously wanted it as badly as I did.

“You know,” he smiled as he lifted my hips a little bit before pulling my pants off my body. I suddenly couldn’t control my breathing anymore, and I was left trying to control myself. “Wouldn’t want to get blood everywhere,” he looked up at me as he dropped my pants to the ground.

I stared at him watching as he lowered to his knees between my legs. He was gentle as pressed his lips to the soft skin on my inner thigh. I took a deep breath, trying so hard to regulate my breathing. My elbows and arms gave out, causing me to lie back hard on the bed.

“So beautiful,” Chip whispered before blowing softly at my core. I gasped and pressed my head into the bed beneath me. My hands and fingers got knotted up in his hair again, slowly pulling his head closer to my body.

Chip laughed at me before peppering butterfly kisses over my pussy. I gasped, tugging lightly on his hair. He looked up at me before grasping both of my hands and holding them down on the bed.

“Ch-chip, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I whimpered pulling at his hands. He hummed before licking a stripe right up my cunt. I swear, I couldn’t even breathe. He squeezed my hands as he kept licking at me. After a moment, his lips attached around my clit, sucking softly at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” I cried out as he pulled a hand from one of mine. I didn’t even notice that he pushed a finger into me. My free hand went over my mouth as a moan fell from me. Chip obviously enjoyed that sudden reaction, causing him to moan too. The vibrations from him caused me to moan again.

“ ‘m so close. Please, Chip, so close,” I moved my hand to his hair and pulled on it a lot harder than before. It was like I couldn’t breathe, the wind being knocked from my lungs like I was punched in the gut. “Fuck, Chip,” I moaned, my hips jerking at him. He pulled his hand from mine and placed it firmly on my stomach, holding me down.

“You’re doing so good, Princess,” he murmured against my body. I cried out when he pressed his lips back on me.

My mind went fuzzy and my vision turned white. I could feel my toes curling against the rough, scratchy comforter beneath me. My hands gripped his hair and the blanket so tightly I was sure my knuckles would blanch. And the only thing I could say was his name as I came.

My chest heaved as I tried to breathe. When I opened my eyes, Chip was back over me. He smiled, clearly enjoying what had just happened.

“That was… That was good,” I laughed lightly. Chip returned the laughter before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed following after him as he pulled away from me.

“That was, like, barely the pregame,” Chip laughed as he looked down at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and smiled softly. “If at all the pregame,”

“Well are you going to get started on the actual game or just leave me alone?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow as I stared at him. Chip laughed again before standing up right to rid himself of his jeans. I quickly moved so I was lying up by the pillows.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asked once he was back over me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m positive. If I wasn’t… I wouldn’t have let you eat me out the way you did,” I laughed as I brought my hands to his face, “I appreciate you cleaning your face a bit before you did that though. I don’t really want the staph infection or STD,” I laughed harder than I should have. But that in turn caused Chip to glare at me.

“Well, now I don’t think I want to have sex with you,” he looked away from me before sitting up right. I stopped laughing before sitting up to look at him.

“C’mon, Chip, I was just joking.” I moved so I was closer to him, “I’d love to get a STD from you,” I bit back my laughter as I looked at him. He glared at me again.

“Shut up,” he muttered, looking down at the bed. I smiled before lifting a hand to his face.

“You’re the one who wants to fuck the girl you just met 4 days ago,” I pointed out as I moved to straddle his waist. He looked at me as I sat on him. “But, to be fair, I also want to have sex with the guy I met 4 days ago so it’d be a little hypocritical of me to judge you,” I shrugged. I tried really hard not to look at his cock, but it was right there… It was obvious that he was painfully hard. “Use me, Chip,” I swallowed roughly as I looked up at his face. His eyes were scanning my face as his hands were resting on my hips. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin, and I was more than happy to let that happen.

What he did next surprised me. He lifted my hips up so I was hovering over him, before slamming me on his cock. A shout came from my mouth as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I pressed my face into his shoulder as I tried to breathe properly after the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck,” I panted before looking up at him after a moment. My muscles clenched around him as I slowly got used to his size. Chip pressed his lips to mine before carefully thrusting up into me. My hips slowly moved, meeting him at the perfect spots. His lips hardly left mine, and when they did it was only for a few moments.

“Gonna fill you up,” Chip mumbled as he pressed his lips to my neck, “Gonna put a baby in you,”

“Please! Don’t stop, fuck,” I cried, rolling my hips against his. My mouth opened around his shoulder, my teeth carefully sinking into his skin. “God,” I whined looking back up at him, “Do it, please, do it,”

“Yeah? You like that?” Chip groaned as he brought a hand to my chest. I let out a shaky breath and nodded as he massaged my breast. “Being filled with my cum, carrying my child,” he looked up at me. I pressed my lips together and nodded, feeling myself get closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Chip, please,” I placed my hands on either side of his face and pulling him closer to my face. I pressed my lips to his as he pulled me closer to his body, my chest pressing against his.

My breathing grew raged as he picked up his pace. His hand dropped to where our bodies met, his finger encircling around my clit. I was pushed right to the edge, calling out his name as he called out mine. His hips faltered slightly as he filled me with his essence.

My head dropped to his shoulder and my arms wrapped around his chest. It took a while for either of us to move, the intensity of the moment catching up with us. Although, the last few days in general were catching up with me.

“I gotta clean you up,” Chip finally whispered after a moment. I swallowed roughly before I struggled to get off his lap.

“You really do want to have kids with me,” I laughed as we finally broke a part, “I mean, yeah I want kids too. But not for a while,”

“I told you, we gotta get to Iowa first,” Chip looked over at me as he got off the bed. When he noticed that I was a little nervous about that, he came over to my side, “We don’t have to go to Iowa,”

“No, no, I know… It’s just… The thought of leaving… And going with you. The other day was terrifying, with everything th-What if I just left?”

“I know you're nervous. You have every right to be nervous. If we leave, we can get as far from that place as possible. We can find a safe place and be safe… Together,” he knelt on the ground beside me. I looked down at him and nodded, “Besides, you had the most boring life in that stupid motel,”

“True, true,” I laughed and shook my head, “You’re not going to, like, murder me… Are you?” I looked at him as I carefully grasped his hand.

“No! I wouldn’t do that! After the shit I just said to you with my cock in you? You think I’d kill you?” Chip nearly fell back on the ground, causing me to laugh again. I smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I… I guess if the worst thing you’ll do to me is get me pregnant… Then I think I’m safe.” I looked at him with a small smile, “And that’s not even bad,” I shrugged as I looked at the bed in front of me.

“I won’t murder you if you won’t murder me,” he spoke, lifting his hand and showing me his pinkie. I looked back at him and nodded.

“Promise,” I whispered before interlocking my pinkie with his.

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow writes stuff #shadow posts stuff #masterlist #chip taylor one shot #chip taylor smut #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor x you #chip taylor reader insert #68 kill one shot

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shushiyuii · 3 years

Text

Adopt a Mortal

@smogs-0 Oh Smoggy~ Your angst is here, and only you can decide if there will be a part 2 or not~

Warnings: Zombies (which means this will contain mentions of death, injury, death and maybe other subjects. Be advised). Swearing. Apocalypse.

Words: 1.5K+

It’s been 3 weeks since the outbreak.

He didn’t know how he made it so far, he’s barely escaped any encounters with those monsters. Zombies as the others call them, which he honestly called bullshit on.

Not to mention but food had almost become rare at this point, so many had taken it for granted and themselves, hoping to be the only ones to survive. But a majority of the population was already gone, including his own parents so no doubt that food went somewhere.

His own group was fucked up, he ended up with them by chance. They almost killed him, to begin with, but decided they could use his agility and slim figure to their advantage of tight spaces and stuff. Which he hated but it was the only chance he had at survival.

He was now on his own in a world of Zombies. Trust nobody.

…

It’s been 3 months since the outbreak.

He was shoved to the floor, kicked by another member. “Little shit! You’re just dead weight!”, “It’d be better if we left him for dead”.

They took away his belongings, leaving him unarmed. He ran away and as he did, he heard their screams. Zombies were coming and his ‘group’ just died like complete idiots. His arms covered his stomach as he limped in pain, this was going to be a difficult situation to get out of.

…

He slammed his hand over his mouth, trying to be as silent as possible as a couple of Zombies wandered around aimlessly, hoping to catch their next piece of delicious prey. if he were to get into one of their sights. He’d be dead in an instant.

He was unarmed as stupid as it was.

Whatever he didn’t want to die here.

…

One month since the outbreak.

Hunger was all he felt for the longest time, he wondered. He didn’t remember who he was. Not that he cared, he had no control. He only wanted to eat, hunt. His reasoning. The thought of meat making in growl in excitement.

That all changed when he followed a horde of Zombies towards the humans. They shot and yelled, fearing for their lives. They were terrified, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to him and the others was that their hunger was satisfied.

…

He got shot, in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it but he did stumble. In the distance, he heard, “You imbecile! That was the prototype!”. Whatever it is afterwards the humans got away.

He slumped against the wall of a corner shop, feeling oddly tired and fell asleep.

…

He woke up, with thoughts screaming at him. He looked around in confusion as knowledge flowed through his newly working brain. He was confused, scared. What happened? He wasn’t like this before?

He stood up, stumbling. He looked to the shoulder of his trench coat, the shot of the clothing being there but his skin had almost regenerated as if it had never happened.

He ran into the crowd of nearby Zombies, he pushed into them. Getting no reaction, he was sentient, and the others weren’t. Had that bullet done something to him?

…

3 months since the outbreak.

He’s learnt that he’s become different to the other zombies, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s more aware than them, almost as if he were a human in a zombie’s body.

He learnt his name was Wilbur by the wallet and ID in his pocket. Which was good to know, not only that but he no longer felt that hunger, nothing actually. He felt no pain, sensation or anything.

But one thing he did feel was more powerful and stronger. He learnt he could easily flip over cars and change his size at will, which came in handy for hard-to-reach places. Not only that but any wound he sustained was easily recovered from, barely leaving a scar.

He hadn’t yet encountered humans, probably because there weren’t many left.

He had managed to create a place of his own in an apartment with a broken mirror, it did him good with a desk to write on, a guitar he could surprisingly play, a comfortable bed, everything he needed.

He looked in the mirror, he was outrageously pale, but not that green colour other zombies had, he was missing an eye that his hair easily covered, and his beanie covered up parts of his exposed skull. Which left him looking rather human.

…

He wandered the streets a while since he really had nothing better to do. That was until something caught his attention, zombies were crowding around a particular shop with curiosity. It made him curious as to what was going on.

He followed them inside and wandered for a while, then he saw them. What had caught the zombies interest but had not been picked up by them yet. It seems that the human had managed to narrowly getaway and was now narrowly avoiding them.

The human stared at him in horror, his bright blue eyes striking Wilbur. His hair was blonde but covered in dirt, not to mention that the boy himself was covered in dust, dirt and dried blood. The human was barely covered in protection with just a red and white t-shirt, trousers and recked shoes. How had he gotten this far?

He crouched down to the human, “Hey…”. He whispered, “What are you doing here kid?”. The human’s eyes furrowed at the nickname. “Trying to get away here! Dickhead!”. The boy whisper-yelled. “Well, you aren’t doing a very good job at it!”. He whisper-yelled back.

He pinched his nose and sighed, “Get to the back room as soon as you hear a sound, I’ll distract them.”, “What? That’s a death sentence!”, “Don’t worry about me! Worry about yourself!”.

Wilbur then crawled his way to the other side of the shop, not wanting to get suspicion from the human. He then grabbed a pan from a nearby shelf and threw it to a nearby shelf, which caused enough noise to gain the zombie's attention, making their way over there.

He then saw the backroom door open, he then made his way over there quietly. Once he made it and shut the door. The boy was already barricading it, making sure no zombies made their way in.

“Thanks, man, had no idea how I’d get outta that one. Names, Tommy”. Interesting, the human's name was Tommy, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wilbur. What are you doing out in a place like this? You look a bit young to be on your own if I’m honest”.

“Hey! I’m a grown man! And uh- my group left me to die”. The boy seemed upset by that fact, looking away. “Well, they’re assholes. Don’t worry about em’ you can stick with me for now if you want.”. Wait- he didn’t mean- “Really?”.

“Yeah, don’t mind helping for a little bit”. Great, why did he agree? Now he was stuck with a child.

…

The human then began to rummage through what seemed to be boxes of already looted stuff. He managed to find an old backpack with some small tins of food and water left in a small crate. Not only that but a small dagger to defend himself with, he seemed quite exciting when he found it.

“So, Wil. How’d you end up in the outbreak?”, he asked as he continued to rummage through crates. Wilbur took a minute to answer, one thing was he the human- Tommy didn’t know he was a zombie, not only that but even himself didn’t know how he became a zombie.

“Uhh, kinda just ended up in the place?”. “Oh, you didn’t have family or anything”, “No?”. “Ah, well for me my parents died in a car crash when the outbreak hit, now I’m on my own since my group left me”.

“Why did they leave you?”, “said I was deadweight, which wasn’t true. I did most of the shit they wanted”. “Forget em’ they aren’t worth it”. “I realised that thanks again, for the save.”. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it”.

The two then made their way out of the building, then got stuck by a wall. “Give me a hand will you?” he asked as he clumsily tried to climb the wall. Wilbur then gave him a boost and he climbed over, not without giving Wilbur his own hand to help him up.

Wilbur grabbed his hand, “Woah! You got a good grip!”. “I- yeah. Guess so”. He then helped Wilbur up the wall and the two continued their way to safety…

…

The two ran as fast as they could from the racing zombies, perhaps the two were a little bit too reckless with noise and were now getting chased down by a horde of Zombies. They ran into alleyways, alley after alley.

Eventually, though, they got cornered. Tommy brought his knife, prepared to defend his life. “Stay behind me!”, “What? Are you crazy?!”, “STAY BEHIND ME!”. He growled as he kept the boy behind him.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #sizeshifter!Wilbur #tiny!tommy #Shushi's writings

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

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Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation.

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching. And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

#fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #dream smp #hermitcraft #hermit tommy au #heartstone #i'm pretty pleased with this

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vidavalor · 3 years

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Bucky’s dual-era dog tags in TFATWS (and when & where he decides to wear them) are giving me some SamBucky-related vibes...

...in addition to the just interesting stuff related to Bucky’s various identity issues. So let’s talk the dog tags.

First things first, these really do not seem like they’re Steve’s dog tags-- they’re Bucky’s own. Why? Look at the promo still below which is the best view I’ve seen of them in TFATWS. Notice that they are not of the same era. One of the dog tags is a WW2-era tag-- the darker, wider one is not only period-accurate for WW2, it’s identical to the ones Bucky was wearing during WW2 in the movie canon already, most visibly in the “let’s hear it for Captain America!” moment. The *other* dog tag Bucky is wearing in TFATWS, though, is of a more modern issue. It is the kind that would be made for soldiers now and over the last couple of decades. So, how does that mean that they’re Bucky’s and not just Steve’s and what does this have to do with Sam?

Dog tags are only meant to be separated off the chain in the case of death, as everyone probably knows. Soldiers wear two tags with the same information on them into battle so that one remains on them if they die and the other can be pulled off the chain as proof of a fallen soldier during battle, with the army then usually passing the single chain to next of kin. If Bucky were wearing a pair of WW2-era dog tags in TFATWS, I’d say it was more possible that he was wearing Steve’s tags because Steve didn’t actually have them on when he went into the ice so, somewhere, Steve’s pair of WW2-era dog tags exist as a set, still on the chain. They probably wound up in the Smithsonian at some point but back to Bucky-- his, based on the canon we know, would have been separated after the freight car.

Bucky was wearing his dog tags when he fell off the train car because he was at war. We know that the Russians found Bucky and then handed him back over to Zola. The Russians, to cover this up, would have taken one of Bucky’s dog tags and given it to the U.S. Army, claiming that they had found them washed up on the shore near where he fell or something. What did the U.S. Army do then? They didn’t know what Zola had done to Bucky beforehand that would enable him to survive the fall so they wouldn’t think to question the Russians on this-- they’d just be like hey, thanks for this and we’ll continue to do the same for you. They would have taken the dog tag and marked Bucky off as dead and then done the next thing, which is to give the dog tag to the soldier’s next of kin.

Bucky died during war time and everyone knew he and Steve had been friends before the war so whatever general got the dog tag probably just gave it to Steve. Steve *could* have given it to Bucky’s sister at some point-- and we know she exists in the MCU because Bucky briefly mentioned her in TFATWS but we don’t know if he’s gone to see her yet-- but we also have no idea what she’s like in the MCU or if Steve might have just decided to keep the dog tag for himself. Given the trauma Steve went through of witnessing Bucky’s death and them not finding Bucky’s body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that even if Steve was the one who told Rebecca about Bucky’s death and all that, that he kept Bucky’s dog tag. The other one, that was on Bucky at the time when he was given back to Zola, was destroyed by Zola during him being brainwashed into The Winter Soldier.

So, maybe through seeing Rebecca but probably really through Steve, Bucky gets one of his WW2 era dog tags back. Given that he isn’t seen wearing dog tags again until TFATWS, it’s likely that Steve gave it back to Bucky sometime in the Endgame aftermath before Steve went back in time. Let’s unpack how Steve’s heart was in the right place but that was a bit of a loaded gift here...

Free from being brainwashed-- as free as he’s been *since* WW2 anyway-- Bucky is essentially handed by Steve the symbol of what he just can’t be anymore-- that guy that Steve used to know. He’s still somewhat that guy but he’s been through so much that he’s not going to ever go back. Steve is into going back-- back to the same girl, back to the same era, back to a time when things felt less confusing and safer to him, where things will hurt less. Bucky has always been the absolute opposite of this-- while Steve was always desperate to fit the mode of the model man of the WW2 era, Bucky-- a good-looking, able-bodied soldier who can hot-blooded American male with the best of them-- was never a man of his time, always a bit ahead of it. Steve is Captain America-- Bucky is Captain World of Tomorrow. He’s more realistic about what America is because as a guy putting on a show for the world to pass in the society that Steve worships, Bucky has a very different perspective on all of it than Steve did. (See also, obviously, why Bucky and Sam understand one another and are better for one another than either of them with Steve.) Bucky is touched that Steve had this and is trying to do something nice by giving it back to him but it’s the singular dog tag bearing ‘James Buchanan Barnes’ like it’s literally being his own next of kin at this point as Steve’s about to go back into time-- it’s being handed a reminder of the demise of his sense of self and his *literal almost actual death* right when he’s trying to figure out how he’s going to view himself and what he’s going to do in this world now that he’s going to stay in the present.

So, he’s not wearing it. He doesn’t really know what to do with it. He’s with Sam at the time (maybe not *with* Sam but I mean they’re sharing a lot of the same space, either at the Avengers compound or Sam’s apartment, in the whole Endgame aftermath time period but pre-TFATWS) and Sam sees it and Bucky tells him he’s putting it away because he can’t wear it. Steve was trying to do a nice thing but Bucky’s like I can’t wear one of these things, my old WW2 one-- it’d be like I was a walking corpse. Sam agrees. So, from here two things could have happened...

One is that Bucky could have made the decision to just get himself a modern secondary tag but keep in mind that Dr. Raynor actually had to clear Bucky for active duty and that wouldn’t have happened right away. More importantly, some military guys basically never take off their dog tags but we have evidence that Bucky used to actually *not* be like this so much. While he had them on during the war, much has been made (and should be made, for sure) about how Bucky’s wardrobe changes after his first encounter with Zola compared to when he first left for war. The Bucky in uniform on the double date with Steve is spiffy and spotless; the Bucky in the bar with Peggy and the Howlies is barely hanging on. The most major difference is how much he pushes his uniform away from his neck and stops wearing a hat-- some have theorized that Zola was trying an early version of the mind crown on Bucky before Steve found him, prompting Bucky to develop a trauma-induced need to have things away from his neck.

This actually doesn’t change that much after Civil War, when he’s free from his handlers and on the run. By necessity, there’s a baseball cap at times but he wears a lot of henleys and there’s not actually any necklaces or dog tags until TFATWS. So, what changes? The addition of the modern tag and his reclaiming of the idea of being a soldier. So, the two options for how Bucky got the modern dog tag are really either a) he went and had one made for himself or b) Sam gave it to him. Let’s look at why the former would be kind of a healthy choice for Bucky but why it’s probably not likely to be what happened.

One scene that stands out for me is the single scene in TFATWS where it’s really obvious that Bucky is *not* wearing the dog tags. They show up all over the place-- he has them on for basically the entire series. He’s even *sleeping* in them, waking up with them on during a nightmare where they’re prominent in the scene and then also in its contrasting scene, on the couch in Delacroix. So, the one scene we don’t see Bucky wearing them? His first therapy scene with Raynor.

It’s made pretty clear that while Bucky got a thing or two out of his time with Raynor, it’s not really because of Raynor herself, who is basically a terrible trauma therapist. It’s also clear that Bucky doesn’t trust her and for good reason. We see that he really shouldn’t-- she’s forcing him into rules he can’t actually live by instead of helping him find ways through those scenarios when they invitably pop up (“don’t hurt anyone” is a recipe for failure) and she’s treating a man violated in every way under the sun in a way that’s invasive. She’s monitoring his phone. She threatens his compliance by *bringing out a book that she’s writing his secrets in* like... this isn’t the healthiest scenario here. What we also see is that Bucky subtly rebels against her. He somehow got himself cleared for active duty by her so he’s been b.s.ing her. He is later seen with a smart phone he knows how to use at Zemo’s (and had to have something on which he was online dating profile perusing) but Raynor thinks he just owns an old flip phone. So, it’s something really interesting that this is the one scene where we can’t see the chain of his dog tags. Why? Why doesn’t he want Raynor to know about them?

Because he’s hiding what they mean to him. If he wore them in, he’d have to talk to her about them. The dog tags represent his real efforts to reconcile his identity and what he wants that to look like-- he’s vulnerable about them because they represent what little hope he has left. If Bucky had gone out and gotten that modern dog tag for himself and began wearing them, it’d be something healthy to share with Raynor. He’d want to show it off, all eager to show the doc the decision she’d see as healthy and let her analyze it with him. We know that Bucky is struggling to reconcile his identity-- it’s literally his whole story arc in TFATWS-- and yet, he’s wearing dog tags that cut to the chase of it, in a lot of ways. Which is why those dog tags were on in New York all the time except for with Raynor-- why he wore them to bed, even-- and why he leaves them on when he goes to see Sam.

Sam got Bucky that newer tag. Probably when Raynor cleared him as a congratulations thing or maybe just when he saw Bucky left with a friend who went back in time and left him with nothing but a notebook of things to check out and a corpse necklace and felt for him. In essence, Bucky is wearing around another pair of dual identities in TFATWS-- the Bucky who died in WW2 and the Bucky who is still alive again now in the present-- as given back/given to him and represented by the once and future Captain Americas, who also happen to be the guys he’s loved (in different ways) the most in his life. That he’s wearing them is a sign that he wants to be Sgt. Barnes again-- this newer version of himself. It’s progress from the man who shuddered at stuff around his neck and TFATWS shows us that in other scenes as well, in other ways (his hoodie & jacket combo when they go to talk to Zemo; his signature jacket with a higher collar than we’ve seen him in since he left for war.) The wardrobe choices show an evolution-- a willingness to try to a new place of managing what he’s been through.

But wearing those dog tags around Sam in TFATWS? (And wearing them when he and Sam weren’t really communicating ahead of it?) Yeah. The parallel to Bucky showing up in Delacroix with a whole new outfit for Sam’s new identity as Captain America is that it was Sam who gave Bucky the modern half of his dog tags (and the chain, which is lighter silver and from the present era) and that’s why Bucky has been wearing them. Steve gave him a reminder of the guy he used to be, even if that guy was still pretty dead but Sam gave him a duplicate-- one that represented the guy who belongs to more modern times and is alive. One tag is death; two is life.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #tfatws #caatws #the winter soldier #winterfalcon #marvel #mcu

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

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zeke yeager | milc

okay ur literally gonna be like what’s a milc?

a milc is smth my old friend called me when we were talking about being parents and he said “mom i’d like to cherish” and it’s just stuck in my head. i wrote zeke for this cause i never write him and because i think it’d be interesting to see him in this scenario.

notes/warnings: fluff, cursing, reader is single mom, zeke and reader are like 23, modern AU

zeke feels stupid for not realizing that something was up the moment you gave him the spare key to your home.

he remembers what you told him; which was, “if i’m not home, use it. if i’m home, and not answering my phone then use it. just make sure you’re quiet.”

and now, he understands why.

zeke had forgotten his textbooks for the class the two of you had together at your house due to him hanging out and studying the previous night. normally, he would’ve been fine with you giving him to them the next morning. however, this time he needed them to study for the upcoming test you both had tomorrow.

when he decides to go retrieve his textbooks, it’s already 10:30 in the evening. you’re usually awake and free around this time, so he sees no issue with this and gets into his car to drive to your house. after parking by the curb, he goes up to your front door and stands next to it on his phone.

you: hey i’m outside ur door, i left my textbooks over here. let me in or i’m coming in on my own

you didn’t reply and zeke assumed that you were asleep. sighing in annoyance, he digs in his jacket pockets for his keys. the jingling of the metal echoed throughout the quiet neighborhood. his mind wondered to you; you must’ve been dead tired if you were asleep at 10 o’clock. you would usually stay up till at least 1 in the morning.

he walked in after he managed to unlock your door, and took a mental note to get you a keypad lock so he won’t stand outside your door for five minutes like an idiot. he had furrowed his eyebrows at the lack of light in your house. it was almost pitch black. you would usually keep on a lamp in your living room when he’d crash over at your place.

he walked quietly throughout your house after he toed off his shoes and turned on his phone flashlight. he swears quietly when he doesn’t see his textbooks on your kitchen table and the coffee table you have in your living room. they must be in your room.

as he walked, he stopped and stared at the door right across from your room. even though he was your boyfriend, you had let to let him inside the mysterious room. you would even avoid the conversation about it, and whenever his curiosity got the better of him and he tried opening it; it was locked. he didn’t try opening it again.

he assumed it was still locked, it had been all those other nights he’d crash there, and made his way to your room. when he saw your door opened a crack, he felt like his heart was in his stomach. you never kept your door open while you slept, no matter what.

he swung the door open, the doorknob knocking against the wall and making a huge bang. he immediately saw you had jumped awake—there was a small nightlight by your bed—and screamed. as soon as you did so, he saw someone else sit up beside you.

he watched you frantically reach over to turn your lamp on. your face paled whenever the lamp came on and you saw his face. he looked down towards your waist and saw a child staring back at him.

“zeke, wait—“

“is that YOUR kid?”

said kid, hid her face in your shirt when he gestured to her. you looked at her, eyebrows raised in both dear and concern and then looked back up at him. he was standing closer to you now.

“yes, she’s my kid,” you looked back at her as you uttered those words.

“oh my god, why the fuck did you decide not to tell me,” he slapped a hand to his forehead in frustration.

“cause i knew you’d be a dickwad, which you’re being at the moment,” you swung your legs over to where they hung off. your daughter scooted closer and whined when she saw you moving away.

“well, it’s probably because you never told me! when were you gonna tell me you had a daughter?” he hissed motioning to her.

before you could say anything, your daughter called your name.

“what is it, baby? are mommy and mommy’s friend scaring you,” you spoke softly and zeke shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and sat down in the chair at your desk.

the small girl nodded, and you pulled her in for a hug whilst cooing at her, “mommy’s so sorry. i’m gonna need to talk to my friend, which means you’re going to have to sleep in your bed for tonight. can you introduce yourself before you do?”

she pulled away and nodded with a pout as you wiped away her tears. when she turned to zeke, that’s when he noticed she looked almost exactly like you. same nose, same hair, same cheeks, same eyes.

“hi... my name is irma,” she said shyly, seeming to be in fear of zeke.

he responded with a soft smile, “hi. i’m your mommy’s good friend. my name is zeke.”

as he talked, she stared him down and suddenly lit up like a lightbulb. she started to tug on your shirt excitedly, chanting the word “mommy!”.

“yes,” you chuckled and patted her head.

she pointed to zeke, “that’s the man on your phone!!”

you responded by blushing in embarrassment and an awkward laugh while zeke raised his eyebrow, “yes, he is. and now that you’ve met mister zeke, it’s bed time.”

before irma could respond, you’re already carrying her to her room, the room right across from your’s. zeke huffs and flops back against the chair. this was a bit annoying.

you came back yawning, lazily shutting your bedroom door behind you.

“so, why didn’t you tell me,” zeke quirked an eyebrow while you flopped back down onto your bed.

“cause i was afraid you’d break up with me. most guys find that to be a turn-off. guys have dumped me before because of it,” you sighed and put your arm over your eyes.

zeke stayed silent, rubbing his jaw with his thumb and index finger.

“well,” you spoke, “you still ‘all in’ or not?”

zeke laughed a little at your joke, “i’m still all in.”

you shot back up with a gaping mouth, “really?!! why?!!”

“well one, i love you, believe it or not. two..... well... yeah, that’s all i got.”

“but you were so pissed earlier!”

zeke scoffed, “no shit sherlock, anyone would be. i wasn’t mad or turned off that you’ve gotta kid. i was mad cause you didn’t tell me from the beginning. sure, i might’ve been reluctant cause i’ve never really interacted with kids, but in the end i would’ve still gone out with you. i don’t think any less of you.”

“sorry. i used to do that whenever guys asked me out—tell them i mean—and they would all go wide eyed and say nevermind,” you were looking at your hands and picking at the skin around them anxiously.

“fuck em’. i understand that, but i promise ya that it’s way better to tell them straight off the bat,” you laughed at his honesty.

“yeah, fuck em’,” you repeated, “so, why did you slam my door open?”

“i saw it was cracked open. i know how stingy you are when it comes to sleeping with the door open,” he leaned a hand on his knee.

“aww,” you cooed at him, “you care~!”

zeke rolled his eyes and got out of his seat to sit next to you. he gave you a soft and endearing kiss on your lips. you pulled away, only to crack the stupidest fucking joke.

“does this make me a milf,” you bit your lip to contain the large grin that was starting to show up on your face.

“you stopped kissing me to make a fucking joke?” you nodded at his question.

“well, does it?”

zeke rolled his eyes and gave you another kiss on your cheek, “yeah, i guess it does. but it makes you a milc too.”

“the fuck is a ‘milc’,” you raised an eyebrow while he cupped your cheeks.

“mom i’d like to cherish,” he whispered, kissing you again before you could even react.

#zeke yeager #snk zeke #zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

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Saeran’s Diary

Spoilers for Saeran’s Diary. It’s within the Special Believer package. Not all of the pages are here. I’ve compiled the ones that looked the most note-worthy to talk about but I will summaries and talk about everything in this post.

Okay, so Spoilers Ahead, read at your own caution. It’s Spoilers for Another Story, V Route, Ray Route, and the After Ending.

Saeran introduces himself to the diary even though he has no idea how to use one of these. Saeyoung got it from the Cathedral. His brother tells him that if he can’t think of anything to write, he could draw instead. Saeran spends a lot of his time drawing out things on the pages just as much as he spends talking about this or that. His handwriting is rather clumsy and messy, much more so than what a child his age would have.

However, he’s not in school and he’s roughly only been able to learn a few rudimentary things thanks to his brother.

Saeyoung spends a lot of time at the cathedral. He’s been taking countless notes in his books. He’s literally been coping things to learn from the books that he can get his hands on. He’s got four of them, as far as Saeran knows. He has some of Saeyoung’s notes in his journal because he asked him what he was writing about all the time. He’s perplexed, saying that those coding notes look like they’re...

Puzzles?

He doesn’t know.

Saeyoung takes him out for ice cream, and we can assume that’s when they made the promise on their ice cream to always be there for each other, knowing that there will be one day that they can escape together. You know, the one from Ray Route where we’re treated to their promise on twin-popsicles. It seems like Saeran is alone more and more often though. He’s spending so much time at the church.

There’s one day where he and Saeyoung are out that someone suspicious sees the two of them. Saeyoung gets them out of dodge, but it continues to haunt his mind for a while. He draws something really stark imagery. Then, Saeyoung is all of a sudden gone. He’s gone. Their mother demands that he find him but he cannot find him. He’s panicking. He thinks that maybe that man took his twin away and he may never come back.

He’s so alone.

He’s so scared.

He’s begging for someone to come and get him. He’s still fairly young here and out of sorts, but his emotions are rapidly increasing the longer that he’s alone in that house. Until one day, something changes.

V and Rika come to take him to the cathedral more and more often. He’s spending a good amount of his time there because the two of them managed to convince Mother Choi that it was a good idea. Saeran has no idea how they did it or why they did it. He just knows that this is the place that Saeyoung went to once and that maybe he’ll be able to find him there? Then he talks about how he may be able to find him. Twin’s intuition?

That plays into the theme of the After Ending. How Saeran and Saeyoung can seemingly feel the other is alive, or that they’re okay. I think that’s kind of a really sweet thing to tie in like that. It’s like they’re connected when they’re not actually connected, and I don’t know if I’ll ever understand that connection since I’m not a twin but it stands out to me since Saeran is so hopeful for his brother again.

He spends more time in the sun and it feels good. He wishes Saeyoung was here. It’d be nice if they could live somewhere nice like this... where he could see the sun all the time. V said to him that Saeyoung was okay, he had a strong feeling about it. Saeran doesn’t know how to feel about that. He thinks it’s okay but... he wishes that Saeyoung would find him first. He’s him and I’m him, that’s what he says.

So, can’t they reach for one another...?

Saeran starts to spend all his time going to classes and learning things at the cathedral. He’s learning how to focus on his work, how to bake, and how to get his head in the right place for things that he’s enjoy. Like, for example, he talks about how his plan for the future would be to have an ice cream store not far from his house as he stays with Saeyoung. He really writes down recipes and his trial and errors. It’s so cute.

V gifts him a book about flowers and a good chunk of his diary is spent talking about them. He lists his favorites and some that stand out to him. There’s a photo that V took of him in the garden that you’ve likely seen before as he holds tightly to them with a smile. He talks about the life cycle of flowers as he tries to figure them out. He’s really thoughtful and spends an awful amount of time trying to learn how something so little makes something so big!

I did not know that Rika and V had their own flowers. I’ve talked about these bookmarks before for Saeran and Saeyoung.

Geranium can be a wish for good health, hope that you pray that the other person will someday feel better and find peace. It makes sense that that is for Saeran because he was a young and sickly child for such a very long time, and this was a gift that said, we pray for you and you will grow to be a bigger flower in due time. You will not wilt and you will grow until you blossom into something that is lovely.

Rhododendron can be a sign of optimism, the hope that you have that the future ahead will be great. It makes sense that that was gifted to Saeyoung because he is the one that hinges on the hope that one day, he can save his brother and be sure that they are both free from their chains that have kept them down. This is a gift that says, never lose hope in yourself and those that you love when it feels like the end of coming.

Narcissus means rebirth and renewal because it's one of the earliest bulbs to sprout. We all know the story. Unable to look away from the water, Narcissus grew tired, fell into the stream, and drowned. Rika’s suicide is implied to be her falling from the edge of a cliffside and falling into the water down below. It’s their way of symbolism her final rebirth into someone finally relishing in her cruelty and devil to it’s fullest form.

Another popular story in mythology, Rhodanthe was someone so beautiful that people wouldn’t leave her alone. They were always at her heels and begging for her love. She turned them all down and grew so tired of them that she retreated and ran away to the Temple of Diana. Those suitors just wouldn’t quit, though, and because of that Diana decided to turn Rhodanthe in a rose and all of the suitors into the thorns of the flower. The implication here is that V and Rika are twisted together in a dangerous path, but it’s hard to tell who is the rose and who is the thorns here. Interesting.

Here we go, huh? Rika gifts Saeran a book that she claims is the same one that his brother was reading. Saeran wants to be closer to him so he starts to learn and study what he can. He knows that he hid Saeyoung’s books for him so he has to get those from the house and he wants to use them to know more about who his brother is. It’s kind of hard, even Saeran claims that he’s struggling in all of this learning because it’s so much!

But, he says he can do it.

He’ll do it for Saeyoung.

We know why Rika is doing this, and we know where this is heading but I’m kind of like: I really don’t want to see how tortured my boy is about to be by this damn woman again. I continue onward to see how Saeran progressively learns as much as humanly possible as fast as he can. Okay, oh boy, he writes that he snuck out late at night to go to cathedral and nobody is usually there, but Rika was there tonight.

He was perplexed by why she was looking at the wall of photos that contained each child that attended the church and did their studies there. He says that it felt wrong. He felt like he couldn’t speak. Something felt twisted and wrong in his chest but he stayed. He’s not even spending a lot of time with V and Rika at the cathedral up until this point. They just check on him now and again... until now, Rika seems to be more forward.

She’s been giving him extra lessons and things to do.

“It looked like she wanted to tell me something.”

She didn’t though.

Here’s one continuity error, though. Saeran knows that his mother passed away and she even had a funeral in this diary. He said that nobody came. Not their father, not their brother, nobody. There was nobody in the world to come for his mother’s passing but him and V and Rika. It’s just him and Saeyoung. His twin isn’t there but this is his only family. His only family. He missed his brother. He wishes he was there.

He knows that his mother is dead but he doesn’t know how she died. I’m bit confused on that front. I’ll go and glance at his speech during the AE to know if it’s an error or not. Okay, so, they imply that Mother Choi never got a proper funeral. I think that means that you know, the one that Saeran held as a child wasn’t a real one by any meaning. It’s just a small ceremony.

I almost want to say that the fucking trauma of Mint Eye destroyed more and more of his memory as a young child because it implies also in this diary that he does talk to some of the others at the cathedral sometimes, but not often.

So, it could be an error, or it’s literally that the specific memory of that time at the cathedral isn’t accessible to him. It makes sense, though. Ray and Suit held a lot of their own memories and it feels like there’s other pieces that they’re missing in their lives. It still doesn’t take away from the fact that Saeran didn’t know how she died. Or that Rika burned the house down with V.

Or that they both hid the fucking body.

This is just the one thing of interest in the diary that doesn’t make sense unless I apply my theory that he cannot remember that incident. Either way, he makes a prayer to God about Saeyoung on the page after that. He says that he wants to be strong. He wants to be as strong as Saeyoung. Let him have that.

Rika tricks him not long after this. “Come and meet me late at night. I want to give V a surprise.” He’s noticed that the two of them have been having a really difficult time lately, he thought they weren’t on good terms since they weren’t visiting together. This is literally after the trauma of the murder, self-defense or not, they had to remove a body and worse.

That added to how bad their relationship already was. This was Rika’s turning point, after all. Saeran’s a child. He just thinks they’re going to make up and get better? He wants to help them because they helped him.

But this is a trick.

He spoke to Rika that briefly and then he went home. Someone grabbed him, and before he could fight, he was taken off the streets. It wasn’t Rika, but my money says that it was someone working for her to do the dirty work. He has no clue it’s Rika or anything for a while. He’s locked in a dark room. There’s not a lot in it but it seems like it was prepared for someone to stay in it. He’s scared, they leave him there. He banged on the door over and over, but nobody would listen to him.

Days pass.

He’s left with some notes about Mint Eye to read that make no sense to him but he’s trying to understand what they mean. How long is he going to be stuck in a room like this? Nothing makes sense! He gets fed every day, and he thinks that is okay.

He’s trapped but he has food. It’s not so bad.. right?

Nobody came to see him until the fourth day. He was taken away to what we can presume is the basement. He doesn’t know what’s happening here, but he just stares, slack-jawed at Rika in the basement as he lifts his head.

She’s wearing a mask.

But, there’s no doubt.

It’s Rika.

He begged for answers but she would barely tell him what was happening in this place. She just says that V is a traitor and a liar to him. She said that he should call her his Savior. By the 11th day, they’re literally drugging through the food as time passes. He says that things don’t taste right but I know what that means as it’s the easiest way to poison someone over time.

I imagine that this is slowly happening as they’re starting to torture him with the elixir outright not long after this.

He’s clearly confused and losing time the more that he tries to think because these are written on snippets as he’s trying to make sense of what’s going on around him. He’s hurting. He’s in pain. Nothing makes sense and he’s having a hard time dealing with being awake and eating these days. It just gets worse and worse as time passes for him.

I don’t think I have to explain what this looks like:

He’s literally terrified out of his fucking mind. He’s not able to focus and this is a point in the timeline where Ray takes control of the situation. Saeran cannot be awake anymore and Ray wakes up. This child has suffered enough already and Ray needs to be here to do this. His anger... his confusion. It’s played out in front of us as he loses himself and Ray takes control of everything that’s going on from now on.

This is where the scraps end and Ray’s official diary begins.

Yeah, this is actually a portion of the diary that I’ve seen before. It’s that proof that Rika is the one that dressed Ray. He would prefer to wear dark things but she says that he’s not good enough. He feels gloomy, he would have preferred something gloomy but Rika said no. Her reasoning is that he’s not strong and he needs to wear something vibrant to feel stronger.

To feel more needed.

He isn’t sure how to feel about that. He just says that Savior knows best and this is okay. I love his outfit but I know that’s uneasy about it. His gloves are rather tight on his hands so they can keep him from overextending his fingers and not get them to lock or have fractures from working so hard. He’s typing at a speed that not even I can manage so.

He needs the support.

No gloves slander about Ray, I know they’re half-gloves and bother some of you but it suits him. And, not to gush about Ray but there’s just so much Ray in this portion of the diary and you know I’m a massive Ray fan. Rika forces hm to do all of the security work. He spends like a week trying to make the system better but he’s hardly sleeping to do it. He’s the one that made the card system, as well, for both Rika and for others.

He’s the one that grants access to anyone that is a believer.

Certain people have certain powers. Rika can go anywhere, he can go to some places, and others... limited access. She “gifts” him the often of being able to help design the garden. He does pick a handful of flowers that he thinks are nice to decorate the garden and it’s the one thing that actually makes him feel good in comparison to security hell.

Though, we start to see him planning for the RFA Messenger as well. That’s not looking really good. Rika tells him what they’re going to be doing and that they have a grand plan that she needs him for. He’s so desperate for someone to see him and give him affection that he’s willing to fall to her feet and cry. He doesn’t know if he deserves this chance. He beats himself up over and over about it but takes it.

He can’t say no to Rika.

He’s literally crying because she told him that she wants him to do something for her. I’m not a vicious person but if given the chance, I would slap Rika one good time. I just need one time. I realize violence doesn’t solve anything, but I don’t know if I could hold myself back if I saw her treating him like this.

It’s just not okay and I can’t stand it. No matter how you feel about Rika, when you read and see shit like this, you get angry at her for what she’s done to this child. Saeran was a child.

He was a child who trusted her and V.

Goddammit.

He was a CHILD.

He’s sleeping three hours. Max. That’s not okay. He’s chugging caffeine pills like they’re Tic-Tacs. Ray, honey, baby, darling, they’re not Tic-Tacs. That’s not okay at all. It’s actually blotted out. I don’t know what he’s eating. I don’t know how many he’s eating. I knew that he was popping like them candy to stay up and at his desk, but Jesus Christ, Ray. The space implies that it’s a high number, it could be double-digits.

If it’s more than 15, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

He’s not even eating right. Food that’s easy to eat. Okay, that’s why he eats chocolate most of the time. He’s eating snack foods when he’s eating and only using real food if he has time. [He never has time. It makes me want to cry as I read it because I wanted to grab him by the wrist and ask him to stay during the meals because I don’t really eat more than what a toddler eats due to my health and he could have the rest. He needs it.]

I love this guy, but I can see his suffering here.

I don’t know if you’ve seen this but he ranks the RFA on a sliding scale of how tough they are to defeat and how easy they are to defeat. Seven and V have the strongest list. V is to be captured alive and that you have to be cautious so he doesn’t trick you.

Seven is “No need. Discard.”

I have to ask Ray what the hell a “honey trap” is though, as far as Zen goes in his explaination. Does that mean that Ray is saying “If there’s a pretty honey, he’ll fall to his knees?” RAY?

RAY?????

RAY??????????????

Jumin: Attack social status. Just take his fucking cat.

Yoosung: Rika. Just use Rika information or threaten his family.

Jaehee: Break C&R. If it or Jumin falls, she’s easy. Not sure.

Oh, and there’s actually recipes in his portion of the diary as well. He has a lot of sweet things listed and God, he would get me. He literally makes notes about a tester in this. He has to jot down who would be a good idea and how he could ensure their happiness. He says that he’s not as good as the chef in Mint Eye but he wants to be good enough.

So, he actually tries to learn how to make things for us. He failed at making ice cream. He made some progress at brunch and he tried to make some cake but it wasn’t quite up to par yet. He notes his mistakes and says that he’ll keep trying to learn for the tester. So, that’s how he’s spending his six months.

His final note in this journal is hopeful of the tester. He’s got everything as it needs to be but he needs his tester to come to him. He hopes they’re a good person but he doesn’t know how to interact with them. He wonders how he should start talking to them, anyway. How do you talk to people on the outside? He doesn’t know... maybe an introduction?

Should he greet you?

Should he try harder?

He really fixates on how to say hi to you.

He decides simple is good.

“Hello! My name is Ray.”

And if you turn the page, you’re smacked with that photo and my knees just went a little weak. Oh boy, honey, darling, I love you. I’m sorry that you’ve suffered so much but it’s okay. I’m here! We’ll get out of this place together soon. All and all, this was a solid read that gave me a lot more perspective on my boy. There’s still a bit of information in Rika’s Diary, to be honest. But this stood out more to me here.

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

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Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

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Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

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Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much.

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss.

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained.

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes.

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous.

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to?

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless.

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him.

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief.

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!”

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile.

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage.

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!”

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange.

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand.

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud.

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded.

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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