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thiswaytwoinfinity · 5 months

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it’s a bad idea, right? - part 1: can’t two people reconnect

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader • inspired by sleeping with other people

Warnings: no use of y/n or physical description of reader except they have hair that can be tucked behind their ears, implied smut, this chapter is fine but future installments will be 18+

It’s finally here! Thank you to everyone for being so supportive and patient about this fic; I was dealing with some rough personal stuff and lost all my inspiration but it’s back now and I’m happy to be writing about everyone’s favorite cocky flyboy.

There’s something about a sticky summer night when you’re 22 that makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been.

It’s the third bar that your new roommates have dragged you to tonight, there’s a cocktail sweating in your hand and the bass from the stereo thudding through your head. You’re not sure if the grin on your face is from the watching all of the wannabe cowboys go flying off the mechanical bull in mere milliseconds or from the possibilities of newfound adulthood laid out in front of you. In this moment, it’s hard to imagine that you were ever scared about moving halfway across the country — away from your family, your hometown and your high school sweetheart who always thought you’d move home after college — to Austin.

In this moment, you feel free. You feel invincible. You feel like this is a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

“Okay, the bar is a madhouse but I managed to get another round!” Anna shouts as she makes her way back to the table, tossing her long dark hair behind her before plopping the tray of shots down in front of you and your new friends. “And there’s a new rule!”

Everyone groans in unison; Anna loves to make up drinking games, handing out shots and beers with a new rule or bet that is guaranteed to leave someone embarrassed before the night’s over.

“Oh, stop. Shit like this is how we become lifelong best friends, trust me, I read about it online,” she fires back, rolling her eyes and handing shots to you and the three other girls at the table before taking one in hand. “It’s simple. Last one to finish their shot has to ride the mechanical bull.”

“Bitch, are you trying to kill us?” Erin asks, shooting a sideways glance at Katie, who’s eyeing up her shot glass like she’s trying to strategize the best way to drink it. The two of them are sisters — “Irish twins, it’s a whole thing,” Erin explained when you first moved in — are hyper-competitive and curse like sailors. You loved them instantly.

Your tiny hope of not being the one to end up on the bull dies when you look over at Taylor, who managed to throw back her tequila when nobody was watching. “What?!” she asks, curls bobbing in the bun on top of her head as she takes in everyone’s looks of confusion and frustration. “Anna never said we had to start at the same time.”

It’s like a starting pistol went off at the end of her sentence because before you know it, Erin and Katie are both biting into limes while Anna is swallowing down the liquor with a grimace. Shit.

You do your best to catch up but it’s too late. You, the girl who grew up nowhere near Texas and have never actually seen a bull in real life, are going to have to ride one in front of this entire bar.

Years later you won’t remember the details of the bet, how your friends whooped and hollered as you made your way over to the bull with shaky knees or how the operator took pity on you when you immediately slid off and offered you a second try. The song that was playing is lost to time, as is the actual feeling of riding the bull for a whole half second.

What you will remember, though, is sliding across the tarp to rest right by a group of athletic looking guys and the strong, tan hand that reached down to help you stand up.

You’ll remember the backwards Longhorns cap on his head, the way his green eyes flashed with amusement and the blinding white of his smile as he helped you to your feet, hand lingering just a moment too long in yours. You’ll remember the way it felt like someone had set off fireworks inside of you, fingers tingling where they touched his skin and your stomach swooping like you were on a roller coaster.

You’ll remember exactly what he said to you: “Well, that was definitely the most entertaining attempt of the night.”

You giggled, a little dazed by his chiseled features, by the way he seemed to only see you in that moment, by the force of his charisma.

“I’m Jake. What’s your name, beautiful?”

For a Thursday night, the Hard Deck was surprisingly packed.

The Daggers had managed to claim their usual spot by the pool table, but despite their cramped quarters they practically had to shout over the sounds of drunken sailors and the oldies blasting out of the jukebox to be heard. The table next to Bob was crowded with beer bottles, the bespectacled WSO having waved off Penny when she stopped by to clear them, promising the group would clean up after themselves. Natasha and Bradley were in the middle of some kind of dumb darts competition, being heckled by Bob and a tipsy Rueben, who had his arm slung around the former’s shoulders for balance.

Jake took in the scenery, smug grin on his face, before sinking his final pool ball with a flourish.

“And that’s game, gentlemen,” he said, turning to Javy and Mickey, who were shaking their heads with frustration.

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into betting against him,” Mickey sighed, shuffling through his wallet for a $20 bill. Javy just shrugged and threw a playful punch against his friend’s shoulder, before asking for a rematch.

“Let that be a lesson, Fanboy,” Jake chuckled, making a big show of examining the bill before pocketing it. “Never bet against Jake Seresin. They call me a golden boy for a reason.”

“Who’s ‘they?’ Everyone we know just calls you a dick,” Nat called out, making her way back to the table for her drink. Taking a look at the chaos on the table, she rolled her eyes before starting to gather up a handful of empty bottles. “C’mon, Fanboy. Help me clear some of these and I’ll buy you a beer to drown your sorrows in.”

He ran over to help, allowing Javy to slide over to Jake and elbow his buddy in the side.

“10 o’clock, there’s a whole table of pretty ladies. The blonde’s had her eye on you all night and her friend with the locs is crazy hot,” he murmured, as Jake took a subtle look over at the table in question. 5 or 6 women were crammed into a booth, and judging by the tiara on one of their heads, they were out celebrating a birthday. “Wingman?” the younger aviator asked, holding out his fist for Jake to bump it.

For a half second, he contemplated turning his best friend down.

It wasn’t like Jake wasn’t attracted to the blonde, who was, indeed making eyes at him from across the room. She was exactly his type, all bright smiles and smokey bedroom eyes, her curves and long legs poured into tight jeans. She had an air of confidence that made it clear she knew just how hot she was.

He knew that if he strolled over and gave her his best All-American smile and some of that Southern charm, he could probably win her over. They’d flirt and dance a bit and then he’d drive them back to one of their places, have some decent-to-excellent sex and he’d be asleep shortly after midnight.

It seemed fun. It seemed obvious. It seemed, quite honestly, a little boring to him.

Maybe it was because he turned 35 a few months ago and the idea of going home to his own bed after a night out was starting to seem more and more appealing to him. Maybe it was because he spent so much time trying to convince his fellow Daggers that he wasn’t a complete asshole that he didn’t want to risk them changing their minds again.

Or maybe he was just a little jealous.

Jake would see the way Rueben’s face lit up when he talked about his wife, how he would brag about every milestone his 3-year-old daughter was reaching. He felt awkward about his lack of wedding knowledge when a pink-eared Bob would ask the squad for their opinion on something for his upcoming nuptials. He’d try to ignore the weird sinking feeling in his stomach when he’d overhead Nat and Mickey picking out a restaurant for their weekly brunch double date with their respective girlfriends.

And despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life doing whatever he could to avoid those kinds of situations, now he was starting to wonder if maybe … maybe he’d be a little happier if he had been able to settle down with someone of his own.

Oof. That thought made Jake’s chest tighten uncomfortably. So he pushed it down, smiled as wide as he could and first bumped Javy. “Wingmen for life, Coyote. Lead the way.”

If you had to spend one more minute squeezed up against this bar, wedged between a couple aggressively making out and a trio of rowdy Navy men who were trying to sing along to Queen, you were going to scream.

“Just come for a drink or two. This place is super chill for a Navy bar, I promise,” you muttered darkly under your breath, repeating the words your friend and new coworker had used to convince you to come out tonight.

Between a frantic weekend spent unpacking all of your belongings into your new studio apartment and a very long first week at your new job, all you had wanted to do was bury yourself under a blanket and watch Real Housewives until your brain melted out of your ears.

But you were trying to be more social. You wanted to focus more on your friendships. Do things that were good for you. That was the whole point of this move.

So instead, you were leaning so far over the bar top that you could feel the edge digging into your ribs, shouting a drink order at the (admittedly, very sweet and slightly overwhelmed) bartender. She had just placed the two beers and margarita you had asked for down in front of you when another hand appeared and tried to snatch them up.

“Hey!” you yelled, tossing the bills in your hand onto the bar as you reached up to catch the offender by the wrist before they made off with your hard-won drinks. “Asshole! Drop them, those are my beers! What the fuck?”

You swiped up the cocktail with your free hand, lest it meet the same fate and turned around to see what kind of absolute monster thought they had the right to steal drinks.

Annoyingly, he was beautiful.

Tall and broad, with sun-kissed skin and a blindingly-white smile, which held a hint of sheepishness as he realized that he had been caught red handed. There was something familiar about the way he ducked his head a little, before peering at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. I thought those were mine. Didn’t mean to steal from you,” his low, twangy drawl went right through you, settling warm and comfortingly in your stomach. “I’d offer to buy you a drink to make it up to you, but, well …”

Texas. That’s where that accent is from, you thought, instantly being transported back to your nursing school program in Austin. How many wannabe cowboys had spoken with that same drawl, trying to charm you and your friends during a night out? Not too many of them had succeeded with you, especially not after —

“Jake? Jake Seresin!?”

It had to be him. You’d know that smile anywhere, had seen those green eyes in your dreams for far too long after you both had moved on. He was bigger now, muscles more pronounced and jaw more defined, more of those cheeky smile lines creasing around his eyes. His voice was deeper too, some of his accent smoothed out after years in the military, but it had to be.

He swore under his breath, eyes widening as he made the connection as well. He practically whispered your name, as if it felt a bit rusty on his tongue, but the second you nodded, he repeated it louder, warmer, like he was slipping back into his favorite jacket.

“Shit, how long’s it been?” Jake wondered aloud, looking you up and down as if to make a note of every infinitesimal change that had occurred since you last saw each other. “You look amazing, darling. Beautiful as ever.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heating up at his compliment. Jake always had a way of making you feel like the most special person in the room — but then again, he made everyone feel that way, as you later found out. “You look good too, Seresin. Like a proper, respectable Navy man,” you concede, though the words don’t sound nearly as begrudging as you hoped.

You’re rewarded with one of those thousand-watt grins and for a second, you’re back in a Texas dive bar, flirting with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen to the tune of some cheesy country-rap remix.

“I am good,” Jake promises, eyes locked on yours, and you think he might be back there with you, leaning up against the jukebox, the floors sticky under your feet. “I don’t know how respectable I am, but I am definitely good.”

His voice drags out that sentence, low and flirtatious, and butterflies fill your stomach the same way they did all those years ago. You can practically feel the ghost of his big hands on your hips, your lower back, caressing your cheek as the world disappeared around you that night, just the two of you creating your own little world in the corner of that dingy bar. Your lips part — to say what, exactly, you’re not sure — and you see his eyes drop to them for just a moment before —

The woman behind the bar calls out “Hangman!” with a tone of voice that makes it clear that it’s not the first time she’s said it and you both startle and turn to see her holding four bottles of beer out towards Jake, a look of exhaustion on her face. He jumps forward to take them, apologies pouring from his lips and he pointedly shoves several bills into the tip jar in order to earn an eye roll and a small smile from her. Two sweating bottles in each hand, he turns back to you and almost seems a bit relieved that you’re still standing there. (As if you’ve ever been able to walk away from him.)

“I have to drop these off with my friends,” Jake says, nodding to a table somewhere behind you, “And you should probably get those drinks to the people who sent you over here. But do — do you wanna catch up? There’s a deck out back with some tables, it’s usually pretty quiet this time of night.” He waits for you to nod, before pressing a quick kiss to your cheekbone. “I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

With one more charming smile, he’s off into the crowd and — not for the first time in your life — you’re left speechless and a little stunned, staring after Jake Seresin.

You’re not sure if the goosebumps on your arms are from the chill of the California evening or the way that Jake hasn’t stopped staring at you since he joined you outside on the deck. You shift slightly against the wooden bench of the picnic table, overwhelmed by the intensity of having all of the blonde’s attention on you again for the first time in a decade.

“So …” you begin, and your voice seems to startle Jake out of his thoughts slightly. “You’re a California boy now? I never thought you’d ever leave Texas.”

He grins and shakes his head slightly. “Well, when Top Gun calls and offers you a permanent station, you’d be a fool not to accept. And not to brag, but they do only offer that to the best of the best.”

“Please, Seresin. You love to brag,” you fire back, watching those green eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Well, it’s not bragging if it’s the truth. And the truth is, darling, that I am one hell of a pilot.” Jake takes a swig from his beer, before leaning a bit closer into you, like he wants to study your reactions. “What about you? What brings you out to sunny San Diego?”

“New job,” you say shortly, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. “Moved from the ICU to the ED, so I figured a change of location would go well with a change of pace.”

Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes and you hope he can’t tell. There’s no reason to tell your ex — boyfriend? Fling? — whatever that you followed a guy out here, especially since that whole — relationship? Affair? Complete and utter heartbreaking disaster? — situation crashed and burned almost immediately.

“Mmhmm,” Jake says, as if he can tell that’s not the whole story, and he takes another sip before seemingly deciding to let you off the hook. “And what did you boyfriend have to say about moving halfway across the country? Or did someone manage to finally lock you down after all these years?”

There’s a small, sinking feeling in your stomach as you think about the real reason you moved here for a brief, heartbreaking second.

“No boyfriend. No husband, either,” you say, wiggling your left hand at him in order to illustrate your point, and clock the way his eyes almost look relieved by the sight of your empty finger. “What about you, Seresin? Where’s your sweet, Southern wife?”

He laughs, a little cocky but a little hollow at the same time. “You know I don’t really do commitment, darlin’,” he jokes and, boy, do you, nights of watching him flirt with other girls while you pouted in the corner of the bar flashing in your brain. You take a long swallow of your beer — just like you used to swallow down your pride back then — and roll your eyes at him.

“I swear, you look exactly the same when you roll your eyes like that,” Jake says, his smile softening around the edges. “Nobody ever managed to make it quite as cutting as you.”

“Nobody’s ever been quite as annoying as you,” you fire back, but there’s no real heat behind it. Jake’s eye light up like you just gave him a compliment rather than pointing out that he knew exactly how to press your buttons when you were younger.

“I seem to remember you used to like it when I was able to make your eyes roll. Or, at least, when I could make them roll back into your head …”

You sigh, doing your best not to let on how much that comment made your face heat with decade-old memories of you two tangled up in your sheets. “There it is …” you begin, but he just leans into you a little more, those green eyes traveling all over your face as he speaks.

“I’m just reminiscing, that’s all. Can ya blame me? You’re still so beautiful …” Jake responds, one hand reaching out to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek as he pulls away and you hope you can explain away the goosebumps that erupt on your skin as a product of the ocean breeze. “And I spent a lot of time trying to get you all worked up back then. Force of habit.”

You could give into it.

Allow the sheer force of Jake’s charisma and good looks to carry you away on a wave of old memories. The chemistry that always fizzled between you is clearly still there, the butterflies that have laid dormant in your stomach all this time just waiting for an excuse to be let free once again. It would be easy.

And it would be good — you two had always been good at the physical stuff. He was so gorgeous in so many ways and surprisingly generous when you were in bed. (Jake always took pride in being the best of the best, after all).

But once you woke up tomorrow morning, after all of the awkward goodbyes and the promises to call, then what? Jake Seresin doesn’t commit; he made that clear.

And you were still bruised from your last mess of a relationship, your heart feeling tender and aching in your chest most days. There’s no way that this doesn’t end the same way it did a decade ago, with you sobbing uncontrollably and Jake moving on to the next beautiful girl who manages to hold his attention.

So, with a self-control you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull yourself out of Jake’s undertow.

“Seresin, I … that’s probably a bad idea,” you say softly, eyes dropping down to the tabletop in between you. “I just got out of a relationship and I’m not in a place —”

He cuts you off by tilting your chin up to look at him and then making a point to pull his hands back and keep them to himself.

“Hey, hey, I get it. No worries. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything, darlin’” Jake explains in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Like I said, force of habit.”

You huff out a laugh and another eye roll and you can see him fight a grin at your reaction. “Only you would describe flirting with someone as a habit, Jake.”

“Well, I’m one of a kind.”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you giggle, glad to be back on solid, friendly ground with him.

Two hours later, Jake sent you off with a hug and his phone number as you and your friend climbed into an Uber and set off for home. She had a few questions about the “dreamboat” of a Naval aviator that you had apparently dated back in school, but was a little too excited about recounting her own evening to push you for details. It wasn’t until you arrived back at your apartment and collapsed on your couch that you realized Jake had been texting you the whole time you were in the car.

Unknown: It’s Jake 🫡😜🤠⭐️🍻🏈😉

Unknown: Hope you get home safe, beautiful. It was great to catch up with you.

Unknown: And I would be an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy if I didn’t at least offer to be your tour guide around San Diego

Unknown: I know all the best spots after all

Unknown: So text me if you want to grab lunch or something

Unknown: Or if you finally want to learn how to surf

Unknown: But give me fair warning beforehand, I remember how bad your balance is lol

You: lol I forgot you text every single thought in your brain

You: but having a tour guide sounds nice

You: we could get brunch this weekend and you can give me the highlights?

You had only just begun to take your shoes off, resigned to finally get off the couch, when your phone pinged.

Jake 🤠 🧡: I know just the place

You gave his text a quick thumbs up and got ready for bed smiling the whole time.

-—-—-—-—-—

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! I don’t know if I’m going to have a regular schedule with this or anything, but I will do my best! Thank you for reading about the absolute menace that is Jake Seresin

Tagging some people who asked:

@tvshowgirl81 @redbarn1995 @stoneyggirl @keepingitlokiii @averyhotchner @dizzybee03 @olliepig @lynnevanss @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem @mamaskillerqueen @kmc1989 @hookslove1592

#top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader #my fic #jake hangman x you #fic: it's a bad idea right?

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morganitering · 9 months

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Because I'm the Weakest II: The Women Who Never Won

Pairings/character dynamics: Satosugu, Shoko and reader, Nanami and reader, implied shoko x utahime

Contains and warnings: DARK FIC/DEAD DOVE fem!reader, Suicidal ideation, rape aftermath, referenced rape (not written out in this chap), depression, alcohol abuse, misogyny & sexism, internalized sexism, sexual harassment on minors done by minors, victim blaming (thoughts), self harm, angst, hurt & comfort, I call noncon with the official word for it

Word count: ~9,6k

Summary: There's certain desperation when you try to keep your head above water. You were drowning and all you wanted to do was to forget, the weight on your shoulders unbearable. Despite the cards you were dealt with you found yourself among allies as the web of untold memories started to unfold.

A/N: Hey! Yall waited long for this, sorry about that. I have no idea how to tag this but I'll just do it somehow, bc this is a tricky chapter. Here yall get to dive deeper in the stuff that has gone down before the events that took place in 1st chap and get a hug from Shoko. This is hopefully the last installment of this. Read the tags carefully as always and make informed decisions based on that and take care of yourself. Shit can get heavy, but I'm trying to do this in good taste.

Read on ao3 part I

Shoko Ieiri had worked a long time with people who suffered. She had seen it all, limbs cut off, even the toughest of sorcerers reduced to crying messes as they practically had their innards falling to the floor. There’s something utterly horrifying watching a patient, no – a friend scream in pain when even her skills were not enough. Funerals came and went, the white sheet thrown over the deceased on the operation table in the same routine way she’d change her linens. Nothing really shocked her.

That’s what she liked to think.

Your visits have been more frequent. It started with bruises and sprained ankles. Then it was broken bones that soon turned to puncture wounds, your clothes sticky with deep red and dirt. When she asked about it, you laughed it off saying it’s nothing, just a silly little mishap, “I was too reckless in the heat of the moment.” But your eyes were empty, your words hollow like a dead tree. Of course Shoko did her job, without asking too much. You’re an adult and you’ll speak about it if you want to, right? Her job was to keep you alive. Your job was to exorcise curses.

Shoko and you had been close too, hanging out with the two men, but at some point in high school she had withdrawn from the group. Gojo and Geto had tried to keep in touch with her in adulthood, inviting her as well to spend time together as the four of them, but she had always declined, smoothly changing their relationship to acquaintances at best. She heard enough of the despicable men from you. The only times she was in direct contact with Gojo and Geto was work related and god how she hoped that it would stay that way. She’ll play that pretend game almost happily.

Shoko closed the office door the day turning to evening, sundown coloring the city in hues of orange and yellow. She held onto her little black purse, thankfully it was friday. A man stood on the long corridor, standing upright as if he did not belong here. He looked indifferent, almost bored.

“Nanami.”

“Ieiri.”

They greeted each other with a curt nod.

“So what brings you here? You seem healthy enough,” Shoko asked as they walked to the open parking lot, only a few cars in sight. The warm summer sun caressed her cheeks, wind making her long hair flow in waves.

“I think she’s going through something,” Nanami stated as a matter of fact talking about you. He and you had gone on missions together, but something about you wasn’t right. He had seen the way you clutch your weapon, throw yourself at the enemy recklessly almost as if you had a death wish. It’s like you waited for your end.

“No shit.” Shoko chuckled amused. It was as clear as a day if you just had eyes on yourself. “Why do you care?”

“I’ve seen enough people spiral to know where it leads. You’re a healer, can’t you help?” His voice was thoughtful, not betraying a hint of emotions.

“I can’t help a person who doesn’t want it,” Shoko said. “But I’ll try to figure something out.”

“And that is enough. Thank you.”

***

You hated meetings and rarely took part in them if you could avoid them. You had not met Gojo or Geto after the unfortunate night. If there were some work related things where there was a possibility to meet either of the men, you requested to be part of them remotely or that someone would just forward the key points. But after doing this for a few months Yaga had sent you a passive-aggressive email writing that it is absolutely mandatory for you to show yourself at least once in a while. You didn’t bother to answer him with anything other than a polite see you there.

Honestly you were tired. Your whole body ached in overexertion. Sleep escaped from you, ran a marathon around the block never stopping at your house, and every time you seemed to catch a break, hazy images you rather forbid being real filled your vision. Your eyebags told a story of exhaustion, your body shrinking in every possible way away. You went to see a doctor, not Shoko, just some normal practitioner from the private sector that you ended up paying yourself sick for.

The doctor gave you pills to help you with sleep. He asked you if you were stressed or going through some sorts of crisis. You answered with a diligent no and explained that you’ve always had issues with sleep, but you were otherwise okay. He looked at you, raising his eyebrow in suspicion, the glasses on his head hung on his nose by a thread. He decided to believe you as he wrote the prescription, but insisted you took home pamphlets about depression and crisis hotlines.

You tried the pills. You did fall asleep, but only after a panic attack wrecked through your body as the effect of the medication forced you into a deep slumber. The pills made you feel your pulse in your whole body. “It’s a quite strong product, previously used to treat psychosis, but nowadays it’s for patients with severe insomnia. Take it one hour before sleep. The effect might be really sudden.”

When you woke up you decided to throw them away. It’s better to not to sleep if it meant that you’d go free from the horrors of the night you had experienced.

The huge meeting table sprawled out horizontally and was able to sit around fifteen people in it. It had several small electric outlets for computers and tablets. Light poured in from the big windows, the blinds only halfway done. You stared at the weird scribbling on the white board that Principal Yaga was wiping furiously, muttering things about how students shouldn’t be let in this room under any circumstance since they can’t differentiate which markers are okay to use on it.

You exchanged pleasantries with him. The room was devoid of people since you were too early. You swung your leather bag on the back of the upholstered office chair and sat yourself down.

Shoko walked in and her face lit up a little bit when she saw you sitting there. It was subtle, you thought that you were maybe the only one who could differentiate that expression from her. She sat next to you, a faint hint of neroli wrapping you to its calming aroma.

Next came Meimei and then Utahime who came running to you two giving a happy hug to Shoko. They were so cute together, you thought to yourself as you fidgeted with your slightly too big shoes, constantly removing them and pushing them back to your feet. People don’t usually like small talk, but nonetheless the group chatted with each other. They had to, because it’s polite and you were coworkers. You thought that small talk was easy. The script of it was burnt to your brains for the rest of your life. You get to keep people at an arm's length and keep up appearances, so what’s there not to like?

A familiar blonde man stood in the doorway. You checked your phone for the time. Only five minutes before the official start. Yuki also appeared after Nanami.

“Hello,” he said and nodded at you as he sat himself next to you. Your whole body stiffened around him. It was hard to look him in the eyes and even harder to work missions with.

It was ten minutes past the official time when the meeting was supposed to start.

“Sorry we are late.” Two men marched in the room with confident strides and took their place in front of you facing you, that was sitting in between Nanami and Shoko, Utahime next to the doctor. Suguru sat down next to Yuki leaving a space for Satoru who had Meimei next to him.

Hearing Suguru’s voice made your skin crawl.

“It’s fine,” Yaga said and looked over his shoulder to look at the white screen he had pulled down earlier with only a blue screen reflecting on the fabric. “I can’t seem to get this work anyway,” he mumbled.

“Do you need help?” Suguru walked over to the man struggling over his laptop. “Have you checked the HDMI-cable?”

“Of course I have, I just don’t understand why it won't work. We have Ijichi remote today,” he muttered partially to himself.

“Let me.”

You sat fidgeting on your chair focusing on everything else than the two men and their presence that suffocated you. If you were a candle they’d be snuffing you out but not properly, no, that would be too kind. They’d always let enough air in so that you’d never be completely put out.

“Hello to you girls.. and Nanami,” Satoru flashed a playful grin at the four of you. Your head jerked involuntarily to look at the man. Thank god he has a habit of covering his eyes, but somehow that made him even worse.

“Hello. How are you?” Nanami nodded politely.

“I’m well. Hopefully the work isn’t stressing you out too much.” Satoru’s smile widened.

“Speaking of work, I’ve heard that you and her have started doing missions together,” Satoru nudged his head towards you as he spoke directly to Nanami. “I actually green lighted the idea of sorcerers working more together. It’s good to practice teamwork and I put in good words for the two of you, since you compliment each other with the techniques you have. ” Satoru moved his head to look your way as he drew out his words in a way that you’d be sure to catch the dual meaning.

The wall flashed a few times showing the computer screen and it’s default wallpaper for only a moment and after that went back to blue.

“An idea that I actually can get behind,” Nanami said agreeably.

Your eye twitched.

“Really? That was your doing?” You barely hid the anger of your voice. One more push and you’d pour your life savings on an amoral hitman, not that you’d believe that anyone could finish him off. It was a thought just for you so you could at least think about being mean in your own petty way.

“Not a fan of working in groups of two? How about in groups of three?”

“You fucking piece of-”

“Okay I think it’s working now,” Yaga put his hands together straightening himself properly. Suguru walked over to Satoru, slightly shaking his head before he sat down. You heard Utahime’s quiet “okayy..” whispered in the awkward silence.

“Unfortunately principal Gakuganji wasn’t able to make it today, he’s sick or something.”

You heard Gojo scoff audibly.

“Try to respect him.” Yaga shot a glare in the young teacher’s way.

“Ijichi and Nitta have gathered data about the hotspots of cursed activity,” he continued and opened up the window to teams only to be greeted by a tired looking black haired man in a suit. The background behind him was red, it looked like some type of wallpaper and small paintings covered the walls. You reckoned it was a hotel room. Or a motel, you really could not tell.

“Ijichi, do you hear me? Would you like to take over?” Yaga’s voice boomed louder as if he wasn’t already near his computer.

The grainy picture of the tired man smiling uncomfortably stayed still a little too long to be taken as a real time reaction to Yaga’s question.

“I hear you. Sorry, the connection here is a bit bad.” Ijichi’s voice echoed in the office room. The picture of a slideshow appeared on the wall, making Ijichi’s face smaller.

The map of Tokyo loomed on the wall as everyone stared at it intensely, more or less dozing off. Some parts of it had big red circles on them and Ijichi explained the way these places were having exceptionally heavy activity. He reckoned that partially the rise in activity tied to the sorcerers working more missions together leaving less people available. Ijichi also showed statistics comparing the effectiveness of sorcerers based in Tokyo and Kyoto.

You were about to lose your mind, your body still pumping adrenaline after the conversation with Gojo. Everyone else seemed to be bored, oblivious to your struggle. Satoru had yawned at least three times in the last ten minutes, Shoko and Utahime were both interested in their nails. Even Suguru looked tired and he was pretty good at hiding his thoughts. The only ones who did not look outwardly dead inside were Yaga and Nanami.

“Thank you Ijichi for your hard work,” Yaga said and Ijichi nodded smiling. The pop up of the slideshow vanished from the screen leaving Ijichi’s face in a huge resolution looming onto the wall.

“We are going to take in account the effects of pairing up sorcerers. I’m not entirely in charge of how long this trial will take,” Yaga said. “Ieiri has this trial affected the health care aspect in any way?”

Shoko cleared her throat tapping open the ipad in front of her, her nails making a satisfying click click sound.

“The injuries have lessened,” she started. That’s good, you thought. “But the severity has increased,” she said with a serious face.

“Why is that?” Principal scrunched his eyebrows together.

“In my professional opinion it is due to people being more brazen when having a partner. This can be seen especially in lower grade sorcerers, who are prone to believing that they are invincible when someone backs them up.” Everyone had turned to look at the doctor who played with her hair idly as she spoke.

“And the second grade and up?”

“It happens less. But there are some, even first grade sorcerers, who are accident prone,” Shoko said and quickly looked at you, not long enough for others to pick up on that she was speaking about you.

Gojo’s phone rang in the middle of the conference. He left the room with an apology and never came back. Relief and anger ignited in you playing tug of war in your heart as your eyes followed him bitterly.

“I think this is all. I’ll send everyone the upcoming jobs, but if no one has anything to say, I think we can conclude this meeting here,” Yaga said, the choir of thank yous and goodbyes filling the room.

You stretched yourself, happy to be on your feet again.

“Hey, can we talk?” Nanami tried to get your attention.

You stood in the room that was quickly emptying out of people. Shoko awkwardly hung around in a small distance from you and Nanami, trying to pretend that she wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“I don’t entirely understand the conversation between you and Gojo, but if I have somehow disrespected you I offer my deepest apologies.” Nanami’s voice was soft. Your heart ached as you realized how bad your words must have appeared to him.

“I’m so sorry. It’s not about you. You’ve done nothing..” You trailed off as you saw the tall curse eating man walk outside with a sly smile on his lips.

“That’s a relief but if I may be so blunt, I have a hunch that there is something bothering you,” Nanami said.

You looked at him and chewed your lower lip nervously. This was all their fault. If they had not done what they did, you would not be in this position. The least they could have done is to keep the names of people you know out of their mouths.

“I’m sorry to leave you hanging like this, but can we finish this conversation later?” You hurried past him, only hearing Nanami mumble the word ‘sure’ like a kicked puppy and you said goodbye to Shoko agreeing on staying in touch with her.

The corridor was almost empty as you walked through the school building frantically searching for that bastard of a man. Your footsteps echoed on the wood as you arrived at a not so well known exit of the building. Geto stood in front of the dual doors, half heartedly pushing it open as he furiously wrote something on his phone.

You yelled out his name, but he did not bother to react to you. You closed in on the man that was still standing back towards you. Anger surged in you as adrenaline made you braver than what you normally would be. You were supposed to just grab the ends of his hair that were sprawled across his back, but in the heat of the moment your impulse control had another lapse as you kept on raising your hand. A fist closed around the bun that had been carefully crafted on his scalp and you dug your fingers around the hair tie and then yanked, hard.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He turned around stepping out of the doorway letting it close properly with a thump and he closed the distance between you for good. His eyes shot daggers at you.

“You did not pay attention to me.” You shook your hand out of the spare strands that were stuck on your palm and offered the small hair tie back to him.

“Well you got it now,” he hissed. “You can keep that as a souvenir. I don’t want anything that a filthy bitch like you has touched,” he said, the calm composure nowhere in sight.

A filthy bitch? Really? Then maybe you should break up with Satoru if this is your deal breaker.. That’s what you wanted to say, but you held back your tongue.

Geto took a deep breath, calming himself down, slipping on the mask that you were more used to seeing. He put his phone back in his pocket.

“What do you want?”

“You told me,” you started, tears threatening to flow over. “You told me that I can just leave and do whatever I want. Why do you keep tormenting me? Why do you let Gojo do what he does?” Your voice broke as you started crying openly. You hated it, it made you weak. No. You were weak.

“Firstly, I’m not his guardian. He can do what he wants.” He sounded like a smartass.

“Second of all, never. And I repeat. Never, lay a hand on me ever again, especially on my hair.” You rolled your eyes.

Of course it was the hair that ticked him off completely. It was his crown, the only thing he had ever been able to take care of besides Satoru. Suguru loved to flaunt himself as the calm one, the kind one, but the exterior had always had some cracks in it. No amount of paint was able to hide the rotten wall behind it.

“I can forgive your outburst at Satoru’s, but now that you’re in your right mind, you won’t get second chances.”

“I don’t want ‘second chances’. I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can do my job,” you yelled at him.

“Lower your voice. Or do you want to air out all the dirty laundry for everyone?” Geto hushed you.

“It’s not my ‘laundry’, it’s fucking yours!” You roared and tears fell down your cheeks blurring your vision. Your face felt hot as it got wrapped in the wrath of your words.

Geto did not answer you, instead he chose to stare you down, not moving at all as if he was a statue. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum when things did not go his way, his face contorting to a sneer that could challenge any rich spoiled brat. You panted and wiped your face with the rough backside of your palm.

“Move.”

“Ladies first,” he snickered childishly and kicked open the heavy door with his foot as he stepped slightly to the side. God this man hangs out too much with Gojo.

As you left the school grounds barely holding your breakdown away, there was one figure in the corridors hugging the wall near the exit, clutching onto her purse.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, 2006

“Truth or dare?” Satoru asked, popping the pink bubblegum in the air, sucking the sticky material back in his mouth to chew on loudly.

“Truth,” Shoko said, placing another cigarette in her mouth. She smoked especially heavily when she was drinking.

Satoru had managed to bring a whole six pack of beer to the picnic whereas Suguru had found a travel size vodka bottle from his parents. Shoko had brought a package of different berries and salty crackers with her.

“If you could have any technique in the world, which one would you have?” Satoru asked. He looked at the clear blue sky and the way the summer breeze pushed on the white clouds.

Shoko played with the corner of the blanket as she thought deeply about his question. She stared at the shoes she had placed on the grass and the manicure on her toes that Utahime had insisted on putting on her.

“I think I’d keep this one,” she smiled wistfully.

“Really? You wouldn’t want my powers?” Satoru looked at her tilting his head to the side. He spat out the chewing gum and placed it on the plastic lid that belonged to the packaging of berries. He did not like it when things ran out of flavor, always searching for something more.

“No. I don’t envy you at all. I just want a happy life and that’s all” Shoko answered his gaze, with a gentle smile. “Besides, I like the way I am and I suppose I can help people like this,” she added.

Satoru hummed. He was clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

He did not exactly know why.

“Satoru, that's sad. You should ask something fun,” Suguru pointed out and took a sip from the beer can.

The three of them sat on a grassy hill that had a pretty decent view of the city and the park below it. Shoko leaned against the huge tree behind her back. The cicadas were performing their own concert with the hum of motorways working as their orchestra.

“You figure out better questions then,” Satoru pouted, but wasn’t actually hurt.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask though?”

Shoko looked in the distance watching closely how a woman jogged with her shiba inu, her ponytail swishing in the same rhythm as the chord of her headphones. Both men nodded slightly out of sync.

“Satoru truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who’s the hottest person you know?” Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

“Waka Inoue of course. She’s sexy as hell!” Satoru slapped his hand on his heart as if he was saluting.

“Really? You still have a crush on her?” Suguru questioned. It was his turn to pout. “Am I not enough?”

“Baby you’re plenty, but you can’t replace a huge rack,” Satoru’s voice was steady as if he was talking about the most important thing in the whole world.

“I can’t argue with that.” Suguru sighed defeatedly, his shoulders slumping down dramatically.

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked that. Both of you are so weird and gross about women,” Shoko grimaced regretting her decisions and lifted the cigarette to her mouth as if to cover the bad taste of Satoru’s words.

The man in sunglasses ignored the criticizing words. “Suguru. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to share this,” Satoru lifted up a huge strawberry. “Like in Lady and the Tramp with Shoko,” he referred to the scene where the two dogs shared a spaghetti meal, eventually kissing.

“That’s too small!” Shoko protested immediately, shaking her head. The idea of doing that with Suguru made her feel iffy.

“I’m game if she is,” Suguru said and offered his palm to Satoru who plopped the berry in his hands.

Shoko had a nervous giggle come out of her.

“C’mon, it’s just a game. You can always let go after like one bite. This is truth or dare afterall,” Satoru coaxed.

“Fine. But I won’t kiss you, not even a peck.” Shoko established her own rule and rolled her eyes. She put out the cigarette on the grass and left the butt there.

“We’ll see about that,” Suguru laughed and picked at the stem that got thrown over next to the chewed up gum.

He awkwardly came closer to the young female student and placed the bigger end between his lips. He looked silly, the red end peeking out of his mouth. Suguru attempted at mouthing the words ‘come closer’, but neither Satoru or Shoko understood his words but the context clue carried the point to Shoko.

She got on her knees sitting on top of her legs and straightened herself out. Suguru was way taller than her, even when he sat. Her face approached Suguru’s who had a pink tint on his cheeks from the alcohol he had drank.

She opened her mouth and barely bit down on the smaller end, her tongue touching the bumpy texture of the strawberry.

“Ready. Set. Go!” Satoru exclaimed, motioning finger guns happily. His gaze was completely glued on his two friends.

Suguru closed his eyes and he started to carefully nibble, closing dangerously on Shoko’s lips. She bit quickly, not really tasting anything and began to pull away in hopes of Suguru calling it quits too.

Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough. The last bits of strawberry fell down on Shoko’s lap when Suguru pressed his lips against hers, a faint red trail dripping on her chin. She didn’t move and her eyes widened in shock. Shoko didn’t know what to do so she just held her hands on her lap.

Suguru pet gently behind the girl’s head kissing her motionless lips. His hand trailed down to her neck and all the way to her shoulder. Shoko felt the sweet taste in her mouth mixing with the alcohol, stranger’s saliva and nicotine as Suguru dragged his hand to the mound of her breast. The warmth emanating from his palm was enough to bring her back to reality and Shoko pushed the bigger guy off of her.

“Why did you do that?” she snapped and crossed her arms.

“Oh don’t get angry now. Have a drink and chill out.” Satoru sighed. He shuffled awkwardly and placed the almost empty tote bag on his lap and grabbed a new beer can from there. Shoko narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but did not want to make room for any weird thoughts that would imply even weirder things. “It’s just a joke.”

“This is not the first time you take jokes too far.”

Shoko looked away from the two boys, disappointment turning into an ache in her heart and wiped her chin clean from the strawberry. She slipped on the ballerinas laying on the ground.

“Seriously? You’re leaving because of this?” Suguru tilted his head, his voice defensive.

Shoko threw her cigarettes and lighter in her own purse checking the blanket for other stuff she had.

“Yeah, I am. I’m not having fun anymore.” Her voice was cold as she was attempting to hide the nervous tremble in her body and almost jumped up throwing the bag on her shoulder. She turned around, once again crossing her hands against her chest as if to protect herself and started walking.

“Hey! Don’t you want your blanket with you?” Satoru yelled after her. The two guys sat on the quilt completely bamboozled.

“Keep it! I don’t need it!”

She didn’t eat strawberries for the rest of the summer.

***

“Hey you really should sing this one!” Shoko laughed as she scrolled through the song list.

“Whaat? No that’s not even funny,” you laughed and slapped her arm gently.

“Is it really not? Or are you just a bore?” Shoko taunted getting ready to put the song on.

“Can we sing something from this?” You pointed at the category called 2000’s hits.

“I’ll pick something at random and you’re just going to deal with it,” Shoko laughed clearly tipsy too after the multiple drinks you both had drank.

The disco ball was spinning around the small room painting the walls in hues of blue, red and green. Nanami sat on the couch nursing his whiskey as he stared off into space. The upbeat music filled the room, bass shaking the ground underneath your feet.

It was the first time going out after the events at Gojo’s house. Shoko had basically begged you to come with her to get shit faced complaining that she really needed someone to rant with. You told her that Utahime was right there and would probably love to listen to her, but she claimed that the woman from Kyoto had other plans for the weekend.

After arriving at the karaoke bar you had been taken back after seeing the stoic blonde man at the venue. You weighed the option of immediately leaving in your head, but your conscience did not allow you to do so, after leaving him so rudely hanging in the meeting. When the three of you had gotten your own private room you decided to immediately order shots and drinks with the only goal of getting absolutely black out drunk tonight despite having Nanami there.

It was honestly rare to see him after work as he had preferred to keep his distance. He was wearing the same clothing he always wore, dress shirt ironed, necktie perfectly hanging against his chest as if he was on the clock. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to whip out a cursed tool onto the bar table.

You clutched onto the microphone singing unevenly as you danced to the beat, half of the syllables disappearing to you being out of breath. Shoko cackled, almost folding over as she kept slapping her thigh eyes watering. She had drunk a few drinks less than you and she had been exceptionally happy even before drinking. Truthfully Shoko was quite a heavy drinker and she definitely should not have been as wasted as what she appeared to be.

Nanami stared at the both of you, raising the whiskey glass to his lips after checking his wrist watch.

“Come here! Sing with us!” You yelled to the mic only getting a slightly alarmed expression out of him as he shook his head.

“I think I’m okay with watching you two perform,” he said.

You pouted but kept on singing, your concentration skills nonexistent. You did not notice the way Shoko glared at him, nudging her head towards you as she pointed the microphone in her hand towards him.

Nanami cleared his throat under the threatening gaze and clumsily got up.

“Oh my god! Nanamiii!” You screamed the noise so high pitched that even the speakers were unable to handle it and you could see how Nanami cringed at the sound.

Shoko squinted her eyes and mouthed the word sing to Nanami. Shoko was not going to deal with you alone.

The combination of the pop song and Nanami’s voice made you giggle as you hurrayed him happily. He was not a bad singer by any means, but his voice did not fit the song choice. You wondered to yourself, why had you not gotten shitfaced earlier when you had all the good reasons to.

Shoko decided to take a small break sitting on the spot where Nanami had been earlier and inspected the brown liquid swishing in the glass. She stole a sip from it when Nanami wasn’t watching, not really caring about the fact that it wasn’t her drink.

You grabbed your drink from the table and drank from it and you kept on singing happily, almost jumping around. Nanami looked at you with a terrified expression when you moved side to side with the drink spilling on your hand, but you did not notice the wetness of it.

“Hey, put that down before you drop the glass,” Nanami said and gently tried to take the glass from you.

“No, I want to keep this,” a pout formed on your face but you still did what he told and turned around swiftly to place the drink on the counter. Your vision was blurry, the lights slightly too bright and you lost your balance tipping over the glass that was already safely on the table. You felt yourself starting to fall but a strong arm snaked around your waist to stabilize you.

The world felt like it was stopping when the arm around you changed into a tight rope that pressed around your ribcage. The karaoke room changed inch by inch to a vast room with a wall made of windows with a night view of the streets of Tokyo. The shattered drink turned into a broken light bulb on the floor. You felt a hot breath on your skin, but your body had gotten cold. It was as if you had been dunked into ice water, all the earlier excitement completely vanished. The disco ball spun around casting blue lights on the white haired man’s face that ogled you like a piece of meat. The imagery was so vivid and real in your mind that you reacted on instinct, elbowing the man behind you.

The rope vanished around you as the windows melted to the concrete floor, the shadows of city lights turned back to the tacky illumination of the disco ball. You felt the remnants of cursed energy fizzing out like a soda can as your eyes landed on Nanami, who was slightly hunched over holding onto his side the pain making him grimace. You had no idea how much force you had actually used, but probably quite a lot judging by the way Nanami was reacting.

Shoko stood there completely still, eyes filled to the brim with worry and confusion. Her lips were ajar and she gulped down wanting to say something, but she did not know what.

“My apologies. I didn't mean to touch you inappropriately,” Nanami managed to say. The music track played in the background, but it felt empty without a drunken voice guiding it. He was lucky to have good reflexes, instinctually protecting himself from the blow, otherwise Shoko would have had a patient off the clock.

“Uh,” Your mouth gaped at him hopelessly. He had done nothing wrong.

“I’ll go for a cigarette,” you blurted out and left the room hurriedly. The long hallway stretched in front of your eyes as you looked at the numbers on karaoke booths, only muted colors flashing through the slightly translucent doors. You leaned on the wall as you dragged your feet forward arriving at the front desk that thanked you for your time, but you did not pay attention to them and turned to your left to stare at the steep stairway.

The steps were made out of wood with a black paint that had started to chip away and the walls were pure red, too bright and intense for your eyes. You focused on the door in front of you and barely saw the red walls around it as they got covered by a dark cloud, your way of seeing more animalistic than human.The only thing in your mind was the need to get some fresh air as emotions threw you around like a shipwreck at the sea.

You pushed the door open and walked over to a bicycle stand choosing an empty spot where you plopped yourself on. You rocked yourself back and forth as you cried and gripped onto your skin painfully hoping that at least the physical sensation would put an end to your suffering. You started to be more aware of the familiar banging against your skull.

The door of the karaoke bar opened as Shoko walked outside, her face now serious, resembling more the woman she was at work than the friend giggling at drunk people's jokes.

“Hey. You forgot this inside.” She handed you your bag.

You wanted to answer something but you could not as the words got stuck to your throat. Your world flashed back and forth between sensations that you weren’t supposed to feel in this moment. The guilt and sadness ate you alive, nipping away from your vitals the more you tried to push them down.

Shoko placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it up and offered it to you. You took it gladly off her hands inhaling the sweet smoke, but you almost ended up suffocating on it as your nose was too stuffed to handle it. Even the menthol taste was unable to help you with this issue. Shoko opened the green box once more to get herself a smoke as well.

She took a drag out of it and watched your shuddering figure.

“I saw you in the hallway with Geto. Something happened at Gojo’s right?”

You lifted your head up mascara running on your cheeks. Had you not been in such a bad state her words would have shocked you.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want my help.” Shoko crouched down to your level. You stared at her face as she left out a puff of smoke that trailed around her face, the dark eye bags now more visible than ever.

You choked on your tears once more, now openly wailing on the pavement your fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. You dragged your nails across yourself leaving pink trails behind it, the soft tingle covering the areas you had just clawed at.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you cried, your words hard to decipher as your breath hitched. “I can’t keep on doing this. It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid,” you screamed snot falling onto your shirt.

“So fucking stupid!” You impulsively pressed the cigarette butt against your thigh melting the cloth away the stinging pain shocking you as your skin shed its layers against the fire.

You had no shame in your breakdown, frankly you did not even recognize the others that looked in your way speaking with hushed voices around you, as they tightened the grip on their partners hands. “That girl really needs to lay off the drinks,” someone had said loudly. Shoko had wanted to immediately pounce, but she held herself together. She knew that you needed her more.

“Don’t hurt yourself, when you want to hurt someone else,” her voice was just a whisper. “Can I touch you?” She asked not wanting to trigger you further. You nodded.

Shoko pulled you into a tight hug and you buried your face on her chest, holding onto her like it was the last thing keeping you afloat. You seeked comfort in her presence.

“I want to die.” You gripped onto her tighter. “I’m so weak.”

Shoko stroked your hair, her own eyes watering as she listened to you wordlessly. She felt your pain almost just as viscerally as you were experiencing them now.

“No matter… no matter what I do. I can’t escape them. I just want to be gone. I want to-”

Shoko shushed you and slipped her free hand into her pocket, digging out her phone. Almost ten minutes had gone by. She awkwardly opened her chat with Nanami trying to inform the man who was probably still sitting in their booth waiting for the two of you to come back.

A male voice disturbed the two of you. “Is everything okay?”

Shoko pressed her hand on your shoulder pushing herself up from the ground, she whispered to you to stay put, not that you really were in any condition to go anywhere.

“Good that you’re here. I was just about to text you. Can you get us a taxi?”

“Of course,” he said and opened the app punching in your address that Shoko forwarded to him. He looked so much older and out of place in the busy street.

This was the kind hearted and lovely Nanami that had forgiven you immediately, after you had punched him in the gut because you were fucked up in the head. The kind hearted and lovely Nanami that you couldn’t look in the eyes, because of a certain man whose name you felt like acid on the tip of your tongue. The thoughts in your head brought fresh tears to your eyes. You dangerously sailed in the deep waters of suicidal ideation, your tired hands opening the forbidden door.

“It’s going to arrive in five minutes,” Nanami hummed.

“I think you should go. I’ll handle this,” Shoko said, her voice full of pity. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Nanami nodded in agreement.

“For what it’s worth, take care of yourself too.” Nanami’s words were carefully chosen, anticipating that you weren’t the only one who needed a hug.

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, YEAR 2006

The beach was filled with people who enjoyed the way the sun spoiled them with its warmth. Shoko was sitting on a towel next to Mei Mei who applied generous amounts of sunscreen on her hand. They sat underneath a parasol that had been propped in the sand, covering them both from the direct sun. The brown haired girl watched as Utahime excitedly threw herself to the water. She had given up on trying to get Shoko and Mei Mei in the water as well.

“Mei Mei, don’t you have a lot of experience with boys?” Shoko almost whispered and hugged her legs. Her beach shawl swayed when the breeze decided to start playing with the huge piece of cloth.

“Are you trying to imply something?” Her voice was low and melodic but not at all accusatory.

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you something.” Shoko shook her head flustered. “Is it normal for a guy to kiss a girl without asking?”

Mei Mei burst into laughter. This was the question Shoko was getting all worked up for?

“Shoko,” Mei Mei’s eyes glimmered softly when she said the younger girl’s name with gentleness that reminded her of a mother tugging a child into bed. “I did not take you for being this innocent,” she teased.

“I’m not innocent,” the brown haired girl huffed with the unexpected blush decorating her cheeks.

“Did someone do that to you?” Mei Mei tilted her head curiously and offered the sunscreen bottle to Shoko who happily took it to her hands.

“If I tell you, will you promise that you won’t tell anyone?”

“If I’m honest, I don’t think I care enough to tattle. You got me curious now. Tell me,” she hummed as a smile curled on her lips.

“Well uh.. Suguru kind of kissed me when we were playing truth or dare with Satoru,” Shoko explained . She ran her hand between the warm sand, the grainy texture giving her something else to think about. “It was a stupid dare on Satoru’s part. Dunno why I accepted it.”

Shoko added that she did not want to kiss him under any circumstances but the boy had managed to go over her boundary with ease.

“That’s it?” Mei Mei asked, raising her eyebrow. She was almost bewildered at how tame the story was.

“Yeah.”

The blue haired woman scoffed.

“Guys think that girls like it when they take control and in a certain sense they are right. Maybe they got their eyes on you? Although, I did think that Suguru and Satoru were..” Mei Mei’s voice trailed off as she thought. “It doesn’t matter.” She concluded.

“If I were you. I’d go along with it.” Mei Mei suggested.

“No way. I don’t like them like that. Besides that’s not what I asked for your opinion on.”

“And?” Mei Mei turned her gaze on Shoko, her eyes hardening as she intensely stared at the younger girl. “Those two men are our generation’s strongest and you’re going to complain that one of them gave you a little kiss?”

Mei Mei’s melodic voice dropped lower as she showed her true feelings of distaste towards Shoko’s views.

“If I were you,” she started again, her voice tough and bitter. “I’d be securing my spot by their side and not planning to bring forth meaningless accusations over a game of truth or dare.”

Shoko was at loss with the things that were being said to her. Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to speak with Mei Mei.

“I did not say I was going to tell anyone,” her voice was squeaky like a little girl’s.

“But you thought about that right?” Shoko did not deny nor confirm the accusation.

Mei Mei’s face softened. “Shoko, you’re a smart girl. You should know better than to get shaken by two boys, especially when you so eagerly lead them on.“

“..I don’t lead them on.”

“Then stop meeting them in your spare time. If you do that, guys will think that you’re willing. You’re not a kid anymore, they do notice that you’re a woman now.”

She stayed quiet, Mei Mei’s words burning on her skin worse than the summer heat. She did not want guys thinking about her that way. She simply wanted to be their friend and the idea of boys and girls being unable to do that because of bodily differences made Shoko shudder.

“You want to help your friends, right?” Mei Mei asked when Utahime got out of the water.

Shoko nodded.

“Then become a doctor. That’s the best you can do to others with the technique you have.” Her words were probably meant to be comforting, but they made Shoko’s heart sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“Shookoo!” Utahime ran towards the two girls sitting on the beach towels.

“Are you willing to swim now?” Sand and water droplets clung onto her radiant skin that the younger girl admired silently. Shoko felt her heart skip a few times in her chest when Utahime offered her hand to her.

“Sure.” The shy smile stretched on Shoko’s lips.

“I’ll stay here. But you guys have fun.” Mei Mei announced as she opened the book next to her the pages slightly crumpled up.

Shoko did not really register Mei Mei’s voice anymore. She grabbed Utahime’s hand and the world slowly faded away around them.

****

Shoko went through the bathroom nimbly avoiding piles of clothing or takeout bags as she looked through your bathroom cupboard. She found a bag of half used cotton pads and a micelar water from the mess.

The taxi drive had felt like eternity. Your tears had dried before settling in the car and numbness had taken over. Shoko helped you to your bed and said that she’d come back soon, closing the door behind her giving you some space to change into something more comfortable.

The door opened. Shoko looked at you and sat on the bed. You were using a pillow as a support for your back. The night lamp’s warm color casted shadows around your puffy face. The woman shook the bottle in her hand and poured liquid on the white cotton pad and tilted your face towards hers.

She pressed the pad on your eyelid carefully letting the mixture soak through the heaps of makeup on your face. You sniffled sadly before speaking.

“I can do this on my own too.”

“I want to do this,” her voice was soft as she spoke the makeup remover leaving your skin slightly cold. You simply nodded and admired the way her hair framed her face.

“You know I’ve had my own bad experiences too,” Shoko said, her face turning to a slight frown. Her mind was sailing in memories that she had given up on trying to understand.

You were at a loss of words. You wanted to pry, but it felt invasive.

“With them? Really?” You heard yourself asking as you danced on the line of impropriety.

“Yeah,” Shoko hummed, “but we shouldn’t have this conversation yet. Maybe in the morning, but not now,” she tried to make her voice sound brighter, feel brighter as if it would fix everything.

“Okay,” you said. Maybe she’s right about this. Shoko discarded the dirty cotton pad, simply placing it on the bedside table. It was at its limits the whole thing turned into the color of your foundation with the small black streaks of your mascara on it, or what was left from it.

She held onto your face gently for a moment too long even after she was done. You opened your eyes to really look at her. She looked so sad and.. young? Yes young was the right word. She looked like a woman robbed out of something sacred. She had been so happy, so easy to excite in her youth, but now all she seemed to carry was baggage.

Your drunken mind wanted to close the distance, but something held you back. Maybe it was all the answers that were still being withheld by her, maybe it was the understanding that it’s not the right time yet.

“Can you stay the night?” you whispered. Shoko breathed in and opened her mouth to say something, but you were faster. “Please? Th-there’s some clothes you can borrow in my closet.”

She stayed quiet and you waited patiently.

“I’ll stay.”

You smiled weakly at her and muttered a gentle thank you. She shuffled up from the bed and walked over the closet you had pointed for her. You turned your back to her when you heard the rustling of clothing that she ended up piling up neatly on one of the spare chairs in your bedroom.

You fluffed up the pillow next to you and lifted up the blanket when she climbed in. You turned your back to her as you lay down on your side. Your hand searched the light switch and then the room was pitch black.

Shoko awkwardly came closer to you till your back was against hers and she played with your hair idly in the silence. The touch was friendly, your body slumping in relaxation almost immediately. It was nice to have someone there. You had gotten so used to being afraid of the nights.

“Good night,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Night.”

***

You woke up alone with no trace of the woman in your room. She had gotten up earlier than you and dressed up back to the clothes she had in the bar. You hugged your plush blanket, almost burying your whole face underneath it, not ready to face the day.

Your head hurt and you felt nauseous. How is Shoko even able to do things? You wondered to yourself.

The faint knock on the bedroom door disrupted your thoughts as the door opened slightly.

“I made a sandwich for you and found some painkillers, if you want any,” she said and you heard her steps further away again.

You groaned and threw the blanket away from your body, the cold greeting you roughly.

Your kitchen had gotten miraculously cleaner, the multiple empty beer cans piled in a bag and the dishwasher hummed quietly. You stared at the brown table in front of you that had two sandwiches and glasses of water on it, hunger long gone from your body.

“You really should drink less.” Shoko picked up another empty can from the counter just to place it in the bag.

“Like you’re the one to talk.” You sat on the chair with its legs squeaking against the floor with your rough treatment.

You grabbed the pill bottle and rattled out two tablets that you threw in your mouth and drank barely enough water to chase them down.

“What do you remember?” Shoko asked and sat in front of you. She wasn’t feeling very hungry either.

“I remember punching Nanami and the talk we had before we fell asleep,” you mumbled, playing with the edges of the slightly crusty lettuce between your sandwich. You had meant to use it on a salad a few days ago, but you were too tired to cook for yourself. Even the simple things were hard. “What did I tell you?”

“Nothing. You were just crying.”

Oh. So it was like that.

“They assaulted me.” Your face was stern, emotions hidden behind a wall. The words felt weird. It was the first time you had actually said it out loud.

Shoko’s face widened from shock.

“They what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you hissed.

“Sorry, I won’t.”

The silence felt unbearable and you stuffed your face full of bread just to do something.

“They did something similar when we were still in school.” Shoko ripped the hangnail painfully from her skin and pressed on the miniscule wound with one of her fingers.

You chewed the sandwich aggressively without tasting anything, the texture turning to mush in your mouth.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Your words were way more accusatory than what you wanted.

Shoko turned her head to the side looking hurt by your sudden outburst. Her eyebrows scrunched together in pain as she looked for the perfect words, but there were none.

“You admired them. I didn’t want to take that away from you, and when I realized that I probably should have said..”

“Bullshit, Shoko. It’s been ten years. I deserved to know, you could have-”

“Stop blaming me for their shit!” she yelled. Shoko never yells.

You fell quiet. You reined in your anger, its hands still attempting to reach out to anything it could latch on. She was right. It’s not her burden to bear, but you still couldn’t help but feel powerless, when there could have theoretically been someone who could have told you to not go there.

“Sorry,” you simply said just to drop the topic. Shoko sighed defeatedly and pushed her head briefly against her hands. She understood the anger, she really did.

“They drugged me and then raped me together. I don’t remember a lot from it. I fought back – well attempted to,” your voice shook as you spoke.

The brown haired woman simply looked at you with silent empathy.

“Did you at least get one good punch in?”

Your lips curled into a downhearted smile. The memory of your feeble fight playing in your mind, the weakness and despair of it all, a futile attempt of a prey to preserve their life just one moment longer.

“Not a single one,” you laughed hollowly as one tear rolled on your cheek and your lips trembled. “But I did rip some hair out of Geto at the school,” you tried to brighten your voice and be brave.

Shoko’s eyes watered and she answered your smile with her own.

“Good.”

The almost happy expression faded from your face. Everything hurt, never had you ever thought to be in a situation like this where you were exchanging devastation with your friend like gifts on christmas.

“Why did you stay? Even Nanami left for a while, you could have done the same.” Your question was gentler this time.

Shoko pondered for a minute, not sure of her answer either.

“Because this is the only way I could help. I had you and Utahime and I didn’t want to leave you two behind. Besides what else was I supposed to do? I’ve been given a technique that can save many if I choose right. Had I left a lot more could have died because I wasn’t here — all because of what two men did,” she tried to put her thoughts together.

“There’s a reason why Utahime doesn’t like Gojo,” Shoko blurted out and played with her hair.

You took a careful sip of water as if you were trying to carefully dissect the different flavors of Shoko’s words.

“What do you mean? Did they do something to her as well?”

“No. I just mean that women know, you know? I think it’s in our blood to recognize danger. That’s one of the reasons she despises him. But this is just my thought, not an universal truth,” Shoko wondered out loud.

She breathed in once again as if the words she was about to speak were too painful.

“I think sometimes us women have to carry the atrocities of men. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do certain things. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I never went through what you did, but I can’t say that I’m surprised,” she mused. “I’m sorry though. What you went through. It’s not right.”

Her brown eyes stared at you expectantly. You chewed on your lip nervously and tapped the empty plate with your nail, the small tinkle sound working as a metronome.

“No, it’s not,” you huffed. But it feels like it’s my fault. If I had not gone there, if I had not idolized them – loved them even. This wouldn’t have ended this way. It was easier to leave those words in your head.

“So what now?” You looked at Shoko, your eyes pleading, asking for answers, guidance, anything she would be able to provide to you. You knew there was nothing clear cut Shoko could say, but god how you wished that someone would know what to do.

Shoko shook her head in defeat as if telling you that she wasn’t able to point you on the right track like that.

“Whatever you want. You can stay or go, but you don’t have to carry it alone,” Shoko said, her face gentle. You could still draw out the remnants of the young girl from the year two thousand and six on her features. The lines were almost faded but they were still there.

You found kinship in her even if neither of you had shared the full story of what had happened. You weren’t there yet and you weren’t ready. Instead the two of you skirted around words unspoken finding solace of at least having someone who could understand. It was up to the both of you what to make out of the confessions of the past.

#tw: noncon #shoko ieiri x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru

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gothgoblinbabe · 1 year

Text

Marlboro Red 100’s (pt.2)

Read pt.1 here <3

NSFW 18+

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: smut, swearing, mention of smoking, mentions of abuse (very brief), switch!Daryl and switch!reader bc I could not make up my mind about what I wanted I’m so sorry, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), oral (female receiving) and like maybe could be counted as public sex if you squint? It’s in a closed store in the back room idk decide if you’d have sex there

Ps I proof read this once and got a B average in High school writing please do not eat me alive for my mistakes

————————

“No way out of it, huh, sweet’eart?”

You frowned as if Daryl could see you over the phone.

“No, ‘fraid not, honey. Maybe you could come see me after work anyway?”

You and Daryl had a handful of dates since your first, hanging at each other’s homes and enjoying a couple nights out. Tonight was supposed to be another date but it was one you had hoped would be particularly special.

You’d gotten handsy with each other the first date and even more after but never had you two gone ‘all the way’, an idea that made you so excited you were on the verge of anxiety.

That was supposed to be tonight, but your manager had other ideas. Someone had called out and you were stuck with a last minute closing shift, which meant you had to cancel on Daryl.

“ ‘Works for me. How ‘bout I come there ‘round closin’ time? ‘Miss ya’, don’ wanna wait ‘round, ‘m impatient,'' Daryl joked. You loved to hear his low chuckle over the phone.

“I’ll be here, baby,” you hummed, leaning against the wall behind the register with the phone to your ear and your other hand on your hip.

The nickname, unbeknownst to you, had his mouth dry and his hands starting to sweat.

You both said your goodbyes and hung up, the minutes ticking like hours until the end of your shift.

—-------------------------------------------

The clock read 10:59 as you walked towards the door to lock it, right as Daryl’s bike pulled up. You hurriedly rushed him inside, locking the door behind.

“Hopefully no one saw you, the cameras don’t work but I don’t want any customers bangin’ on the door to get in ‘cause they saw you,” you explained to him, looking out through the glass door and flipping the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’.

The little store was family owned and the security cameras in every corner of the store were meant to intimidate possible thieves but weren’t really operational. ‘Too expensive’ you remember your boss explaining.

“Oh, so I get special treatment? After hours privileges?” Daryl teased, running a hand through his long brown locks.

“You get a lot more privileges than that,” you let your tongue slip, a blush creeping across your face as you shook your head, pretending to be fascinated with your closing paperwork after you led Daryl to the back office. He sat himself in a metal folding chair across from your office chair as you leaned over the desk to your right.

“Yeah? Like what?” He inquired, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees.

“Like…” you hesitated, recalling the last time you and Daryl had seen each other, “hands on my ass privileges?”

His face mimicked yours at your words, red as could be.

“Y-yeah, that is true, uh-” He tried to play off his bashful stutter and leaned back in the chair, folding his arms and pretending to be interested in the beige file cabinets and black desk.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way he was flustered.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing, just…I like when you’re all shy, it’s cute.”

“I ain’t shy.”

“Just a little.”

“Nah.”

“Uh-huh.”

Daryl had a wicked idea, wondering if it would be too far.

He went ahead with it anyway, standing up and reaching underneath himself to scoot the metal chair right up to yours. If it really was too far, he knew you’d stop him.

In one swift motion, he placed one arm around your waist and the other under your knees and picked you up, earning a yelp from you and a giggle before he sat back down and maneuvered you to sit bridal-style across his lap.

“I ain’t shy,” he repeated, noting the grin on your lips you were trying so hard to bite down.

He leaned under your jaw to kiss at your neck, making you gasp and squirm a little on his lap. He left trails of open mouthed kisses up and down your skin, finally stopping at your lips.

“ you jus’ make me feel a certain typa’ way.”

What way that was, Daryl didn’t even know. It was a fire inside he had never felt before. He’d been with a girl before, sure, to get it done and over with, but he’d never once before felt the kind of lust you evoked in him. You made him eager to please, someone who’d kiss the ground you walked on if you really asked of him. Truthfully, he’d been itching to get his hands on every inch of you he could since the day he saw you behind that counter. He may not have been very experienced in what to really do with you, but he knew he could make it up along the way if he just paid attention to what you seemed to want from him.

“A certain type of way? Good way?” you managed to breathe out with Daryl’s teeth scraping against your neck.

“So-fucking-good way,” he muttered against you, now massaging half your ass with his huge, calloused hand.

You were still laid across his lap and Daryl effortlessly adjusted you to straddle him, his hands immediately returning to your ass as he attached his lips to yours.

You couldn’t help the soft sigh you let out into his open mouth as he pressed his tongue to yours. His hands massaged your ass and he scooted you up to sit square on his crotch so you could feel his erection in his jeans. You gasped, yanking a bit of his hair that was tangled in between your fingers. He let out a muffled, obscene moan at the feeling of your weight on him and the added pleasure of having you pull his hair.

“Fuck me,” he sighed, looking up at you, lips wet and a little swollen.

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but he’d be a liar if he took it back and said he didn’t mean it.

His words brought you back from heaven to earth and you remembered where you were, dry humping each other in the back office of the store.

“The sooner I get this paperwork done,” you started, tucking a strand of Daryl’s hair behind his ear, “the sooner we can get out of here and I can do that.”

He blinked up at you adoringly, leaning into your touch with his eyes still glued to yours. He tossed over an idea in his mind, knowing the door was locked out front and those cameras scattered around didn’t really work. It was a bad idea, he knew, surely, but it couldn’t possibly be that bad if the idea made him feel so good.

“Who said we had to leave here to do it?”

The office space, small but sizable enough to fit two chairs, a desk and a cabinet, had no windows and a lockable door. Daryl kept his eyes on your puzzled face as he leaned forward, still with a firm hold on you with one arm, and kicked the office door shut, locking it.

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was insinuating.

“In..In here? You wanna have sex with me in this office.”

It wasn’t a question, you knew what he meant, you just weren’t sure if he was serious.

“Think about it, how’s anyone gonna find out, hm?” As he spoke, Daryl moved one of his hands to the front of your pants, cupping your pussy.

You softly moaned, unable to keep quiet at the pressure of his palm.

“F-fuck, Daryl, I-” you tried to speak, silenced by the way he started to slide his fingers over your clothed slit.

“Hm? What, baby?”

The way he could make you such a mess with simple touch inflated his confidence and he took pleasure in teasing you.

“Are you sure you want to?” you asked honestly after he removed his hand to let you speak.

“Positive, I want you anyway I can have you, don’t care where we are, all that matters is that it's with you,’’ He admitted, “do you wanna?”

To answer his question, you brought your shirt up and over your head and revealed the lace bra you wore underneath. You tossed your shirt somewhere behind you and pressed your lips back to your boyfriend’s, guiding his hands to your chest at the same time. Daryl cupped your breasts and his fingers slipped up and through your bra straps, letting them fall off your shoulders.

The way he was kissing you was something you hadn’t felt from him before. He was basically fucking your mouth with his tongue, making your mind race with thoughts of how good he’d probably be at using his tongue somewhere else. You rolled your hips against his, grinding onto his dick as he moaned into your mouth. He reached his hands around your back and fumbled for a minute with your bra strap.

You chuckled a little into his mouth, pulling away just an inch.

“Do you need help, baby?”

He sighed and nodded, clearly frustrated.

“ ‘s okay,” you reassured him, reaching behind yourself to unclip the bra.

Daryl’s eyes fell from yours to your chest as you brought his hands to the material, wanting to give him the privilege of being the one to take it off you.

He looked back at you for reassurance and you nodded slightly to give him the green light. He held the straps in his fingers and delicately started to drag them down your arms, caressing your skin with his touch. The cups fell down and your bra was discarded wherever your shirt had been. Daryl’s jaw fell just a little and he took in the sight of your bare chest, his breathing heavy and his mouth wet with excess saliva, nearly drooling for you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he finally heaved out, immediately lurching forward and suctioning his lips to your nipple.

His actions made you gasp, tugging on his hair again in surprise. This made him moan, open mouth to your chest. You imitated his noises unintentionally as he continued to softly nip, lick and suck at your breasts.

“D-Daryl, I- “ you couldn’t speak coherently. Every part of you was overwhelmed by him in the best way possible.

“Hm?,” Daryl spoke in between latching his mouth all over you, “you wanna say somethin’, princess? That feel good?”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips at his teasing words, “uh-huh, y-yeah.”

“So pretty for me…” his words trailed off and he kissed up your neck and back to your mouth.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you saw the mess he had made of your boobs: shiny with spit and covered in light purple and red splotches.

“Jesus,” you chuckled, pushing your fallen hair out of your face.

Daryl stared up at you on his lap, breathless from not only kissing you but from the sight of you. You were beautiful, always, but like this? Ethereal. Other- worldly, with your hair a mess from his hands tangled in it and your chest marked up and wet with his spit. He wanted to say it then, the three words he’d been trying to hold back, afraid to scare you off and away from him. So he bit his tongue, gripping your hips a little tighter and dragging you over the tent in his jeans, determined to distract from his feelings.

You grabbed him by the collar of his old button down flannel and kissed him passionately, once again lapping into his mouth with your tongue. Your unsteady fingers worked at the top button of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. Down, down, down, as Daryl was still grinding himself up into you, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the fabric from his broad shoulders. When you tried to pull it off, however, he froze his movement and grabbed your wrists to stop you.

You were surprised, suddenly a little embarrassed and sheepish.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Daryl, do you wanna stop? We can, If you w-” you started to reassure him, but he cut you off.

“No, no, ain’t that, I want it - want you,I just..” his eyes broke from yours, looking nervously around the floor, “you remember I told you ‘bout when I was a kid… all that shit my dad did to me and my brother. Left a lot of scars…all on my back.”

You could tell he was trying hard to push out his words, like they had a bitter taste. You brought your hands to his face, gently cupping his cheeks and bringing his head up a little, forcing him to look at you.

“Daryl, baby, there’s not a thing you have to hide from me. I like you as you are, scars included. There isn’t a thing about you I think I could find unattractive. I like everything about you.”

This wasn’t just something you said to make him feel better. Truly, you loved every detail there was to Daryl Dixon. His calloused hands, scruffy facial hair, broad frame. The way he kissed you, held you, made you laugh. The way he made you feel safe, untouchable, like the most beautiful creature to bless earth. You could talk about nothing and everything and at the same time sit for hours on end in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.

From underneath your gaze, your soft words made Daryl’s heart flutter the same way it had on that first date, the picnic in the park where you kissed him so sweetly. He believed you wholeheartedly. You, if anyone, would always be the person he could open up to.

Again, those heavy three words weighed on his tongue, nearly escaping his lips when he thought over what you had said. And again, he pushed it down in an almost cartoonishly loud swallow of his saliva.

Wordlessly, afraid he’d let his tongue slip, Daryl guided your hands from his face back to where they had been on his shirt, urging you to carry on as before. You did, gently pulling at the fabric as he shrugged it off and let you toss it somewhere in the room.

Your lips attached to his and the feeling of your warm skin on his chest was addictive like those cigarettes he always bought from you, inhaling the smell of you just the same.

You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders, down his muscular arms, back up again and down his chest. You teasingly dragged your fingers in a feather light touch right above his jeans, making him buck his hips forward and shudder.

“God damn, woman, ain’t gotta go teasin’ me like that,” he huffed, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

“No? C’mon, baby, it’s fun. You like it.”

He did, admittedly, really fucking like it. He especially liked the back and forth between the both of you being dominant and submissive.

You repeated your touch that made him shudder in the first place and dragged your hand to palm his cock over his jeans. He gripped your hips, diggin his fingers into the soft flesh.

“P-Please,” Daryl whimpered your name, “ ‘need you, need you so bad, dream ‘bout you-“

With one touch, he’d really become a mess for you.

“You dream about me? What do I do in your dreams, hm?” You spoke softly with your lips to his ear, hand still gently stroking back and forth.

He groaned, grinding himself into your hand and trying to pant out a response, “dream ‘bout your hands on me, your mouth, d-dream ‘bout bein’ in ya’, makin’ you - makin’ you cum.”

His words went straight to your core, starting a throbbing in you.

“You wanna make me feel good?” Your taunt had him nearly shaking, eagerly nodding his head and licking his lips.

“So what do you wanna do to me?” You spoke again, leaning back and removing your hand from his aching cock.

The ball was in his court now and he knew it was a purposeful throw to try to get him off his game. Thankfully, he knew damn well what he wanted to do to and with you, having worked himself to the thought of it almost every other night since you’d started seeing each other.

“Take off your pants. Sit in the chair.”

Daryl’s words made your stomach erupt in butterflies and you nearly fell off him to do as you were told, kicking off your shoes and socks and stripping off down to your underwear.

“Those, too.”

You, again, abided by his words and hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down and kicking them elsewhere.

Your lover took a moment to admire your body, every curve and mark and inch of you. He sighed happily, and motioned for you to sit back in the chair you had been in before. You did, crossing your legs in anticipation. You watched Daryl move from the chair and get down on his knees in front of you, hands gently placed on your crossed thighs.

“Can I?” He asked, gravely voice almost lined with desperation.

You realized what he was asking, your face growing pink and eyes wide as you sheepishly nodded, letting Daryl’s hands gently guide your thighs open for him.

He let out a low groan at the sight of you, slick with want for him, your inner thighs wet and glistening just from rubbing your legs together.

He’d never done this before, but god - he thought about it - so often he was pretty sure he was ready to at least try.

Before you could even get your hands in his hair, Daryl was attaching his lips to your pussy, eagerly licking wide stripes up you and sucking on your clit when he found it. He ate you like he was starved for days.

“D-Daryl, I-“, you wanted to tell him to slow down, but his tongue was faster than yours.

He hummed from between your legs, using his buff arms to lift both your thighs up onto his shoulders, cradling his head between them.

“Feel good? Huh?” He muttered when he finally broke away from you for a moment and licked his lips, already wet and shiny.

“Little slower, baby, you’re gonna make me cum too soon,” you huffed out, looking down into his vivid blue eyes.

“What do you think I’m down here for?” He joked, kneading your thighs with his hands, “besides, ain’t like it’s gonna be the only time tonight. You think you got more than one in ya’?”

His teasing intensified the fire in your lower abdomen, your hands coming to his hair again to softly tangle it between your fingers.

Daryl returned his tongue to your clit, licking in circles and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Truth be told, he had no idea if he could really even make you cum once, but he couldn’t help but keep up with the cocky dirty talk because of how much it seemed to turn you on. Now, he was on a serious mission to make you come completely undone for him twice in one night. The thought of it alone made his cock twitch in his jeans, feeling awfully tight.

You continued to play with his hair as he lapped at you, so lost in the feeling of euphoria that you weren’t giving a thought about the noise you were making. You mewed and moaned and gasped as he kept his mouth on and in you, pushing his tongue as much as he could into the shallow part of your hole. This really hit a nerve, sending a loud, broken moan through your throat. You couldn’t help the gasp of his name, still gently caressing his temples with his hair in your hands.

He mimicked your moan, hot breath fanning you and tongue still in your pussy. He kept up his movements after, digging his fingers into your thighs everytime you yanked his hair harder. The more pressure he applied with his lips and tongue and the faster he licked and sucked at you, you felt the pressure building in your stomach.

“I-I’m, Daryl, I’m gonna-“ you tried to sputter out but your own moan snuck its way through, the heat in your abdomen almost unbearable.

He just hummed into you, letting you yank his hair and push and pull his head as you pleased - whatever it took to get you there for him.

Finally you felt the knot in the bottom of your stomach come undone, squeezing your eyes shut tight and whining Daryl’s name, littered with obscenities. The euphoric feeling tingled throughout your body from head to toe. Where his hands and lips met you felt like fire.

You tried to regain your senses as he didn’t slow his movement, still sucking and licking at your sensitive clit.

“Babe, mh - babe, please, I- I’m too s-sensitive” you pleaded, trying to tug his head away as he pulled you closer by your thighs. He felt so accomplished and smug with himself for making you cum for him that he didn’t want to stop pulling those noises from you.

After a second he finally let you go and licked his lips, wet along with his chin from your arousal. He lovingly caressed your thighs as you steadied your breathing, legs shaking on his shoulders.

“So beautiful,” he huffed out, scanning your features with his cerulean blue eyes, “I could do that all day.”

“Yeah? We can arrange that.” You joked, letting him gently place your thighs back onto the chair as you sat up a little.

He stood from his knees and you took notice of the large bulge in the front of his jeans, that of which had been twitching and aching with every moan from your lips.

You drew your eyes from his erection to his abdomen, up his muscular bare chest and broad shoulders, all the way to his swollen pink lips and lustful gaze he had upon you.

He swore he could feel the wet patch forming on the front of his boxers at the way you sized him up, looking at him like you practically wanted to fucking eat him.

He’d let you, really.

“I want you, all of you.” you finally spoke, reaching forward and pulling Daryl closer by the belt loop of his jeans. With your other hand, you began to palm the front of his jeans, eyes never leaving his.

He gasped at your touch, hands flying to tangle themselves in your hair. You slowly started to unbutton his jeans, looking for any sign that he wanted you to stop. When he bucked his hips forward, you got your answer, pulling down his zipper and gently tugging at the fabric. Daryl assisted and kicked off his shoes, socks and jeans. He leaned down after he did so to lift you up by your thighs and onto the top of the desk. You yelped and giggled at the sudden movements and let him stand between your legs, placing open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck. He experimentally ground his hips into yours, his cock centered with your throbbing folds. You whined, the fabric of his boxers feeling especially rough on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It became soaked through from the both of you, being the only layer of fabric left that separated you.

“You wan’ me to take you here, love you right? ‘Like hearing those pretty moans a’ yours.” Daryl was muttering into your neck, sucking red and purple marks so he could show any prick you were all his.

“M-hmm-“ you gasped, nodding eagerly and rolling your hips into his, letting him grip your ass and pull you closer, “ - want you, I want you to have me right here, Daryl.”

Your pleading made his cock leak even more and he couldn’t take it, pulling back from you momentarily to yank down his boxers and kick them away.

You watched his hard on slap against his lower stomach, pink and leaking tip twitching at the release. Your mouth practically watered, wanting to take him in your mouth.

As he gripped your hips again you reached for his cock but he flinched, grabbing your wrist.

“I- Sorry, sorry - “ you started to apologize in panic but Daryl shook his head, dropping his grip to cup your face.

“No. No, ain’t like that, ‘course I want you to touch me - but I’m not gonna get to please ya’ any good if im cummin’ in your pretty hand instead of your pretty pussy, huh?”

His gentle demeanor, reassurance and absolutely filthy praise made you blush red, nodding meekly as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose, cheeks, chin and finally your lips, swallowing the giggle that had been slipping between them.

His leaking tip was so close to you he could practically feel the heat radiating off your folds. You wanted to pull him in by the hips and let him slip into you, fill you to the brim and make you whine and plead until you came apart for him in his hands.

“You sure you want this?” Daryl asked, reassuringly stroking the tops and sides of your thighs, “I’m nearly itchin’ for it but you know if you wanna stop sweet ‘eart, you can tell me.”

His sweet reassurance made your heart melt, warm and sticky and ooey - gooey all at your lover’s words.

“I want you more than anything - “ you replied, stroking fallen strands of hair off his face and behind his ear, “ - I’ve thought about it since the day we met.”

Your admission made his heart sore and he used his hand to hold his heavy member up to your hole, tracing the sensitive entrance with his wet tip.

“Fuck, thought about -” Daryl couldn’t help the rut of his hips, “- thought about it for so long, how you’d feel. Wanted to bend you over that damn counter and take you right there.”

You twitched involuntarily at the shift of his hips and gasped, moving a hand down to notch him right up against you.

He experimentally pushed his hips forward, slowly starting to stretch his head into the shallow part of you.

Pornographic moans fell from your mouth as he slipped in further and you scratched lightly at his back and hips, feeling the decadent burn and subsequent pleasure of Daryl pushing himself further into you until he bottomed out.

“Feel ok? Does that hurt?’’

You shook your head, grinding your hips forward in an attempt to swallow more of him.

He took your answer and began slowly pulling in and out of you, trying to rock himself steadily so as not to push too hard and hurt you.

You hooked your legs around his hips and used them as a vice to keep him close to you, pulling him in every time he thrusted forward. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stroked his back and shoulders, kissing him affectionately as he continued fucking in and out of you at a steady, teasingly slow pace.

“Daryl, please, faster, baby.” You huffed out, swiping fallen strands of dark brown hair out of his face.

“ ‘m tryin’ not to cum so - so damn fast, you feel so fuckin’ good.” He slurred out, gripping your hips so hard he’d leave crescent shaped marks where his dull fingernails had been digging into your soft skin.

He truly was, too enamored of you and the way you felt and so lost in your eyes that he needed to concentrate on lasting for you, determined to finish you off first for a second time.

The feeling of his tip hitting that perfect spot in you had you feeling full to your stomach, relishing in the way his pelvis rubbed up to your clit when he filled you.

Taking notice of that, Daryl watched your face contort in pleasure as he slipped one of his hands between the two of you and began to rub at your swollen clit, applying more pressure every time he was pressing you into the desk with his hips. He let a string of expletives slip from his lips as he shut his eyes, concentrating on both holding his release and helping you to yours.

He slipped his thick fingers down to where his cock was buried in you and back up again, slick with your arousal. He circled his ring finger around your clit and swiped the bundle of nerves, nearly buckling at the knees when you moaned his name.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, testing how you’d like the way he muttered into your ear and if it would push you any further. He nipped at your earlobe with his teeth, satisfied in the rising goosebumps on your skin and the gasp you let fall from your lips.

“Fuck - feels so good, please,” you huff as daryl picks up his pace and starts to knock the breath out of you with every rut of his hips, “don’t stop.”

He abided your command, continuing his pace and still squeezing his eyes shut to hold back from filling you with his hot cum. The scruff on his chin scratched delightfully against your neck and cheek as he rocked back and forth.

“M- ‘m gonna cum, babe, I’m-“ you tried to warn him, in too much pleasure to speak.

The pressure at the bottom of your stomach grew and your body felt hot all over. Daryl’s touch and the feeling of him hitting that sweet spot in you over and over again with a look of absolute ecstasy was too much for you to take, finally sending you over the edge.

You dug your fingernails into his broad shoulders and let out a string of expletives mixed with his name, panting and huffing as he fucked you through your climax. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans, Daryl’s whines and the wet gush of your pussy, swollen and delightfully sore.

Daryl let go the same time you had, releasing himself into you and letting his cum seep from you and onto your thighs as he fucked it into you. He had opened his eyes to watch you come undone, and as he’d thought it would, the heavenly sight brought him to his climax in just a couple strokes. His brain was clouded with only thoughts of you and the filter from his head to his mouth had disappeared. His lips moved faster than he could register and before he could stop himself, he was speaking.

“I love ya.”

The three words sounded foreign coming from his own mouth. He would’ve thought it was someone else, had he not recognized his own voice. He had stopped the rut of his hips, still buried in you and somehow now absolutely mortified at what had just come out of his mouth. He was wide eyed and tried to speak but was interrupted by your sweet smile.

“I love you, too. I love you, Daryl.” You sighed happily, heart pounding at his admission and from the vigorous activity you had both just partaken in.

He couldn’t help the smile that mirrored yours, anxiety dissipating when you spoke those words back to him. You’d never seen him smile so wide as he tenderly cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for an affectionate kiss that felt more loving than any way he’d kissed you before.

When he pulled away, he tucked some strands of your sweat-dampened hair behind your ear and stroked your cheek, holding in a sigh at the way you contentedly leaned your face into his touch.

You were lost in his adoring look and had completely forgotten where you two were, naked and sweaty up against a desk in the back of your work.

You gasped in a moment of realization.

“Shit, I locked the door an hour ago and haven’t done any paperwork work to get out of here!”

“You want some help cleaning’ up first, honey?”

You grinned at the affectionate nickname, twirling his dark hair in your fingers.

“Please? Then maybe we can go back to mine and cozy up for a bit?”

“Sounds good, sugar.” He replied, kissing you on the forehead and the tip of your nose. You mirrored each other's blissful smiles, lost in one another’s loving gazes.

“Daryl?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

————

I hope that lived up to y’all’s expectations! Pls lmk what you think and if I should write some more stuffs :-) thank u for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixion smut #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #smut #the walking dead smut

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narrans · 4 months

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My Borrowed Son | 24 | A Waking Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Four | A Waking Nightmare

Parker couldn’t believe how awesome this new place was. There were so many big spaces and new areas to explore. No longer was the kitchen connected to the living room which was connected to the dining room. The bedrooms were upstairs instead of on the same floor as all the others.

There was a separate spot for Parker’s mom to have an office instead of her having to use part of the living room or her office. There were carpeted parts of the house as well as tile and hard wood. There were two whole bathrooms and even a balcony that overlooked a back yard.

All of this was new and amazing for Parker.

Sure, he still had his space that he would be staying in, but Parker was already making plans to make some transportation structures for easy access from his room to the kitchen and bathroom.

One of those things included an elevator that he would get put into the wall. It would be a simple cut out from the floor to part of the wall in the kitchen. The actual mechanism would be inside of the wall.

Parker knew his mom was probably going to have some objections to it overall just because she probably didn’t want holes cut into their new home and Parker would be designing the pulley system himself. Still, he was confident that he could persuade her if he pointed out he would be climbing the stairs manually.

She didn’t like when he climbed too high.

It was an open and shut case.

So, as Parker helped unload all of the various cables and started setting up his area, he began scouting the floorboards and the rooms for the best place for him to put some of the contraptions he wanted to include in the home.

As he did, there was an odd feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place. It was like the same sensation he got right before his mom entered the room or the sensation that overwhelmed his mind when he woke up from his reoccurring nightmare, which was happening more frequently recently.

It was the same dream every time, though some of the details changed from time to time.

The dark clouds. Some kind of boat. Someone calling to him as he was suddenly dragged under the waves. Not being able to breathe. Fear. Cold. Darkness.

Just the thought petrified the young teen.

Parker had to remind himself it was just a dream. He had actually posted about the dream a few times on his blog and a few people suggested it might be more of a memory than a nightmare, but Parker couldn’t remember anything like that in his lifetime. He did have to acknowledge the fact that some studies he read up on about dreams said that dreams couldn’t pull from information a person didn’t already have.

It was weird, and the more he thought about it the more it made Parker’s head hurt. Putting the dream aside, there was something about this house that set Parker’s senses on edge. It almost felt alive. Every time he approached the walls while hooking up his cables, Parker felt like a magnet drawn to steel.

Perhaps it was just his adventures that one night into the walls that compelled him to venture into the walls again. Perhaps it was just natural curiosity that drew him to explore what was unknown. Or, as another crazy thought, perhaps Parker wanted to compare the walls of his old home to his new home to see what differences there were.

He remembered the interior walls next to the drywall being unusually tidy and the little sketch mark still had no official translation. Were there marks like that in this house too?

Parker kind of wanted to know.

But did he really?

Conflicted, Parker continued hooking up all of his wires until, finally, his space was fully operational. Other than the water, which his mom hooked up after he informed her everything else was in place, all Parker had to do was help organize the drawers and chat with his mom.

They talked about everything while they worked. School. Future study plans now that midterms were over, and Parker would have to start thinking about what he wanted to study in the spring semester. They also talked about Lyn and how she was doing.

It made Parker just the slightest bit uncomfortable that they were talking about her simply because his body started doing funny things when he thought about his female classmate. Sure, she was a couple years older than him, their group of friends celebrating her sixteenth birthday just last week, but there was something about her that made Parker feel warm and tingly, excited and nervous, confident and seen.

It wasn’t until the movers came with all of the other furniture that Parker noticed his mom act a little strangely. She quickly ushered him up to his room and told him that she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“I’ll be okay, mom,” ensured Parker. “I’ll be on the counters and on the windowsill. They won’t hurt me. They’re not kids.”

“Parker, I would rather you not be out and about while they’re bringing everything in. There’s going to be so much movement and things swinging around and possibly falling. I would just feel better if you just took a break and relaxed in your room. Don’t worry. You’ll be able to help put everything when you want it when they’re done,” countered his mom.

Parker wanted to continue the discussion but ended up complying with his mom and retreating back to his room. There was something in her tone that sounded panicked and uneasy. It was like she didn’t want him to be seen and didn’t want him to talk to the movers.

That’s weird. I know she’s protective, but I thought it would be different now. I’m older. I’m almost fifteen. I can look after myself. I’m careful.

Parker huffed a huge sigh and flopped down on his bed where he found himself daydreaming about meeting Lyn for the first time. He thought about what she would say about his height, which he already had some lines for, or so he thought. He imagined what it would be like to hug her. He even dared to think about what it would be like to kiss her.

This brought about a whole range of emotions that made Parker squirm uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where that thought came from, but he quickly shook himself out of his fantasy and turned his attention to his books and finishing setting up his room.

It was hours later when the sound of thumping and talking voices finally subsided. There were a few times when the voices sounded close to Parker’s door, but no one entered his room. In fact, Parker felt his hair stand on end and he actually retreated further into his space when he heard the voices.

It was another weird sensation of wanting to talk to new people and meet them but also wanting to retreat and hide away.

It made his head hurt, but he didn’t spend time dwelling on it. Too much time had already been dedicated to it in the past, and Parker didn’t find any use thinking about stuff he couldn’t solve. There were too many other books and subjects for him to learn about anyway.

Parker eventually emerged from his room, actually soldier crawling under the door to get out of his bedroom and climbed down the stairs. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but he snagged a few thumb tacks and taped them to his shoes and the used the carpet fibers as solid handholds as he climbed down each individual step.

The young teen was rather pleased with himself by the time he made it down to the bottom step and carefully took off his shoes before walking into the kitchen where he saw his mom unpacking plates and bowls.

“Hey mom,” Parker called. She stopped moving immediately and scanned the floor for Parker, smiling when she found him.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Were you calling for me? I’m sorry. I just thought I’d put these things away really quick before coming up to see what you wanted to eat for dinner,” said his mom as she knelt and extended her hand.

“No worries. I just got down here,” said Parker. Amanda glanced down at her child as she lifted him onto the counter.

“How did you get down here?” the thought that entered her mind changed Amanda’s expression to one of worry and disbelief. “You didn’t climb down them, did you?”

Parker sat quietly and averted his gaze bashfully. There was no denying what he had done, so he decided now was as good of a time as any to bring up his idea about the elevator.

“Um… well… I did have to climb, but I was really careful!” Parker insisted. His mom gave him another worried look and shook her head. “No! I really was! I used some thumb tacks on my shoes and made sure I had a tight grip on the carpet before coming down. Which! I actually had an idea for. Since I’m on the top floor and my room is across from the kitchen, I could implement my elevator idea.”

“Parker…”

“I know you’re worried about the idea, so I decided to draw up the plans and try it out on the desk. All I need to do is build it and then you’ll have a chance to see that it’s a solid design,” insisted Parker. Amanda sighed heavily as she set her hand onto the counter. Parker could see his mom would need far more convincing. The reluctance was tangible.

So instead of pressing the issue, he decided to start dragging away the paper and stuffing that was in between the dishes while he listened to yet another safety spiel his mom had rehearsed. It was a conversation he had dozens of times before, especially when it came to him climbing and experimentally inventing contraptions. She was usually very supportive of everything else except for the two specific topics of certain climbing inventions and visiting friends in person.

Honestly, he tuned out most of what his mom had to say simply because he had heard it so many times before. Parker instead diligently worked and nodded, agreeing mindlessly. He would have continued to do so except something caught his attention that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Just for a moment, the teenage boy could have sworn that he saw the electrical cover on the other side of the counter move on its own. It didn’t shift down as if falling. It shifted up – as if being shifted back into place.

He shook his head as his heart skipped a few beats. He felt like he was on pins and needles. Everything felt electrified in his body. His head swirled uncomfortably as if he was about to pass out, which Parker had never done before.

“Parker? Parker?” His mom’s voice shook him out of his temporary stupor. “Is everything okay? You look a bit pale.”

Parker looked over at his mom and then back to the electrical cover.

“I… sorry. I thought I saw the electric cover move,” Parker said in a daze. There was immediately a look of concern on her face as she looked over at the island behind her. Before Parker could say anything, his mom walked over and jiggled the cover. Sure enough, it was a bit loose and actually came off.

“Well, that’s not good,” she muttered. “I’ll have to screw that in tighter.” There was something about seeing that electrical cover open that drew Parker to it once more. Though the island was a place he definitely couldn’t reach, Parker suddenly found himself on the edge of the counter looking down at the sheer drop beneath him. The sensation was thrilling and terrifying as he looked down at the vertigo inducing distance.

“Anyway, what do you want to have for dinner? You get to pick,” said his mom as she snapped the cover back into place and turned to face him.

“Um… Chinese? It’s been a while since we’ve had it,” suggested Parker.

“Wonderful. I’ll go ahead and order it. And to watch after dinner?”

Parker decided he wanted to watch The Matrix. It was a bit of an adult movie, but he had been allowed to see it before while his mother censored some of the “naughty” bits. The concepts of defining what was and wasn’t real while also delving into the technology that existed in the world was fascinating to him.

Parker thought it might be fun to get into computer programming simply because he wanted to be able to write code and maybe create mods for the games he enjoyed playing. Lyn evidently knew a little bit about programming and mod creation, and Parker was more than eager to pick her brain about it.

The thought of what made the electrical cover shift slowly faded in the teen’s mind as his mother occupied him with other chores and preparing for dinner. The movie and the food were both phenomenal, but during both Parker couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Something kept drawing his eyes upward toward the trim at the ceiling or by the other electrical covers around the room.

There was something that felt alive about this house, and Parker didn’t like it. When it came time for bed, Parker actually brought it up to his mom.

“Do… you feel weird in the house? Like… are you getting a weird feeling?” asked Parker as his mom came in to wish him a good night. Amanda had been getting a weird feeling, but it wasn’t until Parker said something that she fully elected to acknowledge the sensations around her.

“Well, a little, but I think that’s normal. This is a new house. Maybe we’re just not used to it yet,” suggested his mom. Parker sighed and nodded as he tugged at the hair on the back of his neck and rubbed just beneath his hairline. “Do you feel uncomfortable? Like you don’t want to be alone?”

“Maybe,” he muttered. Amanda, seeing her son’s discomfort, had an idea.

“Here. One second.” She went down to the living room and retrieved the old baby monitor that she and Parker used. It was something she hadn’t used in years, but it certainly aided her when she couldn’t be near Parker. When she brought it up, Parker recognized the contraption immediately.

“The baby monitor? Mom, I’m not a baby,” grumbled Parker as his cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“I know you’re not, but the radio still works. If you need anything, you can just shout, and I’ll hear it in the other room. Just for now until the feeling goes away. Sound good?” asked Amanda. Parker considered the electronic device for a minute before deciding to relent. It was a good idea, and it was more of a radio than anything else.

The teen agreed reluctantly, and Amanda quickly set it up in the hallway just outside of his room for relative privacy’s sake. Then, with a kiss, Amanda wished her son the best dreams and went off to bed herself.

Parker curled up into bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours before feeling an inkling of being tired. There was something about this place that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the relative unease of moving to a new home. It was the first time he had moved before after all.

It was these thoughts that Parker eventually fell asleep to.

Sadly, his dreams were not the best or the sweetest one he was asleep.

The nightmare appeared once again, but there was more to it than last time.

Parker could feel the chilling rain surrounding him. Someone’s arms were wrapped around him and telling him that they were going to be okay. Walls of water surrounded him, and he clung to the person tightly. He couldn’t describe it, but he trusted whoever it was that held him with all of his heart.

Another wall of water crashed over him. The darkness of the sky lit up just in time for him to look into the faceless features of the person who held onto him so tightly. All at once, he was dragged away, swallowed by the wave of water and spat out in the mud and leaves.

He turned in time to see the person being held back as they too were dragged under the waves of endless water surrounding him. Someone called out something to him that he couldn’t hear.

Fear.

Primal terror.

Loneliness.

Parker clutched something to his chest as the dark shadows surrounded him. He whimpered and tried to get away, but one shadow emerged and grabbed him. He threw out his arms and tried to push it away, but immediately Parker knew something was off.

For one, he registered that his hands made contact with something. Times before in his dreams, there was never resistance.

Most unnervingly was the fact something – someone – said his name.

“Parker? Shush and wake up!”

Wake up? What on ea-…

Parker opened his eyes and, to his horror, spotted a shadowy figure looming over him. From the sound of the voice, it was a girl speaking to him. For a second, Parker thought this was still part of the dream.

Vision sharpening instantly and sleep banished from his eyes, Parker pulled his legs free from his blankets and kicked, launching the figure across the room. She grunted in pain and gasped for air with the wind knocked out of her. Parker was on his feet in an instant and practically threw himself at his touch lamp, smacking it unnecessarily hard as the room illuminated.

There, standing up with difficulty, was a teen about the same age as him, possibly younger. Her hair was dark brown, and her eyes were basically black. She had mismatch pieces of fabric for clothing as well as a collection of weird contraptions at her hips. Her hair was in a low ponytail, which only kept her hip length hair out of her face. She forced herself to her feet and gasped for air again as she glared at him.

“You kicked me!” she hissed accusatorily. “Whatever. Come on! We have to go! Now!”

Parker knew two things.

One, he was drenched from his nightmare.

Two.

There was no way this was a dream. The way his heart pounded and the sensation of landing not one but two solid blows on the girl. His entire body trembled violently, and nausea immediately punched him in the gut.

What was this?

What was going on?

Panicked at seeing this stranger, let alone one his size, standing right there in front of him triggered an instinctual response that Parker couldn’t begin to understand.

He started to shout.

“M-mom! Mom! There’s someone here! Someone’s in the house!”

He wasn’t sure why he started shouting. Perhaps it was the instinctual fear and the involuntary need to be saved, but his body acted on its own as he called out to his mom.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she shied away immediately, retreating into the shadows of the next room.

“Dude! Shut up!” she hissed. “The human will hear you!”

“H-human? What?” Parker asked. His head swirled again and he staggered to the wall, leaning heavily against it. He gasped several times for air that left his lungs unsatisfied as his vision by the girl blurred.

“Are you coming or not!?” The girl didn’t wait for more than two seconds before turning on her heel and running toward the stairs. The sound of her retreating footsteps summoned Parker’s attention, and he chased after her.

“Wait! What? Where are you going?” Parker shouted. The girl stopped on the stairs and glared at him.

“Stop shouting, you moron!” she chastised as she continued running. Parker’s mind was running wild, but he spotted the baby monitor and did the only thing he could think to do. His mom couldn’t hear him here, but she could with the monitor.

He darted forward and threw his weight into the button and shouted as loud as he could.

“Mom! Mom! Come here! Quick! There’s someone in the house!”

He heard the girl curse as she left his house. Parker barely made it to the window in time to see her give one more fateful glance upward toward him, briefly making eye-contact, before vanishing off of the side of the desk.

Moments later, Parker heard his mother’s footsteps thundering through the hall and into his room.

“Parker? Parker!” she called as she rushed over to the desk, practically ripping the hinges as she threw the door open to look into Parker’s space. Parker shakily staggered toward his mom, mindlessly pointing toward the backside of the desk.

“Mom! There… th-there… there was a girl! There was a girl here in my room! She… sh-she… she was… l-like me. She was little like me!” Parker ran his fingers through his hair as he staggered toward his mom’s open hands. He was heaving in breath after breath, choking back the urge to vomit.

“Is there anyone else here, Parker?” asked his mom as she looked wildly around the room and back over her shoulder toward the stairs leading downstairs.

“W-what? No. I… I don’t think so. B-but mom. Sh-she was my size. She…” Parker let himself fall into his mom’s hands as he tried to calm his breathing. Everything hurt, especially his head.

Amanda, seeing Parker in such a state, looked at the state of his clothes and glanced around his space. Nothing looked disturbed or different. Parker was drenched from head to toe. She had to wonder if he actually saw someone or if it was just a bad dream.

“Parker, are you sure you saw someone? Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” asked Amanda.

“No! Mom! Check by the desk legs! I know what I saw!” shouted Parker. Amanda did as he instructed and looked at the legs of the desk and the electrical covers nearby.

Nothing looked out of place.

Was it just a dream?

Could it have been a dream?

Honestly, what were the chances of there being a small girl living here in the house with them?

Then again, Parker existed, so couldn’t someone else?

What were they doing here?

Were they here for Parker?

Why? Why would they be?

And, Heaven forbid, what if they tried to talk to Parker before she could?

She didn’t want to distress Parker further and decided to compromise for the time being.

“Parker, I don’t know how much searching we can do here in the dark. Come to my room and get some rest. We’ll take a thorough look around in the morning,” said Amanda. Parker, still visibly shaking, looked back at his space. Doubt began to fill his mind.

Did he see what he saw?

Was it a part of his imagination?

No… it couldn’t have been….

And there was something else too…

There was something in his mom’s tone that made Parker the slightest bit uneasy. Did she believe him? And, if she did, why wasn’t she doing something about it now? Was she trying to dissuade him from looking? Was she trying to hide something from him?

Head throbbing, Parker tentatively agreed to stay with his mom for the evening. He wanted to sleep without the threat of waking again; but he wouldn’t forget this sensation.

He needed to do some of his own investigating tomorrow first thing when he got the chance.

Tomorrow… he would try and find his own answers.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

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somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

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SomedayLazySomeday's Masterlist

Hey, friends! Here is the collection of everything I’ve written up to this point. Fics have their own page to keep things neat, and those links are posted under the media to which they belong.

All fics feature a female reader with minimal physical description and no use of ‘Y/N’. All of these works are rated mature or explicit and are not intended for minors. Please take note of the warnings listed on the chapter links for each fic.

Thanks for reading and enjoy!

- Ink

Arcane (2021)

Good Intentions - Silco x fem!reader. - 54.7k words. Reader runs a charitable organization, the Haven, which seeks to help people overcome their Shimmer addiction. Silco soon takes an intense interest in the Haven and the woman who operates it.

Noisy - Viktor x fem!reader. - 7.2k words. Reader is a student at the Piltover Academy and lives in student housing, one floor below Viktor. He’s a bit of an insomniac… and a noisy one at that.

Avengers (2012)

Cold - Loki x fem!reader. - 3k words. Reader is in a casual physical relationship with Loki. When she attends a party at Avengers Tower with someone else, he’s bothered by the idea that she’s ashamed of him. Themes of jealousy and minor monsterfucking.

Beetlejuice

A Deal with a Demon - Beetlejuice x fem!reader. - 13.3k words. Reader is a witch who’s a little down on her luck. She summons a demon for help, but he turns out to be very different from what she expected. Themes of magic, desperation, and monsterfucking.

Black Sails

Captured - Captain Charles Vane x fem!reader. - 9.1k words. Reader disguised herself as a man to cross the ocean, but her ship was captured by pirates who brought her on as a member of their crew. Vane eventually figures out the truth. Dub-con themes in Part One; mind the warnings!

The Boondock Saints

Na Buachaillí - Murphy MacManus x fem!reader, Connor MacManus x fem!reader. - 13k words. Reader is a high school science teacher working temp jobs over Christmas break to help pay for her divorce.

Ex Machina (2015)

Winner Take All - Nathan Bateman x fem!reader. - 11.6k words. Reader knows Nathan from MIT, and they constantly run into each other during trivia night at a local bar. Enemies to friends to lovers vibes.

The Gray Man (2022)

Paranoid - Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader. - 9.7k words. Reader runs into Lloyd and he takes a liking to her. She can’t say the same for him. Dark!fic with themes of non-con. Mind the warnings on this one!

The Hobbit

Dexterity - Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader. - 14.6k words. Reader sells wool at Erebor’s markets and is familiar with the king, handsome and aloof. But Thorin rapidly warms up when a storm forces her to stay in Erebor overnight…

A Boon - Elvenking Thranduil x fem!reader. - 20.2k words. Reader owns a bar in Lake-Town and is very unimpressed with the Elvenking, even as he slowly works to win her over. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Labyrinth

Dreams - Jareth x fem!reader. - 7.7k words. Reader wished away her college roommate, beat the labyrinth, and resisted the Goblin King. But he isn’t done with her yet… Themes of dark fae, magic, and predator/prey.

Random Jareth Fics - Jareth x fem!reader - 6.8k words. Reader is a teacher who was wished away by a young student. She becomes Jareth’s eyes and ears in the human world, working to keep his legend alive. Over time, she becomes less human, but an occasional need still arises.

Narcos

Informant - Javier Peña x fem!reader. - 2.3k words. Reader has some information about Pablo Escobar and ends up making a different sort of deal. (Similar in tone to Oaths, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to write Javier Peña’s character yet.)

Oaths - Javier Peña x fem!reader. - 11.5k words. Reader is a nurse who treats the Escobar family. She turns information over to the DEA, though she doesn’t care for the agent assigned to her case.

Matter of Perspective - Captain Horacio Carrillo x fem!reader. - 9.6k words. Reader works for the DEA in Columbia and accompanies the Search Bloc to prove one of her theories. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Southern Vampire Mysteries/True Blood

Blood Donor - Eric Northman x fem!reader. - 2.4k words. Reader is a were-animal working for the vampires of a town Eric is visiting. You are sent to feed him.

Star Wars

Target Acquired - Jango Fett x fem!reader. - 9.6k words. Reader is a bounty hunter who often finds herself in direct competition with Jango Fett. They have a deal: whoever catches the bounty sets the terms of their night together.

Pursuit - Boba Fett x fem!reader. - 6.5k words. Reader is a bounty Boba finds, but she must convince him to let her go… even if they both know it’s only temporary.

Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Hunted - Hunter x fem!reader. - 7.3k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch. She has a crush on Hunter that seems one-sided… until a chance encounter with a mysterious substance on a mission. Sex pollen and themes of predator/prey.

Aim - Crosshair x fem!reader. - 9.9k words. Reader works with the Bad Batch and gets stranded with Crosshair after a mission. They won’t make it back to the Havoc Marauder without blowing off some steam. Enemies to lovers vibes in both parts.

Experiment - Tech x fem!reader. - 3.5k words. Tech thinks he can’t be distracted from his work. Reader bets that isn’t true, and she’s willing to prove it.

Stretch - Wrecker x fem!reader. - 13.5k words. Reader and Wrecker are a strong couple, but there are some challenges that come with dating someone so physically large.

Different, But Still Good - TBB!Echo x fem!reader. - 3.4k words. Reader is a sex-positive asexual, unbothered by the ways Echo was changed during his time with the Separatists. They’re both a little surprised when he volunteers to help on an unusually needy day.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Bitten - Commander Wolffe x fem!reader. - 13.4k words. Reader has a crush on Broadside, a pilot with the 501st. When it isn’t returned, a helpful stranger encourages her to let Wolffe provide a distraction.

Tied Up in You - Commander Fox x fem!reader. - 9.8k words. Established relationship between Fox and Reader. Sickeningly sweet glimpses at a loving, unlikely relationship.

Misbehaving - Commander Cody x fem!reader. - 9.2k words. Reader is in a relationship with Cody. Their relationship is one of control and boundaries, but they’re both willing and ready to test each other.

Star Wars: Legends

Bodyguard - Alpha-17 x fem!reader. - 9.2k words. Reader is a Senatorial aide, assigned to work for a hated senator who endangers both of their lives with his politics. Fortunately, Alpha is sent to keep them safe.

Gar Cyare Spice Fics - Alpha-17 x fem!reader. - 6.8k words. Assorted spicy chapters of an ongoing fic on my main blog. (Gar Cyare by WanderingInkSplot) Established relationship between Alpha and the fem!reader.

The Boys

Hooked - Billy Butcher x fem!reader. - 8k words. Reader is a tow truck driver sent to tow Butcher's car. He's less than pleased.

The Walking Dead

Arm Candy - Negan x fem!reader. - 18k words. Reader is a Savior and a prospective wife. Negan likes to show her off at meetings, but he is easily the most distracted person in the room.

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idontexistforcontext · 4 months

Text

None of us are free until all of us are free

So I’ve recently remembered that I have a linktree which I haven’t actually used since like 2020/2021, so perfect place to share some of my saved links to support Palestine right? I suppose you can imagine my surprise when I already find a “FREE PALESTINE” header, one I don’t remember adding as a teen in the throes of lockdown and high school, right at the bottom.

I won’t try and pretend like I do remember adding any such thing, or sharing calls for donations for drinking water for Gaza, or for a hospital in East Jerusalem. I won’t act as if I had done the right thing and educated myself, because if I had back then, maybe I might’ve gotten involved in the criticism of Zionism and Israel whole lot sooner into the influx of atrocities and war crimes they’ve committed in “retaliation”. And maybe I would’ve understood just how much control the Israeli have had over the Palestinians sooner, for why would they have needed funds for suitable drinking water in early 2021? And maybe I would’ve known why I was sharing a call for aid for Al Makassed Hospital, which was raided by IOF soldiers dressed as women who sound bombed the area, killing 150 and injuring 600 Palestinians mid-2021. And maybe I would’ve known of Al Quds Open University, of which the hospital was associated with, and was bombed in November last year.

And sure, I could go on, but I won’t. Because the babies burned and decapitated and dismembered in the bombings in UNICEF’s camps in Rafah, the “designated safe zone”, and in their homeland wouldn’t have been alive then, let alone grow to learn from their elders who would have lived through it. Little Hind Rajab, who would’ve been alive then but too young to truly recall, won’t care, because she was murdered alone with her already dead relatives and two brave men who were meant to be allowed to save her. The innocent bodies marred by this so called “war”, the bleak eyes cursed by death, the broken bodies and immovable spirits of displaced persons seeking safety from the greed of the world - they won’t be thinking of matters of the past.

I genuinely don’t know what to think anymore. My heart aches for the Palestinians, as it does for the Congolese and the Sudanese and the Uyghurs and all victims of the manifestations of the greed of humanity. All I can wish for is for humanity to open their eyes, their hearts, to properly watch our world burn and feel the same aches as I do, as so little yet so many do. To take those aches and build the world anew, not from rubble, but from the foundations of our collective morals and drive against injustice and for a sustainable future.

And maybe I’ve written too much and no one will truly read this all, especially since I haven’t entirely censored myself here. But I refuse to put the effort in to make a tldr because I want people to read this all, I want to see just how far my voice can and will go.

The Operation Olive Branch spreadsheet is at the top of my linktree, right under the ‘FREE PALESTINE’ header that started these thoughts. If you’d like to look at the links I mentioned, I’ve kept them as the bottom three, I overall encourage you to research into them if you have the mental capacity to, or to at least keep up to date with the world today. I most likely won’t be updating that linktree again, so please seek other accounts and people who have more resources and material to keep educated.

As always, none of us are free until all of us are free. Choose the right side of history, make a stand against injustice.

#free palestine #palestine #free falasteen #free congo #free sudan #free uyghurs #less of a vent and more of a ramble but please give yourself the time to read this if/when you can #all eyes on palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #boycott israel #also please know that boycotting is very much a privilege so do what you must #if it’s between you starving and suffering or buying a safe food that may be on any boycott list buy the food #no pride in genocide #lmao pls look at the reblogs bc I talk about other issues while dealing with zios #idefc posts

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donna-wants-to-be-an-alien · 5 months

Text

Five times Mycroft hated sewing and the one time he didn't!

I know, I know! A BBC Sherlock FanFic in the year of "We've buried that show years ago, Donna! What the fuck?!" But I got such a lovely prompt from a friend (I did specify this fandom, but only because I forgot the only other fandom we share. Which isn't that much less... controversial, I guess xD) Also, I love Mycroft, in any iteration I have watched or read, but especially this one! So enjoy ^^

1. A Toy

As so many things in his life, Mycroft's forays into sewing started with Sherlock. The baby brother had been announced a few weeks ago and the due date was looming ever so closer! He had tried to find the perfect gift for the child to be born, but nothing was perfect enough in his mind. No matter, he was Mycroft Holmes! Genius par excellence! He would just make one himself!

A small stuffy would be child's play for him! (If Mycroft cared about puns, he would have congratulated himself for this one!)

A few weeks, multiple meters of fabric and a few bags of stuffing later, the young redhead stood at the side of the bassinet that held the screaming, unhappy brother he would care for deeply! As well as a small misshapen lump of fabric, Mycroft would for ever deny was made by him.

2. A costume

Despite popular opinions and rumours, spread by jealous little brothers, Mycroft was never too big as in too high in weight for the costumes of the school play! He was simply too high in... height. So, when the theatre group was planning the show and all the costumes had to be made, he foolishly agreed to make his own, to lighten the burden of his classmates. It was always beneficial to be a good sport in group projects, after all.

So he found himself once more in front of fabric and thread, but this time accompanied by a sewing machine.

After more unsuccessful versions than he'd like to remember, the Holmes' housekeeper took pity on him and not just helped him to conceal the crimes to fashion, but also with the final costume.

Even years later, his peers liked to comment on his talents not just being mental, but being skilful hands as well!

3. A brother Now, this one could be considered cheating, or waxing poetics, about a young brother, with too much mind and more importantly too much heart and not enough guard rails, because those chafe and burn.

But it isn't, because before the rehabs and the dealers being scared off and found and removed, there was an accident, a thief, a knife and a first aid kit. Mycroft doesn't like to remember it, the warmth, the red, the urgency! (The fear, oh god, the pure terror!) But the man was arrested, disappeared, honestly, and the brother safe in a cage, to try and get him back. But at least Sherlock was alive enough to rebel at that!

4. A skirt

Now, this one wasn't as bad, frustrating or horrifying as the others. All things considered, the objective had been cleared, so having to sew up Anthea's skirt, that got ripped during the assignment, one of the last he had to fulfil before rising up into the more strategic areas of his job, was of almost no importance or consequence. Except for the fact that it got ripped while defending him from the very talented operative in possession of the file they were after. Even with his shoddy job of it, due to the fact he hadn't touched a needle and thread in years, she was presentable enough that they wouldn't stand out in public. Anthea gave him a travel kit for the promotion. It was overwhelmingly sentimental! (It had it's fixed place in every briefcase!)

5. A coat

After the absolute mess of things on the roof of St. Barth's, Mycroft held his brother's coat in his hands. During the commotion on the pavement, someone must have ripped it, trying to get to Sherlock. (An army doctor, trying frantically to reach his best friend, the focal point of his life.)

With the ruse being pulled off and a man left devastated and another in the lion's den, all that remained was a ripped coat. The outer layer ripped and the inner lining soiled with blood and other fluids in order to shatter beliefs.

So Mycroft went to work, meticulously cleaning and repairing the coat, except for one gash....

+1. A coat Part Two

… that one he finished on the way to get his baby brother home, back to his family, where he belonged.

By now, Mycroft had enough practice to make the coat look undamaged, and the relief he felt, when Sherlock slipped it one and stormed out in a strut, to mock John for his moustache, he pondered if maybe it would be a worthwhile endeavour after all...

#fanfic #fanfiction #bbc sherlock #mycroft fanfic #bbc sherlock fanfiction

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direwombat · 5 months

Note

For the AU asks, how about a role reversal AU for Jacob and Syb? One where Syb is the herald and Jacob is the deputy?

[SEND ME A PAIRNG + AN AU SETTING]

ahhhhh thank you kate!!!! fdsa;lf ok so. this got long, but considering anything under 5k is a "short" fic for me, it's fine. also writing evil syb is a lot of fun, so i just let it flow.

for context: in the role reversal au, i imagine that daddy la roux played a more significant role in syb and augustine's upbringing and as a result, syb ends up going to prison instead of going into the army. so when she becomes a herald (nicknamed the Warden) of augustine's cult, she takes over the Henbane with her base of operations being the Hope County Jail (which she calls "the kennels") where she trains loyal and obedient "dogs" to defend the cult.

word count: ~1.5k warnings: imprisonment and brief torture using an electric collar

Jacob was aware of the so-called Warden of the Henbane.

He’d read her file front-to-back until he had it memorized when Whitehorse made the call to bring in Burke to arrest her brother. Born in New Orleans and raised in a dysfunctional home with an alcoholic father and sick mother, “troubled” is perhaps the kindest word to describe her childhood and adolescence. Her rap sheet was already a mile long by the time she dropped out of high school at age sixteen — after her mother died — and no one was surprised when she started busting kneecaps professionally.

They were even less surprised when she killed her Daddy. If anything, those who knew her were more amazed that she hadn’t unloaded the entire clip into his torso. Just a single bullet, straight through the brain. His execution might have been merciful had she not shoved the barrel into his mouth first, breaking his teeth before pulling the trigger. “Daddy taught me there’s only one way to take care of a bad dog,” she’d stated on the record. “So, I put’im down.”

She hadn’t fought her case. Pled guilty, spent the next fifteen years at the Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women in St. Gabriel, and was eventually released on good behavior. By all accounts, she was a model inmate and repaid her debt to society.

Or, at least she had, until she broke parole and fled to Montana with her cult leader brother.

Everyone who’s come into contact with her makes her out to be some sort of monster. A boogeyman with sharp teeth and soulless eyes, stalking around on long, spindly legs with a cattle prod hanging off her belt. Unlike the other cult Heralds, people rarely speak of her outside of hushed whispers, as if fearful she may overhear. “She turns men into animals,” they say. “And then she trains them up like dogs.”

But Jacob assumes that, like most authoritarians, she’s less impressive in person.

Every bone and muscle in his body aches as he slowly comes to consciousness. The attempt to arrest her brother had gone poorly, to say the least. Joseph would probably consider him surviving the impact of the helicopter crash a miracle. Jacob isn’t so sure he’d agree.

Even behind closed eyelids, the soft blanket of darkness gives way to blinding white light, and he lets out a low groan. The high pitched buzz of fluorescent lights sound overhead and he curls in on himself, instinctively protecting the soft, vulnerable flesh of his abdomen. His breath comes out rough and ragged. The taste of copper rests heavy on the back of his tongue.

Back in Iraq, Miller had told him about how he’d spent three months as a POW before being rescued. The worst part wasn’t the torture, Miller had said. It was the isolation. With no way to measure time passing, all he had to hold on to the fraying threads of his sanity was focusing on his own breathing. “If I could breathe, then I was still alive. And if I was still alive, then I could hold on a little bit longer.”

So, Jacob takes a breath.

And then he takes another.

And another and another and another, focusing on the air — cold, dry, stagnant — filling his lungs until the pain melts away and the panicked thumping of his heart slows to match the steady rhythm of inhales and exhales.

In, two, three, four — the soft clicks of a lighter’s flint struggling to spark sounds over the buzzing lights.

Out, two, three, four — and the smell of cigarette smoke burns at his nose.

Jacob stirs, cracking his eyes open and wincing at the bright white light bouncing off gray concrete walls. He blearily searches for the source of the smoke, his vision still soft and fuzzy. A figure, tall and thin, stands on the other side of his cell, and as the world slowly comes into focus, he’s met with a face he’d only ever seen in a mugshot.

Sybille La Roux — The Warden herself — leans casually against the bars with a cigarette held loosely between two fingers.

She’s older than she appears in her photo, and significantly more covered in ink. Various tattoos crawl up the pale skin of her toned arms and shoulders, and one of a fraying noose circles her neck, serving as a grim memento mori. Long gone is the mullet she once had — her dark hair cropped short instead, but the look in her eyes remains just as cold and remorseless.

It’s a look he’s familiar with. One he’s seen in his fellow soldiers and one he sees every time he looks in the mirror. Like him, this woman is a killer, and she has no reservations about killing again.

“Rise ‘n shine, princess,” she drawls. Tendrils of smoke coil out of her mouth, demon-like, as she speaks. Her lips curl into a cruel smile. “Sleep well?”

Jacob shifts, pushing himself up into a seated position. A chain jangles behind him as he moves, but he pays it no mind, sliding backwards until his back is pressed against the wall. He levels her with a stone-faced glare, jaw clenching, and even as the seconds drag on, he doesn’t dare break eye contact.

Here, under her scrutinizing gaze, weakness is the one thing he can’t afford.

She tuts with a click of her tongue and bends down to squat in front of the bars. “Aw, c’mon now, ain’t no need to be like that,” she says, taking another puff of her cigarette. When she exhales, she blows the smoke through the bars, into his cell. That taunting grin of hers never leaves, and she crooks the two fingers holding her cigarette beckoningly. “Here, boy.”

But Jacob makes no move to obey. He remains where he sits and narrows his eyes.

She sighs, shoulders heaving in an exaggerated display of disappointment, as if she were a child upset that her favorite animal at the zoo wasn’t being interesting enough. Lifting the cigarette to her lips, she lets it dangle there for a moment while she shifts her weight to pull something from her pockets. Whatever it is, it’s small enough to fit in her palm without Jacob seeing it.

And then pain — sharp, jolting, and electric — shoots through his veins.

His jaw locks in place and he grinds his teeth together so hard he tastes blood. The skin around his neck burns. His muscles spasm, and he falls over onto the ground. His heart races, thumping against his ribcage with enough force that he thinks it might actually explode in his chest. A clipped scream slips out between his teeth and he writhes on the ground, limbs twitching in agony.

And just as suddenly as it started, it stops.

He’s left panting on the ground, red-faced and drooling. Thick strings of spittle dampen his beard, dripping onto the floor below. Yet, despite the trembling of his limbs subsiding as the current leaves his body, the tightness in his chest remains. It isn’t until he can’t take it anymore that a hoarse, rasping cough forces its way from him, leaving him dry-heaving where he lay. His sweaty temple is pressed against the cool concrete, and slowly, his heartbeat slows and he regains his breath.

When he opens his eyes with another groan, he finds La Roux regarding him dispassionately. “I said: c’mere,” she repeats, and this time, her tone leaves no room for disobedience.

Jacob grunts when he lifts himself onto trembling hands and knees. Reluctantly, he obeys, crawling towards her on aching knees until the chain behind him pulls taught and the electric collar she’d just used to shock him digs into his windpipe. He stops just short of the bars, unable to reach through and grab her.

Her lips curl into a cruel smile. “Good boy,” she says and takes another drag. “S’pose I don’t gotta explain the humor of your situation, do I, Deputy Seed?” she asks, reaching through the bars so she can tap the ashes of her cigarette onto the ground in front of him.

The irony of an officer of the law being unlawfully held in his own jail by a convicted felon isn’t lost on him, but once again, he doesn’t answer.

Unconcerned by his refusal to respond, La Roux keeps talking. “Tell me — you ever think about what happens to the people you lock up?” She cocks her head menacingly to the side and her voice lowers. “Do y’know what happens when a person spends too long inside a cage?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ll show me,” he grits through clenched teeth.

He nearly flinches when she throws her head back to bark a laugh. When her gaze returns to him, her eyes are glimmering with malice. “You gonna give me reason to?” she asks. Once again, Jacob remains quiet, and she takes the moment to let her eyes rake over his body, sending a shiver crawling down his spine. She locks onto his old army dog tags, which dangle freely from his neck. Her smile widens. “Nah, y’already half broken in, ain’t’cha?”

She rises to stand and looks down at him groveling before her like a dog. Taking a final drag, she lets the butt of her cigarette slip from her fingers and fall to the ground. Her heavy boot comes down and she grinds its glowing ember out with her heel. “Don’t worry. We’ll get’cha the rest of the way there. I’ll train ya up real good.”

#my fic #oc: deputy sybille la roux #herald syb au #r: define your meaning of war #realistically syb would probably be serving life but we'll handwave that for the sake of the fiction

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fountainpenguin · 10 months

Text

"Suspense is controlling my mind... I can't find a way out of here..."

---

New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Approval”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3

Find more Lavender Train story arc HERE

---

A glimpse into 155,000-year-old Foop's life on the student council as he decorates the gym for a high school dance. Guest appearances by Poof, Denzel, Kevin, the von Strangle twins, the O'Terrae clones, Whistle, and Foop's betrothed: Anti-Coriander.

(First 1000 words under the cut)

40. Approval (~5,000 years after "Temptation" and 5,000 before "All I Ever Wanted")

Wednesday February 8th, Aurora 177

Year of Water, Winter of the Powerful Rapids

---

If Foop had truly had an inkling of how much work it takes to run the school as its student body secretary, he may not have bothered campaigning. Honestly they were three years into the current zodiac cycle and he still hadn't decided if he'll run for the position again.

He probably would. He most definitely would, so he didn't even know why he was complaining. The one and only cycle that he reigned as student body president with Poof as his secretary, half the meetings didn't get their minutes recorded in any real detail, and Poof had typed every single document using the Central Star region's way of spelling Snobbish words.

And other minor annoyances… like, he'd written out directions once and called the first floor "second floor" and Foop spent 30 minutes flitting around in puzzled circles until it clicked that he and Poof were using different terms for their destination. He walked in late and his snacks were cold. Hmph. No one ever seemed to have that problem when it was him sending out newsletters. Atrocious.

And when Poof had double-dipped his hand briefly into the role of student body treasurer, the budget may as well have been sliced in half with the way Poof divvied up their things. Honestly, it felt sometimes like his counterpart flopped in his various roles on purpose just to make him miserable. He'd like to believe Poof was better than that level of petty, but sometimes when you were dripping with exhaustion and low on caffeine, it was impossible to tell.

Poof's on freaking peppermint a solid 70% of his waking hours anyway. A lot of help HE is. He supposed he could thank his counterpart for getting addicted to candy in a way that let Foop operate sober and without temptation of any kind. That was the only silver lining to any of this.

Foop despised his counterpart's peppermint habit, but like Darkness would he ever rat Poofy out to his mummy and daddy. No. They both relied on their parents' approval- if not for physical comfort and safety, then certainly for emotional support. Hard pass. Disgrace. Poof had far too much dirt on him to ever make him risk tipping their mutually assured destruction too far to one side.

My secret affairs with Anti-Marigold come to mind… His father will flay him alive when he finds out about that. An anti-will o' the wisp… Really. The prince of Anti-Fairy World could have done "so much better in a mistress" (and High Count Anti-Cosmo will painfully let him know it). His lecherous father was a textbook nymphomaniac. Foop would rather die than allow the pooferazzi to document Anti-Cosmo dragging his son out to all his old brothel haunts or… or… something like that.

Do we even have brothels in Anti-Fairy World? Who knows. That's not the point. The High Count undoubtedly did something scandalous with his spare time when he wasn't holed up plotting world domination, and whatever that thing may be, Foop would sooner sprint one billion kilometers in the other direction than ever face it head-on.

Anti-Cosmo didn't approve of the fact that Foop ended up on student council in the first place. Foop had cheated some of the vote (as he'd cheated it for years) by relying on bashful simpletons like Whistle to campaign in his favor while simultaneously threatening others into voting for him. He'd stuffed the ballot box and didn't even care. Honestly, part of him suspected the school knew what he was up to, and Foop took cruel pride in the fact that if he managed to do a good enough job keeping the school activities flowing, the faculty might simply look the other way. Oh, there's such a great joy in being wanted as a leader instead of merely feared…

Not that my father understands that. My position is secured someday, especially if I don't have heirs until I'm so old that my wand sparks when I use it. Meanwhile, my father will be twisting his neck, peering anxiously over one shoulder in cold anticipation of my rise to power until the day he dies.

Ah, youth. He reveled in it.

At least Poof knew how to lead a meeting that kept all the officers engaged. Poof had this animated way of speaking where he sort of gushed over his words, the long tails of his blue bandana ribbon snapping behind him in an imaginary wind every time he paced. He could sell a genie on underwater real estate. Maybe that was why the people kept electing him student body president year after year.

They'd been setting up for tonight's dance since before the window for early-morning breakfast wishes closed off. Well… Foop had, anyway. It wasn't really necessary. In a pinch, magic could always be whipped out to speed the process along, but Foop had his own… reasons for wanting to keep eyes on their location for hours at a time.

He traced the pad of one finger along the dark scar that curled around his neck. Left side, just above the collarbone…

Cavatina Sanderson had slit that scar across Poof's innocent skin 20,000 years ago, during the same Autumn Masquerade where Foop first met Anti-Coriander. Foop had even died and regenerated a few times since then - not on purpose! (mostly) - but the scar wasn't his to heal. This same scar branded his counterpart's neck. It had been given to Poof first, and the stupid sync between their cores kept it firmly in place like a teeter-totter. Terribly annoying.

He never knew how to explain it when strangers asked. Wasn't even his battle wound to brag about. Or Poof's, for that matter… That infuriating pixie had simply backed his counterpart against a wall and shoved a blade right up to his neck. Poof just let it happen. And if he'd done it at one dance, Foop had no reason to believe he wouldn't make another appearance tonight.

Therein lay the anxieties.

[Cnt’d - FFN and AO3 links above]

#FOP #Fairly OddParents #FOP Foop #130 Prompts #ridwriting #Nerdy blue bat son #Purple hippie dragonfly #Snazzy sequel son #Panicked sequel son #Cilantro princess #Cavatina #Big Crock #Little Crock #FAIRIES!#Bat cube and associates #I wrote / drew this in May. It's been a long wait #apparently art #fic announcement

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multiimistakes · 9 months

Text

Gavin is a flighty and self-preserving asshole to the point he took an offer to rat out his entire team he'd operated with for four years and had considered, more or less, family. Let's talk about it.

CHILDHOOD.

Gavin Payne was born to-—well, he doesn't know. Put up for adoption at birth or at some point before he could recall, he was placed in a moderately average and lower middle class family. It wasn't an abusive childhood in the way you saw in movies or read in books, but it was arguably one of neglect. A roof over his head, clothes on his body, and food in his stomach was about all he got from his adoptive parents.

As a child, he'd attempted to gain his parents affection like any normal child would. Perfect grades, a pleasant demeanor, did his chores, minded his bedtime. He was bright and clever and was open and wanting of the sort of family you saw on TV. Everything that was deemed the typical way to earn praise and love, Gavin was that. When these attempts were met with nothing, he flipped to what any ignored child would flip to-—he acted out. Poor grades, horrid behavior at school. Anything that could more or less FORCE his parents to do SOMETHING with him. Nothing.

This continued on into and through high school and he jumped into the army as soon as he could. Childhood had taught Gavin that the only one who would look out for him and ever really be in his corner was himself and this mentality would stick with him.

ON PURPOSE, BELONGING, & STABILITY.

The army gave him something he hadn't had before. Purpose. He had a reason to use his brain, had a reason to try. There were incentives, you were noticed. Up until now he'd been screaming that he was there, that he existed and now, suddenly, people were actually acknowledging it. He threw himself into it. Not because of any foolish idea of patriotism or fighting for his country, but because he had found a place that had provided him with everything his childhood hadn't.

DISCHARGED.

Gavin was good. He was quick and clever and incredibly tactical. He excelled in just about every aspect of the field except for the part that would inevitably lead him to his discharge. His incompatibility with any semblance of brotherhood or caring for his fellow man would serve to be the nail in his ccoffin that would lose him everything he'd gained up until that point. He was too individualistic, too transactional.

When he was out, it was hell. And as soon as he'd been given a chance to get back in? He took it without asking many questions. This would become a reoccurring thing in his life.

MISC. (Because I'm tired and I want to wrap this up, lmao)

When you're raised with only yourself to count on, sacrifice for your fellow man isn't really a concept to you. When you haven't learned that ability to trust and let others in, it's easy to see things from a very simplified THEM or ME standpoint when put in dire situations. When it came down to either the high likelihood of dying alongside his squad after they'd been burn noticed or living at the cost of ENSURING they died-—it wasn't as hard of a choice to make as Gavin likes to tell himself sometimes.

Ironically enough, it is PMC work/Shadow Company that finally sort of makes something shift in him. It's slow and it's twisted in its execution but he starts to care, actually care. Bringing men back alive isn't just done because of some obligation. Putting himself at risk isn't done with the expectation of some transactional return later. His fellow shadows aren't just names and faces and bodies, they're individuals he comes to know.

And when he has to pull all of that out from under himself, it's not easy. He can't detach from it as he had with his old squad. What he'd grown to know with Shadow Co. couldn't be written off as just numbers or just more bodies. In a situation of THEM or ME, he still had ultimately chose himself but it hadn't been quick and clean. For once, and finally, he genuinely felt like a traitor and one with remorse no less.

#tl;dr: local man joins military instead of seeking therapy #local man then proceeds to make that everyone's problem #local man starts to care and be normal at literally the worst time possible in his life #cw neglect mention #🦈 (gavin); hc #im so tired and im no proofreading this lmAOooo

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chapterhour · 2 years

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The time on the dashboard read, 12:26 am, as I sat driver's seat of my 2012 BMW. My car was parked at the top of Park Ln South dead-end hill that overlooked the entire East New York. This place became my favorite place to escape and gather my thoughts. The radio played low through the speakers, as the dim light illuminated the driver and passenger seats of the black-tinted car. Bryce sat in the passenger seat as he crushed weed on a $100 bill, licking his lips, and observing my moments. We made eye contact as he flashes me a sexy smile and winked at me.

Bryce was a graduate of All Hallows All-Boys High School and was the kind of man no one saw coming. He was known for hustling discreetly. At just the age of 22. He owned a cab service company called the Black Jet Co. Black Jet wasn’t your typical cab service. His services mainly specialized in OT (out-of-town/on-tour)traveling services that stretched out to Canada and Buffalo. He created a system that cleaned his funds and optimized his leverage to smuggle and distribute drugs across the nation while maintaining a low profile.

Fuking Genius!. I have to admit this guy was a handsomely clever dude, with a sharp mind who was married to the hustle; Just how I liked them. Straight ambitiousness. He stood 6 ft tall, with caramel pigmentation that was soft to the touch, dark brown hair, almond shape bright hazel eyes, and a smile that was contagious.

Bryce was making good money and it showed. He kept his operation running smoothly and under the radar, by mixing in local cab services on days he wasn't too exhausted. He drove around in many different cars but owned a beautiful white-tinted 2014 Mercedes Benz CLA 250. He dressed comfortably in Polo or Nike-tech attire with white Nike low-tops to complete the fit. He rocked a medium icy cuban link, a Rolex, and a few matching hand rings. Bryce worked out and was in great shape, so anything he wore fit his body to perfection. He was gentle enough to lift me like a baby and strong enough to kick some ass if pushing came to shoving. As fit and strong as he was, he still carried his P320 SPECTRE COMP handgun just in case shit went left. There was no telling what could happen in the midst of his paper-chasing & life-gambling hobbies and he was prepared for whatever.

My only response to his contagious smile was rosy cheeks as I smiled ear to ear. My urges wanted to eat him alive as I watched him put his tongue on the paper to seal the spliff shut. He then sparks the lighter to steam dry the joint before lighting it on one end and inhaling through the other. I wasn't sure why everything this man did had turned me on, but it was like clockwork. At any time of every day.

Bryce chuckled as he sat up and adjusted his body a little closer to me, I shimmed closer to him and asked ‘‘what’s so funny’’.

We shared broad smiles as our faces got closer to one another’s.

He responded “ you!’’

Me?, What did I do?

I responded.

He laughs and then kisses me. His kisses always made me want to eat his face, but I decided to take my time and enjoy these moments.

It was roughly a month since I’d seen Bryce and although there were times when we went on tours together., it also wasn’t unlikely for him to go OT alone for days with almost no communication besides a check-up on both ends. Which in the end was alright because I never had a reason not to trust him and vice versa.

Without hesitation I kiss him back slowly slipping my tongue into his mouth, turning our smoke session into a heated make-out session. I started sucking on his tongue gently, making slurping noises. He slightly spits in my mouth

‘‘mmmmm tasty’’ I respond.

His touches were always gentle as he starts to grope my breast with one hand and held the joint in another.

‘‘You're so nasty’’ he mentioned. I giggle and stick out my tongue signifying I wanted more.

He inhaled deep filling his mouth with smoke. Puts the joint in the ashtray that sat in the cup holder, then turns to me.

He grabbed my face put his lips on mine, then exhales into my mouth. I inhaled and suck on his bottom lip as he pulls away looking me in the face. Bryce grabs and lightly tugs a handful of my curly hair, pulling my head backward as he starts passionately sucking on my neck. I Let out a soft moan as his hands are now making their way past my stomach caressing my thighs.

With my left hand, I pull the lever to adjust my seat to a more comfortable laid-back position giving him space to adjust his body closer to mine. Bryce leans over towards me and in between kisses says ; ‘‘you missed me, baby?’’ …

nodding my head yes I responded; ‘‘Can I Show you’’?

‘‘Nah, let me show you how much I missed you,’’ he continued to say.

Bryce held the to keys my heart and he knew it. Aside from his thuggish persona his good looks. He wasn’t afraid to show me affection while being attentive to my needs. Not to mention showering me with gifts, fancy dinners, and trips was only the icing on the cake.

We’ve learned each-other desires and it was really easy for us to enjoy one another.

After adjusting the seat I laid back in he slowly unzipped the zipper holding my blouse together exposing my breast, he was surprised to see I wasn't wearing a bra giving me an annoyed look.

‘‘what? I wore this for you,’’ smiling while making playful posing gestures. ’’ asking him if he liked it

if it was intended for me then I love it’’

he smiled back while cupping and massaging both of my breasts.

He leans downwards and started flick-licking my right nipple while his soft fingers rubbed and played with the left one. Sucking on my tits made my vagina tingle, desperately yearning for him to touch me more and have his way with me. He began slowly running his fingers in a circular motion around my nipple, across my chest, and down past my stomach. Inching down to my hips he teased my waistline with his touches. I squirmed and softly moan some more as my vagina became moist, soaking my underwear. He traced my bikini line with his fingers through my tights, then took his index along with his middle finger and began rubbing right underneath the clitoral hood causing my clit to throb and flourish, all without touching skin. As I look down at my needy area I can see my vagina imprinted through my light grey tights with wet marks that formed from my juices.

Bryce glanced at me as I bite my lips watching his hands fondle my clitoris through my clothes before he says; ‘‘tell me, baby, what do you want?’’

As Usher played softly in the background…

‘’I’ve been waiting for this for so long, we’ll make love until the sun comes up, Baby... I just wanna take it nice and slow’’

‘’I want you to take it nice and slow’’; I responded giving him a seductive look.

Bryce smiled and pulled down my tights exposing my white laced thong. He let’ out a sigh of relief mixed with hunger as he pulled my panties to the side. He blew lightly on my pussy causing goosebumps to dominate my legs. Eager to feel his touch, I lifted the bottom half of my body so that he can devour me entirely, and just as anticipated he placed his tongue on my clit and sucked it softly. The warmth of his mouth made my pussy cream almost instantly. Sucking turned into tongue play as he spread open my pussy lips and flicked his tongue back and forth on my clitoris, splashing and drinking my juices.

‘‘I moan’’; & he slurped.

The more I squirmed the more his tongues play intensified, he begins grunting seductively in between his meal and saying; ‘ you taste so good ’’

I respond in between moans; ‘‘mmm tell me you love this pussy.

he responds. ‘’ I love this pussy, as he fondled my vagina with his soft hands before licking his fingers.

The more he fondled the more my juices flowed. Bryce was rock-hard and ready to go. As I watched as he rubbed his dick through his Nike sweats. He then turns and looked at me with glossy bedroom eyes as he said; “come ride on this dick’’

Watching him recline the passenger seat back told me it was time to saddle up. I pull off my tights leaving on my thong as I thought to myself if we get run down on, at least I’ll be wearing underwear. The thought of the ridiculous idea, made me chuckle looking in his direction. I saw him begin to empty his pockets, putting his wallet on the dashboard before his cell phone chimed. He looked at the screen, opened his phone, responded to a text, locked it then throws it on the dashboard of the car. He laid back and loosened the tied strings on his tracksuit before pulling down both sweats and boxers exposing his large shaft. Still massaging it himself he says; ‘’Come here Ma, Hop on’’

Turned on, I leaned over and we began kissing again.

‘’what’s the hurry baby? I wanna taste you’’; I kissed him again and began to stroke his penis making the tip moist.

In between strokes, I’d tease the tip licking my fingers while playing with just. the head

‘‘mph girl’’ Your such a tease as he let out a sexy moan-like grunt.

I smiled and then kiss him on the lips one last time before proceeding down to lick around the head of his dick. I sucked the head softly with my warm mouth making him stiffen his legs. The more I sucked the more my mouth and vagina began to water as he thrust my mouth. Saliva dripped down his penis as my mouth was latched around it causing him fuck my face deeper. Moaning he held my head as I motioned it up and down faster and deeper.

‘‘FUK!’’ he pleaded.

I was hands-on craving this man and he was just about to find out how much. Knowing he may be at the peak of an explosion. I jumped on his lap into a reverse cowgirl position, pulled my thong to the side, and slide his thick penis inside my throbbing vagina. The tightness of my walls made us gasp upon entry.

‘‘mph this pussy is so wet & tight ma’’; he said while he slapped my ass

‘‘mmm’’ What else baby? I moaned as I rode his horse.

‘‘Do that thing I like, he responded

It was time to hit the full throttle as I hula hooped on his dick. Holding on to my small waist and breathing heavily he begins licking his fingers. I knew he was about to give me double penetration. My hands held on to the dashboard as he rubbed my clitoris with one hand and fingered my ass with the other. thrilled with pleasure, I bounced and rode his stallion faster. After a few minutes, I could feel us both about to erupt. His erection grew thicker inside me as my juices expelled from my pudenda with every stroke.

‘‘squirt for me doll face, he spoke

‘’I moan uncontrollably as I feel my legs shaking

He continued to play on my sinking island as I slowly slid my leg up and turned my body to face him. gliding his dick directly into my pudenda.

He grunts softly signifying he liked it and he was just about ready to fill me up like a cream pie

‘‘mmmm daddy, you ready? , I asked, looking back at him. He slapped and squeezed my ass harder while playing with my clit with the other making it more sensitive by the second. My pussy explodes on his dick causing him to give me a few more strokes until he couldn't hold back from releasing himself.

‘‘I moan and cum uncontrollably

He slaps my ass again. Then asked;

‘’where you want it ma?’’

‘’where ever you’d like it, I responded.

‘’I want to put it in your mouth’’, he said seductively staring at me with his deep eyes.

Bryce had a way of making me feel naked even if I was fully clothed, It was a look that said ‘’you don't have to be naked to be sexy.’’ and he made me feel just that all the time. No matter what time of day it was. To me, he was perfect and I had nothing to complain about.

Without any hesitation, I jump off, hopped back in the driver seat then got in a kneeling position. I placed my mouth on his shaft sucking off all my juices. I deep-throated a few times before he grabs my head, grunting and breathing heavily he released a large loud nutting in my mouth.

Emptying his tank I swallowed each shot he released not saving any for later.

He grunts softly as he rubs my head and then looks at me.

I love you, he told me.

I always enjoyed hearing him say those words. I looked at him, smiled back then said;

oh, you love me? What else?’’ I shot back.

You’re going be my wife and you’re going to have my kids one day and that's all that there is to it. He then responded; while smiling back.

Speechless by what he had expressed. My only response was to smile and climb into his arms and kiss.

No, this Mfuker did not just take his heart and share it like the last slice. I thought to myself as laid in his arms while the music continued playing softly through the speakers of the car. We laughed and talked about our goals as we planned to build and empire together. Bryce was the guy all the girls drooled over, While some other cats hated on him on the low. He loved natural women. Women who were bossy, that came with ambition along with some attitude. He loved an assertive woman, and I was what he was missing. Although I was involved in the nightlife, he supported everything was involved in without ever questioning me. Bryce didn't care as long as I remained level-headed, loyal, and hungry for success. He made it his business to help build higher stats for myself in the nightlife industry. He introduced me to photographers he he was already well acquainted with, paid for photoshoots, and drench me in Chanel gear.

Bryce often called me doll face; in reference to always comparing my resemblance to the Chole’s Bratz doll. Needless to say, he wasn't lying. I stood 5 foot 3 inches with a fair complexion, long thick blonde hair, crystal green eyes, B-cup-sized breasts and natural curves. Bryce enjoyed more how bottom-heavy I was and his his hands were never shy.

After a few minutes of snuggling close, a firm knocking is heard hitting against the tinted window of my BMW. Not expecting anyone to be roaming the area at this time. My heart instantly started pounding in my chest as i thought to my self.

The area where we were parked was surround by tall trees and rocky roads that stood almost on a cliff at a dead-end. Not to mention it’s a tough uphill walk with almost little to no light at night making it very hard to see and even more easier to get lost.

They knock again. I looked at him as he turned his head to look out the window, clicked off the light trying to get a better look through the tinted glass. Hearing voices that didn’t seem familiar to Bryce had him on edge. Not being able to identify who it was outside. Bryce placed his hand and pulled out his handgun he had tucked in between the seat and the passenger door. As tapping turned into banging. I jumped out of his arms and into the driver's seat becoming more frightened.

Bryce adjusts his pants as we listened to three unfamiliar voices surrounding my car. I rush to put my tights on and zip my blouse together as Bryce signals me to keep quiet by putting his finger on his lips, while gripping his gun and looking through the rear and peripheral mirrors. He watched their movements, as they circled the vehicle. We sit quietly As #5 tints made it hard to see inside of the car & verse versa.

Bryce tried to listen to the voices; as they spoke

‘’are you sure this is the car?’’; the first voice said

‘’It has to be, matches all the info Phat gave me ‘’ the second voice says

‘’whose shit is this anyways? ; a third voice asked

‘’shit not important’’ let’s make this nice and easy, anything go wrong blast a motherfuker and whoever else witem’’ ; the first voice continued to say….

GLASS SHATTERS*

The back passenger window is suddenly smashed shattering glass all over the back seat. Bryce jumps out of the car pointing his gun finding a party of three with one holding a crowbar. I heard running footsteps, suggesting they weren't expecting Bryce to be armed and loaded. As my eyes followed the sound that hit the pavement, I noticed two men running to an all-black Nissan Altima that was parked a few feet behind my car with the lights off. Which most likely explained why we didn't notice them coming in.

As the dual hauled ass, the other guy stood frozen in fear with his hands up holding the crowbar used to smash my window. Bryce had a deathly look on his face as he stared at this guy I’ve never seen before down.

He proceeded to taunt the dude by letting out a sarcastic laugh before saying;

haha, are you fuking serious? Gimme the crowbar’’ ; as Bryce held his hand out wanting to retrieve the dudes weapon

As this man stood there in fear, extending his hand that held the crowbar. Bryce looked at him chuckled some more and said while gesturing;

come on, come closer…; now pointing the gun at his groin area

The man inches closer giving Bryce enough arm reach to gun-bud in the face him knocking him to the ground. He begins beating the man halfway the death. Poor dude didn't even see any of it coming. Not only did his two friends make a U-turn and speed off leaving him for dead but this defenseless human was about to wish he made better decisions. As I watched Bryce brutally whip this man with his gun, I thought and wondered to myself who in the hell those men were and how they got the drop on us.

I started hearing wet noises and pounding as I snapped back into present time got out of the car, and rushed over to where the man's limb body laid on the concrete. I began pulling Bryce away telling him

Babe that's enough !!

‘’ who sent you bitch’’ he yelled at the man coughing up blood.

I looked down at the man almost feeling sorry for him. as he tried to speak, coughing and holding his face

it wa a joo; he managed to say with hardly any teeth left in his mouth.

What’d you say you bitch ass nigga? Bryce roared back

‘’It was a job man, the guy pleaded. Phat Boy sent us the drop.’’ said you had something that belonged to him.

Man, please.’’ ; the man continued to plead

‘’Phat Boy?’’ Bryce said under his breath looking puzzled ; Yoo what the fuk are you talking about scrap?’’ ; Bryce asks the man.

I looked at Bryce, while he pointed his gun at the man , squinting his eye with his head tilted in confusion.

He continued ‘’Phat Boy, said you had some that belonged to him. He said he’d pay us if we took care of this.

Bryce grinds his teeth and responses;

Yeah? Phat boy? he never appeared to be a stupid man. So he sent you… Bryce continued to taunt. & you? you’re one dumb motherfuker.

Annoyed Bryce kicked him in the face. while gesturing his arm in front of my body as if he were protecting me from the man holding together his broken face. He began kicking him in the stomach repeatedly causing him to squirm while blurting out; ‘’I'm sorry man, I didn't know it was going to be you man, I promise, I was just doing a job, it's nothing personal’’ the man pleaded some more.

With no remorse.

Bryce looked down at him clicked his gun off the safety, and continued to aimed it at him. I stood there trying to process everything that's about to transpire as Bryce points the gun at the man he's about to send to the gates. I rushed over to him tugging on his arm breaking his focused aggression as I pleaded for him not to kill this man.

Bryce looked at me then looked at him and said;

‘ aigh…. I’ll just send a message instead, then pulls the trigger.

POW!

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madaboutmunson · 2 years

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Cryptic Cupid - Part 3 (Eddie's POV)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

This one is a bit angsty towards the end and it's roughly 4.8K words

Sequel to Raspberry Riddle

So this is set in a government-operated hospital after the events of season 4 but everyone is alive.

Each part has a different POV, Robin, Steve, or Eddie.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

So that just fucking happened. Steve Harrington just kissed Eddie on the forehead and thanked the gods he'd left when he did. Eddie looks under his covers for a second. That could have been infinitely more awkward, but good to know that it was all still in working order. He snorts out a quiet laugh to himself.

Eddie felt like he'd given Steve all the green lights, but it is entirely possible that Steve didn't feel that way anymore, or perhaps Eddie hadn't been as obvious as he thought.

Eddie sits up and picks up his little paper list again, only to lie down with it on his pillow, trace his finger over it, and read it in the moonlight. He had to wonder if Steve knew how he had entirely ensnared Eddie. Had he meant to, who knows?

To be fair, Steve was never not an attractive specimen of human. He was handsome, he always looked well put together, and he had that non-neanderthal jock build. That's why all the girls liked him. He was just the right level of threat. Big and tough enough to take charge, but capable of romantic gestures and being invited for dinner with the parents without them sending out for an exorcist.

But honestly, for most of high school, Eddie had loathed him. No, that wasn't quite right. He had a distaste for him. Steve became a bit of an asshole. He wasn't a bully as such, just like someone flipped a switch on him, and he started making snarky comments for the reactions of his friends. On top of which, he had everything Eddie wanted. He never had to

Worry about money. He was popular. Chicks loved him and his hair, gods, what Eddie wouldn't give for a good hair day like that, just once.

But in the last couple of years, something had changed in Steve again. He wasn't so much of a prick. He worked, he was dating a lot, but nothing stuck, and he was usually ferrying around some of the hellfire kids. Knowing what he knew now about that hell dimension and all the things that Dustin had told him about what Steve had been through with them made perfect sense. He really was a good dude.

Team that with their interaction last summer and how he'd taken care of him here. How could Eddie possibly put up a fight against any of that?

Eddie leans down and retrieves the sign language book the nurse gave him from his bedside cupboard. He opens it up where he left off by finding his bookmark. Steve's riddle was still written on the mini scroll Steve had made for him last summer.

When he'd heard Steve's hearing was worse, he'd asked if Steve was learning to sign, and the nurse had advised Steve wasn't interested and said he could hear well enough. But Eddie suspected differently.

Just as Eddie had refused a walking frame because that was his struggle, Steve thought having something to rely on would hinder him from trying harder. Eddie didn't know Steve well enough to see if he was right, but he knew that this was a perfect time for them both to learn to sign before it became necessary.

Eddie learns the signs for eat, drink, more, please, sorry, and sleep.

A wave of guilt creeps over Eddie. He felt like he was tricking Steve. More than just about making the sign language look like it was something Eddie needed. He knew that Steve wouldn't do something just for himself, but he might do it for someone else. He might learn it for Eddie, and he had, much to Eddie's delight. It was the other thing that was a lot more selfish. Yes, it might hurt a little, but Eddie had been able to sit himself up and lie down unaided since yesterday. He'd even been able to stand up for a while in his physio session. Today he'd taken a few steps. He was absolutely desperate for his body to catch up with his brain. Let him at least be able to take himself to the bathroom when he needs to.

These injuries were so weird. Structurally there was nothing wrong with Eddie other than the surface wounds. All his muscles and bones were fine. It was almost like they were taking their time waking up. Sure he was weaker because of being out for so long, but his progress was rapid. Eddie knew that wasn't because he was some wonder kid.

He closes his book briefly and looks over at the bathroom door. It was pretty close. He could try, but if he fell and Steve found him first, he'd know Eddie had been faking the whole needing his help thing.

Begrudgingly Eddie resolves that he will admit he can do those things just fine without Steve's help tomorrow after physio, even though he would miss having the perfect excuse for getting Steve's arms wrapped around him several times a day.

His head swam again with what just happened, how his heart was thundering in his chest, his lips an inch from Steve's, whose eyes had been shining like distant planets in the night sky, and how he felt under Eddie's touch was incredible. All that working out was absolutely making a difference. Eddie had no idea whether it was better or not, but it felt good. What a fucking show, every morning, right through his doorway. Jesus Christ.

He must know, right? He must know he's putting temptation in Eddie's way.

That one day when Eddie's at full strength, he's gonna march straight over there, pick Steve off his fucking pull-up bar and close the door behind them for good.

That goddamn pull-up bar. Hail fucking Satan and whichever of his minions had whispered in the ear of Steve or the people that work here that day when it got installed.

The rest of the workout was partial viewing because he used the entire room. A glimpse of push-ups, sit-ups, tricep presses, or those goddamn squats. The people of Hawkins were sure Eddie was going to Hell for a fantasy game or the music he liked, but if he was going to hell for anything, it was because of what Steve was doing to his brain daily! The way sweat made his skin shimmer in the morning light. He'd never hear It's Raining Men the same way again. God bless Robin Buckley. At first, he had cursed this tape, but now it was the soundtrack to his favourite morning TV show—callisthenics with Steve Harrington.

Eddie throws himself back onto his pillow. Was this gonna happen? Was there a deity out there that could save him from his complete mess of thoughts? Would he ever stop thinking about Steve tearing the flesh off of one of those fucking bat creatures and beating it to death like it was his own personal memory peep show? Would it never happen between them, resulting in Eddie praying for a deity to turn up and end his misery? He screws up his face in frustration. He wishes he could be more patient, his thoughts more innocent, that he hadn't started down this path of deception with Steve. Wasn't going after a guy dangerous enough? Wayne had told him to be careful, and fucking hell Eddie had tried. Eddie had willpower, but his was built for sprints of resistance, not a marathon. Enough to get him out of harm's way and live to fight another day. But when Steve was around all the time, looking like that, taking care of him, flirting with him, and saying things he always wanted to hear from someone he liked, it was challenging to keep Steve solely under the category of friend. He wanted that and then some. No. So much more. He just couldn't get enough.

Still looking up to an imaginary council of gods of all denominations and mythologies, Eddie hopes that one of them can see how very good he's been and that they might bestow him with what he craves so profoundly.

Steve must know for sure after tonight. Eddie had done everything except explicitly ask for Steve to kiss him, and he guessed he did get a kiss, just not the one he had in mind, but it felt like magic nonetheless. Eddie puts his book away again and smiles as he lays back down. He probably should be grateful he'd got this far without getting outed, ridiculed or punched in the face. He didn't have forever. He had to do something, but carefully. Even though Steve was a guy, he deserved the same respect as any girl Eddie had pursued before, the same patience, the same gentleness, the same honesty, do not be pushy. That is for scumbags, be a gentleman. Starting tomorrow, Eddie was gonna tell the truth and be the best version of himself, not to bend Steve to his will, but to see if Steve actually liked him.

The following day, when Eddie opens his eyes, his door is already open, as usual, but he can't hear any music. Was he awake before Steve called him to wake him up? Eddie tries to see through the doorway without sitting up and catches a glimpse of a Steve he hasn't seen before. Pyjama-wearing, still-yawning, shuffling like a zombie with his hands clamped around a coffee mug, Steve. His hair is sticking up in many different directions. His eyes are barely open until he notices Eddie is awake. Then they ping open, and his mouth parts a little in surprise.

One hand is quickly peeled from the warmth of the coffee mug and goes straight into his hair, combing his fingers through it. Is he preening? Hmmm.

"Er….morning Eddie, you're up early," Steve says pleasantly with a hint of awkwardness. Eddie smiles and waves back, and Steve instantly looks more relaxed, "Do you want some coffee?" He offers, but Eddie shakes his head in happy decline. "Ok, well…um, I normally have breakfast and then come to wake you up, but you're already awake, so um…do you want me to help you sit up?"

The devil on Eddie's shoulder whispers a long hissing yes in his ear, but he manages to ignore it, and with a little effort, he manages to sit himself up, then reaches for the extra pillow and puts it behind him, and gives Steve a big smile and some jazz hands. For a second, Eddie thinks he sees disappointment flash across Steve's face, but rapidly it turns to celebration, and he's dumped his coffee and is already in Eddie's room. So far, so good, Eddie thinks to himself.

"Dude, that's amazing!! Have you been practising all night?? I know it's one step at a time, but did you try anything else?" Eddie feels the eagerness to impress Steve, too tasty a morsel to swim past, and soon he's taken the bait.

He shuffles himself forward as Steve's eyes scan him in awe like some kind of church miracle or futuristic gadget, then turns, so his legs hang over the edge of the bed. He begins untangling some of his wires, and Steve is right in front of him with the same look of amazement plastered all over his face.

"Have you tried to stand?!" Steve says so excitedly he's almost shouting.

Eddie nods.

"Can you walk?" Steve blurts out a follow-up question, and Eddie sticks up three fingers. "3 whole steps???!! That's incredible!!" Eddie feels himself blush because of Steve's enthusiasm over three tiny steps.

"You wanna try again now? With me?" Steve offers exuberantly. Eddie had yet to think this far ahead and felt a little unsure. "If anything goes wrong, I'll catch you. I'm fast. I won't let you fall" bit late for that, Eddie muses to himself, "I'll call the nurse straight away, promise".

Eddie thinks about it. Maybe Steve could help him to the bathroom, so he wouldn't have to use that awful bedpan again. Eddie signs, help me and then points to the bathroom.

Steve helps Eddie detach the many wires from himself and then steps back, giving Eddie some room, "Just let me know if you need my help", Steve says finally, "You got this"

Eddie presses his lips together, holding back the groan that threatens to escape his mouth every time he attempts to stand up. Once he's standing, he's ok pain-wise. It must be the moving of the wounded skin or scars, where most of it comes from. He takes a deep breath, and when he looks over at Steve is biting the lips of his big smile together as his eyes are focused on Eddie's legs, and a few tears fall from them. He must feel Eddie staring at him. Without looking up, he manages, "Ignore me. Just didn't know when I'd see this again, is all. It's good. You're doing great, Eddie."

Eddie isn’t sure how it's even possible, but he feels stronger than he did moments ago, but there is something else. A swirling in his wounds, like he gets when Wayne or the band hug him too hard, a sort of mini headrush that forces him to blink the light spots from his eyes. He takes a step. Not sliding his foot forward. Not a shuffle. A whole step and Eddie can’t believe it himself. He laughs loudly with excitement and clenches his fists in victory. He looks up, and Steve is still holding the same position, “You got one more in ya?”

Eddie does the same again, this one not as strong as the first and a little less balanced, and he glances back to his safe place.

“Hey!” Steve barks for Eddie’s attention, “You’re further from the bed, but you're closer to me, ok? So you’ve got nothing to be scared of. I told you, I got you, man.”

Another wave of whatever that fucking was, this time, it stings a little in his sides and chest. Eddie hisses at its intensity.

“It's just a wall. Push past it!” Steve urges him on.

Eddie looks down and takes two more steps in succession. Four, he’s done one more. He raises his eyes to look at Steve again, who is the same distance away as when they started, but Eddie is definitely further from the bed. This sonofabitch has been moving away every time he moves forward.

Eddie points at Steve in annoyance, indicating with his hands the difference in distance.

Steve raises his head and looks at him curiously, “I thought the point of this was to get to the bathroom?” A self-assured grin creeps across Steve’s face, and Eddie immediately realises what he’s implied he’s aiming for was, in fact, not the bathroom. Eddie tries to remain annoyed, but he’s pretty sure he’s blushing at the very least because parts of his face are heating up. “You wanna move the goalposts, Munson?” Steve’s hands go to his hips, his chin tips up confidently, and Eddie’s heart races like it’s trying to mosh its way out of his body in response.

Steve lifts his arms and stretches them out towards Eddie with a confident smirk, “Well? I’m waiting.” Eddie has no idea how he stays upright because he’s sure one of his knees just threatened to buckle underneath him. Jesus fucking christ. He’s gonna have to go for it, isn’t he?

Eddie puts a finger out in front of him and indicates the distance between them again.

“I won't move a muscle,” Steve says, and Eddie isn't sure if the wording was intentional, but now he had a slideshow of doorway workouts flipping through his mind and was deeply regretting saying anything. He forces Mrs O’Donnell into his mind to ensure this situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it already is.

Eddie looks back to his legs, willing them on. The next few steps were smaller and more painful, but he was doing it. He was walking. As he looks up, he takes his last step towards Steve, whose hands grip Eddie’s shoulders in excitement for a few seconds, and then he lessens his grip but doesn't remove his hands. Instead, they stay on Eddie, making small soothing circles.

Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Donnell, Mrs O’Fuckin-Donnell.

Eddie exhales and raises his head to see Steve gazing at him, “You did so good, Eddie!”

Steve physically turns Eddie around, putting his hands back on Eddie’s arms, but he’s behind him now, and he leans his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, pointing back at the bed, “Look how far you’ve come” Steve says in almost a whisper in his ear.

He isn't sure if it's the achievement, the words, how they are said, who they are said by, how close they were, but he feels a surge of boldness, that stab of now or never. Eddie turns his head towards Steve. He knows it's dangerous how close their lips will be to one another, but he doesn't care. He’s tired of fighting, and his willpower is sat, on the ground, by the side of the track, coughing its lungs out, as Eddie has gone off-roading without it.

He rasps back gently, “I wonder how much further I could go.” He waits for Steve’s eyes to meet his, and then, just like last night, there is that paused moment, precariously balanced on the edge of a samurai blade. One false move, Eddie thinks to himself, keeps incredibly still and waits for Steve to make the next move.

And boy, does he! Not the move Eddie was expecting, but he was pretty sure he would never forget it.

The only sounds in the room were their breathing. Steve's eyes examined Eddie’s face as his hands moved slowly, softly down his arms from where they had rested on his shoulders until they found their way around his torso, encapsulating Eddie in an embrace from behind.

“That ok?” Steve asks shakily.

Eddie nods in reply. His mind is a complete whirlwind. Wasn't he only thinking last night he should offer Steve the same respect and space that he’d shown any of his female romantic interests before, and here he is, but it's Steve using his own line on him?

“Morning Eddie, any idea where Steve is?!” The nurse chirps, and Steve immediately releases Eddie from his arms before the nurse looks their way, “Oh, there you are! You getting some more practice in, Eddie?”

Eddie takes a small step forward away from Steve and nods.

“Practising so he can get to the bathroom on his own. I think he could make it”.

The nurse looks between the bed and the bathroom. Then between the bed and where Eddie is. “Eddie, you can’t go in there by yourself, ok? You've got the pan, or you can call one of us, and we’ll help. What if you fell in there?.”

“I was here. I wouldn't have let him fall.” Steve says firmly. To Eddie’s ear, he almost sounded a little insulted.

The nurse raises his hands submissively, “Hey now, I wasn't suggesting that. I was talking about if Eddie went in there alone. Besides, we’re medical professionals, and Eddie might be embarrassed about having you in there. So leave that to us. We all want what is best for Eddie.”

Steve is moving around Eddie now. He looks annoyed, “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my friend. He’s got no reason to feel embarrassed around me. Eddie wonders if Steve is so angry because of what just happened or that he almost got caught or something?

The nurse approaches and offers his arm to Eddie. Eddie takes it to diffuse the rapidly unfolding in here and is guided back towards his bed, “Stay here, ok buddy? I’ll be right back to do your tests” then he lets go of Eddie and starts walking out of the room. “Steve, please. Can I speak to you for a second?” He waves Steve over towards the door to the hallway

Eddie hated this. The nurse and Steve continue to bicker over what is best for him, like he wasn't there, over something so stupid and basic as him being able to use the bathroom alone. He can hear snippets when Steve raises his voice, “Yes, he can!” “After everything, this is trivial”, but the nurse’s voice is calm and quiet. He can’t make it out. Steve seems angry they are stunting Eddie’s progress. Until the nurse finally loses his cool, “IT’S NOT NOTHING TO HIM! He can’t take it, ok? Now listen to me,” it's back to quiet again. Steve isn't raising his voice any more.

Eddie eyes the doorway to the bathroom, and with a defiant grunt, he stands up and starts walking towards it. He could show them he could do this, and maybe they wouldn't coddle him so much. He gets there just fine, locks the door behind him and manages to lower himself to sit on the toilet just fine with the assistance of the handrail. Piece of cake. He actually had no idea how fucking blissful taking a piss by himself could be. Once done, he gets up to flush and can hear Steve and the nurse calling after him, and then he can hear one of them trying the door. He shakes his head as he makes his way to the sink and unlocks it.

“Eddie, everything ok?” The nurse says, out of breath, and he almost looks a little scared, as they grab Eddie’s arms and try to pull him away from the sink and back out of the bathroom.

Eddie feels totally confused and instinctively pulls his arms away from being grabbed.

“Why don't you come and wash your hands out here, huh?” The nurse asks, and Eddie just feels even more confused and gestures at the sink right next to him and turns on the tap. What was wrong with this guy? It's a fucking sink. What does it matter? Eddie shoos him away with his hand.

Eddie looked around the bathroom. There were no sharp objects in here. Sure, if he slipped, it could be a nasty fall, but he hadn’t slipped, and washing his hands wasn't going to increase his chances of slipping over. Eddie continues to wash his hands. There is no extra pain when he does, so it wasn't that. They must be worried about him going home before they've had a chance to conduct all their experiments or something.

“Eddie, come on, man, just listen to the nurse, ok? I was wrong. You shouldn't be in there by yourself yet.” Now Steve’s switched teams. What the fuck was going on. Eddie looks at him in confusion.

“Eddie, please listen.” The nurse tries again, softer this time.

Eddie looks between the two of them for a clue about this madness. Then he catches a glimpse of Steve’s eyes darting in the direction of above the sink for a split second. Eddie dries his hands, raises them with a smile, and shoos them away from the door as he walks towards it to leave. They both sigh with relief, and Eddie smiles at them as he quickly slams and locks the door to rush and look into the mirror above the sink.

At first, Eddie grins at his mischief, Smiling and shaking his head with a small laugh, but his playfulness is quickly ripped out of him as he turns to focus on his reflection. Finally, he lets out an exhale of disbelief.

Hand trembling, swallowing down the lump in his throat, he reaches his hand to his face. It’s only now occurred to him this is the first time he’s looked in a mirror since he woke up, and now he can see why. He’d never thought of himself as vain before, but as his fingertips danced over the new discoloured textures of his face, he felt the sadness wash over him.

He felt he looked like a disfigured horror movie villain. So was he to lurk in the shadows forever or wear a mask to avoid scaring the beautiful?

Eddie can hear muffled voices and pounding at the door, but it's all underwater noise. Nothing is shouting so loud as the wounds on his face and the voice in his head. FREAK.

Eddie feels his knees buckle, and he slides to the floor. His tears are on the precipice of falling, but the shock holds them back until he blinks, and they tumble out with a sob.

This is why Steve didn't kiss him last night, because he’s a hideous monstrosity, like the fucking elephant man. Oh my god, he’d been throwing himself at poor Steve, and he’d been kind in playing along because he didn't want to be an asshole. Eddie felt so unbelievably stupid. That's why someone always stands here if they let me use the bathroom. They didn't want him to see the deep crevasses forming on his face where surface flesh no longer existed, almost talking up a third of his face.

Why had no one told him? Surely the sooner to know, the better? Steve saw him every day, as did his Uncle. Not even Uncle Wayne thought to mention his face was destroyed? The band hadn't. None of the kids did. No one. What were they just hoping he’d never look in a mirror again for the rest of his life? Were they gonna push him out of the way of every reflective surface forever? What were they thinking? Why would they hide this from him? WHY?!

Eddie gets back to his feet and glances at the scarred side of his face. FREAK, he hears in his mind again. He roughly wipes the tears from his face and opens the door to Steve and the nurse, looking at him wide-eyed with bated breath.

Eddies top lip curls into a snarl as he says through gritted teeth lowly, “Get. Out.”

They both try to open their mouths to speak, and Eddie clenches his fists and feels the rage of betrayal drown him completely. “I said get out!” He says louder.

They try again, hands reaching for him this time. Eddie pulls himself away from them sharply, and the match of pain drops gently into the lake of Eddie’s gasoline-filled lake of a temper. “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Eddie screams at them over and over again. The insides of his throat feel like they are being torn to shreds.

“Eddie, please calm down. I really need you to calm down. It will alert other people in here if you don't calm down, ok?” The nurse backs away from the door and into Eddie's room, hands out in front of him.

“CALM DOWN?! WHY SHOULD I FUCKING CALM DOWN?! YOU ASSHOLES AND ALL THE OTHER ASSHOLES THAT HAVE SEEN ME SAID NOTHING! NOT A THING” he notices Steve look away when he says that.

“Oh, that's right. You don't have to pretend anymore, pretty boy. Now I know I’m hard to look at. You don't have to, right? So you can stop your little secret meetings about how I look..” Eddie sneers at Steve.

Steve looks at Eddie, eyes full of hurt, but he deserves it. Eddie needed him to hurt, just like him. “It's not like that, Eddie, honestly! I swear! No one said anything because no one cared about it.”

“Oh, stop lying!!” Eddie’s words are doused in spite as he narrows his eyes at Steve, “That’s why they come in here to me and then trot on over to you, isn’t it? So you can have your fucking secret gossip session about the Phantom of the fucking opera across the way from you.” Eddie wraps an arm around himself for comfort, his other arm pointing accusingly at Steve, “And I don’t give a shit what you and all the other judas’ care about. I CARE ABOUT IT! I DO! And if this”, he strides up to Steve, so he’s inches away from him, face contorted in a fury, pointing at his scarred face with venom, “happened to you, you’d fucking care about it too! You fucking asshole! Now get the fuck out of my room, both of you!!”

Steve looks into his eyes, moving from one to the other. Eddie just knows he’s trying to pull that false crap again on him, “Please-” Steve starts, and Eddie cuts him off with a yell.

“NOW!”

Steve’s head drops, and he walks out of the room. Eddie walks to his bed and picks up his sign language book, “Probably won't be needing this shit anymore!” and turns his flaming glare to the nurse, thrusting the book towards them. “Get someone else. I don't wanna see your fucking face right now!” They take the book and leave, Eddie tries to slam the door after them, but it got one of those things at the top that stops it from shutting suddenly.

Eddie wants to put his fist through it, but it wouldn't change anything.

He walks back to his bed and hides himself and his sobs under the covers.

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