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misguidedasgardian · 3 months

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Wild Cats (part VI)

VI. A time to mourn

MASTERLIST

Summary: You had unknowingly signed up for the adventure you at first didn’t care for. You never expected what you were going to find there.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injuries, catholic/christian rites, a passage from the bible.

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I just don’t want to pass the point of no return, of Daryl being terribly mean, he is, but at least he is always watching over us, so… he is all words jajaja

You were following that car well into the night and far from the church, to your counts, you were heading south, back to Atlanta, and the car was painfully familiar to you.

“Where do you think it’s going?”, asked Carol

“Back to Atlanta”, you answered quietly, you were in the backseat, and they both were in the front

“How do you know?”, she asked

“I have seen it before, the symbol”, you said, Daryl looked back at you for a second

“They took one of us”, he said, “Beth”

“Right”, you mumbled, “they tried to take one of mine a while ago”, you said quietly, but you didn’t say anything else

“You have known this whole time?”, asked

“What?”, you asked back, “I didn’t know you were looking for them”

“Who are they?”, Carol asked

“Grady Memorial hospital”, you said

“How do you know that?”, Carol asked, you only looked back at her, not willing to answer.

“That’s the only thing I know, this guys dressed as cops were “rescuing” people, take them back to the hospital where they are treated”, you said shortly, “that’s all I know”

In a couple of hours you were back into the city, following that car in a reasonable distance so it won’t see you. When it suddenly stopped, you stopped as well, turning off the car so it won’t hear you. You saw a cop coming out of the car, checking something, and then getting inside again. You tried to turn on the car, but it wouldn’t.

You had ran out of fuel

You looked outside and the neighborhood looked painfully familiar

“Let’s go, I have a place we can go near here”, you said quickly, getting out of the car.

There were a few silent seconds in which you couldn’t hear anything near you, not walkers, or anything else, you were safe for now. You looked up and you could see the entire night sky, it was a clear night, and without all the city lights contaminating, it helped you see somewhat clearly.

Then they got out of the car, interrupting the small peace that lasted barely seconds, and the three of you started walking into the night.

This might be a bad idea, in case you met them again, in case they were there.

“Where are’ we goin”, asked Daryl catching up to you

“A safehouse, if you will”, you said simply.

A fairly new office building, it was small, five floors, four offices per floor, but it was walker proof, as you had blown up all the first floor, leaving on the the pillars and foundations, so no walker could linger, as it was an open space, only a fire escape ladder leading to the second floor.

It looked more abandoned than the last time you saw it. Which was a scary thought

“What is this place?”, asked Carol, but you didn’t answer, you only started climbing. When you reached the top, into a metal railing balcony, you grabbed a rope that was hanging by the metal door and pulled. It was a bell, signaling to those inside that someone of the team was coming in, and you waited several minutes, as Daryl and Carol stood by your side, but nobody came. Confirming your suspicions.

The door hasn't been open in weeks, that much you could tell when you opened it. revealing the space inside. It was all empty, but that didn’t surprise you. you walked to the only closed door and opened it, revealing a stair to the third floor, and that is where the fun started.

It was a similar space then the first, but this one wasn’t empty. The first room was a made-up kitchen, a conference room you used as a dining room, another room where you stored your goods, food goods, and the fourth was a small armory that, even back then, was a bit empty.

Daryl and Carol watched everything with careful eyes, as you meanwhile were coming down with the sense that nobody has been here in weeks, judging by the moldy can of beans on the table in the kitchen.

They were probably dead, you guessed, with a lump in your throat.

“Please eat, whatever you want”, there was a nice bounty there. And they dive in with no need for a second offer.

Your stomach was in knots.

You heard a noise upstairs, making you three flinch and hold onto whatever you had in your holsters in your belts.

You signaled them to stop, as you were going to check the sound yourself. You went up another flight of stairs, feeling the sound, it was coming from the bathroom.

As soon as you step foot into the hall between the rooms, you heard it, clear as day

A deep, guttural growl was inside the bathroom, and your eyes adjusted to the night as you read the dreadful letters written in blood in the

I’M SORRY

“No, no, no, no”, you whispered.

Yes you have come to terms with the fact that they might be dead, but to actually be witness to it, was a completely different thing.

You were shaking as tears started falling, you knew who it was, you’d recognize the letters anywhere.

You felt your legs falter, due to fatigue, hunger, tiredness. You fell to the floor, managing to place your back against the door

You hugged your legs as you sobbed uncontrollably, you heard the grunts and moans, and the hits against the door and you cried even louder. You heard steps coming your way and Daryl appeared, crossbow drawn, ready to launch.

“Move”, he commanded

“No!”, you said, standing up quickly, “Don’t you dare!”, you said, looking at Daryl pointing the crossbow at the door, “I will do it”, you said surely, he didn’t let up, but took a step back, you grabbed your knife hidden in your boot.

Tears still tainting your cheek, you opened the door and the walker, one that had been your friend, launched at you. He had been a big man, so you had trouble, more to the fact that he was mainly “complete”, you had trouble grabbing him, placing your forearm on his chest keeping his head away from you.

Looking into those dead eyes almost made you fail, but you stabbed your knife as deeply as you could at the side of his head.

It immediately stopped moving, falling to the floor.

He didn’t look like him, you thought, as looked down at him, he didn’t, but… at the same time, it was him, there was no doubt.

Daryl looked at him

“He got bitten, didn’t have it in him to finish himself off”, he said, a big chunk of his leg was missing.

He had been bitten out there, he was alone, you guessed, and he came back here, infected, feverish, and locked himself in the bathroom. You looked inside, there was dried blood on the tub, and a gun, his gun.

He couldn’t do it. He died alone, and in pain, in this bathroom

Where was the other member of your team?, you wondered

You went to his room and grabbed the sheets covering his made up bed, and placed in on top of his body on the hall

“Ya’ should eat somethin”, the archer murmured quietly. You barely nodded, wiping the tears that were still falling silently.

It was silly in normal circumstances you would refuse anything that had to do with food right now, but you were starving, you missed the small feast the group had prepared back in the church, and the only thing yo

Gods you didn’t even let Rick know where you had gone, they were probably looking for you all.

There was an awkward silence between you and the archer, you were just looking down at your friend, you couldn’t leave him here, you just couldn’t.

“Did ya’ know em?”, he asked gently, you barely nodded.

“You should get something to eat”, you said to him, you needed to grab him, take him to the roof. You tried, but there was no way that you could take him up there yourself.

“Let me help ya”, he said, and between the both of you, you grabbed him. It was tricky, to go up two flights of stairs, but you did.

Up there you had a wooden table and a couple of chairs, for when you had a moment at night, you’d sit up here, and eat, or chat, or whatever.

You placed him over the table. tomorrow, you were going to figure out what to do, how he’d like to go out.

You barely nodded at Daryl, who wouldn’t stop watching you like a hawk.

“Thank you”, you muttered, and then you both went back downstairs.

Carol looked at you sharply when you returned to the third floor. You just grabbed a can of noodles, and ate them up in a record speed.

“What is this place?”, she asked, again, as she had no answer of you

“I hold up here with a group for a couple of months”, you said

“This is like an operational base”, she said again, you do had to admit this was steps further from a simple “Warehouse” of civilians, but you had been trained by an army man, so.

You did not want to share, not like this.

“We had an army man with us”, you said simply, as you found a bottle of water, and a juice powder, which you happily put into the water, it’s been so long and you were a fan of it. You drank it so quickly it made your stomach hurt.

“Take any room you want”, you said, “as you can see, it’s pretty safe here, but you can make shifts if you want, or whatever. You muttered, suddenly drained of energy. You went up to the room you occupied when you lived here. And finally felt safe, and at peace, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up when there was a beautiful pink light in the horizon, signaling for the new day.

You used the upstairs bathroom, there was still water inside the tank, to clean your face. You ate breakfast, just as you heard both of them moving around upstairs.

You searched under the sink in the kitchen for the secret stash, you found an old bottle of whiskey which, in the normal world, would be more expensive than a car. You went up to the roof, Pope was there where you left him, Pope, it was funny, he was a christian, or catholic rather, so you’d mock him, calling him that.

A soft wind picked up, raising the sheet from his body, you shook your head, trying to fix it. You searched his pockets, finding his trusted lighter, and his bible, which you grabbed from him.

“We need to keep moving”, Daryl said behind you as you were fixing his clothes.

“Then go”, you said quietly, as you were wrapping him as best you could, “I don’t want you or need you here, I’m not leaving him”

“He’s dead!”, he said, raising his tone, “do you want us to leave you and be alone again?”

“I have to do this”, you said defiantly, “I left him once I’m not gonna do it again”, he heard him huff and whisper something under his breath, but you wouldn’t listen. He didn’t leave though, he gave you your space, standing by the door, and waited for you.

You resumed your work, wrapping your friend more properly.

Once you were done, you poured the whiskey all over him, after taking a sip, you needed courage. Once he was soaked in it, you grabbed his bible.

“Ya’ catholic?”, he asked softly behind you.

“He was”, you said, as you searched for his favorite passage, he would often read it, at night, when he thought nobody could listen to him. But you did. The bible had been open so many times on those pages that you didn’t even have to look much.

You finally found it, as you heard Carol joining you, but you shook your head, trying to concentrate as tears clouded your vision.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die…”, your voice broke a bit, and felt silly, people were watching you, so you swallowed it and kept going, “...a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace”, you recited, it was an odd time to end it, so you out down the book, and place it on his chest.

“Your time here is over, my friend”, you said sadly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’ll see you on the other side”, you fired up the lighter and burned the sheet around him, it burned up like paper because of the whiskey, and soon the whole table was on fire. You watched it burn, counting to a hundred.

You turned to the pair of them, who were looking at you with guilty eyes, but yours were dead now

“Now we can go”, you said, your voice breaking. Daryl didn’t say a word, but to your incredible surprise, he wrapped his arms around you, you hid your face on his chest, it lasted barely seconds, but it comforted you more that you could ever explain. When he released you, Carol placed a hand on your shoulder, and you three walked back downstairs, “we can do some recon, of where they have your friend, then we can come back here to spend the night again if you wish”, you said shortly.

“We should take what we can now, in case…”, Carol muttured red and you nodded.

It had been raided, the armory at least, but you found a couple of handguns, and most important of it all, a silencer. You found arrows, for Daryl, and he seemed pleased when you handed them to him

Carol also refilled her chargers, and you took some for yourself, you couldn’t be wasting time recharging in the middle of a herd or being attacked.

“the rest of em’, ain’t them coming back ere?”, Daryl mumbled

“No, if he was here, alone, the other is gone”, you said shortly, “he won’t come back, not soon at least”, you said back, the lack of weapons and nothing else would tell you as much.

You looked at each other, all armed up, ready to go

“Let’s go find your friend”, you said shortly.

Walking down the street again was surreal, so many months ago you had left and never came back. You looked as far as you could, but the truck wasn’t there.

It was gone.

But it was a residential neighborhood, so you had no trouble finding a working car which still had a decent amount of gas in it.

You didn’t know what to do next, or what you should be expecting, you drove through the streets making sure to cross nobody in the same conditions.

You barely remembered where the hospital was, you truly haven't come across those people but once, when they tried to take one of yours after he got injured, you fought them of, he was fine, but they still believe they had this “authority” when they dressed as policemen, you didn’t know what was going on in that hellish place, nor you did want to find out.

Luckily Carol did remember where it was, so you stopped a couple of blocks away, and you got inside an office building, where you could have a better view.

It was unusually empty of walkers, they left, you thought, in search of warm bodies to feed on.

“There it is”, said Carol, pointing at the wing of the hospital that was part of your view

“”What do we do?”, ask Daryl, “coming rushing in?”

“I don’t think it’s the best idea”, you murmured, “we have the surprise factor but we have no idea what are we getting into”, you whispered

“We need to get Beth back”

“Why are you looking for Beth?”, the three of you jumped at the intrusion, you turned around quickly, arms in the air, to came face to face with a boy

“Ye’ know Beth?”, Daryl asked quickly

“Yes, the both of us were trapped in the hospital”, he said quickly, “she help me get out”

“We are Beth’s family”, said Carol, “we need to get her back”

“The thing’s a fortress”, he said, “men armed to the teeth, they have the numbers and the weapons”, he said

“We also have numbers and weapons”, muttered Daryl.

“Why you’d scape?”, you asked the boy

“What?”

“Why did you have to escape? Why were they holding you against your will?”, you asked then

“The place is run by this policewoman”, he said, “she’ll save you, but then makes you work, to pay them for their service”, you hummed, “they won’t let you leave because they believe there is nothing out there, it’s… weird”

“Can we dialogue with her?”, you asked then, if they were not going to ask anything, you were going to.

“I dunno”, he said. You sighed, you looked back at Carol and Daryl, who were looking back at you expectantly.

“We should go back and get the others”, Carol said decisively

“You sure?”, you asked, “this could escalate”, you muttered, “meaning, what are we gonna do, take hostages?”, you mocked, they shared looks, all of them, with the kid too, “No!”, you said

“There is no other way”, the kid said

“How did you escape? Is there a way you can sneak us back in?”, you asked

“There is no way in”, he said surely

“We’r gettin Rick”, said Daryl, “and your coming with us”, he said to the kid

“I’m Noah, by the way”, he said

“I’m Daryl”

“Carol”

“(y/n)”, you presented yourself. And you had a very strong feeling about this, something was going to be very wrong.

Post chapter notes: sorry if this feels like a filler chapter, but again, I needed to tell part of reader’s story, another part is coming, it’s called “Exterminators Inc” which tells the story of reader’s past before she found Rick

Should I leave Beth alive? I was thinking of ways to "keep her" int he story but i don't know how that might work in the future

#misguidedcats #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl twd #carol peletier #daryl x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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riizegasm · 4 months

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Through The Fire || B. EJ

❀ pairing: &team byun euijoo x fem!reader (ft. nicholas)

❀ genre: bffs to lovers!au, angst, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~6.2k

❀ warnings: explicit language, reader has a house fire, slight possessive behavior, lots of introspection

❀ summary: Stability is a luxury that isn’t afforded to everyone. However, you’re lucky enough to have your best friend, who has remained as the one stable factor throughout your whole life, even through the fire.

❀ A/N: I'm so so excited to share my second work with you all! I think this is one of the fastest times I have ever written a piece, which I think just shows how much I really love it. I hope you all love it too! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome :)

masterlist

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red—

“Y/N!”

You blink, no longer blinded by the flash of cop cars. A quick glance across the parking lot reveals a familiar silhouette trying to cross the yellow caution tape, only being held back by a policeman. You release a shaky breath, trying to find your voice for the first time all night.

“It’s okay,” you call, praying your voice is loud enough. “He’s here for me.”

For once in your life, your voice is actually heard, the police officer nodding once before lifting the caution tape. Euijoo manages to duck under, his large frame only stumbling once before rising to his full height. His long legs allow him to move quickly, pulling you into a hug before you can even blink. From your sitting position, your face ends up pressed into the hard plane of Euijoo’s abdomen. You can feel his thundering heartbeat beneath the skin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathes, leaning down to press his cheek into the messy mop of your hair.

When the two of you part, you wince at the few black streaks that have transferred to Euijoo’s t-shirt. You know that ash is likely still coloring your face, the scent of fire and burning fabric clinging to your skin. Although the flames have been put out, there is still residual smoke pluming from the building behind you. You cough twice, as if wisps of clouded air are still swirling around your lungs.

Euijoo squats down, finally eye level with your seated form as he searches your face. You let your eyes flutter shut, telling yourself that you’re still dazed from the fire. In reality, you know that making eye contact with the man before you would be too painful. He has always been too transparent, emotions freely swimming in his brown eyes.

“Were you able to grab anything else?” Euijoo’s voice has fallen to no more than a whisper.

You just shake your head in response, not bothering to acknowledge your purse and laptop that are placed next to you. Everything else, as far as you know, is gone. Euijoo sighs.

“They said that tomorrow, we can come back to look for things,” you whisper, swallowing back the sob that threatens to escape your throat. “But they told us not to get our hopes up.”

Euijoo is silent for a moment, staring at you with those deep dark eyes. You can feel the intensity of his stare with your eyes closed, having been on the receiving end of that same gaze many times. You know he pities you, but that’s the last thing you want right now.

“I’m taking you home, back to my place. You can stay there for as long as you need.”

Your eyes pop open, meeting Euijoo’s gaze for the first time that night. “You don’t have to. I can get a hotel or something for the night.”

“Absolutely not. When you moved out here, I promised your parents that I would take care of you, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Euijoo stands again to his full height, reaching out a hand that you eye warily. “Now let’s go home.”

. . .

Euijoo’s body wash smells of wood and cinnamon, the smell filling the bathroom and replacing the scent of fire and smoke that had previously seeped into your skin. Even his body lotion has a very specific scent, one that you are all too familiar with. The aroma clings to his clothes, along with a faint hint of laundry detergent, filling your nose as you slip into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. They both hang incredibly long on you, shoulders in the shirt sagging while the shorts are snug around your hips.

Your wet hair has been pulled back into a bun, which you know will be a mess to tame in the morning. But Euijoo didn’t have any of the right hair products, and you would rather die than ask him to buy you something at the moment. Even when he offered, you shut him down, letting him know that anything he was missing would be a problem for the next day. After all, it was already well after midnight.

Euijoo’s eyes soften around the edges when you finally emerge from the bathroom, smiling timidly at you from the couch. You plop down unceremoniously next to him, hugging your knees to your chest as you back into the corner of the couch. Its leather creaks with the movement, a familiar sound after all these years.

“I ordered some food, just in case you haven’t eaten,” Euijoo says, inching further into your space. It’s impossible to fight a flinch when he places a hand on your bare knee, right where his shorts have ridden up your thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

Without looking, you know that Euijoo is rolling his eyes, the tiny hint of sass that he’s harbored since childhood peeking through.

“Well, I called your dad, and he said you only texted your parents briefly. He wanted to talk to you but I told him that you were showering and probably didn’t feel like talking.” Euijoo gives your thigh a firm squeeze. “But I was hoping you’d at least talk to me.”

Your heart lurches at the thought of Euijoo speaking to your family, even though you know it has been a regular occurrence since you were teenagers. Your parents had always been fond of him, the picture-perfect image of the boy next door. And as you grew older, Euijoo had basically been absorbed into the family. Even though he’s been your best friend since you were children, you don’t know why the thought of talking to him right now is making your stomach swim.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you mumble, shrinking further into the couch cushions.

“Y/N…just…look at me, please?”

It takes all your strength, but you manage to tear your gaze away from your knees to meet Euijoo’s own. His rounded eyes are sparkling like they always are, a hint of sadness dampening their brightness. His lips pull up into a small smile at the eye contact, plush cheeks dimpling. His warm hand is still placed firmly on your thigh, large enough to span most of its circumference.

“There you are,” he coos, beginning to rub light circles on the exposed skin of your thigh. “Listen, I know you. I know you’re going to keep saying everything is fine because you don’t want anyone to worry about you. But your entire apartment building just burned down. You’re feeling something. You have to talk to someone about it. Even if it’s not me, you have to let someone in.”

You blink, and when you reopen your eyes, your vision is cloudy. Fat, hot tears spill over, leaving scalding trails down your cheeks. You can barely make out Euijoo’s smile dropping before you are pulled into a tight embrace. When you both were younger, you used to hate when Euijoo would use his overwhelming strength against you. But now, you are grateful for it, knowing you wouldn’t have hugged him otherwise.

“I was so scared, Juju,” you sob into the crook of his neck. “I was just in my room and when I opened the door, everything was in flames. There wasn’t anywhere I could go! I was trapped on the balcony until they came and got me. I thought I was gonna die.”

Euijoo just squeezes you tighter at the outburst, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. But you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me.”

The two of you are quiet for a few moments, the only thing interrupting the silence being the occasional hiccup or sniffle. It feels like ages until you have finally calmed down enough to pull away. But when you do, you notice the tear tracks drying on Euijoo’s ruddy cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” You ask softly.

Euijoo just shrugs, chuckling sadly. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You don’t have enough time to respond before the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your food. Euijoo excuses himself to go answer it, allowing you to admire the long lines of his legs as he retreats. You can’t help but feel embarrassed, as you always are around the man. But you hate the way he leaves your heart hammering in your chest as you stare.

It’s not like you are unaware of how attractive Euijoo is. After all, the first time you ever laid eyes on him at seven years old, you swore he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Despite the childish attraction, you had grown to love him in a much deeper way, the kind of love that only develops when you know someone inside and out. Euijoo grew taller, older, buffer, more handsome, and you had found a million ways to love him differently, love him deeper. The love you had for Euijoo surely changed, which leaves you hating the way your body heats up and your pulse picks up speed as Euijoo rounds the corner.

His wide smile is paired with crinkled eyes and you feel a piece of your heart turn heavy like lead.

“I’m like 90% sure they got some of our order wrong, but there’s still plenty of good stuff in case you’re hungry.”

You don’t bother looking at the takeout bag, too busy guiltily feasting your eyes on the sight before you.

. . .

Falling into a routine is unfairly easy. The two of you will wake up from your shared bed, at Euijoo’s insistence that you don’t sleep on the couch, and begin to get ready for the day. You cook breakfast as Euijoo gets ready for work, cherishing the fact that your job has permitted you plenty of personal leave. You watch him leave in a crisply pressed suit and daintily patterned tie, off to his accounting job for a few hours.

Then you sit in silence, ruminating over everything that has led you to this exact moment. You replay the moment that you were confronted with a wall of flames, feeling heat lick at your toes the same way it did that night. You let your shoulders shake in terror the same way they did when you were trapped on the balcony, fearing for your life. You cough like the billowing smoke is clouding your lungs, even though the air in Euijoo’s apartment is crisp and smells faintly of lemon-scented cleaner.

Then Euijoo comes through the door, and you slap a smile on your face. Sometimes he returns with takeout, bag overflowing with all of your shared favorites. Sometimes he comes with a bag full of groceries, which the two of you unpack together while Euijoo recounts his day. You’re quick to shoo him away as you begin to cook.

It’s the only thing that makes you feel like less of a parasite than you are.

You’re both following that exact routine until you reach your first Saturday, and Euijoo practically vibrates in excitement at the prospect of spending the day together. Despite living in the same city, the two of you have rarely spent full days together, work or other personal engagements always getting in the way.

“I was thinking of having a few friends over tonight,” Euijoo mentions over a bowl of cereal. “I feel like you haven’t met enough of my friends.”

“It’s your house,” you shrug, burying your nose into your own bowl so you don't have to face the disappointed look in his eye.

“Y/N, you gotta stop with that.”

“With what?” You snap.

You know you’re being difficult. You know that all Euijoo wants is some positive input from his best friend, but you can’t. It hurts deep in your core to give him what he’s wanting when you know you are already taking so much. You shouldn’t be here, and you definitely shouldn’t have a say in whether or not Euijoo has his friends over tonight. Yet, he wants to hear from you.

Like he thinks you’re important. Like he thinks you matter. Like he thinks you’re more than just a virus, invading a host for selfish gain.

You have nothing to gain, you remind yourself.

“I’m sorry, Juju,” you sigh, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I mean it.”

Euijoo’s spoon falls into his porcelain bowl with a loud clink. “I know you’re not. You’re just going through a lot right now. But I just want to help you.”

“You’re doing way more than just helping me.”

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

You sigh. “What do you mean? You’re already doing so much by just having me here and I can’t help but just wonder why.”

“Because I love you.”

The way he says it jumpstarts your heart, hotwiring it so it’s moving at a million miles per hour in your chest. You know he doesn’t mean it the way you want him to. He loves in the way a best friend loves, in the way family loves, that much is clear.

But there’s something in his open expression that has your heart clinging onto a maybe. Maybe he has loved you the way you have loved him and hated yourself for. Maybe he knows that being loved is all that you have ever wanted but is simultaneously your greatest fear. Maybe he knows that all of your belongings disappearing right before your very eyes while he was the only thing that remained meant something to you.

“You’re my best friend.”

Or maybe it meant nothing at all.

Euijoo sighs, leaning back in his chair before addressing you across the table from him. “It’s impossible for me not to worry about you when you won’t talk to me, or to anyone! You don’t leave the house and it just scares me. I want to help you, but I can’t do anything until you let me.”

You swallow, your bite of cereal feeling too thick as it travels down your esophagus. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Euijoo mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just let me in.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you?”

You’re not, and you both know it. If anything, you’re doing the exact opposite, trying to close yourself off as much as possible. You shrink into spaces, making yourself so small that Euijoo will forget that you’re there. It never seems to work, though. The other man sees you no matter where you attempt to hide.

There’s a moment of silence as the two best friends regard each other. Silently, you mourn your cereal getting soggy in your bowl even though you have lost your appetite. Euijoo’s own is empty, his metal spoon resting against the pure white bowl. For a moment, you catch a whiff of cinnamon. You’re temporarily perplexed, only to have your own question answered when the neckline of Euijoo’s shirt shifts against your collarbones. Despite not wanting to feel parasitic, you can’t refuse the comfort of literally living in his clothes.

“I just want you to be happy and have some fun tonight, so I’m going to have some people stop by.” Euijoo doesn’t once break eye contact as he speaks. “It’s not going to be big, but it will be good for you to talk to someone who isn’t me.”

You suppress a scoff, knowing that you don't really talk to Euijoo either, not in the way he desires. “Fine. Like I said, it’s your house.”

You don't stay to hear the exasperated sigh that Euijoo lets out, choosing instead to dump the remains of your cereal in the trash. There isn’t much other space to retreat to, so you make yourself comfy on the sofa, just barely out of Euijoo’s sight. It’s only a moment before the man joins you, hoisting your legs onto his lap.

“Movie?” He questions, thumb rubbing small circles into the bare skin of your ankle as if all is forgiven.

You just make a small noise of affirmation before sinking further into the cushions, letting yourself get comfortable as Euijoo puts something on.

Euijoo’s touch used to fluster you, back when you were in that awkward stretch of preteen and early teen years. No guys touched girls the way that Euijoo touched you unless they were dating. The girls in your classes would always try and convince you that it had to mean something more, that he had to feel something more for you than just platonic love. He loved loved you.

It didn’t help that you loved him way more than you should have.

It was enough to make you flinch when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pull away when he trapped you in a hug. You avoided holding hands on the way home from school and refused to share earbuds when the two of you sat next to each other. It would all make your heart pound too hard and your palms so sweaty that your phone would slip through your grasp.

You were just friends; that you knew. It didn’t matter that Euijoo loved to play with the loose pieces of hair that framed your face or that his hand outgrew yours to the point where your fingers swam in the spaces between his. It didn’t matter that your chest constricted every time his right cheek dimpled or that your face burned every time he called you by your name.

Because every boiling pot eventually cools to a simmer when the heat dissipates.

As you two grew into late teens and early adulthood, you eventually relaxed into the affection that Euijoo would display. The constriction relaxed to a minor tightness and the burn became more of a minor glow. You became more confident that this is what friends feel for each other, a love so vast that it fills your core to the brim but never fully encompasses you.

You would gladly let him encompass you. But until he does, you’ll have to make do with his scent.

You find yourself using Euijoo’s body wash in the shower before the party, even though your own has made a home right next to his. You also use his lotion, rubbing the scent of him into your skin. As much as you contemplate wearing his clothes again, you know that it will only be right to put on your best for tonight. Your makeup and hair are done for the first time in a week, and you feel a bit more like yourself again.

You feel like a girl anyone can look at and not know she’s screaming inside. You consider it a win.

The few friends that Euijoo invites over arrive in waves. It gives you enough time to introduce yourself and make some small talk before having to do it time and time again. By the fifth or so introduction, though, you’re feeling a little worn out, even with the booze that helps ease your nerves. You grab another seltzer from the fridge and squeeze into the corner of the sofa. You only have a few moments of peace before the leather dips beside you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Deep, piercing eyes are only barely visible behind overgrown black fringe, the rest of his hair falling down the back of his neck. Nicholas’s smile is welcoming, extremely warm and familiar for someone you have just met a handful of minutes ago. Despite the assortment of clunky rings, silver jewelry, and thick eyeliner, he seems pretty soft and pleasant.

“Go ahead,” you mumble, taking a long swig from your can.

“You know, It’s nice to finally meet you, the infamous but ever-illusive best friend. Euijoo literally talks about you all the time.”

You wish you could say the same, but Euijoo has always been notoriously quiet about others when you two speak. It used to bug you, not knowing anything about who your best friend chose to spend his time with. But throughout the years, you were forced to let it go.

“Good things, I hope.”

Nicholas chuckles softly. “Great things, actually. But something tells me it still doesn’t compare to you in real life.”

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff. “How would you know what I’m like?”

“Well, if your personality is anything like your beauty, then I think Euijoo just barely scratched the surface.”

The snort that you let out genuinely takes you by surprise. You rush to apologize, free hand coming up to hide your grin despite the way Nicholas is smiling as well. He looks pretty like this, you note, with his cheeks twisted upwards and eyes shining with mirth.

“I’m so sorry,” you giggle. “But that was a crazy line.”

Nicholas shrugs. “Listen, making pretty girls laugh is an art form. I had to say what I had to say. You honestly looked like you were going to commit murder just sitting here.”

Now it’s your turn to shrug, the smooth beats of Euijoo’s playlist soothing the silence between the two. The brief moment of respite is enough for you to feel a pair of eyes on you from across the room. When you turn to face Euijoo, though, he just shoots you a calm smile.

“I don’t think he likes that I’m talking to you.”

“Who? Euijoo?”

Nicholas doesn’t respond, choosing instead to take a long swig of his drink. The silver rings on his fingers reflect the minimal light in the room as he tilts his cup back. You struggle not to trace the movement of his throat with your gaze as he drinks.

“Why would he not want you to talk to me?”

“I think it’s because you’re off limits, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond, a warm body plops down on the couch next to you, instantly pressing into your space. The woodsy scent of Euijoo’s cologne is confirmation enough, but the way his hand instantly finds a home on your thigh is a dead giveaway. When you look over to regard the man, his eyes are trained away, locked on Nicholas instead.

“And what are you two chatting about?” He inquires with an overly saccharine smile.

Nicholas just smiles. “See what I mean?”

He’s gone with little more than a wink and a subtle tip of his cup.

. . .

Sunday morning brings a welcome mundane energy. You and Euijoo stand side by side at the sink, sudsy hands working on washing sticky juice and lip gloss off glasses from the night before. There’s soft music playing from Euijoo’s phone, a pleasant melody filling the silence along with the sound of flowing water. Despite the serenity, you can’t help the question itching in the back of your brain.

“So what was that last night?”

“What was what?” Euijoo’s eyes are endearingly round when he turns to look at the woman on his left.

You sigh. “That whole thing with Nicholas? We were talking and then you came in seeming all threatened?”

“Threatened?” Euijoo chuckles. “Why would I be threatened?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”

The smile that rises on Euijoo’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His ears begin to bloom a brilliant shade of red, tipping you off to the lie he’s about to tell.

“I wasn’t threatened. It made me happy to see two of my closest friends getting along.”

The sound of the faucet running prevents you from responding, Euijoo having turned it on with a sense of finality. You decide not to push it, knowing that when Euijoo gets cagey like this, time and space are the only thing that can make him open up. You guess it’s what makes the two of you similar, your limited ability to be transparent with each other over the things that really matter.

You spend the rest of the day circling around each other like animals in an enclosure. You share space, following each other from room to room while simultaneously keeping as much distance as physically possible. When Euijoo sits on one side of the couch, you sit on the other. When you rummage through the fridge, Euijoo stands by the breakfast table. It isn’t until you both find yourselves in the shared bathroom, brushing your teeth over a shared sink that you speak.

“I think threatened is the wrong word for it,” Euijoo says with a foamy mouth. “I just know how Nicholas is, so I wanted you to be careful.”

You spit. “What do you mean?”

“He’s the player type, likes to fuck around.” Euijoo spits and swishes some water around his mouth before continuing. “I know he thinks you’re cute or whatever. But you deserve better than that.”

“Since when do you care about my love life?”

“Since forever.”

There it goes again, the feeling of maybe. You are left to wonder if he means that in the sense that you want him to mean it. You wonder if his attention to you comes from his Virgo nature or from his genuine care for you. You wonder if it comes from his love for you, and if it’s the same type of love that you have for him.

“You know I don’t date like that,” you mumble, folding your arms over your chest. You’re once again clad in Euijoo’s tee shirt, a tiny pair of shorts disappearing underneath its hem.

Euijoo sighs. “I know. But I also know that Nico doesn’t care about dating. That’s not what he’d want from you.”

“And who’s to say that’s what I want from him either?”

“I didn’t know you were that type.”

I’m not, you want to say, but the words swirl back down your throat like water down a drain. You don't get a chance to respond before Euijoo is leaving the bathroom, running a hand through his hair. It feels pathetic to follow him out, but you do anyway, trying to find words as you plop down onto his bed. Euijoo switches the light off before settling in next to his best friend.

“Look,” Euijoo says after a moment of silence. “If you want to go after Nico, then I can’t stop you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have you.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Have me? In that way, I mean.”

The words leave your mouth before you can properly process what they mean. You want to rush to take them back, to let the words that hang in the darkness return to the safety of your brain. For some reason, you let them linger.

Euijoo releases a shaky breath, the sound seeming thunderous in the silent darkness. For a good moment, that’s all there is. You would be convinced that the man fell asleep if it weren’t for the odd rhythm of his breathing and the way his body shifts.

“Y/N, I could never.”

The blood in your veins ices over, leaving you frozen in place.

“Oh.”

Euijoo shifts on the bed, laying on his side so that he’s able to fully face you. “I mean there’s all of this. You’re in a vulnerable spot and we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure you’re just feeling a lot right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Euijoo sighs. “That’s why I also want you to think twice before going for Nico.”

You want to scream. How Euijoo could bring Nicholas up at a time like this is beyond you. You don't know how he can’t see that this isn’t about him. This isn’t about trauma or a fire or needing a warm bed to sleep in. This is about you, both of you. This has been about you way before the fire and will continue to be about you for years after.

But it’s no use, you know that much. In times of conflict, Euijoo has always been quick to skirt around the topic, always trying to obscure the truth through diversion. But there’s one simple fact that remains clear; Euijoo doesn’t want you. Or rather, he doesn’t want you to want him.

“I really hate when you do this, you know,” you spit.

You can almost hear Euijoo’s eye roll as he speaks. “When I do what?”

“When you try to tell me how I feel. You don’t know shit about how I’m feeling.”

“I could,” Euijoo retorts. “But you never let me in. So what the hell do you expect me to do?”

Even in the dark, you know the man’s face has turned red, hot with frustration. The knowledge is enough to keep you silent for a moment, carefully mulling over your words before you speak.

“If I tell you how I’m feeling, I’m going to end up telling you too much.”

“You could never tell me too much.”

You can’t help but sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “I just did.”

. . .

Cleaning the entire apartment is how you choose to put salve on the wounds of your friendship. You scrub away at the grime on the countertops, wipe the grease and stains from every mirror, and mop the floor until you can see your reflection in it. It’s not much, but it’s something to distract you from the red hot feeling that blooms in your chest when you think about the night before.

Bits of yourself seeped through the locked cage of your heart last night. And now that they’re out in the open, you’re not sure if they will ever return to you.

Euijoo returns home from work with a sigh, loosening his tie right when he comes through the doorway. The skin underneath his eyes has taken on a purplish hue, fine lines settling deep from exhaustion. He doesn’t even look like himself, despite looking everything like himself. You hate how you think he looks beautiful.

“Hey,” he greets softly when he strolls into the kitchen. “I didn’t have time to pick anything up, so I ordered delivery.”

You nod once, before tuning into the fact that the man has yet to look at you. “That’s fine.”

The silence that overcomes the kitchen hangs low like nimbostratus clouds, heavy with rainwater. It’s almost oppressive, the way Euijoo’s gaze remains down at his feet while you pick at your cuticles. Never in your decades of friendship have you ever had tension like this. You hate the way it makes your throat constrict, suddenly parched for a connection that won’t come.

“Are you okay?” You manage to croak out. “You look…stressed.”

Euijoo lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Maybe because I am.”

“Why?”

Finally, Euijoo’s gaze snaps up to meet your own, eyes holding a sense of disbelief. “My best friend propositioned me last night and I turned her down. And when I turned her down, she lost it on me.”

“Juju, I—,”

“No,” he interrupts, voice scratchy from the thickness in his throat. “Don’t do that now. I’m just…what’s going on with you, Y/N? I don’t know what has changed, but it’s killing me. Why can’t you just tell me what’s been going on with you so I can help?”

Your eyes begin to sting as Euijoo speaks, the beginnings of tears welling up near your waterline. It takes a few seconds for you to swallow down the lump that sits high in your throat. Your hands are dry from various cleaning solutions as they flex and contract at your sides, looking for something to grasp onto. You just end up balling them into fists, letting your nails press grounding pains into your palms.

“I told you how much you’ve already helped me.”

Euijoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And I told you that wasn’t enough. So talk to me, tell me why I can’t help you anymore. Tell me why you asked me to sleep with you all of a sudden! Tell me why you’ve been so weird about this whole situation from the beginning!”

“Because I need you!”

You don't know when your voice gained enough power to come out as a yell, shrill and pained. But once it does, the dam breaks. You know you are helpless to stop it.

“I need you, and it scares me, Juju. You’re my best friend and I love you and need you in ways that you don’t need me. You provide me with everything and I’m just here as your best friend. I’m the friend you don’t even bring around much and the friend you don’t let anyone talk to! You make it so clear that you don’t need me and yet, here I am, living off you like some parasite.

“I love you, Euijoo. I’m in love with you. And knowing that you don’t love me back is one thing. But for you to take my love for you and throw it in my face as just another one of my vulnerabilities is cruel. You ask why I don’t let you in, and this is why. If I do, I’ll just tell you how I feel and you’ll pity me like you do now.”

Lightning strikes across Euijoo’s face as he listens, expression slowly twisting in pain. It’s a flash of a million emotions at once. Surprise, hurt, disbelief, and then it all mellows out into a calm nothingness.

“Have you only felt this way since the fire?”

You fight the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. “No. I’ve felt this way since forever, maybe.”

“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes reflect the light in the room, glossed over and twinkling with the first hints of unshed tears.

“You know what’s funny,” you bite out. “When I lost everything, there was only one thing that remained constant in my life, even through the fire.”

“Me?”

“My feelings for you.”

Euijoo sucks in an audible breath, shaky and laborious. It’s as if the confession finally sunk into his consciousness, as if he finally understood exactly what you meant when you said you loved him. His shoulders immediately sag in relief as the first few tears begin to trail down his cheeks. Despite the tears, he can’t help but smile.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were eleven.”

“What?”

Euijoo just chuckles, sniffling twice before continuing. “I thought that you knew and that’s why you were shutting me out! And then when you just asked if I would sleep with you, I thought you were just rubbing it in my face. Either that or you were just emotionally a mess and needed some support.”

“Well, I am,” you respond with a watery smile. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, too.”

Euijoo slowly approaches your tense figure, as if not to spook you. Even his hand movements are subtle as they reach for your dry hands. With just a small tug, you find yourself stumbling forward, far into Euijoo’s space. The height difference is enough to force you to crane your neck upwards to make eye contact, not surprised to see the man already smiling down at you.

Tears continue to stream down Euijoo’s face, the wetness dripping from the tip of his nose down to the floor. You know you probably look similar, despite having tried your hardest to fight back tears from the beginning. It’s no use now. Your walls have already come crashing down.

“I love you,” Euijoo whispers, as if sharing a secret not meant to escape your own personal bubble. “I always have, and I think I always will.”

You release a shaky breath, body trembling in Euijoo’s hold. “I love you, too.”

“Can I…?” Euijoo doesn’t finish his question, eyes simply darting down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again.

All it takes is a slow nod before a hand is wrapping around your waist, pulling you in closer and closer until—

When you were twelve, you had your first kiss. It was nothing more than a simple peck, shared on the back of the school bus on a school field trip. You remember the way your heart fluttered back then, palms clammy and body vibrating with nerves. You felt kind of gross afterwards, but giddy nonetheless.

When you told Euijoo later that day, he looked shocked. He floundered for a moment as he stood in place, frozen on their walk home from school. You remember lightly punching his shoulder, asking him what his deal was. It seemed to be enough to shock him out of his stupor, only snapping back to attention to say:

“That was your first kiss. They always say that’s the one you’re going to remember forever.”

Euijoo was wrong. If there’s one kiss that you will remember forever, it’s this one, with Euijoo’s large hands spanning the circumference of your waist. It’s this one, with Euijoo’s plush yet slightly chapped lips grazing yours. It’s this one, with the salt of tears mixing in with the taste of each others’ mouths. It’s this one, with Euijoo.

When the two of you part, Euijoo presses his forehead to yours, allowing your breaths to mingle as you pant. You can’t seem to quite open your eyes yet, simply basking in the sensation of Euijoo taking over all of your senses. You relish in the sound of his labored breathing. You love the warmth of his palms through the thin t-shirt you’re wearing.

You bask in the scent of him, the bold aroma of cinnamon, tinged with a hint of smoke.

#byun euijoo imagines #&team imagines #&team smut #&team fluff #&team angst #written in the stars #&team

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obxsummer · 1 year

Text

Pieces of You // JJ Maybank

summary: you had grown tired of JJ's reckless nature and were suffering the silent treatment post-argument. so it's only fitting the next time he's careless it's to save you.

request: Heyyy, I love your work with all my heart!! I was wondering if you could write a JJ x reader fic, where in S3 at the end of episode 8 Topper burns the chateau down, but JJ has to save them because they didn’t notice the fire or anything? That would be so nice:)

warnings: minor injuries, angst bc it's me, crappy ending bc I didn't know what else to write ok

navigation

Things had been a little too crazy for you and the Pogues. John B had supposedly managed to get arrested after knocking the shit out of Topper. Sarah did cheat on him after all, so his reaction was warranted in your mind. Kie had been busy dealing with the backlash of her parents while Pope and Cleo seemed to be the only duo without any major complications. Granted, Cleo did have to talk the boy out of killing Rafe for melting the cross but hey, minor details.

You and JJ however, were in the middle of the biggest argument you’d seen. At this point, you don’t even remember how it all happened minus the fact that the two of you stopped speaking shortly after his whole bike incident. JJ had the habit of being a little too careless for someone who had people that needed him and loved him. You were growing really tired of his reckless behavior. You loved JJ more than anything, but sometimes you wished he saw that his actions affected more than just him. You needed to know that he would be okay if you weren’t around to approve of his actions and make sure he didn’t go too far.

JJ had been avoiding you since the moment you caught his gaze on the busted concrete. He knew he was fucked, and royally too. You’d warned him about being more careful and here he was doing powerslides from overpasses.

He couldn’t get the words to work right to explain to you why he acted the way he did. It wasn’t just for the adrenaline rush, or because of his upbringing. JJ genuinely would do anything for you and the Pogues. He just happened to jump to the craziest way of getting there instead of taking the time to think it through.

“Will you just talk to me please?” His voice was pleading as he watched you move around your bedroom in a rushed fashion. You’d been quiet since Topper had dropped everyone off and your boyfriend was losing it with the silence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk to me now? Where was this initiative when you practically dumped me off your bike into the truck bed? Or, better yet, where was this when you just stared at me blankly like I wasn’t sobbing over the fact that I thought you were dead?” You were getting angry quickly and JJ didn’t like it.

He hesitated in his response, enough that you let out a huff of air in annoyance before turning away from him again. Recently, JJ panicked easily. It all started once he lost John B but got better for a while, especially when he had you. Now that everything was colliding, JJ was panicking.

“I just didn’t know how else to get the cops away from-”

“You didn’t have to do something that involved you almost dying, JJ!” You shouted this time as the random pieces of clothing dropped from your hands. “I know you care. You care a lot for everyone but JJ… I care about you. I care so much that you break my heart when you do things like this because I can’t lose you! And neither can our friends! I know you don’t think far enough ahead for your personal consequences but please… please think about how everyone else would react if we lost you.”

JJ walked out on you sometime after that. You’d clearly upset him and your friends definitely felt the awkwardness but if you were honest, there was so much tension between everyone right now anyway. Your small family was starting to waver but you knew everything would work out.

Sarah had called you all over to the Chateau, promising good news. You had yet to see her as you slowly approached the group, Kie, Cleo, Pope, and JJ already in attendance. There wasn’t much conversation to begin with, but it all fell silent the moment you stepped into view. Kie gave you a reassuring smile that didn’t do much to ease your nerves.

The blonde girl that had asked for your presence came walking down the steps of the Chateau not long after, sparing the awkward silence. “Hey, um, thanks for waiting. Look who decided to come home.”

John B stepped out of the doors of his childhood home, looking relatively fine for the hell he’d been through. You were shocked that he had managed to get out of jail so quickly, especially with Topper’s family status being put into play.

“Welcome back,” Cleo greeted with a smirk on her face.

“Whoa! Good to see you, man.”

You let out a small laugh at John B’s surprise presence. “Welcome home, JB.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” JJ scoffed from his spot across from you on the large tree branch. John B tucked his hands in his pockets and walked towards all of you solemnly. He looked really upset if you were being honest and it made you wonder what had really happened.

“I have something I want to share with you guys,” Sarah said as she pulled the attention back to her. “I can get us down to Orinoco.”

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“Okay, how’s that gonna happen?”

“My dad’s gonna let us use the plane-”

“Ward?”

“Your dad?”

You rolled your eyes at the pop-up comments that seemed never-ending. “Can y’all let the girl speak? Geez.”

Sarah’s gaze met yours as she offered up a small thankful smile. “We lay low tonight, then wheels up first thing in the morning.”

“Okay, that’s a lot to process. Your dad actually helping us,” Pope recounted in shock. “So we trusting Ward now?”

“Trust Sarah,” Kie offered with a solidifying nod at her own words.

Pope and Cleo seemed excited about the plan as Sarah spoke up again. “But wait, I also just have one more thing to say. Um… since we’ve gotten back from the island, I’ve done some things I regret. A lot.”

Kie cleared her throat in the awkward silence that followed.

“Yeah, uh…” To your surprise, John B broke the quiet. “I feel…I feel like we’ve all done a thing or two that we regret.” His eyes glanced at the blonde next to him before he looked towards the ground again.

Sarah continued, “And I don’t…Poguelandia, guys. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. We were all together on that island and it was a good thing and I don’t want to ruin a good thing. And I-I just wanna know, are we still all in? Are we still all together? Because I am.”

Kie was the first to agree, wrapping Sarah in a hug before Cleo piled in on top of them.

“I still can’t believe you got the plane!” Pope smiled as he brought the Cameron girl in for a hug. “That’s actually insane.”

You took a deep breath as you watched them, well aware of JJ’s eyes on you. He’d been staring for a while now, always observant when it came to you. You took a few steps forward to embrace Sarah before retreating back to your own space next to Kie.

“Let’s go get Big John, alright? What do you say there, shit bird?” JJ tugged Pope under his arm as he regarded your friend. You found yourself pulled into the group hug next to Kie and Sarah, all of you waiting for John B to complete the circle.

“I think this deserves a woogity.”

You watched from the corner of your eye as John B stayed still in his spot. You shook your head slightly and made eye contact with him while smiling. “How long are you gonna pretend you’re not coming over here?”

Your best friend’s blank exterior broke at the question, glad to see a smidge of positive emotion from you over the past few days. He caved and made his way toward your group, quickly throwing his arms over your shoulders.

“Come over here, funny man. We don’t bite.” The seven of you hugged each other tightly, finally all back in the same place for once in what felt like forever.

“Oh, we’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Your small family was slowly rebuilding as everyone made their way into the Chateau for the night. John B and Sarah were quick to excuse themselves to his room, leaving the rest of you to entertain yourselves.

“Jay,” You whispered his name quietly as he brushed past you to the kitchen in search of a beer. You blinked sudden tears from your eyes and looked up to the ceiling in an attempt to not cry.

Letting out a deep breath, you quickly made your way to the guest bedroom where you and JJ had spent most of your time. You stared at the colossal mess of your things scattered amongst his along the furniture and floor. Your chest ached at the sight, wishing the two of you weren’t on such poor terms at the moment so you could actually enjoy the peace before setting off on another treasure hunt.

Busying yourself with a shower in the attached bath, you figured some quiet time would help you clear your head and hopefully come up with a game plan of what to say to your boyfriend. You didn’t mean to make him feel like shit for expressing his love the way he did, but you were scared for him.

The hot water of John B’s shower was soothing as you took the quiet time for yourself. Eventually, you had to leave the comforting steam when it began to run cold. Completely disheveled and stressed, you pulled on some comfy clothes and attempted to dry your wet hair before you had to face the music again.

You let out a sigh and reached for the metal doorknob to walk back into the spare bedroom only for a searing pain to stretch across your hand. Jumping back with a yelp, a rush of panic overwhelmed you once you realized how hot it was in the small bathroom.

“JJ!” You yelled instinctively as you searched for the hand towel to possibly grab the handle with. The fabric held the heat off long enough for you to open the door. The sight of bright flickering flames filled the room you and JJ had claimed for yourselves, burning pieces of each other into ashes. You stumbled back in shock before the adrenaline kicked in and you ran into the smoky room in hopes of salvaging some of the items.

“Y/N!” The boy in question came flying through the bedroom door a second later. He could barely see you through the thick smoke but managed to catch a quick movement of your figure across the room. “Y/N, we have to go!”

Your heart was pounding in your ears too loud for you to register his voice. The few items you’d grabbed in a rush were thrown in a canvas tote bag Kie had given you before you spun straight into JJ’s chest.

“We gotta go, baby, come on.” JJ tugged his your t-shirt up over your mouth and nose to help filter the smoke before doing the same and leading you out of the room. Most of the house was covered in the bright orange light of the fire as you observed it in shock. You could barely focus as JJ pushed your hips towards the window of Big John’s office that was left open from their prior escape. He was quick to climb out and turned back to catch you. Glass shattered from another window causing the two of you to duck down and JJ to grab your wrist to tug you away from the structure.

JJ’s grip on your wrist eased up as he brought you towards the dock where everyone had gathered in their escape. Your boyfriend’s touch was gentle as he helped you sit on the ground to take a deep breath and cough out the smoke in your lungs. “It’s okay, ‘m right here, baby.”

Everyone was visibly relieved when they saw you and JJ come running from the smoldering flames on the side of the house. It all happened so fast that they felt guilty for completely forgetting you were in the shower. JJ had taken one small look and took off before anyone had a chance to stop him.

Your hands were shaky with the anxiety and fear that was coursing through your body. In the few moments before you found JJ, you were thinking the worst. You thought you were going to lose the person who mattered most to you in the midst of an argument and that was terrifying. You’d never forgive yourself if you lost JJ ever, but to be on rough terms was a nightmare you’d never recover from.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. Everyone’s fine, I’m right here.” JJ’s blond hair was suddenly visible in your view as he forced you to look up at him and uncurl from the ball you’d shifted into. “What did you grab?”

You released your suffocating grip on the bag you’d practically filled. In the midst of your panic, you didn’t realize your friends had moved away to give you and JJ some space. You settled back against the posts of the wooden dock to watch as he went through the items you grabbed.

JJ’s favorite hoodie, a handful of Polaroids Kiara had taken of your group, his rings, the necklace he’d saved up to buy you for your anniversary. JJ was careful with the items as he shifted through them, his eyes suddenly damp with tears.

“Y/N, sweetheart, all of this is replaceable. You aren’t,” He consoled as he finally made eye contact with you. Both of you were crying now, emotions running high from the events that just took place.

You took a shaky breath as you fought back the sob threatening to break through. “I...I felt like that room was us. All of our memories, and it was just crumbling and you weren’t there. JJ, I can’t lose you.”

“I know, I know.” JJ didn’t hesitate to pull you against his chest as you cried against him. He’d felt the panic himself a few moments before when he realized you were still showering and blissfully unaware of the damage awaiting outside. JJ refused to let you be in pain because of him and his actions from here on out. It wasn’t fair to any of your friends but especially you. “Not doing anything majorly stupid from here on out. Maybe just a little here and there, but-”

You laughed slightly and pulled your head from his shirt to look over his shoulder where the Chateau was crumbling from the flames. Heart heavy, you leaned your cheek against JJ’s shoulder and let him hold you, hoping this was the lowest your group could go and things could only look up from here.

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#outer banks x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #obx x reader #outer banks netflix #obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #obx3 #jj x you #jj x reader

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loveesiren · 9 months

Text

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 - 𝖢.𝖲. (𝖯𝗍. 3)

Disclaimer: Hate hate hate this chapter but some of y'all were getting mean so here is chapter 3. I think it's trash. My motivation has been shit lately so we'll see where this story goes.

Synopsis: Y/n runs away from her problems

Warnings: Language, heroin use, angst, 18+

Word Count: 2.8k+

Chris’s POV

I swear I was going to lose my fucking my mind in this tiny concrete room. I hadn’t even been in here for two hours and the anxiety was taking over. The cop sat at his desk, sipping his coffee loudly while watching a football game on a small tv that faced away from me. I was going to have to sit here until Monday morning and all I had to do was think.

A million thoughts ran through my head. I’m sure Matt and Nick already called our parents and they were going to be pissed beyond belief. Luckily our podcast was pre-recorded but if I’m not out soon news is going to get around that I’m in here. But most of all, I thought about Y/n. She seemed so upset. I knew she was blaming herself for this and I prayed she wouldn’t do anything stupid. I know how vulnerable she can get when she’s down. But I know Matt and Nick will look out for her.

“Yo, don’t I get a phone call or something?” I asked the cop.

He responded with a long sigh, as if my question was making his entire job more difficult. I furrowed my brows at him, awaiting his response. “Fine.” He finally said. He got up and unlocked the cell door before leading me over to the phone. “You got two minutes, kid.”

I nodded and picked up the phone. I dialed Nick’s number, knowing he was most likely to answer.

“Hello?”

“Nick? Hey! It’s Chris!”

“Chris! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I responded. I could hear Matt in the background and Nick switched his phone to speaker.

“Chris, we'll bond you out first thing after your hearing on Monday! Mom and dad already hired a lawyer.” Matt said.

I sighed, knowing how disappointed they were going to be. “Cool. Cool. Uhhh can I talk to Y/n?”

Matt and Nick were both silent for a few moments. “Uhm…she’s not here…”

“Well where is she?”

“I’m not sure…”

I could hear the change in Nicks voice. Something was wrong. “What’s going on? Why are you talking like that?”

“Well…She uhm…Her and Matt kind of-”

“I kicked her out!”

“You did what?!”

“She’s always gotten you into trouble, Chris. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to see you ruin your life over her. I know you’re like in love with her or whatever but-”

“Go find her. Now!” I spat. “You don’t fucking understand, Matt. You don’t fucking understand what you did! Go find her and make sure she is fucking safe!”

“Chris, what do you mean?”

“Now!” I slammed the phone down on the receiver.

“Watch it!” The cop said. I bit my tongue and followed him back to my cell.

I sat in the corner of the tiny bed and buried my head in my knees, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I loved Y/n more than anything in the entire world and I knew her better than anyone. I was the only one who knew she experimented with opioids. I tried them with her but I noticed how she started using them to numb her pain and I quit. After having to Narcan her TWICE I made her promise to never touch them again. I threatened to tell her parents. I told her I would take her to rehab. She begged me not to. I know I should have but she swore to me she wouldn’t touch them again. I helped her through her withdrawals and over the last two years she’d been true to her word as far as I knew. I mean I was with her most of the time and never saw her use or act shady. But now I wasn’t there when she needed me and who knows what Matt said to her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! I couldn’t stop the tears from falling now. My whole body was shaking with anxiety.

Y/n’s POV

“Y/n! Y/N!” Danny yelled, kicking my foot. I jolted awake and struggled to see through blurred vision. I rubbed my eyes and slowly took in my surroundings as an overwhelming wave of nausea took over my body.

“Ugh, what?”

“Your phone’s been ringing non stop! Fucking answer it or turn it off. It’s annoying.”

I felt for my phone as previous events returned to my memory. Chris was arrested. I got in a fight with Matt. One thing led to the next and I somehow ended up at Danny’s house smacked out of my mind. I wasn’t proud of this. But remembering what Matt said to me, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be.

My phone started ringing again and I was able to find it between the cushions of Danny’s old, cigarette stained couch. The screen lit up with Matt’s name and I could feel the bile rising in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind me. I sat on the floor, heaving over the toilet, but not much came out. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I didn’t even know what day it was. I sat back and pulled out my phone. 13 missed calls from Matt and Nick combined. 5 from my mother along with three texts asking where I was. A missed call from an unknown number. To top it all off, it was 6:23 pm on Sunday. What the hell had happened in the last day and a half?

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, a stained crop top clung to my malnourished frame and a pair of baggy sweatpants (that didn’t belong to me) were tied tightly to my waist. I looked at the fresh track marks on my arm, a trail of dried blood leading halfway down my forearm. I was disappointed in myself. I promised Chris I would never go back to this. But it was too late now. I pulled my phone back out, ignoring all the messages from Matt and Nick and opening the text thread with my mom. I typed out a quick message.

Hey mom, I’m fine. Haven’t been feeling great this weekend so I’ve been sleeping. Didn’t mean to worry you.

Not three seconds after I sent it, she was calling me. I sighed, really not in any head space to talk to her but I knew I was already on her last nerve so I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello?” I definitely sounded sick.

“Y/n! Honey! Where are you?! Are you okay?!”

“I-I’m fine, mom. I’m at home. I’m just a little sick.”

“Nick and Matt said you weren’t at your house! They were just there!”

Fuck. Why the fuck had they come by?

“I just stepped out to get some medicine. I just got back.” I lied.

The lie seemed to calm her down a bit. “MaryLou told us what happened to Chris. We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine. Matt and Nick are going to bail him out tomorrow.” I felt nauseous again thinking about it. I didn’t know what to expect when Chris got out. I wasn’t great with confrontation and after the situation with Matt and relapsing with Danny, I didn’t really want to face Chris. “Uhm, mom, some friends asked me to go camping for a few days. So my service might be spotty.”

“I thought you were sick?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just like food poisoning or something. I should be better by tomorrow. But I’ll call you when I can, okay?”

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay? If something is wrong you can tell us, we can come out there…”

“No, I’m fine mom. I promise. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I love you!”

With that, I hung up on her and quickly exited the bathroom. “Danny, let’s go.”

“Go where?” He asked.

“I-I don’t know. San Diego or something? I just need to get out of here before Chris gets out tomorrow?”

“Why? I thought you looooved him.” Danny mocked. “You’ve been mumbling about him non stop.” He sighed and sat back.

Danny liked you. That wasn’t a secret. He wasn’t bad looking. But he was a “bad boy”. His main job was drug dealing. He hung around with shady people, did shady shit, and hated on people like the Sturniolo’s for being in the public eye. Even though you were getting into your modeling career, Danny didn’t seem to care. You didn’t believe Danny’s feelings were deep. You didn’t believe Danny was capable of deep feelings or love. But you were hot and you had him wrapped around your finger.

“I-I can’t face Chris like this. I just want to get away from here. Please?”

“My cousin has a condo down in Chula Vista. It’s right by the beach. I could call him.”

“Okay. I’m gonna run to my apartment and grab some things.”

I left Danny’s apartment, and ran up to mine. I grabbed a duffle bag from my closet and grabbed some clothes, a toothbrush, and some deodorant. The basic necessities. I was almost done packing when I heard a knock on my door.

“Coming!” I said, assuming it was Danny. I threw my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door. I swung it open, ready to go but stopped in my tracks when I saw Matt standing in front of me.

“Going somewhere?” He asked.

It was hard to find my voice. My mind was a mess and my body was hurting. I needed a fix. “Uhm- Camping. With some friends.”

“Camping with friends. What friends?” Matt asked, stepping into my apartment now.

“Just some friends. You don’t know them.” It was somewhat true. Nick and Matt didn’t know Danny. Hence why they couldn’t find me earlier. But lying to my mom about camping with friends was one thing. She didn’t know my social circle out here. Chris, Nick, and Matt on the other hand, pretty much were my social circle. We shared the same friends. If I really was to go camping with friends, chances are they’d be coming too.

“Look, Y/n. I’m sorry for what I said yesterday…I was just upset and it was wrong of me to blame it on you.” I didn’t know how to respond so I just looked to the floor. “Chris is really going to want to see you tomorrow and-” He stopped, noticing my arms. He grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm into view. “Y/n, what the fuck happened to your arms?! Have you been shooting up?!”

“Ready to go, Princess? My cousin said-” Danny appeared in my doorway. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” Danny said with his skeezy smile.

Matt looked him up and down before looking back at me. Danny had on tight jeans with chains and a sleeveless band shirt. He reeked of cigarette smoke and I knew Matt was judging me.

“This is who you’re going camping with?” Matt asked.

“Look, I gotta go…” I said pushing past Matt and locking my door.

“So you’re just going to dip out on Chris?” Matt asks. “Come on Y/n. You’re better than this guy!”

“Excuse me?” Danny asks, turning to face Matt. I step in front of Danny, putting my hand on his chest.

“Matt. You said it yourself. I’m no good for Chris…”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine. I gotta go. Take care of him, okay?”

With that, I grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him along with me down to his car to avoid any further conversation with Matt. I noticed his van with Nick inside sitting in the parking lot. He looked confused. I looked away and climbed into Danny’s car, urging him to drive away.

Danny offered me a cigarette and I took it. Remaining quiet as I sparked it. He didn’t ask questions. But he did place his hand on my knee as he drove. “You don’t need them, Princess. I’ll take care of you.”

The words made my stomach twist into a knot. I wanted Chris. But Matt was right. I didn’t deserve him. I was exactly where I deserved to be. “You got any more dope?”

“Gonna pick some up on our way, don’t worry.” He smiled at me. I attempted a half ass smile as I bit back the urge to cry. I looked down at my phone, studying the photo of me and Chris I had set as my wallpaper. It was a silly photo of us in highschool. We were both laughing, I was on Chris’s back as he ran down the hall with me. It was a time in my life I was truly happy.

I shut my phone off and threw it in my bag, focusing on the world passing by through the window of Danny’s old BMW. I knew this wasn’t the right move but I was never good at confronting my problems and the promise of an escape and drugs was enough to leave LA and Chris behind me.

Chris’s POV

I sat silently while the judge went over my charges. Cameron Jacobs and his family sat and watched with smug looks on their faces. Matt and Nick sat on the opposite side of the courtroom, ready to bail me out. I was disappointed when they showed up without Y/n.

The judge set my bond to $5,000 and gave me another court date. By noon, I was gathering my things and climbing into the van. Nick was hounding me with questions while Matt remained relatively quiet.

“So where’s Y/n?” I asked, no longer wanting to think about the trouble I was in or the fact that I would have to call my parents when I got home and get my ass chewed out, or the fact that we were out five grand. “Why didn’t she come?” My voice cracked.

Nick looked at Matt, seeing if he would admit what happened. Matt remained silent. “Matt…”

“Where is she, Matt?” I asked.

“Look Chris-”

“No tell me the fucking truth! It’s your fault she fucking left in the first place. Where is she?!”

Matt sighed. “I went to her place last night. She left with some sleaze bag. Said she was going camping…”

“Dude with combat boots, covered in shitty tattoos, smelled like cigarettes?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Danny.” I hissed. He was such a piece of shit. Always trying to get in Y/n’s pants. He was a slimy drug dealer and now she was God knows where with him.

“She had, uhm…she had track marks on her arms…” Matt said.

I tried to take a deep breath but I was beyond livid. “Pull over.” I said as calmly as I could.

“What? Why?” Nick asked.

“Pull the fucking car over!”

Matt did as I asked and I climbed out, slamming the door behind me before walking off down the street.

“Chris! Where are you going?!” Matt asked as him and Nick chased after me. I really didn’t want to be near him right now.

“Fuck off, Matt!”

“You have to fucking talk to me, man!” He said, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to look at him. I pushed him off of me and Nick was quick to catch him before he fell.

“This is your fucking fault!” I yelled. “Why the fuck would you say those things to her, Matt? She’s been our best friend our whole lives! This is your fucking fault!”

“I was just looking out for you! It’s not my fault she’s a drug addict, man!”

I threw myself at Matt, punching him in the eye. He fought back but it didn’t last long before Nick was separating us.

“Stop it! What the hell is the matter with you guys?!” Nick yelled. “Chris, you just got out of jail for fucking assault. Beating up your own brother isn’t going to get you anywhere! And Matt, you were wrong for what you said to Y/n. But we aren’t going to find her if you end up back in jail and don’t work together. So both of you get in the fucking car and let’s go home and figure something out.”

As much as I hated Matt right now, Nick was right. All I really cared about was finding Y/n and I was going to need help doing that. I climbed back into the car silently and endured the ride home. I had tried texting and calling Y/n earlier but it went straight to voicemail. I typed out one more text.

Y/n, please be okay. I’m so worried about you. Fuck whatever Matt said. You mean everything to me. Please just text me back when you get this so I know you’re okay. I love you…

Tags:@strniohoeee@daisysturniolo.@justangelheree@flowerxbunnie@recklesssturniolo@lustfulslxt@mangosrar@bluesturniolo333@christinarowie332@kenzieiskoolaid@sturniolopepsi@mattenthusiast@ilovecrazymen@sturnphilia@poopydroopt@miaakenn

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #stardust #angst #sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo #effy stonem #jack o'connell

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 7 months

Note

What if Quaritch tried as a last resort to regain custody and miraculously succeeded when Spider was 15? It's very, very unrealistic, but let's assume that if there was a change of judge or he would be able to bribe someone. So he has legal custody, he can live with his son legally and not cut off from the world. How would everything go then? How would Spider react if he suddenly found out that after so many years of running away he was going to live with his father, what would their relationship be like then?

Oh I’ve got ideas for this so this is going to be a long one. It became a whole au in my head.

So for starters i don’t think Quaritch getting custody back would be unrealistic. If you read the last chapter of cabin Quaritch showed Spider that his court ordered therapist was Max Patel. That would be a huge conflict of interest so with a good lawyer Quaritch could bring that to court and demand a re trial with a new judge.

I’ll change the Cabin timeline a little and say Spider was 14 when he started living with the Sully’s. He’s about to turn 15 when surprise the court gives his father back full custody. Spider tells the judge flat out he doesn’t want to live with him but the judge doesn’t care. The judge views what happened to Quaritch years ago as a miscarriage of justice that he is now correcting.

On moving day Spider runs away. Quaritch calls the cops on him to bring him to his new home. It’s definitely not a great start. His eyes are red and there’s dried tears on his face but Spider glares daggers at him no matter what Quaritch does and never says a word. That’s generally how things go every day for weeks, even on Spider’s birthday when Quaritch tried to throw him a party. Spider just looked at the set up and walked out, hiding in his room to FaceTime with Kiri and Lo’ak.

Quaritch refuses to call Spider by his chosen name and Spider refuses to call him dad. Spider ignores Quaritch if he calls him Miles or Junior. Quaritch does the same when Spider calls him old man. Spider used to call him a fucking bastard ass old man but that got him grounded, so Spider stopped. He didn’t want to be forced to stay in that house any longer then he had to.

Luckily for Spider he didn’t have to change schools in the middle of the year. Neytiri raised hell to get him enrolled in the same private school as the Sully’s and he loves it there. Coincidently it’s the exact school Quaritch would have sent him to if given a choice so he approves. Unfortunately their house is to far out for a bus to pick him up so Spider’s old man has to drop him off and pick him up everyday. Quaritch purposely tries to embarrass him by shouting “bye son I love you!” Spider slams the door and yells “I fucking hate you get out of here!”

Spider’s first week of school after moving in with his dad, he decided to fuck with Quaritch by not telling him about his after school clubs. After ten minutes of waiting Quaritch started to blow up Spider’s phone with calls and texts. Spider had his phone on silent and didn’t even notice. After another ten minutes Quaritch stormed into the school shouting Spider’s given name through the halls for everyone to hear. Spider pops out of the art room looking mortified. “What are you doing.” Quaritch who was terrified answers, “lookin’ for you a ‘course! Y’a couldn’t have told me you were in a club! Y’a didn’t answer your phone. I was worried sick!” The worse part for Spider wasn’t that he got yelled at in front of his classmates. It was that he could tell just how concerned his father had been over him and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. After that Spider always tells Quaritch about his after school activities.

Months go by. Spider slightly warms up to his dad but he’s still super standoffish. He goes over to the Sully’s house every chance he gets. Quaritch hates it. He won’t let Spider spend the night there or even eat dinner with the Sully’s because of how jealous he is. And Spider gets so angry every time Quaritch shows up to collect him, fighting to stay, arguing all the way home, running off to his room slamming the door behind him. It makes Quaritch think that maybe - it’s time they move.

Quaritch asks Spider, “what do y’a think of taken a little road trip this summer? We could get a camper van. go to all the national parks, see some big landmarks..

“I’m good.” Spider doesn’t want to spend his summer locked in a van with his father far away from the Sullys.

“Well too damn bad then ‘cause that’s what we’re doin’.” It’s a huge fight between them for weeks. Spider runs off the day he gets home and sees their shiny new camper van in the driveway. Quaritch hunts him down dragging him back kicking and screaming. Spider refuses to pack as their departure date draws closer. Quaritch does it all for him while he’s at school with Spider coming home to a near empty room, a room so empty it looked like they were moving completely and not just going on vacation. Spider brushes it off as one of his father’s punishments.

Spider is told that they’ll be leaving a few days after school lets out. So he’s completely shocked to see his father waiting for him in their usual pick up spot, driving the camper van. “You told me we were leaving in a few days!” Quaritch just shrugs, “I did. But then I got to thinkin’ what are we waitin’ for! We hit the road now we can be across state lines by dinner.” “But the Sully’s are having a party to celebrate the end of the semester! Grandma Mo’at finally back and I haven’t gotten to see her yet, and I haven’t even said goodbye to my friends!” Quaritch waves him off, “that’s what phones are for. Now get in before I put you in.”

The trip starts off very tense. Spider won’t speak to him at all, but he will have very pointed very loud phone conversations with Kiri and Lo’ak just trash talking Quaritch the entire time. Quaritch turns his dad rock up as high as the stereo will go, making Spider have to shout. When they finally stop for the night they have a quiet agitated dinner outside. Spider is so tired from it all that he’s falling asleep sitting up. Quaritch takes the opportunity to swipe his phone. After Spider goes to bed Quaritch chucks it in the river. Spider notices it’s gone when he wakes up the next morning. Unfortunately for him Quaritch had already been driving for hours. “I can’t find my phone. I think I dropped it outside last night.” “Well what do y’a want me to do about it?” “Turn around!” “Pff, i’m not wastin’ time ‘cause your irresponsible. Now sit down and go eat breakfast or something.”

Spider is pissed but at least he has his laptop he thinks as he starts looking through his stuff. Only to not find it anywhere. “Where’s my laptop.” “How should I know.” “You packed all my shit!” “Yeah well if y’a wanted it so badly y’a should have packed it yourself!” Quaritch in fact left his laptop behind on purpose. Now Spider has no way of contacting the Sully’s.

Spider tries his best to act like he’s completely miserable, but he can’t pretend for long. He hates to admit it but him and his dad have similar ideas of fun, spending days camping and exploring national parks, doing things like zip lining, and exploring caves. They do more touristy things too, like visiting museums (Quaritch loves history museums while Spider prefers art museums) and major landmarks (though they both agree to go early as possible to avoid the crowds at all cost). Early on Spider gets the idea to send the Sully’s postcards so they at least know he’s okay. He has to sneak away from Quaritch to mail them but luckily public mailboxs are pretty easy to come by. It helps him feel better about everything and gradually he actually starts to bond with his dad to the point where it starts to feel like they’re a completely normal father and son.

The summer starts to draw to an end. Spider has been happy with his dad but he’s eager to get home and see the Sully’s. He misses them so much. Plus traveling is exhausting. He can’t wait to sleep in a bed that doesn’t change states ever few days. Spider expects that they’ll turn around soon because they keep going west when they live on the east coast. He’s about to question Quaritch about it when they reach Wyoming. Nothing interesting is in Wyoming so why are they here? They pass by nothing but farmland for hours until finally they pull off the road eventually coming to a small farm. It looks really nice, rustic and inviting. When they stop a bald man, who Quaritch introduces as Spider’s uncle Lyle, greats them at the door along with a boarder collie that races right up to Spider jumping all over him in excitement. Spider instantly loves the pup who he’s told is named Cupcake.

Lyle gives them the grand tour. The farm grows tons of different fruits and vegetables. There a dairy cow grazing in a field, chickens scurrying about in a large fenced in patch of grass, two horses - a father and his son - chilling in the barn, and a barn cat that catches mice. Spider also instantly falls in love with the cat picking him up and cradling him. Spider likes the farm a lot. It’s peaceful. At dinner Spider says, “this is a really nice place Lyle.” “Glad you like.” He says smirking. “By the way cap, I’m gonna head out at five tomorrow morning. I want to get back home in time for my daughter’s first day of school.” Spider gives him a questioning look, “isn’t this your home?” Lyle laughs in his face, “no it’s your home.” He might as well have slapped him. He turns to Quaritch, “what is he talking about?”

Quaritch sighs, “I got a job offer.” “What do you need a job for! I thought you were fucking loaded from all the settlement money the courts gave you!” “I am. But do y’a know how boring it is being a stay at home dad…”. “Oh boohoo get a job as a Walmart greeter like all the other retirees. You fucking planned this all summer - hell before that even, and you never thought to tell me!” “Hell no! I wanted us to enjoy our summer together..” “fuck you! This..this is fucking kidnapping.” “Pff..stop being so dramatic. We just moved that’s all.” “And you fucking lied about it!” Spider runs from the table not able to stand the sight of his father any longer.

Days later when Quaritch finally catches Spider as he’s trying to sneak down to the kitchen, he explains what going to happen. He was offered a job (a lie. He applied for it) as vice principal at Mercer’s Military Academy. It’s a semi-boarding school twenty minutes away. And Spider’s the school’s newest student. He flips his shit, “a fucking military academy! Why can’t I just go to the nearest public school!” “Because it’s an hour and half away! Plus you get free tuition as my son.” “I’m not fucking going.” “Yes you are.” “You can’t make me!” “Yes I can!” “I’m going to get myself expelled on the fist day!” Quaritch laughs, “good luck with that.”

At some point in Spider’s brooding Quaritch tosses his new schools rule book into his room. Spider reads it to get ideas for how to raise hell. Of course he’ll be breaking all the dress code rules which go on at length about the exact why he’s supposed to wear his uniform (neat at all times, no customizations no rips or tears) and the strict guidelines for how he’s supposed to wear his hair (for boys it’s a tapered style of any kind as long it doesn’t touch his ears or the top of his collar). He will definitely be disrespecting every adult, especially his father. He can’t wait to embarrass him so bad he regrets the day he reapplied for custody. Maybe he’ll start a food fight. Maybe he’ll find the school bully and start a real fight. Hell if they deserve it maybe he’ll hit a teacher. Or just his dad. He really wants to punch his dad.

The weekend before the start of school Quaritch takes him into town- which is a whole two hours away- to get his new uniform. Spider is uncooperative as ever, refusing to stand still to get his measurements taken to the point where Quaritch has to hold him in place. After hours of wrestling with his son an exhausted Quaritch pays for the uniforms. The store manager who is equally tired looks at the disgruntled teen and say to Quaritch, “I see why you choose military school.” Spider hears and storms out.

He’s expecting to go home now but instead Quaritch parks the car in front of a barber shop. “I don’t know why your stopping here because I’m sure as hell not getting out.” Quaritch turns to look at him his rage palpable. “Now you listen here. Y’a have some grand idea of gettin’ expelled, but that ain’t gonna happen. Mercer loves a challenge. He loves taking disrespectful, unruly, feral little monsters like you and breaking them to pieces. And the harder you make that, the more fun he’ll have. So I suggest you march in there right now, pick a haircut you can live with,then Sunday night you shine your shoes, iron your uniform and get your tie ready. Or else Monday morning when you walk through those doors lookin’ like your little punk ass self, Mercer will drag you to his office and after that…well choices have consequences.” Spider bristles under the warning but doesn’t break. “I’ll take my chances.” “Fine,” Quaritch says throwing the car in reverse, “I warned y’a. just don’t come crying to me.”

Monday morning Spider does his hair in intricate braids, wears his most ripped frayed pair of jeans, dirtiest sneakers, and a band t-shirt that would definitely get him called a satanist by a pearl clutching old lady. He’s beaming with confidence as he walks into the kitchen. Quaritch eyes him over his newspaper and just shakes his head. Before they leave he puts Spider’s uniform in a plastic bag knowing he’ll need it for later.

You already know what’s coming. Mercer drags Spider into his office on sight. In the office two muscler upperclassman are standing at attention waiting for orders. Mercer tries to verbally intimidate Spider. Spider just cusses up a storm instead. For that he gets grabbed by the upperclassman and bent over Mercer’s desk for some corporal punishment with a wooden paddle. It doesn’t end until he’s a sobbing mess. Then Mercer breaks out the clippers. There’s a guard on them leaving Spider with about an inch of length all around. Mercer doesn’t bother to undo his braids. They all come off in one piece and Mercer seems to take pleaser in waving them in his face taunting him over the “savage” style. Then he’s made to change into his uniform. Spider’s glassy eyed and numb by this point. Mercer and his goons don’t give him the courtesy of turning around, making Spider feel even more vulnerable then he already did. the last piece of his uniform is his tie but he doesn’t know how to knot it. Mercer laughs at him throwing it in his face. “Go find your father. He’ll show you.”

Spider’s in a daze as he stumbles around the halls completely shell shocked. He sees the back of Quaritch as he’s monitoring the halls for anyone out of class. “Da..dad,” Spider calls weakly. Quaritch whips around. It’s the first time Spider has ever called him dad and he is momentarily thrilled before he looks at his son. Quaritch is instantly filled with overwhelming guilt as he takes in his child. “I…I need help…I…I can’t tie my tie.” Spider hold it up like he’s a small child with a broken toy.

Quaritch ushers him into an unused classroom. “What happened,” he asks cupping Spider’s face to make him look up. Spider shakes his head before bursting into tears. Quaritch pulls him into a hug. “How could you do this to me! I was starting to trust you! I actually thought we could be happy! Why did you lie to me! How could you bring me here!” “I’m sorry,” is all Quaritch can say, over and over again. When Spider’s cries finally quiet Quaritch says, “all I ever wanted was to be a family again. I love you more then anything in this whole world. Not a day went by when I didn’t worry about y’a. I couldn’t know if you were safe, if you were healthy, if you were happy. It was torture. I was so relieved to get you back. But y’a wouldn’t even give me a chance. You hated me from the jump. Y’a just ran off to be with the Sully’s every day.” Spider and Quaritch are still hugging but Spider can hear that his dad is crying. “I’m big enough of a man to admit that I was jealous. And it hurt to have you constantly running away from me. But I was selfish to do all this to you.” They stay in their hug for a little while longer until they both feel the weight of time on them. They break apart, and wipe their eyes. Quaritch ties Spider’s tie for him. “We’ll talk more about this tonight okay. For now y’a got to get to class.”

Spider floats through the morning too emotionally drained from everything. At lunch he doesn’t really have an appetite but goes through the motions anyway. It’s when he’s walking the room, looking for a place to sit that he spots a group of five kids sitting in the farthest corner of the room. Spider instantly recognizes the tell tail features of the Na’vi. He races to sit with them happily greeting them with Oel Ngati Kameie.

Hope you enjoyed. I definitely have ideas for a part two so let me know if your interested in that 💙

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #john mercer

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phantoms-lair · 6 months

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Stray part 2

"So dare I ask what a cadre of thieves are going to do against an international criminal syndicate with incredible power and an utter lack of regard for human life?"

"Oh, you're young." Takagi said, then seemed to pause. "Theoretically, at least."

Oh right, he'd almost forgotten about that wrinkle. "Unless that bet about me being Kudo Shinichi is right?" he hedged.

"No, you'd still be young if that was the winning bet."

Huh. He hadn't thought there were other bets, or that they'd say he was ever older. "Such as what?"

"Shinigami." Takagi answered.

"Seriously?" Conan asked in disbelief.

"You tell me Mr. I'll-Tell-You-Who-I-Really-Am-In-The-Afterlife who's got a perfect attendance record to every murder in Tokyo and several outside of it." Takagi challenged.

It...was incredibly wishful thinking Takagi hadn't remembered that little exchange, wasn't it?

"Inari was particularly proud of his theory that you were a personification of the concept of Justice who'd manifested to punish humanity for the sins they commit upon each other, except you met the kids and their purity won your heart, so you've taken them as you disciples and only punish the guilty instead of humanity as a whole."

"I'm sorry, what???"

Takagi shrugged awkwardly. "Fox is...I mean we're all dramatic, but Fox he...he sees the world a little differently than the rest of us."

"So that brings me back to what a person who's that far out there, or any thieves could do against them."

Takagi was quiet a moment. "Ask Agasa-Hakase."

Conan narrowed his eyes. "I'm asking you now."

"And anything I'll say would be extremely biased. You won't find much in official records, A lot of people in power wanted those records forgotten. And most of the adults you talk to are around my age, so they'd have been kids at the time. I was only ten myself when Joker and the others saved me."

"Saved you?" Conan fished.

Takagi smiled at him, a little sadly. "The Police Chief of a small town was trying to manipulate things to be mayor. I ended up being kidnapped so the 'Missing Kid' thing could be leveraged against the current Mayor. 'If Abe Kazuhiko were Mayor, that child would never have gone missing'."

"That's stupid." Conan snorted. "You'd tell as soon as you were found."

"If I was found." Takagi said with twenty years of bitterness. "That wasn't in the plan."

"Oh." That...that was vile. Murdering a kid for political clout.

“But while all the police were rallying against the current Mayor, Joker and his crew - who were only in town to stop for gas - heard and went digging. They found me. They saved me. When no one else could even be bothered.”

There was a lot he was leaving out. The mind-controlling phone app. The two weeks he spent feral in the metaverse, dodging cognitions turned militia and eating memories of food and pieces of dreams. But there was no way he could have that conversation without sounding insane.

"I'm surprised you became a police officer after that." Conan commented.

Takagi was silent for a minute. "It wasn't my first choice, that's for sure. And I won't get into all the whys but a big one is...people go to the police for help. And I wanted to make sure a good cop wasn't harder to find than a unicorn."

Of course he knew where to find unicorns. But he wasn't bringing that up either.

"Hakase, have you heard of a group calling themselves Phantom Thieves of Heart?"

Agasa let out a deep sigh. "That brings me back. What was it? Twenty, thirty years ago?"

That matched what Takagi-Keiji had told him, as did the fact that he could find nothing official on them.

"Who were they?"

"I don't think anyone found out. The police claimed to have their leader at one point, but that turned out to be a lie." Agasa shrugged. "I think there was talk of a lower profile prior incident, but like most of the country I became aware of them during the Madarame scandal."

"The what now?"

"Madarame, an artist considered a national treasure for his myriad of styles, most famous for the painting, Sayori. One day a gallery showing of his became covered in strange cards. The cards were written by a group calling themselves The Phantom Thieves of Heart. They claimed Madarame was a thief who stole the artwork he claimed as his own from his apprentices, who he'd been abusing. And that he would confess his sins with his own mouth."

Conan frowned.

"Madarame called it nonsense. The next day he put together a press conference and confessed to everything he's been accused of and more, including purposely letting the mother of his youngest apprentice die so he could steal her final work - the Sayori he was famous for. He provided more than enough evidence to prove it. There was not a mark on him, no sign of coercion. It was as if all the evil in his heart vanished overnight."

His frown deepened. "It doesn't work like that."

"But it did. For a little over a year whenever a calling card would appear, people mired in their wickedness were suddenly overcome with remorse. Then they vanished. There were rumors, they were still around helping people, just less publically, and that you could contact them if you needed them."

"Why would they suddenly go from being as attention getting as possible to going stealth?"

Agasa shrugged. "No one could say for sure, but there was a new member of the team running around, one who seemed significantly younger. Some thought it was to protect the kid."

Conan felt his stomach churn. It all lined up. "Hakase...what would happen if they targeted the Organization."

Agasa thought for a moment. "They would, that's exactly the kind of evil they would have targeted. But they always went after individuals, not groups. And since no one knows what their methods are, it would be hard to say. But it hardly matters, Shinichi. No ones heard from them in a decade."

But that wasn't true. He had heard from them that very afternoon. The Phantom Thieves of Heart were real and they were on a collision course with the Black Organization.

#Detective Conan #P5 #The Stray #Ghost Writing #In case it isn't clear #The Stray is Takagi's codename

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

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Reassembly 9

masterpost

“Hi, can I help you?” Came out of his mouth.

The other person didn’t respond. They cocked their head to the side ever so slightly. There was, Peter finally recognized, a background feeling of danger. Ah. He hadn’t been imagining things before. Peter licked his lips. How long had he been followed?

He eyed the distance between the ninja and his bag. Could he grab it before they did? That was everything he owned. There were three whole bananas in there right now, as a matter of fact, and Peter wasn't willing to give up on them. The ninja looked ready to move in any direction. Peter got ready for a fight and chattered on.

“You're really far from Japan. Unless you're an American ninja? Like the TV-” he yelped and dodged the friggin knife that was thrown at him. It sailed off the top of the building and lightly thunked against the Social security office building before falling 20 stories.

“Rude!” Peter shouted, way too loud considering he'd barely left the scene of the crime. Heck! He couldn’t have a fight here. He juked to one side and then barreled at full speed to grab his bag away when the ninja took his bait. He grinned as he passed them in motion by bare inches. “Too slow, ninja turtle!” The only bit of their face he could see were their angry eyes and it was intensely satisfying.

Dork.

“Have the night you deserve!” Peter called over his shoulder, and then he was out of there. He didn't always make great choices but he was not going to have a fight outside of the social security office. Also, he wasn’t even in some kind of spider suit. It was a bad idea to fight while he was barefaced. He was just going to run.

‘What if that's their security team? Did the social security office hire ninjas? That would be so friggin’ cool.’

Peter leapt a distance that a human could never manage and kept going without breaking stride.

‘I would respect the government more if they kept ninja strike teams. But going right to the use of deadly force is kinda much. Chill, Michaelangelo.’

On brand for cops, though!

Oh, heck, that would make them ninja cops? Peter took a look behind to see how the ninja cop was doing on a rooftop chase.

They were following him, which was- well. It was data. Peter decided not to characterize it as good or bad information. He changed course and leapt all the way across the street to pull a mocking face at the ninja.

They pulled out a gun.

‘A gun?!? Are they allowed to do that??’

Peter yelped, torn between hilarity and genuine fear.

‘Alright, I should book it.’

He sprinted at top speed, dodging two bullets that his spider sense warned him about. The shot ricocheted off the roof and tore up plaster. But he didn’t stop.

It didn’t take long to actually lose the ninja. Peter shook his hands out and then knelt to rifle through his bag just in case-

“Tracker?” he mumbled, taking out the little metal disc that hadn’t been in there before. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and crushed it. It made a funny static pop. He went through everything one more time, feeling for anything unusual in his clothes. It was with extreme sorrow that he dumped out his oatmeal just in case something had been dumped in his open food. The last thing to go was the evil janitor’s phone. Peter said a silent thanks to it for all the times he’d checked the time on it and then he crushed that, too. He left the pieces of machinery in the pile of spilt oatmeal and ran across a few buildings in a new direction before he slipped down to the street level and started traveling in a much less distinct way.

His spider sense pinged again twice more. He walked a random route for at least an hour and then started to head towards the library to bunker down for the night.

He stopped mid-stride and ducked under an awning before his conscious mind had caught up with what was wrong.

Ahead of him, a shadow had swept across the street. If he was a pessimist (and he should be) he would say that someone was rushing to cut him off on his way to the library. Because they knew that he’d been sleeping there.

Peter took a second to reassess and let grief and anger fight it out in his chest.

He didn’t know who these people were. That was a big problem. He wasn’t spiderman here yet. He didn’t have a suit, equipment, or a guy in the chair. He was flying totally blind. He couldn’t afford to tangle with an organization that he didn’t know anything about.

‘I know some things,’ Peter corrected bitterly. ‘They’ve got both unethical scientific development and hired thugs. That’s a bad combo.’

He strategized and backtracked on the street, and then went in a direction where he had never gone before. Having to walk away from a fight with bad guys left a sour taste in his mouth. But he was not going to end up floating in a tube of painful stink jello again. Whatever they wanted him for, he couldn’t allow it.

‘New plan. I need to be Spiderman, asap. I mostly finished that suit at Kon’s place. I can get that from him tomorrow and add the spider iconography on my own. I need web shooters, at the bare minimum. Breaking and entering hasn’t been that hard… no, no. I don’t need there to be any evidence for where I’m making my web fluid. I need a chemistry set and the chemicals. I think I can swing that with the money from my programming payday, I just have to restart my apartment fund.’

He had to burn everywhere he’d been in this city as a resource. Angry tears welled up and he wiped them away with his elbow. He hated going back to step one. For a second, he genuinely hated other human beings for doing this to him.

It took a few deep breaths to calm back down. Peter was better than this. Peter could not afford to hate other people because Peter could punch holes straight through people.

For the night, Peter cut far across town to a sleepy neighborhood where he could hide away in the dark space between an awning and a roof. He laid face up, stiffly staring at the stars as he mentally cataloged all the places and resources he’d lost and how he would replace them.

Kon’s place had to be an exception to the restart because Peter was not ditching his one friend. But other than that– he wasn’t going back to that library, to the gym where he’d showered, or any of the hotels where he’d been eating breakfasts. In fact, he probably needed to totally stop the hotel breakfast habit. It was too distinctive. He didn’t know how they’d found him, but he knew that they’d try to find him a second time based on his old habits.

‘After I meet Kon tomorrow, I’m going to move to Gotham. I just need to let him know that I won’t be around and to set up another way to stay in contact.’

Peter didn’t really sleep, roiling with anger and misery and uncomfortable in his hiding spot. But eventually the sun came up. He left to walk the streets of New York City for the last time for a long time.

#red reassembly #peter parker #marvel x dc

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pure-oddity · 1 year

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Hey! It's murder time :3

(Also not proofread, if i stare at something too long I'll just never do anything with it.)

Pt.1 Part.2

Butcher/slasher ghost au: Part 3

He's known as the reaper - he thinks it's a bit on the nose but who's he gonna complain to??

Outfit is simple, a lot of it comes from his time in the SAS - skull mask included.

His goal is to clean, plain and simple. He doesn't want to walk side by side with some bottom feeding murders, doesn't want to risk serving perfectly good meat to abusers. The idea makes his skin crawl.

Considers his work just, has little faith in the justice system - the cops here have been...less than efficient in his eyes. Unwilling to go as far as needed, constrained by the law (or worse, they show sympathy to the pathetic things and let them off easy). So Simon takes things into his own hands.

The only part of the whole experience that he MIGHT feel some guilt for enjoying. Is the fear of those he hunts. Because isn't it so ironic, to spend your life terrorizing others only to die scared, confused, alone and in agony at the hands of someone larger and stronger than you? The irony certainly isn't lost on simon, and he gets a little thrill out of it.

Considers the whole thing his ghost time, because it's not all that dissimilar to what he was doing in the military right? Taking out the bad to protect the good, getting dirty so the world stays clean. He's got a few less resources sure, less hands - but he makes due. He dons his old husk, and cleans up his little corner of the world.

It starts with a jerk at a pub. He's people watching again, nursing a glass of bourbon in a shadowy corner - trying to observe and adapt behaviors he think will help him settle in better. A man walks in, simon notes he looks agitated but also - excited? Watches him walk to a group of girls, previously abuzz with excitement chatting away. He watches the life be sucked from the whole table as the man approaches, watches as he leans towards one of them hand on her arm in a grip that he knows is meant to hurt. Watches as her demeanor changes to something more reserved and afraid and Simon can't take it - seen all he's needed to. Walks over silently, every bit the predator he knows to be.

was just gonna intimidate the guy a bit, send him running off tail tucked between his legs - see if maybe he could charm the poor girls into settling down and enjoying themselves again (maybe even on the sly recommend a womans domestic abuse shelter for the poor victim).

But then he sees how much the fucker is enjoying this. Enjoying the poor girls fear, enjoying ruining their night and ending their harmless fun. Enjoys hurting the poor woman and, well.

Simon only stops when the man passes out from pain. Face a bruised and swollen lump, nose shattered and blood dripping everywhere - maybe missing a few teeth. Simon grabs the guys shirt and uses it like a cloth, cleaning the reminents off his hands. Spares a glance at the girls, is unsupervised to see them afraid - but still saddened by it. He tips his head at the main victim, then makes his way outside to wait for the police. He lights a cigarette, leant against the wall of the building and glances to the side as he puffs a cloud of smoke when he hears the door chime again. It's the main woman and he nearly chokes. She's trembling and her eyes well with tears, and she places a tiny palm on his bicep.

If she feels his body jolt she doesn't say anything and her hand remains there - a burning itching feeling barely blocked out by his hoodies sleeve. How he loves and loathes it at the same time.

She thanks him for what he did, and while he doesn't ask questions, she offers answers anyway. Said that she'd left him ages ago - went to a lot of trouble running from him, uprooted her whole life and moved cities over when she realized the police wouldn't do anything. Only for the bastard to find her again. Says that while what Simon did was terrifying, she's grateful that he stepped in. Scared to imagine what the fucker would have done had he managed to get her out of the building.

It makes Simon want to hit him again, but he refrains. Instead he pulls as much softness and care from his soul that he can - tells her that it's okay and he'd do it again. That no one should be treated like that, that she didn't deserve to have her life messed with like that. And that with how thorough he was with that man's face, there's a good chance he won't so much as look at another woman again.

She smiles at him. His heart near bursts. Tells him that's what she's hoping for - but is ready to run if things go belly up anyway. Pats his arm and makes her way inside, content to wait in the warmth as the police finally arrive on the scene.

Everyone is questioned, the man is brought to a hospital and Simon is free to go after some questioning. The girls from the table all having jumped to his defense, and apparently the bottom feeder threw the first punch? Simon doesn't remember the hit really, but sure.

The idea that the scumbag could come out of the hospital with a vengeance worries simon, because it makes sense. Embarrassed and in pain, all those feelings likely to be taken out on the poor girl.

Pulls some connections. The fucker gets sent to prison - drug charges or something, not really concerned with the why - and it's still not enough for Simon.

Watches for news of his release obsessively, makes it so he'll be one of the first to know of the fucker is so much as considered for early release.

And a month later (what a fucking joke) when the day comes and Simon catches wind that he's going after the poor girl again? Simon takes care of it.

And it just continues on from there.

Watches someone beat on a defenseless animal? Body found 3 days later. Animal is given to a loving home

Catches an attacker stabbing some random victim? The body is found within hours - victim wakes in the hospital and has no recollection of how they got there or who saved them.

Sees a guy spike a drink? The guys found dead a day later (and the bodies of the ones who were making and selling the drugs haven't yet been found)

But the world isn't so black and white. There's a lot of grey.

The animal abuser had previous animal abuse charges attached to his name, yet he still got ahold of an animal. The shelter or breeder who did this is just as responsible for not double checking who they were giving pets to.

Considers those bystanders just as bad and deserving of punishment. Thinks of all the harm that could have been avoided had people just done the bare minimum.

The mugger had been arrested and released more than once, making the police responsible for not doing something to prevent this.

And the drugger, did this at the bar - multiple people sitting on either side of him, every chair full, and no one saw anything? The bartender, a few feet away didn't think to stop it? It makes simon just so fuckin mad.

And thus the reaper is born.

#simon riley au #simon ghost riley #butcher simon #slasher simon #or serial killer??#i def need to do research into the terms #like is there a difference?#regardless the man is murdering #odd blurbs

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 1 year

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✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: unprotected p in v sexual contact, biting, the use of petnames, charlie's virginity kink, the mental replay of rory culkin's little moans, slightly dominant!charlie. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt four - virginity

character | fandom - charlie walker | scream movie franchise

reader | original character - female reader, girlfriend & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 1.8 k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . a movie date turned sexual. you get your cherry popped on your parent's couch during a paused psycho by Charlie Walker..✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆. ───

You and Charlie have been dating almost 7 months and if not for one little, itsy-bitsy, teeny tiny problem, everything would be absolutely perfect.

That problem? Not once. Not a single time has Charlie Walker done anything, he hasn’t made any attempt at all to initiate a sexual encounter. And this would normally be a relief for you if it weren’t so goddamn frustrating. If you weren’t 100% ready to give yourself to him.

You’ve run out of subtle ways to clue him in. And according to the girls, maybe subtle and Charlie don’t exactly mix.

Your lips purse as you stare at him, determination to get what you want, making your eyes gleam and dance. You’re staring at him so hard, practically willing him to take his eyes off the goddamn horror movie he put in almost an hour ago. So far, the staring hasn’t done any real good.

In the midst of your latest round of frustrated staring, Charlie’s eyes leave the television set in front of you in your living room and he clears his throat. ❝ Something wrong? ❞ he asks as baby blue eyes flit over your body, taking in the way you keep shifting and squirming in place beside him. You’ve been doing it the whole movie, he’s been well-aware.

Almost as aware as he's also been of this thick tension in the air between you lately. Or the way you're becoming a lot more openly affectionate. Or the way you didn't exactly stop him from slipping his hand beneath the silky soft cup of your bra earlier and you let him cop a feel. Or ten. The memory prompts a cough and he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

❝ I..❞ you stammer and after a second, ❝ Forget it..❞ is mumbled before you go completely silent. But it’s too late for a back-track and now, your boyfriend is curious. He reaches out, slender hand and long fingers circle the remote and seconds later, the movie is paused.

He rubs the bridge of his nose. ❝ No. Just say whatever you were about to say.❞

❝ Okay, fine. You asked for it. ❞ - you mutter quietly. Charlie’s brow raises as you move from the spot beside him on the sofa to straddling his lap. Charlie’s breath hangs in his throat and his heart is racing. He glances up at you, ❝ What’s gotten into you tonight?❞ he asks, his words accompanied by a whine that slips out as you clumsily squirm around in his lap for comfort and he can feel his cock twitch, pushing against the fly of baggy jeans with need as he gets even harder, the ache as it settles within, it makes him want to peel off his own skin.

Or your clothes and his to bury himself deep inside you, fucking you until you're so dumb from it that the only name you remember is his.

❝ I want–❞ the breathless sound of your soft voice against the shell of his ear has him burning up, as if someone's pumped out all his blood, replaced it with gasoline and they've just lit a match. ❝ C'mon, ❞ he coaxes, voice husky, velvet and gravel against the shell of your ear as he clumsily tries to adjust himself but winds up rubbing against you instead, pushing you to your brink. Your needy whine at the way his cock grazes right against dripping hot sex as it throbs, desperate to be filled, the sound ignites something within the quiet boy and suddenly, he understands.

A chuckle, dark and dangerous, slips past his lips and as he gazes at you intently. ❝ Tell me what you want. Tell me, pretty girl.❞ he groans as you re-center, your cunt against the bulge prominent below his fly, his thin fingers clasping at the meat of your ass as he bucks himself up into you and luscious lips find the shell of your ear, ❝ Is my beautiful, sweet, ❞ he growls out, his lips against your soft skin as he leaves a line of bites and bruises behind and bucks himself up into you even harder; faster like he's in a frenzy, ❝ girl finally ready to be fucked?❞ - the vulgarity in his words are a contrast with the slight waver of his voice as he tries to wrap his head around what might finally be about to happen.

His hand skims over your curvature and the other one really squeezes your ass, using the firm grip he has on your warm little body to pull you back and forth over his clothed bulge as he forgets himself - and Psycho, in favor of rutting himself up into you, eyes wild and hungry when they lock with yours. The intensity of his stare pins you.

❝ I asked you a question, pretty girl.❞ he repeats, the waver in his voice again serving as the most frustrating foil to his calm air of dominance. He grabs you by the ass harder, this makes you bear your weight down against his lap. His head falls back against the sofa as a series of groans - and the begging and needy whines, shatter silence. ❝ – ah! I need to-❞ he practically growls against the shell of your ear as he comes alive beneath you and his hands just won't stay still a second longer, ❝ I need to hear you say it, c'mon.. say it, pretty girl.❞

❝ Charlie!❞ you whine in need, the pace in which you're rocking yourself back and forth over him making you ache, burn. ❝ I need..❞ your lips dance down his hot neck after you've nosed light brown hair out of your way, ❝ I want you soooo bad.❞

❝ You want me, huh? ❞ he is dazed. On autopilot. But he's not so dazed that he forgets to ask the question he's been dying to since your first ever heated closet makeout, the one where you stopped him just when things were really starting to heat up. ❝ Are you tired of being a virgin, pretty girl?❞

Your gasped answer, a quiet ❝ Y-yeah.❞ against his pulse ignites something within the quieter boy, it's as if the second he realizes he's going to be the one to ruin you for all the other boys, he's determined to do exactly that.

❝ Fuck.❞ he groans quietly as you whimper and whine and beg for his cock. ❝ Easy. Whoa.❞ he groans out as his hand slips between your thighs, settling palm down against your needy, soaked sex. He locks eyes with you but his eyes aren't the same as usual, pupils blown with lust and the baby blue a darker navy. You’re pushed flat against the sofa in your parents living room and Charlie settles his lanky frame between your thighs as you reach up for the button on his jeans, your hand shaky because you're nervous. What if I'm not any good? What if I can't take all of him? - you struggle with your own insecurity for at least a minute, but ultimately, the need you feel outweighs everything else. ❝ I- I might not be any good.❞ you stammer against his neck, Charlie’s husky laugh warm against your skin.

His hand curls over your own, it engulfs it, and he plies your hand away, pinning it beside your head and against the stupid beige throw pillow beneath your head as he gazes at you in adoration. ❝ Aht aht.❞ he scolds, ❝ I've been waiting for this. I'm in control here, angel.❞ - and he's not kidding, either. 7 months of patience has finally paid off. ❝ You’re sure, yeah?❞ he questions, patiently waiting on the nod you give in haste not even a second later.

As his free hand pulls off your panties, they're slid down your leg to settle against dark, weathered boards. He sucks in a sharp breath as soon as he feels the warmth and the wet of your juices as they coat his palm. When he squeezes, you whine, the sound like music to his ears as thin fingers slip deep into your cunt two at a time.

The feeling is new, there's a delicious burn that has you tense at first. He explains that he has to get you ready and you moan out that you've been ready, that letting him fuck you is all you can really think about lately only to be shushed by his tongue slipped between your lips as it takes dominance over your own, clumsy but enthusiastic. His fingers prod and swirl deep inside you, probing at the soft and spongy warmth of a spot deep within that has you going wild beneath him as his fingers find the spot. Over and over, relentless.

He slips in another finger and the burn is back as you are stretched just a little more, thrusting the same as his hips as he ruts himself against your thigh and growls against the shell of your ear and the racing pulse down your neck. ❝ Oh f-fuck.❞ he groans, ❝ this is gonna feel so good, pretty girl. I promise.❞

He pulls himself up, fingers plucked free from deep inside you to pass between his lips as he licks them clean and groans at the taste of you in his mouth.

He unzips with hands that shake ever so slightly in excitement, his jeans fall to his knees, followed by black boxers, stripped away with quickness. His thick cock springs free, pink tipped and glistening with pre cum as you stare with wide eyes. ❝ Relax.❞ he coaxes as he lowers himself down and settles down into you, ❝ I'm gonna take care of you, pretty girl. You're mine now,understood?❞ his mouth latches against your neck as his cock sinks into you, each deliberate thrust making you whimper and whine, begging for more.

#charlie walker #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x y/n #charlie walker x you #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.#( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #( ᴍɪɴɪ sᴇʀɪᴇs ; ᴘᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛᴡᴏ )

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tgmsunmontue · 11 months

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Another Time (Chapter 3/14)

ONE TWO

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body about ~30 or so hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete (currently 12 chapters already written), after it's complete I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's complete and there as well).

Jake kept his eyes closed, able to follow the glaringly obvious instructions Rooster had left laying out. Knew it was Mav’s fingers in his hair and he’s a little weirded out because he knows there’s something going on between Mav and Rooster, but he has no idea what it is. Their conversation had been the most awkward thing to overhear and he hates not having all the pieces to a puzzle. He must drift a little, because the next thing he hears is Rooster, coming back into the room and he grunts at the sensation of pain again as he becomes more conscious. Sleep is definitely the preferred state of being right now.

“I got his… things,” Rooster says, gesturing with his hand the rolled clothes he has and Jake grunts out his thanks, slowly moves to sitting again.

“I’ll leave you to help him, thanks Hangman. Love you kiddo…”

“Uh, love you too,” Jake says, and he is going to kill Bradshaw dead, but at least he knows that Mav views Rooster as his fucking kid, which is far better than the other places his overactive imagination had taken him. The look on his own face across the room is one of sheer relief so he obviously didn’t fuck anything up by just telling his commanding officer he loves him. He tries to convey with a look that Rooster is going to fucking explain everything but the only effect it seems to have is Mav giving Rooster a pat on the back and telling him to take good care of him. And he’s watching his own neck flush with embarrassment again.

He’s grateful that Rooster was obviously allowed to shower last night, although the sweats he’s had from being in pain make his skin itch. He lets Rooster help him change, the moonboot carefully removed and he realizes that of course Rooster is going to be extra careful with his own body. He can manage some of it, but his (or rather Rooster’s) body is aching and stiff and the extra pair of hands is needed to help him pull the t-shirt off. The silence between them feels strained and unnatural, tense in a way he hadn’t thought was a possibility and he wants to prod at it.

“This was not how I ever imagined you taking off my clothes…” Jake says, like poking a sleeping bear he wants to see how it will react.

“Technically these are my clothes.”

“Technically it’s also your body… is it copping a feel when it’s your own body?”

“No. It’s not exactly a turn on right now…”

“And another time?” Jake presses, because they’ve gotten weirdly intense, mere inches between them, skin brushing in impersonal movements, but he wonders if he’s imagining the potential for more or simply hoping for it. Feeling what he wants to feel.

“Another time,” Rooster says, and it sounds like a declaration. Jake’s breath catches, holy shit, he shifts forward, head angling to the right and then he’s capturing Rooster’s lips in the gentlest brush of lips. Soft warm flesh contrasts with the rougher scrape of facial hair, it lasts the briefest of seconds but their faces remain close, sharing the same air as they breathe.

“Another time,” Jake says, and he means it like a promise this time, not a question. They maintain eye contact, a silent agreement and he guesses they’re going to figure some other shit out too, just not the whole body-switching thing. Fuck. He’d briefly forgotten about that. “I guess it was too much to hope that a kiss would make us switch back…”

Rooster snorts and Jake lets out an amused huff of laughter at the sound, stomach swooping a little in gleeful anticipation because now he feels like they’re facing whatever the fuck this is together, rather than just enduring it and each other. The moonboot is fastened again, shoelace tied on the solitary shoe and the Corpsman appears, telling them they have fifteen minutes and he somehow has to manage crutches, despite his arms shaking with fatigue and the small cuts on his knuckles busting open.

Phoenix and Bob are waiting outside the sickbay. Bob’s face is expressionless, maybe mild concern (Jake reminds himself to never bet against him in poker), but Phoenix is looking at him, an eyebrow raised, eyes flicking to Rooster in Hangman’s body and then back, clearly wondering what the hell is going on. He shrugs helplessly because he’s with Rooster on not wanting to sound detached from reality. Also if he’s telling anyone it’ll be Javy. Rooster can tell his own friends.

They make their way up and he begrudgingly lets Bob and Rooster help him awkwardly up the stairs, glad he doesn’t have to try and manage any ladders right now, because he’d probably just get strapped to a board and have to suffer the indignity. They get to the deck and he lets himself lean on his crutches, the short excursion exhausting him. The bulky greyhound is sitting and waiting and he watches as the others follow the instructions of the deck crew. Movement catches his eye and he turns, stiffens in immediate response as he realizes that Admiral Kazansky is on deck. Why?

While he guesses their whole mission was a big deal, to have the COMPACFLT onboard seems extreme. A flash of memory, that Top Gun photo from 1986 and Kazansky being in the same class as Maverick. Who he is now staring at, mouth pursed in what looks like extreme displeasure. Maverick is staring back though and it’s then that he realizes the Admiral’s right hand is moving rapidly. He’s finger spelling Jake realizes in surprise.

-a-l-k. S-e-e y-o-u a-t h-o-m-e. I l-o-v-e y-o-u.

The fact that Maverick flashes back the single sign for I love you and the Admiral rolls his eyes has Jake convinced he’s not only swapped bodies but also slipped into an alternate reality.

He’s back to missing puzzle pieces.

FOUR

#Hangster #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #Another Time

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chowtrolls · 9 months

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Written in the Stars

Google Docs Mondes -> @/byrdstrolls Mystery Wolf Man (& drawing at end) -> @/homicidalfantrolls

To say you, Jodiah Monark, felt powerful would be a horrific understatement. Beautiful, confident, elegant- combine those with powerful, and you might just hit the tip of your emotional iceberg. The mask you had spent so many hours perfecting seemed to have unlocked a new personality within you. One even more cocky than your usual self. It was exhilarating. Face completely hidden, not a drop of lime in sight. Your dress glittered in the light. You stood out amongst the clownish dark colors. A rather plain glimmering dress in the sea of overdone patterns and frills. You weren’t seeking any Ball King nomination so the theme wasn’t ultimately that important to you. In the end, you decided the chunky knee-high boots helped too.

Those shoes weren’t easy to dance in, but you made it work pretty well. By the Messiahs did you dance- twirling your kismesis around until he looked like he was green in the metaphorical gills. Then you promised him you wouldn’t go far, left him seated by the snack table with a bonk. You picked random strangers to twirl with after that. But you never strayed far from your kismesis- you did promise, after all. Finally, once you had your momentary fill of attention from strangers, you flopped down in a seat next to your poor abandoned kismesis, out of breath.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing.” He said simply, voice muffled as usual. You had heard his voice clearly once. Since then, you had thought he sounded a little funny, so muffled.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.” You weren’t quite used to your non-automated voice, but there was no safe way to install an automater without making your new mask too chunky, “This is way better than any bar on a Fleet port.”

“And to think I had almost forgotten you were a Fleet cop.”

“I’m a better dancer than I ever was a cop.”

“Must’ve been one incredibly bad cop.”

That made you laugh. Your raw, chirpy laughter, unfiltered and whole. Laughing made your chest ache, a pang of anxiety. A reminder that you weren’t wearing your usual mask. It could never quite alter your laughter right, creating instead some strange noise distortion. You had gotten so accustomed to the sound that you genuinely forgot what your raw laughter was like. You glanced at Mondes through the side of your eye and found yourself yearning for the safety he must feel right now behind his gasmask.Your current mask may be pretty but it could be so easily ripped off. Part of you envied his confidence in wearing the same thing he always wore, in his refusal to take it off. You shake off that thought quickly.

“You want a drink? Rosé? I can get one of those long straws.” Messiahs above you wanted a drink. Something to shake off your anxieties. Something to lower your pusher rate. Your kismesis is silent in response, but he begins to dig through the little clutch purse he was carrying for you.

You reach across to gently take his hand, “Oh- hon, no. We’re not paying for shit tonight.” You recognized the glimmer of confusion that flashed over his eyes, and responded with your own small laugh, “Watch and learn, bunny boy.”

You rose, and made a beeline for the bar. You could feel Mondes’ eyes observing you closely. Time to put on a good show. The anxiety was washed away in a swell of confidence, no matter how fake. You square your shoulders, lift your chin, and walk like you owned the entire ball.

You studied each lonely troll sitting at the bar, finding the perfect victim as you sauntered up. Only a brooding, mystery-shrouded purple blood sat alone, making a prime target. Everyone else was accounted for. No problem. His mask was wolfish, black and purple, blending in perfectly with the fur on his coat. No horns in sight- though a purple of that size must’ve had them cropped down. He sat alone, glowering down at his untouched glass of whiskey. You can’t help but wonder what that poor drink did to deserve such a glower.

You loved the danger that was associated with purplebloods. You had your fair share of them in the Fleet- power hungry and sadistic fuckers. It was almost pitiful how many of them got off on the thought of a mutant to tame. They made easy targets. Motivated by their own simplistic desires, yet powerful enough for you to hide in their shadows. This was arguably a ball celebrating this stranger’s kind, and yet he hardly looked the part. Sure, he was well dressed, but it almost seemed as if he fit the previous year’s theme more. The cape over his wide-set shoulders made him appear massive. Massive, alone, brooding, dangerous, with a faint air of loneliness. Just how you liked them. He would be just as easy as the rest.

You came up from behind, initially setting a hand on his back, in the fur of his cloak. His head jolts up suddenly as if forcibly yanked from his thoughts. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if your lack of mask had you firing off electricity, but upon further thought you conclude you just startled him. Cute. Your hand trails off his back as you take the seat next to him. You lean over the bar. Chin on hand, elbow on the surface.

“Howdy, stranger. Looking awfully lonely over here.” The initial prick of anxiety sparks back up as you hear your own unfiltered voice once again. That was fine, you could watch your tone. The way he silently stared back certainly was not helping. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he gave the smallest nod imaginable.

Cool! Great, you knew he wasn’t going to kill you now. At least not here. He shifts, leaning back on the bar, but turning his body more towards you. The way his elbow rested on the bar gave off a nonchalant air despite his posture remaining slightly stiff. He said nothing. His open body posture was a good sign. He was receptive, open to your eventual manipulation.

“What’s a handsome highblood like you doing here alone? Hm?” You attempted to bat your eyelashes, then remembered he couldn’t see your eyes.

“.....”

You tilt your head, the gems on your mask jingling as you did, “Silent strong type, hm? I like. Very mysterious.” You smile with your eyes, then remind yourself yet again that he can’t see your eyes- so you force a small giggle. Fuck your laughter was so small and pathetic on its own. Your free hand reaches out, crossing the great divide between you and your handsome stranger, to play with the chains hanging off his chest. He leaned in a little closer. Drawn in. “You’re in luck, stranger.”

You begin to lean in closer, voice growing ever softer as you do, “...because I’m pretty vocal. And I’d love to show you just how vocal…” You stop, a few inches from his mask. Your eyes search the black abyss of his mask’s eyes, looking for any sort of emotion. You’re certain he’s doing the same for yours.

“....But…I told my friend I’d bring us back a couple drinks before I wandered off with handsome strangers.” You again have to remind yourself that he can’t see your eyes. Babydoll eyes wouldn’t work here. But your pleading tone must’ve. Without breaking the pretend eye contact, your mystery friend raises a hand to beckon the bartender over. He motioned towards you as the unamused bronzeblood approached.

You turn your head, but don’t back away, insistent on staying as close as possible while you order a Rosé and champagne. You twist the chain in your fingers. A pleased purr rises from your chest as you watch the bartender get to work. You could feel your stranger’s gaze boring into you. Was he wearing some sort of cologne? It was vaguely familiar, nostalgic almost. A scent like that, he must be Fleet. It was smokey, a little woods-y. Perhaps cedar? You so loved the smell of cologne- it was unfortunate your usual mask had an air filter.

You meet his gaze once more as the bartender has to leave briefly to fetch your champagne. You release the chain. Your hand rests on his chest. It was warm, almost concerningly so- was he even breathing? An undead purple. Now that was an exciting thought. No, as you trace the pattern on his vest with a coy finger, you can feel his pusher racing underneath. A shy purple, then? Even more enticing. You maintain your gaze on his mask as the bartender delivers both drinks.

“I hate to cut our time short…but my friend is waiting.”

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said your stranger deflated at the thought.

“I’ll be on the dance floor all day, if you find yourself wanting company again.” You trace a small circle on his chest, “I’d love to pay you back with a dance.”

With that you push away, taking both your drinks with a silent nod of thanks to the bartender. You made your way back to your kismesis. Mondes was no longer staring at you- no, he seemed to be staring through you. And quite intently. Like a dog on alert.

“He’s staring.” He says flatly as you approach. You shrug nonchalantly and offer him his drink. Despite the nonchalance, you could tell your kismesis was uncomfortable. You were an expert in reading him.

“C’mon,” you nudge his foot to make him stand, “let’s go up to the balcony. He can’t see us up there.” Truth be told, you could feel those masked eyes staring right into your soul. It would normally have been unnerving, but for some reason, it felt…almost familiar. A wanted attention, you suppose. Though your story here is only half the tale, Jodiah. Your thoughts and emotions hardly matter here. You are but a means to the end of this tale.

Mondes rose slowly, but kept eye contact with your stranger until you put your arm around him. You usher him along towards the grand staircase.

“He’s just jealous a grandma like you could pull someone as hot as me.”

---

==> Your name is now Paenit Almiss, and the second Jodiah leaves, you are overcome with the feeling that you have made a colossal mistake.

#ghost.art #drabbles #jodiah monark #this wouldve been posted yesterday but corpse fell asleep as i finished

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sugarrookiedesign · 1 month

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A Date So Bad, I Made A Tumblr Post About It

I'm sorta just listing events from the date off but its not entirely in order, and I most certainly forgot a few details bc it was all so stressful and chaotic

Mostly posting this for myself and my friends to gawk at (hi! 💓)

We met on the hellsite grindr. They're conventionally attractive, a bit odd and confusing through text, but were nice and seemed chill overall. We exchanged socials prior to meeting up and they had no local friends or much online community at all despite living in the area their whole life but I chalked it up to being newly trans.

These were the red flags I shouldn't have ignored, if you're keeping track lmao

I agreed to come to their place and my boyfriend dropped me off

First off I aint judging, but their house was completely empty besides their room even tho they claimed to have roommates and werent moving/recently moved?? unrelated but justa odd vibe and potential red flag lol

They were so erratic from the moment I met them they just kept talking n talking, and were clearly not all there bc I couldn't understand alot of what they were sayin. It made conversation so hard.

We sat on the floor of their bedroom and smoked wii'd

They got very emotional about everything and would like jump up and like grab n shake me by the shoulders to emphasize the shit they were babbling 😭

Throughout the date they gave lil signs that they were a volatile person like they explained how they have had frequent fall outs w friends and family, their exs have called the cops on them on numerous occasions(explained in bits n pieces throughout the date during their semi-coherent rambles), and they had spicy reactions to me, just like, saying anything.

Thoughout the date they said the R word 3 times even after i told them it upset me, both to be funny and because they were mad at someone in their head, they made fun of muslims(amongst many others), told me "i dont go too far left, my political opinions will get me in trouble" and didnt elaborate when I tried gently asking about it.

They asked if I wanted to have sex like 4 times like out of nowhere in different ways and I had to say "Ive told you no 4 times, absolutely not, please stop" and kept pushing questions about my kinks. They also really hammered on how confusing polyamory was and made it clear that they thought it was dumb and funny that I have an asexual partnership w my fiance even though I explained it all to them prior ro meeting. :')

Like 6 times throughout our 4 hour date they made themselves so mad from talking(basically to themselves) about their traumas that they were like yelling at themselves while staring at the ground??

Surprisingly the thing that made me text my boyfriend to pick me up ASAP was they asked me to buy them food like over and over and made me explain why I didn't want to do that it was so creepy and weird and upsetting, ik it sounds dumb but just the way they were saying shit n pushing it really triggered my anxiety 😭

(obviously manipulative voice that i notice immediately): "aw you know I could really go for some icecream but ive been broke recently and i have no food in my fridge"

me, knowing whats coming, already so sick of them: "Ah I feel you I love icecream, and I've been nearly broke recently too"

"..please buy me icecream?"

"uh no im sorry not today"

"please?"

"uuuuh, what? I dont really feel like it i already bought us snacks and i dont have alot of money"

"you said *nearly broke*. Can you please?"

"no"

"why not you have money"

and just kept going and was like asking how much I had in my bank account 😭

i try to ignore my phone when im w people to be respectful so the first time i texted my bf was to get rescued right after they begged me for food money and they just stared at me silently for like 15 seconds while I was texting before angrily saying "Oh so do you talk shit to your boyfriend when your grindr dates aren't going well? Is that it?"

for my safety I had to pretend like I was willing to go on a second date but I blocked her everywhere except grindr before I was even out of her driveway 😭😭

its hard to fully explain how fucking weird and bad this date was

One last small thing lmaooo when she put a youtube video on for us to watch she just straight up unblinkingly stared directly at my face to gauge my reactions to it FOR THE ENTIRE VIDEO I STG IF THAT ISNT SERIAL KILLER VIBES DUDE

Im tired, I just wanted headpats but I put myself in danger instead uuuugghhh

Part of it was absurd and almost-funny, I couldn't believe what was happening at times, but it was also mostly just super stressful. Lots of thoughts n anxiety swirling through my silly kitty brain 😖

Im not judging them for being clearly mentally unwell and I really hope they heal and get help for the stuff they're going through.. but also they were an objectively bad person who I need as far away from me as possible!

#terribledate #terribledates #nightmaredate #grindr

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hairstevington · 2 years

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Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version) - chapter 5!

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve and Eddie can't keep their shit together, so Robin and Dustin take matters into their own hands. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4- Link to Ao3

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Forced proximity baybeeee, talk about implied consent/setting ground rules, Girlboss!Robin, enemies to lovers, slow burn, canon universe (more or less) set before season 4, body swap, they are idiots, ANGST, POV switching

A/N: This will be the last chapter I put on Tumblr, but I will continue the fic on Ao3 for those that would like to follow along! Please see warnings above - there is an implication in this chapter about consent and body swapping that I wanted to get out of the way so that everybody knows that's not where I'm going with this story. Respectful Kings only in this fic!!

“Okay, seriously,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. It was a pose that Eddie hadn’t ever done in his whole life - until now, anyway. “How could you have messed me up that badly.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was referring to, until Steve walked towards him and started running his fingers through hair that used to belong to him, smoothing it out and styling as best he could without gel.

“I told you -” Eddie said, attempting to swat Steve’s hands away to no avail. “- not to touch me.”

“Believe me, I don’t want to touch you either, Munson, but you’re making me look like a crazy person.”

“It’s just hair, Steve.” Before Steve could oppose, Eddie felt strands snag against familiar metal. “Ah! Ah, ah! Rings! Ringsringsrings!”

“Quit being a baby,” Steve mocked, releasing Eddie from his grasp and taking a step back to admire his work. “Okay, much better.”

“You do realize I could just as easily mess it up again, right?” Eddie held his hands up and mimicked circular motions above him, demonstrating just how he would do so.

“Do it and I’ll shave your head,” Steve threatened.

“Then I’ll shave yours,” Eddie shot back, taking a step towards Steve.

“God dammit, can you just not be a dick for one second?”

“Nope,” Eddie responded, flashing a devilish, closed-mouthed smile.

“Guys!” Dustin interrupted, effectively shutting them both up. “Are you actually five years old? What’s wrong with you both?”

“Uh, how much time do you have?” Eddie asked.

“This is too weird,” Robin said from behind them. She’d been silent through this whole interaction, pondering all she’d just revealed to Eddie without knowing it. The panic of her secret being out to more than just one person was making her feel sick - Eddie could sense it. “And Dustin’s right, you’re being ridiculous.”

“He started it!” Eddie began, gesturing to Steve. “Look, I - I’m sorry.” He turned to Robin, his voice becoming surprisingly sincere. He really did save the most bitterness for Steve and Steve alone. “He just drives me crazy.”

“Yeah, we know,” Dustin groaned. “And neither of you seem to have a specific reason, either.”

“I have reasons,” Eddie insisted. “Plural.”

“Care to share them with the class?” Robin asked, her words much more pointed than they’d been a few minutes prior.

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. The truth was far too personal to confess with Steve right there. He attempted to repress the memory, but he felt it swimming closer to the surface of his mind. A football field - No. Stop.

Instead, he honed in on a different memory - the one where, hours after he’d sold weed to Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, Eddie’s friend Rick came knocking at the door.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Rick said as he burst in. “I got busted. Some idiot in a polo ratted me out. What the hell did you do?”

“Busted?” Eddie questioned. “Again?”

The first time Rick had gotten in trouble, he stayed in a jail cell overnight before some distant cousin bailed him out. It had happened a few times, actually, but usually due to Rick’s own stupidity, not Eddie’s.

“Yeah. Busted. Cops showed up today and I just barely was able to talk my way out of it.”

“How did you talk your way out of it?” Eddie asked. He figured that, surely, the cops had Rick’s excuses damn near memorized by that point. His prints had been in the system since he was like eleven years old.

“I told them the guy must have been mistaken, because I’d stopped dealing ages ago. And that the new guy, the one who ratted me out, was the real guy they were looking for.”

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed. He knew Harrington was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to be framed for drug dealing. “And they bought it?”

“Relax.” Rick waved his hands dismissively. “You know that guy’s father is some bigshot lawyer, right? He’ll be fine. Charges will disappear, no skin off anyone’s back. Especially mine.”

He was right. That was the worst part. Eddie had always felt guilty about it, but the truth was - Steve was still at school the next day. He hadn’t even had to spend a night in jail. And he’d ratted Rick out for some reason. Some superiority complex disguised as being a good Samaritan, Eddie always figured. Stupid double fucking standard.

Eddie realized it had been far too long since he’d responded to Robin’s question, and took a deep breath.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” he finally said, his voice sincere. “All of this just sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” Robin agreed, “but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Woah,” Steve said, surprised at Robin’s language. “Did he say something to you?”

“Robin, I -”

“You manipulated me into giving you a whole bunch of information you don’t deserve to know just so you could feel better about yourself.”

“He what?” Steve asked, growing more agitated.

“Can I just -”

“No, stop,” Robin said, backing away. “Both of you. I don’t want to talk to you -” she said, pointing at Eddie, “- and I don't want to talk to the guy who looks like you. Just let me go in the back room for a bit, and hold the fort out here, okay? Eddie’s like, weirdly good at this job anyway.”

“He is?” Steve asked.

“Don’t be so surprised,” Eddie replied. “A goldfish could do this job better than you.” Robin groaned.

“You know what, Munson?” she said. “You got what you wanted - I now have an opinion on you.”

With that, she closed the door behind her and left the boys to fend for themselves.

“Jeez,” Dustin said. “I’ve never seen her angry like that before.”

Steve hadn’t either. Generally, Robin was a pleasant person who saw the best in people. She knew how to dish out plenty of sarcasm, but she also knew where the line was between snark and genuinely being mean. If she thought Eddie was an asshole, then he was. Steve felt a spark of validation in his own opinion, but it was quickly overcome by anger.

In an instant, Steve was in Eddie’s face again, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt and pushing him against the counter.

“What did you do, Munson?” Steve questioned, rage bubbling within him. Steve noticed Eddie’s body was far stronger than he’d anticipated, and a few inches taller. He was able to hold Eddie (in Steve’s body) with ease, so much so that Eddie (once again, in Steve’s body) had to be on his tiptoes. Or, Steve’s tiptoes. Goddammit, this whole thing was a mindfuck.

“I - I didn’t - nothing, I swear!” Eddie answered. His bravado had melted away into something entirely different. Complete and total remorse. He was almost pathetic in the way he’d succumbed to Steve’s intimidation immediately. He knew he deserved it. “I mean, I - I may have asked her some things out of curiosity -”

“What kind of things?” Steve pressed, his grip tightening.

“Not what you’re thinking,” Eddie insisted. “You would have done the same thing if your coworker casually started talking about being tortured.”

Steve’s eyes widened in understanding, and as quickly as he had grabbed Eddie, he’d let him go.

“She told you about that, huh?” His voice was low and serious.

“Among other things,” Eddie admitted. He turned to Dustin. “Did this guy really save your life?”

“Yeah, a few times,” Dustin answered. “Well, there were the demodogs at the junkyard, and then the demodogs under the field, oh - and when he totally stood up to Billy for us, although I guess Max was kinda the one that saved us, there. And then I saved him from the Russians. We’ve all kind of saved each other's lives pretty consistently, I think,” he concluded.

“I - you - what?” Eddie stuttered, mentally unable to comprehend any of the things that he’d heard today.

“Yeah, I don’t think he needed that many details,” Steve replied.

“There’s a lot of shit in this town that most people don’t know about,” Dustin said with a shrug.

“Okay, but why do you know about it?” Eddie wondered.

“My friend Will,” Dustin answered. “You probably remember that whole thing. When he disappeared?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie nodded. “The kid got lost in the woods or something.”

“Yeah,” Dustin replied. “Except he wasn’t actually lost in the woods.” Eddie’s brow furrowed, and Steve grew irritated by how much information they were disclosing.

“Okay,” Eddie acknowledged. “So that explains you. What does Harrington have to do with it?”

“Wrong place, wrong time I guess,” Steve muttered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I personally love fighting hell monsters and getting the shit kicked out of me every so often, but -”

“Sorry to have missed that,” Eddie teased. “I would have loved it, too.”

“Stay in my body long enough and you’ll probably get to experience it yourself,” Steve joked. It was a moment in which the two of them once again laughed at the other, and not in a mean way. The moments were few and far between, but they were there. Steve wondered why they couldn’t just be civil.

“Okay, so,” Eddie said with a sigh. “What now?”

“We were trying to come up with a way for us to switch back,” Steve answered.

“Oh, is that all?” Eddie mocked. “I suggest we start with finding a witch.”

“That’s somehow worse than Steve’s weatherman idea,” Dustin replied. “Obviously, we’ll figure out a way to switch you guys back, but I think there’s something a lot more important that we need to do first.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve wondered. He couldn’t think of a single thing more important than getting out of this nightmare.

“Ground rules,” Dustin responded, as if it were obvious. “You’re in each other’s bodies. You are living each other’s lives. If you’re not careful, people could seriously get hurt.”

“Like Robin,” Steve reminded them all, nodding towards the still-closed door.

“Like Robin,” Dustin agreed. “But also with the two of you. Did you guys talk about any of this before you committed identity fraud?”

“Is it identity fraud if -”

“Yes,” Dustin answered Eddie’s question before he could finish asking it.

“We talked about some of it,” Steve responded. “That’s why I went to school and he came here.”

“Yeah, we set a rule already,” Eddie added. “He keeps me from flunking out again, and I keep his job. Seems like we both succeeded.”

“Okay, then why did Steve totally blow his cover immediately at school?”

“I didn’t immediately -”

“Yes you did,” Dustin insisted. “Everyone thinks Eddie showed up today on a new drug because he didn’t remember a damn thing about his own life.”

“That’s because it’s not my life,” Steve replied. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Because you were supposed to talk to each other!” Dustin shouted. “Jesus Christ, you both are impossible. You’re making this so much more difficult -”

“He’s right,” Eddie sighed. “It’s my fault, I think.”

“You think?” Steve repeated. Eddie scoffed.

“Come on, dude, I’m trying to be decent here.” Eddie seemed genuine enough, but sometimes it really felt like one step forward and two steps back with the guy. Like, he had brief moments of authenticity followed by an hour of bullshit. “I kicked you out last night, and I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re just lucky my mom didn’t see me like this,” Steve mumbled, wondering when Eddie was going to turn back this time.

“Yeah I - I know,” Eddie continued. “So, we talk about it. Henderson, how do we do this?”

“Well, I’m not an expert,” Dustin said. He started pacing the room, thinking so hard Steve could almost hear the gears turning.

“I’ll start,” Steve said. “Stay away from Robin.”

“Like, entirely?” Eddie questioned. “I can’t do that if I’m working here. I know, I fucked up earlier, but lesson learned. Robin’s cool. She doesn’t deserve my bullshit. It won’t happen again.”

Okay, so he was being genuine for longer than a moment this time. Any moment now it would crash. Steve braced himself for it. As his anxiety grew, his need for a cigarette did, too.

“Fine,” he agreed. “Here’s another one - no smoking, no exceptions.”

“Aw, come on,” Eddie whined.

“Should be easier for you than me,” Steve continued. “Considering I’m now addicted again. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Next time I’ll make sure I quit before I swap bodies with you, Harrington.”

“It’s a good point,” Dustin interjected. “About drugs. If you’re gonna do anything that could affect the body you’re in, you should get permission first.”

Steve did the thing he wasn’t supposed to do - he thought about the shower thing. They’d at least had a discussion about that. Steve quickly glanced at Eddie, and had a sneaking suspicion his mind went to the same place.

They were interrupted by the door to the back room opening, and Robin re-emerging into the store.

“I have a rule to add,” she announced.

“You’ve been listening in?” Steve asked.

“Well, yeah,” Robin admitted. “The walls are thin, and you guys are loud. Plus, I’m with Dustin on having to talk about this stuff, and I have a rule to add.”

“What is it?” Eddie wondered.

“No dating as each other,” she declared, staring directly at Eddie. "No kissing, no hook-ups."

“Woah, why are you looking at me?” he asked, defensively. “I’m not the one screwing around.”

“Hey,” Steve said. “She’s got a point.”

“Right, because I won’t be able to help myself around all the girls that line up at the Harrington house,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

There he was - the Eddie that Steve wanted to slap across the damn face.

“I’m serious -”

“I know!” Eddie replied. “I’m serious, too. That would be fucked up for either of us to do. It’s a good rule, let’s move on.”

….Okay. Now Eddie was being reasonable again. Steve was truly at a loss with this man.

“You don’t spend each other’s money,” Dustin said, moving on as Eddie had suggested.

“No tattoos or other big changes in appearance,” Robin added.

“Nothing illegal, either,” Steve warned - the suggestion pointedly at Eddie.

“Okay, you can fuck right off,” Eddie responded. “You don’t even know why I got into selling drugs in the first place.”

“Money, right?” Steve asked. He didn’t mean it in a derogatory way, he truly thought that was it.

“Yeah, money,” Eddie confirmed. “Because my uncle and I don’t have it, and it costs money to live. Something you’ve probably never had to think about.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve snarked. “That’s why I’m working this shit job.”

“It’s not a shit job!” Eddie yelled. “You have it so goddamn easy -”

“Then why didn’t you apply here?” Steve wondered. “You could, just as easily as I did.”

“They wouldn’t hire me,” Eddie remarked. There was a sadness to his voice that Steve didn’t expect, and suddenly he was thinking about all the offhand comments he’d experienced throughout his day as Eddie Munson. All the staring, the judgment, the way he felt like everybody was always talking about him, and the way his feelings likely weren't too far off.

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried selling drugs, first,” Steve retorted, regretting it immediately. Eddie groaned.

“Jesus H. Christ! Do you guys see?” He gestured at Dustin and Robin, who looked extremely awkward. “I’m not even trying to start shit, here.”

“Honestly, you’re both pissing me off,” Dustin said.

“Yeah, me too,” Robin agreed. Her and Dustin’s eyes flickered to the back room at the same time, and Steve could practically see the same lightbulb illuminate over both their heads.

“Hey Steve - I think I left a tape in the back last week, could you go get it for me?” Dustin asked. Steve was confused at first, then shrugged.

“I guess. Which one?”

“I can’t remember the title. It’s dark blue.” Steve headed towards the back room, but was stopped by Robin.

“Uh-uh, you actually can’t go in there,” she said, pointing at the sign on the door that said employees only.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Steve asked, fully annoyed with their plotting.

“Just trying to follow the rules, Harrington. Come on, Eddie, go on in.” Eddie also seemed suspicious, but did as told.

“Uhh, okay. Dark blue tape?” He headed into the back room, and then Robin pushed Steve in behind him. She closed the door and locked it, then turned to a grinning Dustin.

“That’s what you were going for too, right?”

“Robin, you’re way too good for Steve.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Hey, what the fuck?” They heard Steve’s voice through the door.

“Why does this room lock from the outside?” Eddie’s voice echoed. Dustin joined Robin at the door and shouted back.

“We’re sick of you guys, so you’re staying in there until you either stop fighting or kill each other.”

“Whichever comes first,” Robin snickered.

“I hate you both so much,” Eddie’s voice said.

“We know!” Robin and Dustin replied in unison.

“Well, this sucks,” Eddie said as he sat down in front of the TV. “I can’t believe we both fell for that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Steve agreed. Eddie absentmindedly started to pick up tapes and put them in the VHS so he could rewind them. “Are you actually doing work right now?”

“Steve, I would rather do literally anything than talk to you right now,” he replied.

“Fine,” Steve scoffed. “Robin wasn’t kidding when she said you were better at this job than I am.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie’s voice trailed off as he started watching one of the movies in reverse. He’d seen it before, but not this way. This job was actually really cool. Steve had it good, here.

Eddie started to like Steve’s life. He liked his job and his best friend and he was suddenly sad that at some point most likely this would all come to an end. Eddie would just be Eddie again.

He felt the urge return- the self-sabotaging ache that brought him trouble over and over again. Once, he heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result. Eddie would have gladly taken the label of being insane, except he didn’t expect a different result every time he did something he knew he shouldn’t. So what the hell did that make him?

He wanted to ask Steve about Robin - specifically what she had told him without realizing it - but he knew that was over the line. He wasn’t even curious for the reasons most people would have. Eddie didn’t care about Robin’s sexuality in the slightest. He cared that Steve knew, and he didn’t say anything to anyone. Most of the other jocks at school that Eddie lumped Steve in with would have jumped at the chance immediately to spread that information like wildfire, but Steve didn’t.

It was the first time Eddie admitted to himself that there was a strong chance Steve really had changed.

“I don’t think we’re going to switch back today,” Steve said after a while.

“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie agreed.

“So, we should talk,” Steve continued.

“I thought we did already,” Eddie replied. “No sex, drugs, or felonies, right?” Steve sighed.

“I shouldn’t have - shit. I shouldn’t have said that before. Sorry, man.”

Eddie stayed focused on the TV. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Steve, and if he could, it would just make him feel like shit for not trusting him sooner. Lose-lose. Once again.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Eddie responded.

They’d gone a whole three minutes without raising their voices at each other, so far. Progress.

“I meant, like, we should talk about tomorrow,” Steve continued.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Uh, you have band practice, right?”

Eddie dropped the tape he was holding and looked up.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Any chance you kill monsters and secretly play guitar?”

“Not unless air guitar counts,” Steve admitted. “Although, I do play a pretty mean air guitar -”

“Steve, shut up, this is serious.” He took Corroded Coffin very seriously. Hellfire was his baby, sure, but his band was like - well, it was his one chance to be someone else for a change. He could be whoever he wanted on stage, separate from the person people knew at school.

Performing at The Hideout used to be the one time he pretended to be someone he wasn’t. How times had changed.

“Okay, sorry,” Steve responded, his hands up in surrender. “Could you cancel? Say you’re sick or something?”

“No, we’ve got this gig on Tuesday and if we miss it we might lose our spot,” Eddie replied. Their weekly performance at the dive bar across town was all that they had, other than practices in Gareth’s garage. They’d worked their asses off to perform in front of five drunks once a week, and Eddie would be damned before he’d let Steve Harrington take that away from him.

“Okay, so -” Steve seemed to really contemplate different ways to get around this, which was admirable. He was…complying. “- you could wear, like, a full body suit and mask or something and just go up there in my body and play.”

Eddie stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering if the absolutely bonkers idea actually could work.

“That would be…weird,” Eddie responded.

“But it would work,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Let’s call it plan B,” Eddie decided.

“So, what’s plan A?”

Eddie nervously ground his teeth back and forth for a moment, looking at himself up and down and wondering just how effective muscle memory was.

“Plan A is that I give you a bit of a crash course, Harrington.”

(Read the rest on Ao3!)

_________________________

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heliads · 9 months

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everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter Sixteen: Heavy is the Head

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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Connor isn’t doing well.

He’s trying to hide it, of course. Sometimes Risa swears that half of Connor’s ill-stolen life is spent running or hiding or trying to pretend he’s something that he isn’t. She loves him, she does, but she hates this too. Connor will drive himself into the ground trying to take responsibility for crimes he didn’t commit. He’s got a good heart, a heart that Risa has carved out a place to hide inside, but it’s getting awfully cramped in there with every other hopeless crusade he pioneers.

Seeing Starkey burn down the harvest colony was the nail in the coffin. Risa has told him that wasn’t his fault about a dozen times, and is running out of new ways to put it, but the repetition doesn’t matter. Connor thinks he’s seen enough. He believes Starkey was trying to send him a message or something by killing that one guard like he did, but even if the tether hadn’t been used, Connor would have felt the blow to his conscience anyway.

After all, it is Connor’s significantly more brutal alias, the king of unwinds, the Akron AWOL, that got Starkey hooked on this idea of violently liberating distributes like this. A very long time ago, so far away in space and time it could have been a wholly separate boy in a wholly separate galaxy, Connor Lassiter tried to run away from home and ended up tranquilizing a Juvey-cop with his own gun before stealing the officer’s ship. The story was warped across an entire universe, and then it reached a boy named Mason Michael Starkey whose only goal was to find a way to make the whole galaxy remember his name.

Starkey succeeded. Connor will always remember that it was his fault first for wanting to survive and having the terrible luck of being celebrated for it. Connor has gone sickly silent ever since they arrived at that harvest colony, and now Risa doesn’t know how to get the Connor she knew back.

Truth be told, she doesn’t think he’s going to come back unless they can find a way out of this whole mess. Storming the harvest camp and liberating their allies from the Graveyard was supposed to be the final chapter in this affair. It would be difficult to survive on their own, of course, several hundred Deadmen do not a secure future make, but they would find a way. They wouldn’t be alone anymore, and then they would grow up and age out of distribution. Risa was supposed to have her future with him. Now she’s not even sure he wants their past.

It’s exhausting, to put it simply. Every day, they’re constantly pulled from one corner of the galaxy to the next. They escape the exploding Graveyard only to be split up. They find each other only to pivot to save their friends. They attempt to break into a harvest colony and discover that an even more twisted villain has the Deadmen. Heartland is still out there somewhere, and Starkey is holding their friends in the belly of his stolen ship, and it feels like so long as Risa and Connor are alive they will never be able to rest. This was supposed to be the end. This was supposed to be the end.

And, Risa is starting to realize, it never will be. There will always be one more mountain to cross, one more impossible feat to pull off. They’re kids. Just kids. Kids who were meant to die. Kids who have no choice but to survive. Survival has never been anything but a bloody, brutal thing, but for once Risa wishes it were easy. Hasn’t she done enough? Haven’t both of them done enough? At one point do they get to rest?

Never, maybe. Never at all.

A shadow in the door; Risa looks up to find Connor looking at her uncertainly from the threshold. Wordlessly, she holds out a hand to him, and he crosses over at last to join her. They sit together on a bench along the wall. Connor presses a soft kiss to her temple, then whispers against the still air, “Do you think they’re safe with him?”

His voice is doubtful. It cuts her a little inside, wondering how long it will take him to sound secure again. She doesn’t know what he said to Grace Skinner to explain how her brother died, but the gloom in his eyes when he came back to her could have spawned any ghost.

“He’s not going to hurt any AWOLs,” Risa tells him. “He’s not stupid. The whole point of his little crusade is that he’s protecting the distributes. None of them are going to die.”

Connor shakes his head. “That’s not the only way he can hurt them. I mean, do we think he’s cut out for leadership? How can Starkey possibly keep all of them safe?”

Risa blows out a quiet breath. “If some of the older kids from the Graveyard are there, they’ll be able to watch out for the younger ones even if Starkey doesn’t manage it. Hayden could.”

“Hayden could,” Connor agrees. “Plus some of the nav kids for sure. Yeah, you’re right. They can do it.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Risa urges. “They’ll be fine. To be honest, you should worry about us. Heartland’s been quiet ever since you escaped. I don’t like that. One man has the power of the entire Collective on his side and he just lets us go? No way.”

Connor frowns, his lips pressed together as he considers this. “He didn’t have a tracker on me, I checked before I stole a ship. Odds are he’s just waiting for us to slip up. To be honest, he doesn’t need to capture us to further his message. If Starkey pulls something like this again, Heartland will have all the anti-AWOL propaganda he needs. All he needs to do is frame us like insane killers and the whole galaxy will be up in arms against us.”

Risa shudders, realizing he’s right. “We need to shut down Starkey, then.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Connor insists. “We need to find him first, though. He’ll have to go somewhere to refuel. We need to check nearby spaceports and see if any ships big enough to transport a couple hundred kids have passed through. In fact, they might even get caught at a boundary checkpoint. Let’s check some records and see what we come up with.”

This seems like trying to find a needle in a synth-haystack, but Connor’s got some light back in his eyes, and Risa isn’t willing to shoot down this idea if it means he’ll slump back into nothingness again. So, she heads to the ship holodeck, and the two of them start to painstakingly sift through reports on the comings and goings of large shuttles within several units of their current star sector.

Suns, it’s slow going. Risa swears half their time on this new, ill-gotten starship has been spent combing the galaxy in search of distributes who will never end up found. Risa pores over news holos and headlines for several standard hours. At last, though, it’s Connor who leaps to his feet excitedly when he comes across a report of another mass distribution on a nearby planet.

“Look at this,” he tells her. “It’s got to be more Deadmen. I mean, the Graveyard was massive, right? It would make sense that they had to split everyone into two groups, there’s no way everyone could fit on just one colony.”

Risa’s heart leaps at the same time Connor’s does, but she coaxes her hope back down from that high place with great reluctance. Something about this feels off. It was too easy, and if there’s one thing she’s learned from continually charting new courses across the universe, it’s that nothing is ever easy.

“It’s on a planet, though, not a colony,” Risa points out. “Isn’t that strange?”

Connor waves this concern away, starting to pace back and forth across the floor. “After Starkey’s horror show at that one harvest colony, I wouldn’t be surprised that the Collective tried to distribute the rest someplace with a little more security. It’ll be tougher getting in, of course, but we’ve got to give it a shot.”

Risa swivels over to where Connor had been standing, and hesitantly scrolls through the article he had found. “This seems unusual.”

“Unwinding is unusual,” Connor argues. “Come on, Risa. Our friends are there. We have to save them.”

“I’m not saying we won’t save them,” Risa snaps back, feeling oddly defensive, “but we have to give this more thought. What if this is how they catch us? They know we’re trying to find our friends. Suns, even Starkey could have done this if he threatened someone in communications. We have no proof that this is real.”

Connor bounds over to her again, seizing her hands to his and holding them to his lips as if in prayer. “We are together on a massive starship that is totally empty. We are capable of making one hyperspace jump that will put us in that very star system. We have friends who need us, Risa, and we have the opportunity to keep them whole. Why shouldn’t we leap at the chance?”

“What if it’s a trap?” Risa asks desperately. Connor wants this more than anything, she knows it like she’s reading his mind, but she needs him to understand that this might not be the total victory he hopes it is.

“Then we spring it,” Connor says, suddenly giddy. “We spring it and we get away anyway, maybe even with a few new AWOLs in tow. We show the galaxy that Starkey’s mass murder isn’t how all unwinds think. We win, Risa. We win. Isn’t this what we’ve always wanted?”

What we’ve wanted is to stay alive, Risa wants to tell him. What we’ve wanted is to avoid obvious traps and take life one day at a time. That’s survival. That’s what we’ve always wanted.

Instead, she forces an unsteady smile, and says, “I’d follow you anywhere. You know that.”

“I do,” he says, and kisses her. Risa tries to forget her worries with the gentle pressure of his hand against her cheek. It almost, almost works.

Connor charts a new course. Risa watches and worries from the door to the cockpit. She tells herself that it’s fine and it isn’t, but what more can she do? Since her issues have been avoided in the face of wild, desperate hope, the only thing to do is pivot and try to save them from themselves anyway. She pulls up maps of the planet they’ll be attacking, figuring out exactly where they need to land and what buildings will serve as the harvest location. Anything and everything to avoid the seemingly inevitable.

The site of the latest mass distribution is on a planet called Dandrich-IV. It’s nice, actually, pretty far into Centerworld, the core of the grand sprawl of the galaxy. This means that Collective presence is going to be off the charts, another fact that makes Risa uneasy. Still, Connor just takes this as a sign that this endeavor will be real. After all, the Deadmen are now highly prized property. They wouldn’t be shunted off to another backwater colony.

All too quickly, the Unwind converges on Dandrich-IV. They land a short distance from the supposed location, using the cover of some tall synth-oaks to hide their ship. According to Risa’s research, the Chop Shop and other distribution buildings are in a complex about a ten minute walk from their current location. To get there, they’ll have to navigate a bustling city full of wealthy Centerworld families. Worse still, they’ll have to look normal while they do it.

Risa and Connor stroll down the sidewalk, doing their best to blend in. Their clothes aren’t exactly typical of the luxury common around here, bearing too many signs of having survived a couple of long interstellar voyages, but there’s not a lot they can do about that. Connor uses his fake grounds license to buy them jackets that they can sling on over their clothes, plus caps they pull low over their eyes to hide their faces. Hopefully that’ll do something.

It’s as good of a disguise as they can hope to get around here. Even after a successful purchase, they still attract several dirty looks from shop owners. Seems like solo teenagers are suspicious customers no matter where in the galaxy you end up. The familiar routine should comfort Risa, but instead she’s just reminded of the terrible stakes awaiting them should they mess up.

Risa guides them across the street to the entrance of a nice park. No gates bar their entrance, no tall fences keep out ruffians; here, apparently, polite behavior is expected to the point of trusting anyone.

“Nice place,” Connor mumbles, staring at the topiary.

Risa nods incredulously. The whole point of this park is somewhat pointless– everyone here knows everything from the individual blades of grass to the vibrant flower bushes are fake, produced somewhere in a lab and shipped over here– but the effect is marvelous. Risa doesn’t think she’s seen this much green in her whole life. The synth-wildlife budget for the OH-10 State Home grounds wasn’t exactly extensive.

They walk further inside, following a curving path that carries them past lines of meticulous synth-trees and even a few stone fountains spitting tall columns of water into the air. Around them, wealthy families preen and pose, showing off the glories of their laboratory flora to whoever’s in sight. It’s like nothing Risa has ever seen before. Secretly, she has to admit she’s glad that she and Connor got to Dandrich-IV before Starkey; he’d probably burn the whole place to the ground out of spite.

“Let’s amble a little more,” she whispers to Connor. “I don’t want to attract attention.”

“Good idea,” Connor returns. “What if we split up so they stop staring? I’ll go pretend to look at some of the statues and pretend I’m working on a school project or something.”

Risa agrees with this and watches him wander off, trying not to act as if the thought of not being side by side with him freaks her out completely. Splitting up is always a bad idea, but they stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of all this faux greenery. One individual teenager attracts less attention than two. All Risa has to do is smile and walk and act as if none of this is new to her.

Risa meanders down a side path, taking in the displays. One flowerbed in particular attracts her attention, and Risa comes to a stop in front of it. It’s a strange design, but since when have the aesthetic tastes of the rich and famous ever made sense to her? There used to be this one girl at the StaHo who had an obsession with these mansion mags that were occasionally downloaded to the State Home holodeck. Risa remembers that girl spending hours flipping through holos depicting the interior of some of the nicer Centerworld estates, remarking on anything from the patterned wallpaper to expensive footstools.

The girl had loved those houses, but Risa couldn’t believe the elites would spend their money on such terrible designs. She’d come up with her own dream place to stay someday, of course, somewhere with big windows and absolutely no other orphans. Funnily enough, it hadn’t involved a spaceship in the middle of the cosmos holding only her and one other boy, but if Risa had to pick a dream future now, she can’t imagine anything but that. Time changes all of us. Sometimes for the worse, yes, but sometimes for the better, too. Risa isn’t alone anymore. That one fact is worth more than a thousand fortunes.

Risa tilts her head to the side, considering the flowerbed. According to the placard below it, the design was just approved in the last few days and submitted by some anonymous wealthy donor. It must make for a very interesting garden if bits and pieces here and there are constantly swapped out. Since everything is lab-grown, the visitors wouldn’t have to wait for the right seasons or temperatures. They could have a new display every day so long as the designers installed the right part in time.

Risa likes this design, though. As she’s looking at it, someone walks up to her, smiling gently. At first, she panics, thinking she’s been recognized, but then she notices they’re wearing a uniform with a logo on the breast pocket labeled with the name of the garden, and she relaxes a little.

“Do you like the flowers?” The gardener asks. “Put them in myself just a short while ago. Lovely things, I think.”

“Yes,” Risa mumbles, “Very lovely. Nice colors.”

It sounds basic to her ears, but she has no idea what else to say to this stranger. The State Home didn’t exactly train her on how to talk about gardens.

However, when the man immediately breaks into a wide grin, she can guess that it was taken the right way. “I quite think so too. The designer specifically chose a few plants they had in mind that would just make those colors pop. A certain D.H., I believe. Didn’t leave us anything but his initials. It’s a right shame if you ask me, I hope he will submit more ideas in the future.”

Alarm bells are going off in Risa’s head, but for a moment, she can’t imagine why. “Did the designer say anything else about the flowers?” She asks politely.

The gardener shakes his head. “Oh, no, nothing much. Only that he hoped these flowers would help everyone unwind a little. Great message, if you ask me.”

Risa flinches involuntarily. Technically, she knows the word ‘unwind’ has two meanings, but she’s only ever heard the bloodier definition in so long that she almost forgot it could mean something else. It must be simply a mistake on her end to assume something gruesome, but as Risa looks back at the bright, lurid flowers, she can’t help but feel fear creep back up on her. Under this new context, the colors seem grotesque somehow; the red of blood, the white of bone.

“To unwind?” She asks faintly. The gardener nods and says something else, Risa thinks, but she’s so far beyond thinking of mere flowers that she can’t pay attention.

Suns. Wait. Only one person would put together a display like this, just asking to be noticed. Only one person would require a filthy word like that in the middle of this beautiful place. Only one person would play games like this and make a mockery of their own lives. Only one person, and she and Connor have just walked into his embrace.

Risa turns around abruptly, racing back to Connor, who’s still ambling slowly through the garden walkways. He looks up when he sees her, though, startled out of some reverie.

Connor opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Risa doesn’t give him the chance. “We have to go. Now. They’re here, they’re–”

Halfway through her panicked words, Risa realizes that Connor is staring at her with wide eyes. No, not at her. At something just over her shoulder. Risa turns slowly to see a man who could only ever be Dorian Heartland strolling out from behind the cover of a particularly tall row of synth-trees. His unsettling, mismatched eyes pass over her fleetingly to settle on Connor with an expression of great satisfaction. “Hello, son.”

“I’m not your son,” Connor says reflexively.

Heartland tuts reproachfully. “Technically, you are. You belong to all of us. You’re parts of my universe, Connor, and that means I can refer to you however I please.”

Risa stares at him uncomprehendingly. Connor had repeated descriptions of his encounter with the villainous man many times, but even those heated explanations could not come close to fully encapsulating the horror that is Dorian Heartland. Even without hearing that the man was fully made from separate pieces, Risa can tell that something is deeply wrong with him. His voice seems to be woven together from many different inflections, forced through lips that don’t belong to the tongue nor the voice box that forms each syllable.

He has the air of a man who knows everything about them, who could predict their escape opportunities and has already shut down each and every avenue they could hope to run to. This man has seen many other teenagers who thought they could be the ones to save the galaxy, and he has killed all of them. Dorian Heartland has centuries of experience in shutting down rebellious young upstarts.

Risa and Connor thought they could outsmart him– why? You cannot outthink time. You cannot outrun someone who has already chased off Fate. All they could hope to do was keep to the outskirts of Heartland’s time and patience such that he would get bored of him, yet they’ve already messed that up and been found out. All their planning has come to this, a showdown in a glimmering false garden that, just like the rest of their stretched-thin galaxy, was brought to fruition by a collection of parts that calls itself Dorian Heartland.

This, Risa decides, is the end. For her, at least. Maybe she can buy time for Connor to get away, but somehow she doubts that’s possible. After all, she recalls gloomily, they’ve both sworn that they would be together forever. Even in death. Even in distribution. Even in this.

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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